#one of the only videos i've found so far and it's from this far away???

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

jan too enthralled in a jance moment having to run back to his pedal board in metulji plus bojan's new outfit

[x]

[nanaslutt]

HATE SEX WITH GETO PLEASE 😭😭🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

contains: fem reader, spanking, choking, manhandling, hate fucking, rough sex, dirty talk, cheating, spanking, bathroom sex, angst w/ no comfort, proceed with caution :3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Just thinking about hate sex with ex-boyfriend Geto. You received a video from an unknown number a couple months ago of your boyfriend at the club, big arms slung around two pretty girls as one ground on him under the flashing lights and blaring music of the club. The video was short, but it was all you needed to see. You forwarded the video to Geto, captioned with the words, "fuck you."

The night he went out he told you he was having a guy's night out with Gojo, so imagine your surprise when you woke up to him acting like a whore in public. You still did never find out who sent you that video. Geto spent days blowing up your phone, using your mutual friends to try and talk to you, even going as far to show up to your house, but you rejected all of his advances.

After about a month and a half, when things had calmed down and it was evident to the both of you that your relationship was well over, you finally started going out again. The reason it took you so long? The two of you were in the same friend group. There's a reason they say to date outside of your circle, for situations exactly like this.

Your big debut back into your circle of friends was a night out clubbing. Gojo, Shoko, Utahime, and Nanami were sitting on the plush cushions around you. The only reason you agreed to go out with them tonight was because Shoko had promised Geto wouldn't be there, saying he was stuck at work. Truthfully though, Shoko had missed you so much in the group outings, that she would've found a way to drag you out of the house even if Geto was going to be there.

"This is nice, I'll admit. I missed you guys." You said, working on your second cocktail of the night. Drinks always tasted better when Gojo paid. "Awww~ I don't know how you went so long without seeing me, honestly~" Gojo teased, ruffling your hair in the process. You swatted his hand away, fixing your hair while you shot him a nasty side-eye. "Us, he meant US." Utahime corrected, placing her hand on your knee while also shooting daggers at Gojo.

Gojo stuck out his tongue at Utahime, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the cushions, his arms spreading out behind you and Nanami on the top of the couch. "It's true though, it's nice having you here," Nanami added a light blush dusting on his face from how many drinks he had already downed; he must not have work tomorrow. "Thank you Nanami." you smiled at him before leaning back, crossing your legs over one another, your short black dress riding up your thighs slightly in the process.

"I've been so pent up all month, this feels so good." You giggled, tipping your head over as you directed your words to the girls. "Yeah? I know how you can feel even better." Shoko smirked, sipping on her straight vodka. Utahime smiled giddily, leaning her body forward in interest as she also waited for Shoko to speak. "Blondie over there at the bar has been eyeing you up since we got here, go talk to him." She nudged, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You have been wound up in more ways than one since you and Geto had broken up. He always dicked you down so good, you would miss that. Who knows though, maybe blondie with the nice jawline and pretty face would give you good pipe in the bathroom. You eye him up, biting your lip as you dragged your eyes over his sturdy frame, only noticing he had been watching you oogle him like a slab of meat the whole time when you went to rake your eyes over his handsome face. He smiled, his dimples showing themselves as they dug into his cheeks, fuck he was hot. This was the perfect guy to use to get over Geto, screw that cheater.

"Oh shitt~ Look at them eye fucking each other~ Haha!" Gojo laughed, sipping on his sweet, non-alcoholic, bright pink drink. You turned your head to smirk at Gojo before you placed your hand on his shoulder and used it to push yourself off the seat. "You're really going for it?" Shoko asked incredulously, giggling behind your hand as you smoothed out your dress. "Why not? I'm horny and single, and a hot man is looking at me like I'm the hottest woman he's ever laid eyes on." You said, smiling down at your friends.

"That's because you are," Shoko added, grabbing your thigh for leverage she spun you around to face the man behind you sitting on the barstools, waiting for you to approach him. "I would be jealous If I liked men, he's a cutie." She laughed to Utahime as she watched you take a deep breath and walk off toward the man.

You walked through the club with confidence, a heartbeat already forming behind your panties as you got closer and closer, watching the way he eyed up your body as you walked. "Friends talked some sense into you, huh?" The man spoke when you got within ear shot. You took the seat next to him, plopping down on the barstool you spun the seat around to face him, your legs slotting together with one another as you placed your heel-clad feet on the bottom of his barstool.

His eyes darted down to your legs, watching you insert yourself into his space with confidence. "Too shy to come up to me yourself?" You asked, placing your hand on his knee as you rubbed circles against his pants, making him swallow the lump in his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face with how bold you were being. "You kidding? Those guys you're with are fucking repellent. Didn't know if you were with one of them or not." He laughed, taking a sip of his drink to ease his nerves.

"But you were watching me anyways?" You teased, keeping your eyes locked onto his. He took in a deep breath, pressing his lips together as before he spoke. "You have no idea what you look like, huh?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who wouldn't be able to resist looking at someone like you?" His words sent shivers down your spine, you needed to get him in a bathroom stall with you hours ago. As the two of you continued flirting with one another, eyefucking each other as you sipped on your respective drinks, someone unexpected entered the club.

"Heyy." Geto's voice echoed into your friend's ears. The dark-haired man was half up, half down in his signature bun, one hand tucked into his pocket while his other was held up in front of him, waving to his friends. "Hey troublemaker~" Gojo smiled largely. Shoko groaned along with Utahime. "Thought you couldn't make it?" Nanami asked as he slid in next to him on the couch, spreading his long legs out on the cushions as he took Nanami's drink from him, taking a gulp.

"Got off early, thought I might come by." He responded, laughing when a drunk Nanami snatched his drink back from Geto, muttering to order his own drink. "Come by my ass, you work on the other side of town." Shoko laughed incredulously, adding that you were not going to be very happy. "She's here?" Geto asked, his demeanor immediately perking up. Shoko looked to Utahime knowingly before she looked back to Geto, hissing air in through her teeth.

"Yes cheater~ Of course she's here, and she's about to score by the looks of it." Shoko laughed, making Gojo whistle as he dragged his gaze to you, watching you pull your head back from the whispering something in the mans ear before his lips moved, head moving in tandem as you slid off of the barstool, taking his larger hand in his as you dragged him away from the seat, making him place his drink down on the bar top, abandoning it as you dragged him away to the bathroom.

Geto had just watched the entire scene unfold in front of him that the rest of them had seen. Of course, Geto had come here for you. Shoko was right, he worked almost half an hour away from the club, he was exhausted from work but when he saw you say in the group chat you were going to be here, he knew he had to make a detour. He knew he fucked up when he lied to you about going to the club, but truthfully he had done nothing more than let a couple girls fawn over him, grinding on him while they peppered kisses on his cheeks, never coming close to his mouth.

He still loved you, of course, he did, but you had been adamant about not seeing him at all for almost two months. He hadn't really given up, he would never give up on trying to get you back, he just figured maybe a little break and letting you calm down would lead you back to him. Clearly, he was wrong as he watched you maneuver your way through the crowd, dragging some man you met five minutes prior away to fuck, looking good as all hell.

He grits his teeth, pressing his feet firmly on the floor Geto was on the move in a heartbeat, no one could stop him. "Oh look what you did." Nanami huffed, looking at Shoko. "She's gonna be fucking pissed you know." Shoko's jaw was on the floor. She severely underestimated the amount of balls Suguru Geto had. "How the fuck was I supposed to know he was gonna go chase after her???" She said, looking at him with an expression that almost resembled horror, making Gojo laugh his ass off between them.

Once you made it to the secluded corner of the club just outside the bathrooms, you spun your body around, wrapping your arms around the man. "You wanna fuck me?" You whispered into his ear, feeling his large hands wrap around your waist, his knee sliding between your legs. He groaned at your words, staring between your lips and your pretty eyes as you bit your lip at him, "Fuck yeah, pretty girl." He smiled, shaking his head as he leaned in for a kiss.

You closed your eyes, waiting for a sensation against your lips that never came. Your eyes shot open when he yelled out an exasperated "Hey! What the fuck!" His lips loosened on your waist as he was dragged away from you by a strong grip on his hair. "Geto?!" You yelled, spinning your body to look at him, your body heating up with rage combined with the neglect of pleasure. "Who the fuck are you?!" The blond-haired man yelled, trying to grip Geto's wrist to make him release the hold he had on his hair.

"Her boyfriend." He deadpanned, throwing him in the direction of the club as he reached his hand over your head, pushing the door open behind you, forcing you into the small bathroom with his large frame, leaving you no time to refute. "I didn't know man, fuck!" The man's voice was cut off as the bathroom door shut behind the two of you, Geto's hand coming down to lock the door, leaving you alone in the personal bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You asked, shoving his chest back, Geto not even moving a muscle as his jaw muscles bulged out under the weight of his clenching teeth, his dark eyes watching you fume. "What the fuck were you doing?" Geto responded, walking toward you slowly, making you step back unconsciously, trying to keep some distance between the two of you. "Why is that any of your fucking business?" You spat, almost laughing at his audacity.

"We never officially broke up." Geto retorted, clenching his fists by his sides. "Oh! Oho!" You laughed, "Excuse me, allow me to make it official for you, we are fucking done." You dug your nail into his chest, squinting your eyes as you looked into his, your tall heels making you feel more confident as your height difference wasn't as dramatic now. "Thought I made it pretty fucking clear when I didn't respond to you for almost two months, but you always were pretty dense." You huffed, backing away from him once you got your point across.

"Were you just trying to get even with me? Huh? Thought fucking some random guy in the club like a slut would make you feel better about yourself?" He yelled, continuing to walk toward you until your back hit the wall, making you jolt, you hadn't even realized you were walking backward. "The fuck did you call me?" You asked, scrunching your eyebrows together. "You're such a fucking hypocrite, acting like that wasn't exactly what you did to me." You laughed again. You felt like you were going crazy, why was he acting like you were the one in the wrong here?

"I never fucked them! Never! Maybe if you answered my fucking calls or looked at my texts you would know that!" He shouted, getting in your face. You shook your head, looking at him with disdain. "Oh, because letting girls dry hump you is so much fucking better, right?" You yelled back, the ghost of a smile gracing your features, you were so done with him.

"God you really are the worst." You spat, your eyes shooting daggers into his own. "How the fuck are you gonna make up for scaring that guy off, huh?" You asked, tilting your head at him, making his eyes lock onto yours once more. Geto cocked his head at you, clearly uncomfortable with you mentioning the blonde stranger, knowing damn well you meant you were going to fuck him, and now you were left dry.

You scoffed, "What? Don't like the thought of me getting off on someone else's cock? Moaning someone else's name? Huh? That shit make you mad?" You got in his face, keeping your squinted eyes on his dark ones. Geto doesn't know what came over him, but he couldn't stand to hear you talk anymore. His lips were on yours, swallowing your surprised moans, immediately slipping his tongue into your mouth, crushing his jaw into yours, your head bumping into the wall behind you.

You were still mad as hell, but his lips felt so familiar, your arousal crept up through the cracks of your irritation and made you kiss him back harder, fighting him for dominance. His hand came to grab your throat, squeezing harshly, his fingers digging into your delicate skin, making you whine into the kiss. He was never this rough with you, and you were loving it.

He pulled back, his free hand coming down to undo his belt quickly, pulling the leather through the loops as he threw it somewhere on the floor of the filthy bathroom floor, "Don't you ever talk about someone else fucking you in front of me." He growled, squeezing your throat to emphasize his words, You smiled through the lack of oxygen, little black dots clouding your vision, but you still felt the need to fight back. "Fuck you." You whispered.

Geto spun you around in one swift movement, making you face the wall, your hands coming to brace against the brick as you felt him lift your skirt over the curve of your ass, your panties being roughly yanked down midway on your thighs. Everything was happening so quickly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins only fueling your arousal. You knew this was not a good idea, but your body was too weak to Geto.

Geto shook his head as his eyes came into contact with your dripping pussy. He bit his lip between his teeth, pulling his cock out through his pants as he gave himself a couple rough strokes, his hand sliding down to your ass as he rubbed his thumb through your folds, spreading them and rubbing your wetness around before he dipped the digit into your hole, slowly pumping in and out. He was absolutely fuming at the thought of you giving this to someone else, he wondered if you had in the time you haven't been talking.

"You this wet from that fucking loser, or from me yelling at you?" Geto asked, pulling his thumb back to leave a rough smirk on your ass, pushing his hips forward as he rubbed his tip along your folds, getting his cock slick with your juices. "You're so full of yourself, shoulda seen the way he was touching me under the table." You giggled, turning your head to the side to look at him. You kept your words vague on purpose to piss Geto off. He had been touching you under the table, but only your thigh.

"You fucking slut." Geto grit through his teeth, his hand coming to grip the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your skin with how hard he was gripping you. "And you still wanna fuck me." You laughed, the noise getting cut short when he pushed his cock into you all at once with zero warning, keeping his balls pressed to your ass as he let his cock throb inside your walls still, his back pressing agaisnt your chest as he leaned into your ear, his deep voice whispering, "That's enough out of you." His voice alone was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Fuck!" you yelled when he pulled his hips back before he bullied his cock back into your unprepped walls, stretching you open as he meanly fucked you against the wall. "Shit- Think he could fuck you better than me? Huh?" Geto asked, leaning back as he pressed the back of your neck into the wall, his other hand holding under your hip as he held you in an arch, the pace of his hips making your knees squeeze together, bending slightly at the stimulation.

You brought one of your hands down between your thighs to rub little circles into your clit, your eyes crossing at the feeling. Geto must have felt how tight you got because he groaned through his teeth, his hand leaving your hip for a moment to come down to leave a harsh smack on your ass. "Fuck- I don't know, heh- If you didn't interrupt me I w-would've found out. He shook his head, smiling through the malice he felt coursing through his veins. "You're such a fucking brat." Smack, "Just sayin' that shit to get me worked up so I'll fuck you like the whore you are."

You wanted to hit him back every time he slapped your ass. Sure, it felt good, but you knew he was trying to put you in your place, so the action made a vein pop out on your forehead. You were so glad he couldn't see your face right now. Your words might've been sharp and snarky, but your face was flushed red and your eyes were rolling back in your head every time his fat cock thrust right against your sweet spot deep inside you, the one only he could reach. "I-I hate you-" You moaned out between his mean thrusts.

You heard him coo in response, his hand leaning the back of your neck so he could grip your waist with both hands and yank you back on his cock harder, fucking whines from your lips. "Don't talk to me like that baby, hurts my feelings~" Geto retorted, his jaw dropping in a small o when you rubbed your clit harder at his words, making your hole clench around him so tightly it felt like you were trying to milk him of all he was worth.

"Would you really be squeezing me this tight if you hated me? Hmm?" He teased, practically slamming your ass back on his pelvis, loud squelching noises bouncing off the walls. Thank god you were in this loud-ass club or everyone would know exactly what was going on, not like you really cared. "Shut up and fuck m-me." You responded curtly, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on reaching your high, timing your finger rubbing circles against your clit with his thrusts inside you.

"That's what I'm doing, dumb s-slut." Geto groaned, dropping his gaze to where the two of you were connected, feeling a warmth in his stomach bloom at the white ring of cum that had formed around the base of his dick. "Godd pussy is fucking milking me- you cant survive without me, need me- need this dick." Geto spoke between rough thrusts, his own words working himself up as he felt his high creep over him.

