#two dangerous fruits side by side

[cornwithhorn]

Drawing I'm working on since a friend told me how @kwillow's artstyle reminded them of my own artstyle. Got curious so I looked at their art, and yeah. I agree, and funny enough, I found two instances of where we have rather similar OCs but inverted. Giving me the idea to draw their amazing character Ambroys beside my character Jivin considering when I looked at him and his characterization, I felt he was quite like an inverse of Jivin except he's still evil. I'll be making sure to finish this because sweet lord I haven't encountered this situation before. Also, P.S go follow Kwillow they're a very talented artist and Ambroys is top notch.

#fanart #my oc #someone else's oc #art wip #Lorule and Link situation #this is so fucking cool #two dangerous fruits side by side #prepare for trouble #and make it double #we are the dubious queers

[motimatcha]

the Forbidden fruit

NSFW: headcanons about your sex life. hazbin hotel Adam x fem!reader That feeling when my drafts are almost halfway through the smut with Adam that I wanted to write, but at the last minute I stopped liking that text, so I switched to something else. Everything is (not) good. I wrote this text while listening to Landon Tewers - She Thinks of Me. the meaning of the song is not at all important and has nothing to do with the lyrics, I just liked the melody.

Adam has beautiful hands. Aesthetic. When he takes off his clothes and folds his arms across his chest, rests them on a surface, or carries heavy objects, his veins appear.

His fingers are thin and well-groomed, long, like those of a pianist, which Adam never was.

Just imagine the contrast it has on you during sex. His rough, sometimes wild, character and gentle movements of his hands that slide over your entire body while he whispers all sorts of dirty things in your ear. Imagine those hands touching your hips, squeezing your skin gently but noticeably to make you feel excited and excited, and then with a knee-baring grin, he leaves you unsatisfied.

Adam can and loves to tease. His hands pass dangerously close to your sensitive places, and his words are full of subtext and hints, which are sometimes not covered at all. And because many are accustomed to the character of Adam, who speaks complete nonsense, no one pays attention to the fact that Adam literally said that he would fuck you against that wall before entering heaven.

Adam sure has a sexy morning voice. He can lie on his back, finally finding a comfortable position without his wings getting in the way, one of his arms wedged under your body and resting on your side. He brushes the hair that is falling into his face back before turning his head in your direction. A smirk graces Adam’s face as he rolls onto his side and pulls you closer to him, allowing your two hot bodies to grind against each other. Adam wakes you up with a kiss behind your ear, slowly lowers himself to your neck and whispers some nonsense to you, but you don’t wake up or pretend to be asleep, he takes it as a challenge and the hand from your hip slowly slides down, straight into yours underpants.

Adam likes the cowgirl position when he's too tired but still wants you. This gives you both an imaginary sense of control: you control the speed of the process, Adam controls the movement of your hips.

He likes to look at your hips and butt, whether in tight pants/high-waisted shorts or skirts/dresses that contour your figure. Adam basically likes to look at you in tight clothes, style doesn't matter as long as you like it. Besides that, he likes to see his dick penetrate your body slowly or quickly (well, I mean, he likes to watch your pussy swallow his dick, let's be honest). He loves watching your breasts bounce rhythmically as you move. He loves the feeling of your fingers on his chest as you lean against him, finding a comfortable position.

If you don't mind having Adam's dick in you without having sex, then please allow him. He is overwhelmed by a feeling of unity that has not visited him since the time of Lilith and Eve.

Not against quick sex (or blowjob).

Speaking of fetishes, Adam loves creampies and he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s flattered by the idea of ​​impregnating you. And the latter is not so much a fetish as his sacred duty, because he seemed to be created for this? First man, first man and all that. However, if you can't get pregnant (or it's your mutual desire not to have children due to your lifestyle), he still loves creampies.

Adam loves to leave his marks on you: hickeys and bites, especially on your neck, arms, collarbones, chest, hips... In general, wherever he can reach with his mouth and lips. Adam likes to do this not only because he finds it sexy, but because of his insecurity. He had two wives who went to a dwarf duck! Somewhere in the subcortex of consciousness, Adam wants every living and dead soul to see that you are already busy with him and minding your own business.

Adam will probably let you do anything (within reason and as long as he feels like he's in a dominant position) if you praise him during sex or tell him you wouldn't choose anyone else over him. This will upset him.

I'm not sure exactly what word is supposed to mean what I'm about to say next (at least I've seen it called "happy way", but I can't be sure), but Adam has a faint trail of hair from his belly button to the groin. And although he takes care of himself (if you ask, he doesn’t care until it starts to get in the way), but he will never remove this particular hair.

His cock is worth forgetting about toys. So are his fingers.

Adam doesn't have a favorite place to have sex, but he prefers you to be alone. Teasing in public is a whole different story!

If you want to quickly excite Adam, then touch his wings. But this should not be a light touch to the tips of his feathers, but a targeted stroking of the growth area of ​​​​the wings and between the shoulder blades.

#hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel

[bluegekk0]

Finally decided to work on the designs for all the side characters in the FPK AU, mostly residents of Dirtmouth as that's where the main portion of the AU takes place

Here's the full height chart including the FPK family members (note: this has been updated with newer designs, so some things are slightly changed)

(short bios for each of the au characters under the cut)

Vyrm (alternate spelling of "Wyrm") - once the king of Hallownest, now a simple resident of Dirtmouth tormented by the guilt of his past actions and his own emotional trauma. Following the return of the infection, he disappeared in a self-manifested realm where he hibernated for years until he was woken up by Little Ghost. He roamed around Hallownest post hibernation, until he was found by Hornet and taken to Dirtmouth, where he reunited with Holly and Grimm, the latter of whom he would start a relationship with. He embraces his instincts by hunting animals and eating raw meat, though he is far from a dangerous beast. He owns a small workshop from which he creates new inventions and plans for Dirtmouth's renovations.

Grimm - the exiled god of nightmares and The Radiance’s brother. Following his banishment from The Higher Plane, he formed the Troupe with whom he would travel around the world in search of pleasures. Although he has a certain fondness for the mortals, he spent hundreds of years feeling loneliness, unable to find love due to his immortality, until he met Vyrm. They became close friends, though they were not able to confess their love and start a relationship until after Vyrm’s hibernation. Grimm and his Troupe now permanently reside in Dirtmouth, from which they travel to other kingdoms to perform their shows, and to fulfil The Nightmare King’s ritual needed to maintain his physical form. He drinks blood to prolong the lifespan of each physical body, and he has a fondness for fruits.

Hornet - the beloved daughter of Vyrm and the Deepnest queen Herrah. She grew up showered with her father’s love and formed a very close bond with him. Unfortunately, following her father's disappearance, she was forced to spend years all on her own, which turned her bitter and difficult to approach. She now struggles with anger issues and intense fear of getting attached, but deep down she cares a lot about her family. She moved to Dirtmouth following the end of the infection, though she still frequently patrols Hallownest.

Holly - the king's pure vessel born with the mission to contain The Radiance. After the plan's failure and the return of the infection, they were freed from the Radiance's grasp following her defeat at the hands of the void entity. They were taken to Dirtmouth by Hornet, and then nursed back to health by Grimm per Hornet’s request. With their arm missing and their body weakened, they are unable to hold their nail, instead they focus on more relaxing activities to pass their time. They wear a prosthetic arm made from scrap by their father.

Lewk - Vyrm and Grimm's son, hatched from an egg laid by Grimm. He’s surrounded by love from both of his parents, though with his growing curiosity about everything around him, he finds great interest in joining Hornet on her patrols, as well as in Ogrim’s cooking. He’s still discovering new things about the world and himself. 

Milo and Asta - twins, the newest addition to the family. Milo, the little boy with pale skin, is weak and sickly, and spends most of the day sleeping. Asta is stronger than her brother and a lot more curious about the world, though the two are still very young and need constant care from their dads and the rest of the family.

Zote - a self proclaimed knight of great renown, in reality a lonely young bug living in a world of delusions. He was rejected by his hometown and his family, and so he traveled until he reached Hallownest. After the end of the infection, he found himself “adopted” by Vyrm’s family, and although he still remains his mean and egoistical self, he secretly appreciates the fact that they accepted him as one of their own. Holly is his best friend who most often drags him out of sticky situations.

Ogrim - one of the great knights of the Pale King, the last one that remained in Hallownest, best friends with Vyrm and a close friend of the family. Found by Hornet following Vyrm's return from hibernation, and invited to live in Dirtmouth alongside them. Leaving his duty as the knight behind, he put away his armor in favor of more comfortable clothing. He eventually embraced his long forgotten hobby of cooking and opened a small diner in the town. Liked by everyone thanks to his contagious optimism and supportive attitude.

Brumm - Grimm's right-hand man and trusted friend. Runs the Troupe in Grimm's absence and assists him during the rituals, and in his spare time directs the Troupe's music crew. Joined the Troupe after Grimm invited him, following the tragic death of Brumm's family. Used to have one-sided feelings for Grimm, but holds no ill will towards Vyrm, and later becomes his friend following a Grimmkin's attempt at the latter's life. Friends with Divine and on very good terms with Ogrim.

Divine - Grimm's closest friend and drinking partner, responsible for the Troupe's costumes. Friends with Brumm, "auntie Divine" to Grimm's children whom she often looks after. Once a Lady from a distant land, she was invited to the Troupe following a war that destroyed her home. Has a particular interest in shiny objects, loves jewellery and fancy clothes. Rarely seen outside her tent, usually seen planning the next troupe performance, she dislikes being disturbed.

The White Lady - the queen of Hallownest, Vyrm's wife before their separation. Cold and emotionally distant, often comes off as self-absorbed. She was blind to Vyrm's needs during their time together, and ended up neglecting and hurting him. Before the marriage, she was the Lady of the Queen's Gardens Mansion. Tormented by the guilt of her part in the vessel plan, she imprisoned herself in the Queen's Gardens. Vyrm's return from the hibernation inspired her to free herself from her bindings, and she now resides in her old Mansion. She is occasionally visited by Vyrm and tries to remain on good terms despite their past. In a constant quarrel with Grimm whom she finds irritating, but holds no grudge towards over his relationship with Wyrm.

Bretta - a young writer and a hopeless romantic, friends with Holly, Zote and Hornet, whom she has a crush on. Once infatuated by Zote, she eventually saw through his lies, but ultimately forgave him. Shares an interest in plushie sewing with Holly. Sees Grimm as an inspiration for her writing, and finds Vyrm to be a bit unpleasant due to his love for raw meat, though she admires his work.

Iselda - Cornifer's wife and the owner of the cartography shop. In the past she used to be a fighter, now she enjoys a quiet life with her husband and eventually starts joining him on his adventures. A close friend of Vyrm after helping him with his wounds following the Grimmkin incident. Very fond of Holly, who enjoys helping her around the shop. On good terms with Quirrel, dislikes Lemm.

Cornifer - Iselda's husband, co-owns the cartography shop. Frequently travels around Hallownest, mapping each location thoroughly. Close friends with Vyrm, whom he enjoys discussing the Hallownest architecture with, and who helps him find secret locations and passages throughout the kingdom. Shares his wife's dislike for Lemm.

Elderbug - the town's elder, good friends with Quirrel. Keeps the flower given to him by Little Ghost by his side at all times. Pessimistic and often quite grumpy, isn't fond of public displays of affection, which Grimm and Vyrm are notoriously guilty of. Following the renovation of Dirtmouth and its return to its former glory, he becomes an especially respected figure to the town.

Tiso - an arrogant troublemaker and Hornet's self-proclaimed rival. Lives in the City of Tears but frequently visits Dirtmouth to challenge hornet. Planned to fight in the Colosseum but changed his mind last minute out of cowardice, is extremely sensitive about this subject and reacts with anger anytime it's brought up. Disliked by Zote and Hornet, and by Elderbug for causing trouble in the town.

Quirrel - a curious wanderer and once an apprentice to Monomon the Teacher, tasked with protecting her dreamer mask. Holding the mask halted his aging process, and after her death, he aged visibly. With no purpose left, he planted his nail by the Blue Lake, but continued his life of wandering and exploration until he reached Dirtmouth, where he would become a teacher to the town's youth. Is on friendly terms with Elderbug, Iselda and Lemm, as well as Wyrm's family.

Lemm - owner of the relic shop in the City of Tears. Following the end of the infection and the city's consequent revival, he became a respected shop owner, which made him quite wealthy. His bigger competitor is Sly, who left Dirtmouth behind and moved to the city in hopes of becoming rich. After Vyrm's return, he quickly realized his true identity, and began pestering him about his past in hopes of learning more about the kingdom, until Grimm stepped in and threatened to kill him unless he stayed away. Very abrasive, refuses to accept that Vyrm wants to leave his old life behind and disrespects his wishes to be call him by his chosen name. Friends with Quirrel, disliked by Vyrm, Iselda and Cornifer, hated by Grimm.

#hollow knight #feral pk au #au designs #au character bios #hk pale king #hk grimm #hk white lady #hk hornet #hk hollow #thk #hk zote #hk ogrim #hk brumm #hk divine #hk bretta #hk iselda #hk cornifer #hk elderbug #hk tiso #hk quirrel #hk lemm #gekko.art #vyrm #fpk #grimm #asta #milo #lewk

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

The Rain is Always Gonna Come if You're Standing With Me | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends. This one took me approximately 100 years to finish because school is eating me alive. This one is based on Peace from folklore, which is an underrated song, in my opinion.

Word count: 12.3k

Warnings: Bucky's negative self image, harassment, slight reader injury, people being assholes

"But I'm a fire, and I'll keep your brittle heart warm If your cascade ocean wave blues come All these people think love's for show But I would die for you in secret The devil's in the details, but you got a friend in me Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, doll-” Bucky said as you swiped the dirty dishes from the table. He made a grab for them, but his enhanced speed was no match for you. You expertly evaded his capture, slipping away from his grasp with almost no effort. You knew him too well, knew his movement patterns and habits. Anticipating his every move was easy. With a cocky laugh, you turned on your heel and headed for the sink. 

“Sweetheart, really,” he called after you, “I’ll clean up.”

“But you made breakfast.” You set the two bowls that once held yogurt, fruit, and granola in the sink and turned on the water. “It’s only fair that I do the dishes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and gave a laugh, “that wasn’t breakfast, baby. It was just a… a morning snack.” In only a few long strides, he met you at the sink. His large hands snatched yours and pulled them to his broad chest, halting your efforts to clean.

You cocked your head to the side, “A morning snack, huh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I know we’re going out for breakfast, but I didn’t want you to be hungry.” He added a fraction of extra pressure to your hands, pulling them closer against his body. “I gotta take care of my girl.”

“Well, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you placed a quick peck to his lips. “And because you are so thoughtful and sweet, let me do the dishes.” With a playful tug, you tried to free your hands from his grasp. But Bucky held firm. 

He shook his head, “Nope. Not gonna happen.” Suddenly, he released your hands, spun you around, and landed a light slap to your ass; it happened so fast it left you giggling. “You go get dressed, I’ll take care of it.”

Your giggly “sir, yes, sir” floated down the hall as you marched toward the bedroom. This was to be the perfect day. A trip to your favorite bookstore, followed by what you swore was the best chicken and waffles the city had to offer. After breakfast, the two of you were set to visit the new shark exhibit at the science museum, eat lunch in the park, and grab an ice cream from your favorite spot. 

Bucky planned it all out, ensuring a flawless blueprint. And while you appreciated his attention to detail, you would’ve been happy with a day at home. All you wanted- all you needed- was to spend time with him. 

And time with Bucky was lacking as of late.

He stood at the sink, drying the now clean dishes as emotion overcame him. He couldn’t believe he was here- home- with you. He waited for this day. He hungered and ached for a day without danger, without bloodshed. He waited for a day spent with you. And only you. 

He’d just been so busy lately- too busy. Over the past few months, he’d been dragged around the world more times than he could count. His missions only seemed to grow longer. And each time he got the call from Hill, she sent him farther and farther away. 

He found himself struggling under the weight of severe, mind-numbing exhaustion. Anxiety. His body threatened to give out with each new wound he received, each drop of blood he lost. But he didn’t mind the constant paint or fatigue. What upset him most was spending so much time away from you.

The two of you lived together now. You shared an address, a roof, a bedroom. The universe somehow allowed Bucky to have a home- a safe, comfortable home- with the person he loved most. But he’d spent so little time there lately that he feared it wasn’t his anymore. That he had no claim to the space. He always felt like a mere passerby upon arriving home, like more of a wanderer than a resident. He always had to stop himself from knocking, had to force himself to use his key. 

But who was he to waltz through the front door after being gone for so long? Who was he to act like he owned the place? He thought maybe he didn’t deserve it, this home you shared. And he knew he didn’t deserve you.  

Over the past few months, he spent only a handful of nights at home while you held down the fort. You kept things together. He missed out on so much of your life; what if you didn’t want him to be a part of it anymore?

When Bucky did come home, he always showed up in the middle of the night. Sore. Exhausted. He’d drag his body into the bed you shared and pass out before he even got the chance to pull you close. He’d sleep late, his body too fatigued to wake before the afternoon. When he finally stirred, the two of you did your best to catch up. He wanted to hear every detail of your life, and you his. But without fail, the emotion won. You’d cry together, wrapped in the other’s arms, whispering “I love yous” over and over. 

And without fail, some world ending threat would interrupt. Danger always found a way to force the two of you apart, isolating you from one another. And only twenty-four hours after arriving home, Bucky would leave. Again. 

But over the last few weeks, things started quieting down. It was slow at first. Subtle. But Bucky sensed a shift in the air. He could almost feel the world settling. At first, he thought he’d lost his mind. But Sam, too, felt the earth calming. As did Hill. Whatever sweeping, overwhelming chaos that sent the entire planet into disaster so many months ago seemed to finally lose steam. Fewer calls came in, fewer alerts woke Bucky in the middle of the night. 

And three nights ago, Bucky came home for good. 

The adrenaline that kept him going for so long evaporated as soon as he made it through the front door. The anxiety melted from his body. It was the only thing, he realized, that kept him upright. And with it gone, his body gave out. He crumbled and collapsed to the floor as sweet relief flooded his every cell. He didn’t care that he was hurt, that he was worn out; he was just happy to be home.

But a sharp shriek flooded his system with fear once again. 

You stood frozen in the doorway of your bedroom, just a few feet away, with your hands clasped over your mouth. Tears welled in your eyes. Your chest rose and fell as sharp breaths dragged into your lungs. The sight of his limp body sent you jumping to the worst, most tragic conclusions. 

“No, I’m- I’m okay, baby.”  With great effort, Bucky pulled himself to his feet. 

It was then that you snapped out of your horrified trance. You rushed to Bucky’s side, throwing your arms around his neck, and pressing your body to his. You needed to be as close to him as possible, needed your souls to touch. His arms wound around you and pulled you closer still, desperate for you.

“You’re okay…” you whispered against his neck. It wasn’t a question, but an affirmation.

“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m home.” 

That night, after he took a shower and let you clean his wounds, he planned this perfect day. And though you told him it wasn’t necessary, he wanted to make things up to you. He wanted to apologize for being gone so long. For breaking your heart over and over and over again. For disappearing. 

He knew how his absences affected you. Knew you worried about him constantly when he was gone. He noticed the way you bit your nails down to the quick. How you picked at your cuticles till they bled. Your tired eyes looked bloodshot, and your bottom lip chewed raw. He knew your anxiety gave you stomach pain and headaches. Knew that you could barely eat or sleep when he was away. 

His constant disappearing act put you through hell. And he hated himself for it. All he wanted- all he ever wanted- was to make you happy. To bring you calm and ease and tranquility. And now that he was home, he swore to himself that he’d give you peace. 

Bucky finished with the dishes and headed into the bedroom, hoping to soak up as much time with you as possible. But just as he made his way into the en suite bathroom, your grumbled, aggravated voice caught his attention.

“Oh, what the fuck?” You let out a deep huff, staring down at your phone with a sharp seriousness.

Bucky popped his head into the bathroom, “Everything okay?” 

A look of surprise splashed across your face; you hadn’t heard him come in. “Oh- hey. Yeah. Everything is-” you gestured to your phone, “everything’s fine. My friend just sent me a stupid gossip article.”

“Anything good?” Bucky shot you a wink, knowing damn well he was clueless about the latest reality tv drama. 

“No.” The word carried a hefty weight and fell to the ground with finality.

Bucky clocked your tone, your expression- both struck him as too serious for a gossip rag. His muscles stiffened ever so slightly at sight of your displeasure. 

“Just dumb shit. People writing whole articles over things they have no idea about.” You rolled your eyes and slipped your phone into your pocket. A deep breath acted as a reset to your system, clearing the fog of frustration from your mind. “And it doesn’t even matter, cause we have a perfect day planned.” 

Bucky, too, took a deep breath. He relaxed into a smile and leaned against the door jam. “We sure do, doll.”

He was too accustomed to disaster. Always prepared for the worst. The slightest change in your demeanor sent him hurdling toward the worst possible conclusion. His body was home, but his mind remained stuck in a never-ending battle. 

“I’m just gonna put my shoes on- I’ll be ready when you are.” Bucky stepped away and did his best to shake it off. ‘Everything’s fine, it’s all good’, he said to himself as he laced up his boots. ‘It was just an article about Vanderpump Rules or whatever.’ His palms dragged up and down his thighs, his chest rose and fell rhythmically. He learned how to self-regulate, to talk himself down, long ago- before he ever met you. It was his only option back then.

The sound of your footsteps bounding down the hall commanded Bucky’s attention. He snapped out his dimly lit world and stepped into your technicolor atmosphere. A comforting sigh of relief spread though his body as he noticed the bright smile on your face. Any evidence of the upset your gossip rag caused was long gone, replaced by an all-encompassing warmth. 

“Alright, Barnes,” you grabbed your purse from the hook by the door and slung it over your shoulder,  “let’s do this.” 

The warm summer air greeted the two of you as stepped out of your apartment building. The busy city pulsed with the possibilities of a perfect Saturday. People passed by with dogs in tow. Cars honked. Birds sang. And finally, things felt right. Everything fell off its axis when Bucky was gone. The world turned in the wrong direction, the sun set on the opposite side. And only his return could set things properly in motion.

“Okay, to the bookstore,” Bucky weaved his fingers with yours and gave you a gentle tug in the right direction, “here we go!” 

Bucky never had an affinity for going out in public. He didn’t particularly enjoy the crowded sidewalks or busy subways. Throngs of strangers surrounding him from every angle only ever served to put him on edge. But he’d improved. He’d worked through his anxiety and his fears- all to be with you. It seemed, though, that his paranoia threatened to creep in again. After so much time away, surrounded by danger, he found himself scanning every face on the street, assessing possible threats. 

He always experienced some level of recognition in public, sure, but today felt different. Every pair of eyes seemed to bore through him, every mouth whispered his name. His muscles tensed, his jaw locked. 

“You okay?” you pulled Bucky to the side, out of the flow of people, “you seem a little on edge.”

“Oh-” Bucky snaked his hand out of yours, realizing all at once the force of his grip. He watched you rub at the sore spots he created and silently cursed himself. “No, I’m good, I’m okay. I think I’m just-” He eyed the area once more, “I think I’m just being paranoid. Is it me or is everyone staring at me?”

Your heart stopped. “Um, no, I don’t think everyone’s staring,” A casual shrug and a shake of your head punctuated your thought. “I think you’ve got some residual adrenaline or something, you know?”

Bucky nodded. “Must be it. I’m sorry about your hand, baby.” He pressed his lips to the indentations his fingers left behind. 

“I’ll survive,” you threw him a wink, “but the kisses help.”

The two of you continued your journey with Bucky’s worries only slightly assuaged. It seemed to him that hundreds of eyes raked over him with each passing second, but he forced his anxiety behind a wall. He wasn’t going to mess up this day with you- he couldn’t. He didn’t know how many chances he had left, and if this was the last one, he couldn’t afford to ruin it.

Block after block passed as you and Bucky got closer to the bookstore. Sure, there was a similar shop only a few minutes from the apartment- but it wasn’t as cute or as special as the one in the village. And Bucky wanted this day perfect. He’d do anything to make you happy. And so, he sucked it up and vowed to make the trek with you, no matter how nervous the public made him. 

But with only a few blocks to go, you pulled him to the side once again.

“Hang on, shoe’s untied,” you attempted to bend down and tie your loose lace, but Bucky refused to let you. He, instead, knelt on the sidewalk and gave your shoe a proper double-knot. 

He stared up at you with adoration in his eyes and a warm smile on his face, “this is almost like a Cinderella moment,” he joked. “Except I-” 

Something caught his eye. 

And before you had the chance to intervene, he was gone. He forced his way past cyclists and families with children, his body seemingly drawn in by a magnet toward whatever grabbed his attention. He stood with his back to you, examining a newspaper box. 

“Come on, Buck, no one reads the paper anymore,” you laughed, attempting to sway his focus. But he didn’t move. 

His gaze remained on the grainy photo of the two of you holding hands outside your building. For the second time that day, you scanned the headline: ‘SERIAL KILLER’S PR RELATIONSHIP: The Winter Soldier’s Attempt to Win Over the American Public’.

“What- what is this?” Bucky looked to you for help, for context. “Why did someone wrote about us?”

A haunting sense of hopelessness filled his eyes, leaving you gutted. And though he wanted to look away, he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes from the page. Each second spent examining the harsh headline caused him more pain, more anguish. 

He truly couldn’t believe what he saw. And he couldn’t believe he’d dragged you into the crossfire. 

“Hey, don’t pay it any mind, okay?” You fought to meet his eyeline, “It’s just stupid gossip-”

A realization flashed across his face, “is this what you were reading this morning?”

A slow nod confirmed his fears. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you, I just-”

Bucky snatched a paper from the box and began reading at lightning speed. With each sentence, the dread filling his chest grew heavier. “Hydra’s deadliest weapon has a new victim,” Bucky read aloud. “though she hasn’t been bloodied or brutalized…yet. We’ll see just how long Barnes’s new PR ‘girlfriend’ survives.”

The words cut him deep. They wormed their way into his brain and unearthed the fears he’d long tried to put to rest. He knew he was wrong to be with you. He was wrong to indulge in his feelings for you. Dating you meant putting you in danger, and he’d known that all along. But you were never scared of him- and if you were, you didn’t show it. This article, however, cemented his belief: your relationship was a ticking time bomb; being Bucky’s girlfriend meant signing your I love you’s in blood. 

“Wait-” he dragged his eyes upward and met your anxious stare. “What does this mean- what’s a ‘PR relationship’?”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase, just like you had earlier that morning, “’public relations relationship’. It’s a fake relationship that’s been arranged by a PR firm. People usually do it to get publicity or fix their public image after a scandal.”

Bucky knew there was more to your answer, and he had enough questions to last till dinner. But the article was long- too long. He knew it had to be full to the brim with the most brutal, vile rhetoric possible. Reading it would hurt, yes. But he needed to know exactly what the article said about him, about you. 

He buried his face in the paper once more, only surfacing to share a line or two with you. “They think you’re being paid to date me? That we’ve been doing something called-” he double checked the article, “‘pap walks’? What’s a pap walk?”

Even in times of crisis, Bucky’s lack of modern knowledge still managed to pull a smile from you. “It’s where you call the paparazzi so they can take pictures of you, but you pretend it was spontaneous.”

Bucky looked stunned, “Why would anyone do that?”

You shrugged, “you’d be surprised.”

People took pictures of Bucky without his permission constantly- it happened all the time. They snapped photos at the grocery store and on the subway. And no matter how subtle they tried to be, Bucky always clocked it. He could almost feel the lenses on him. But he didn’t notice the person taking this picture on the front page. Maybe if he had, he could’ve stopped it. Maybe he could’ve saved you from being exposed like this.

He shook his head and disappeared once again into the disgusting story written about the two of you. He didn’t care much what they said about him. People hated him- that wasn’t knew information. And though he didn’t love being one of the most reviled men in history, he’d come to terms with it. But now that someone dragged you into the fray, the fire within him reignited.

“His new ‘girlfriend’ functions as a means of improving the public’s opinion of Barnes and humanizing the ex-Winter Soldier. It’s a PR strategy we’ve seen a million times- one that could possibly salvage Barnes’s reputation,” Bucky read aloud. He eyed the people who passed, waiting until they crossed the street to continue. 

“But what if she herself is no angel?” He rolled his eyes at the thought. “Surely, no one in their right mind would risk their life to date a proven serial killer. So, it’s entirely possible that she herself may not be in her right mind. Maybe she, too, is a criminal. Acting as Barnes’s new love interest could possibly knock time off her sentence or hours off her court mandated community service.” 

Bucky stared at you, aghast. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I- I can’t believe they’d say that about you…”

“Buck, it’s okay,” you shrugged. “We both know I’m actually in love with you for real. I don’t have a prison sentence to shorten or community service hours to perform. And the last time I checked, no one is paying me to date you.” You cut a glance to the newspaper box, full of papers with front page coverage about you and Bucky, “I’m not worried about their bullshit.”

Bucky’s grip on the paper tightened, crinkling the edges. “But why’d they have to drag you into it? You haven’t done anything wrong-”

“Neither have you,” your tone was insistent, steadfast.

“We both know that’s not true…” Bucky loved your support, your assertions that he was an innocent man. But he never believed them. He knew he had blood on his hands even if you couldn’t- or refused to- see it.

“We both know you had no choice,” your rebuttal didn’t waver. “But, speaking of things that aren’t true,” you gestured toward the paper, “they also dropped Sam’s name.”

Bucky scanned through the article until he found the paragraph in question. “Why put in the effort to clean the blood from Barnes’s tarnished reputation? Two words: Sam Wilson,” Bucky paused his reading and stared up at you with wide eyes. All you could do was nod. 

