#this stupid thing (of asking to talk and then saying what i want to say even though i wrote it out) and then have a very bad breakdown and t

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.” 

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes. 

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area. 

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean. 

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself. 

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia. 

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally. 

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai. 

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on. 

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers. 

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?” 

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully. 

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on. 

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror. 

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you. 

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?” 

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there. 

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression. 

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him. 

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.” 

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this? 

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently. 

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears. 

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror. 

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp. 

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box. 

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you. 

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time. 

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out. 

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos. 

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance. 

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias. 

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him. 

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen. 

But is this really any better? 

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress. 

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?” 

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low. 

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall. 

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are. 

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away. 

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners. 

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?” 

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them. 

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer. 

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?” 

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?” 

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick. 

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him. 

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them. 

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths. 

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake. 

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start. 

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners. 

“May I have this dance?” 

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other. 

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting. 

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does. 

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him. 

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him. 

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond. 

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance. 

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth. 

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction. 

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you. 

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?” 

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous. 

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

[lyvhie]

do you write for chenle? if so could i request angry sex with chenle? and plotwise/anything else can be up to you, you always make such creative works 😍

desert island | zcl

boyfriend!chenle x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: a stupid little game seems to be enough to make you speak with recklessness and throw reason out of the window in the heat of the moment. but since you were unwilling to be so easily placated, chenle was decided to talk some sense into you.

a/n: sorry for being so late, anon 😭! ofc i write for chenle, how could i not?! thank you for the kind words, i hope you like it!! 😚

cw: smut, use of 'whore' (only once), hair pulling, slighty spanking, begging, reader is DRAMATIC, chenle is kinda mean, petnames.

honestly, you can't think of a better partner than chenle. he's always so sweet, caring, and considerate, and you could talk for days about every single thing you love about him because you really love him a lot.

the same applies to chenle, who thinks you're so perfect for him. every time he wakes up and looks at you beside him in bed, he can't help but think how lucky he is to have someone like you by his side.

arguments in your relationship were rare, but not non-existent. like any kind of relationship between two people, disagreements occasionally arose.

you generally handle them with a mature conversation about the issue once the dust has settled, addressing the problem and coming to a mutually-agreed solution. however, sometimes, you both seem to be unable to agree on a resolution to the problem at hand. that was the case now.

it was a real stupid argument. you were released from work early and figured it would be a good idea to stop by the studio to see chenle and head home with him. as it turns out, it was a surprise when you showed up without prior warning, but he was happy to see you and it made your visit all the more meaningful.

during chenle's break time, the dreamies were engaged in a light and silly conversation about "who would you take to a deserted island." it was an innocent little game to pass the time and have some fun. when it was chenle's turn to answer, he surprised you by not choosing you, but one of his staff’s. this simple and seemingly harmless choice was the root of your trivial fight.

you didn't react immediately, simply laughed it off as if it was nothing but chenle could tell that something was off the moment you both got into the car. the car ride was unusually silent on your end, and chenle began to brace himself as he realized you were upset about something. he mentally prepared himself for whatever he felt was about to come as you walked through the front door.

"so..." he began in a gentle but careful tone, sensing there was an underlying issue you weren't being open about.

"nothing," you casually responded with a shrug, walking off and towards the bedroom. "it's nothing," you repeated again, but he wasn't fooled by your tone.

following close behind you, he asked another question, "is it me? did i do something to upset you?" he raised his eyebrows at you expectantly, wanting to get to the bottom of the problem.

"no" was all the response you gave him, short and sharp just like before. as you continued into the bedroom and began to tidy up the already clean room, he leaned casually against the doorframe and observed you closely. he didn't say a word because he knew he would just have to wait until the "you know what's funny?" and there it was, your signature phrase for when you're in a bad mood, spoken in a slightly annoyed tone. he knew this would be coming.

"no," he said calmly and crossed his arms, looking directly at you and watching you make some futile attempts to find anything out of place in the already immaculate room. "please, enlighten me," his gaze intent as he awaited the inevitable moment of venting that always ensued after that phrase.

"of course you wouldn't," you replied back, feigning innocent ignorance and even rolling your eyes as you dramatically shook your head and sighed. "i didn't expect you to have kept a list of all the female entertainers you would consider taking to a desert island. so why don't you enlighten me on your priorities?”

for a moment, chenle's eyebrows were raised in a mix of confusion and slight surprise as he heard your words, genuinely believing that you were joking or being sarcastic. then came his soft laugh, as he was almost incredulous that you kept up this attitude with your arms crossed and a serious expression. "baby," he spoke gently but firm as a warning, "you can't be serious right now. it was an innocent little game that you shouldn't take so seriously.”

"oh really?” your words laced with mockery. “an innocent little game? then it shouldn't bother you to explain to me why i wasn't even on your radar. it was a stupid game but your answers just proved to me that i'm an afterthought, even in your fantasies. at least in your fantasy of the women you'd be willing to take to a godforsaken place with no hope for escape. so am i so insignificant that i didn't even make the cut for you?”

chenle pauses for a second to process the situation and your words, running his hand through his hair in an almost unconscious gesture of self-soothing. if he didn't know you better, he would've thought you were crazy, but after that incident with the stupid "worm" question, he knows that you're just dramatic.

he approaches you, cupping your face in his warm hands as he gazes at you.

"baby, please," he pleads, the affection evident in his voice as he tries to reason with you. "look at me," he says softly, using his palms to gently guide your eyes to focus on him. once your eyes meet, the intensity of his gaze deepens as his expression softens and his voice grows more gentle. "this was just an innocent game and you're blowing it out of proportion. please don't be like this. i love you and you know it. there's no other woman that compares to the love i have for you, not in a thousand lifetimes would i ever take anyone else over you. you're mine and always will be.”

even though you could sense the sincerity and love behind his words, you maintained a guarded demeanor, refusing to give in to it until you were completely satisfied with his explanation.

you know, you had a sharp tongue and an even sharper intelligence than some could imagine when you chose to use it. unfortunately, this was a time where the first worked, but the second didn't.

“well, it seems that you just have to be on a desert island to fool around with someone else, right? you just want to enjoy some fun and pleasure while away from the world,” your tone became sarcastic as you continued challenging his words and reasoning. “so who are you going to enjoy it with?”

your thoughtless words brought you to this moment. one of chenle's hands was intertwined between the strands of your hair in a tight grip, pushing your head against the softness of the mattress, forcing you to stay with you ass up. your eyes slightly red, your face puffy and wet, both from sweat and crying.

“fucking. stubborn. whore,” he spit out, each of his words was accompanied by sharp thrusts that made your bones shake and you gasp, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. “can't listen to what i say for not even a damn minute,” he slapped your ass hard, making you whine and your eyes water again.

you lost track of time during this torment. it felt like torturous hours, where he kept teasing, edging you, not even letting you touch him, your ass was already marked by his hands, you felt the sting of each spank he gave, saying that brats like you don't deserve to feel good.

chenle knows you with the palm of his hands, he knows what you like, what makes you melt and he would definitely use it against you. his slow but powerful thrusts hit all the right spots that make you see stars behind your eyelids, his hand slipping between your legs to rub your clit in equally slow circles.

“…. ase…” your tiny, teary voice echoed through his ears. “oh?” he scoffs, pulling you by your hair until you were close enough for him to whisper in your ear. “i can't hear you, say it again,” his warm tongue sliding through your neck, sending you goosebumps.

“p-please…” you raised your tone slightly. “i'm so, so sorry, chenle,” the desperation and pleading in your voice is obvious, as is the remorse that you felt for your actions. “please, please, let me cum, please, just once, please,” the need seeping through every word, begging for relief and satisfaction.

a smug grin crept up his face when he heard your desperate tone. he loved how hopeless you sounded. he loosened his grip on your hair, pulling you into a kiss as he stopped his thrusts to savor the moment. his hand moved away from your clit to held your cheek as his tongue invaded your mouth, completely taking over the kiss.

your emotional state was so volatile right now that you honestly felt like crying. chenle knew that you loved kissing him, and by constantly pushing you away, he knew it was torturing you. your attempts at kissing him were met with a painful slap to your cunt, almost as punishment for trying to force yourself on him.

this simple yet deeply cherished kiss was enough to make you melt completely. you were yearning to feel this level of affection again after he kept pushing you away from him, it was all you were craving since he pushed you down onto the bed and shoved his cock inside your pussy.

as he pulled away from your lips, leaving you desperate for more, he let out a short, breath laugh at your reaction. he found it amusing how you chased after him to continue the kiss, but he was quick to remind you who was in control here by just pulling on your hair to keep you in place, making you whine pathetically.

"well," he purred against your ear, moving his hand caressingly over your body. he made lazy circles on your soft skin, lingering on your belly, you suddenly felt him be a lot more gentle. "since you asked so nicely, should i give you what you want, baby?" he raised an eyebrow teasingly as he waited for a response from you and all you could do was nod fiercely, letting small pleas of "yes, please" roll off your tongue as you awaited his move.

chenle hummed, feigning deep thought as he observed your face. He worked hard to maintain his composure and keep from showing his mischievous, devilish smile as he saw the light of hope that your expression lit up. "okay," he said finally, "i think you seemed remorseful enough,” his words were enough to bring a jolt of excitement to your system, you felt a rush of adrenaline course through your veins and every single muscle in your body tensed up, waiting intently for him to give you what you wanted.

with a light kiss on your lips, he turned you over and positioned you so you were laying on your back. hands that had recently been mistreating you were now caressing your body delicately, as if you were the most delicate thing ever made. his kisses traced your jawline before moving to your neck and breasts, making you think that the wait had been worth it. the punishment had ended here and he made you believe that the only thing you deserved now was his gentle touch and loving kisses.

he straightened his back, the movement causing his hands to move from your sides to the back of your thighs. in one swift motion, he lifted your legs and pressed your knees against your chest, and the sharp sob that escaped your lips was all the confirmation he needed that he has you right where he wanted you.

you felt his tip teasing your clit and your entrance, your pussy glistening from how wet you already were, his hard cock sliding inside you without any difficulty, your warm, gummy walls welcoming him as he filled any remaining space in your pussy.

“you feel so good, don't you?” his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, and a low grunt slipped past his lips as he threw his head back slightly in a gesture of complete relaxation. he would never tire of this feeling that was almost overwhelming at this point. this applied to you as well, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as you moaned softly, feeling just how deep inside of you he was.

“you feel so damn good,” he whispered in a low, husky tone as he begins to thrust into you relentlessly, his tip kissing your cervix every time his hips slammed back into you, your eyes rolling to the back of your head at the feeling.

he increased the pace, leaning closer towards you. the full weight of his body was now pressing onto you, keeping you down and pinned to the bed but there's no resistance from you as you are simply overwhelmed by his size and intensity.

he had been playing with you for such a long time that it didn't take very much effort at all to push you over the edge. your moaning and whimpering got louder, your body tense and your breathing more shallow. your voice was coming out in a pitch that was nearly unrecognizable, with a few "thank you's" and some other incoherent words escaping your lips, your pussy clenching around him—he recognized this as the ultimate sign that you were approaching your orgasm.

