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avanatural · 11 months

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The Talk

Summary: Jack catches Dean and Y/N while they're being intimate. The Nephilim has a lot of questions about what he witnessed, and Dean takes it upon himself to answer at least the most important ones.

Pairing: Dean x female Reader

Category: Smut, fluff, some humor, 18+

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, mentions of non-con, getting caught during sex

A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Thank you to the lovely people who expressed their interest in this particular story. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask ❤️

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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Y/N cried out in ecstasy. Her fingers curled around the headboard, holding on for dear life. Dean was ramming into her at a rapid pace, kneeling behind her. His skin was slapping against hers. Every push was forceful enough to take her breath away.

“How’s that feel?”, he checked in with her, bending forward, folding his body across hers, his lips grazing her cheek. His thrusts slowed down, but their force increased.

“So good,” she panted through the powerful sensations.

“You want me to keep goin’ like that?”

“Oh God, yes…”

She clenched around him, causing him to hiss loudly in pleasure. He could feel his body vibrate as a familiar intense sensation settled in his lower regions.

Until…

“What are you doing?”

Dean and Y/N tensed violently at the sudden intrusion. Their souls took a leap out of their bodies, prompting them to abruptly still their movements. No one else was supposed to be in the bunker. Their heads snapped towards the open door of Dean’s bedroom.

None other than Lucifer’s son himself, Jack, was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his head tilted to the side.

“Dammit, Jack!”, Dean roared, swiftly pulling out of Y/N and throwing his cream-colored sheets over her naked body.

Y/N’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. She gladly accepted the sheets to cover her body. A scorching heat lit up her cheeks. She felt like she’d just run a marathon, but with a mighty dose of embarrassment tossed into the mix.

“What are you doing?”, the Nephilim repeated, staring at the two hunters with a crease between his innocent eyes.

“Having sex!”, Dean snapped, snatching his pillow from the bed to hide his softening member.

Jack’s lips pursed as he mentally went through his vocabulary to find that particular word. When it didn’t ring a bell, he shook his head. “What does that mean?”

Y/N groaned internally and hid her burning face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing back early? Jack and Sam were supposed to be out.

“It’s what adults do for fun,” Dean snarled, hoping that, by some miracle, Jack was going to take the hint and leave them alone.

Instead, the purest smile spread across Jack’s face. He looked even more interested in the subject now. “I like fun.”

Dean pushed his jaw forward. He was irritated, but he was also embarrassed. Y/N could tell by looking at his flushed freckled cheeks and the reddening tips of his ears. “You remember the talk we had about privacy?”, he demanded.

Lucifer’s son drew his eyebrows together. “Of course.”

“You wanna give us some of that?”, Dean barked, sarcasm dripping from his rough voice.

“Hey, Jack, I was wondering where you headed off to…”, Sam’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorframe. He took in the scene before him, quick to avert his gaze and clear his throat. “Jack, uh… Come on, we’ll give them some privacy.” Sam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him away from the door.

Dean groaned and let his sweaty forehead drop to Y/N’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.

“But the door was open,” they could hear Jack protest down the hall.

Y/N sighed deeply, hoping that it would somehow rid her of the uneasiness that tickled her limbs. When Dean lifted his head back up and met her gaze, she was almost amused by the obvious disappointment on his face. Almost. The smile didn’t break through, but her eyes reflected her bashful internal laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbled, frowning as he spotted the beginning of the awkward smile on her face.

The mood had definitely been killed.

“Come on…” Y/N gently patted Dean’s bare thigh. “Let’s get dressed. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

“Dean?”, Jack asked.

The Nephilim, Dean and Sam were sat at the library table, their noses buried in books and newspapers. The earthy scent of paper wafted through the air.

“Hm?”, the older Winchester brother half-heartedly replied, raising his mug to his lips.

“Does… sex… hurt women?”

Sam gave the Nephilim a confused side-glance while Dean audibly gulped down the hot sip of coffee. “What?”

“I think you hurt Y/N,” Jack stated with an accusing tone in his voice.

Sam’s lips transformed into a tight, thin line to prevent him from laughing.

Dean sent a glare his brother’s way. He was not in the mood to give the son of Lucifer ‘the talk.’ “It’s none of your business what I do with Y/N. Capiche?”, he grumped. The hunter’s muscles tightened in his jaw as he took another sip of his coffee.

“But I don’t want you to hurt her.”

“I wasn’t hurting her,” Dean huffed, putting down his mug. He didn’t want to defend himself for what Jack had witnessed, but if someone claimed that he hurt Y/N, and that he hurt her on purpose, the hunter was bound to get offended. “Relax.”

Sam chimed in, showing mercy for his brother. “Jack, Dean would never hurt Y/N. You know that.”

“But it looked like he was.”

Dean sighed grumpily and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I was doin’ somethin’ she likes. Okay? That’s rule number one with sex,” he explained, lifting a single finger in the air for emphasis, “You both need to enjoy it.”

“So, it’s possible not to enjoy it?” Jack’s forehead furrowed, causing his brows to move closer together. “I thought adults do it for fun.”

“Yes, it’s possible, but that should never, ever happen,” Dean clarified, “You need to communicate, make sure you’re on the same page.”

Jack’s eyes squinted at the unfamiliar expression. “On… the same page?”

“Yeah. For example…” Dean briefly shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe he was actually talking about this to Jack, of all people. “Uh… Y/N told me she doesn’t want me to leave hickeys on her body, so I can’t do that. Even though I’d like to.” At the thought of marking Y/N up as his, he ran his tongue across his lower lip. “I’d really, really like to…,” he muttered to himself dreamily.

Sam scoffed, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. Never in a million years could he have guessed that his older brother was going to give Satan’s son the talk one day.

Meanwhile, Jack nodded, clinging to Dean’s every word. “So, it’s about… permission,” he concluded.

“Exactly,” Dean responded, snapping his fingers and pointing one at Jack. He felt something dangerously close to pride swell in his chest as the boy drew the correct conclusion. “Bottom line is, you can only do what your partner allows you to.”

Jack nodded and let the information sink in for a second. Then, one of his eyebrows rose up and he inquired, “So, Y/N is your… partner?”

The question was a curveball to Dean, whose mouth puckered in reply. He was stunned into stammering, “Uhm, well…”

Curiously, Sam sat up straighter and watched his sibling’s reaction like a hawk.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, shrugging his wide shoulders, which, to his surprise, suddenly felt a lot lighter.

Jack clasped his own hands on the table, copying Dean’s posture. “Are there any other rules?”

“Yeah. Like protection.” When Jack opened his mouth to ask further questions, Dean silenced him by lifting his pointer finger back in the air. “But I ain’t teachin’ you about that, kid. One lesson at a time.”

Dean got up, empty mug in hand, and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the hallway, he almost bumped into Y/N, who was standing right there, resting against the wall. She smiled up at him, irises gleaming with joy and a little bit of mischief.

“What’s gotten you all cheerful?”, he demanded playfully, eyebrows arching.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning at him.

Dean narrowed his eyes at her. But he didn’t get to say another word when Jack’s bewildered voice suddenly rang through the library.

“Sam… What are hickeys?”

When Sam’s groan reached their ears, Dean and Y/N burst into quiet laughter, leaning forward, their heads almost bumping into each other.

That night, Y/N listened to Dean’s calming heartbeat, cuddled up against his torso. He sighed with content when she pressed her lips to his anti-possession tattoo.

“You know… I really liked how you gave Jack the talk today,” she said.

Dean’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “So, you were eavesdroppin’.”

“Guilty.” Y/N laughed softly for a second, smiling at the green-eyed hunter who was holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “But seriously... I liked how you taught him about consent.”

His fingers traced an affectionate pattern on her hip. “Well, that's sex 101, isn’t it?”

She nodded against his skin. “It should be.”

Dean slowly brushed his fingertips across her ribs and felt her muscles contract. When he realized she was ticklish, he dragged his fingers along the same spot again. He enjoyed the sweet sounds of laughter that spilled from her mouth. He loved having her in his arms, whether they were having sex or not. She made him feel good. About his life. About himself.

