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fyorina · 2 days

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ᡣ𐭩 ICARION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai had known he was flying too close to the sun, he should have stopped himself while he still had the chance. {wordcount: 11.5k; fem!reader, romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: installment fiveeeee otherwise known as part 2 of installment four LOL! ugh guys i'm dragging myself thru the trenches right now i'm so miserable - i wasn't even up to posting this today i won't lie but </3 i pulled thru </3 if only barely. fun fact this is actually only a 3 scene chapter but the second scene is just MASSIVE. i wasn't up to restructuring so you guys are just going to get it as it is. this is also unedited because i just wasn't up to it so bear with me regarding mistakes. JUST TO REMIND YOU ALL: the last installment is DELAYED - i have 3 finals next week and haven't had the time to finish it. it will be up by the end of may </3 sorry guys. wow this actually is attempt number three trying to post this correctly - i'm so shot

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from badlands - if you guys read badlands, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 12k chapter just because there's 4k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the SECOND scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in badlands, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, dazai cries </3 poor baby, sub!dazai, as always pussy drunk!dazai, bit of overstim on dazai's part too, jfhsuhdfsu i will say it starts on the bathroom floor so that might be a bit gross to some of you but dazai hardly even uses his apartment anyway so trust it's clean. bear with me. it just flowed from there i had to go with it. the story writes itself, i'm only the scribe. LOL let me know if i missed anything, i might have

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

Dazai is hardly listening to the conversation at hand. They’ve been going back and forth for thirty minutes about inconsequential matters. Tolstoy is getting increasingly heated as he goes tit-for-tat with Nabokov, evidently the tripartite alliance between the Russian mafias is not quite enough to quell all of the bad blood that’s simmered between them, but something about the situation isn’t sitting right to Dazai. He can feel it in his gut, swirling in the depths of his chest—something is wrong but he doesn’t know what.

Mishima looks equally put out, gaze trained on Tolstoy and Nabokov’s conversation, occasionally looking back at his executives. Cao seems bored, head tilted back against the red cushions of the round booth as he smokes a cigarette; in all regards, he seems relaxed, but Dazai notices the way the fingers of his free hand are tense on the table, as if he’s bracing himself for something.

Something isn’t right.

Dostoevsky is cunning. Intelligent. He’s been lethally sharp in every universe that the other Dazais have encountered him in. He wouldn’t send Tolstoy and Nabokov into this meeting with them at each other’s throats like this without an ulterior reason. Dazai is missing something critical; he knows it’s not something as simple as wanting to give off the appearance of a divided front as means to get Dazai and Mishima to lower their guard. Nothing is that easy. There’s some ulterior motive that Dazai has to figure out.

Cao’s presence. Tolstoy and Nabokov’s blatant hostility toward one another. Mishima’s words from earlier, warning him that something seems to be brewing, that Tolstoy and Nabokov had been on edge since he arrived at the event hall. Dazai’s head hurts, and he can’t focus, not when you’re in the other room without him.

Already, he feels as if he’s been separated from you for too long, he’d been hoping this meeting was only going to last thirty minutes at most, and it’s been thirty minutes already and hardly any progress has been made. If Dazai didn’t know any better, he’d think that…

He’d think that Tolstoy and Nabokov were stalling.

At once, Dazai starts catching onto the things that he missed. The way Nabokov keeps glancing up at the clock on the wall above Cao. The way Tolstoy’s gaze keeps flickering to his phone. The way Cao’s attention seems to be elsewhere.

Cao Xueqin. A Dream of Red Mansions. A scrying ability.

His heartbeat slows and Dazai blinks. Once. Twice. Blood roars in his ears as his gaze twists down to where his phone is laying on the table in front of him, on its face. Tachihara should have texted him to let him know that he got to you. Him or Chuuya. He usually reports to Chuuya anyway, so Dazai figured that Chuuya would’ve gotten the confirmation. He turns his head to the side to look at the executive from the corner of his eye, trying to keep his breath as slow and steady and natural as possible when he realizes that Chuuya is frowning with furrowed brows, looking at his phone. Unsure.

Dazia reaches for his own phone, fingers deceptively steady despite the way his insides are curdling with a sudden jolt of anxiety. His eyes zero in on the top right corner of his phone. No signal. Dazai has been to this event hall countless times in this life and dozens of others—there’s always service throughout the building.

Unless it’s being jammed, that is.

Dazai’s blood runs cold, gaze dragging from his phone to the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the event hall where you are. He feels as if he’s been doused with icy water and lit on fire all at once. For a second, he doesn’t move—he’s not sure if it’s anxiety or fear, or both, but he knows it’s because you’re out there and Dostoevsky is plotting something while trying to keep him out of the picture in this meeting.

He should have known better. Mishima had assumed that Dostoevsky wasn’t in the building—he had his three best scouts prowling the whole building trying to place the real leader of the tripartite but had failed. Nabokov had apparently told him that Dostoevsky had to stay back to handle residual business in Russia, a blatant lie, one that has had Mishima on edge all night.

The one with the overcoat. The clown.

Dazai stills as he remembers the white haired man who hung around Dostoevsky in some of the other universes. Not all of the other Dazais encountered him—in fact, Dazai thinks there were only half a dozen other universes where he met the man, he can hardly remember his name, but when he did…

Spatial linking. Of course Mishima’s men hadn’t been able to hunt down Dostoevsky. Dostoevsky would’ve predicted that the Sun and Steel would seek out the mastermind with their scouts. He used the clown to enter the building without anyone knowing after the scouts finished their hunt.

Dazai had missed a critical piece on the board.

Dazai rises to his feet abruptly, mind numb, eyes distant, and lips parted to speak but no words escape them. Tolstoy and Nabokov exchange a sharp, pointed look, pausing in their hostilities, and Dazai knows. He knows.

Dostoevsky is going after you.

He hears Chuuya and Kouyou calling after him but it sounds like a distant buzz. His throat feels clogged, his heartbeat is erratic and uncontrollable, his ears are ringing. His surroundings are blurry, a part of him doesn’t even know where he is: the event hall, your apartment, in the cafe below the Armed Detective Agency, it’s all blurring together.

This is it.

His vision swims and his head spins. The hallway seems impossibly long, much longer than it was to walk to the room. He can hear Chuuya spitting curses, scrambling out of the room, and he’s sure that his other executives and the other mafiosos aren’t far behind, but Dazai’s mind is on a single track. He doesn’t know how fast he’s moving—fast enough that Chuuya is chasing after him but can’t catch him. Something is heavy and cool in his hand—his gun—numb fingers moving to click the safety off.

This is it.

He might enter that hall and find you dead, slumped over the bar he’d last seen you sitting at, blood splattered across your face. Limp, cold. Just like you were on your bedroom floor. In the booth at the cafe. He’s pulling you from the water. He’s screaming for Yosano when he’s with the Agency. He’s screaming for Mori when he’s with the Mafia. Sometimes he’s alone, and he has no one to call for help, so all he can do is hold you and cry.

It’s his fault. He knew this would happen from the beginning. He knew that being with you would lead you to the same fate that you’ve met in every other universe because of him. He knew that being with you would be your death sentence, but he couldn’t stop himself.

His vision swims again, the red and gold patterns on the walls of the event hall are indistinct blobs, he feels someone try to grab his wrist—Chuuya, probably—but Dazai rips himself free and pushes himself into the event hall.

He ignores the eyes on him and the way people all instinctively move away from the sight of him with his gun out, he’s sure he must look deranged but he’s hardly even keeping himself grounded to this reality. Pages pile around him, every single one has variations of the same scene that’s haunted him for almost eight years written on it; one is being written before his eyes, he can see the words appearing on the blank sheet. He needs to find you before it’s complete. He has to stop it.

His eyes cut across the room, toward the bar he’d last seen you at, and you’re there. You’re there. It’s almost enough to make him scramble to put his gun away, cover up his steep spiral of paranoia even if you are looking right in his direction and see the gun in his hand. He can hardly come to terms with the consequences of this, how you’re seeing him right now, because his gaze tunnels right in on the person sitting next to you and his world comes to a halt.

He lifts the gun. He ignores as people shriek and scramble to the edges of the room. He ignores the look on your face as he moves closer to where you’re sitting with Fyodor Dostoevsky. He ignores the way Chuuya and Kouyou and Piano Man have all skid to a stop somewhere behind him, trying to figure out what to do. Dostoevsky’s hand is mere inches away from brushing against your body, it would only take the slightest movement and you would be dead. It would be a game of who’s faster: Dazai’s trigger finger or Dostoevsky’s ability. Dazai’s always been quick to pull the trigger but now, faced with your life on the line, when he should be at his best because of what’s at risk, he finds himself scared and unsteady.

He can’t lose you. He can’t watch it happen.

He paces toward you slowly, steadily, he swears each step he takes echoes across the suddenly silent event hall. He doesn’t stop until the muzzle of his gun is pressed against the back of Dostoevsky’s head.

“Stand up.” Dazai’s voice is deceptively cold and steady for the rage and fear that’s clawing at his chest, threatening to take control.

Dostoevsky turns his head to the side to look at Dazai, faint amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure you really want to do this here, Dazai?”

The mocking lilt his voice takes is almost enough alone for Dazai to pull the trigger. And if that wasn’t, the way Dostoevsky smiles at Dazai like he’s won is certainly enough to push him over the edge.

Before he can, he feels Chuuya grab his bicep hard.

“You can’t do this here,” he hisses quietly. “If you kill him now on neutral territory, we’ll have all of the mafias in the Eastern Hemisphere coming after you and the government on your ass. You can’t do this here and you can’t do it in public.”

Dazai doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how many mafias come after him for killing on neutral territory when invited as a guest. He doesn’t care that the government will come after him for such a blatant murder. All he cares about is getting Dostoevsky away from you.

“Chuuya is right,” Kouyou murmurs, low enough for only Dazai to overhear. “We can cover this up as is. If you pull the trigger, there’s no hiding what happened here. You know better than this, boy. You won’t be the only person this affects if you do this. Think of her. She will be implicated for coming here with you. Lower the gun and let us handle sweeping this under the rug.”

Dazai can’t even bring himself to look at you. He’s scared of what he might find. But he doesn’t even consider lowering the gun, not until Dostoevsky raises his hands and slips off the bar stool to step away from you. Even when he does, Dazai keeps it trained on him, still tempted to blow his head right off his shoulders.

“I meant no harm,” Dostoevsky says smoothly. “I was intrigued, wanted to know the girl who’s managed to capture your interest. I must say, I see the appeal. Beautiful and intelligent, you have quite the eye, Dazai.”

Dazai’s lips stretch into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. It’s not kind, and it’s mildly feral, and Dazai’s pretty sure he must look entirely deranged from the way Dostoevsky’s eyes widen in a mixture of surprise and entertainment, just enough to be noticeable.

“If you ever go near her again, I’ll put a bullet through your fucking skull, Dostoevsky.”

He should do it now. He should. Fuck Chuuya and Kouyou’s warnings, he should put a bullet in his head and be done with it, move onto handling Christie so that both of the major threats to your life are gone. But he can’t. If he takes this opportunity now, if he kills Dostoevsky so blatantly on neutral territory, the Pale Flame and Three Deaths will come at him in full force, and Dazai is sure the Red Chamber won’t be far behind them with Cao’s recent interest in expanding his business into Japan. And you’ll be caught in the crossfire of all of it, Dazai has ensured that by bringing you here. Dostoevsky must have accounted for all of this. He knew that Dazai would be put in a situation where either way, whether he kills him or lets him go, he’d be throwing himself onto a blade.

Is that it? Killing you wasn’t the goal, was it? Exposing Dazai was. Forcing him into this impossible decision.

Did he really just fall into Dostoevsky’s hands so easily? Even with all of the forewarning the other universes have given him?

It’s you. You always make him reckless, his mind is never as sharp whenever you’re involved, muddled with thoughts of you, plagued with spirals of paranoia and anxiety that make him double guess himself. It’s like this in every universe—he becomes stupid, he becomes rash, he becomes careless. It’s you.

You.

Suddenly very hyper aware of your eyes on him, Dazai lowers his gun, gaze turning in your direction. Dostoevsky lets out one last snide comment, something toward you, telling you ‘don’t you see’ but Dazai doesn’t even process it, heart in his throat as he looks at you. He doesn’t know what he expects—fear, betrayal, even anger. He’s not prepared for the emptiness. He can’t read a single emotion on your face, your eyes eerily void of any feeling as you stare at him.

He says your name quietly. His voice cracks. He should be embarrassed, so many people watching the scene play out, so many of his enemies and allies and subordinates, and he’s staring at you like a lost child with an unsteady voice, but he can’t bring himself to care. The fingers of his free hand are trembling, and the ones wrapped around the grip of his gun are so wound so tight that his knuckles are white.

You’ve never looked at him like this before. Not in any universe.

He thinks he might throw up.

You’ve been mad at him before, scowling at him whenever he distracts you from your work and snarling whenever he makes messes that he never cleans up, but your eyes always stay soft in spite of the venom you spit. He’s seen betrayal on your face a few times before, screaming at him through tears when he got a bit too close to a successful attempt, cursing at him for trying to leave you, but you hold him so gently that it makes up for the harsh words. You’ve been scared of him once, when he lashed out so badly during one of his slumps that he nearly hurt you, but even then, you were more concerned for him then you were scared for yourself, speaking to him softly to settle him down.

He’s never seen this. He wants it to go away. Desperately.

“I’d like to leave,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, and your voice is so vacant of emotion that it leaves him feeling even more sick.

Dazai nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak.

He holds his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it.

You don’t.

You haven’t spoken a word since the event hall, and Dazai doesn’t know what to do. He used to find peace in silence—for years, he’d become accustomed to it, isolating himself from everyone around him, keeping everyone at arm’s length. The most he ever spoke was a few sentences to give out orders to his executives; his voice had become hoarse and raspy over the years of self-imposed isolation, unused to being utilized. But the past few months with you have utterly obliterated any semblance of comfort Dazai had found in solidarity.

It’s become entirely intolerable, the silence is making him sick with anxiety; he has hundreds of lifetimes worth of memories with you and he can’t even vaguely predict what to expect from you right now. You’ve been tense and cold since leaving the event hall. Dazai tried to open up a conversation in the car once but found himself promptly ignored. Chuuya tried to say something to you but only received the same cold shoulder. Even Albatross tried to lighten the mood when the four of you got in the car, but all you did was stare out the window with your back to Dazai.

Now, you’re back up in his penthouse with him. You haven’t sat down. You’ve hardly budged from where you’re standing near the elevator—Dazai wonders if you’re scared of him now, if you want to be as close as possible to the only exit in fear of him lashing out at you. The thought makes him even more nauseous.

He doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to sit down, he’s uncomfortable standing in the living room, waiting for you to say something, and he can’t bring himself to try to break the silence because if there’s one thing he learned very swiftly, it’s that he can’t handle being ignored by you. He’d prefer anger and hate to the stonewall iciness you’re giving him.

He can’t even fathom what you might be thinking right now. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the window that looks over the city, he can see the bright flashing lights from Cosmo World flickering faintly in your eyes. It’s so quiet that he can hear the distant honking of horns, police sirens coming from the streets below.

He just wants you to say something, do something. Yell at him. Scream at him. Hit him or punch him. Anything is better than this.

It feels like an eternity before you finally move away from the elevator. You still don’t speak, but Dazai watches raptly as you make your way into the kitchen. You fling open the cabinets, searching for something, and Dazai’s lips part to ask what you’re looking for but he decides against it. You stop with your jerky movements when you catch sight of the numerous bottles of sake Dazai has stored in his cabinets—room temperature, because Dazai can’t stand cold drinks, they make his teeth hurt. He watches you struggle to uncap it and his body itches to move toward you to help but he knows it won’t do any good. It’ll probably just piss you off more.

When you get the cap off, you’re immediately bringing it to your lips. One. Two. Three. Four large gulps before you put the bottle back down on the counter and turn to look at him. The emptiness in your eyes is gone, replaced by something caught between hurt and anger and betrayal. It makes his heart sink, but he thinks it’s preferable to the emptiness.

“You lied to me,” you finally rasp out, shaking your head as you pace behind the counter. There’s a whole length of a room separating the two of you and Dazai longs for your touch but he forces himself to stuff his hands in his pockets and keep still. “You lied to me, Dazai.”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly without thinking, not liking the switch up. He’d finally gotten you to call him by his given name earlier in the night, he doesn’t want to lose it so quickly.

For the briefest of seconds, the hurt and betrayal in your eyes disappears and only fire rages in them. “Dazai,” you spit out pointedly.

Dazai almost draws back, not having expected that. In all of the other universes, you’ve always been gentle with him even when you’re livid. You speak his name softly, even with a tight jaw and fisted hands—his given name, you’ve never used his surname against him like this before. Probably because most of the major fights he had with you in those other lives, it was months into the relationship; it’s only been a few weeks in this life so of course-

Dazai realizes, a bit dizzy, that he’s about to lose you.

You found out too soon. You found out through Dostoevsky, through Dazai's own loss of control. You found out in the worst possible way and you found out too soon.

Dazai is about to lose you.

“Okay,” he murmurs, not wanting to test your temper anymore, giving in as a means to try to soothe your anger, regardless of how much it might wound him because being wounded is nothing compared to losing you. “Dazai.”

His compliance seems to do nothing to quell your anger from the way you just scoff and shake your head again, looking away from him. You stare out over the city, dozens of emotions cloud your expression but Dazai still can’t predict what you might do next. He feels out of his depth, in murky waters with an anchor tied to his ankle.

“I knew it, you know?” you finally say quietly. “I knew it from the beginning, honestly, but I kept making excuses for you. I mean, the guns. The secrecy. You weren’t really subtle about it. Did you think I was stupid, or something?”

“Never,” Dazai says honestly, without hesitation. He sees your gaze flicker down to the ground at his words, but you don’t make any move to speak again so he takes the opportunity to, in hopes that you’ll finally listen. “You’re the smartest woman I know. I-”

You interrupt him with a sharp laugh, it’s loud and almost cruel, and Dazai turns in on himself at the sound of it. He feels small and unsteady, like a child who’s being scolded by a parent. When you look at him again, your eyes are wide and wild, half-crazed in sheer disbelief. You don’t believe him. Of course, you don’t. It’s plainly displayed on your face. And why would you anyway? He’s given you every reason not to.

“If you think I’m so smart, why didn’t you think I would figure it out?”

He tries to say that he knew you would. That he’s been living in fear for weeks that you’d finally see him for what he is but when he opens his mouth to say it, no words leave him. Like he’s frozen in fear, ice crawling through his veins, stones weighing on his tongue; he can’t respond, and he knows that he’s only condemning himself more. He tries to force something out but he can’t even make the barest hint of a sound. The mindkiller. He’s never responded well to fear, much less when you’re involved.

