#i would like to say. fucking stop that too.

[madaqueue]

18+ MDNI - f!reader (nasty freak boy who cums too early...i love him)

virgin!satoru who thinks he’s going to die. genuinely, he thinks his heart is about to explode out of his chest and his last memory will be the way you stare down at him with those lust-blown eyes and that awe-struck smile. why else would he be shaking like this, covered in a layer of sweat and lightheaded to the point his vision is swirling?

“are you ready, satoru?” is the only thing he can make out above the ringing in his ears - how can he tell you he only has a few moments to live when your legs are spread like this and he’s so hard it fucking hurts?

virgin!satoru who is the farthest fucking thing from ‘ready’ but he’d rather die than disappoint you, so he’s at least got to try.

with an unsteady hand he swipes the tip of his cock up and down your slit, watching the way the light sparkles with how wet you are, for him.

“you can put it in, baby,” and he fucking groans, he can barely look at you when you talk to him like that, all syrupy sweet and thick and dripping.

virgin!satoru who finally, finally, pushes himself past your entrance. his eyes are locked on the way you swallow his length, the way he’s so hot he can’t breathe, can’t get enough air in because it all smells like you.

virgin!satoru who cums before he even bottoms out. he’s trembling and whining and it only gets worse when your hands find his shoulders and pull him into you.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, fuck-”

“it’s okay,” you coo, and he’s so fucking warm, and he’s grateful he can’t see the smile on your face because he thinks it might actually make his heart stop.

virgin!satoru who straightens his back, slowly pulls his cock out of you and watches in awe as his cum leaks down your thighs, who can’t stop himself from smearing it through your folds with his thumb, who doesn’t miss the way your pussy clenches as he does.

virgin!satoru who’s already hard again, who no longer cares if he’s dying because this must be heaven, who stares back at you with wild, unfocused eyes as he says, “i think…i think i’m ready now.”

a/n: i think i blacked out from lust writing this

[ikeuluvr]

Baby, can we make up now? || sunghoon drabble

synopsis - bf!sunghoon and reader comforting each other and making up after you walk out during a fight (part 2 of I don’t wanna go to bed mad at you…)

non-idol!sunghoon x reader / established relationship - angst + fluff / warnings - crying, fighting/arguments, mentions of neglect / word count: ~1k

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It was a rarity for you and Sunghoon to fight like this—so badly that swears are echoing off of the walls and choked sobs escape both of your lips. Any arguments the two of you may have were typically nothing more than about picking up dirty socks off of the bedroom floor or making sure to turn off the lights before leaving the apartment. In the three years you’ve been together, you had never had a fight so severe until tonight. The whole situation was surely a result of pent up frustration and exhaustion from your daily lives, but that didn’t make the words hurt any less.

You let out a shaky breath as you approach the door of you and Sunghoon’s shared apartment, resting your hand on the door knob as you try to suck in the tears threatening to already escape. With a gentle twist, you push the door open to enter the dimly-lit space. Before you could mutter a single word, make any sound, or even take off your shoes, the warmth of Sunghoon’s body was quickly being wrapped around you. The silence was immediately broken by the sound of his small sobs and sniffles into your neck, instantly making your own tears start to fall again. You wrapped your arms around his body and held him close as if he would vanish into thin air if you didn’t. The two of you stood in the doorway just like this; your bodies pressed together and choked cries filling the common area for a few minutes more.

“I’m- I’m s-so- I’m so sorry Y/N,” Sunghoon manages to stutter out against your neck, his arms squeezing you even tighter if at all possible, “I’m such a- I’m such a fucking idiot.”

You gently shake your head as you slightly pull away from him, making his head raise to look at your face. A pang of guilt rushed through your body at the sight of his red and puffy eyes, his nose a bright pink from all of the crying—his eyelashes soaked in tears as more kept falling down his face. You let out a deep sigh as you reached up to cup his cheeks, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. Sunghoon’s eyes fluttered shut, causing a few more to fall as he leaned into your touch.

“It’s okay my love,” you breathed out in a small whisper, “We are both going through a lot right now and just ended up taking it out on each other… I know you didn’t mean it.”

Sunghoon takes a deep breath and keeps his hands on your waist, rubbing small circles with his thumbs, “I know but I still shouldn’t have said what I did. It came out so wrong and it made you think I didn’t love you and that-” he pauses and squeezes his eyes closed tight while letting out another sob, “that is the last thing I ever want you to feel from me.”

“Oh sweetie…” you say under your breath before taking his hand into yours and walking a few steps to the couch to sit the both of you down, “Let’s take a few deep breaths first, hm?” you suggest as the both of you take a seat, knowing that if Sunghoon didn’t stop crying now, he never would. You take a couple deep breaths together, letting both of your emotions settle. A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as Sunghoon nods to you, letting you know he’s ready to talk.

Sunghoon holds your hands in his, taking a brief second to collect his thoughts before he begins to speak, “Y/N, I’m so sorry. For the argument, for what I said, for making you feel the way you did, for causing you to walk out… I was just-” he pauses to take another breath, “I was frustrated and my mouth started working faster than my brain was.”

You give him a small nod to let him know you’re listening, your eyes never leaving his face even for a brief second, “I know, Sunghoon. I was irritated too, and I surely also said things that I know I shouldn’t have. Besides, I was the one who started it so it’s really my fault,” you say, your voice growing softer as you look down at your hands intertwined in your lap.

“What?” Sunghoon questions, his eyebrows furrowing, “Look at me baby,” he tells you as he brings one hand up to your chin, gently tilting your head up to look him in the eyes, “I deserved it, honestly. You were right. I’ve been neglecting you and treating you like a second priority to my work and that’s just unfair to you.”

“But I also need to be more understanding that you-”

“No buts,” Sunghoon immediately cuts you off, moving his hand from your chin to cup your cheek, “You are my life, Y/N. You are my first priority in every way possible, and I intend to make sure what’s what you receive from me until we’re six feet under. There is nothing on this planet that will ever be more important than you, understand?” he explains a bit more firmly, making sure your eyes never leave his.

“Yeah love… I understand,” you reply in a soft whisper, a tiny smile trying to make its way onto your lips.

With a soft sigh, Sunghoon plants a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulls you in for another embrace, your head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck as his chin rests on top of your head, “Baby, can we make up now? Cause I can’t sleep through the pain.”

A quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you nuzzle impossibly closer into his chest, “Yeah babe… we’re okay.”

“I love you with my whole heart, Y/N. Never forget that.”

“And I love you with all of mine, Sunghoon.”

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masterlist

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 WERE WE BETTER UNKNOWN?

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your story with dazai comes to a close... but is it really the end?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. oh my god i have so much to say, i will put it all at the end. but i am so annoyed because the heart in the title looks wonky as hell—for some reason it looks fine on desktop but on mobile it’s fucked ip :’) comments & reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. mentions of past suicide attempts (dazai). non-sexual nudity/intimacy. reader has 1 scar that dazai points out.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai dreams of a vast frozen lake.

Is he dreaming? He’s not sure. It’s cold, he shouldn’t be cold in dreams, right? 

He lets out a shaky breath, and he can see the cool air fan around him. He shivers, hands running up and down his arms to try to warm himself up, but it’s futile—the snow that flutters from the sky is sharp against his skin and the air is bitterly cold, but the wind is oddly still. Eerily still. His shoes crunch against the snowy bank as he draws a bit closer to the edge of the lake, trying to figure out where he is.

“... are we going to…”

Dazai startles at the vaguely familiar whispery voice, eyes wide and searching as he looks around trying to pinpoint who had spoken, but there’s no one in sight. He can hardly see

Hell, he thinks dizzily, is he in hell?

Dazai’s fascination with literature began with his fascination with death. It started as a child—morbid and odd as it might’ve been, he was bored with life. He supposes that it’s part of the reason why his siblings didn’t like him, besides his ability, of course. He always had questions that people couldn’t answer—what happens after someone dies? They go to heaven, honey, his mother would reply. How do you know that? We just do. But how? What if we don’t? What if we just die? Stop asking so many creepy questions, Osamu, his sister would snap at him, curling into his mother’s side. But what-

He would keep asking until his sister got visibly upset and his mother had to take her out of the room. He never really understood why—they were legitimate questions—but his mother’s evasion of the topic and his siblings’ aversion did not deter his curiosity. In fact, when the first of his cousins died at the hands of one of his others, it spiked his curiosity. He almost found himself jealous that they would have the answers to the questions that have been plaguing him for years.

His questions of self-worth and his place here on earth didn’t come until he was a bit older, but he supposes at some point they probably merged together. His own doubts about himself and his lack of normalcy compared to other people led to his general fascination with death slowly turning into fascination about his own death. He found it quite ironic, and maybe a bit disheartening—he can’t even die correctly—that of all of the many members of his family, the one obsessed with death was the one that survived the longest, in spite of actively striving for eternal rest.

His fascination with death was put to an abrupt halt by Odasaku’s arrival in his life. Or well, that’s not exactly right. His fascination with his own death was put to a halt—Odasaku humored all of his questions, even if some of his answers were absurd and nonsensical, but when Dazai tried to spin the conversation back to himself, Odasaku would put his foot down. 

Dazai only tried to kill himself once while he was living with him—it was around when Odasaku first took him in, and Dazai didn’t think the man would care all too much if he was gone. Ango was the one who found him in the bathroom, funny enough it was his first time meeting the other man, but when he woke up in the hospital, Dazai decided he never wanted to see that haunted expression on Odasaku’s face ever again. 

It was around then when Odasaku started telling him about his book, and he helped redirect Dazai’s unhealthy fascination with death to a different outlet: literature. The Divine Comedy, the Aeneid, the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice—it was Odasaku who introduced him to them all. He enjoyed reading other peoples’ interpretation of the afterlife; he and Odasaku would have full blown debates over which interpretation was nearest to truth. 

Dazai isn’t particularly convinced there is an afterlife at all, but he always thought that if there was one, it might look most like Dante Alighieri’s vision. 

Like this. 

“... can’t just stop, he’ll never let it be…”

This voice isn’t unfamiliar. Dazai’s head snaps up, eyes wide and searching as he tries to seek you out. Your voice sounds like it’s coming from all around him—the wind carries it, he can’t tell where you are and the icy air makes it hard for him to keep his eyes open to try to track you down. The wind is strange though; it stops blowing all around him, and instead begins billowing inward toward the center of the lake.

A foreboding feeling suddenly settles over Dazai.

Lake Cocytus—if this is what Dazai thinks it is, then it’s meant to represent the Ninth Circle. Treachery. A little ironic, maybe, considering loyalty is what got Dazai killed—your loyalty to the Port Mafia. 

Is he dead? He realizes suddenly that he very well might be, not quite as pleased with the idea as he might’ve been in the months before he met you. He feels… unfulfilled almost. He never finished Odasaku’s book. He didn’t even manage to get his degree. He felt what it was like to be loved for a few months, but it wasn’t enough. He’d wanted more. He wanted a life with you. 

He still wants a life with you, he thinks miserably. Even after everything that happened, he still wants it.

He must not be dead, he thinks absently, kicking at the snow on the banks of the lake before slowly treading out toward the center of it. If he was dead and really in the Ninth Circle of Hell, then he’d be stuck in the lake with the rest of the betrayers. Although, Dazai thinks if he really was going to hell, it wouldn’t be this circle—he doesn’t think he’s ever really betrayed anyone to this degree.

Or maybe he did, his thoughts take another dejected turn. Would his ‘betrayal’ to you count? It’s not like he actively tried to deceive you, so he thinks he should be given some leeway. But maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, if he’s here because he deceived you, then you would certainly be here for betraying him—he wouldn’t mind being stuck in hell if you were there with him. You both could be buried in the ice together, eternally frozen and suffering for betraying each other. 

It’s kind of romantic, if you really think about it.

Something bubbles in his chest—maybe a laugh, or maybe a sob, he can’t tell, he thinks maybe he’s a bit hysterical. 

It must just be a dream, he thinks again for some minimal solace. Or maybe a warning, maybe he’s somewhere caught in-between and God is striking down his hammer, warning him this is where he’s going to end up if he doesn’t change his ways like the message of the Divine Comedy itself.

The thought makes him laugh.

He sobers up quickly though as he starts his trek across the lake, thinking that maybe if he got to the other side, or the center, he’d wake up. He thinks you would find this funny—one of your first conversations with him had been about The Divine Comedy, and he spent many nights at dinner roping you into conversation about it, and convincing you to read some of the other books and poems that Odasaku had introduced him to. You-

“... one life or hundreds, that’s what he said…”

Dazai nearly slips on the ice when he hears your voice again, looking around as if you would just magically appear around him. You don’t, but it does leave Dazai a little disheartened hearing you repeat the words that Mori had said to convince you to kill him. He sighs as he keeps his gaze trained ahead, careful to not look down at the ice lest he find himself looking at something he would rather not.

The outskirts of the water were the traitors to kin—Dazai remembers that well. The first time he read the poem, he realized that this is where the majority of his cousins and older brothers would be. They spent almost two years killing each other for their grandfather’s inheritance; Dazai went from having seven siblings and almost two dozen cousins to three siblings and a handful of cousins by the time of the coup.

Traitors to country in the next section—Dazai thinks a bit gleefully that Mori would end up there. The Port Mafia isn’t exactly a city or country, but it’s still an entity, and Mori certainly betrayed it when he killed Dazai’s grandfather in his own bed, no matter what the reason for it might be.

Traitors to guests in the next section—this gives Dazai a bit of pause, he doesn’t know if he knows anyone that would fit in that section. Ui, maybe? Inviting him to work with his journalism house only to give him up to the Guild. Maybe Mori again, Dazai thinks, highly amused, because Dazai was a guest to you, and therefore, the Port Mafia, when everything happened. 

And the last section—traitors to benefactors. He can’t avoid looking at them; they’re the only ones above the surface of the lake, grotesque sculptures of ice that decorate the surface of the center of the lake. His steps slow as he walks through them all, a heavy feeling settling over him as his gaze focuses on the oddly familiar sculpture in the very center of the lake.

Is that-

“There’s only one way this ends.”

Dazai’s breath catches sharply. He slips on the ice as he rushes forward, eyes widening and hands flying forward to catch himself, but his stomach lurches painfully and before his hands can hit the ground-

Dazai sits up with a ragged gasp, eyes wild and nails digging into the fabric of the soft couch he’s laying on. His head is aching and he feels sluggish; he’s still reeling from what he’d just woken up from, but his heart rate is starting to calm down.

Just a dream, he confirms, but now he’s more preoccupied with trying to figure out where the hell he is and why he isn’t dead, because the last thing he remembers is you lifting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. The room he’s in is small—there’s no windows, there’s a tiny kitchen on the left side of the room, and on the other side-

“Everyone out.”

Dazai’s gaze settles on you. You’re standing near the far wall—you haven’t changed from what you were wearing at the conference room with the other Port Mafia executives, and Dazai can see Ace’s blood still crusted around your finger nails and splattered on your shirt. Your gaze is focused on him, an unreadable expression on your face, and Dazai is so tunnel visioned on you that he hardly notices that there are a handful of other people in the room: your three subordinates, Nakahara Chuuya, Albatross and one other who had been at the fight against the Guild.

They don’t argue with you, most of them file out of the room without a word, only Albatross and Chuuya linger. The ginger gives you a long look before saying, “We’ll buy some more time. Just… figure out if this is really what you want to do, okay?”

You finally look away from him at Chuuya’s words, cringing and averting your gaze to the ground. You say quietly, “It doesn’t matter what I want. It has to be done.”

Chuuya sighs but nods, motioning for Albatross to leave with him—and then the two of you are left alone. You don’t approach him. Ironically, you look like the one akin to a cornered animal as if you hadn’t been the one to shoot him. If anyone should feel like a cornered animal right now, it should be him.

Instinctively, he lifts his hand to his forehead, frowning at the bandages wrapped around the top of his head. He looks back up at you curiously, but you grimaced and looked away as soon as he touched his forehead, so he can’t catch your eye.

He has a million questions he wants to ask. What happened? Why didn’t the bullet kill me? Why didn’t you kill me? Did you believe me? Do you believe me? Are we okay?

Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer to the last question, so he settles with: “Where are we?” 

Though you’d stiffened as soon as his lips parted to speak, you relax when you hear the question he asked.

“A safe house in Sakae,” you say quietly. Dazai starts to sit up but his vision swims so he has to stop and rest back down against the arm of the couch, blinking furiously. “You should take it easy… You’re probably going to feel a bit off for a couple of hours.”

Dazai is about to ask you what exactly happened, but the words die on his lips when you finally draw closer to him. You sit down on the couch next to where he’s laying, your body brushes his and Dazai feels warm. The remnants of the frigid cold of his dream vanishes as soon as the warmth of your body grazes his—he knows that there are many things that need to be addressed, but he would be content to avoid those topics and bask in your comfort for as long as he can. 

His eyes slide shut as you reach up to cup his cheek. He doesn’t even bother reopening them when he feels you lift your other hand to remove the bandages from around the top of his head—he thinks maybe he could almost doze back off. It’s only when you let out a soft sigh and fasten them back on does he finally bother to open his eyes again. 

“I don’t have enough bandages on me already?” he asks, his voice is light and the smile on his lips is teasing as he tries to lighten the mood a little, but it doesn’t work.

You don’t respond to his comment. You look down, and the small smile on your lips doesn’t meet your eyes, so his falls off his face as he stares up at you carefully and finally asks the much dreaded question that would lead to even more dreaded questions:

“Will you tell me what happened?”

--

“We need to go,” Chuuya says, hand wrapped around your wrist tightly. You don’t budge from where you’re standing, staring at where Dazai had fallen back over the edge. It was a short drop with mud softening the fall, he would be okay—if everything went according to plan, that is. Otherwise, the bullet you just shot at him killed him anyway, so the fall is inconsequential. “Come on. We can’t stay here. We have to go.”

“How do-”

“Not here,” Chuuya hisses. “Come on.”

“Chuuya-” you breathe out, voice wavering over his name. You can’t bring yourself to move even as Chuuya tries to drag you away. “Chuuya, I need to kn-”

Need to know if this worked. Need to know if he was able to stop the bullet. Need to know if you actually just killed the boy you’re in love with.

“Not here,” Chuuya replies, voice harsh, cutting you off before you can say anything more incriminating. 

This time, he doesn’t wait for you to follow him—he yanks you along with him, not even bothering to steady you when you stumble. You know you should snap yourself out of this, you know Mori has people trailing you to ensure you follow through with Dazai’s execution, but you’re haunted by the expression on his face when you pulled the trigger.

He accepted it.

You had the gun to his head. You asked him to forgive you. He said he did, and he accepted that he was about to die at your hands. A part of you is eager to convince yourself that maybe he saw through your plan, that he realized you weren’t going to kill him, but that look in his eyes…

He didn’t know, and he accepted it anyway.

Your stomach churns. The ragged breath you take in cuts off abruptly as you gag over it—you saw the blood, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t know if Dazai’s nullification ability prevented Chuuya from using his own ability to slow the bullet before it killed him. You don’t know if he fell backward because he was shot or because the high dosage sedative that you swiped from Mori’s office set in as quickly as it was supposed to. You don’t even know if Chuuya had been able to inject it in him with his ability. You don’t know anything.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” Chuuya mutters as he opens the car door and ushers you inside. 

Instead of sitting in the front with Albatross, he sits in the back with you, sharing a sharp look with Albatross before the other man finally pulls away from the ports. He still doesn’t say anything else—he knows better. This is one of the Port Mafia’s cars, tapped and actively being transmitted to one of Kouyou’s subordinates who will report to her and Mori anything that seems off, and you need to buy as much time as you possibly can before Mori realizes Dazai isn’t dead.

Because Dazai isn’t dead. He can’t be dead.

It worked. It all worked.

It had to have. 

Just as you expect, your phone rings as soon as the car starts moving. Mori has eyes on you—he was waiting for you to finish with the execution before calling. You’re certain that he’s going to send someone to check the body now; he doesn’t trust you to finish the job, not when something as fickle and unpredictable as love is involved. 

Klaus will have to be quick—you don’t even know if he was able to find a lookalike to kill so he could swap out the body. You only were able to give him a twenty, maybe thirty, minute heads up. Dazai is plain looking, yes, and the mud he dropped in should do some work at concealing his identity, but if Mori’s shadow sends him a picture to confirm the kill, the slim amount of time you hope to have bought with your fake out will be halved.

You stare down at the phone and let it ring once, twice, and finally on the third ring, you lift the phone to your ear and accept the call, waiting for Mori to speak.

“Has it been done?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice steady even if your fingers are trembling around the phone. “Do you need me back at headquarters?”

“No, I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you. You should get some rest. I have a meeting with Tolstoy in a bit anyway. I’ll meet with you tomorrow after I have tea with Elise-chan so you can debrief me on the meetings with the Guild,” Mori says easily, his tone is light and airy, and it makes you angry, because how dare he sound so flippant after what he just expected you to do. “... I’m sorry things had to end this way, dear. I’m proud of you. You did well.”

“I know,” you say tightly in response before hanging up and putting the phone back down in your lap. 