“are you close, baby?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. “y-ye—” you were interrupted again by another hard thrust that made you let out a soft yelp. he grunted as he felt your muscles clenching around him once more, gripping him tightly. “c-chenle,” you mewled his name, “i-i’m gonna c-cu—”

before you could finish your sentence, he was quick to pull out of you, releasing the grip on your legs, making you let out a soft whine in disbelief when he pulled out without letting you finish, and all you could do was lie there as a deep emptiness washed over your body, your walls now clenching around nothing. you look at him with wide, teary eyes and trembling lips.

chenle’s grin widens when he watched your expression, a look of disappointment on your face as you realized you didn't get to cum as he made you think. he was satisfied in the knowledge that he had denied you the satisfaction you wanted and was pleased with how desperate and frustrated you were looking at him.

"aww, is my baby about cry? " he mocked you, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he reached out to wipe away the tear-filled eyes that now betrayed you. his hand lightly traced the curve of your face, moving slowly and tauntingly, as if he was enjoying your helpless reaction far too much. “that’s what you get for acting like a spoiled little brat,” his voice filled with condescension as watched how your emotional state seemed to sink lower and lower as a result of his words.

"you thought i would just let you have it your way?” he scoffed and shook his head at your naivety. "i thought you would know better by now, baby," his voice taking on a false empathetic edge as he leaned in closer. his voice became softer, his lips pressing lovingly against yours for a quick peek. "aww, no, no, don't cry," he echoed the soothing words with another kiss, teasingly brushing away the tears with his finger. "if you beg good enough, i might give you what you want."

#chenle x reader #chenle smut #nct x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader

[rninies]

✮ silly love

౨ৎ scaramouche x reader. fluff, gn!reader, scara's a tease here lol, modern!au — wc: 647

notes. scara fic for my bday :3

“so, what's going on between you and scaramouche recently? you guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden.” one of your friends suddenly asks and you choked on the french fry you were eating, quickly drinking some water.

“what?”

“you heard me.” your friend gives you a knowing smile. “what’s going on between you and scaramouche? last i heard, he hates talking with people and now he’s all sweet and cute with you.”

your face turns red. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. besides, he’s opening up to more people! it’s not just me he’s talking with.”

your friend hums. “mm, then why is he walking this way with a scowl on his face?”

“what-?” you turned your head and they were right. scaramouche is indeed walking here with a scowl on his face. “scara? what’s wrong-”

“i thought you promised we were going to eat lunch together.” scaramouche cuts you off swiftly, sitting down next to you and placing his tray on the table. your friends could only watch in amusement as you tried to find an excuse to calm scaramouche down.

“w-well, i couldn’t find you when class ended! i didn’t want to sit alone like a loser waiting for you to come.” you said with a nervous laugh at the end. “besides, aren’t you bored eating with me every single day?”

“who said i would get bored of you?” scaramouche replies, grabbing a french fry and eats it. he looks at you with a confused look on his face. “why would i get bored of you?”

“you’re saying that as if you have a crush on me.” you let out a laugh, doubling over, smacking your hand on the table as if you said the funniest thing in the world. when you don’t hear a snarky remark from scaramouche, you stop laughing. your friends whispered to each other and quietly left the table, leaving you and scaramouche alone. “you-”

“i’m going to need you to stop for one second because i just find it so incredibly rude that you think i’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass.” scaramouche glares at you, obviously upset. “are you a brick? because you’re dense as fuck.”

your mouth hangs open, still clearly shocked from the sudden confession. “you- what?! when did you start having a crush on me?”

“do i have to explain in detail why i’m in love with you?” he asks, pushing his tray forward. he places his elbow on the table, his hand supporting his head. “well? are you just going to continue to gape at me or are you going to say anything else?” you instantly snap back into reality, clearing your throat.

“ahem,” you fiddled with your thumbs, nervous. “i thought you were the type to not fall in love with anyone.” you avoided eye contact, looking at everything except scaramouche.

scaramouche raises his eyebrows, obviously amused by your nervousness. “what, am i not allowed to have feelings? am i just a puppet to you?”

“okay who said-” you lift your head only to bump your nose against scaramouche’s. you stopped what you were saying, eyes meeting his. scaramouche’s lips slowly turns into a smile and he eventually lets out a laugh, quickly snapping you back to reality. “stop distracting me!”

“what do you mean?” scaramouche asks in a teasing tone. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. me? distracting you? doesn't sound like me at all!”

“haha fuck you.” you glared at scaramouche, picking up your tray, preparing to leave. “i’m leaving. have fun eating alone.”

“wha-” scaramouche quickly gets up, following you. “hey you haven’t replied whether you like me back or not!”

you turned back, giving him a cheeky smile. “you think?” you winked and turned your back to him, not giving scaramouche a chance to reply.

he scoffs. “this brat.”

#kylin.writes #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche fluff #scaramouche genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact wanderer #genshin impact fluff #genshin #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer

[lcvclywon]

in sickness and in health

back to masterlist

synopsis After a long fight with Jay you find yourself giving him the silent treatment. Leaving you curled up alone sick in your room, with your only comfort being the instant tteokbokki you had microwaved for yourself earlier. However it seems Jay knew where to be and what to say at exactly the right times.

warnings: mentions of food, mentions of sickness, mentions of kissing, pet names (honey), slight angst, I made YN as the 6th member of lesserafim so that the whole same building thing made sense so...js roll with it pls 😁, also not proof read!, slight fighting

genre ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt to comfort

pairings: idol!jay x idol!reader, established relationship

wc ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ around 1.14k

thoughts frm yuya 💭 i know i said i was gonna go on a hiatus but i needed a serotonin boost from writing after doing a horrendous maths paper.... so semi hiatus i guess ^^ anywaysss this drabble has been rotting in the back of my mind for a while soo here u are, i'm a huge huge HUGE sucker for hurt to comfort tropes so >,<

A week. It had been a week since you and Jay had a massive argument causing the two of you to give each other the silent treatment for god knows how long. However, as if the world was out to get you, the next morning after the fight you had been plagued with a sickness that you couldn’t quite pin down, all you knew was it left you bedridden until Friday. 

Due to said sickness, you obviously couldn’t join your group for schedules and barely entered the building for dance practice. You hoped Jay would at least notice your absence, send a message asking where you were or something. But to your dismay, radio silence.

“Who cares about some stupid guy anyways…” Grumbling under your breath you reached for your chopsticks to skewer another rice cake from your measly plate of instant tteokbokki and shovel it down your throat. Maybe excessive spice you couldn’t handle and soft pillowy rice cakes could solve all your problems. 

Ding dong! Weird, you didn’t think the members would be back this early? 

Begrudgingly ripping the covers off and placing your bowl back on your table, you went to the door. Hair still an oily mess from not showering properly and clothes stuck to your body from sweat, you clearly weren’t in pristine condition to be meeting anyone. Please don’t be a delivery man, please don’t be a delivery man.

However, after opening the door, you found yourself standing in front of the one person you’d been longing for the whole week. Park Jongseong. Your gaze softened slightly and a small smile crept onto your lips, but then you remembered that you were still mad at him. Fighting the urge to embrace him and cry out for his name, you plastered on a stoic expression of indifference. 

“What are you doing here.” 

“Chaewon told me you were sick,” he said before entering into your dorm, not bothering to wait for you to let him in.

Making his way over to the kitchen he placed a white takeaway bag onto the counter before emptying its contents onto the table: a warm bowl of your favourite porridge and a cup of tea from your favourite cafe. 

“What’s this?” positioning yourself in front of Jay, you scanned the table to see the numerous small boxes of side dishes sprawled across. 

“Porridge, it’s good for you when you’re sick.” he replied before shooting his head over to the remnants of your tteokbokki “Honey why are you eating tteokbokki, you’re sick you shouldn’t be eating instant food.” he scolded before reaching over throw your lukewarm leftovers in the trash.

“It’s not that bad…” you mumbled whilst picking at the side dishes “And why do you suddenly care, thought you weren’t talking to me” Scoffing you shot him a dirty glare. 

“Correction, you weren’t talking to me; I thought you needed some space, as you usually do after a fight.” well he wasn’t wrong, you did express to him that after arguments you wanted some time to cool down by yourself, “and also, I’m not ‘suddenly’ just caring YN. Who do you think Yunjin got all those drinks, medicines, and snacks from.” 

Oh… so she didn’t buy them herself. Your gaze reached his eyes as you felt your heart soften slightly, “Okay, well you could’ve sent me a text or something. You could’ve come here and given it to me yourself, why today out of all days do you decide to come huh?” meeting your glossy eyes, Jay could tell how hurt you were over his actions. He couldn’t deny that it pained him to see you this upset. 

“Okay look, I’m sorry. I wanted to come over, but Sakura said whatever you caught was contagious and that you isolated yourself to make sure you got nobody else sick. As I mentioned earlier, you told me you liked to have time to cool down after fighting, but it was stupid of me not to even try to text you. Today it all just-” Jay stopped his rambling, catching his breath before sighing out, “I just really missed you YN” 

That was all the confirmation you needed to run into his arms and hug him so tight he didn’t even think about leaving again. Jay was quick to reciprocate, arms wrapping around you to engulf you into his warm embrace, head buried into the crook of your neck whispering sweet nothings. 

Breaking away from the embrace and tilting your head up you were graced with a warm and familiar smile painted across Jay’s face; a smile you so badly missed the entire week. 

“Don’t ever do that again.” you said with a pout 

“Promise I won't honey,” his hands reached to cup your face before adding, “Only if you promise to stop eating that stuff when you’re sick.” 

“Hey, it’s yummy! I can’t help it that I can’t cook soup or anything, tteokbokki has never failed me.” 

“Guess I’ll have to keep bringing you food then.” he replied with a smirk

“Well, I could use a personal delivery man.” giggling you reached up to mirror his actions, cupping his face with your warm hands. 

“Oh really, would a delivery man do this?” and with that he pressed a playful peck onto your lips; soft and gentle, something you missed dearly. 

“Jay!” you exclaimed, “You can’t do that, you’ll get sick!” 

“So. What.” he said between pecks, peppering your face with kisses as you giggled and placed your hands on his chest to try and push him away. Pulling away he looked into your eyes with a warm and gentle gaze, smiling softly before leaning in to give you a proper kiss. Feeling the worry of your sickness transferring to him vanish, you melted into the kiss whilst wrapping your arms around his neck. In response, his hand found its way to the small of your back while the other reached up to cup the back of your neck. It always astonished you how easily he could pull you into his orbit, almost made you forget about the soreness of your body and the fever plaguing you. 

Retreating back he giggled at your pouting face. “I’d love to continue, but I wouldn’t want the food I bought you to get cold” intertwining your fingers with his, he led you over to a chair before sitting you down. “Let’s eat okay?” he muttered before taking his spot right next to yours, hand still intertwined with your fingers. His other hand however reached over to spoon you some porridge, moving the utensil closer to your mouth. 

You happily bent forward to enjoy the bite he crafted for you, an all too familiar sensation bubbling up within you—a warmth you could only describe as, home. Jay felt like home. And you hoped he would for the rest of your lives.

perm taglist ♡ (send an ask to be added!) @floweryang

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[tencrushesperday]

Blood runs thicker than water

pairing : matt rempe x hughes!reader

warnings : angst, and some description of bruises, sort of forbidden lovers

w.c : 1052

a/n : instead of studying for my exams next week i do this, i was listening to The water is fine by Chloe Ament and felt inspired

You wanted to stay until the end of the match. You wanted to congratulate your brothers on the win. You wanted to party with the team after such a huge win against their rivals.