You click your tongue, as if to solidify that his silence proves your point, or maybe you know what he can't bring himself to say and you just don't believe him. His stomach churns again, and dread spreads through chest when you say: “If I’m so smart, and I was going to figure it out anyway, why didn’t you just tell me?”

“You would have left.” Dazai is finally able to speak, but he speaks the wrong answer, clearly, from the way you let out another humorless, breathless laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. You look at him like he’s the most audacious man in the entire world. Maybe he is.

“Yeah, I would have,” you agree and Dazai flinches. “Without hesitation, without even looking back. And now, I can’t because you made me fall in love with you without even warning me about what I was getting myself into.”

Dazai’s heart should be leaping through the roof at your confession, but if anything, he feels even worse. His throat feels clogged and his chest feels so heavy. You’ve never regretted falling in love with him before. Not in any lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, because he doesn’t know what else to say. The words are still foreign on his tongue, he doesn’t think he’s ever apologized to someone in this life before the last twenty-four hours.

“No, you’re not,” you say bitterly, looking away. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to care so much about you that when you finally tell me who you are and what you do, I won’t be able to leave.”

Dazai stares at you, lost. He remembers how just the other day he was finding comfort in the way you could read him so easily, knowing he didn’t have to speak for you to know what he needed at the moment. He thinks he hates it now, because you’re finally reading deeper into his soul and seeing him for the sick, twisted monster he really is. Just like he feared from day one. Manipulative. Selfish. Undeserving. His fingers tremble in his pockets, nails biting into his palm so deep that he can feel blood trickling down his skin, but not even the stinging pain can distract him from the numbness spreading through him.

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what?” you interrupt him. “You didn’t think I’d be upset? You didn’t think I’d be angry? Or maybe you didn’t think it would happen this soon? Is that it, Dazai? You thought you’d have more time to win me over in hopes that I’d take the news in stride. News flash, Dazai, no amount of time or charm would have made me accept this easily. Accept you easily. How could I ever accept any of this?”

Nausea rises to his throat so suddenly that he almost gags. He feels dizzy, taking a step back so that his back is against the wall, keeping him steady. Your last words echo through his head over and over again, he can’t escape them. The one person who’s always accepted him in every lifetime, the only person he was ever able to find a home in—how could I ever accept you?

His cheeks feel wet, his eyes are wide as he stares at you. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t even think he could if he knew how to respond to that. His lungs are burning and his throat feels so swollen that even just the thought of trying to speak is painful.

You let out a sharp breath, caught between a hysterical laugh and a sob as you press your hands to either side of your neck and pace across the kitchen. “What am I supposed to do, Dazai?” you ask, voice hoarse. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

He thinks it might be a rhetorical question, but he still forces out: “Don’t leave me.”

You scoff again, louder and harsher this time. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as if to futilely minimize the blow. “I wish leaving you was still an option for me.”

Oh. He’s going to throw up.

He wants to blame it on the alcohol he drank earlier in the night. He wants to blame it on the stress of the past few weeks. He wants to blame it on anything but this, even though he knows damn well that this conversation is what triggered the bile that rises to his throat. He forces himself to move, nearly tripping over his feet to get to the bathroom because he doesn’t want you to see him vomiting up his guts.

He hardly makes it to the toilet, crashing to his knees and clutching at the seat as he dry heaves. Nothing comes up—he hasn’t eaten enough the past few days to have anything solid in him, too busy with preparations—but he can’t stop gagging, eyes stinging with tears and throat burning. He doesn’t know how long he stays crumpled at the toilet, losing track of time entirely, a part of him just wants to stay there forever so he doesn’t have to go back out and face you.

Evidently, he doesn’t have to go back out and face you because you come to him.

He’s gagging again when he feels your hand brush his back, hesitantly at first and then firmly. Your touch is warm, and Dazai thinks he must look pathetic as he turns his head to the side to look at you. Your expression isn’t as harsh now, your eyes are still conflicted but your face is softer. After a moment, you take a seat on the floor next to him—you don’t say anything, but you let out a soft puff of air as you slip your arm around his shoulders once he stops heaving.

He crumbles into your chest, body collapsing against yours. You wrap your arms around him, and at once, the numbness starts to fade away. His fingers clutch at your dress desperately, afraid that you’re going to disappear, but you only hold him tighter. You bury your face in his hair, forehead pressed to the top of his head.

“You’re so unfair, Osamu.” Your voice cracks, you’ve lost all of your fire, but Dazai finds no solace in it.

“I know,” he croaks out, throat scratchy and voice wavering. “I know.”

And then words are spilling from his lips before he can stop them, jumbled and hardly intelligible and he’s not even sure that you’re understanding what he’s saying but he can’t stop himself: “I tried. I tried to stay away, I tried so hard, you don’t understand. I knew it would turn out like this, I knew I would ruin you so I tried to stay away, but I’m selfish. I’m so selfish, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I knew better, I’m going to-you’re going to-”

The panic is returning, the words he wants to say but can’t push out are too damning: I’m going to get you killed. You’re going to die because of me. Dazai is breathing but the air isn’t getting to his lungs, his chest burns, and now even with your arms around him, the numbness is returning. It’s rapid now, spreading from his chest to his arms, down his abdomen to his legs; it’s going to consume him entirely, he can feel it, he can-

Oh.

Your lips press to his. Tilting his head back to angle his face up toward you, you lean down and press your lips against his, swallowing his words, his air, his panic. One of your hands cup his cheek while the other cradles the back of his head, Dazai can hardly kiss you back, his lips feel cold and prickly, but his eyes flutter shut as your lips move slowly and carefully against his.

Not for the first time, he thinks that he doesn’t deserve this. Especially not now. He tastes something wet and salty against his lips—he doesn’t know if you’re the one crying, or if he is, and he doesn’t want to know, so he forces himself to move. His arm feels heavy and clunky, and his fingers feel stiff, but he’s able to bring them up to your face, palms cupping your cheeks as the tips of his fingers tangle into your hair. He kisses you until his lungs are screaming for air, and even as he starts to feel lightheaded, he kisses you still, because your lips are the only thing able to push away the numbness overwhelming him.

When you break away from him, you keep your foreheads pressed together, nose nudging against his. You share the same thin sliver of air and Dazai feels dizzy, he wants to kiss you again but he doesn’t think he’s capable of moving yet, so he only stays crumbled in your arms, waiting for you to grace him with your lips again.

“I wish I still had the chance to be a better man,” Dazai says hoarsely, honestly, gaze searching yours desperately. “I would be. For you.”

Please believe me, he thinks to himself helplessly, because it’s the truth. He would try to be. For your sake. He might fail, he might be too far gone, his soul corrupted beyond salvation and his blood black beyond purification, but he would try. He would try so hard for you. But he can’t, not in this lifetime, not without risking everything he’s strove to protect since coming in contact with the Book. He has to stay the criminal, the monster, the demon so that you and Odasaku can live out your lives here. Until Dostoevsky, Christie, and any other person that could turn out to be a threat to either of you are killed, Dazai has to keep playing this role. He has to.

You don’t respond. Dazai thinks it’s because you don’t believe him and it makes him feel sick again. His lips part to repeat himself but you only press yours against his, as if to silence him.

You don’t believe him, the kiss confirms it, and his heart sinks but he can’t even bring himself to protest, to insist that it’s true. Instead, he decides if he can’t prove it through his words, he’ll prove it through his actions. Even though his limbs still feel leaden and clumsy, he forces himself into a better position, sitting up a bit more and bringing both of his hands up to cup your cheeks. He tilts your head back, leaning into you and slowly pressing you back against the floor and distantly Dazai recognizes that this is not the place for this but the thought is only fleeting, he’s too lost in the feeling of your lips against his and your body pressed to him.

And you let him ease you back against the floor. You let him tilt your head back and when his tongue darts out to swipe against your bottom lip, you part your lips for him. He doesn’t have to knock your knees apart, because you spread them just enough for him to slot his hips between them to keep your bodies flush. He wonders if you can feel how clunky his movements are—his fingers still feel heavy against your face and he can hardly hold himself up above you. He hopes he’s not crushing you with his weight, he might be, but you don’t seem to care.

He pulls back to ask if you’re okay with this but you chase his lips and he lets out a soft, muffled noise when you tug gently at his bottom lip and bring your free hand up to cup the back of his head, fingers tangling with his hair, pulling him back down to you. You drag your lips from his to slide them down his neck to the edge of his bandages. He twitches a bit at the feeling, wondering if you’re going to ask to take them off, but instead, you just trail your lips back upward, nipping at his jaw, and he shudders.

And then he finally hesitates, pulling away and not letting you chase after this time. He weighs his options in his head anxiously. He feels like he should do something, that he owes something—a lowering of a mask, a show of vulnerability, you’re entitled to at least that much after everything he’s done. Aren't you?

You give him a curious look and he tries to respond—he does, his lips part for him to speak but nothing leaves them. He swallows thickly, eyes fluttering shut as he braces himself before trying again, bringing one of his hands to yours and wrapping his fingers around it gently, lifting it from his chest to the bandages covering the left side of his face.

“Take them off,” he tells you, voice hoarse and shakier than he would have liked.

Your eyes widen, and he shudders a bit when your fingers smooth against the bandages, uncertain. “Are you sure?” you ask him softly, bringing your other hand to his opposite cheek, cupping his face in your hands again, eyes searching to make sure he means it.

Is he sure? Dazai doesn’t know. He can’t speak again as he stares down at you; a part of him is nervous, and he doesn’t even understand why. You already know who he is, what he is, but a part of him still fears that once you actually see him, something will change. And it’s ridiculous, so many other universes you’ve seen him without his bandages and you’ve never made him feel uncomfortable about it. But you’ve also never used his surname against him during an argument in the other universes, you’ve never regretted loving him, and you’ve certainly never wished you could leave him.

So, yeah, he thinks the anxiety of you removing his bandages and then seeing him in a different light might be more of a possibility in this universe than any other one. His body is more covered in scars than not, and he knows it’s not attractive; he thinks if he sees your expression shift in a negative way when the bandages come off, it might shatter him entirely.

Just the face bandages then, he bargains with himself, swallowing thickly as he forces himself to nod. You sit up from where you’re still laying back against the tiles, propping yourself on your knees to shift closer to him.

Dazai thinks his heart might be in his throat when he feels your fingers unclip the clasp holding the bandages together around the left side of his face, eyes fluttering shut as you slowly unwind them from around his head. He isn’t sure why he’s so nervous for this part—there are no scars on his face, but he still feels distinctly vulnerable, like he’s giving you a window into himself that might reveal more than he means to. He can barely breathe as he feels the last of the bandages fall to the floor, he can hear you push them to the side.

Still, he keeps his eyes shut, counting each second that passes. He’s anxious, can’t even bring himself to look at you until you cup his cheeks again.

“Look at me,” you say quietly.

Dazai does as you ask, he always does. He doesn’t know what he expects when he opens his eyes to meet your gaze; he prepares himself for the worst, for a twisted expression or thinly veiled pity, but he finds none of it. Rather, your eyes are soft and fond, tracing over his face, looking between each of his. He can feel the pads of your fingers gently brushing over his cheekbones, tracing absent patterns.

“You’re so handsome, Osamu,” you whisper, one of your hands sliding behind his head, intertwining with his hair. “Why do you wear them?”

Dazai doesn’t know how to answer that. His throat feels swollen at your words, eyes a bit misty and fingers trembling against your thighs. Instead, he breathes out, “Kiss me.”

And you do.

God, when you kiss him again, it’s so intense that it has his head spinning. He doesn’t know how long he sits there kissing you, back against the cabinets with you half in his lap. It could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—he has no concept of time whenever his lips are against yours. It’s only when you press your hand against his shoulder, murmuring for him to get up, that he finally pulls himself away from you.

Dazai forces himself to push up to his feet—it’s much more difficult than he thought it would be, nearly tripping over his own feet, but you follow him up to your feet, steadying him when he almost tumbles over. You bring your hand up to rest against his cheek, fingers gently toying with the edges of his hair. He leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he forces himself to look you in the eye.

“You’re so frustrating,” you say softly, but all of the fire is gone, replaced by that same soft look you’ve directed toward him—not him—hundreds of times before. “You are so frustrating, Osamu.”

His throat feels tight again, the sound of his name on your lips causing a wave of warmth to spread through him, the numbness slowly subsiding.

“I know,” he whispers, swallowing thickly, and you sigh, gaze averting to the side for a moment before you look back at him. He still can’t fathom what you might be thinking and it scares him.

But then you kiss him again, your other hand coming up to his other cheek and his hands fly to your waist, holding you close. You walk him backward, out of the bathroom and into the hallway. His back hits the wall and you press your body close to his, and this time it’s you whose tongue is darting out to brush his bottom lip, urging him to part his lips for you. He does, and he thinks he might be in heaven when he feels your tongue dip into his mouth, sliding against his tongue. His eyes flutter shut, rolling back just a bit when you trace the back of his teeth with your tongue before sucking gently on his bottom lip.

Your hands slide down from his face to his chest, over his jacket, down to his waist. Your fingers hook in his belt loops and Dazai groans as your lips ghost from his down to his jaw, breath shaky as trail slow, wet kisses to the sensitive spot behind his ear. He can hardly do anything but follow along as you guide him from where he’s been backed against the wall into his bedroom, dazed and entirely consumed by your touch. His head already feels a bit fuzzy, breath hitching as your teeth graze his pulse point, kissing down to the edge of his bandages and then across his throat.

He barely even knows where he is until he feels the back of his knees hit his bed and he topples backward until he’s laying flat on it. His chest is heaving, head dizzy and breath shaky as you straddle his waist. You don’t kiss him again and Dazai wants to drag you down for another but he can’t even bring himself to move. His body refuses to cooperate, nervous that he’s going to make the wrong move.

“Do you want this?” you finally ask after a moment, voice raspy as one of your hands squeeze his gently, as if to get his attention.

Dazai’s brows furrow a bit, lips parting to respond but for a second, no words leave them. You wait with the patience of a saint as Dazai tries to process what you’re asking and respond to it. After what feels like an eternity, he nods once. Of course, he wants it. You search his eyes as if to make sure he’s not just agreeing to agree, and once you’re satisfied, you continue you with:

“And do you trust me?” you ask softly, your gaze gentle as it searches his face for the next answer.

Dazai doesn’t hesitate this time, and he speaks as he breathes out, “With everything.”

He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but your expression is still soft and your touch is still gentle as you run your thumb over his knuckles. Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the gentleness you show him. You lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, throat spasming beneath his bandages as he waits for you to say something.

“Let me take the lead then,” you say quietly, his eyes widen a bit at your words. “I want to try something.”

He watches you carefully for a moment, guarded and studying you. He thinks this might be another first, and the thought alone makes him feel a bit giddy because he can’t recall any other life where you’ve ever been the one to take the lead like this, especially the first time the two of you sleep together. You look a bit anxious the longer he goes without responding, so he nods and says, “Okay.”

He’s pliant beneath your touch as you lean down to press your lips against his; he lets out a soft, muffled noise when he feels your hips shift, unintentionally grinding down a bit on his straining cock. He’s more hesitant this time in the way his lips move against yours, unsure of what to do with himself. His fingers twitch from where they're resting on the bed, itching to grab your hips but not wanting to make the wrong move.

This has happened every time one of you tries to take the next step, either he gets interrupted or he ends up getting cold feet because he’s scared of doing the wrong thing and making you uncomfortable. And it’s ridiculous because Dazai has so many memories, he should know at least vaguely what you like and what you don’t like but he thinks having the memories are a double-edged sword because he overwhelms himself if what ifs: what if he assumes you like something and you end up not liking it in this universe, what if he does something that you only liked after the two of you have been together for a while and you’re uncomfortable with him doing it because you’re not as comfortable with him. Maybe Dazai is just overthinking it all but how can he not when you’re involved. He wants everything to be perfect for you.

“Is this okay?” you whisper, separating your lips from his just enough for him to answer your question. Your breath mingles with his and Dazai can hardly think straight; it’s hot, dizzying, there’s something so intimate about it that it makes his body fuzzy.

“Yeah,” he says, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at you. “It’s okay.”

You kiss him again. His lips move against yours desperately, needy, he’d be embarrassed if you weren’t matching his energy, but you are. He can feel your fingers tugging at his hair, your hips grinding down against his. Every time you start to pull away, he lifts his head from where it’s laying flush against the pillows, chasing your lips.

He needs you. His hands slide from your thighs to your waist, keeping your body pressed to his. He’s needed you since the day he came in contact with the Book and learned about you, since the day he met you at the club, maybe even since the day he was born even if he hadn’t known it at the time. He thinks his entire life has led to this, to the two of you being together; your souls have been entangled since the moment you were born and he isn’t sure how he ever thought a life without you was possible.

“I need you,” he gasps against your lips, hips jerking up just a bit to try to alleviate the pressure building in his lower abdomen, desperate to reach down and unbutton his slacks, but wanting you to make the first move.

Whatever nerves that have made him get cold feet all of the other times the two of you have tried to take the next stop are long gone. You don’t give him any time to wonder if he’s doing the wrong thing—the fingers of one of your hands intertwining with his dark locks, just tight enough to make him hiss into your mouth, eyes rolling back at the pleasant sting. Your other hand slides across his chest, even through his dress shirt, your fingertips seem to scorch through to his skin, leaving his body tingling everywhere you touch.

“You have me,” you tell him, breathless, and Dazai can’t bite back the noise that slips from his lips, wanton and obscene, borderline pornographic—if he was any more coherent, he might be embarrassed but he can’t find it in him. Not when he’s finally getting what he’s wanted after all of this time.

His hands fly down to his slacks, he fumbles with the button and zipper before yanking them down just enough to free his cock and he watches as you sit back on his thighs, eyes wide and lips parted as your gaze focuses in on his cock, watching as the leaking precum dribbles down his length, alongside the vein running along the underside of his cock.

“Please,” he breathes out, fingers biting into your thighs as he bunches your dress up to your hips, another low moan spilling from his lips just at the thought of what’s about to happen, lashes fluttering.

You don’t even take off your panties, clearly driven by the same desperation that he is as you slide them to the side and position yourself above his cock and Dazai gnaws at his bottom lip when he feels the tip pressing against your entrance. He can feel how wet you are already, so drenched that your slick is dripping down the length of his cock. His hips stutter up instinctively, but instead of pushing inside, his cock slides between your folds and he whimpers, arm flying to cover the lower half of his face. You don’t let him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull his arm from his face and pin it to the mattress above him.

“Don’t hide yourself,” you say softly.

Dazai thinks there must be stars in his eyes as he looks up at you. You’re so beautiful, lips parted as you pant softly, an adoring expression on your face as you look down at him. He loves you. He loves you, god, he loves you more than he’s ever loved anything in his life; he thinks that nothing the other Dazais ever felt for any of the other yous could ever compare to how he feels for you.