Chuuya watches you carefully, but he doesn’t say anything, and you stare ahead at the back of the driver’s seat. It’s a twenty-five minute drive from the ports in Naka to Sakae—for better or for worse, it’s going to be a quiet one. For better because you think you might start crying if you have to speak, and for worse because now all you’re plagued with is your own thoughts and the image of Dazai’s face before you shot him.

You didn’t shoot him. Not really.

But you did, you don’t know if Chuuya was able to stop it. You don’t even know if Chuuya knows if he was able to stop it. There was a splatter of blood. You saw that, and there shouldn’t have been blood if this worked, so the worst case scenario looms over you heavily. But you won’t know until you get to the safe house—until you hear from Klaus. Your breath hitches over a sob you’re forced to swallow; your chest burns and tightens uncomfortable.

You had to do it, this was the only option. Anything else and there was no shot he wouldn’t have been killed. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but he would be killed. You wouldn’t be able to protect him from Mori otherwise—he would’ve put a hit out on him, and Dazai would have all of the most dangerous assassins in the underworld out for him trying to get the bounty. You can’t protect him from that. You needed to buy time. You needed to buy time so you could-

You don’t finish the thought. 

You don’t think you’ve come to terms with what has to be done if you want to protect Dazai. A part of you doesn’t even know if you’ll be able to follow through with it, but you’ve already set yourself down the path of no return and you’ve dragged Chuuya down it along with you. Either you follow through, or the three of you are going to be on the run for the rest of your lives.

Shit.

Your gaze tracks back down to your phone. Still nothing from Klaus—nothing from Akutagawa either. The silence is too loud, each second that passes has you aching with a pain that feels like knives dragging against your bones. You just need to know, you need to know that he’s okay, that you didn’t-

You rest your forehead against the window when nausea builds back up in your stomach. It’s cool, and a welcome reprieve from the heaviness weighing down on you, but the moment your eyes slide shut, you’re faced with Dazai again and no amount of deep breathing and grounding techniques can stop the way your heart rate sky-rockets, breath becoming quick and shallow.

You see him. You see him, and he’s looking up at you, dark eyes wide and adoring as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him, and his lips part to say something but before he can, you see something thick and red trickling down his face over his lips, and suddenly something is weighing cold and heavy in your hand but you can’t bring yourself to look down at it, but you can’t drag your eyes from his face. Can’t hide yourself from the way his warm eyes are suddenly wide and glassy, void of all of the emotions that you’d just-

Your arm hurts—sharp and painful and so sudden that you’re dragged from the images haunting you. Your gaze cuts over to Chuuya, who’s giving you a concerned look. You realize he must’ve shifted over a bit, brushed his arm against yours to use his ability to jolt you out of your spiraling thoughts. When he realizes that you’re back in the present, he gives you a pointed look and then directs his gaze outside.

You’re almost there. How much time had passed?

Why hasn’t Klaus or Akutagawa reached out to you?

What is going on?

Albatross doesn’t stop in front of the safe house—there are too many cameras in the street and all of the Port Mafia’s cars are tracked. Instead, he takes a left on the next street because it’s one of the few without a red light camera and a blind spot on the corner. His gaze flickers up to the rearview mirror and he pointedly raises the volume of his shitty music a few decibels louder to cover the noise of the car doors opening and closing as you and Chuuya slip out when he stops at the red light.

You leave your phone in the car and you’re careful to avoid the camera near the bakery on the corner as you follow Chuuya around to the alley that leads to the back entrance of the safe house. It’s not a Port Mafia safe house—it was Itou’s. This was where he stayed in the few months during the Dragon’s Head Conflict where he was on his own, after he left Strain but before you recruited him to the Port Mafia. It was well hidden and well protected, you hadn’t been able to track him down here until he brought you here—he made sure that it was a blind spot in the Port Mafia’s ever-watchful eye over Yokohama, and you made sure to keep it that way once he was gone. 

It’s only once the steel door is shut behind you that you can finally speak, gaze focusing on Chuuya desperately as you wait for him to tell you if he was able to do it or if Dazai’s ability…

“Did you hear from Klaus or Akutagawa?” he asks quietly, and that’s enough of an answer.

He doesn’t know. 

You feel sick—your stomach lurches and you don’t know if you start to stumble toward the bathroom or the couch or straight to the floor, but it doesn’t matter because Chuuya is darting forward to grab you and guide you over to the couch.

“Chuuya, if I-” you start to say, your words are raspy and you can’t even bring yourself to finish them. “If I-”

“Don’t,” he says, wrapping an arm around you. “Don’t bother going there yet. Wait for Klaus and Akutagawa.”

“But-”

“Stop,” he insists. “All you’re going to do is torture yourself.”

Isn’t that what you deserve? You want to say to him, nails digging into the palm of your hand so deep that it draws blood. Chuuya catches what you’re doing and immediately moves to unfurl your hands. Everything you’ve done. You killed Dazai’s family. His siblings. His cousins. You ruined his life, and then after everything, it wasn’t enough. You ruined his life and then you took-

“Hey, stop,” Chuuya interrupts your thoughts, clearly realizing what path they’re going down. You don’t realize your breath is ragged again until he grabs your chin and twists your head to force you to look at him. “I know what you’re thinking, but we can’t do this right now, we need to plan. We don’t have time, and when Klaus and Akutagawa get here with him, we need to know what we’re doing. You need to snap out of it.”

You don’t respond to him—your lashes flutter and you see Dazai again, you see blood, you see empty eyes, you see the gun in your hand, and you feel something warm and wet trickling over your cheeks. Chuuya spits out curses to himself and wipes away the tears streaming down your face. He’s gentle now, the rough grip on your chin disappears and is replaced with his hand cradling the back of your head as he pulls you closer to him. He presses your ear to his chest, hoping that the steady thrum of his heart is enough to ground you.

“Where the fuck are they?” he spits out more to himself than to you. His breath hitches and you can hear the stammering of his heart, and you know that he’s nervous, but he’s trying to hide it for your sake. “I need you here. What we just did-fuck-”

You try to snap out of it—you do, but every time you blink you see him. You see what you did. You knew this would happen from the very beginning, you knew it, and everyone warned you, but you’re selfish. You’ve always been so selfish.

You don’t know how much time passes. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. It all blurs, it all feels like eternity, but eventually, the door to the safe house slams open, and only a handful of people know about it.

Your gaze snaps up, and you don’t realize you’re holding your breath until Klaus steps into the room with a familiar figure slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Both of them are covered in various substances that you think you would rather not know what they are, but you can see the steady rise and fall of Dazai’s back. You rise to your feet abruptly and Chuuya lets out a relieved breath, shoulders slumping.

Klaus immediately points an accusing finger at you. “I had to hunt down a civilian, kill him, crawl through shit and trash with a dead body to swap it out for your boy, I had to carry him across half of the city, and I couldn’t even channel Mephisto because he nullifies him. You better not complain about any messes I make for the next six months,” Klaus demands, and then points wildly back toward a very clean Akutagawa, who casts an unimpressed look his way. “And he didn’t even help me. He stood there and watched.”

“I was ensuring that no one saw what we were doing,” Akutagawa replies primly. “Even more important than your job, considering if someone saw it would all be for naught. You should be thanking me.”

Klaus’s face goes red with anger as he whips around to face him and roars, “More important? Thank you?!”

You laugh. It’s so startling that all of the anger washes away from Klaus’s face and the goading expression on Akutagawa’s disappears. Or you think you laugh—you think you might be crying again too. Both boys look aghast by the sight of it, looking at each other as if waiting for the other to do something to make you stop.

Eventually, Klaus steps forward and unsurely tries to pass Dazai’s unconscious body over to you as if to try to make you feel better by shoving him in your arms. Chuuya slaps him hard over the back of the head causing him to yelp.

“Put him on the couch, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you passing him over to her like he’s a fucking stuffed animal?” Chuuya snaps, giving him a plainly judgemental look before resting his hand on your shoulder. 

Klaus looks disgruntled, but he does as Chuuya asks, laying Dazai down on the couch where you and Chuuya had just been sitting. You drop to your knees next to him, and the room is oddly silent as you look down at him. You don’t feel their gazes on you, so you assume they’re giving you privacy as best they can.

He looks… peaceful. You could almost imagine that you were coming home to him napping on your couch after he spent the whole night playing some stupid video game in your living room. You try to imagine that’s what this is, but the bloody indent in his forehead prevents you.

It almost broke through his skull.

He almost died.

You almost killed him.

You feel a bit sick as your fingers trace up to the wound on his forehead. It’s still bleeding, but his forehead is clean compared to the grime that covers the rest of his body. Klaus and Akutagawa must’ve had the brain to stop and clean the wound before it could get infected—that’s probably what took them so long.

You feel someone come to your side, glancing up to see Akutagawa hovering next to you with bandages in hand. He passes them over to you silently before quickly walking away. You let out a soft breath as you unwind the bandages, gently lifting his head so you can wrap them around his forehead. Immediately, they’re staining red—you grimace and look away.

The silence hanging over the room only lasts so long.

“What’s next?” Klaus asks quietly. “This won’t work for long. What’s the plan?”

Your gaze lowers as you rest your hand against Dazai’s cheek, memorizing his face as best as you can. The heaviness in your chest returns, and along with it, the damning reminder of your reality.

“I have to kill Mori.”

--

Dazai suddenly understands his dream.

“It’s the only option,” you say quietly when Dazai’s expression immediately twists at your words. Your eyes look so heavy and your expression is so crestfallen that it makes Dazai ache. His fingers twitch to reach out for you but you shift away, shaking your head. “It’s the only option, Osamu. It has to be done.”

“But-”

“He tried to have me kill you,” you snap, and he almost rolls his eyes because he doesn’t need reminding of that. He’s abundantly aware of the fact that he almost died at your hands because of Mori. He refrains if only barely. “Why do you care about what happens to him?”

“He’s your father,” Dazai says, watching as you go stiff. He knows he might’ve just made a mistake saying that, but he doesn’t even know if you fully understand the gravity of all of this or if you’re just running off heightened emotions right now. “I don’t care about him, he can go fuck off and die for all I care. I care about you-“

“He’s not my father,” you spit out, voice tight, “and maybe you shouldn’t care about me.”

Oh, here it comes, Dazai thinks dreadfully. That was the opening you needed to bring up the subject Dazai desperately wanted to avoid. He has made a fatal mistake. He should’ve just nodded along and agreed to your plan.

“You’re right he’s not your father,” Dazai immediately agrees to appease you and try to avoid the imminent conversation. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Hey, do you have food here? I’m so hungry all of a sudden, wow, do you hear my stomach-” 

You sigh, looking away. Your eyes are suddenly very tired and Dazai’s words falter on his tongue as his gaze settles on you. His fingers twitch to reach out for your hand but you draw them back into your lap. Dazai’s gaze drops at the blatant rejection, but as soon as you notice, you reach back out to intertwine your fingers with his. He feels placated, but only a little, because he still has a tight feeling in his chest that he can’t push away. A looming fear that something is going to go terribly wrong.

“Can we please talk about this?” you finally ask quietly, and even though Dazai does want to say no, he simply cannot bring himself to. 

So, instead, he nods, and braces himself for what he knows is bound to be a terrible conversation. He waits for you to say something—you look like you want to, but he thinks that maybe you’re struggling just as much as him at opening the conversation. 

This isn’t going to go well, he realizes again, swallowing thickly. 

“Come on,” you finally say, rising to your feet. You hold out your hand to him and Dazai stares at it for a moment, confused. “Let’s get you cleaned up, you smell disgusting.”

“I wonder why,” Dazai mutters, and he means for it to come out as a joke, but when the small smile on your lips falters, he realizes it probably came out much too bitter so he quickly grabs your hand instead, letting you help him to his feet. He tries to get you to smile again by giving you a soft one of his own, but now the expression on your face is heavy and conflicted. “Are you gonna take a bath with me?”

“You should probably rinse off before we get into the bath,” you say dryly, thumb running along the back of his hand before you let go of it. “Otherwise we’ll just be sitting in shit water.”

Dazai almost gags. “Don’t remind me what I’m covered in right now,” he pleads. “Where is the shower?”

The light returns to your eyes, a smile flickers to your lips, and Dazai considers it a win even if he is covered in shit and god knows what else. He glances back down to where he’d been laying and winces when he sees the stains. His eyes flicker back up to you and he cringes when he sees the displeased expression on your face.

“I’ll make Atsushi and Akutagawa clean it,” you say more to yourself than to him, shaking your head and motioning for him to follow. “Bonding exercise.”

Dazai raises his eyebrows, unsure if the couch is even salvageable, and almost lets a comment slip about it considering you were so quick to throw out his couch to replace it, but he refrains when a sad expression crosses your face when you think he’s not looking. He frowns, looking around a bit more scrutinizing now.

This place looks nothing like your apartment.

Your apartment is… plain. Minimalistic. The most you have decorating it is a handful of paintings on the wall and a couple of antiques displayed on dressers. Other than that, you have your furniture, your television, and that’s just about it. Dazai had joked once about it feeling like a hotel room, and promptly stole your credit card to buy things to decorate with—gaudy Christmas lights even though it’s not Christmas, a couple of fake pumpkins to line against your wall and a plastic skeleton to pin up near the window. He even bought an inflatable snowman to put in the middle of the room, but it hasn’t come yet. You rolled your eyes every time you came back from work to see some new, seasonally inappropriate decoration in your apartment, but he could tell the more things he added to your apartment, the happier you seemed to be. 

This place was actually decorated. Pictures and trinkets set up on the dressers, all of the furniture matched and the walls were a warm burgundy instead of the off-putting, psych ward white of your apartment. You said this was a safe house, but it seems more like a home than your actual one. 

“What is this place?” he asks again, because it’s something more than a safe-house, he just doesn’t know what.

“I told you,” you frown. “A safe house.”

Dazai’s lips curl down in response but he doesn’t press, gaze flickering over to one of the side tables against the wall, trying to figure out who exactly is in the pictures on it, but as he strains his eyes to focus on it, pain ricochets through his head and he has to abandon the mission. Disappointed, he follows you into the back bedroom and realizes he’ll just have to figure it out later.

He almost stops in his tracks in the doorway when he sees that the bedroom is just as homely as the rest of the safe house. It’s weird—the same burgundy walls, dark mahogany furniture, there’s what looks to be a handmade quilt draped over the foot of the bed. It’s just so unlike you that it almost has Dazai reeling.

You give him an odd look when you see the twisted expression on his face, but motion toward another door. “The bathroom is in there—go rinse off and run the bath, I’ll be in there in a minute, I’m going to grab a change of clothes for you.”

“Mkay,” Dazai agrees, a jump in his step as he rushes over to the bathroom. 

He only pauses for a second to take in his surroundings when he gets in there—he’s not as surprised now by the style. Less modern, more rustic, just like the rest of the house; it’s more like something he’d expect to see in one of those American holiday movies. He leans over the tub to run the hot water before pulling off his clothes. He squints as he starts to unwind his bandages, looking into the shower and realizing that the only soap in there is an unopened bar soap, and a men’s shampoo and conditioner set. 

A bit suspicious now, he glances at the door leading to the bedroom before kneeling down in front of the cabinets beneath the sink. With one hand, he unwinds the bandages around his legs, and with the other, he reaches out to open the cabinet so he can snoop. Just as he expected: men’s deodorant, a spare baking soda and peroxide toothpaste that he knows you hate, and a handful of different colognes. There’s one bag off to the side and Dazai reaches for it, peeking in and finding your typical bath soaps and hair care.

Whose place is this? He wonders, pausing for half a second before taking out your soaps and bringing them into the shower with him. It’s not Chuuya’s—Dazai knows that because he hasn’t seen a single tacky hat yet, but then whose?

He’s quick to clean himself off, eager to be with you and still a bit anxious that you might disappear when he’s not looking. The water runs brown as it rinses over him, but it feels nice—Dazai realizes that this is his first shower since he got kidnapped by the Guild, and a part of him wants to bask in it. He wants to wash off all of the unfamiliar touches and the dirt and the blood, but more than that, he wants to surround himself with you instead. Which means he has to hurry out of here and drag you into the tub with him. 

He thinks maybe he should be biding his time. He has a lot to think about before he actually talks to you—he’s hardly even had a chance to process everything that happened—but still, he finds himself rushing to scrub himself. It couldn’t have been more than ten, fifteen minutes before he’s stumbling out of the shower and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. He almost expects you to be waiting in the bathroom for him, but you’re not, so he frowns and creaks the door back open to look for you.

Your name is on his lips as he steps back into the bedroom, but he falters when he sees you standing in the same place he left you: right outside a closet, except now the door is open and there’s a sweatshirt in your hands. The expression on your face is destroyed, and Dazai isn’t exactly sure what to say, luckily, he doesn’t need to because you hear the door open and turn toward him.

Whatever you’re about to say dies on your lips as your eyes trail over his body.

Another fatal mistake.

Dazai instantly realizes that he has never taken off his bandages in front of you before—that night at the beach house, he thought you were going to ask him to take them off, but you didn’t. He was glad for it, because he wasn’t sure if he was ready, and after that… Well, everything went downhill after that.

Dazai suddenly wants to flee. He becomes acutely aware of all of the scars on his body plainly in view. The warm, dim lighting becomes spotlights shining down on him, highlighting all of the flaws that he’s feared your reaction to. He waits for your face to twist—or, he knows you, you probably wouldn’t have such a visible reaction, so he focuses on your eyes instead.

But they only curve up along with your lips, a fondness in them that he doesn’t expect. You place the clothes down on the bed and approach him, his breath catches when your hands rest on his hips right above the towel. The skin-on-skin makes his chest ache—he’s missed you so much, he hadn’t even realized how hard it had been to breathe without you until he was back with you again.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he breathes out loud, lashes fluttering when your thumbs circle over his hip bones, right over a jagged scar that cuts across his lower abdomen—the product of an unfortunate encounter in Suribachi. 

“I missed you too,” you say softly. Your eyes trace over his face like you’re trying to memorize each little detail—usually he feels uncomfortable when under a scrutinizing gaze, he never wants someone to look too closely at him in fear of what they might find, but he feels warm beneath yours. “I’m sorry.”

He’s not sure exactly what you’re apologizing for; it could be anything from almost killing him to letting him into your life at all. He’s not yet ready for this conversation to start, he hasn’t even gathered his thoughts yet, so instead he glances pointedly back toward the bathroom. You let out a soft breath—he can’t tell if it’s irritation or you’re just tired, it might be both, but you do motion for him to go in and he can hear you following him.

The water is still steaming as he lets the towel drop to the ground and sinks into it. His muscles instantly relax, eyes sliding shut as he rests against the back of the tub, letting out a soft sigh. For a moment, he can almost forget everything that’s happened, his head falls to the side to focus on you as you undress, folding your clothes and placing them on the side table. He blinks when you pull off your dress shirt, gaze zeroing in on a scar marring your upper back. It’s small, circular—a bullet wound, maybe? It doesn’t go through to your chest though, he would’ve noticed that. 

“How did you get that?” he asks curiously, belatedly realizing he probably has no right to ask about scars considering his body is riddled with them and he’d probably evade most attempts at your prying if you asked. 

“Hm?” you ask quietly, looking over your shoulder at him as you finish undressing.

The words falter on Dazai’s lips as his gaze roves over your body. You’re beautiful, he thinks again, a bit more dreamily this time. You’re beautiful, and he’s missed you so much, and he just wants all of this to be over so he can go back to lounging in your apartment and spending your money all day. It’s only when you raise your eyebrows that he clears his throat and nods his chin to your back.

“The scar on your back,” he explains. “How did you get it?”

“Oh,” you realize, making your way over to the tub and tapping his shoulder, motioning for him to shift forward. You slip into the water behind him, circling your arms around his waist and Dazai’s chest feels warm and full as he rests back against you, eyes sliding shut. “An assassination attempt when I was eighteen. I was… reckless, saw it coming and… Well, luckily, the Flags had been in the area. Iceman figured out what was happening and they got there quick enough to stabilize me and get me to Mori.”

Dazai’s throat swells at the implication of what you’d said, trying to distract himself with the feeling of your fingers tracing across his abdomen. He notes softly, “You’re never reckless.”

Your fingers pause in the absent patterns you’re tracing on him, and Dazai wonders if it’s a sore topic, about to retract his words. Before he can, you let out a soft breath and drop your forehead down on his shoulder, arms tightening around him.

“This was Itou’s house. All of the stuff in here, it’s his family’s—stuff he was able to salvage after they were killed. He tried to keep the house like how his mother used to keep it as a way to memorialize her,” you say quietly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he recognizes the name of your old partner. “We were enemies when we first met, y’know? It was during the big conflict six years ago. He was part of one of the foreign organizations. I ended up recruiting him, but he spent a few months on his own here. He was careful to keep it a blind spot to the Port Mafia even after he joined up, I always thought he was paranoid about it, but he was quite insistent that there was no need for people to know about it.”

“Makes sense,” Dazai says dryly. “I wouldn’t want Mori knowing where I’m living either.”

It’s an off-handed quip, but you still stiffen and again, Dazai fumbles to say something else because he clearly upset you. He starts to add, “I-”

“I killed him,” you finally say, voice weak and airy. Your arms loosen around him, but his hands drop to cover yours, holding them in place. “I killed him, Osamu.”

“I thought you said he died on a mission,” Dazai murmurs, hand tightening around yours when he feels the way your fingers are trembling. 

