#lump's calculations

[the-lumpfish-king]

A while back I did some rough calculations on how many pancakes it would take to crush a human skull.

The calculations broke down to the human skull taking around 2300N to crush with each pancake providing around 0.45N.

Rounding up gave the figure that around 5120 pancakes would be required.

This lead my good friend (@mousefluff) to edit an image of Reisen from Touhou to have 5264 pancakes instead of the 56 the original drawing had. Needless to say, that bnuuy would be long dead.

Warning, it's long.

The original image is by jean bomjan.

There was an image with 5376 all in one stack, but neither Discord or Tumblr were powerful enough to handle its majesty.

I had also been playing Hollow Knight at the time, and I thought the new image looked like the nail, so I made this.

Thank you for listening to my autism.

[businessskibat]

Pension Through PPF Account: हर महीने आपको मिल सकता है ₹60,000 का पेंशन, कोई भी टैक्स नहीं देना पड़ेगा

Pension Through PPF Account : हम आज आपको रिटायरमेंट के बाद हर महीने पेंशन कैसे प्राप्त कर सकते हैं बताएंगे। जी हां, अगर आप आज से निवेश करना शुरू कर देते हैं, तो रिटायरमेंट के बाद आपको हर महीने ₹60,989 पेंशन मिलेगी। इस तरह की पेंशन पाने के लिए आपको पीपीएफ खाते में निवेश करना होगा। इसकी विशिष्टता यह है कि सरकार ने इस स्कीम को टैक्स से छूट दी है। जिससे आपको बहुत अधिक लाभ मिलता है। तो चलिए इसके बारे…

[divyanshsood]

Best SIP Lump sum investment calculator

Explore the best SIP Lump sum sip calculator online in India to estimate your mutual fund investments value quickly and efficiently with Univest.

[mutualfundinvestmentonline]

Lump sum Investment Returns Calculator | Bajaj Finserv Asset Management

Plan your investments effectively using the lump sum Calculator from Bajaj Finserv Asset Management. Estimate potential returns, set goals, & make informed decisions. Visit now & try!

[dollsahoy]

I feel like this is an unfair comparison, because the Generation Girl guitar was extra deluxe even when it was new (I was already an adult in the doll hobby by then, and that guitar was impressive)

Still, even the 1980s Barbie & The Rockers guitars at least had stickers, despite otherwise being lumps of plastic

(and Jem guitars were flat pieces of plastic with stickers)

A barbie guitar from 1998 and a barbie guitar from 2022

Bruh, really 😑

[bitchimasnake-sss]

I wanna see how the monster trip would react to their partner begging for round two..

maybe I'm just dirty or smth but I really wanna see Sanji's nose bleed /j

ahaha making sanji nosebleed is kinda my passion /hj

🌙thinkin' about: the monster trio! vs round two!

cw: pussydrunk boys. nsfw thoughts include: cunnilingus, creampie, overstimulation, cocky men, doin' it raw. oh, and pussydrunk men. okay, thats it. MDNI OR ILL HUNT YOUR PETTY ASSES. m.list

monkey d. luffy:

❤️monkey d. luffy knew — from the bottom of his heart — that you were the girl of his dreams. there was no doubt about that. the way you smiled at him, the way you pouted when he would annoy you, the way you happened to lecture him when he would act reckless. you were his, no doubt. ❤️but holy fucking shit. looking at you all bleary-eyed and tongue-tied, he almost felt his heart rip him apart whole. looking up at him with such a desperate look that it almost knocked the wind right of his lungs and replaced the air he breathed with something much more sinister. what did you want of him? he was all yours from the very start. ❤️covered in sheen, strands of jet-black clung to his forehead and his heavy breath fanned over you spent face. his cock had stayed buried within you despite painting your walls white a few minutes prior. despite making you cum twice already. shifting his weight on his elbows, he bent down to press open-mouthed kisses all over your pretty face. and as he felt weak nails breaking the skin of his biceps, his eyes met yours, "what's wrong, peach?" "l-luff," your voice stuttered, and he almost grinned at the the sweet falsetto, "hm?" "'nother round, please?" ❤️and how could monkey d. luffy say no to the girl of his dreams? grinning ear to ear, his larger palm intertwined against your weak ones. bringing you dainty palm up to his lips, he pressed down a messy kiss just as his hips pistoned into your cushiony heat, "ah ah, luffy. fuck—" "shh." a delirious smile on his face, lust-induced haze in his eyes, and your name on his lips, "don't need'ta say twice, baby."

roronoa zoro:

💚as a swordsman, roronoa zoro revered himself to be a man that could mask all emotions, all calculations behind a stoic look-of-stone. but were you so well-versed in him that you could read his mind? seemed like that since you were begging for the very thing he was ready to give. "zo." you looked over your shoulder, a stern twinge in your words despite your trembling lips and teary eyes, "again, please." "ha-hah, again?" his thumb circled your twitching clit, enjoying the way you squirmed under him with every wicked swipe over your overstimulated cunt. faux concern on his tongue, he teased you, "think you can handle it?" "yes. another round, please." bobbing your head up and down so fast, looking back at him with such raw emotion that he felt a lump in his heart where you were. fuck, why did you have to be so pretty? 💚snuggling his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his heady words accompanied the frenzied touches across your swollen clit, "might regret it later when you can't walk." "i don' care, zo— want you." you whined, your sweet voice so close to his ears. and who does he think he is that he can say no to you? nothing. he's a fool at your hands, always. 💚 and you should really be careful what you wished for. because as the swordsman dragged his tip all the way out just to push it right back in all of a sudden jolted you forward. your moans muffled as you bit down the pillow, "s-slow down, zo— ngh fu—" "c'mon," he purred, words strained as he tried to maintain whatever sanity he had, "you asked for this."

vinsmoke sanji:

he has a nosebleed as soon as you call out his name in that weak voice of yours but let's pretend he's got game. 💙vinsmoke sanji treated you like you were glass in battles. scared of out his wits that one wayward shove, one reckless pull and you would shatter. but what a fucking hypocrite he was! becausr right now, he was the one wrecking you. experienced fingers curling within your plushy heat, his tongue toying with your swollen clit as his eyes watched the woman over him fall apart. "hah, fuck." you panted, walls clenching around his fingers dangerously as nectar pooled from your divine body down his greedy throat. he almost felt himself come undone as your feeble voice called out his name. 💙he knew the routine by now. vinsmoke sanji would lap away at you like a man starve as you will try to pry him off by squirming and pulling his hair. in retaliation, he would grab your thighs harder and continue eating you out till you cried out his name loud enough for everyone to hear. simple enough, right? 💙but right now as he looked up at you, he didn't find you clenching your eyes and trying to pry him off. instead, you met his eyes with a hungry glint. reddened, kiss-bitten lips commanding him, "sanji, again." "hm?" his eyes widened, and as he pulled back, your slick shined on his lips and jaw. he looked up, grinning like the devil, "what did you say, my love?" at his sudden inspection, your throat closed up. voice growing weak, feeble, "a-again?" he answered by sinking his face back against your heat. and the last thing you heard before you lost all semblance of sanity was a rough rumble of, "again."

a/n: NOT PROOFREAD, IM LEGIT GOING OUT WITH FRIENDS IN LIKE 2 MINS AND I NEEDED TO POST THIS BEFORE I LEAVE AAAAAH anyways. ahem, ahem. am i ever gonna get tired of these men? no. so, just enjoy. okay, a genuine question: should i add ace, law to my usual roster [i.e. the monster trio]? i love writing ace so i'm just finding excuses lmaoo and with law, i think it'll give me good practice before i transition into long fics for him. let me know what you think lol. credits: @rookthornesartistry for the dividers! tagging: @mist-ixx [let me know if you'd like to be in the taglist!] m.list

[sexhaver]

sorry for getting so heated about this financial literacy thing, it's just rare to see tumblr users as a whole so overwhelmingly wrong about something with an OBJECTIVELY correct answer. and im using "objectively" here as defined in the dictionary, not a hyperbole. like you can pull out a calculator and mathematically show that the lump sum is better in literally every way. and people still pick the daily payments based off of... vibes i guess? im genuinely depressed reading through the notes and seeing people justify their financial illiteracy

[cinnamxnangel]

♨𖦹 'cold coffee' ₊ ⊹ .

synopsis ∞ nanami gets jealous seeing you talk with one of your co-workers. the solution? fucking you in the car of course!

warnings: fem!reader, nsfw content, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, penetration, slight exhíbitionism, slight degradation, praise, swearing, creampie

author's note ୭୧ my first fic rahh !! tell me what you guys think! I hope you enjoy angels !!

nanami was a collected man. he wasn’t the type to be impulsive or think irrationally. everything he did had intent, every move he made was calculated.

so when he dragged you into his car to fuck you in public parking lot, you were speechless. not just from the fact that his cock was hitting that spot inside you that made you feel like you were going to explode from pleasure. or the risk of getting caught by a curious bystander. but from the fact you were causing nanami to come undone.

this all started when you bumped into one of your male colleagues while getting coffee with nanami. doing the polite thing, you said hi and started up casual conversation. you both talked for a while and you occasionally giggled at his jokes. what you didn’t notice was nanami scowling as you two carried on in conversation.

soon your order was ready and you bid him goodbye. you handed nanami his coffee which he took harshly from your hand. you raised your eyebrow in confusion, finally noticing his stern face. 

“is something wrong, ken?” you ask, innocence coating your voice. 

“everything’s fine.” he replies, not meeting your eyes. but you can see a vein on his temple throb. you decide not to push any further and walk in uncomfortable silence to your car.

you take a sip of your drink, letting the warm, sugary liquid drip down your throat, trying to swallow the lump that’s building up there. once you reach the car, nanami takes a seat in the back. you furrow your brows in confusion and join him. 

“why are you sitting back here?” you ask. but before you can even get all the words out, his lips are on yours.

your eyes widen in surprise but you find yourself kissing back. it’s muscle memory. the kiss is hot and messy. his saliva coats your lips and you’re left gasping for air. when you finally break away to breathe, a string of saliva remains connecting the both of you.

“what was that for?” you question, a slight smile playing on your lips. nanami still has a serious look in his eyes, almost like anger. 

“you know exactly what that was for.” he answers, glaring at you. “you didn’t even care to introduce me. you were taken up with him.”

his voice was dripping with poison. you didn’t realize how upset you had made him. but instead of apologizing you decided to tease him. 

“awhh, you’re jealous?” a smirk plays across your features as your hand slowly traces down his chest. you see him clench his jaw, probably fighting to restrain himself. he catches your hand just as it reaches his zipper. 

“no. you don’t get to enjoy this.” nanami gets down on his knees, pulling up the skirt you have on. his breath on your clothed pussy makes you shiver. he slowly runs his fingers up and down the fabric stopping right below your clit. then he slowly pulls them to the side to reveal your glistening pussy.

“fuck, y/n. you’re soaked.” He says, out of breath. “such a pretty fucking pussy.” he mumbles. “are you this wet for me?” he asks. he looks up at, and you almost gasp.

it’s such a fucking hot sight.

to see your husband, kneeling in front of you slowly teasing your pussy, while his eyes stay glued to yours.

“or this because of that riveting conversation with your co-workers.” he slowly places his middle finger at your entrance, pushing up every so slightly with every word. the action sends shivers to the base of your spine. 

“ken~” you whine, your eyes pleading with him. but today, nanami chose violence. 

“what was his name again?” he continues, as if he hasn’t heard your needy cries. when he fits his whole finger in you, it starts to curl upward slightly, placing pressure on just the right spot.

you let an unrighteous moan, not caring about who could’ve heard. he continues at an antagonizing pace, leaving you unsatisfied. you let out another whine. 

“ken please.” you beg.

“please what, darling?”

“please fuck me.” nanami stops his movements in mock thought. “i don’t think you’ve earned it. How about this? I’ll eat out this pretty cunt and if you don’t cum, i’ll fuck you. Alright?”

you don’t clearly process his words, just wanting some relief you eagerly nod your head.

immediately he dives into your pussy, sloppily kissing your folds. you let out moan after moan, gripping onto his hair for dear life. he sticks his tongue into your entrance, tongue fucking you, while all you can do is sit there and take it.

you feel the bridge of his nose bump into your clit every once in a while, sending waves of pleasure coursing down your veins. after a while, he pulls his tongue out of you to make out with your clit. sucking on it, licking it, circling it. occasionally you feel his teeth graze against causing your hips to jerk forward.

“i think you’re enjoying this too much.” he says pulling away from your cunt. you can see your juices covering his mouth and dripping down his chin. It fills your stomach with heat.

“what if we make this a little bit harder, hm?” he pushes two of his thick fingers inside you, leaving you with no time to react. he quickly latches onto your clit as his fingers work inside you, thrusting and curling to hit your g-spot perfectly. tears start to blur your vision from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck.. Fuck Ken. Slow down.” you whimper, feeling your impending orgasm nearing.

at your whines he only seems to speed up. you’re using all of your willpower not to cum but you can’t seem to hold in any longer. just as you feel your control about to fade away, nanami pulls back, leaving your pussy empty and untouched.

you feel the heavy rise and fall of your chest as you try to catch your breath. 