“Barnes and Wilson have been seen together on many occasions and have even been photographed on Wilson’s family boat in Louisiana. But Barnes’s association with Sam Wilson, AKA the New Captain America, only hurts the Captain America brand. Even if the two did take down the Flag Smashers as a team, Barnes is a bloodstain on the brilliant red, white, and blue of Wilson’s Cap.” 

Hearing the words aloud twisted the knife. Sure, skimming the article hurt, but listening to Bucky read every last disgusting word hurt you in ways you never imagined. He deserved better. He deserved a world that loved him. A world that welcomed him home and celebrated his life. He deserved a fucking medal of honor for simply surviving what Hydra put him through. But he didn’t get medals or high praise; he, instead, got spit on by people on the subway. 

“But if this new woman improves Barnes’s image in the public eye, his destruction of Wilson’s mantle may be mitigated.” 

Bucky balled up the paper and crushed it into the nearest garbage can. His hands shook with anger, with anxiety. 

“I hadn’t even- I didn’t even think of that…” he leaned against the newspaper box, dejected. “I didn’t realize I was ruining Sam's reputation just by being friends with him.” Despair darkened his expression. He knew getting close to people was selfish- he just never realized how selfish. And in one fell swoop, he ruined the lives of the two people he cared about most.

“You’re not- you’re not ruining anything,” you took Bucky’s face in your hands, cradling his cheeks. “These kinds of stories are all made up, baby. There’s no sources or actual information for them to work from, so they just write whatever will get them the most attention.”

Bucky’s gaze fell downward. “I don’t know, doll…”

“But I do. I know.” Your words came out desperate, pleading. Something inside of you shook with a frantic need to mend Bucky’s broken heart. You’d never seen him this despondent, this torn apart. “And I’m not gonna let you doubt yourself because of some low budget, piece of shit gossip article.” Regardless of the emotion holding you hostage, your voice didn’t waver. You stood firm in your conviction, determined to help Bucky find his way out of the spiral. “I love you. I love being with you. I missed you so much- I hate when you’re gone. And Sam- Sam loves you, too. I mean, not as much as me…” you shot him a wink. “But he is your best friend. He cares about you. And I can guarantee that he’s never- even for a second- thought that you were ruining his reputation.”

Bucky gave a shake of his head.

“Hey, you know Sam doesn’t care about that kind of stuff- he doesn’t give a shit what people think.” Sam knew Bucky as the ruthless assassin, the broken fugitive, and the rehabilitated man seeking amends. He’d seen the darkest, most twisted version of Bucky created by Hydra- even fought against him. But he didn’t see Bucky as a villain anymore. He saw only his friend, the tortured soul who tried his best every day.

Bucky lifted your hands from his face and held them to his chest instead. He gave a deep, heavy sigh that vibrated under your palms. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. Part of him wished to go back into cryo and escape the stares of the world. 

You could see him crumbling, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. He was drowning in his own mind, and you offered him a life preserver. “Hey, I know it must feel fucking awful to see a story like this about yourself. And I know you hate that Sam and I are involved. But it’s not your fault.” You gripped his t-shirt in your fists, desperate to get your point across. “This whole thing is so predatory and evil- it’s killing me to see you hurting like this. But I swear to you that this does not matter to the rest of the world. they won’t even notice.” Bucky’s stare sliced through you. Something in his eyes appeared hopeful- but only for a moment. The brightness died suddenly, replaced by despair.

“Seriously, Buck, people these days don’t even have the attention span to read an article this long.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your attempted levity. You dropped your joking tone and grew serious. “I don’t want you to think that this changes anything- it doesn’t. This will not have any ramifications. It will all blow over. The news cycle moves so fast now- by tomorrow, this same shitty paper will publish something that’s, like, ‘Elton John is secretly an alien.’”

Bucky didn’t answer. He simply rested his shoulders against the cool, brick wall and let his head fall back. He wondered if the fear people held for him would ever subside, if he’d ever be seen as anything other than a monster. His legacy was soaked in blood. It hung over his head every day, dripping crimson onto his skin. No shower could undo the stains- no matter how hard he scrubbed, he’d always be the stuff of nightmares.

“Okay, hey, how about this,” you reeled Bucky back in, saving him from the dark recesses of his mind. “Let’s just go home, alright? We can hole up and hide out. Watch movies, order takeout. We’ll just stay out of the public eye until this bullshit blows over.”

The offer enticed him. Escaping the stares of strangers, their horrified expressions- it sounded idyllic. The thought of just the two of you snuggled together on the couch, marathoning all of What We Do in the Shadows with Chinese takeout in hand was tempting. Bucky could feel the ‘yes’ forming on his lips. But at the last second, he refused with a shake of his head.

Bucky made a promise to you. After being an absentee boyfriend for months, he planned out the perfect day and swore on his life to deliver. He couldn’t break any more promises- not after he was gone for so long. And he had so much to make up for. So many date nights and lazy weekends fell by the wayside while he was away. He racked up a stack of debt in your relationship, and if he didn’t start paying it off soon, he feared you’d cancel his account.

But he knew you- knew you didn’t care about these things. You didn’t consider him accountable for the time he missed or hold a grudge against him. You were gracious- too gracious- of him. And if he rattled off his reasons for refusing your offer, he knew you’d sweep them aside. He knew you’d lead him home without hesitation and stay cooped up inside until the world eased up on him. And you’d miss out on your perfect day. 

Bucky wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I think it’s actually better if…” he eyed the people passing, certain they were shooting the two of you dirty looks. “I think it’s better if I just go about my day. If we go home and hide, I’ll obsess, you know? I’ll get trapped in my own head.” He quickly tacked on an addendum, “but if you’re not okay being out in public right now, I understand. They involved you in this mess, too.”

You shrugged, “it doesn’t bother me. I know our relationship is real. That’s all that matters.” 

And for a split second, Bucky’s worries disappeared. You were so sure of your love for him. So unbothered by what everyone else had to say. You didn’t let the opinions of others get to you; you loved Bucky, end of story. You adapted to every hurdle and challenge brought on by dating the ex- Winter Soldier. And you did so with a smile.

“Okay, good. Then I guess our next stop is the bookstore,” he said with a small smile. You tried to turn and head in that direction, but Bucky caught your hand, stopping you. “And hey- if anyone on the way there gives you trouble, you just say the word, okay?” 

But no one gave you any trouble. The walk to the bookstore was quiet. Unremarkable. No one hollered close-minded comments at Bucky. No one gave either of you venomous glares. The calm shocked Bucky. He’d been so sure that this day would fall apart. That everyone who read that article would converge on the two of you all at once, harassing and degrading you until you retreated home. But no one said a word. The two of you simply strolled hand in hand, soaking in the warm summer sun. And Bucky’s hope for a perfect day renewed.

“I thought it would be in this section…” Bucky scanned the ‘fantasy’ section of the bookstore, searching for a specific novel. He took the high shelves, and you took the low, meeting in the middle after a fruitless search. 

“Yeah, I didn’t see it, babe,” you rose from your squatted position, two mystery novels under your arm. “Maybe you should ask an employee? I can stay here and keep looking, just in case we missed it.”

“Yeah…” Bucky gave the area another cursory glance, to no avail. “That’s a good idea. I’ll be right back.” He dotted a kiss to your forehead and set off in search of a clerk, leaving you behind to double check the shelves. 

The hundreds of books lined up in perfect rows put you at ease. This shop was the coziest place in the city, a peaceful paradise free from the noise. And spending a Saturday morning with Bucky, wandering amongst the many titles, felt like home. Your fingertips brushed over a few of the spines, tracing the ornate lettering in search of Bucky’s book. 

“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice brought you back to reality, halting your hunt. 

“Oh, sorry,” you took a few steps out of the stranger’s way and continued your search, only for her to interrupt once again. 

“No, I want to talk to you!” her intense energy was out of place in the small, quiet bookshop. The eagerness in her voice rubbed you the wrong way. “Is it true?”

You stared at her, a blank expression on your face. “Is what true?”

“The whole PR relationship thing!” She pulled out her phone and shoved the article in your face, “I read about you two this morning.”

Your hands tightened into fists. Your jaw tensed. And though you wanted to wring this woman’s neck, you kept your cool; Bucky wouldn’t want you to get into a fight on his behalf. With a deep breath, you quelled the rage building inside you. You set down your books and relaxed your shoulders, forcing your breathing to steady.

This stranger had no right to ask invasive questions about your relationship, and no right to ruin your favorite bookstore. “Our relationship is none of your business,” you said, and turned back toward the bookshelves. This stranger didn’t deserve your eye contact, your attention, or your mental space. “Please, leave me alone.”

“Oh, duh! I bet they made you sign an NDA, didn’t they? I get it,” she threw an all too friendly chuckle in your direction. “Can you at least tell me what they’re paying you?”

With that, you brushed past her and attempted an escape. All you wanted was to find Bucky and put this whole interaction behind you. But she followed, phone in hand, recording the whole thing. 

“Are you a criminal, too? Are you getting time off your sentence or something?” she called after you. 

You let it go.

“How’d they get you to agree to this arrangement?”

You ignored her.

“Aren’t you scared? I could never do what you’re doing,” she said. “No amount of money could ever get me to be near that man- he’s a serial killer. He’s a monster!”

Something inside you snapped. You whipped around, rage burning behind your eyes. She crossed the line. She didn’t know anything about Bucky, only what the papers and tabloids said about him. And she

deserved to pay the price for speaking about him so harshly. But just as you opened your mouth to tear her to shreds, a large hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Hey, doll,” Bucky stared down at you, “What’s-”

Your harasser’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” pure terror rendered her white as a sheet. “It- it’s him…” Clumsy steps carried her backward as her phone slipped from her hand. She scrambled for it, desperate to run in the opposite direction. Breathless, horrified sounds fell from her lips. Her hands shook. You watched with a smile as she snatched her phone from the floor and tripped over herself as she high tailed it for the door.

Bucky eyed the woman as she knocked over displays and ran into other customers. “What was that about?”

You gave a shake of your head, “nothing. She was just hounding me about the article.” 

Bucky’s shoulders slumped forward ever so slightly. Hit brow grew furrowed. “Oh, baby…” he sighed, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? You didn’t follow me around and ask me invasive questions.” You stretched up on your toes, planting a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not a big deal. I just hope I don’t end up on her Tik Tok.”

Bucky’s mouth fell open, “she was filming you?” 

You nodded. Bucky’s face fell. 

A rushed “Don’t worry about it, though” pushed its way past your lips. It had an over-the-top cheery tone and a thick affectation of reassurance. You could practically hear Bucky’s heart splintering and shattering with each passing second, and you had to stop it. “I’m sure she’s gonna watch it back later and delete it when she hears her own panicked panting,” you shot him a wink.

And you waited. Waited for the gears in Bucky’s mind to turn. To grind. The devil and angel on his shoulders fought one another, bare knuckled, to convince him of their arguments. The devil told him to spiral, to jump headfirst into a dark sea. He told Bucky this was all his fault, that you’d been harassed, followed, and filmed all because of him. The angel, however, urged him to listen to you. To take a deep breath. To hold your hand. To understand that the article wasn’t his fault- none of this was his fault. 

And after a long moment, he slipped his hand into yours. The gesture was a bit reluctant, sure, but you didn’t care. He’d resisted the urge to plummet into guilt and shame. And that’s all that mattered. 

You let loose a deep sigh as relief spread through your every cell. “Let’s get outta here, okay? We can head back home and-”

“What about breakfast?”

You eyed Bucky for a moment. “You still wanna go?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” he gave you a small smile. “I know how excited you were about it.”

Of course, all he cared about was you. Your happiness. Your enjoyment. Your love for this diner’s chicken and waffles.

“We can just go another time,” you assured him. “It’s no big deal.”

Bucky sensed the disappointment, no matter how slight in your voice. He couldn’t ruin this day for you. He couldn’t let you down again.

But he thought about the walk to the diner, the hordes of people you’d encounter on the way. And just like that, he felt his manufactured mask of optimism slip.

A sudden rush of what if’s pummeled his psyche. He imagined more harassers filming you, more unhinged strangers following you. He heard them yelling the most despicable things in your direction, hurling insult after insult your way. The voices grew into a loud, almost violent cacophony that rattled inside Bucky’s skull. 

He couldn’t let you be exposed to the cruel world like this. He couldn’t take you to breakfast when an angry mob threatened you at every turn. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at, to be disrespected. And what if they turned violent? What if someone followed the two of you home? He couldn’t risk your safety like that.

But he still had to make up for all his time away. All the lonely nights you spent awake, wondering if he was still alive. All the weekends you spent alone, missing him until it hurt. And he’d made a promise- to himself and to you- that he’d rectify the pain his absence caused. 

Plus, he had to be over-reacting, right? Assuming the worst out of people he didn’t even know- it wasn’t fair. Sure, a stranger followed you around and gave you a hard time. But she didn’t hurt you. She didn’t even try to get violent. It was all in Bucky’s head- he was sure of it. He made a conscious effort to release his shoulders from their tension-locked position and forced a deep breath into his chest. 

“No, doll, really. It’s okay,” he gave your hand a squeeze. “I can tolerate a few dirty looks.”

The second the two of you stepped out of the bookstore and onto the busy sidewalk, you clocked the way hung his head. The way he hid from the eyes of the city. He tried to shrink himself, to protect himself. The confidence, the self-esteem he’d worked so hard to build came crumbling down in an instant. This wasn’t your Bucky, but the Bucky of years before. The Bucky who hated every fiber of his being. The Bucky who took every harsh word spoken about him as gospel. The Bucky who punished his innocent body to make up for his tortured mind. 

The reemergence of this Bucky twisted the knife with which the article stabbed you and rubbed salt in the wound.

The walk to the diner brought out your chatty side. Filling the air with lighthearted anecdotes and silly jokes seemed to you like the only way to keep Bucky afloat. If you could distract him from the pain, from the potentially hateful onlookers, maybe this day could be salvaged. But, much to your surprise, not one person harassed the two of you. No one asked questions or followed you around. Not a single errant camera flash dotted the street. Hope rose in Bucky’s chest. Maybe this perfect day could still go as planned. Maybe he could still keep his promise.

When you arrived at the diner without issue, Bucky found himself almost laughing at his own dramatics. He knew he worried too much, that he always considered the worst possible outcomes. He saw the world through a dark and stormy filter, always casting shadows over reality. But to his delight, he’d been wrong this time.

The bell atop the diner door gave a delicate jingle as the two of you made your way inside. The place had an old-timey feel that brought Bucky a sense of comfort, a sense of home. Large families sat packed like sardines in every booth. Tray after tray of French toast and eggs benedict passed by. The smell of bacon and golden-brown pancakes instantly pulled his lips into a smile. It seemed to Bucky that this joint was the real deal. He couldn’t wait to try the chicken and waffles you raved about. Couldn’t wait for a syrup-sweetened kiss. 

“For two?” the hostess asked when you made your way to the front of the line. You gave her a nod. 

She eyed the section to her left, appraising the area for an opening as a busboy waved in her direction. “Okay, this way,” she grabbed two menus from the host stand and gestured for you to follow. 

But just as you attempted to trail her through the sea of tables, a booming voice caught your attention. 

“Hey!” 

The restaurant quieted. Heads turned in the direction of the outcry.

A large, gray-haired man with a soiled apron stepped into the hostess’s path, blocking her way. A deep crease formed between his furrowed brows. Sweat dotted his bright pink cheeks. This was the face of a man who stood over a hot grill for twenty-five years. He was familiar, but only vaguely so. You could’ve sworn you’d heard that voice before- though with a kinder intonation. And then it hit you.

During your last visit to the diner, he stopped by your table to ask how you liked the food. He was so kind, so even tempered. He thanked you for choosing to spend your Sunday morning at what used to be his father’s restaurant. He was so proud of the old place. So compassionate for its time-worn booths and outdated wallpaper. He told you how he worked in the kitchen for so long that now, even as the new owner and manager, he couldn’t stay away from the griddles. 

But the kind-hearted man you met last time was long gone.

“Not in my restaurant!” He ripped the menus from the hostess and dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand. He glared at Bucky, his eyes brimming with hate. “We don’t serve murderers here!” 

The lighthearted chatter died out altogether. Forks stopped clinking against plates. Children halted their laughter. Hundreds of eyes locked on Bucky as his cheeks burst into a red flush.

“Get out before I call the police!” The man took a step toward the two of you, “You’re not welcome here, you psycho.”

“You can’t talk to him like that!” you barked back. “He isn’t-” 

“Baby, don’t,” Bucky cupped a hand around your upper arm and tried to gently pull you toward the door. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” you cut your gaze back to the manage, “not until he apologizes.”

Bucky gave your arm another tug, “please.”

The desperation in his voice nearly made you crack. His eyes swept across the room and back again, taking in each and every horrified stare. With each taunt the manager threw his way, the weight of the public eye grew heavier. More suffocating. Their stares pushed Bucky’s shoulders forward and his head down. He was crumbling.

Not one person stood up for Bucky. No one- aside from you- called the manager out. No patron even gave a disapproving shake of their head. It sickened you.

With a small nod, you obliged Bucky’s request, and let him lead you out of the restaurant. The stares followed him the entire way.

Bucky wanted to disintegrate. He wished to, once again, turn to dust and evaporate into the breeze. If he ran, he could put a few miles between himself and this godforsaken diner in minutes. But he found his feet rooted into the ground. He was frozen. Trapped. Running wasn’t an option.

He leaned against the cool glass window of the diner and let himself process. He heard you talking a mile a minute, reassuring him until you ran out of breath. But he couldn’t pick out more than a few words. It wasn’t until a defeated apology fell from your lips that he snapped out of his trance.

“Wait- you’re sorry?” 

You nodded. “I’m so sorry, Buck. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Baby, you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” His gaze fell into a strange middle distance, landing on everything and nothing all at once. “I should apologize. That article… it ruined everything. I feel like I-” His eyes met yours, “your life is never gonna be the same after this.” 

You gave him a shrug, “who says I want it to be?”

His eyes met yours as an exasperated laugh left his chest, “You’re kidding, right? This is going to affect everything for you: jobs, housing, friendships. When people look you up online, all they’re gonna see is that article. They’re gonna see me.”

“Good. I want them to see you,” you said with a wink. “If I’m gonna date the hottest guy in the universe, I want everyone to know about it.” Bucky didn’t laugh. “Babe, I’m not worried about that kind of stuff right now. I’m worried about you.”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he let his gaze fall to the sidewalk below. “I’ve been through worse.” 

The worn-out, beaten down quality of his voice was enough to make you weep. Bucky didn’t deserve more pain. He didn’t deserve to be treated like a monster. But society cast him out and labelled him a vicious predator. They abandoned him, left him in a corner to rot and wither. All alone. 

And you weren’t going to let them do it again.

“Fuck that article and fuck all these people who wanna disrespect you.” You tilted his chin upward until his eyes met yours, “we’re gonna go home and order take out. We’re gonna watch some movies. And we’re gonna get through this bullshit together.”

Without another word, you slipped your hand into his and started off in the direction of home. But Bucky didn’t move. 

You turned back to him, an expectant look on your face. “You coming?”

“But…” he gave the diner another look, “You didn’t get your chicken and waffles.”

“What?”

“You should go back inside and eat,” Bucky pulled his hand from yours. “I’ll head home and-”

“Buck, I say this with love, but-” you cupped his face, “are you nuts?”

He let out a deep, genuine laugh. 

“I’m not gonna eat here ever again,” you spied the manager through the window, “fuck that guy.”

Bucky just wanted you to enjoy the breakfast you’d been dreaming of. He hated that you were willing to deprive yourself. That he’d ruined your special breakfast spot. But your fierce loyalty filled him with warmth. In that moment, he made a mental note. He planned to scour the internet and find the best chicken and waffles in the city to make up for today’s mess.  

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Bucky said. “You were ready to fist fight that guy.”

You put up your dukes and landed a few faux punches to Bucky’s chest, “hell yeah I was. No one is allowed to treat you like that.” Your hands fell to your sides. A sudden seriousness eclipsed your joking tone. “Ever.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, holding you close to his chest. He never thought he’d have someone like you in his life. Someone who loved him. Cared for him. Supported him. But, without fail, you had his back every time. You were his safe harbor, his soft place to land. 

Sometimes, he thought that maybe you were with him by accident. Maybe he was never meant to experience your gentle kind of love. Maybe he interrupted you on your path to someone else. Maybe he somehow got tangled in fate’s thread. But he didn’t care. 

You took Bucky’s hand once again, prepared to lead him in the direction of home, “Ready?” 

Bucky gave you a cheery nod, “let’s-”

“Fuck you, murderer!” a passerby shouted. He disappeared in a flash, bold enough to insult Bucky but cowardly enough not to hang around for the consequences. 

Bucky thought the man might’ve said something else as he bolted from the scene, but he didn’t quite catch it. He was too distracted by the vague sounds of discomfort grumbling out of your chest. 

“Doll? You alright?” 

Slowly, carefully, you turned to him. A look of shock yanked his features upward as he came face to face with the massive coffee stain covering your body. It splashed over the entirety of your chest, streaking down the front of your shirt. Steam still wafted from the drips running down your neck. Rogue droplets dotted your arms.  

“Oh my god…” Bucky didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to help you. 

The boiling tidal wave seared through your skin, setting each nerve alight. You could’ve sworn it hit bone. The sudden rush of pain forced a trembling into your hands, an unsteadiness into your voice. A stinging rush of tears brimmed against your lash line, but you wouldn’t dare let them fall. Not when you could practically see Bucky choking on his guilt.

“Wow, I wish that asshole was more of a cold brew guy,” you joked. “And he ruined my favorite shirt with his shitty aim.”

Bucky’s chest seemed to fold in on itself. It shuddered and shrank, collapsing against his thundering heart. Each inhale was shallower, greedier than the last. Oxygen leeched from his lungs as the crushing panic set it. An ever-darkening shadow clouded the edges of his vision- but he couldn’t succumb. Not when you needed him. 

Before he knew what was happening, he used his body to form a protective shell around you. He ushered you toward the diner door, scanning the area for oncoming threats. No one else was going to get to you- not today, not ever. 

A deep sigh of relief left Bucky’s chest as he ushered you inside. Sure, it was only coffee. And you weren’t even the target. But every passing second brought a new, horrifying ‘what if’ to the forefront of Bucky’s mind. 

What if you’d been thrown to the ground? 

What if you’d been shot? 

What if vengeful people wanted to spill your blood as payment for Bucky’s crimes?

He thought he might throw up. 

But the second he made it to the hostess stand, his nausea dissipated. The fog clouding his mind cleared. You were his priority- everything else could wait. 

“Someone just threw hot coffee on her,” Bucky said to the hostess. His words came out quick, firm. “She needs ice now.”

The hostess’s features sunk with a heavy guilt. “Oh, shit. I-” She glanced across the room at the manager and watched him with narrowed eyes as he schmoozed with the regulars. “I’ll go grab some right now, give me one second.”

The seconds dragged. Anxiety coursed through Bucky, prickling at his every cell. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Bit down on the inside of his cheek. Anything to calm the worry. But he couldn’t help it; you were attacked- because of him. And he needed to remedy it as quickly as possible. 

“You doing okay?” He stared down at you, worry creasing his features.

You nodded, “yeah. Doesn’t hurt that bad anymore. I think all of my nerves have gone numb, ya know?” You attempt at humor sunk like lead. 

“Baby, I’m so-”

“What the fuck did I say?!” the manager stomped over to Bucky, his wrath on full display. “I’m calling the cops! I already kicked you out once-”

Bucky held up a hand in surrender, “We just need some ice- the hostess went to get it. As soon as she gets back, I’ll go.”

The manager rolled his eyes, “No- you don’t get anything from us. Leave! I’m calling the police!”

It was then that the hostess appeared with a large plastic bag full of ice. She looked at you with kind eyes, apologizing silently for her manager’s behavior. “Here you go. Is this enough? I can get more-”

“It’s plenty, really,” you hastily grabbed for the bag and pressed it to your scorched skin. The cool sensation flooded your senses, doing away with any remaining discomfort. “Thank you.”

“Great, you got your ice,” the manager spat, “now get out.”

Bucky thanked the hostess a hundred times over as guilt settled in his stomach. He knew she’d get in trouble for helping him. He knew the manager would scream at her- most likely in front of everyone. But she’d shown the two of you kindness. She did her best to help you in a moment of need, regardless of what others said. And it renewed Bucky’s faith in strangers- if only for a moment.

“How does that feel? Is it okay?” Bucky eyed the dripping bag of ice, the shivering in your fingers. “I can ask her for-”

“Hey! Do you speak English, or just Russian?” The manager yelled, “GET. THE FUCK. OUT. You understand?”

Part of Bucky wanted to disappear into a cave for a while. Wanted to hide from the ridicule. But he couldn’t check out. He couldn’t evaporate and leave you to fend for yourself. No, he’d made a promise to himself the day he met you; he swore he’d always protect you. And though he couldn’t stop the public from treating you with malice, he could at least get you home safely.

“Woah, hey- where are you going?” Bucky put a hand over yours, halting your attempt to open the diner door.

“Well, I don’t know if you heard the lovely manager of this fine establishment,” you said, “but he wants us to, and I quote, ‘get the fuck out’. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Bucky gave a fervent shake of his head, “No. You wait in here. I’m gonna get us a cab, and-”

“It’s okay, I’ll come with you.” You gave the door a tug, but Bucky kept it from budging.

“Don’t,” a dark seriousness clung to Bucky’s words. “I don’t want anything else happening to you.”

Bucky’s protective nature was always sweet. Always made you feel special. You couldn’t help the tiny grin that pulled at your features. “Babe, it was just coffee-” 

“This time,” a grave look ghosted over his face. “It was just coffee this time.”

Bucky let his eyes drift to the busy sidewalk outside. Every stranger, every passing face posed a threat to your safety. Anyone could have a knife. A gun. And while Bucky was certain that the hot coffee had been meant for him- that you were simply collateral damage, an unintended target- he feared how the city might treat you. You’d already been followed, harassed, filmed, attacked. People saw you as fair game, as a token of retribution. An eye for an eye that made the city blind with hate.

“Can you just-” He dragged his gaze back to you, “will you please wait inside?”

Bucky couldn’t remember ever being this scared. Not on the train, not at Hydra. This was different; this was your life at stake. Your vulnerabilities exposed to the world. It was as if a magnifying glass sat posed above you, giving anyone and everyone a detailed look into your life. Bucky knew there wasn’t much time before the rays of the sun burned you alive.

“Okay, yeah,” you released the door handle, “I’ll stay in here.” It was the least you could do. 

He was deathly pale, his hand shaking with anxiety. He worried about you so intensely that you sometimes feared he’d get sick. And though no part of you wanted to send Bucky out there alone, you agreed. 

His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly; the whisper of a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he dropped a kiss to your forehead and headed outside to the world that hated him.

And hate him they did. You watched from the diner window, the scene that played out filling you with anguish. Not a single cab even slowed down for him. Vacant taxis turned off their lights as they approached- only to turn them back on once they’d passed. Bucky’s shoulders grew more slumped with each unsuccessful attempt at hailing a cab. His head drooped; his expression grew pained. This wasn’t fair. After his pardon, he’d worked so hard to earn the public’s trust, to reenter their good graces. He made his amends, went to therapy, even did a few interviews at Sam’s suggestion. 

One poorly written article in a shit-rag paper, however, was enough to send him back to square one.

All Bucky wanted was to get you home safely, and he couldn’t. He couldn’t even provide something that basic, that simple. He cursed himself relentlessly as taxi after taxi flew by. He was supposed to protect you, to take care of you. And yet, he was the reason for your pain. Your peril. It made him nauseous.

After countless failed attempts at securing a ride, Bucky turned to face you. He stared at you through the dirty glass, shame and disappointment dragging his features downward. For a long moment, he just stood there. Completely still. Passersby bumped into him every now and again. People muttered under their breath about him being in the way. But he didn’t move. He just looked at you, the person he loved most. You, the person he cared for above all else. You, the person he couldn’t protect. Couldn’t provide for. 

Part of him thought it best to just walk away. His absence would make your life easier, less chaotic. Safer. If he left you alone, maybe you’d find someone else. Someone normal. Someone better. Someone who could take you out to breakfast without putting you in harm’s way. Someone whose mere existence didn’t prompt strangers to scream at you in public. 

But he couldn’t leave you- ever. He was bound to you from day one. 

One last fruitless attempt at catching a cab sent his heart sinking down, down, down to the soles of his feet. And as he approached the diner with his tail between his legs, he felt himself stepping on it with each pace. He was so embarrassed, so ashamed. With a quick wave of his hand, he beckoned you to the door and popped his head inside. 

“Baby, could you…” he was almost too downtrodden to speak. “Could you get us a cab? No one will-” he cleared his throat, “No one will stop for me.”

The look on his face hurt worse than your scorched skin.

“Of course, Buck. Yeah. Don’t worry about it.”

It wasn’t lost on Bucky how quickly a cab stopped for you. It took less than a minute, maybe less thirty seconds. He stood on the sidelines, as far away from you as he could possibly get without leaving you defenseless. You looked good out there on your own, free from his burden. 

The cab ride home was quiet. Uncomfortable. The driver eyed Bucky in the rearview as though appraising a threat. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles lost all color. You swore you heard the gas pedal hit the floorboards more than once. The car sliced through traffic and screeched to a halt outside your building, throwing you forward in your seat. The seatbelt tightened against your scalded skin, pulling a groan from your throat.

“Thanks. Um,” Bucky handed the driver a wad of cash, “keep the change.” He kept his focus trained on you but couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice the way the driver flinched. The way his muscles yanked his body in the opposite direction. The way his hands shook as he took the money. Bucky wished to evaporate.

But he couldn’t, not yet. Not when you needed him. And so, he walked you upstairs and ushered you into the small apartment you shared. He double and triple checked the deadbolt, even pulled on the door to ensure your safety. He couldn’t let anything else happen to you- he’d rather die. 