But the blood was pounding in your ears and you didn’t know what to do with your hands. The crowd was so loud. Jack’s last conquest and Bratt’s girlfriend were chatting next to you. Yet you were feigning interest in the game to ignore them. Even though you could barely focus your sight.

Luke had gotten into an unnecessary fight during second period and Jack was right there to back him up. Both were okay. But the other guy wasn’t.

As soon as the second intermission started you excused yourself to the restroom then texted Nicole on your way to your car saying that suddenly you weren’t feeling good.

Fortunately, you’ve driven down this road so many times you didn’t have to focus to get home because suddenly you were in your apartment. You were on autopilot the whole time doing your night routine and then you were in your bed trying to fall asleep.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Every time you closed your eyes you would see him taking hit after hit. Him struggling to get up. His bloody face.

Then you heard keys turning in the lock and the front door shutting. You got up from your bed and marched out of your room, ready to send one of your bothers home.

“Matt”, you stopped dead in your tracks right outside your bedroom door.

There he stood, in front of the entrance, cheeks bruised, lip cracked.

“I’m sorry”, he only managed to whisper it.

He wanted to say a thousand other things but everything was pointless and painful. Looking at you was painful. Nothing was more appropriate than “sorry”.

He was the one who hit first. Even though Luke asked for it. He chirped Matt’s girlfriend without even knowing it was his own sister and Matt couldn’t let it slide. He also couldn’t tell Luke the truth.

The truth being you weren’t even his girlfriend.

You were just hooking up, keeping it casual, secret.

He would have loved it, have it been any other girl.

But he was so desperately in love with you. He wanted to hold your hand and take you on dates and have you cheering on him at his game. He loved waking up next to you and the casual evenings you spent at each other’s apartments, watching a movie, cooking together and telling each other about your days. He loved when you talked about hockey and he would promise you to take you play again, like when you used to do when you were younger. He even loved the stupid reels and tiktok’s you would send him in the morning on your commute to work because then he knew that you thought about him.

However, it has never gotten out of your apartments. His promise to take you to the rink to play hockey together was never fulfilled.

That he hated.

You kept looking at him. You couldn’t sleep because you kept seeing him getting hurt. But now that he was actually in front of you and even in the dim light coming in from the street you could see the bruises.

Not breaking eye contact you get closer to him as he silently takes off his shoes. He knows the rules in your home. He has a spare key. He knows you inside and out and he still can’t call you his and that’s worse than any hit from your brother, he thinks to himself.

“You left before third period.” He wants to wrap his arms around you and feel the warmth of your body to forget the cold of the ice.

You look at him before taking his hand and leading him to the kitchen. “So did you.”

You drop his hand and reach for two glasses in your cupboard.

He watches your every movement and anticipates your every word. You’re too calm but he knows there’s a storm brewing inside of you. You always go quiet when you’re upset and feeling too much. He knows that growing up with three brothers toughened you up and that, even if you’re working on it, subconsciously you still think that showing emotion is a weakness. Still he awaits your next words and actions. You have him wrapped around your finger so tight he almost wants to laugh at his poor situation.

You turn on the tap and let the water running until it’s at the right temperature before filling up your glass.

Matt can’t wait anymore. His patience thins with every drop of water. It’s pouring out of the faucet and going down the drain.

He’s right behind you when you turn around. You wanted to ask him if he wants water but your words die in your throat. He looks even worse up close.

If you weren’t holding in your breath you would have sobbed at the sight.

Despair fills his eyes when you look up to him. He crashes his lips on yours and you can taste it right there.

You’re not mad he fought Luke. You know how it is on the ice, you know how Luke can be a little shit when chirping, you know how Matt can fly off the handle in such a situation.

You taste a metallic taste in your mouth as the slit on his lip cracks open at the fierceness with which he kissed you.

It doesn’t matter who he fought, he’s hurt and that’s what upsets you.

The metallic taste mixes with the saltiness of the tear that slid down your cheek. He catches the next one with the thumb that is caressing your skin, as he cradles your face.

Your fingers run through his hair. You can’t let him go. You tug him closer. You can’t tell your bothers. Not now. Every thought in your head contradicts the previous one. His other hand is wrapped around your whole body and pulls you impossible closer. You’re caught up in such a mess, one you made yourself.

But for tonight you’ll kiss Matt even harder. You’ll take care of his bruised lip. You’ll kiss the pain away.

Leaving the mess for tomorrow morning.

#matt rempe #matt rempe x reader #hockey imagine

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.” 

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale. 

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him. 

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil! 

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time. 

1. Clark is single. 

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy. 

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor. 

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands. 

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black. 

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it. 

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear. 

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips. 

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time. 

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway. 

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #clark kent #clark kent x female reader #clark kent x plussize reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent fic #clark kent fanfiction #clark kent fanfic #man of steel #batman v superman #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #justice league #dont kill my vibe #Clark Kent #clark kent x black reader #clark kent x black!reader #kal el #ellethespaceunicorn fanfic #x black reader #x black fem reader

[eggyrocks]

80 with kenma please :3

:3

500 follower special: #80 “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?”

kenma x gn reader, probably ooc kenma, insecurities, hurt/comfort, very light angst, not proofread written content masterlist

It's easy to love Kenma. It's harder to be loved by him.

They've learned over the years that he's not loud with his love. He shows it in little ways, unrecognizable unless you know him. He can sit with them for hours in complete silence, preferring their quiet company to being alone. He buys them small, frequent gifts, presenting each one to them without much fanfare. He lets them wear his hoodies. He's upfront and direct about his relationship status when interested fans question him about it. Kenma's attentive. Loyal. Dedicated.

But Kenma's not the grand gesture type. He doesn't vocalize his love often. He's not generous with physical touch. He likes to sleep soundly on his own side of the bed. He prefers relaxed nights in to extravagant dates. They know he loves them. He's told them so many times, in his own way.

And most of the time, these things don't really bother them. But sometimes, they start to add up, and even though they don't doubt that Kenma loves them, they start to feel like maybe he doesn't really like them.

It's been a long day. Work was difficult and long and taxing. Little things went wrong, and they added up. Small mistakes at work. Tripping on the train. Cracking their phone case. Kenma not responded to their string of texts. Burning their dinner. Cat puke. A headache. Kenma' silence.

It adds up.

And after they had cleaned up dinner and settled back down on the couch beside Kenma, he didn't acknowledge them. He didn't look up from the game in his hands.

And that was just sort of it for them.

They pulled their knees up into their chest, knotted their hands together, and let the thoughts run wild. Because Kenma's hardly spoken to them all day, and is it really that taxing for him to talk to his partner? Do they just not matter as much to him anymore?

It sort of feeds into itself, this sort of thinking. Sour thoughts spread and they can't stop the flow of emotion that makes their chest tighten and their eyes prick.

They press their face against the tops of their knees, trying to make themselves as small as they feel. And they're so caught up in the cyclical sort of thinking they don't notice when Kenma glances up at them from his game, or how the sight of them like that makes him abandon it at once.

So they don't expect it when his arms go tight around their curled up form, pulling them into his lap. "Tell me what's wrong," he says, voice hushed, not urgent but not uncaring.

All they can offer up in response is a shrug, not quite able to form the words. They focus on holding in their breaths, and keeping their eyes dry.

"Take your time," Kenma says, and does not move. He stays there, still and steady, cheek pressed to the top of their head.

A tear spills, and now they feel so stupid. Because of course he loves them, and they shouldn't be expecting more.

They inhale sharply, and try to steady their breathing before they speak once more. "It's dumb, and I know it's not true, but sometimes I can't help but feel like you don't like me," they admit, rushing through the end of their sentence once their voice starts to waver.

Kenma stills. “How can you think I’m anything but hopelessly in love with you?” he asks, and he doesn't say it with any particular passion or intensity. He's not mad or incensed. It's just a question Kenma doesn't know the answer to.

"I dunno," they mumble. "It doesn't bother me most of the time. But you're not an overly affectionate person, you don't always want to talk, and that's okay, I just," the strop, and exhale through their nose, "get insecure without that, sometimes."

It feels wrong to say it out loud, and when the words leave their tongue they almost wish they could take them back and reshape and rearrange them. Kenma doesn't move for a moment, but once he does, he lifts their hand and uses it to smooth out the top of their. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way," he says. "I can get stuck in my own head sometimes, I don't mean to make you feel neglected."

"It's okay, Kenma," they say, and it already feels like some of the weight's been relieved from their chest.

"No it's not," he's quick to counter. "And you don't have to feel bad for wanting affection from me. Especially when it's something I want to give you."

They sniffle, and lean up against him, head resting on his shoulder. "I love you," they tell him.

"I love you," he says, voice now firmer in the declaration, and he places a kiss on the top of their head. "And I like you a lot, too."

an: THESE ARE TAKING ME FOREVER IM SORRY also this one was bad lmafo im so sorry

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq x you #hq #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #kenma kozume x reader #kenma kozume fluff #kenma fluff #kenma x reader fluff #kenma kozume x yn #500 follower special

[aurasplanet]

PERV carl grimes x fem!reader

warnings — both are 18+, part two to caught, carl is a few years older than reader, reader is daryl’s adopted daughter, perv!sub!carl, carl is a peeking tom, cock slapping, oral (m and f!receiving), reader is kinda a mean!dom

ever since that night you haven’t left carl’s mind. the way you controlled him without even touching him, it drove him crazy. you instructed his every movement, told him when to stop, told him when not to stop. safe to say he was fucked stupid even though you didn’t lay a finger on him.

and he swears you’re tempting him.

the skimpier clothes you wear, always talking about how hot it is so no one bats an eye. but he sees right through you, he sees that teasing look you give him. you want to get another reaction out of him. his pride is telling him not to satisfy you, but everything else in him is screaming to give in.

then there’s the closeness, all of a sudden you’re always near him. if you can get away with it, touching him too. not in the way carl wants, in the way it’s so sickeningly close it drives him nuts. he’s always had his eye on you, you weren’t that much younger than him, close enough in age. but it’s different now.

“hey carl.” fuck, he can just hear it in your voice. it’s teasing and it’s flirty, and no one seems to notice a thing. trust, if daryl could tell, carl would be pounded into flat stanley.

carl gulps when your arm comes over his shoulder, your face way too close to his for him to act normal. “hi,” he breathes out, hand nervously coming up to your waist. he was standing next to his dad, who was going over something with your dad, and everyone’s dad, glenn.

“now that’s a little close.” daryl grumbles, pulling you more towards him. they’ve come to notice the shift in your friendship, of course never chalking it up to you watching carl fuck himself. but did they need to know that anyway?

you look up to your dad with pleading eyes, “actually, i was here to ask if i could babysit judith today?” carl’s eye widens, babysit judith his ass. she’s at the age where she does hardly anything but sleep. of course, that’s in his favor, and he’s growing nervous at your offer.

daryl looks between you and carl with a scowl on his face, then to glenn and rick who shrug. rick’s always happy for the extra help, not yet knowing what it’s like to have to watch over a grown daughter. “fine.” you clap and grab carl’s hand, walking away with him with a small ‘thank you’, ignoring their confused looks.

“why are you taking me with you?”

you take your hand out of his and cross your arms, “do you not want me to?” he shakes his head frantically and grabs your hand again, letting you lead him. he soon realizes you’re on the path to your house, not his.

he tilts his head, “what about judith?”