“good girl.” nanami praises, the dark look in his eyes slowly ebbing away.

he was done being mean.

he places his slick covered fingers in your mouth. “clean them off for me.”

you do as you're told, savoring the taste of your arousal mixed with the taste of his skin. nanami places you on his lap, straddling him. he pulls his cock out of his boxers, slowly palming it. your mouth waters at the sight of it.

you take it in your hands. it’s heavy and painfully hard and pre-cum leaks out of his angry red tip.

nanami lifts your hips gently and positions you on top of his dick. You feel him slowly push through your entrance.

he’s so big. everytime.

nanami is such a gentleman he always preps you, everytime. even now, when he was supposedly angry with you. you take more of him slowly, inch by inch until he bottoms out. every inch of his delicious cock stretching your pussy to its limits. you let out a moan of the sheer size of his and you hear him hiss. 

“she’s squeezing me so tight, darling.” he places gentle kisses along your collarbone, while he lets you adjust to his size.

you try to catch your breath when you feel nanami’s cock slowly drag against your plush walls. a gasp leaves your throat as you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

your breathing becomes labored the more he pumps his fat cock in and out of you. his tip perfectly kisses that sweet spot inside you and you swear you see stars. he holds on to the fat of your hips, pushing you down to meet his rough thrusts.

you feel his ragged breath in your ear, occasionally whispering dirty praise in your ear.

“you’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you. you such a good fucking slut.” he coos.

nanami’s hand finds his way to your clit, swiping his thumb over the sensitive nub. you feel your second orgasm approaching and so does nanami.

“you going cum, darling?” you nod your head, not able to form full words.

“i can tell. You always clench around me so tight, when you do. go ahead cum for me.”

“i wanna cum with you ken. please?” you whimper. nanami places a gentle kiss on your temple. 

“of course, love.” before he finishes his sentence, his pace picks up by two fold.

nanami buries his head in the crook of your neck, groaning and occasionally leaving sloppy kisses.

finally your orgasm crashes on you. your entire mind goes blank with pure ecstasy. you feel nanami thrusts end as he shoots his warm cum in you. you go limp against him as you come down from your high, chest heaving with exhaustion.

“you okay?” you hear nanami’s voice drift in your ears. 

“mhm.” you nod, a small smile playing on your face. he cleans you up and helps you put your clothes back on. afterwards you get ready to go home, seeing your long forgotten coffee.

you pick and sip a long sip. your face turns into a grimace. nanami looks at you, with a grin.

“what’s wrong?” 

“it’s cold.”

divider credit: @rookthornesartistry

[devosin]

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 . .

Old account: @/cupids-chamber a/n: examples of personalized comfort letters <3

My dearest, Y/n.

A few days ago you told me you loved me, for the first time . . and yet for some reason I couldn't say the words back. It was as if a lump had formed in the bottom of my throat, the words were so hard to get out. And I'm aware that must've hurt you, when I remained silent.

I'm not sending this letter in an attempt to redeem myself, I've made a mistake and I'm doing my best to own up to it. . . but to be completely honest, I was scared.

I was afraid, that may sound pathetic—However, if I said those three words to you, at that moment . . I'd be vulnerable, I'd be admitting I . . Loved you, and that's hard, it's scary, all bit sad and pathetic, but it made me feel weak, the idea made me feel torn open, and . . I ran away . . But I don't want to do that anymore, because, I do . . I do love you and I want to say those words to you in person, I want to be vulnerable . .

I want to be vulnerable with you. Signed, AZUL ASHENGROTTO, Jamil Viper, Riddle Rosehearts, TREY CLOVER, Sebek Zigvolt, Jack Howl, ACE TRAPPOLA, Eula, Kaeya Alberich, CHILDE, Chiori, Scaramouche, XIAO, & etc . .

My dear, Y/n.

A couple days ago you asked me why I loved you . . but I didn't answer. After that you've been distant, and I truly understand that silence is an answer at times. However, this time it wasn't.

My love, I love you for a plethora of reasons that I can't explain, words cannot calculate the feelings which you make me feel, the colours you allow me to see. If I were to list them all, I'd be wasting pages on pages of ink and paper . . Well I suppose it wouldn't be an waste, if it was for you?

Well to be entirely honest, another, more selfish part of me doesn't wish to detangle the threads of my feelings and present it to you. You make me feel vulnerable my dear, which is not something I often allow myself to feel around others, but that's what I love about you. You make me feel adored, like everyone in this world loves me. You make me feel cherished, and when I look at your face, I feel weak.

What I feel about you isn't something that I can just purely write or explain, it's complex, it's pathetic, it's so unlike me, and . . I enjoy that, I enjoy that you love me, knots and all. You my dear make me someone I want to be, and . . these are just a few reasons as to why I love you.

Signed, VIL SCHOENHEIT, Malleus Draconia, Cater Diamond, JADE LEECH, Leona Kingscholar (kind of), Diluc Ravinger, LYNEY, Clorinde, Neuvillette, KAZUHA, & etc . .

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[the-lumpfish-king]

In my post about the number of pancakes needed to crush a human skull I referenced an alternate image with 5376 pancakes instead of 5264.

So without any further ado, I have one question for you:

The bnuuy is dead once again

Original image with 56 pancakes by jean bomjan

This image made by @mousefluff

Ingredients

100g plain flour

2 eggs

300ml semi-skimmed milk

1 tbsp sunflower oil or vegetable, plus extra for frying

pinch salt

Method

STEP 1: Put 100g plain flour and a pinch of salt into a large mixing bowl.

STEP 2: Make a well in the centre and crack 2 eggs into the middle.

STEP 3: Pour in about 50ml from the 300ml of semi-skimmed milk and 1 tbsp sunflower oil then start whisking from the centre, gradually drawing the flour into the eggs, milk and oil. Once all the flour is incorporated, beat until you have a smooth, thick paste. Add a little more milk if it is too stiff to beat.

STEP 4: Add a good splash of milk and whisk to loosen the thick batter. While still whisking, pour in a steady stream of the remaining milk. Continue pouring and whisking until you have a batter that is the consistency of slightly thick single cream.

STEP 5: Heat the pan over a moderate heat, then wipe it with oiled kitchen paper.

STEP 6: Ladle some batter into the pan, tilting the pan to move the mixture around for a thin and even layer. Quickly pour any excess batter into the mixing bowl, return the pan to the heat.

STEP 7: Leave to cook, undisturbed, for about 30 secs. If the pan is the right temperature, the pancake should turn golden underneath after about 30 secs and will be ready to turn.

STEP 8: Hold the pan handle, ease a palette knife under the pancake, then quickly lift and flip it over. Make sure the pancake is lying flat against the base of the pan with no folds, then cook for another 30 secs before turning out onto a warm plate.

STEP 9: Continue with the rest of the batter, serving them as you cook or stack onto a plate. You can freeze the pancakes for 1 month, wrapped in cling film or make them up to a day ahead.

Recipe from the BBC

[wandasreallover]

ceo!wanda drabble|

Based on this photo ^

Title: Behind Closed Doors

The fluorescent lights of the office flickered like a stuttering heartbeat, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of stress. Today had been one of those days. You let out a heavy sigh as you walked through the doors of your apartment, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. Work had knocked the breath out of you—an impossible project deadline, an avalanche of demands from your boss, and the sharp criticism from a client who seemed to take pleasure in belittling your efforts. It felt as if the weight of the world was resting squarely on your shoulders, and it was a burden too heavy to bear alone.

You dropped your bag at the door, the sound echoing in the quiet space. The pent-up tension knotted in your chest; you were too drained to even think about making dinner. Instead, you decided to check in on Wanda, your partner and the indomitable CEO of Stark Financial. Her office was situated on the far side of the sleek, modern apartment you shared, a space that was usually filled with laughter, love, and warmth. Tonight, however, it was quiet, with only the muffled sound of typing breaking the stillness.

As you approached the door, you briefly hesitated. You didn't want to interrupt her again. The week had already been long, and you could see the stress lines etching deeper into her skin each day. Wanda was a force of nature—a cold, calculated leader in the office, yet behind closed doors, her warmth enveloped you like a comforting blanket. You admired her fiercely; still, a part of you felt like a distraction during her busy hours. So, you turned away.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” came a soft voice from the office.

You froze, caught in her web of concern. Wanda had a knack for sensing your presence, even when you thought you had managed to slip away unnoticed.

“I just thought I’d let you work,” you replied, trying to play it off. “You’re busy.”

“Not as busy as my heart when I’m waiting for you to get home,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Come here. I insist.”

You smiled despite yourself, nudging the door open and stepping inside her office. It was meticulously organized—a testament to Wanda’s precise mind. Papers were stacked neatly, and her laptop screen glowed with a kaleidoscope of spreadsheets and graphs. But as she looked up, her expression turned softer—an unguarded glimpse of the woman you adored.

“You look tired,” she remarked, concern furrowing her brow.

“I had a long day,” you admitted, sinking into the chair opposite her desk. “You know, same old stuff. I thought I would let you focus on your… empire.”

Wanda chuckled lightly. “I love my empire, but you are my home.”

The lump in your throat swelled. It was moments like this—where the walls of her icy exterior melted away with little gestures and word choices—that made you feel like you were the happiest person alive.

“I don’t want to take you away from your work, Wanda. I know how important it is to you,” you murmured, shifting in your seat.

“You could never take me away from what really matters,” she reassured. “And right now, that’s you.”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond as you caught the glimmer of sincerity shining in her green eyes. After a moment of hesitation, you slid out of the chair and made your way over to her. You stood beside her, the rich scent of her lavender shampoo wafting toward you, grounding you in the midst of your chaotic thoughts.

Without warning, she reached out and took your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours and abruptly pulled you into her lap. “Stay here with me,” she said softly.

You exhaled sharply, feeling the warmth radiating off her, and leaned down, resting your head against her shoulder. She smelled like home—lavender and the faint, intoxicating hint of citrus from her favorite candle. The tension in your body began to unwind as you inhaled deeply, seeking comfort in her presence.

Time ticked by softly, the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard becoming a lullaby that wrapped around you. Her focus on work was unwavering, but you could sense her awareness of you—the way she shifted ever so slightly toward you, anchoring you in her space.

After a while, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. There was something soothing about being near her, something that made you forget the chaos of the day. As the day's exhaustion settled in your bones, you felt the warm tingle of sleep creeping up. You nestled in closer, finding solace against the soft, familiar curve of her neck, inhaling the warmth of her presence as you surrendered to the comfort.

Somewhere in the distance, the clicking of keys grew louder, faster—pulsing with unspoken pressure. But you were enveloped in Wanda’s warmth, and it was where you most wanted to be, despite the storm of her workload.

In a heartbeat, you fell asleep.

Hours passed like fleeting clouds on a lazy afternoon, and Wanda noticed the shift in your breathing—slow and steady, the tension of the day finally giving way to tranquility. She paused her work, grateful for the moment, yet worried about what had caused you such distress. The protective nature that so often emerged in her professional life flared up again, nudging her to gently brush your hair back and press her lips to your forehead.

“You're okay now,” she whispered, a soft promise meant only for you. She knew how hard it had been for you and felt her heart ache wishing she could take every burden from you.

With a weary sigh, Wanda returned to her work, but her heart wasn’t in it anymore. Her thoughts drifted not toward spreadsheets but rather to you: how hard you worked, how tough your days could be, and how all she wanted was to be your rock in the storm.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I'D MEET THE SEA UNDER THE SUNLIGHT

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai knows. he knows who you are. he knows what you do. and not only does he know, but in typical dazai fashion, he decides to make it fully your problem. now you're stuck between a rock and a hard place trying to figure out what to do with him—the answer should be obvious, you just can't accept it. but time is ticking and you're treading a thin rope, if you make the smallest mistake...

AUTHOR'S NOTES: part four my children. my eye procedure went well! i've been resting all day, i prob won't be active very much until monday/tuesday, so i'lll queue a few reblogs of this ... i say that, but i also don't know if ill be able to stop myself from responding to comments HAHAH i just love talking to u guys about it so much i cant help it. as always, comments and 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: i didnt get the chance to proofread this one bc of the procedure so don't crucify me if the grammar is awful </3 i have a doctor's pass </3

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

It takes Dazai Osamu approximately two days, seven hours and fifty-three minutes to get his hands on proof of your affiliation with the Port Mafia. He supposes it was due to luck—the timing of when he got confirmation of his suspicions—but Dazai thinks it’s also due to his ability to think quickly if he does say so himself. 

He stares at the file that Katai emailed him, a lump in his throat that he can’t seem to push away, unsure if he wants to open it and be forced with physical evidence of who you are and what you do. He doesn’t even know why he’s so hesitant, he already knows. He already knows so he shouldn’t be hesitant… but if he already knows, then why does he need to see the proof? What is this going to do for him? What is he going to do with this information? Nothing, the answer is nothing, so then why-

Katai: Can you quit holding that date from four years ago over my head now?

Dazai: no ^.^

Katai: Of course not. Whatever. Dazai, I don’t know what you’re doing but you need to stop digging into this—it’s dangerous. And I don’t want to be involved.

Dazai shuts his phone off immediately. 

He hovers the cursor over the video file on his laptop, chewing the inside of his cheek—the supposed footage from whatever happened behind Tokyo’s City Hall last night. With his heart tight in his chest and the image of your smile burned behind his eyelids, he clicks on the file.

Two days after the event, you and Chuuya are sitting in Mori’s office getting the talk down of a lifetime. Mori has been going on for thirty minutes already and you’re sick of his voice. You don’t know how it’s your fault that the Shimazaki-kai decided to try to take you out while you were in Tokyo but evidently it is.