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go take a shower,” you broke the tense silence. “I reek of cinnamon soy latte.” The laugh that punctuated your sentence did nothing to brighten Bucky’s stormy expression. 

“Sounds good, doll,” he nodded. “You can just drop your clothes in the hall, I’ll throw them in the laundry for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you frowned down at your coffee-stained shirt, appraising the damage done. “I don’t think this thing can be saved.”

Bucky shrugged, “It couldn’t hurt. I’ll give it a try.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head, “it’s the least I could do.” And with a light tap to your ass, he sent you off to shower. The gesture wasn’t as lighthearted as it was just a few hours earlier, but he was trying. Trying to appear less dejected. Less broken.

But you saw through the façade.

When you emerged, free from the smell of coffee, you found Bucky in the kitchen standing over the kettle. He stared down at it, his hands resting on either side of the stove top, his shoulders nearly reaching his ears. You knew that look- he was lost inside his own head. 

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to watch that thing…” you said, snapping him out of his train of thought. “Otherwise, it’ll never boil.” 

His head snapped up. The darkness clouding his eyes parted. He smiled at your lame joke, letting your lighthearted tone lift his spirits. “I was just gonna make you a tea, I know you haven’t had the easiest day.” He just wanted to right the ship, to steer the two of you out of the dark, choppy waters in which you found yourselves. Maybe, this small, kind gesture could make up for your ruined Saturday. Maybe, it would keep you from leaving. 

“How was your shower?”

Just thinking about it made you wince. “It was fine, I guess. I had to use the coldest water possible- any warmth at all made my skin hurt.” 

Bucky’s eyes flicked from your face to the kettle and back. Worry creased his brow. “Should I not…” He sighed, “Are hot beverages out of the question?” He couldn’t believe how absentminded he’d been. 

“No! Definitely not,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “you know I’ll always take a tea. Thanks, babe.”

A small, proud smile spread across Bucky’s face. For once, he didn’t disappoint you. For once, he didn’t ruin the moment. After such a nightmarish day, he finally breathed easy, knowing that he’d done one thing right.

“I was thinking I could run out and grab us something to eat,” Bucky said when he got you settled on the couch with your tea and a fresh ice pack. “I know you’re probably starving. And I could-”

“Baby, no,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you out there- I don’t want you getting harassed or attacked. We’re in hermit mode for a few days until this whole thing blows over. Okay?”

Bucky barely mustered a nod. 

“Let’s just order some take out. What sounds good?” You dropped your ice pack to the side, grimacing at the loss of the cool sensation. But comfort could wait. You opened your laptop and sat up, poised to take Bucky’s order. But he didn’t answer. 

He remained silent for a long while, eyeing the floor with a blank stare. His nails dug into the palm of his hand; his jaw tensed. Something deep within him fought tooth and nail to claw its way out. It scratched at his insides, screaming for release. Bucky didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to even chance upsetting you. But the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop them.

“Do you ever regret this?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Regret what?”

“This-” Bucky gestured to himself, and then you. “Us.”

The words hurt worse than your scorched chest. “No. Why would you even say that?”

Bucky shrugged, “Because you’re covered in second degree burns and it’s my fault.” Never before had he ever sounded this broken, this hopeless. Not even after Steve left. 

“Buck, it’s not your fault,” you shut your computer and inched closer to him. “You’re not the one who threw hot coffee on me-”

“But the person who did was aiming for me, and you got caught in the crossfire,” he choked out. “That’s my fault.”

“It’s not-”

He stood suddenly, his anxiety forcing him to move. “Can you deal with this for the rest of your life? All the staring and the harassment? And the hiding at home because everyone hates me? Is that the kind of life you want?” He paced with a fervent drive, fearing that if he didn’t burn through the nervous energy, he’d suffocate under it.

But, even in the face of his frantic movements, you remained seated, remained calm. Talking to Bucky in this state was like coaxing an injured animal into your home. One wrong move, and he’d bolt. Every move, ever word, had to be slow, measured. With an even tone and soft words, you refuted his sentiments. “I want whatever kind of life lets me be with you-”

“You want people throwing coffee on you forever? You want-” He paused, only to place your icepack on your chest once again. “You want to be kicked out of restaurants and denied cabs? Just to be with me?”

One small nod. “Yes.”

Bucky stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his expression blank. “People used to vandalize my apartment, you know…”

“What?”

He nodded. “After I finally came back to New York and tried to settle in…” The memories of those uncomfortable, disjointed days filled Bucky with dread. He’d never been so lonely, so lost. He pulled away from you, fearing he’d complicated your life. He forced himself into isolation. And to make matters worse, his community turned their back on him. They didn’t welcome him home or celebrate his survival. They made him wish he’d never made it back. “They broke my windows, filled my mailbox with pictures of my victims, used animal blood to write ‘KILLER’ across my front door-” He let out a heavy sigh, one that came from deep within his bones. “That’s why I moved so often. My landlords- no matter how sketchy they were, no matter how much illegal shit they did to their tenants- kept kicking me out. I was too much of a liability, even for those shithole places.”

It left you reeling. Images of Bucky coming home to find his place completely trashed hurt you in a way you didn’t know was possible. You could see him, covered in blood, scrubbing his front door in the middle of the night. Wiping tears from his eyes as he looked through piles of photos of the people he hurt. Taping pieces of cardboard over his broken windows in the hopes of keeping out the severe, violent winters. He didn’t deserve any of it.

With a deep breath, you forced yourself back to the present. “Buck, I don’t care about things like that. They can vandalize our place if they want. They can throw coffee at me.” Slowly, carefully, you rose from the couch. “As long as nothing happens to you, I’m happy.”

A rough scoff launched out of Bucky’s throat, “Come on-”

“No, you come on,” Your words came out too intense, too hard. But you couldn’t maintain your even keel anymore. Not when Bucky was moments from unraveling. “I have been in this with you since the day we met. I knew- almost immediately- that you were the person I wanted to be with. Even when you didn’t know where- or who- you were. Even when you went back into cryo. Even when you turned to dust and disappeared for five years.” Dredging up the past hurt. It sliced you open and tore your heart into pieces. But you didn’t dare fall apart- not yet. “Even when you pushed me away,” your voice wavered, “I have been with you- and I always will be. Because I know who you are. I know you’re a good person.” A few tears dripped down your cheeks, “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.“

“Why?” Bucky shook his head, “I don’t- I can’t understand that.”

“Because you’re just- you’re you, baby,” you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Bucky’s existence. “You’re kind. And you’re thoughtful. And you’re compassionate. You care about everything. Everyone. I’ve never met anyone with a heart like yours…” You shrugged, “I love you. So much.”

“I know you do. And I love you, but…” His eyes dropped to the floor, “I feel like being with me is a waste of your time. A waste of your love. You know? You should be with someone good. Someone with less baggage, whose hands aren’t stained with the blood of innocent people.” He dragged his gaze up to meet yours, desperation in his eyes. “I want to give you everything- I want to give you the world. But I can’t. I can’t give you what other people can. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

“I don’t want any of that- I don’t want the world,” you shrugged. “I want you.” To you, it was simple. Completely uncomplicated. But Bucky didn’t see it that way.

“Is that- am I enough, though? I mean, the quality of life I’ve given you so far has been…” He thought back on all the terrors and trials you’d face together. All the disasters to which he subjected you. He shuddered. “Everything I put you through is so fucking messed up. And scary. And painful. And-” 

He shook his head. Since the day he fell for you, he knew one simple truth. And for years, he did his best to deny it. Hide it. Run from it. But it came spilling forward all at once.

“There’s always gonna be something with me. Some problem, some mess. I’m either gone for weeks, fighting god knows who, completely unable to talk to you until I show up at home covered in blood,” he said. “Or I’m here with you while strangers to accost you on the street because they hate me.” He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Why did he allow you into his dumpster fire of a life? Why would he subject you to the heartache and the misery he knew lurked around every corner?

He fought the tears gathering in his eyes, the emotion that attempted to block his airway. “The waters are never going to be smooth. Not with me. And I don’t want you to have to deal with the fucking tidal wave of bullshit that is my life. You deserve better- you deserve better than me.”

“Buck-”

“I want your life to be safe. Peaceful. Comfortable. Not-” he gestured to the icepack on your chest, “whatever it is now.”

Without a word, you took him by the hand and led him to the couch. And for a long moment, he refused to sit with you. He didn’t want to give in, to lower his defenses and allow himself to get comfortable. But your red-rimmed eyes, glassy with tears, forced him to take a seat.

And when he finally rested beside you, you ditched your icepack and took his face in your hands. “Everything you said that you want for me? I already have it. I have all of that.”

He shook his head, “Doll-” 

“You make me feel safer and more comfortable than I ever have. Being with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket made of bullet proof bubble wrap.”

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from letting out a quiet laugh. 

“I’m serious. You can talk about how the life I lead with you isn’t enough and how you’re not enough, but this,” you gestured to yourself and then him, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. Being here with you in our home is… it’s the most peace I’ve ever known. Even when we’re just sitting in silence, it’s- it’s warm. It’s comforting.” You inched closer to him and rested your head on his shoulder, “It’s like we’re the only two people on the planet. And we can just exist in the other’s atmosphere without pressure or fear. We understand each other. And it’s perfect.”

A rush of pink colored Bucky’s cheeks. Sometimes, even after all the years he’d spent with you, he didn’t know how to handle such loving sentiments. But there was no pressure to perfectly articulate his thoughts or express himself without flaws. A simple “I love you” did the trick. He leaned into you, allowing your warmth to soothe his aching soul.

“All that shit that happened today didn’t even bother me much,” you told him. “The lady in the bookstore, and the staring, and the coffee thing- I can deal with that kind of stuff. I can take that every day as long as I get to be with you.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair and caught a vague whiff off coffee but didn’t bring it up. 

“The only part that really upset me,” you continued, “was seeing people be so mean to you. And watching you get so down on yourself.” Reliving Bucky’s heartbroken expression at the diner almost made you tear up. “I can handle a rogue Starbucks, but I’ll never accept anyone treating you like that. You're everything to me- you always will be.”

Bucky handed you your icepack, begging you to put it back on your scalded skin where it belonged. “Well, I appreciate your support," he smiled to himself, "and your fierce loyalty.”

A mischievous laugh rumbled out of your chest. “Good. Just remember than when I call you from the county jail after I get arrested for burning that fucking newspaper to the ground.”

---------------

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[bigsoupspoon]

A Safe Respite

Summary: You take Astarion on a private evening date to a bath house inside of Baldurs Gate.

Pairing: Astarion x Afab Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, minor angst, bathing,

Word Count: 2300 approx.

Rating: 18+ - If you are under 18 please do not read.

The day had been difficult and dangerous, multiple citizens abruptly transforming into mindflayers and the Absolute cultists posing a threat everywhere they go, not to mention attempts to infiltrate Baldur’s Gate for leads to destroy the Elder Brain. By the time sunset came, you and your companions were all accounted for back at camp, and decided to start the night with a celebration of the victories earned thus far.

“I think we all deserve a little fun after today’s tiresome events, there’s a tavern close by I used to visit from time to time. They make the best honeyed mead in the Gate.” Wyll promptly suggests.

“Aye, I second that suggestion.” Agreed Halsin, already nearly finishing a bottle of wine.

“Are you coming?” Shadowheart nudges, hoping you would join.

“Although that does sound fun, I actually have something else for the two of us planned for the evening,” You reply, now looking at Astarion, “Unless you’d prefer the tavern of course?”

“A private rendezvous planned by my lover? How could I ever say no.” Astarion gushed coyly.

The group collectively threw you several looks that implied “Have fun,” and with that, you took Astarion’s hand and walked up towards the bustling streets of the city.

* * * * * * * * * *

You make your way to the local bath house, one you had seen earlier in the week and decided to pay a visit to soon. The same clerk is working who recognises you from your interaction just hours before.

“Everything you had requested has been organised, I hope the room is to your liking.” They smile, and lead you around the corner to a private room.

The scent of the lavender oil bath embraces your noses as you walk into the room. It is dimly lit, containing multiple candles surrounding a circular wooden tub in the centre, filled with freshly drawn warm water. Leafy vines have grown to obscure the windows and further around the roof and sides of the room, some of the smaller fronds hanging down with flowering buds beginning to grow. Your specific request of wine and fruits was dutifully fulfilled, as they sit on a small table placed next to the tub for easy reaching.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion says.

“I wanted some space just for us, someplace where we could take it easy for the night.” You reply.

“Well, how thoughtful of you, my dear.”

You take Astarion’s hand, and lead him into the room, and begin the remove your clothes and then his. He seems pleasantly surprised by your offer to remove his clothes for him, but lets you do so anyway. He helps you into the tub first, supporting you as you take your first step into the water, and he follows a second after. You’re sat next to him, getting used to the warmth of the water for a few moments. You then begin to pour two goblets of wine when you feel his eyes watching you.

“Come here, my sweet.” Astarion invites, as his hands find your hips and pull you towards the front of him, so you are placed on his lap, your inner thighs caressing the outsides of his.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to seduce me with all of this.” he teases.

“There’s actually something I’d like to do first, if that’s alright.” You poke back.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” You ask, eyes searching his for consent.

“Darling,” he coos, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You lean into Astarion closely, chests warmly pressed together, feeling his nose gently scrape the side of your neck, your arm outstretched to grab the cloth on the small table behind him, and dip it in the warm water of the tub. Once it is soaked through, you gently wipe it across his collarbones, swiping away any grime and blood brought on by the earlier events of the day. You tenderly move down his body, cleansing his chest and stomach, then proceeding to his arms and hands.

Astarion stares at you with a small, soft smile across his lips, watching you clean him, take care of him. His eyes softly caress your face, carefully taking in the moment of peace and safety, something that he wasn’t familiar with, but had longingly ached for.

Resting the cloth on the side of the tub, you check in with him again.

“How does this feel, my love?” you ask Astarion.

He initially smiles at you, but then his face becomes serious, it takes but a second for him to search his memories for a time where he was able to feel this kind of security.

“I can’t remember a time where I felt this kind of….intimacy. Its nice.” He answers honestly.

“Close your eyes, alright?” You ask.

You pick up the cloth again, gently swiping across his face, removing the last of the dirt and blood. Astarion’s eyes are softly closed, he basks in the moment as he can feel his skin being cleaned. He tenses in the beginning, his forehead creasing ever so slightly, he’s not used to this kind of gentle touch, but after a minute or so his breathing slows and deepens, relaxing into your touch as the safety of you embraces him fully.

Once his face has been cleansed, you place a small and delicate kiss on his cheek. Astarion turns his face towards you until his lips graze yours, staying in this moment for just a minute more. His hand caresses the back of your neck, prompting you to stay there. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and for those few seconds, everything else in the world fades away.

Your head spins lightly when you eventually pull away, cheeks warm and rosy, it seems Astarion feels the same way too. He rests his forehead against yours and places his hands on the small of your back.

It’s a peaceful and pure moment between the two of you, simply enjoying the quiet company of each other, a brief respite. The only sounds are your soft breaths and faint music from a tavern playing off in the distance.

“Allow me,” he gently takes the cloth and douses it in the tub, and returns your actions of cleaning him down. Astarion is careful to brush over the healing marks on your neck from his fangs the night before. He leans in and gingerly kisses the area of your neck where he last tasted you.

Your breath hitches as his teeth gently graze the sensitive area on your neck. Taking advantage of your small moment of bliss, Astarion begins to swipe the cloth across your chest and breasts, cradling them in his hands as he continues to clean you.

“This was supposed to be a night for me to take care of you, not the other way around,” you breathily confess.

“Seems like you enjoy being taken care of this way too, don’t you think, darling?” he smugly asks.

You push away his hands and place them back on your waist as you begin to trail small kisses from his shoulder up to his neck, gently massaging his chest while you do so.

Astarion lets out a small moan into your ear, quiet enough you barely hear it. Your planned priority was his sole pleasure and security, allowing him to feel safety and love as he deserves.

You pause for a moment and begin to work your way to the other side, giving equal attention to the other side of his neck. He firmly places his hands around your lower back, giving into his growing enjoyment.

“Love, although I’m loving this attention from you, we can take care of each other, you know. This doesn’t have to be about just me.” He takes your chin softly so you’re looking directly at him, and pulls you into another deep kiss. You can feel his smirk as you give into him, allowing him to kiss you more passionately than before, as his arms caress around your back, one hand nestled in your hair. He gently tugs at your scalp, pulling you out of the kiss for just a moment.

“I love you.” He whispers delicately, his pupils blown and cheeks lightly flushed.

“And I love you.” You return. He pulls you into a passionate kiss again, growing hungrier the more time passes by. You can begin to feel him grow between your thighs, so you take one hand and caress him ever so gently, encouraging him further.

Astarion lets out another small moan, more audible this time, and places his hands on your breasts again, gently swiping each nipple with this thumbs, making you moan in return. His expert fingers graze you ever so softly, then applies a gentle pressure, causing you grow aroused along with him.

His hands slither down your stomach and around your waist, firmly squeezing your behind before one hand comes back around the front to touch you more intimately. He drags his thumb slowly up your slit, even underwater he can feel your wetness starting to grow. He swipes up again, causing you to moan into the kiss, he reciprocates the moan as you rub your thumb across the top of his hardening member. You stroke him more firmly now, as he does unto you, eliciting filthy sounds from one another.

“I want more,” You breathily request.

“Only if you say ‘please’, my love.” He cheekily demands.

“Please,” You urge him. Satisfied with your instant compliance, Astarion gently pushes one finger inside of you, and begins to rhythmically pump his hand, while the other holds your waist still. You both spend several minutes like this, exploring each other’s body, teasing one another while yours and his lips remain deliciously connected.

Astarion reaches under your thighs, lifting you slightly out of water and gently onto your knees. Your cunt grazes his tip lightly, you balance yourself with your arms placed across his shoulders, crossing them over behind his neck.

“Are you sure want this, love?” Astarion asks, his lips barely leaving yours.

“Of course, baby.” You reply, your mouth leaves his for just a second.

As you slowly sink down onto him, both expelling a series of lustful sounds, you take a moment to adjust to his size. Astarion’s arms curl around your body, holding you as close to him as possible, his kisses grow more intense as he starts to tenderly thrust up into you. Wanting to reciprocate the movement, you lightly bounce on him, causing the tub water to steadily ripple.

You quickly become lost in one another, feeling nothing else but pure pleasure, love filling you both to the brim. He fits you so exquisitely, and he knows it, delicately and lovingly ruining you, over and over again.

The water begins to splash slightly over the edge of the tub the more you both continue, although neither of you notice, as the two of you are entangled with one another, as one connected entity.

The warm tingle in your stomach climbs higher, and your head swings back in reaction. Astarion takes advantage of the exposed flesh of your neck and kisses it, periodically sucking the skin leaving you sure there will be love marks come morning.

“Feed on me, please, I want you to bite me.” You beg, one hand entangled in his hair while the other grips his bicep.

“Are you sure, darling? It’ll hurt for just a second.” Astarion’s lips barely leave your neck as he speaks.

“Mhmm,” Pulling your hair to the side to expose more of your neck to him, granting him full access. Astarion needs no further encouragement, as he sinks his teeth into you, penetrating you for the second time.

It stings deliciously, the opposing mixture of the cold numbness shooting through your body, combining itself with the warmth of the fire between your thighs, you are overwhelmed by the simultaneous different sensations, causing your head to feel dizzy and your body to constrict.

Astarion removes his fangs and presses his forehead into your neck, no longer able to focus on drinking your blood and instead chasing his climax. His stifled moans exhilarate you, and you bounce a little harder, and a little faster, gripping his shoulders as you do so, feeling yourself about to come undone onto him.

His thrusts become sharp and jagged as he reaches his end, his hands gripping your waist so tight they’re bound to leave small round bruises where his fingertips applied so much pressure. The desperate noises Astarion makes are so sweet to yours ears, and are alone enough to bring you to the edge. You come undone around him, squeezing him tight as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. The sensation of you reaching climax around him sends shockwaves through his body a second time, rendering him utterly speechless, his brain only knowing the feeling of pleasure for that brief moment.

It takes a minute for you both to recover, the both of you have your arms coiled around the other. Astarion leans his head back as you rest yours on his shoulder, both you unevenly puffing, trying to catch your breath. He softly grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling you into a small kiss. After a moment, you pull away slightly, caressing his face and staring into his eyes. Astarion smiles back at you, he looks both relaxed and beautifully disheveled.

“My sweet, did you reserve this room just for the hour?” Astarion questions.

“No, I paid for the night.” You answer, breathing still uneven.

“Good,” He says softly, “Because I’m not quite finished with you yet, my love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x fluff

[foggyfrogss]

「 OXIDIZE 」 ˎˊ

tf! Sukuna x f! Reader | Warnings: MDNI, sexual content

Summary: You and Sukuna indulge in each other for the night.

He was not a gentleman, but you could say he was a gentle man.

With the way his large hands softly move over your body, it resonates throughout you intensely. As if he’d left bruises. His touch lights your skin ablaze, leaving you hot. Yet, he touches you like a freshly bloomed wildflower, gently picking it to avoid bruising.

Perhaps he understands just how big the difference is in your sizes; a fear of hurting you. No matter how many times you explain to him he can’t hurt you, the same tenderness remains.

Pink hair tickles at your exposed skin, dancing softly as he kisses the valley between your breasts. His nose drags into your skin while his silkened lips demonstrate his hunger. You can feel the way his heavy breaths puff into your skin, it’s warm and feeds the eager butterflies inside of you.

They swarm excitedly around your core.

Four arms seem a bit excessive, but the thought slips when you feel them hold you as they do. The top pair hold your wrists in place beside your head while the bottom find places on your body that crave attention. In the curve or your waist one hand rests as the other holds himself up. Again, he doesn’t want to put too much pressure into your wrists; scared of hurting you.

From above, you see the concentrated look of his face, twisted into his famous resting scowl. His eyes are closed, but they open to gaze up at you. He probably sensed your attention.

Red; it’s deep and rousing. They’re discernibly hungry.

Hungry for you.

All four gaze up, his left side hooded by the blanket of pink, full eyelashes. Eyelashes you grew to be jealous of. A faint, but evident crimson blush decorates his cheeks. Not because he is embarrassed, but because he is on fire. Inflamed, he is pressing into your core. His hardened cock is making itself known. You return his amorous gestures as you buck up into him.

Yet, as he presses into you, he’s moved his head up further. Hot kisses trail from your chest to your collar bone, spreading slowly to the curve of your neck. You’re tilting your head to the side, giving him more access; more control.

His sharp teeth lightly graze across your skin. Though it’s already littered with love marks, he plants more, claiming his territory.

Tongue following, it runs a stripe up to the start of your jawline below your ear. His breathing is still heavy next to your ear. It’s hot. A heavy grunt, from deep within his chest, could be heard as you continue to press up into him. Any distance between the two of you needed to be closed.

He’s kissing down your jawline, worshipping your skin like it was the finest meal brought to him. Ironically enough, his favorite meal was women.

He just would rather devour you in this way. It allowed him to have you as many times as he pleased.

“You are the most intoxicating and dangerous woman I have ever met,” he tells you. His lips press a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, causing your lips to burn with anticipation.

Ryomen Sukuna had called you dangerous. You wondered how to take that… Though stunned, you realize just how shocking it was for this man to even admit that… It was a compliment, a kind you were sure he’d never admit. He was a proud man, sure of himself and his abilities.

“I think of ripping your flesh from your body constantly, just to see how you taste…” He’s looking down at you with his heavy eyes. Your chest raises as you take in a deep breath, breathless from his words. “I bet you’re sweet, like a forbidden fruit.”

“Yet, the very fact that I couldn’t have you again after that irks me,” he’s muttering out huskily. “I would go mad.”

For someone who touches you so gently, he speaks with strong vehement. His brutish, aggressive vocabulary and behavior completely unparalleled to the actions in which he presents to you.

The man is a killer, eating humans for pure enjoyment and pleasure. A selfish man who is exceptionally sadistic. Cold-hearted but not for you. His heart warms you in ways no other being could. Nothing could compare.

You allow him to devour you in the way he does now, even knowing he’d never let you go.

A prisoner to Ryomen Sukuna.

From below, you admire the darkness of his tattoos that embellish his striking face. His fair skin glows from the lanterns in the room, but the pink of his cheeks remains prominent. Your eyes flicker around, following the lines on his jaw to his chin then back to his eyes.

Pink eyebrows furrow together while he studies you from above. It was as if he casted a curtain of pure lust by the way he gazed down.

His jaw clenches.

“I am yours,” you finally say in your hushed voice. The words pass easily through your lips, only because you were certain you meant it.

Eager to say it.

He seems to enjoy your words. Lips raise into a proud smirk as a deep, but quiet chuckle erupts from him. His blush seems to have grown darker, which causes your lips to turn up a bit. It thrills you to see such a beast crested in a rosy hue that you’d caused.

It makes you proud.

“I am yours,” you repeat again, reaching a hand towards his face. His skin is on fire, lighting your fingertips ablaze as you’re caressing his cheek. It’s soft, forming into the palm of your hand as you cup his face. Your fingertips just barely reach the edge of his hairline past his ear.

“So have me.”

Your words push him over the edge, causing a low growl to erupt from his throat. He’s moving his hips up a bit, positioning himself to fit you.

With an airy gasp, you’re feeling the bottom side of his shaft slide up against your clit, gathering your wetness. His size could be felt even from the minuscule movements. Though you’ve had him many times before, it always felt new. The pure excitement and intimidation never left.

You watch as he leans his hips back, only to bring them forward, placing his tip against your needy entrance. You’re taking in a shaking breath, eager to feel him… He’s sliding in without issue, thanks to your wetness.

Instantly you are taking hold of his arms, releasing his face. Your fingers latching into his tattoos biceps that cage you in.

His cock stretches you, pushing deep into you and kissing your cervix with his large tip. “God,” you whimper out, clenching your teeth as he slides his hips further into you, bottoming out completely. Even now, you’re amazed you’re able to take all of him.

Sukuna’s body is fully pressed into you, stomach against yours. His elbows dig into the fabric of the futon as he supports himself. His other pair of arms do the same, unable to do anything else as he presses into you. It’s just enough, you realize. He would not crush you.

When he begins to slowly drag out a bit, you feel a puff of warm air spread over your face. You realize how close his face is to yours, feeling the softness of his lips just barely touching your cheek.

“You are so tight,” he’s murmuring into your cheek as he presses a kiss. He’s bucking into you once more, grunting into your skin.

Your clit is suddenly stimulated, feeling a warmness as if he’d placed a hand down there… You’re moaning, biting your lip.

It’s his second cock, probably the one closer to his stomach. The top one. It’s sliding against your swollen cunt as he drags himself in and out of you.

His top right hand moves to cup your face, angling your head to your left so he can access your neck. Lips finding your sensitive skin, you’re panting as he quickens his pace, pressing his body into you a bit harder. You realize he’s attempting to stimulate his other cock this way.

It lights you on fire, feeling him use you this way.

You’re moving your left hand between the gap between his two arms, placing a hand on his back. He nips at the skin of your neck, grunting in rhythm with his thrusts. You take your other hand and find the hair on the back of his head, holding onto it.

With a light tug, he’s growling again, directly into your ear now.

His thrusts are a good pace, not slow but not fast, they’re just right. It’s hitting the sweet spot within you each time. His top cock helping you reach your climax with each slide.

You can feel every inch of him pump in and out of you.

Yet, you feel a devious idea come to mind, which makes you remove your hand from his back.

Between your bodies your hand moves, traveling low enough to find what you are looking for. His tip thrusts up, peeking between your stomachs and you wrap your eager hand around it, finding his shaft further down. It makes him halt his movements. Curiously, he’s looking at you now. “Keep going,” you plead, sighing. “I am close.”

He continues with no issue, thrusting into the cage of your fingers. The added tightness is good, you note. Only due to the fact that you could feel the way his hands tighten in the fabric of the futon below you. You were scared he may rip it.

In one thrust, you’re crying out, feeling the sudden harshness of it. It wasn’t painful, but you weren’t prepared for it. “Ryo…” you’re mumbling out in a whimper, dragging your nails through his hair as he fucks into you. His cock inside of you throbs, just like the one in your hand. You could only imagine how good it felt for him in this moment.

Your hand is placed just above your clit, so his dick is still sliding against your folds. Each thrust brings you closer. Vision growing hazy and bright as it builds up in your core.

At this point you’re closing your eyes, whimpering uncontrollably. “I-I’m…” you’re stuttering, clenching your hand tighter around his cock as you feel the orgasm begin to blossom. “You’re so good,” you hear him praise you.

A silent gasp comes from your lips as you throw your head back. Body exploding from the intensity of your orgasm. It has your clenching your cunt around his cock, which makes him hiss in return.

As the waves of pleasure cascade around you, he’s still relentlessly thrusting into you. In your ears you can feel and hear your heartbeat; it’s erratic. You keep hold of him in your hand, wanting to help as much as you can.

Soon enough, you feel him press his lips to yours, taking in your parted lips. His tongue finds yours instantly. Thrusts become uneven, bucking into you in a broken pattern. You know he’s close, which makes you moan.

He groan into your mouth and you feel an added wet heat between your bodies. Inside, you feel him release, filling you completely. Sukuna always came a lot… So you’d have to bathe again you were sure.

“Shit,” you hear him curse after he pulls his lips from yours. You’re looking up at him in a dazed trance, completely exhausted. Though the two of you had done much more in a session, this time wore you out anyways.

He’s slowly pulling out of you, leaning back and sitting on his knees. You’re sighing as you take in the sight before you, watching him do the same to you.

“What a lovely sight,” you hear Sukuna chuckle out.

You’re covered in his cum. It’s pooled up on your stomach and running down the sides of your body. You were sure it was running out of your cunt as well.