“So… I’m your partner, huh?”, Y/N asked, catching his hand in hers so he would stop tickling her. She proceeded to bite her bottom lip and sneak a peek at Dean’s face while she waited for his response. So far, neither of them had brought up the question of what exactly they were to each other.

At first, she was met with complete and utter silence. That was okay. Truth be told, she had no idea what to expect. She knew they each had their own difficulties when it came to relationships. But she needed to know if Dean had told Jack the truth, or if he’d just called her his partner to appease the young Nephilim.

Then, after a few seconds, Dean gave his silent reply. The way he clenched his arm around her, squeezed her against him, and firmly kissed the crown of her head told her more than words ever could. He then transformed his response into one single word, quietly whispering it into her hair. “Yeah.”

“Hmm,” she hummed and hid her smiling face in the crook of his neck. His embrace was the most comfortable place in the entire world. She felt his chest rise and fall steadily, heard the deep breaths coming from his nose, and shut her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt at peace. “Dean?”, she asked after a few minutes, wondering if he was dozing off.

“Hm?”

“I think you still owe me an orgasm or two.”

His sleepy, spiky-haired head rose up the second she finished her sentence. He rolled on top of her body, grinning like a Cheshire cat while she giggled her heart out.

“Just two?”

“Ohh, are we feeling ambitious tonight?”, she chuckled, circling her arms around his neck.

“It’s on, sweetheart,” he rasped, molding his lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss.

Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @globetrotter28 @spnwoman @mrsjenniferwinchester @may85 @100percentserenity @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine

#dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural imagine #spn imagine

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charliemwrites · 3 months

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Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).

So consider this part 4.5? idk it's late.

Usual CW for this series with dubcon, mean Soap, post-trauma coping.

It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.

You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.

It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.

Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.

You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—

It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.

Laswell suggested a cat.

You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.

But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.

You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.

The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…

She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.

If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.

So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.

Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.

Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.

The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?

You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.

Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.

“Nice catch, bonnie.”

You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.

“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”

You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.

You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.

“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.

You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.

You whisper, “Soap.”

He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”

His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.

“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.

He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”

You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.

Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.

Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.

The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.

“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”

An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.

“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”

He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.

“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”

You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.

“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.

You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.

“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”

A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.

“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”

His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.

“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”

He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.

“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”

And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.

“John!”

He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.

You can get through this without pain, just think.

“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”

He grumbles. “So what?”

You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”

He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”

“You like it.”

And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.

When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.

“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”

Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.

“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”

“Squeamish?”

You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.

“A bit,” you admit.

“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”

Is that what he thinks? Christ.

You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.

“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.

“Fix it, then,” he snarls.

You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.

“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”

A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.

This… this you could work with.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #asset soap #asset john soap mactavish #dub con #non con #rape

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xxshujiswhorexx · 2 months

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Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 2)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

Vox was an angry man. At least, right now he was.

“What the FUCK does that ancient prick think he’s doing, putting his hands on my little assistant?” Yes, Vox was in quite the mood, watching your every step and action through his monitor. Watching Alastor drag you along through public, knowing he could see you both, was simply the most fucking audacious move he has ever made.

“God fucking dammit, I told her not to speak to that old-timey asshole.” Staring at his monitors and muttering profanities, he felt his screen begin glitching and buffering out of severe irritation.

“My, my, Voxxy, I wonder what’s got you so out of sorts, hmm?”

“Shut the fuck up, Val, you fuckin know why I’m pissed.”

“What? You miss the little conejita, hm?”

“Get out of my room, Val. I got work to do.” Through gritted teeth he managed to compose himself, returning his gaze to his monitors, focusing in entirely on you, and your fearful eyes.

The way your bunny ears fluttered when you were thinking. The way you batted your eyelashes in surprise. The way your little button nose twitched when you were upset.

God, it was hard to stay mad at you.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sharp buzzing of his doorbell, likely signally your arrival. He watched on his screen as Alastor bade you goodbye, planting a soft kiss on your hand, and watched your face darken with a blush at the action.

If he was angry before, now he was fucking seething.

No sooner had you entered the building and greeted the secretary, then Vox harshly grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you up to his office, ignoring your pretty little whimpers and pleas on the way up.

Finally in his office, he slammed the door and locked it before speaking.

“Y’know, dollface, I only had one rule for you here. Don’t fucking speak to Alastor. And y’know what, pretty girl? You just fucking broke it.” The lights in the room start to flicker and glitch as his irritation grows.

“‘M sorry, Mr Vox, b-but he wouldn’t l-leave me alone..” you cower away from his as he approaches you, eyes welling up with tears as your nose begins to run.

His anger stalls as he sees your teary eyes, letting out a sigh and releasing his power.

“C’mere, dollface.” He beckons you over, taking a seat behind his desk. As you approach he grabs you by the hips to sit you snugly on his lap, straddling him, as your face grew brighter.

“Y’know I can’t stay mad at you, babydoll. Just promise me you’ll try to avoid that asshole?”

You whimper affirmatively nuzzling into his chest as he pulled you in for a firm hug, reluctant to let you go.

“Okay, dollface. Run along now, Val wants to see you.”

Satan, was he such a sap for you.

Climbing off his lap you walk towards the door on shaky legs, gently waving him goodbye before closing it behind you.

Adjusting your skirt, you decided to go find Mr Val, to give him your report.

Wandering through the building, you finally found a staircase, and climbed up a few flights to reach the porn studios, where Valentino could usually be found. Growing increasingly uncomfortable with the amount of naked people and lube in the environment, you began to get rather desperate.

“Excuse me, do you know where I can find Mr Val?” You timidly asked the nearest actor.

“Uh, yeah, he’s in studio 6 right now, but be careful pretty girl. He’s in a mood right now.”

Hurriedly thanking the actor, you rushed off to studio 6 eager to speak to Val and leave the porn studios as quickly as possible.

“Goddammit, kitty! Why are these putas so fucking incompetent!” The sound of glass breaking indicated Mr Val’s presence, the actor’s observation of his poor mood being dead on.

“Well, if it isn’t the little asistente~ Any news for me, bonita conejita?”

And as always, his piss poor mood could be fixed in an instant by the presence of a pretty little thing. Feeling better already, he pulled you into his lap on his couch, your back against his much larger torso, as he began picking through strands of your hair, humming softly to himself.

“I-i found Angie, Mr Val. H-he’s stayin at the princess’s hotel in the center of town. I-I know you’re sad he’s not stayin with us anymore, b-but I think this could mean his work will improve, s-since he has more space ‘n all..” you trail off, embarrassed at your rambling, while Valentino simply chuckles at your naïve attempt to protect Angel from him.

He turns you around on his lap, blowing pink smoke into your face, making you cough gently.

“Such a kind little bunny, hmm? Trying to protect Angel Dust from the big bad moth man, yes? You really are una conejito estúpida, but such a cute one~”

He grabs your jaw forcing you to look him in the eyes, your skirt riding up as he forces you to lean forward, hands on his chest to brace yourself.

“I could make you a star, bebé bonita~ how’d you like that, everyone would know your face. And pussy I suppose.. no, I think I’d rather keep you all to myself, conejita.~”

He pulls you ever closer to pat your head and rub your ears, knowing just how much you love the attention.

“Hmm, you better go now, bebé. I got films to direct.” With a grin, he’s shoved you off his lap leaving you in a shaky heap on the floor. You carefully hoist yourself off the floor, deciding to head home for the day, all whiny and teary from how worked up everyone’s got you today. Oh well, hopefully Vox will take care of you later.

A/N: I love writing Val so much omg it’s so fun he’s such an ass

Tags: @whocaresimnothere

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox #valentino x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #I’m in love with Christian borle

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flowersandbigteeth · 4 months

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Your orc husband comes to fetch you

A little thing to start 2024. I've gotten lots of requests for more orcs ^_^

General Plot: Your husband finds out you've been injured in battle and comes to fetch you.

Orc (Reven) x GN reader

Word count: 1K-ish

More SFW fics

TW: Mention of amputation, mention of break up, hurt comfort, sfw fluff, size difference

“Heard the news?” Reven’s client asked, a brave move considering the razor at his throat.