“I don’t see how this is an issue, boss,” Chuuya finally says, voice strained. “The Sun and Steel are already on top of the situation, Noriko was livid when she realized that they tried to assassinate one of us while we were in Tokyo under the Sun and Steel’s protection.”

“You don’t see how this is an issue,” Mori repeats slowly, voice nothing short of mocking. Usually, he at least tries to mask his annoyance—you and Chuuya share a concerned look with one another. “You don’t see how it’s an issue that we’ve caused this conflict to escalate to the point of the Shimazaki-kai being willing to go to war with the Sun and Steel if it means the mere chance of getting rid of one of us?”

“Okay,” Chuuya mutters. “Well, when you say it like that…”

“And by ‘we’ I mean ‘you’, little hime,” Mori says coolly, leveling his calculating gaze onto you. You don’t flinch beneath it, meeting it head on as you raise your chin. “This all stems from your reckless decision to attack the Inagawa-kai.”

“She didn’t have a choice.” Chuuya jumps to your defense, frowning. “They attacked her at the ports. That was a declaration of war in itself.”

You almost wince at the ridiculing look Mori directs toward Chuuya, voice amused as he speaks. “Is that what she told you?”

Chuuya gives you a questioning look but you don’t give Mori anymore time to stir the pot. You don’t need Chuuya knowing that your decision was driven by Dazai of all people—he’s already angry enough about the situation with the civilian. 

“And here I thought you were going to… what was it you said? ‘Clean up my mess?’” you say snidely, drawing Mori’s attention back to you. “Perhaps the real reason the Yakuza syndicates are so willing to challenge our authority is not because of my decision but rather because of the incapability perceived in our boss.” 

Chuuya’s eyes shoot open and Mori raises his brows, entirely unperturbed by your comment. 

“To think all it would take for you to start biting back…” Mori trails off, unbearably amused and clearly referring to Dazai, making you stiffen. “How fascinating. You’ve kept up this ruse longer than I expected. I think this is the first time you’ve managed to surprise me, little hime.” 

Your expression twists as you look away, ignoring the lost look Chuuya gives you, clearly irritated because he doesn’t know what’s going on. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you take the welcome distraction eagerly, hoping to find an excuse to get out of this wretched meeting.

Klaus: your civilian boy is at your tower

You: What?

Klaus: *one image attached*

You stare down at your phone in shock, desperately trying to ignore the curious looks Mori and Chuuya are sending your way.

What the fuck?

Dazai tilts his head to the side, giving the three boys standing in front of him a simpering smile. One of them—the emo one with black hair and white tips—bares his teeth at Dazai like a feral dog, the one in the middle—Dazai recognizes him as Klaus, the boy with you that day at the ports—gives him an irritable look, while the one standing in the back—a nervous looking boy with choppy silver hair and a black collar—lets out a pathetic noise in the back of his throat.

“She’s gonna be so fucking mad at you,” Klaus tells him, voice harsh. His Japanese is broken and accented but understandable for the most part. “She’s gonna fucking-”

He shifts into a foreign language mid-sentence—German, maybe—so Dazai doesn’t know what he’s saying but he’s sure it’s nothing good. He keeps up the overly confident facade, even if he does start to doubt himself internally.

Shit, he thinks to himself, smile fraying at the edges, what is he doing?

Dazai definitely did not think this through and it’s way too late for him to back down now. After watching the video and seeing you with the gravity manipulator, seeing the brief battle in the alley behind the Tokyo city hall, Dazai pretty much blackmailed Katai into using the CCTV cameras between both cities to follow you back to Yokohama to see what building you live in. In retrospect, maybe that’s a little creepy, but he just watched you and the gravity manipulator kill a whole crew of people so he thinks stalking you a bit isn’t too bad in comparison.

“Who do you think you are?” the black-haired one says, voice tight and pitched. His jaw is clenched tight and he takes half a step forward but pauses when he sees the sharp look of warning that Klaus gives him.

He thinks maybe he is stupid. Ango used to rattle him around and yell at him for doing stupid things back before Odasaku died but he thinks this might take the cake for the stupidest thing Dazai has ever done. Standing outside a building owned by the Mafia, antagonizing three mafiosos, waiting here to demand a conversation with someone who is likely their boss. Ango might’ve been right when he said that Dazai has no functioning brain cells.

“None of your business,” Dazai replies with a sweet smile, almost giggling at the way the boy bears his teeth again, even more livid than before.

“You-”

“Stop.”

All three boys go rigid at the sound of your voice and even Dazai stiffens at the cold tone. He forces himself to turn his head to the side, eyes falling upon you as you make your way toward the four of them. The suit you’re wearing today is different—usually he’s seen you wear black on black, but today you’re wearing a burgundy button-up under your suit jacket. You look beautiful—always do, Dazai thinks wistfully—but Dazai finds himself swallowing thickly instead, not used to the blank look you cast over him before you turn your attention over to the three boys.

Ouch, Dazai thinks, not really knowing what he expected but it still hurts to be dismissed like that.

“Klaus, go wipe the cameras around headquarters—wherever he might have passed through,” you say. “Akutagawa, Atsushi, if anyone finds out about this…”

The two boys that Dazai doesn’t recognize share a look with one another, odd expressions spreading across their faces before they nod. All three scamper off without another word, the silver-haired boy giving Dazai a short, worried look that puts Dazai on edge before leaving. You don’t look at him. Rather, you stride right past him toward the building.

Dazai swallows thickly before following after you. You don’t say a word as you lead him to the tall, black building and Dazai wants to say something but his words get caught in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Dazai always has something to say but he doesn’t right now and that scares him because he needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you when the two of you finally get up to your apartment.

“Hey, I know you’re a mafia executive because I had my hacker friend get me CCTV tapes from the Tokyo City Hall and I saw you and that short ginger with the tacky hat murder a bunch of guys. Plus, I had him stalk you so I could figure out where you live.”

Yeah, right.

Dazai shivers at the rush of cool air that hits him as he enters the building with you, watches the way the doorman gives him a curious look before inclining his head to you. You give the older man a pointed look before nodding your head to one of the corners of the room and the elevator—Dazai doesn’t know what you’re getting at but he obviously does from the way says:

“Of course, hime.”

You don’t say anything still, leading him toward the elevator and holding it open so he can step past and stand inside. You follow after him, clicking the button to the top floor of the building before scanning a keycard.

How awkward.

Dazai almost wants to crawl out of his own skin, toss himself right out of the glass elevator looking over the city. You don’t even look at him—you keep your gaze trained forward, lips curled down, not even sparing Dazai the briefest glance as the elevator starts to move up. 

Maybe this was a mistake, Dazai starts to think, twiddling with his fingers as he keeps sparing short glances in your direction. He still doesn’t even know what he wants to come from this—shouldn’t the proof of your affiliation with the Mafia have been enough to send him running? He should’ve taken it as reason to stop reaching out to you, gone back to life before you but-

But life before you was dark. 

His throat spasms as he swallows. Life before you was dark. Life before you was him dragging himself out of bed every day trying to convince himself that he couldn’t let himself die until he fulfilled Odasaku’s final request. Life before you was him fighting depressive episode after depressive episode with alcohol and sex, preferring pain to the emptiness he seemed to constantly be plagued with because at least that meant he could feel something. 

He doesn’t want to go back to that—you’re the first person who's actually seen him since Odasaku died. The first person to make him feel as if he’s worth something. He doesn’t give a shit about about what you do, he doesn’t want to go back to life without you.

He glances over at you again, catching the eerily blank expression on your face as you stare ahead. Three words spill from his lips before he can stop them.

“Are you mad?” His voice wavers over the question; he feels pathetic. Feels like a kid tugging at his mother’s shirt after he did something wrong.

You finally look at him though, turn your head slowly toward him as if you don’t even want to believe he actually asked that. Dazai doesn’t know if it’s progress or not because the expression on your face is nothing short of livid.

“Okay,” he says quietly, averting his gaze back to the glass of the elevator.

God, how many floors is this building? The ride to the top floor is taking an agonizingly long amount of time. He doesn’t know if it’s because the elevator itself is slow or if it’s because the building is just that tall or if it just seems longer because of Dazai’s own turmoil—either way, it leaves Dazai miserable.

He really needs to figure out what he’s going to say to you. He should have figured it out before coming here but Dazai just got too antsy with the information Katai gave him on hand and he found himself making his way over here before he could double guess himself.

He doesn’t think you’ll appreciate him using Katai to get the evidence of your position in the Mafia—plus, it could put him in danger and Dazai doesn’t want that. He thinks maybe he’ll pin the blame on his professor—you don’t seem to like him anyway, so you might take it at face value. If you don’t, he’ll have to figure something else out to protect Katai but Dazai has always been a quick thinker so he has faith that he’ll think of something. 

 If he’s lucky, you’ll lead the conversation and he’ll be able to reflect off of you after seeing where your head's at. That would be the best case scenario.

After what feels like an eternity, the elevator finally bings, signaling that it has finally reached the top floor of the building. You step out before him, hardly even looking at him as you stride into your apartment. Dazai follows after, a bit more hesitantly.

His breath catches as his gaze twists around the massive space—floor to ceiling windows line the walls looking over the city, black couches set up in front of the TV and expensive decor littering the room, there’s a kitchen off to the right and a staircase leading up to a second level. 

What types of apartments have staircases? Dazai thinks, distressed, finally looking back at you. 

You’ve crossed the room—almost like you’ve wanted to put as much distance as possible between you and him, which is a thought that kind of hurts because he’s been yearning for your presence since you left his apartment the morning you were supposed to leave for abroad. Your expression is entirely unreadable and Dazai doesn’t really know how to feel about that because he can’t figure out how to approach this now. 

“You know, originally I was interested in you because I thought you were a lot smarter than you made yourself out to be,” you say, voice dry. Dazai nearly cheers, realizing that he did, in fact, get the best case scenario—he listens intently, mind racing as he tries to figure out what route he should take with you. “I was clearly wrong.”

Dazai pouts. “My bella thinks I’m stupid,” he sighs dramatically but his lashes flutter as he averts his gaze when you don’t find any amusement in his words, readjusting his plan. His theatrical lilt falls flat when he adds, “Maybe I am.”

“I don’t think there’s a maybe,” you correct, unamused. “What do you know and what do you want?” 

Dazai is almost taken aback by your tone—cold and flat, very transactional. Maybe he should have taken the lead because he doesn’t know what you mean and he doesn’t like your tone. He watches as you fish through your pocket to find a cigarette and lighter, sticking it between your lips to light it. You look up at him, raising your eyebrows.

“What?” he asks, voice a bit weak.

“What do you know and what do you want? I think they’re pretty simple questions,” you say sardonically. “I have a general idea of what you know already—if you’re here, you have more than whatever that cunt Ui has on me—and I promise you that no amount of money the Ivory Eagle will offer you can compare to what I’ll give you. Plus, I’ll have to kill you if you go to it with them so I think that’s pretty convincing in itself. I want to know exactly what you know so I can figure out how much they’d pay you for the information. I figure you want money, that’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t…” Dazai trails off, a bit lost. He’s still not sure why he came here but he knows it’s not for money and honestly, he thinks he’s a little hurt that you assumed that, can feel the sting in his chest and the lump in his throat.

The smile you give him is cool, you tilt your head to the side and look at him. “Come on, Dazai, you don’t have to keep up with the act. You got close to me to get evidence for Ui, that’s obvious; probably realized it would be more worthwhile trying to get money from me to keep you quiet because they’ve barely got enough money to keep their shitty journalism house running. Honestly, I should probably just-”

“No,” Dazai forces out, interrupting you, lips parted and throat swollen—this is not going well. “That’s not-that’s not true. I didn’t get close to you to get evidence, I didn’t even know until the other day.”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Dazai?” you ask, expression tight. “Because I’m not. As soon as you slipped up and said his name at the event, I realized. You think we don’t know everything that goes on in this city? About that shitty journalist group trying to expose us?” 

“I didn’t slip up,” Dazai says, voice more shrill than he intended it to be. His mind falls flat at every corner as he tries to figure out how to salvage this. “I didn’t slip up because I didn’t know. I didn’t know. It wasn’t-this wasn’t some grand scheme, I like you-” (he didn’t mean to say that) “I mean-it’s just-I don’t-”

Dazai feels flustered. He feels flustered and he’s stumbling over words in a way that he hasn’t in years, unable to get out a single coherent sentence because his mind is all over the place. Shit, he thought he was going to have to defend himself from having Katai stalk you so he could figure this out and find you; he didn’t think he’d have to defend himself because you thought everything from day one was some grand scheme to expose you as a mafioso.

You clearly don’t believe him from the way you roll your eyes and it makes Dazai’s distress spike exponentially. 

“Then pray tell, Dazai, why are you here? You’re here for something, obviously, otherwise you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to show up here of all places to dangle over my head that you know who I am.”

The words slip from his lips before he can stop them.

“I wanted you to stop ignoring me,” he says, arms instinctively curling around his body as he stares at you, feeling more than a bit vulnerable at the blank look you give him in response to his words.

“You… want to make me stop ignoring you by… blackmailing me?”

“... Yes?”

The sigh you let out is long. Instead of responding, you take a drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against the wall you’re leaning on to look up at the ceiling. Dazai stares at you, chewing the inside of his cheek as he waits for your response.

“What do you have on me?” you finally ask, taking a few steps forward to put the cigarette out on an ashtray before raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “Well? I know you must have more than the location of this building.”