When his tip starts to push into your tight hole, all he can let out is another loud, lewd noise; his head falls back against the pillows. His ears are ringing, but distantly, he can hear you gasp. His vision is blurry as he forces himself to look up at you but Dazai thinks you look otherworldly with your head tilted back as his cock starts to stretch you out, lips swollen and wet from the kisses you’d shared. He thinks he must look insane, pupils blown wide and eyes wild as he tries to focus on the sight of you. All of the clever wheels that usually turn within his mind are crumbling.

His fingertips leave crescents in your thighs as you sink down on his cock slowly—too slow, it leaves his head dizzy as your warmth slowly envelops his length. He’s imagined this so many times before. Dozens. Hundreds. He has so many memories of the feeling of your body flush to his, thighs over his shoulders as he fucks you deep and slow, swallowing your moans, but he thinks that nothing compares to this, the sight of you above him, watching your body tremble and face shift as his cock stretches you out. He barely refrains from letting out a string of strangled curses, barely able to hold his eyes open to watch you.

You give yourself a moment to adjust, and when you do, you look down at Dazai. He thinks he must look a mess—chest heaving, breath erratic, eyes heavy and lidded and entirely glazed over—but he doesn’t care, not with the way your hand slides up his abdomen, fingers tracing patterns along the bandages covering his body. You look beautiful—you always look beautiful—but you look extra beautiful right now, and he thinks he could stare at you forever and never tire of it.

Experimentally, you roll your hips—it’s still slow, agonizingly slow—and Dazai throws his head back, another obscene moan spilling from his lips.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his fingers falling from your thighs to twist the sheets below him, knuckles white. “Feels so good. So good.”

You let out a hum that’s caught between a moan and agreement as you continue the slow rolls of your hips, hands sliding up and down his abdomen in a way that’s deceptively innocent and soothing compared to how his cock is dragging along your walls. His body shudders at the feeling of it, heat pooling in his abdomen so quickly that it has his whole body tensing as he tries to push it away.

“You’re so perfect.” Words spill from his lips, more of a babble than anything else as you lean down to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth as he lets out another shaky noise. “S’like you’re made for me. I’d do anything for you. Anything. You know that, right? Anything you want, it’s yours.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, clawing at the sheets and occasionally reaching for your thighs, and he doesn’t know what to do with his body, hips jerking up at an erratic pace, like he’s trying to meet your pace but his body simply can’t match the slow rolls of your hips, desperate for more. He doesn’t know how you’re so put together—maybe you’re not, he can see through a blurry vision how your lashes are fluttering with each roll of your hips, breath shaky, but you’re just not as far gone as he already is.

“Anything?” you murmur, and he can feel your lips curve up against his neck.

“Anything.” His breath hitches, fingers reaching for your hips as he rocks his up into you, a desperate attempt to get you to pick up the pace. “‘d give you the whole world, burn it for you, anything you want, I’d give it to you.”

His hands slide up from your thighs to your waist as you lean down to press your lips against his in a deceptively innocent kiss. He tries to chase your lips as you straighten up but you don’t let him, one of your hands curling around his throat—not choking him, but firm enough that it goes right to his cock, lips parting in a silent moan—while the other braces back on his thigh.

He thinks that nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of you picking up the pace. His breath hitches, he chokes over a moan, stars sparkle in his vision as the tip of his cock presses deep inside of you. You sigh out his name and Dazai thinks this might be the closest he ever gets to heaven: you on top of him, cock buried to the hilt in your cunt, the sight of your blissed out face above him as his head spins.

“Oh, fuck,” Dazai cries out, back arching and hand flying to cover his face again but the hand you have on his thigh flies forward to snatch his wrist before he can, pinning it back above his head. Dazai’s eyes roll back, you’re leaning over him entirely now, leaning most of your weight on the hand that’s pinning his wrist but the new angle adds pressure onto how you’re squeezing his neck, paring his airways just enough to make his lungs burn. “More. Faster, fuck, I-ah-”

His voice falls off into another moan, head falling to the side to press his cheek against the pillow. He thinks drool is starting to pool at the corner of his lips but he doesn’t care, he can’t even think at this point, too lost in the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock fucking deep in your cunt, your soft moans and gasps, lost in the feeling of your tight walls clamping down on his cock, the warmth, the wetness, your fingers digging into his wrist and the sides of his neck. He wants to tell you that he needs more but the words are garbled, entirely unintelligible.

He forces his eyes back open, feeling the tears spilling over his cheeks just from the intensity of it all, the intensity of you. You’re gentle with him even when your hand is wrapped around his throat and his cock is splitting you open—he can feel the soothing circles you rub with your thumb, he can see the way you’re searching his face to make sure he’s okay. Dazai is just so overwhelmed that he can’t stop the way his next moan breaks into a sob; acutely realizing just how deprived he’d been of any type of care or love before meeting you, and forcibly coming to terms with the fact that he is never going to be able to go without this again, without you again. He’d known it to some extent before this, the thought of losing you and the light you bring him has made his stomach churn violently but this…

He’s torn from his thoughts when you suddenly stop the rolls of your hips, halting the spreading heat in his lower abdomen desperately. The noise that escapes him is something caught between distress and betrayal, dark eyes wide as he looks up at you questioningly, but the expression on your face makes his breath catch. Your hand slides up from his throat to cup his cheek, your other hand releasing his wrist so that you can hold his face between your hands, thumbs wiping away the tears spilling over his cheeks.

Distantly, Dazai recognizes that he’s still choking over sobs and that’s probably why you’ve stopped and that only rips his chest apart more because of course, you’re still putting him above you—even when you’re mad, even when you’ve just fought, when he’s betrayed you in a way that should be unforgivable, you’re still kissing away his tears and putting aside your own needs to take care of him

He doesn’t deserve you. Not in any universe, but especially not in this one.

He thinks he could stay here for eternity. Fuck the rest of the world. Fuck the Port Mafia. Fuck his plan. He just wants to stay here with you, your lips brushing his, sharing the same sliver of air. He leans into your touch, groaning against your lips when he feels your walls spasm around him.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes out, unsure if you can even understand him. “You’re so-”

His words fall off into another moan, and he can’t control his hips as they thrust up sharply against yours, another string of incoherent curses escaping his hips as your breath catches and you straighten back up, head falling back as you gasp his name.

Your nails dig crescents into his upper thighs through his bandages as you brace yourself back against them. You move your hips again—faster, this time, harder, and Dazai thinks his head is in the clouds. He’s so deep inside of you that he can feel everything, jaw falling slack as heat spreads through his body too rapidly for him to get control over. He wants to throw a hand over his mouth to muffle the lewd, pitched moans spilling from his lips but he can’t drag his hands from where they’re clawing at your hips, desperately trying to help you meet him with each thrust.

“I-hah-shit, I’m gonna-fuck-”

He slurs out your name and several obscenities, trying to warn you that he’s going to cum when he feels his cock twitching inside of you and his abdomen tensing, but you only lean down to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his lips and Dazai is gone. He wants to watch you, he tries, but he can’t hold his eyes open, they’re half-rolled back as he chokes over moans of your name, hips stilling as he cums deep inside of you. His body twitches, expression twisted as he presses his head so hard into the pillow that he thinks he might permanently indent it.

His head is spinning, lungs burning, sweat beading at his forehead and hair matted to his face—he thinks he’s never cum so hard in his entire life; all of the nights he spent alone, desperately trying to fuck his hand to the thought of you in attempts to mimic how you’ve made all the other Dazais feel, to give himself some semblance of the pleasure you’ve brought him in other lives to hold him over on particularly lonely nights, they’ve never felt like this.

You don’t stop, even as he squirms and lets out jumbled pleas beneath you, body shuddering at the overstimulation but you’re too lost in chasing your own high now. He spasms beneath you, nails digging into your thigh as you fuck his cum deeper inside of you, bouncing on his cock desperately. He doesn’t care that the sensitivity is pushing his body to the brink, letting you use him however you want if it means he gets to see you like this.

Dazai’s head feels light, pins and needles pricking his body—he thinks he might pass out but he forces himself to hold on, enraptured by the sight of you on top of him with your eyes half-rolled back, lips parted and throat bared to him. Your tits are half-spilling out over the low-cut of your dress and Dazai thinks you’re fucking divine. The only holy thing in this godless world. He wants to spend the rest of his life worshiping you.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, head falling backward as one final roll of your hips that has your clit grinding against his pelvic bone sends you spiraling over the edge.

Dazai wants to sear the image of you behind his eyelids, watching as your nails drag against his thighs, drawing red lines even through the bandages, back arching, head tossed back—your body is trembling violently as you cum on his cock, expression twisted and entirely blissed out, sobbing over his name. He chokes and gasps at the feeling of your cunt tightening around his sensitive cock again, jaw tight and spots dancing in his vision as he’s so abruptly pushed over the edge a second time, the coil in his abdomen tightening and snapping all within the span of a few seconds.

He’s still reeling when he feels you slump forward onto his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck, shivering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He’s only half aware as he instinctively brings his hands up to rest on your hips, rubbing soft circles of your hip bones to try to soothe you.

He shudders when you press a kiss to his neck right at the edge of his bandages, and then tilt your head up to press another on his jaw. One of your hands comes up to caress the back of his head, fingers carding through the dark locks in a way that has his eyes drooping shut.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” you finally say after a few moments of silence, voice soft, breaking the silence. Dazai stiffens a bit, lips parting to respond but no words leave them. “... but let’s just lay like this for a while first, okay?”

He lets out a shaky breath, still not entirely convinced that he’s not going to lose you, so he lets his eyes flutter shut as he nods. He may as well bask in this for as long as he can, and if you notice the way his fingers dig just a little deeper into your skin after your words process, you don’t mention it.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “okay.”

Dazai wakes up the next morning and you’re nowhere to be seen. The bed is frighteningly cold next to him and his heart is instantly in his throat. He doesn’t waste a second before he’s sitting up in bed, looking around, eyes wild and heart racing. He doesn’t settle down, not until his eyes fall upon where you’re sitting curled up on the chair of the desk he never uses, eyes trained on the dark clouds outside the window, the beauty of the sunrise wilted by a morning storm.

“His intention was to make me leave you.” You’re not looking at him, but you must have heard him sit up. “Fyodor Dostoevsky. The things he told me, they were to make me leave you.”

Dazai doesn’t move an inch, throat swelling. He forces himself to ask, “What did he tell you?”

He isn’t sure if he wants to know.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say—Dazai thinks that it definitely does, but he bites back the questions that rise to his tongue because you’re clearly not about to budge on your answer. “Who is he?”

“A monster,” Dazai bites out, bitterness seeping into his tone as he leans back against the headboard, eyes still trained on where you’re curled on his chair, gaze distant. “You have to stay away from him.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on seeking him out,” you say it so dryly that Dazai nearly finds humor in it. Nearly. The smile that rises to his lips is mirthless at best. You turn to look at him, finally, and Dazai finds only cool indifference on your face; the fondness, the softness, the gentleness from last night are all gone. He wonders if you regret it, but he doesn’t let that thought linger, it’ll only make him sick. “... He doesn’t seem like the type to give up.”

“He never is,” Dazai murmurs, ignoring the brief, questioning look you direct toward him, mind drifting off to all of the Russian’s incessant attempts to take you from him in all of the other universes. “Did he tell you what his plan was?”

Dazai doubts it, but maybe there was something he said to you that shed some light to it.

“He didn’t have to,” you say quietly. “He wants Yokohama, for whatever reason—couldn’t figure that out, I think he’s looking for something—and clearly, he has to get through you to get it. He thinks the best way of getting through you is by taking me away from you first. That’s what I’d gathered from how he was talking at least, what he was saying about you, the way he was phrasing it. I’d put together enough on my own during the night to fill in the blanks. He told me things about what you’d done as… what you’d done as boss of the Port Mafia—things you’ve done to enemies… to allies. He told me that I’d see the real you as soon as you realize that the meeting he set up was a farce; that the mask you put up would crumble and I would see you for the demon that you are.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tight as he averts his gaze to the window—he’d played right into Dostoevsky’s hands. He can hardly bring himself to look at you; he wonders if you do see him differently now that the cloud from the night before has worn off, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Now’s not the time anyway, there are more pressing matters.

“... He’ll come after me again, won’t he?” you ask quietly. “Getting me to leave you willingly didn’t work. If he’s so set on me being the trigger to your downfall, then he’ll come after me again.”

He would. As he always has. Of course, Dostoevsky would try to get to him through you, he’s tried it in every universe, and Dazai hadn’t been careful enough. He hadn’t been smart enough. He’d known this was going to happen and was still arrogant enough to believe he could somehow prevent it. He was a fool, and he was a fool at the cost of your safety. He doesn’t know how to respond to you, he doesn’t want to confirm your suspicions, he doesn’t want to admit that this is all his fault, that he knew this would happen and was selfish enough to pursue you anyway.

“... I’m scared, Osamu,” you finally say quietly, and you suddenly look a lot smaller from where you’re sitting on his desk chair, hunched over with your knees tucked to your chest. “I’m really scared.”

Dazai’s heart claws up to his throat and he pushes himself out of bed, still dressed haphazardly in his suit from the night before. He makes his way over to you and kneels in front of you, hands curling around your ankles as he looks up at you.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he tells you, voice a bit more raspier than he intended for it to come across as. “I don’t care what I have to do to ensure it, how low I have to stoop. I will not let anything happen to you, do you understand?”

Your eyes meet his, and he can’t help but notice that doubt still riddles your gaze as you search his face, as if you want to believe him but can’t bring yourself to. A pit starts to grow in his stomach, wide and gaping as he realizes that this is all really about to happen, and one mistake on his part could lead you to the same fate you’ve met in so many other worlds because of him.

Finally, the doubt slowly clears as you let out a soft breath, nodding, and Dazai inhales sharply, laying his forehead against your shin as he lets his eyes slide shut.

He won’t let it happen. Not again.

again there was NO plot development in the smut - you guys didn't miss out on anything, pinky swear. i restructured the scene to fit the only notable scene (bandage removal) into the part before the smut, so if that felt a little forced, that was why </3 it wasn't supposed to be there. i was struggling trying to figure out how to move it upward a bit. the only arguable "plot" development was dazai letting go of his control freakiness to let her take the lead

#ᡣ𐭩 carina’s archives #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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ambrosiagourmet · 11 hours

Text

In chapter 28, Marcille lays out why the journey she's been on has been worth the pain: because they were able to bring Falin back. The injuries, the indignity, and the mess of it all - they are tolerable primarily in context of destination she believes she's reached at this point.

In truth, of course, the story is far from finished. In fact, I would argue that this is actually where hers really starts. This scene holds the seed of the very thing the Winged Lion will exploit to lead Marcille to become the Lord of the Dungeon. After all, with a desire as far reaching and deeply held as Marcille's, if the only acceptable outcome is success, what other choice does she have but to bargain with the infinite?

So let's talk about this idea - where it leads her, how Laios' path intersects with it, and how they both help each other move forward in the face of failure.

First though, I want to step back and talk about something else: the shapeshifter chapters.

With these chapters recently covered by the anime, there has, of course, come plenty of fun discussions about which version of each character belongs which other character's perceptions, and what that means.

One thing I've seen pointed out a few times is the fact that both Laios and Marcille's impressions of each other are based around Falin. Marcille's version of Laios is larger and more masculine, because those are the traits that stuck out to her in contrast to Falin. Laios' version of Marcille was directly inspired by her appearance and demeanor when resurrecting Falin.

So why is this important to a discussion about Marcille being focused on success? Well, it shows us where Laios and Marcille's relationship starts: built primarily around their shared love for Falin. It's from that shared beginning that they begin to learn about each other on their own terms.

And this is true for the whole group, to be clear. They are united by circumstance - love for a lost companion, a sense of responsibility, a desire for freedom - but they all grow and help each other beyond that circumstance. They help Senshi bury the ghosts of his past and eat some Hippogriff stew. They help Izutsumi open up to mutual love and friendship. And they learn so much about each other: about Chilchuck's family and Laios' love of monsters and Marcille's desires to live life alongside others.

In the particular case of Marcille and Laios, understanding each other is what lets them save each other. It is not through Falin that Laios talks Marcille down from the edge the Lion has brought her to, nor is it through her that Marcille comforts Laios after the demon is defeated, when it is still unclear how everything will work out.

In fact, it is very specifically the unknown fate of Falin that Marcille comforts him about.

She is willing to accept the outcome - willing, now, to embrace the journey itself, rather than only accepting it as a means to an end.

This is a lesson she learns from Laios, and it's a lesson we watch Laios learn, too.

Just before making her deal with the Lion, Marcille recalls everything that led her to that moment. She lingers on the pain, recalling the worst of their journey:

She only pushes through by remembering her goals: saving Falin, and equalizing the lifespans of her friends to match her own.

And yet, 10 chapters later, when reflecting on why she actually wants to see her goals through, it is the good parts of that very same journey that shine through.

There's an inherent contradiction here, one which Marcille doesn't know how to face. How can the suffering that she tolerates also be the love that drives her forward? How can the loss that she's worked so hard to reverse also be the very circumstance that created a world she, now, cannot stand to give up?

And Laios confronts her with the truth. Because it just is.

Losing Falin forced him to open up to others in a way he never had. It forced him to choose what he cares about, and in making that choice, it gave him the opportunity to be seen. To connect with others.

He has already had to come to terms with the fact that Falin's death has given him something - he would not have been able to kill her again if he hadn't.

There is something here that is fundamental to Dungeon Meshi's understanding of what life even is. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that part of Laios' speech to Marcille in chapter 85 is actually first seen in the chapter where they fight off ghosts.

In 'Sorbet,' while possessed , Laios thinks that it would have been better if the dragon had eaten him, instead of Falin. The ghosts make people lose their will to live - they are dragged away from life.

When he's pulled back from that brink, Laios realizes that he can't move forward without accepting that she is gone. He even compares the way he was holding on to her to being possessed: it pulled him away from life, from the present moment.

To carry on, he must accept what has been lost, and focus on protecting the life that they still have.

Like Marcille, he has to accept the contradictions of their journey. That life means eating, and eating requires death. That sometimes one must be selfish in order to be kind, and that selflessness can easily be twisted into to cruelty.

That loss will, inevitably, lead you to find happiness that you may not have found otherwise.

This is how he gets through to Marcille. And I think part of the reason he reaches her with these specific ideas is because those contradictions are baked so thoroughly into their relationship.

Marcille only met Falin after she had been left behind by Laios. Laios was able to reconnect with Falin because she left Marcille. They both met each other through Falin, and yet they only really got to know and care for one another after she died.