You grit your teeth at his words, moans spilling from your lips without your permission. He was fucking the shit out of you, you don't think he's ever been so rough before. His words, his hips, his hands, all of it, so fucking rough, and it was quickly working you up to your orgasm. You were too overwhelmed, tears started forming in your eyes with all of the stimulation and emotion you were feeling. He was hammering into your g-spot, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

"God- fuck- Gonna make me cum inside my pussy, my fucking pussy-" Geto babbled, shaking his head as he tried to get a peek at your face, noticing how you had bitten your lip between your teeth, tears streaming down your face. "Fuck, you crying? Feels that good?" He laughed. You didn't want him to know how good you were feeling, didn't want him to know his words were true; you couldn't live without him or his dick. His cock alone was literally fucking tears out of your eyes, it was so intense.

"Not gonna speak huh? Fine, stay quiet then." Your ex-boyfriend huffed, looking down at your pussy stretched around his girth as he fucked himself to his orgasm, you close behind him. "Shit- shit I'm coming- take it baby fu-ck~" Geto groaned, leaning over your back, burring his face into your neck. You felt his teeth dig into your neck when you felt the first rope of his warm seed shoot inside you, making your orgasm crash over you.

The two of you rode your highs out together, Geto's hips weakly and unceremoniously thrusting into your sopping cunt, working you through your orgasms. Geto jerked against your body, his strong hands wrapping around your torso as he kept you pressed against him, unloading his cum into your abused pussy. You whimpered into the wall, feeling his teeth leave your neck when he started coming down from his high, his face keeping its place in your neck.

The two of you stayed quiet for a while, relishing in the silence save for the dull booming of the club music echoing through the walls of the bathroom. Geto's hands were petting the skin of your hips, and for just a moment, you let yourself think everything was okay, losing yourself in the feeling; until he spoke. "I am sorry you know. So fucking sorry." He whispered into your neck, not daring to move.

You heaved out a sigh, pushing his arms off of you. You reached behind you and pushed his pelvis back, wincing in overstimulation when his softened cock slid out of your walls, his cum chasing after him, making your face scrunch at the uncomfortable feeling. "That wasn't what this was." You responded coldly. Bending down you pulled your panties up, keeping his cum snug inside you.

You turned around to watch him open your mouth, to which you held your hand up, stopping him; amazed when he actually listened. You pushed past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. Without another word, you unlocked the bathroom door and on shaky legs, left the small room and out into the nightclub to find Shoko and Utahime and get the hell out of there. Geto sighed deeply, tipping his head back as he stared at the ceiling before he closed his eyes, feeling the remorse wash over him, "fuck."

[facefullofsadness]

Could you do a giselle dom pervy step sister(female reader) smut where they don’t like each other at first but ig giselle found a way to turn that hatred into them fucking in secret while their parents are in the house

ANONNNN!!! YOUR MIND!!!! I've been thinking ab this ask for WEEKS and I finally have time to write about it omg obsessed

content - stepcest, blackmail, smut (pervy!giselle, cunnilingus, fingering, face sitting, squirt, voyeurism/public(?) sex)

wc - 2739

a/n - catching up slowly but surely on asks, I have no school this week so imma try my best!

you never really warmed up to giselle.

you never really WANTED to ever warm up to her. she was mean, annoying, obnoxious, and greedy. I mean, how fucking self-centered do you have to be to make your baby stepsis call you by another name because she "doesn't deserve to call me by my real name" as giselle had said. what infuriated you was how pretty she was too. someone who was such a bitch shouldn't get the benefit of being attractive, especially since aeri knew and definitely used it to her advantage. whether it be to the people around her like friends, classmates, teachers, or even your parents, she finessed them like no one's business.

but she could never trick or fool you. you were a challenge to her, and it pissed her off not getting what she wanted. giselle HATED your guts. you were smart, sweet, cute, and generous, traits she simply was not. she hated how your guys' parents eyes' would light up in excitement when you came to them with an academic achievement, looking at you with admiration and love, eyes that would look at aeri with annoyance and disappointment.

aeri's not stupid, she knows why she's disliked, but she doesn't really care. it only really started to affect her seeing YOU be soooo liked by them. she simply hated you because you weren't easy, and you hated her because she saw everyone as easy. though, however much it upset you, it upset her to a degree you couldn't even imagine. she had to win the invisible game, and she was going to get her way with you, one way or another. so she devised a plan, which was to put simply, blackmail.

one day when you were gone at school, she set up a secret camera in your room facing your bed. she laid back on the living room couch in content, watching you come home from school, shooting each other a painfully fake greeting, before you ascended upstairs to your room. during nightfall, you would of course, fulfill your physical desires while everyone was asleep in the house, unaware of the recording device from across the room. and in the morning when you left, your wicked stepsis would sneak back in to retrieve the footage, playing it back and giggling to herself, knowing this would ruin you.

giselle's sweet baby stepsis, a sexual deviant during the after hours, shoving a huge dildo into her pussy to force multiple orgasms from her own body.

aeri was giddy with joy, now owning what single-handedly would win her the upper hand. the day continued as normal, but as you were about to go to sleep, there was a knock at your door. you rolled your eyes when you opened it to find a smug aeri, her phone in her hand with a play button over a still image of you in your room. your eyes shift between her and her phone confused before she pushes you inside and shutting the door behind her.

"what the fuck is that aeri?"

she huffs and sits comfortably at the end of your bed, "first of all, it's giselle to you, don't forget. second, how 'bout I show you?"

playing the video on max volume, your muffled moaning erupting from the small screen, watching a video of yourself masturbating. your ears ring and your cheeks flush, pouncing onto the older girl and trying to tear the phone away from her. your older stepsis is far stronger than you and easily you get overpowered, her hands pinning your wrists together and against the bed, her legs straddling either side of your lap.

with one large hand gripping your wrists together and the other hand hovering the still playing video against your face, she smirks, "what? shy? you weren't so shy last night when you were shamelessly fucking yourself, now were you? hm, y/n-ie? my sweet little sister?"

you grit your teeth and shake your head back and forth to deny the accusation, as if it weren't true. her dark chuckle fills your ears and the room, joined with the loud squelching of your pussy coming from the video. you feel tears start to well in your eyes and you plead with her.

"unnie, please... delete that!"

she coos at you, "awww sweetie, you think I'm that easy? not without a price, I won't."

you continue to plea in a desperate voice, "unnie please! I'll do anything! just please, delete it, or don't share it! anything you want!"

her lips curl into a sinister smirk that you can see even in the dark. you feel your heart drop to your stomach at the thought of what she must've suddenly imagined, immediately regretting your choice of words. before you could even consider opening your mouth to take back what you said, aeri drops the phone and covers your mouth.

"anything huh? will you behave for unnie and do anything I want?"

you debate shaking your head no, but when you hear a particularly loud moan come from the video playing next to your ear, you nod your head yes.

"good girl, you may be stubborn but you're not stupid. a little bit dumb for your choice of words though," she hums above you and trails the hand over your mouth downwards, dragging her long slim fingers across your sensitive body, jerking with every inch of contact she makes.

you whine as her fingers circle your hardening nipples and pinch them between her fingertips, giggling at how your body reacts to her touch.

"sensitive little baby, aren't you y/n-ie? fuck you're so cute, you shouldn't be so fucking cute."

aeri hated how much she was enjoying this almost as much as you did. she hated how cute her little sis was, writhing under her, eyes welling with tears in fear, body reacting to every subtle brush, thighs rubbing themselves together to suppress the ache at her core. and you hated it too, you hated that your older sister made you feel so fucking good, how her touch ignited flames in your stomach, how you panted into the air the more intimate her touch became, how you anticipated and needed more when you realized how disgusting this all was.

you both hated it, but you both couldn't get enough.

looking up into giselle's eyes at the same time she looked into yours, locking onto one another and gazing into lustfilled stares, the tension filling the air. the hatred boiled over and morphed into a new emotion, desire. a compromise emerged, and mentally, you both knew what it was. it all felt too good to want to stop, so you gave in.

leaning up and smashing your lips against aeri's, her immediately pushing back into you, pressing you down into your mattress. sloppy wet kisses loud and echoing through the room, both your moaning filling your ears and drowning out any possibility for moral dilemmas to pierce your mind. the hand pinning your wrists down, traveling up to hold your hand, interlacing her fingers through one and letting the other one go.

you let your free hand shoot into her hair, pulling her closer into you and shoving your tongue into her mouth, eliciting a whine to escape giselle's throat, accepting the intrusion. her other hand finds your thigh and brings it up, wrapping your leg around her waist and grinding her hips against your clothed core, making you both groan out into each other's mouths.

"fuck, you're good. why are you good?" she moans into your mouth.

"I'm not- a fucking- amateur." you pant out between kisses.

"yeah? then tell me, has anyone else made you feel this good?"

she questions, almost as a challenge, and you're scared to answer knowing it's just another piece of blackmail to hang over your head. you both already know the truth, obvious by your hips rutting back against her, your sweat dripping down your forehead, neck, and chest, your core aching with need, and your eyes blown to oblivion.

"fuck you," you answer instead.

she chuckles lowly again, the tone and vibration in your mouth when she does it making your pussy throb between your legs.

"not before I fuck you."

flipping you over and onto your hands and knees, tearing your shorts and panties off, throwing them to the ground. she wastes no time shoving your legs apart and licking along your leaking slit, making you moan out and bury your head into your pillows.

"you're so fucking sick, do you know that? being so wet and horny for your unnie like this, you disgusting little whore."

giselle says as if she's not soaked in her own clothes, nipples hard and hole clenching around air. she feels so powerful, so in control, and it feels so good to have you whining under her. sticking her tongue out and getting to work immediately, dragging her wet muscle greedily and swiftly against your pussy, drinking in all of your slick. muffling your moans into your pillows and clawing at your sheets hard enough to rip them.

her strong grip on both of your legs forcing you to keep them apart, slapping your ass every so often and making you scream out into the pillow. her tongue moves around your core so fucking good, alternating between sucking and flicking at your clit to thrusting and licking inside of your cunt, the sounds unbearably sinful and delightful to especially aeri's ears. she's drunk, on the taste and feel of your pussy, the way your body reacts, and the muffled cries being torn from your mouth.

she closes her eyes and relishes in your delicious juice swishing around her mouth, moaning into your pussy at how fucking good it feels to have you like this. her core aches and throbs so painfully, she clenches her thighs to hold it in. she lands another slap on your ass before shoving three fingers into you, already starting with an unforgivable pace, curling them and finding that spot in you easily. you scream and claw at the sheets, almost assuredly knowing your pillow wasn't muffling your cries anymore, not like either of you cared. aeri was going insane and felt herself becoming more and more addicted to you. addicted to ruining you, addicted to having power over you, addicted to owning you.

with the arch of your back and body stilling, you gush cum all over your stepsister's face, thighs trembling and chest heaving, moans slipping out of your mouth like a waterfall, your pussy mimicking the motions of one too. giselle drank all of it, everything, licking all over your leaking cunt and wiping her face of it too, sucking her fingers dry to not leave a single drop wasted.

she didn't even let you rest as she flipped you over onto your back, quickly stripping of her pajamas and lingerie, before climbing up to your face, her thighs resting on both sides of your head.

"use your tongue for something useful, pervy slut."

pfft, hypocrite.

she gives you no time to respond or think before shoving her fat pussy into your mouth which you immediately start to drag your tongue all over, coating it in her slick. your hands grip her juicy thighs and you dig your nails into them, her wincing above you and gripping the headboard with one hand, the other hand in her mouth to muffle her sounds.

you never rip your eyes away from her face for even a second, obsessed with how much sheer pleasure rests on giselle's face, her mouth biting down on her hand, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and eyes clamped shut. your nose hits her clit repeatedly with your tongue buried deep inside her cunt, flicking it to stimulate inside her tight walls. she tastes so fucking divine, cum directly entering your mouth and your spit drooling out the sides of your lips.

her hips quicken and she fully rests her weight on your face which makes you delighted, drinking her up and pulling her in, suffocating between her thighs. not that it mattered, you loved it. you couldn't breathe but you pushed through, thrusting your tongue in her and maneuvering her hips as her clit hit the tip of your nose.

"drink my squirt you little bitch, take it! don't waste a drop! fuck!"

she demands you as she cums in your mouth, her pussy squirting onto your tongue. her thighs shake in your hands and you close your eyes to avoid squirt getting in them. you feel like your drowning in the sheer amount of liquid coming from aeri's pussy, but you obey your sister, drinking everything that slides down your throat. she finally calms down and you tap on her thighs in a panic, literally not able to breathe. she laughs above you and stays there, watching color drain from your face before she lifts herself up, watching you cough and gasp for air.

"sick fuck," she says before smashing her lips against yours' and digging her tongue into your mouth again.

suddenly, she pulls away and gets dressed, picking up her phone and waving at you with that infuriating smirk on her face as she opens the door and leaves, "see you again, baby sis!"

and from then on that's when it started, fucking your step sister in secret. at first it was only at night, every night since the first time. then it progressed to whenever your parents were out of the house, fucking on the couch in the living room, on the kitchen island, in the shower, in each other's rooms. at some point, she started to get more flirty with you, her touches lingering for too long when she held your hips in the kitchen to move past you or sliding her hands up your shirt when she'd greet you with a hug when you came home from school, whispering an "I missed you" into your ear, her breath against it making a shiver go down your spine, which always drove you insane.

at some point though, giselle couldn't give less of a fuck if your parents were home or not, she just wanted to fuck you. your family would be having a movie night in the living room and you'd go to the kitchen to get more snacks, the older girl following you to "help." then she'd pin you to the kitchen counter and slip her fingers down your underwear, dipping them into your already wet pussy.

"really y/n-ie? you're fucking wet? were you eye fucking me all night that you couldn't help yourself get horny? let me help you with that baby."

she would whisper breathily into your ear before fingering you right then and there, you clutching the popcorn bag in your fingers and biting down on your lip, trying so hard not to moan and get caught, thankful the movie was loud enough.

or during a dinner party WITH YOUR RELATIVES, she would "accidentally" drop a spoon on the ground and go to retrieve it, only to separate your thighs and trail a long tortuous lick across your exposed pussy, aeri having demanded you to wear nothing under. you're suddenly gripping your utensils and coughing on the food in your mouth, acting like it went down your throat wrong. your sister climbing back up from under the table with a lost spoon and a smile.

and of course, she fingered you under the dining table that night too, your face red and physically incapable of eating for about twenty minutes, clutching her forearm as you came around her fingers in front of everyone. you had bit down on your lip so hard, blood had started dripping down your chin and onto your dress, excusing yourself to clean up. panting out of breath in your room and ripping the dress off of you, your sister following behind you and pinning you to your bed with a smirk.