Dazai hesitates before he says, “Footage from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

Your expression doesn’t betray you as you press, “Footage of what?”

“You and the ginger with the ugly hat,” Dazai answers, trying not to smile at the way you clearly have to hide your amusement at his snide comment. 

“What are we doing in the footage?” you ask. “What makes it condemning?”

“… He splattered six guys against the wall.” 

You sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose. “Jesus fucking Christ, Dazai. You saw that and still came here? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Dazai gives you a weak smile “You’ll have to be a bit more specific, there are a lot of things wrong with me,” he tells you, echoing the words from your second meeting with him, hoping they make you lighten up.

They do.

He watches as you let out another breath, tense shoulders relaxing, suddenly looking a lot more tired as you look away from him.

“I missed you,” he adds quietly, fingers running along the hem of his sweater. “It’s cruel and unusual punishment to kiss a guy like you did and then ghost him.”

“It was to keep you out of this life, Dazai,” you say tiredly. “I mean-shit, Dazai. I don’t know what you want me to do, I don’t even trust you right now, you could have a fucking wire on you for all I know and-”

“I could strip for you,” Dazai offers, lips curling up in a flirtatious smile as he flutters his lashes at you. “I’ll give you a show.”

You’re not amused.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Dazai. This is your life.”

“Well, my life has been one giant joke up until I met you so forgive me if I don’t care,” Dazai says, voice unintentionally rising in response to your words because who are you to decide on his behalf to cut him off because his life is in danger. That’s a decision for him to make. “You can’t just make those decisions for me.”

Dazai thinks he prefers the anger that crosses over your face to the tiredness and emptiness. His breath catches when he sees the way your jaw tightens and the way your eyes get fired up.

“It doesn’t just affect you, Dazai,” you hiss. “If you get pulled into this and something happens to you, that’s on me.”

Dazai’s heart jumps at the implications of your words, nails digging into his palms.

“And how does that affect you?” Dazai presses, the desperation that hangs off of his words so glaring that Dazai almost wants to curl in on himself. He wants to hear you say it, wants you to alleviate all of the thoughts threatening to consume him since you left his apartment that morning—wants to hear you say that you care, that he does mean something to you.

Your expression becomes closed off again as you realize what he wants you to say and Dazai swallows thickly, gaze searching your face for answers.

“You know how it affects me,” you finally respond as you look away. “You know, Dazai.”

It has nothing to do with what I want, you said at the event when he asked why you didn’t tell him why you didn’t want to be with him. The conflict on your face when you said things were too complicated to explain. The anger when you realized Professor Ui had purposely put him in danger trying to get evidence to condemn the Sun and Steel.

“I want you to say it,” he says hoarsely.

You don’t reply for a moment, watching him with an expression that’s impossible for him to decipher. Your brows are furrowed and your lips are pressed together tight, but the look in your eyes—there’s so much emotion in them that Dazai thinks he could get lost in them, it nearly leaves him breathless.

“You are actually the bane of my existence, Dazai Osamu,” you finally say, shoulders slumping as you look away again. Not exactly what he wanted to hear but he thinks that’s as good of an admission that he’s going to get right now.

“And the object of all of your desires?” Dazai prods with a teasing smile.

Your gaze cuts back toward him. “Did you just quote Bridgerton at me?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief.

Embarrassed, Dazai flushes and then he hits you back with: “You watched Bridgerton?”

Instead of responding, seemingly equally embarrassed by the callout as Dazai is, you scowl at him and shake your head but your voice is lighter now when you speak—if only barely. “Honestly, Dazai, what did you think you were going to get out of this by coming here? I could have killed you. I should kill you. Coming to the headquarters of the Port Mafia to blackmail one of its executives with evidence threatening to expose them-”

“I didn’t threaten to expose you,” Dazai protests, prancing a bit more into your apartment. Now that he’s not as stressed, he can actually admire your apartment—apartment, is this even an apartment? He runs his fingers along the pristine black marble of the bar separating your kitchen from the living room, ignoring the way your eyes follow him. “I just…”

“You threatened to expose me,” you interrupt dryly. “You implied it.”

“I did not,” Dazai complains. “It’s not my fault you took it that way.”

You roll your eyes. “What were you thinking, Dazai?” you ask again.

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “I’m thinking that you’re going to take me out on a date.”

You don’t know why you’re even entertaining him.

Three days later, you’re outside Dazai’s apartment complex waiting for him to get back from his classes. You’d have gone to the campus itself but you don’t feel like having to beg Albatross or Iceman to get into the campus cameras to wipe the footage of you being there, especially knowing that it’ll get right back to Chuuya who is still under the belief that you’re no longer talking to Dazai.

You scowl as you look down at your phone, checking the time again. He should’ve been back ten minutes ago—you told him you were here waiting. Your reservation is in thirty minutes and he still has to change, you glance over your shoulder as a group of college students make their way toward the complex. You hardly stop yourself from rolling your eyes, you’d figured that the complex would be popular with the kids attending YNU—that’s why you ended up buying it—but you really don’t want to interact with any of them. 

You can feel them looking at you too—fuck, you should have just stayed in your car. From the corner of your eye, you can see them exchange curious looks with one another. One of the boys nudges another, clearly beckoning him to go try to talk to you and you will strength from the gods-

You hear your name fall from familiar lips, quiet and unsure, and the unpleasant expression that you know must be on your face melts away. You let your head fall to the side over your shoulder, gaze focusing on Dazai—he’s dressed casually in a brown sweater and cream pants, school books tucked to his chest and backpack hanging off of his shoulders. He looks surprised at the sight of you so you raise your eyebrows.

“You’re late, I texted you,” you say simply as he approaches you, glancing at the car and then to you curiously.

“My phone died,” he replies sheepishly, a bit of light returning to his eyes as he comes closer to you. Warmth starts to spread through your chest when you see how the corners of his lips twitch up, fingers absently thrumming against his books. “Where are we going?” 

“You’re getting changed,” you reply, nodding to the suit hanging in the passenger seat of he car, “and then-”

“Yo, Dazai-kun!”

Your eye twitches at the interruption, gaze twisting to the side to fall on one of the boys from that group you’d been dreading walking over before Dazai arrived. You notice him stiffen, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face when he hears his name being called. So, you sigh, motion for him to go into the car and grab the suit as you turn your attention to the group of approaching college students.

“We’re busy,” you say with a tight smile, tone short and perfunctory but trying to be polite. 

Your eyes sweep over the one who spoke up—he’s dressed nice, slacks and a button up, tailored neatly to his body, but there’s something so distasteful about him that you can’t help the way your lip curls up in disgust. Maybe it’s because of the way Dazai looks so uncomfortable.

The man looks entirely unperturbed by your blatant dismissal, giving you a charming smile. “I’m Yoshimura Hiro—me and Daz-”

Irritated, you glance one last time at Dazai, seeing that he got the suit out of the car and shut the door. You lock the car and without another word, press your hand against Dazai’s lower back to urge him forward, walking away from the small group without another word.

Dazai can hardly muffle the snort that escapes his lips as soon as the two of you make it into the building. His eyes have regained that brightness that they’d lost when his classmates approached you, a smile curving at his lips.

“That was so rude,” he says with a grin.

“We have a reservation to make,” you tell him dryly. “I said we were busy.”

“Still, you didn’t even wait for him to finish introducing himself.”

“Would you have preferred I had?” you ask, glancing at him as he unlocks his apartment, watching as his smile falters as he shakes his head. “Why don’t you get along with them?”

Dazai shrugs but he seems a bit more awkward now as you step into his apartment. He tosses his books onto the coffee table and shrugs his backpack off onto the couch. You lean against the wall as you wait for him to respond, noting that his apartment is much cleaner than the last time you were here.

“They don’t like me,” he corrects absently, fiddling with a mug on his coffee table before bringing it over to the kitchen. “Most people don’t.”

There’s a silent question lingering at the end of the sentence—you know it, even if you couldn’t tell from the way the words hang, you can see it in the way his eyes draw over to you. Maybe he wants reassurance of some kind that you do like him, that you’re not just doing this because of the blackmail, but the words die on the tip of your tongue.

Instead, you say, “Go get changed. We’re running late already.”

Dazai looks disappointed by your words—you can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his lashes lower, the corner of his lips tightening—but he lets out a dramatic sigh, muttering something under his breath before going into his bathroom to change.

Luckily, it only takes him a few minutes to get changed into the suit. He comes out as he’s still buttoning up the waistcoat—jacket slung over his shoulder. Your eyes drop down to his slim waist, eyes lingering at how neatly the vest clings to it.

Kido really did a good job, you think, having to drag your eyes back up to his face as he finally shrugs the jacket on and looks back up at you.

“You look nice,” you compliment, watching as his cheeks flush just a shade darker. “I didn’t have time to change after my meeting. If I’d known you were going to be ten minutes late, I would’ve.” 

Dazai promptly scowls at you. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t have waited until the last second to tell me. What if I already had plans?” he complains, but then adds, “… I think you look beautiful.”

“I wear this outfit everyday,” you dismiss, ignoring the way your chest flutters.

“I know,” he admits quietly. “You look beautiful everyday.”

Oh.

“We should go!” Dazai says suddenly, a bit too loudly to be casual. “We’re running late, aren’t we?” 

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you say. “Come on, let’s go.” 

The walk back to your car is quiet—the students you’d left there are gone, thank god. You can feel Dazai looking at you every few seconds as if he wants to say something but can’t bring himself to say it. You have half a mind to just tell him to spit it out but you still find yourself a bit flustered so you just let it be until you’re in the car.

“Where are we going anyway?” Dazai finally asks as you pull out of the complex, twisting in the passenger seat to look at you. His eyes look almost golden beneath the rays of the sun, soft and excited, you can’t help the way your gaze lingers before you force yourself to focus on the road.

“You said you wanted to go to that restaurant by your campus, didn’t you?” you ask, tilting your head to the side to raise your eyebrows before looking forward again. “Taking you there.”

“The rooftop restaurant looking over the park?” Dazai splutters, eyes widening. “You remembered that? It’s so expensive, I-”

You don’t even acknowledge the last thing he was saying. Instead, you give him a squinty look before asking, “Why wouldn’t I remember?”

Dazai’s lips part as he stares at you like he’s trying to say something but can’t bring himself to. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you, it makes your heart twist in on itself. It’s too intense, too close to lo-

You don’t even let yourself finish that sentence, focusing back on the road as you change the subject. “They import crabs from the Beagle Channel in southern Argentina—best quality in the world, much better than that canned shit you eat every day.”

“What do you have against canned crab?” Dazai complains, leaning his head against the window. “You hate me. How did you even get a reservation at this place? They’re booked out like ten months in advance, we talked three days ago.”

You give Dazai a heavy side eye that he understands instantly from how he rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath that you don’t quite catch.

“What was that?” you ask, giving him a pointed smile.

“Nothing,” he scowls.

You smile to yourself, focusing on driving again. The restaurant isn’t far from his complex so you get there pretty quickly. Dazai is quiet for most of the rest of the ride aside from the occasional comment about his classes. He bitches about his engineering class and all of the irritating freshman boys that he’s taking it with because it’s a 101 class, tells you vaguely about how he’s on a roll for one of his projects for his poetry workshop, explains the plot of the book he’s reading for his creative writing class, and he notably does not mention anything about his journalism class—you don’t know if it’s because he’s too awkward to bring it up or what, but you’re grateful for it because the last thing you want to do is think about him working with Ui Koutarou to expose you as a mafia executive. You still don’t even entirely believe this isn’t some whole big scheme they concocted together.

You let the car roll to a stop in front of the tower the restaurant is in, leaving it running as you put it in park and nod for Dazai to get out. You get out yourself, grabbing the keys and tossing them over to the valet with a quick thanks before leading Dazai into the building.

He looks almost wonderstruck as he steps into the tower, brown eyes wide and glittering as he looks at all of the expensive decor in the lobby of the tower. You have to physically guide him forward, arm slipping around his waist to get him moving in the direction of the elevator, but as soon as you come in contact with him, he goes rigid. Your brows furrow, about to pull your arm back but before you can, he presses his palm against the back of your hand, holding your arm in place for a quick second. You can’t help the smile that twitches to your lips when his arm drops back to his side and you catch the pretty flush staining his cheeks as he pointedly looks away.

You lead him into the elevator, catching the pout that pushes at his lips when your arm leaves his waist and you’re going to tease him for it but then you catch the oddly intense look in his eyes as he gazes down at you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, throat bobbing as if considering what to say. “It’s just… no one has ever done this for me before.”

“It’s just dinner, Dazai,” you tell him, voice quiet as you look away, missing the way his expression drops at your words.

“Yeah,” he agrees, though he sounds strained now so you give him a concerned look that he tries to play off with a smile that’s too frayed at the edges for comfort. You’re about to call him out on it but you don’t get the chance because the elevator doors slide open to the restaurant on the top floor before you can.

A familiar face stands on the other side of the elevator, delighted at the sight of you. “Hime,” the owner of the restaurant greets as you step out of the elevator with Dazai, reaching out to clasp one of your hands with both of his. “I almost didn’t believe it when they said you called to see if we could get you a table tonight. It’s been so long.”

“Ah, Yoshida-san, you’ll have to forgive me,” you say with an easy smile. “You know how busy work can get.”

“Of course, of course,” Yoshida replies, glancing at Dazai and inclining his head to him. “This must be your date. Come, I’ll seat the two of you.”