“I can bathe again,” you tell him, knowing he won’t sleep soiled. Yet, he’s reaching a hand between your legs, sticking two digits into your pussy. “Ah!” You jolt, feeling the overstimulation from it. His two large fingers pump in and out of you a couple times before pulling back out.

“I had to make sure it all stayed in there,” he says, leaning back down to hover over you. Sukuna presses a soft kiss to your lips before bringing his fingers to them. “Clean them,” he orders. Your stomach does a flip, but you follow his orders, feeling his fingers slide between your swollen lips.

You taste yourself and him, mixed together into one salty and sweet taste. It just about riles you back up.

One of your hands holds his wrist as you lick his fingers clean, pulling them out once you’re done.

“I’ll wash you,” Sukuna is finally saying, crawling off of you to stand. As he stands you take in all that he is, four arms and everything. A beast.

You ignore the fact that he’s about to walk around his shrine fully nude, but you realize he doesn’t care. It’s his shrine. It’s also yours, you note, as he picking you up from the futon. His bottom pair of arms holds you bridal style against him, top pair hiding your nude body the best they can.

“Toys last longer if you take care of them,” is all Sukuna mumbles to you while he exits the room towards the bathing area.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna fanart #ryokan sukuna x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #jjk fanfic #Satoru gojo #ao3 fanfic #writers on tumblr #smut #oneshot #fluff #jujutsu #foggyfrogs #Suguru geto #sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna ryomen x reader

[fyorina]

ᡣ𐭩 FIRST LIGHT

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai severely overestimated his self-control. it takes approximately six days and thirteen hours for him to break, seeking you out again. when he does, he knows that nothing will ever be the same. {wordcount: 14.5k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART TWOOOOOOO, we have one of my fav parallels in this one, i know you guys will catch it immediately but u still must tell me when you do. also, there's another hint about badlands!reader & dazai's relationship in this chapter that happened after the events of the last installment so u must let me know if you catch that too. reblogs are always appreciated! thank you guys & i hope you guys love this as much as i enjoyed writing 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. + we have a bit more of unhinged thought processes on dazai's end. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings!

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

He understands now the temptation that Eve must have felt in the Garden of Eden with the forbidden fruit dangling right in front of her face. Traditional interpretation of the Bible places the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden on day six of creation; Dazai’s restraint has thus far rivaled that of the two Biblical figures. He’s on day six now, in fact; it’s been exactly six days, twelve hours and forty six minutes since he met you in the hallway of the club and each passing second has been more agonizing than the last. 

He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last. 

His office is dark and suffocating, the atmosphere so cold and unwelcoming that it has him craving the return to your warm and homely apartment so intensely that he thinks it might be making him sick. He turned off the light earlier when he felt a migraine coming on, hoping that the darkness would let his eyes and mind rest enough to catch it before it fully came on, but he’s realized that it probably wasn’t the light causing his headache, rather it was you.

He sighs as he tilts his head back, willing the migraine to go away even though he knows it's to no avail. But he can’t even rest his eyes in peace, because every time they slide shut, the image of you burns the inside of his eyelids—your soft gaze and bright smile, the way you held your hand out to take his and the way your lashes fluttered as you leaned into his touch. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty seven minutes. 

He thinks he would prefer the nightmares of his other lives to this. At least with those, they fuel his drive to press forward with his master plan, the reminder of your fates in the other worlds would scorch away any desire to seek you out in fear of bringing it upon you again in this one.

Now, every night for the past six days he’s been plagued with dreams of you—pleasant dreams. Dreams that when he wakes from them, he finds his cheeks wet and his chest heavy with such an intense longing for you that it makes him physically ill. He dreams of having you in his arms, kissing the top of your head as you do your best to study even with him making every effort to distract you. He dreams of watching sunrises with you, seeing the way the early morning colors wash over your face, your skin glowing and eyes glittering in such a vivid way that Dazai swears he can even picture it now. He dreams of a ring, and he dreams of his palms sweating as he walks with you down to the beach you met on to watch another sunrise, and he dreams of getting down on one knee in front of you just as the sun breaks over the horizon. He never dreams of a wedding, so Dazai theorizes that you never made it long enough for one to take place. 

And the realization of that alone should be enough to make the yearning for you evaporate but it’s not, because dangerous thoughts have been circulating through his head since the night he left you. Thoughts of how maybe this could be different. Dazai is the boss of the Port Mafia in this life, he has enough resources to protect you—more money than god and enough armed forces behind him to rival the nation’s government. He has the power to keep you safe in this life, more than he ever had in any other. 

If there was any life that he could be with you and ensure your safety, it’s this one. 

Six days, twelve hours and forty nine minutes.

Does he really want to give this up?

Dazai rests his arms on his desk, lowering his head down, eyes sliding shut again. He can see you again, the image of you from last week, laughing wildly at something he’d said—he can’t even remember what it was, he was so nervous that he can’t even recall half of the night, but he doesn’t really care at all what he said anyway, too enraptured by the way you react to it. 

He wonders if you’re there now. At the bar. Because what he does remember, of course, is your teasing grin as you tell him that of course, you’re scheming out a second meeting between the two of you because naturally you’ve decided that you already like him. And he remembers the hope thinly veiled behind your eyes, as you look over him, knowing that if the two of you are to meet again, it would be reliant on whether or not he decides to come back to the club, because you’ve already made your intentions clear.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty minutes.

Dazai’s throat feels swollen, his nails dig into his palms. He imagines you waiting there, he imagines the disappointment on your face as you slowly realize he’s not going to show up. And you’re so damn beautiful, radiant even beneath the shitty lighting of the club—he’s sure you saved a seat at the bar for him, and you’ve probably had dozens of interested men who’ve offered to buy you drinks, asking if you’d come to the club alone. And you’ll probably turn them down at first, telling them that you’re waiting on someone, but he wonders how long it’ll take for you to finally take one of them up on their offer after you’ve realized that Dazai isn’t going to show. He wonders if you’ll follow them out to the dance floor, he wonders if you’ll give them the same teasing smile you gave him. He can picture slim fingers caressing your hips, pulling you closer. He can picture your lashes fluttering as they lean their head down to ghost their lips against your neck, swaying to the music. He doesn’t want to picture anything else, but his mind, as always, betrays him. 

He wonders if you’ll take them back to your apartment—would you get right into it or would you sit and talk with them for a while? His head spins as his thoughts take an increasingly more dangerous spiral. It’s a bitter cold night out, maybe you’ll take the opportunity to make them the hot chocolate you’ve made him hundreds of times, thousands of times before—no, he corrects as the lines start to blur in a treacherous way, you’ve never made it for him in this life. Maybe it’s so cold out that you’d forgo small talk altogether, instead seeking out the warmth of someone else’s body—you’d take them by the hand, lead them into your bedroom and lay them back on your bed. 

Would you be gentle with them? Like you were with him? No, he reminds himself again, you’ve never been with him like that, not in this life. The pages of the Book pile around him, memories flooding him with an intensity that he’s never experienced before; he can hardly even remember what his reality is, all of the others blending and shifting together in his mind, making it impossible to decipher the lines between them. 

You’re dragging him to the beach to watch your first sunrise with him and you’re telling him that you want to see as many as possible with him—he wants to tell you that he thinks he might love you but he doesn’t know how to say it  You’re laying him back against a bed, asking him if he trusts you—of course, he does, how is that even a question? You’re leaning your head against his arm, standing before a familiar grave and accepting him for all that he is even after he strips bare down to all of the worst parts of himself for you—you shouldn’t, he wants to say desperately, but instead he’s telling you that he loves you, even though he knows it might kill you. And then-

And then he’s ripped violently from his fall into the pages of the Book as his phone vibrates and it’s not him anymore, it’s someone else, someone unworthy and undeserving, a stranger that you’d turned to because Dazai wasn’t there.

Dazai nearly heaves. He never should have indulged in you that night. He should have known he was never going to go back to normal after it. The difference between the memories and actually having seen you and heard you and touched you and smelt you was so much more severe than he ever could have expected. Now, the memories aren’t enough; he wants a life with you, he wants it to be his reality. He thinks that it’s not fair that he’s the only one who can’t be with you. He wants to make new memories with you so he no longer has to struggle with the blurred lines, so he doesn’t have to yearn for a life that he’ll never be able to experience, having to watch every single other Dazai get to have what he can’t.

Six days, twelve hours and fifty eight minutes.

He can do it, his thoughts are a bit manic as he tries to ground himself after the spiral. He has the knowledge. He has the power. He has the resources. If there’s any life that he’s able to be with you and keep you safe, it’s this one. He doesn’t have to hide from you, he doesn’t have to deny himself of you to protect you—he has the knowledge, he has the power, he has the resources. He can keep you safe. Instead of being the only Dazai who never gets to be with you, he’ll be the only Dazai who can actually spend his life with you—a long one, a happy one. He’ll have what none of them did. He can do it.  

Before he can stop himself, he speaks.

“Gin-chan,” Dazai calls softly, knowing that he doesn’t have to speak any louder for the girl to hear him. As soon as he hears the door to the backroom open, he continues with, “Have Albatross be ready downstairs with one of the cars.” 

“Of course. Where to, sir?” 

To Gin’s credit, she doesn’t sound at all caught off guard by Dazai’s sudden request, as if it’s normal for Dazai to randomly decide to leave the Port Mafia base even though he can count on one hand the number of times he’s left the base since he ascended to the position of boss four years earlier. 

“... The club we own in Naka,” Dazai says after a few moments, fingers thrumming against the mahogany of his desk for a moment before he adds, “... Don’t tell Chuuya.”

“... Yes, sir. I’ll have Albatross get everything ready immediately.”

At exactly six days and thirteen hours, Dazai’s self-control shatters. 

You sigh. 

The seat next to you remains damningly empty despite the many attempts of handsome strangers trying to join you at the bar. You’re sure you must’ve turned down half a dozen by now in hopes that the stranger from last Friday will end up showing up but those hopes are very quickly disappearing. You want to convince yourself that maybe you’ve just missed him—it’s a rather large club, after all—but it’s not half as packed as it was last week; you think that if he were here, you would’ve spotted him by now. Or he would have spotted you.  

Dazai Osamu, you remember his name, eyes sliding shut briefly as you take a sip of your water, wondering if you should just switch to alcohol and drink your sorrows away, seek out one of the men who’d approached you already so you don’t end up spending the night alone. The thought leaves you unsatisfied, a pout rising to your lips around the rim of your glass as you finish off yet another glass of water. 

You swear that you’re not usually this pathetic—especially not over a man—but there’s just something about this Dazai Osamu that has you acting up. Like honestly, who even are you? Going to the club alone on a Friday night with nothing but some faint hopes that the man you’d met here last week would show up too? It’s so embarrassing, you think you might die—but somehow you’re not embarrassed enough to leave because you’re still hoping that he shows up. 

God, you think again, who are you anymore? You barely even know this man. You know his name and you know he’s handsome. And that’s just about it, but here you are, sitting bummed at a club because he isn’t showing even though he has absolutely no reason to. 

The bartender raises his eyebrows with a small smile and you pass the glass over to him, letting him refill it. He’s the same one from last week and he recognized you as soon as you took a seat at the bar, making sure to get you what you need and keep you company whenever there’s a lull in patrons flagging him down. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment that you got early in the night last week, where it had taken you twenty minutes to get a single drink and even then you could barely hold his attention long enough to tell him what you wanted. You can’t help but notice that he seems hyperaware of the open seat next to you.

As the bartender passes you another glass of water, you flash him a wavering smile, unconsciously sparing another awkward glance to the empty seat next to you. While the club isn’t quite as packed as it was last week, it’s not exactly empty and you’re starting to feel bad hoarding the seat when plenty of others probably want to sit down too. 

“I’m sure he’ll show,” the bartender tells you before he’s waved down by another patron. You wonder if he’s guessed who you’re waiting for or if it’s just meant to be some general comfort. “Probably just running late, he’s a busy man.”

Oh, you think, eyes widening, but before you can question him as to what he means, he’s rushing to go refill the drink of a blonde man on the opposite end of the bar.

A busy man. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu? 

Even in your drunken state, you knew from the moment you met him that there was something off about him. The way he held himself, the way he looked at you, the way people treated him—it all screamed danger. Once you’d sobered up, you remembered all of the things you didn’t notice while you’d been intoxicated. You remembered the way people would rush to get out of his way or show him complete deference, eyes a bit wide and faces a bit pale. You remembered the way Takeda looked sick and scared when Dazai told him to go, and Takeda is usually a bull-headed and fearless man, it takes a lot to make him back down. You remembered his driver—he had a driver!—and how when he stepped out of the car to open the door for the two of you, you swore you caught a glint of gunmetal holstered at his waist before Dazai gave him a cold look and he quickly covered it up.

And you’re not usually a girl who seeks danger out, for as much as you went on your spiel about living life on the edge the last time you spoke to him, you’re usually a pretty careful person. If you were smart, you would have woken up the next morning and pretended that you were too drunk to remember the night before, forget all about Dazai Osamu and his dangerous smile and intense gaze. 

But you aren’t smart, evidently, because instead of forgetting about him, you spent half of the next day mourning because he didn’t even leave you his number and the other half of it scheming out the best way of running into him again. 

You sigh, resting your cheek on your hand as you prop your elbow up on the bartop, idly tracing the rim of your glass.

What is it about you, Dazai?

One meeting and you’re captivated. He must be some kind of witch, or siren, there’s no other explanation for how you’re so utterly enchanted by him. He spoke your name with the familiarity of a lover, watching you with gentle eyes even though they become cold and empty whenever they avert to someone other than you. And you—you felt as if you’ve known him your entire life. You’ve never had such an instant connection with someone like that before, you’re convinced that it’s fate at work, even if he’s adamant against the thought.

You want to see him again. You wonder if it was maybe just your drunken brain misconstruing things, although somehow you doubt it. You need to talk to him again to know if the connection is real, and if it’s real-

“Is this seat taken?”

At first, the voice doesn’t register as familiar, so you let out a soft puff of air, trying to figure out if you should deny another person. But as you turn to face the newcomer, your eyes widen a bit as you catch sight of the long, burgundy scarf hanging in your peripheral, stark against a long, sleek black suit jacket.

Your lips part in shock, head snapping to the side so you can fully look at the person to your left. Dazai Osamu stands there, hands resting comfortably in the pockets of his jacket, head tilted to the side, a small smile curving at his lips and a soft look in his eye as he looks down at you, comforting and warm compared to the cold emptiness you vaguely noticed from him at certain points last night.

You try to say no, it’s not taken, but no words leave your lips, so instead, you shake your head, eyes following Dazai as he takes a seat next to you at the bar. The bartender rushes over, all but abandoning the couple he’d been helping on the opposite side of the bar, pouring Dazai an expensive glass of whiskey and giving him a nod before going back to who he’d been helping before. Your eyes follow the man curiously before you turn your gaze back to Dazai, not speaking for a moment as you observe the way he stares down at the glass of whiskey for a second, the warmth in his eye slowly dissipating.

You don’t like it, and not because it makes you uncomfortable or anything, but rather because you just don’t like how alone he seems. So, you lean forward, smiling, and say, “Fancy seeing you here.”

Dazai turns his gaze back to you and the warmth returns, pools of honey rather than the endless void. You melt beneath it. 

“I vaguely remember a beautiful woman mentioning scheming out a second meeting,” Dazai drawls, dark eye lidded as he looks down at you, a half-smile decorating his face. “It would be quite remiss of me to be the cause of her failure.”

Your cheeks feel a bit a hot as you grin down at your drink. “While we’re on the topic of things I may or may not have said last week, I have to be honest with you. I totally lied about something,” you say with a laugh, leaning on the bar. He raises his eyebrow curiously. You give him a sheepish smile as you continue with, “I have absolutely no idea how to charm someone, drunk or sober, I was entirely speaking out of my ass, so keep your expectations low.”

The smile that curls to the corner of his lips is soft enough to make your heart skip a beat. “I think you just being yourself is plenty charming,” he murmurs.

You let out a noise caught between a groan and a whimper, face going hot. “Oh my god, you’re the charmer,” you accuse loudly, burying your face in your arms. “I’ll never survive. Handsome and charming, a deadly combination.”

As you peer your eyes open to look at him, you can’t help but notice the way his smile briefly falters at your words. You promptly decide to change the subject with: “Thank you for making sure I got home safely last week.”

“You don’t need to thank me for that,” he says, one pale, lithe finger tracing along the rim of his glass. Your eyes linger for a moment on the digit, mind wandering, before you force your gaze up; you can see the bandages peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his dark coat as your eyes drag his arm back to his face. There’s a knowing expression on his face, the smile on his lips a bit more sensual. Your breath catches as you avert your gaze, feeling quite like you’ve just been caught doing something bad.

“Sure I do,” you try to make the words sound casual and easy but despite your most sincere attempts, your voice is strained. “Not many people would go out of their way like that for someone they just met.”

Something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. You’re not sure what he finds amusing, but you decide you don’t care because you very much prefer it to the distant look that had been painted in them before.

“An unfortunate world we live in, then,” he says softly, but there’s a lilt to his tone that makes you feel like he knows something that you don’t. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it though as he asks, “Are you going to have anything to drink?”

You startle slightly at the question, glancing down at the glass of water you’re drinking before you tell him with a laugh, “I don’t know if I want to force you to deal with me drunk twice. Didn’t I promise I’d stay sober this time?”

“If I remember correctly, you only said ‘not quite as drunk,’” he says, lips tilting up a bit and god, the way he’s looking at you has you flustered, gaze lidded and intense, as if you’re the only one in the room and not in a club with hundreds of other people. “Let me order you something, I think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, that’s bold,” you warn, tossing him a teasing smile. “I'm very particular about my drinks, I’ll have you know. I’m almost curious what you have in mind that makes you so confident.”

“I have a good feeling about it,” Dazai says, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your decision.

You give a heavy sigh, pretending like it’s a difficult decision even though you know it’s not. “Fine, but only if you promise to cut me off after two. Whenever I hit three, I hit the floor.”

You extend your pinky toward him, waiting for him to take it, and when he does, you swear a jolt of electricity shoots up your arm. As he wraps his finger around yours, your heart skips a beat, your eyes meet his and you think you might get lost in the dark pools, you don’t think you would mind if you do and that scares you. You’ve never had someone make your heart flutter and mind haze like this, especially not so quickly.

“Promise,” he breathes out, barely audible above the thundering music and crowds. 

You dip your head down to press your lips against your thumb to seal the deal, and you think you fall even more when you don’t have to tell him to do the same, following your lead and kissing his own thumb to seal it. And you briefly wonder if this man might be your soulmate because he didn’t give you a single odd look and didn't hesitate for a second whereas when you’ve made pinky promises with some of your other friends and past partners, their expression always twists a bit in confusion or oddity at the second part.

Rather than letting go of your hand, he swaps to his other hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and resting it on your lap before he flags the bartender down—quite easily, might you add—and leans over the bartop to say something quietly to him. The man nods and rushes off, and you give Dazai a scandalized look as he turns his attention back to you, hyper aware of the warmth of his fingers against yours.

“You won’t even tell me what it is?” you gasp in mock offense. 

Dazai rests his other elbow on the bar top, resting his chin on his hand as he watches you through his lashes. You couldn’t drag your gaze away if you wanted to, tunneled onto him.

“It’s a surprise,” he says with a smile. “You’ll like it, trust me.”

“Quite confident for someone that hardly knows me, aren’t you, Dazai?” you giggle, raising your hand to cover your lips, and god, he looks so amused again, and so handsome. You might die. “That’ll be for me to judge.”

“Very confident,” he agrees, and you think he winks but you can’t tell because one of his eyes is covered by bandages. 

“So,” you begin, waiting for the drink. “You’re from around here then?”

You hope he is, at least, because you’d like to keep seeing him. Something about him is just so intoxicating, like a drug you just can’t get enough of. You think he must be, from the way he seems so familiar with the bartender and other patrons, but you could always be wrong.

You hope you’re not wrong.

“Mhm,” Dazai agrees, humming around the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. You hope the excitement you feel doesn’t flash across your face. “Yokohama born and raised… you?” 

Distantly, a part of you feels like the question is just an afterthought, as though he already knows the answer and you wonder if you’re that obvious, but you pay no mind to that, instead nodding. “Same,” you say, and then, “... I wonder if we have crossed paths before then. You’re so familiar, I can’t imagine that we’ve never met before… Maybe uni? Did you happen to go to UTokyo? I graduated there last year.”

Dazai seems to hesitate at the question, as if considering his answer. You wonder why, but he leaves you little time to figure it out because he finally replies, “No… I was in Tokyo for business for a while a couple years ago though.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?” you ask, leaning forward as you speak. “Where did you work? I know the area pretty well.”

He hesitates again, this time more blatantly, and you can see the confliction that briefly flashes across his face. How curious. 

“It wasn’t a particular storefront, or anything, just my line of work had me in the area for a while.”

You’re about to press into what his line of work is, desperate to know more about the man sitting in front of you, but you’re interrupted by the bartender returning with a martini so stunning that if it tastes half as good as it looks, you might fall in love. 

But you’re not going to make it that easy. 

“Go on,” Dazai says, leaning a bit back in his seat as he watches. He looks at you as if he already knows that you’re going to like it and you’re adamant on destroying his assumptions, you will hate this drink if it’s the last thing you do. “Tell me what you think.”

You lift the martini glass up to your lips carefully, the dark liquid so close to the brim that you’re nervous it will spill over the sides. He watches you expectantly, you pointedly hold his gaze as you take a sip of the drink and-

“Oh my god.”

Dazai looks utterly vindicated, raising his chin as you take a sip of the drink and stare at it in shock. It’s so… tasty. It’s creamy, and sweet, and you can hardly taste the alcohol but you can feel the tingle on your tongue and the light burn in your throat. All thoughts of the conversation you were having before the drink showed up disappear, and you’re focused solely on the glass in your hands and the man before you.

“So?” God, he’s evil. He almost purrs the word, as if he knows exactly what your response is going to be. He leans forward a bit, looking down at you through his lashes. “Give me the verdict, Your Honor.”

“It’s good,” you say, raising your chin in spite, hoping that your expression doesn’t betray but from the way his lips spread into a wider smile, you fear that you completely failed. 

“Just good?” Dazai croons. 

You pause for a second, debating on lying and telling him yes, just good, but the words you intend on speaking do not leave your lips. Rather, you say, “Okay. It may or may not be one of the best drinks I’ve had in a while. You have to tell me what it is so I know what to ask for.”

“Hmm.” Dazai lifts a finger to his chin, as if considering your words. “I don’t think I will.”

“What!”

His smile becomes a bit softer, his expression more teasing. “I think I’ll hold that information hostage, so you have to come out with me again if you want to drink it.”

A jittery feeling spreads through your chest, heart fluttering, cheeks hot. “Oh? Look who’s scheming out our third meeting already,” you taunt lightly. “How the tables turn.”

“Of course, I’m scheming out our third meeting, maybe our fourth and fifth too,” he mimics your words from last week shamelessly. “I’ve decided I already like you, bella.”

The pet name rolls off his tongue easily, as if it’s second nature to him, and your face is on fire but Dazai looks like he’s shocked even at himself. You fumble with your words for just a second, it takes you a moment too long to recover but you think that Dazai doesn’t even notice in his stunned state. 

You decide to return fire. 

“I hope all of our dates aren’t just going to be at clubs,” you tell him with a smile that edges on flirtatious, cocking your head to the left.

Your words hardly register until you notice that his cheeks have become bright and rosy, hand instinctively coming up to hide his face. He looks entirely like he’s at a loss for words, lips parting and closing several times. It’s so endearing that you think you might really die now, but then the gravity of your words hit you like a train.  

Oh god. A date? A date?? This is only the second time you’ve met, that was way too soon. You-

“I’ll make sure the next place we meet is somewhere special,” he finally says, voice smooth and gaze gentle and- 

And just like that, you’re a goner.

You’re not sure how long you sit there talking to him. Hours, probably. It feels like no time at all and forever all at once. You lose yourself in his gaze, and his smile, and you think the whole world could be burning around the two of you and you’d have no idea just because you’re so tunnel visioned on him. The music drowns out, and all you can hear is his voice. The people around you blur out of focus, and all you can see is him. 

It’s insane, you think. You’ve never felt like this with anyone before. You’ve had so many flings and so many boyfriends over the years, but the way your stomach twists and turns and the way your head feels fuzzy with Dazai is so incomparable to how you felt with anyone else. 

You feel like you’ve known him forever. 

You feel like you’ve only just met him. 

How is it possible to feel like you know someone you’ve only just met so intimately? When you know you don’t actually know much about him personally but it still feels like you can read into the depths of his soul?

God, you don’t know, but you do know one thing, and it’s that you never want to lose this feeling. 

And that’s how it began. 

Every Friday for weeks, you find yourself at the club, sipping cheap martinis at the bar until a certain handsome man in a dark suit decides to finally grace you with his presence. Sometimes, the two of you would just sit at the club’s bar until the sun threatens to rise, when you finally go your separate ways and you make your way back to your apartment, falling asleep with a smile on your face and waking up with a giddy feeling still sparkling in your chest. Other times, he only comes by the club to pick you up, fulfilling his promise of making sure to take you somewhere nice when you find yourself fine dining at the fanciest rooftop restaurants in the city. 

He never stays over your place, even when he does drop you off. Sometimes he’ll hang around for an hour (you made him your favorite hot chocolate, he liked it so much that he nearly cried although he vehemently denied that was the reason why his eye got all misty), but he always leaves. You try not to let it bum you out, convincing yourself that it’s just because he doesn’t want to keep his driver waiting (albatross, you remember his name, he’s funny. you like him), but sometimes you can’t help the heavy feeling set over you when he makes his abrupt leave, wishing for just a bit more. He hasn’t even kissed you yet, for god’s sake. 

You also distantly note that you don’t really know much about him, even after all of these weeks his personal life remains a mystery to you. The closest you were able to get to prying anything out of him was when he showed up so late that you were on the verge of leaving because you doubted he would even show, he apologized and said a work meeting ran late. You asked him what about and he hesitated, as if he was about to say it, but then gave you some vague response and steered the conversation to something less personal.

That’s what’s happened every time you try to learn a bit more about him. You don’t really notice it in the moment because he’s smooth and charming about it, but he always manages to turn the conversation to you or some other general topic. You want to respect that he doesn’t want to talk about his personal life because maybe he’s coming to you to have some sort of escape from it, but you also want to know him beyond just the flirting over drinks and the slim things you can gleam from his reactions, words hidden between the lines of what he actually says.

Your friends think you’re crazy. They think he’s bad news. They’ve come with you to the club a few times to wait with you until he shows up and every time they see him you can see the weary looks that they shoot at one another. You don’t care what they think—or well, that’s a lie, you do care what they think, you’re just too enamored with Dazai for their words to have any weight. Which probably should be concerning, but that’s something for you to think about another day. 

Because now, you’re focused on him again. He’s been talking more tonight than he usually does—most nights, he’ll spend the majority of the time just listening to you, a soft smile on his face and a captivated look in his eye, but tonight, he’s been rather vocal, people watching with you and making sly advances that you think is just plain cruel considering he hasn’t even kissed you yet. 

But tonight, you’ve decided, will be the night. 

You’ve been trying to figure out how to go about it, if you should just invite him back to your apartment—something you’ve done before, so there shouldn’t be any nerves but you still find yourself wavering because you don’t know how you’re going to proceed once you get to your apartment. You are not a seducer. You have no experience in seducing. In fact, you are usually the one being seduced. So every time your lips part to ask if he wants to leave the club, you find yourself withering and faltering, waiting for a ‘better’ chance as if one will magically arise.

It does. 

It’s when a fight breaks out on the dancefloor a bit too close to where you’re sitting, certainly the result of some sleazy man trying to put his hands on a woman who already has a date, when you finally force yourself to stop pussying out. You let out a shriek as you stumble forward off your barstool when one of the men careens a bit too closely to you, and it’s only by Dazai’s swift reaction, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you to him and steadies you, that you don’t go toppling onto the floor. 

Your eyes widen as you watch the fight escalate, a bit entertained now that you’re safe in his arms from becoming collateral damage, but Dazai looks distinctly unimpressed by the scene taking place a few feet away, lips twisted into a deep frown. You watch as he shoots a sharp look to one of the bouncers lingering by the door, and you note how the man immediately moves forward to break up the fight. Interesting. You’ve noticed that the people at the work tend to be respectful to him, but that’s the first time you’ve seen them seemingly take a silent order from him.

You steel your nerves and you decide to try your hand.

“Would you… maybe want to get out of here?”

You look nervous, Dazai watches you carefully as he leads you across the club to the exits, so he figures that there’s something else going on in your head right now. You’ve been quiet most of the night, he realizes, and he wonders if something is wrong. If something happened. His mind immediately catapults to the worst case scenario: that someone found out about the two of you, despite how careful he’s been in making sure that the places he’s brought you to were locked down by the Port Mafia before you arrived with him, and you’re being threatened.

His thoughts race. Albatross should still be waiting where Dazai left him, so if something goes wrong, he’ll be ready. Dazai glances at you again, and he slowly realizes that you don’t seem nervous because you’re fearful of something, and his anxieties slowly are edged away. 

But that only gives rise to new anxieties because then what’s making you so nervous then? What did you mean by get out of here? Do you want to go somewhere else? (but where, the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a risk there will be without him taking precautions beforehand like he usually does) Do you want to be dropped off back at your apartment? (that’s what he initially assumed, but he doesn’t want the night to end yet) Do you want to invite him to your apartment? (it wouldn’t be the first time, but it doesn’t leave him any less nervous. he’s terrified of making the wrong move) Do you want him to invite you to his apartment? (god, he hopes not)

The last option cannot happen. You’re already suspicious from the way the bartender and the other club patrons have been treating him the past few weeks, and now you’re doubly suspicious, Dazai can tell from the way your eyes squint as the bouncers at the entrance of the club nod their heads to him. If he brings you back to his place, the tallest of the five towers making up the Port Mafia base, there’s no way you won’t put together that something’s up with him and the last thing he wants is to scare you away. Even if you don’t know what the buildings are exactly, you’ll definitely question him about his occupation, go back to the dangerous line of questioning you’ve been treading on lately, and when he can’t give you a straight answer, it’ll become all the more apparent that it’s something shady and if you’re smart, you’ll make an excuse to leave and then never seek him out again.