Skilled fingers never wavering as he drew the blade across his client's chin, he let out a bored grunt, focused on his task.

“There’s rarely any news that hasn't made it through the shop.”

His client’s eyes twinkled, eager to share some gossip.

“They say the Dragon Slayer is retiring.”

Reven’s graceful stroke paused, and he pulled his hand back before he sliced the man's cheek.

“Oh? I thought they’d never give up their crusade.”

“Word is the crusade is over. The dragons pillaging Walker’s Keep are dead. The slayer killed them all.”

Reven took a deep breath before asking his next question.

“Will they be returning to their homeland?”

The client snorted.

“If they ever leave the hospital. They were gravely wounded in the final battle. Thank the Goddess the dragon’s gone, they won't be doing much-”

The razor clattered to the floor with a metallic clang, and Reven’s feet carried him out the front door of his barbershop without a word to the half-shaved client sitting in his chair.

He left his crinkled apron in the dirt as he mounted his horse and steered her towards the road to Walker’s Keep.

–

“Come on hero, eat a little,” one of the nurses at the clinic urged you, holding up a spoon of oatmeal.

You waved it away with your remaining hand, your face a miserable, twisted version of itself.

She huffed, getting annoyed.

“You haven't eaten in three days! It's only a hand. Some of the people here have lost brain matter, their genitals…You've already killed the dragons. You don't need-”

A clamor outside the door of your hospital room cut off her little tirade.

An orderly’s deep voice drifted through the door.

“Sir! Only family can-”

“I am family, dammit. I'm their husband!”

Reven’s familiar baritone made your heart flutter. Still, you were afraid. It had been so long since you'd seen one another. Three years and you hadn't parted on a happy note.

The door flew open, and there he was, his massive shoulders filling the frame, emerald green skin as rich as you remembered it. He’d changed his hair, no longer cropped around his ears, but long hanging in a thick ponytail over his shoulders.

He tipped his head to enter the room, dark eyes on you, and his lips twisted around his tusks in an expression you remembered as annoyance.

“Get out,” he barked at the nurse, and she shuffled past him without question.

Your voice was only a murmur.

“You came.”

“Of course, I came. I would have come sooner, but someone failed to send their spouse a note mentioning they’d lost their hand!”

Your eyes dipped, full of shame.

You'd left Reven on a cold December night. He'd begged you not to go, cried, yelled, and made you a million promises if you'd just let someone else handle the mission. But no, you had to be a hero, and look what that brought you. You were broken and useless, alone in a hospital bed.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he muttered, chestnut eyes roving over you, ever analytical.

He crossed the room and plopped down on the bed, holding his hand out.

“What?” you asked.

“Let me see it.”

You stretched your bandaged stump to him, and he fingered it gingerly. For an Orc he had nimble fingers honed by years as a barber.

“Bah…Just a scratch.”

He gently placed it in his lap, twisting his body so the two of you were face to face.

“It's my sword hand. I'll never kill another dragon.”

His head tipped to the side.

“I've heard the dragons are dead.”

“They are, but-”

“But nothing. You accomplished your mission…sacrificed for the kingdom…It's time to come home.”

You blinked at him, tears burning the backs of your eyes.

“You want me to come home? I'm…I'm useless.”

He chuckled.

“Nothing's changed without your hand. You've never been good at anything but killing.”

“Swordsmanship was my only skill.”

“A stupid one.”

His lips twisted around his tusks again, but this time with amusement. Large fingers slipped over your cheek, and he pulled your head to him, brushing his lips over yours. His scent and taste were so familiar. It was as if you'd been holding your breath the three years you'd been gone and could finally get some oxygen. When he pulled back, he looked down at you, expression solemn.

“I wrote you letters. You never wrote back. Did you toss them all out?”

You shook your head, trying to hold the tears back. The Dragon Slayer crying was embarrassing. You nodded to the small chest where the nurses had placed your belongings.

Reven crossed the room, opening the box and pulling out a stack of letters tied with a green ribbon you’d come across.

“I didn’t know what to say. I felt…guilty…I guess.”

He tossed them on your lap, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Hello. I love you, would have sufficed.”

“I’m sorry, Reven. I left and ruined myself when I could have been home with you. I could have been happy.”

“You killed the dragons, accomplished your goal…You aren’t happy?”

“It feels emptier than I thought it would. I left you alone. Anything could have happened to you, and I would have lost my chance to see you again.”

He chuckled.

“I’m not helpless.”

“I left you alone. It’s unforgivable.”

“That’s for me to decide.”

You looked up at him, searching his eyes.

“You’d forgive me? I don’t deserve it. I got hurt. You told me this would happen, and I didn’t listen. Now I’m just a burden and a fool.”

He sighed and pushed you to the side, sliding into bed with you before pulling you back into his lap. His nose grazed the column of your neck, and you felt him breathe in your scent.

“Maybe a fool, but never a burden, and being foolish doesn’t make you unlovable. I missed you (Y/N).”

“I missed you, too.”

“You weren’t the only fool.”

“You started dating another bloodthirsty idiot while I was away?”

“I should have come with you. I was angry at you, but that didn’t last long. Then I was bitter you hadn’t asked me to join you, and I didn’t insist.”

“Kharma caught up to me.”

“If you hadn’t lost your hand, would you still be gallivanting over the countryside fighting monsters?”

“Probably.”

He buried his face in your neck, and you felt the slight wetness of tears against your skin.

“I don’t think it was Kharma…I think it was Fate.”

“Fate?”

“Fate spared two idiots unwilling to budge.”

You sat on those words for a few minutes, the heat of Reven’s body seeping into your bones. You could never quite get warm the entire time you’d been gone, no matter how many furs you donned. You always felt cold, even with the heat of the dragon’s flame singing the tips of your eyelashes.

“Don’t leave again,” he whispered.

“It wasn’t worth it. I’d read and reread your letters all those lonely nights, wishing I had the strength to abandon my quest and return. I was afraid…I’ve never been afraid before. I’ve killed monsters my whole life and never felt fear, but the thought that you might reject me if I walked through those doors…that I’d come home to find some other lover warming your bed…our home…”

You felt Reven smile into your skin.

“There aren’t too many half-feral sword-wielding jocks roaming around Elderoak. That’s what I go for.”

“Thank you for coming to get me, Reven.”

“I should have come sooner.”

“I wouldn’t have listened.”

“I’m bigger than you. I should have thrown you over my shoulder and taken you home.”

“And now…?”

“You could walk…or I could throw you over my shoulder anyway if you like that sort of thing.”

You twisted your body to snuggle deeper into Reven’s arms. You finally felt warm for the first time in three years.

“Did the doctor clear you to leave?”

“They’ve done all they can…they were waiting on me to eat.”

You felt his chest shudder as he chuckled.

“You don’t want cold hospital gruel? Spoiled.”

“Not spoiled enough. I miss your cooking. I want to go home.”

He hopped to his feet, making you jump as he hoisted you princess-style into his arms.

“I’ll come back for your things,” he promised as he carried you out the door.

“Forget about it…It’s just armor and weapons I don’t need anymore. The letters are the only things I want to keep.”

“Are you sure? They’re a little sad. I missed you so badly…I whined more than anything.”

“I want them to…remember how unfair it was…everything I put you through to stroke my own pride.”

He lifted you up to his lips to press a heavy kiss into your forehead.

“Even if you forget, I’ll make you remember. You left, but I let you go. I’m sorry for that (Y/N).”

“Then we’re both sorry.”

Your stomach grumbled loudly, and Reven laughed again.

“Sorry and hungry. Think you can get down some tavern food? It’s not my cooking, but you can’t wait to eat until we get back to Elderoak.”

You looked up at him, cupping his thick jaw with your remaining hand.

“In your company, it’s just as good.”

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aurorawhisperz · 10 months

Text

that’s the thing (e.l)

I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THE DRAFT AND LOST THE ASK 😭😭😭 (but here u go anon if u find this 🙏)

contains: swearing, fluff, smut 18+ (oral, fingering, slight overstimulation)

spiderman!ethan landry x fem!reader

based off you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee 🙏

•

Ethan definitely screwed up.

