#wills “possession” event :3

[willswizardlyasks]

Bro, is it just me or you're... kinda different today? Damn, I really need that sleep.

— Aster ( @acanthus-aster-sdv 💜 )

Oh, you're seeing correctly, dear Aster.

[f1fantasys]

I would like to request a Lando Balmain with 4.

They break up and meet again after some time at an event. They need to be polite with each other, but they cannot do it, and they start to say bad comments to each other until someone escorts them out. Outside they continue discussing, shouting, tears, and getting wet because it´s raining and while they are looking into each other eyes, one of them admitted that they are still in love with the other person.

Absolutely love this request!

Always

Balmain - he breaks up with you, then you meet again after some time, very angsty, some smut #4 - possessiveness

Warnings - filthy smut, minors DNI.

4.7K

As hurt as you were having your heart shatter into a million pieces when he broke up with you, you knew where he was coming from. It made sense.

How he did it? Did not make sense.

Your relationship was flourishing day by day. 3 years of intense love between the two of you.

Until Lando decided he needed to concentrate on his racing, no distractions. He was so close to winning the championship, and he needed to give it his all next year. Both your jobs were too demanding, and you couldn't follow him to every race. Put this all together and things started to shift - just an every growing distance between the two of you.

Missed texts, missed calls, missed dates, silly arguments over stupid things.

It was a few days before the end of the season. Lando sat you down and when you saw the look in his eyes, you knew what was coming. Before he even started talking, you begged him not to do. You loved him with every cell of your body, and to lose him would crumble you.

But he did it. You cried in his arms, praying he would take back his words and tell you he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

But he didn't. It was what he did then though, that hitched your breath.

''Come to Abu Dhabi, please. Just be there for me one last time'' ''Don't tell anyone about the breakup'' ''We can pretend to be good with each other for the weekend''

So, he breaks up with you, then asks if you're willing to fake date for a weekend? What an ass.

But I guess you were the bigger ass. Because you agreed.

On camera, Abu Dhabi was the perfect weekend for you both. Lando had won the championship. He hugged you multiple times. He kissed you like his life depended on it. To everyone else, you were THE couple that everyone wished to be.

Only with every hug, every kiss, every touch, your heart broke a little more, knowing that this was the end.

Fast forward six months and here you were.

Still trying to come to terms with not having Lando in your life anymore. After Abu Dhabi, the very next day in fact, you learned that Lando had blocked you on all socials - your number as well.

You spent hours and hours at Carmen's house, sobbing in her arms. Asking her where it all went so wrong. And although there was never really a nasty argument between you and Lando over the breakup, how it ended has left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You've spent the last six months trying to train your mind. You tried to hate him. Maybe that would make it easier. But how do you hate the man who gave you the best three years of your life? The man who told you he loved you multiple times a day? You just couldn't.

You still lived in Monaco, though you made sure to stay home or be out of the country whenever you knew Lando would be home between races. One thing he'd forgotten to do what take you off of his calendar, so you knew of his whereabouts.

Things were about to get awkward though, because you were to attend an event where Lando, and a lot of other drivers and wags (whom had been your shoulders to cry on) would be as well.

Normally you would have of course backed out of going, but it was for a charity that was close to your heart. And just because you'd be in the same room, it didn't mean you'd have to face each other. Right? Fuck, you hoped not.

It was a black tie event, so you went out of your way to buy a beautiful silk black gown that showed off your body beautifully. You'd even forgone underwear to let the dress sit just right.

You thought you'd be a nervous wreck all day but up until now, you were actually proud of yourself for holding your ground and being positive.

The universe had other plans for you though, because the first step you took into the beautiful hall had you bumping into someone.

Before you could even look up to apologize, your body froze in its place.

His voice, filled your ears.

''Fuck, sorry''

Just as you looked up, he was turning his body around to see who he'd bumped into.

Your eyes locked, and the whole world faded away for a split second. It was just you, and your Lando. Or so you thought. He wasn't yours, not anymore.

You allowed yourself to take in him for that second. He still looked so handsome, his piercing green eyes, dimples peaking through his cheeks, his slight stubble, his locks that you swore had a better hair care routine that you. He was just perfect in every sense.

You didn't miss how his eyes shamelessly roamed your body, before he cleared his throat, as if snapping himself out of it.

Lando opened his mouth but nothing came out. Your heart was beating out of your chest, memories flooding your mind. You wanted the ground to swallow you up right now, praying you don't break down in front of him.

Finally, he spoke up. ''Fancy seeing you here'' his tone not one you were used to being on the receiving end of.

''What's that supposed to mean'' you asked softly, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

He chuckled and you instinctively took a step back because this was not the same Lando.

''Just saying, i know you still check my calendar, and you've avoided every single place and event you've known I'll be at for 6 months now'' Always jetting out the country the second i land'' he said, tone harsh.

What the hell? you thought to yourself.

You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, and thank the lord you saw Carmen spot you and make her way to you quickly. Before you could respond, she gave Lando a dirty look and pulled you away to your seats for the evening.

You didn't think that seeing Lando again would bring such intense feelings back. You tried to calm your breathing and beating heart as Carmen tried to distract you as best she good.

Eventually you settled down a bit and tried to allow yourself to somewhat enjoy the evening, although he was always lingering at the back of your mind. You honestly never would have imagined your relationship with one another to turn sour to the point where Lando would make sarcastic remarks to you, throw daggers at you.

After dinner, as Carmen went to the bathroom, you found yourself at the bar, chatting to random people and enjoying a few drinks when Carlos approached you.

You seen him a handful of times over the months, he was always a close friend and someone you could call at any hour of the night if you needed something. He'd known how broken you were over Lando, so he just came to check in on you and see if you were okay.

''I'm good Carlos, walking on sunshine'' you joked which earned you a jab on your side.

Your eyes caught Lando behind Carlos, he was chatting to a girl, touching her elbows everytime she leaned in to laugh at what he was saying.

You sort of dazed off into watching them interact, until you realized Carlos was still talking and when your brain caught up with what he was asking, you saw Lando's back stiffen up.

''Huh?'' you asked Carlos to repeat his question.

''Not to open up any old wounds, but you and Lando were so happy in Abu Dhabi. What went so wrong after that?'' he asked as your breath hitched in your throat.

Did he really not know? you thought.

''Uh..'' you started, taking a breath. ''You really don't know?''

Carlos gave you a blank face.

''So you're saying that as one of Lando's best friends, you don't know what went down?'' you asked again.

He shook his head and you chuckled, nothing caring if Lando could hear you.

''It was an act, Carlos. All of it. The whole weekend. He broke up with me the week before and asked me to still come to the race, pretend we were still together'' you said, almost whispering the last part, already feeling tears gathering.

Lando turned around at your words and stood next to Carlos, who's face was in shock.

''You could have said no to the race'' Lando snapped.

Both you and Carlos looked at him, his words not making sense.

''Yeah, i could have been an ass and walked out when your broke up with me. But we were together Lando, you ended our 3 years relationship and sincerely asked me, and I quote, 'to be there for YOU at the last race.' I wouldn't shut you down so easily'' you said, voice soft, not believing you were actually having this conversation here of all places.

''You're making like i begged you to be there. Forced you to be there'' he spat back.

''Lando, what are you even saying? You didn't force me to do anything. i wanted to be there for. To see you win the championship'' you said.

''Oh?'' he questioned. ''You wanted to be there for me?''

''Mate,'' Carlos started but was quickly cut off by Lando speaking again.

''If you wanted to be there then where the fuck have you been all these months y/n?'' he said, voice grown louder with each word, angrier with each word.

By now your lips were quivering. He wasn't making sense. And you didn't like this other side of him.

''Lando, calm down'' Carlos interjected.

''No, answer me, y/n'' Lando shouted, turning a few heads in your direction.

Just then the security came, asked you both to step outside or stop the scene.

All the air was knocked out of your lungs as Lando roughly grabbed your wrist and pulled you behind him, walking briskly to the door.

''Lando let go of me'' you tried as you both stepped into the cool Monaco air.

He obliged and turned to face you, eyes boring into yours with a type of anger he'd never shown you.

''What are you doing?'' you asked, the tears breaking free and streaming down your face as you tried to control your sobs.

''Why did everything change? Before...'' he asked.

''What do you mean why did everything change? You fucking changed everything. You wanted me out, so you shut me out day by day, and here you are, asking me why all that happened''

The few drinks you had were giving you confidence to continue.

''And about inside,'' you pointed to the door. ''Why have I been avoiding you? Because you fucking got rid of me, blocked me, everywhere, barely 24 hours after kissing me in front of every camera when you won'' you choked out, voice breaking further with each word spoken.

You were telling your truth, and to see his piercing gaze on you not softening even a little, you weren't sure this was the same person you knew.

A few seconds of silence passed, and with that a few trinkets of rain started to come down, though neither of you made an attempt to move.

After what felt like an eternity, Lando sighed, his eyes softening to the ones you were familiar with, the ones you love(d).

''Why would you care? Even if i blocked you, why would you care seeing me again all these months, after everything i did?'' he asked.

This time you let out a chuckle and a nod. ''Ýeah, why would i care, right?''

Then the tears returned.

''I care because you were my everything, Lando. Everything. I love you like my life depends on it. And then you let me go. And I had to learn to live without you. So yes, i did care, I prayed i wouldn't see you anywhere because I knew one look and all those building blocks would crumble down'' you said, holding onto to the railing to calm your shaking body.

''You..love me?'' he asked.

''Love? Loved? I don't know. Can you stop fiercely loving someone with just a switch from them?'' you asked back, not sure you wanted to know the answer.

''No'' he whispered, causing you to look at him again, seeing his eyes fill with unshed tears.

''What?'' you questioned in disbelief.

''I don't think im capable of not loving you'' he whispered, knocking the air out of your lungs.

''Lando'' you whispered back, in a warning for him or yourself, you weren't sure.