"that was impressive baby, you were able to keep in all those delicious moans huh? well, don't you dare fucking keep them in now, they can't hear you from here, and we're not even close to finished."

smashing her lips against your blood stained ones, the taste of metal filling her mouth.

and while you're not sure if you're starting to like your sister or not, you definitely start getting used to it (maybe obsessed).

a/n - the other night when I was looking at this ask, I suddenly had the urge to write a "rich girl aeri x reader fic where they both fucking despise each other and are just rich bitches until one night they both break from all the sexual tension and fuck in the back of aeri's car" fic... I'll get to work-

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 OFFER ME MY DEATHLESS DEATH

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: one drunken encounter with dazai sends everything spiraling. suddenly, all of your problems are catching up to you at once and you're lost as to how you should proceed... or that's not entirely true—you know how you're going to proceed but it's impossible for you to come to terms with how far you've let this go.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: sorry that i haven't really been active this week </3 i've been so busy. ill try to get to asks and everything soon. forgive me</3 i hope you guys enjoy part 5, i rlly had fun writing this chapter. as always, comments and reblogs appreciated!

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. reader and dazai argue, reader is a bit intoxicated, dazai heavily implied suicide attempt (not outright said/described bc he can't remember, but he assumes that's what happened) & he dissociates, dazai is in a pretty bad mental state the first half of the chapter, i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

You stopped seeking him out after that night.

Dazai sits in his apartment, knees curled to his chest and back pressed against the wall. He has to forcibly keep his breath steady—his homework for his engineering class is discarded somewhere to his left, he’d been working on it for class tomorrow before he made the mistake of checking his phone and seeing that you’d once again stopped reading his messages. 

Two days straight now of silence on your end. He could go to your apartment like he’s been doing for the past two weeks but every time he tries to push himself to his feet with the intention of going to you, he finds himself rooted to the ground. Your words ring damningly and persistently through his head—how you told Nakahara Chuuya that you’re only doing this because he found the proof of your occupation, how you told him that you tried to cut him off.

Dazai knew what he was doing by using the video as leverage over you. He knew he was forcing you into indulging him, that he was backing you into a corner, but he’d allowed himself to be blinded by your treatment of him. 

Even if it was coerced, no one has ever treated him the way you do—you remember the things he tells you off-handedly like he matters and you buy him the things he wants without him having to say anything like you care. You’re gentle with him—Dazai has only ever experienced bruising touches; Oda and Ango weren’t physical people and he can hardly remember his mother. He remembers the way his aunt dragged him out of the car kicking and screaming, tossing him to the ground in Suribachi before driving away. He remembers all of the nights he would get drunk at bars, ending up in strangers’ beds and waking up with a body that ached painfully and dark marks littered across his bandaged skin.

It’s hard to remember that you don’t actually want him when you treat him the same way he’s dreamed someone would treat him one day. It’s hard to remember that you turn your head away when he leans in to kiss you, that you ignore his lingering touches and change the subject whenever he almost gathers the nerve to bring the topic up to you.

You don’t want him. 

He’s forcing you to do this by using the video as leverage. 

You don’t want him. 

He rests his forehead on his knees. That gaping hole in his chest that had started to return that night after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment is all consuming now. His entire body feels numb and prickly, he feels uncomfortable in his own skin.

He needs to put a stop to this.

His gaze draws from his knees to the floorboard he’s hiding the flash drive under. He could just… get rid of it. Get rid of it and disappear—you probably wouldn’t even notice. Maybe you would, he remembers how you came to his apartment when you hadn’t heard from him after sending the couch. Then again, you might’ve only shown up because you wanted to lie about why you were cutting him off. Dazai just doesn’t know with you.

Maybe he should just go to talk to you. 

But if he talks to you… and the thought of leaving his apartment right now…

Dazai sighs, leaning back against the wall, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling, weighing both options carefully before coming to a heavy decision.

You’re not in your apartment when he gets there.

Dazai would usually wander around and find something to make himself busy with while he waits for you. You have a piano on the opposite side of the room that he sometimes likes to fiddle with—he’s taught himself a few basic songs while waiting for you to get back from work the past few weeks. He ordered a gaming console and a few games to go along with it when you made the mistake of leaving your laptop open last week, but he doesn’t even have the energy to go look for one; not that any are even particularly standing out to him. Sometimes, he just snoops around, but his legs feel like lead, like they’re bolted to the ground, so he just sits on your couch and stares at the black television screen as the minutes tick by.

He doesn’t even know how long he’s been sitting there—too long, it was still light out when he walked his way over to your building in Naka-ku and the sun had set a long time ago. He’s never felt lonely in your apartment before; in fact, he usually seeks out your apartment because he feels lonely and whether you’re here or not, it eases the void that grows in his chest.

But now? Each passing second, he feels colder and colder. A part of him thinks that he should take this as a sign and just leave, but his body is uncooperative, keeping him rooted to your couch as he awaits your return.

He’s planned out what he’s going to say to you; he’s rehearsed it in his head so many times that he thinks he could say the dreadful words while sleeping. Now, he just-

Dazai’s head snaps to the side when he hears the fateful ding of the elevator arriving at your floor. His eyes widen and his tongue swells with anxiety as he stares at the doors, his breath slows and his fingers bite into his pants as he waits to see you step into the room but when the doors finally start to slide open, he freezes when he hears laughter.

“I can’t stand you,” an unfamiliar male voice snorts and Dazai’s mouth dries as his gaze darts around, trying to figure out what to do. The last thing he wants is for a repeat of the other night—if this is another one of your mafia friends, Dazai has to move, but he doesn’t know where to go.

His gaze settles on a nearby hall leading to the bathroom and an unused room—it’s closer to him than the kitchen, he’d never make it to the kitchen because he’d have to go right past the elevator. His legs feel so heavy that it’s an effort for him to push himself to his feet. He almost stumbles right over them as he rushes into the spare room, keeping the door cracked open so he can hear and see what’s going on.

He peeks carefully through the crack, watching as two men enter your apartment—you’re with them and Dazai’s chest tightens painfully at the sight of you. You’re smiling as you lean against one of the men—Dazai recognizes him as the man who had come with you to his apartment complex the first time, he’d been waiting by the car for you—and you’re dressed prettily in a short black dress. You’re so dazzling to him that Dazai nearly tumbles right out of the room he’s hiding in, but luckily, he’s drawn out of his dazed state by another unfortunately familiar face: Nakahara Chuuya, the executive who had been at your apartment the other night.

Dazai quickly leans back into the room when the ginger’s eyes snap down the hall as if he could sense someone watching him. He lets out a puff of air as he looks around the empty room—he’d looked in here before when he first started coming to your apartment, but had been sorely disappointed by the fact that there was nothing in the room for him to snoop around in.

Now, he blinks because while the room is still mostly empty, there are some tools in here as if you’d had someone come in to take measurements to start building something in there. His gaze slides from the far wall to the one nearest to him, dragging his feet against the wood floors to slide his fingers against the lines drawn on the wall in pencil, realizing that it’s about the same size as the piano in the other room.

His throat tightens as he remembers your offer from the other day, wondering if you’d gone ahead and started having it done even after the argument with Chuuya and Dazai not showing up for two days. 

God, he doesn’t understand you—he doesn’t understand you at all. He starts to doubt every conclusion he’s come to the past two days because why would you go to these lengths for someone you don’t care about? For someone who’s forcing you into indulging him through blackmail? It doesn’t make sense, Dazai has never had so much trouble reading someone before you.

He leans against the wall, lashes lowering as he looks down at the floor. He doesn’t know what to think and now his well-rehearsed speech starts crumbling in his head. Distantly, he can hear the conversation between you and the other two mafiosos—you’re talking about something happening in Tokyo and Dazai wonders if it has anything to do with that argument from the other night.

But regardless of the topic of discussion, what matters more is that you sound happy. Your voice is light and airy, and you seem entirely unbothered by the fact that you hadn’t seen Dazai in days. Dazai doesn’t think you’ve ever sounded so happy with him before and why would you when he’s blackmailing you? Your laughter rings bright and pretty like a chime and Dazai feels sick to his stomach at the thought of you laughing like that for someone else; he imagines the way your laughter will fizzle when you see him, all of the liveliness in your face dying at his unanticipated appearance.

It feels like an eternity and all too soon at the same time when Dazai finally hears the two leave. He takes one deep breath, preparing to force himself out from where he’s hiding but then freezes at the sound of you raising your voice.

“Dazai, you can come out now.”

He blanches, staring at the partially closed door in front of him, half-debating on not even coming out because how did you know he was here? He thought he’d been careful, there’s-

“I know you’re somewhere in here, the cushion was warm where you were sitting.”

Dazai has half a mind to throw himself out of the window.

He takes in a deep breath as he pushes the door open, stepping out into the hallway that’s suddenly too cold and all too short. He swears it was twice as long when he was stumbling from the couch to hide in the spare room. His feet scuffle against the ground as he walks forward, not coming any closer than where the hallway meets your living room.

You’re laying on the couch he’d been sitting on, head resting back against the pillows and a curious expression on your face as you watch him. He can’t read it—if he didn’t know any better, he’d almost say it was fond, but he refuses to let that hope bubble up into his chest only for it to be crushed again. He thinks he should say something, tossing around a few options in his head, but he doesn’t get the chance to.

You hold out your hand to him. “Come here,” you say.

Dazai hesitates, eyes lingering on your extended hand before flitting back up to your face. He shouldn’t—he knows he shouldn’t—but he finds his feet moving forward before he can stop himself. He stands in front of you awkwardly for a moment, not sure what you want from him, but then his eyes shoot open when you reach out and grab his wrist, tugging him forward onto the couch with you. 

He pretends he doesn’t yelp when he lands on top of you, face flaming up when he shifts himself into a sitting position so that he’s straddling your waist, trying not to drop all of his weight onto you. He also pretends that he’s not entirely thrown off by the way your hands rest on his thighs, absently running them up and down the sides of them. 

“Where have you been the past few days?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai’s blood pressure spikes at the curious look you give him, as if he hadn’t been texting you for days with no response. He can smell the alcohol on you now that he’s closer and he wonders how much you drank—he thinks that’s probably why you looked so fond before and that’s probably why you’re suddenly being so touchy with him, it has nothing to do with him. That empty feeling in his chest starts to return.

He should have just left, should have just destroyed the flash drive and disappeared. 

“I texted you,” he replies tightly, feeling wildly uncomfortable as he’s unable to get a hold on the way he’s spiraling internally. “I can see you’ve been busy though.”

You tilt your head to the side as if you’re unsure of what he means and Dazai almost wants to get up and leave but the feeling of your hands on him, his lower body pressed to yours, it leaves him dizzy and slow. His breath catches as your hands slip beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing out against his bandaged sides, thumb drawing slow circles over the covered skin as if trying to calm him down.

Dazai thinks he might hate you.

He thinks he might hate himself more because it works. His heartbeat slows and relaxes into you a bit more. He wants to take you by the shoulders and shake you, wants to demand answers, wants to know if you actually care about him or if this is all just some big show for the flash drive. 

“I haven’t looked at my phone,” you finally say. “I’ve been the one dealing with the issues in Tokyo. It’s just been meeting after meeting the past few days. I thought you’d be here when I got back but you weren’t.”

Were you waiting for him? He wants to ask. Expecting him? Or are you just saying that because you can tell he’s unhappy and don’t want to deal with his attitude? Dazai just doesn’t know, it’s hard to concentrate with your hands on his body.

“Can we talk?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments.

“What about?”

About the flash drive. About you. About him. Dazai doesn’t know—about everything. So, instead he just says: “About this.”

Instantly, you turn your head away from him and Dazai’s frustration rises at your attempt at blatantly ignoring him. He reaches out to grab your cheeks, forcing you to look up at him and Dazai’s breath catches when your lidded stare lands on him.

“I’m drunk,” you tell him flatly. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Bullshit,” Dazai immediately snaps, the pads of his fingers digging a bit too hard into your cheeks but you’re unfazed by it, staring up at him with an unreadable expression. “I think-”

Dazai doesn’t even have the chance to finish his sentence because you’re pushing yourself up from your laying position, one hand slipping out from his sweatshirt to cup the back of his head, the other still firm on his hip as you drag him down against you. Dazai’s breath catches when you press your lips against his, lashes fluttering shut. The hand on his hip slides around to his back, holding his body flush to yours—he lets out a low moan into your mouth when you nip at his bottom lip.

No, he thinks hazily, trying to push himself off of you but instead, his hands cup your cheeks and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongues dance in a way that leaves him dazed, it feels almost intimately familiar to him, somehow so in tune with one another that it’s like you’ve kissed hundreds of times before. 

He shouldn’t be doing this, he knows this. You said it yourself that you’re drunk, he knows you only kissed him to get him to stop talking but…Dazai sighs into your mouth when he feels the tips of your finger card through his hair, feeling you shift beneath him to let his hips slot between your legs.

But isn’t this what he’s wanted this whole time? 

Aren’t you finally giving him what you’ve denied him for weeks?

Your lips are intoxicating against his, and not because of the gin staining your tongue, he can hardly focus on anything with the way your tongue traces the back of his teeth, dragging against the roof of his mouth. He groans when you shift beneath him, one leg hooking around his waist. He separates his lips from yours to gasp for breath.

Shit, he thinks, lips parting when you kiss his jaw, trailing your lips to his ear to suck gently on the skin there before kissing slowly down his neck. He swears his entire body is on fire, breaths quick and shuddered; his mind feels so muddled and hazy that he has to actively tell himself to put a stop to this and even that is almost not enough.

It takes all of his willpower to push himself off of you, still breathing heavy, lips wet and swollen, his whole body tingling everywhere your lips and hands had touched. You stare up at him and Dazai’s body aches with need when he sees you’re nearly as breathless as he is, your own lips wet from his, eyes a bit glazed over. Heat burns in his lower abdomen but he can’t, not when he knows you’re drunk and not when he knows you’re only doing this to get him to stop talking.

Before Dazai can say anything, you look away from him again and he knows that it’s over.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Help me get to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

Dazai’s lashes lower as he nods, leaning down to help you to your feet. Even with your heels kicked off, you wobble on your feet, so he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady. The silence is almost foreboding as Dazai guides you up the stairs to your bedroom; you don’t make any move to break it, so Dazai does.

“We’re not going to talk about it in the morning, are we?” he asks quietly, looking down at you. You don’t look up at him and Dazai just wants you to at least look at him so when he gets you to the door of your bedroom, he stops and looks at you. You still don’t look at him. “Can you at least look at me?”

Dazai thinks he might be sick from the way you have to seemingly force yourself to look at him. Even drunk, he can see the displeasure plain on your face and it makes him want to curl in on himself again.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Dazai,” you finally say, your voice is tight. “I want to go to bed.”

“I want to talk about it,” Dazai stresses. “I-”

Frustration flies across your face, emotions loosened in your intoxicated state. You turn away from him and slam open your bedroom door and Dazai winces, taking half a step back.

“It’s always what you want, Dazai,” you hiss. 

Dazai’s heart sinks, shaking his head because he doesn’t want to hear where you’re going with this. “Stop.”

“For weeks, I have been catering to what you want and now I don’t want one thing and you throw a fucking tantrum over it. I don’t want to talk about this—I don’t want to talk about it now, I don’t want to talk about it in the morning, I don’t want to talk about it. Can you just leave it be?”

Dazai takes another step back, staring at you silently. His ears ring as your words echo through them and though he can watch your face shift from frustration to guilt, it doesn’t process in his head—not really, not when all he can hear are your words on repeat over and over again. 