“I… Itou was born into this life. Was born into a Yakuza-family based in Tokyo, trained since he was old enough to walk how to use his ability… how to kill. The Yakuza syndicate his family was the head of was wiped out by the Sun and Steel when he was eight… nine, maybe. His mother was able to get him and bring him back to Australia—that’s where she was from. It’s how he ended up with Strain,” you explain, and the water suddenly feels a bit cold—what happened to Itou’s family sounds a lot like what happened to Dazai’s. From the way you pause, you wonder if you realize the same thing. You quickly change the subject, “He tried getting me out of the Mafia.”

“What?” Dazai asks, surprised. He shifts to physically look at you, catching the wistful expression on your face. “You wanted to leave the Mafia.”

The wistful expression shifts into something much more conflicted. 

“I didn’t-” you start to say before cutting yourself off. “I don’t know. I think maybe a part of me might’ve wanted to. I was… curious. He was sneaky—he was always such a sneaky bastard. He tried to ease me into it, show me what a different life was like. Called them training exercises, wanted me to blend in with kids my age.”

He remembers you telling him this at the beach house, but he listens anyway because now you do sound wistful. His eyes slide shut as you hold him tightly, pressing your lips to his shoulder blade before resting your chin on top of it. 

“His gift to me for my eighteenth birthday was an acceptance letter to university. He pulled some strings. It was for YNU, actually, funny enough,” you say softly. Dazai’s eyes widen as he turns to look at you again; there’s a small, sad smile on your lips and when he turns, you take the chance to steal a kiss from him. “Imagine, we could’ve been first years together.”

Dazai doesn’t dare to respond. His hand tightens around yours—if it’s painful, you don’t let it show. Odasaku dragged him to orientation, and he imagines meeting you there. You’re good at socializing—charming—Dazai can be too when he wants, but he definitely did not want to during orientation. He mostly sulked away and waited for it to be over so he could go back home. He imagines that you’d be in the same group with him, and although he’d probably ignore you the first few times you tried to talk to him, he’d eventually give in. Dazai is weak to pretty women, especially when that pretty woman is you.

Or maybe, you’d meet during a shared class. You would probably be a poli-sci major, but he’s taken classes in the field for requirements. He hated them, thought they were boring, but he probably would’ve enjoyed it much more if he had you to admire all two hours of the class. And maybe-

“I was curious,” you repeat, voice tighter. There’s more of an edge to it now, and Dazai realizes that this story is about to take a turn. “I… I wanted to try it. I told Mori.”

Dazai’s eyes widen and he sits up straight. The water sloshes around him as he physically turns around to face you. He asks, but can’t finish, “Did he…”

“He said it was a great idea,” you say tightly. “He encouraged it. I accepted the spot, and a week before orientation, Itou died on a mission that we got bad intel for. My whole team, they died to make sure I got out alive. Mori denied having any involvement, said he wouldn’t risk an ability user as powerful as Itou, but I know. I know he had a hand in it. I’ve always known it. The government had been after Itou for years—they said he was a national security threat. A couple of weeks later, we suddenly have the skilled business permit that Mori’s been trying to get for months. It was a trade-off. I know it. Two birds, one stone. The skilled business permit and my full focus back on the Mafia for Itou’s life.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something—anything—but he can’t. Your eyes are misty, and the foreboding feeling that’s been haunting him since he woke up intensifies. You shake your head, blinking back tears. 

“I never should’ve brought you into this world, Osamu.”

Dazai needs to think now. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to go about this, whether he should be soft and demure, appealing to your heart, or if he should be more forceful, triggering your guilt. 

He goes with the latter.

“Well it’s too late for that,” Dazai says, keeping his voice steady until he knows how you’re going to react to it. When you instantly shake your head again, his voice hardens. “It’s too late, I’m already in it. You can’t just get rid of me. Take accountability.”

“You don’t think I have?” you question dryly, looking away from him. But he needs you to look at him for this to be effective, so he reaches out to grab your hand, dragging your attention back toward him. “I killed your family, Osamu.”

“She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arms and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Her name was Akane. Bunji and Touma were her brothers. 

They were Dazai’s brothers. Dazai’s sister. The stuffed bear was called Coco, and Akane would clutch it and cry whenever Dazai started talking about things like death. She was scared of dying; more than that, scared of the people she loved dying. She cried for weeks when their grandmother passed, and got angry at Dazai when he didn’t even cry at the funeral. Dazai used to share a bedroom with her and Touma, but he hated her nightlight—it was purple and it was always right in Dazai’s eyes when he laid down. He convinced his mother to force Bunji to swap rooms with him, so Dazai had his own room on the second floor of his grandfather’s estate.

“You were a kid too,” Dazai rasps out the same thing he said at the beach house, but it comes out a bit weaker this time knowing exactly who the people you killed were. “You were fourteen. You-”

“I played a role in tracking your mother down,” you continue. Dazai’s breath catches as his fingers loosen around yours. “It was my punishment for not making sure all of the grandchildren were… eliminated. I was the one that was tracking her down, and I was the one that was going to interrogate her for your whereabouts when I found her.”

“Stop,” Dazai says quietly, voice wavering.

“No,” you reply firmly. “No. You need to understand this-”

“I do,” Dazai insists, voice cracking. “I do understand-”

“You don’t, Dazai,” you raise your voice and Dazai cringes back. You sigh and soften your voice, but the damage has been done, Dazai’s fight or flight instincts have been triggered. This conversation is not going to end in his favor, so he needs to run before he gets hurt, but he can’t because you have him stuck in the bath with you. You reach out again to take his hands in yours, fingers absently running along the scars on his wrists. “You don’t, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so quick to join me in here. You haven’t even had time to process it.”

“Yes, I have,” Dazai whispers weakly. “I have.”

“I ruined your life, Osamu,” you say quietly. “Everything bad that’s ever happened to you started with me.”

“That’s not true,” Dazai argues, nails biting into your skin as he clings to you. “My life sucked before everything really went to shit. The first time I tried to kill myself, I was eleven. You saved my life. I was going to kill myself that night we met at the bar. You saved me.”

“Osamu-”

“You’re not listening to me,” Dazai interrupts, voice taking a more manic edge as he shakes his head. He can talk himself out of any situation—why is he failing now when it matters most? “You’re not listening. You saved me. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you breathe out, but the words don’t settle his nerves because they’re heavy and full of sorrow, and the tears that had been pooling in your eyes finally start to spill over.

“Then why does this still feel like a goodbye?” he begs, breath shallow as he searches your face for an answer.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. He finds his answer in your eyes. He always does. You look at him again with that desperate, longing expression, like you’re trying to memorize the details of his face even though you know it’s futile. 

This is a goodbye.

--

Dazai hasn’t spoken to you once since your conversation in the bath.

Chuuya, your subordinates, and the Flags are back now, and Dazai is sulking in the bedroom watching one of his dumb reality shows. You can hardly focus on the conversation at hand because of it, and you know the others are starting to get irritated by your distraction considering the stakes at play right now. If one thing goes wrong, all of your lives would be forfeit. They’re risking everything by helping you right now, and you can't even bother to give them your full attention.

“Out,” Piano Man suddenly says. Your gaze snaps toward him, as does all of the others’ in the room. When nobody immediately moves, he raises his eyebrows and continues dryly, “Are you all hard of hearing? I said get out.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Albatross demands. “Her boy’s in the bedroom. This place is small-”

“Go crowd in the closet for all I care. Get out,” Piano Man says dismissively. Still, no one moves until his gaze sharpens and they realize he’s being entirely serious. You shift to leave with them until his eyes land on you. “Not you.”

You feel like a child about to be scolded, which is ridiculous because you’re a mafioso, and though Piano Man is technically the same rank as you, he’s not really. He can’t scold you, but you shift awkwardly on your feet and share a concerned look with Chuuya anyway as they all wander out of the safe house and into the small hallway outside.

Once the two of you are alone, you finally glance back at Piano Man, who’s watching you carefully. After a few moments he says, “I take it you told him the plan?”

“I did,” you reply quietly.

“He didn’t take it well?” Piano Man questions.

“You know the answer to that,” you say a bit more dryly before shaking your head. “Would you have taken it well?”

“Of course not, I’d be livid,” Piano Man says immediately, making you cringe. “Does this mean we’re changing the plan?” 

“No,” you tell him. “We can’t. This is the only option.”

“I know,” Piano Man says with a thin smile. “So stop sulking and get your head in the game so we don’t all die trying to perform a coup.”

You’re startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, but you suppose you shouldn’t be. Piano Man has always been capricious, going from his whimsical moods to more cold and ruthless ones within a matter of seconds. You can hardly meet his eyes now, looking down at the ground to avoid them.

“Why are you helping me?” you ask after a few moments.

You don’t have to look at Piano Man to see the way he raises his eyebrows judgmentally. “Excuse me?” 

“I was going to kill you earlier. I held a gun to your head. Why are you helping me?” you press, the words weighing heavily on you as you remember the way he met your eyes when you lifted the muzzle of your gun to his temple.

Piano Man has the audacity to look amused. “When I first recruited Lippmann, I tried to drown him in the harbor because I got paranoid he sold me out to the feds after a mission went wrong. It happens—the next time it does, I’m going to be pulling my own gun out though. So, don’t let it happen again, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t apologize often, even when you know you’re entirely in the wrong. Mori has taught you only to apologize when it serves you, otherwise you should never make an admission of guilt or liability. So it’s not surprising when Piano Man’s eyebrows shoot upward, but his expression softens after a moment. He reaches out to pat your head.

“I know this isn’t easy,” he murmurs, “but we need you at the top of your game if this is going to work.”

“I know,” you reply. “... I know.”

“Good,” he says, patting the top of your head yet again before sighing. “Let me go get them and we’ll get back to planning, okay?”

“Mkay.”

You lean back against the wall as you look down at the table Lippmann set up for planning. The Flags, your subordinates, Kajii Motojiro—they’re non-factors in the planned coup. The Flags will support it, your subordinates will support you, and all Kajii cares about is his experiments. Paul Verlaine is not quite as secure, but Chuuya is confident that he’ll support whatever Chuuya goes along with.

The issue lies in Kouyou and the Black Lizards.

You already feel a headache come on just at the thought, lifting your hands to your head and rubbing your eyes as you knock the back of your head against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. Kouyou and Hirotsu won’t support the coup, you know it. They’re both loyal to Mori—both victims of the previous boss who found refuge in Mori when he took over. They’ll fight for him, and you know better than anyone that during a forceful transition of power, all dissidents must be removed, especially ones that hold significant power and influence.

But it’s Kouyou and Hirotsu. Kouyou, who was the one to teach you how to do your makeup properly, who bought you your first kimono to match her own. Hirotsu, who was always quick to execute anyone that openly disrespected you, who took you to a movie on your fifteenth birthday when Mori was busy dealing with the power transition so you didn’t spend it alone. The thought makes you sick—they were family, and maybe Hirotsu could be convinced. He’s loyal to Mori, yes, but more than that, he’s loyal to the Port Mafia. If you can manufacture a legitimate reason for the coup…

You sigh as you glance down the hall where Dazai is hiding in the bedroom, startled when your gaze catches his familiar brown. He’s seemingly just as surprised that you caught him spying, immediately slamming the bedroom door shut to retreat back into the safety of the room. Your lips curl up into a small smile, which is quickly washed away when your subordinates, the Flags and Chuuya all file back into the room.

“I’ll talk to Ane-san,” Chuuya finally says, reigniting the conversation. “I’ll make her see reason.”

“There’s no time for talking, Chuuya,” Piano Man tells him. “This all has to be done within hours. If we let word get out about what we’re doing… The coup is risky, and a civil war would be the end of this city.”

Frustration flashes across Chuuya’s face. “I’m not budging on this,” he says, voice tight with thinly restrained anger. “Either you give me the chance to talk to her, or I’ll withdraw my support.”

“Chuuya,” you sigh tiredly, wanting nothing more than to just sit down.

“No,” Chuuya interrupts you. “I won’t actively stand against you, but I won’t stand with you if you don’t give me the chance to talk to her.”

“Fine,” you finally say even though you know it’s a mistake. It’s asking for trouble. Piano Man gives you a sharp, disapproving look, but you shake your head. “It’s fine. She won’t be keeping her executive position.”

Chuuya’s face twists. “But-”

“No.” This time you interrupt him, holding up your hand. “I’m not budging on this. If you want the chance to talk to her and convince her this is the best route, I’ll give you it, but you need to meet me halfway. She’s not retaining her executive position.”

Chuuya looks unhappy, but after a few moments, he nods. “Fine.”

“I can’t risk it, Chuuya,” you tell him quietly. “I need people who I trust in the inner circle. I can’t trust her after what just happened.”

“I get it,” Chuuya says. “I just don’t like it.”

“That leaves three executive seats we need to fill.” Piano Man lets out a heavy sigh as he sits on the edge of the table, tilting his head back in exhaustion. “Your’s, Ace’s, and Kouyou-san’s. Do you even have three more people who you trust?”

Klaus and Akutagawa, you think to yourself, but neither of them are executive material. Your gaze drifts over to Albatross, Iceman, and Doc, each of them pointedly looks away, none of them want the open seats. Lippmann can’t take it, not with what you have planned for him. So, who else-

“Verlaine?” Chuuya offers. “He’s got a ton of experience with the European organizations—we’ll probably need it considering Dostoevsky’s involvement with the Guild, and this Book that’s apparently somewhere in the city. If it gets out to the public, we’ll have organizations swarming just like during the Dragon’s Head.”

You don’t like the idea of Verlaine being an executive, and you don’t think Piano Man does either considering his unfortunate first meeting with the man, but Chuuya raises good points. You have your own experience with the European underworld, but it’s nothing like what Verlaine has.

“Okay,” you agree, “and the other two?”

The Black Lizards are its own command unit that answers directly to the Boss. They don’t have a seat at the table because it’s not their field. Their field is war, not politics… but what other options are there? The people you trust are far and few in-between, you can probably count them on one hand.

“What about Tolstoy?” a familiar voice asks quietly from down the hallway. You look up immediately, gaze focusing on where Dazai is standing in the door of the bedroom, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatshirt, shoulders hunched. He doesn’t like the attention of everyone on him, so he keeps his eyes trained fully on you. “Mishima?”

“They’re not part of the Port Mafia,” Chuuya dismisses, “they don’t get seats.”

“But what if they were?” Dazai presses, shuffling forward. He hardly spares Chuuya a glance before looking at you again. “The transition of power is going to be shaky, you need to strengthen your position in other ways, otherwise…”

“You think we should merge with the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel,” Piano Man realizes, sitting up straighter as he considers Dazai’s proposition. “Doesn’t that risk destabilizing us even more though?”

He looks at you for an answer, but your gaze is focused on Dazai. He’s not even gone yet, but you already miss him desperately; all you want is to be with him, but it’s just not possible. You can’t have him and run the Port Mafia at the same time; he will die because of his affiliation with you, just like he almost did when the Guild captured him. It wouldn’t matter how safe you tried to keep him, one mistake and he would die. And that will lead to every decision you make being centered around him, not what’s best for the Port Mafia and that will lead to its inevitable ruin. 

“No, Osamu’s right,” you say, and Dazai preens at the praise, but then quickly deflates again. You want to reach out for him, but you refrain. “Not a merger. An acquisition. The Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel are already pretty much extensions of the Port Mafia, we would only be formalizing it. I trust Tolstoy and Mishima—I pretty much built the Three Deaths into what it is today myself. We’d give the Port Mafia an official foothold in Russia, more sway over everything that happens in Tokyo. It’s a good plan. Great one, even.”

“Will they even agree to it?” Chuuya asks doubtfully. “Go from being fully autonomous to answering to us.”

“They pretty much already do just answer to us,” Albatross mutters.

“They’ll agree to it,” you tell him quietly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Tolstoy won’t be hard to convince. He, Chekhov and Gorky are all good friends of yours, you helped them build the Three Deaths, you helped them win territory battles against the Pale Flame and the Red Chamber. All it would take a few words of convincing for them to agree to it. Mishima might be more difficult, but all you have to do is convince his daughters, and they hang off your every word.

There might be some dissent from the Sun and Steel executives, but even then, you think it would be minimal at worst. It’s a good plan. Having Tolstoy and Mishima sitting at the executive table would lend you some much needed support during the transition, and with the Port Mafia subsuming the Three Deaths and the Sun and Steel, it would provide a major deterrence against any foreign movements from Cao Xueqin or Yi Sang.

“What about Hirotsu and the Black Lizards?” Akutagawa asks, shifting awkwardly when all eyes turn to him. He doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, and you know it’s because he actually cares about what your answer might be. Akutagawa likes to pretend that he doesn’t care about anyone, but you know he has a soft spot for the unit that took Gin in so easily.

“We can’t afford to lose the Black Lizards,” Iceman notes as he lights another cigarette. “Especially if we’re bringing in other organizations. We don't want our own people to feel like they’re being lost in the mix, y’know?”

“I’ll handle Hirotsu,” you finally say. “It’ll be fine. I just need to figure out how to frame this. Needs to be framed in a way that makes him feel like this was the best, and only, course of action for the Mafia. He’s loyal to Mori only to the extent that he’s good for the Port Mafia. I’ll figure it out. Leave that to me.”

“Ace’s subordinates?” Albatross prompts. “They been handled? We can’t have them knowing about him. Can’t have anyone knowing about him.”

“Dead,” Akutagawa says. “I killed them.”

“Security cameras? CCTV? Any record of this kid being affiliated with us?” 

“Wiped,” Klaus answers flippantly. “We’ve gone through it every day since they met. Weren’t allowed to sleep ‘til made sure everything from the day was wiped. There’s no physical record of him ever being around us.”

“Okay, so we get this settled, and then we wait on Repin for the rest of us, right?” Albatross asks. Dazai cringes at the mention of Repin, and you look away from him, unable to watch the pain that crosses his face.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “It all needs to happen within no more than a couple days otherwise we risk the wrong people finding out so…”

“So we should get started,” Chuuya sighs, pushing himself off the wall. He squeezes your wrist as he passes by you, walking in the direction of the door. “We’ll give you guys some time. I’ll let you know how things go with Ane-san.”

You nod, eyes following him as he leaves. The others follow, filing out of the room until it’s only you and Dazai left again. You turn to look at him, so many words on your lips but incapable of pushing a single one out. Instead, you reach out to cup his face between your hands, running your thumbs across his cheekbones. His lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispers, brown eyes heavy and glassy as he looks down at you. “We can figure something else out. I know we can. Just give me some time, I just need a little time, I’ll figure something out.”

“We don’t have time,” you say, voice cracking over the words. “I love you, Osamu.”

Dazai pulls away, shaking his head. He wipes quickly at his eyes before looking at you again. You expect what he says, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I won’t forgive you. Not for this. Not ever. I can’t.”

“I know.”

--

SIX WEEKS LATER

“I must say, I wasn’t expecting this invitation,” a familiar voice hums as the door to your box opens. You don’t turn to look at him, keeping your gaze trained down on the performance taking place below. “Not from you, and not after everything that’s happened.”

“No?” you ask absently. “It’s unlike you to not expect something, Dostoevsky. Less like you to admit it.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects as he comes to stand next to you. He’s close enough to you that you can feel his body brushing yours. You finally turn your head to look at him—his lips are curved up into a deceptively soft smile, violet eyes glittering with a type of mischief that you know is dangerous. “We are well enough acquainted to be on a first name basis, no?” 

“Dostoevsky,” you repeat pointedly, looking back down at the show as the first act reaches its climax. Of all of the shows you’ve seen, Tosca is still your favorite. This rendition here at the New National Theatre isn’t quite as good as the one at La Scala, but you’re enjoying it well enough.

Dostoevsky lets out a huff of laughter, you don’t turn to look at him when you feel him reach out to touch you. His fingers trace along the maroon scarf hanging loosely over your shoulders. You barely withhold a shiver when you feel his knuckles skim your neck—rumor has it, skin-on-skin contact alone with Dostoevsky is enough to kill. You don’t die, but it’s enough to beckon your attention back to him.

“Red is your color,” he murmurs, looking down at you through his lashes. “You look beautiful.”

“It isn’t yours,” you reply quickly, glancing down at the red tie tied neatly around his neck. “Neither is flattery.”

Dostoevsky does laugh this time—it’s soft and short, pretty like a bell. Unbefitting of him, just like the color red and false flattery. 

“It isn’t?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively playful. “I wore it for you. Since you invited me, I thought it appropriate that we match. I heard of your success in Yokohama. I should congratulate you on your new promotion. Or perhaps extend my condolences for the death of your father? Are condolences still proper when you were the one to drive the knife into his back?”

It’s a dig, an attempt to get under your skin and throw you off before getting into the meat of the conversation. You can feel his eyes on you, the soft playfulness gone and replaced by a sharpness that has you on edge.

“You said it yourself. One life or thousands.”

“It was a bullet to the head,” you correct idly—the words taste like poison on your tongue, but you’re careful to not let it show on your face. “Condolences are unnecessary. He was not my father.”

“It’s okay, dear, this was how it was always meant to be.”

“Hm,” Dostoevsky hums, amused. “I was quite pleased when I found out about the coup. I wasn’t expecting it.”