Realistically, he probably won’t be able to hide this from you for long, but it just has to be long enough for him to woo you so the news isn’t so jarring that it makes you cut off all contact with him. Although, Dazai isn’t sure if any amount of time will make the knowledge that he’s a mafia boss not jarring enough to flee. His heart feels a bit heavy, wondering if this is all a mistake because how the hell is he supposed to just accept it when you inevitably decide to leave? And isn’t that what he should want, anyway? He wants you to keep yourself safe, no matter what the cost, and if you’re the one to cut him off, then he won’t be tempted to come looking for you again. He can protect you from the distance as he initially planned with the memory of the nights he’s spent with you pushing him forward. So maybe this is for the best.

You accepted all of the other Dazais, the traitorous part of his mind tried to convince himself that isn’t a hopeless cause, even though he knows that there’s a stark difference between who he is in this lifetime, the face of Japan’s underworld, drenched in blood and rotting from the inside out, and who he was in all of the other lifetimes, desperately trying to make himself a better man so that Odasaku would be proud of him. 

Maybe you’ll understand, he thinks weakly as the two of you leave the club. It’s drizzling now, and his eyes cut across the parking lot looking for Albatross, but his thoughts are lost—you understanding would mean he would have to tell you everything. He can’t do that. Not just because you would probably think he’s delusional, or psychotic, but because it would put the very fabric of this reality at risk. He can’t tell more people than necessary and stage five… 

His plan. 

Dazai’s gaze shifts back over to you, the sudden remembrance of what he’s been planning since he came in contact with the Book so many years ago spreading like ice through him. He should take you by the hand and lead you to the car, the rain is going to start coming down harder any second now, but Dazai is frozen because in his manic state, when he’d decided he can protect you in this life, be with you in this life, he hadn’t even given any thought to what would become of his plan, and he’s been so consumed by thoughts of you the past few weeks that it’s hardly crossed his mind.

He has to force himself to move forward, ignoring the way his mind is reeling—if he decides to live, what does that mean for Odasaku? For Atsushi and Akutagawa and Chuuya? For the world? Would he be condemning everything he’s worked to protect? He still thinks he can do it—protect you, that is—but would it be at the cost of everything else? He feels sick, trying to figure out if he’s going to have to plot out a whole new plan, as if this one hadn’t taken him years to come up with and implement. 

But you don’t move to follow him to the car where Albatross is waiting when he steps forward. Instead, you tilt your head up to the sky, lashes fluttering as rain begins to drizzle down from the dark sky. 

And Dazai’s spiraling thoughts halt. 

He thinks you look beautiful—you’re always beautiful, but he thinks there’s something magical about the picture of the small smile on your lips as rain drops slide across the smooth skin of your face. He tries to force himself to look away so he doesn’t seem creepy staring at you, but he can’t bring himself to.

You don’t seem to mind though, because you turn your attention to him, eyes lit up in a way that makes his heart race. “Dance with me,” you say suddenly, holding a hand out to him, the soft smile on your face is a bit mischievous now.

Dazai looks down at you, raising his eyebrows. “Here?” he asks, voice tainted with a hint of incredulity. “Now?”

“Mhm,” you say, unperturbed, holding your hand out more insistently. 

Dazai thinks he isn’t capable of denying you much of anything, but he can’t help but hesitate. Not because he doesn’t want to dance with you—he would sell what’s left of his wretched soul for just a single dance with you—but because the longer he’s out in the open, the more of a chance there might be an assassination attempt on him. Every time he goes out, he’s gambling his life. It would put you in danger, and it’s not like he brought Chuuya along for if something goes wrong. Albatross is capable enough, but his ability is not combat centric. 

Being seen with you in general could put you in danger, doubts begin to sprinkle through his head again, his heart lodged in his throat as remembers that Fyodor Dostoevsky and Agatha Christie aren’t the only threats to your life. He’s been as careful as he could be but even with all of the precautions in the world, there are still risks. He’s made new enemies in this lifetime, hundreds of them over the years, and if any one of them caught wind of you and his apparent attraction to you…

“If you wanted to dance, shouldn’t we have done that inside?” Dazai drawls instead, trying to play it off. Inside, where it’s significantly safer. Inside, where Dazai knows that there’s less of a chance of unsavory eyes falling upon the two of you because the club is owned by the Port Mafia and everyone let in is screened. Inside, where Dazai can still convince himself that he has the power to keep you safe. You’re entirely unbothered by his question, so he continues before you can shoot him down, “Where it’s not raining, and where there’s actually music.” 

“Haven’t you seen all of the romance movies?” you complain, smile widening. “Dancing in the rain is romantic, Dazai. Who needs music anyway? C’mon, dance with me.”

And how is Dazai supposed to say no to you when you look at him like that? Eyes wide and imploring, smile gentle—you look at him in a way that Dazai’s only dreamed of, and he knows that he’s a goner. Well, he’s known since he first met you, but it’s being made abundantly more clear right now with the way his heart, which he usually has such keen control over, beats rapidly in his chest. His lips part because he still wants to try to deny you—for your sake, not his—but no words leave them.

You don’t wait for his response anyway, hand darting out to catch his so you can drag him out into the parking lot. His eyes widen, stumbling forward and trying to catch his balance—you only laugh, intertwining your fingers with his while your other hand finds his waist, spinning the two of you in a reckless circle. 

“Keep up!” you tell him with a smile that causes his breath to catch. 

Dazai thinks he might die. His head feels fuzzy as you lead him in a wide ballroom dance, sweeping across the vacant parking lot with ease. He thinks he must look like a fool being dragged along in your dance like a puppet, hardly able to keep himself from tripping over his own feet. 

He’s not sure how you’re able to keep yourself so graceful, heels splashing in puddles as you lead him through spins and turns and pivots, but Dazai thinks you’re beautiful. Again. Extraordinarily so, even. Rain is pouring down over the two of you, the drizzle quickly becoming torrential, and your hair is wet and matted to your face, mascara a bit smeared underneath your eyes, but you’re laughing, and Dazai thinks you’re divine. Heavenly. Too ethereal to be tainted by the likes of him and yet here he is, the putrid skin of his fingers intertwined with your untarnished ones. You raise your arm and his, beckoning for him to twirl beneath it.

He does, and it’s awkward and clumsy because he’s too tall to comfortably perform the move, but you giggle loudly so it makes up for the embarrassment. And for a moment, Dazai can almost convince himself that this isn’t a life where he’s been forced to let the dark consume him for the betterment of the world; rather, it’s a world where he’s gone unsullied by the dark, his blood still runs red and you’re beautiful and you’re alive, and he’s just a boy who’s fallen so terribly in love with a girl so far out of his league that he thinks he might be dreaming when you return his interest. As he spins, he notices that his cheeks feel a bit strained and sore, and he realizes that there’s a smile on his face that matches your own, the muscles of his cheeks and jaw unused to stretching in such a manner and he hopes, anxiously, that it doesn’t look quite as unbearable as it feels.

If it does look unnatural, you don’t seem to mind. The rain blurs his vision and he’s forced to blink away the raindrops that keep falling into his eye, and for a split second, you’re standing before him in a pretty red dress on a sidewalk, and he’s the one leading you in the theatrical dance, dipping you down as lightning webs across the sky above the two of you, and he’s about to beg you for a kiss, he knows it but then-

He’s drawn out of his thoughts when you pull your hand back from his, but you don’t give him time to mourn the loss of your touch because then you’re slipping your arms around his neck, loose and casual. You’re pressed up close to him, chest brushing his and head tilted back so you can look up at him—a slower dance, swaying to the music of the wind and rain—and Dazai can hardly breathe. You’re so close. So close that he could kiss you if he wanted to. God, he wants to. He’s wanted to for weeks but every time he tries to gather the nerve to do it, he backs out.

“Where’d you go?” you ask softly, and he can barely hear you as thunder rumbles in the distance, brows furrowed in confusion, unsure of what you mean. You tap his temple twice gently, “Left me for a second there.” 

Oh, his throat feels a bit dry, realizing that you must’ve noticed when he started to slip back into the pages of the Book. Terrifying. Beautiful and terrifying, that’s what you are, if you can read him that well after meeting him once a week for a few weeks, he dreads to know how well you’d be able to read him once you start spending more and more time with him. But would it be so bad? To have someone that knows him so profoundly? He’s so alone all the damn time in this world, and you’re giving him a taste of a life where maybe he wouldn’t have to be. It’s terrifying. Tempting. He forces another smile onto his lips, and this time your eyes narrow, as if you know this one isn’t as genuine as the last. 

“How rude of me,” he murmurs, lifting his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He’s so close, he realizes again, hyper aware of the way his lips are almost brushing yours. He could kiss you if he wanted, he repeats, and he wants so badly but he doesn’t want to scare you away. “To leave behind such fine company.”

You don’t look content with his apparent attempt at avoiding the subject, and Dazai’s throat feels tight because it’s not really a conversation to have with you here. Now. Ever, really. 

For once, mother nature appears to be on his side, because before you can press on the subject, lightning strikes dangerously close to where the two of you are standing, making you jump, eyes wide. He takes the opportunity to wrap an arm around your waist, guiding you over to where he left Albatross earlier in the night. 

The car is already running, Albatross is leaning back in the seat scrolling on the phone and Dazai nearly commits an atrocity when he sees that the man has his gun laying haphazardly on the dashboard. As if Albatross can feel Dazai’s murderous intent, he looks up from his phone and his eyes shoot open when he sees you with Dazai and he scrambles to holster his gun back at his waist. 

Luckily, you don’t notice. Or maybe unluckily, because your attention is still fixated on him and Dazai is not ready to have that discussion with you because how the hell is he supposed to say “Sorry! Lost in some worlds that don’t exist, and just so you know, we almost got married in some of them! And just so you know, I got you killed in all of them!”

Yeah. That would go over well. 

Instead, he opens the door to the car for you, letting you hop in the backseat. He follows after. Albatross slides his glasses to the bridge of his nose, an unscrupulous smile on his face that instantly has Dazai suspicious. He hopes the man knows that no friendship with Chuuya will save him if he decides to purposely embarrass Dazai in front of you. 

“You’re back!” You recognize Albatross immediately, a smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. Dazai is almost jealous until he remembers that you’re still holding his hand. “You weren’t driving last time.”

Right. Because of the raid on one of the Scarlet Gang’s warehouses in Tokyo. A mission that Dazai definitely should have been more available for on the off chance that something went wrong, but he was far too busy indulging in you. In his defense, he had no doubts that the mission would go according to plan—the Scarlet Gang is dangerous, yes, and Kawabata is a force to be reckoned with, but he’s simply not Dazai.  

“D’aw, didn’t think you’d recognize me, doll,” Albatross grins, tossing you a wink. “Good to see you again too. You’re significantly more sober tonight, aren’t you?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit at the pet name, but he’s more focused on the way you throw your face into your hands with a groan, reminded of just how drunk you’d been the last time Albatross was playing chauffeur. You’re a messy drunk, he remembers fondly, he doesn’t remember ever seeing you drink in any of his other lives with you, and he feels a bit giddy at the thought that he gets to experience a side of you that the others never did. Even if he was spending half of the night holding your hair back while you threw your guts up, spluttering apologies through sobs and heaves. He would do it again. Without even the slightest hesitation, he would do it again. 

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” you ask, peeking one eye between your fingers to look at Dazai for confirmation. 

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to assure you that no, you weren’t that bad, because Albatross is speaking again. Of course. 

“You were pretty damn bad, doll,” he grins, and you groan even louder, leaning your body over to rest your head on Dazai’s bicep. Dazai’s heart nearly leaps out of his throat. “S’alright though, boss took care of you.” 

“Did he?” you ask with a teasing smile, eyes glittering as you look up at Dazai, who suddenly feels a bit embarrassed, but Albatross rescues him. 

Maybe he does deserve the vacation he’s been bitching about wanting. 

“Where to?” Albatross asks, putting the car in gear, gaze flickering between you and Dazai briefly. 

Dazai is about to tell him your apartment when he catches the sudden apprehension on your face. He hesitates and waits for you to say whatever you want to say, but you don’t, instead you let out a puff of air and let your eyes slide shut. 

“Where do you want to go?” Dazai asks you.

You still look uncertain, but then you finally say, “I was meaning to stop and get some groceries at the convenience store on the way home. There’s one a few blocks away from my apartment. I can just walk over there if you drop me off at my place though, it’s fine.”

As if. The idea of you walking anywhere so late at night makes his skin crawl, especially considering there’s been a rise of violent crimes in the city that the Mafia has yet to get a handle on. He needs to push for that to be taken care of if he has to worry about you leaving your apartment to wander around so late. He makes a note to himself to bring it up to Chuuya later. 

“We can stop there on the way there. It’s no trouble.”

Albatross gives him a look, as if he’s asking if the boss of the Port Mafia is really about to go grocery shopping with a civilian in the middle of the night, forcing the Mafia’s best getaway driver to be their chauffeur. Dazai only gives him a cold, sharp look in return—if you need groceries, then they’ll stop for groceries. Simple as that. In a life where Dazai thought he’d never even be able to look at you, the chance of doing mundane chores like grocery shopping with you is not something he’ll just pass by. 

He can pretend to be normal. If only for a little longer. 

Until he has to go back to the base, and his lungs are clogged with corrupted air, being slowly suffocated by his surroundings.

Until you figure out who he is, and he’s alone again, being consumed by the void in his chest once more. 

He hardly considers the fact that he’s going somewhere with you where his subordinates haven’t made extensive efforts to ensure that no one suspicious is around to see the two of you. 

“Alrighty,” Albatross agrees, backing down as soon as he sees the expression on Dazai’s face. “To the convenience store.”

Your eyes brighten, a smile lights up your face. “Thanks,” you say relieved, and Dazai wants to say that you don’t ever have to thank him for everything and that he’d give you the entire world if given the chance, but he thinks that might be a bit weird so instead he settles on just giving you a small smile. “I’ll make you the best hot chocolate of your life when we get to my apartment. Just wait.” 

Dazai’s chest feels warm. “I don’t doubt it.”

“Wait here,” you tell both Dazai and Albatross as Albatross pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex and stops the car outside of your building. Dazai, who’d been about to follow you, pauses from where he’s ducking beneath the doorframe to step out of the car, looking at you and waiting for an explanation. “... My apartment is a mess… I, um, wasn’t expecting company. Let me just… tidy up before you come in. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dazai’s visible eye crinkles up in amusement as he sits back down in the backseat of the car and you immediately take off up toward the steps leading up to the second floor of your apartment, giddy and excited, grocery bag swinging and bumping against your hip as you make your way quickly up the steps. You don’t know what’s gotten into you. You feel like a schoolgirl dealing with her first real crush, flustered and giggly, hardly able to hold a conversation without stuttering over your words. 

He’s just so… you don’t know how to describe it. Intense. But intense isn’t even the right word, because he’s not so intense that it makes you uncomfortable or overwhelmed, and that’s usually what you think of when someone is intense. Or maybe overwhelmed is a bit fitting, because you swear every time he sets his soft gaze down on you, your heart might leap out of your chest. Intense. Familiar, you don’t know how it’s possible to feel like you’ve known someone you’ve only met a few times your entire life.

Your fingers fumble as you try to unlock your door. One, two, three, it takes three attempts for you to finally slide the key into the lock, pushing open your door and stepping inside, free from the torrential rain and wild wind outside.

You sigh and rest your back against the door as you shut it behind you, eyes sliding shut. 

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

Someone important. 

Of course, you noticed how he was treated by the workers of the club—the bartender, the bouncers, even just the regular patrons. The restaurants he’s brought you to the past few weeks, they all treated him the same way. There were plenty of men there that were dressed in expensive clothes and held themselves highly, but none were treated the same way Dazai was.

Someone dangerous. 

You’d also caught a glimpse of the gun on the dash of Albatross’s car. (His driver, another point to note because who has a driver except very important people) Only three types of people have guns in Japan—military, police, and criminals, and you’re pretty sure he’s not part of the military or police force…

Someone you probably shouldn’t be so drawn to.

That should be enough to make you run. It really should be. You have no explanation or excuse for why you’re not besides the fact that you might not be as smart as you herald yourself to be. You shouldn’t feel giddy when he smiles softly at you, you should be nervous. You shouldn’t be longing for his touch, you should be avoiding it. Instead, you’re leaning against your door, smiling like an idiot after making him wait for you to clean up your apartment so you don’t embarrass yourself. 

Oh, you’re such a fool. But how could you not be with how he treats you? Tucking hair behind your ear, setting a gaze so soft on you that you think it might make your heart stop, dancing with you in the rain clumsily with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. How is it possible for you to reconcile the way the man acts with you to the way others treat him? Or maybe that’s just delusion speaking. It could be, honestly. You think if your brother was living with you, he’d be horrified, might lock you away for the rest of your life; you think your friends already want to put you in a psych ward and they’d only become all the more insistent if they knew half of the things you’ve noticed. 

But your brother left you and your friends don’t know, so nothing is stopping you from making what might be a terrible decision. 

You let out a breath as you push yourself off the door, placing down your grocery bags on the table by your door so you can scramble to pick up all of the stray clothes you’d tossed around your apartment as you frantically tried to find an outfit earlier in the night. You reach over to turn on your light, flicking the switch once, then twice, and then three times.

No way.

You sigh deeply, head falling back against the wood door of your apartment, knocking the back of your head against it twice in frustration. Letting out a irate puff of air, you push yourself off of the door and force yourself to get to work. It’s not the end of the world, hopefully it'll come back soon, the providers are usually quick with getting the outages fixed, even in your shitty area. 

You force yourself to move forward, frowning deeply as you scoop up all of the paperwork spread out on your coffee table, making sure to keep it all in order as you move them over to the desk you have by your window seat. You drop the pile down and cast your gaze out to all of the clothes strewn haphazardly around your apartment, cursing yourself for having been so messy earlier when you were trying on just about every outfit you own and then flinging them around frustrated when you decided they weren’t good enough.

You scowl as you bend down to pick them all up, deciding you’ll just stuff them messily in your closet and fold them later when you don’t have company. As you zoom around trying to snag all of the dresses and different pairs of bras and underwear scattered about, your mind races. Your stove should still work because your landlord refuses to install any modern appliances into your apartment, for better or for worse, so you have an old model that shouldn’t be affected by the outage. But you think it’ll be awkward sitting in the dark, you think you have a few candles stored away in your room—you’ll have to find them and set them up. 

Candlelit evening, how romantic! you think to yourself, a bit dreamily. You wonder if Albatross will be coming up to join the two of you in your apartment, you’d offered to make him a drink too but you figure it’ll be Dazai’s decision if he’ll be waiting outside or…

Or maybe, he’ll send him home. 

You get giddy at the thought—candlelights, slightly tipsy after a night out, you take a peek under your dress to try to figure out which underwear you’d decided on earlier and if you should change into a different pair but are delighted when you realize that you’d gone with your pretty red ones. 

You think he’ll like them. 

Hopefully. 

You like them, they’re your favorites.

Oh, you have to clean your bedroom too, you think to yourself in partial agony because you don’t know how the hell you’re going to clean up everything in there without making Dazai wait out there for an hour. You get anxious at the thought, worrying that if you take too long, he might leave, so you pick up the pace. You snatch the last stray bra hanging on the arm of your couch before taking off into your bedroom.

You hardly get a step into the room before you’re freezing in your tracks.

No way.

You stare at your bed, arms falling loose to your side, lips parted in shock. The clothes you’d cleaned up all drop aimlessly to the floor around you. Your bed is drenched with water—your sheets soaked, your mattress soaked, the ceiling heavy with rainwater from a leak you didn’t know you had.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out to yourself, unsure of what exactly you should do, never having had a problem like this before.

You think this is what you get, seeking out the cheapest possible apartment complex to stay in because you’re trying to save all of the money you have for school. Now, your mattress is ruined, your ceiling looks like it’s on the verge of collapse and oh my god, you left your laptop on your bed. 

A noise caught between a whimper and cry of frustration leaves your lips as you dive forward, fishing your laptop out of the massive pool of water flooding your bed. You hold it in front of your face between two fingers, watching as water drips from it down to the ground. 

There goes your laptop too.

You think you might be sick. 

Now, you have to deal with a landlord who is decidedly not helpful when it comes to issues in the complex and you have nowhere to sleep. Maybe you can call one of your friends to stay at their place, but it’s already the middle of the night and you know two of them have their own entrance exams tomorrow for the programs that they’re applying to.

Unless…

Your gaze shifts to the window in your room, looking between the blinds to see Dazai and Albatross still waiting outside in their car. 

Okay. Most urgent problem temporarily fixed. Maybe.

Dazai has a place. He has to. He’s clearly rich. It’s probably a much nicer place than yours too. You can go there, at least for the night. He wouldn’t just leave you with nowhere to go… right? No, of course he wouldn’t. You need to pack then, instead of cleaning. 

Okay, this is fine. 

It’s fine. 

It takes you about five minutes to grab a few spare pairs of clothes into the duffle bag laying at your bedroom door, occasionally tossing dirty looks at the leak ruining your bed. When you finish throwing your clothes in the duffle—unfolded and hastily, of course, they’ll be terribly wrinkled—you rise to your feet and swing the bag over your shoulder, making your way back to your door and grabbing your groceries. 

You don’t know what to say to him when you get back to the car. You’re probably being a bit presumptuous. Okay, a lot presumptuous—Dazai has never invited you back to his place, you’ve invited him to yours—but you don’t really have another choice.

You exhale as you step back into the rain, locking your apartment and making your way back down the steps to the complex’s parking lot. You don’t let yourself hesitate as you dart across the parking lot toward the car, fearing that if you take a second to actually think about what you’re doing—inviting yourself into someone else’s home!—you’ll probably back out.

You open the car door. You slide back inside, taking a seat behind the passenger seat. You drop your duffle bag on the floor between your feet and place your groceries back down between you and Dazai. You can feel both Dazai and Albatross staring at you. You stare ahead.

“... My apartment is flooded,” you finally say after a few moments.

Dazai doesn’t say anything, brows furrowing as he watches you. You can hardly bring yourself to look at him, trying to peek at him from the corner of your eye as best as you can without being too obvious about it. He’s not responding. Albatross isn’t moving the car. You’re getting the urge to bolt, to run upstairs and drown yourself in the puddle of water on your bed. 

Finally, Albatross clears his throat. “Boss?”

Dazai still doesn’t respond. You think you might be doubly sick now, and embarrassed. An awful combination, really. You know that he knows what you came back here hoping for, and you realize that he might just send you back to your flooded apartment instead because he obviously did not sign up for taking in some random girl that he’s met a few Fridays for the night because she has nowhere else to go. 

You finally turn your face to look at Dazai head on and you can feel that your eyes are glassy, chewing on the inside of your cheek. You don’t know how pathetic you must look for Dazai’s expression to shift the way it does, his conflicted expression crumbling as he turns away from you. You don’t want to know how pathetic you must look, you’d only feel even more humiliated.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally says: “Drive.”

Albatross’s eyes shoot open, he physically turns to look at Dazai, “But-”

You don’t catch the look that Dazai gives Albatross, too busy basking in the relief of having somewhere to stay for the night, but whatever it is, it makes Albatross turn back to face the wheel without another word, turning the car back on and shifting it into gear before pulling out of the parking lot. 

As soon as you’re on the move, you turn your attention back down to your phone, trying to figure out if you should message your landlord now or in the morning, dreading the inevitable argument you’re going to have with him. You fiddle with the device, occasionally sparing looks at Dazai, but the man is lost in thought next to you, visible eye distant and conflicted.

You can’t bring yourself to say anything so the whole drive to Dazai’s apartment is long and quiet. Even Albatross, who’s had no difficult sparking conversation the whole drive to your place, stays silent.

You’re bummed, all of the excitement you felt about bringing Dazai back to your place is long gone, feeling the stress of having to replace everything that’s been ruined by the leak and the anxiety of dealing with your landlord; all you want to do is sleep and die. Okay. That’s dramatic. But you’re exhausted and you really do want to sleep. Maybe not die, but definitely sleep. 

You lay your head against the window, eyes starting to droop shut, and you can feel Dazai glancing at you now but you can’t even bring yourself to look over at him. Instead, you keep your eyes trained outside the window, only perking up when Albatross finally starts slowing to a stop.

And then, you’re suddenly not tired at all. Your eyes widen as he pulls to the front of the tallest of the five black buildings that tower over the Naka ward, lips parting as you crane your head to look up out the window and then look pointedly back at Dazai, stunned.

Dazai refuses to meet your gaze, staring ahead. 

… You think that your instincts about this man must be spot on. 

Too bad you’re not listening to them.

“You’ve gone crazy.”

Dazai’s gaze draws up from the paperwork he’s definitely not doing, far too preoccupied with thoughts of you; it’s cold and cutting as it lands on Chuuya. His executive enters the room without any type of announcement, his voice just as cold as Dazai’s expression—he supposes it’s testimony to how angry he is, because Chuuya is only frigid in his anger when he’s really been pushed to the brink.

Naturally, Dazai only smiles, a slow and taunting one that he knows presses all of Chuuya’s buttons from the way the man’s bicolored eyes flash with fury. Chuuya storms over to Dazai’s desk, making his way until he’s standing right in front of him. 

“How so?” Dazai drawls, folding his hands over his lap as he leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side questioningly. 

“How so?” Chuuya spits out, slamming his hands down on Dazai’s desk. Dazai raises his eyebrows and then lifts his chin, looking pointedly down to where Chuuya’s hands are splayed against his desk. Chuuya doesn’t flinch—of course he doesn’t, he’s Chuuya—but he does pull his hands back to himself, albeit snarling as he does it. “The hell are you bringing some random woman back to our base? Back to your room? Going out alone the past few weeks when you know you’ve got a bounty on your head higher than most world leaders? I was letting it slide but this is too far, why the hell is she here? You’ve gone crazy, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Careful, Chuuya,” Dazai warns, voice quiet, expression growing a bit flinty when he brings you up. Dazai doesn’t care if Chuuya wants to rail on him for being reckless, but he’s not allowed to drag you into it. He decides to not acknowledge the comment about you, focusing on the end of his tirade, “I was with one of the Flags, I wasn’t alone.”

“Albatross isn’t cut out for that type of combat and you know it,” Chuuya snaps, glaring at Dazai. “If one of those bounty hunters came after you, you both would’ve been killed. What’s gotten into you? Never took you for the type to be this reckless. You get a taste of a woman’s c-”

“I said careful, Chuuya. Know your place,” Dazai repeats, voice icy. The warning is gone, only a threat remains—Chuuya doesn’t need to finish his sentence for Dazai to know where he was going with it, the way the man’s eyes darted over to Dazai’s bedroom was more than enough to confirm it. 

“Is this a goddamn joke to you?” Chuuya asks, keeping his voice low, his lips flat and his eyes narrowed. “I don’t get it. You’ve always been so careful, more than anyone else. What the hell does one random woman have that’s making you risk all of this?” 

“I’m not risking anything,” Dazai tells him coolly, “and she’s not just some random woman.”

Chuuya’s expression shifts, brows furrowing deeper; Dazai can see the tiny cogs working behind his eyes as he thinks. He wonders if Chuuya has been drinking tonight, catching the pink hue to his cheeks and the hazy look coating his eyes. 

No wonder he’s so angry then, Dazai muses, he must have been out with Kouyou when he got word that Dazai left the base again without any protection detail and then brought someone up to his room who in Chuuya’s mind, could be an assassin for all he knows. 

Suddenly, the confusion clears and something closer to realization sweeps across Chuuya’s face. His gaze turns back pointedly in the direction of Dazai’s bedroom.

“That’s her,” Chuuya says, disbelief dripping from his tone. “The girl you’ve had Kouyou looking over for years. What the fuck, Dazai? I thought the whole point of having Kouyou look after her was so that you kept away from her.”

Dazai stares at Chuuya, only for a moment, because then his gaze drifts back to the door leading into his bedroom, mind drifting. He supposes that he shouldn’t be surprised that Kouyou told Chuuya about it—Dazai wasn’t explicit enough with his orders, only telling Kouyou to ensure that Dazai himself never knew anything about her. Of course, the woman would bring it up to Chuuya, probably hoping Chuuya had some insight into why Dazai is so insistent on your protection. 

Chuuya didn’t, of course, but he guesses that only made the topic of you and Dazai’s apparent random attachment to you even more of an interesting topic for their wine sessions. Honestly, he’s surprised that Chuuya didn’t realize earlier that the girl he’s been seeing is the one he’s had Kouyou assigned to. Kouyou surely should have known by now.

You’re fast asleep by now. He got lucky because of how exhausted you were over the stress of the whole situation: he didn’t have to deal with the questions that he was certain would arise as soon as you caught sight of the Port Mafia base. You were all but falling asleep on your feet as the two of you stood in the glass elevator leading up to Dazai’s apartment, the penthouse in the centermost of the five buildings consisting of the Port Mafia base. Dazai thought he was about to have a heart attack when you swayed on your feet and ended up resting your head on his bicep, eyes drooping shut. You only managed a few sleepy protests as he led you to his bedroom, asking where he was going to sleep if you take his room (the fact that you worry about him when you’re even on the brink of falling asleep on your feet made his fingers tingle), but you gave in quickly at his insistence. 

He should feel some sort of pity, or sympathy, because he could see the weariness in your eyes and the fatigue plaguing your body. Dazai might not be capable of feeling pity or sympathy for most people, but if he could feel it for anyone, it would be you. But he does not, and it’s for a selfish reason, of course: your misfortune led to you turning to him for help, and the thought of that alone makes his chest feel light and giddy. 