You reach out for him, fingers curling around his wrist but Dazai pulls his hand back, taking a step away from you, closer to the stairs. All of his fight or flight instincts are triggered, his body itches to run, to flee downstairs and get out of your apartment, but his legs are uncooperative, feet rooted to the ground as he stares at you blankly.

“I didn’t mean that,” you say after a few moments. “I didn’t-I just-”

“It’s okay,” Dazai replies, voice a bit distant even to his own ears. “I’ll drop it.”

“Dazai-”

“Let me help you get into bed,” Dazai interrupts, forcing a smile onto his face as he pushes himself forward. His movements feel weird and clunky, unnatural almost, but he successfully leads you into your room, pulling back the sheets to help you into bed. “C’mon.”

He helps you slip into the bed and pulls the sheets over you, there’s still that hazy look in your eyes as you look up at him and Dazai tries his best to make sure that the smile on his face doesn’t look strained. He’s pretty sure you can see through it even while drunk. You reach out to grab his wrist again and this time, Dazai doesn’t pull away. 

“Stay here tonight,” you say quietly. “Lay down with me.”

“I have class in the morning.” Dazai shakes his head, as much as he might ache to stay in your presence, he thinks if he stays in it a moment longer, he might actually break down—he can’t get your words to stop echoing. Only a steadily crumbling dam is holding back the torrent of emotions ripping apart his chest. “I can’t.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“I have to get all of my books, and finish my homework,” he tells you. “I can’t.”

“We’ll leave early,” you press, leaning up on your elbows. “C-”

“I can’t,” Dazai stresses, taking a step back and shaking his head. “I can’t. I have to go.”

You look conflicted, but to his relief and distress, you finally let go of his wrist. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. After your classes. You finish at three, right? There’s a restaurant in Minami-ku I’ve been meaning to take you to.”

Dazai’s throat spasms as he swallows, shaking his head again. “I’m busy after class tomorrow. I have meetings for group projects.”

“When are they over? I’ll pick you up after.”

He feels a bit sick to his stomach as he looks up at your ceiling, in turmoil and unsure as to what to do. He knows you’re not doing this because you feel bad—not really—he knows it has to do with the flashdrive. He knows it. He thought it would be easier having someone to talk to, someone to hang out with, even if it was only because of blackmail because at least he would have someone, but he was wrong because this is a type of torture that Dazai just can’t endure any longer.

“I’m not going to want to do anything after, I’ll be drained.”

“Then we don’t have to do anything.” God, you won’t stop trying. You won’t stop trying and Dazai knows that if it wasn’t for that stupid flash drive, you’d have laughed in his face and told him to get out. He thinks he might actually throw up. “I’ll pick up the food before going to get you. We’ll stay in. Watch a movie.”

“No,” Dazai says, raising his voice now. “No. I’m just going to go back to my place. I have to go.”

Though his legs feel like lead and his body still yearns to be near yours, he forces himself to leave your room. Doesn’t look back when you call his name. Doesn’t hesitate at the top of the stairs when you tell him to wait. He nearly stumbles as he makes his way down the stairs and when he gets to the bottom instead of rushing toward the elevator, he sits on the arm of your couch, resting his head in his hands as he tries to gather his thoughts.

You’re so frustrating. So impossible to read that it’s beginning to take a toll on Dazai. He doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant on not having a conversation about all of this. He thought you would’ve wanted to have a conversation about it for the chance of getting the flash drive away from him. 

You’ve done everything in your power to avoid any physical contact with him until now; only finally giving it to him when there’s an issue you really don’t want to talk about to try to distract him. Hell, you’d prefer to even talk to him about mafia business—you vented all about the issues with the Shimazaki-kai to him, and Dazai would think that’s the last thing you’d want to talk to him about. 

It doesn’t make any sense.

He’s drawn from his thoughts at the sound of something buzzing against the ground a few feet away, frowning as he looks around and spots your phone on the ground, probably lost in your drunken attempts to get to the couch. He hesitates before pushing himself off the arm of the couch, taking a few steps toward it before kneeling down to pick it up. 

He chews at the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the home screen of your phone, staring at Nakahara Chuuya’s name in the text notification. He knows that he shouldn’t go snooping. He knows it.

He does it anyway.

He spares one last glance up the stairs before unlocking your phone with the code he’s seen you put in hundreds of times by now, clicks on your message app and lets out a puff of air when he realizes that no, you hadn’t been lying. You have at least twenty unread message threads—Dazai’s is pinned at the top with Chuuya’s and someone called Mori, who you’ve never mentioned to him. There’s only one message thread you’ve evidently been reading the past few days considering there’s no dot next to it: Tolstoy, the last message being from a few hours ago.

He shouldn’t look. He knows he shouldn’t look.

He clicks on it anyway.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip as he scrolls to the top of the conversation—only a few message exchanges between the two of you, but they’re decently long.

Tolstoy: Do you still want Ilya? I can have him there by the end of next week, I just need him to finish up some business in Moscow first. You: Haven’t decided. You haven’t even given me the rundown on the side effects of his ability. I’m not going to use it if it’s going to fuck up his head—stop playing salesman and tell me what’s actually up with him. No ability comes without consequences. You know that. I know that. So stop fucking around. 

Dazai suddenly has a sick feeling in his stomach, vision tunneling on the ‘him’ you’re speaking of in the messages. A foreboding air settles over him, dark and oppressive, he has to physically force himself to keep reading.

Tolstoy: We don’t know of any side effects. Haven’t used it enough to figure it out.  You: So, you want me to use him as a lab rat? Be real, Tolstoy. Thought you had more respect for me than that. Tolstoy: I’m trying to help you. You want that kid’s memory wiped, I can have it done for you, it’s just a matter of how badly you want it done.

Dazai doesn’t read anymore than that. He drops your phone onto the couch, takes a step back, a step away. His mind spins, ears ringing as he stares down at—he doesn’t even know what he’s staring at. His vision is swimming and blurring—with tears, maybe? Or just from exhaustion? From panic? He can’t tell but he knows he’s not breathing properly and he knows he needs to leave, everything suddenly feels too suffocating, too enclosed. 

He stumbles over to the elevator, slapping the button and leaning against the wall as he waits for it to come up to your floor. It takes long—too long, each second that passes feels like an eternity and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

There’s only one “him” that your texts could be referring to. And it makes sense—it makes sense, doesn’t it? It makes sense why you’re so willing to divulge confidential information if you don’t intend for him to keep the knowledge of it. Makes sense why you’ve been notably careless with leaving files around your apartment. Makes sense why you told him about your ability. He’d thought you were finally letting him in, letting him know you, but-but of course, you weren’t. 

Of course, you weren’t. 

You were just…you were just trying to keep him placated, feed him bits of information to keep him happy because you knew you weren’t going to let him keep the knowledge of it. That you were gonna wipe his memory of it, of you, and send him back into that cold, dark void that’s been following him around his entire life and-

The bing of the elevator startles him, he flinches and still, he can’t breathe. His skin feels numb and prickly, his bandages are scratching uncomfortably at the scars hidden beneath them and he can hardly see straight.

Dazai needs to go.

He needs to go.

You wake up with a dry mouth, a pounding headache and an oddly foreboding feeling hanging about you. You push yourself into a sitting position, grimacing at the sun blinding you through the window—you don’t remember much of the night. You vaguely recall leaving the club last night with Albatross and Chuuya, the two of them incessantly bitching about dealing with you while you were drunk but in your defense, you think you deserved it after three days straight of meetings with the Shimazaki-kai on behalf of the Sun and Steel. 

Everything after leaving the club is a blur. You grimace as you push yourself out of bed, glancing around to see if you’d dropped your phone anywhere near the bed only to come up empty-handed. You don’t even bother to go to the bathroom and brush your teeth, anxious to find your phone and figure out what happened once you left the club.

You pray to god that it’s downstairs and you hadn’t left it at the club, making your way out of the bedroom with a sigh. You doubt Chuuya or Albatross would’ve been dumb enough to leave it there, but you’re pretty sure they were both drunk too and neither of them are functioning drunks.

You’re not even halfway through the door frame when pain shoots through your head, sharp and uncomfortable and then-

“It’s always what you want, Dazai.”

Suddenly, that foreboding feeling you awoke with makes sense. You stare ahead blankly as you remember who exactly was waiting for you at your apartment after you got back from the club. You remember the argument, you remember the crushed expression that crossed his face when you snapped at him, you remember pleading with him to stay or to at least let you take him out today and you remember him refusing, his voice pitched and cracking, wobbly, on the verge of collapse because-

Because of you. 

Fuck.

It’s with increasingly more urgency now that you rush yourself down the stairs, a small lingering hope remaining that maybe Dazai had stayed in one of the guest rooms or on the couch, that you could do something to fix this before it escalates even more. 

You don’t even know why you said that—it’s not like you mind giving Dazai what he wants, in fact, you enjoy it. You enjoy it a lot. You like seeing his face light up when you do nice things for him, you like when he tries to hide the way he gets all flustered, you like that he’s allowed himself to have hope with you—something he’s clearly denied himself for too long—and you what? 

You ruined it because you got scared? 

You ruined it because you didn’t want to talk about… whatever you have going on with him? 

You ruined it because you were terrified he was going to force you to come to terms with the fact that you’re using his stupid flash drive as an excuse to indulge yourself in him. That it would take minimal effort to have it destroyed but you’re putting it off because you want to be able to rationalize what you’re doing.

You feel sick to your stomach when you realize that your apartment is empty, eyes darting around to try to find your phone. You need to call him—he told you that he wanted to be alone today, or maybe he didn’t say exactly that but he implied it, but you need to at least talk to him now that you’re sober and can think straight. 

A distant part of you, a cold and logical part of you, tells you to just use this as the excuse to cut him off—you don’t need to get Ilya to fuck with his mind if he just hates you, you don’t want Ilya to fuck with Dazai’s mind. The thought of it makes your chest feel tight with guilt, so maybe you should take this opportunity for what it is, no matter how shitty it might make you feel, but-

But you won’t.

Finally spotting your phone on the couch, you snatch it up and unlock it, grimacing at the low battery percentage and then grimacing even more when there’s not a single message from Dazai lighting up your home screen. There’s seven from Chuuya, three from Albatross, and two from Mori, but you’re more concerned by the missed call from an unknown number and the unread voice message.

The foreboding feeling that has been looming only grows more intense when you click on the message for it to play out loud.

“This is Doctor Okamoto of Keiyu Hospital calling on behalf of a recently admitted patient… listed you as his emergency contact when he was brought in last night… unable to disclose any information regarding his injuries over the phone… suggest that you get here soon…”

At once, your vision tunnels and everything around you becomes white noise, your gaze is pinned on the ground, a smudge on the tiled floors as you try to keep yourself grounded because what? Dazai is in the-he’s in the hospital?

Because of you? 

You hadn’t been subtle approaching him that day in the library, it’s been a lingering thought since then, wondering if unsavory eyes had caught sight of you talking to him. The bar and the cafe were different, he had approached you—if any of your enemies had happened to see it, they wouldn’t think twice about it. But you approaching him had been dangerous. 

It had been a mistake.

Had it been a mistake to cost him his life?

And it’s not just that—you’ve taken him out to dinners. Picked him up at his apartment building. Places that you or your trusted affiliates own but there’s always the chance… and if he left the Port Mafia building last night in a rush, upset and not thinking straight…

Oh, you might throw up.

You’re not dressed properly. You’re still wearing your dress from last night and you fumble to put on the heels you must’ve kicked off in your drunken state. You don’t even care to get dressed, more intent on getting to the hospital and figuring out if—nausea builds in the back of your throat—if Dazai is alive, if he’s okay. You need to re-listen to the voicemail because your hearing had been unfocused and you’d only been able to catch bits and pieces of the doctor’s message.

And-

And you don’t even get into the elevator because your phone is ringing again as soon as you click the button. You don’t even look at the number before picking up, fearing that it’s the hospital again—it’s not, it’s Chuuya, and you immediately regret your decision because you aren’t even able to bark out a ‘what’ before he’s speaking.

“Where the hell have you been?” Chuuya snaps on the other side of the line. “We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for hours, we-”

“I’m busy,” you hiss right back, interrupting him. “I can’t talk-”

“You can talk,” Chuuya says harshly. “Get to headquarters. The Guild is in Yokohama now. We don’t have time to fuck around anymore.”

You don’t respond to Chuuya, heart sinking to your feet at his words, distress clawing at your chest so painfully that you think it might be easier if you just carve out your heart and toss it out the window. You hang up the phone without another word just as the elevator makes it to your floor, but instead of going inside, you make your way back up to your room, numbly changing into one of your suits so you could at least look somewhat presentable. 

You hardly even recognize yourself in the mirror as you wipe off your smudged makeup from your night out. Your eyes are vacant and your expression so empty that you think you could almost be looking at a statue. 

War with the Guild. Dazai in the hospital.

Everything is catching up to you at the same time and your mind is fraying at its seams, collapsing in on itself as the weight of everything bears down on you. You do your best to compartmentalize, focus on one thing at a time but you can’t even concentrate on one issue. 

You try to figure out what to do about the upcoming conflict, try to determine what exactly Fitzgerald might be planning so you can figure out what the Port Mafia will retaliate with, and your mind drifts to Dazai, you wonder if he’s okay, if he’s in critical condition, if it was one of your enemies that got to him or if it was something else.

You think about Dazai, all of the fear and guilt and anxiety tearing you apart, and your mind shoots straight to the Guild. Because if Fitzgerald knows about Dazai—if he knows about Dazai—then it’s over. It’s all over. If the Guild gets their hands on him, they’ll kill him when you don’t give them what they want because you can’t give them what they want. They want Yokohama and you can’t give them that. 

You can’t, not even for Dazai.

You don’t even register that you’re standing in front of the elevator again until it bings, startling you right out of your thoughts. You can’t leave the building while you’re spiraling like this—you need to get a grip on yourself, you don’t even know where you’re going yet. You need to figure out if you’re going to go meet with Mori and the other executives or if you’re going to go find Dazai. 

As you step into the elevator, it takes all but five seconds for you to make a decision.

Dazai wakes up to the familiar scent of antiseptic and a citrus-scented floor cleaning solution, the air is too stale and the air-conditioning is cranked up too high. He forces his eyes open, lids heavy and uncooperative, but he immediately lets them fall shut again briefly when he’s met with too white walls and the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him.

His throat feels swollen as he stares up at the ceiling—the last time he was here in the hospital he was seventeen and had nearly bled out in the bathtub in Odasaku’s house. The only reason he hadn’t was because Ango happened to stop by the house to pick up papers that Odasaku had left for him, finding Dazai unconscious and face half-submerged in the water. He woke up here to find both of them hovering over him, Ango concerned and Odasaku visibly upset for the first time since Dazai met him.

He wakes up alone now because Odasaku is dead and he hasn’t spoken to Ango in four years—doesn’t even know where the man is anymore, doesn’t even know if he’s alive, doesn’t want to know either.

“Dazai-sama.” He hears a nurse say from the door to his room. “You’re awake, how are you…”

The nurse’s voice becomes white noise with the beeping of the heart monitor and the vents blowing above. Dazai retreats back into his own mind—a dangerous place, but right now it’s safer than the white walls that surround him, knowing he’s going to be badgered with questions that he doesn’t want to have to answer. 