He swings across the city in tight spandex. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Ethan exclaimed, speedily typing on his phone, but you wouldn’t respond.

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman, he always had priorities—but that didn’t stop him from spending time with you. Knowing this, you forgave him every time he’d miss something.

Well, that jinxed it. On the lookout, he had completely forgotten about your date, Ethan—being the dork with the heart of gold, thought this would be the last straw for you.

Ethan often thought about this every time he’d be swinging around New York just to make it up to you. One reason why he’d always make it up to you is because he felt like he should, or must.

The second reason why is because it always ends in something wonderful—whether it’s him sleeping over, or the other way around, or something else that would have the boy completely whipped.

Then he spotted you, wearing his jacket you ‘forgot’ to return. His whole world seemed to stop—that was until he remembered the fact that he left you waiting.

A bunch of people backed away when Ethan took you with him. “It’s the spider dude!” Someone near you exclaimed.

“What? Oh my god!” You exclaim, swiftly sliding your hands around his neck. “I am so SO sorry that I left you waiting, okay? I was on the lookout, I completely forgot about our date, I’m really sorry, I REALLY AM!” He exclaimed, talking fast, then you pointed at a pole that was about to hit his head.

Once Ethan was about to dodge it, it hits the top of his head instead. His grip tightened till he swinged back to your dorm—though weakly.

He yanks his mask off and leans back on your bed.

“Less talking, more swinging.” You sigh, grabbing the sides of his face—then you kissed him, your lips moving in sync. He could taste the fruity lipgloss you had put on. Ethan's eyes widened in surprise as you pulled away. He blinked a few times, trying to process the unexpected turn of events.

Then a smile was on his face, pulling you back. Deepening the kiss.

“Being a superhero’s girlfriend isn’t that hard,” You frown, then he kisses more again before you continue, “But seriously, you have to change out of this shit.” Ethan kept a hand on your waist, “Actions speak louder than words, right?”

You jump as Ethan quickly jumps under your bed, your roommate bursting in. “Hey, I’ll be leaving you alone here for a while since I’ve got somewhere to go.” You nod, then they wave, “See ya.” And leave.

Quickly falling on your bed as Ethan uses his webs to lock the door, “This is really cute,” He holds up your diary, the drawing of Spider-Man you made on a sticky note during a lecture. “Can I keep it?”

“Change first.” He rolled his eyes at your command.

He quickly changed into his normal clothes after slipping off the spandex. “Dammit,” He exclaimed as he checked his backpack for flowers he was gonna give you—there were flowers, but only a few, the petals flying away instantly.

Walking into the living room, Ethan uses his webs to snatch the remote from your hands, “We’re watching a movie, because I have to make it up to you,” Then handing you the somewhat ruined bouquet of flowers. “Eth, you shouldn’t have.” You teased then grabbed his camera from the table.

“Try and take a picture of me holding these, that’s how you can make it up to me.” Ethan takes the camera from you then more words come from your mouth, “Although you’re already here, that’s how you can make it up to me.”

The camera flashes in your face as you cover the lower half of your face with the flowers—then laying down on the couch with Ethan as the movie starts playing.

“You know,” says Ethan, “I’m really glad I forgot about our date today,” You frown, then he chuckles, “It led to this and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You both chuckle at his words then you shower his face with kisses. Ethan quickly pulled you down to kiss his lips. The movie was long forgotten soon after that.

His lips crashed into yours once again, then his nails dig in your thighs as you straddle him.

“Maybe because you knew it would lead to this,” You mumble against his lips, his other hand running down your spine like an instrument. Ethan broke the kiss to move down to your jawline—then your neck.

His hands tapping on your lower back as you pulled away. “You’re a sneaky one.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then Ethan let out a breathy laugh, “I’m Spiderman, of course I’m sneaky.”

“But I love Ethan Landry more.” Right after Ethan takes quite a few minutes to process your words, he pulls you in by your waist to kiss you once again.

You wrap your arms around his neck as his fingers dig into your hips.

He mumbles against your lips, “I want you,” He starts to smoothly put a little tongue in the kiss, then when your lips part even more for permission, it slips in. You hum against his lips as Ethan slowly grinds into you.

You pull away and smile, he drags his thumb over your bottom lip, you try to kiss him again, but he keeps a hand on your chest to stop you. “Can I go down on you?” The question makes your eyes widen as you turn beet red. Ethan’s stupid puppy eyes made you nod, and the smirk felt good to kiss off.

His arms placed you back on the couch, the needy boy got on his knees. Ethan gives you a deep kiss, then he moves down your jaw, he leaves a mark on your collarbone.

It goes from your chest, to your belly, and he reaches your clothed core. Ethan looks up at you and you lick your lips.

The boy pulls down your panties and starts with kissing your inner thighs. The sneaky little thing was always a tease, it pained you slightly but you know you love him.

Ethan presses a wet kiss to your left thigh, sucking on it. His breath fans over your core and you shudder.

He presses a kiss to your clit, then makes his way down to your entrance—licking up then burying his face in between your thighs. Your back arched at the pleasure.

In the early stages of your relationship, you had always told him what felt good, and he made it feel even better.

Your legs threaten to lock around his head, but his big hands hold your hips down. You were basically squirming, and he was only trying to drive himself away from the spot you wanted him to stay on.

Ethan harshly sucks on your clit, circling it with his tongue. You feel like you’re close, VERY close. Without warning, his middle finger enters you and that makes you lift your head up and whine in pleasure, you could feel him smile against your core.

“God, don’t stop.” You say breathlessly, and while muffled, you could still hear him, “I won’t,” He pulls away with a pop, “Trust me.” He dives right back in as soon as he finishes.

When his ring finger enters, your body felt limp and like everything slowed down for a minute.

The hot feeling down your stomach was heating up.

When his nose bumped into your clit, along with his ring finger entering the chaos, that feeling hit it’s peak.

Though Ethan didn’t stop, he kept lapping up your juices—it felt so overwhelming. Your hips were basically jolting up out of instinct.

You shuddered under his touch, he reaches up for your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

When Ethan finally pulled away, he crawled back on top of you and pushed away a stray strand of hair. He didn’t say anything, he just smiled. You know you’d forgive him for missing a date either way, the only way he could make it up to you is just being there.

He presses a soft kiss to your lips, then he mumbles in between kisses, “I’m not done yet,” Your eyes blink open as he pulls away, the taste of yourself lingering on your tongue. “I wonder how people would feel if they find out their friendly neighborhood Spiderman was a pro at not only superhero-ing, but this.” says Ethan.

You chuckle and pull him back in for another, when he breaks the contact he takes the square foil out of his pocket and smirks at you, then places it on the table next to you both. He tries to kiss you again

You grab it from the table, “I’m not on the pill, babe,” You assure him, he shrugs then takes it from your hand. He sticks the tip of his tongue out when he struggles to open it. You laugh at Ethan, and open it yourself. “I’ll be your walking stick tomorrow,” he whispers to your ear.

You were in for a long night.

#ethan landry #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream fanfiction #scream fluff #ethan landry angst #ethan landry smut #scream angst #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman angst #spiderman smut

757 notes · View notes

thelov3lybookworm · 7 months

Note

shy!lucien x bold!reader, corruption. Reader is a shameless flirt and courtier in the nightcourt. She is rhysands sister, a part of the inner circle and is tasked with keeping lucien company when he and feyre first arrive in velaris. At first she plays with him and enjoys watching him squirm when she says the nastiest most flirty things infront of everyone. But then they truly fall inlove with eachother and reader finds out he’s a virgin. She takes his virginity and claims him as hers, promising that she’ll ruin anyone else for him🧎‍♀️👀👀 the mating bond snaps in place for them😋😋

Presents

Summary: Y/n loves making the new emissary to the night court flustered. The way he blushes, the way he sputters, hell, even the way he breathes is fascinating.

But she isn't ready for her heart to decide that flirting is not enough for her.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: hey! I loved the prompt! It was so fun to write 😌 I also, I felt like you wanted me to write smut, but I don't write smut, so I'm sorry 😔

Anyways enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Lucien's pov.