And of course, that's why Marcille uses the same ideas to comfort Laios, in the final chapter. It is because of Laios that she is able to accept the journey for itself, and not need the happy ending to justify its meaning to her.

Together, they help each other move forward, and accept that they may not be able to bring Falin back.

Which, if I'm being honest... I think this is the reason Falin can come back, narratively speaking, without the resurrection feeling like it takes away from the themes of the story.

After all, she doesn't do it for Marcille or Laios - she does it for her own sake. Her own hunger and her own desire to eat are the things that lead her back to life.

All three of them, together, end the story like this: not clinging to the things they are afraid to lose, but knowing they can choose to move forward together.

And, importantly, this happy ending is no longer the thing that gives the journey meaning. Rather, it is the privilege of the journey itself that is her happy ending: the chance to walk alongside others in the time they have, to get to know each other, and to eat well.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #marcille donato #laios touden #falin touden #dungeon meshi spoilers #dunmeshi analysis #for anyone keeping track I'm on pdt so it IS still the same day that I said I'd post it on #PUT DOWN THE TOMATOES

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bigwishes · 3 days

Note

Hey dude ! So i've been having this problem recently while playing CoD online recently. This guy in my group keeps belching into his mic constantly and it's really distracting. I don't even know what's gotten to him, he used to talk normally but now he sounds like a total jock bro. And it's starting to affect our team's performances.

The worst part is that i'm starting to feel like i can .... smell his bo ... like, through my mic. I just wish i wasn't bothered by his belches and his stink, you know ?

Sorry to hear that bro, It can suck when people can be annoying when trying to relax gaming online, but I'll be nice and give you exactly what you want, you won't be bothered by his stink and belching anymore... You finish up a match with your least favourite person to run into online, you say "GG" into the mic and pull up the menu to quit before the ending screen has even finished. You already know what's coming seeing the gamer tags in your lobby, as you scroll down to 'quit game' a loud sound breaks out over lobby call, "BUUUUUURRRRRRRRPP- ugh, gg bro"

You grimace at the noise and press exit before he can fire off again, this dude had been bugging you for days, leaving his mic open you could hear every time he took a sip of his shake or a bite of his food between respawns, but the worst was his constant belching in between call outs or even small talk, but burping wasn't really a reportable offence and he when he actually gave call outs it was good information so you just had to put up with it instead of muting him, still you hoped every game you loaded into you'd be hoping you wouldn't see his gamer tag on your team.

You pressed play again and sat there staring at the que timer waiting. Whilst you sat there you felt a little uncomfortable the room suddenly felt hotter and you began to sweat from under your jumper. A few minutes went by before you decided it was unbearable and you took off your jumper and smelt the strong whiff of musk and saw a small sweat mark start to appear on your t-shirt under your armpit. You hadn't realised you'd been so sweaty and you got up to go change your shirt when you suddenly got into a game, there was not time to change now and you'd have to wait till after the match.

Loading in you let out a sigh of relief seeing the infamous belcher wasn't on your team and so you gladly jumped in call to talk to your team. The game was rough, not for how hard it was to beat the enemy team but you felt strange and uncomfortable the whole time. Your shirt was feeling tighter than usual and you could feel the fabric cling to the sweat on your back. You felt the heat building up in your sweat pants as the fluffy wool chaffed against you thighs which felt like they were now stretching out your pants. At one point you even ripped off your socks hoping that'd start to cool you down, which it didn't. The match ended and you left the game. Taking the back on your hand and wiping it across your forehead you felt the sweat brush off, letting out a deep breath placing your controller on the coffee table in front of you, you saw the sweaty handprints left behind which you only ever saw one the hottest days of summer.

Letting out a deep sigh you stood up and tried to take your shirt off feeling it stick to your skin and the potent smell of musk flowing out from your pits as your arms were above your head. You dropped your shirt on the floor and looked down seeing your chest had pushed out into strong defined pecs and somehow you got abs within the last 20 minutes.

"Ho-holy shit" you laughed as you rubbed your new wash board abs

You scrambled to pull down your grey sweat pants and you weren't disappointed, strong muscled thighs you fell back down to your seat letting out a chuckle as you started feeling up your massive thighs. Thousands of thoughts were flowing through your head, what was happening? HOW did this happen? thinking back on your day trying to remember anything that would have you suddenly turn into a hot fitness model,

but one thought was stronger than the others, you didn't even have to lift up you arm to smell the stench coming from your pits, you smelt like you haven't showered in 2 days and had run a marathon. You leant forward to cancel the que when suddenly the words GAME FOUND appeared at the top of the screen. You thought it'd probably be best to dodge the game and take a shower.....but then again it was your day off and nobody could smell you so it could probably wait until after the game.

You played another round, trying not to focus on the smell of bo in the air around you and eventually you forgot about it all together, you were so focused on the game you didn't even notice yourself constantly shifting in your seat as you tried to make yourself comfortable, reaching back and pulling at your underwear waist band every couple of minutes, not even noticing it was drenched in sweat.

The game ended and you stood up, feeling as your sweaty ass peeled itself off the couch like some kind of wet Velcro, you felt heavy, like your body had put on more size and your stomach grumbled as you felt like you could eat a whole pizza to yourself.

DING DONG

You walked over to your door and opened it to see a pizza delivery guy standing there, you couldn't remember ordering one?

"whoa" the delivery man said as he turned his head to the side holding his nose "here you go dude"

The pizza box was shoved into your hands,

"errr, lemme grab my wallet I guess" you calmly said, forgetting you were standing there in your underwear

"Don't worry about it dude, its all pre paid" the delivery man practically shouted it at you as he backed away

You wondered what his problem was but thought it best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. You shut the door and made your way back to your seat, opening up the box and grabbing a slice and stuffing it in your mouth. Sitting back down you felt the cold as the wet patch on your seat collide with you, you felt it squelch down as the stuffing in the seat was so drenched with sweat.

Game found appeared on the top of the screen and you looked at the pizza slice in your hand. You shoved the whole slice in your mouth and desperately looked around for something to wipe the grease off on, the only thing you could think of was your underwear which barely worked but you thought it did so you picked up your controller covering it with a layer of sweat and grease.

"hey, who's chewing?" someone said over mic

You didn't even realise you had joined the chat, loudly chewing on your food into the open mic.

You played through the game almost an autopilot, just enjoying the sounds of shooting guns, although you'd wish people would stop bitching about whoever was chewing on open mic, they should just mute whoever it is and move on...

Afterwards you walked over to your bench, you felt so stuffed after eating a whole family size pizza in 10 minutes but at the same time you could go for a drink, as you stood up you felt so heavy and puffy, like you were swollen. You walked over to your kitchen ignoring the sound of your large sweating feet slapping against your floor. You turned on your tap and turned your head sideways gulping down mouthfuls of water. The water spilled out and ran down the side of your mouth as you gulped and swallowed, gasping for air in-between mouthfuls, as you stood up right again mid mouthful having had your fill and the water spilled out of your slack jaw and ran down your chest. You gut groaned and you leant forward on your counter top rubbing your abs,

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPP

You gasped for air after letting out the loudest belch of your life, the water on your lips and chin still dripping off your face forming little droplets on your counter top,

uuUURP

you let out another smaller belch as you reached around to scratch your sweaty ass. You began making your way back over to your game wanting to play another round, each step was strange, like you were getting heavier and heavier, heaving your floor creak. Your chest and jaw were itchy and as you scratched you felt stubble poking out of your skin and felt as sweat and grease got trapped under your nails.

Reaching your chair you grabbed onto the back of it, needing to catch your breath almost exhausted from the 20 steps you had taken. You spun your gaming chair around and threw your entire weight into it, a large strenuous noise rang out from every joint, screw and bolt, like the chair almost crumbled under you. Jiggling in your place you felt sweat be pushed out of the seat like squeezing a wet sponge as your ass made its way into the massive groove you had created.

Picking up your controller you felt the greasy surface connect with your hand. Your chest began to itch again and you took the edge of the controller and rubbed it against you chest hair.

You hadn't noticed but as you walked over to your seat you had gotten bigger, and hairier, the stench coming off your skin was now not just drifting through the air but it was clinging to you, getting stuck in your new hairy body quickly making you smell worse.

game found appeared on the screen and you quickly lost interest in how hair you had become.

"hey what's going on team" a dude called out

you opened your mouth to respond but instead

BUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP

You let out a loud monstrous belch, you felt it vibrate in your chest and thighs, you felt it as your shoulder blades creeped up above the top of your gaming chair and as your thighs were pushed together as they got thicker but had nowhere to go but inwards forcing you to close your man spread. The chair under you groaned and you couldn't help but groan along with it as you felt so heavy and big, like you were being weighed down by a car.

"bro could you not burp in mic?" someone complained

"sorre-UUUUUUUUUUUURRRPPPPPP" You just couldn't help it, you couldn't even get through your words without letting yourself burp like a pig.

two of your team mates instantly left the voice call and the two that remained began to complain about how rude it was to do that over open mic. You weren't really paying attention to them though as you laughed thinking to yourself they were probably two dudes who were a quarter of your size.

Days went by and you didn't notice how bad thing were, you floor covered in pizza boxes, a large mark on your coffee table had formed like someone had forgotten to put something under a drink but it was from you putting up your large feet. Energy cans were on the ground around your chair from just being tossed down to the floor when you were done. Your controller itself started to come undone at the joins from being gripped by your enormous ape like hands,

but you didn't notice any of it because you didn't give a fuck, the only things you cared about now was being big, playing CoD.

You'd become a mindless muscle slob who was, belching and sweating like a pig.

I'm sure you won't care next time a guy burps on mic, in fact it might even be a turn on for you now. Better focus up muscle pig you just got another game.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change #musk #gay

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heavyhitterheaux · 3 days

Text

Between the Sheets (NSFW)

First Lady of Private Garden Blurb

Synopsis: You come up with an idea that is the perfect way to wake up your husband 🤭

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Do not engage if you are underage

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Looking over at your husband's peaceful sleeping form, you simply smiled to yourself as you were admiring him. As of lately, he had been tired, stressed out, and overworking himself as usual no matter how many times you would get on him about taking a break.

Luckily, today was an off day for him and you were excited about getting to spend time with him, even though you had a strong feeling that the majority of the day would be spent with him sleeping.

Glancing down at your phone you saw that it was almost ten in the morning and that was surprising since Jack hardly ever slept in. An idea suddenly popped into your head and you figured that he would be less mad at you if you woke him up like this.

You slid off your pink thong along with your matching bra since you knew that this was only going to end one way and that was him being deep inside you. So you figured that you might as well get it over with. Ducking underneath the comforter, you comfortably positioned yourself in front of Jack before sliding off his boxer briefs and slowly started to stroke him. You felt him twitch, but kept going at an even pace before you placed him in your mouth. A few minutes had passed when you heard him start to stir and you were actually surprised that it took him that long.

You knew he had been caught off guard when you heard a small gasp escape from his mouth and he quickly spoke up letting you know that he was now fully awake.

“Babe…..” Jack quietly whispered as he moved the comforter from over the both of you so that he could have his eyes on you.

“Gotta see my pretty baby and how well she's taking me.” Was all he said as he smirked while looking down at you and holding onto your ponytail. Your bonnet must have fallen off from all the movement and made a note to look for it when you were finished.

As Jack tightened his hold on you, you moved him further into your mouth and felt your spit leaking out the sides and running back down to the base of his dick which you quickly licked back up.

“Fuck!”

He threw his head back in pleasure and when he put his eyes back on you, he pulled you away from him.

“What's wrong?” You asked suddenly confused and why he was looking at you with that expression.

You moved forward so that you were now straddling him and all he did was smirk at you before leaning forward and placing one of your pierced nipples in his mouth and sucking lightly before switching to the other one. He then began to place a trail of kisses up your chest until he finally reached your mouth.

“Nothing's wrong. I can't just admire my wife?”

“Hmm, of course you can.”

“And I see you're already ready for me. Good girl.” Jack said, referencing that you didn't have any clothes on as he slowly ran his fingers over your folds, seeing how wet you were.

Jack then lightly tapped your cheek and you immediately opened your mouth and soon felt warm liquid running down your throat along with Jack's tongue.

Once the two of you broke apart, Jack smirked at you once again before holding your face in his hand.

“Now finish what you started.”

After getting comfortable again, you slowly took him back into your mouth.

Not a lot of time had passed before you felt his cum hit the back of your throat as you immediately swallowed it and still continued to suck as you hollowed out your cheeks.

“Baby, wait a minute!” Jack told you, but you simply held eye contact with him as you moved him deeper into your mouth, not letting up for a second as you felt more coming out.

Once you finally released him from your mouth with a pop to come up from air, he was smirking at you as you still continued to stroke him.

“Oh, almost forgot. Good morning, baby.” You smiled as Jack leaned forward to kiss you.

“Good morning my love. That was a hell of a way to wake up.”

“And we're nowhere near done.”

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow smut #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction #jackman thomas #jackman thomas harlow

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gi4hao · 21 hours

Text

the idiots you date — x. minghao

roommate!minghao x gn!reader

word count: 1k

genre: fluff but slightly angsty (mention of a past toxic relationship)

“you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are.”

minghao’s face bears signs of exhaustion that you’ve learned to recognize months ago. signs which started to appear exactly when he took on this new “big corporate job” as you often call it, simply because you’re not quite sure to understand what it is.

you’ve finished your dinner an hour ago. you used to wait for him to come home, but that was when he wasn’t working overtime most days of the week.

“they needed me to finish some urgent reports, i didn’t really have a choice,” he tells you before you can even ask anything. his tone is like a permanent sigh, but you know it’s not directed towards you.

sat at the kitchen table, you remain silent, fiddling with the rings he took off before washing his hands. the lights are dimmed, making the dark circles under his eyes slightly more prominent.

“how was your date?” he asks as he takes his plate out of the microwave, probably wanting to change the subject. but you doubt he’s still interested in your date anecdotes, especially since this one was your third of the week.

although he comes to sit right next to you, you carefully avoid his eyes when you reply:

“okay, i guess? the guy was nice but had terrible takes on most topics we talked about. well, ‘we’ is kind of a stretch because i was doing most of the talking. i think he was just here to eat good food and make me pay for most of it.”

“so… not okay, then”, minghao corrects you, and the silence that follows speaks louder than any word would have.

you’ve been single for almost a year now, and your last relationship was not exactly a model of good and healthy communication.

living alone after the breakup was a depressing prospect, and minghao was in need of a roommate to avoid letting his job drive him insane: a perfect match for two long-time friends like you two.

there was always a certain closeness between you, but living together has made it more intimate, and consequently harder to ignore... which is why you decided to ask for the help of various dating apps in hope to get minghao out of your head.

“yeah, not okay…” you sigh, mindlessly sliding one of his rings on your finger.

your gaze lands on the painting hung next to the fridge. one of minghao’s, which you insisted should be put up in your apartment; swirls of paint meeting in rosebuds and milky tulips. you can still see where the paint was spread across the canvas by his fingers.

with a tinge of sadness, you realize minghao hasn’t drawn anything in months. his paint-covered clothes were all replaced by dull suits that make him look like the people he used to feel sorry for.

“what time do you start tomorrow?” you ask, pouring him another glass of water.

his lips press into a thin line; you’re not sure whether he’s holding back a sigh of annoyance or just mentally preparing for an answer you’re not going to like.

“7. there’s a meeting i need to prepare for.”

“and when you get to the office at 7, are other employees there? or just you?”

“don’t start,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing his plate to go put it in the dishwasher. “we’ve already discussed this, it’s a dead-end.”

he’s right, this conversation has never ended well. but your eyes keep coming back to that painting, to everything he’s slowly turning his back to. the sadness ebbs away, giving way to a rising anger:

“no, i will start actually,” you state, walking up to him. “you’re unhappy, hao. you shouldn’t work for a company that doesn’t respect you.”

“yeah, and you shouldn’t date guys who don’t deserve you, yet here we are,” he replies, slamming the dishwasher shut. but his voice sounded more cutting than intended: “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that.”

there are a thousand words on your lips right now, but few of them would be reasonable to say out loud. meanwhile, minghao is looking at you like you’re a ticking time bomb.

“but you said it. so now i expect you to either hit me with a miracle solution or kiss me.”

you said it without really thinking, basically shrugging as you know he will never take you seriously. the best outcome would be for him to never speak about your love life ever again.

but his reply makes you instantly freeze: “what if i did both?”

a rush of warmth spreads from the pit of your stomach, radiating through your entire body as his hand comes to meet your cheek, silently asking for confirmation that this is something you want.

your lips crash against his before he can even start to lean in, and the feeling of his skin so close to yours feels so unreal you expect him to push you away any second.

but instead, he matches your eagerness to the point where you’re scared you might lose your balance.

“i hope you like that solution,” he breathes out, leaving one last kiss on your nose.

in that fleeting moment, you reunite with the old minghao, the lively one who makes his own decisions and owns up to his actions. the one you fell in love with years ago.

“absolutely”, you chuckle, your hands meeting behind his neck. “…so i guess i can tell that guy we won’t go on a second date.”

“you better,” he earnestly tells you as he starts to take his black blazer off. “working from 7 to 9 will never be as painful as watching another idiot take you on a date. from now on, i’ll take care of it.”

-> rbs and feedback are always appreciated!

masterlist here!

#i think this is the longest fic i’ve ever poste #d #(so far *wink wink*)#minghao x reader #minghao fluff #minghao imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines

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lilozzzyo3569 · 1 day

Text

Stay Still

Summary: Bucky Barnes comes back from a mission, and instead of going straight to the shower decides to come see you first Warnings: MDNI, female reader is smaller then Bucky, I don't own this man (but I guess I wasn't meant to be happy), General fluff, Bucky is touch starved, you got this man in the palm of your hands *wink*

Bucky had just made it back to tower and was just happy the "mission that wouldn't end" was finally over. The mission ended up being successful but not before he damaged his arm. He was covered in god-knows-what and all he wanted to do was see your face.

You and Bucky have only been together for a short while but originally became close in Wakanda. You are friends with Shuri and helped her with her manipulations of Vibranium. She was actually the one that asked you to help her work on Bucky's arm as well as to reprogram him. That was how the two of you met and after spending so much time together decided to date.