How are you feeling, Dazai-sama? 

What happened, Dazai-sama? 

We need to ask you a few questions, Dazai-sama.

Dazai feels defeated.

His head falls to the side as he stares out the nearby window, watching as a bird swoops down in view before taking off into the sky.

He doesn’t even remember what happened. He remembers leaving your apartment, he remembers… he remembers seeing your texts, your plans to wipe his memory. And… that’s about it? He vaguely remembers the familiar feeling of his lungs burning, remembers being tossed around by the rough currents of Tsurumi River. He doesn’t remember how he got there but it’s not exactly hard for him to piece together—even now, Dazai thinks he would rather be dead than have his memories forcibly erased.

“… to know what exactly hap…”

A dark and familiar cloud settles over him. His eyes feel heavy and his chest hurts. Dazai—he doesn’t even know what to think anymore. He’s so tired that his bones ache and his muscles feel so weak that he just sinks into the stiff mattress of the hospital bed.

He doesn’t know what he expected—he thinks that to some extent he expected you to leave him. Everyone has left him. His mother, his aunt, all of the brief friends he’d made over the years before they see him for what he is, Odasaku and Ango—everyone has left him, so he knew that you would too but… in this manner? Using an ability to wipe his memory of you?

Dazai has considered it before. He’s wondered if maybe his life would be easier if he could just… forget. If he could live without the memory of everyone who has left him hanging over him. Some days, on really bad days, he thinks it might be easier. To try to make himself feel better, he thinks that maybe he isn’t the issue, maybe it’s all just a self-fulfilling prophecy, that it’s his past experiences cursing him to make the same mistakes over and over again; that without them, he might stand a chance.

But then when he thinks about it—when he really thinks about it—he knows in his heart that it’s not true, and he knows that without the memory of them all, Dazai will only feel more empty. And to think that you were trying to take his memories of you from him… without even asking, without giving him a choice in the matter… it almost makes Dazai-

“Dazai.”

His gaze snaps to the side when he hears your familiar voice come from the door leading into his room. Instantly, he’s shaking his head and looking away again, he can’t even bear to look at you but you’re walking over to him, you’re coming to his bedside, you’re sitting next to him on the hospital bed and you’re reaching out to cup his cheek, forcibly turning his face to make him look at you. You look worried, something sharp and concerned in your eyes that makes his throat swell and he wants to spit at you and call you a liar but he can only sink into your touch.

“Why are you here?” he asks. His voice is hoarse, almost painful for him to use. 

“What happened?” you ask him quietly instead of answering his question—you never answer his questions, you always deflect, always maneuver around them. The ones you do answer, it’s only because you plan to- “Dazai, what happened? Are you okay?”

Dazai doesn’t know how you can look at him like this all the while planning the most diabolical betrayal that he could ever imagine. You’re either an actress deserving of international recognition or… or Dazai doesn’t even know.

“I’m fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Why are you here?”

“The hospital called me-”

“But why are you here?” Dazai cuts you off, grateful that his voice is firmer than the turmoil wreaking havoc through him. He must’ve given them your number while he was half-delirious when he was brought in—he figured that out already—but that doesn’t explain why you actually came. “Why did you come?”

“Because you’re hurt,” you say as if Dazai should believe you. 

And he wants to believe you. Wants to believe that you’d come running just at the mere idea of him being hurt, wants to believe that you would care enough to come for him. He wants to believe you so bad, but he knows what he saw. 

“Don’t lie to me,” Dazai tells you, finally gathering the willpower to pull his face away from where it’s resting in the palm of your hand. You don’t even let him shift away, hand slipping behind him to cradle the back of his head, fingers entwined with his hair. “Stop.”

“I’m not lying to you,” you say like a liar. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

You sigh heavily and Dazai hates the way you’re absently drawing circles against the nape of his neck with your thumb, hates how it makes him feel at ease and especially hates the way his lashes instinctually flutter shut.

“I didn’t mean what I said last night, Dazai,” you say so quietly that Dazai almost believes you. Almost. “I was drunk, I didn’t… I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean-”

“I don’t care about that,” Dazai says, proud of the way his voice stays sharp and cold. “I saw the messages between you and Tolstoy. I know what you’re planning. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t even want to look at you, just leave me alone.”

You draw back at his words, concerned expression melting into a blank slate as you pull your hand away to sit back straight. Dazai misses your touch instantly, longs for the warmth to return but he forces himself to ignore it all, keeping his gaze pinned on you, watching the way your mind races behind your eyes. He wonders if you’re trying to figure out if you can salvage this, wonders if you’re going to lie.

Instead, a heavy look settles over your face as you frown, glancing back at the way you came and for a moment, Dazai thinks you’re just going to leave. You rise to your feet and words lodge in the back of his throat, preparing to spit insults at you: he wants to call you a coward, a liar, wants to tell you that you’re cruel and vile and he can hardly even stand to look at you.

But then you look back at him and hold out your hand to him. “Come on,” you tell him. “Let’s sneak you out of here… I’ll explain everything when we get out of the hospital.”

Dazai wants to be spiteful, wants to turn his head away and ignore you, wants to slap your hand and tell you that there’s no explaining what he saw.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he places his hand in yours and lets that treacherous, treacherous spec of hope bloom in his chest again.

Dazai hasn’t spoken a word since leaving the hospital. You’ve tried to make small talk with him, but every time, he just turns his head away to look out the window. You gave up twenty minutes ago and Dazai is already regretting not indulging conversation with you because the silence is agonizing. He knows he should break it, but he doesn't know how to now. 

He glances at you from the corner of your eye. You’re leaning back against your seat, one hand on the steering wheel—he can’t see your eyes because they’re masked by sunglasses, but he can see the way your free hand rests on the gear stick, knuckles tense.

“What is this place?” Dazai clears his throat as he leans forward in his seat, peering out the windshield of your car to try to figure out where you’re taking him. He forces his tone to lighten, the smile on his lips strained. “Are you kidnapping me? Oh! Or are you taking me to some remote cabin to kill me? Bella, you truly know the way to a man’s heart.”

You let out a heavy sigh, one that makes Dazai toss a sweet smile in your direction. 

Some type of beach house, he recognizes as you pull up a windy road to the top of a cliff looking over the water. He can see to his left a path leading down to the water and to his right a nice view of a distant pier. It’s not a large house, but it’s nice—well-kept and refurbished with a view over Sagami Bay. It’s not too far out from Yokohama, probably only a little over an hour, but considering Dazai’s never left the city in his entire life, this might be the furthest he’s ever been. He can almost feel a bit of excitement bubbling in his chest. 

“I wanted to take you here, away from the city for a bit,” you finally say, fingers thrumming against the wheel of the car as you slowly guide the car up the gravel path. “So we can talk in peace.”

Your bland words whittle away his excitement and Dazai’s smile falters. He tries to distract himself with counting the strands hanging off the sleeve of his sweater but keeps losing count.

“Something you couldn’t have talked to me about in Yokohama?” Dazai asks airly as you pull to a stop in front of the beach house. 

He doesn’t turn to look at you, doesn’t move until you finally get out of the car, reaching into the back seat to grab two duffle bags, nodding for him to follow you.

Wow, he thinks dryly, you came prepared.

Dazai feels distinctly like he’s walking to his execution as he follows you to the steps leading up to the house, but instead of walking up them, you toss the bags on the porch and then continue up the path.

You’re going to push him off a cliff, Dazai thinks, feet dragging against the gravel as he follows you. This is it, all of the years that he’s longed for death and it’s finally about to find him at your hands. 

“I might not die from the fall,” Dazai says, words drawn long as he pouts. “You wouldn’t really leave me to suffer in freezing water, would you?”

“No,” you say, glancing back at him. He lets out a quiet breath of relief that’s quickly snuffed out when you add, “I’m not that sloppy with my kills. I’d kill you before dumping your body over the side of the cliff.”

Dazai blanches, but your lips curl up into an amused smile so he settles down, sighing as he purposely knocks his shoulder with yours.

“My bella is so cruel,” he sighs dramatically. “She hates me.”

You sigh as you reach the edge of the cliff, not turning to look at him. The wind whips around the two of you—it’s a cool, early spring night, the temperature just enough to be uncomfortable but you don’t seem bothered by it as you stare out across the water as the sun starts to set.

You’re beautiful, Dazai thinks, breath catching at the sight of you beneath the setting sun. The golden rays cast an ethereal glow over you, the wind ruffles your clothes and hair, and your expression is solemn in a way that’s become terribly familiar the past few weeks.

“I’m not going to do anything with the video,” Dazai finally says, voice quiet—finally taking the chance to say what he wanted to say last night. “You don’t have to keep… pandering to me because you’re trying to protect yourself. I was never going to do anything with it, I just… wanted you to give me a chance.”

When you look over your shoulder, you give Dazai a small, genuine smile that makes all of the air whoosh from his lungs. 

“Dazai, I’ve known you weren’t going to do anything with that video since day one,” you say, amused. “If I thought you were, I would’ve had someone confiscate it from your apartment.”

Dazai’s lips part, mind racing. “But then why-”

Your smile softens at the edges and you sigh as you lower yourself down to the ground, feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. Dazai joins you, thigh brushing yours and shoulders absently knocking together. Your hands rest in your lap and Dazai’s fingers twitch to reach for yours. He only hardly refrains himself.

“I don’t remember a life before this,” you say after a few moments, a distant look in your eyes as you stare ahead. “When I was seven… eight, maybe, I was pulled out of a warzone by the current leader of the Mafia. I don’t even remember my parents—anything about them. Their names. Faces. What they sounded like, what their job was. Mori… he found me in my town sitting in the middle of a whole pile of bodies and I couldn’t even point out which pair of corpses were my parents. I don’t remember anything before him… It’s all just black. Blurred.”

Dazai stares at you, eyes a bit wide as he listens to you speak. His lips part to say something but he decides against it, instead he seals his lips back shut and presses his shoulder against yours. Mori—that was the other name pinned up with Dazai’s message thread and Nakahara Chuuya’s—he must be the Port Mafia boss. His gaze traces your face as you stare ahead, catching the melancholic expression on your face. He itches to reach for your hand.

“I could hardly remember anything about myself. My first name… that’s just about it. My new birthday became the day Mori found me, my new surname—when needed—was his, he… he became my reason to live when I had none. Gave me a purpose,” you tell him faintly. “I spent two years on a warfront trying to figure out what my ability was so I could be the finishing touches of the immortal regiment that he was trying to create. As far as I remember, all I’ve known is… this. Him.”

Dazai wants to say something but every word he tries to push out dies on his tongue. Instead, he finally does reach out to grab your hand, fingers curling around yours tightly. You look down briefly, an unreadable expression on your face before it softens and… and for a split second, Dazai can see you, he can see you: not a hardened executive of a mafia, but an eight-year-old girl, lost and confused and landing in the arms of the wrong man, and it makes him sick.

The traitorous part of him wonders if you’re only telling him this because you still plan on following through with the memory wipe, so Dazai does what he always does when someone threatens to take one of the few things he wants—he digs his claws in and doesn’t let go. 

“The war ended before I could figure out how to use my ability and I followed… him to the underground. We ended up with the Port Mafia while the previous boss and his family were still leading. He was…” You trail off, frowning. “Dangerous. Yokohama was a terrible place under his leadership. He slaughtered civilians who spoke poorly about him and the Mafia, killed his own men for looking at him wrong… Mori became his doctor and for the good of the city, he decided to kill him.”

“I remember the old boss—what he did to the city,” Dazai says quietly—how could he not? His aunt was terrified of being in Yokohama because of him, was constantly talking about leaving the city… she finally did after dumping Dazai off in Suribachi and leaving him to fend for himself against the wolves. “It was bad.”

“It was,” you agree absently. “Mori—he wanted it to be as bloodless as possible. He tried every route, but the only way for it to be bloodless was if he had someone to corroborate that the previous boss died in his sleep and left the Port Mafia to him.”

Dazai almost scoffs.

“No one would believe that.”

“We’d hoped maybe one of his grandchildren would step up. Even if it was clearly a lie, people would have to listen because they were his blood,” you say with a wry smile. “They didn’t.”

“So, what happened then?” he presses when you don’t immediately continue. He frowns when he catches the sudden change in your demeanor, like you’re sick to your stomach, unable to push out the next words. He feels a bit dreadful, squeezing your hand gently. 

“We had to wipe out the whole family,” you whisper, looking down at your lap, “and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s granddaughter—she was asleep, had a bear tucked in her arm and a nightlight on the right side of her bed. I slit her throat, then both of her older brothers. They were kids.”

Oh.

Dazai’s throat spasm as he swallows, the picture forming in his head cold and chilling, but instead he forces out:

“You were a kid too.”

“No, I wasn’t. Hadn’t been for a long time,” you say, voice flat, leaving no room for argument. “We hunted down the whole bloodline, immediate to extended family. Mori was insistent on it, said we couldn’t risk one of them ever returning and upending everything we’ve built. He’s still searching for some to this day just to make sure.”

That’s… foreboding to say the least. Dazai watches you carefully, the grim expression on your face and the frown on your lips. He pulls your hand into his lap, tracing your fingers gently to try to ease you and he watches from the corner of his eye as your expression softens again when you look at him. It makes his chest feel tight and fluttery.

“I was sixteen when I met Itou.” The cold expression on your face warms at the unfamiliar name. Dazai watches as the corner of your lips curve up into a fond smile, as if you’re reminiscing. “He was seventeen. We were partnered up for years. This was his beach house—or, well, I don’t know whose it was but Itou took it. He was awful, honestly. A terrible fucking person, had more blood on his hands than any other member of the Mafia, found way too much joy in tormenting people. He was awful, but he was the closest thing I had to family. He tried to show me a world beyond just… bloodshed and violence. Took me to amusement parks on days off, snuck me onto school trips with random groups of kids and told me to ‘blend in’ as training for infiltration missions, showed me how to live, not just… survive. He died on a mission a few weeks after I turned eighteen, made me promise him that I wouldn’t go back to how I used to be without him, that I’d at least try to be happy.”

Double oh.

Dazai almost does throw up now, mind drawing back to a face that has been haunting Dazai for four years now, Odasaku’s last words ring through his head painfully—a reminder of his own inadequacy, of his failure to fulfill his friend’s dying wish.

He remembers the way your face shifted when he told you about Odasaku at Kido’s Boutique and he wonders if he’d reminded you of Itou back then when he spoke of the man and his promise, just like how he was reminded now. His grip on your hand tightens unintentionally—as if you can sense his thoughts, you squeeze his fingers gently. 

“I didn’t,” you say with a tight smile. “Threw myself into work, accepted that my fate was to live, breathe and die for the Port Mafia. I didn’t see the point of anything—well, not until I met you, at least.”

Dazai’s eyes flicker up to you, breath catching when you meet his gaze this time. And god, you look beautiful—so beautiful that Dazai thinks that if he dies now, he could die happy. He almost wishes that he could die now, fall off the side of the cliff with the image of you burned behind his eyelids. It would be a better death than he deserved.