He made a beeline towards Rhys's office in the river house. He had been relieved to find the house almost empty when he entered, knowing if the inner circle were present, the house wouldn't be so peaceful.

He was also hoping that she wasn't present in the house.

Rhysand's sister.

Y/n.

Over the months since he and Feyre had escaped the Spring Court, it was as if she had made him her target.

•○●⛦●○•

The first time, he had been lounging in his room a day after he and Feyre arrived in Velaris, thinking of the events in the past few days. He was feeling guilty for leaving his friend alone, wondering if he should have stayed back and faced Tamlin's wrath. That was all he could think about since the moment he stepped foot out of the spring court.

Lucien was about to scream at the top of his lungs in frustration, and that's when she decided to waltz in.

She wore a simple tunic and some loose pants, her hair shoved haphazardly into a bun. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the room he was staying in. She hadn't even bothered to knock, and once she had surveyed the room, she simply smiled at him and then plopped down on the small couch–which could probably accommodate only one illyrian, wings and all– as he watched from the bed, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Hi, I'm Y/n." She gave a tiny wave, lifting her legs to rest on one of the armrests of the tiny couch, her back resting on the other one as she draped her arm across the back of it.

He'd stared at her, dumbfounded.

"You are staring darling." She didn't even look at him, just continued getting comfortable on the couch.

He snapped his jaw shut, which he hadn't even realised was open. "I–I'm Lucien."

She grinned, finally looking at him. "I know sweets."

He wondered how to reply to that so the silence didn't become uncomfortable, his cheeks already starting to heat with embarrassment because he was caught staring. "Why–why are you here?"

He groaned inwardly. That was not how he was supposed to speak. Dammit, it was practically his job to know how to converse smoothly with people. He'd been a gods damned emissary for almost half his life.

She didn't seem to mind his words though, speaking happily. "I just thought you would be bored. I came to see if you needed company."

He raised his brows. "So have you seen if I need company?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I deem you in need of it."

This female was certainly weird. "I don't think that's true."

"Are you trying to kick me out?"

Shit.

"No–"

She laughed. "Don't worry darling. I won't take it personally."

He studied her for a moment. "Why are you really here?"

"I just told you."

"So you want me to believe that you aren't here so you could spy on me for them?"

She stared at him for a moment, the edges of her beautiful lips curling ever so slightly. "There is nothing they can make me do if I don't want to. And I would never want to spy on anyone. That's the darned spymaster's job. Not mine."

"But–"

He stopped when he noticed that her eyes were glazed over, and after a moment she heaved an irritated sigh.

"Brother's in need of me. Have to go. But don't you trick yourself into believing that I'll let you live in peace."

She got up, walking up to him instead of going to where the door was, and he watched as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

The heat in his cheeks turned from embarrassment to the redness of fluster. She winked at him before turning away.

"Bye. Have a good day Lucien."

Butterflies erupted in his stomach when his name rolled off her lips, and he almost forgot to reply.

"B–bye." He spluttered.

Her eyes glittered. "You're cute."

Never in his life did he think someone would call him cute, but here he was.

Would she show up again? Or was this just some sick way of hers to pass the time?

He didn't know what to base his judgement off of, considering all he knew about the female was that she was Rhys's sister and she was as charming as he was.

•○●⛦●○•

And now the war was over, and the female still showed no signs of stopping.

He grunted softly at his thoughts, how all he could think about was her, all he could wonder about was what she would say when the met next.

But he was trying to distance himself from her.

Not because he didn't like her. No, he liked her, very much so. Probably a little too much for his own good.

But she was charming, and it seemed like second nature to her to flirt with people. He was pretty sure he probably had seen her flirting with the house at some point.

And it was a given that he might fall for her, he probably already had. And he didn't want to develop any more feelings in case she was just flirting with for fun and never had any interest in him. It would hurt him, which he didn't need more of.

So he stepped carefully towards Rhys's office, making sure he was making no noise, eyeing the staircase to make sure she wasn't about to flounce down it to greet him.

The plan was simple. Go meet Rhys, hand over the reports Lucien had with him, and go back to the mortal lands before the dinner and party for tonight's solstice began and wallow in sadness because he had no one.

No one to celebrate festivals with.

No one who cared enough for him to ask if he was doing well.

He had had only a couple of friends in his life who he was in contact with till this day. Vassa, Jurian, Tamlin and Feyre.

But Tamlin was in no position to care for and look over his own needs and health, let alone Lucien's.

And Feyre had her family to look after. So he had no one who cared for him, except Jurian and Vassa.

It wasn't that he was ungrateful. He was just lonely, and he oftentimes wondered what it would feel like to know someone cared if he lived or died.

He wondered how it would feel like to have a family like the inner circle to laugh and cry with.

He wondered what it would feel like to have a love like Rhys and Feyre's, Cassian and Nesta's.

But that's all he could do. All he ever did.

Wonder.

As soon as he reached the door of the office, he heaved a relieved sigh and then pushed them open.

And then he froze when he lifted his eyes.

There she was, her legs resting on the table as she sat in her brother's chair, flipping through a book in her lap.

She looked so careless, as if the world could go to hell and she would be sitting on the throne of hell itself, eating cookies and reading one of those romance novels she adored.

She didn't seem to notice him, her eyes glued to the book. So he decided it best if he left while she was busy, not wanting to get into a conversation with her that might potentially end up with him handing over his heart to be shattered.

Whatever was left of his broken heart anyway.

He took a silent step backwards, keeping an eye on her. And he found her lips lifting in a slow smile.

"Trying to run away Lucien? Come on, I thought you would have missed me." She pouted, slowly raising her eyes to his figure.

She didn't look into his eyes though. She leisurely raked her eyes over his form.

She hummed, seemingly satisfied.

"Y/n." He tried to mutter her name with as much detachment as possible.

Because he knew if he didn't, she would know exactly how much he missed her. Her voice when she talked to him and only him, how her eyes glittered when she found him blushing to one of her teasing remarks, how she boldly said the nastiest and filthiest things and made him wonder how she would sound like when he was deep–

No. He could not go to those moments now, he could not think of those thoughts now, because if he did, she would see how much he fucking. Missed. Her.

He had come to terms with his feelings a long time ago, knowing if he kept pushing them away, he would inevitably be hit by more feelings than he could handle all at the same time. So he had known in the budding stages of his love for her how much he truly desired her.

Lucien swallowed and decided to take a single step into the room and then another. Her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"How are you doing today Lucien?" She mumbled as he neared the desk.

"I'm good. How about you?"

"I'm perfect."

He knew she was. She was perfect and someone like him didn't deserve her.

He nodded. "Where is Rhysand?"

"Come on, you never ask me about myself these days. What's gotten into you?" She leaned back, her lower lip jutting out.

And all he could think about was how he wanted to bite–

"He is somewhere. Hopefully not dying. He told me a few moments before you arrived to retrieve the reports from you and that he'll be here soon enough."

He groaned inwardly. Everything was going just great. His mind and heart weren't helping much either.

"Are you staying for tonight?"

He was caught off guard by the sudden change in the conversation. "No."

Her brows furrowed and she lowered her legs. "Why not?"

"I don't know... I don't want to intrude–"

"Bullshit. You will not be intruding. We want you here."

He smiled sadly. "Do you though? Never felt that way."

Dammit. He was saying things that were supposed to be buried in his heart.

Y/n blinked. "What do you mean? When have I ever given you the impression–"

"Not you–"

But before anyone could speak another word, footsteps sounded nearby, followed by Rhysand's scent before he walked in.

"Oh hello Lucien. I hope you have the reports I asked for?"

Lucien nodded, relieved. "Yes. I have them."

"Good. Can you please move Y/n?"

She stood from Rhys's chair without ever breaking eye contact with Lucien.

"Hey Rhys, did you know that Lucien was planning on leaving after your meeting?"

Rhysand looked up at her, confused before he turned to Lucien. "Why is that Lucien? You should stay for dinner."

As soon as he said those words, he went back to rummaging in his desk drawer.

Lucien wanted to laugh. He was no kid. He knew Y/n had convinced Rhysand to say that.