“she’s with olivia. she’ll cover for me.” you’re not exactly sure about that, but you’re willing to risk it.

carl nods, walking with you and trying to keep up the same pace. despite being so lost in his head. he clears his throat, “so… uh, what are we gonna do?”

you giggle, “you’re cute carl.” you don’t miss how his ears turn red, the confusion spreading over his face. no doubt he’s never been called that before. “we could… read comics?”

he can hide the dejection on his face, that little cover up story, sneaking off together, all to read comics? “are you just trying to drive me crazy?” you turn to him with a smile and wink, walking him up your steps.

the longer he’s there the more pissed off he gets. you truly did just read comics. despite the glances you kept sending his way, like you were waiting for something, you never actually did anything. don’t get him wrong, he loves the spider-man volumes you have, but he thinks he’d love his head buried between your thighs more.

he can’t help but zone out thinking about it, adjusting his jeans when they get too tight. you watch him amusedly as his eye stays on one page for a good five minutes. “you done yet?” his gaze snaps up, looking to his side for you before looking up.

“when did you get up?”

“oh a long time ago.” you didn’t, you just stood up to go shower, but it was funny to mess with him. watch his pretty face turn red knowing you’re the only one who’s done it. “anyway, i’m gonna go take a shower.”

his face turns possibly even redder and he just nods curtly. he watches you walk around your room to grab everything you need, focus trained on your hips especially. when you turn around he scrambles to pick his comic back up, squinting his eye shut when you laugh. he waits until you go into the bathroom, he waits until the water runs to finally breathe.

he looks down and fucking hell is his boner obvious. he doesn’t know whether to be upset that you didn’t make fun of him this time or not. he sighs, unzipping his jeans and palming himself through his boxers. he has to be quick, before you can get out and catch him, again. or maybe he could let it play out… his head was a mini battle field.

no matter how hard he focused the running water brought him out of his head. he felt so gross, but it couldn’t be too bad if he stole a peek? just so things wouldn’t have to be all his imagination anymore.

he zips his pants and looks out the door, making sure daryl hasn’t come home yet. he crosses the hall to the bathroom, furrowing his brow at the ajar door. he pushes it a little and pokes his head in just enough to see. he swore he could cum then and there, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away no matter how hard he tried.

he lost track of time, practically drooling at the sight in front of him like some stupid teen boy. which he guess he had a mind of, after all that little night you two had together was the first time he did anything with anyone.

his eye widens when you step out, while body on display with water droplets cascading down. he was frozen, unaware of his hand going down his pants as you changed in front of him. he felt dirty, you had no idea did you?

oh you did, he should have known better, seriously. it’s you, he’s him, he’s a fucking perv. you knew it, you knew you had to tempt him. it’s what you had been waiting on. you needed him to finally give in and do just what you expected so you had the excuse to use and punish him just how you wanted.

he leans his head against the edge of the door frame, eye shut and mouth agape in a silent moan as he tries to get off before you notice. but you swing the door open, fist latching onto his collar to bring his face towards yours.

“what are you doing?” you ask with a knowing smirk. god, he’s so shameless. he looks embarrassed but he hasn’t faltered or slowed his movements at all. he kept eye contact and his heavy breath mixed with yours before he kissed you. it was needy and hungry and messy, full of inexperience and desperation.

you separate from his lips, attaching yours to his neck. you smirked at his moans, pushing him against the counter and motioning for him to sit on it. you place your hand over his and squeeze, a whine leaning his throat in response. you suck and nibble on the skin of his collarbone, hand traveling from his back to his hair, giving it a small tug.

he whimpers your name, “so loud, what if someone walks in, huh?” he squirms and you smirk at his reaction, picking your head up to look at him. swollen lips, dilated pupil, and that look that was begging for you.

"y/n!" carl gasps, your tug a bit harsher this time. the force led you to be in control of his head, and you lifted it so he would look into your eyes. he looked embarrassed, his pretty face painted with pink. "don't look at me like that.”

he attempts to get out of your grasp to no avail. he felt so small under your gaze, like a prey facing its predator. and he hates how turned on he was getting from it. he hates how despite everything he’s built up, the thought of finally getting taken care of is too fucking good to pass up.

he was lost in his head until he felt the cold air of his room hit his now bare cock. he whimpered at the feeling, glancing down to your eyes that were already set on his face. his cheeks once again returned to their pink hue that seemed to come around every time you did. he sucked in a sharp breath and let his head fall back when he felt your hand wrap around him, giving his cock a few strokes.

he felt bliss in that moment, eye screwed shut. but his moment was quickly ruined when a searing pain travel from his erection and up his body. he jerked forward, tears springing his eye as he looked down at the culprit. you just stared back at him with that innocent smile that kills him.

"why'd you do that?" he asked, lip trembling.

“you didn’t think i’d let you get away with being a dirty perv?” he blinks and you just start jerking him off once more at the lack of response.

he whines your name, shutting his eyes, snapping them open again when you slapped his cock for a second time. "stop!" he cries, his head falling back.

"you know, you look pitiful," you mutter, voice merely above a whisper as you slowly dragged your hand up and down his shaft. "nothing is tying you down or forcing you through this. you like it." carl rolls his eye at your accusation. he knew you were right, he just wasn't going to admit it.

you begin licking from the base of his cock to the tip. carl was a whining mess now, squirming on the countertop, trying his best to keep his eye on yours. you started to bob your head up and down, delicious noises escaping from the boy above you. you wanted to laugh at him, how desperately he wanted to close his eye, shy away from you.

you slide off him with a pop, "what's wrong, carl?" you ask innocently, the look on your face similar to your voice. he whimpered at the sight of you, your mouth so close to him while all you did was lazily jerk him off.

carl just pants, breath quickening when you went back to the task at hand. it took everything in him not to buck his hips up, because with your rules, he didn't know what would come to him if he did. your pace quickened when carl warned you of his approaching orgasm, whines, moans, and groans leaving his pretty pink lips. his stomach muscles would contract every now and then. finally he came, whimpers of your name falling from his lips as if it were the only word he knew.

you kept going until he pushed you away, "no, can't take anymore..." his voice was shaky, and he repeatedly took in breaths. he looked so pretty, shaking and panting. all because of you.

"well, what am i supposed to do then?" you fake pout, tilting your head teasingly. you stand up, taking off your shit and giggling at carl’s shameless gawking gaze. he adjusted in his seat, watching with amazement as you continued to strip in front of him. "shirt off," you instruct, the boy obeying immediately.

carl thought for a second before he opened his mouth, "sit here." his face was red as he moved, picking you up and placing you on the counter.

you quirk a brow at him, “what are you planning?” he opens his mouth to speak, but you’ve reduced him to something so small he can’t even force it out of him.

“i’ll show you.” his hands messily fiddle with your shorts, tugging them off of you. he attaches his lips to you immediately and you feel him groan into your pussy, the vibrations causing a moan to leave your lips. you couldn't help but move, slightly riding his face. he seemed to be enjoying it, his eyes closed.

you gripped at one of your breasts, then using one of carl’s hands to replace your own. you knew he was trying to jerk himself off secretly, failing miserably, but you decided not to interrupt him. after all his mouth was so good, albeit inexperienced it was him. and he was enjoying it as much as you were. if not more.

carl whimpers, mumbling the words ‘gonna cum’ into your cunt. "hold it," you command, combing your fingers through his hair, causing a moan to rip from his throat.

"can't!" carl’s eyes were screwed shut, nose scrunched up and lips forming an 'o' shape.

"you can, and you will. you're not incapable of such a simple task, carl," your voice was stern, the control you had over him driving him crazy. when you felt let yourself dangerously close, you gave carl permission. he was very loud, adorable moans of your name leaving his red and swollen lips, although muffled. his hands go to grip your thighs tightly when you cum on his tongue, afraid you were going to disappear if he hadn't kept you close.

he rests his head on your thigh, looking up at you with a small laugh. "thank you..." he trails off, his face was red, and his voice was very quiet. everything seemed awkward to him now. he stands up and you lean forward to give him another kiss, it was softer this time, a small moan from carl traveling to your mouth.

“you shouldn’t be thanking me for a punishment.”

carl shrugs, leaning his head on your shoulder. “got you to myself though now, didn’t i dixon?”

#carl grimes x reader #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x you #carl grimes #carl grimes smut #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #twd oneshot #twd imagine #twd smut #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x fem!reader

[writingroom21]

The Nanny

Pairing: rafe x nanny reader 

Summary: Being Wheezie’s nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?

Warnings: 18+, masturbation, and voyeurism

Wc:3.0K

Chapter 1: Did you enjoy the show?

The sun was beating down on you as you laid out on the beach chair. Wheezie has been begging you all week to go to the beach with her and as per usual she disappeared. A breeze passed by you causing goosebumps to raise across your body. The sound of waves crashing filled your ears as you flipped the page of the book you were reading. “You know I didn’t think my dad pays you to lounge at the beach.” The voice of the one person you do not want to see right now creeps up from behind. You lift the sunglasses as you peak behind you to be greeted with Rafe Cameron. The oldest out of all of the Cameron children and one of the main reasons that even at Wheezie’s age she has a nanny. Your head turns to look at him over the chair you laid on. He’s wearing black swim trunks, your eyes look up at his body and see the chain dangling on his collar before meeting his eyes. Thank god for sunglasses, he would never let you forget checking him out.

“Actually he does. Whatever Wheezie wants she gets, today was the beach.” Your head turns to face the water again, glasses shading your eyes from the sun. The sound of sand shuffling can be heard as Rafe gets closer. His shadow casts a dark film over your body as he looks down at you. “Nice swimsuit, sunny. Really makes your tits pop.” A few snickers come from behind him and with a quick glance behind him you can see Topper and Kelce. “You should wear this around the house more often.” Rafe’s hand goes to caress the strap holding your top up. “Stop it.” You say and swat his hand away from you squirming in the chair to get away from him. 

Through the corner of your eye you can see Wheezie coming back with some of her friends. Standing up you gather all your things, slipping your shorts back on to show off your ass. You might hate the flirting at times but it sure is fun to mess with him. “Come on baby, don't be like that. Why don’t you come hang out with us? I promise you’ll have a good time.” The sound of his voice has this underline of suggestion to it. Narrowing your eyes you stare at him for a second. Rafe has this little grin on his face that royally pisses you off. Who does he think he is? “The next time I want to be left unsatisfied and disappointed I’ll make sure to call you.” The edge in your voice only made his stupid grin grow even more. “Trust me baby.” He steps a little bit closer to you. “I would have you begging me for more when I’m done with you.” He whispered eyes staring at yours behind the sunglasses. 

A scoff leaves your lips as you take a step back. “You’re right. Maybe I” You pause for a second to look at his blue eyes. He’s standing a bit straighter now, you actively have to look up at him. “Maybe after your minute is over I’ll definitely want more. I know how much you love having girls beg you to make them cum.” Which was true. Having to live in the same house as him let alone the same floor has proven that point. “It’s just sad you can’t make them cum the first time.” You shrug your shoulders as his face drops. Topper and Kelce’s laughs ring in your ear, infuriating Rafe as he shoots them a death glare over his shoulder. “Oka-”

“Hey!” Wheezie yells as she gets closer to us. “What are you doing here?” she asks the older Cameron. “Just enjoying the view.” Rafe replies with a shrug. His eyes raking up and down your body landing on your tits once again. “Gross.” You chuckle a little at her reaction. It's good to see that someone else is tired of his constant flirting.