''Fuck'' he muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning around for a second, composing himself before he turned back to you.

You stood there, waiting, not knowing what was coming.

Lando's eyes found yours as he took a step forward and took your hands in his, the both of you trembling, though not surprised at the jolt of electricity through your bodies.

''I've been the biggest dick, but fuck Y/N, I love you. I still love you so much'' he said.

You stayed silent, stunned at his confession, not knowing whether to follow your head or your heart.

The rain starting coming down harder, and this time Lando cupped your cheeks. ''Please, baby,'' he said, leaning down to let his lips ghost over your cheek.

His scent filled your nose and you felt drunk on him already, his breath cooling your cheek had your knees weak.

Finally, you bought your hands up to his face and before you could second guess yourself, you kissed him.

Lando was quick to respond, quickly taking control of the kiss as he wasted no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth and biting down on your bottom lip, making you whimper as his hands roamed your body.

It was messy and desperate, the both of you starved of each other for too long.

You pulled back after a while, needing air as Lando looked at you with the biggest smile, though his eyes told a different story. They were dark, full of lust.

''Come home?'' he asked, innocently, breathlessly, almost shouting over the rain

''Please, Lan'' you said, wanting nothing more than going home with him.

He ran inside to get you coats as you ordered an uber back to his place, your stomach fluttering with anticipation and butterflies, your skin shivering with goosebumps from the cold rain, while you ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to slow down.

Lando came practically running back to you, wrapping your coat around your shoulders as he rubbed your arms up and down to try and warm you up.

He leaned down, eyes level with yours. ''Gonna warm you up yeah?'' he said, teasingly.

You felt your cheeks heat up at his intense gaze, all you did was bite your lip in response to him.

Finally, the uber came, Lando crawling in behind you as his arms snaked around you pulling you impossibly closer, practically on his lap.

His lips found your neck as he left wet kisses, biting down and suckling on your sweet spot causing you to let put a few quite whimpers, clenching your thighs together at the feeling of him growing hard beneath you.

Eventually, Lando's lips made their way up to yours. This time, he granted you access as your slid your tongue into his hot mouth and devoured him, not getting enough of his taste.

Speaking of taste, you couldn't actually wait to taste more of him, you thought your yourself.

Once you'd got back to Lando's, he made sure to leave a generous tip for the uber driver as you both shimmied out the car, and before you knew what was happening, Lando had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulders, getting distracted himself as his hands landed on your ass and gave it a few squeezes.

''Lan!'' you shrieked, spelling him out of it.

He smirked to himself and literally ran to the elevators and through his penthouse doors, roughly pressing you against them, returning his lips to yours for another heated make out session.

''Hmm, too many clothes'' he mumbled between kisses as your hands instinctively started undoing his shirt buttons, running your hands along his tones abs and torso.

By now he'd started pulling your dress up to your things, breaking the kiss to whimper when he realized you weren't wearing any panties.

''Gonna kill me y/n'' he said, trying not to sound desperate but failing miserably.

He let the straps of your dress fall off your shoulder, letting you stand bare in front of him, as he started kissing a trail down your chest as he exposed your breasts inch by inch.

Just as Lando licked his lips and was about to take a nipple into his mouth, he paused, looking up at you.

You breath hitched as his piercing green eyes had softened, a sincere look in them.

''We have so much to talk about, and i won't ever stop apologizing to you. I love you so much y/n, never letting you go'' he said with a low voice, almost like he was afraid you'd pull away.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb run across his cheeks, his lips.

''You're right, we do have a lot to talk about, and Lando i love you too, so much''

''We will, I promise'' he said, before you pushed him down on you again, to which he happily obliged.

You watched and let out a guttural moan as your nipple disappeared into Lando's mouth - being pulled on and sucked on harshly as he rolled your other between his fingers.

Your hands gripped onto his hair as he used his tongue to sooth the pain of the attack he just put on them, before repeating the sequence.

''Lando, please'' you begged, needing to feel more of him.

He pulled back, wiping his chin of his spit as he smirked at you. ''Please what?''

You stayed silent apart from a few pants escaping your mouth.

''What do you want, y/n?'' he asked, voice stern and turning you on even more.

You decided to tell him exactly what you want, catching him off guard.

''Your mouth on my cunt'' he said, smirking down at him.

Lando's hold on your thighs tightened as you heard him mutter a ''fucking hell'' while biting down on his lower lip.

You latched your hands back on to his hair and he spread your legs open wider, wasting no time in running his fingers through your slick folds.

''You're dripping baby, so wet'' he cooed, looking up at you.

''For me, yeah?'' he asked.

''All for you, Lan, please'' you pleaded again, trying to close your legs to rub them together though his strong hands held you in place.

Finally, he leaned forward. Running his tongue through your cunt as he spread your juices all over, making a right mess of your thighs and his face.

''Fuck, Lando, yes. Oh god'' you panted as he quickly founds your clit, sucking and pulling at it roughly wile at the same time sliding two fingers through your hole and starting a stead rhythm of thrusting them in and out.

Your eyes were shut, mouth letting out moans that were pornographic. You were so back.

Lando's tongue felt like heaven on your most sensitive parts, and it wasn't long until you felt the familiar warmth start to build up in your tummy.

''Lan, I'm close'' you managed to say between breaths, as he increased the pace of his fingers and bit down on your clit, and all it took was one look up from him to send you over the edge.

Your body shaking above him as you came all over his face, whimpers flying out of your mouth at the sensitivity.

''Fuck'' you heard him mutter to himself as he licked up all your cum before standing up, dribbling some of it into your mouth before kissing you.

Just that action alone already had heat pooling at your core again.

''Need you'' you whispered, tired, but eager for more.

''Gonna fucking ruin you baby'' he cooed, picking you up once again and carrying you to the bedroom.

As Lando placed you on the bed, you quickly got into your knees, already working on unzipping his trousers and pulling them down his legs.

He gathered your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you finally rid him of his boxers, and this time it was your turn to lick your lips.

You sat there, gawking at his dick. Thick, hard, throbbing, pre cum already running down the sides from his slit.

Lando cleared his throat, smirking down at you. ''Like what you see?'' he asked, pumping himself a few times and spreading the pre cum all over.

You perched your shoulder, over-confidence oozing out you.

''Always'' you replied, before replacing his hands with yours.

You ran you hands up and down his girth a few times, brushing your thumb over his slit causing Lando to buck forward and let out a grunt.

''Hmm. Eager'' you silently mumbled, knowing he could hear you.

But before he could react, you leaned forward and licked his tip a few times, before sucking on it, hard and deep.

'Fuck me, have I missed your dirty little mouth'' he cooed, breathless already, each pull on your hair getting tighter as you finally took more and more of him in your mouth.

You already had tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you deep throated Lando, spit already making a mess of you as he praised your name, over and over again, letting out obscene moans.

Your hands fondled with his balls, pumping whatever you couldn't fit in your mouth, and with each thrust in and out of your mouth, you could feel his throbs getting painfully uncontrollable, as were the moans leaving his mouth.

''Shit, I'm gonna cum y/n, where?'' he asked, though he should have known better.

You didn't slow your movements one bit, instead you increased your pace. and within seconds you could feel Lando emptying his load down the back of your throat, warm and salty, and so thick, as his legs shook, trying to control his breathing.

You took a breath when you pulled back, licking your lips as you looked up at Lando.

A thin sheet of sweat already coating his body, and you couldn't resist licking a path up his torso, all the way to his neck and eventually to his lips.

''Gonna let me fuck you, baby?'' he asked, knowing y=what you answer would be.

Your brain of course short-circuited at his words. ''Uh huh'' was all you managed to say before he wash pushing you to lie down, his body hovering above yours.

You looked down to see Lando slide his hand up and down his shaft, spreading his cum and your spit to lube him up.

He slid his dick through your embarrassingly wet folds, while whispering filthy words into your ear -

''Missed this pretty pussy of yours'' ''Gonna fuck you so hard you're gonna see stars'' ''Gonna claim you as mine, again'' ''Gonna make you my whore, again, yeah?''

''Fuck Lando please'' you begged as he smirked at you.

Finally, he let his tip find your hole, and you pushed inside with one hard thrust, the both of you moaning at the feeling of being connected like this after so long.

Lando was bigger than average, and you always needed time to adjust to his size, so he stayed still for a few moments, allowing your body to accept the intrusion.

He looked into your eyes, sincere and full of love, silently asking if you were ok.

You nodded your head, though you were overcome with a mixture of feelings - relief, love, desperation?

As he pulled out again, he leaned lower down, his face hovering just above yours. You could feel his breath fan your face as he pulled out completely before slamming back into you, finally connecting your lips again as he started a quick pace of fucking in and out of you.

Your nails dug deep into his biceps as you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist.

The noises leaving your mouth were lewd, equally as filthy as Lando's grunts.

''Fuck, y/n, how are you so tight right now baby?'' he cooed, moaning at how your walls were clenching around him, painfully so.

You were too fucked out to talk, so you let out a whimper and he chuckled to himself.

''Been a while'' you managed to mumble out, quickly letting another squeal escape your body.

''How long?'' he asked, his movements slowing.

You gave him a look. A look that told him just how long it been.

Then, his movements stopped completely. ''No'' he whispered.

''Yes'' you pressed, trying to move your own body though he held you down.

''What?'' you questioned, cheeks flushed.

''I was the last man to fuck you?''

''I mean, I've done stuff on my own'' you pressed.

''Fuck me'' he murmured before picking up his pace again, leaning back to place your legs on his shoulders.

The new position had Lando hitting even harder into your cunt, brushing against your G-spot over and over again.

And before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were gushing your juices all over his cock, your orgasm having your body shake underneath him while you let out yet more sounds of bliss from your mouth.

You could hear Lando talking to himself as you came. Something about how hot you were.

He pulled out of you and you watched as he let his spit drip down from his mouth down to your pussy, before he manhandled your body to flip over. Now you were on all fours, and with no warning he slammed himself back into you, clearly chasing his own orgasm now as you held onto the headboard for dear life.