He wasn't wanted here, no one except maybe Feyre and Y/n trusted or liked him. He wouldn't stay somewhere he wasn't wanted for more than necessary.

He felt a scratch on his mental walls, and he glanced at Y/n to find her staring intently at him. He opened a small window for her.

Yes?

I want you to stay. Please.

Are you sure? Lucien was still skeptical. Because if he stayed, he'll have to stand in a corner and watch the others have the time of their lives like a stranger gazing in from the window. Not to mention everyone might be uncomfortable and probably start pitying him because no one would have bought a gift for him.

Please Lucien. Stay for me.

"Yes, Lucien. Let's start the meeting. Y/n, could you please–"

"Yes." She stared at lucien for a moment, her eyes swirling with something Lucien didn't dare name, before she left the room and slipped out of his mind.

During the whole meeting, he was distracted. Wondering if he should stay or not.

By the end of the meeting, he knew what he wanted.

So he decided to stay.

Of course he did.

•○🌑○•

Y/n's pov.

Saying she was excited would be an understatement. But at the moment, no better word came to mind as all that occupied the space in her head was him.

He had looked so good today. But he always looked that way.

Today it all felt different. She had come to terms a long time ago that what she felt for him was no matter of jest, and that she really did have feelings for him.

She didn't know why, but she'd had felt this strange pull towards him today when he first walked through the door of Rhys's office.

She continued to eye him from the corner of her eyes, her resolve hardening.

They were all seated around on the couches in the living room of the river house, talking and laughing and drinking while Lucien and Y/n sat near the window on the little loveseat. Lucien simply drank his wine and stared into the glass most of the time.

Everyone had been shocked when Lucien came in through the door and took a seat next to Y/n, Cassian and Rhys nodding to him once before turning back to their partners to continue their conversation. Feyre had just smiled and said hello to Lucien before digging into her meal.

And then during the whole dinner, everyone had ignored him, consciously or not, to make him think he wasn't welcome or not, she didn't know. Azriel, Amren and Mor even glaring or sneering at him when he wasn't looking. It pissed Y/n off so much she was ready to tear their heads off.

But there was one good thing that came out of them ignoring him. She had him all to herself for the night, and so far, she had succeeded in making him blush throughout the whole evening.

The whole time, she asked him about random things or flirted with him, but she was genuinely curious about his opinion on political and other matters. Talking to him was truly enlightening. He was a smart and intelligent guy.

Now as they sat nearby the windows, she came to a decision.

"Hey Lucien." She waited for him to look at her before continuing to practically whisper directly into his ear. "I have to show you something. Would you like to come with me?"

"Um... okay. Lead the way." He stood along with her and she led him towards the door to the foyer. But before they could leave, Rhys's voice interrupted them.

"Where are you going?"

"I was going to show him something." She answered honestly.

"Go after the presents have been opened. Come sit, we were just about to open them."

Y/n glanced at Lucien, who shrugged and stepped back into the room towards the seat they had occupied for hours. She decided to keep standing.

Everyone began opening their gifts one by one, and she could feel Lucien's discomfort coming off him in waves with each moment that passed.

Finally, everyone had opened their presents, and they turned to look at Y/n expectantly. She was the only one who hadn't opened her presents yet.

Rhysand piled all her presents near her neatly, but then the inner circle noticed that there was still a pile of presents apart from Y/n's nearby, and Cassian, being the busybody he was, stood to inspect.

"Who's are these?" He stepped closer and closer before Y/n interrupted him. He turned to look at her.

"Those are Lucien's."

Everything became silent as they stared at her.

She simply smiled and winnowed all the presents, hers and his, away to her room.

"I'll open my presents later. For now that you all have finished opening your gifts, I'll take my leave. I still do have to show him that thing." She smiled at Lucien, who gaped at her, his eyes wide.

She motioned at him to follow, and he did, after staring at her for a moment.

"Good night everyone. Happy solstice." She threw over her shoulder, already beginning to ascend the stairs before Lucien had even left the room.

He followed behind, quiet.

The two of them had just entered her room, the door closing behind him with a soft click before he caught her wrist in his hand, tugging lightly but firmly.

She glanced back, her skirts swishing around her legs as she stared up at the beautiful male. She was wearing a simple golden and white dress, which was mostly held by a ribbon on her back which was tied off in an elaborate bow.

She raised her brows, and his golden eye glanced behind her while his russet eye stayed on her. She knew what had caught his attention. The piles of gifts she had dropped near her window.

"What– whose..."

She grinned softly and shrugged, letting his hand stay where it was on her wrist and tugging him towards window. "All yours. Open them."

"Are they all from you?"

She shrugged again as the two of them settled on the floor and he pulled a small gift towards him, examining him. "Yes."

"Why? Is it because I don't– because I would get uncomfortable? You do know that was not the reason I didn't want to stay–"

"I do. And trust me when i say that I didn't get them for that reason. I... I've been collecting these gifts for you since after a month of meeting you. Never had the courage to give them to you. What better time to gift them than solstice?"

"Why..." His voice sounded choked off, and his eyes were filled with emotion. She put a gentle hand on his arm, smiling softly.

"Because, despite what you believe Lucien, not everyone hates you. I don't hate you. I like you, very much so." Then, in a quieter voice, she added. "I love you."

He swallowed harshly, looking at a loss for words. "I... you should use that word carefully. You shouldn't be throwing it around like its nothing."

She searched his eyes– or eye. "Why is that so hard to believe Lucien? That someone might love you?"

He looked away, his fingers fidgeting with the box in his hands. "It just is."

She stared at him a moment longer, knowing what she was about to do would be reckless. But she didn't care.

Not as she crashed her lips against his.

Not as she heard and felt his breath hitch, as she felt his lashes closing and tickling her cheeks slightly, as he slowly kissed her back.

She didn't care that this was reckless as his hands travelled to her neck and waist, pulling her into his lap, and she went happily.

Despite being the one who begun this kiss, she immediately felt nervous. What if she had pushed herself onto him and he didn't want to kiss her?

So she pulled away just as quickly, and he looked at her with his brows furrowed.

"Is everything alright?"

"Um... I should have asked–"

"Oh shut it." He mumbled before tugging her closer and kissing her again.

It felt like they kissed for a whole eternity, and she wanted to keep going, but the two of them needed air, ribbons needed to be unwound and the presents needed to be opened.

So she reluctantly pulled away, smiling.

"We need to open the presents." She reminded him, and he blinked as if he had forgotten.

"You want me to open them now?"

"Yes. After that, you can have me as your present too." She winked at him as his face reddened. She was about to climb off his lap, but he held her back.

"Stay there love." He whispered huskily in her ear as he began opening the presents.

She didn't move, more than happy to stay where she was.

He opened the presents with feral urgency, ripping the papers away and looking at what was inside. And despite the beastly way in which he opened them, his face was soft, as if he was shocked by each one that he opened. She put months of thoughts into them, getting the stuff that would mean the most to him.

After he was done, he shoved his hand in one of his pockets and pulled out a sleek and slender box.

He simply handed it to her, jerking his chin at it. She opened it tenderly, gasping when she saw the necklace.

It was a simple one, with a simple thin chain and a teardrop pendant the size of her thumb's nail encased in a silver frame. It looked ordinary, but she knew it was no ordinary jewellery.

It was a magical one.

A few months ago, she had forced Lucien to come shopping with her, and they had gone into a shop of enchanted items. There, she had spied a pair of necklaces, which were said to be connected to each other. All you had to do was blow a little bit of your magic, no matter how insignificant, into the pendant and give it to your partner, and the pendant would turn red whenever you were in danger, alerting your partner.

She had wanted to get it, but she didn't have anyone to wear it with. So she had dragged Lucien away.

Now as she sat staring at the same necklace, she wondered if he had the other one. Sure enough, when she glanced at him, he pulled away the lapels of his tunic to show her the pendant that rested on the carved planes of his chest.

She laughed and tackled him into a hug before demanding that he put the necklace on her. He did, grinning as he clasped the necklace on her neck. He place a suggestive kiss on the back of her neck, reminding her of what she'd promised.