When he decided to move back to the tower he begged you to come with him and how could anyone say no to those eyes. So fast forward to now you are in your shared king bed trying stay awake wearing his dog tags and one of his shirts and a tiny pair of shorts waiting for Bucky to come back to you when you hear your door open. Bucky calls out "Doll? Are you awake?" You smile and jump up out of the bed to go hug him, when you stop dead in your tracks after seeing him. "What the fuck happened to you?" He sighs deep and says "what didn't happen, I messed up my arm and I just Ugh-" you interrupt him saying "hey it'll be okay, we can fix your arm but first lets get you into a hot shower, while I fix your arm"

Bucky is in the shower when you finish fixing his cleaning his arm before you start to fix it when you hear him grunt in frustration. You put his now clean arm down and run into the bathroom. "Baby what's wrong?" you stand on the outside of the shower curtain when he responds with irritation "I can't wash my hair with one arm UGH!" he sounds angry so you gently tell him "well how about you just finish showering and then I can wash your hair?" He is quiet and happy that you can't see him start to blush when he says "Are you sure?" making you giggle "Of course plus it's going to take me a minute to fix your arm, so this way you won't have to wait."

Bucky finishes his shower and puts on a pair of soft low hanging grey sweats. Now you're the one blushing, you and Bucky had only gone as far as cuddling, holding hands and a forehead kiss now and then. With his past trauma you didn't want to ever make him feel pressured to do anything physical. Upon seeing him you smile as he still looks a bit frustrated as he comes back into the bathroom. "So how do we do this?" You smile as you sit on the edge of the bathtub advising him to sit in the bathtub and rest his head in your lap as you start to detangle his hair with a comb. You take the shower head down and rinse his hair before gently massaging his scalp and shampooing his hair. You spend maybe a bit longer than necessary doing this because this is the most physical contact you two have ever had and it is clearly affecting you both.

Bucky does his best not to moan at the feeling of your nimble fingers massing his scalp and washing his hair. Due to all of his time at Hydra Bucky had issues interacting with the world around him physically which was not a problem until he met you. You were so kind and understanding of him and were always so patient, he doesn't know how he got to so lucky to have you. He does feel a bit self conscious when it comes to anything physical with you. He doesn't want to scare you away, but he wants to be closer to you but has trouble telling you what he wants. But now here he is with his head between your soft bare thighs as you massage his scalp. He worries you will notice his sweatpants getting tighter, but you seem too focused on his hair.

Bucky can barely hold you at night without feeling overwhelmed by your soft skin, your delicious scent, your little hums in your sleep. Bucky always feels so conflicted, he wants to touch you, to feel you, but it has been so long since he has felt this feeling that he doesn't know how to handle it. You gently move his head from side to side to effectively clean his hair, but by doing this it forces his head deeper in between your thighs. You feels him wrap his arm around your thigh making you gasp as he nuzzles into your skin to deeply inhale your scent. You feel his lips press against your inner thigh as you blush and continue to massage his scalp. "Bu-uughh-Bucky are you alright?" He finally lets out the moan he was holding in due to hearing your sweet voice, "I'm sorry doll, you just smell so delicious, especially from down here" Bucky's arm moves up and down you leg as you notice the a very large tent in his sweats. You bite your lip, "Well if I had known that all I had to do was wash your hair to get you nice and relaxed I would've done this months ago. How about we finish washing your hair and then we can go to bed? How does that sound baby?" Bucky nods against your thigh feeling drunk off your scent, as you work to finish his hair.

I have had this stuck in my head since I saw this man long hair! Just had to get this idea out of my head, hope you all enjoy :D

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #touch starved bucky #falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #winter soldier #white wolf

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mattyriddlesbitch · 23 hours

Note

hey! Love your writing! Could you do a fic where Tom finds reader beaten and bruised and he raises hell trying to figure out who did it? Also can the reader be a hufflepuff? Have an amazing day!!!!

I didn't specify the house, but I hope this works!

Protector

Tom Riddle x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of attack, broken bones, blood

You were in one of the bathrooms at the sink, trying to wash away all the blood on your skin and clean the cuts. It was a typically abandoned bathroom, no one really used it. So you were surprised when the door opened and none other than Tom Riddle came in.

You and Tom had a weird relationship, but he was weird in general. You were nice and friendly with him, and he gave you short responses in return. He didn't exactly seem to hate you, he wasn't rude and he didn't insult you. He just didn't really seem to care about you.

But now that he saw you all bloodied and bruised, you saw anger in his eyes. He was livid. “Who did it?” Was all he asked.

“It's fine, Tom. Don't worry about it.” You said, turning back to the sink to finish cleaning up.

“You're hurt, (Y/N). It's not fine. Who did it?” Tom walked over to you.

“No one.” You just wanted him to drop it. It'd only get worse if he got involved.

“They hurt you, why are you protecting them?” His tone was harsher than normal.

“I don't want you involved.” You said, still not meeting his eyes.

“So instead, you protect the people who hurt you. You're being stupid.” It was the first time he actually insulted you in some way.

“Leave it alone, Tom.” You said before turning off the sink and leaving the bathroom.

The next day, you didn't see any of your attackers in classes. There were a few people close to your attackers that were injured, a broken arm, broken nose, cuts, bruises. They wouldn't say a word about what happened.

You wanted to question Tom since he was the only one you knew of that knew what happened to you. But he was missing from classes too. No one had seen him and none of the injured students would talk to you.

You waited outside of the Slytherin common room, hoping to catch him coming in or out. It took a long time actually. He didn’t show up until just minutes before everyone was supposed to be in their common rooms. He came down the hallway, looking right past you.

“Where have you been?” You asked, trying to get his attention.

“Urgent matter to attend to.” He said as he was walking closer.

“You mean those students who attacked me?” You crossed your arms in front of your chest.

“They’re dealt with.” He said as he stopped in front of you.

“I told you to leave it alone!”

“So you can keep getting hurt?”

You both stared at each other for a moment.

“Why do you care? You never care.”

“It’s not about you. I think it’s pathetic to attack someone like that. So I gave those cowards a lesson.” He crossed his arms as well.

“You’ve never done that for anyone before.” You shook your head. “Why? Why me?”

“I don’t know.” He said harshly. “I don’t get it. I saw you hurt and…I couldn’t bear it. I got angry and wanted nothing more than to hurt those people who dared to touch you.”

You were shocked, staring at him in disbelief.

“I don’t understand why I did it. I just wanted to.” His voice was softer now. “I felt…like I had to protect you.”

“Tom…” You spoke softly.

“I thought I hated you. I couldn’t get you out of my head. You’re annoying and talkative and bubbly and I should hate that. I should hate that I can’t stop thinking of you and how you make me feel. Your voice, your laugh, your perfume, your smile. I want to hate it all. But I don’t. I can’t.” He said, staring in your eyes.

“What are you saying, Tom?” You asked after a moment to let his words sink in.

“I’m saying that I don’t hate you. Quite the opposite.” He said, his eyes trailing down.

“You like me?” You asked, a small smile growing on your face.

“I’m not saying that.” He scoffed, looking back up at you.

“But that’s what you mean.” You tease.

“I’ll never say those words.” He shook his head.

“It’s alright. I know what you were trying to say.” You said before turning to walk down the hallway back to your dorm.

“I didn’t-” He yelled after you before groaning, heading into the Slytherin common room, knowing there’s no point in arguing with you.

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @yourenogoodforme @mixvchelle @helendeath @ireallyneed-somesleep @soaked4abby @hpnsfwaddict

Let me know if you wanna be added!

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle angst

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thequietkid-moonie · 2 days

Note

I saw that you haven't written for Honkai star rail yet and was hoping you could write for Yandere Kafka, Silver Wolf, Yukong and Jingliu with a shy darling

Shy Darling

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ] [ Kafka, Silver Wolf ]

[ Honkai Star Rail ]

Please read the characther list before requesting next time, I don't write for Yukong nor Jingliu

Still, I liked writing this! an interesting first time writing for the Stellaron Hunters!

Kafka

After becoming part of the Stellaron Hunters Kafka has travel all around the universe as Elio asked her, aside from that she doesn't do much more so is probably that it was in one of those missions were she end up meeting you, and, honestly, as long as Kafka stays loyal to Elio and doesn't go against the scrip she can do pretty much all she want, so taking a small break to walk towards you won't represent much problems (and there is the chance that you two meeting was something Elio already knew it would happen)

Kafka takes the first chance she has to get to met you and doesn't even bother on hidding her interest on you (not even that she is a criminal, for her it doesn't matter), as well there are high chances that she notices your shy behavior even before muttering the first word but she just find it rather cute

Kafka likes to admire the beauty, she is well know about the fine arts and, for her, meeting her darling is like finding a beautiful art piece that she has never seen before, one that she must add to her collection, no matter at what cost. Before she finish with her mision and has to leave that planet she will make sure to take you with her

Kafka is actually caring and loving towards her darling, wanting to treat you as the priceless piece of art you are for her, so she take the time to introduce herself and win your trust, even if she were in the middle of a battlefield she has the time to glance at her darling and dedicate them a smile

Kafka is really smart and skilled (in and outside of the battlefield) and for her winning her darling trust is like a game, and her plan to win your trust and heart is just a dance where she has leadership, smothly guiding you around the dance floor with elegance and grace, her eyes never leave yours, honestly Kafka is so smooth and charismatic that it is just matter of time to win your blind trust

Kafka doesn't even lie to her darling, she is sincere with how much she likes you and how beautiful you are in her eyes, your shyness makes you just adorable and she is more than willing to let you hide behind her back as she takes care of anything that you are afraid of or bothers you, and honestly she takes advantage of your shyness to make you depend on her, to make you want her around to be able to protect you

It doesn't take much time before Kafka manage to make her darling depend and needy, make you want her around at all times, even if she has to put you on risky situations just to came and save you she is willing to do so, she isn't afraid on losing you since she knows she is more than capable to protect you

Also, Kafka loves showing off with you more than she likes to admit, be due her skills in battle or her bast aknowledge in fine arts and treasures, all the beautiful peaces of art she own, her skills on music, everything she is and has is now yours too if you accept to be with her

One of the things she likes the most is dressing you up, putting on you the most fine and elegant outfits because it brings her two diferent benefits, it let her see the beauty of her beloved darling at its fullest and can see you all flustered and shy, specially when she just doesn't stop giving you compliments

She doesn't mind if you become friends with the rest of the Stellaron Hunters (that give her more chances to see you being all shy and maybe even a little scare, wich she loves and give her the chance to comfort you, so is just a win win for her), she knows that none of them will be idiotic enough to try to steal you from her (but if you start liking them more than her then it will be a problem), but if you prefer to just relate to her and don't interact with others is fine for her too

Silver Wolf

Catching Silver Wolf's attention will depend in how interesting she finds you, so for her obsession for her darling is going to grow slowly, fisrt by catching her attention enough for her to decided to do a little more research about you. No matter if the first time she have met you is in person or online, the only thing that matter is that now that you are her new target and nothing will stop her

Honestly, it doesn't take her much time before being able to find out everything she can about you, Silver Wolf is the best hacker and nothing will stop her, she can even hack your own accounts and devices just to get more information about you, but she will do it once her obsession have grown to the point that she just can't stop

The more Silver Wolf gets to know about you the more obsessed she gets, it brings her so much joy that she start seeing this hunt of her darling like some kind of game, a game that she will not lose no matter what it cost her. Traveling across the infinite amount of information she had of you to the point when she is even able to use an hologram to appear right where you are, leading her to her next step, getting her price

There is no other way for it to happen, after getting to know so much of you and how much joy you bring her is just natural for her wanting to have you only for herself, so she wont really waste much time before kidnapting you, but even when she is so excited and even in a rush of adrenaline Silver Wolf takes the time to make the perfect plan to win her price

Silver Wolf knows you are shy from the start, it was one of the things she found out while messing around your information, and yet, there are chances that she just forgot about it for being too concentrate in her plan, having you by her side is already a win so now she is she can take things slower and will take the time to win the trust and heart of her darling

Silver Wolf finds your shyness quite hilarious because of how easy was for her to get all the information about you, still she does respect your shyness and most of the time she just leave you be, she is happy with just having you around and having a one-side conversation while playing videogames until you adjust to your new life with her (it bothers her but she is willing to wait until you feel comfortable)

Despite your shyness and despite kidnapting you, Silver Wolf is really kind and friendly with you, no matter how you react she always acts as if you two were happy together, clingy and caring, sharing her snacks and videogames with you; even if you seem reclulant to open up with her Silver Wolf lets you have your own phone and even some freedom, she can easily track you down and know what you are doing so she isn't really scare, but is her behavior what can easily make you fall for her charismatic trick and put your trust on her

Silver Wolf is a little bothered by your shyness just because it holds you back from doing fun things, however she does finds quite funny to tease you and make you flustered or teasing you to convince you to do what she wants to do. She constantly take advantage of your shyness to gets what she wants and has no shame on doing it, she constantly use it whenever she has to go out for a mission or to see Elio, she kinda threats you about how she won't be there to help you if you end up meeting someone else if you decide to left the safety of your room, always emphasizing the fact that now you live close to the Stellaron Hunters and how dangerous they can be

Despite the threaten Silver Wolf let you interact with the other Stellaron Hunters if you want, she won't mind and finds quite funny seeing you scare or shy when the others are around, but also has little patient when it comes to the others and her darling, she leave others interact with you for a certain amount of time or just having a tolerance about how close they get to you before getting tired or even feeling possessive and dragging you away to your shared to room to play videogames together

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #kafka #kafka x reader #yandere kafka #yandere kafka x reader #silver wolf #silver wolf x reader #yandere silver wolf x reader #x reader #x gn reader #video game x reader

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 3 days

Text

Used (Billy Butcher)

Description: Billy decides to use Y/N to get what he wants but it backfires when he falls in love with her.

Warning: Smut

Word Count: 4,051k

She sighed, completely nervous as she walked down the aisle to her future husband. The wedding wasn’t crazy big but had all their friends and some family. MM walked her down the aisle since she refused to even speak to her parents since she found out they let Vought inject her with compound V. Her dress was dragging behind her as she looked forward to see Billy. He looked so handsome in his tux and he was staring at her in awe. She looked so beautiful. She got up the stairs and they both faced the priest. Billy thought he couldn’t be anymore lucky than what he was right now. Except this wasn’t supposed to happen.

Billy wasn’t a soft spoken man by any means. He could get aggressive and bossy especially when it came down to Vought stuff. He wanted one thing and one thing only. Revenge. Justice for his now dead wife, Becca. And the man would do anything to get it. “There’s a new member of the Seven?” Hughie asked his girlfriend Annie. She nodded and showed them. “Woah.” “wow.” was said amongst the boys. Y/S/N or Y/N. She had on a white lingerie type costume with angel wings that weren’t part of her skin. “What’s her power?” “She can fly.” Annie said. Billy stared at the picture of the girl. She was breathtaking.

Her costume made her boobs look bigger, thanks to Vought and she looked so sweet. Except Billy was still on edge about Supes. “She looks like an angel.” MM said. “Yeah, literally.” Hughie finished. Annie smiled at the boys. “Well she is an absolute sweetheart and she is single.” Billy didn’t know why but that caught his attention. She was single and she wasn’t a bitch? That was perfect. He smirked and looked at the others. “Well boys we might have ourselves a winner.”

Billy hadn’t really planned this out too much but if he could make her fall for him, he could get information. Information on how to destroy Homelander. So here he was at a convention that she was signing stuff at. He was in line and made sure he would be the last so he could actually talk to her. She had the sweetest smile on as she signed pictures and merch. She didn’t seem to be faking the excitement but she was new so she really didn’t know how Vought worked yet.

Once he was up next to talk to her, he finally heard her voice. It sounded angelic and sweet. He didn’t realize how hard it was gonna be. “Hello.” She greeted him. “Hello luv, Billy Butcher.” He introduces himself. “Love the accent. Makes you a lot sexier.” She flirts. He was caught off guard from her comment. He didn’t realize that she would’ve thought anything of him. Which made it so much easier to get her right where he wanted.

“Billy, fuck.” She moaned as he pounded into her cunt. She was up against a wall and he was holding her as he fucked the living shit out of her. Her tiny body fit perfectly with his, like a puzzle piece. “Holy shit. You’re so sexy.” She moaned out. He could cum from that. She was praising him and saying the hottest shit to him. He groaned in her ear making her pussy flutter around him. “Are you close?” He asked her. She nodded and gasped.

“So fucking close. Gosh you fuck me so well.” She whined. Damn he’s never felt like this before. He was so close to cumming and she was making it worse. He wanted her to cum first. “Open your eyes, luv. I want to see you fall apart.” She opened her eyes and her mouth remained open. He looked at her as her eyes rolled back and she moaned loudly cumming all over his dick. That triggered his release. He placed his face in her neck as he let out a moan and came hard. The hardest he’s ever came in so long. She held him close and calmed down. “This can’t be the last time you’re inside of me.” She said. It wouldn’t be.

“Holy fuck. Can you believe that prick?” Y/N asked Billy. He chuckled at her anger. “Homelander is a lying selfish asshole.” “What made you realize that?” He asked her amused. She shook her head and sat down next to him. “We just found out that we’ve been injected with Compound V and he has the audacity to be okay with it?” Billy shrugged.

“I mean the fucker has everything, luv. Why wouldn’t he be okay with it?” She looked at him and shook her head. “He’s not human at all. That I know.” “So what do you wanna take him down?” Butcher asked. She laughed but then stopped. “That’s not a bad idea. I know Maeve and Starlight hate him. I could get the help.” And that’s how she ended up meeting The Boys.

“Wait, so you hired these guys to help?” Y/N asked her boyfriend. “Yep they can help ya.” He said. The boys were confused on why Butcher was talking about them like that. Did Y/N not know? “Do you guys even have powers?” She asked them. They shook their heads and she sighed. “So how are you gonna help?” She asked them. “We’ve dealt with a lot of things like this.” Frenchie told her. Hughie looked at Butcher and realized that he was using Y/N to get to Homelander. He felt sick and wanted nothing more than to yell at the man. Y/N wasn’t a bad supe like Butcher thinks. But Hughie seemed to be the only one to catch on to Butcher’s plan. “Okay if you say so.” Y/N said, looking at the boys. “Perfect.” Butcher smirked.

“So, you and Butcher huh?” Annie teased Y/N as they walked into the Vought towers. “Shhh I don’t know if it’s super serious yet.” She tells Annie. “Y/N, it’s been months almost a year. Do you love him?” Y/N looked at Annie and smiled. “Of course I do.” “See you need to tell him.” Maybe Annie was right. She should tell Butcher that she loves him. But when would be the right time?

His hips pounded against hers as she was laid on the Seven’s table in the conference room. How did they manage to have sex in here? They were on a mission to grab a file but got distracted. It was very dangerous to be having sex here, but that is what turned them on. “Billy.” She moaned a little too loud, forgetting that they were fucking in the seven’s conference room. His hand covered her mouth, mumbling her moans. “As sexy as those noises are, you need to be quiet.” He groaned.

She nodded but couldn’t help herself. Each snap of his hips felt better and better. Her hands gripped the table, turning her knuckles white. Billy’s other hand went in between them to rub her clit. Her moaning was still loud even with his hand covering her mouth. “You close, luv? We need to hurry.” He said and pounded faster. She arched her back as she felt her high approaching. Her sweet moans turned to whines and whimpers.