Ever since you got the job a year ago, Rafe was always flirting with you. The small touches and whispers in your ear have been endless. Ward has scolded him so many times that you're surprised even talks to you. It’s not that Rafe isn’t attractive, he is but it's his personality. If that beautiful face hadn’t been so cocky, entitled, or rude you may have already slept with him. Actually you would probably still sleep with him but after hearing girl after girl. As well as dealing with the fall out of each heartbreak, you were all set. You didn’t want to be another notch on his belt and that’s all he sees you as.

“Come on Wheeze. Why don’t we go get some ice cream? I think I saw that cute boy working today.” You send her a wink as your arm wraps around her shoulder. The both of you couldn’t even get a few steps in before Rafe calls out to you. “You aren’t taking my little sister somewhere so you can felt with some fucking guy.” His eyes burn into the back of your head. Stopping and turning your head to look back at him you grin. “The boy isn’t for me, it's for Wheeze. I don’t think my boyfriend would like me flirting with someone else.” The ease in your voice made Rafe clench his jaw. The jealous green monster he hates so much tapping at his shoulder seeing you walk away.

The two of you continue walking, not looking back as he yells out to you. “What boyfriend? Sunny, I'm talking to you, what boyfriend?” Topper and Kelce can be heard trying to get his attention as he keeps calling after you. You keep walking as Wheezie turns to look back at him. The two boys now in front of him holding him back as he tries to follow the both of you. She looks at you for a second and then back to him. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?” Her brown eyes shine behind her glasses staring at me. “Since a second ago.” Looking over at her you both laugh, continuing to the ice cream shop that’s down the road. 

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The sunset was painting the sky with hues of orange, reds, and purple. It looked breathtaking as you sat in the kitchen scrolling on your phone. A video of a puppy playing hide and seek with a baby made you laugh. The sound of footsteps filled the room, Rafe’s voice following along. “What are you laughing about?” “oh sorry I was just texting someone.” You giggle, he steps further into the kitchen making his way to you. “Let me guess that little boyfriend of yours.” Bitterness and a hint of jealousy are laced in his sentence. You place your phone down as you twist your body to face him. 

He looks good. The white t-shirt clings to his arms as he leans down onto the island next to you. “What could he have possibly said that was so funny.” There’s that jealousy again. You lean in a little closer to him, eyes flicking to his lips just in time to catch him liking them. You look back to his eyes, noticing him doing the same. “He was telling me about this douchebag that he met at this party. I think you might know him, he’s this little trust fund baby who thinks he rules the world.” A huf escapes his lips and he leans in a little closer. Lips so close to each other that when he moves his lips they lightly brush yours. “He sounds like an asshole.” He straightens up and walks to the fridge.

Opening it up he takes out a water bottle without looking back at you. His arms flexing distracts you for a moment and you’re glad that he can’t see you. Rafe closes the door and your eyes dart to the rest of the room not looking at anything particular. “It’s sad you are dating him. Maybe that trust fund baby can teach you a good time.” He winks at you when he walks by taking a swig from the bottle. “Very funny I don’t think he would be able to handle me. Plus why would I leave someone who can actually get the job done.” You shrug, picking the phone back up to look busy.  You can see Rafe stop in his tracks from the corner of your eye. “Baby I would rock your world to the point that you would forget your own name. That little boy would look like a rookie once I’m done with you.” With that he just walked away leaving you blushing. 

There’s a slight ache between your thighs and you clench trying to relieve it. Before you can make the mistake of following him Rose walked in. “Hi sweetie. Would you be able to do me a favor? Ward and I are going to the Bahamas for a week to finish up some business deal. Who knows what Sarah will be up to while we are gone and god knows what Rafe will be up to. I swear those two will send Ward to an early grave. Anyway, Wheezie is going to a week-long sleepaway camp with some friends. I know it’s not really your job but can you keep an eye on the other two. We really need to get this deal done and I don’t need them ruining something just to have Ward leave.” She barely looks at you or anything for that matter as she parades around the kitchen, staring at her phone the whole time. Her eyes look up at you waiting for the response. “Of course I can. I’m here to help out in any way.” She smiles at you and grabs a wine glass. “Thank you, You’ve honestly been a big help around the house. I haven’t seen Wheezie this happy or Rafe this well behaved. It's like we needed you.” She chuckles and pours the red wine into her glass.

Her statement took you by surprise. You knew that Wheezie was doing a lot better knowing that she has a stable environment. But the statement about Rafe didn’t make sense. Sure he flirts with you all the time and on rare occasions make sure you are okay at a party. But that’s just because he wants to sleep with you and he knows that if anything happened to you Ward would be upset. You’ve seen Ward yell at him countless of times and know how much Rafe wants his fathers approval. It honestly breaks your heart seeing how hard he really tries. “That’s only because he has to be nice to me. But I’m glad I’m a positive influence.” She takes a sip from her glass tilting her head as she looks at you. There’s something behind her eyes that you can’t make out.“You may not see it but he cares about you. He’s different around you.” She goes back onto her phone as she leaves. “But what do I know? You never know what that kid is thinking. Oh do you mind bringing Wheezie her suitcase? It's in the closet in the hallway.” “Yeah.” You call out stuck in place. 

After a moment you snapped out of it and made your way to get the suitcase. Grabbing it you drop it off in her room. “Here you go kiddo.” You barge into her room. “One suitcase for your travels.” She is standing by her dresser going through it and tossing clothes everywhere. “Do you think this is good to bring?” She’s holding up a dress the two of you got a few weeks back when you were at the mall. “Depends, do you plan on spending the week doing camp activities in that dress?” You reply sitting on the edge of her bed looking at her. She walks over, putting the suitcase next to you as she starts to pack. “It’s not for camp. A cute boy in my grade is going and it’s for when he asks me out.” You laugh, swiping the dress from her hands before she can pack it. “Very funny young lady. When you are at camp you will be doing camp activities, not boys.” You fold the dress putting it back into her drawer before closing it. 

“Uhh.” She cries out, flopping onto the bed. “You’re no fun. It’s fine he wouldn’t have asked me out anyway.” Glancing at her you can see her in deep thought. “He would be stupid if he didn’t. You are so beautiful and amazing. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” You crouch next to her on the floor and she turns her head to the side to see you. “Thank you.” Your right arm reaches up and pushes her hair out of her face. “Just telling the truth… Now finish packing, we don't need a repeat of Cabo.”  You both giggle and you leave her alone.

Making your way down the stairs to your room the sound of a door catches your attention. It closes softly, barely loud enough to hear it. You stop midway on the staircase just in time to see Rafe make his way from your room across the hall to his.  

What was he doing in your room? Rushing down the rest of the stairs you burst into your room. Nothing looks out of place, everything is exactly where you have left it. The bed was still made, your desk perfectly intact, your nightstand has the book you left there last night. If everything was still there what was he doing? Looking around once again you can’t find anything. Your legs start to move before you can think about where you are going. Even though deep down you know exactly where. 

Not even thinking you open Rafes door but stop as soon as you see him. He’s laying on his bed, the shirt he was wearing earlier pulled up to his chest. Your eyes scan down his body and your eyes widen seeing what he is doing. Rafe's right hand is wrapped around his dick stroking it in fast strokes.  “Fuck baby. Just like that, feel fucking amazing.” But what really catches your eyes is the red lace fabric he has pressed up to his nose. He takes a big sniff before bringing the panties down to his dick. You thought Rose's statement shocked you but you are truly frozen now. It’s like every muscle in your body gave up and every neuron in your brain died. No matter how much you wanted to say something or move you couldn’t. The grip you had on the door tightened as you heard him moan.

“Oh god.” His strokes get faster making the veins in his arms pop out more. Another moan leaves his lips. The noise draws your gaze up to his face, which was a mistake because you could ignore the throbbing happening in your shorts. But Rafe’s eyes were screwed shut, head thrown back making his neck look biteable. Yeah looking at the pleasure expression he had right now was a mistake. The little voice in your head telling you to run starts telling you to join him. “Fuck Sunny don’t stop.” Your jaw drops hearing your nickname. The one he gave you a few weeks into working here. 

“Knew you were a slut. Begging me to teach you a lesson.” A sloppy smacking noise reaching your ears. He was thinking about you? You knew he wanted to fuck you but you never thought he would steal you panties just to get off on the thought of you. “Bet your dripping right now. Soaking those little shorts of yours.” This made your eyes shoot up to look at him. Crystal blue eyes meeting yours as his pupils dilate enveloping the sea of blue. He moans as he cums moaning out your name without breaking eye contact. White ropes shooting up and coating his toned stomach. You can feel the blood rush to your face at the thought of being caught watching Rafe masturbate. Well more of the fact that you like watching Rafe himself off. 

“If I knew you were into voyeurism I would have left my door open a long time ago.” He chuckles, running his hand over his buzz cut. “I-I’m sorry. I saw you come out of my room and I.” The words die on your tongue watching as he gets up from the bed, wiping off his cum with my panties. His moans keep playing in your head as you just stare. He makes his way over to you, striping from his shirt leaving him completely bare in front of you. “It’s okay I liked that you watched me. Maybe next time I won’t have to use your panties.” He taunts waving the red lace in your face. 

With your brain not functioning no comebacks came to mind and you didn’t feel his hand wrapping around your waist. “So tell me if I reach into those pretty panties will you be as soaked as I think you’ll be.” The soft fabric brush against your lips finally snapping you out of whatever daze was put over you. You push him off of you and snatch the panties out of his hand. “You fucking wish asshole.” You exclaim practically running out of the room to yours and locking the door.

Your chest rises and falls in fast motions trying to have you catch your breath. What just happened? The events keep playing in your mind as you throw the solid garment into the hamper and go to wash your hands in the ensuite bathroom. Scrubbing furiously you get the remnants of his cum off of your hands. You lean against it with your head hanging between your shoulders. It wasn’t until you licked your lips and tasted salt you remembered the moment. He had wiped the painties on your lips before you had stormed off. You still had his cum left on your lips.

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #obx

[page-matcha]

cafe manager!taehyun x cafe worker!reader

warnings: smut, slightly public sex, swearing, spanking, not actually that much smut, barely edited 😭

a/n - I wanted to write something to try and get over my writers block c:

---♡

Working at a popular cafe is hard. So many customers rush in and out, there's barely enough room for anyone in the small room. And you, being a shy introvert, found it very hard to work as a full time cashier and talk to so many people in a day. But the job payed well so who are you to complain

You're fairly new to this job, so you're still not used to interacting with customers but you try your best. Today was particularly harsh on you though.

It was the usual morning rush. People lining up to get their morning coffee to help get them through the day. But for some reason you were so exhausted. So tired, so nervous, and there are so many people waiting for you to take their order. This felt like the hundredth customer you had just in the last hour.

"Could I have the weekly special?" The lady infront of you asked politely.

"Ah... sure. Whats the weekly special again?" You turn to look behind you at the drink menu while the lady looks at you with a confused but patient expression. "Oh right, that." You give the lady an apologetic look as you go to make her drink, stumbling over yourself out of embarrassment.