And Y/n always kept her promises.

"Umm... Y/n? Before we do anything, I just wanted to tell you that... I– I never..."

She cocked her head. "You never what Lucien?"

He glanced at her bed, and she realised.

"You've never slept with anyone?" She asked incredulously, the corners of her lips lifting.

"Don't laugh." He mumbled, not meeting her eyes.

"I'm not laughing, I just can't believe no one has ever lured you into their beds yet."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

"It is."

"It is?" He finally met her eyes.

"Because now I get to have you all to myself. I'll ruin everyone else for you." She swore.

And, as said before, she kept her promises.

•○🌑○•

Y/n blinked her eyes open, finding herself cuddled into a warm body, her head resting on someone's chest.

Lucien.

He was already awake, moving his fingers through her hair. She smiled sleepily up at him, earning a chuckle in response. She felt the butterflies in their stomach flutter their wings.

Her body was running on only two hours of sleep, having stayed awake with him, but it was all so worth it.

"I should probably get going." He murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Why?"

"Rhysand will have my ass if he finds me in your bed."

"He can go to hell." She said, turning onto her back.

He laughed quietly. He turned onto his side so he was facing her, gently flicking her nose. "That would make you a bad sister."

"I don't care." She mumbled.

He grinned. "That's sad."

"Let's not talk about him now. Tell me, did you have fun last night?" She asked wickedly.

Instantly, a blush stole over his cheeks. She eyed his chest, the golden skin stretching deliciously over his taut muscles.

"You know–" She began, lifting her eyes back to his, but then paused. As soon as their eyes met, a resounding snap echoed through her being.

She stared and stared at this amazing male, who she never thought she would deserve, now connected to her eternally with a golden string. He stared right back, a flurry of emotions swirling through his eye. Shock, happiness, wonder, awe, lust and what not.

She tried to lightly tug on the golden string, trying to gauge his reaction.

He gasped, his hand flying to his chest. His eyes lit up with an inner fire, boring into hers, which were slowly filling with tears.

"Mate. You– you're my mate..." She whispered, not daring to speak louder as if it would shatter this beautiful moment.

His lips slowly lifted, a crease appearing in his cheek. "Mate."

But of course, her brother loved to interrupt her any chance he got, and he chose exactly that moment to slam her bedroom door open.

Lucien was quick, throwing the blanket by their waists over her body.

Rhysand froze, staring at Lucien and then Y/n. Whatever was visible of her anyway.

Y/n smiled sheepishly, trying to find a way to calm Rhysand before he erupted in rage. "Hi Rhysie–"

"What's he doing here?" He asked coldly. Y/n sighed.

"That's none of your business."

"It is when I find my little sister in bed with someone like–"

She narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me? What do you mean?"

He released a breath, rubbing his eyes. "Look Y/n... first of all, Lucien, would you mind leaving us–"

"He's not going anywhere." She grasped Lucien's hand, almost all of his fingers covered in rings, just that simple touch shooting desire up her spine. The recently discovered mating bond made it no easier.

Rhys clenched his jaw. "Look sister–"

"Okay, imagine this Rhysie, I come into your room one day, and tell Feyre to leave the room so I can talk to you. Would you let her leave?" She wanted this conversation done with. The faster Rhys left the room, the quicker she'd be able to get to her mate and the desire itching at her skin.

"That's different. She's my mate–"

"And he's mine."

The silence was deafening, and no one made an atrempt to break it. She glanced at Lucien, who had a smug smile filled with pride on his face as he gazed at her.

Finally, Rhys spoke. "We need to talk."

"Later." She could already smell Lucien's intoxicating arousal.

Her brother looked incredibly uncomfortable. "I–then I guess I'll leave?"

"Please." She glared at him, and he practically sprinted out the door.

When she glanced at Lucien, he murmured, "That was hot."

She giggled, tugging him forward by his hand that she was still clasping. He complied, leaning into her and kissing her slowly and deeply.

They only pulled back when it was almost impossible to keep going without breathing and he grinned devilishly. And cauldron if that didn't have her insides in a mess.

"Ready for round two?"

She was.

•○🌑○•

General taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless

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xiaosonlybeloved · 3 months

Text

Too Late~ Dazai Osamu

featuring:- PM!Dazai Osamu, gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned), Chuuya (briefly) warnings:- angst, hurt/no comfort, being hostage, mentions of torture in captivity, graphic mentions of blood and violence, major character death, lmk if i missed anything a/n:- im already sighing on looking at the warnings... it IS bsd i suppose.. well here's what im best at again, in a new fandom, so have some angst that is VERY late set some time before Odasaku's death

wc:- 2.5k || masterlist

Not many people knew what it was like to have known Dazai before he joined the Port Mafia. To be one of the few people who had been trusted by him. Keyword being ‘had’- for some, some unfathomable reason, he’d drifted away, leaving you behind, alone. Making you wonder if for some reason he wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

It hurt. It hurt that you could lose him so easily, despite having been with him throughout the years, making sure he knew that you would always be there for him, silently tending to him after yet another attempt. It hurt because you had no idea what you did wrong to push him away. It hurt because he didn’t care anymore, for you, for them, for your shared childhood.

A fool could have probably known that you shouldn’t have gotten so close to the brunette, that he leaves nothing but a trail of suffering and sorrow in the wake of the people who dared to care for him. You, however, argued that he wasn’t like this before. At all. Again, a fool’s excuse.

Perhaps the Port Mafia had changed him, so much more than it changed you. Because now, he was completely unrecognisable, almost like he was a different person altogether. And you can’t help but dully wonder where the man you once knew almost inside out went, the man who once did his best to stay with you no matter what, when he abandoned you yet again during a joint mission ordered by Mori, citing some logical reasons of why it was better for you to not be with him during a mission. (Like always.) Not even bothering to get your opinion or response, something he never did before joining the Mafia.

You watch silently as the brunette slowly disappears into the horizon, leaving you behind. Again.

That night, as you return to your apartment alone once again, (Bittersweet memories surface in your mind- young Dazai cheerily walking you back home, laughing.), you get the distinct feeling that something is off. You are a mafioso after all, you need to have a keen sense for danger to be alive in this industry. You’re instantly on high alert, even though you look calm as always, with your hands in your coat pockets, ready to pull out your knives in a moment. But you still can’t sense anyone following you. Just to be sure, you take a detour home.

You take a deep breath at the threshold of your door, relieved to be back here. That sense of danger wasn’t as prominent anymore, and you were dying to get some sleep in an attempt to get a certain brunette out of your mind. You’d deal with whatever the problem was tomorrow- you’d had enough today. You can’t help but smile forlornly as you walk into your dimly lit home-

-And then suddenly you’re falling, falling, into a void of darkness, surrounded by the people you care, by him, hurling words at you that stab you like a thousand knives in a nightmare, and dumbly you realise that you walked right into an ability user’s trap, before the unknown ability takes your consciousness, bringing a silent darkness and pain.

*********

Mimic. A foreign organisation, a group of extremely skilled soldiers who sought the Port Mafia for unknown reasons. People who are willing to go to extreme lengths to get what they wanted- much like your own boss, really. And the ones who are your captors.

You can’t move, you’ve been chained. You assume that they want someone valuable to the Mafia as a hostage, and apparently you serve the purpose well. And dammit, you’ve been completely disarmed while unconscious, you can’t feel a single weapon on you. You’re alone, too, but there’s definite signs that someone’s been here, multiple times. There’s also an assortment of sharp weapons some distance away from you, and you think its cruel to leave them in your sight but out of reach. There’s no windows or openings either.

Footsteps echo outside the door of the room you’ve been kept in, breaking your survey of the room and your thoughts of escape routes. Two men walk in, dignified. It’s clear that they are war-trained soldiers. One of them stops talking with a grin, as he notices you awake.

**********

They want an individual from the Mafia on orders of their boss. They claim that Mori has been taking too long in making a decision, and they apparently hope their decision to take you captive will either force Mori to choose, or force you to give up the individual’s identity yourself in exchange for your freedom under pressure. But you can’t, won’t do the latter.