He felt himself getting close too, causing him to let out groans of his own. She gasped his name as she came undone. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, seeing this made Billy cum with a moan of her name. His hips worked them through their high. She sat up and cupped his face. “Billy, I love you.” She whispered. He froze in place and stared at her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was using her and she fell in love with him. That wasn’t even the worst part. He loved her too. “I love you too.” He said and he kissed her. Guilt rose in his chest as he realized that they were in too deep.

A year later, their wedding happened and Hughie kept a huge secret that to this day fills him with guilt. Though, he saw Billy falling in love with Y/N, that wasn’t the plan. Billy was using and lying to his now wife. She didn’t even know about Becca or Ryan. She didn’t know who the real Billy was. His backstory, none of it. MM and Frenchie felt guilt as well. They were so confused about why they had to lie to her in the beginning until one drunk night:

The Boys were laughing and drinking, actually having fun for once. There wasn’t any stress about Vought or Compound V, just getting drunk. “That Y/N girl seems really cool, man.” MM told Butcher, pouring himself another glass. “Eh, She’s okay, Just another seed to be planted.” The boys looked at him, confused. “Wait, you’re using her?” Frenchie asked him. “Yeah, I am. Sure she’s a pretty thing and a good fuck. But she’s a supe and she’s just like the rest of em.” “Nah man, I don’t think Y/N is. She hates Homelander.” MM said. Billy shrugged. “She’s just another vought test subject. Once I have what I need she’ll be gone.” Frenchie and MM looked at each other. This was low, even for Billy. Y/N wasn’t a bad person nor did she deserve this.

Which is why MM and Frenchie’s smiles didn’t reach that far up as the two got married. Hughie didn't either but he thought he was the only one that knew. Annie was oblivious to everything and Hughie didn’t have the heart to tell her. Y/N looked happy, she was happy and in love. What she doesn’t know, can’t hurt her. Billy felt happy again, after so long. He had a beautiful wife and a great team. He wasn’t worried about anything right now. He pushed everything to the back of his mind, even the fact that he used her in the beginning.

“Just to think you were just some sexy guy in line at my meet and greet.” She said and looked over at him. He chuckled, “Just to think that we fucked an hour after meeting.” She laughed and shrugged. “Couldn’t help myself, I knew at that very moment that you were the one I wanted.” She tells him. His face softens at her words. “I knew too.” He said but that was a lie though. He didn’t know until months later.

Months later and everything was going great. Billy and Y/N got their own place away from The Boys. They loved them but it was nice to have privacy. Y/N wanted out of The Seven and planned to talk to them but figured that wouldn’t work. Billy told her it would be best to take her file and disappear. She was on edge about it at first, not thinking it was a good idea. She didn’t want them knowing that she was married or where she was. Billy was lucky that it was her idea for them not to know she was married. He didn’t have to stress about her finding anything out. She walked into Vought Towers in her costume so nobody would suspect anything.

She didn’t have her ring on, she never did when she was here. She got in the elevator and hit the floor that she needed to go on. She has never snuck into where the files were placed. The only Seven member aloud to look at the files were Homelander. Her nerves were high as she walked out of the elevator and to the door. The door was locked as she suspected it would be. But thanks to Frenchie she knew how to undo locks. She looked around to make sure she was alone. Once the cost was clear she unlocked the door and snuck in. Stan Edgar’s office that he thankfully was not at today.

She looked around for a moment and sighed. His office seemed normal. She saw the filing cabinet and went to it. She carefully opened it and started looking for hers. She found it after a minute and grabbed it. She read it and chuckled. They had a lot of info on her, just not the important stuff. She was about to close the cabinet when someone opened the door. She gasped and looked at whoever came in. “Y/N?” The person asked.

She turned around and saw Homelander. “Hey!” She said with a fake smile. “What are you doing in here?” He asked. She really didn’t know how to lie her way out of it. She wasn’t planning for this to happen. “I uh just wanted to see my file.” She said. “Your file?” She held it up in her hands. “Yeah, after I found out about Compound V I stopped talking to my parents but wanted to get in contact with them to get the rest of my shit because I just bought a house.” Nice save. “Gotcha. You got a new place?” He asked. She nodded. “Yep, in the city.” Homelander seemed to be buying everything she was saying.

She quickly got out of there with a breath of relief. She almost got caught but she felt proud that she saved herself. Homelander on the other hand was very curious about where she lived. He never figured out where she did before so he took the opportunity to follow her. She got home and unaware that she was being followed and set the file down on the table. Billy was out with The Boys so she had the place to herself.

He came home a few hours later. “Got the file.” She said pointing it out. He grabbed it and looked through it. It was creepy how much stuff they knew about her. “Good. Now ya can finally leave.” He said to her. She nodded and took the file. She shook her head. “I almost got caught though, saved my ass.” She said. “Who caught ya?” “Homelander. He uh came into the room after I had gotten it but I told him the best lie I've ever told.” She said. “What was the lie?” “That I needed to get in contact with my parents for my shit because I moved.” “And he bought that?” “Seemed to.” She shrugged. Homelander bought it up until he hovered about her house with his number one enemy. He couldn’t believe that Y/N had betrayed him. Especially with Billy.

Y/N had to go into Vought’s tower one more time to pack up her shit. She would have yesterday but she didn’t want Homelander seeing after catching her with her file. As she was packing she heard a knock at the door. She went and opened it and there stood Homelander. “Can I help you?” She asked. He smiled and pushed her aside, walking in her office. “Uh excuse me? I didn’t invite you in.” She said. He chuckled and turned around to face her. “Why did you lie to me yesterday?” He asked. She looked confused, “What do you mean?” “You lied to me about why you had your file.” He said. Oh shit. “No, I didn’t.”

“Yes you did and you are working with Billy Butcher.” He yelled. “Who?” She asked. Though she was confused on how Homelander knew him. “Oh don’t play stupid. I saw that you two live together.” He growled. Her eyes widened. “You followed me?” She asked him. “Yes I did because you’re a lying little bitch.” He said and walked closer to her. She backed up against the door. “How do you know Billy?” She asked. He looked at her confused. “What the fuck do you mean?” “How do you know him?” He chuckled. “You know damn well how I know him.” She shook head and looked up at him. “No. I don’t .” She said. By her heartbeat he could tell she wasn’t lying. “You are working for him and you don’t know?”

“I’m not working for him.” She said. “But you live with him.” “He’s my husband.” She whispered. Homelander’s face dropped. “You’re married to him?” She nodded. “And you don’t know how we know each other?” He asked. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” She said. He pulled her arm causing her to screech in pain. He pulled her to Stan’s office and took her inside. “Why are we here?” She asked. “Go in the filing cabinet.” He told her, motioning towards it. She looked at him confused. “Go look under B.” He told her. She walked over to cabinet and opened it. She looked at the letter B and all the files under it. She saw one that had the name “Butcher.” on it, well two. She pulled them both out.

She looked at the one with the woman on it first and saw that she was married to Billy. Y/N gasped and almost dropped the files. She read through the file and saw that the woman was dead but had a son named Ryan. She looked at Billy’s and wanted to cry. He had been keeping this from her. “Ryan is my son, not Billy’s.” Homelander said. Tears streaming down her face. “He was married?” She asked. “Y/N, he thought for the longest time that I killed Becca and he’s been after me ever since.” She sobbed. “So how did she die?” Y/N asked, turning towards him.

“Ryan, our son, accidentally killed her and my girlfriend at the time.” Y/N looked broken and shocked. “So he’s been trying to kill you for that?” She asked. Homelander nodded. “I take it since you didn’t know any of this, he’s probably using you to get to me.” He tells her. The files drop from her hands and she breaks down. “He was wanted, along with 4 others that he works with.” Hughie, Frenchie, MM and Kumiko.

She got home, late that night. She ignored Billy’s calls and had to be anywhere but there. She sighed as she opened the door to the house and closed it. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call ya all day.” Billy exclaimed. She looked at him and it took everything in her body not to break. He noticed that her eyes were empty. “Are ya okay?” He asked and went to touch her but she pulled away. “You wanna tell who Becca is?” She asked. His face dropped. “Or the fact that you and Homelander go way back?”

“Or the fact that you’ve been using me for information on Homelander?” She screamed. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Huh, Billy? You wanna explain?” “H-how do you know any of that?” He asked. She scoffed in disbelief. “That shouldn’t be the concern here but since it is to you I saw the files. Yours and Beccas.” She yelled. “You’ve been using me, you don’t love me.” She whispered, tears streaming down her face. “That’s not true.” He said. “Which part? The part that you were using me or the part that you don’t love?” She yelled.

“I do love ya.” She shook her head. “No.” She sobbed. “You don’t. You wouldn’t have lied to me.” She was right. He knew that but what could he say to make any of this better. “Look I know I should have told you about my wife and that I knew Homelander but if we could just sit down and talk about this that would be great.” “You wanna sit down and talk? What excuse do you have?” She yelled. “I don’t have any excuses. But I wanna tell you everything. Just let me give you that.” She didn’t move from her spot. “Tell me right now.”

“Homelander raped my wife. I had thought for the longest time she was dead and he had killed her. She was alive and had a kid. The kid wasn’t mine, it was that cunt Homelander’s. I’ve known before I met you that he was a piece of shit. So when I saw you, yes I thought you would be great use for information on him.” She scoffed. “But then I actually got to know ya and I fell in love with ya.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry about Becca, Billy but you shouldn’t have used me or lied to me.” She said. “I know.”

“I actually loved you from the beginning and to figure out that this was all a lie from the enemy himself.” “It’s not all a lie. I do love ya.” He walked closer to her. She stepped back. “No.” she mumbled. She slid off the ring. “We were never on the same page. You never cared about me. This ring means nothing, it never did.” She said and threw it at him. “Y/N-” “Don’t.” She held up her hand. “Please just stop. I’m tired and i’m over this.” She sighed and walked out of the house, leaving him in tears.

She drove to where The Boys were staying, not wanting to be around Billy. She opened the door and they all turned their heads. She noticed a very handsome guy that they were talking to. “Hey is Billy with ya?” Frenchie asked. Y/N shook her head. “No, he’s not.” “Are you okay?” Hughie asked her. She shook her head and tried to hold back the tears. “No, I’m not.” Hughie ran over to her. “What’s wrong?” She sighed and looked at him. “He used me to get information on Homelander and he lied to me. But I’m sure you already knew that.” She said, glaring at him. His jaw dropped. “Y/N, I wanted to tell you so many times but you guys looked happy.” She held up her hand.

“Just stop. I don’t need this right now.” She walked around him and grabbed the bottle of vodka that was on the table. They all gave her pity looks. “You guys don’t owe me like he does but it would have been nice to know that he was a shitty guy.” She said and walked into one of the rooms. She sighed and sat down. She looked around and noticed that she was in Billy’s old room. She sighed and took the vodka and drank from it. She heard footsteps and she looked up. The guy that she saw earlier. “Who are you?” She asked. “Ben.” She nodded.

He sat on the bed next to her. He chuckled as she drank straight from the bottle. “Something funny, Ben?” She asked. “No it’s just you’re too pretty to be heartbroken over a guy like Butcher.” She laughed, a genuine laugh. “Let me guess you guys go way back too?” She asked. “Just a week.” He told her. She nodded. “Well if it only took you a week to figure out he sucks, why'd it take me 2 years?” He chuckled at her questions. “Looks like you love him.” She shook her head. “Yeah, pathetic right? He lied to me about every little fucking thing and used me for information on Homelander.”

“Sounds like a dick.” They both laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m trama dumping on you.” “Nonsense.” He shook his head. She laid on the bed with a sigh. He followed her. “I’m surprised he’s not here, looking for me.” She said. “He’s an idiot.” “Yeah but so am i.” Ben turned his head towards her. “Pretty hot for an idiot then.” She turned to look at him. “Are you hitting on me?” She asked. “Yeah. I’d be an idiot not to.” He said. She chuckled and turned her whole body towards him.

“You don’t even know me.” She said. “Yeah but you seem like you need to be taken care of and not by some jackass.” “How do I know you’re not a jackass?” She asked. “You don’t but I can assure you that I’m not gonna lie to you about my past life or using you. I’m just trying to fuck you.” She stared at him and her eyes kept going from his eyes to his lips. He noticed her doing this and cupped her face. He turned his body towards her and moved closer. She didn’t move away, she didn’t want to. She let him lean in and kiss her. There wasn’t fireworks, sparks or butterflies but damn it felt good. “Y/N?” She pulled away from the kiss and gasped.

#billy butcher x reader #billy butcher imagine #billy butcher smut #billy butcher #karl urban #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys amazon #the boys season 3 #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagine #soldier boy #jensen ackles

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eldaryasharbinger · 2 days

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MCL New Gen Ep 3 Review

I finally finished the episode! I'll give a more generic opinion about it here and put all the spoilers below the cut!

I think it was really nice, I didn't check how many APs I used but I saw someone else mention that it's around 1200 APs which I think is fair! I was scared about it at first because I'm not sure if I'm the only one who noticed that, ususally, the first episodes are either shorted/cheaper and that new episodes that come out are much more expensive... I hope that won't happen!

The outfits are pretty cute, also I noticed that if you want to, you can unlock the other outfit you missed for 150 hearts! It's just to unlock it in the shop without having to replay the episode, you still have to purchase each piece separately but I think it's alright since the prices are really cheap!!

I don't really know what else to add and still be spoiler free, so now it's time for spoilers! you've been warned!

I'm so so happy with how they get Candy to react everytime... I love that she changes expressions accordingly and it's much more fun!! Also I think I screenshotted(?) almost all of Jason's scenes,, I'm sorry I'm just so down bad I kept giggling everytime he said anything,, I think that's why it took me a while to finish the episode lol...

Petronilla you're so real for that... Me too... (he awakens the goblin inside me...)

Honestly I really think that we should keep this in mind everytime he opens his mouth because it's actually so true... Also how are you so obsessed... Keep it going...

He wants to kiss her so bad I just know it... He's like that one kid that bullies you just because he's into you and doesn't know how to behave

"Little kitten"

...

I'm so done with this guy he's so shameless and I love him for that,,

The illustration is very pretty! He's so handsome why can't he just do a backflip off of Goldreamz's roof (He's so pretty sometimes it p*sses me off lmao)

I think I'll try to edit this one soon too!

I think it's pretty funny that she calls him that, yeah I can see how he's a loser... (I be calling him things just cause he's pretty and annoying I swear)

She's so... I'm so gay leave me alone,,,,,

ALSO ISTG she's going to be the end of me and my wallet, I can't help but always buy both her's and Jason's special scenes (I still haven't understood if you can get the illu's without buying the scenes... help,,) and on top of that of course I'll say that I'm going for Jason's route and then buy Amanda's illus because I can't live without it,, Beemoov let me be poly for once, Petronilla has two hands for a reason!! Either let us (Me and 'Nilla) have the same outfits for both Amanda and Jason so that I won't have to spend 350 extra gems or idk;;-;

The doomed yuri... The forbidden yuri... Petronilla you're so gay... Idk I think I can hear "I wanna be your girlfriend" by girl In red from miles away... We're so over ;A;

If I get the time I think I'll try to edit this one as well!! So so pretty!

I also wanted to mention this... Man he's just like me this guy is autistic as F**K I'm telling y'all... I relate to that so much, especially the fact that he apparently seems to be thinking in percentages as well (By that I mean that at least I tend to make my decisions based on calculations and such... That's why I like to joke about having a computer for brains lol)

Looks like Beemoov's writers did their homework on this guy cause if he's actually autistic-coded I think they did a great job! Autism is a spectrum in the end but I really resonate with how they're potraying it with Thomas! Kudos!

Last but not least... Jason's text after finishing the episode... I'm shipping Jason and Petronilla so hard,,,,,, I love the blue&pink contrast, they were made for each other your honor... If we add Amanda they can be the Bisexual flag together...

#my candy love new gen spoilers #mcl new gen spoilers #mcl ng spoilers #mcl new gen #beemoov #beemoov games #my candy love new gen #my candy love #mcl #mcl ng #jason mendal #my candy love jason #mcl jason #mcl amanda #my candy love amanda #amour sucre #dolce flirt #mcl oc

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catherinnn · 1 day

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But Daddy I Love Him!!!

Eddie Munson x cheerleader!reader based on "But Daddy I Love Him" by Taylor Swift. words: around 2k warnings: angst if you squint, fluff!!! so many taylor swift references, overprotective parents, no use of y/n, happy ending.

masterlist

You knew that once you made your relationship with Eddie Munson public people would lose it. That’s why you’ve been postposing it until you were both really sure about this. But it’s been six months already, and they have been the best six months of your entire life.

Never has any other boy made you feel this way, so comfortable, so confident, so in love. He was chaos and revelry in the best was possible, not like these other boys your parents had set you up with over the last years, just because they’re friends with their parents. He was the complete opposite of those boring boys, he had long and messy hair that you love playing with; he dresses in total black with ripped jeans, leather jackets and shirts with monsters painted on them; he’s loud and fun and hilarious; he’s so pretty and so hot at the same time.

There is no doubt of the way he makes you feel and you’re tired of hiding it. So yes, you knew it was going to be controversial walking in hand by hand, letting him hug you from behind whispering sweet nothings in your ear while you grab your things from your locker and kissing him goodbye before separating to each’s classes for the whole school to see. But you weren’t expecting World War Three.

“There you are, pretty girl” he greets you again at lunch.

“Hey you” you greet him back and go to kiss him, wrapped up in your own world when you’re interrupted by a fellow cheerleader behind you.

“Stay away from her!” Sarah protested. You both look at her in shock.

“What?” Eddie asks confused.

“Whatever it is that you’re doing to her, stop it!” she demands angrily, it’s kind of funny.

“Sarah, what do you mean?” you can’t contain the chuckle that escapes mid-sentence.

“What’s going on?!” she asks in complete confusion.

“He’s my boyfriend, he’s not doing anything wrong to me” you explain to her—actually, to the whole cafeteria who’s just as confused and angry as Sarah is.

“What do you mean your boyfriend? Honey, he’s…” she doesn’t finish the sentence, shooting you a look that speaks volumes, her eyes widen and her eyebrows as if saying You know exactly what he is.

Eddie starts giggling but hides his face in your shoulder trying to act modest. You fail to hide you smirk.

“He’s my boyfriend and I love him. I don’t really see the issue here” you put an end to the conversation and walk to his table where he starts introducing you to his friends.

“What a mess” Hannah whispers to Sarah while playing with her pearl necklace.

However, the real problem started when you got home, one that could not be ignored by just laughing about it.

Sarah and Hannah had talked to your parents about Eddie and you. And your dad did not like those news at all.

“You can’t see him anymore, this nonsense stops right now” he demands.