He wants to add something else but he decides against it. He’s very calculating with his words, he always has been, but he is especially now. You know that each word he speaks is chosen for a specific purpose, and it’s hard, even for you, to break down each one as he speaks it to understand why he says it so you can choose your own words carefully in return. Fyodor Dostoevsky is the only man capable of consistently beating you in exchanges of words, and that is concerning. 

It’s why you invited him here—you need an idea of what he’s planning while you solidify your newfound position.

“It seems you struggle to expect many things I do,” you note. “I should add it to my resume. I doubt many people are capable of repeatedly surprising Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

“It is true,” he agrees with an airy laugh. “You are a… difficult opponent. I will admit it.”

 “Is that so?”

Dostoevsky makes a soft noise of agreement, lashes fluttering as he glances over at you once before he looks back down at the show taking place down on the stage. 

“You are not guided strictly by logic,” he muses. “It's there, of course, you are very intelligent but it’s laced with so many emotions. It is difficult for me to determine your course of action because I can never predict when you will lead with emotion, and when with logic. And even then, there are grades to it. I could account for dozens of plans of action and miss the one you take because you are just a bit less emotional than I anticipated… I did not predict that you would go for Zelda Fitzgerald, it was quite bold—there was a high risk for failure. You make things… much more interesting. I enjoy it.”

“You would find something like that enjoyable,” you say sarcastically, taking a sip of your champagne. “There is something seriously wrong with you, Dostoevsky.”

“Fyodor,” he corrects again with a light smile. 

“Dostoevsky.”

“Heh,” he laughs quietly. “I will… wait for things to settle before making another move here in Yokohama. I’m curious to see how all of the chips fall on their own. You’re in for quite the storm with that bill that just passed through the Diet, aren’t you?”

You don’t respond. You got the answer you needed, so there’s no reason for you to keep entertaining his snide comments; you’ll just watch the show in peace. You’ll have the bit of time you need to get things settled before Dostoevsky makes his next play. Though the man is a compulsive liar and you have no reason to trust him, Dostoevsky has never lied so blatantly to your face, so you’ll take him at his word until you have reason to believe otherwise. 

Dostoevsky takes your silence as an opportunity to continue talking, naturally.

“I did have a question for though,” he says, a bit too thrilled by the prospect of your answer. You don’t like the way his eyes are lit up, and you especially don’t like the smile on his lips. “Entertain me?”

You raise your eyebrows pointedly, waiting for him to ask it. 

“I heard rumors that the reason behind your sudden decision to overthrow your father was more… intimate than most believe,” Dostoevsky murmurs, leaning like he’s sharing in some schoolgirl gossip with an old friend. Your brows furrow as you process his words. “You must tell me what boy has managed to steal your heart. He must be something special. Not even I was capable of that, I’m almost jealous.”

You look at him now, gaze sharp but confused as your eyes trail over him before focusing back on his face. He seems surprised by your reaction, tilting his head to the side and studying you carefully.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

--

to be continued in ... the land is inhospitable (but are we?) [est. release: early feb]

--

WOWWWWWW GUYS WE FUCKING FINISHED CIVZAI .... or well, ;) civzai1. some notes:

i promised a happy ending, i know ... but i promised it for civzai in general, and they DO have a happy ending ... just not yet. pls dont bully me ill cry i'm so proud of this. i didn't lie.

i always intended on there being two parts to this series because i feel like time apart is essential in the pmreader universe. when dazai defected in canon universe, and now with her taking over as boss and wiping her memories of him. the first part was always gonna be the guild arc, the second arc is gonna be my rendition of the hunting dogs and the decay of the angel

this is the ONLY universe where pmreader becomes port mafia boss ;) i actually had it noted that there was only one universe on the background page in wykyk once i started writing wasteland, baby but no one caught it ;) i was wondering if anyone would put two and two together

i actually went back and retconned chapter 1 to have them talking about the divine comedy instead of petrarch because of the first scene in this chapter. i thought it would be neat coming full circle with the themes of betrayal and death, + the hozier song this chapter is based on is about the 9th circle in the divine comedy. so everything just tied together too neatly for me to not add it.

;) just remember now with repin involved, reader's narration is now entirely unreliable. we don't know what's truth and manufactured by repin.

i was actually really tempted to base civzai2 off of a mother mother album just because hayloft II fits what's going to be the first half of it SO fucking well, but i had to go with mitski because the whole album literally captures the vibes of the second series perfectly

[cutielando]

game night | l.n.

synopsis: in which game night gets a little too competitive

a/n: based on this request!

my masterlist

As the winter break finally came around, Lando had made plans for him, you, Max and Pietra to take a trip to the mountains, just the four of you.

Which is how you guys found yourselves nestled comfortably in a cabin deep into the Swiss mountains, chatting it up and just enjoying the quiet atmosphere that the off-season provided you with.

But, knowing Lando, he couldn’t stay still for more than an hour at times, and would always find something else to do.

Just like he did now.

“I’m bored” he had announced, groaning and throwing his head back against the couch.

You chuckled, knowing he would have said that sooner or later.

“So?” Max asked, looking up from his phone at his friend.

Lando was silent for a moment, contemplating about how he could cure his sudden found boredom.

“Let’s play a game or something” he suggested, his eyes lighting up.

"Like what?" you asked, your hands running through his curls softly.

He pondered for a moment, his eyes glancing around the cabin living room before his eyes landed on a shelf full of board games.

Not saying anything, he jumped up from his spot on the couch next to you, beelining for the shelf to analyze what he was working with.

"Let's play Monopoly" he said, his eyes twinkling as he took the box in his hands and rushing back to sit down next to you.

You, Max and P all groaned in unison, the last thing either of you wanted was to play Monopoly with Lando.

Lando stopped in his tracks, looking at the three of you with wide eyes.

"What?" he asked, his shoulders deflating.

"Mate, you know how you get whenever we play Monopoly" Max said, glaring at him.

He pouted, looking at you for support.

You bit your lip and shrugged, making him gasp.

"You too?" he asked, looking at you with a hand over his heart.

"Baby, I love you, but you know how competitive you get whenever we play" you said, trying to be as gentle and nice as possible.

"But I want to play..." he said, pouting and looking at the ground.

You sighed, shaking your head as you exchanged looks with Max. Both of you knew Lando was playing the both of you, wanting to make you feel bad for not wanting to let him play.

Max sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Fine, we'll play" he muttered, making Lando erupt into a wide smile as he sprinted towards the coffee table to lay everything out.

You laughed at his antics, shaking your head fondly.

"I wanna team up with P" you called out as she took your hand.

Lando whipped his head around, staring at you with betrayal written all over his face.

"What? Why? We always team up together" he said, his eyes sad.

He almost made you change your mind, but flashbacks of past game nights with Lando made you stand firm.

"That's exactly why we should change things up a little bit" you argued, trying to keep his spirits up.

He pouted, glaring at you while setting up the board. He kept it up for a minute or two longer before he sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but just this time" he said, pointing to you.

You nodded and leaned over to kiss his lips quickly before you got and moved so you were sitting next to Pietra.

Lando huffed once again before he finally let go of his anger and instead focus on "discussing strategies" with Max.

As the night went on and the game was in full swing, Lando's competitive side slowly started to show itself when Max landed on one of your properties and had to pay you almost all the money they had.

"MAX! What the fuck, mate? You just walked right into their trap!" Lando shouted, pushing Max as he stared at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t control the fucking dice, now, can I?” Max argued back.

You and P, on the other hand, were trying not to laugh, finding the exchange between them too funny.

They continued to bicker like this until late into the night before you called it quits on the game.

Instead, you were now snuggled up on the couch with Lando, the fireplace doing a fantastic job of warming you up.

The world around you was silent, the only sound echoing through the warm cabin being the crackle of the fireplace.

Lando was staring at the crackling fire, his hand playing with the ends of your hair.

Looking down at you, he noticed that your eyes were shut, your breathing evened out as you peacefully slept on him.

Smiling a little, he pressed a soft and gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering a quiet "I love you" as he let himself succumb to a peaceful sleep.

Dreaming of you.

...and beating you at Monopoly.

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[mywritersmind]

NOT SO HAPPY HOLIDAYS - LN4

↳pt.5

christmas special

part one - part two - part three - part four

summary : As the days start getting closer to Christmas, you find yourself even more comfortable with your previous enemy. In a drunken spirit and ego boosted from karaoke, Lando can’t control his words. Even when Max finds you two in bed together.

og summary : Spending Christmas with my brothers best friend isn’t my ideal way to celebrate. With my parents in the maldives and my ex calling me non stop, I was hoping for a small town cozy christmas! I was going to get that with Max and his girlfriend until Lando Norris worked his way into the mix.

listen up : dual pov! alcohol! swearing! drunk lando!

words : 3334

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Lando. Listen to me.” Oscar says over the phone, his voice registering in my brain but being distinctly distracted by two women taking instagram photos next to me.

“I am listening.” I mumble, watching Y/n turn and smile at the camera. My phone vibrates in my hand and I see that Oscar has requested facetime instead.

“What?” I look at the man who’s sitting in the sun and probably at the beach, “Can you pay attention for two seconds? I don’t want to be talking about work either.”

I sigh, turning away from the girls, “Can I ask you something?” I walk farther away just in case they can hear me.

Oscar groans at me still being off topic, “Shoot.”

“How did you know Lily fancied you?”

His brow jolts up, “I mean, We were pretty young, I just remember that she spoke to me a lot and she-” Lily pops her head in the call now.

“Don't listen to him, Lando! He was absolutely oblivious even though I was literally a giggling school girl around him.”

Oscar looks at her lovingly, “You were quite smiley.”

“Okay wrap it up lovebirds.” I roll my eyes.

Lily leaves and Oscar looks at me quizzically again, “So, who do you like so much that would possess you to ask that question?” I stay quiet for a moment, glancing back at Y/n who’s backlit by the sun, “Aren’t you with your family? Or Max and his girlfriend right?”

“No one. I’m just curious.” Deny deny deny.

He hums, “Wait… Doesn't Max have that sister you stalked all year-”

“Okay bye Oscar!”

He scrambles to get words in, “Wait we still need to talk about-”

I hang up on him.

⋆༺

Max and I have been kicked out by our the women. More like I was kicked out and Max was just craving a coffee. It’s not my fault I can’t cook!

After almost catching Y/n’s hair on fire, I was banished to the little coffee shop that’s been getting us through this week.

The barista hands us our coffees and one hot chocolate for Y/n. Max and I walk slowly to our car, looking at the scenery on the way. “I’m excited for Christmas.”

I smile as Max hums, “You’re awfully chipper.” He gives me a side eye and a smirk, to which I promptly shove him, “Ugh! I do not want to know!”

He laughs, “I know that P teases you about it, But I really do think a girlfriend would be good for you.”

I don’t just want a girlfriend. I want Y/n. I kick a rock at my feet, mumbling, “Yeah I doubt that.” I meant that he wouldn’t want me to have a girlfriend if it was his sister, just he scoffs.

“Think about it! This year was completely fucked and yeah a lot of good shit happened but imagine how much easier the bad shit would be if you were in love.”

“You’re disgusting. Us ten years ago would be gagging at this conversation.”

He’s smiling still, “Yeah and that’s because I am in love.” I roll my eyes at his cheesy ass, “How do you have no roster, mate? It’s honestly embarrassing.”

“Maybe I do.” I sip my coffee, “I don’t have to tell you everything.”

“Maybe i’m just hanging out with Y/n and P too much, their best friend girly vibes are fun.” He points to me, “Still, it’s break! Get your groove on!”

I walk faster, shaking my head. “Groove? I’m going to leave you in the snow.”

⋆༺

you

I’m in a mini dress in the snow. What could go wrong?

I slip five minutes out the door which makes Lando’s arm become my new best friend even though my faux fur coat keeps tickling him.

We may or may not have pregamed for the tiny local bar which has me slipping on ice. “Four jolly jolly shots please…” Lando reads off the bar's menu, laughing a bit.

He looks good. Like really really good. His curls are perfect as usual and when he leans over to talk to the bartender, his dark green shirt tugs against his arms.

My brothers arm goes around my neck, tugging me and laughing, “Merry Christmas, sis!”

“Let go of me you vermin!”

“Shots!” P sings, handing me mine.

“Cheers to us!” Max grins, holding his tiny glass up.

“Cheers to Christmas.” P smiles happily.

Lando taps his glass on the table along with us, winking at me, “Cheers.” We all down the weird peppermint alcohol and swiftly make our way to the dance floor.

We sing along to shitty music and dance together in a crowd of college kids home for break, and their parents.

Lando’s hand finds my waist and is quickly slapped away. He gives me a pouty look which I find annoyingly attractive and quickly turns it into a smirk.

I down my drink, spinning back to my friends and dodging a guy and his friends. “Hey!” The guy smirks and I accidentally laugh in his face, he looks about five years younger than me and is staring at my chest.

I find my friends laughing and drinking with a random man who sort of looks like santa.

“Y/n!” Lando puts his arm around me which I promptly pull off.

“Aren’t you busy trying to hook up with a tourist?” I blink at him while my brother and P are distracted.

He leans in a bit, “You’re a tourist, aren’t you?”

“You trying to get in my pants, Norris?” This makes him smile.

“I’m familiar with the area.”

I find myself at the bar again, but this time I order water. P and I giggle at the sight of Max and Lando just standing there looking lost without us.

“I’m really proud of you.” P says out of the blue.

I frown, “Thanks? I’m proud of you too.”

“I just mean… you’ve been through a lot.” I know what she means. My ex. “And you’re the best person I know.”

I smile, “I adore you, P.”

The truth is, my ex cheating really did break me. But I already knew something was wrong. I wasn’t being treated correctly and honestly breaking up with him was not on the top of my to-do list.

P was always there for me, my brother is a lot to handle and sometimes I just need a girl to talk to. That girl for me is P.

She pops back to her boyfriend while my water gets refilled. I swear this altitude is fucking with me, i’m so thirsty all the time.

“Hi.” I'm about to yell at the college guy who approaches me, until I realize there is no way this man is under twenty five.

“Oh! Hi.” I smile politely and tap the bar.

I clock his douchy attitude as soon as his ringed hand (which definitely came from shein) and patchwork tattoos land on the bar, clearly flexing.

“You’re gorgeous… Sorry, I just had to tell you!” He acts shy, like it’s horribly embarrassing to hit on. woman.

“Thank you…” Is all I can say before he continues.

“I’m Seth!” He’s australian… I think? He’s got short hair with dark skin that makes his eyes pop. “Are you visiting? I am.”

I nod and sip my water, “Yeah…”

“My girlfriend used to live here! My friends let me choose the place and…” He’s going on a long rant that I definitely did not consent to hear.

He’s loud in the way that i’m embarrassed to be heard with because he’s talking nonsense and trying to scoot closer to me with every word he speaks.

I bring my glass to my lips again, looking around then back to Seth who is still talking about his ex. Did I do something to offend the universe?

The hand on my hip scares me, but I don’t jump. I know the feeling too well by now. Lando’s smiling at the bartender, a protective arm around me, “Three green tea shots, thanks.”

He leans his hip against the bar, holding me close as my cheeks go red and I start chugging my water. Seth looks absolutely astonished, “Who’s your new friend, Sunshine?”

“Seth.” I say, swirling my straw around the cold glass.

“Hey man…” Seth looks scared. “I- I didn’t know she was taken.”

“She’s not.” He’s quick with it and I have to bite back my smile to contain myself from embarrassing Seth even more.

“Oh…” Seth hums, clearly wanting to go but I know Lando’s doing that thing where he states blankly at someone while smiling. “Well uh…”

“Choose your words carefully, Seth.” Lando slides him the shot then hands one to me. I decline and he downs it easily.

“Thanks.” He downs the drink with Lando, “And sorry.” Seth looks at me before scurrying off.

I turn to Lando, his hand never moving from my body, “Who knew you were so intimidating?

He shrugs, “I don’t mess around with the people I care about. Plus he just seemed like he was bugging you.”

“Quite talkative.” I smile softly as he laughs, “You’re good at the whole protective act.”

“Who said I was acting?” His face is serious when he says it, but immediately changes when he hears Max’s voice.

“Yo!” His hand drops to his side and he smiles at my approaching brother, “They have karaoke!”

P and Max end up on stage exactly two drinks later. I stick to water, my head already hurts from the others singing.

They're singing Ain’t No Mountain High Enough, and sort of slaying it. Max spins P as they both laugh and pretend they’re at some sort of concert.

“Please get up there!” I giggle with Lando, my hand on his arm as he smiles at me in that dreamy way he does so often.

“No way, Sunshine.” His eyes lined on my lips, his words a bit slurred.

“Please, Lan?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, “What’ll you give me if I do?” My breathing quickens as he looks at me, drunk and so out of it that he looks like he’s about to kiss me.

I reach my arm out to fix the messy bit of his hair. His eyes follow my hand and drift down my arm back to me. There’s something so personal about the way he looks at me but it’s hard to explain.

He’s got many different expressions and maybe I'm just a bit self centered, but I swear he has some just for me.

He’s drunk now so all secrecy goes out the window. He’s lucky Max and P are singing so horribly on the tiny sticky stage.

“Whatever you want.” I pull my hand away, “When you’re sober, though.”

“I’m not even that many drinks in!” He scoffs in a whiny tone.

He’s five drinks in I think.

“But i’ll do whatever you say apparently.” His chair makes noise against the floors, practically pushing P and Max off the stage as his chosen music starts.

Linger, by the cranberries.

My smile grows as he starts, absolutely butchering the song immediately. He looks fucking free and absolutely ridiculous.

The microphone against his lips as he spins around and points to me, “You’ve got me wrapped around your fingerrrrrr!”

It was my favorite song in highschool.

He’s a terrible singer and incredibly drunk but knows all the lyrics by heart.

Max starts videoing and Lando flips him off, P is actually in tears and I feel a sense of calm and quiet happiness. It’s weird to think about, especially surrounded by sound and drunken people.

Still, I really do appreciate my friends in moments like these. I watch Lando on the stage again, his eyes are closed and he’s singing along quietly.

Most of the bar claps when he’s done, providing him false confidence even as he almost falls from the stage.

Lando slumps himself in the chair next to mine, Max and I speaking about old Christmas’ and how weird it is that so many things have changed.

P talks about her family traditions and how she’s happy we’re all together even if it is a bit unconventional.

Lando stays quiet, just hums along to the music and keeps his eyes closed. Max laughs at his friend, “Ready for bed, Bob?”

“I can drive back.” I sit up.

Max and P aren’t quite ready to go and assure me that they can take a cab. Lando, however is piss drunk and giggling at everything I say.

He holds onto my hand as we leave, the cold air hitting him like a wreck, “Ay!” He practically runs to the car, tries to get in the driver's seat, and finally gives in to me driving.

“I don't want to go back!” He complains as I drive off.

“We can… look at lights?” He nods eagerly and rests his head against my arm, his fingers drift up and down my arm, doodling invisible drawings.

I drive through the small neighborhoods, all quiet for the time of night. The lights are bright and nothing like where I actually live.

Lando slips his hand in mine, holding it tight and looking out the front window. I let him rub his thumb against my skin, acknowledging the goosebumps it sends up arm.

Maybe I let myself pretend like it means something more than Lando’s drunk touchy self.

His curls brush my bare arm because he requested I take off my coat and turn the heat up instead because it was ‘itching him’.

And I did it because something about Lando makes me just want to say yes.

“I wanna house like that.” He says, pointing to a medium sized white home. It’s got colorful lights all over and a tiny display of Rudolph in the yard.

“I like this one.” I take my free hand off the wheel for a second and point. It’s across the street and covered in white lights.

I keep driving as Lando turns the radio on which is playing Christmas music.

He hums along with the song that he most definitely doesn’t know.

His hand goes to my hair, twirling it around his finger as he looks up at me, doe eyed, “Can I have my reward now.”

“You’re nowhere close to being sober, love.”

He stops when I speak, whispering as if there’s a million people around, “You called me love.”

“You’re not even gonna remember this tomorrow.”

He gasps, “Tomorrow's Christmas eve! What a good present. You love me.” He hums and rests his head back against my shoulder.

“Keep dreaming, Norris.” I say while smiling.

We look at all the different lights, rating them and laughing. I mostly laugh at drunk Lando who can’t stop laughing.

Lando rolls down the window and even though it’s freezing, I let him. It’s silent out, except for our music on low.

“Do you like me?” Lando asks as I start back to our place.

I raise a brow, “Sure.”

“But do you?” He looks up at me but I don’t dare look down.

“I don’t hate you.”

It’s easier to get him into the house than it was to get him in the car. Besides a tiny slip, he laughs it off and instantly pulls his shirt off when we step inside the hot house.

We both stumble upstairs, I'm so tired that I could fall asleep on the floor. Yet I drag myself into the bathroom and remove my makeup and change into sweats and a hoodie.

Lando is in sweats now, leaning against the bathroom door as I brush my hair. “I can’t sleep.”

I laugh, “You haven’t even tried.”

“Come with me?” I shake my head, going to my own bed. He follows me still, catching my wrist and begging, “Please. I’m cold.”

“You have no shirt on.”

“I want you to.” He admits and for a second I wish he wasn’t so fond of Vodka.

I’m dragged into his bed, his arms wrapping around me quickly and humming against my hoodie, “You’re warm.” His hand goes to mine again, holding it.

“You’re gonna get us in trouble.” I say as I see the smirk on his face.