Dazai looks a bit out of his depth, the smile on his face strained and an unsure look in his eyes so you reach out to hook your arm into his, leading him through the restaurant as you make idle talk with Yoshida. You’re pleased when he brings you to a table near the window with a view over the whole park and the distant bay. 

Yoshida bows his head down to the two of you and lets you get settled, you take a seat but then give Dazai an odd look when he just stands there with a contemplative expression. You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he suddenly moves to grab the chair opposite you.

He drags the chair from his side of the table all the way to yours. The legs scrape the floor so loudly that it draws the attention of all of the other patrons of the restaurant. You stare at him, lips parted in disbelief, but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return. He’s entirely unperturbed, plopping the chair down right next to yours and taking a seat in it. He rests his elbow on the table, propping his chin on his hand and watching you with an indescribable look in his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” you tell him but there’s no heat to your words as the corners of your lips tug up.

“You love me anyway,” Dazai coos, gaze flickering down to your lips briefly before settling back on your eyes.

When a soft, pleased smile spreads across Dazai’s face as he leans in to nudge his shoulder against yours, you have to actively remind yourself that you’re only doing this because of the blackmail. 

Dazai is already lounging on your couch when you get up to your apartment. You don’t seem to notice him—you’re clearly unhappy about something, lips twisted down and brows furrowed as you talk to someone on your phone. It’s not until Dazai peeks his head up above the back of the couch to look at you do you finally catch sight of the movement, eyes flickering to the side to focus on him.

“Thanks, Tolstoy, I’ll let you know if I need him. I appreciate it,” you say before letting the phone drop from your ear and ending the call. 

For a horrifying second, your expression doesn’t change and all of those insecurities that he can’t push away—that you really are only doing this because of the video, that he’s forcing himself on you instead of giving you an excuse to actually be with him that goes above the fears that are haunting you. But then, you sigh and your shoulders slump. You toss your jacket onto the other couch before sitting with him on the one he’s sitting on, knees knocking against his.

“Hi,” Dazai says with a small smile, itching to shift closer to you but hardly refraining. “You’re late today.”

“You’re early,” you reply dryly but there’s a fond curl to the corners of your lips that makes Dazai feel nice and warm. “You know, I think you’ve been at my apartment more than yours the past week.”

Dazai’s smile becomes simpering. “Why would I stay in my small, dirty apartment when I could stay in your nice one?” he asks, watching as you roll yours. “Anyway, you love it when I’m here. Your apartment would be so lonely and boring without me.”

“It would be something alright,” you agree half-heartedly, leaning your head against the back of the couch and letting your eyes slide shut.

Dazai’s smile falters as soon as your gaze leaves him, an uncomfortable and unwelcome feeling spreading through his chest. Is he being too much? He has been spending a lot of time at your apartment but it’s because whenever he’s alone, his own thoughts threaten to consume him. They whisper too loudly about how you’d never be doing this without the blackmail, about how he’s so desperate to not be alone that he’d stoop to forcing you to hang out with him. They’re quieter when he’s here, even when you’re not, so he’s been spending as much time as possible in your apartment, doing his schoolwork and watching TV while he waits for you to come back.

“Long day?” Dazai finally asks to draw himself out of his own thoughts, watching as you look back over at him.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Lots of meetings. All with people I don’t like.”

You’ve become a bit more open over the past week—you still don’t tell him anything of importance, of course, but you’re at least not avoiding just about every topic that edges somewhat close to your ‘business’. He still feels like he doesn’t know you as well as he should and he hasn’t tried to push that anymore since the night you showed up at his apartment. He wants to try to push again but he’s just worried that he’s going to take it too far and he’ll mess it up.

He supposes he should at least try to feel it out though.

“Can I ask something?” he asks after a moment, almost wincing when you immediately cast him a suspicious look.

“The last time you asked me that, you were trying to figure out if I was in the Mafia,” you say doubtfully and Dazai’s throat goes dry as you lean back against the arm of the couch and extend your legs outward onto his lap. Hesitantly, he drops his hand onto your ankle, grip becoming more firm when you don’t instantly pull away.

“Well, we’ve already figured that out,” Dazai says with a sweet smile but then lets the smile drop as he adds more seriously, “I just want to get to know you better.”

You sigh, watching him carefully for a moment before nodding. “Go ahead,” you say. “Ask.”

“What’s your ability?”

Instantly, you sigh and look away. Dazai’s heart drops and his lips part to say something else but he doesn’t know what.

“I can’t, Dazai,” you finally tell him and Dazai tries not to be disappointed but he can’t help the way his lashes lower. “It’s not-you shouldn’t even know I have an ability. Only a handful of people know. It’s literally the most confidential secret in the-I can’t.”

“But I already know you have one,” Dazai presses, his tone coming across as far too close to a whine considering the look you give him. “What’s the harm in telling me what it is?” 

“Dazai,” you say, voice becoming more edged. “You don’t understand what people would do to get intel on my ability—I’m not going to-”

“I just want to know you,” Dazai interrupts, words drawn out and throat tight. “I just-I want to know you.”

You stare at him for a moment and Dazai’s grip on your ankle tightens, expression dropping. Just as he’s about to drawback and give up, you sigh and look away from him.

“I can mess around with people’s minds,” you finally tell him, voice quiet. Dazai’s eyes widen, head snapping toward you as he waits for you to continue. “I can… induce different types of mental and physical states in the brain and mind.”

“Like… Emma Frost?” Dazai asks, squinting. You give him an odd look so he amends, “Like mind control?” 

“No,” you answer. “I can’t… control minds. I can like… induce short term changes in emotions and sensations. I’m not directly manipulating them but putting them into a state and letting them work with it. They can either snap themselves out of it or make it stronger.”

“... I see,” Dazai says slowly. “So, you can make someone happy but if something makes them sad after, it’ll snap them out of it?”

“Pretty much,” you hum but there’s a weird look on your face that tells Dazai that maybe you’re not saying everything. “Some emotions are easier than others. Happiness is more… fragile, harder to sustain in a target. Fear is much more… a lot like a parasite—once you put it in someone’s head, almost everyone will start to spiral. It’s much harder to break out of.”

“The mindkiller,” Dazai notes, quoting one of his favorite books, a bit of morbid curiosity spiking, wanting to know how he would fare.

You give him an amused look. “Now, you’re quoting Dune? Quite the broad taste in media.”

“You’ve read Dune, too?” Dazai gapes. “You must be my soulmate.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“Ridiculously cute,” Dazai counters immediately, smile twitching at his lips when he sees the fond expression on your face.

Then, naturally, he makes a mistake. 

“Can you use it on me?” Dazai asks, leaning forward a bit. When you give him a sharp, alarmed look, he quickly fumbles out, “Not like anything big. I just want to see what it’s like. Just something sma-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No,” you say loudly, making Dazai draw back, hand falling from your ankle to rest on the couch next to him. You pull your legs off of his lap and sit up straight, turning your body away from him. “Just no, Dazai. Don’t ask me that again.”

“I didn’t mean-” Dazai starts to apologize but he’s flustered, not having expected a response like that from you. He fucked up. Again. Just as he was making progress. Again. “I don’t-”

“I can’t turn off my ability,” you tell him quietly after a moment. “It’s… always going to some extent. Making people around me more at ease so they feel more comfortable talking to me. I don’t like using it to its full extent if I don’t have to, not on people I consider friends at least. I never know if people… I don’t know who wants to be around me for me and who’s just influenced by my ability.”

Oh.

Dazai shifts closer to you, there’s an unreadable expression on your face as you stare ahead. He hesitates for a second before reaching out and grabbing your hand, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you for you,” Dazai stresses. When you start to shake your head and look away, he repeats, “I do. I-”

“You wouldn’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice tight. “That’s the issue, you wouldn’t know.”

“I would know,” Dazai tells you, squeezing your hand. “I would know, I want you. I do.”

You don’t respond to him this time, staring ahead and Dazai doesn’t know what to do because you look sad. You look lost in your own thoughts, consumed by whatever is running through your head. It’s familiar—the same way he probably looks whenever he lets the parasites in his brain start eating away, sending him down a dangerous spiral.

He wants to draw you out of it. 

More than that, he wants to kiss you again. Desperately. 

He’s yearned for it since that night in his apartment, spent long nights alone and aching for your company when he thought you were abroad. For days, he could feel his lips tingling with the ghost of yours still brushing against them, could feel the weight of your body on his hips, grounding him when he thought he would finally be consumed by the emptiness that perpetually plagues him. He thinks maybe he can draw you out in the same way you always do for him. 

He wants to kiss you, and he’s about to lean in to do just that, breath catching in the back of his throat as his body becomes prickly with nerves.

You turn your head away before he can, rising to your feet and making your way to your bedroom, leaving him damningly alone in the living room of your apartment. 

He lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his lap, a cold and unsure feeling taking root in his chest.

Dazai has become a constant presence in your life. 

At first, it caused you nothing but stress—you constantly feared that him showing up to your apartment would lead to unwelcome eyes learning of his existence but he’s been very careful entering and leaving the building, and Klaus has been on top of the cameras. You think it’s been around a week and a half, maybe two weeks since Dazai first confronted you about everything and in that week and a half (maybe two weeks), you don’t think a single day has gone by without you coming home to find Dazai curled up on your couch or hunched over your kitchen table.

Today is no different.

Your head is pounding when you make it up to your apartment, you’d spent two hours arguing with Chuuya over how to approach the issue with Shimazaki-kai. The Sun and Steel are struggling against them in Tokyo and Mishima Michiko had come to Yokohama personally to request assistance from the Port Mafia in routing them from Shibuya-ku. You don’t want to send Chuuya there—it’s only a matter of time before the Guild shows up in Yokohama to try to take the weretiger and you’ll need Chuuya here when they do. You can’t risk sending him off now.

But Chuuya wants to go there now—says that it’s a bad look that the Port Mafia started this conflict and is now leaving the Sun and Steel to suffer the consequences. And he’s right, but the Guild is more pressing than the Shimazaki-kai.

 It’s not often that the two of you disagree on tactical decisions, but when you do, the disagreements are stressful and explosive. Both of you are bullheaded and both of you are convinced that your decision is the correct one—and Lippmann wasn’t here to force you guys to settle down so it just became more and more heated until you finally stormed off.

You pause when you enter your apartment and hear a choppy tune being played on the piano in your living room—something you vaguely recognize as the beginning of Chopin’s Raindrop Prelude even with the many mistakes being made. Your stress and frustration slips away as you catch sight of Dazai sitting at the piano bench, so focused on the sheet music in front of him that he doesn’t even notice your arrival.

A small smile tugs at your lips as you quietly make your way over to him, watching as he pauses in the song and sighs, clearly frustrated by his mistakes. You take the opportunity to slide your hand across his shoulder blades; he jumps beneath your touch, eyes widening as he twists his neck to look up at you, cheeks flushing. 

“I didn’t know you played,” you say absently. “If you want, I can have the spare room on this floor made into a music room for you.”

You don’t know why you offer it, but you enjoy the look in his eyes as his gaze focuses on you: big and imploring, full of emotion. It’s a welcome change from the livid expression Chuuya had been casting your way for the past few hours.

“I don’t really,” Dazai says awkwardly. “I was just trying it out.”

“Well, do you like it?” you ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to him, fingers lingering on his lower back.

“I think so,” he tells you after a few moments, lashes fluttering as he looks down at the keys and then back up at you. “I think my mother used to play… I don’t really remember her, but I can vaguely remember a song she used to play.”

There’s an odd look in his eyes as he averts his gaze and you squeeze his side gently before saying, “Maybe the more you play, the more it’ll come back to you.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees half-heartedly, looking at you again, more carefully this time. “Are you okay?” 

You pause, not having expected him to catch onto your bad mood so quickly when you were doing your best to hide it, but you finally sigh and shake your head.

“Yeah,” you tell him, motioning for him to get up so the two of you can move over to the much more comfortable couch. “Stressful day. I thought you had class on Wednesdays.”

“It was online today,” Dazai says, propping his arms up on the back of the couch as he sits up. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be back until super late tonight.”

You scoff. “Yeah, until I got into a fight with Chuuya,” you mutter, making your way over to him to sit on the couch with him, looking at the puzzle he has spread out on your coffee table. “Where’d you get this?” 

Dazai gives you a sweet smile. “You left your computer open yesterday, I ordered some things.”

Dazai inches closer to you, there’s an indecipherable expression on his face, lips parted and eyes a bit wide. You can feel his knee nudging yours and you know what he wants. He’s been trying to make subtle moves on you for days but you just… You don’t know. You’re scared.

You’re scared.

You don’t think you’ve felt this way since you were a kid, trapped in that room in the military base on Tokoyami Island desperately trying to understand what your ability was so you wouldn’t be thrown back out into a warzone. Except now, it’s not just your fate on the line—every decision you make, Dazai’s life hinges on it and you’ve been making stupid ones for weeks. Even now, letting him stay at your apartment… Even if you do own all of the cameras, even if Klaus is on top of it, even if Dazai is being careful, it’s only a matter of time before a mistake is made.

You don’t know what you’re still holding out for. Maybe a chance to make him understand what exactly is at stake, break things off with you on his own… Maybe you’re waiting for something else. Your conversation with Tolstoy echoes through your head, his offer of sending Ilya Repin to you for you to utilize as you please.

Ilya Repin. A Crucession in Oakwood. 