Your manager, your stupid annoying manger, laughed as he watched you. Taehyun. God, he was always on your case. Pointing out every little thing you did wrong and getting annoyed with you over the smallest things. So of course, what did you expect when he started scolding you for forgetting what this week's special was.

"God, y/n. You do this all the fucking time." Taehyun let's out an exasperated breath. "Look, I get you're new here but how could you mess up something as simple as that?"

"Like the name says, it changes every week. I'm bound to forget what it is at least once..." you grumble.

"You do this way too often. We need to do something about this otherwise you'll drive all of our customers away."

"That's a bit dramatic but ok.."

Taehyun asks you to stay for a bit after the Cafe closes. Apparently he knows a good method he wants to show you that will help you memorize orders better.

A few hours later you find yourself pinned against the cafes front counter, Taehyuns cock slamming harshly into you.

"What are the steps for making our strawberry lemonade?" He asks, sucking a mark onto your neck.

You whimper, tears of pleasure running down your face. "I-i don't know!" Your brain is turned to mush. You can't remember anything about any steps or recipe.

Taehyun asks you again, landing a hard smack to your ass. "What. Are. The steps?"

---♡

Lets just say after that night... you decided it would be better to just work in the back cleaning dishes instead.

#matcha writes! #matcha.mature #taehyun x you #taehyun x y/n #taehyun x reader #taehyun #taehyun hard hours #taehyun hard thoughts #taehyun smut #taehyun fic #txt #txt x y/n #txt x you #txt x reader #txt fanfic #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

[avensthetic]

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐌𝐄, 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 (dreamcatcher)

the first time i told you i love you it felt so hard for me to say it now when i tell you i love you i can't put all my heart to it it feels small

𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙧

━━ ╸you know those nights, the ones where everything feels off? the words they throw at me, the glances i catch – it's stupid, but they still sting. it makes me think all the money and power in the world won't change a damn thing. the whispers get louder, the smiles get faker, and it feels like i'm drowning. i've gotten good at hiding it, like my trembling fist underneath the table. would you be repulsed if i tell you plenty of times i almost broke?

don't leave me, or i'll really do...

love, kakavasha aventurine

the whispers echoed louder tonight. avgin opportunist. corporate leech. the usual noise, but grating, annoying, pissing him off. he rose to the top so no one can order him around, but look where it still ended him.

a sigh escaped aventurine. exhaustion wasn't just physical, it ate at his very soul. even here, in the muted luxury of his apartment, the whispers seemed to seep through the walls. yet, there you were, a quiet presence on the couch, a book open but forgotten in your lap.

"another fun day?" you asked, voice laced with a playful sarcasm he knew was meant to lighten the mood.

aventurine forced a smile, the one that usually disarmed and deceived. it felt brittle in the face of your quiet concern. "just the usual," he murmured, shrugging it off. and you know very well what composed of the usual.

crossing the room, you took a seat beside him. "if you want to talk..." 

aventurine shrugged, not trusting his voice. he was used to faking it, to wearing indifference like it were his skin. you settled beside him on the couch, close but not suffocating. the silence stretched but was oddly comforting. maybe it was the exhaustion, aventurine sometimes wondered if the hateful whispers finally wore him down.

and then, like a beacon cutting through his murky thoughts, you cup his face so gently. there was no judgment nor pity, just an open, earnest gaze that made him feel seen, a feeling he thought he'd forgotten long ago, when he's taken and shackled, freedom stolen. boundless patience, unconditional affection. all of these seemed so easy to you, given freely to the likes of him without asking for anything in return.

"i love you," he blurted out. the confession hung in the air, the first time since your relationship began, both of you wide-eyed. to aventurine, it felt like free-falling, both terrifying and exhilarating.

then you smiled, cheeks adorably warm. aventurine found himself finally letting go of the tension. the shadows didn't vanish, the weight didn't disappear, but they seemed a little less daunting. 

he leaned in, and the whisper of "i love you too" against his lips tasted like a promise. he'd always thought love was transactional, built on favors and exchanged benefits. but your love was this unconditional acceptance, the way you simply held him, patient and never asking much from him.

the next time he'd say it, he thought, it might be a little easier.

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 - 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓

#💌. from me to you #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr imagines #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader

[sosa2imagines]

Misunderstanding. Part 4.

Warnings- Angst, fluff, danger and a fan crush moment. -----------------------------------------------------

“Romanoff?” “Tony get your ass here Y/n is in danger” “What?” “Just get here!”

“Tony, is everything okay?” Bucky asks, noticing the worried look on Tony's face. “What did Natasha say?”

“Nat said they are in trouble, more like Y/n is in danger.” Tony replies.

“What happened?” Steve asks immediately, a bit of panic seeping into his voice, as he realized you and Natasha are in danger. “Where are you going? What’s going on?”

Few hours ago...

“Y/n talk to me” “Nat I'm fine”

“Come on!” she says, grasping your hand, pulling you along. “Let's just walk and talk...”

“Okay, fine…” you agree, letting her guide you along. As you two make your way down the sidewalk, Natasha pauses and turns to you, her expression serious. “Y/n, I know you well enough to know, you are thinking too much. Talk to me babe” You smile, happy at the fact that she knows you so well. “I should have told him, where I was being treated, I hid from him and lost him for good…”

“No, you did not lost him, ok? it was our decision for his own safety, hell we would have done it for Bucky too.” “He is freaking Captain America!!! Nat, he can take care of himself, even if we know it’s the other way around. If he wants to be with someone else, I won't stop him” “He loves you, you both are just going through a major misunderstanding…” “Nat I'm not perfect for him! He deserves someone perfect, like him...” you exclaimed, cutting her mid-sentence. “Did he told you that?” Nat snaps at you. “No…” you mumble, pouting at her, for snapping at you. She just rolls her eyes over your dramatics.

“Then don't jump to conclusions, stay on the ground before doing something stupid!” “Yeah, okay” you respond, feeling a bit tense as you anticipate her next move.

You stop walking, staring at her. Natasha is a smart woman, but god she had no patience for bullshits and over-reactions. But one thing is for sure, everything she says, is true and never ever argue with her.

 “Are you going to keep on staring or what?!” she asks not bothering to stop, or look at you. “Coming, god you can be scary at times!” you raised your hands up in surrender, as she raised her brows at you.

 After some few minutes of silence, you talk again, “So how are things with Bucky?” You can swear on anything, that you saw her blush and choke on air at the same time!

“What did you see or hear?” Nat asks, looking straight ahead, avoiding your gaze. You just smirk at her.

Before you could continue, a guy ran towards you both and pushed Nat in the alley. “What the hell?!” You yell as a man suddenly grabs Natasha and drags her into an alleyway, surprising you both. You quickly aimed your gun at him “Let her go, now!”

“What? Natasha who is with you?” The man holding her was looking in your direction, but not directly at you. “Hey, I said let her go!” You had a firm grip on the gun, ready to shoot, if required.

“Matt?” “What? Do you know him?” you ask her, not lowering the gun. “Y/n, I know him, put the gun down.” “What, are you sure?” Natasha nods and you put your gun back down in your pocket.

The guy name Matt, lets her go and gives a sheepish smile to Nat. “Matt what are you doing here?” she asks him. “I need your help…and” “Wait, how did you know it was me?” you furrow your brows in confusion at her question. “Your perfume that's how I knew you were near…” he answers rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait her perfume? Who and what are you?” you ask looking at him with utter confusion, almost feeling like a third wheel.

“I’m a very good lawyer and you are? He smirks. “Assassin!” you answer proudly.

Nat rolls her eyes, at your antics. “Y/n wait, this is Matt, DD, remember I had told you? and Matt this Y/n fellow avenger and…”  “That's him!” you ask cutting her mid-sentence, “The blind kickass vigilante?” you ask, totally surprise to meet the infamous lawyer finally. “Sorry by the way…” you say quickly, realising you are going ahead in your fan zone.

“It's ok.” he tells you with a smile, before turning to Nat, “You told her about me?” getting serious. “Yes she is my best friend, I tell her everything.” Nat replies with a smirk and a proud smile. “Since when did you started to make friends?” Matt asks in disbelief. “Does not matter to you…” Nat scoffs. “Yeah right!” Matt raises his eyebrows, running a hand through his silky hair.

You shake your head, getting some control over your fan crush, for the man wearing red tinted glasses.

“Umm...sorry to interrupt the reunion, but I supposed he wants your help with something?” you remind them.  “Yes, right thank you, come this way...” Matt smiles at you, gesturing you and Nat to follow him.

“Not to sound rude, where are we supposed to go and why?” Nat asks in a stern voice, getting serious now. “I was on my way for work, I heard some guys talk about planting a bomb, somewhere here and if my senses are right, that bomb is there. Right at the end of the alley, inside that abandon building” He replies with a serious tone.

“How did you know its abandon?” you ask getting curious.  “Senses” both Nat and Matt reply in unison. “Sorry…” you shrug, not sure whether you offended him or both.

As you three enter the building, you split. With Nat searching the ground floor, you and Matt start looking on the first floor. Most of the walls were collapsed, debris fallen everywhere.

Out of instinct, you helped Matt to walk, making sure he didn’t fall or stumble on anything.

“Sorry, I know you are a vigilante and can take care of yourself, I…”, Matt smiles cutting you off “It’s really nice of you to help me. Yes, I like to be independent, but you helped me out of instinct not because of pity. And I don’t mind a beautiful girl like you, helping me.” He smiles, offering you his arm, which you accept with a red face.

“You are blushing” “No, I'm not...” you bite your lip to hide the smile forming on your lips. “I can hear your heartbeats” he tells you, laughing softly. “Your senses are very admirable…” you smile. “Thank you.”

You both kept looking, from one room to another, before finally entering the last room.

“I don't feel right about this room…” Matt says, getting bit tensed. “Your senses acting up?” you tease, to lighten the mood. Matt laughs heartedly, he looks so cute, “No I think it's in here…” “Well let's keep on looking, or else you might need to get your senses checked. Tony and Bruce can help you.”

“Tony will kill me…” Matt says, as he starts looking around, by poking his stick. “You know him?” you ask, looking in one of the boxes piled up.

“Yes, long story for another day…” he says still looking. “Asking me out already?” You ask, coming to his side. “I don't mind, do you?”

Before you could answer, Matt's pokes a box and it falls on the ground with a loud thud. The box was full of bricks, Matt asks you, what the noise was and you answer, “Bricks. Why keep a box full of bricks?” “Yes, everything here is empty, except for this box…”

“Shit” you both say in unison and look at the place where the box was before. There was the bomb. The weight of bricks, had kept it off. Wires were connected to a box with code pad.

Without a second thought, you both sat on the bomb with half asses.

“Y/n, what are you doing?” “Keeping the bomb off, what are you doing?” “This is no time for being funny, get off now” “If either of us gets off, we are gonna die. The bomb has stopped under our shared weight…”

Some minutes later, Nat comes up looking for you both.

“Guys did you find anything?” She sees you two sitting together and she raises her brow. “Yes we did…” you answer. “What? where is it?” “You are looking at it!” this time Matt answers with anger evident on his face. Seriously why are people snapping today?

Matt explains everything to Natasha. She tries to defuse the bomb, but is unsuccessful. With no other option she texts and calls Tony. 

“Tony is on his way.” Nat tells you both, with a hopeful smile. “Now we wait…” you say sarcastically, to which Nat gives you a smile and Matt is still angry.

Nat makes herself a seat, using few of the empty boxes and sits comfortably.