“The doors locked.”

His hand is still intertwined with mine when he looks up at me. I probably look terrible, but he just smiles.

“You’re really beautiful, Sunny.” His voice is clear and the softest it’s been in a while, especially while drunk.

He yawns and rests his head back on me. Lando whispers while his eyes are closed, i’m not even sure if he meant to say it out loud, but he does. “I hate you for it.”

It’s the first time his words really hit me.

“Why?” I whisper, staring up at the ceiling.

“You know.” And then he’s asleep and i’m stuck with a man cuddling me who I think I just might like more than I ever thought I could.

⋆༺

There’s few times in my life where I completely regret my life’s decisions. This might just be one of them.

Max is staring at us with his mouth open.

Max is staring at Lando’s shirtless self and his bare arm that’s around me!

I elbow Lando so hard that he wakes up with a groan. “Five more minutes.” He tries to pull me closer but I slap him again.

He opens his eyes this time, at first they’re narrowed at me as if I had the audacity to wake him up. Then he turns his head to what i’m staring at and promptly sits up straight.

“Goodmorning, Max!” He grins.

“Shut the fuck up.” My brother responds, Lando’s face goes slack and lays back down, covering his face with a pillow, “Is this why you two wanted to leave early yesterday?”

“No!” I say right as Lando says, “Yes!”

“I think I'm going to throw up.” Max starts pacing while I see P peek her head in from my room, surveying the situation as I mouth ‘help me’ and he leaves me.

“Chill out! Nothing happened.” I say while Lando moans and reaches for the water on his bedside table. “Right, Lando!?” I hit him again.

He sends me an annoyed look, “Right.” He takes a drink, wiping his mouth and looking at Max, “Trust me mate if something did happen she wouldn’t be wearing anything.”

I think he might still be drunk.

Max and I scream in unison. I climb out of the bed, my leg getting stuck in the bedsheet.

“I came to check if you two were still alive because it’s eleven in the morning, but Lando’s door was locked. Yours wasn’t and your room connector was wide open!” I roll my eyes and stomp into my room.

“His drunk ass practically dragged me in there and I wanted to sleep!” I shrug, putting on my slippers and pulling my bed head hair into a messy bun.

“My head is pounding, can you two be quiet!?” Lando says from the other room.

Max follows me down the stairs, “Nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened!” I echo, finding P in the kitchen and sending her a wide eyed look, “He was drunk, Max.”

I pour myself some coffee, crossing my arms as Max gives me a look. Lando comes thumping down the stairs, hoodie on now with his hair an absolute mess. “Guys…”

Max stops him, “If you make another sex joke Lan, I might kill you.”

“Hey!” He groans, taking my coffee from out of my hands and drinking it! I roll my eyes and pour myself another. “I was just going to say-”

“Choose your words very carefully, Norris.” I mumble.

“Happy Christmas Eve.” He raises his mug, smiling at all of us.

“Oh.” Max blinks as P lets out a little snort.

“Well then…” P smiles at me, “I think it’s time to cook!”

[sidemari]

• "Themed Phrases" - 18+ Scenarios Collection •

Important note: I had to repost this work because Tumblr's algorithm censored my previous post. Forgive me for any mistakes, English isn't my native language.

About the game: Both characters' names and themed phrases are in alphabetical/numerical order to facilitate your life as you read this work. Thanks for spending some time on here <3

Pairings: Childe, Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Venti, Xiao and Zhongli [separately] x Fem!Reader

Word count: 7,5K+ words.

Childe's Scenario

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

42. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle”

TW: Alcohol consumption. 

After some glasses of wine, kisses were not enough: both of you needed something more efficient than that to bring relief to your desires. 

"I'm feeling... I'm feeling weird" You mumbled against his neck, breathing in his cologne. 

"I know you're. It's easy to notice you're excited" His breath hit your ear. "Or should I admit you're horny?" 

"Ajax... Stop with your teasing for once" 

You felt a kiss against your collarbone that made you shiver, despite the warmth the candles in the bedroom provided. 

"It was your idea to drink, in the first place. You know I get... Like this" You muttered. 

“You don’t need to be shy, my love” He pulled you to a quick kiss, right before smiling devilishly. "You know I'm around to help you" 

And then in the middle of confusion, the reason you both were commemorating. 

"It's our anniversary..." You unbuttoned the first button of your coat. "I may have something else for you" 

His gaze became piercing, almost cornering you when you showed him your lingerie. 

"Lacy?" He grinned. "You're such a sly girl, uh?" If the fabric of your coat wasn't thick enough, it would have torn. 

Your breasts were now fully exposed, as they looked perfectly sculpted in the cup of the bra you were using. 

You finished undressing and that was when he guided you to your bed.

Your heart was racing inside your chest when he took off his gloves.

"Can I?" He asked for consent while his fingers caressed your hips. 

"Yes... Yes, please" 

His tongue felt warm. 

Your body shivered under his ministrations. 

Sucking your clit right before swirling his tongue around your bundle of nerves was enough to have you whimpering. 

"Ajax- F-Fuck..." Your hands pulled his ginger hair weakly, pressing his face against your intimacy even more, to the point that the words he tried to say were all muffled, because wet and slurping sounds fulfilled the bedroom as Tartaglia prepared you to receive him. 

“Is this too fast for you?” He muttered when he broke the contact to breathe.

“Please… Fuck me already” The fatui only smiled, quickly taking off his clothes in order to get freedom to move properly. 

“Lift your hips for me and put your legs on my shoulders” 

“Ajax…?” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle” 

His thrusts were steady and initially slow. 

"It's a shame you're now only wearing your bra. That set was pretty hot on you" 

A fast pace was settled and you  could barely move much or handle all the stimulation. 

"You know how I feel when you're all obedient and devoted to me, right, darling?" A hard thrust of his almost reached your cervix, making you whimper and squirm. 

"A-Ajax..." 

"Shush… We're both almost there" 

Your bodies reached the limit some minutes after that, having you both completely surrendered to each other during the rest of the night.

Diluc's Scenario 

1. "I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to" 

2. "Friends don’t do this kind of shit" 

36. “You don’t need to be shy, my love”

43. “I’m going to fucking wreck you” 

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

52. “I'm not done with you yet”  

The crystal glass containing an untouched wine was now a fidget on Diluc's hand. 

"Tsk, who am I fooling? I despise this shit" 

He sounded bitter, almost raged when he abandoned the glass above the table, getting up from his seat at the Winery Salon to walk towards you. 

"I'm sorry I have to talk to her right now, Kaeya. Perhaps you can talk finishing your conversation after I'm done with her" 

"Diluc...?" You asked confused, as he guided you upstairs with a tight grip on your wrist. "I'm not... I'm not done talking to him"

"Save it" The man hissed. "I'm losing my patience with you, and you're aware of that" 

"Diluc... What have I even done this time?"

"You're mine, (Name). You're mine and mine alone. Still, you can't bring yourself to stop seeking attention from other guys, uh? Especially from Kaeya, that..." He didn't finish his line, he simply locked the door behind him, sighing in frustration. 

"This is... This is stupid" You said quietly. "You were the one who was disinterested in me. You said it would only bring confusion to the both of us. I guess you were right, afterall"

"What are you even talking about?" 

"Don't you remember? You were the one who said 'Friends don’t do this kind of shit', Diluc" You said firmly. "Our relationship doesn't mean much more than being friends with benefits for you, right?" 

"You know I didn't mean that phrase in that way, (Name). You're everything I could ever ask for... That's why my blood was boiling with jealousy of seeing you so close to Kaeya" 

"So it was all about jealousy...?" 

"Is it so astonishing having me confessing something like that?" He took off his gloves slowly, guiding you to his bed with his steps. 

"Diluc... He's probably still downstairs..." 

"It's even better if he listens to anything" A soft chuckle left his lips. "Now strip of those clothes, because I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to"

The only thing you remembered the next morning was how that single time felt so special and different from any other nights you shared together. 

"That's my good girl... Look how wet you're with so little stimulation... Perhaps you were close to Kaeya only to make me riled up, uh?" 

You didn't answer him, you only squirmed when his slim fingers brushed against the most sensitive spot of yours. 

"You wanted to get me jealous so I could fuck you hard enough to remember you that you're mine alone?" He chuckled softly. "And I must admit it worked pretty well, dear" 

Diluc said before his tongue started exploring your sex, with his fingers still there. He had the habit of collecting some of your essence with the tips of his tongue before swallowing all of it. 

"I can never understand why do you taste so freaking addictive on my tongue" 

Your hands shakily pulled his red hair softly, not making him feel pain, but pleasure as he savored your heat. 

"Diluc..." His name was nothing more than a mewl that left your lips. 

"Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

He was right, were you needy for him. 

But you didn't answer him. 

"Say you want me to fuck you senselessly against this mattress, my lovely" 

Still no answer, only moans leaving your lips as his fingers kept stimulating you. 

"My lovely?" His movements stopped abruptly. "Answer me" Diluc slapped your thigh, gaining a louder moan from you. 

"Fuck me, please... I need you filling me up completely... I need to feel you inside of me right now..." You obeyed him. 

"I’m going to fucking wreck you” 

And so he did. 

It was the first time Diluc was rough with you during sex. 

He was fucking you raw on that bed. 

"You know what you signed up for, (Name)" He said between the hard thrusts of his hips. "You know how much I despise feeling jealousy. It's only fair that I'm the responsible one to teach my little girl a lesson, uh?" 

You simply nodded continually, not being able to say much when your body was being pressed against the silk bed sheets while Diluc ravished your body. 

The belly bulge his length formed every time he bottomed out inside you made him arrogant about it.

"Do you see how much our bodies match? You were hand-made just for me to fuck you this good, baby..." His hand gripped your chin, lifting it up for you to watch him closely.

"You're perfect... The most precious thing I have" His hips thrusted against yours roughly enough to leave you sore the next day. 

"Diluc..." Fuck, he knew you so well that he could almost read your mind thinking about how close you were. 

"Cum with me, doll... Let me feel you squeezing me as I fill you up with my seed" 

Your nails sank against the skin of his back while your legs kept him inside of you even after your high. 

"Look at you... All marked up as mine, uh?" 

Sleepiness followed your orgasm, but you could feel Diluc getting ready once again inside your heat. 

"D-Diluc...?" You asked quietly, almost shy about what would happen next. 

"You don’t need to be shy, my love” That only made your cheeks glow red even more. “Even if you’re worn out, I'm not done with you yet”

Kaeya's Scenarios

Scenario 1

5. “I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-” 

9. “Bite me”

15. “Now take a deep breath…”

17. “Don't pull out”

28. “Is this too fast for you?”

29. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive here”

30. “That feels good, baby?” 

31. “You want me to claim you, don’t you?” 

32. “Make love to me, please”

49. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

50. “I’ve been thinking about you all day” 

54. “I just want to make you feel good”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks” 

TW: Omegaverse, heats, creampie. 

"This feels... Uncomfortable" You mumbled, changing your position for the hundredth time that minute. 

Sweat covered your warm skin but that didn't make you feel better. 

It was only getting worse. You'd reach a point that ignoring your urges and instincts would only lead you to your own destruction. 

"Kaeya... Please, come home" You whimpered, pressing your legs together so you could try to release some tension. 

But things started getting blurry.

And the sounds seemed so stuffy. 

You had fainted. 

And your boyfriend found you weak, sweating coldly as your body kept trembling despite how warm your skin felt. 

"I'm here... Hey, I'm home" 

"Kaeya...?" You blinked torturously slow. 

"Yes, it's me. I'm here to help you" 

"What's happening...? But your thoughts were foggy, since you were way too confused to think straight.

“You’re burning up with fever” 

“My meds… I’m irresponsible”

“It’s something normal, (Name). It’s not like any of us can control our cycles” 

“I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-” You got up from the bed so quickly that your sight became black and your knees faltered. 

“How many times do I need to say to you that you don’t need to suppress anything from your omega nature?” 

“Kaeya… This is a burden. I’m a burden…” Gelid and strong hands pressed your body against his own, trying to help you come to your senses. 

His lips pressed a kiss against your damp neck, gaining a whimper from you. 

“K-Kaeya…?” 

“I just want to make you feel good” Another kiss met your skin. “Allow me to take care of you, my love” 

Carefully your clothes were taken off by his skilled hands right before he helped you to lay down on the bed. 

The silk bed sheets seemed cold the first seconds you laid on them, but they were less cold than Kaeya’s fingertips that traveled against your arm, then hips and finally thighs. 

Shivering, you suppressed another whimper when he sucked on your collarbone, marking you as his once again. 

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive here” Kaeya jokes, kissing the bond mark you received long months ago, during your first cycle together. 

“Kaeya… I’ve been thinking about you all day” 

“I know, love. I know. And I couldn’t take my thoughts out of you”

His lips touched yours, asking for the permission you gave him instantly. 

Your tongues explored each other slowly, while little wet sounds were made and propagated through the bedroom. 

The kiss finished when you both needed to breathe properly.

“Open your legs for me, omega” As if you were enchanted, you obeyed him without thinking twice. 

Your intimacy was fully exposed to the one who claimed you. 

His fingers eagerly collected some of your essence just so he could taste you on his tongue. 

A smile formed on his lips when the captain saw your expression. 

“You want me to claim you, don’t you?” 

“Kaeya… I need you… Myself was never enough for me”

“Shush… I’m here now, remember? Just trust me”

“Please… Please!” 

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” 

“Just…” You whined when his finger stimulated your clit. “Just make love to me, please”

The man pulled your body towards his, slowly penetrating your sex. 

Some tears of reflex formed on the corner of your eyes just to be kissed away by your partner. 

“Good girl…” You felt a thrust. “Now take a deep breath…”

A steady pace was settled as Kaeya made sure to mark every inch of flesh his eye could admire. 

His hips now collapsed against yours creating lewd sounds that anyone could hear if they were close enough.

Your hands went from the bed sheets to his back, scratching him slightly in pleasure while you struggled to take him properly inside you. 

“Is this too fast for you?” He asked concerned, afraid that your weakness would take the best of you.  

“No… This feels… This feels s-so good” You gasped between his thrusts. 

“Ah…” His voice carried a provocative tonality. “So that feels good, baby?” 

You didn’t answer him.

It was not like you needed to for him to know you were close to your limit. 

One of your hands went to his head, caressing his navy blue locks, guiding him towards your neck. 

“Bite me” And so he did. Alberich’s sharp teeth sank into the healed bonding mark on your neck, bruising it once again and sealing your love one more time. 

“Shush… You’ll be fine. It’s only some blood” 

Some more seconds and you came undone under his body.

The soft squeezes against his shaft made him melt and get closer to his own orgasm. You were able to feel him twitching inside your walls and with that you enlaced your legs around his waist, preventing him from leaving your sex. 

“Don't pull out” You whispered. “I wanna feel it. Fill me up to the brim, please”

• Time break •

His embrace was warm, despite the coldness from the room. 

“Thank you” You whispered when he hid his face against the crook of your neck.

“We’re bonded, right? We should take care of each other all the time” 

You smiled, caressing his hair. 

“I’m quite sore” 

“You must be… It took many rounds to control your dark necessities” 

“K-Kaeya!”

“It’s not like I’m complaining though. Work was tough and at least you helped me to unwind” He kissed your neck once again. “Also… I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

Scenario 2 

4. "I don’t care if they watch"

25. “Don’t cum without my permission”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?” 

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?” 

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

“When will you make me your priority?” You complained with tears in the corner of your eyes, but his attention didn’t leave the paperwork in front of him. “You’re always so careless… Don’t you ever think about what your own partner will think about your attitudes?” 

“Enough” The captain got up from his seat, coming towards your direction. 

You thought he would stop in front of you, but his steps didn’t falter one single time, until your body was fully pressed against the wall of his office. 

“K-Kaeya…?” His hand squeezed your wrist, without the intention of hurting you, but only signaling that if you went a bit too far you’d regret it. 

“Not so cocky now, are you?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and anger. 

“If you’ll only argue with me once again, I’ll leave” 

“My, my. Perhaps I don’t have any other choice. besides claiming you in this exact office, right, my doll?” 

“It’s not like this will solve our problems” 

“But we can forget about them during some minutes and that’s enough for me” 

“Kaeya… We are at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. This is the last thing we should be-” A kiss was stolen from you. 

Dominantly, his tongue slipped inside your mouth, exploring your own tongue with curiosity. 

One of his hands was still holding your wrist tightly while the other held your waist strongly, pressing your body against the door frame. 

“Take off your clothes, quickly” He whispered in your ear after he broke the kiss. 

Shivering with his voice tone, you only had the strength to obey his words. 

The woodend table felt cold when your naked body laid down. 

“What if… What if someone needs to talk to you? What if someone sees us?”

"I don’t care if they watch" His gelid hands opened your legs wide apart, just to see how wet and ready you were for him. “Perhaps you get turned on by arguing?” His finger brushed your clit vigorously, making you squirm. 

“Mhmm… It’s s-so sensitive” 

“Look how prepared you are, dollface. I could start pounding you right now and you’d have no trouble with it, right?” His finger scooped some of your slick, bringing it to your lips. “Taste yourself” 

You sucked on his finger, only to grow addicted to your own taste. 

“See? You’re addictive” The captain unbuckled his belt, hitting your right thigh with the accessory. “I'm not done with you yet”  

Standing still and without trousers, he finally penetrated you, already building up a fast pace within seconds. 

“F-Fuck… This feels so freaking good” You whimpered, forgetting about any topic that you were arguing about. “Kaeya… Kaeya!” His tip brushed against your g-spot continually, making you melt with the stimuli. 

“Keep moaning my name like that. It’s pleasant” His hand scratched your hip hard enough to leave a little mark. 

“I’m… I’m so c-close” 

“Don’t cum without my permission”

“It’s too m-much…” 

“Only some more thrusts and you can come with me. Don’t you dare cumming before I say so. Or else, you’ll be in trouble and I won’t give a fuck we’re at work” 

Your answer was a small whimper and a nod from your head. 

Your body jerked up with his movements while his hips didn’t stop collapsing against yours for once. No thrust failed.  

“Kaeya…?” You asked for permission when your legs started trembling around his waist. “Please?” 

“Deliver it to me, my darling” 

And once again your body obeyed him without questioning anything. 

Your fiancé emptied himself inside you, marking you as his in another way before pulling out of you. 

Your body was way too sticky to put your clothes back on properly when a knock was heard against the door.

“Fuck” You whispered, finishing dressing up. 

“We will finish this later in our bedroom” 

“Can we at least cuddle afterwards?” 

“I’ll take care of you all night long, don’t worry”

Kazuha's Scenario  

28. “Is this too fast for you?” 

41. “Just let your body take control” 

51. “Your scent drives me crazy”

52. “I'm not done with you yet” 

54. “I just want to make you feel good” 

The night breeze carried something sweet to his senses but he knew that such delicate scent he felt wasn't from the small tree that was part of his room's landscape. 

"I know you're here" Kazuha said calmly. 

"I missed you" It was your time to say something after not being able to see him for months straight. "And I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier than you expected-"

His lips shut your mouth with a delicate kiss. 

"I understand that being an adeptus is draining, love. You have nothing to apologize for... But if we finally met today, I shall admit I just want to make you feel good" 

He was perfect. 

He was everything you could ever ask for. 

You've never been with a man who could make you feel so human, so safe and so loved whenever you were together. 

After his whisper, you could feel his hands on your shoulders, his fingers trailing down your neck, as his thumbs stroked your breasts above the fabric of your shirt. 

His hand hoovered along your body, feeling your curves and the softness of your skin. 

"Your scent drives me crazy" Your breathing strained with his tone and you shivered.  Despite the warmth of the room, something about the words and the way he said them into your ears made you weak for him. 

"Kazuha..." You whimpered when he finally guided you to his bed. 

"Is there something wrong?" 

"It's just... I'm not that good when it comes to receiving attention like this" 

"Is this too fast for you?" Worry was all over his face. Forcing you to do something was never on his plans. 

"No... I need you now, Kazuha" 

• Time break • 

He reached your soaked panties, pulling them down so he could fuck you with his skilled fingers. 

You moaned soundly with your back arched, eyes closed tightly as you simply enjoyed that warm night by his side. 

You haven't felt like this in so long.

You needed this feeling. 

You needed his love.  

And you needed him. 

Your hips buck as you try to get away, but his grip is tight while his tongue savors all you had to offer him. 

"Kazuha..." His name was nothing more than a whisper that left your agape lips. 

It was hard for you to let your guard down like that, even if you trusted him enough to do such. Almost as the man above you could read your mind, he reassured you: 

"Just let your body take control” He was growing impatient, just wanting nothing more than to be inside of you. 

"I'll make you mine once again" 

When he slides inside you, filling you up to the brim, you cry out with a mixture of overstimulation and euphoria. 

He makes your love deeper every time he thrusts into your sensitive core over and  over again with his body pressed against yours, his face oh so close to you that he had to steal some kisses from you. 

Kisses that were hot and hungry. 

His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth. 

Kazuha teases your mouth with his tongue, flicking it this way and that until you can no longer stand it, so you open your mouth, letting his tongue explore further. 

Your whole body tingles from head to toe.

Everything else disappeared from your mind except the feeling of his body on yours, his hands caressing your body, his kisses and the way he ravished you in the most sinful way he could. 