Because the individual they want is Oda Sakunosuke, Dazai’s new best friend, and you know damn well that he would utterly despise you if you gave up his identity, if you took away the one who gave him his reason to smile these days. Bitter thoughts cloud your mind, of how he abandoned you completely over some new friends, and you wonder if it would be better to just tell them. But then, your mafia sense kicks in, reasoning that if Mori doesn’t want his identity to be revealed yet, then you're probably as good as dead if you choose for him instead and return alive. (You would later realise that this thinking, too, was planned out by Mori, that bastard.) Your captors let hints slide that they’ll let your absence build up for a while, then let the Mafia know of your being their captive. Hopefully they do something.

You’ll just have to do your best to get out of those damn bonds by then, or survive till then. This was a very convenient time to wish that Dazai had taught you his little trick on how to unlock handcuffs, you think wistfully.

*********

As it turns out, surviving is an extremely hard thing to do after a few days have passed since Mori was apparently informed about the news of your captivity. Mori still hadn’t responded with his decision. Proof being the various cuts and bruises littering your skin already, a few small bloodstains already on the wall and floor. Not too much. Yet. They were intent on forcing your answer out of you, and clearly wouldn’t mind going to extremes for it.

You did your utmost to not make a single reaction when the knife pierced through your skin again, despite the pain that shot through your body for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, you were well trained on how to not divulge information in captivity- after all, the Port Mafia really couldn’t risk their insider secrets getting out.

You were still intent on escaping, on getting out. You still had a flicker of hope in you, that someone would come for you, that he might come for you, despite the past few days proving fruitless. You refused to give up yet. You still believed in him, in them, that you wouldn’t be abandoned so easily by your kin.

‘Such a naive belief’, you would dully think some days later.

********

Hope seemed like such a foolish thing now. You had lost track of time in the room without windows. No idea of how many days or weeks had passed. They weren’t coming for you. Of course they weren’t. You weren’t that important anyways, easily replaceable. Casualties happened often, what did it matter if someone died by being taken hostage? You truly attempted to free yourself, many times. You never succeeded, and each time you only received more wounds as punishment. Your captors were merciless, to say the least.

Wounds. That seemed like a small word to use at this point, with how battered and bruised you were. Your clothes were bloodsoaked, and you’d lost count of the number of scars and cuts you’d gained from your captors a long while ago. You could sense they were getting extremely frustrated by the lack of response. You didn’t mind, you didn’t care. You’d even stopped screaming when they cut you particularly deep- you just didn’t have any strength left in you at all. You passed out a few times from extreme blood loss. You could almost hear Mori in your mind, scolding you to get up already.

Mori. Of course, everything was probably a part of his heartless plans, fully willing to use any number of pawns for their execution.

At this point, you just wanted to be put out of your misery.

Your wish was granted some time- days?- later.

*******

Dazai was initially relieved when you didn’t show up to your next joint mission. He wouldn’t have to ensure your safety and hide his feelings again. But he’d quickly figured out that something was wrong when you didn’t show up again, and again, and you were nowhere to be seen around the Port Mafia buildings either. He’d gathered up the courage to go to your apartment, but had immediately sensed the ability at the entrance and deactivated it. That was what confirmed it for him, and finally, he allowed himself to feel fear for his childhood best friend. For you.

He was well aware that he didn’t deserve to, after how terribly he treated you in an attempt to protect himself from his emotions. His only defence was that he was afraid of hurting you- he knew his reputation well. But that didn’t matter right now- he had to find you. Except not a single person had a clue of your whereabouts. The only person he hadn’t questioned yet was Mori.

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to go beyond the doors of Mori’s office. He was scared. Scared of what he’d find.

Again, that would prove to be one of his biggest mistakes, when Kouyou grimly approached him, having accidentally obtained information about you that she wasn’t even supposed to know in Mori’s office. Kouyou cared for you enough to let Dazai know of your situation.

Dazai felt sick to the core when he saw the single picture attached in the message Kouyou sent him, along with a decision to choose between you and the future-seeing ability user- Odasaku. His heart dropped into his stomach even more when he saw that the last message was a few days ago. What if-?

No. Dazai refused to think of that possibility. He’d track down the source of that picture, he’d hunt them down, make them regret their decision, and he’d get you back. He’d make sure of it. He had too many apologies he owed to you after all, even if they would never make up for all that he’d done. He would.

*******

You were surprised that their boss hadn’t shown up to interrogate you yet. You simply stared hollowly at the walls as the door slammed open and the highest-ranked individual in the facility walked in, knife in hand.

Not a single piece of information slipped past your mouth, as he went through the routine torture process.

Time passes, and you can see that he’s grown extremely frustrated with your lack of response. One of the others standing at the door, watching your misery, suggested that he simply kill you and get it over with. It was pointless to keep you around anymore.

‘Finally’ you think darkly. You didn’t think you could hold out for much longer.

You close your eyes, not wanting to see your killer. Instead, you remember the people you care for, silently apologising to them for giving up. Somewhere, in the background, you hear the distant noises of shouting. Probably some of the other soldiers playing cards or something again.

Despite you willing yourself to not make a sound, a shattering scream tears itself out of your throat when you feel the knife harshly stabbed straight into your heart. Your killer twisted it roughly- another scream, your last- and then pulled the knife out.

You feel yourself fall forward, double in on yourself, wrists held back to the wall. The agony is excruciating, but hopefully it won’t last long. To you, it feels as if your screams are echoing in the room, or maybe in your mind, and your vision has gone blurry in pain. But then, you realise through your numb haze that your screams do not sound like that- you’ve heard the sound enough.You realize that maybe someone has attacked your captors.

There’s a terrified shout mixed in all the clamor, and its a voice that you would recognise anywhere. ‘But there’s no way’, you think hollowly. No one cared enough to come for you.

Then you feel yourself falling forward suddenly, blood gushing out from your chest, into someone’s familiar arms as your eyes close. The handcuffs are gone. Faintly, you hear a voice- his voice- through the ringing in your ears, saying something unintelligible to you. You can’t understand what's being said, but you struggle to open your eyes one last time to see.

And somehow, Dazai is there, holding you tightly, eyes full of panic and terror, everyone else in the room crushed to the ground. He’s saying something worriedly to someone behind him- Chuuya. You briefly wonder if you’re hallucinating, but decide against it- this all feels too real. This must have been the shouts in the distance.

They came for you. In the end, they came, albeit a bit too late. You feel yourself being lifted, and then Dazai is running out, holding you carefully as if you could break any moment- you’re already broken though. You feel the cool night breeze for the first time in ages, see the beautiful moon again. A small smile rests on your lips as you feel yourself finally fall limp in his arms. ‘He still looks as pretty as before, and maybe, just maybe, he still cares for you’, is what you think.

You shut your eyes again, surrendering yourself to the darkness beyond the agony.

********

Horrified is much too mild a word to use, when he sees your condition. When he sees you being stabbed in front of his eyes, when you fall limp in his arms. The next moments are a panicked blur, Chuuya saying something to take you somewhere, that he’ll handle this place. He runs straight out, towards the Mafia building, towards the doctors, towards the hospital, anywhere, anywhere you can be saved.

But its already too late, he knows it when you don’t move in his arms anymore, when your bleeding chest doesn’t rise and fall again, and he doesn’t know what else to do apart from screaming in sorrow and fear, because he’s just lost the one person who understood him like no one else, who cared for him like no one else, who he stupidly pushed away, and its all because of him. He falls to his knees, still clutching your lifeless, bleeding body. Your face had a hint of a smile in your last few moments, and that is what finally breaks him. All he can do is cry out apologies continuously, tears freely streaming down his face, for everything he’s done wrong, for how he’s treated you, for being too late to save you.

finallyyy, and as usual, votes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated also lmk if you guys want a happy ending :D

#extra:- this was all part of mori's plan to make dazai leave pm without actually making him leave bc he feared dazai wanted his position #and he follows this up with oda's death to finally push dazai over the edge as he lost the two ppl he cared abt the most and left #skylia's works #bsd #bungo stray dogs #dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai angst #bsd angst #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai bsd #dazai x reader angst #bsd oneshots #dazai oneshots

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