Yes, he’s going to have to figure out some sort of excuse tomorrow for when you wake up and inevitably have questions—he is not ready for you to know about his position in the Port Mafia—but right now you’re sleeping in his bed and you’re relying on him for help. His fingers thrum against his desk, jittery with excitement, he almost forgets Chuuya is there until he hears the man let out a sharp noise of disgust at Dazai's apparent exhilaration. 

Distantly, very distantly, he knows this is bad. You’ve been smart and observant in every universe, you’re going to put together that something is seriously wrong—you were not supposed to come back to his place, but how was he supposed to say no to you when you were looking at him with teary eyes and nowhere else to go? The thought itself feels like sacrilege. 

“You know what we are and what we do,” Chuuya says, voice calmer now as he shakes his head and fishes a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with his free hand before he turns to leave. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing, but you’re putting this girl in danger after the lengths you went to keep her safe. I don’t get it.”

He squints a bit as Chuuya’s words ring through his head. That’s what he had thought too, but he’s the last person to admit to Chuuya that he might be right. A cold feeling starts to set over him, spreading through his chest like ice. If he’s going to think about this realistically, you’re probably already in danger just from being around him. The likelihood of someone catching sight of the two of you the past few weeks is higher than he’s comfortable with, even with the precautions that he’s taken, especially with tonight outside the club and at the convenience store. The thought is terrifying, enough to immediately kill off the jittery excitement that had been running through his body. 

Dazai’s index finger traces the outline of his lips, his mind races. What does he do? If you’re in danger, he can’t just let you go back to your apartment and leave you undefended in a sketchier part of the city. His enemies will jump on it. They’ll target you. But he can’t just keep you here. It’ll be too risky, you’ll figure out who he is and what he does, and that’s not even considering the fact that maybe you won’t even want to stay. You might wake up in the morning and head to someone else’s place—you’d made a vague comment about not wanting to intrude and going to a friend’s house tomorrow but the thought makes his stomach twist a bit. 

God, he’s so conflicted. 

But the first thing to handle is making sure that you don’t go back to your apartment alone. The rest he can figure out later on—he has to decide if he’d rather try to keep you around the base and risk you figuring out what he does (god, he wants to keep you around) or if he should just send you off to a “friend’s” (he still stands by the fact that your ‘friends’ are shitty because what sort of friends leave their drunk friend alone at a bar with a stranger—even if he knows that he’d rather let the world burn than see harm come upon you, they don’t know that) with an extra protection detail. One that you wouldn’t know is there, naturally. 

But how does he make sure you don’t go back to your apartment after the leak is fixed? 

He thinks to himself, an idea coming to him swiftly. It’s a bit dark, yes, and he’s sure that if you knew, you’d run for the hills but… to keep you safe, he would do whatever it takes. Even if you’d hate him for it if you knew. 

But what you don’t know won’t hurt you. 

“Chuuya,” Dazai says before the man can leave his apartment. Chuuya stops dead in his tracks, not turning to look at Dazai, but waiting for whatever he has to say. “I’m going to text you the number of her landlord… make sure he doesn’t get her apartment fixed any time soon. And let Gin-chan know I might have a guest for the next few days so she’s not caught off guard tomorrow.”

Chuuya scoffs. “You’re a freak, Dazai.”

Dazai only smiles idly to himself, eyes sliding shut as he leans back in the chair at his desk, Chuuya leaves without another word, Dazai loses himself in thoughts of you. 

A freak? Yeah, maybe. In love? Definitely. 

Should he convince you to stay with him? The thought bounces around his head frantically. He doesn’t know the answer. The more careful part of him screams no, tells him that it’s too dangerous to keep you around. It’s dangerous for you, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk you’ll be of getting hurt. It’s dangerous for him, because the longer you’re around here, the more at risk he’ll be of getting exposed,

But the less logical part of him, the one that’s consumed by the idea of you, and the chance he has of being with you, is much louder. 

You came to him, he reminds himself. You found him. He tried to be good. He did everything he could to stay away from you, but you still found him. And you chose to seek him out again. You chose to. It’s easier to blame it on you, convince himself that you brought this upon yourself, as if you had any idea what sort of sick and fucked up person Dazai really is, as if you have any idea what’s happened to you in every other universe because of him.

He can never go back to how he was living before meeting you; he can’t. 

You came to him. 

Why should he have to let you go now?

With that thought in mind, Dazai thinks the answer to his question is made abundantly clear. 

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

[short-honey-badger]

Older Men

Pairing! Crocodile x Reader

Warnings! Drinking

Crocodile realizes that you need someone older to take care of you, not the boys that you seem to want.

Masterlist

You fast walk through the tall tents of Buggy Town, arms wrapped tight around yourself and head ducked low so that no one else could see the tears streaming down your face. You'd been rejected again, by the third man in less than three weeks. All you wanted was a little companionship, someone to hold you close at night. To kiss you good morning when you woke up. Was that so wrong to want from someone your own age?

You don't notice how close you've gotten to Crocodile's side of the town until you physically bump into the man himself. You grunt when you lose your balance, and you brace for a fall that never happens. Instead, you feel warm sand supporting your back and upper arms, gently setting you back on your feet, and dangerously close to the ex warlord.

“Pretty things like you should watch where they are going,” Crocodile grouches lowly, and you look up at him through wet lashes.

“Sorry, sir. I'll be more careful,” you murmur, and fresh tears spout up at the reprimand. Now look at what you've done. Gone and pissed off one of the leaders of the Cross Guild.

Crocodile looks down at you, looking rather unimpressed with the thick cigar clenched between his teeth. He recognizes you and has seen your walk of shame back to his side of town each time your little date didn't go as planned. He didn't understand why you would want to waste your time on pip squeaks like them when he has been here this whole time.

The devil fruit user comes to the conclusion quickly and spins on his heel, “Come with me.”

You blink at his retreating back and jump to follow after him when he glances over his shoulder with an expectant look. You follow him to the edge of the town, and he steps to the side to allow you inside his personal tent first. You're just a little nervous being in here. You've known Crocodile for a while, after all.

He breezes past you, stopping at his desk to pour two glasses of dark liquor. He pushes one glass to the edge, an obvious offer that you are hesitant to accept. However, it's never a wise choice to not accept anything that the towering man offered.

The liquor burns as it goes down, but you find yourself relaxing because of it. You watch as Crocodile hums in satisfaction and sits back in his chair, mouth going a bit dry at the way he spreads his legs and rests his dangerous hook on his thigh.

“Why do you bother with those boys?”

You jump at the unexpected timbre and whip around to give him a look of confusion. He scowls at you, rolling his purple eyes skyward.

“Don't play ignorant. I've watched you each time you come crying back home. Why do you keep trying with them?”

You sink into yourself a little. You don't understand why it matters to Crocodile, but you couldn't not answer your boss.

“I um. I should be with someone my own age, right?” You say carefully. You've never really thought too much about the why of it.

“ku- ha ha, Who told you that?” He demands and his voice drips with condescension, clearly thinking you an idiot. You blush and embarrassed tears well up.

“No one? I just thought that's how it's supposed to go.”

Crocodile lets out a soft hmm, and then sets his now empty glass away. He eyes you, looking all cute and pathetic.

“Come here, Doll,” he murmurs and pats his lap, “Those boys out there will never know how to treat a beautiful woman. You need someone to take charge, someone who knows what they're doing. Someone a little older.”

Your face feels like it's on fire, but you can't help but hang on to every word that the gator says, his tone soft and beckoning. You step closer, clearly nervous, but Crocodile makes your decision for you when the ground under your feet becomes less stable and you fall forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulders.

Crocodile rumbles another laugh and tugs you into his lap properly, tucking you close to his chest. His hand finds your face, and the ex warlord is gentle in the way that he wipes your spilled tears away. His eyes soften, and you look on in wonder as he leans in and presses his lips to the top of your head.

“You've got me now, _, so don't think for a second that I'll send you away.”

#one piece #fanfic #reader insert #fluff #crocodile x you #crocodile x reader #crocodile x y/n #crocodile #sir crocodile #cross guild #fanfic writing #writing promt

[buckets-and-trees]

Mob Bucky walking into the kitchen and picking you up to carry you out to the bedroom when you spent whole day cooking. You argue that you still need to bake two pies and make a salad, or something, but Bucky doesn't care.

"You spent the past two days on your feet. Now you're gonna spend the next twenty four hours on your back. Maybe on hands and knees, if I feel like it."

Hahahaha! Because we WOULD. But it's our chef heart!

Fandom: MCU Collection: Devour Title: CUSTARD Characters/Pairings: Mob Boss!Bucky x female!Chef!Reader Word Count: 687

Content Warnings: referenced smut (vaginal penetration/fucking, oral: female receiving), mob boss Bucky

Logistical Notes: Takes place after the series (shh, I know I'm still working on the final chapter). Prompt from the ask in bold italics, and notching a Naughty prompt from @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge in plain bold.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

James was calling your name, but you didn’t hear him until he was in the kitchen with you.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You didn’t register the dangerous chill in his tone either, too busy skimming your fingers back over the recipe you were studying, frowning back at the mixture in the metal bowl whipping up in front of you.

“Mmm,” you hummed, completely focused on your work, “will you taste this?” You reached for one of the small spoons in a jar on the counter, dipped it into the bowl, and held it out for your mob boss.

He crossed the kitchen and was at your side in an instant. You only looked his way briefly enough to thrust the spoon into his mouth just as he opened it to speak again. You reached for another spoon to taste the custard’s current status for yourself.

“It definitely needs the nutmeg,” you murmured, wondering why the recipe you were referencing didn’t have any listed.

“You definitely need to be out of this kitchen!” James ordered.

You whipped your head back to glare at him. “I promised I would bring pie to the brunch, James.”

“And you’ve already made one.”

“But I didn’t make that pie for the brunch! It’s the backup pecan pie, and everyone deserves to have pie that was intended for the brunch. Pecan pie is not a proper brunch pie,” you argued. “I really should make a fruit pie to go along with this buttermilk pie, too,” you added for yourself, tone dropping back to your concentrated cooking tone.

“No! I forbid it!”

“You forbid it?”

“Yes, I forbid it! Against my better judgement, I tolerated you cooking the holiday meal with our families, but you spent the past two days on your feet when you’re supposed to be off, chef.”

He pulled the spoon out of your right hand and the spatula out of your left, flung them onto the counter, and flung you over his shoulder.

“James Buchanan Barnes!”

He didn’t speak as he walked you out of the kitchen and down the hallway. You squirmed a bit – knowing with all his strength there was no way he would let you fall, but also wanting to protest over being dragged away from your task.

He tossed you unceremoniously onto the bed and was on you immediately.

His large frame trapped you beneath him, though you tried to squirm away. He took each of your hands and pinned them in one of his above your head, while his other hand grabbed your jaw and angled your face for him to perfectly capture your lips in a kiss. He forced his tongue against yours, and immediately you could taste the sweetness of the custard still lingering in his mouth. He kissed you until you stopped struggling, softening beneath him. He released your hands, and you wound one around his neck and the other through his hair. His free hand didn’t stay free for even a second before it was palming your breast through your shirt, and you moaned.

Finally, he broke of the kiss, but only moving his head back a fraction of an inch.

“Damn you,” you breathed against his lips, but you knew from the look in his eyes that he knew he’d demanded and earned your utter and complete surrender.

“You’re going to spend the next twenty-four hours on your back,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then drew the heat along your jaw and down your neck. The desire in your core was fully ablaze, and you could feel how wet you were already growing between your thighs.

He nipped at your collarbone, and you gasped.

“Maybe on hands and knees if I feel like it,” he added as he ripped the front of your shirt open.

The audacity of this man! you thought while you could still think.

An audacity that you gladly put up with until well after midnight as he had you cumming more than once on his cock, then woke up to first thing with his head between your thighs.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I PROMISE ONE DAY I WILL FINISH THE FINAL CHAPTER, I JUST CAN'T HELP IT THAT PEOPLE KEEP SENDING FANTASTICALLY INSPIRATIONAL ASKS THAT TURN INTO THESE LITTLE ADDITIONAL SCENES FOR THEIR FUTURE!

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #aspen wrote something #aspen asks #eva #eva is such a menace #devour au

[simpleeindulge]

Yummy🔞

Info: fem/readerxLuffy, implied relationship, MDI, soft food kink, detailed, licking, kissing, cunnilingus, some consensual intercourse🔞

Context: Luffy finds out he has a kink. ‼️Warning: Detailed‼️

……

Luffy didn't know what it was about licking food off your skin that made it taste so good; it just did.

He discovered his new fascination nearly a week ago while spending some time with you. It was an innocent situation; you were curled up in the library with a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Sanji had topped your drink with a generous swirl of whipped cream, and some had gotten on your chin.

What Luffy did was something you had done to him countless times. He licked the cream from your chin.

"Ah! Luffy!" You gasped and shivered as you stared in shock at him.

Luffy felt an internal quake as he drew his tongue back into his mouth as he watched you jump while hearing you gasping. The cream tasted better and sweeter, and your reaction made it all the tastier.

He wondered if that's why you would kiss or lick his face when had cream or chocolate on his face. It was a mean trick of you not to share this secret delight with him!

Since that day, Luffy couldn't get the idea out of his mind. Whenever his mind wandered, he thought about other foods that would taste good on your skin. Syrup, chocolate, ketchup, caramel, ice cream...

"What else, what else," He mumbled to him as he fished off the side of the Sunny. "Cheese? Pasta? Meat?"

"Thinking of what you want Sanji to cook?" Robin asked from her chair. She was relaxing in her favorite reading spot and couldn't help overhearing Luffy talking to himself.

Luffy glanced at her and said honestly, "I'm trying to think of foods that would taste good with Y/N's skin."

Robin's expression did not change, and she hummed as she processed what Luffy said.

"You mean, what food would taste good eating off Y/N's body?" She clarified.

"Yeah," Luffy replied as he shrugged. "I've only tried whipped cream so far."

Robin giggled since she knew what Luffy had done to you days ago when you had vented to her.

Sex was something that occurred rarely between you and Luffy. Luffy did enjoy the feeling, but there were other things he enjoyed doing more with you.

So long as Luffy met your minimal needs each month it didn't matter because you had other ways of being intimate with him. But when Luffy licked you, you felt something you didn't expect and the look in his eyes didn't help.

“Well, from what I understand, most people use fruits and cream or chocolate,” Robin said mischievously.

“Not meat?” Luffy said with a pout.

Robin smiled at her captain, and thinking it would help two people she cared about get closer she used her powers to get a magnize from Sanji’s “secret stash.”

“Here, have a look and see if Y/n will be willing to play along,” Robin suggested with a wink.

…

“No! Absolutely not!”

“But Y/N…”

“There is no way I am putting that between my legs!” You shouted as you pointed at the chuck of meat Luffy held up by the bone.”

“Aww, but why?” Luffy pouted.

“Because one, it's weird; two, it’s not sanitary; and three, knowing you, it would be dangerous!” You explained as you crossed your arms.

Luffy sighed and took a bite of his meat and ate it with a sulky look.

“I just wanted to see what else would taste good with you.”

You shivered as you thought about how his tongue had licked the cream clean of your chin. It was a type of intimacy you had yet to experience with Luffy. And lord knows he is food motivated.

It might be fun to try.

You sighed and picked up the can of whipped cream Robin had given you. Somehow, she knew you would need it.

“Luffy, if this is something you want to try, let’s start with something simple.”

You smile and playfully shake the can at him.

Luffy had just taken a bite of his meat and he stared at you wide-eyed. He then swallowed down hard and gave you a huge grin. It was the same grin he always used when he is about to do something he found fun.

“Alright!” He excitedly cried and reached to take the can from you.

You moved it out of the way, saying, “Hold on! There is one rule you have to promise to follow.”

“Huh?” Luffy said as his grin dropped.

“No teeth. If you bite me, I will end you.” You said darkly.

Luffy frowned and said, “It's whipped cream, who bites whipped cream?”

“You would!” I stated loudly. Luffy put up his hands and laughed.

“Shishishi, okay, I promise not to bite you.”

You huffed and then moved to the bed. Your eyes then held his gaze as you removed your top. Luffy watched as you removed your bra and then your panties. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His eyes became wide pools of black that made you shiver.

He saw you, and though he didn't physically react by blushing, sweating, breathing harder, or licking his lips, you knew he saw you. It was the sudden intensity that told you.

You pulled up your hair and then shook the can as you continued to stare into his eyes. The cool cream made you wince and gasp as you covered the tops of your breasts. You were about to invite Luffy to taste the cream but he was already on top of you.

He moved fast, pushing you on your back as your legs hung over the edge of the bed. Luffy eyed the cream and without being told started licking it off your skin.

“L-Lufffy!”

He didn't slow his movements as his tongue dragged over your skin. When his lips came near a nipple, Luffy sucked it into his mouth, causing your back to arch. A strained whine left your throat, and you saw stars behind your eyes.

He licked and sucked hard, then let the bud pop out his mouth to lick at the cream that hid under and between your breasts.

“Is there more?” Luffy asked as stared down at your glossy skin.

You were panting hard and trying to think. Luffy then spotted the can on the bed and snatched it up.

“Luffy wait!”

Luffy sprayed the cream over your belly. He then ran his tongue over the vulnerable skin and dipped around your belly button. The sensation made your toes curl and your cunt wet. It was hard to breathe and yet it felt amazing as the light tickling sensation sent waves of tantalizing pleasure down between your legs.

Your palms pressed down onto the bed as you lay back and enjoy the treatment you are getting. Luffy hooked an arm under one of your legs and shifted the two of you. You licked your lips as waited for what was about to come next.

Luffy used the rest of the can between your legs. He was about to dig in when you warned him in a honeyed voice, “Luffy, no biting.”

He paused and looked at you with that goofy grin you love so much.

“I know, I know!” Luffy replied with a cheerful laugh.

He then lapped at the white cream like a cat and moaned as your juices added a tang to the sweet taste. His tongue flicked at your clit and then spread over from the bottom of your pussy to the top.

The string of nerves surrounding your pussy pulled tighter and tighter. Your voice became hard to control as Luffy’s tongue swirled and dripped into your core. His mouth would then suck at the sensitive folds and his lips would tease the top of your mount as he search for more cream.

The strained cries you made were nothing but background noise as Luffy feasted on you. And yet, the strings coiled tighter and tighter, ready to launch you into oblivion.

“Ah! Luffy!”

There was no more cream for him to lick but Luffy kept going as he imagined other foods he could eat from here. Bananas, peaches, chocolate, cake, gummy bears, bacon, meat…

“Luffy…Luffy!”

Meat with gravy, syrup, pancakes with syrup? He thought hard as his mouth sucked on you as he became intoxicated by your smell. Something tangy sprayed onto his top lip and he moaned as him licked it into his mouth.

Tangerines, strawberries, melon…

“Luffy! Please…Stop!”

Luffy halted and breathed hard. His eyes glanced at you as your juices still covered his mouth. You were panting just as hard as you tried to relax from the intense orgasm you had just experienced.

He licked his lips clean as he noticed how your body trembled with aftershocks and moved over you without touching.

“Oops, did I overdo it?” Luffy asked, looking concerned and curious.

You smiled at him and lightly laughed then moaned at the tight spasm in your lower belly.

“Only a little, but it felt good.”

“Oh? Will that’s good I guess.” Luffy replied as you stroked his face.

“Hey, Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

Luffy licked his lips and let his erection rub against your belly. You gasped and closed your eyes then looked at him.

“Can I? It won't go away and it hurts.”

You breathed and nodded your head. You didn't even bother to tell Luffy to be gentle as he entered you. After what he had just did, he deserved a nice reward.

“Hey…Y/n…” Luffy groaned as he moved at a decent pace into you. “Can we try peaches next time? The kind with syrup juice?”

You let out a delirious giggle as you held onto what little sanity you had left.

“Sure…let’s try it next time…”

Luffy grinned as stored the promise away. He will think about it later, now, he was with you and it was delicious.

He bent and kissed you, pushing his tongue inside to taste your mouth. Yes. Simply, delicious.

#one piece smut #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy x you #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #op fanfic #op luffy #x reader

[everythingseasoning]

How the AOT men love you (SFW & slight NSFW).. PT 1

MINORS: Please DNI. Further reading means you consent to reading everything here, though it's pretty vanilla tbh.

EREN - A bit rough around the edges regarding emotional intimacy. Don't get me wrong, he definitely will straight up tell you "I love you so much, y/n," -- he's not afraid of saying what he feels. However, because he isn't as reflective and insightful and calm as Armin is (Eren's a little more simple-minded), he isn't a guy who does fluffy stuff all the time. He's more about action and adventure -- always pulling you into the next great thing.

*NEEDS* you to be safe, and happy. He will only feel satisfied if you're doing okay. Man cares about you, more than anything else.

Oh .. oh, Eren is definitely very blunt, and stubborn. He sees things in his own way, and it's hard to convince him to back down on anything he's got his mind set to. However, the flip side of this, is that he is fiercely caring, and righteous. Will protect you at all costs, even for little things: Some as*hole at the grocery store cut you off in line and you almost fell to the ground? Eren has a hand on your back and waist, steadying you, before he storms up to the man with the DARKEST look of determined hatred. This man has ZERO chill. (and we love him for it).

You are the most important thing in the world to him. He loves you so intensely and passionately that you won't have a chance to ever doubt it.

Fluff 1) You and Eren like to go on walks/runs together. Sometimes you two have races. Eren always wins (the little b*tch--) or ends up slinging you across his shoulder while running, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you two enjoy the rush of being with each other, and life. Life with Eren is just so right, exciting, and full of good times.

Fluff 2) Just how many beautiful waterfalls have you seen with Eren? You've even hiked a purple-flower covered mountain with him! And you've both tried many wild fruits, from the strange oblong shaped ones to pretty yellow star shaped ones-- Usually you were the one to notice the fruit while Eren glanced giddily all around the forest canopy and ground. It was tradition that whenever you two discovered another fruit plant/tree, Eren opens up the Wild Fruits and Plants You Can Eat book, gifted to you by Armin ("So that Eren doesn't accidentally eat something poisonous.") Sometimes Eren is not as bouncy with energy when you two explore the world, and instead he will hold your hand as you two stroll casually, cuddling up on each other's warmth.

NSFW 1) Eren isn't afraid to just.. straight up ask you.. when he wants it. He will look you up and down, eyes full of hunger. "I want you. How 'bout you?" Whewwww. 😮‍💨

LEVI - ohh boy i have so much to say about this little dude...

Would go absolutely crazy and turn into a battle demon, if he saw the love of his life in danger. ...

If Levi somehow found the right somebody, and actually spent enough time with them to be in a relationship, he would NEED his partner to be safe. He will not risk losing you-- he won't. Not after Isabel and Farlan..not again. So if you're ever in danger, you will see an overpowered beast emerge from that man's body and soul.

Levi isn't the best at emotional intimacy, is very stiff when it comes to words of affirmation. He hadn't ever really thought about love. He never even thought he'd have the option to be safe physically, let alone be safe emotionally. --But when he does meet that person, they light up his life in ways that just stun him. They feel like a summer's glow. He will look 10 years younger with you by his side, will feel unprecedented relief whenever he goes back to you. Will scare all the cadets because he will have this stupid smile on his face whenever he sees you.

--But Levi is not used to being loved deeply. He wouldn't know what to DO with your love, and he'd definitely have trouble opening up and being vulnerable. Nonetheless, I do think he'd try; he has initiative to do well to you, and to give you everything he can give to you (starts off with him being your literal guardian demon, progresses into him becoming soft to you). It'd take time and effort for him to learn how to love you properly.

Fluff 1) In the beginning stages of your relationship, Levi would enjoy cleaning with you. He would find himself giving you commands to do more chores (with him).. because he -- wants to -- be with you -- so often??? (won't ever never admit this).

NSFW 1) Levi is a v*rgin. Yes. Yes he (most likely) is. He never met the right person before you, so he never had a chance/time to indulge in s*x. The first time you and Levi have s*x, Levi will have his mouth CLAMPED shut-- trying not to make a noise, trying to control his expressions of pleasure. You'll have to teach him/encourage him to just let go lol.

NSFW 2) Levi wanted to have s*x with you for so damn long cause he's soooo attracted to you, but he will not initiate it LOLLLL. He just doesn't know HOW to ask for that. You had to feel up on him and really let him know you wanted it (breathy whispers and requests), before he FINALLY took the reigns and pinned you against the wall, kissing you hard before taking you to the bedroom~~!!

Also, he's a fast learner. (Imagine with that what you will 🥵).

Fluff 3) & After you two finish, he will clean you up immediately. But after that he won't let you go. Will hold you in a hug for an eternity. Is addicted to your warmth and the love/care you two give to each other.

ARMIN - OH MY GOD NO BECAUSE - i'm so in love with this man - oKAYYY: Armin is a very thoughtful, perceptive, and practical lover. You would feel *so safe* around him, at ease, and like you can be your full self. He's very accepting.

Armin is also going to *look out for you.* He is insanely analytically accurate. He has a clear, reassuring, and gentle energy about him. You know that with Armin, you'll be protected from any new obstacle or harm's way.

You and Armin would see the world for fun. Armin is somebody who feels fascinated with exploring the world, and with learning. He'd probably want a partner who is brave. He'd probably want somebody whose actions or way of doing life, amaze him. He would be so f*cking blushy around you, stuttering and all, whenever you smile so brightly at him -- you're like the sun to him.

Armin *would die for you.* He practically died already, for Eren & the mission. Armin wouldn't hesitate to give himself up, because that's how deep and true his love is for you. (And you genuinely get mad at him for this... but neither of you will budge-- you'd both die for each other).

Fluff 1) You and Armin like to read together :'). Armin will have red blush dusted across his cheeks, and his eyes will be shining as he talks excitedly, imagining all the things the book talks about. You adore it.

Fluff 2) You tell Armin you had a rough day, and he will set up a bath for you. While you bathe in the dark with candles, Armin will be in the kitchen with stew or soup simmering on the stove, before he quietly leaves the house: He will personally scour the bookstore in order to find a book that he thinks will make you smile-- or a book you two will both enjoy reading together/discussing together. Literally this man is like light okay. When you come out from the shower he will be there with a fresh, steaming bowl of stew and a dessert he picked up from the store. You two will eat together and then read a book, cozily cuddling on the couch.. before things get s*xy.

NSFW 1) This man is a *PLEASURER* -- Everything will be gentle, but imbued with such strong love for YOU. Will worship your body. Armin will feel like the luckiest man alive. He sees all your goodness, admires you, and is huge on praising you. Also he moans a lot, even if it's just a soft one that escapes him. Not sorry.

NSFW 2) For my switches/d0ms: You care deeply for Armin, and you also want to see his face when he's a writhing mess-- Sometimes you'll tie him up, and he will... oh he will be so helpless and flustered. You will be giving him all the sensation and he will *love it so much.*

REINER - Somebody come get yo man TT!! Reiner is a f*cking sweet, really good guy. Would protect you and your children (if you have them)-- with EVERYTHING he has -- from difficult, unfair situations (like what he was put through). But, Reiner also probably would want somebody who is strong, because strength means you can protect yourself, and change the world -- Strength is a necessary trait for survival, and he is attracted towards people who are able to stay efficient and alive.

Reiner wants a morally beautiful/morally pure hearted partner. Definitely wants a good person (I mean... Him and Historia in Season, what was is, 2? --speaks for itself). AND I MEANNN Reiner has such a soft heart-- he literally cracked psychologically because he couldn't handle the trauma of being a double agent in a cruel world-- so his pure heart seeks out another pure heart <3

Reiner would ADORE relaxation time with you! He wants the soft fluff, and the soulful moments, like laying together under the stars-- being safe, peaceful, *free.* Reiner has had the burden of war and the Armored Titan like a boulder on his shoulders for ... as long as he can remember. When you're both cozied up together, hands interlaced under the big night sky, Reiner's heart will have bursted and melted all throughout his body. He hasn't ever felt freedom before-- until you. (don't mind me f*cking sobbing right now. he deserves the world!!)

Fluff 1) You and Reiner sometimes do typical, fluffy couple stuff, like go to parks and have picnics, or going to the aquarium, or baking together. Reiner loves the domestic life with you, and you will always catch him gazing dreamily at you, as if he's not sure you're really his. Are you actually right there in front of him? How did he get this lucky? ..Man short circuits a lot around you.

Will definitely be so caught up in his smittenness for you that when you drop the bread dough on the ground and start getting upset/sad, he will just be staring at you like o// //o, not even realizing what happened.

NSFW: I honestly haven't thought about this but I will update this post when I do have some accurate guess on what Reiner in the bedroom is like-- (you can comment if you wanna be tagged for when I do finish this post/ make part two)

𐡘 \

Don't forget to leave a like, or to comment/follow if you want!! Comment to be tagged in part 2! (Jean, Eld, Marco, Bertholt, Connie, Porco, Zeke, etc etc) Feel free to comment! I'd LOVE to hear y'all's thoughts on this post <3! Hope ur all okay.

#aot fluff #aot fandom #aot x reader #eren x reader #levi x reader #armin fluff #armin x reader #reiner x reader #aot scenarios #aot headcanons #aot smut #eren jaeger #eren jaeger smut #levi angst #levi ackerman #armin imagine #armin arlert #attack on titan smut #armin smut #reiner brainrot #reiner imagine #reiner smut #eren headcanons #levi headcanons #armin headcanons #reiner headcanons

[lustkillers]

WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN, THE BEAST COMES OUT !

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - she only sees him in the night, and he's waiting for her.