''Fuck Lan, baby'' you cooed, already feeling sensitive but not getting enough of him at the same time.

''Harder, please, fuck me harder baby'' you begged, breath hitching when he snaked his hand around your body and settled on your throat, giving it a few light squeezes, while his other hand found your clit and pulled at your clit.

In no time your body was shuddering again. You came hard, and Lando looked down to see your cum leaking out of your body and coating his dick with each thrust.

''Fuck, gonna end me'' you heard him say behind you as you could barely keep your body up.

He pulled out of you again and flipped your body over, pulling you to the edge of the bed before pounded his cock into you again, holding your ankles together and squeezing them tight.

''Missed fucking you so bad baby, gonna let me cum in you?'' he asked. You could feel his movements get clumsier and sloppier with each thrust, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him release inside of you.

''Please Lando, cum in me, fuck'' you said between grunts, already feeling another orgasm about to flutter through your body.

Lando leaned down, taking your nipple into his mouth which sent your straight over the edge, moaning so loudly that the neighbors could probably hear you but you didn't care one bit.

And as soon as Lando felt you coat him again, it was enough to send him spiraling too. Emptying his thick milky load deep inside you cunt, all out shouting your name out between his own grunts.

As Lando slowed his movements, he slumped down onto your body as you instinctively wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as possible.

Your bodies were a mess of sweat, cum, juices, spit, hot and sticky and both your breaths fanned each other,

Staying silent you played with the curls on Lando's head, drawing lazy patterns on his back as he peppered your neck with soft kisses.

You could feel him softening inside you, but neither of you made a motion to move.

Lando eventually lifted his head, letting his beautiful eyes roam your face and his fingers placed feather light touches on your cheeks.

''I love you so much Y/N, and I'll make sure you know that every single day'' he said, kissing you softly.

''I love you too Lan. Always''

[parkitrighthere]

MASTERLIST

• TITLE: ASHES OF A PROMISE

• PAIRING: Lycan king!Jungkook x Werewolf!Reader

• GENRE: Paranormal Romance, Dark Fantasy, Smut, Slow burn, Fluff (?), Tragic Romance, werewolf au, Royal au

• RATING: 18+

• WORD COUNT: Ongoing

• TRIGGER WARNING: This story contains explicit and graphic sexual content, with themes of intense physical desire, possessive (dom-sub) dynamics, and primal, instinct-driven encounters. It also explores deep emotional conflict, grief, loss, and difficult decisions surrounding love and sacrifice. This story includes mature content not suitable for all audiences. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

• SUMMARY: You were a hopeless romantic, dreaming of a mate who would love you as fiercely as you loved him. But when you finally meet your mate, you discover he’s no ordinary wolf — he’s the Lycan king, the alpha of all alphas. Worse, he neither wants you nor is willing to reject you, leaving you trapped in a loveless bond in his kingdom. As queen to a king who resents you, the mate bond grows stronger, making you more vulnerable with each passing day. Now, you must break through the walls around his heart and make him love you, because staying in this bond without love is unbearable, yet leaving isn’t an option he’ll allow.

• a/n: This story is entirely a work of fiction and is the sole property of @kookiewithluv . The characters, events, and scenarios depicted are products of the imagination and are not intended to represent or reflect real-life situations, nor do I wish for anything portrayed here to occur in reality. I kindly ask that my work not be copied, translated, or reposted as your own on this or any other platform, including YouTube. Please respect the effort and originality behind this piece. Thank you for your understanding and support.

✿ PROLOGUE: bound by fate forsaken by love

Your alpha is pushing you to accept his mating proposal and drags you to the royal gathering hosted by the Lycan king. But once you’re there, you discover that the Lycan king is actually your true mate.

✿ CHAPTER 1: the mate's lament

Even though the Lycan king, Jungkook, saved you from your alpha, he made it clear he didn’t want you around. Still, you had to stick close to him and follow all the rules he was throwing at you.

✿ CHAPTER 2: bitter bonds

You’re already struggling with Jungkook not wanting you as his mate, and now Elizabeth shows up, all claiming she’s loved him forever and trying to win him over. Do you fight for him or walk away from something that might never happen?

✿ CHAPTER 3: (COMING SOON)

OTHERS

moodboard

a/n: Let me know what you think in any way you like—comments, messages, carrier pigeons, whatever! I'd love to hear! If you want to be tagged for future chapters, just send me an ask also character asks and drabble requests are open, so hit me up with your wildest ideas.

[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.

[ohbo-ohno]

i think all the 141 guys are insanely possessive (just in different ways)

Any chance you’d be willing to expand on this? Specifically with Ghost and Soap? 👀

🍋 Anon

I Will Try My Best 🫶 just a short lil thing for now but:

gaz is the most "normal" of them. he's perfectly content to just keep an arm around your shoulder/your waist or hold hands in public, since he knows that everyone already knows you're his <3 but i think he'd really get off on his own possessiveness in bed. he'll moan endlessly about you being his while fucking you, practically gets himself off just by mumbling mine, all mine, my pretty baby, my love in your ear

price is casual with his possessiveness. you know you belong to him, he knows you belong to him, and everyone you come across knows you belong to him thanks to the just-verging-on-inappropriate way he touches you in public. his hand a little too low on your back, his palm cupping your breast, kisses with tongue that last a little too long. you belong to him and he wants people to know, but he also treats his own possessiveness completely normally (even if everyone's staring). does that make any sense?

ghost is like a silent shadow. always nearby, always touching you, always silent. everyone knows you belong to him because you two are attached at the hip. out to dinner? you're on his lap. at an event? you're standing in front of him and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight to him. he glares at anyone who he deems too close, and is overall perfectly content to just be a silent sentry by your side

soap is gross. my PDA king, i love him, but the two of you are making everyone around you uncomfortable at all times. you give him even the chance to make out with you (aka you face him head-on) and he's got his tongue down your throat. you sit on his lap with your back to his front just so he can't kiss you. you're his and he wants everyone around the two of you to know it at every moment, there should never be any doubt in someone's mind.

[loudclan-clangen]

The song “Beautiful Little Fool” for Fiercestripe? Because I am not getting over her death. Listened to it and she was the first character to pop into my head.

You’re so right!

YES! Please do, I would love to see it!

The boring answer is that I've been drawing cats for a VERY long time. I think since I was 8 they have been the majority of what I drew. The less boring answer is you know the movie Spirit? It changed my life. It had a bonus video where one of the artists taught you how to draw Spirit himself and it was the singular thing that inspired me to start drawing (more likely possessed me). I think I must have been about two the first time I saw it because I cannot remember a time before I had that video memorized. I would spend hours sitting in front of that video (which was only like 10-15 minutes long) with a stack of papers just fully focused on perfectly following his instructions. I still think about that video to this day. Every time I draw legs the voice of James Baxter echoes through my mind. I don't know if that translates to why my cats are so beefy, I own a cat who is quite chonky, so that might contruibute to it, but now you have a fun fact about me regardless!

All of the heirs are chosen based on birth order! Whoever is born first gets to be heir. I personally find that making strict rules about stuff makes playing the game a lot easier for me, I find it stressful to try to pick a "good heir" when I don't know what's going to happen later in the game so to limit that I just let it be completely out of my hands. 2. The game rolled for Songpaw to become a medicine cat! I would have changed it if he was an only kit or probably if I had known that Dashpaw was gonna die, cause I was really stressed about losing my run at that point, but I do my best to write a story that makes the game make sense rather than change what the game gives me when possible. I think it helps me to not have much of a story in mind while I play, just noting down events and thoughts and then going back and piecing it all together afterwards. That way nothing can "go wrong". 3. "Heir-hood" only applies to the leaders. There is no expectation that Cavepaw will become a healer. When Weed dies that position will be open until someone wishes to volunteer for it. 4. Honestly I don't really know. This might spoil a little bit, of tension, but I truly never had that happen. I was SUPER worried about it and did a lot to make sure it wouldn't, but after a couple of generations you get to a point where almost everyone is descended from a leader at somepoint. (And also everyone is second cousins with each other but you know what there are some problems that you just have to live with.) I image the clan would look for an omen and just pick a new leader based off of that and start the process all over again. In my experience worst comes to worst just make sure you have a very accurate family tree and trace it back a couple of generations.

Thank you so much! I don't play with any mods for Loudclan, I'm too scared to lose saves to less than stable code. My favorite mod currently is Kori's Awoogen though! I just like to look at the beautiful art mostly. I use mass extinction as population control, so I turn it on and off based on how many cats I have. Two full pages is the upper limit of what I'm willing to deal with, so once a third page opens I turn mass extinction on and after an extinction happens I turn it back off. (also if I dip below 1 full page I turn unknown parents on until I'm back to two pages again). I've found after a couple of generations you can mostly stop worrying about it because the bloodlines have spread so far there's always someone who's a 6th great great cousin or something.

The game generated him Dashpelt! I probably would have picked Dashfoot to stick with the generated them of a boring suffix but to make more sense overall.

[deadboyween]

DEADBOYWEEN PROMPTS!!

Text-version Prompt List and inspiration below the cut!

Oct 21st: Day 1 - Colours

We made sure to include a few vaguer prompts for a wider range of creative ideas!! Colours could really be anything: Niko while she's possessed by the sprites, a different character having a run-in with a similarly colourful creature, or even something that just uses colour connotations or symbolism!! Get creative!

Oct 22nd: Day 2 - Comfort

One of the non-spooky prompts for day 2. It could be the boys comforting each other after a particularly difficult case, or a character study about something they find comfort in, or even just characters having a well-deserved day off from the Horrors

Oct 23rd: Day 3 - Disguise

The obvious one here would be Charles and Edwin's human disguises, but there's so much to play with. Works could perhaps feature the group going undercover on a case, or maybe the Cat King causing mischief again with his shapeshifting

Oct 24th: Day 4 - Orbs

Okay, you just know we had to put this one in there, everyone needs more Orbwin and Chorb content in their life right? What are our favourite glowing balls of light up to now? Why are they orb-ed? Is it a willing transformation or a result of exhaustion?