Your body would remember him after that. 

Your body would show you belonged to him and him alone. 

His cock twitched inside you when he was finally close, just when your orgasm ripped through your body. 

Kazuha's voice sounded raspy against your ears after he marked your insides with his seed, which easily found its way towards your womb due the constant contractions of your tight walls. 

"I'm not done with you yet”

Scaramouche's Scenario 

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-"* Edited to: "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…"

9. "Bite me" 

17. “Don't pull out”

18.“Why do you smell so good?”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission” 

32. “Make love to me, please”

35. “Can we cuddle afterwards?”* Edited to: “Can I cuddle you?” 

TW: Omegaverse things

Finishing reporting your last mission to the Tsaritsa was incredibly hard when all you wanted to do was laying in bed and having someone to take care of your stupid heat.

"I consider your mission a success. Now leave." The archon said with contempt before you left the gelid room swiftly. 

Your vision was blurred and your legs were weak enough to make the walking to your room difficult. 

"It stings..." You gasped, trying to breathe properly since the oxygen felt heavy and inefficient. "I'm still having heats even if I dope on medication…" You were so lost in thought - talking to yourself - that  you didn't notice there was someone passing by the corridor. 

The collision was strong enough to bother your sensitive body. 

"Can't you see I'm trying to pass this freaking corridor?" The harbinger said harshly before he knew it was you that had bumped against him. "Oh, (Name)... It's you… My bad" 

"Scaramouche... Forgive me... I just- I just need to get to my bedroom" You runned through the last few meters of the corridor just so you could enter your place and lock the door. 

"Fuck... This feels so overwhelming" You whimpered, with your body glued on the door frame. 

Having the wooden door behind you being knocked on so harshly made your body shake a little. 

"Open the door, please" 

"Scaramouche… I'm fine, you can leave" 

"I can smell your scent from miles away, omega. If there's something you need right now it's someone to take care of your heat, right?" 

'How can him be so accurate?'  You thought to yourself. 

"Come on, we've done this before-" 

Before he could finish his line, you opened the door slowly, blushing while you watched a grin form on his lips. 

Pulling your body against his, the harbinger whispered in your ear, close enough to make your body shiver. 

"I know exactly what you need, my love" The door behind you both was closed abruptly. 

"So… Can I finally help you?" His fingers gripped your chin weakly, only applying enough pressure so he could make your lips touch. 

His cold nose brushed against your neck, breathing in your sweet scent, before so soon, a kiss being stolen from you. 

It started softly, almost showing his affection towards you but soon he deepened the kiss until your lips were sore. 

"Why do you smell so good?" Scaramouche whispered, pressing kisses down your neck. 

"Make love to me, please" You whimpered, gripping his clothes with weak and shaken hands. 

"You seem to not be able to focus on anything else besides my hands. Tell me, my love. Do you want me to do something with them?"

"Touch me, please" You whimpered. 

"Ah, I see. You're so obediently waiting for me to start playing around with you, yet I'm here, all words, no actions" His fingers left your chin to hold your face delicately, with his thumb brushing against your lower lip before he could steal a peck from you. "Let's get started with this" He whispered while laying you down on the comfortable bed before getting above you. 

A soft squeeze on the flesh of your breasts was enough to make you whimper.

And the thin fabric of your shirt made you feel every stimulation of his fingers against your nipples. They always had been a sensitive spot of yours and Scaramouche seemed to understand that rather quickly with the help of your reactions. 

Soon the soft touches were lowered to the level of your hips and thighs. The skilled fingers gained goosebumps from your body as the harbinger carefully explored your weaknesses. 

At some point, you unconsciously opened your legs, giving him enough room so he could finally touch your sex. Pulling your panties to the side, he teased your clit with his middle finger until it was soaked with your slick. 

"It seems you're nice and ready for me, even though I barely touched you" You felt his fingers brushing against your aching walls as he thrusted them into your sex. “Fuck, you’re perfect" 

You swallowed dryly with his statement, trying to not sound that needy. 

His fingers' pace suddenly became faster and the constant stimulation made you reach your high so easily it was almost comic. 

"Your little sounds are so cute yet so sinful" The harbinger whispered, taking his fingers off your walls right before he licked them clean. "And your taste is so freaking addictive I could eat you up all night long” 

“Scara… I need you now” You gasped, cheeks red in embarrassment. 

“You made a mess of me, doll" You could see through his pants how hard you had gotten him. “Wanna feel it inside of you, my love?” You nodded. 

Watching him taking off his shorts and underwear made you not pay attention to his next actions. 

Your heart skipped a beat when he pulled your body close to his. 

Your faces were really close once again that night as you felt the urge to pull him for a kiss before anything else could happen. 

"Can I?" He asked for permission after corresponding to your kiss. 

"I’m yours" 

Even though you were ready for him, it was difficult for you to take him properly inside your walls. 

The soft squeezes your insides made every now and then made him almost lose concentration while he built his pace up. 

"You feel so freaking good~" He was strong enough to pin you down with only one hand, as the other stimulated your bundle of nerves. "I absolutely adore how vulnerable you look while I ravish you like this" 

"Scara..." You squirmed under him as your orgasm got closer. "Deeper, please" 

A smile formed on his lips before he took your legs from his waist to put them above his shoulders, allowing him to reach deeper within you. 

You saw his frame through your blurry eyes: his hair looked so beautiful even when the indigo locks were messy because of his movements. His hand wasn't holding your own against the mattress anymore so you took the chance to caress his hair with love before pleading;

“Bite me” And your wish was finally fulfilled before the harbinger laughed quietly at how lovely you looked: red cheeks, plumpy lips, sweaty and marked skin with some of the hickeys he had given you. “Fuck… I’m close…” 

 “Don’t cum without my permission” He ordered, before thrusting against your sex even faster, making your hips sore. Holding back your orgasm made you feel weak, but obeying his orders to make him proud was worth it. 

“Please…” You whimpered, marking his back with soft scratches. “Please, let me cum, master… I c-can’t hold it any longer…” 

A smile formed on his lips. 

“Deliver it to me, my darling” Was what he said before both of your bodies got soft due your climax.  "I'm glad I finally made you mine again after craving you for so damn long" Pulling him to a kiss, you both exchanged glances of affection before you asked him for another detail. 

"Don't pull out" You whimpered, bringing his body ever closer to yours. 

"I won’t pull out for now…" You felt a kiss against the skin of your neck. 

“Could you cuddle me?” You whispered shyly.

“So pure and so passionate…” His thumb brushed against your lips. “I’ll cuddle you all night long, my doll. And in the morning, I’ll still be here. I don’t care about the Tsaritsa rules” 

• Time break •

The next morning, you still felt his body against yours, cuddling you with love. 

“Scara…?”

“I’m here” 

"Could you make me yours once again?"

Venti's Scenario 

16. “I think we were a little too loud last night”

25. “Don’t cum without my permission” 

26. “I think ropes would look lovely on you”

44. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

53. “Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it” 

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"Being so vulnerable and devoted to your God is something beautiful, my muse" The bard's voice was nothing but a murmur against your lips. "I could almost write a song about our love, so the winds would tell the entire Teyvat the story of a mere bard and his loved one" With that, the kiss finally started, making you melt under his body. His tongue explored your mouth with delicacy, slowly sucking your own tongue every now and then before he broke the contact to breathe properly. 

You felt something brushing against your arms' skin before you gasped his name. 

"Venti..." A smile formed on his lips. 

"I think ropes would look lovely on you" 

"Ropes...? Are you planning-" A cute giggle left his lips before the god started bondaging your body to his taste. 

"Your innocence is so sweet, my muse" 

The first spot that got his attention were your breasts and a silly but meaningful idea crossed his mind. 

His slim fingers traced patterns above your flesh, making you focus on what was he writing against your skin. 

"M... I... N... E..." You whispered. "Mine..." 

"You're a quick learner, my muse" His face got closer to yours so he could murmur something against your ear. "You belong to me" Lowering his head, his tongue now swirling around your nipples, making you squirm under him while his slim fingers traveled to your core, stimulating you to the point that tears of pleasure formed in the corner of your eyes. 

"Venti... Just like that..."  His fingers stretched you out for him for long minutes until your body couldn't take it anymore. 

Your whimpers told him you were close, but letting you cum without having him inside you so he could feel the soft squeezes of your walls while he marked you with his seed was a waste. 

“Don’t cum without my permission” He told you with a demanding tone, before letting his fingers go off you. "You should do as I say, right, my muse? You want to make your master proud, don't you?" 

"Yes, Venti... I wanna make you proud of me" 

"Ne, my muse... You provoked me all day long... Touching me, stealing kisses and whispering lewd thoughts against my ear... You really thought you're the one in charge in this relationship?" A soft chuckle left his lips before he entered your sex without much warning. 

"F-Fuck... Mhm~" Your back arched a little in the perfect angle to show how deep he was into you with the bulge on your belly. "So... S-So deep..." Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you felt his hips collapsing against yours at a hard pace. 

"Look at you... You can barely talk properly, my muse..." He kissed your forehead. “Not so cocky now, are you?”

The ropes created enough friction against your skin to provide some pain that mixed with pleasure made you feel alive for once. 

His length brushed against the certain spot that made you melt under him while he marked your body as his and his only. 

"Barbatos-" His true name left your mouth when you felt overstimulated for the first time that night. "Too much..." 

"Remember the safeword, you're allowed to use it” 

"All I need is you, now" You said softly in answer, even though you were feeling so many sensations that your mind was foggy. 

You didn’t remember much of what happened after you finally reached your climax. 

You could say you whimpered when you felt his warm essence entering your womb, instinctively pulling his body against yours as you both came down from your high. 

Your body was feeling too heavy and sleepiness made you fall into a slumber. 

The next morning, the sunlight woke you up. 

"Windblume..." Venti, who was cuddling you, whispered in your ear. "Good morning, my muse" You squeezed his hand as an answer, still way too sleepy to start a conversation. 

"I think we were a little too loud last night" Was the only thing you said within long minutes of cuddling. 

"Oh... You think so, my muse? But... I must admit that being a bit loud is part of my personality" He kissed your neck delicately to not hurt the sore skin from his hickeys. "Mhm... Windblume?" 

"Yes?" 

“I may or may not have left some…. Marks”

"V-Venti, come on... I still work at the tavern, you know?" You complained. 

"Ne, it's okay, princess. People will simply know that you belong to me forever" His voice became mischievous. "And you can't say you weren't in the mood for some marks"

Xiao's Scenario

8. "You’re so turned on already? That was fast" 

11. "I want you now" 

14. “Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good” 

32. “Make love to me, please” 

51. “Your scent drives me crazy” 

52. “I'm not done with you yet”

55. “I may or may not have left some…. Marks”* Changed to: "I may or may not leave some marks on you" 

Having the one woman that messed up with the adeptus' feelings right in front of him made him aware of what could happen next. 

"Xiao...?" You asked quietly, getting up from your bed at Wangshu Inn rapidly. 

"My apologies. Appearing out of nowhere like I do may scare humans like you. I just felt I should check on you, is all" His eyes glowed intensely inside the barely illuminated room. 

"To... Check on me?" You asked confused, since he almost never showed up to you, even though he was always in the same area.

He didn't answer you, but a scoff of irritation left his lips, making you shiver. 

"Is there something wrong? Are you hurt...?" 

"I need to be honest, is all, (Name)" His voice carried some frustration. 

You nodded, giving him space to start talking whenever he felt comfortable to do so. The worst thing you could do with Xiao was pressuring him in any way. 

"I hate feeling like this. But you changed me. You managed to destroy the walls I passed centuries building up just so I could isolate myself from anyone or anything. You with your way of being... You showed me a side of myself I didn't even know was alive anymore. You showed me that perhaps giving myself a chance to start over isn't as dreadful as I thought..." He approached you with careful steps, checking your reactions to see if he could go any further. 

Your heart skipped a beat with his words. 

So after all this time you both had met... Xiao was finally able to comprehend what he was truly feeling? 

"I'm stretching on this speech... What I need to say is... I love you, and I need you, (Name)"

The distance between you two disappeared when you pulled him to a kiss. 

• Time break • 

"Your scent drives me crazy" The adeptus almost whimpered against the crook of your neck. "I've been trying to deny my feelings towards you but it's useless... I think we just need to get carried away with our urges" 

His hands moved swiftly across your body, your breasts, arms and thighs. 

"I want you now" He moans as he pulls your panties to the level of your knees just so he could rub your clit against his thumb.

"Xiao..." Your voice was shaky. "S-So sensitive..." 

"You’re so turned on already? That was fast" The adeptus teases as he feels you squeeze the finger he now pumped inside your heat. 

Your little sounds made the most sinful thoughts cross his mind while he explored possibilities with your body. 

"Good, good..." He murmurs as he continues to work your clit with his thumb while two other fingers stimulate your sweet spots. "Such a good girl you're, (Name)..." 

"Please... I need more" You gasped. 

"Make love to me, please” You moan as you feel his hands on your breasts just so his fingers could pinch your nipples.

He then slams into you, filling you so perfectly well that every muscle of your body goes into spasm. Your eyes water as you try to blink them back shut, but you can't stop the hot tears from streaming down your cheeks as your body continues to tremble every single time Xiao thrusts into your insides. 

“Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good” His voice was raw, showing the side of him he always tried to hide

"Oh gods" You mutter as you clutch his shoulders and kiss him, your tongue exploring his mouth as he kisses you back.

You feel his hands on your hips, then his fingers trailing down your inner thighs he holds you tightly during your lovemaking. 

You can feel the tip of his length almost pressing against your cervix, and you can feel as your walls tightened around him as your orgasm hits you. 

"Xiao..." You sounded like an angel to him. Pressing his body against your even more with your legs as his hips rock back and forth against yours non-stop, you soon felt he had finally reached his high. 

A warm liquid marked every of your walls' crevices in jolts, as his breathing became uneasy right before Xiao stole a kiss from your lips. 

An almost aggressive kiss that showed you his desires were not satisfied just yet. 

"I'm not done with you yet” A weak smile formed on his lips as he brushed a lock from your hair out of your forehead. "May this night make up for the time we've lost" 

"Still..." He continues. "I may or may not leave some marks on you" 

"It's not like I'll mind them" You answered before changing positions.

Zhongli's Scenario 

5. "Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-" 

11. “I want you now” 

14. "Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good" 

31. "You want me to claim you, don't you?"

47. "Come for me, you've done so well"

51. “Your scent drives me crazy” 

TW: Omegaverse things

"Shit, I forgot my suppressants and my heat is going to start soon-" You whimpered, thinking you were alone inside that place. 

You could only hope your scent wasn't too strong or tempting at that moment. Afterall, with your status as an omega and having an alpha being your manager was specifically hard due your instincts. 

Your nature could take the best of you at any moment and that thought by itself was almost terrifying. 

"Hey" Zhongli's voice made you jolt in place. "Hey, it's okay..." 

"Zhongli... You were supposed to come to work only t-tomorrow-" Before you could finish your line your knees faltered due to the weakness from your heat. 

To your surprise, strong hands prevent you from falling, leading to both of your bodies pressing against each other. 

"Didn’t expect to see me here?" His voice sounded confused. "Or it's only a deception I came here during such a delicate moment, my omega?" 

“So you noticed that detail…”

"So warm, sweet and inviting" You felt a kiss against your nape. It was so delicate and desperate it made his mind sink into lewd thoughts. "You're aware of the truth, right?"

“Zhongli…?” He inhaled your aroma slowly, letting every note of your scent trigger the right sensations from his being.

“Sooner or later our natures will take the lead. It’s better to get to know each other while our minds aren’t so hazy” 

“Please, m-make this stop-” You whimpered when his fingers pressed against the place a bond mark should be. 

“Your scent drives me crazy” The man whispered, before carefully  leaning you on the table of the office. “I’ll make you mine, and I’ll be yours” 

Zhongli started kissing your stomach as his hands gripped your hips tightly right before opening your legs with strong hands, massaging your entrance right above the fabric of your panties. 

Your back arched a little with the friction and you moaned. 

"You're so vulnerable like this it hurts" 

“Zhongli… I want you now… I need you now”

"You want me to claim you, don't you?" 

"Mhm…" 

He was already hard, ready to just penetrate you. Stroking his member and brushing himself against your folds almost drove him insane. 

The one who was your boss penetrated you slowly, enjoying every inch of his cock being involved by your wet and warm walls. With his length now entirely inside you, his tip almost reached your cervix. 

"Ah fuck, I knew you’d feel good" 

Morax started his thrusts and your slick only made it easier for him to do what he craved and needed. 

His lips captured yours in a warm and slow kiss and his tongue explored your mouth as he stimulated your clit with the fingers of one of his hands. 

Everything quickly became too much to you, with your orgasm being so close it almost hurted. 

"Alpha!" You whined, your nails scratching his back in pleasure.

"Come for me, you've done so well"

And your body obeyed him that time, and many other times later.

[poespetraven]

Hiiiiiii hellooooooooo hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii so uh funny story I haven’t watched the new episode yet…

LET ME EXPLAIN

(!!!spoilers for both the X-tale comic and series below!!! (I’ve never tried using the “keep reading” line thingy ooh this is exciting! Heehee look at me being all tumblr proficient! (I still have no idea as to what I’m doing (shoot sorry I got distracted.))))

I DID REREAD THE X-TALE COMIC AND REWATCH THE X-TALE SERIES THO AND OH MY GOSH I FORGOT HOW MUCH I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THE X-TALE COMIC, ESPECIALLY THE 2ND HALF OF IT LIKE OH MY GOSH I FORGOT SO MANY LITTLE DETAILS THAT MAKE IT SO MUCH MORE DEVASTATING BRO WHY DO I NEED REREAD THIS MORE OFTEN WHAT AM I DOING?!?!

Anyways, that was fun! I guess in a way it was kinda fun having not read it in a while cause like I got to be surprised by some things I forgot. Like Cross almost killing Frisk in the very beginning and then panicking about it and feeling awful. The slow build up of his suspicion of Frisk. And the whole deal with Papyrus secretly protecting Cross from his blasters to make Undyne and Frisk think he killed Cross. I had been thinking that Cross saved himself for a while now. And you know what? You know what that does? YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MAKES EXTRA DEVASTATING?! YOU KNOW WHAT OTHER KNIFE TWISTING DETAIL I FORGOT?! CROSS INITIALLY SPARED PAPYRUS! DO YOU REMEMBER THAT?! DO YOU?!?!?!? CAUSE I DIDN’T! I FORGOT! BUT AFTER CROSS KILLED EVERYBODY HE LEFT PAPYRUS TOTALLY UNHARMED AND WAS LIKE “Papyrus wants me happy 🥰” AND PAPYRUS IS JUST LIKE STANDING THERE AND THEN HE’S LIKE HES LIKE “yeah but like maybe you went like a little too far-“ THEN BOOM HES FUCKING DEAD. CROSS KILLS HIM! LIKE URGHHHHHH IT HURTS IT PHYSICALLY HURTS ME! AND THEN LIKE WHAT HAPPENS DIRECTLY AFTER? LIKE I FORGOT ABOUT FRISK TRYING TO GIVE CROSS THE HEART LOCKET AND THEN CHARA ACCIDENTALLY KILLING FRISK!!! LIKE I HAVE I ROBBED MYSELF BY NOT REMEMBERING THIS ANGST! IT MAKES CROSS’ REALIZATION THAT HE CAN’T ACTUALLY BRING EVERYBODY BACK EVEN MORE DEVASTATING!

So uh yeah I had a very fun time rereading the comic. And then I rewatched the X-Take series like the next day and OH MY GOSH IT WAS EVEN BETTER HAVING JUST READ THE COMIC LIKE IT JUST HITS SO MUCH HARDER AND I should probably stop there before I jump into another rant. This post was not supposed to be this long oops. I’ll just summarize what I was going to say by saying that this series gives me Feelings and Emotions.

BUT I STILL HAVENT WATCHED THE NEW UNDERVERSE EPISODE! I’ve being holding off for a day when my family is out of the house for long enough for me to rewatch all of Underverse Season 2 plus the new episode cause I want to try and see if I can put it on our television. BUT GUYS I DONT KNOW IF I CAN WAIT ANY LONGER! I THINK IM GONNA CAVE! LIKE I DON’T NEED TO WATCH IT LIKE THAT! LIKE ITS A NICE IDEA SURE BUT LIKE WOULD I REALLY ENJOY THE EPISODE LESS IF I DIDN’T WATCH IT LIKE THAT? NO! WHY AM I DOING THIS! I DONT KNOW! WHY AM POSTING THIS ON TUMBLR? WHY AM I STILL TYPING? WHO IS EVEN GOING TO READ THIS? HEY YOU THERE! YEAH YOU! WHY ARE YOU READING THIS? WHATS GOING ON?

…well I think I have officially decided that I am not going to wait until the house is empty to watch the new episode cause that’s stupid. I’m going watch it on my laptop with my headphones and a cozy blanket on my bed the way it was intended and it is going to be fucking fantastic.

UNDERVERSE 0.8 PART 1 Premiere

[bloatedandalone04]

Drunk Boyfriend - Blurb

WC: 1.3k | Warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk rafe, mentions of smut.

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | THANK YOU FOR 5.6K FOLLWERS

When Topper called you from Rafe’s phone, you made a complete ass of yourself when you answered it by saying, “Hey, sexy. How’s the party? Ready to come have some actual fun with me yet?”