┃ tags/warnings. ࿐ ❪ nsfw freak shit. dom!euronymous, sub!reader. unprotected sex, cheating on readers behalf, corruption kink? degradation, praising, euro is jealous oh my god, he's possessive ladies!! name calling - "slut," "bitch," "whore," and "good girl" toward the end, scratching, THEY ARE FREAKSSSSS!!! ❫

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - euronymous x fem!reader. ❪ not the actual euronymous, only rory’s portrayal. ❫

⊹₊ ⋆ note - just listen to the song + first time writing smut LMAOOO

EURONYMOUS knew who you were. He wasn't playing into your games, let alone letting you slide with them. He saw you occasionally in his record store, with your boyfriend. He would watch you both from afar, your boyfriend's hands snaking around your waist as he went through records.

He burned with jealousy, wishing he was the one feeling those same hands, to have the chance to clasp onto something or someone so fervently. But he knew that his dreams of being with you were nothing more than a fools errand.

But he wasn't a fool, anyway. He was cold and calculating, possessive and controlling. And he had an intense fixation on you, the glares he gave leaving no doubt as to his feelings.

Every time you and your boyfriend checked out, you and him always shared glances, and it always ended with you winking at him before leaving. The type of wink only secrets held. You held onto Euronymous as a secret, your forbidden fruit.

He was nothing like your boyfriend. Euronymous was rambunctious and unpredictable. He was someone that brought your fantasies to life, the side of you that your boyfriend never discovered.

It was only a matter of time before he lured you in with his charm and you eventually succumbed to his advances. On the first night, it felt like an escape and before long, something more.

You knew deep down that it was wrong but something about forbidden love kept drawing you back again and again. Despite knowing the risks of being involved with someone like him, you found yourself meeting him at approximately 12 in the morning every. day.

Now, he was sat in his dark room, and the room only held dirty secrets between you and him. He was waiting, the clock striking midnight, and you knew it was once again time to carry out your secret romance. You slipped through his door, wearing clothing that you would never dare to show your boyfriend.

Euronymous stood from where he sat, his eyes only holding lust. Not saying anything, he pulled you closer and closer, his breath tickling your neck as he whispered promises of a love that you knew he didn't mean. His hands explored every inch of your body as he kissed you, and you knew that this is what it felt like to be truly alive - only Euronymous had such power over you.

You unconsciously grind up against him, needing him like oxygen. You knew, deep down that this was dangerous and risky but you didn't care anymore. Everything melted away again until it was only the two of you in the room together, safe from the world outside for a few brief moments.

The air felt thick, your head getting dizzy from the rough, yet passionate kiss. His hands traveled from your face to your waist, groping at it. You sighed at the touch, your hands wandering around his waist.

Euronymous now shoved you onto his bed, his body hovering above you. His hair was dangling above your face, yet you had a clear view of his flushed out face. Yet, everything felt so incoherent.

You could feel a sudden rush of adrenaline going through your body, yet you couldn't stop it. Euronymous eyes locked with yours as he slowly crackled a half smirk.

"You're such a slut, huh. Getting with me while your boyfriend is at home." He said in a low voice, his hands sliding under your pants. You shook your head slowly, not knowing what to do or how to react; you were too transfixed by his gaze. God– the pool of your arousal grew more.

His fingers found your clit, drawing slow and tantalising circles. You whimpered as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, and Euronymous knew it, too. He chuckled. He found it sort of pathetic how you were about to come undone from his fingers this fast.

Your back slightly arched from the pleasure, letting out whimpers into the atmosphere. Sooner or later, he shoved his fingers into you, and the pleasure was too much for you to keep eye contact with him, so you closed your eyes in pleasure.

Euronymous noticed this and cocked his eyebrow, He grabbed your face roughly, forcing you to look at him. Then, he leaned into your ear and whispered, "You like that? Then keep your eyes on me, whore."

You only nodded, but you couldn't help yourself but look away again. His hands stopped its motions, sending you an annoyed look.

"N-No...! M'sorry! Please keep going..." You muttered, your eyes shooting open again from the loss of contact.

Euronymous smirked and resumed his torture, but this time a bit more rough. You gasped in pleasure as he picked up the pace. His hot breath caressing your neck sent you into overdrive, and before you knew it...you were coming undone in front of him– screaming for more.

However, he didn't have enough. He suddenly pinned you against the bed, whispering in your ear, "You want more? You'll get it, bitch." He unbuttoned his pants frantically, his cock lined up against your cunt. As if on cue, you spread your legs for him and grabbed onto his back as he pushed in eagerly.

He stretched you out, the bliss filling you both. Your fingernails dug into his back, earning a hiss from his as he groaned into your ear. As he increased the pace, you could only moan and scream out his name in pleasure.

"E-Euro! Fuck, M'so close...!" You shouted, feeling the heat between you two.

"Yeah? He doesn't fuck you like I do, only I can make you feel like this... Don't forget that, bitch." He grunted, his words making you melt into his body.

His thrusts grew erratic, groaning expletives into your ear, while you moaned his name out like a god. Every touch, kiss and lick that he sent against your body sent you over the edge.

The feeling flooded you with pleasure, biting down on his shoulder as he finally thrusted into you. You came undone, but he wasn't done yet. He kept at it, with a heat that seemed like it could never be quenched. His thrusts increased in urgency, wild and feverish.

"F-Fuck! Take it like a good girl..." He yelled, cumming into you.

A shudder ran through his body as he came undone, and the heat between you two seemed to cool.

He let out a deep breath and pulled out of you, rolling onto the bed beside you.

However, you needed to get home, quickly cleaning yourself up. You got dressed and before you left, you pulled him in for a deep kiss, and as you attempted to leave, he grabbed your wrist.

"Leave him," he said in a low voice. Causing you to freeze.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, confusion written all over your face.

"You heard what I said." He said, his gaze unwavering. "Leave him. I don't want you with someone else."

You tilted your head at him, "And who are you to tell me that?"

He rolled his eyes and let go of your wrist. "I want you for myself," he said, his voice low and husky. "And I know you want me as much as I want you."

You bit the inside of your cheek. He was right. You did want him. But, how could you possibly leave someone for someone else? You had come into this arrangement aware that it was only every night and nothing more.

You smiled, tilting your head at him. "I can't simply leave him," you said softly. "But, I still want to be with you."

He nodded and pulled you into his arms again, holding you close as he kissed the top of your head. "Then stay here," he whispered in your ear.

You stepped away from him and peered into his eyes, a warmth sweeping over your body. You couldn't help but feel the chemistry between you two, and it was too strong to ignore.

You stepped closer to him again and nodded, your voice a whisper as you spoke.

"Don't make me regret it, Euro."

#rory culkin x reader #rory culkin #lords of chaos #smut #rory culkin x y/n #euronymous #euronymous smut #euronymous x reader #rory culkin smut #rory culkin lords of chaos

[1800jjbarnes]

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟎: 𝐒𝐞𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 - 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 ◇

Out Of This World

【Synopsis】 : You were gifted an Asgardian plant from Thor since he knew you loved greenery. Little did anyone know the pollen had some weird side effects when inhaled.

『W.C.』 : 3.17k

-> Genre: Fluff. Smut

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Crying. Making out. This is slightly dub-con. Neck kisses. Hickies. Possessiveness. Slight toxic thoughts. Breast play. Begging. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex. Lots of emotion.

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“Hey so has anyone seen Peach? we’re about to leave.” Steve was walking around like a worried mother, trying to find you before you all were supposed to leave for this event thingy they had agreed to attend. You weren’t in the mood for parties or galas at any time of day or night. So you disappearing before one wasn’t a surprise.

“I’ll go look for her. She's probably in her room trying to find a place for that new plant Thor gave her from off planet.” Bucky rolled his eyes, knowing his best friend all too well, heading straight for your room which was situated on the same level as his in the compound. A couple of days ago, Thor had returned from his trip back to his home and had gifted everyone with something from there. So, of course, you are a planet lover. He brought you one of the exotic flowers. Bruce pestered on how ‘we don’t know what that plant could do. Is it even safe’ but Thor reassured everybody that it was fine. And that he had no clue what the plant was anyway. So with that, Bucky said he’d catch up with them and take his bike later with you rather than make them wait.

While this ordeal was unravelling, you were frantically holding the said flower in a beautiful pot that Loki had gifted you along with it. You had so many plants as it is that you’ve realized there was no room for the newest addition. A knock at your door startled you almost to the point of dropping the poor guy all over the floor. But luckily, your reflexes kicked in quicker than usual. “Come in!”

You knew it was most likely someone like Tony or Steve coming to parade you about ‘getting ready for the gala’ but you seriously didn’t want to go. It wasn’t like you hated your friends or the party per se. You just hated people in general. And why, you may ask? Because people are loud, rude, narcissistic, and most importantly, stuck up. Half the time, people love to walk all over you because of your job. Given that you and the others were Avengers, people only looked at you in two different views. Scum that brought danger to earth. Or these kinds of saviours, superheroes. God even. Something you didn’t consider yourself as. So either way, you didn’t want the interaction. So staying home it is.

“Give me one good excuse why you are still in your pyjamas running around like an idiot holding an alien plant and maybe, just maybe I’ll consider you not going to this lame party a good enough reason.” Bucky's voice brought you to a halt, your head snapping back down towards the little Kitchen/Entrance. Your nose was scrunched up, making Buck know you were trying to think of a lie. You were never good at them, always having a tell clear as the day. He just scoffed, slipping his shoes off so he could walk into your room. “So, what’s your excuse, Doll?”

“It’s uhh…” You half smiled, tip-toeing toward the large male. “I need to find a spot for my son.” You shove it in his face in an almost innocent manner. Bucky held in his chuckle, staring at the strange purple-looking plant. He had to tilt his head, noticing it was moving almost like it was breathing. Shaking off the weird thought, his gaze looked back up to your wide eyes. The sparkles in the corner of them made his heart flutter. You loved nature so much, from the simplest things like flowers and fruits to the weirdest in Bucky's opinion, Moss, Fungi, and vines.

“Son?” He had to chuckle.

“Yes, my son. Isn’t he pretty? I need to find a spot for him.” You brought the plant to your chest, inspecting him with such innocent eyes. Oh, what Bucky would give for you to look at him like that. You were perfect in every way. Even if you are shy, introverted. You smiled at everyone, making any of your teammates feel like they were the centre of your attention. But every time you gave him that same smile, he felt like he was the centre of your world. Like nothing else mattered but you two and your longing stares. Maybe his crush on you has gotten out of hand, and maybe he should just ‘man up’ as Sam puts it and tell you how he feels.

But he doesn’t want you to stop looking at him like that. Like he could do no wrong. That he wasn’t a monster, an outsider. Like he thinks he is. No, your smile would just say he was one thing. Human.

“Well, I guess you’ll need to name your son too.” Bucky steps a little closer to you, now both staring down at the plant with the beautiful purple and gold patterning on its petals. You hummed in response, beginning to think of all the stupid names you could give it, but then something strange began to happen. The plant swayed, but there was no breeze. Its leaves wrapped slowly around the stem, and then slowly, it squished itself down. What was it doing? You knew it was an alien plant, but this was definitely not something a plant should do… right?

“Has it done that before?” Bucky asks.

“No It’s onl―” Your words were cut off when a bright purple powder suddenly exploded from the plant landing straight onto your and Bucky's faces. From the reaction, you dropped the plant, making the soil go everywhere on the floor by your feet. You hissed at the pollen-like substance sticking to your eyes. you could hear Bucky also groan in protest, more likely from the same thing.

“What the fuck!?” Bucky yelled. “I’m going to kill Thor and Loki, I swear to god.” He manages to get the sticky purple dust out from his eyes, letting him open them to see you cowering with your fingers desperately trying to get the dust off you. “Honey, hey… come here.” His hands cupped your face, using his thumbs to gently wipe away all the dust he could.

“Why is everything purple?” You blinked a couple of times, noticing your surroundings were tainted in a violet-like hue. Bucky didn’t want to scare you, but he, too, had the same view. He helped guide you to the sink in the kitchen, putting the tap on so he could splash some water on yours and his face. The purple slowly went away, but the hue was still slightly there. Drying your face with some paper towel, you suddenly felt an odd shiver pour down your spine. You gulped, having a hot flush start to wash over you as if someone turned up the AC. You took a step back leaning against the countertop, trying your best to shake the uncomfortable feeling.

“Are you okay, Doll?” You looked up from the floor to see Bucky with rigged breathing. His nostrils were flared, and his mouth was slightly agape. He had a fire burning in him, making all his blood go straight to his cock. Eyes hazy, and voice deep and growled. He sounded like a predator coaxing his prey.

“I…I don’t know.” You had no clue how to explain with you felt, but all your mind could understand was that you needed something, someone to help get rid of the pain. A sharp stab pierces your chest, making you hiccup before falling onto the floor. Bucky was quick to meet you on the ground, gripping onto your arm, holding you up. His touch sent sparks to your dripping core. You needed him. “J-Jamie I need help…”

Your whimper made Bucky groan, shaking his head in an attempt to suppress his needs. He couldn’t think straight, only thinking about what your pussy could feel like. No, you’re his friends! His friend that he had the biggest crush on. But no, he can’t just pin you down this very floor and fuck the life out of you… right? “H-honey, please. Do you know what kind of plant that is?”

“Loki said uh, it…it was a samfar? Samfarir?” You tried to remember the conversation you had with Thor and Loki when they gave you the plant, but your mind kept wondering to… other things. you layed down on the cold tiles in the hope you could cool yourself down. Bucky had let go of you leaning against the cabinet along the wall. He sighs, raking his fingers through his damp hair. He knew what this plant was.

“Fuck… That fucking dick. It’s a sex plant.” Bucky's words made your eyes snap open, sitting up to look at him in a what the fuck did you say expression. “It’s a plant from his home planet that is supposed to help intercourse. But they stopped the practise cause of one downside.”

“What…What's the downside James?!” You sat on your knees, placing your hand on his hot thigh. Your innocent touch alone made his cock twitch. His eyes met yours and the temptation to kiss you was becoming increasingly difficult.

“You don’t have sex. You die.” He said it bluntly. “I found out from a conversation Tony was having with them. Asking if there was something to help boost his sex life. Typical…” He scoffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Now there was a stalemate cause lets face it as much as he wants to, he wasn’t about to ask if you wanna fuck. How would he even ask such a question? And plus his crush on you doesn’t help him in this situation. He watched you wiggle, feeling your pussy begin to drip through your shorts. God, he could smell you too. Everything was making his hair stand up. Your scent, your heavy pants, the way your eyes were glossed, practically begging him to do something, anything.

“If that’s the case…” you trailed off, scooting close to him, placing your free hand on his forearm. He suddenly jumped, pushing himself away from you, making you flinch. You didn’t want this either. You were so in love with Bucky since the first day you met, and you did not expect this to be the way you’d be intimate with him. But him pushing away from you hurt so much. You put your hands in your lap, feeling your heartbreak. Maybe he thought death was better than having sex with you.

“Hey wait I uh…” Buck saw the panic in your eyes, seeing tears start to form, moving back to grab your hands, making you look at him. “I didn’t mean…fuck. Uh. I don’t know wha…” Bucky cut himself off with a hitch. You look so desperate, your tongue sticking out to lick your lips slightly. His hands gripped tighter on yours, forgetting all of his past thoughts, past restraints. You and he can just talk later, right? “Fuck.”

He cupped your face, smashing his lips on yours. It was single-handedly the best kiss you’ve ever experienced. His tongue slipped inside quickly, attacking your own. He drew out moans from you that he thought he’d never hear. Your fingers intertwine with his jacket. He was forceful, pushing you down onto the cold hard floor, pushing his thigh between your legs so he could brush it against your core. The pressure was the relief you needed, bucking your hips without a second thought. Everything was happening so quickly, but neither of you cared anymore. “J-Jamess…”

Buck swallowed your words, biting down on your bottom lips before pulling away, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from you. There were no words shared. No, only your bodies spoke. Telling one another, you needed the other. Your hands ran up his biceps, digging into the leather on him. He kisses the corner of your mouth before slipping down towards your jaw, then neck, before stopping on your collarbone sucking harshly. His teeth grazed your shoulder, using his metal hand to help tug down your shirt slightly so he could sink his K-nines into your skin. He didn’t want this to be a memory by the end of it. He needed to leave evidence on your body to show you and himself that this was indeed real and it was happening. Your hips hadn’t stopped there slow grind against his thigh, making his light jeans deepen in colour from your wetness. His hand moved from your shoulder, gliding down to your hem. He tugged it at first, seeing how loose it was before getting his other hand to pull the opposite way, ripping the fabric in half.

“Pretty.” he sat on his calves, seeing the laced black bra you were sporting. Your chest rose and fell at each breath, making him bite his lip and eyes darken. You were more beautiful than he could have imagined. All his late-night wet dreams, fucking his fist at the sheer thought of you would never compare to what his gaze met with now. And he never wanted to let it go. You were going to be his whether you liked it or not. He took his shirt all as well before diving back into your kissing along your breasts before pulling down your bra letting your tits spill over the top. You did have time to say anything before he latched his mouth on your hard nipple, while his thumb rolled over the other.

You cried, feeling tears prickle against the corner of your eyes. You moaned his name over and over, trying to find any type of pressure to heal the ache from below. It was like his mind knew your body, noticing the sign of plea. He gave one last suck on your nipples before pulling away with an audible pop. Your eyes opened slightly to see his dark blue pair staring at you with intensity. It was like he was scanning your body, making sure to remember every scar, beauty mark, freckle, and stretch mark so he could reply this event later in his mind. His hand cupped your mould, feeling heat pooling from it. If it wasn’t for the plant clouding your judgment, you’d most definitely be embarrassed. But you didn’t, so all you did was buck your hips into his hand, spreading your legs more for him to have his way with you.

“Please. I’m yours, Bucky. Do something. Anything to me. Have me, however you want. Just please make it stop hurting.” Your words made Bucky stop for a moment. Even though this plant affected both of you, it seemed that his mind was clearer than yours. His enhancements must be helping him from completely losing his mind. His face was inches from yours, gripping your chin with his fingers, making you focus on him. He needed to confess before he continued, even if neither of you believed it and blamed the plant afterwards. He needed to tell you what he felt.

“I love you, Doll. I’ve loved you since you arrived as a new recruit. I’m so madly in love half the time I don’t know what to do without you being by my side. And I swear to fucking god, I’ll take you out and treat you like the queen you are afterwards but for now, I’m going to fuck you like our lives depend on it.” He sealed his lips on yours once last time before sitting up to pull your pants down.

“Our lives do depend on it.” you halfheartedly chuckled, groaning at the cool air blowing on your bare cunt. He threw your pants across the room, unzipping his and pulling them down enough to pull his cock out. You gulped at his size, knowing he must be big but he was…definitely big. He placed his hand on the base of his cock while the other snaked the back of your neck, bringing your bodies close together. Your breath was mixing together and your eyes never left his, brows knitting slowly as you felt his tip push against your soaked hole. “I love you… I love you so much.”

“Fuck.” he bottomed you out making you hiss at the pain since neither of you prepped. But the pain was short-lived as he started thrusting slowly. His head fell into the crook of your neck letting you wrap your arms around his broad back. Your nails dug in harder with each snap of his hips. His cock was hitting all the right places, feeling his pelvis rub against your clit perfectly and his balls hit your ass with each moan and gasp that slipped off your tongue. Everything was overwhelming yet perfectly balanced at the same time. You cried, not just from the intense pleasure but from Bucky's words previously. Your purple-hued vision slowly became normal, and your mind unfogged.

The plant's influence slowly left your and Bucky's system, leaving just your raw feelings for one another. Neither of you pulled away. Neither of you wanted to run. You were perfectly content in each other's arms. Locking your lips in a non-verbal seal of love. You were his, and he was yours whether either of you voiced that neither of you cared. You only cared for his body caging you on the hard cold floor while he only needed your cunt to keep squeezing him before you both were coming undone. It was sticky, messy, loving and raw. And it was just the way you both dreamed it would be.

#1-800-jjbarnes #marvel #jjbarnes #bucky #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #kinktober 2023 #mcu kinktober #kinktober #mcu smut #marvel mcu #sebastian stan x fluff #sebastian stan x plus size reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #mcu

[muzansfangs]

I would do it again.

Starring: Kokushibo x f!reader; Yoriichi x f!reader (mentioned)

Warnings: nsfw, modern au, cheating, slight angst, pregnacy, breeding kink, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, alcohol, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Kokushibo receiving) morally grey reader, dom!kokushibo, sub!reader, revenge, implied reference to inferiority complex.

Plot: you were married to Yoriichi. You loved him, you really did, but your relationship grew colder as he had to spend months away from you for work. No calls, no texts, no chances to meet up somewhere. You were on your lowest when his brother, Kokushibo, showed up at your place. He told you he was going to stay for a while and that you would have not even noticed his presence around. However, loneliness and the twisted desire of taking a bite from the forbidden fruit brought you two together. Your secret, sinful affaire did not stop when Yoriichi returned. You got pregnant and you knew who the father was. Kokushibo left then, not forgetting about you and the child his brother would have claimed as his. He had taken his little satisfaction over him, he had you and your heart, no matter what.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Three months. You had no idea of where he was. You knew right from the start it would have been hard, but you did not expect to spend your whole life without him. He did not call you even once a week. Nor texts, neither letters, nothing. Whenever he had to leave, it felt like you had never even married him. He always said it was necessary, claiming he did it because he wanted to keep you safe. At what cost, though? If it was not a bullet through your head, it was his absence killing you instead.

You missed him. You still loved him and, apparently, he did too. It was absurd how he could act as a loving husband around you and then turn into a cold-hearted man you barely recognized, as soon as drove off to the airport.

“Fuck it…” you muttered, downing the third shot of vodka you had poured yourself to forget about the broken heart in your chest. You could not do this anymore, you knew it. Your house was too big for you to live in it alone. You clutched the fabric of one of shirt in your hands, sinking your nose into it in search for any trace of his existence. The creased item still smelled strongly of his favorite perfume.

It was not healthy.

You sobbed, curling yourself up in a ball on the couch and cursed yourself for having fallen in love with him at college. How could you not love him, though? He was the most handsome, brilliant, shy and kind person you had ever met in your life. Your hearts matched. He was the missing piece you had been searching for since you were born. Where was he now, then?

To snap you out of your stream of consciousness was someone knocking on the front door. Could it have been Yoriichi? You scoffed, wiping away your tears with the hem of your sweater as you reminded yourself that he would have never knocked. He had the keys, he always unlocked the door himself.

You still had to wait to see his face again.

You hopped down from the couch, your bare feet touching the cold floor as you sneakily made your way to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, just in case you had to defend yourself. What if Yoriichi was right? What if it was someone who wanted to hurt you, to hurt him? What if they had found you? You heart thrummed in your chest as you approached the front door, your grip on the hilt of the knife tightening.

“Y/N, are you home? It’s me… Kokushibo” the deep, hoarse voice of your husband’s twin pierced your ears.

Michikatsu. It had been two years since you last saw him. Just like your husband, he lived a life of danger, anonymity. Maybe it was even worse than Yoriichi’s one. He had to change his name for it. What did he want from you now, in the middle of the night?

You unlocked the door, dropping your hand still holding the weapon down your side and your droopy, puffy eyes met his maroon ones. There he was, Koksuhibo, the stolid Tsugikuni twin, the opposite of your husband. He stood on the porch, a luggage at his feet and a black raincoat embracing his slender, yet muscular frame perfectly. He held no sympathy in his eyes as he stared back at you. His eyes scanned your face attentively, then travelled down your body and you frowned at the way he averted his eyes from you.

You were about to ask him what was wrong, when the cold winter breeze made you realize how inappropriate your attire was. Your legs were completely exposed to the icy air, to his gaze. The blue, oversized sweater you were wearing only reached the middle of your thighs and your cheeks flushed up as you stepped behind the door and gestured for him to enter.

“Hi” you feebly said, as he picked up his heavy luggage and crossed the threshold.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked, taking a look around the silent, dark living room. It was oddly tidy. It looked almost if no one lived in here. Except for the coffee table in front of the couch. Photographs, empty bottles of liquors and an half-eaten meal laid on it.

You sniffed, closing the door behind you and weakly shook your head “No, I could not sleep – you whispered, eyes downcast not to meet his gaze – What brings you here?” you asked him, walking over to the counter and throwing the knife into the sink.

“I need a place to stay for a while. Don’t worry, you are going to forget I am even here – he stated, taking his black leather gloves off – Where’s he?”.

He. Right, how could you forget the rivalry between them? It was one-sided, yet evident. You had tried to ask your husband about it, but all he said was that Kokushibo had a serious inferiority complex. It was not much of an answer and you were sure there was more about it that Yoriichi did not feel like talking about, or share. Not even with you.

“He’s left three months ago. I haven’t heard from him since then” you quipped, walking past him to slump back into your couch. However, your unexpected visitor had other plans for you.

You felt his hand wrap around your wrist in a iron-grip and you were forced to halt. You could feel his intense gaze boring holes on the back of your head and gulped down, waiting for him to speak again and allow you to slip back into your catatonic loop of saddness, fear and loneliness. A self-destructing coping mechanism, indeed.

“How’re you, Y/N?” he inquired, making your breath hitch into your throat.

“I’m fine”.

“My brother might be blind, but I am not. What the fuck are you doing?” he asked again, swinging you around roughly. You hissed, wriggling your arm in his grip as your eyes met his ones for a split second. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.

How did he notice it in five minutes? How could he see your pain, when your husband did not?

“I’m going on, let me go” you blurted out, opting for keeping the eye-contact with him. Fighting was pointless. He was shamelessly strong and stubborn. There was no way in the world he would have let you go. Not until you had dignified him with a proper answer, at least.

“Drinking and crying yourself to sleep is not the answer. You are hurting yourself” he sternly replied, tugging you closer to him until you almost bumped against his broaded chest.

His cologne, God, his strong cologne pierced your nostrils in the same alluring way your husband’s one did in the past. That was another reminder for you of how distant you two had become: your sex drive had totally died out. He did not touch you, he did not worship your body as he used to when you got married. No.

You missed the physical contact you had with him.

And you cursed yourself for the way you were feeling now, under Kokushibo’s touch. It was immoral, wrong. You were ashamed of yourself. Then again, you were half-drunk, tired, drained. Could you really blame yourself for it?

“Why do you care about it, huh? It’s not your problem! You never gave a damn about me!” you snapped, swallowing the lump in your throat preventing you to properly breathe.

He tensed, his lips reduced to a thin-line at your harsh words “Because it should have been me. You should have married me, not him” he bitterly retorted, darting his hooded eyes down on your writhing frame.

You parted your lips in disbelief, tears welling up in your eyes as you banged the fist of your free hand against his chest in frustration. Why? Why did he have to say that? Why was he playing with you again? What was he talking about? He never showed interest in you.

“How dare you? Shut up, just leave! Were you not supposed to make me forget you are here? Let me be, let me–…” you yelled at his face, but you never finished the sentence.

Before you could vomit your anger on him, your back hit the wall behind you, the air knocked out of your lungs for a second, as his lips connected with yours in a fiery, fervent kiss. Your eyes grew round as his tongue brushed over your lower lip to ask for the permission to enter your mouth. You wanted to deny it, but your body craved it. You craved him, you craved the warmth of a body over yours.

You craved love and he was providing you it.

You returned the kiss with equal passion, your hands cupping his smooth cheeks as you hoisted your leg over his hip to pull him closer. He grunted in your mouth, one of his hands caressing the bare skin of your thigh as he grounded his groin down onto yours. A throaty moan fell from your lips as he repeated the action and his mouth assaulted your neck.

You did not care about the marks he was leaving behind him, on your once flawless skin. They would have faded sooner or later and, surely, your husband would have never known about them. He was not there. He was not coming back for a long time.

“What are we— Argh! What are we doing?” you breathed out, fumbling with the buttons of his raincoat and helping him to take it off.

He discarded it carelessly behind him on the floor, hooking his hands underneath your thighs and picking you up effortlessly. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively as he made his way to your bedroom.

How many times you had walked down that corridor, hoping in vain that your husband would have joined you and showered you in affection between the untouched bedsheets of your bed. You remembered the fire within his eyes, back when you got married, when he made you feel on cloud nine. Where was that fire now? It had died out.

“I’m doing exactly what I had to do ages ago” Kokushibo uttered, between hot kisses as he let you down onto the bed and carefully crawled on top of you. You trembled, your hands reaching up to tear his shirt open. The buttons flew across the room, lost forever under the bed, as your eyes contemplated his chiseled body. He was deadly handsome. You blushed and Kokushibo stroked your cheek, half-lidded eyes soaking in your features barely enlightened by the dim moonlight seeping through the courtains.

You were so beautiful. How could that bastard not see it? How could he let you crumble down like that?

He got rid of his shirt and he grasped your hand, leading it to lay flat onto his chest “You can touch me, Y/N” he murmured, watching you bite down your lower lip softly, probably still trying to ponder if what you were doing was right or wrong. You were cheating on your husband, you were stabbing his back by fucking his brother in your bedroom, on your shared bed.

On the same bed where you had told him you loved him.

“Michikatsu…” you called his name, making the man’s eyes widen even so slightly as you said his real name. No one had done it in years. No one had ever whispered it so sweetly, so lovingly. He knew you were different. You had never insulted him, you had never hurt him.

You were supposed to be his right from the start. He would have treated you better, he would have loved you better.

“Make love to me” you added, staring deep into his shimmering eyes. You wanted it, you trusted him, you were willing to nurture this new spark between you two. Could you forgive yourself for it in the future?

He did not reply, his fingers slipped between the waistband of your panties, dragging them down your legs and exposing your aching cunt to his vicious eyes. You felt embarrassed. No man, except for your husband, had seen you naked in a long time. The idea of displaying your wet folds to Yoriichi’s brother sent shivers down your spine.