Oct 25th: Day 5 - Family

Family can mean a lot of things. Blood family? Could be an introspection into Charles's family back when he was alive, or Crystal trying to reconcile with her parents, Niko's grief, Monty's relationship with Esther... Or could be found family: the group choosing one another over everyone else, forming their own bonds more important than blood. Works can encompass many different character dynamics so go crazy!

Oct 26th: Day 6 - Casefic

The group are on a case!! Works could be a retelling of one of the show cases, or maybe one from the comics, or an entirely original one. It could be a simple run-of the-mill haunting or perhaps one that runs deeper, one that affects one or more members of the agency in some way

Oct 27th: Day 7 - The Endless

In the show we meet Death and Despair, but this prompt could feature one of the Dead Boy Detectives characters meeting one or more of the Siblings. Maybe they visit the Dreaming, or have a run in with Desire

Oct 28th: Day 8 - Free Day

No prompt for this day!! Works can be anything you like, unconnected to any of the suggested themes!!

Oct 29th: Day 9 - Myths / Legends

Charles referenced Orpheus and Eurydice in episode 7 but there's so much to work with with mythology from all over the world. These works could be a retelling of a story from an ancient mythology, or imagining the characters meeting a creature from a legend

Oct 30th: Day 10 - Hell

Really getting into the Horrors of the event now. Hell is such an important part of the series, especially for Edwin. These works must simply incorporate Hell in some way. Perhaps it's set during Edwin's 73 years in Hell, or maybe another character has an experience in the place, or with one of its many creatures. Really looking forward to seeing the potential body horror with this one

Oct 31st: Day 11 - Halloween

Day 11 is the main event. For such a spooky show, there's got to be a lot of Halloween inspiration. What do ghosts even do on Halloween? Do they dress up? Party? Haunt the living? It's entirely up to you!

Nov 1st: Day 12 - Psychic

These works must involve something psychic. Whether it be Crystal and her powers, another person with similar abilities, or any other creature that really gets in the head of the characters

Nov 2nd: Day 13 - Pre-Canon

There's so much to work with before the 2023 setting of the show. Over 30 years of the Dead Boy Detective Agency, the ghosts' lives, Edwin's Hell. Even for other characters: what happened during the Cat King's first two lives? What has Esther been up to for the last several hundred years? What's the Night Nurse's job like when she hasn't got two tricky ghost detectives to deal with?

Nov 3rd: Day 14 - AU

The only rule is: put those characters somewhere else. It could be a different time period, or characters could be different in some way. What if the Alive Girls were the Dead Girls? Or Charles and Edwin were Charlie and Edith? So excited to see everyone's ideas for every prompt, but especially this one, this fandom is so creative when it comes to AUs!!

Happy creating!!

[inajda]

Misread placements in astrology

Saturn in the 1st house

I always see this placement represented as someone being serious, mature for their age, and introverted, although some of it is true, it does not limit what Saturn can do in the 1st house. If you combine this position with an extroverted ascendant (Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius), the introversion will not be shown at first sight. These people can be extremely outgoing, extroverted, and fun but also incredibly closed when revealing their own emotions. They can be the kind of people that talk about everything BUT their real selves. Saturn in the 1st can also manifest in a medical condition that can affect how we look, since this house talks about appearance, and Saturn represents sickness. 

Uranus/Aquarius influence and rulership

As a traditional astrologer, I follow the traditional rulership: Mars for Scorpio, Saturn for Aquarius, and Jupiter for Pisces. 

Although I believe in the outer planets influence, Aquarius is not as Uranian people think they are. One of the main characteristics of Uranus is rapid/radical changes, or the drastic changes of events. Aquarius is still a fixed sign air sign, and as much as they like to pretend, they’re not as flexible as they think. To change is to be willing to change, to be thrown out of nowhere, and to give up the sense of control. This is much more characteristic of Pisces than it is of Aquarius. The Saturn influence makes them rigid when it comes to letting go of ideals/ideas, this being their most prized possessions. 

Lilith in the 1st

The most common description of Lilih in the 1st house is that this is a bombshell placement. They’re often described as physically alluring people or some type of seductress. We tend to forget that Lilith is the mirror of projections, she appears as a fear of the unconscious collective because she expresses herself and her desires, and she’s punished by the dominance of others. Lilith is the first female liberation figure who was punished for showing control of her desires. When Lilith enters the 1st house, you don’t become a seductress, you become unapologetic, someone who’s in charge of your own shadow and light, you don’t submit, and the answer for this is people trying to dominate you.

Cancer placements

No matter how much cancer placements are portrayed as big emotional babies, I think people couldn't be more wrong about this take. Cancer, be the sun, rising, moon, etc., are closed-off people. They’re the first water sign with a cardinal quality, their fundamental characteristics are: retentive, dependent, emotionally aware, and moody. They do better in a closed environment with few people of their selection. Feelings are not often shown unless the chart has a more extroverted sign (Aries, Aquarius, or Sag) on emphasis. If you think of a crab, the animal representation of cancer, when threatened they go into their shell, isolating themselves and staying away from danger. For a cancer placement to open up, they have to be sure the person they're opening up to is not going use their vulnerability as a weapon against themselves. They don’t cry often, they ruminate emotions and keep them in a safe place in their minds and hearts, they never forget and they do hold grudges. 

If you have any doubts or requests, inbox me, and thank you for the reading <3

[sixosix]

hii, been a while since I've been on tumblr now and i came just in time for ur event 😭 also i realised thawed has gotten a lot of updates and im SOO happy because now i can binge ‼️ can i request lyney and 'eyeliner' for the event :33

also congrats on hitting 5k, and a happy bday in advance to the lyney writer EVER i came back and reread sleight of hand immediately sorry that is exactly the kind of person i am (sixosix writing consumer and injector (what is that)) 💗💗

you are so SWEET thank you so much!!! im sorry i took so long to get to ur req but i hope u see this and like it!! <3

warning ?? wc 500, this is so stupid but a little bit of possessiveness(?) and its very intimate looool

5K EVENT SPECIAL | EVENT MASTERLIST

You cradled Lyney’s chin gently, tilting his head upward. His breath hitched, but he didn’t move as you instructed. The ink for this eyeliner was the type that was really hard to rub off, and he had a show in about ten minutes.

It was a little distracting—Lyney’s eyelids fluttered, restless, as if his pupils were still tracing your every move even with them closed. You cursed, willing your hands to stop trembling.

“You okay?” Lyney murmured, his breath hot on your face.

“Mm. Hold on,” you whispered, flicking your fingers and crafting a precise line. As the ink glistened freshly, you gently blew on his eyes, cooling the area with a light breeze. His lips curved into a smile as he held onto your waist. “Open.”

His eyes looked sharper with eyeliner, but you’d shudder under his gaze even without them. Up close, however, it was easy to get distracted by how the purple of his eyes sparkled, looking at you as if you were all he could see. Well, with you all but straddling his lap, maybe that really was the case.

You wriggled off, but Lyney’s hand never left your waist, even as you reached for a hand mirror. Lyney only glanced before grinning up at you.

“Perfect as always,” Lyney praised, pulling you down to press a kiss on your chin. 

You laughed and halfheartedly pushed him off. “Don’t mess up my hard work.”

“I’m also putting makeup on you,” Lyney argued, pushing on your neck until your noses are touching. “Don’t move.”

He reached for the eyeliner in your hand, examined it curiously, and then looked at your face. How was it fair that he looked so good under the harsh spotlight and in the dim lighting backstage?

“Do you know how?” you asked.

“I don’t need to,” he said, yet pointed the tip on your neck.

Confused, you bared your skin to avoid getting the ink on your clothes. The waterproof, smudge-proof formula was no joke. Lyney had this dangerous glint in his eyes as the brush made contact with your neck—it was cold on your skin, in contrast to Lyney’s warm hand holding your face, but you held in a shiver to not disrupt him.

He seemed to be drawing shapes and long lines. It was hard to see even with the mirror behind Lyney, with his head blocking the view, but seeing how close you two were felt so intimate. You squirmed, darting your gaze to anywhere but how Lyney’s eyes were zeroed in on your neck.

“There,” Lyney whispered.

He slid out of the way for you to check his masterpiece, your neck bared to the mirror and having a perfect view of Lyney’s signature inked on your skin. You found yourself laughing at Lyney’s proud smile. 

“Idiot,” you reprimanded, but was feeling so flustered. “Don’t look so proud.”

Lyney whistled lowly, and his grin spread over his face. “Well, look at the time. We can’t do anything about that right now—I’ll see you after the show?”

[pigswithwings]

A Guide On Lessening Yourself

(Or, What To Do Before They Cut You Open)

This guide has been created to prepare you for your upcoming procedure. Please read carefully and follow all directions in order to have the safest experience.

RECOMMENDATIONS:

- Do not eat. (Required; at least 3 hours before the procedure starts. No meats, no vegetables, no grains, and especially no fruits. Any remaining food that is being digested will get in the way.)

- Do not drink. (Required; at least 2 hours before the procedure starts. No water, soda, juice, soup, milk, coffee, or energy drinks. Any remaining fluids will get in the way.)

- Do not bleed. (Required; at least 1 month before the procedure. No paper cuts, nosebleeds, injuries or other form of your own blood leaving your body. Restriction of the expression of your mortality is imperative.)

- Do not dream. (Strongly suggested; at least 1 month before the procedure starts. No daydreams, no hopes, no wishes, no lifelong goals, and no nightmares. Avoid losing yourself within any fantastical trappings - these are the vestiges of a mortal mind.)

TIPS:

BEFORE

- Make sure to confirm your procedure date. Whether by checking online, asking your doctor, or praying, it's of utmost importance that you remember the specific time and day of your event.