“Matty smile…” Nat jokes and you try to suppress a laugh, while Matt just ignores you two.

“You know… whatever happens or may not happen… can you try to be less grumpy and smile? You look cute when you smile...” you tease Matt, even though you can see the corners of his lips turning into a smile, he stills acts angry.

“Why did you?” “Why did you?” You both ask each other the same question.

Matt remains quiet and you answer his question, “Matt I have fought worst people, aliens, heck gods and robots. This bomb is nothing.”

Matt was about to say something, but you don’t let him speak, “Don't blame yourself. Even if you had not asked for our help, I still would have been in danger, in some other mission. My job comes with danger, so there's no escaping it. I trust Nat, Tony and everyone else. Nothing will happen to us, Matt.”

Matt starts to relax a bit, “You are good with words…” “Thank you.” “She is good in lots of ways…” Nat winks at you and you give her a ‘what are you trying to do?’ look. “Is that so?” Matt chimes in. “Don't tell me, his senses pick that up?” you laugh.

Back at the compound...

“Come on, metal man, we have to go now!” Tony says, his voice a mix of urgency and concern. “Don't call me that” Bucky warns him. “Are you coming or not?” Tony asks with a raised brow. “I'm coming, they both need us.” 

“Tony wait, I'm coming with you.” Steve tells him. “Steve, please...” Tony replies, clearly feeling torn between wanting to have Steve with him, and knowing that he doesn't want to risk another fight breaking out. “I need you to watch the compound, in case we need anything, I’ll let you know. Trust me on this.” “No, let Bucky stay; I have to come please…” Steve begs and Tony's resolve wavers, as he sees the desperation in Steve's eyes.

“Fine suit up.”

“No! She needs me, not Captain America.” 

A/N: Seriously Charlie Cox is so cute and hot..!

(Comment, feedbacks and reblog are highly appreciated. I hope you all enjoy.)

Part 3 -

TAGLIST- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers #matt murdock #daredevil

[babyisa1]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ jealousy/TOM

warnings: smut, blowjob, p in v, singular mention of „slut“, unprotected sex, overall a little rough but fluffy ending!

„im going to get a drink, do you want one?“ you ask, the both of you sitting on the corner couch in a club downtown. „no thanks baby“ tom replies, sending you a soft smile as you get up and walk towards the bar. the place was pretty crowded, and the beat of the music vibrated off of the walls as the colourful flashing lights illuminated off of your figure.

you sat on a bar stool after ordering your favorite cocktail, sex on the beach, when you feel someone tap on your shoulder. „hey y/n, god i havent seen you in years!“ a familiar voice exclaims, as they sit on the stool beside you. your face lights up when you see ethan, an old school friend. „ethan?? what are you doing here!“ you reply, pulling him into a warm hug.

time passes, and the two of you have been catching up for about 20 minutes, completely unaware of tom eyes piercing through both of you from the other side of the club. his jaw clenched and the sunglasses in his hand almost snapped at the sight of you and how close you were with the stranger, trying his best to keep calm. any sense of control he had completely dissapears when he catches the man whispering things in your ear while placing his hand on yours, making you giggle.

he storms towards you both, pure rage flowing through him. „who the fuck is this?“ he exclaims, making you jump. „fucking hell tom you scared me“ you remark, taking another sip of your drink. „answer my question!“ tom almost shouts, becoming impatient. „calm down! this is ethan, just an old school friend. we were just catching up“ you reply, a concerned look on your face.

tom sighs out, still not satisfied. he grabs your hand, pulling you towards him. „cmon lets go“ he mumbles, attempting to take you with him as he walks away. to his dismay, you pull back, not wanting to leave. „we only just got here tom! whats gotten into you?“ you respond, trying to escape from his strong grip which just tightens. „i said lets go“ he demands, sending you a look that told you that you werent going to be able to walk for a good couple of days.

you sigh out, grabbing your purse as you wave goodbye to ethan, who has a „good luck with him“ expression on his face. tom drags you through the crowd of people, out of the busy club and onto the path outside, the cold night air hitting you both.

wasting no time, he rushes over to his cadillac, rummaging in his pockets for the keys. „get in“ he mutters coldly, as you open the passenger seat door and sit down, closing it behind you. tom slams his door shut, making the whole car shake. you didnt dare to say anything in an attempt to not worsen the situation. he let out a frustrated sigh as he started the car, turning out of the parking spot.

tom speeds down the highway, driving 20mph over the speed limit. he wasnt stupid though, he took a route that he knew didnt have any speed cameras. „tom, slow down! do you want to get us fucking kille-” „shut up, we will talk when we get home“ he cuts you off, his hand tightening on the gear stick as he pushes it forward.

about 10 minutes later, he pulls into the driveway, silence filling the car as he turns off the motor. he gets out, walking over to your side and opening your door. you take his arm as you both walk towards the front door, opening it.

he swiftly pulls you into his embrace, pushing you against the door which slams in shut in the process. he crashes his lips on to yours, darting his tounge into your mouth and lapping his wetness around yours. „mm..you shouldnt have flirted with that fucker“ he muffles in between kisses, his hand snaking behind your neck to deepen it. you kiss him back, struggling to keep up with the fast and rough pace of it.

he breaks the kiss, catching his breath as he bends down and picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder. he slaps your ass harshly as he walks over to the couch, causing you to hiss in pain. „you obviously haven’t learnt your lesson from last time liebe“ tom mutters, before letting go of you on the couch as you bounce slightly from the drop.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes, faking your innocence when tom knows you are anything but that. „msorry.. he was just a friend i promise baby“ you reassure tom, however he doesnt seem convinced. he grabs your chin, squishing your cheeks slightly but not enough to hurt you.

„no other guy gets to talk to you like that, get it?“ he snaps, letting go of your face. you glup, nodding as his hands reach for his belt. „youre gonna be a good girl and let me use that pretty mouth of yours?“ he taunts, his belt already clanking as it hits the floor along with his jeans. „yes tommy“ you respond obediantly, nodding eagerly as his clothed cock just centimetres away from your face.

he swiftly pulls down his boxers, as his cock springs free and slightly hits his abdomen. god, he was massive. his tip was red and nerdy, pre cum leaking out of it. the enticing smell of his sex lingered in the air, increasing the growing heat between your legs. he groans in satisfaction following the release of his cock, gazing down at you to see it covered the whole length of your face.

he pumped his dick a few times, his hand sneaking behind your head as he pushes your closer. he rubs his tip against your pink lips, smearing the pre cum over them. „open“ he demands, as you quickly oblige, wrapping your soft lips around the crown of his cock. you swirl your tounge around it, causing tom to let out a low grown, before flattening your tounge on his shaft and sinking your head down it. you hollow your cheeks, gagging slightly as his tip nudges the back of your throat.

„fuckk.. such a pretty slut, taking me so well..“ tom mewls, his head lolling back as your warm mouth engulfs him. you moan at his praises, bobbing your head up and down slowly. he grips your hair, forming two messy pigtails as he uses them to guide you. he forces himself into your mouth faster, forming a rough pace as a mixture of your saliva and his pre cum escaping and dripping down the corners of your lips.

you place both of your hands on toms thighs, bracing yourself with each harsh thrust. your eyes pricked with salty tears as you felt the oxygen quickly slip away, smudging your mascara. „mm fuck- m‘close!“ he moans, his thrusting becoming sloppy. you help him chase his orgasm through massaging the underside of his dick with your tounge, causing loud squelching noises.

tom lets out a prolonged groan, holding your head in place as he coats your throat white in his hot cum. he pulls his cock out of your mouth, causing you to gasp for air. „shit- you okay baby?“ he breaths out, chuckling. you nod, smirking playfully as your eyes glint in lust.

his loving expression soon turns back to a merciless one, his tounge sneaking out to play with his lipring. he picks you up effortlessly, walking you over to the back of the couch before putting you back down and bending you over. with your ass rubbing against his cock, he hurriedly lifts your dress over your head before quickly unclipping your bra with ease. your tits fall free, and his hands fly to play with your nipples. you gasp, and he uses this as an opportunity to turn your head towards his and slip his tounge in your mouth. your back was flush against his chest as he rolled and pinched your nipples, leaving you a whimpering mess.

you were squirming in his hands, your panties probably soaked by now. you grind yourself against his cock out of impatience, before feeling a strong stinging on your right ass cheek. tom slapped your behind harshly, an annoyed expression on his face. „dont be s’fucking needy, this is a punishment for your behaviour earlier remember?“ tom hisses, his hot breath on your ear spreading goosebumps all over you.

you let out a sigh of relief as tom yanks your panties down, revealing your dripping cunt, his mouth watering at the sight. he rubs his cock between your warm folds, gliding effortlessly before nudging your sensitive clit with his tip. „mm..“ you moan, finally feeling some type of friction.

without warning, tom slams his length into you, a buldge forming in your stomach. „jesu- fuck!“ you almost shout, almost falling forward as tom quickly gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulls you back towards him. „god- so fucking tight“ tom breaths out, forming a rough pace.

your ass jiggles with each thrust, as toms cock deliciously rams against that gummy spot inside you. tom yanks your hair to the side to gain more access to to your neck, before planting sloppy open mouthed kisses up and down it. „only i can fuck you this good.. shit- isnt that right?“ he growls, drilling himself into you.

you can do nothing but nod, the intense pleasure preventing you from forming proper words. both of your bodies were coated in a thin sheen of sweat as he fucked you relentlessly, one of his hands gripping on your hip so tightly it would for sure leave marks.

„you“ thrust „are“ thrust „mine“ thrust tom breaths out between each harsh snap of his hips, making his possessivness very clear. your moans mirror each slam of his cock, your hair becoming messy and sticking to your face from the sweat.

„mhmm.. fuck- tom!“ you reply, struggling to form words as the tip of his length keeps abusing your favorite spot. his hands graze over your skin from your hips and spread your ass, pushing himself deeper in you. you clench around him in response, earning a loud groan from him.

„fuck baby- do that again“ tom mewls, the sudden tightness clearly having an effect on him. you somehow find the energy to repeat what you did, causing his pace to become inconsistent and sloppy. you grip tightly on the leather couch, feeling your high approach.

„shit m‘gonna cum!“ you manage to blur out, the pleasure slowly building up by the second. tom angles his hips upwards, hitting your g spot juusstt right. „cmon baby.. cum all over my cock“ he groans and he finally sees white, his orgasm washing over him as he shoots ropes of his hot cum into you.

you let out a high pitched moan, sounding almost pornographic as your orgasm hits you like a truck, falling forwards as your knees buckle. tom exhales sharply through his teeth, his movements coming to a halt. „shittt“ he breaths out, watching his cum spill out of your cunt as he slips out, a ring of cum appearing on his cock.

you both chuckle as you gain your breath again, relishing the pleasure. tom walks a few steps to the open kitchen, grabbing a paper towel before coming back and wiping you. you whimper slightly, feeling slightly overstimulated. „sorry baby“ he giggles, turning you around and pulling you into a gentle hug.

he rubs up and down your sides lovingly, pressing soft kisses in your hair. moments later he pulls away, stroking you hair out of your face and gazing into your droopy eyes and fucked out face. „you okay? did i go to rough?“ he asks while planting a warm kiss on your nose.

„not at all.. i have to talk to other guys more often if it means you’ll fuck me this good“ you whisper, smiling brightly. he chuckles, taking your hand and leading you upstairs.