“But daddy, I love him!” you scream.

“Love? You can’t love someone like him. You’re acting crazy, come to your senses and don’t be a fool!”

“No, I’m not coming to my senses. Please, you don’t understand! Just try to get to know him at least!”

“For the love of God, he is crazy! Don’t you see it?” he exclaims

“But he’s the one I want” you cry.

“No! Go up to your room now, I don’t want to listen to this anymore” he didn’t let you say one more word as he slammed the door in your face.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” you hear Eddie’s concerned voice through the phone.

“Can you come over? Please” you don’t explain just yet, you just needed him here.

“Of course, I’ll be there in ten” he doesn’t even stop to think about it, immediately saying yes.

“Climb through my window, I’ll leave it open”

That night you only managed to sleep thanks to him, he was the one giving you the peace and calming that you needed. He was the one making your heart flutter.

And for that reason you decided you would not give up so easily. You could not just give up on this thrill he brought into your life, your wild boy and all of this wild joy.

This is why your judgmental ‘friends’—if you could even call them that—still had things to say about your relationship.

“We just want what’s best for you”

“I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that” you started, acting reluctantly, “I’m pregnant”

Every single one of them yelled a perfectly synchronized ‘WHAT?!’And you nodded.

“I’m having his baby” you admitted and they looked at you horrified and shocked, you couldn’t contain you laughter anymore. “No, I’m not, but you should see your faces!”

“We are not joking around! Could you take this seriously?”

“Girls, if all you want is boring and insignificant for me, then it’s just meaningless and it’s still my choice to make” you explained, starting to think that they’re not ‘trying to save you,’ they just hated you.

“But think about your reputation. What would people say about you?”

“I’ll tell you something, it’s still my name and mine alone”

“Please, just think about-“

“Oh my god! I swear, I’d rather die right now than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning! Really!” you interrupted them and without letting them say one more word, you finally left.

For the next month you had to sneak around to be able to see Eddie, since your dad had forbidden you to ever see him again. Obviously, that wasn’t even a choice. You were going to see him whether your dad likes it or not. But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

So you get out of your house after lying to your parent telling them you were meeting one of the girls for a project. Your mom looked at you warily because she noticed the pretty dress and the make-up you were wearing, but she didn’t say anything about it. She wasn’t the judgemental person your dad was.

You walked two blocks away from your house and there was that Van you knew all too well by now, waiting for you.

You went to his trailer, you couldn’t really do any other plan for a date. You still couldn’t go out in public much if you wanted to keep seeing him.

“What movie should we watch?” you ask him.

“I didn’t rent any this week, I just have the old ones we already watched” he answers.

“Oh” you mumble as you go through the couple cassettes he has. But he’s right, you’ve already seen those a thousand times. He hears your sigh.

“I’m sorry, okay? I just didn’t think we would have to keep hiding here even after telling everyone about us” he explains.

“I know Eddie, but- I’m dead if my dad finds out I’m still seeing you” you insist but he doesn’t say anything back. He’s dozing off thinking about something.

“What if I just go talk to him?” he proposes after a few seconds.

“What?” you question him in disbelieve. He can’t mean that literally.

“No really, what if he meets me in person? I could talk to him, introduce me, do all that ‘what my intentions with your daughter are.’ Maybe he’ll come around”

“That won’t work with him Eddie, it’s just gonna be a really unconfutable moment between you two. Believe me, I know him” you explain.

“But what other choice do we have? Are we just gonna keep hiding until you move out?” he questions.

“I- I don’t know, but at least this way I can still sneak around and see you. If I keep insisting with this, he’s just gonna lock me in my bedroom forever” you started getting nervous. You were so stressed out that no one would believe or even listen to you when you want to explain how Eddie actually is to you.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry, I’m here, I’m always gonna be here” he calms you down by hugging you. Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer.

When Sunday comes around, you were setting the table to eat with your family, your dad cooking the meat on the grill, your mom dressing the salad. You hear a knock on the front door, but you weren’t expecting anyone today.

“Honey, can you get that?” you mom asks you.

When you open the door, your eyes must be deceiving you, it has to be that. You’re just imagining him because you miss him and he’s just always on your mind.

“Hey” he softly greets you noticing the surprise on your face. And you confirm you’re not imagining anything.

“What are you doing here?!” you whisper-shout at him.

“Okay- I know you told me not to do this, but I really think it could work. Just give me a chance sweetheart, I mean… my charm worked with you after all, maybe it’ll work on them as well, who knows?” he winks playfully.

"Honey! Who is it?" your mom appears from behind you to see. Eddie presents himself politely, giving her flowers even.

"Oh, thank you Eddie, I didn't know you were coming over" she comments confused.

"I just wanted to introduce myself so you could actually get to know me, and not what... some other people say about me" he explains calmly. He acting so respectful that you're biting your tongue to not make fun of him.

"Of course dear, come in" and just like that, he has your mom absolutely delighted with him.

But as I said, your dad is the tough one.

Eddie goes outside to talk to him, he asks you to leave him go alone for a second and that he'll call you if he needs you.

You let him go by himself but still, you're standing at the door spying on them. You can't hear anything, but you see Eddie talking and your dad listening with a straight face. He's acting tough to intimidate him. But Eddie doesn't seem faced by it, he's just explaining something in the nicest way possible. If the hellfire guys were here to see him, they would never let him live this down.

"Honey, don't bite your nails" your mom tells you after a while.

"I'm just really nervous"

"I know, they've been talking for a while now" she agrees, "want me to go see how it goes?"

"Or should I go?" you start questioning but as if you had called them, your dad and Eddie walk in. You look at them expectantly.

"Can you help me outside?" your dad asks you and you nod quickly. You try to read Eddie's face but he seems relaxed, could it be?

After going outside he stands in front of you and takes a few seconds to choose his next words.

"I'm sorry"

"What?" you whisper. You can't believe what you just heard.

"I owe you an apology for not listening to you when you explained it" he starts, "and I owe him and apology for misjudging him"

"Really?"

"Yes dear, I hope you can forgive me and... I just want you to be happy, and I can finally tell that he is one who makes you happy" he admits and you go hug him before you even think of it. Somehow, now even your daddy just loves him.

Eddie stays for dinner that day and it's beautiful to see them all getting along. You separate from your old friends and find new ones who don't judge you and actually care about you and not what other's might think. Eddie and you stay together and finally have dates outside of his trailer or your room. You officially meet Wayne and he adores you, but Eddie's not surprised about that, he knew it wouldn't take much giving how adorable you are. People still have things to say about you two but you learned not to care about it.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x cheerleader!reader #eddie munson x popular!reader #taylor swift fic #taylor swift #the tortured poets department

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bellaxgiornata · 1 day

Note

Ask the boys! What are Mikey and/or Matt's favourite comforting ways to decompress (with reader)?

Ohhhh, thank you for this one!! I had to sit them down for this little dialogue! As always, I'll throw everything under the cut because this'll be longer. But please enjoy this gif depicting Matt's enthusiasm levels today at me being distracted from a particular fic update he wants.

Bella, dramatically shouting: So who's ready to play ASK THE BOYS?!

Mikey, cringing a little on the couch: D'ya really need to say it like that, pet?

Matt, raising a brow: Yeah, we're not exactly on an episode of Family Feud. This isn't a game show.

Bella: No, but could you imagine if you were? Maybe Fog could be the fourth player. And you know what? I'd actually pay good money to see that because it'd be hilarious. But now that you say that, I think I want to play Ask the Boys like it is a game show every time someone asks for it. So thank's for that, Matty!

[Matt dramatically sighs loudly on the couch beside Mikey]

Frank, shouting from the kitchen as he makes coffee: Can you just let the lady have some fun? Play along, dammit. Don't you know better than to argue with a pregnant woman, anyway?

Mikey, settling into the couch: He has a point. Best not to argue.

Matt, reluctantly: Fine. What's the question?

Bella: Okay, since you're being a sourpuss I'm asking Mikey first. What's your favorite comforting way to decompress with Reader/a significant other?

Mikey, scratching his beard in thought: Suppose I'd say...somethin' calming. Like takin' a walk, just holdin' hands and enjoyin' each others' company. Or maybe cuddlin' up in bed or on the sofa with a book and just readin' together, not even sayin' a word. I deal with enough excitement with my family, don't exactly need anymore outside o' that, y'know? I'd rather just...slow things down for a bit together. Be able to hold them and just be with them.

Bella: Ohh, I like that. You definitely do need less stress and a slower paced environment with some of the stuff your family puts you through constantly. Or like...an entire change of scenery that isn't Dublin.

Mikey, humming in agreement: Ya can say that again.

Bella, focusing on Matt: Now Matt, same question.

Matt, growing a sheepish smile: I'd have to say...in my bed with both of us not wearing clothing--[quickly holding up a hand to quiet everyone before they interject] solely because it's far too irritating if I'm trying to decompress and relax with too much outside stimulation, not for any other reasons. I'd rather just feel them over anything else. Because I'd prefer to focus in on their heartbeat and their breathing, listening to the sound of their voice as they talked. Sometimes outside stimulation just gets to be too much with my senses, and that's where I'd feel the most comfortable with a partner while trying to decompress. Somewhere without some of that extra stimulation. And uh...I wouldn't mind being the one who was being cuddled instead of doing the cuddling, I guess, too...

Bella, nodding: Makes sense. I think we're all well aware of how touch starved you tend to be--especially for a touch that isn't someone punching you in the face for once. Obviously for you to decompress with a partner, you'd want them doing the comforting. Though I highly doubt you'd ever just, you know, ask for what you wanted, so you'd need a partner that already could intuit that. But you know, there's nothing wrong with asking for what you need, Matt.

Matt, abruptly rising from the couch: Okay, I wasn't expecting this to turn into a therapy session. Are we done now?

Bella, rolling her eyes: If it was a therapy session with all of you, we'd be here for months. But yes, that does answer the question for this round of Ask the Boys!

Matt, grinning: Great, now maybe you can get back to that thing you're almost finished writing for me. You know the one.

Bella, sighing: Fine, fine. I'll let you three get back to pre-baby panicking in here for now while I finish it.

(Bella's Follower Celebration Post for those who want to join in the fun!)

#bellas 2.5k follower celebration #bella hears fictional characters #ask the boys!#matt murdock #michael kinsella #frank castle #(he makes a little appearance)

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morganski-19 · 2 hours

Text

The One With Lamenting

Eddie walks up to the apartment completely fine. Cause why wouldn’t he be fine. It’s not like he’s done anything to move this situation further. If there’s a situation at all. Steve isn’t required to like Eddie back just because Eddie likes him. And so what if he walked past him going on a date with a guy that has a shocking resemblance to Eddie. That was perfectly fine. Normal. Allowed.

Eddie is perfectly ok with the fact that Steve has a dating life. Totally really ok with it.

It’s not like Eddie hasn’t been seeing people casually. In dark night club bathrooms and badly light apartments. Not on dates though. He can’t bring himself to go on an actual date, even if it’s been a year since his last relationship ended. Probably more than that now. But every time he sees a guy he’s somewhat interested in, he just can’t get it to the dating part. Always ghosting the people on dating apps or suggesting a quick hookup.

He lets out a dramatic sigh when he opens up his apartment door. Hoping to find some sympathy. Even though he knows he will just be met by sarcastic remarks on how he just needs to go ask the guy out. Like it’s that easy.

But this time, his sigh is covered by the sound of a blender.

“Dude,” Argyle’s voice booms through the apartment. “You made it just in time for fajitas.”

“I could use a fajita right now,” Eddie says as he pushes himself off the door. “What’s in there?” He points to the blender.

“Margaritas,” Nancy answers as she’s pouring it into glasses.

“Give me that.” Eddie grabs the blender out of Nancy’s hand as she finishes pouring the second margarita, finding a straw and sticking it in the blender. Claiming whatever is left as his.

Nancy huffs. “Hello, that was meant for all of us.”

“I just walked past Steve meeting someone for a date.” Eddie explains, now pacing around the kitchen.

“Here we go again,” Argyle whispers to Nancy as he plates up the fajitas.

Eddie continues to pace, trying to get as much alcohol in his mouth as possible. “It’s the same guy he was talking to last week. I know because he showed me his picture. This guy is so similar to me it’s insane. I’ve been spiraling trying to figure out what it means, or to tell him about it, but now they’re on a date and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Well, you could,” Nancy interrupts his spiraling tangent. “You just have to ask him out.”

“But what if he says no? What if he never wants to see me again and then I’ve ruined our entire friendship. And then it’s weird between us, meaning it’s weird between you guys because we live together, and it’s weird between me and Robin because she lives with Steve. And it would be weird between you and Robin because of it being weird with us and now it’s weird between us because I made it weird between you and Robin. Then it’s weird between all six of us because it’s weird between the four of us and it’s all because of me. So not only have I ruined one relationship, but I’ve ruined five.”

“Don’t you mean six,” Argyle asks, trying to keep up. He and Nancy share the same confused expression, not quite sure who Eddie’s talking to or about half the time.

Eddie just brushes him off. “No, I wouldn’t ruin whatever the thing is between you and Jonathan. That can’t be touched by me directly and I have never been more thankful for that.”

Argyle shrugs. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Has something changed between you two?” Nancy asks, sipping her drink, and taking a seat at the table.

“Not really,” Argyle sighs. “It was just all of a sudden something shifted between us. He started to be more distant than he normally is, and I don’t know what to think about it.”

Argyle finally makes himself a fajita and shoves it into his mouth. Eddie sits down, a good portion of the leftover margarita in the blender now gone.

“And there was nothing to cause it?”

Eddie groans, mouthful of food. “This is so good man.”

“Thanks. The only thing I can think of is his mom called a few days ago. But she calls all the time, so I don’t know what happened. He’s just been weird ever since.”

“Is that why he’s not here?”

Argyle shrugs. “I guess. Just said he wasn’t up for it tonight, I didn’t want to push.”

“Did something happen with Will, that sometimes makes him distant?”

Eddie perks up. “Who’s Will?”

“Jon’s younger brother,” Argyle explains. “Some stuff happened back when Will was in middle school after their parents got divorced so Jon’s really protective over him. But he’s been doing fine now. I don’t think anything would have changed recently.”

The apartment door opens before Eddie can ask any further questions.

“Nancy,” Robin interrupts their conversation. “You have got to see this guy Steve is going on a date with, it looks so much like-,” she notices Eddie. “Oh, hey Eddie.”

“I already know about this guy,” Eddie mocks while shoving more food in his face.

Robin glares at him. “So you’re drowning yourself with food and alcohol. Great. Also, how dare you guys have fajita night without me.”

Nancy shrugs. “You said you were going to go out, you knew it was fajita night.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” she pulls out a chair. “I need someone to convince me not to cancel my date.”

Eddie and Argyle share a side glance.

“Why would you cancel it?” Nancy asks.

“Cause I haven’t had a decent date in months. Every time it just doesn’t click, and we never see each other again. Which is fine, I just want something to stick for longer than a night. Is that so wrong?”

Argyle shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s wrong. You’re looking for something more serious, that’s normal.”

“I guess. I just can’t help but feel like something’s wrong with me, that’s why no one ever wants to stick around that long.”

“No,” Nancy assures. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You just haven’t met the right person yet, and that’s ok.”

Robin’s phone dings. “Oh, she’s here. I’ll see you guys later. Save me some fajitas.”

When Robin closes the door behind her, she opens up her chat with Steve.

Robin: You’re plan of making Eddie jealous is working, he’s currently drinking a blender full of margaritas and stuffing his face with Argyle’s fajitas

Steve: :0

Steve: Their having fajitas without us, how rude

Robin: That’s what I said

Steve: But also, good cause this date is not going well

Robin: You’ve been out for twenty minutes how can it have gone south that fast

Steve: He hasn’t asked me a single question about myself and keep calling me Spence

Steve: Like that’s not even close

Robin: Ew

Robin: You should leave

Steve: Can you give me a fake 911 call

Robin: I would but I’m about to go on my date

Robin: You know who you should call

Robin: Eddie

Steve: That actually might be fun

Eddie’s phone pings. “Shit, Steve needs a fake 911 call to get out of his date. What should I say?”

“That you’re drunk and desperate and he should come back so you guys can finally break the weird tension you have,” Nancy teases.

Argyle snaps his fingers. “Tell him I got so high and ate an entire fried chicken then went into a food coma so bad someone thought I was dead again.”

“Again, that’s happened before?” Eddie stares at Argyle confused.

“I get a really bad case of the munchies. Especially after I visit back home in Cali.”

Nancy winces. “Yeah, I remember that trip. You were out for over eighteen hours.”

Eddie calls Steve.

“Eddie, I’m kind of busy right now.” Steve says through the line. Eddie can hear the voice of his date continuing to talk while Steve’s on the phone.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Eddie acts. “It’s just, Argyle got this real strong strain of weed and he’s pretty high. He ate an entire fried chicken by himself and then fell asleep. I’m kind of scared, he’s breathing weird and shit, I just need someone else to come sit with me to make sure he’s ok.”

“Oh, that’s sounds bad. I’ll come over. Be over in a bit.” Steve hangs up the phone.

The next morning, Eddie is taking out the trash as Steve is on his way to work.

“Oh Eddie, I just wanted to thank you for getting me out of that date yesterday. Really appreciate it.”

Eddie shrugs. “It’s no problem. Lord knows I’ve been on plenty of bad dates. What was it?”

Steve sighs. “Just kept talking about himself and called me by the wrong name. Like, my name isn’t even that hard. Shows that he just didn’t try.”

“Ugh,” Eddie winces. “That’s the worst. I’m sure you’ll find someone that actually gives enough of a shit to learn your name. Oh wait, hold on.” Eddie quickly drops the trash down the shoot before running back into his apartment. He comes out with a plastic container in his hands. “I sectioned off some of Argyle’s fajitas from last night. Robin wanted us to save her some, but I made sure there was enough for you too. Thought you could have it for lunch or something.”

Steve takes the container with a smile. “Thanks. I love it when Argyle cooks.”

“They were so good, can’t believe I’ve never had them before. Apparently next month are enchiladas.”

“Remind me not to make any plans for that night.”

“Will do.” They stand there in an awkward silence for a minute, just staring at each other. “Well, I don’t want to keep you. Have a good day at work.”

Steve gives him a smile again, one that makes Eddie’s breath catch in his throat. “I will. Thanks to you.” He holds up the container still in his hand. “See you later.”

Eddie nods before heading back into his apartment. Tempted to just open the door again and ask Steve on a date. Do something about this. But can’t. Not yet.

friends au tag list

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

#i have ideas and motivation to write for this again #yippee #morgan's friends au #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things au #friends au #modern au #pre steddie #pre ronance #pre jargyle #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #argyle stranger things #fanfic

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greetingfromthedead · 17 hours

Text

Plantheat (Vash x F!Reader)

Plot: About once a year Vash's heat rolls around and while he is worried about the position it puts you in, you enjoy all the positions.