- Make certain that this procedure is for you.

Though the process has already been scheduled, you still have options if you're unsure. Asking God or previous patients are the most authentic ways to learn about this process. Consider the benefits and consequences of the procedure as a whole - this will undoubtedly affect your life, but will it be more negative rather than positive? Will you be able to be happy again? If you are willing to accept such possibilities, continue on. Should you choose to, however, you may still opt out before the scheduled date by telling your doctor and/or healthcare provider.

DURING

- Make sure to arrive early to your procedure. Timeliness is key.

- Be flexible with your interviewers. Many angels are unfamiliar with human languages and may instead choose to communicate directly inside your mind. This may cause discomfort as well as the feeling of being stripped into nothingness. Don't panic and remember that you deserve a chance at holiness, regardless of your humanity.

- Be polite. Though your angel interviewers may have already visited Earth before, human customs are often difficult to adjust to. If an interviewer makes a social faux pas (such as revealing their true form), brush it off and continue the conversation as best you can.

- Be prepared for any questions regarding your past attachments, relationships, possessions, etc. If you've prepared well, you'll be able to answer with full honesty that you have left all possible remnants of humanity behind - that means no mistakes, no regrets, and no emotions.

- Should you pass the interview (you will be told after they have finished), be ready to experience anywhere from a small to large amount of pain. This experience usually lasts around 20 seconds, but some say it feels like an eternity of blinding, searing light. The scale of your pain will be a direct result of how successful you were at stripping away your humanity; the agony that follows will be the angels burning it off of you.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait through the pain.

- Wait thought it.

- Wait through it.

- Wait

AFTER

- If you've successfully passed the interview, survived the procedure, and become an angel, congratulations! The following tips are only suggestions, but may help you in adjusting to your new existence.

- Avoid brightening your divine light too much at once. You'll quickly realize that your new eyes are far more adjusted to light than a human's, making the world appear dimmer than before.

- Avoid speaking out loud to others for the first few millenium, as this may cause harm if done incorrectly. Instead, practice "speaking" through the visual and audible expression of abstract concepts.

- Don't expect to visit Earth again. More often than not, angels avoid the human world (most say it's too painful to linger), so it's very unlikely that you'll return. Don't come back if you possibly can.

Finally, enjoy your new status as part of the divine. Not many people get to experience the feeling - you have made it! Please enjoy the rest of infinity.

[willswizardlyasks]

give me Wizard friend back. Or I’ll take your left eye. I’ve decided that you allowing me to live isn’t very good compared to Wizard friend

- @farmer-juice (feral Juice lol. Also I don’t know if she knows Will’s name)

Hm, I thought I had made this clear. Any harm you attempt to do to me, you only do to Will. And I'm sure that's the last thing you want for him.

Besides, I'm going to give him back in a few days. You have nothing to worry about.

[mothman-etd]

hello 👋🏼

first loving the twiyor 😌

second I have a tech question I was hoping you might be able and willing to answer: are the 'we send you a link to your email to log in instead of using your password' actually more secure or are businesses just being mean to me personally?

hope your day is kind 😊

Ok so Authentication (going to call it auth going forward) is a very large topic and there is some baseline info I want to convey before answering you question.

First, auth breaks down into 3 methods. Confirming what someone knows, confirming what someone has, confirming what someone is.

What you know: this is the traditional password method, do you remember your password you made for us? Do you remember your username? great you can get in if you know those. Stealing these creds is very straight forward, you either guess until you are right or you steal them from where someone has them stored/written down. This is why you should NEVER store your password in a browser and use a password manager instead. I would rather see people write passwords on post-it notes then store them in Google Chrome or Edge. Seriously, it is incredibly easy to steal passwords from Chrome.

What you have: have ever been asked to put an MFA pin into a phone app? that's this method, they are putting predictable generated numbers on your phone that you can then turn around and use to prove you are in physical possession of your phone. This is much more difficult to steal and usually requires physically accessing a phone or infecting it in some fashion to steal the generation algorithm. PS: If a site uses a text message instead of an app to send a pin that is less secure because SIM duplicating is easier then both the above methods for theft (i dont know the details on how to sim dup but I know no good security team takes sms pins seriously)

What you are: This is stuff like Apple's face id, windows hello, finger scan. Anything that is unique to your physical body that can be scanned to confirm who you are. This is either incredibly difficult or super easy to break depending on how the program is written. for example Face ID had an issue where it could not differentiate between particular ethnicities, also someone (the police) can just hold your phone up to force the unlock. This is usually a good method to use in conjunction with one of the others to make Auth more difficult.

So which one is better? Well each one has its pros and cons which means the most secure method is using more then one. This is called Multi Factor Authentication or MFA for short.

So lets go back to your question, is getting a login link more secure then say remembering a password. Well how secure is access to your email? if your email just requires a username and password to get into, then it is the same security level.

If you have your email setup with MFA where you need to password and pin into it then it is probably more secure then some random sites username password pair.

Also we need to ask questions about the links themselves, do you get the same link each time or is a new one created each request? How are they generated? how long until a link expires? is the link email sent via TLS? Which version of TLS? How are they stored or Are they stored? Is link generation predictable, if I had enough info could i just make my own links for any user?

Honestly I think the biggest benefit of this auth method happens on the website side and less the end user side. This requires less development to create, also they do not need to figure out how to store and keep your passwords, and if they get hacked there are no passwords to be stolen since they literally don't use them. Having passwords stolen is when law enforcement needs to get involved (Law enforcement needs to be contacted in the event any Personally Identifiable Information or PII is stolen). So if they do not use passwords that is one less PII they have in their possession.

Overall passwords are shit and anyone trying to make an effort to not use passwords or to not allow just passwords is at least making an effort to have a better security posture. But if it is actually more secure really depends, passwordless is new territory for a lot of people so its going to have growing pains.

hopefully this answers your question! if you want more clarification let me know.

Oh and Spy Family is life

[castiwls]

Omggg hii ok so I've always wanted a fic about what the readers and Castiel's conversation or just interaction in general would be. If the two were already in an established relationship and when Lucifer was possessing Castiel had gotten intimate or something with the reader, not knowing it was Lucifer and thinking it was Castiel of course. What would his reaction be and how would he feel. Especially since he probably had to watch the whole thing go down but could do absolutely nothing about it. How would the two make up and such. <3

this is me trying - c.n

Paring; Castiel x fem!reader

Synopsis; You and Castiel struggle with the aftermath of Lucifer

Warnings; Maybe occ

Notes; Hiii tysm for the request! I've truthfully not wrote for Castiel in soo long so I apologise if this is kinda occ.

Masterlist

“and maybe i don’t quite know what to say but I’m here in your doorway”

Taking a deep breath you leaned back against the headboard of your bed. The book in your lap no longer held your attention as you stared blankly down at it. You didn’t know how to feel about the events which have transpired over the last few days, at first you were angry and then that anger seemed to dissipate into an emptiness mixed with guilt. 

Guilt that you’d not paid enough attention to notice that for the past few weeks, Lucifer had been running around in your boyfriend's body. Playing it back in your head now you noticed the strange behaviour but at the moment you’d paid no mind. 

“Y/n. We need to talk.” Castiel’s voice brought you out of your head. He stood in the doorway a slight frown on his face. You knew exactly what he wanted to talk about but the whole situation still brought a bad taste to your mouth. He watched you for a moment before letting out a sigh and moving into the room. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed he turned to you. “I’m not sure what else to say other than sorry.” The angel looked down at his hands as he spoke. You’d never seen him look as regretful as he did now. 

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? We could’ve spoken about it Cas.” You placed your book to the side before crossing your legs. “I basically cheated on you, do you know how that feels.” You let out a sigh before reaching over to grab his hand. “I’m not angry at you, I just…I let him into our space, and I told him things thinking I was talking to you. I let him kiss me Cas, and it’s all I can think about.” 

In truth, the guilt had been pretty much eating you alive. The emptiness you felt now came from the fact that the guilt had seemingly taken everything else. He was quiet for a moment before squeezing your hand and looking back up.

His eyes met yours for a moment before he shifted slightly closer. “It’s not your fault what happened. It’s my fault I know that,” He frowned again going quiet. You knew from the look on his face that he was struggling to find the words to express how he felt. 

He had his own guilt over the whole situation. Having to sit back and watch someone else pretend to be him and interact with you in that way had left him feeling angry and helpless in a way he’d never experienced before. Seeing how it had affected you though was worse than any guilt he could ever feel. 

“I’m willing to work with you.” He finished after a moment. He smiled at you before squeezing your hand again. “Thank you.” You squeezed his hand back. You were both quiet for a moment before you patted the space next to you. The tension from his shoulders seemed to drop at your invite and he happily moved next to you.

This was the first time since Lucifer that you’d both been alone together. A sigh of contentment left you as you settled into his side. You knew things weren’t gonna go straight back to how they were. Castiel had still broken your trust by doing what he’d done but you also knew that he would do anything to regain your trust.

You smiled up at him before leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. A smile graced his lips as your lips met his and for that moment you allowed yourself to forget about the past few weeks.

[edensrose]

╰₊ 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒂𝒏-𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 ˖ ࣪˳ ꒰ 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒐'𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂 ꒱◞ ₊˚:

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒚𝒎𝒃𝒊𝒐𝒕𝒆-𝒃𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅! 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓◞ ₊˚﹕your beloved boyfriend goes behind your back and tampers with a thrown-out experiment of yours. you quickly discover that the symbiote might not be so bad after all.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 )﹕fembod! ꒷꒦꒷ angst ꒷꒦ explicit content ꒷꒦꒷ violence  ꒷꒦ mentions of possessiveness ꒷꒦꒷ 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 ꒷꒦ overstimulation ꒷꒦꒷ rough fucking ꒷꒦ elongated tongue fucking ꒷꒦꒷ tentacle fucking. . . 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 ꒷꒦ penetrative sex ꒷꒦꒷ multiple orgasms ꒷꒦ 3.1k ꒱

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 )﹕can't believe my first spiderverse writing is gonna be monsterfucking but oh well, hi I'm a down bad bitch for this walking red flag. <3 I use spanish dict for translations, please correct me if necessary! ꒱

꒰ links﹕guidelines ꒷꒦ masterlist ꒷꒦꒷ miguel characterisation ꒱

˚◞❀˳ In an effort to find a way to control the powers that he found more of a curse than a blessing, the scientist part of him urged him to tamper with things he probably shouldn’t have. Miguel knew first-hand what a symbiote was capable of. If not for his own personal experiences with the slimy bastards, then from observing the canon events of other Spider-People.