“You made me happy. Make me happy,,” you tell him quietly and Dazai’s heart leaps into his throat. “So effortlessly that I can’t even understand how you do it, but it’s impossible for me to justify dragging you into this world just because I’m selfish.” Dazai parts his lips to disagree but you don’t even give him a chance to speak. “So when you came to me with your stupid blackmail, it was so… easy to just use it as an excuse for me to indulge in you.”

Dazai doesn’t get it. He still doesn’t get it. You’re sitting here talking to him, explaining everything, and Dazai still doesn’t understand. He makes you happy—he makes you happy and you make him happy, there doesn’t need to be any more complications than that. You don’t have to push him away, you don’t have to cut him off, you don’t have to use that memory wiping ability on him.

“I don’t understand,” Dazai says, voice hoarse. “You make me happy too, so why is…”

“Because Chuuya is right,” you say with a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes. “The risks… Dazai, you can’t ask me to put you in danger like this. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair to cut me off because you’re scared,” Dazai counters, voice a bit pitched. “It’s not fair that you want to wipe my memory without my consent. I don’t care about danger, I don’t-”

You look at him sharply, an intense expression on your face that makes Dazai hesitate.

“I never would have done it without talking to you first,” you say tightly. “Do you really think that little of me?”

Dazai looks away, not answering the question. “I never would have agreed to it,” he replies, voice equally tight as yours. “Never. It’d be a waste of your time.”

You sigh and Dazai feels you shift next to him but he pointedly keeps his gaze trained ahead, refusing to look at you. He feels your fingers brush his cheek before the pressure becomes a bit firmer as you turn his face so that he’s looking at you. You’re so close that his nose brushes yours, the pads of your fingers are warm against his skin; if he leans in just a bit, he’d be able to kiss you.

He wants to kiss you.

“You don’t know what’s at stake,” you say softly, breath fanning across his lips as you speak. He can almost taste the mixture of mint and nicotine on your lips—you smoke when you’re nervous, he’s noticed it over the past few weeks with you. The more nervous you are, the more cigarettes you run through; he wonders how many cigarettes you’ve gone through since you’ve gotten the call from the hospital. “The danger-”

“You want me,” Dazai whispers, squeezing your hand, leaning in a bit more. “No one has ever wanted me before. Not like this. Not for me. You want me.”

The last sentence—it doesn’t come out as a statement, it comes out as a plea. He wants you to say it. You didn’t the last time, but he needs to hear it now. Desperately. His nails dig into your hands, he doesn’t even dare to breathe as he waits for you to speak.

“I want you,” you agree, voice so quiet like you don’t even dare to speak the words out loud in fear of the consequences of them. “I want you. I want you so bad that it scares me, Dazai Osamu.”

And Dazai breathes. The breath he lets out is long and shaky, the relief that sweeps over him is almost debilitating. He searches your eyes to make sure you mean it and when he only finds honesty and a type of fear that he’s never seen in you before, Dazai knows.

“You think it doesn’t scare me?” Dazai asks you, voice cracking. “Everything I ever come to want is always lost. Ever since that first day we met, I-I knew that I wanted you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before and I’ve been terrified that one day you’ll leave me. Promise me that you won’t. Promise me.”

You stare at him and for a terrible moment, Dazai thinks that you’re about to shake your head and say you can’t, but then you swallow, nod and say, “I promise.”

Dazai kisses you. And then he kisses you again. And again. And again. Until his lungs burn and he can feel your lips curve up against his and even then, he kisses you still. Kisses you as the sun sets over the bay and the moon rises above the mountains. Kisses you until the wind becomes too bitter for the two of you to stay outside and still, he smiles as he peppers kisses across your face, walking back down the path to the beach house.

He ignores how your phone has been buzzing incessantly all night, praying for at least one day of peace before reality slaps the two of you in the face again.

[the-ancient-dragons]

Welcome back to Overcomplicating the Pyrrhian Tribes! This week: the beloved RainWings!!

You know what's up. Joy Ang and Tui are so cool and I am just me.

Details and explanation below!

Otherwise, next week are the chilly IceWings! See you then!!!

More overcomplicated dragons.

I knew the RainWings would be really important, and I think they turned out the best of all the ones I've done. I think they're my favourite because they are basically the perfect mix of extra realism spice without altering Joy's design too much. The SkyWing design is awesome and I love it to bits, but it is one of the two that are the farthest from canon.

As for the RainWing.... I had. So. Much. FUN. I heavily used chameleons and snakes - they're basically the two main species on my research board - but there is a dash of cuttlefish and frilled lizard in there. Where, you ask? Well if you look closely, all over the RainWing are little tiny flecks of darker colour. I found a beautiful reference of a close-up on a cuttlefish eye. Its skin is dotted in thousands of little marks and I thought that would be perfect for the RainWing, who can camouflage just as well as them. I don't know if it's been discussed in canon but I bet they could animate their scales more than just colour shifting - cuttlefish are known for using their rapidly shifting patterns to hypnotize prey. RainWings could do it too, sort of like Ka from Disney's 2D animated Jungle Book.

Speaking of Ka - snakes. I love snakes. The head structure of the RainWing here is very smooth and rounded with muscles based on snakes like the python. I was even going to originally draw them in a venom striking pose and got as far as completing the lineart, but ultimately decided it wouldn't fit the calm portraits of the other tribes.

Will you see it in the future? Hell yeah! Pure, unhinged, magical death spit. Looking at it now I might try to alter it to be a full piece of Glory attacking Scarlet or Crocodile.

In the striking pose you can see the frills much better, but I still took my time on this serene pose (this is where the frilled lizard influence comes in). If you notice that I've drawn every scale (every single scale) then, yes, I am insane. If you didn't know that yet, you know it now. You have to draw guide lines and follow them meticulously while you wonder why you don't make a scale brush, and then cry because you know the randomness and imperfections that come from drawing a thousand circles is how it looks natural. The eye area is actually my favourite part, since drawing dragon eyelids was the original inspiration for doing this. Did I mention that? I wanted to draw eyelids.

EYELIDS.

I digress. Besides the eyelids, I like the frills on the action pose, but this pose is where I like the body scales more. When zooming in on my chameleon colour refs, I noticed the very rhythmical distribution of their scales and figured I would give it a try. They actually do have extra large circular scales along their bodies, which is where I guess the canon RainWing design gets it from. Very clever, Joy!

Anyway, on this version, those small circular scales appear on the face. Not only that, but I added a bit of influence from the snouts of my ref chameleons by extending the nose bridges to wrap around the nose horn. They blend in so seamlessly and that's the reason why I love this design - it's subtle, barely there, mostly Joy but a little extra.

Wow, I talk too much. If you're here, thank you! It's not mandatory to read, but very appreciated. I heard once that visitors at an art gallery look at each piece an average of 2-3 seconds. Or was it 3-6? Idk, but it was shockingly short, and ever since then I've tried to encourage myself to pay more respect to other artists and glean their work for little details I skip after that quick glance. I could talk so much more about these designs but that would be like an hour long video, each, lol. If you have questions about anything, ask away!

[ladybyakuya]

 ❝ ATLEAST WE SEE THE SAME MOON ❞ + ( sakusa kiyoomi, hinata shoyo, atsumu miya, bokuto koutaro,meian shūgo ) 

cw. | headcanon/scenarios about how they act while being away from you vs how they act when they actually get to see you; gn-reader, boyfriend headcanons, first-time long-distance relationships, fluff, brief mentions of smut, established relationship. || redirect to blog navigation.

notes. | recently rewatched hq so here's something to get rid of my nostalgic brain rot.

☆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Sakusa Kiyoomi is a man of less talk and more work most of the time. He is the kind to miss you day and night without diluting his efficiency in the game. Even texting seems hard for him a phone call seems a little too demanding. He will call you when he is at the far end of a high cliff yet not tell you how much he misses you, your voice, your touch around the house. . . everything in general. But after calling for onetime it starts to become frequent and his talk is full of: "Did you miss me?", " Do you even miss me?", " you rarely call me"; even though he is the one who has told you not to call when you feel like it yet he is the one to call you to say that he misses you a lot and most of the time it is out of context. Maybe you are talking about your day, or some local news but when you finish he just spurts "I miss you". There are two seconds of silence then he says again, "I miss you a lot." But when he is finally home, with you on the same bed and inside you, he would still say, "Did you miss me?" and then places open mouth kisses all over your body saying, " because I sure missed you a lot."

★HINATA SHOYO 

 Hinata is used to being away from his favorite people but he is not used to being away from you. His texts are frequent and regularly calls you to check on you but when he misses you he never tells instead he visits famous tourist spots and video calls you, shows you those famous tourist spots through video call and says, "i wish we could see this together," and then goes on autopilot mode of talking. You ask him to repeat what he just said and he does repeat except what you want to hear. It is a pulling-pushing game and the end results are embarrassment, laughter, and confession. He never gives a room to complain but time and place keep you apart from him. He often sends you parcels containing matching pieces of jewellery and outfits. And after such deliveries, he visits you and brings souvenier for everyone, even for you but says, "Don't worry this is not the only thing i came for to give you." So, when everyone is sleeping in the house and you two are awake and barely clad. He says, "I've more souvenirs for you," as he admires the bite marks over your body while hooking his arms around your thighs, getting ready for the next step.

 ✮ ATSUMU MIYA

Atsumu's way of telling you that he misses you is not very stealthy but if you tease too much, his verbal expression comes to a halt since he will build a cocoon around him. Sure, he wears his heart of his sleeve, sometimes on his face but he is never the one to be good with teasing especially coming from his beloved. So, he regularly sends you gifts with an endearing note and when he finally comes home unannounced, he is found in the bedroom with a box full of all those notes he send you, crying. He is crying for two reasons. one: his surprise did not go as he planned. two: he is missing you right now more than ever. When you finally come home, both of you get surprised at first and then he goes back to his whining self about how he wanted to surprise you, talking about his matches and food. Talking about food is a must because he will never admit how good Ongiri MIya is and as he keeps talking he follows you everywhere you go, every corner of the house, and gives you the puppiest face he can manage if you do not let him inside the shower with you. But you actually do, because the owner did miss this puppy.

★ BOKUTO KOUTARO 

 Bokuto makes time for you every day. He is the kind who tells you each and every detail of his each day before going to bed when he misses you. He tells you that he is coming over next weekend to see you and gets pouty when you are not surprised. It is not a wonder to you that it totally slipped his mind that he actually did mention that he is coming to see you but when you mention that you have specifically taken a day off since he was coming he is instantly is in his high spirits. Because he gets to spend time with you, He gets to spend each and every moment with you,he gets to go out with you, he gets to binge-watch shows with you. There are so many things he get to do wuth you just because he told you that he is coming to see you beforehand. isn't that great? Well, of course it is. As much as he is excited to do all these things, he ends up doing nothing instead spending the whole day in bed with you: talking and listening, talking and touching, touching and kissing, kissing and fucking and then fucking and talking again. If you say that you have to cook he says, "can't we order a take out today?" just so he could cuddle you just fiften minutes more.

 ☆MEIAN SHŪGO

 Meian has a reserved time for you, during weekends unless a match comes up. Everyone knows that even team-mates, parents and coach. He asks you to keep the video call on and do whatever you are doing. It is a nice feeling, almost having him like he is with you, around you even if it is through those rectangular screens. But late at night, he gets a little too sneaky and demanding asking what you are wearing? or says that there's something on your shoulder even if there is not. He takes the longest detour to tell you that he misses you. But all of that just sublimes when you say that you are going to shower. He keeps quiet for a moment and ends uo saying the most common reaction,"without me?" There are times when the answer is yes with a huge nod from your end but there are also times, when you say, "No. You can watch." But Meian does not survive your whole shower time. He even ends the video call just before you are fully naked yet deep down in his heart he believes he can improve with time.

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

[drawdotstrings]

the people of penacony are still (yes, still) stuck in a dream.

disclaimer: i am not a theorist. i just want to present some very suspicious things i've found and speculate on some things because i am frankly going insane over this

firstly, did anyone else get deja vu when first starting the new trailblaze mission? march says the exact same things as she did in ena's dream when trying to get the trailblazer to get up. "wake up, wake up," and then "wake up! the sun's frying your butt!"

the trailblazer has the option to say that this sounds familiar in both quests. the similarities stop after this, but another thing i found weird was how the stellaron was only mentioned once by march and then, to my knowledge, never again. no more attention focused on the thing that helped cause all the disaster in penacony?

onto other things - in the new quest checking out, qingque says this:

that's exaclty how the 2.3 quest went as well. everything went smoothly, including the deciding of the future of penacony, which i personally thought was going to be much more difficult. after that, everyone just leaves in a silly unvoiced side quest. and we didn't get to say goodbye to firefly in the end. she didn't actually experience her third death either, did she? i thought her third and final death in the script would've been a bit more dramatic, at least.

after going to firefly's secret base and interacting with the railing, you get this dialogue. this is only available after completing the 2.3 trailblaze mission.

why would the writers want to point out that it's supposedly not an illusion?

on the radiant feldspar, you can listen to these two npcs talking about the astral express acquiring the airship. this npc should be very aware that they're in the dreamscape, being in penacony, right?

the whole thing with ena's dream was also covered up by the family, with the guests having no memories of it, so they aren't talking about still being in ena's dream. what was the reason for this dialogue, then?

this is from the ending cutscene for the 2.3 mission. we fixed that screen behind aventurine. so... why is it still broken?

yes, you could say that it's for the people who haven't completed the quest where it was fixed. but that quest, once upon a dreamville, is supposed to happen before this one, so it should be fixed anyways, right?

i personally don't think hoyo would overlook something like this and leave the cutscene inaccurate for a good portion of players and mess with the timeline unless there was a good reason. trying to hint that something's not right, maybe?

in an optional interaction on the radiant feldspar, welt says this:

...but that didn't happen. welt knows that jing yuan wasn't actually there, so why wouldn't he mention that at all? iirc, march, himeko, and the trailblazer don't mention anything amiss with this either, even though this is supposed to be a snapshot of the trailblazer's memory and it didn't actually happen. don't you think that's worth mentioning?

you also get these two pieces of dialogue:

both of which i find very suspicious. i tried to chalk it up to the trailblazer being paranoid after ena's dream, but they haven't expressed that anywhere else, and they're happy in these scenes. so... why would the writers put both of these here?

after interacting with these building blocks near the monitoring room in the dreamscape reverie, you get this strange dialogue:

i could be wrong, but as far as i know, from my experience and another person's, this dialogue only appears after the 2.3 update.

in this video, sparkle says this:

firstly, the answer is important. this question is repeated countless times throughout penacony's quests, and answered by multiple different important characters. second, it's also repeated countless times that in penacony, it's not just about being happy. there are so many people in the beautiful dream who are miserable, who threw their lives away to get there, who are forced to work tirelessly to try and fulfill their dreams only to get no where. both of the things she claims are untrue. it feels like they're trying to hint at something or distract us.

yes, you could chalk this up to sparkle being sparkle. but i don't know why they would put this in the official video saying goodbye to penacony if it was just that.

onto some smaller things - robin says this in the new checking out mission:

...they all woke up from their dreams already, no?

also from the aforementioned video:

why would they acknowledge that the audience isn't satisfied with the ending? they did that with qingque too, and with something March said at the end of the quest: "so even if there are parts of it that aren't really realistic nor logical, we still hope that their story gets a good ending when it comes." why would they acknowledge this three different times if the story is truly over?

it's also said that the astral express will run out of fuel in two warp jumps if we don't go on more trailblaze missions. why are we going to the xianzhou then, if we need to trailblaze to get more fuel?

one last thing. personally, the conclusion feels all too perfect. despite this, virtually nothing has changed for the people of penacony. the beautiful dream isn't any more beautiful than it was before. people are still spending all their money to get to penacony, still wasting the rest of their remaining lives away in the dreamscape, still failing to achieve their dreams after giving up everything. despite one crisis being averted, it isn't going to get any better for the people of penacony. is this really such a perfect ending?