To which Topper respectfully declined before he informed you that your boyfriend may or may not have had a little too much to drink, and that it may or may not be best for you to come get him. 

You were still up, thankfully, since the whole reason you weren’t with Rafe like you usually always are was because you had multiple college applications you were working on. 

After both you and Topper forgot about your…choice of words you said to him when you picked up the call, you pushed yourself off your bed and threw on a cardigan to cover up your tank top and sleep shorts. You assumed you’d just be waiting in the car and Topper would come bring your drunk boyfriend out to you, but as you waited and glanced around the cup-littered and crowded yard, you grew a bit impatient once it hit the five minute mark. 

Inside was way worse than outside, and you had no idea where to even start to find Rafe or Topper. After somewhat clearing the living and dining rooms, you were about to check upstairs when you heard a multitude of laughing and cheering coming from the kitchen, so you went to check in there instead. 

And that’s where you found both Rafe and Topper. Rafe was literally standing on the counter, his head nearly grazing the ceiling as he downed one cup after the other, and Topper was standing below him, his hands placed firmly on Rafe’s knees to ensure he didn’t fall. At least Topper looked somewhat…less drunk. 

You’d only made it a couple steps into the kitchen when Rafe’s eyes met yours, and his face lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Y/n!” he greeted, not taking Topper’s outstretched hand and instead just jumping down from the counter before quickly making his way over to you. When he reached you, he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face against the side of your neck as he unevenly swayed with you to the music that was playing throughout the house. “You didn’t tell me you were coming tonight, baby. I would’ve waited for you.”

His grip on you was so tight and strong, but you were kinda glad, because he was also putting a lot of his weight on you, and you surely would’ve fallen by now if he wasn’t holding you up. You looked over at Topper, who gave you a guilty glance before he quickly turned away and busied himself with something else. 

“I doubt that,” you mumbled, unsure if Rafe even heard you as you turned with him and guided him towards the exit of the crowded kitchen. “How much did you drink, babe? Can you walk?”

“Um, I don’t know…A lot? Fuck, I can’t even remember,” he slurred, draping his arm around your shoulder as he leaned heavily against you, his other hand reaching up to adjust his crooked, backwards hat. “Walk? Yeah, I can walk. I’m walking right now.” 

He said that, but his legs looked very wobbly as he struggled to keep up with you. But before you could get him out of this packed house and into your car, he stopped and grabbed your shoulders, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Y/n, baby, you gotta get me out of here,” he groaned desperately, dipping his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “This place is lame as fuck without you.” he added, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips possessively as his lips ghosted over yours, and you had to ignore how good his hands felt. 

Before he could slide your tank top up even more, you took his hands in yours and pulled him along with you. “I’m trying to,” you muttered, guiding him successfully out the front door and down the steps. When he stumbled on the last one and fell into you, you couldn’t stop the laugh from tumbling out of your mouth as you held onto him. “Fuck, Rafe…are you okay?” 

He didn’t even seem fazed as he nodded his head. “I’m fine, baby. Just…I just need you. Fucking missed you,” he rasped, grabbing hold of your hips as he pulled your body right up against his. His eyes lingered on your lips for a few seconds before he squeezed you even tighter, “Wanna take you home.”

You shook your head, tightening your hold on him as you hooked his arm around your shoulders again. “Sorry, baby, but I’m the one who’s taking you home. You can’t even walk straight right now,” you mumbled, pulling him along with you to your car. “Do you have your house key? And your phone?”

Rafe nods, mumbling something you couldn’t understand as he reaches into his pockets. You unlocked the passenger side door as he found his phone and keys, “Got ‘em right here, baby,” he announced, holding both items in front of your face. When you took them from him, Rafe leaned in and nuzzled his nose against your neck as he slid onto the seat. “You’re so good to me…always taking care of me.”

You were pulled forward when his hands wrapped around the backs of your thighs and tugged you towards him, making you brace your hands against his shoulders. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled, his fingers teasing the end of your sleep shorts, “And you look so fucking hot. Makes me wanna bend you over the hood right now.”

You had to laugh, because his eyes were literally closing as he said that, and he willingly went when you pushed him back so he was sitting properly on the seat. “Let’s get you home, in bed, and sober before we talk about bending me over, yeah?” you suggested, buckling his seatbelt. 

Rafe smiles drunkenly at you, leaning into your touch when you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead, and before you could pull away again, he guided your mouth to his in a surprisingly sweet kiss. “I love you,” he mumbled again, his nose bumping against yours. 

“I love you too,” you said back, kissing him one last time before you closed the door and got in on the driver’s side. Once you were behind the wheel, Rafe reached over and took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as you started the car. “Don’t fall asleep, okay? I can’t carry you, so if you don’t want to spend the night in my car, stay awake for a little longer.”

Rafe nodded, but his head was already rolling to the side. 

And even though your house wasn’t very far, Rafe was completely passed out when you got there. “Rafe,” you mumbled, giving his hand a squeeze, but he didn’t even flinch. “Seriously?” you groaned, leaning back in your seat as you turned off the car. 

You weren’t lying when you said you couldn’t carry him and that he’d be spending the night in your car, but you also couldn’t leave him. So you took off your seatbelt and reached over to push his seat back so he was more comfortable before moving to do the same to yours, but before you could, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his body. 

You thought maybe he had woken up, but when you looked at him, his face was completely relaxed and his body was still. “You’re something else, you know that?” you mumbled as you shifted into a more comfortable position on top of him. 

And that was how you fell asleep that night; laying on top of your wasted boyfriend who, even in his sleep state, couldn’t keep his hands off you.

[fidogo]

john price x reader, but accidentally running into the 141 after only going on a few dates with Price wc: 0.9K warnings: mentions of sex, age gap, daddy kink, dacryphilia, use of sweetheart + angel a/n: I make such a stupid joke in this about Ghost and Soap LMAO forgive me

The pub was warm, a sweet haven from the chill outside. It was already decked out with cheap garlands and holiday lights, all hung with care. Your friends tear off to the bar to order a few drinks, leaving you to find a booth. 

You slink through the chairs and the tables, making a beeline to the one available booth. You’re about to get nice and cozy when you stop in your tracks. 

He’s here.

You didn’t know John terribly well. The two of you had only gone on a few very successful dates, but you were not close enough to know who he was sitting with.

What you did know was this:

1. John was older than you.

2. He was an absolute gentleman whenever he took you out.

3. He really liked when you called him daddy and liked fucking you until you were in tears (and after...especially after). 

Back to the three men at the table with him. Given their demeanor, it was safe to assume they were also military. One of them was maybe Gaz/Kyle...bu that was it.

Your feet move automatically. (Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if you should stop walking and go back to the booth you found. Maybe it’s too early to meet his friends.)

The men’s boisterous voices quiet as you approach, and the one with a mohawk elbows one who's masked. You ignore them, focusing on John, whose face softens a smidge (and his eyes light up).

“Hi, John.” You’re a little more nervous than you thought you would be. (He had you creaming on his cock and whining like you were in heat the other night. This should be nothing!)

“Hi, Sweetheart,” he answers, standing to kiss your cheek. “What’re you doing here?” His eyes are warm and earnest, immediately putting your anxieties to rest.

“Just getting a drink with my friends before the new year. Things are about to pick up, so we’re trying to just get a drink one last time.” John looks at you so fondly, it warms your heart. Fuck the alcohol, fuck the fire or radiator or whatever’s in here, all you need is John Price to look at you like this to make you warm and toasty. 

“Would you all want to sit with us?” He asks, knocking on the table. You glance at the table full table, trying not to laugh at his friend's expressions (shock and disbelief coupled with some respect for Price). 

Remembering his manners, John introduces you to his men and places one large, strong, hand on the small of your back.  You lean into him slightly, trying to not seem too pleased to be here with him. 

“This is Gaz, Soap, and Ghost,” John introduces. You freeze, confused for a second. You thought..... Oh. Oh.

“Oh.” You say aloud. Stupidly. John quirks a brow at you, prompting you to ramble on.

“I’m sorry. To be candid, I thought Soap and Ghost were your dogs..." you say trailing off at the end.

To be fair, he had only ever been to your place. You stare at Soap and Ghost. Based on the small amount of information you knew, you had just assumed...

John lets out a deep laugh and pulls you closer into his side. 

“What?” Soap yells. He’s no longer checking you out appreciatively and just looks at you in disbelief. “How could you think that, lassie?” 

“Well, John seems like a man who lives alone with two big dogs that have manly names.” You explain, sinking more into John’s side, trying to embed yourself into this warmth.

His thumb lightly strokes your back, sending shivers up your spine. He's so big and strong and... Your brain turns to mush for a second.

“Well, what about Gaz?” Soap gestures to said man, trying desperately to make any ground in this. Your push away your vaguely horny thoughts. You have to lock back in for Kyle's sake. You smile at Gaz and politely extend your hand. 

“No, I knew Kyle was a man. A pleasure to meet you.” Gaz shakes your hand and beams while Soap slumps over, and Ghost looks like he’s rethinking how he got here.

“Need to work on your manners. That way when Captain talks about you, people don’t think you're dogs,” Gaz says drawing out and emphasizing dogs with a cheeky smile. Soap just grumbles. 

“Anyway,” you start to say, turning your attention back to John. “My friends and I are about to take that booth back there, but thank you for the offer. But call me. Or text.” He nods and leans in to press a quick, chaste to your lips. 

“Have a good night, Sweetheart.” You nod before going to finally claim your booth. 

You hear Soap ask why John ‘calls Kyle by his name but not me or Simon’, making you smile. They seem nice.

And then you hear what you assume to be Ghost, say, “Not bad, Captain. Not bad at all.”

You preen at that, chipper mood carrying you through the night, even as your friends bombard you with questions once they’re all seated.

You wave shyly at John and his friends when they eventually file out into the cold. John sends you a wink that has you sinking into the booth. You’re so fucked. 

About 15 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Can’t stop thinking about you, angel

Apparently, he’s fucked too.

[sturnslutz]

"always an angel, never a god."

smut and angst. take that with what you will. independent!reader and fratboy!chris.

all dividers by @bernardsbendystraws.

its been a week since the last time you talked or even seen chris. you dont know when, but you guys exchanged numbers and have been texting casually. sometimes you would receive the "goodnight" or "good morning" but nothing more "intimate" than that.

you discussed with him that you wanted to hangout, and with some convincing, he finally agreed. he agreed to come to your place which was a single apartment about 10 minutes from his frat house.

he knocked on your door and texted you. "im here." you smiled when you got the notification and rushed to the door. you opened it and he smirked, walking in. "hey kid. how 'ya doin'?" he says as he slumps on the couch, immediately becoming comfortable. he takes notes of the subtle hints of girlyness around your living room and was thinking of how your room looked like.

you closed the door, and began walking towards him as he pulled you in by your hips and rested his hands behind your thighs, looking up at you with low eyes. "i've been good, you?" he nodded in agreement. "been thinkin' about you." you smirked as you ran your hands through his hair. "yeah?" he nodded as he pulled your arm, dragging you closer to him as he then grabbed your jaw, kissing your lips deeply.

you leaned in immediately, straddling his lap as you wrapped your arms around his neck. his hands roam your body as his lips make their way to your neck as he mumbles, "you wanna go to your room or stay here?" before kissing your neck again. "room." you couldnt even get a full sentence out at how dazed you were.

he chuckled against your skin as he pulled you up with him and you walked him to your room. he nodded in admiration at how your room looked, and all its decorations. you fell back on the bed as he climbed on top of you and removed his shirt, and you sat up and removed yours too, leaving you in your lace bra.

he leaned his arms around you, unbuckling the bra and letting your tits pool down. he smirked and linked his lips around the bud, leading you to let out a deep sigh.

as time went on with no words, his pants and boxers and your clothing came off too. his eyes filled with lust as he let a finger slide through your glistening folds. you let out a content sigh, and leaned your head farther back into the pillow. "y'like that, huh?" he chuckles as he leans down and kisses your stomach contently.

you nod. "stop teasing, chris." you say as you let out a huff. "patience, kid." he says as he aligns his tip up with your entrance, looking up at your already flushed face before thrusting in completely. you gasp loudly, covering your mouth. he tears your hand away, pinning it down next to you as he thrusts in and out at a rapid pace, leaving no time for you to full adjust.

your pain quickly grows into pleasure as you’re grabbing the sheets next to your head, so tightly your hands turn pale. your moans increase his pace as he feels you clenching. "gonna cum already? you act so fuckin' tough all the damn time and now i got you dumb over some dick. fuckin' wild." he chuckles as he grabs your jaw, squeezing your cheeks and making you look at him. you moan at the degrade as you lean your head back as his thrusts get sloppy.

"f-fuck. cum all over this fuckin' dick. right 'ere behind ya'." he says as he pulls his hand away from your face and grips your hips with such intense pressure, you're sure its going to leave marks. with a final moan, you cum all over him as he waits for his final seconds and pulls out, finishing all over your stomach.

he slumps down in the empty space next you as the both of you recollect your breath. he leans over and kisses your lips before standing up and walking to the kitchen and coming back with some paper towels and a water bottle. he sets the bottle on your nightstand as he cleans your stomach up with a gentle touch. he set aside the now dirty towel as he cracks open the bottle and holds it up to your lips. "drink, pretty. you'll feel better." he was never one for aftercare, usually the girls leaving right after and cleaning themselves up. but with you, he felt a urge to care for you after such an intimate experience, which is rare for him and hasnt been done by him in a while.

you drink the water and he covers you up with your blanket, brushing the hair out of your face as he throws his clothes back on while looking down at his phone. "fuck. this is shit timin' but the guys at the frat told me to come back because of somethin' they fucked up while gettin' ready for the party tonight. you should come tonight, yeah?" he says as he sits down next to you as you look up at him and nod. "yeah, sure. ill take a shower after i sleep for a bit and ill come." he nods and kisses your head. "'m sorry for leavin'. ill make it up to you tonight. promise." you nod once again as he smiles and walks out of your room and eventually your apartment.

once he leaves, you're left with scrambling thoughts. no chance he acts so loving with every girl he hooks up with, right? is there something deeper? the question rings in your head throughout the time you sleep, shower and get ready.

as you walk into the frat house, you head to the bar to meet up with a couple of friends and get some drinks. after about 4 shots, you decide to stumbly find matt and vey. as you walk through the crowd of people, you see a certain couple on the couch. vey has a blunt in her hand as she leans against matt while he strokes her hair lovingly. they also both look completely faded and you giggle at this. you walk over to them and vey sees you first, shooting up from her seat and wrapping her arms around you.

"rosy! come sit with us!" you smile and hug her back as you sit down next to her and look at matt. he nods with low, red eyes and smiles at you. "hey kid." you nod back at him before sparking up a conversation with vey. after some time, you remember a certain face you wanted to see. "hey do you know where chris is at?" you say to her as she shakes her head. "matt might." she tugs on his sleeve as he looks over and you cant hear, but you assume vey asks him if he knows where chris is at. he nods and leans over her so you could hear him over the music. "yeah, i think hes upstairs in his room, saw him going up there a bit ago." he forgot to mention a minor detail he saw when he saw chris going upstairs.

you smile and thank him and say your goodbyes and promise to see them later. as you stumble to the stairs, you hold on to the railing to walk past the couples making out and try your best not to disturb them. as you get upstairs, you make your way to chris's room and knock a couple times. you couldnt hear if he said anything back at the loud music blaring throughout the house and your drunken state opens the door.

you're met with the back of a man and the moans of a girl fill your ears. without stopping his fast pace and movements, he turns around and smirks at you, seemingly sober. "take a pic, lasts longer." he chuckles as he turns back around and continues his movements. you gasp as you close the door, and rush to the bathroom to the best of your abilities.

panic sets in as you start hyperventilating and grip the sink like your life depends on it. you look up at the mirror and see your face dripping with mascara as choked sobs are heard from your lips. you rush out of the bathroom, tripping over your own feet as you run down the stairs and run to the couch.

vey looks up as she hears someone sobbing, and her face drops. matt looks up also as he sees you, seemingly remembering the vital detail he forgot to mention to you as he mentally curses himself out. vey stands up and wraps her arms around you, as she rubs your back and you sob into her shoulder. she grabs your hand and leads you out to the backyard to free you from the intoxicating atmosphere and matt follows. she finds a empty chair and sets you down on it and she sits in front of you and matt sits next to her.

though very not sober, she seemingly sobers up and tries her best to comfort you and find the root of the problem. "rosy, you need to tell me what happened." she rests her hands on your thighs as you bury your face into your hands, shaking your head. "i-i cant." "yes you can, just take a deep breath. we're right here, everythings okay. please tell us what happened." from your sobs, some eyes wander to the 3 of you but none of you care.

"i went upstairs to go find him because he promised me earlier that he would come see me tonight. i knocked on his room and i couldnt hear what was happening, so i walked in and he was fucking this girl and he turned around, obviously knowing its fucking me because when he saw me he didnt stop, and he said "take a pic, lasts longer!" you sob into your hands once again as vey shakes her and scoffs.

"fuckin' bitch." right after she finishes her sentence, her and matt hear a giggly couple walking outside. "no fucking way." vey says as she stands up and storms to the guy who has his arm wrapped around a girl with almost pitch black hair. she shoves him and he scoffs as his arm falls off the girl. "fuck is your problem? and why ain't matt takin' care of your drunk ass? fuck outta here." he shoves your hands off him as the girl next to him gives vey a dirty look. "right over there, stupid ass." she points to matt and matt stands up and walks over to the group.

while chris is looking at matt, he also sees the girl sobbing into her hands, and while no one noticed, not even himself, his heart dropped at the sight. while looking at her, he gets pushed once again, more forcefully this time, and he looks up and sees a furious matt in front of him.

"are you fuckin' stupid, chris? shes fuckin' sobbin' o'er there because of you. have some decency." chris scoffs as he smooths out his clothes and pushes matt back. "thats her fuckin' problem that she caught feelin's. not mine. we fucked once and she expects me to be her boyfriend." chris says, putting his tough guy persona back on as both him and the girl laugh. vey notices this and yells at the girl. "who the fuck are you? you're not fucking involved in this shit. get outa here." the girl rolls her eyes and walks away.

chris doesnt even notice the girl walking away as him and matt just stare at each other with fury in their eyes. the 3 of them dont notice a teary-eyed girl walking up to them. chris then noticed her and scoffed seeing her puffy, wet face. "grow the fuck up, kid. cryin' over here like a kid. this,' he points between the two of them, 'was nothing. and never will be. you're a good fuck, 'n thats all." matt and vey are in disbelief right now as you dont say anything, but your eyes fill with tears once again. "hereee we go. cryin' again. you're embarrassin' yourself." and with that, you walk away to the best of your abilities and hear the distant screams of vey yelling at him.

you make your way to the front of the house on the opposite side of the group and pull out your phone and order an uber. not without blocking chris on everything first.

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust comment to be added or removed.

[quarterlifekitty]

Hi! could you possibly write something about a fuckboy!soap and shy!reader that he uses for sex, and she keeps letting him? im craving angsty angst ANGST that just keeps hurting…you don’t have to if you don’t want to and thank you if you do! Have a great day!

Okay, one thing you all should know about me? Is that I’m a weenie lol so I can’t help but make things a little hopeful most of the time. Also— gonna make this like a college type AU

Soap clocks you from a mile away when he sees you at a party. There’s a cup of beer in your hand that you’ve been nursing, just sipping to have something to do while you cling to the side of the friend who forced you to come.

He’s seen you in his classes before. You’re good. Not the type to be seen in a place like this. And that kinda whets his appetite. He wants to fuck you, break you, make you fall apart for his own amusement.

He nudges Gaz— they have the routine down to a science— splitting up the birdies that are a little too huddled together so they can have their way with them. Gaz runs interference this time, Johnny mouthing an “I owe ye” his way— chatting up and pulling your friend away to talk a bit more. You’re alone now, and Johnny swoops in, weaving through people on a warpath.

He corners you expertly, and you’re a pathetically easy read. Easy to tease, to coax, to push. He just has to throw in a few lines about how pretty you look, peppered between him saying he’s always wanted to talk with you, always admired you in class— he gives just enough detail to lull you into thinking this is courting. That he’s going to fuck you because he likes you.

Works like a charm. Always does. You clumsily follow him to his room—“Ye didnae ken? This is my fraternity’s house, bonnie,”— as he pulls you along by the hand.

He enjoys pulling you apart. Like the birds taking Prometheus’s liver. He’s not a complete animal, he makes you cum, but he doesn’t give you kisses the way you’d probably hoped he would. He’ll tell his mates later— it was kinda cute how fucking bad you were at giving head, too.

He lets you stay the night even though your clinging is a bit annoying. Pushing you out would burn this bridge, and he’s not ready to do that just yet. Not when he could keep having fun.

Come morning your clothes are tossed your way (sans panties, those are going in his trophy collection), and he has the decency to drop you off at your place with the promise of further contact.

Come your next class, he’s back to acting like he doesn’t know you. You’re shy, but you’re not stupid. It’s easy to see that you were played, and you curse yourself for falling into it.

So why do you show up when he texts you, asking you to come over?

Promethean indeed.

And it keeps happening.