˚◞❀˳ But he was desperate. Especially when you, one of his most trusted scientists, started tampering with the alien creature yourself. However, after you threw out the project and deemed it ‘far too dangerous’, he collected the data behind your back along with the samples and set to work. 

˚◞❀˳ You had started to notice Miguel growing increasingly tired. While he wasn’t the most energetic in personality, he seemed far more exhausted than usual. Also far more busy. Yet whenever you, being the wonderful lover that you were, expressed your concern to him, he’d immediately shut you down. Now, you were accustomed to Miguel’s mood swings, but this felt different. Very different. 

“You don’t look fine.’’ 

“Then stop looking.’’ 

His little snap clenches your heart and while his irritation grew with every second into this useless bicker, he took notice. With an exhale his tense, built shoulders roll back before he murmurs with a softer tone. 

“Amor, what else can I do to convince you? You’ve clearly made your own deduction.’’ 

“Well it’s just —” 

His annoyed sigh bleeding into the already tense air of the room stops you dead in your tracks, so you press your lips together and straighten your spine. Clipboard full of notes and ongoing projects pulled to your chest as your gaze lands on the man who barely spares you a glance. His back is to you, his front illuminated by the yellow and orange pouring from the screens that surround him daily. His towering form casts a shadow over your stiff body and suddenly — you feel tiny in the obvious presence of his exasperation. 

“. . . I’m just worried, Mig,’’ your attempt is met with a crimson stare over his broad shoulder, followed by a few grumbles in his mother-tongue, before he turns back to the virtual screens. “Well,’’ he starts with a sigh. “That’s an issue on your part. I’m fine.’’ 

The last thing you anticipated was the cold shoulder. Alas, he gave you nothing else and simply excused you from his office. You knew that your boyfriend was cold, but what the hell was that?

˚◞❀˳ It should be harmless, is what he thinks. He’s strong-willed enough, he tells himself. Days turn into weeks of tampering with the symbiote, and just when he thinks he’s cracked the code. Tamed the monster. He is quickly reminded that the true beast is his own ambition. 

˚◞❀˳ Bonding with the symbiote was an experience, to say the least. Turns out that Miguel’s tinkering with the alien didn’t put it in the best of moods. But when it was all over? He felt something that he hadn’t felt in awhile in regards to himself. . . control. 

˚◞❀˳ Symbiotes feed on adrenaline — and with Miguel’s day-to-day life? It’s needless to say that the alien got more than its full. More than enough to keep it satisfied. 

˚◞❀˳ It definitely took some getting used to. With this newfound power and not to mention the second voice beside his conscience. Hiding this new change from you was the hardest part. Nevertheless, he was certain that he had tamed the creature. For the most part, it heeded his command and backed down — but there was just one thing. A blaring hole in his supposed ‘perfect plan.’ Anger. 

˚◞❀˳ While yes the symbiote did get its fill with his constant intake of adrenaline, Miguel’s anger was something that particularly stimulated it. This made the rage he so desperately tried to control only grow worse as the days went on. He was more irritable, snappy, and not to mention prone to going off at the smallest of things. Something that you immediately picked up on. 

˚◞❀˳ In fact, the odd behaviour of your boyfriend is something that you have been noting and recording for weeks. He’s growing distant. Taking up more missions than usual, barely coming home. And above all; when he did find himself in your presence, you had taken notice of the newfound possessiveness that plagued him. All you did was give a polite, obviously awkward smile towards a waiter flirting with you on one of your rare dates — and it was enough to set him off. An argument in the car that led back to your apartment. One that resulted in him sleeping on the couch. 

˚◞❀˳ While you have dealt with a jealous Miguel on more than one occasion, those situations were more amusing than anything else. This? This was abnormal. Something was wrong — and you didn’t care how much he attempted to tell you otherwise. You needed to get to the bottom of this, one way or another. 

˚◞❀˳ Yet similarly to last time, Miguel denies that there is a problem to begin with. Every one of your advances was met with indifference, the cold shoulder and sometimes even a bit of an irritated snap on his end. It felt as though your relationship with your once beloved boyfriend was dwindling. Threatening to break with one wrong move. 

˚◞❀˳ Lying to you was something that tore Miguel up from the inside out. With his new friend at the back of his mind and stimulating every ounce of annoyance, he felt as though he himself was walking on eggshells. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this from you — the growing distance was killing him. He tried to tell you, is what he reasons with. Numerous times. But the man who usually teamed with pride and confidence backed away at every chance he had. In time, he tells himself. He’d tell you in time. 

˚◞❀˳ Unfortunately for him, the day when everything would be revealed came sooner rather than later when an attack on your lab drove Miguel into a fight-or-flight state. The last thing on his mind was keeping the symbiote hidden, not when your life was on the line. 

If your eyes weren’t brimming with fear before, they were pouring with terror now. You have always felt safe in the strong arms of your beloved, but right now? You lay petrified. 

The sight of blackened tendrils protruding from the blue and red nanotech of his suit, shooting out in multiple directions to throw goons away from the two of you. . . it was an image that you wish you could pry out of your very eyes. 

Typically clawed hands now donned smears of ebony. Making them sharper, deadlier — and yet one of those hands still cradled your head to his chest with such tenderness. While the other had disappeared into darkness. An arm extended to shoot out a myriad of dark tendrils. Something that you could only describe as a horror show. 

His breathing heavy. His eyes clouded over with crimson, no pupils nor irises in sight. For a moment you even considered the possibility that you were trapped in a nightmare — but when he looked down at you? When those abnormal, terrifying eyes softened into something only you could recognise? Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach. 

“Amor. .  .’’

There it is. 

“I —’’ His voice is thick and the crimson bleeds out into white as his gaze takes on a more humane form. One that you know and love. 

“M-Miguel,’’ the choke of his name on your lips could break his heart, if not for the look of fear plastered on your face. Yet all is eased when, despite your shaky hands, you reach out and touch his face half-stained with the monstrous creature. A delicate touch that stutters his breathing as he leans into your palm. 

“What. . .  have you done to yourself?”

˚◞❀˳ Needless to say you were the furthest thing from pleased upon discovering the reason for Miguel’s new parasite — or Thorn, as it keeps insisting. The mere fact that he went behind your back and picked up the project you threw out after explicitly telling him that it was dangerous. . . it was a breach of trust that he would certainly have to earn back. 

˚◞❀˳ Furthermore, while you wouldn’t say it to his face: a part of you was frigheted by this change in him. Both of you were well aware of the dangers that this creature can bring. You’ve seen first-hand how it amplified Miguel’s anger. What worried you was the possibility of this thing putting a strain on your already dwindling relationship — something that he assured you he would not allow to happen as he worked tirelessly through the coming months to control this mind-bonding alien. But he pulled through and impressed you, as he always has and always will. 

˚◞❀˳ You actually grew to quite like Thorn. It didn’t talk much like other symbiotes and honestly? With Miguel feeding it its much-needed adrenaline in ample amounts, it wasn’t one to throw a fit in a hurry. If anything, it aided your boyfriend in numerous ways: on the battlefield, in everyday life. . . fucking your poor little cunt sore. 

˚◞❀˳ What? After Miguel established a decent control over the creature he wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea of pleasuring you with his new. . . additions. He loves the way that you lay there, sprawled out for him as he pulls your thighs apart by two thick tendrils while another pair holds your wrists down. How you arch and thrash as his cock pounds you full, unable to squirm or writhe away from him. Being made to lie there and take it as he uses his new limbs to caress, touch and grope whatever he can. All that is his. 

˚◞❀˳ Overstimulation becomes a staple for you. While Miguel was wild before the symbiote and often left you breathless, now he has all the means to absolutely ruin you. He’s a man who likes control, especially in the bedroom. And to see you all helpless while you babble out his name, whine for him, plead for him. It’s a rush he’ll never get over. 

“Dios, look at you.’’ 

You try to muster a whimper of his name but are cut off by another firm thrust against that sensitive bundle of nerves. All that falls from your lips are babbles followed by the straining of your limbs against dark tendrils. Your back arches, tits jutting out with a sudden jerk of your body — which motivates smaller appendages to circle around your perked nipples. Pinching and tweaking at the sensitive flesh. Another joins to tend to your clit, eager to have you clenching and cumming all over him for the umpteenth time. 

“M-Miguel —’’ a desperate wheeze couples with teary eyes. “Too much baby, pl-please. . .” Another slap of his hips to the back of your thighs leaves you gasping, especially when a rough hand encircles your jaw and pushes your head back into a pillow. 

If it was not the towering form of boyfriend perfectly caging and forcing you into the mattress then it was the slew of brutal thrusts he delivered to your poor, throbbing cunt. Fucking out more slick that he had once pumped you full of. It trickles down your slit straining around his cock, dripping into a messy puddle below. In response you squirm, attempting to push your thighs together on instinct. 

“Creo que no, mi vida. You’re gonna give me one more.” 

Tentacle-like structures tighten and yank your thighs apart. Your punishment comes in the form of Miguel slamming his hips forward and dishing out shallow, quick thrusts that insinuated the wet, lewd noises of your sopping heat. As you splutter and whine for him, he brings his lips to your ear. “This pretty pussy’s all mine, don’t keep it from me.’’ His voice thick with grunts and groans of pleasure murmurs against your ear as his fingers tighten around your jaw. 