Series: None (oneshot)

Pairing: Vash x F!Reader

Raiting: NSFW!! 18+!! R!! Explicit!! Minors DNI

Tags: no use of y/n, plantheat, rutting, pwp, smut, light BDSM, mention of breeding kink, cum kink ig, hand job, blowjob, p in v sex, joyous use of a couch, copious amount of... cum, rough sex, aphrodisiac, some spanking, blushing Vash → rutting Vash

Word count: 4.3k

Author's Note: If you know me or my other work... no you don't. Idk where this came from and it has already been revised... it was worse.

Vash has been avoiding your gaze all morning, generally curling up in bed and pulling the blanket over his head. He insists he is feeling sick, but you suspect it's something quite a bit different. You go along with his behavior, only giving him a peck on the cheek from behind before you get out of bed again.

"I will bring you something to eat; surely that will make you feel better," you say from the door.

"Thank you, love, but I am not hungry. I'll just go take a shower." His muffled voice sounds from underneath layers of fabric. This answer confirms your suspicions, and you leave for the kitchen. There are only a few reasons your man would refuse food, and being sick isn't one of them.

You eat your late breakfast as you see him slinking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom next door. He held a bundle of towels, and the sweet smell following him leaves no room for doubt about what is really going on. You take a deep whiff and lick your lips, savoring the scent. You can finish your plate and clean up in the time it takes him to shower. He usually refuses to waste that much water, but the grunts you hear through the door reveal he is doing more than just washing.

You bite your lip, wanting to go in there, but stop yourself. Every time he tries to hide his heat, and each time he fails, yet seeing him struggle with it in the beginning always amuses you. So instead, you settle in on the couch, where you have a great view of the bathroom door. From the suppressed noises, you assume he jerked himself off at least twice, surely hoping to put off the effects of his time of the year. You try to think back to the last time, and it seems like it hasn't been quite a year yet, but you aren't complaining. Vash might think he puts you in an awful position with his unquenchable need that arises during this time, but actually you quite enjoy all the positions you end up finding yourself in.

He finally exits the room, a large fluffy towel around his waist and a smaller one on his shoulders, catching the water droplets from his hair. His scarred and augmented chest is on full display, and you admire his broad shoulders. His body is a marvel to you, and even on a regular day, a sight like this makes your mouth water.

"Hello, my eyes are up here!" Vash tries to crack a joke, and one of his hands goes to scratch the back of his neck.

"I know. But I am not looking at them right now," you tease. "Come closer and let me get a better look. Do a spin while you're at it."

You see a reddish hue flush over his chest and neck while he walks closer to you. You can tell he's a bit nervous, but he obliges and does a slow turn, giving you a full view.

"Happy? I should go back to bed." He sounds very awkward, as he avoids looking straight at you and instead gazes at the bedroom door. With him came the same sweet smell as before, and it makes you painfully aware of the yearning in your belly, a desire to spread your legs right away. The smell alone is enough to turn you on, but tasting him would spell the end of your little game.

"Later. You took such a long shower; surely you feel a bit better now." You keep a careful eye on him as you speak. "You're all wet still; I'm surprised you're not shivering. Come here; I'll help you."

You reach out and tug gently on the towel wrapped around his waist. He obliges, but the blush is deepening on his face. He glances down at you as you place your hand on his stomach, wiping some droplets onto your thumb before sticking it in your mouth. You suck your finger dry and see his eyes widening.

"What? You used a lot of water; let's not waste any more." You say with a grin and pull him closer to run your lips over his skin, kissing away the wetness. You can feel his heart racing under your touch, and the maddening smell intensifies.

"Darling, I should..." A shudder runs through his body. "Go to bed."

"Don't you like it?" You run your tongue over the curves and valleys of his muscles, your hands firmly holding on to his hips.

"Oh, you know I do. It's just that…" He sounds breathless, and the crimson of his cheeks is accompanied by a pleading look in his eyes.

"You want to fuck my brains out." You finish his sentence with a smirk and pull away a bit to see him better.

"Yes. Yes, I do," he admits with a guilty look in his eyes.

"Why don't you?" You look at his face as his expression shifts from one microscopic emotion to the next. You don't actually need him to answer; you know his reasoning from the years before.

"I don't want you to feel used. I don't want to hurt you. I know it can get… intense," he swallows, and you pull the edge of his towel until it falls down. "And what if you get pregnant?"

"What if? Come on, daddy, don't worry about that." You say with a sultry voice, "Go on, give it your best shot."

"Don't say that," he exhales, and you can tell it gets harder and harder for him to keep his composure.

"Why not?" you smirk as your one hand wraps around his half flaccid cock, feeling it twitch at your touch. You let it slide through your loose grip until you reach the tip, your thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot, smearing the large glob of pre-cum that had already formed there.

"I can't resist you." He studders slightly and reaches out his hand to touch your cheek. "I want you. I want you so badly."

You feel a rush of desire wash over you as his words send shivers down your spine. You lean in closer to kiss his dry shaft, your fingers twisting just below the tip, causing him to let out a soft moan of pleasure.

"I'm right here," you say, barely pulling your lips away from his skin as you look up. "Use me. Any way you want. Any way you need."

He bites his lips hard, the redness not leaving his face as he meets your gaze. He watches you trace your lips along his length as your hand starts to move back and forth. Sloppier kisses leave plenty of spit behind for your hand to glide smoothly. As he is fully erect, the tip leaks with his arousal, providing plenty of lubrication. His eyes never leave yours as you continue to stroke him, his breath quickening with each movement. You are careful not to taste any of him, pulling away and instead adding your other hand to the mix.

His body leans back in pleasure as you increase the intensity. He arches his back and lets out a slight moan as he enjoys your touch. One hand strokes along the length while the other twists around the tip. He closes his eyes and loses himself in the sensation. The sweet smell of his aphrodisiac fills the air, and your whole body longs for it. You feel your own arousal growing stronger with each passing moment, the wetness collecting between your legs. You use your semi-clear head to tease him a bit longer; you know his quirks and know the best ways to build him up. You know exactly how to push his buttons and make him lose control, and with his especially short fuse today, you enjoy this while you can. His moans get louder and less guarded. It gives you massive satisfaction to hear him like that, seeing his muscles ripple as his body is overtaken by pleasure. He's putty in your hands, completely at your mercy. It does not take long to get him to his edge, only to lessen the stimulation and deny his orgasm. His eyes shoot at you again as you grin.

"Oh no, no, you don't get to simply torture me." Vash says, and there is an edge to his voice; the heat is taking him over, revealing his more primal and wild sides. "I won't let you have all the fun."

His left hand grips your jaw, and his right one grabs the back of your head, entangling his fingers in your hair as he pulls your head back. You can only guess that if you weren't still holding his cock tightly, he would have crashed into you for a fierce kiss, but this is not what happens. As you look up with your mouth pried open, he rolls his mouth and parts his lips to let some spit drip off the tip of his tongue. It lands on yours, and the aphrodisiac immediately fills your senses. You feel a surge of desire rush through your body. You want more. You need more.

He looks satisfied as your hungry gaze moves back on his dick. You feel ravenous for more and desperate to taste the sweetness again. Desperate to pull the pleasure from his body. You lick the fingers of one of your hands, savoring the remnants of his essence that still linger on your skin, but it is not enough. Sticking out our tongue, you place his tip on it, collecting the constantly leaking pre-cum that's a hint of what's still to come. You can't wait to have him inside you, filling you up completely, but for now, you want to taste him in the back of your throat. The desire grows, and the heat in your belly rises with each passing second. He has opened the floodgates, and you're sure you've soaked through more than just your underwear.

Hungrily, you start sucking on him while both your hands busy themselves with stimulating the rest of his cock. His hand, holding on to your hair, tightens, urging you on even as you gag on him. Your head is flooded with nothing but the desire to become his personal cum dump. The intensity of the moment consumes you, and you find yourself lost in the pleasure of submission. His moans of pleasure only fuel your own arousal, pushing you to go further and deeper, with noises of enjoyment escaping your lungs. In that moment, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensation of being his willing plaything. You slide off the couch to kneel before him, ready to fulfill his every desire.

One of your hands goes to rub your pussy through your pants, but the friction is not nearly enough. You want him all over your body, but your own pleasure comes second. You're here to please him, to have him fill you to the brim.

His groans intensify as you rub his most sensitive spot against the slightly rougher texture of your tongue. Your hand still works on the length of his cock as you feel him twitch under your touch. You know he's close, and you're determined to make him come undone. As he reaches the peak of his pleasure, you can feel his body tense and his breath quicken. With a final, deliberate movement, you bring him to the edge and watch as he releases with a deep, guttural moan. Satisfaction washes over you as his cum fills your mouth, sending a new rush of desire over you. The sweet taste that fogs your senses and judgment is irresistible as you swallow; another wave comes as you squeeze every drop out of him.

You look pleadingly up at him as you lick the taste of him from your lips. You want more. You need to please him; all that is in your head is him. His body, his cock, his seed. You want to be completely consumed by him. You want him to ravage your skin. The thought can cross your mind as you feel him shift under your touch. He reaches down, sliding his hands under your arms and lifting you up off the ground effortlessly, like one would do with a child. As your feet touch the floor, he releases you only to wrap his arms around your body, keeping you upright even as your legs still adjust. He leans you backwards, his strong hand pressing on your lower back so you're flush with his stomach, and his lips capture yours. Adrenaline courses through your body the moment his tongue sweeps through your mouth, leaving more sweetness behind. You feel your heart racing faster. He breathes heavily into your mouth during the kiss, his hands gripping you tightly and possessively.

He takes a few steps forward, forcing you to stumble backwards, but you might as well have done nothing as he drags you to the edge of the couch, roughly turns you around, and bends you over the armrest. One hand presses on your back as if telling you to stay down. The other hand slides down between your legs to cup your clad sex, feeling the wetness seeping through the layers of fabric. You feel a surge of desire and anticipation; you need his touch like you need air. You stay with your face down in the couch cushion and your ass up even as he removes both of his hands.

"Good girl." His low voice praises you as you feel him take hold of the waist of your pants. He pulls them down slowly, feeling the resistance before your ass pops out. He swallows hard as his mouth waters at the sight, and he pushes the pants and underwear down to your ankles. He slaps you hard on your bare skin, leaving it red and tingling, making you yelp. You feel a rush of excitement as he leans in closer, his swollen cock pressed against your crack as he whispers close to your ear. "No time for pleasantries, Mayfly."

In a twisted way, he warned you to brace yourself for what was about to happen next. Quickly, he pulls away from you, and you feel his tip press against your entrance as he lines himself up. One of his long fingered hands grabs hold of your hip as he thrusts forward into your sopping pussy with no mercy. You cry out in pleasure and pain as he fills you. He wastes no time as he pulls back again and thrusts back in with even more force. Your legs tremble at the delicious pain of friction inside you as you still adjust to his girth. Your body arches in response to his relentless pace, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain with every powerful thrust. As his fingers dig into the flesh of our hips, yours dig into the cushion beneath you.

His pace is intense and unyielding, driving you to the brink of ecstasy. Every breath escapes you with moans, even as your walls adjust to him. His long, hard strokes send waves of pleasure coursing through your body, overwhelming your senses with pure bliss. He lets out a few grunts through gritted teeth as your pleasures grow. The aphrodisiac he is constantly leaking makes everything tingle, while your sense of time and self slip away completely. All else disappears; it's just the overwhelming sensation in your cunt that travels up your belly as he rearranges your guts. Every touch and thrust is an exquisite torment that you never want to end.

Wild tremors of lust ripple through your being as Vash releases one of his hands only to grab hold of your hair and pull your head back, making you prop yourself up on your hands, your neck extended as far back as it goes. His blood is on fire while it courses through his veins, carrying the desperation of wanting to fill you up. His other hand, too, glides from your hip, sliding down the slope of your ass onto your back as he rams ferociously into you. Your pussy clenches around him, pulling him in deeper and deeper until he reaches his breaking point. With a groan, he releases himself inside of you, filling you with his hot cum. You feel the warmth spreading inside you, making you moan with pleasure. He keeps thrusting into you, showing no sign of slowing down, even as he makes you reach your climax, crying out his name in pleasure. Every impact he makes against your cervix pushes some of the hot, creamy liquid out of your body, making it drip over your folds.

He pulls on your hair harder, and the hand on your back wraps around to help you get up. You arch your back, sticking your ass out even as he pulls you close enough to kiss your neck. Vash whispers softly in your ear, "You're mine."

This only makes you ache more, even as the high of your first orgasm still lingers. You slip out one of your feet from the mess of pants to prop your knee on the armrest as Vash's throbbing cock continues to pound into you relentlessly. He has no cooldown period in his current state, continuing to drive you to the brink of pleasure and pain. The hand holding your hair moves down over your lower belly to your aching clit. His fingers brush over it with quick motions, filling the small room with even more wet sounds. The arm around you shifts up so his long fingers can wrap around your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure. The intense moans of pleasure escape you as choked cries. The next climax chases the last as you tremble in his grip, your fingers digging into the flesh of his right arm. The pleasure is overwhelming, as you barely perceive his own moans.

The satisfaction only lasts until the euphoria fades away, leaving you needing more. He pulls you closer, his cock in you as deep as it will go. He pauses his rutting for a moment, releasing your windpipe, and as you gasp for more air, he sticks the fingers of his other hand into your mouth, feeling the vibrations of your moans as you taste both of you on them, but mostly the overwhelming sweetness, sending you into a frenzy again.

You put both feet on the ground again, gripping his dick tighter as he sucks on your neck. You feel thick liquid dripping down your thighs. Your head is filled with thoughts of how to get him moving again as your tongue twirls around his fingers. You can't wait for him to come inside you again; that's all that matters. His free hand explores your body, tugging at your top as it passes over the fabric. You moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch, but as he reaches your thighs, he pulls away and out of you.

"This won't do." Vash takes a step to the left. The prosthesis pushes you forward a bit to bend again. "Spread your legs." He commands, and you comply. His fingers run up your inner thighs, sending shivers down your spine as he collects the cum leaking from your cunt. Vash fingers smear it on your pussy, pushing some back inside.

"I think you should just fill me up again." you say pleadingly, hands leaning on the armrest of the couch. "Please?"

You feel his wet hand run over your ass cheek before smacking it hard and squeezing it tight. You lick your lips again, missing the sweet taste of him, while your sex longs for him. Your breath is heavy as you wait for his answer.

"Tell me what you want." His voice is quiet but has an edge you don't usually hear. You feel a surge of desire coursing through your body as his lips brush your ear.

"I want you to take me. Use me, please. Do whatever you want; just please fill me with your cum. No, drown me in it. I'm begging you." Your voice gets whinier and weaker as you feel his hand explore your body. "Pin me down and fuck me."

"That's my girl," he growls in your ear before turning you around, ripping your shirt down the middle, and pulling it roughly off. His hands grab your waist, and you jump up, wrapping your legs around his middle. Your lips find his as you cup his face with your hands. The sweetness sweeps you away again, and your tongue explores the cavity of his mouth to find more. Vash carries you to the bedroom to continue having his way with you.

He throws you on the bed and wastes no time before climbing in after you. You look at him, your eyes trailing down his magnificent face and body to the still hard cock swaying between his legs, eager for more. His left hand captures your wrists as he pushes them to the bed above you. Vash's lips crash on yours again in a fiery kiss, causing your body to tingle with desire.

You spread your legs wide as he settles between them. His whole body pins you down, trapping you underneath him as his free hand helps his tip glide along your slick folds, teasing you with his touch before pushing into your depths. The sensation of being filled by him makes you moan in ecstasy against his lips, knowing that he is the only one who can make you feel this way.

His thrusts are shallow at first as he grinds his hip against yours. But soon he picks up the pace, filling you with each powerful thrust, rocking your whole body with each stroke. As the intensity builds, your breath becomes ragged. The room is filled with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slapping of wet skin on skin. You can feel the tension building within you, knowing that you are on the brink of an intense release. With each movement, he drives you closer to the edge, pushing you towards a climax that promises to be explosive. The pleasure is overwhelming, consuming every fiber of your being. Just when you think you can't take any more, the wave crashes over you, sending you spiraling into ecstasy. Your body shudders with pleasure as you ride out the intense climax. Loud cries escape your lungs as Vash pulls back, releasing your pinned hands to straighten up more.

He doesn't relent for a moment, continuing to pound into you with all the energy meant for turning a whole town into a sinful pleasure paradise. Your mind goes blank as you feel his hand push down on your lower belly, lost in the moment of pure ecstasy. Every touch, every movement sends you deeper into a state of euphoria that you never want to end. Your pussy clamps down around him, and Vash lets out a moan of satisfaction, increasing the speed at which he's ramming into you. It's enough to have him coming into you again, each thrust causing more of his seed to escape your cunt and drip down your crack. You shudder in pleasure as you feel him release, hands gripping the sheets beneath. You arch your back and moan loudly.

Time loses all meaning. It is just pleasure, and one orgasm chasing the other for both of you. It fills you with happiness each time he comes undone inside you. It fills you with a kind of satisfaction your own climax doesn't bring for long. As his releases become more and more frequent, to the point where there is barely any time where he isn't shooting you up, you are in a pleasure induced bliss. You feel like you are floating on a cloud of ecstasy. He has grabbed your hips to raise your lower half up off the bed to slam his dick into your cunt with more urgency than before. His cum, mixed with your own juices, drips down your back, forming a puddle underneath your ass as he continues to thrust deeply and passionately. You moan in pleasure, feeling another climax approach like a freight train. You try your best to roll your hips on his dick as he holds them tight off the bed. Your hands grab your breasts, pinching on the hard nipples. Your body feels exhausted but is fueled by the aphrodisiac still in your system. You crave it like a drug.

Vash grunts in satisfaction as he comes again, and the wave washing over you pushes you over the edge too, your walls contracting around him in a pulsing rhythm so hard while he pulls back that he pops out. You whimper as, instead of slamming back into you, the length of his cock slides over your clit while he cums. You shake as he makes no effort to correct his aim, instead allowing himself to enjoy the rough texture of your lower lips. Each thrust leaves you gasping for breath and covers you with another of his loads. Your stomach and chest are slick with his cum, and some makes its way onto your tongue, making your cunt gush again as you long for him. Your body trembles with pleasure as you eagerly anticipate the next round of passion. You suck on your finger as you taste him on it, and you feel happiness as all the seed meant for populating a town with his offspring is all yours.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST (most of my other stuff is a lot more tame) and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

#trigun #fanfiction #fanfic #vash the stampede #x reader #plant boi #humanoid typhoon #writing

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