It’s not like he treats you badly— that’s what you tell yourself. You’re just the idiot for expecting more than orgasms. It’s nice to feel wanted. It’s not nice to put your clothes on and get out right after, but you’re willing to ignore that. You shouldn’t be. But you are.

You’re not the kind of girl who gets asked out. So why refuse the one source of attention you have? He makes you cum, right? That’s more than a lot of guys do, so it would be unfair to expect more. High maintenance. Right?

If Johnny can see the hurt behind your eyes when you turn to check behind you when you leave, as if he’ll suddenly change his mind and call you back into bed to hold you, he doesn’t do anything about it. He’s content to tug on his jeans and brush past you with a cigarette in his mouth.

You steel yourself as usual, double checking the straightness of your clothes as if it’ll make you feel like less of a cheap whore when his housemates glance your way as you leave.

The door across from Johnny’s is almost always open, despite how closed off its occupant seems. You’ve never met Simon. Well, you really haven’t met anyone in Soap’s life. That’s not what he keeps you for, is it? Fucktoys don’t get introduced to the friend group. Doesn’t stop Simon from staring holes in your back every time you leave. Must think you’re easy. Must wonder if Johnny’ll mind if he has a go. Or maybe he just thinks you’re pathetic. You certainly do.

But it’s happened one too many times. Apparently, even a worm will turn. His stare itches and crawls up your skin when you already feel like such a piece of meat— chewed up and spit out. And you must be losing flavor. Before long you won’t even have this. You turn to look at him instead of walking on as usual.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” You spit in a tone that surprises you. You’ve never said anything like that to someone, not in earnest, anyway.

“Lemme take y’out somewhere.”

What?

What?

[asherthehimbo]

Fluffy

notes: idk guys I was bored, uhm mature themse ig? its just an intense make out so people under 15 DNI

pairing: Yunho x implied Chubby! fem! reader

You hated Yunho, absolutely hated him. You hated his handsome face, his god given smile, his hands that looked like they came straight out of your wet dreams. You hated the way he'd drape his jersey over you before a game in hopes you'd wear it, hated the way he'd follow after you like a lost puppy. You hated that you didn't truly hate him. It wasn't his fault, the whispers that followed him, the looks you were given for gaining his attention and despite how much you tried to stop him, your mind couldn't deny the fact that you desperately wanted him.

It's how you found yourself in this predicament in the first place, pushed up against the lockerroom door. Turns out being captain of the team has its perks, like the locked door behind you and the keys that were tossed to the floor along with his shirt a long time ago. Your mouth is bruised by now, your lips red and swollen and breathing labored and you know you need to stop but god you didn't want to. You tug at his hair, trying to remove his lips from yours and he whines, refusing at first but giving in when he eventually needed to breathe.

"Yunho you should- you should really go. We need to-" you try and breathe out, chest heavy as his hands hold your thighs, how he was strong enough to hold you this long you don't know but god it turns you on even more. "Go where?" he asks, his voice that low, breathless timbre that makes your thighs clench around his waist. "here?" his breath fans your neck as he bends his head down, lips tracing the line of your pulse, you let out a shudder as his teeth graze your skin. "or here?" he moves down, teeth nipping at your collarbone before placing a soft kiss over the small indent he left, his action causes you to let out a whimper and you can feel him smirk against your skin, "yeah? you wanted me here? why didn't you say it sooner fluffy?" you hated that nickname too, it would sound demeaning from anybody else but the way he says it makes you feel euphoric.

"stop-you need to stop calling me that" you're pleading at this point, you don't really want him to stop and he knows it, but you need to perserve atleast a little bit of your dignity. "why hm? you're so soft baby, like cream" his lips trail down your collarbone to the deep neckline of your skintight shirt, the one that you were insecure about and the same one that got you in this position in the first place. Your insecurities are the exact things that drive him mad and the knowledge of that makes your thighs tighten their grip around him because you can feel yourself getting weak and you don't want to fall, despite his large hands holding onto them. "Fuck Fluffy with your thighs around me like that you're gonna make me forget my own name" he breathes, removing his lips from your chest as he looks you in the eyes, one hand leaving your legs to hold your cheek, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "You gonna help me remember it? can you say my name fluffy? can you scream it?"

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[misctf]

Hey! I just bought this new VR game system and it says not to try it on alone. What the fuck are they talking about? And why are all the games on the online store so adult centered? Whatever, let's try it, wait what is happening ...

“Dude, you’re not supposed to use Hive X alone.” Some guy messages you in the chatroom, “Did you not see the warnings?”

“Or the reviews?” Another user asks, “It’s best for couples to use it. Together.”  

Your eyes narrow, “I didn’t pay all this money not to use it.” You reply, “I’ll let you know how it is.” You look down at the black box.

You always appreciated your friends in the gaming community. But the gaming community was quite divided when Hive X hit the stores. A new VR gaming system that seemed to offer a futuristic level of immersion. You didn’t really have time to read reviews, but you weren’t going to miss out on this opportunity.

“Well, here it goes.” You mumble.

You slowly remove the VR headset from the box, followed by two wrist and ankle cuffs. You can’t help but chuckle when you remove what looks like a waist trainer.

“What the fuck?” You whisper as you read the instructions.

Slowly, you remove your clothes until you’re completely naked. Apparently, this would help facilitate the full immersive experience. And as you stand in the center of your room, you slowly slip on the ankle cuffs, then the wrist cuffs, and finally the waist trainer. You pick up the headset, which looks like that of a motorcycle helmet, and with a deep breath, place it over your head. Initially, all you see is inky blackness. But as it turns on, the world around you comes alive. You wince as the ankle, waist, and wrist pads dig into your skin and warm up. And suddenly, you’re standing in what can only be described as a hotel.

“Oh wow.” You whisper as you look around, seeing others walking around the hotel. Heading to different rooms. You take a deep breath and smell a muskiness mixed with oak wood. The warmth of a glowing fire dancing in the hotel lobby. It’s warm, and a sense of peace fills you, “Oh shit!” You realize that you’re naked and quickly go to cover yourself.

Apparently, others heard you and look over. Some chuckle, some give you concerned looks. And you realize that many of them are naked too. Blushing, you quickly walk down a hallway, awkwardly bumping into and maneuvering around other couples.

“Why the fuck is everyone naked?” You mumble, “And why...” Your eyes widen and you gasp when you turn a corner and enter a large room.

There had to be hundreds of men and women in the midst of a giant orgy. All moaning and engaging in lewd acts. You avert your eyes and back away, heading back the way you came. Your face beet red and dick twitching uncomfortably.

“I should’ve read the reviews.” You mumble, realizing this is some kind of virtual sex toy, “Okay, I’m done. The guys will get a kick out of this.”

“What’s wrong?” You jump at the monotone voice behind you, “So sorry. I’m NPC 436.” A fully clothed, relatively plain individual says, “I am designed to tailor your experience and enhance customer satisfaction.”

“Yeah, I...” You cover your junk, “This isn’t my thing... I...”

“We have many experiences designed for our users.” It continues, “Usually, partners enter the Hive due to enhanced physical sensations. It appears...”

“Yeah, I’m alone.” The NPC nods.

“Based on your preferences and attitudes, we have determined an ideal experience.”

“Wha... how?”

“The VR headset you utilize is a two-way interface with your mind.” It says simply, “Please follow me.”

Part of you wants to say no and write this off as one of your biggest failed gaming experiences. But another part of you is curious. You nod and follow NPC 436 as it leads you to one of the hotel rooms. You stop outside Room 194 and NPC 436 opens the door, beckoning inside.

“Please enjoy.” It says, “Customer satisfaction is a primary objective.” It continues.

You nod as the door closes behind you and you enter a standard hotel suite. A warm fire place cackling and the smell of oak filling your nostrils. You feel your body start to relax and your thoughts slow. Absentmindedly, you stroke your hardening cock. The sound of the shower in the other room brings you back to reality and you slowly walk over. When you enter, your eyes widen.

“Hey there.” The man says, as he turns and smirks at you, “Fuck you’re cute.”

You feel your heart beating, your cock aching with need. And as he approaches you, you step forward. Your hands moving to feel his massive pecs. He grins as he guides your hand to his dick and you shudder at the feeling of his thick manhood in your hand.

“Good boy.” He moans, “I’m NPC 251.” He continues as you continue to feel his body, “Fuck... you’re needy.”

Things seem to move quickly. He’s pressed you up against the wall of the shower, your lips locked, your tongues doing battle. You can feel his rough hands roam your body, as yours continue to stroke his dick. And suddenly you’re on your knees as he fucks your face- you deepthroating him like a pro. He lets out a moan as he finishes and you shudder as you’re filled with his seed.

“Fuck.” He whispers.

You stumble to your feet, quivering from the pleasure. And before you can say another word, you moan as your cock hardens against. A wave of horniness filling your mind. A desire for more filling your every thought.

“Th-this isn’t...” You whisper. How was your body already craving another round? What was this VR device doing to you? “I... I...” NPC 251 is stroking his dick, grinning down at you.

“Additional interaction requires in game purchase.” Your heart sinks, “Would you like to initiate NPC trial period?” NPC 251 asks, “This will unlock additional sessions with any other NPC.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to comprehend what NPC 251 means. But your aching cock is too distracting. You bite your lip. NPC trial period? What did that even mean? What would it...? But NPC 251... god you wanted to do that again. You wanted...

“Trial period. Please.” You moan.

A searing pain knocks you off your feet. You can feel it in your ankles, hands, and waist. And the feeling seems to be moving along your arms, legs, and torso. You cry out and look up at NPC 251 in terror, gripping your head as you develop a significant headache.  

“Digitalization process is taking place.” It says, “Your physical body is being fully converted into the Hive.”

Before you can say another word, a different feeling fills you. You feel like you’re being inflated. Each muscle contracting and bloating. Expanding and growing at a terrifying rate. You try to push yourself up and immediately fall over. Unfamiliar with your new size and bulk as your musculature takes on that of an athlete. You wince as your body hairs burns away and leaves you smooth and hairless. Your muscles toned and bulky. The body of a porn star.

“Optimization of user traits allows for seamless integration for company standards.” It continues, “Your prior traits will be saved in the mainframe.”

You gasp as you look at yourself, hands roaming over your impressive musculature. You moan in a far deeper voice as your ass pulses with need. And you look up desperately at NPC 251, knowing it could give you what your new body craved.

“Initiating directives.”

Your jaw goes slack and your eyes dim as words and numbers flash in front of your eyes. You can barely keep up with the various components as you’re given directions and commands. Your numb mind filling with them- a sense of devout obedience driving you.

“I will serve. I will ensure customer satisfaction.” You drone on, “Serving is my pleasure. Being used is my pleasure.” For a brief moment, you feel fear. Part of you coming to realize what your life is about to become. But fear is not part of your programing, “I am NPC 803.” You say.

NPC 803 was quickly led away to a new room. An empty room. One for NPC 803 and the services it would provide. Time wasn’t a concern for NPC 803, nor were any thoughts about when it would get to return to its old life. And as NPC 803 waiting for someone, it laid in bed. Dildo in its ass. Moaning from wave after wave of pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. All it wanted was to provide customers with the best experience possible. And as another man was led to your room, also without a partner, you couldn’t help but smile. After the time you were gonna give him, you just knew you’d have another NPC joining your team.

[koalayoo]

Men who talk a certain way.

They carry themselves with elegance, talk with a poised cadence unique to them. They hold themselves upright and have an air of superiority. A cunning look, signature smirk, firm hand; these are staples of their character, they know how to strike a deal. Whether for their people or their own gain, they intimidate those to gain an advantage no matter how many exploits gone through or people exploited.

People either love or fear them.

They’re important.

It’s no surprise that they sit at the centre of the table at a meeting, commanding attention. All eyes are on them, gripping their every word. Prompt nods and murmurs of agreements follow. They’re smart too. Incredible wit and perceptiveness as they continuously glance at everyone, especially you.

Fuck, and they’re hot too.

It makes your blood run hot. Jolts shoot throughout your body and you avert your gaze. It was stupid to you to be losing your cool for a man who felt indifferent about your existence. Maybe that isn’t the right word. 

Sometimes, you would question whether he hated you. Whenever you needed a pen, your hands brushed against one another for a second and he would quickly pull back as if being stung by a bee with a slight scowl forming on his face. If the piles of paper you needed to finish took too long, he would be adamant you finish for the night, which is all fine and dandy if he wasn’t looking for help from others to complete your work. He even reprimanded you, talked to you in that familiar stern tone once for not having your priorities in place when a stranger came up to you in a flirtatious manner as if you could control that. 

He pissed you off. 

Why couldn’t he care about you like a normal person?

However, you were wrong about all of it. He cared too much.

When your fingers grazed him he was ridden with guilt, these were the same hands he would think about at night. Imagine tracing the sharp edges of his skin. He would shut his eyes and throw his head back, replacing his hands with your own. Try to commit the soft feel of yours to his. Would you go slow or fast? He wondered. How would you hold him? Would you let him make a mess? His thoughts would trail on and on questioning your grip, your face, what you would say.

So, it was no surprise when he saw you working yourself to exhaustion that he wanted you to rest. That was his duty after all. Only he could do that. The eyes that he desperately wanted to see glazed over with a lust filled haze needed to be well rested first. That way, he could slowly see them become drunk for him, turning red, bloodshot from just how well he would treat you.

And it was especially no surprise that when another person had the audacity to want you too, he had to stop them. Sure, you didn’t deserve the scolding but he would make you feel so much better later on. He just had to be patient.

Had to keep his tone steady and tame. Pretend to treat you just like everyone else. Even if you thought he hated you. He could fuck you like that too if you wanted. He would give you anything you wanted. However, you didn’t deserve to know how depraved he truly was.

There was a thought that lingered at the forefront of his mind. If you found out just how he imagined you, would you leave? He figured you might feel disgusted, a man of his caliber, his power, wanting to succumb to you. And so he continued to talk. Continued to keep his tone steady. Keep his tone tame. 

He would keep himself in line; refined. Because if you found out how he was imagining you, perhaps then this man would truly feel fear.

fantasising about...

Sylus, NEUVILLETTE, Jing Yuan, Welt, Sunday, DAN HENG, Artem, Zhongli!, Gepard, Alhaitham?, Cyno ...and anyone else you're thinking of

Hope you liked this! Inspired by the song 'Talk' by Hozier. Specifically the line, "So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you." Please give it a listen! It was in my Spotify Top 5 it's so good and captures the vibe I was trying to go for with this. Sorry for the yap. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!

[gretagerwigsmuse]

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- - she knowssssss she’s gotta know and i love it “Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. - stop! she’s so excited about her new dress!!!

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." - plsssss this is so funny but also cute and the fact that he talks about it enough for her to notice!!!

The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. - PLSSSSSS this is so fucking funny

Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. - oh bobbers no 🥺

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- - she knowssssss she’s gotta know and i love it

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. - HA

For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. - HA

"Do you like my dress?" - oh 🥺 she’s nervous! oh this is so sweet!! and then when she says she got it for him!?? oh sweet girl

The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. - oh sweet girl! the birthday cake really got me! like i imagine her getting a little 🥺 after awhile like why isn’t he getting it?

You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. “We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. - oh 🥺 but then he makes it right real quick!!!

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” - oh my god STOP!!! i’m obsessed

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy - ROBBY 🤭

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” - HOT OF HIM

Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed. - HOT

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible. 

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell,  he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that.  He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar. 

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop? 

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing. 

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one. 

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that. 

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him. 

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door.  You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves. 

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine. 

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes. 

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night. 

This was bad. 

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work. 

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck. 

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room. 

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke. 

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down. 

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday.  It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you. 

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship. 

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough. 

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote. 

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and- 

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and- 

Oh God he was hard. Oh no. 

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it. 

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans. 

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows. 

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.   

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink. 

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious. 

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make  your own family. 

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.  

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath. 

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly. 

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then. 

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different. 

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together. 

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch. 

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts. 

 It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed. 

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse. 

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen. 

For a few seconds, the  supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach. 

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen. 

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point. 

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect. 

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life. 

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through. 

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow. 

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn. 

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.    

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-" 

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen. 

The words hit Bob like a freight train. 

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?” 

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?" 

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you. 

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him. 

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot. 

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant. 

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other. 

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.” 

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up. 

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?” 

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it. 

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?” 

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his. 

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone. 

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again. 

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap. 

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk. 

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true. 

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more. 

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest. 

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass. 

Wait, he was about to touch your ass. 

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face. 

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart. 

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.” 

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes. 

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core. 

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty. 

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck? 

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams- 

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open. 

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.” 

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings. 

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face. 

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating). 

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life. 

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you. 

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd? 

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement. 

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago. 

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully. 

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control. 

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath. 

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side. 

Fuck, you were wet. 

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream. 

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time. 

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure. 

Wait, was he grinding against the couch? 

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud. 

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening. 

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now. 

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority. 

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even. 

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you. 

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you. 

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.” 

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you. 

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons. 

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock. 

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-” 

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter. 

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it. 

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more. 

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before. 

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch. 

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait. 

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base. 

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans. 

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected. 

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion. 

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words. 

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.” 

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this  was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob. 

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience. 

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans. 

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving. 

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton. 

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest. 

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment. 

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you. 

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

[elliee3e]

‘pretty when you cry’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘old’ logan howlett x crybaby f! reader

‘don’t say you need me if, you live last, you're leaving —

i can't do it, but you do it best

‘cause i’m pretty when i cry’ — pretty when you cry - lana del rey

summary ;

basically just old man logan & his lil crybaby girl<3

content warnings ;

light ddlg if you squint, piv, size difference, age play/younger & smaller reader implied, corruption kink, oral sex (f receiving), slight overstimulation

old man logan, who both loves and hates having his sweet girl crumble in his arms.

by now, he feels like the only thing he’s good for is ruining. killing. tainting. that’s what he did with you, tainted your damn innocence. and now he hates how big he is compared to you, hates how he always feels like he has to hold back in fear of hurting you, hates how he tries to be gentle with you because you always end up crying in his arms no matter what.

he could be between your spread thighs, scruff brushing against your inner thighs as his tongue works against your heated core, sucking onto your clit whilst you completely crumble — thighs squeezing and trembling around his head, sniffles, whimpers and broken moans leaving your parted lips, tears starting to drip down your cheeks as you pant, the sight making logan pull away as he looks up at you from his glasses, that by now had slipped to the bridge of his nose that you always so badly wanted to kiss.

“baby, baby— hey, look at me darlin’..” he would croon, your sweet taste still clinging onto his tongue as he shifted up to grab your face, watching your pretty glazed eyes full of tears for him: looking up at him. “l-lo..” you would sniffle, voice no more than a broken whimper and it tugged at his heart.

“did i do something wrong? was it too much?” his gruff voice, laced with worry — asked. and god, yes, it was too much: but in the best way possible. you just didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t help the tears that would take over you when something felt too good.

“n-nothing wrong, lo— just.. just a lot..” you would huff, stomach fluttering as logan would sigh at your words: bringing up a rough thumb to swipe your salty tears away: the other gently tugging your panties back up. “damn it, darlin’. givin’ me a damn heart attack everytime you sob like that, makes me feel like i hurt ya.”

“c’mon. let’s just lay together for a while. probably be better for ya, sweet thing.”

old man logan, who, after a while, would begin to understand that his girl just couldn’t help her pretty tears and sobs. it was a part of her that only he got to see after all, and that’s what made it special.

he began to love having that power over you. loved having the ability to be fucking into you, pretty legs wrapped around his hips perfectly, nails scratching along his shoulders and back where you could reach, your desperate moans mingled with choked sobs ricocheting off the apartment walls — your nails leaving cat like scratches that started to heal in a short while as they weren’t deep wounds — but they still made him groan. one of his hands, the one not on your waist to keep a steady grip on you, moving up to grab your small wrist to stop you; his hand wrapping around it no problem. “easy, baby. i’m tryna be gentle here, but you’re really pushin’ it.” he would grunt, bringing your wrist down up next to your head, easily using that for leverage to keep on his slow and deep pace into you.

“gosh, darlin’, don’t go cryin’ for me right now..” he would groan, watching as you sobbed even more, trying to slow his pace more than it already was to scoop you up into his arms, keeping your smaller body cradled in them as he soothed your sobs with gentle ‘shh’s’ — hips still fucking into yours at a steady pace, just enough to have you trembling under him and for your cries to choke up in your throat with pretty moans, a familiar heat starting to build up in your lower tummy as it made your walls flutter around his thick cock. “uh— mmph, gonna.. gonna cum, lo—“ you would whimper, small hands squirming under his bigger ones, his grip only getting tighter on your soft wrists.

“that right? my baby’s gonna cum for me? gonna cum all over my cock like the sweet girl she is?” logan would grunt, using the best of his force to fuck into you just enough to find your little gummy spot, the one that sent shivers through your small body and made you let out a sob that broke off into a moan as you felt your orgasm quickly take over — hips trembling under his, sweet pussy squeezing around his cock as much as it could as your juices leaked onto him.

“fuck, doll.” he would huff, glancing down and pulling out just enough to see your pretty pussy — flushed and dripping for him, your sniffled cries filling the room once more as you tried to recover.

“gonna be a good girl and finish me off now too?”