He parts to press a wet kiss to your lips. Swallowing your moans with every feverish buck of his hips. “Eyes on me, hermosa,’’ his hand retracts in exchange for another tendril that so perfectly wraps around your jaw, pulling you to face him as he fucks you into the mattress. He purposefully fucks into that darling spot that has you spluttering and crying until you finally draw your teary, puffy-eyed gaze to him. Pretty red marks litter the backs of your thighs and his large hand joins the mix, grabbing onto the supple flesh and squeezing it between his rough fingers. 

“There we go. Eyes on me while I stuff you full. . . mm, that’s it pretty,’’ you’re met with his face directly over yours. Thick brows furrowed, jaw tense and lips parting in small moans as he drives into you at an angle and pace that leaves both of your knees weak. “Eyes on me while you — fuck mm. .  . — cum all pretty f’me again.’’ 

˚◞❀˳ Do you know what else changed about him after his bonding with the symbiote? His tongue. Miguel’s able to elongate it at will, and while it was initially a quirk he didn’t exactly fancy — the moment he had the idea of using it in the bedroom he folded. 

˚◞❀˳ He already loved getting between your legs and eating you out until you were clinging to his hair, bucking into his face and whining out his name so prettily. He could stay down there for hours if it meant feeling your pretty cunt fluttering against him. Or the way you couldn’t decide between pressing him closer or pushing him away. Now that he had an extra appendage to make your eyes practically roll back into your head, there was no way he wasn’t going to abuse it.

˚◞❀˳ He’d hold you down with those strong arms of his as he normally would. Forcing you to take everything that he gives you. As he fucks you on his tongue and makes you cream yourself until you’re breathless. He could reach the spots that drove you wild. Milking orgasm after orgasm while you lay there helpless. 

Calloused fingers press down into your soft thighs, massaging the blushing flesh from his once-in-awhile spanks. Face pressed between your legs. Lewd noises pouring from both your cunt and his lips as he feasts on you like a man starved. 

With a hand in his curls and another clinging to the sheets, your teary eyes fix onto the ceiling. Your chest rises and falls in shaky intervals, fingers coiling further into his hair every time his mouth clamps down and hastily sucks on your little clit. “Mig —’’ you whine, palm pushing his face closer to the mess of cum and slick pouring between your thighs. He gladly accepts the invitation with arms hooking around your thighs and flushing them against the mattress. “M-Mig — Miggy, please,’’ you splutter after feeling a knot quickly tightening in your abdomen. 

“Gon’ cum for me again, baby?” He slurs against your puffy clit. A crimson gaze swipes up and he looks upon you through hooded eyes and thick lashes. “Haven’t y’creamed on. . . m’ tongue enough? Fuckin’ slut.” 

You barely have the means to respond before your spine’s arching and you’re scrambling for his hair. A pathetic moan splutters as you crumble to the feeling of his tongue. Elongated and skilled as he pushes it past your sopping folds without a care — his eyes fluttering from your sweet taste as he fucks you on it. Messily, carelessly, and most of all, unafraid to release his deep, pussy-drunk groans as his lips lock around your slit. Nose flushed against your clit. Breathing heavy against your cunt. 

The feel of his tongue thrusting, curling and nudging against every perfect spot has you seeing stars. And every time you attempt to squirm away or beg for a break, Miguel merely flexes his strong arms against your thighs, shoves them down and buries his face deeper. All with a warning, fucked-out look in that deep red gaze of his. 

He’d nearly roll his own eyes back when you clench and cream yourself on his unrelenting tongue. His hips mimicking your weak bucks with his own pathetic grinds into the edge of the bed. All while he rides out your third, fourth — fifth orgasm. Pulling away only to suckle on your needy little clit and watch as you push and claw at his head. Muttering out his name. Spluttering quiet Miggy please‘s and baby s’too much’s. 

His tongue, now far longer and abnormal, coats in your slick. Dripping both your arousal and his own saliva onto the sheets. He greedily sucks it back into his mouth, savouring your addictive taste with a quiet: “So fucking sweet, pretty.’’ Before he’s diving in to make you squirm again. Eager to fuck out as many orgasms as he can with that devilish tongue of his. 

˚◞❀˳ And of course, what could would all those new tentacles be if he couldn’t fuck you with them? Between tying you down, restraining every one of your limbs and spreading you out with them, he also loves watching the way you stretch and squirm on one of his tendrils. 

˚◞❀˳ He will absolutely consume each and every one of your senses. Overstimulate you with finer tentacles against your clit and nipples. Pry your vision away with one creating a makeshift blindfold over your eyes. And most of all — get you using that pretty little voice of yours with one pounding relentlessly into your weeping cunt. 

˚◞❀˳ He would typically use these methods if you’re being particularly bratty. It’s a wonderful way to get some of his work done and tend to you at the same time. Especially when he threatens to deny your release if you make too much noise while he ‘has to focus.’ 

˚◞❀˳ Double penetration is another fan favourite of Miguel’s. Whether it be fucking you from behind and allowing a tentacle to tend to your cunt or vice versa — he loves stuffing you full of him. Loves how he can drive you to a state of utter bliss. Where all you can do is mutter out broken syllables of his name and whine for a break. 

˚◞❀˳ At the end of the day, while this symbiote also provides great benefits to him out on the battlefield; it also gave him new means to reduce you to a cum-dripping, mind-numbed slut for him. What better use of his new powers and abilities than to enhance his favourite indulgence with you? Overstimulation. 

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕wanna join the taglist? fill out this form◞ @bluezenzennie @batsyforyou @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @miguelious

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 )﹕you make a writer's day every time you like, reblog and/or comment on their piece. if you enjoyed my work, please consider doing so <3 ꒱

꒰ please consider supporting﹕tip jar ꒷꒦ m.list ꒷꒦꒷ comms ꒱

[kikimurphys]

The Wrap Party (Part 3)

Pairing: Cillian x Y/N.

Warnings: Smut.

You quietly slipped out of bed, wincing at the soreness between your legs. Three rounds, you thought, pulling on a t-shirt for some modesty. The lingering ache reminded you just how intense the night had been. How did he manage to get hard so fast after cumming? You flushed at the memory as you padded to the bathroom, careful not to wake him.

Once inside, you softly closed the door and sat on the toilet, your mind racing. What now? Did he want to leave? The thought of him walking out left a knot in your stomach. You didn’t want him to go. You wanted him to stay—more than you were willing to admit. It wasn’t just about the sex, though that had been amazing. There was something deeper. 

He listened to you, asked questions that showed genuine interest. He made you feel seen, like your thoughts and opinions mattered. And the way he touched you, both tender and possessive, lingered in your mind. His whispered words of affection still echoed in your ears, and you realized you were already hooked.

But did he feel the same? Doubts began to creep in. He could have anyone he wanted—why would he choose you? Was last night just another fling for him?

You sighed, frustrated. This wasn’t new territory. You’d been here before—falling too fast, getting in too deep. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall into this trap again, but here you were, caught between desire and doubt. You couldn’t help but wonder if he saw it the same way, or if you were just another one-night stand.

Meanwhile, Cillian stirred, groaning as sunlight pierced through the room. His head throbbed from the hangover, and he reached out for you, only to find empty sheets. Frowning, he sat up, running a hand through his messy hair, piecing together the events of the night.

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you from the moment you started talking. Your quick wit, your intelligence, and the way you carried yourself—it had all driven him wild. The attraction had been instant, but it wasn’t just about how you looked. He liked you. Now, in the harsh light of morning, he found himself hoping that last night wasn’t just a casual fling for you. 

She’s younger, he thought, probably does this all the time. But something in him hoped it was different. He wanted to see you again, not just for another night in bed, but to get to know you, to see if there was more between you than just chemistry. 

With a deep breath, Cillian pulled on his boxers, uncertain about what would happen next. But one thing was clear—he wasn’t going to let this chance slip away without at least trying to find out. 

---

You tiptoed back into the bedroom, expecting to find him still in bed, but the sheets were empty. Quickly slipping your thong back on, you heard the faint clatter of dishes coming from the kitchen. Curiosity tugged at you, and you cautiously made your way to the door frame, peeking around the corner.

There he was, standing at the counter, casually shirtless, making coffee like it was the most natural thing in the world. His back muscles shifted as he moved, and you couldn't help but admire how comfortable he looked in your space. It was almost surreal—Cillian Murphy, in your kitchen, after a night you still couldn't fully wrap your head around.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, and for a moment, you just watched him, trying to figure out what to say or how to act. The awkwardness you feared wasn’t there, but that only made the situation more confusing. You weren’t used to this—weren’t used to wanting something more, especially after what should’ve just been a one-time thing.

Do you casually walk in like it's no big deal? Do you act like nothing's changed? Or do you acknowledge the elephant in the room and ask what this is?

Before you could decide, he turned around, his eyes meeting yours. He smiled, a soft, easy smile that made your stomach flip. 

"Morning," he said, his voice still husky from sleep. "I was hoping you'd wake up before I burnt your coffee."

You smiled nervously, leaning against the doorframe, unsure of how to respond. He was so effortlessly calm, like this was just a normal morning for him. Meanwhile, your heart was racing in your chest.

"Morning," you replied, your voice coming out softer than you expected.

He gestured towards the coffee pot. "I wasn’t sure if you take sugar or milk, so I just left it black for now."

You appreciated the gesture, but there was a slight tension between the two of you. As if he felt it too, he cleared his throat, running a hand through his tousled hair. 

"I guess I should… probably get going," he said, the casualness of his tone betraying the hint of hesitation. "I don’t want to overstay or make things weird."

Your heart sank a little, but at the same time, you weren’t entirely surprised. This was the part where he left, right? You had expected it—prepared yourself for it even. But now that it was happening, the thought of him walking out the door left a strange emptiness in your chest.