„cmon, lets get cleaned up sweetheart“

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

i realised i kinda use clubs as a setting pretty often ;-; i will lit marry u if u like or reblog, this is only my 5th post i think :)

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz #2000s #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #tom kaulitz smut #fanfiction

[teewritessmth]

Arranged Marriage

(Part 01 / ?)

(Niko Omilana x f! reader)

Warnings : None

Summary : In order to be the grateful daughter, you have to comply with your father's request. But what is it?

"WHAT!?!!?", you stand up abruptly, question whether you had misheard the sentence.

"Y/n, you're gonna listen to your father, we're not going to argue over something as trivial as this". Your stepmum, Ryona, interjects rudely as she pulls a chair and sits down.

"TRIVIAL?", you exclaim.

Why did she care, you ask? Nope, I don't know either.

"Dad, why are you doing this? I mean give me a proper reason at least. You can't spring up a topic this serious and tell me to go with it." You try pleading with your dad, but he remains unfazed at your outburst.

"We've always wanted the best for you y/n. I've given you everything you wanted, done everything you asked me to. And when I tell you to say yes... You question me as your father?"

Your eyes drop to the floor. It was true. Your father was an amazing man and an even better parent. A sense of shame crawls through your spine as you realise just how much you owe him. He had done so much for you, yet you couldn't agree to one thing he had asked?

"Dad please, this is so stupid. I don't want to be married right now. I just started my career-", you reason.

"Making little videos isn't a fucking career, Y/n. Maybe you're pulling a few hundred dollars here and there, but that doesn't mean that this is a stable job. Do you even know how embarrassing it is to tell people that our daughter makes 'videos' on the internet. I mean even the phrasing of it is absolutely hysterical and shameful!" Ryona finishes her comment with a quick glance at her husband, motioning for him to speak.

"Y/n, please... ", Your dad looks at you with hopeful eyes. What you failed to notice was how that man's eyes filled up with tears as you sighed and started walking towards your room.

.

.

.

The following week was uncomfortable. Whenever you came down for breakfast, they'd stop talking. They'd drop whatever the hell the were doing and wander off somewhere else. I mean, you were used to Ryona pulling shit like this all the damn time, but not your dad.

He avoided you like the plague. This had gone to such an extent that the old man couldn't bear to be in the same room with you, avoiding your eyes everytime you tried to speak.

Perhaps it was how they treated you, or perhaps how that bizarre idea had implanted itself into your head. You weren't interested in anyone, and god forbid to say that you didn't have any personal goals to hit. You'd love to have a family, you'd love to have someone at home, just for the sake of it. You'd build the family you could never get as a child.

But how?

The were talking about marrying you off.

Or that's how you heard it.

Yeah, Definitely marrying you off.

But how does an option like that sound so much better than living in this hell hole.

Fucking hell.

It's been one month, that your dad and your stepmum have completely iced you out.

.

.

.

"I'll do it". You state, matter of factly, raising an eyebrow as your 'parents' turn towards you. They weren't gullible, they knew what you wanted to say.

"Y-you'll marry him? You'll marry Nikolas!", Your dad pulls you into a bone-crushing hug which you don't return. How could he be so happy at the thought of his wife sending their child away to a man they don't even know.

Well, they know him. You don't.

He's the son of your dad's bestfriend. Of course the know each other to an extent.

Whatever.

You had dug your own grave, might as well get it over with.

"But, I can't just say that I'll get married to him? He has to agree in order-".

"The boy has agreed a month ago. It was YOU who kept stalling the wedding. How long were you planning on doing this? Don't you see that we have an image to maintain? Now stop your wailing and mentally prepare yourself. You'll both get married in a week's time. I'm calling the Omilanas and confirming". Ryona makes herself very clear, making it painfully obvious that they were going to get you married forcefully if you didn't agree otherwise. Or else how could they manage a whole venue within such an acute time frame?

You nod weakly and head back upstairs, feeling defeated. Your future was written already, your yes meant NOTHING.

.

.

.

You've heard of him. He's big on YouTube, people in his comments often ask him to collab with you. You'd be lying if you said your comments said otherwise.

Oh how'd the internet would have an absolute field trip if they found out that their two favorite creators were about to me married.

Well....married for the sake of marrying.

Married for the sake of a title.

Married for the sake of your father.

You look at the dress and accessories you had picked out and sigh into your hands. It was happening.

Your wedding........... was tomorrow.

#betasquad #beta squad #betasquad x reader #beta squad x reader #niko omilana #niko omilana x reader #sharky #sharky x reader #chunkz #chunkz x reader #king kenny #king kenny x reader #aj shabeel #aj shabeel x reader #ukyt #uk #ajshabeel #uk youtubers #ajshabeel x reader #arranged marriage

[bugs013]

“She’s my girlfriend.”

Janis ‘Imi’ike x short tempered!fem!reader

Not my pics

Warnings- Regina being a jerk, arguing, fighting, janis just being a sweet comforting gf. I think thats all but lmk if i’m wrong!

A/N- This is honestly mostly Regina x reader but oh well. This idea just came to me randomly lol. Might write a part two with more Janis and less Regina lol.

You and Janis have been dating for 2 weeks now, you got together over spring break so no one really knew yet besides your family’s and close friends.

You were at your locker getting your things for your next class when an arm snakes around your waist making you turn your head to see your girlfriend. “Hey baby.” You smile as you close your locker. “Hey.” You kiss her before you heard that voice. “Well well well.” Oh great, here we go. You roll your eyes as does Janis. “What do you want Regina?” Janis said, both of you turning around to face the blonde. “Who’s this?” She asks, looking you up and down. That makes you roll your eyes again but before you can snap back with a snarky comment Janis beats you to it. “She my girlfriend.” “Aw you finally found someone that will put up with you?” Regina says with a fake pout. “Hey, uh, wait what’s your name again? Never mind i don’t care, did you know you’re little princess here likes to play with fire?” She says, giving Janis that shit eating grin of hers. “Look don’t even try any bull shit with me miss ‘queen bitch’, i know what you did to Janis oh and by the way your a piece of shit for that, but i will not put up with any of your nonsense.” You snap back. “Babe-” Janis starts but you cut her off. “No, no i’m not dealing with it. She walks all over everyone at this stupid school and I’m tired of it.” “Ooo, looks like you got yourself a feisty one.” Regina says, unfazed by your words. You were ready to attack her at this point but Janis grips your waist a bit tighter. “Regina, just go.” Your jaw clenched as she walked away, your eyes following her every move. “Hey, baby look at me.” Janis says then she grips your chin gently and turns your head to look at her. “Breathe, she’s only messing with you because of me.” You roll your eyes. “She’s a bitch, not just to you but everyone. It pisses me off.” “I know love, i know. But she just wants attention, she wants to get a reaction and getting mad is only giving her what she wants.” You sigh and nod, she places a gentle kiss on your lips. “Now come on let’s get to class.” She took your hand and the two if you walked to your next class, which lucky for you, you shared said class with Janis.

~~~~

It’s been weeks, weeks! And Regina still tries to pull any strings she can at any time she can. She’s dug deep into your history just to find something on you, she came out with nothing but stupid things from elementary school that wouldn’t help her much, she did find one thing though, you have a short temper. You get angry quickly and now that she knows that she’s gonna push all your buttons.

You were walking down the hall after asking to go to the restroom when you felt a hand on you shoulder, spinning you around to face her there was Regina with that stupid smirk on her face. “Hey Y/N.” You shrugged her hand off your shoulder. “Oh look you finally learned my name.” Regina chuckles. “I see your little pet isn’t with you.” Her words made you blood start boiling already. “I’m not doing this with you Regina.” You started to walk away. “Aw poor baby can’t handle a little chat? I know you’re a loner, or should i say loser, but i just wanted to talk.” She says, you clenched your fist by your sides as you turn around. “Fine. What could you possibly want to talk about?” She grins her shit eating grin. “I just wanted to warn you how crazy your little girlfriend is.” Your fists tighten. “Stop talking about her.” “Aw why not? You know she used to like me right? She was so obsessed.” Your jaw clenched and you got closer to her. “She was never obsessed with you. And even if she was she’s not anymore so just leave her alone.” Regina scoffed. “Yeah right, everyone is obsessed with me, haven’t you noticed?” You rolled your eyes. “That’s not true, you’re a bitch and everyone knows it.” “Ouch what cruel words of yours.” She mocked. You wanted to pounce on her, your fists and jaw was clenched tightly, you take a deep breath as you turn to walk away, trying the take the advice Janis had taught you before. “Ooo, did i hit a nerve?” You keep walking, trying to take deep breaths, your nails dug into your palms so hard that you were almost bleeding. “So angry,” Regina started. “It’s almost cute.” And that was it, you just couldn’t take it, you fast walked back to her and before either of you even realized your fist had already connected with her face. She stumbled back with a small yelp of pain, her hand going over her eye. But when she stabilized herself again she glared at you. “You bitch.” She said before then the two of you were fighting in the middle of the hall. It went on for a good moment. “Woah, woah, woah! Girls! Stop!” A teacher shouts as he ran over, pulling the two of you apart.

~~~~

You sat in a chair in the front office, leg bouncing, chewing on your bottom lip, decently dark bruises on your face, and probably other places that you haven’t seen yet, you knew your parents would be pissed, and what would Janis say? You didn’t know because even though you wanted to text her you were afraid to.

When your mom walked into the office you can see the angry radiating off of her. Great.

The second the car doors closed she immediately started. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why did you do it?” You rolled your eyes. “I wanna go home.” “Why did you do it Y/N.” She says more sternly. “She was being a bitch. She has been for weeks now. I couldn’t take it and she wasn’t just being a jerk to me she was talking about Janis too.” Your mom sighed, lucky for you she loved Janis and she can’t lie she is a bit proud that you would take up for yourself and others. “Well you’re still grounded, for 2 weeks.” You were honest surprised she dropped it so easily. “Wait, what? Nothing else? Just 2 weeks of being grounded?” “Do you want it to be longer?” She snaps back as she starts the car. You quickly just shut your mouth and went with it.

~~~~

You walk into school the next day, surprisingly you didn’t get in much trouble over the fight, you had a bruised up face as did Regina and you were getting tons of looks and you hated it. You walked with your head down until soon Janis was right in front of you, lifting your chin to look at her. “Oh baby…” She frowned, cupping your face as her thumbs glide over your bruises ever so gently. “I’m fine.” “I never said you weren’t but this looks pretty painful.” You shrug. “It’s not that bad.” She sighs. “Why did you fight her? I told you she just wants a reaction.” “I know but she deserved it either way, i wasn’t gonna let her walk all over me any longer.” She sighed then nods. “I get it.” There’s silence for a moment until she smiles and says. “You look pretty hot for someone with a bruised face.” You smile with an eye roll, she chuckles and plants a kiss to your lips then a few around your face and back to your lips. “Ok, ok, chill, we’re still in school y’know?” You said pulling away and she laughs lightly as she pulls away. “Well we could just…ditch?” She says with a smirk. “Hm, tempting.” You paused, thinking. “Y’know what? Fuck it, i don’t want to see Regina again anyway.” She smiles and with one last kiss the two of you then left.

#janis ‘imi’ike #janis ‘imi’ike x reader #mean girls 2024 #auli’i cravalho #regina george