-

there are definitely hints i'm missing, but this is what i have for now. if i find anything else, i'll put it in a reblog. also, most of these are things I've noticed myself, but I did get a few from MeganeSimp on twitter.

i know a lot of people were very happy with the ending of 2.3 - and i am too! i don't necessarily want this theory to be true, but i also can't ignore the hints that hoyo is giving us. well, i could, but they've been eating away at my brain for days now. sure, these could all be meaningless, but i don't think the writers would put all of this in for it all to mean absolutely nothing. they're hinting at something.

i am also not trying to say that everything that happened in 2.3 was fake. i believe it did all happen, just while everyone (or just the trailblazer?) was unaware that they were in a deeper layer of the dreamscape and couldn't get out.

alright, that's all. thank you for taking the time to read through this, i hope it wasn't as disjointed as it feels. also, there are admittedly many holes in this theory. if you have anything you want to point out that I've missed or that debunks this, please feel free!

[nebuladreamerrr]

What about those ideas? You won’t post them anymore? I want to read the dad fic so bad 😭🥰

https://www.tumblr.com/nebuladreamerrr/754189019746910208/hiiiii-i-have-several-ideas-in-mind-and-although

I hope you enjoy it a lot, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I tried to do it differently, adding many more details. I think it's the story I like the most out of the ones I've written so far 💗💗💗

Fine line| Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After three long years of constant changes and persistent fears, Kylian feels ready to show his son to the world, but he will not hesitate to jump and defend his family if anyone attacks them.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and mentions of a kid suffering from blindness

You couldn't help but feel a wave of emotion as you dressed your son to attend his dad's match. The Real Madrid stadium was gearing up for an epic night, and the thrill of seeing Kylian on the field was always indescribable. However, this time it was even more special. Not only because Kylian was in his best form and ready to fight for the Champions League title, but because Jayce, your little one, would be there to witness it.

Ever since you told Jayce, just two weeks ago, that he could go to the place where his dad worked, he hadn't stopped talking about it every chance he got. He wore the Real Madrid jersey in every possible situation, even while sleeping, and practiced singing the anthem for when the match started. His enthusiasm was contagious, and every time he talked about his dad, his words reflected a mix of admiration and love.

It seemed incredible that the little Mbappé family hadn't set foot in the stadium to cheer on the footballer in almost three years. This had fueled numerous breakup rumors in the media, as you had always supported Kylian, not only by going to the club's stadium but also by traveling to different countries to be his "lucky charm." However, when little Jayce was born, everything changed.

Kylian adored his son, and it showed in every daily interaction he had with him. From teaching him to walk, to making video calls when he was away so Jayce could hear his voice while hugging the personalized stuffed toy shaped like his father. Gradually, Kylian was instilling all the values that would make Jayce a great man. But Kylian was terrified that someone might harm his little boy. He knew all too well how the journalists and the press operated, and they wouldn't hesitate to hurt his son just to get to Kylian.

Since the beginning of your relationship, Kylian had always been overprotective, fearing that the press might overwhelm you or that the crowds might drive you away from him. However, he slowly discovered your strong personality and understood that you could handle those problems on your own. But Jayce was still too young to face all those challenges, so, as his parents, you had to protect him.

From the moment Kylian found out you were pregnant, he had been dreaming about the day he would meet his son: how tall he would be, how much he would weigh, whether he would look more like you or him. Although doubts sometimes crossed his mind about what would happen if something went wrong, he always found comfort in the fact that you had a great team of professionals by your side and that you were a strong woman capable of achieving anything you set your mind to.

The delivery seemed to go smoothly, and everything appeared to have been a success until they began examining little Jayce. Initially, they noticed that he was barely opening his eyes. They thought it might be due to the strain of the birth or that the light might be bothering him, but as days passed, Jayce seemed to have problems with his eyes. It was then that they discovered the little one was blind.

You had never expected to have a child with a disability, but you knew you would love him with all your heart. However, it pained you to see how Kylian felt guilty about everything. He couldn't help but feel responsible for the criticisms his son might face for being his son, for being the center of attention even if he didn't want to be, and for always standing out. Through tears, Kylian confessed that he preferred to keep his son away from the public eye, and crying, he begged you to forgive him for complicating your lives.

During these past three years, you had learned not only how to be a mother—deciphering what your son needed when he cried, what stories Jayce preferred, and how to find the perfect balance between motherhood and your professional life—but also to be the emotional support and rock for Kylian during this time, especially in the most difficult moments.

At first, it seemed like Kylian was sinking deeper and deeper. His joy was fading, consumed by worry and sadness. However, the start of the new season was a breath of fresh air for him. The adrenaline and passion for football allowed him to release all those pent-up emotions, and Jayce's first year of life became the year Kylian was crowned the league's top scorer. This achievement was not only a milestone in his career but also a crucial step in his emotional recovery.

Gradually, Kylian learned to manage his emotions and realized that he couldn't let fear and external pressures dictate his decisions. He learned to be the best dad possible for Jayce, accepting that raising his son wouldn't be as he had imagined, but also discovering that he wouldn't change it for the world. He loved how Jayce would touch his face to get to know his features, and how he would get excited about doing chores like setting the table on his own. These small moments showed that Jayce was a strong child and that in the future, he would be as independent as any other kid.

Undoubtedly, one of Kylian's most cherished memories with his son was when he started teaching him how to play football. He bought special balls with sand inside, which allowed Jayce to locate them by sound and feel as they moved. With these balls, Jayce learned to kick and score goals that filled his father with pride. Each time the little one scored, Kylian's joy and pride grew, strengthening their bond and giving him another reason to keep going.

These years hadn't been easy, but they had strengthened your family in ways you never imagined. The challenges had been numerous, but love and determination had prevailed, showing that together you could face any adversity. Now, as you dressed Jayce for the match, you felt a mix of pride and excitement. You knew that no matter what, your family would always find a way to move forward, and today was a celebration of that indomitable spirit.

After making sure you had everything you needed for the match, like snacks for Jayce and various toys, you decided to drive to the stadium. Kylian had informed the club in advance about the importance of this day, asking for his family to feel comfortable and well taken care of. So, when the security staff noticed that you had arrived by car, they didn't hesitate to help and guide you through the stadium, giving Jayce a team scarf and small stickers. The little one, grateful, responded with a huge smile.

Upon reaching the designated box, you showed Jayce around. Kylian had commissioned a relief recreation of the stadium's silhouette so Jayce could always know where he was, the tunnels leading to the field, and the goals where his father would dedicate a goal to him that night. Additionally, some wives of Kylian's teammates came over to greet and meet mini Mbappé, who was delighted to chat and meet new people.

Shortly before the match started, Kylian came up to the box to give you a final kiss and to encourage Jayce, promising to make him very proud. His presence and words filled the air with emotion.

"I am so proud of how you’ve evolved and how we’ve grown as a family," you whispered before giving him a warm kiss of encouragement.

"I couldn't have done it without you, mon amour," Kylian replied with a smile.

As you watched Kylian return to the field, you felt a wave of pride and love. This match was not just a sporting event but a symbol of the journey you had traveled together as a family. Kylian, Jayce and you had faced challenges that had strengthened you, and now you were ready to enjoy this special moment together.

Jayce settled into his seat, stroking the team scarf with a smile as you explained the details of the stadium that he explored with his hands. Every goal, every play, every moment of the match held special meaning, and you knew this night would be etched into your family’s memory forever.

In the 37th minute, Mbappé scored a goal that not only made all the Madrid fans leap to their feet but also brought Real Madrid closer to lifting that long-awaited Champions League trophy, especially significant since it was being held at their home stadium. Right after scoring and celebrating with his ecstatic teammates, Kylian headed toward a camera, blowing a kiss and pointing to the box where you were sitting. What surprised you the most was hearing over the loudspeaker: "Kylian dedicates this goal to his family and especially to his son Jayce." Kylian had taken care of every detail to ensure his son felt loved and understood what was happening.

“Send lots of kisses to Daddy,” you whispered to your son as he enthusiastically blew kisses into the air. Although Jayce couldn't see, Kylian was on the field, returning those kisses.

As the match progressed, Madrid focused on defense. Both teams tried to create chances, but neither managed to score another goal. However, this didn't dampen Madrid's spirits as they became Champions League winners once again.

You couldn't help but take out your phone to record, filled with emotion, as Kylian looked for you with his eyes. Your little one was jumping with joy when you told him to say hello to Daddy, who was looking for him. Tears welled up as you watched Kylian and the team lift the trophy they had fought so hard to win. While you saw Kylian joke around, dance with his teammates, and even sing chants with the fans, you decided to give him his space to enjoy his moment, taking the opportunity to explain to Jayce everything that was about to happen.

“Now we’re going down to celebrate with Daddy, okay?” you said, giving him a little kiss on the cheek.

Jayce nodded enthusiastically, clutching your hand as you prepared to head down to the field. The security staff, aware of the situation, kindly guided you through the stadium, ensuring everything went smoothly.

When you reached the edge of the field, the roar of the crowd and the glow of the spotlights created a magical atmosphere. Kylian, seeing you approach with Jayce, ran towards you with a smile that reflected pure happiness. He bent down to hug Jayce, lifting him into the air as the little boy laughed and reached out to touch his dad’s face.

“We did it, mon petit champion!” Kylian exclaimed with an emotional voice, kissing Jayce’s forehead.

“Yes, Daddy, we did it,” Jayce responded, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and joy.

The night turned into an unforgettable celebration, with Kylian sharing his triumph not only with his teammates but with the people he loved the most. As you held Jayce, you watched Kylian lift the trophy once more, feeling that all the effort and sacrifice of the past years had been worth it.

No matter how many times you had imagined this moment, this day had exceeded your expectations by far. Beyond the incredible athletic performance and talent that Kylian had demonstrated once again, your little one had immensely enjoyed this day. There were memorable moments, like when you took a photo with the trophy where Jayce sat inside it, or when Kylian lifted him up so he could touch the goal where he had scored the goal dedicated to him. Jayce had also enjoyed the company of the children of his father's teammates, who had animatedly talked with him and held his hand the whole time.

After many celebrations, cheers, and chants, Florentino Pérez carefully approached Kylian to ask if he could give a few quick words to some television channels. Although Florentino promised that he could ask someone else, understanding that it was a very important day for him, Kylian knew it had to be him who spoke. Not only because he had scored the winning goal or because he was the star player, but because many people were surprised that he had decided to introduce his son today.

Kylian nodded, taking your hand for a moment before heading towards the group of eager journalists. "Take care of our little champion," he said with a smile, kissing Jayce on the forehead and giving you a peck before walking away.

You and Jayce watched from a safe distance as Kylian took the microphone. The journalists started shouting his name to get an exclusive, and the cameras focused on him. "This goal is for my family, especially for my son Jayce," Kylian began, his voice resonating with a mix of pride and emotion. "Today is a very special day, not only because of the victory but because I could share it with the people I love the most. Jayce is an incredible, strong, and brave child, and he inspires me every day to be better both on and off the field. And y/n shows me every day how lucky I am that someone as wonderful as she has decided to spend the rest of her life with me."

The crowd applauded enthusiastically, and many journalists congratulated Kylian, commenting on how Jayce seemed like an intelligent child and was the spitting image of his mother. However, suddenly, a question echoed above all: "Aren’t you ashamed to have a child like that?"

The ensuing silence was palpable, and the atmosphere tensed. Kylian stood still for a moment, processing the insensitivity of the question. However, his expression hardened with determination and calm.

"Did you really just ask that crap?" Kylian responded firmly. "I often criticize the work you do and try to put myself in your shoes, understanding that you are paid to get exclusive news and that often you do things you don't want to. But what you just asked shows your lack of tact and poor education. Jayce is my son, and I am incredibly proud of him. His bravery and spirit are a constant source of inspiration for me. There is nothing to be ashamed of, although if you are a father, I wouldn’t doubt that your children have reasons to be ashamed of you. In fact, having Jayce in my life has taught me more about love, strength, and resilience than anything else. He is an incredible child, and anyone who cannot see that is the one who should feel ashamed."

Kylian's words were met with even louder applause, and many journalists nodded in respect and admiration while booing the other journalist, who couldn’t help but leave embarrassed, trying to hide his face.

From your position, you felt full of pride and gratitude. The way Kylian had handled the situation with dignity and love was a testament to his character. Jayce, although unaware of the full significance of what had happened, seemed to pick up on the positive energy around him, and his face lit up with a smile.

When Kylian finished his brief statement and returned to you, the crowd was still applauding. "You did great, Daddy," Jayce said as he hugged him.

"Thanks, champ," Kylian responded, returning the hug with strength.

[mikachacha]

𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚒 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛)

Synopsis: You and Bada are secretly dating but also competing against each other in Street Woman Fighter. You're in Jam Republic while she's leading team Bebe. So when she saw you perform for Hwasa choreography draft mission, she could've sworn that she lost her shit at how enticing you looked.

Warnings: very suggestive content (possibility of being a smut) and language

(A/N: I've been watching the choregraphies for Chili and damn they're all hot 🤤)

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

Being in a secret relationship is hard, but being in a competition against your girlfriend is harder. You're the sixth member of Jam Republic while Bada is the leader of Bebe. Your teams often clashed but you didn't let that come between you two. You still loved each other the same and are each other's hype woman.

To keep the professionalism up, whenever there's an upcoming mission, you guys don't discuss any competition related to each other and don't send any pics or videos of both your teams' routines even though the both of you loved showing off to each other, especially when it comes to dancing so when the Hwasa choreography draft mission came, both of you were completely blown away by each other's performance.

"Damn.. My girlfriend is so hot what the actual fuckkkk?!?" you couldn't help yourself but gush over Bada as well as team Bebe which made your own teammates laugh.

"It's like you're only seeing it for the first time." Ling nudged you while laughing and you turned to her with a pout on your face.

"It is the first time that I saw that! Well except for when we were asked to perform a little bit of our concepts to the other teams. But still! They changed some parts." You said and Kirsten only chuckled, ruffling your hair.

"I think Bada will be on your ass later after she watches you perform. We did keep the juiciest parts for this." Kirsten grinned and you couldn't help but smile mischievously at what she said. Bada is definitely in for a surprise.

When it was your group's turn to perform, you looked at Bada and smirked which she found a bit strange. It made her feel nervous and excited at the same time so she eagerly watched you perform with your group. To say that she lost her ability to think rationally is a huge understatement. Seeing you on stage, dancing so enticingly, especially when you did the floor work.. It made Bada's jaw drop. She's sure that you'll be the cause of her demise at how hot you looked.

"I want to go up there and just snatch her then go home.." Bada whined while her team members laughed. Their leader is so far gone, probably imagining all the dirty things she's gonna do to you when you get home.