You opened your mouth to say something, then hesitated. What if asking him to stay would make you seem too eager, too needy? You didn’t want to come off like that, but the thought of him leaving made your stomach twist.

Finally, you gathered the courage and spoke, though your voice came out more uncertain than you’d hoped. "Oh, um… you don’t have to go if you don’t want to."

He looked at you, eyebrows raised slightly as if he was surprised. There was a brief pause before you quickly added, "I mean, only if you want to stay. No pressure or anything…"

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening his expression. He set the coffee mug down on the counter and took a few steps towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice low as he closed the distance between you. "You sure?"

You nodded, biting your lip nervously. "Yeah, I’m sure."

Without another word, he leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, the warmth of his palm sending a shiver down your spine as his lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like last night—this was something different. Softer. More intimate. It felt like he was taking his time, savoring the taste of your lips, the way you melted against him. Your heart fluttered, and the earlier tension began to dissolve, replaced by a quiet intensity that built with every second.

As your lips parted, his tongue brushed against yours, deepening the kiss, and a soft moan escaped your throat. Your hands moved instinctively, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer as if you couldn’t bear the thought of any space between you. His large hands found your waist, gripping you firmly, grounding you, yet pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel his need, and it mirrored your own—the way your body responded to his touch, like it was drawn to him, magnetized.

He pressed you against him, his lips leaving yours only to trail down the side of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, each kiss leaving a trail of heat in its wake as his fingers skimmed over your back, sending shivers through you. His hands slid lower, cupping your ass before he effortlessly lifted you, setting you down on the cool surface of the kitchen counter. The sensation of the cold against your bare thighs was sharp but quickly forgotten as his hips slotted between your legs.

Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, pulling him in. You could feel him hard against you, the growing erection pressing against your core through the thin fabric of your thong. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you bit down on your lip, trying to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. His lips were everywhere now, feverish yet tender, moving from your mouth to your jaw, down to the sensitive curve of your neck. His stubble grazed your skin, rough but deliciously intoxicating, and when his teeth scraped gently across your throat, you let out a sharp gasp, your body trembling in his grasp.

"God, you’re so beautiful," he murmured against your neck, his voice low and husky, the words sending a ripple of desire straight to your core. The way he said it wasn’t casual—it felt like an admission, something he couldn’t help but say out loud. His lips moved with reverence, as if he was worshipping every inch of you.

Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as you arched into him, your back pressing into the cool surface behind you. The contrast of the cold counter against the heat of his body made you acutely aware of how every part of you was alive, buzzing with electricity. His hands roamed your body, one slipping up the hem of your t-shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before sliding over your breast, the soft fabric doing little to dull the sensation. The other hand found the edge of your thong, his thumb teasing the waistband before dipping lower, brushing against your clothed core.

The touch was light, but it was enough to make you whimper. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, the throbbing need that only he could satisfy. Your hips bucked slightly, seeking more of his touch, craving it. "Fuck," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard it, and his lips curled into a smile against your skin.

"You like that?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear as he slipped his hand inside your thong, fingers grazing over your slick folds. Your body jolted at the contact, your breath hitching as a soft moan escaped your lips.

You nodded, unable to form words, your body too consumed by the sensations coursing through you. The need was overwhelming, and you reached down between you, slipping your hand inside his boxers. Your fingers wrapped around him, stroking him slowly at first, savoring the way his body responded to your touch.

"Agh, fuck," he groaned, his breath hitching as he leaned into your hand, eyes half-closed in pleasure. His forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, the world outside of this kitchen disappeared, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s touch.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, your body trembling as his fingers continued to tease and explore, his thumb circling your clit, bringing you closer to the edge with every movement. Your own hand kept a steady rhythm, feeling him grow harder in your grip, the groans he let out sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

Despite the lingering soreness from last night, the ache was overshadowed by the undeniable pull between you. The way he touched you, the way he made you feel—it was intoxicating. You needed him. You craved him like you’d never craved anyone before.

"Please, Cill," you breathed into his ear, your voice shaky with desire. "I need you."

That was all it took. With a low growl, he lifted you effortlessly from the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you toward the bedroom. His lips found yours again, kissing you with a renewed urgency, each step bringing you closer to the moment you both wanted.

He laid you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his eyes dark with lust and something deeper. His hand reached down, tugging at the waistband of your thong, pulling it down and tossing it aside before stripping off his own boxers.

You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the raw desire that mirrored your own. You were both lost in it now, in the intensity of the connection that neither of you could resist any longer.

"I can’t get enough of you," he murmured, his voice rough as he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. His hand moved to your cheek, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before dipping down to kiss you again, this time slower, more deliberate.

Then, without breaking the kiss, he pushed inside you, filling you completely in one smooth stroke. The stretch was almost too much, but it was exactly what you craved, and you moaned into his mouth, your hips instinctively lifting to meet his.

"Fuck," he groaned against your lips, his body trembling as he pulled back slightly before thrusting into you again, harder this time. The pace quickly escalated, and soon, the room was filled with the sounds of your bodies moving together, the breathy moans and whispered curses.

Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him as the pleasure built, wave after wave crashing through you. It was too much, but at the same time, not enough. You wanted more—needed more.

"Cillian," you gasped, barely able to form his name as he drove you closer to the edge, his hands gripping your hips as he buried himself deeper inside you. 

The intensity between you was overwhelming, like nothing you’d ever felt before. This wasn’t just sex—this was something else, something raw and real, something you both had been craving without even realizing it. Each thrust brought you closer together, not just physically but emotionally, as if the barrier that once stood between you had crumbled completely.

Your moans mixed with his, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. You could feel him tensing above you, his breaths coming quicker, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his release. His hand slipped between you, his fingers brushing your clit, and it was enough to send you over the edge.

“Cillian,” you gasped, your entire body trembling as the orgasm ripped through you, pleasure coursing through every nerve. You clenched around him, pulling him deeper as you came, your nails digging into his back.

The feeling of you tightening around him pushed him over as well. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his hips slamming into yours as he came hard, spilling inside you, his release prolonging your own. You could feel him throbbing deep within you, his breath ragged against your ear as he held you close.

For a few moments, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled together as you rode out the aftershocks. His weight on top of you was comforting, his heart pounding in time with yours as you both caught your breath.

Eventually, he lifted his head, his eyes soft as he looked down at you. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, a small, content smile playing on his lips. "You alright?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, still a little dazed from the intensity of it all. "Yeah," you whispered, smiling back at him. "More than alright."

He chuckled softly, rolling off you but keeping you close, his arm wrapped around your waist. You lay there for a while, basking in the warmth and comfort of his presence, the reality of what had just happened settling in.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Cillian spoke, his voice casual but with a hint of uncertainty. “So… are you busy tonight?”

You blinked, turning your head to look at him. "Why?"

He shrugged, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. "Thought maybe we could go to dinner. You know, a proper date."

You stared at him for a second, surprised by the offer. "A date?" you repeated, your heart skipping a beat.

"Yeah," he said, his gaze steady on yours. "If you want. I’d like to take you out, get to know you more… outside of the bedroom."

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "I’d like that too."

His grin widened, and he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Good. It’s a date then.”

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason @cillianmurphyvevo @sweetcheesecakesblog

[heartfullofleeches]

I would love butterfly boi hc <3

-🩷

Adonis - Yan Butterfly Hcs

Warnings: Cannibalism, Mentions of death, Stalking, Gross Behavior (namely sweat)

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Adonis is a male, conventionally attractive purple emperor butterfly. The attraction for many stops as his looks as getting to know him people tend to notice something.. strange about him. He seems friendly on the surface, but never expresses deeper interest in others beside his darling unless they've been injured or taking about their medical history in any form. Before meeting his lover Adonis has a very bleak, but cheerful outlook on life. It leans heavier on the brighter side once he realizes his feelings to the point he meets every day and event with a smile - even those where he's witness to or commits terrible crimes against humanity.

• Works for a crime clean up crew by day and most nights, and as a grave robber others. Most, if not all, of the jobs Adonis receives are phoned in by crooks/corrupt members of power as with his appetite it's killing two birds with one stone. They usually allow him to take whatever since he's already taking care of the body which results in nearly every house he cleans appearing as if no-one ever lived there.

His "souvenirs" are his prized possessions - till his darling comes around. Then he's willing to share. His first gift to them is an engagement ring he received as payment for his first job. It's a priceless heirloom, if the guy it belonged to have just sold it he'd still be around, but if that happened Adonis wouldn't have been able to give it to someone who deserves it more. The second gift is matching butterfly knives. Always on the hunt for more things to present to his darling during his cleanings. Anything brand new shows up on their doorstep or hooked up indoors if tthey haven't changed the locks again.

• Adonis' ideal darling is someone who's a little untidy. He enjoys his job and taking care of his lovebug, plus while cleaning up their home he can find more treasures to take with him. Half drunken bottles, sweaty clothes, straws they may have bitten. If they're the type to have adult toys he'll clean them by hand... likely with his tongue or after using them himself. It's important to keep things like that clean and sanitized.

Has a nasty habit of throwing out fragrant soaps and perfumes/colognes as they mask the natural scents he adores. Adonis is touchy and clingy during all seasons, but Summers are his most active as seeing his darling sweat cause him to lose all train of thought. Refuses to let his darling shower without bathing them with his tongue first when sweaty. If they aren't a fan of his tongue he'll wipe them down with some towels and huff the moist cloth instead.

Adonis' ideal first date is capturing someone from either his or his darling's past and burying them alive in a grave at his local cemetery while they have a picnic nearly in the butterfly garden. Adonis is stuck up in his head at times with fantasies of domestic bliss chopped up with slaughtering the neighborhood on the eve of a big anniversary. He makes killer banana bread.

What's his is his darling's, but the one thing he forbids is them going into his closet. Adonis has a hobby for polaroid photography and his closet is where he produces the film. He'd hate for his darling to recognize a face in his red folder drawer or find the drawer labeled with their name