Someone who can wipe Dazai’s memories of you so you can send him back off to live a normal life, make him forget he ever met you. It’s not something you want to do, fiddling with people’s minds… you know better than anyone that it’s not something to take lightly. But would it be worth it to ensure he lives? That he doesn’t get drawn any further into your shitshow life? The thought makes your chest ache painfully but if it means he would be safe.

You let out a shaky breath, looking away, and you can feel the disappointment emanating off of him, you can feel his fingers brushing your arm, but before you can say anything to him, you hear your elevator bing.

Someone arriving at your floor.

Your eyes widen as you rise to your feet, you cast Dazai a panicked look. He follows after you, unsure of what he should do. Klaus is across the city—he’s the only one that can come up to your apartment without permission besides-

Besides Chuuya.

Oh shit.

“Go to the kitchen,” you say, voice tight and stressed, you push Dazai forward to get him moving. You cannot let Chuuya know that Dazai is here. “Get to the-”

“Yo.” You hear Chuuya say, voice low and distracted as he steps into your apartment. He’s looking down at a bottle of wine, so you wave your hand at Dazai frantically, shooing him into the kitchen. He shoots you a panicked look before rushing into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to let shit get so heated before.”

“You’re good,” you tell him, careful to keep the strain from your voice as Chuuya finally looks up from the bottle and makes his way over to you. “Takes two, I shouldn’t have been so quick to snap at you.”

“Nah.” Chuuya shakes his head, plopping down on the couch next to you. “You’ve been going through shit. The Boss constantly on your ass, having to drop that kid you liked-” shit “-I should’ve let it go instead of pressing. Brought you this.”

Oh, you’re in a bad spot. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as you race to figure out what to do. You have to get Chuuya out of your apartment, but the man knows you so well that it’ll be impossible to do that without raising suspicion. If this were any other day and Dazai Osamu wasn’t hiding in your kitchen, you would be trying to worm more than just a bottle of wine out of Chuuya—probably dinner and a night out to go along with it—but he’ll want to crack open the bottle before going out and your wine glasses are in your kitchen.

Shit.

“An ‘82 Rothschild,” you drawl. “You’re really trying to butter me up.”

Chuuya gives you a smile that makes you feel guilty. “‘Cause I feel like shit,” he mutters and you hardly refrain from wincing because you know he wouldn’t if he knew the truth.

You think you might be the worst person alive. 

“How about we put it in the wine fridge and head out for the night?” you hum, nudging his shoulder. “Didn’t you want to try that new bar by the ports in Naka? The one Lippmann went to with his coworkers? We’ll save the wine for us to celebrate after we wipe out the Shimazaki-kai.” 

A good move. You almost pat yourself on the back for it—Chuuya’s been talking about this bar for weeks, but hasn’t gotten a break from work to actually go check it out. He was livid the other day when he found out Albatross and Iceman went without him. Plus, you implied that you’d give in a little on the argument you were having with him earlier; maybe you won’t send him to Tokyo to help the Sun and Steel but you could probably send Klaus or Akutagawa to ease Chuuya’s stress over the situation.

Please, please, please, please-

“Nah,” Chuuya says, shaking his head. “Maybe another night. I’ll go grab some glasses, find a movie?” 

Oh, fuck me.

“I’ll get them,” you say instead, too quickly from the way Chuuya is instantly casting a suspicious look in your direction so you pivot with: “I picked the last movie. It’s your turn.”

“You hate when I pick movies,” Chuuya says with a frown, studying you carefully before letting his eyes trail over to the kitchen. He’s thinking too hard, you realize, stressed, you need to make him stop before he figures out you don’t want him to go in there because once he realizes that, there’s no shot he won’t be rushing over there. “What’s really going on?” 

“Nothing,” you say easily. “I’m in the mood to trash one of your low budget horror movies.”

Chuuya instantly gives you an offended look and you think, for a moment, that you’ve succeeded. “Well, I’m not in the mood to hear you bitch halfway through the movie, so pick a damn movie.”

Chuuya rises to his feet, putting the bottle of wine down on the coffee table and you want to rip your hair out—why is he so fucking stubborn? You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him, teeth grinding together, and when Chuuya looks back at you, you know that he knows.

“What’s in the kitchen?” Chuuya asks, voice low.

“None of your business,” you reply, jaw tight. “Sit down and let me get the glasses.”’

“I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” Chuuya snaps and rips his wrist from your grasp and storms over to the kitchen. 

You race behind him, only able to watch as everything starts to crumble. You try to grab his wrist again but he slips out from your hold. For a scary second, you genuinely debate using your ability on him just to convince him to stop, to make him leave, but you disregard the thought as soon as it passes through your head, horrified with yourself.

“Chuuya, stop,” you say desperately, a last ditch attempt to make him stop, hoping that maybe when he hears how serious you are about this that he might reconsider, but it’s Chuuya, so of course he doesn’t.

You know it’s over when he freezes in the doorframe of your kitchen, staring into the room like he’s seen a ghost. Dreadfully, you come to stand at his side, looking over his shoulder to see what exactly he’s looking at, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die.

Dazai sits on the floor, half hiding behind your counter but unable to fully because of his height; his legs are too long to fit behind the counter and his head is peeking above the marble, brown eyes wide as he looks between the two of you. He focuses his attention on Chuuya, who stares at him mutely in disbelief.

Dazai finally says, “Your hat is tackier in person.”

Oh my god.

Chuuya doesn’t even react to the snide comment which you think is testimony to how angry he really is. He drags his gaze from Dazai over to you and you can see the rage swimming in his eyes. You don’t know how to approach this—Chuuya is always unpredictable when he’s angry—so you think maybe you should wait for him to say something first, but that’s also risky because once he’s set off, he’s set off. 

“You lied to me,” Chuuya says, voice low. “I was sitting here feeling guilty and-”

“I didn’t lie to you,” you interrupt, shaking your head, but that only pisses Chuuya off more from the way he shoots a pointed look at Dazai. “I didn’t. I did cut him off, Chuuya. I-”

“He’s sitting on your kitchen floor,” Chuuya’s spits, voice raising as he works himself up. “You let me sit here feeling guilty about this when-”

Chuuya suddenly cuts himself off, eyes widening as he stares at you, and a pit forms in your stomach, realizing he must have just come to another conclusion. Distress begins to pile in your chest because you can’t figure out what to do, frustration because this wasn’t supposed to happen. You want to look over to Dazai but you know it will only serve to piss Chuuya off even more.

“‘Is that what she told you?’” Chuuya whispers Mori’s words from a few weeks ago. “Don’t even tell me that the war with the Inagawa-kai began because of him. You told me they attacked you.”

You grimace, turning your face away and Chuuya lets out a high and reedy laugh, eyes wild with disbelief. You can feel Dazai’s curious eyes on you and you just want to curl in on yourself.

“We went to war with two Yakuza syndicates because of him-”

“We went to war because of what happened with your-” you begin to say, angry at the hypocrisy.

“And she died anyway,” Chuuya shouts, a familiar, eerie red glow beginning to emanate from his hands as he starts to lose control of his ability in his anger. “You couldn’t save her then, what makes you think you can save him now?”

You draw back as if you’d been slapped—you think you might’ve been better off getting slapped than hearing Chuuya say that. You stare at him blankly, watching as he looks over at Dazai, but you can’t bring yourself to follow his gaze.

“It would be more merciful if I just killed him now,” Chuuya says coolly. “Spare him from-”

You only move when he takes a step forward, grabbing his wrist and pressing your forearm hard against his upper chest to shove him into your fridge. Chuuya doesn’t expect you to get physical so his eyes widen as his back hits the fridge, gaze darting back to focus on you. The familiar feeling of the Tainted Sorrow sweeps over your body, coating you in that destructive red glow. 

For a moment, neither of you move.

“We both know you won’t use your ability on me,” you finally say, keeping your voice low. “I’ll fuck up your brain so badly that you won’t be able to look at yourself in the mirror for weeks if you take another step toward him.”

Chuuya doesn’t budge for a second, the tension in the room rising with each passing second. After a few minutes, he finally turns off his ability, taking in a deep breath as he shakes his head and looks away. You step back and Chuuya sighs as he leans against the fridge, forcing himself to look back at you.

“I did cut him off after we talked… ish,” you tell him and Chuuya gives you a flat look. “I did. I ran into him at the ports. One of the kyodai of the Inagawa-kai showed up, saw me with him. Klaus killed him. We had to act before they found out we drew first blood.”

“Oh my god,” Chuuya complains, pressing his hands to his eyes. “You-I had to use Corruption. The entire northern ward-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say tightly. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I-”

You let out a breath, glancing once at Dazai who’s watching you with an indecipherable expression and then ask Chuuya, “Can we go into the other room?”

Dazai’s head snaps toward you, an offended expression on his face, but you ignore him. “You’re talking about me-” he starts to protest but Chuuya gives him a sharp look that makes Dazai blanch even more, looking to you for support but you look away, missing the way his expression crumbles.

As soon as the two of you are in the other room, Chuuya gives you a hard look, waiting for you to continue.

“I cut him off after what happened at the port and I ran into him again at the event a few weeks ago,” you say quietly. “His professor for one of his classes is a journalist working for the Ivory Eagle, he has three kids—including Dazai—doing his dirty work trying to find proof of the Mori Corporation being a front for the Port Mafia.”

Chuuya stares at you. “What?” he asks blankly.

“Yeah, I know,” you grimace. “Dazai found the proof. He has a video of us from behind the Tokyo City Hall.”

“You’re letting yourself be blackmailed by a college student?” Chuuya demands loudly. You give him a sharp look, but it’s too late, Dazai is already looking into the room with an indecipherable expression on his face, lashes lowering as his gaze falls to the ground. “You’re a fucking mafia executive, are you fucking with me right now?” 

Your eye twitches in frustration, casting one last look in Dazai’s direction, watching the way his brows furrow as he thinks up a storm in that head of his—nothing good, you’re sure, but you can’t do anything about it right now.

“I’m not going to kill him, Chuuya,” you hiss under your breath. “Would you have killed her if she found out?”

Chuuya lets out a heavy breath and looks away, not answering your question but that’s an answer in itself.

“Look,” you continue, glancing at where Dazai had been standing only to realize that he’d walked away. You sigh and lower your voice. “I’m working on something. I just… I need time to figure out how to go about it. I don’t want him in this life either, Chuuya. I’m not that selfish.”

Yes, you are, a distant part of you whispers. Otherwise, you would have handled this as soon as he came to your apartment that first day.

Chuuya shakes his head. “You need to be careful. You have him in our headquarters, in your apartment. Do you know how thin of a line you’re treading? The slightest slip up-”

“I know, Chuuya,” you say, strained. “I know.”

“Figure it out quickly,” Chuuya murmurs. “I’ll do what I can in the meantime to keep the heat off of you. Just… quit fucking around.”

Chuuya gives you a steady look and you know that he knows that you’re using this as an excuse to indulge in Dazai when you shouldn’t be. You can hardly hold his gaze, lashes fluttering as you look down. He reaches out to squeeze your forearm and you turn your head away, trying to figure out what the fuck you’re going to say to Dazai.

“Yeah, I will.”

Dazai pretends like everything is fine.

He’s still sitting cross-legged on your bed when you finally come looking for him, hands in his lap and back straight. You lean against the doorframe, an uncharacteristically soft expression on your face as you look at him—Dazai hates it, because he knows that he’s not going to like whatever you’re about to bring up to him so he decides he needs to evade the conversation in whatever manner possible.

“Did that pipsqueak leave?” Dazai huffs, only finding a bit of consolation in the way your lips curl up into a smile at his insult.

“He did,” you agree, pushing off the doorframe to make your way over to him. Dazai swallows thickly when you take a seat in front of him on the bed. You lean back on your hands, head falling to the side as you observe him. “I didn’t think he was coming over today. We’d just gotten into an argument so things were already tense. I’m sorry that it blew up on you like that.”

Dazai doesn’t want to talk about this, so instead, he smiles and says, “It’s fine. Do you want to watch a movie?” 

Your brow furrows at the way he dismisses your comment—god, he doesn’t want to talk about this. He knows where it’s going to lead, he knows you’re only doing this because of the blackmail and he knew from day one that it wasn’t going to work forever but he’d hoped maybe he’d be able to woo you before then, make you want him for him, want him enough to decide he’s worth the risk. He should’ve known better—he really should have—but he’s not ready to let go just yet.

So, before you can bring it back up again, Dazai forces the smile on his face to come across a little more genuine as he tilts his head and hums, “I found a good horror movie. I’m stealing your pillow to hide behind while we watch.”

Please.

He knows you can see through the sweet smile and honeyed words but he begs you to just pretend you don’t one last time. After what feels like an eternity, you finally sigh, gaze dropping to your lap for a second before you look back up at him and say, “You’re not taking my pillow.”

Dazai doesn’t have to force a smile now, lighting up as he waves your pillow in the air and sings, “Too late!” before darting off the bed and into the other room.

“Dazai!” you call after him loudly and he tosses a smile over his shoulder before disappearing into the other room. He can hear you chasing after him and though his chest does feel a bit lighter, he can’t push away the cold, empty feeling that’s slowly starting to consume him.