He did not waste time in dipping his fingers into you. He groaned at the way they slipped into your core smoothly, effortlessly. You were made for him. Your mouth hanged open, your back arching as he pumped his colloused digits in and out of you at a regular pace. The pleasure engulfing your stomach could not be compared to the small amount you felt when you touched yourself on Yoriichi. It was defferent, on another level. Kokushibo knew perfectly what you needed. You moaned out his name as he added a third finger, curling them into you to stimulate your spongy walls.

“M-More. Michikatsu, please— Give me more” you pleaded him, craning your neck in ecstasy.

His eyes clouded over in lust as he pulled his fingers out of you and suddenly flipped you over on your stomach, hastily unbuckling the belt of his trousers. You heard him unzipping them and before you knew it he had his hands on your hips, roughly pulling them up to assure himself a better access to your pussy. You closed your eyes, a yelp leaving your swollen lips when he smacked your ass and dragged the tip of his shaft along your folds to collect some juices. You could tell he was big, maybe even bigger than Yoriichi and it only meant one thing: it would have hurt, especially after a long period of not welcoming a cock between your walls.

“Be a good girl for me, Y/N. – he cooed, pressing the tip of his length to your entrance – Act like you’re my wife, as you should’ve been right from the start” he added, before slowly pushing past your folds. He grunted at the way your walls squeezed him tightly and he clenched his teeth not to bottom out completly with one thrust.

You writhed beaneath him, whimpers of pain and pleasure mixing together on your tongue as he conquered more inches, until he gave you one last hard thrust and you felt your ass pressing up against his navel.

He stayed still a minute, maybe two, to give you enough time to adjust to his massive size, drawing soothing circles on your back to make you relax. Your cheek was pressed down onto the pillow, your back arched to a painful angle, but it did not matter. It was worthy.

He gave you no warning as he started thrusting into your from behind, the sound of his thighs slapping your ass as he slammed you down into him was vulgar, lewd, shameful. But the unholy mantra you chanted as he filled you up, as he stretched you out until you were loose enough for his girth was heavenly.

“Michikatsu!” you cried out, the pressure coiling into your stomach was unbearable as he picked up the place and his hands left marks onto the soft flesh of your hips.

You could not hold on anymore. Your walls clamped down his cock as you reached your orgasm, milking his cock. Your breath was uneven, your mind fuzzy as he grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you up, until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“I’ll fucking cum inside you. I’ll fuck a baby into you, Y/N. You are mine. He has no more rights over you” he rasped, giving you a few sloppy thrusts before he released his seed into you. You did not protest. Your silent consent screamed out his name as you both collapsed onto the bed, out of breath.

It did not stop that night. For two months he fucked you everyday, making sure his seed did not leaked out of your hole. He was loving out of bed, a beast into the sheets. You grew to love the taste of his cum, when you knelt between his legs and bobbed your head up and down his dick. You started to love him, in the same wicked way that he loved you.

Everywhere you looked around the house, you could picture him taking you in any possible position. You straddled him on the couch, he bent you over the counter in the kitchen, he had you held up against the wall in the shower. He had owned you in every way you vould have ever imagined.

After another month of being away, Yoriichi finally came back. Surprisingly, he did not take notice of the way his brother looked at you, or how your skin smelled like him most of the times. He was just happy to be reunited with his wife and how could you deny him the affection you had longed for during his absence. You made love to him, the night he had come back to you. You had done it the day before with Michikatsu and only God knew how much you loved him.

Two weeks later, you found out you were pregnant. The good news was that the period of conception coincided with Yoriichi’s return. Nevertheless, you knew who was the father.

You watched Kokushibo leave a few days after the news. The bond with his brother seemed to have weirdly developed into a stronger one.

“You should visit us more frequently! And, please, I’d appreciate it very much, if you could keep company to my wife, when I’m gone” Yoriichi said, smiling contently at his brother.

If only he knew.

Kokushibo faintly smiled back at him, his eyes locking with yours for a few seconds, before he nodded his head to his brother “I will take good care of her, brother”.

I would do it again, Michikatsu thought then, hopping into his car. Yoriichi’s life was now his.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I know I should’ve posted Douma’s one-shot earlier, but somehow I felt inspired and completed this project. Ugh, poor Yoriichi, but … I wanted to write something different for Kokushibo. He deserves to be happy too. No matter the cost!Likes, comments and reposts are appreciated!

#kokushibo x reader #yoriichi x reader #michikatsu x reader #michikatsu tsugikuni #demon slayer smut #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x you #kokushibo x y/n #yoriichi smut #yoriichi x you

[discordantwritings]

Dating The Cross Guild HCs SFW + NSFW

Note: You can pry polyamorous cross guild out of my cold dead hands

Let’s be honest, being in a relationship with the three of them is a lot. Every aspect of your life is pretty much dialed up to 11. There’s constant danger, constant fighting, but constant love and affection too.

Buggy is the most physically affectionate, clinging to you whenever the two of you share a space. He loves PDA but never gets it from Crocodile and Mihawk so it all falls squarely on your shoulders, not that you’re complaining.

Mihawk is not one for PDA but that never stops his hands from floating to the small of your back when standing together or your thighs as you sit next to him.

It’s rare Crocodile will ever show affection in public but the second the doors close he gets handsy. He loves to have you sit on his lap at his desk while he works or having your legs draped over him while you sit on the couch.

Expect to be showered with gifts. Constantly. All of them are rich and will get you anything you want, in fact they all go out of their way to do so. Need some new clothes? Mihawk already restocked your closet. Jewelry? You’re practically swimming in gold because of Crocodile. And while Buggy does buy you things he mostly spoils you with experiences- going to shows or other fun adventures.

While the four of you don’t sleep together every night Crocodile’s room does have the giant bed you can all sleep together in. Most nights you sleep sandwiched between Buggy and Crocodile- Buggy latching onto you as the big spoon while you curl into Crocodile. Mihawk is on Crocodile’s other side since he tends to wake up first out of everyone.

NSFW

Going off of Crocodile loving having you in his lap you can bet most of the time he’s going to have you warm his cock. He will make you sit full for hours as he goes about his paperwork and you know better than to interrupt him. Of course, you love it too.

It’s always a bit complicated, having sex with four people, but all of you make it work. You and Buggy often take on the submissive role while Mihawk and Crocodile are more dominant. Buggy’s devil fruit often comes in handy- it’s not uncommon for him to be completely broken up so he can “be put to good use” as Crocodile often says.

Mihawk is more kind in bed than Crocodile- he’ll be the one to smooth over Crocodile’s harsher actions with praise and some relief. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his fun. He loves to edge you until you’re a begging mess.

Crocodile is always the one in charge. Mihawk takes slightly less orders but you all know when Crocodile asks for you to do something you better do it- or there will be punishment. Not that the punishment isn’t exactly what you want sometimes.

Misbehaving will get you tied up by sand on the large bed, with Crocodile face fucking you while Mihawk takes you from behind. Buggy’s hands and mouth trail everywhere, overstimulating you. It’s rough and you will not be able to walk or talk for a while- but you can’t deny how much you love it.

Despite how rough they can be with you all three of them are good about aftercare. Buggy loves to cuddle and Mihawk takes to cleaning you up. Crocodile might be the least involved but he will never leave your side until you’re ready, and you know if you need anything he would do it for you.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #cross guild x reader #buggy x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #x reader #discordantheadcanons

[tarjapearce]

Crimson Crown (Pt. 7)

Royal AU! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Thanks to @pinkiemme for this amazing cover ✨

Summary: While your bond with Miguel deepens, so does the danger.

Needless to say you couldn't sleep. The initial thrill had turned into a myriad of things surfing through your mind. He had accepted your invitation without much hesitation.

Although your vision and ambitions for the future had been shared along some personal tidbits, the prospect of getting to know him on a deeper level was simply beyond excitement. So far, King Miguel had been nothing but kind to you. Despite the initial clash between the both, your walls had mellowed enough to stablish a good camaraderie.

But sitting in the first line to witness his work and dedication for his lands, had made your heart dance and prance with joy. You were ready to learn from him, and hopefully he could learn a thing or two from you.

And the lab.

Your arms hugged the pillow as a dreamy sigh escaped you. He had given you a lab completely for yourself, one of your dreams fulfilled to a full term and all thanks to him.

You wanted nothing but to hug him and you were about to, however the rational side of your brain prevented you from such thing. Regret remained jared inside, maybe if you had done a more personal and physical approach things would've been different.

Would it be too soon though? Would it be too bold? You certainly didn't want to spook him or make him have a desperate concept of your persona. But he gifting you with things that only nurtured your soul proved it hard to restrain your blooming affection.

Physical attraction was measly compared what he had to offer as a person. Not that his beauty wasn't alluring, but his intelligence, diligence and devotion towards his people had completely captivated you. And today you'll offer to return a bit of his own kindness.

He was always busy, duties prevented him from being a normal person and enjoy simple things in life. Your task for the day was to find out those little mundane things that he relished in, so maybe ahead in your future you could join him when doing so.

Unable to remain in bed any longer, you rose and prepared for the day. Instead of the usual lavish attires you were always dressed in, you went for a more casual set.

The trips in the city had given you the sight of a perfect spot nearby the castle. The ideal place to have your adventure of the day.

Once you had bathed and dressed up, you headed for the kitchen. Cooking wasn't something you excelled at, and even though the occasion was special, his favorite meals were a mystery to you. Miguel didn't seem like a picky eater, but he did favored fish and birds.

Obviously a man his size and weight needed larger amounts of calories. His musculature seemed something that was forged through the years, another thing to marvel about.

Before your brain could get lost in the many qualities he possessed, you kindly asked the chefs to prepare a little portable feast to put in a hamper. Appetizers, a few bits of meats and fruits along some wine and desserts.

In the meantime, you headed for the lab, Peter joined you midway, a little out of breath.

"Your highness"

"Good Morning, Peter."

With a little smile you acknowledged his presence before going to the herbal side of the place. A couple of black roses were pulled out, along some mint leafs. You prepared a little concoction before serving yourself and Peter a cup.

"Drink this. You look exhausted."

Peter hesitated for a second, but again, the smell was too fragrant and good to let go. He drank as you did.

"Do you think the king shows up?"

"He must."

A little chuckle escaped your lips while you finished your tea.

"I know. But, there is always something showing up. I hope it's not the case."

"I'll make sure he's there. Is everything ready?"

"Not yet. Cooking is not my forte, sadly. I wanted to prepare things on my own, but I'm afraid I'd be accused of a murder attempt with my seasoning."

Peter choked on his tea but quickly coughed it away with a lithe laugh.

"I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Still, I rather stick to pills and potions. That I can do. Even blindfolded. But enough on it. I'd like to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Is there anything that the King wouldn't rather to discuss? I really wouldn't like to make him uncomfortable if I pry too much."

Peter's eyes were filled with understanding.

"His health. He doesn't like talking much about it."

Your face turned concerned, something that Peter offered a little comforting gesture by holding his hand up. Stopping your thoughts from running rampant.

"He is alright. Not terminally ill or any sort of tragedy. If that's what you're concerned about."

"How could I not see this before?"

"Don't blame yourself, your highness. If you didn't see it, it's precisely cause he takes care of himself."

"Well, he has me... My help now, I mean."

Peter chuckled while putting the saucer away, exhaustion leaving his body.

"I know. I'm sure he'll put those skills to a good use."

"I hope so. I'd like to... help him. Ease his kingly duties, I am the future queen of Arachne after all. It's only fair I help him out."

"You're already have done so, your highness. But I'm glad you think that way."

Miguel wasn't wrong regarding you sharing his vision, and for you to help him was plainly endearing for those within his most intimate circle.

You instructed Peter to help you out with a little infusion. A gift for Miguel.

A little ground coffee beans and other herbs all tucked in a burlap pouch. Then it was all reduced into three vials. Similar to the ones he used for his medicine.

"What is that?"

Peter eyes both curiously and suspiciously the dark colored infusion, you just chuckled while sealing them with a lid on.

"An energy boosting drink. Whenever he finds a headache, he should drink this."

"That smells like coffee?"

"It is. But more concentrated."

"Ah."

"You still believe me capable of harm the king? That wounds me so, ser Peter."

An awkward titter came out of Peter's mouth, "Of course not, your highness. He's just wary."

"I know. I have my own precautions as well, but, If I am to stand next to him in whatever years lay ahead upon us, the least we can do is to trust each other. And I want to surprise him with something."

"I understand. I'm sure he has no doubts regarding you."

"You think so? I hope you're right. Is there anything else I should know?"

Peter's grimace furrowed and became solemn for a moment. He was about to warn you about Lord Darko and his tactics, including Dana when Margo approached.

"Your majesty, the chefs are ready. Should I get your horse?"

"Yes, please."

"We'll continue this talk later, alright?"

"Of course."

With that Peter just watched you leave. He knew prying into personal territory was a bit too dangerous even for him, but since Miguel either forgot often or he didn't want you to know, someone had to do the nasty job of warning you.

But now that you had wormed your way into Miguel's head and heart, maybe the truth would spill out his lips without much trouble. He could only hope for the good. He was the king, but also, his friend.

----

You didn't expect to see Miguel at the main gates, both of your horses ready to depart. In all honesty, you'd think that he'd send either Jessica or Ben to excuse himself for the day.

But seizing him, in a more casual yet practical attire to fight, made your heart to jump leaps. He was there, like he said he would. He didn't excuse himself this time.

His eyes narrowed softly at the sight of you, the gleam in them upon taking in your features made your skin crawl underneath the long sleeves. You approached and he readied his horse, making sure the seat was adjusted correctly.

A friesian black stallion that neighed softly as Miguel caressed in between it's ears. Perfect for battle and running in case a retirement happened.

You hopped on the horse, Miguel on his and the basket was attached to Jessica's. She was only there to see the location and bring the basket to then leave you both alone.

"Are you ready, my lord?"

"Lead the way, Princesa."

With a gallop, you settled the pace and soon, the three of you marched away. Leaving a lithe gust of wind after the horse's trotting.

Jessica gave Miguel subtle glances, which he replied with a mildly annoyed scowl. The non verbal communication had been perfected by both over the years, a clear sign of mutual respect and trust. And an even clearer 'Get over it. It's just a lunch'.

Jessica's smug smile stretched when he rolled his eyes and trotted next to you.

The wind blew over, playing with the scattered leaves in your wake, ruffling the different textures of your hairs, it took you some minutes to leave the castle behind, and some more minutes to arrive to the pond.

Short and green grass cracked under the horse's hooves, the smell of wild flowers and soaked earth filled in your lungs with pure air, skin soared in delight when another gust of air blew over the both. The tree's leafs joined in the waltz. You gave Miguel a smile.

"We've arrived."

You hopped off the horse with ease. The chirping songs of the birds nested within the big oak tree made it all feel like God had turned one of his whims into reality. A couple of deers had escaped as soon as they heard the horse's gallop. The faint noise of the water before you and the smell of pines made your thoughts even more enthusiastic.

Jessica left her horse for a bit to put the hamper near the tree and with a final salute she returned back to the castle.

It was only you and Miguel. The latter took the basket and ventured deeper within the curtain of leafs and climbing plants nature had claimed a certain branch of the tree. Like a private room in nature, a perfect getaway from prying eyes.

You took the linen and put it on the grassy and moss textured floor, Miguel helped by moving the basket on the middle of the fabric and then you sat down, patting the space adjacent to yours. He obeyed and rested his back on the tree, just like you after the shoes were removed.

"My trips to the city made me aware of the many lookout spots the castle has. And I found this one. Do you... like it?"

"I do."

His voice contained unsure undertones, cause in all honesty, he rarely left the castle and when he did was either for war, or to patrol. Miguel had never minded to take his time into admiring his lands, that held not only power, but beauty within.

Just like you.

His eyes darted towards your profile, appreciating the landscape when he noticed the shy dimple in your cheek. His eyes raked over your lips, the brief wonder of their taste popped in his mind. The sun rays filtered through the leafs, gently basking within your eyes.

As if the sun had found a lovely place to rest for a moment. His brows twitched upwards yet discreetly. The ally eyes were gone, leaving room for the man he was to take over and be in awe of your beauty. If this was the sight he'd wake up to, he'd gladly become an art connoisseur.

He didn't know what to blame. His pent up stress that begged him for relief, or your mere existence in the same space. Breathing the same air, inches away from him looking like an artist's opus magna materialized into flesh and bones.

"So..."

You mumbled and cleared your rasping throat.

"So."

"Are you hungry, my lord?"

"Please, call me Miguel."

You blinked once, then twice before a bashful smile bloomed on your cheeks.

"Are you sure of that?"

"We're soon to be wedded. Even though nobility is picky regarding titles, I couldn't care less."

That earned him a sheepish chuckle from you, but you nodded.

"Then, it's only fair you call me by my name as well."

"I'll stick to Princesa."

"Isn't that my title?"

"It is. But in my other tongue means something good."

Lovely even

His lips twitched in a little impish and borderline childish smile upon seeing you flustered.

"But if you want, we could go back to-"

"No. I mean... I like when you call me that. Your other language sounds rich and captivating."

"Does it?"

Your head bobbed nervously and his hands reached for the wine bottle to serve on two goblets.

"How much of it do you understand?"

"Barely a thing. But it's your tone that gives a bit of context. I can tell when you mean something good or bad."

"How about this? Te ves tan encantadora cuando tratas de aprender más sobre cualquier cosa." (You look so lovely when you're trying to learn more about anything)

Your throat gulped and your eyes casted away from him for a brief second before exhaling gingerly. Flush blooming in your face.

"Sounds like I'm doing something good."

His smirk deepened.

"And what have you learned so far?"

"Some little phrases, a few greetings and your title."

"My title?"

"Yes, mi rey."

His heart was nothing but a thump-a-thump inside his ribcage, the way you had pronounced such thing had his self control to hold you in such a fine thread that could snap if you ever said something like that again.

My king.

Your king. The idea of being called like that after your wedding made him secretly beg time to go faster. He had so much to teach and show you, your eagerness only made it better.

But he was also learning from you.

You called him by his given name, and oh his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. His lips stretched involuntarily at your voice, calling him.

"Yes?"

"I've gotten you a gift."

"A gift? Why?"

"What do you mean why? I'd like to honor you too with gifts as you've done. Is it wrong?"

Your hands reached for the velvety pouch containing the vials, filled in with your caffeinated concoction.

"Here. If you ever find yourself with a terrible headache, drink one."

"I'm afraid I'll need more than these." You chuckled and leaned in a bit closer to him.

"I will prepare as much as you need."

He poured the wine, and handed you a goblet. You sipped it almost right away, nerves wrecked you, but speaking so closely to him made your blood rush hapzardly in your cheeks and butterflies to twirl in your stomach.

"I also wanted to ask for something, away from the council's ears."

His brow arched softly "And what is that?"

"I beg you. Please let me ease your kingly duties. Let me help you."

It was always a Lead the way, sometimes a You need help. others a You can't do it alone. but never precisely that. A let me help you.

"I know that I'm already helping, according to you. But I'd like to do more." You took a small slice of fruit, "That way, we could spend more time knowing eachother. Either through work or... like this."

"What else would you like to do?"

He gestured you while he popped a grape into his mouth, you ate the piece and talked once you swallowed

"Let me take charge of the arts and social agendas. I will improve them. Your people have so much talent. You could size it."

"Then, let's make a deal. You're not to abandon your medical duties, I need you on the front."

Your head nodded eagerly.

"But, I'll assign you a schedule, so you can balance both. But if it's too much, you'll let me know. Understood?"

"Si, mi rey."

Maker's mercy.

You were killing him, his restrain was kept in check and control. You ate and drank in silence, too nervous to ponder about eachother, but the letter he burned into ashes came to his mind.

"Have you had many pretenders before me?"

A cringe worthy nod from your end made his nose flare in an airy chuckle.

"Really?"

"Yes. Though I barely remember about them now."

You shrugged and Miguel could only stare at you.

"Did they ever sent you letters?"

"They did, until I decided to ignore them."

"Why?"

His eyes changed to a more curious and keen gaze.

"They were simple."

"Simple?"

"Yes. You know, when beauty is everything they see. I like deeper minds."

Miguel's chest heaved with excitement upon your words.

"For being a pair of royals that were brought together under political circumstances, we do have alot in common."

"Indeed. May I know more about yourself, my lord?"

"More about me?"

"Yes. What do you like doing in your scarce free time, favorite things and the like."

"And what do I get in return for sharing such information?"

"More of myself to you. And possibly me enjoying such activities with you."

"That's fair."

A small smile appeared in his lips.

You both shared, your own part of the story. Your birthdays, favorite foods, drinks, activities, flowers, upbringing and raising ways.

He was a simple man when it came to things, nothing too extravagant as you had thought. He didn't enjoy hunting. He disliked formal and big events, even had thought of escaping to his room after he had been crowned.

He had found a way to brew his own sort of wine, reducing the importing costs, he was an inventor, and spoke multiple languages. Miguel enjoyed tinkering with machines that were out there making the life of his citizens easier.

His upbringing was everything but easy, since the expectations were put in him in such an early age. Another reason of his premature scowl.

He told you about his first battle and how scared and angry he was. You shared about the loss and mourning of your brother. How it impacted on your parents, your dad specially. And how your mother took charge for the both to prevent the kingdom to sink even deeper in the rickety luck that seemed to tuck in Theleria.

He had his temper and has kept a silent rivalry against Kingpin. However his surprise was much when finding out you were about to marry Kraven in a desperate attempt to keep a bit more of territory. One of your father's suggestions.

"I'm grateful it ended up being you."

Your mother had played her cards well. You had even explained some customs of your country. The mistresses topic was unavoidably brought up, but sensing you tense after explaining the why, he was the one that seemed deep in thought.

" I apologize if my traditions have hurt you in any way."

"It's complicated, cause I really want to understand everything related to your kingdom, I know no nation that is perfect. But I accept your apology."

"Still, I'm sorry for making you feel disrespected, Princesa."

A little smile appeared on your lips. You itched to know if he kept them around, but that bit of solace was enough, you didn't want your dark thoughts to ruin what has been achieved so far.

"Do you wish to return to the castle now?"

"I'd be a liar to say that I don't. But my priorities are others at the moment."

You.

-----

Baron Drako dragged Dana to a secluded room and sighed. Dana could only stare at him, expectant.

"What's going on?"

Darko paced frantically before her, "The king..."

"What about him?"

"He's out. With the princess." He seethed, "They left since this morning!"

Dana's expression soured. Her anger boiled, but fury would do little to solve the evolving problem. You. She needed to think straight.

"Is that so?"

"How can you be so calm?! The crown is being taking right under your nose-"

"Father"

She interrupted while raising a hand. The single motion alone was a clear understanding between the both.

"Tell me you have a plan. You can't... You can't let that Thelerian to be crowned as queen. You are the one and only worthy to be on Miguel's side"

"I know. But don't you fret. Miguel always returns to me. He knows what I am capable of."

Her fingers took her chin, and her eyes narrowed. She'd definitely had been slacking, not cause she wanted. Her own family matters had kept her at bay from the main stage.

But she had seen you both. The glances Miguel gave you, the way he itched to hold your hand, to lay a finger on you. Just as he had longed for her all those youngling years ago.

"Let me handle this."

"What are you gonna do?"

Dana's lips twitched in a wretched and cold smile.

"I think it's time to introduce myself to the princess."

-----

Miguel's hand took yours as you ventured in the shallow parts of the pond to soak your feet.

Despite the day being nice, the humid weather of Arachne always made you itch for a cold bath during the day. Sometimes you dreaded the materials for the wedding dress, but it mattered little when clothes were bound to be discarded through the night.

You swallowed and casted a discreet look his way. His feet submerged in the cool and crystalline waters, pants rolled up to his ankles, and his shirt to his elbows, leaving strong and sturdy forearms bare to your sight.

Would he like to consummate the marriage? Probably. Would he notice your total lack of expertise in bed? Definitely.

The more you thought about it, the more red your cheeks grew. But it was impossible to not think in such things when the behemoth of a man next to you was looking to the horizon, deep in thought about something you didn't have access yet.

His skin glistened under the sun, but his lips were the main attraction to your now not so discreet ogling. He smirked upon catching you red handed, a hand of his raked through his curls on purpose, making his muscles flex and be outlined underneath his shirt.

His whole frame offered you solace from the blazing sun, but also granted him enough to see your flustering.

His eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, relaxing within your presence.

Eyes studied you for a moment before they stopped at your lips.

By instinct, he took your hands. Your fingers grazed his palm softly in a shy caress.

"It's been a while since I've taken a break."

You smiled and his eyes mellowed.

"I'm glad I was able to distract you from your duties, even for a bit. We all deserve to rest."

"Now you sound like Peter."

With a giggle you pulled him deeper to the pond, letting the hem of your skirt to soak lightly.

"Well, he is right. The more you take care of yourself, the longer you'll live."

Hand in hand your feet wiggled underneath the water. He stood next to you, gazing at your hand in his.

His heartbeat steady, despite pounding in his ears by that touch alone.

"If I'm honest, I didn't want a marriage initially."

"I know. Neither did I."

His grip tightened slightly and you looked up at him.

"It's funny how life weaves it's threads, isn't it?"

"What do you mean, Princesa?"

"Well, neither of us wanted to, yet, neither opposed greatly." A faint shrug of your shoulders, "I might have given a little tantrum. But we just agreed because of our duties."

His eyes casted down briefly before speaking again

"If... circumstances were different, would you still agree to a marriage?"

That was a question you weren't expecting.

"With you?"

He nodded

"Certainly."

He was definitely holding onto you tighter.

"Why?"

"Quite curious you are, my lord."

He chuckled and you grazed your thumb on his warm flesh.

"But, it's because of your kindness and consideration"

"Sorry to disappoint but I'm everything but that."

"Towards others perhaps. But to me... You're not the bloodthirsty man everyone makes out of you. You're more than that."

A faint pained look came across his features.

"Bad habits are hard to kill."

"My lord. Tell me something."

"Hm?"

"From all the times you've waged a war, was your land under threat?"

"Yes."

"Was your kingdom sovereignty at stake?"

"It was."

"Do you love war?"

"I don't."

"Sometimes hard choices must be taken. We might not always like it, but someone must do it." You inched closer to him and entwined your fingers gingerly in his.

"And those who chose to do the right thing, even in pain, are the bravest souls of all."

His hand enveloped yours in a tender hold. Words like a reassuring balm to his aching soul. Fingers secured tightly yet gently on yours.

"And, I'll be honored to be brave with you. If you'll allow me, that is."

The urge to clutch at his chest only grew the more you spoke. You could kill him out of joy and you wouldn't even know.

"My words might be clumsy, I'm rather a man of action. But believe me when I tell you, Princesa."

His eyes looked into yours.

"Regret regarding this, had left me a long time ago."

----

You way back to the castle was quiet, yet comforting. It was safe to say that you had came closer, not only as royals, but as two individuals bound to share their lives. Obligation was no longer a word that hovered over both, willingness had slowly seized that spot.

You wanted the same, and he could have you. There was no hidden truths behind, no second guessing or intentions. Nothing that made him suspect. Just raw and utter admiration from you. And something else.

You understood with little. He was bad with words or anything that involved feelings, but the urge to prove his blooming affection and admiration for you was greater than anything, sometimes even from his own duties.

But that kiss on the back of your palm was more than enough for you to know your advances weren't in vain.

A chaste, yet loving kiss that made you understand that the acquaintance and friendship threshold had been blurred and crossed.

You weren't afraid of the intensity of how your emotions displayed, and hoped that he wasn't spooked away by them. But it was unerring that your temporary escape had brought to light so many things hidden by fears and insecurities on both ends.

You settled for another outing within the following days.

Upon returning to your chambers, and another kiss on your palms as a temporary goodbye, you prepared for your evening activities. Meaning, you'd be back to the lab and instruct your new subordinates, ready to prove and honor your words.

Peter however followed Miguel to his war room to deliver a report. The sight before him made him chuckle. Slumped against his chair, a lazy smile on his peaceful face.

"If escaping your duties with the princess leaves you like this" He gestured to a slumped and lazy smiling Miguel, "Then I'd have to ask her to keep you for herself as long as she wishes."

He could have you.

The realization upon you saying such things filled in his body with many things he couldn't understand completely, but was no longer wary and mistrusting to explore.

"The wedding is a month away. Many things have changed."

"Sounds like you're eager to get married."

"Not for the reasons you think." One of his bushy brows quirked, mildly annoyed.

Peter rose his hands in defense, "I haven't said nothing"

"Good. Prepare Dana's family for a trip."

"What?"

"I'll send Baron Darko a-"

"No, I heard you. Really, Miguel?!" An exhausted and cloy sigh came across his lips, "I'm getting tired of you playing this childish games. That wretched woman is dangerous."

"I know."

"Then why you keep her?!"

"Cause I'll kill her myself. But not within my castle."

"I don't believe you."

"Not my problem. Don't want her blood stain this fortress."

"... Miguel-"

"In two days. Tell Commander Reilly to prepare the east manor."

His personal slaughter house. Peter's eyes remained on him, there was no lies behind his dark ruby eyes.

"Understood."

-----

You had taken dinner in your room, too excited to keep your thoughts to yourself. A flurry of entries where added to your diary.

A scholar having a crush was nothing compared to how you felt.

Everything seemed to be finally be on its way, but something didn't belong in there. You had been too eager to start your teachings that completely ignored the letter left on your desk, placed by an intruder.

The bright red wax seal captured your attention. A letter written in an impeccable scribbling, not as refined as yours. The seal was broken, initial joy vanishing upon reading its contents.

A letter that undoubtedly, had all the intentions of harming with a simple message:

"Your majesty. I believe it's time for us to meet. Join me at the rose garden after midday tomorrow.

-D."

Another council member you didn't know about? No. You've already met Baron Darko. Who could it be and why such pithy words filled you with anxiety and dread?

You put the letter in the desk where you found it, and headed to your bed. The memories shared with Miguel today were far too bening to let the intrusive thoughts to win over.

Sleep came easier when the last thing in your mind was Him and the events of today.

-----

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