[starsofang]

in which ghost is a ghost.

tw: nsfw, mdni, fingering, p in v, monsterfucking if u squint?? kind of and also yes

there was a ghost haunting your house.

all your friends called you crazy. they blamed it on your recent breakup, telling you that you weren’t used to living alone, that moving into a new house took getting used to. you didn’t agree.

there was no doubt in your mind that a ghost haunted your new home.

it showed in the way the floorboards creaked when nobody was there to step on them. or the icy draft that lingered in the hallways, sending chilled shivers down your spine. or the shadows that played tricks on you in the dark when you’d wake in the night to use the restroom or grab a glass of water.

you knew it wasn’t a figment of your imagination. the only explanation was a ghost. you just didn’t have solid proof.

things began to shift to something more strange the longer you lived in the house.

at night, you could feel prying eyes staring back at you from the depth of the shadows, yet when you’d look around, nothing would be there. or sometimes, the achingly familiar feeling of a fingertips caressing the skin of your ankle would coax goosebumps to rise on your skin.

whatever ghost resided in your home was increasingly growing more comfortable as time passed with you invading their space. they teetered on an edge, making careful calculations of their subtle touches as not to scare you away, while keeping you hooked with curiosity. really, you should’ve been scared, and you should’ve ran away.

that was precisely what went through your head when the touch of their hand would venture. beginning at your ankle and inching up and up every night that passed. it was a game between the two of you. they tested your limits while you threatened to further them.

it was dangerous, really. messing with a ghost who you had no clue if they were evil or not. demonic, even. none of that seemed to cross your mind when the touches soothed the agonizing ache of loneliness that squeezed your heart every waking day.

your curiosity was growing, though. you yearned to learn about the ghost who was tormenting the comfort of your home, to learn who kept you up at night with a racing heart and a lump in your throat. there was no harm in asking, right?

he didn’t speak much when you did. he told you his name was ghost, but that he remembered being called simon. how fitting ghost was, but how humanizing simon could be.

he remained a shadow when he appeared to you, masking his identity, one that you were unsure if it was a personal choice or he was stuck like that. regardless of it, you shouldn’t have grown attraction to it.

of course, you did. who could blame you? you had learned the name of the ghost who had been haunting you for months, touching you, teasing you. it was hopeless. there was nothing to fight, nor did you really want to.

it was the exact reason on why you ended up with your legs spread, the chill of the room and ghost sweeping over your skin as if being dunked in ice water. a ghastly hand was pumping its way inside of you, fingers curling into that spongy spot you can’t quite reach with your own, wrenching gravelly moans from you that filled the air with song.

it became a nightly routine of yours. ghost fucking you with his fingers, freezing to the touch, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you until you were a weeping mess on the bed, riddled with blissful exhaustion.

then, his fingers became his cock. it was strange, fucking a shadowy ghost that had muddied features you couldn’t make out. you didn’t know what he truly looked like, but you imagined he was as rugged as his voice in the most handsome way.

his cock was much more intoxicating than his fingers. he fucked you with a goal in mind, and that was to take and take from you until your energy had transferred to him. he was sucking away bits of your soul with every long night of coming with him buried inside of you, making up for it with ghostly kisses on your skin once you were burnt out.

things were evolving into dangerous territory. having sex was already dangerous, but now, he was becoming possessive.

if you had a guest who was a male, he’d cause a poltergeist like a pouty child. throwing books off the shelves, knocking over glasses and shattering them on the floor, whispering taunting threats in the ears of your guest. his aim was to have them running out the door and never come back, and it always worked.

what did you think this was? you let him claim you. ghost or not, you were his, and you’d be confined to this house just as much as he was.

[pellucid-constellations]

hi! If you’re still taking requests I would looooove some Az comforting the reader, maybe she’s having a bad day and is trying to play it off and tell everyone she’s ok but Az sees right through her and she ends up crying and he comforts her or something if you’re up for it. I love love love your writing by the way <3

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: ~1.3k

Warnings: A tiny bit of angsty thoughts

a/n: I loveeee hurt/comfort and this kind of took on a life of its own. Enjoy!!! Thanks for the request ❤️

____________________________________________

You could feel his eyes on you from across the room—calculating, contemplative, planning. You had been doing your best to ignore him for the better part of the evening, but his presence was hardly discrete as he stood strong and stiff in the corner. 

This day had been atrocious. 

You had woken up before dawn to begin preparations for the gala currently taking place, been screamed at by multiple vendors unhappy about their placements, got caught in the rain on your way around town, and barely had time to sit down before you were thrust into a chair and made to get ready for the night. 

And that was just today.

There had been pressure from all sides to find comradery between the courts after the war, and as an emissary to the night court and the one most familiar with each High Lord, you had been elected to carry out that task. A task that had taken weeks of bad days to come to fruition. 

To put it lightly, you were beaten down. 

“Perhaps you can speak to the High Lord about that, yes?” the Spring Court emissary drawled, an ending to the 20-minute speech you had hardly been listening to. 

You smiled anyway. “Oh yes, of course. Perhaps you could send me a follow-up correspondence in a few weeks to ensure I get your reply readily?” 

The emissary scoffed, looking you up and down with a cloistered sneer. “Can’t even keep track of little conversation? Typical. I guess I can send you a reminder, though…” 

The vicious man’s words began to bubble out of your mind, a low buzzing replacing the demeaning tone. You jutted your jaw to the side and pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back the burning in your waterline. 

This was exhausting and too much and was quickly becoming a thankless job. You had told Rhysand you were up to the feat, but you had not accounted for all of the screaming and complaining and belittling some of the courts seemed to favor. 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel kick up from the wall. You threw him a watery, chastising look—knowing by the gleam in his eye that he was set to cause trouble with the man before you—but the Shadowsinger only raised a brow and tugged on the bond deep in your chest. 

Azriel had grown weary of your tired excuses and your half-hearted assurances that you were doing okay. It was obvious that every time you lied, he grew more impatient, more concerned. 

But you had to do this—for Rhysand, for Feyre, for the court. 

You hadn’t been able to fight in the war, so you could throw a simple gala and suck it up. 

Your mate stopped his approach, but you saw his jaw clench and his fingers roll up into his palm as the man only continued to drone on. 

“Do you think you could do that, then?” 

Shit. You had not been listening to a word he said, too concerned with Azriel’s thwarted approach. 

“I apologize,” you shook your head with a sheepish smile. “Could do what? It’s just so loud in here.” 

“Is this truly the best the night court has to offer?” 

That made the battle with your tears even more difficult. You swallowed the lump growing in your throat and tried to pretend you weren’t staving off a massive headache alone with it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. There is just much I have to do for the night and my mind is elsewhere—” 

“Thank you, Fike. You can send a letter addressed to the night court emissary when the night concludes,” Azriel cut in, interrupting the rough scratch of your voice. “It’s uncouth to speak so much of business at a party. And you are always so boring.” 

You heard the remnants of another scoff leave the Spring Court emissary's mouth, but Azriel was already guiding you out of the ballroom and into the hallway with a steady hand on your back. You took deep breaths as you went, your nose burning with the action. 

Get yourself together. You’re fine. A small issue in an otherwise—

Azriel hummed and pressed you against the wall of the hallway, quelling your rampant thoughts with the hand on your stomach. His other was pressed above your head, trapping you in an embrace, keeping only him in your eyeline. 

“You’re okay,” he comforted, taking exaggerated, deep breaths. “Just us here.”

You blinked and shook your head in quick succession. “No, I know, Az. I’m completely fine. I just needed to get away from Fike. I have to go back in.” 

“You are crying, my love.” Azriel brought his hand up from your stomach and brushed away tears you hadn’t felt fall. “You’re overwhelmed. I don’t know why you’ve put yourself under this much stress, but you need to stop for a moment.” 

“No. No, I'm okay. I’m not stressed. I don’t know what’s happening to me—why I’m crying. I feel fine.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched, grimacing as he watched your chest rise and fall unsteadily. “Y/n—” 

“It’s just a gala,” you affirmed, more tears falling with the quick flurry of your words. “Just a gala. I can do this one thing. You all fought in a war and you made me stay home. You could have died. I can host a stupid gala.” 

You furiously wiped at the wet tracks on your cheeks, brushing Azriel’s soft touch aside. But he only halted your movements, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. 

“Hey—hey. Don’t be so rough. Y/n, this is not a stupid gala. Look at me.” When you refused, Azriel released your wrist and tipped your chin up until you met his eye. He smiled despite the pain in your eyes. “There’s my girl.” 

And despite the pain, you huffed out a small laugh. 

Azriel would take it. He readied the spiel he’d been prepping since you began this venture. “This is not just a stupid gala and you didn't just stay home during the war.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your forehead, a pause he couldn’t help but take. “You protected everyone in the allied courts. You were our informant. You were winnowing so often you passed out, need I remind you.” 

“But I wasn’t—” 

“I don’t care if you weren’t fighting. What you did was just as valuable and you know that. Just as this gala is valuable to our peace. You are valuable.” 

Your face heated beneath his words, his body pressed to yours in the hallway as the gala continued on. 

“I need to be useful,” you admitted, after a pause. “This needed to be perfect.” 

“It is perfect, my love. My sweet mate. You need to take a rest. You’re breaking apart and I can’t stand to see you like this. Come here.” Azriel slotted your head in the bend between his shoulder and his neck, sliding his hands down your back until his wings came around as well. “Can I force you into bed? Just for an hour at most. I swear I’ll wake you up and we will come back down.” 

You made to move away from him in disbelief, still panicked at the idea of abandoning your work, but Azriel only held you tighter. 

“That wasn’t really a question.” 

And so Azriel took you to bed. 

[obeymelucigirlie]

A pact with Lucifer

Obey Me

Pairing: Lucifer x f!mc (reader)

Content warning: Explicit (NSFW/ Smut)

Summary: Lucifer agrees to make a pact with you in lesson 20... and takes you to his room to make you his.

You hear the faint sound of jazz from the cursed record wafting from the study.

Lucifer.

He’s the only one who hasn’t shown up at your impromptu farewell party. Your chest tightens with a pang of sudden sadness. Your last night in this crazy world. With these silly, loveable brothers who have changed your life for the better. If only you could stay…

You should rejoin the others. They’ll worry, come looking if you take too long. Mammon will freak out and call for a search party. But still, you feel an urge to check in on Lucifer.

You knock softly.

“Come on in.”

Lucifer is seated in his favorite chair, a glass of demonus in hand, eyes closed, enjoying the soft melody.

“It sounds like quite the party up in the attic. Since everyone else is busy up there, I get to enjoy my music in peace. Come, join me for a while.”

You take the other seat by the fireplace, enjoying his calming presence. Such a drastic change from the boisterous party roaring a few stories above.

He finally glances your way.

“Have you completed all that you set out to do here in the Devildom? No unfinished business? Loose ends?”

You consider him, then. This proud, detached man. The hardest to read of the seven brothers. He’s kept his walls up all year. How does he feel about you? Will he miss you at all?

You know you’ll miss him, perhaps most out of all of them…

You gather your courage and bring up the topic that’s been eating at you these past few days.

“Well, I still haven’t made a pact with you.”

Lucifer sits up in his chair, giving you a cold, calculating look.

“A pact, you say? I see. You’ve made pacts with all my brothers, which just leaves me…”

He stands up and stalks close to your chair, gazing down at you with his severe, crimson eyes.

“Do you really want to make a pact with me? Truly? I don’t know how my brothers felt about their decisions, but I am more than a name to be crossed from your list. I can’t have you lumping me together with everyone else. That won’t do.”

Lucifer transforms into his demonic form, looming over you menacingly. You gaze up at him, standing your ground. You’ve seen this side of him too often now to be frightened. Deep down, you know he won’t hurt you.

“You aren’t going to run? You’ve certainly got guts, don’t you? I’ve always found that aspect of you both irritating and endearing. Now, listen, and listen well. I will not be your possession. I won’t belong to you. You will belong to me. So, what will it be? Will you make a pact with me?”

Your breath catches at the sudden change in his tone, the possessiveness. You’ve never seen this side of him before.

He gazes down at you in his demonic form, his look both terrifying and heated.

You bite your lip, pondering. You’ve been dying to make a pact with him, make him yours, all year. Now this turn of events.

Lucifer wanting to make you his.

“Yes, I’ll make a pact with you.”

“… Good. Then it’s done. As of this moment, you are mine.”

You feel a sudden, intense connection with the demon. The turmoil of repressed emotions within him. His affection towards you, which he's tried to fight for so long. An intense desire. He wants you, needs you.

He must be sensing your emotions too, as his lips curl into a knowing smirk. He tilts his head, assessing.

“Does that takes care of all your loose ends?”

You return the smirk, slowly rising from the chair to stand face to face with the demon.

“There’s still one more.”

“Is there now?”

You place your hands on his warm chest and rise on your toes, tenderly kissing him. His lips are so soft, so inviting. He wraps his strong arms around you, returning the kiss with a wild passion.

“I’ve always known you wanted to do this. And I know what you’d like to do next as well.”

The demon smirks in-between his fiery kisses, a heated, hungry look in his crimson eyes.

“We’re heading straight to my room." He kisses you ravenously. 'You’re going to spend your last night in the Devildom with me…"

Lucifer trails wet kisses down your neck, sucking gently, whispering in his husky, gravely voice," all night long, until the break of dawn."

A shiver runs down your spine.

He kisses along your collarbone, "I’m not letting anyone else have you now… You’re mine.”

Your eyes go wide, you can't prevent a small moan from escaping as his words strike you to your core. You want - no, you need him to make you his.

He doesn't wait on a response. You agreed to the pact after all. And you know he can feel your desire. He relishes it. That you chose him out of his brothers, to spend your last night in the devildom in his arms.

Lucifer gathers you in his arms and strides across the hallway into his spacious room.

The moment the door closes he’s on you, all wild with want, pulling at your clothes, not caring as he tears at the clasps and buttons in his pressing need to feel your naked skin against his.

Lucifer captures your mouth in a heated kiss, grasping your hips, pulling you flush against his arousal, his hands exploring, caressing, squeezing. Needing to feel all of you. Now.

You moan as heat pools within your belly, his scent, caresses, his powerful body driving you mad with desire. You pull at his clothes, and he helps you, peeling his shirt off and unbuckling his pants as he pulls you towards the bed.

Once he’s naked in front of you, you pull back, taking him in. He’s beautiful. All chiseled, perfect, angelic beauty. And so very hard for you. You trail your fingertips along his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your touch, enjoying his reaction as you slowly move down, stroking his cock.

“Hmm… that’s it, yes… this feels so good.”

Lucifer coos, caressing your face, biting his lips at the intense pleasure.

You smirk and kneel before the demon, daintily placing your lips around his cock. He’s so big, so thick, but you want to please him, so you open wider, working through your gag reflex. His eyes go wide as you take him in, slowly, letting him feel your lips sliding around him, every swirl of your tongue. He moans and threads his hands into your hair, pulling, tugging lightly, begging you to take more of him, coaxing, all desperate need now.

“Oh, yes, just like that… hmm you take it so good my little lamb.”

He hums and coos, caressing your cheek, your hair whenever you choke slightly as he hits the back of your throat. You pick up the pace, relishing in his moans and encouragements.

It turns you on, seeing him like this, the avatar of pride, undone, at your mercy. Only for you. Only in the confines of your shared intimacy.

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

And he comes undone, grabbing the back of your head roughly as he fully sheathes his thick cock in your mouth, calling out your name, spurting deep down your throat. You do your best to swallow every last drop of his salty seed, licking your lips as you gaze up at him under your lashes.

Lucifer looks down upon your puffy, tear-stained face. He smiles tenderly, trailing a finger along your swollen lips.

“Hmm… now that was delightful.”

“Glad I could please you.”

You smirk, wiping at your eyes as Lucifer pulls you onto the bed and covers you with his weight, his intense heat. You desperately grab onto his neck, his hair, tugging, pulling, needing his soft lips on yours. He growls as he kisses you deeply, moaning as he tastes himself on your tongue.

He caresses you, running his hands and mouth, his hot tongue along your body, taking his time to pleasure you, delighting in the sighs and moans he elicits as he maps out your body, committing it to memory. Finding all the spots that drive you crazy. Make you cry out to him. He drives you insane as he kisses and sucks, leaving marks all over you, making sure you – and everyone else – knows you are his.

“Lucifer, please…”

“Please what?” He asks huskily, grinding against your heat in a delicious torture.

“I need you.”

You moan, grabbing at his silky raven hair, to gaze into his eyes, burning with desire.

“You’re so impatient. I did tell you we had until the break of dawn.”

He smirks, pressing his throbbing cock against you, rubbing himself against your clit, teasing, pressing the tip inside your slick folds in a tortuous caress.

“Lucifer… stop teasing…”

You growl as he captures your lips in a ravenous kiss.

“I will do as I please with you, my impatient little lamb… Remember...”

There’s a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes as he enters you, sharply.

“… you’re mine.”

You gasp at the sudden sensation of fullness, as your body struggles to adjust to him. He starts a wild rhythm, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you over and over, his cock stretching you almost painfully. But it feels so, so good. You pant and moan as your body overheats, every cell in your body responding to his every touch, his ravenous kisses. His forceful thrusts deep into your core.

You urge him on, biting down onto his shoulder and earning a satisfying groan. He kisses you demandingly. The rougher he gets, the more intense your desire. He moves sharply and quickly. Every movement perfectly designed to drive you wild with pleasure. You moan loudly into his lips.

“Lucifer…”

You are completely and wholly lost to the demon as he possesses your body with a wild abandon. Tethering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You feel yourself coming undone, Lucifer’s powerful thrusts pushing you into the mattress, dominating you so completely. Your bodies, slick with sweat, connecting so perfectly.

Lucifer feels your desperation.

He smirks as he whispers in your ear: “That’s it, come undone for me.”

“Lucifer…”

You moan loudly as you careen into a delicious state of bliss, your body shaking uncontrollably. You grab onto his strong body, trying desperately to stay grounded in reality. You can feel him finally letting go, thrusting deep into your core with a strangled groan of his own.

“Hmm…. That was…”

The demon gives you a cocky grin, “I know.”

Lucifer pulls you into his arms, kissing you lightly.

"You did good my little lamb." He coos, gently removing sticky, sweaty strands of hair from your forehead.

You smile a tired, satisfied grin as you try to catch your breath.

His hands trail down your back in light caresses as he lets you recover from the mind-blowing orgasm. You sigh with pleasure as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

His hands slowly wander further south, and you moan as he caresses your overly sensitive, overstimulated clit. You gasp as he slips one finger, then two, into your slick folds.

“Lucifer!”

“What part of until dawn haven’t you understood yet?”

He smiles devilishly as he replaces his fingers with his already throbbing cock.

Comments & reblogs appreciated 💛

[kingkatsuki]

>>> Reply sent at 1:28AM: who knew Dynamight was such a slut?

Read the other replies here.

Here is my part to the Thirst Trap collab for Bakugou’s birthday! Please check out all the other fics at the link above💕

Happy Birthday to the King👑

Warnings: 18+, intoxicated Bakugou, dirty talk, sending dirty videos, sexting, m!masturbation, voyuerism, exhibitionism, creampies.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Shindou Yo x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.6k.

Bakugou’s thumb paused against the screen when he saw that particular message in a sea of hopeful replies, a lump tight at the back of his throat as he swallowed thickly in a feeble attempt to clear it.

He’d recognise that profile photo anywhere. Grand’s girlfriend.

Bakugou had spent more than one night fisting his cock to the thought of you, although he’d never admit it. Remembering just how pretty you looked at the hero gala last month in a dress that left very little to the imagination, leaving him bricked up for his acceptance speech as he thought about bending you over in the men’s bathroom stalls.

And part of him thought he might even have a chance with you, if he could get you away from Grand just long enough. Remembering the syrupy scent of your perfume invading his senses when you stood up on tip-toes to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders to give him a hug after he’d received his award; leaving a sticky lipgloss stain against the shell of his ear when you whispered against it how proud you were of him. And he was certain he wouldn’t make it out of the building alive. His boxers now glazed with dry pre and his cock throbbing desperately for any kind of sweet relief.

And now you were messaging him?

Bakugou was quick to click onto your profile, navigating directly towards the direct message option to see he’d already received a slew of them, but they didn’t appear to be from you.

YOU[1:57AM]: Aww you didn’t think that message was actually from her, did you?

Shit, Bakugou grunted as his cock still throbbed pitifully between his thighs, of course Shindou was the one texting from your phone and not you. Certain he could hear Shindou’s condescending tone through text.

YOU[1:58AM]: Oh, you did? You sick fuck hahahahaha.

YOU[1:58AM]: She’d never message you without telling me anyway.

Bakugou growled in irritation as he read through each message. Of course, Shindou texts were just as annoying as the man was in real life.

YOU[1:59AM]: But you should’ve seen how excited she got when you sent that tweet.

YOU[2:00AM]: It made her stupid little crush on you even worse.

Wait, what? Bakugou’s heart pounded at the realisation as he saw the next message. A link to a video that had a pitch black screen to start, his heart hammered against his chest as he clicked onto it.

And there you were spread out in all your naked glory. The sordid fantasies Bakugou had while stroking his cock at night would never compare to the sight of you like this— spread out against tousled sheets as you stared up at the camera through thick lashes.

The perfect point of view, Bakugou thought as he imagined himself above you.

“I guess I should be thanking you for this, Dynamight.” Shindou sneered, reaching out to mould one of your round breasts between slender fingers. Pinching at your taut nipple as a groan rumbled deep in Bakugou’s chest, “Getting my girl all riled up in the middle of the night.”

Bakugou wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep, because this had to be a dream. Reaching down to palm his cock through his damp boxers as crimson eyes roamed your naked skin, trying to commit the sight to memory.

“Lucky I was right here to fix it,” He continued, “That what got you excited huh, sweetheart?”

Shindou’s voice rung out from behind the camera as he fucked into your body with slow, deliberate thrusts. Each precise motion had your tits bouncing, a calculated move from his rival, he thought. Watching the way your lips parted in sultry moans every time he drew back, trying to coax him deeper as your cunt gushed around him.

“Thinking about Dynamight’s hard cock.” And Bakugou’s cock was hard, throbbing with neglect as he wrapped a large fist around himself to curl his wrist. Smearing pre, that was now drooling down his engorged head along the length of him as crimson eyes watched the video.

“He shoulda just text you if he wanted a birthday treat, huh?” Shindou continued, panning the camera down to where your bodies were connected so Bakugou could see the creamy rings of slick around the base of his cock each time he drew his hips back, “You’d have been more than happy to get on your knees for him.”

Bakugou whined pitifully at the thought of you like that, looking up at him all pretty and shit as you wrapped your glossy lips around his cock. His hand tightened around himself as he he pumped himself with calculated measure. Following Shindou’s movements as he fucked into your warm, wet cunt as he tried to replicate the sensation. Positive that nothing would ever feel as good as the real thing—

“Say his name, sweetheart,” Shindou continued, bringing the camera up towards your face, “Come on, it’s his fuckin’ birthday.”

“Katsuki,” The lewd squelch of your cunt aired in the background as Bakugou focused in on the desperate lilt to your voice when you repeated it, “Katsuki.”

Bakugou grunted as he leaned forward, pursing his lips together to spit onto his cock. Smearing the moisture along his length as he imagined it was you sinking down onto his length instead.

“God, you’re such a nasty slut,” Shindou continued, as though he hadn’t been the biggest instigator, “Moaning another guys name while I’m balls deep. Bet you’re thinking about him fuckin’ this sweet, sweet cunt too?”

“Oh my god, fuck—” You mewled, hands reaching up to paw at your tits as Bakugou watched the way your hands dipped into the soft skin.

“Is that it?” Shindou pressed, “You want Dynamight to fuck this sloppy pussy?”

“Yes!” You cried out, cunt clenching around him.

“Oh, shit.” Shindou rasped, the camera angle faltering as he jolted with pleasure. Almost dropping his phone as he readjusted himself above you, the camera now angled lower to show Shindou’s thick cock disappearing inside your tight cunt. A sheen of your slick glistened around the base of him as he kept his languid pace.

“We should invite him round, then?” Shindou continued, “It is his birthday, after all.”

You gasped at the implication, your body reacting to your boyfriend’s words as he smirked down at you. Giving the side of your thigh a playful swat as you moaned in response.

“Yeah? You like the sound of that?” Shindou cooed, “She clenched around me so fucking hard when I said that.”

Bakugou groaned, squeezing his fist around himself in a pitiful attempt to mimic the action. Trying to replicate the grip of your cunt around him as he pictured the pretty faces you’d make for him.

“‘m close,” You panted, biting down on your bottom lip as Bakugou felt his balls tightening at the sight, dangerously close to his own end.

“Yeah? You gonna cum?” Shindou coaxed, his thumb disappearing between your thighs to press taut circles to your puffy clit, “Show Dynamight how pretty you look when you’re cumming all over my cock, sweetheart.”

And fuck, did you look pretty. Bakugou thinks. Your eyes rolling to show their whites as your lashes flutter, lips curled into the prettiest moan he’s ever heard as you begin to convulse. Nails leaving dark lines against your tits as you mould the supple skin, thighs raising in the air to try and clamp down around Shindou’s hips.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarled between clenched teeth as he sped up his movements, rough and sloppy as he desperately tried to meet your climax. Wanting to tumble into bliss by your side as the camera moved back towards your slick heat, his hips jerking sloppily as he felt himself come undone. Sending streams of milky cum against his hand, thighs and the new sheets he’d put on for his special day. A whole ass mess.

“Bet you would’ve preferred cumming inside this perfect little pussy,” Shindou spoke, as if he knew Bakugou would be touching himself while watching.

Slowly pulling his spent cock out of your trembling hole before moving the phone between your thick thighs so Bakugou could see the gape. A stretch Bakugou wished he’d inflicted on you as he brought his phone closer to his face to try and see the way your walls still fluttered in the aftershocks of your release, his spent cock throbbing when he noticed you begin to push Shindou’s warm spunk out of your abused hole. Watching it drool down between the curve of your ass before Shindou’s thumb came up to collect it; pushing it back inside you as you let out another sinful moan of delight.

“You think Dynamight would fuck you this good, sweetheart?” Shindou coaxed as the pads of his fingers circled your stretched hole.

“Mmm, I think he would,” You mumbled, gasping when Shindou’s palm came down hard on your slit, catching you by surprise.

“Course you’d think that,” Your boyfriend laughed, shaking his head as he leaned down to press a kiss to your pouty lips.

“Maybe you should come and get your birthday head,” Shindou turned the camera around to show his smirking face as he sat shirtless above you, “So you can show her how tiny your cock really is.”

Bakugou shared up at the ceiling with blown out eyes, wondering if he’d sobered up enough to move as his chest still heaved with the intensity of his climax. Taking a deep breath before he moved to stand, grabbing his keys off the bedside table as he shoved his softening cock back into his jeans.

Fuck it, he’ll get an Uber.