"I seriously feel bad for Y/N-unnie.. The way Bada-unnie is looking at her right now doesn't look like she's gonna be resting when they get home." Sowoen jokingly said and the others agreed with her. The way Bada is looking at you reminds them of a wolf waiting to pounce on its prey.

When you finished, you saw Bada looking at you, her eyes held hunger and a promise that she wouldn't be letting you rest immediately when you get home. You visibly gulped at her expression. Oh you're in trouble. When filming finally wrapped up, you immediately went to Jam Republic's room to change clothes.

"Jesus! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" you could've sworn you passed away for a few seconds when you opened the door to go outside and saw that Bada was standing there, waiting for you. Your teammates couldn't help but chuckle at what was about to happen. They knew all too well.

"Have fun, you two! And be safe going home." Audrey shouts from inside the room as you were stepping out. You turned to look at them, glaring at each one playfully before finally going home with Bada. Bada was completely silent all the way home and it made you nervous but decided to not point it out because you know your fate is sealed the moment you stepped on that stage dancing to Hwasa's new song.

When you finally entered your shared apartment, Bada immediately kissed you. It was hot and passionate, her hands trailing against your sides while your arms were loosely wrapped around her shoulders. She kissed you like there was no tomorrow before moving to kiss you jaw and neck, leaving marks here and there which made you whine in protest but didn't really put in any effort to stop Bada.

"Oh pretty girl.. You looked so sexy earlier.. Do you know how hard it was for me to not go up there and just snatch you mid performance?" Bada whispered and those words sent shivers up your spine.

Bada led you to the bedroom and the both of you were naked in no time. Her mouth trailed kisses all over your body, making sure to abuse those sensitive spots of yours to make you moan and writhe beneath her. She loves hearing the sounds you make, especially when her fingers are working in and out of you.

"Fuck.. Bada, please.." you moaned out loud as she continued to tease you. Her fingers are just barely brushing against your spot and you're getting frustrated because you wanted her to stop teasing and get on with it. Bada chuckles hearing your plea. She could hear the frustration and desperation in your voice which she found so adorable.

"Anything for you, princess." she smirks and you were seeing stars after she said that. She was relentlessly working her fingers inside you, making sure to hit your spot every single time while her mouth worked against your sensitive nub. You're hoarse from moaning and sometimes screaming out her name as she made you come again and again before you're spent.

Bada took care of you, cleaned you up and cuddled with you after everything was done. She was placing kisses on your face while brushing your hair with her fingers to help you fall asleep. You smiled at the gesture and closed your eyes, falling asleep being held by Bada.

[kisses4kaia]

* 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥- 𝐜, 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 🌪️

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: you and glenn found each other at the beginning and then get separated. you float around the country for a while before you find your way to alexandria. you recognize glenn and he was in a group with strong and brave characters. one of which, is a very cute guy around your age called carl grimes. (2nd person POV)

𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬: season 5 era, however, carl is aged up and has lost his eye. glenn wasn't always with the quarry gang.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: teasing, penetrative sex (p in v), cunnilingus, protected sex, pet names (new girl).

"please, don't be alarmed at the sheer amount of obliviousness to the outside world these people have," a man who you judged to be kind previously introduced as aaron warned as a tall, large, metal, gate slid open to reveal a suburban mini town.

it was nothing like you were expecting. people roaming around town, laughing, chatting, children playing. it all seemed impossible to you.

as you hesitantly walked into town, you noticed a familiar face next to a very pretty lady. you gasped in shock.

the pair turned to the gate to see the new arrival and the man's face dropped in shock. "y/n?" glenn said as a smile lit up your face. you ran up to him as he bent down with his arms extended for a hug. you immediately threw your arms around him in an embrace.

"glenn i- how are you- i don't understand?" you said as the pretty lady stood next to you and your brother from another mother with an amused look adorning her features.

"y/n, this is my wife, maggie. maggie, this is y/n, we were together in the very beginning before i found rick and the quarry group. she's like my sister, and i haven’t seen her in years," glenn introduced with a pleased smile on his face.

"hi, maggie. it's so nice to meet you, i must say, you are very pretty," you said to the short-haired woman. maggie reciprocated the introduction and accepted the compliment appreciatively.

"she's like, really pretty. you got married? when did you get here? who's rick? what's this place like? where have you been?" you rambled question after question once glenn excused himself from his wife so as to let the pair of you catch up.

"slow down, y/n/n," he said. "i know, she is very pretty. i did get married, but there wasn't a huge wedding or anything. we got here a few weeks ago. rick is the leader of my group. alexandria's pretty cool. it's safe, from what we’ve seen so far. and we've been about everywhere. now, where have you been? i mean, after we got separated." glenn inquired.

you took a deep breath. "wow. uhm, i've been floating around, i guess. i was with a few groups, but none of them lasted or were what i needed. i honestly don't really remember how i ended up in virginia," you explained with a breathy laugh as you walked down the streets with glenn.

it was then you got stopped by a short, bright-eyed, woman.

"hello, aaron tells me you're y/n? i'm deanna. i run this place, you could say. can i pull you away for a minute?" she said genuinely. glenn simply smiled at you as if to tell you she’s safe and not to worry.

you reluctantly walked away from the one familiar face in this place with deanna. she brought you to a house—her's, probably—where she set up a camcorder and began interrogation you.

after the short questionnaire, deanna assigned you to a house. apparently, it was already occupied by another teenage girl of your age group, enid.

as you walked into your house with the keys provided to you, you notice a group of teenagers sitting on the couch, 2 playing video games, and 2 others just chatting.

the only girl in the group notices you and jumps up from her spot on the couch. "oh my gosh! hey, you must be y/n. i'm your roommate, enid. these are my friends, ron, mikey, and carl." the girl with a bright smile introduced herself and each one of the boys.

you were a touch overwhelmed. you felt a bit self-conscious, realizing how clean and well-groomed everyone was, in contrast to your dirt-ridden white t-shirt and cargo shorts and boots.

"hey," a boy with curly hair, presumably mikey said, not looking up from his video game. his opponent, ron, also said "what's up?"

the last person on the couch was carl. he looked the most interesting to you, donning a sheriffs hat and a white, gauze, eyepatch. he just looked you up and down and smirked to himself. odd.

"i'm gonna go… shower,” you excused yourself upstairs to find your room and to truly, shower. you know there was running water, you saw it when enid turned on the faucet to grab a cup of water before sitting back on the couch. always the observer, you were.

after you showered and changed into fresh, clean clothes, you made your way downstairs. it seemed like ron and mikey had already returned home, leaving carl and enid on their respective seats on opposite sides if the couch.

"hey, new girl, we were just talking about you," carl said like he was trying to contain a smirk. "new girl?" you said, sitting next to enid on the sofa. "dude, be nice," enid said to carl, shooting him a warning glare.

"she's new, isn't she?" he defended himself. "i'm so sorry about him. usually, he's better than this," she apologized, another glare shot his way. you just chuckle to yourself and say "it's all good, i’ve been called worse," you leaned back, letting yourself relax for the first time in months.

"interesting, new girl. care to share?" the eye-patched boy asked. "first of all, i have a name. second of all, i don't owe you anything," you started before narrowing your eyes at him. "you're part of glenn's group, no?" you asked.

carl hummed, confirming. enid was sitting back and watching the unfolding drama between her two friends. "i am, you knew him?" he answered. "i did," you challenged, eyes boring into his.

"uhm, i think mikey needed me over at his place? bye guys!" enid lied to get out of the thick-tensioned room, darting out of the house.

"y'know, new girl, i think i like you," carl spoke. "you think? you wanna elaborate on that?" you smirked. "well, your stubborn, but not cocky. that's good. you're also hot, and my age," carl explained nonchalantly, moving closer to you.

you laughed at this. "is that so? i mean, you're not too bad yourself. however, i did only just meet you," you said. "we can get to know each other really well if you wanted to." he whispered, moving his gaze from your eyes to your lips and back up to lock eye(s) with you.

you stayed silent for a moment while subconsciously leaning closer and closer. you grazed your lips against his cheek and down to his jaw. you placed wet kisses along his collarbone before bringing your head back up to his head

"y/n," he groaned. "fucking stop," he muttered like he was getting impatient and smashed his lips against yours. you two moved like you were born to do this. you tangled your hands in his hair.

he pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him on the couch. you took initiative and started grinding your hips against his crotch. you could feel him grow under you and it made you so wet.

you were so pent up. of course, there wasn't much sex happening at the end of the world, but you were a hormonal teenager with needs, and he was fulfilling each and every one. naturally, he felt verbatim.

"carl, upstairs," you moaned in between kisses. he wordlessly picked you up from under your thighs, not disconnecting your lips as he trudged up the stairs. he had obviously been here many times because he seemed to navigate the place better than you could've.

he figured out the location of your room quickly with some gentle navigation and laid you down on your bed. you pulled your thin shirt over your head. you watched as carl peeled off his flannel and then t-shirt. 

you lay flat on your back while he situated himself in between your legs, pulling them apart. the motion collected in your core, and he fumbled at his belt before you quickly undid it with one hand, pulling a groan from him.

he then pulled you by your ankles to the edge of the bed as you peeled off your last layers of clothing. he stared at you, admiring each and every crease and mark. "god, you are so beautiful," he said softly, but still with the same hunger and lust he had moments before.

carl grabbed a condom from his jean pocket. you wondered why he had one so at the ready, but you shook the thought away, too focused on the pleasure you knew he was going to give you.

he rolled it on before rubbing his pink tip up and down your slick slit, teasing you. "i swear to god, carl. if you don't fuck me in the next 2 secon- oh!” you were interrupted by carl pushing his full length into you. 

he pulled your leg up to his shoulder. he bottomed out, and gave you a moment to adjust to his size and after a moment, carl began to move and you sighed in arousal. he took that as a good sign before he used your leg as support to begin ramming into you.

"fuck, new girl. you're so tight," he almost whimpered into your ears after he fell on top of you, not letting up on his pace. his words made you clench your walls around him, making him whimper once more.

it felt good. too good. you thought- no, you knew. you knew if anyone tried to have a conversation with you right now, you wouldn't be able to properly form a coherent sentence. carl grimes was fucking your brains out and you were 110% okay with it.

carl snaked his hand down your body, making stops at your neck, both of your tits, and your love handles, then settled on your clit, making quick figure eights on it.

that was your breaking point. you allowed the tight knot in your stomach to snap, seeing white hot. you couldn't feel anything except him. 

it was all him. you had only known him less than a day and he had already infiltrated each and every one of your senses. 

you just moaned loudly and messily. carl, too, was nearing his release, and you could feel his protected dick twitch inside of you. "y/n, i'm gonna c-cum, holy sh- fuck!" he said before coming into the condom. 

after riding out both of your orgasms with a shudder from carl, he pulled out, watching your own juices flow out of your sensitive cunt. he thought for a moment before getting on his knees and lapping up all of your arousal.

you looked down at him and the view could've made you come again on its own. "carl, you're gonna make me fucking scream," you chuckled before he finished his special clean-up process. "would that be the end of the world?" he said before realizing what he said.

"you know what i meant," he chuckled before helping you off the bed and into the bathroom connected to your room. what a night.

𝐚/𝐧 :  i loved writing this ! lemme know what you thought and don't forget to vote 🤍

[misshoneyimhome]

Would you write for Pyotr Kochetkov? With the prompt “Just tell me I’m the one.” Where Kochetkov thinks reader wants Svechnikov because of how close him and reader are but obby the reader wants Kochetkov 🤭

Oh, a new goalie has been added to the roster! 🤗

So, this is obv my first time writing for this young cutie pie, but I hope I've managed to capture his essence alright 🤍 I wasn't sure how good his English had become at this point, but after watching a few videos, I found it so endearing listening to him speak 🌺

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it 🤍

Tropes and warnings; friends to lovers; Pyotr Kochetkov x reader; just pure fluff; no warnings

Word count; 2.3K+

_

“Just tell me I’m the one" I Pyotr Kochetkov 🖋️🌺

Pyotr Kochetkov had never been particularly confident when it came to matters of the heart.

As a goaltender, he was steady and unyielding, a reliable last line of defence for the Carolina Hurricanes. On the ice, he knew his role and executed it with precision, but when it came to understanding the intricacies of romantic interest, he was often feeling rather uncertain and maybe even act a little playful about it. His teammates would frequently joke about his stoic nature, teasing that he was more comfortable facing a breakaway than a heartfelt conversation, and he always just laughed along. It didn’t bother him at all, yet he couldn’t help but feel a stir within him.

What they didn’t know details of was that lately, his mind had been occupied with thoughts far away from the ice rink, as he couldn't help but notice how close you and Andrei Svechnikov had become over the past few weeks and months—always sharing inside jokes, laughing together during team dinners, and exchanging glances that seemed to speak volumes. Each moment chipped away at his composure, leaving him restless and distracted.

And one evening after practice, Pyotr found himself sitting alone in the quiet of the locker room, still in his gear, turning over these thoughts in his mind. As he’d skated off the ice, his mind was clouded with conflicting emotions. The day's practice had been just fine as he usually found solace in the repetitive motions and camaraderie of the team. 

However, he had then spotted you in the stands, chatting animatedly with Andrei. He knew the two of you had been friends for some time, and that your bond was unmistakable, yet his heart sank every time he saw you laughing together, a pit of jealousy and insecurity forming in his stomach. And though he knew it was irrational, he just couldn't help the way he felt.

The room, usually buzzing with the energy of his teammates, was now a sanctuary of solitude, and the only sounds were the distant echoes of equipment being packed away and the faint hum of the air conditioning. Pyotr stared at the ground, his thoughts a tangled mess of insecurity and longing, as he couldn't deny the twinge of jealousy that gnawed at him whenever he saw you and Andrei together. Were you interested in Svechnikov? Did you see him as more than a friend?

___

The truth was that you too harboured deep feelings for the young goaltender. From the moment you met Pyotr Kochetkov, you had felt something different - a sensation you couldn't quite pinpoint at first, yet it became clear as you spent more time around Andrei and Pyotr, particularly during the English lessons you helped them with: the fluttering in your stomach whenever Pyotr was near were butterflies of love.

Pyotr had no idea about the emotions you held for him. You had done everything possible to keep them hidden, but that had been easier said than done. Andrei had quickly noticed the romantic tension lingering between the two of you, although he never explicitly mentioned it. He would only tease you lightly about your crush when you were alone, not wanting to meddle but secretly hoping his two friends would eventually confess their feelings for each other. Yet, neither of you ever did.

There was one day though, when Andrei thought you were close to revealing your feelings. It happened during one of your casual coffee meetings, where you often helped Pyotr and Andrei with their English. Because you had Russian roots through your grandmother, you had suggested these kinds of sessions, something more informal and relaxed than typical English lessons.

And on this particular day, the topic of love and expressing emotions came up. The sun was setting outside the café window, casting a warm, golden glow over the table where the three of you sat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of pastries, creating an inviting atmosphere. Pyotr sat next to you; his striking brown eyes focused intently on the phrases written on the paper before him. His brow furrowed slightly in concentration, making him look even more endearing.

"I am in love with you," Pyotr read out loud, practising his pronunciation. His voice was soft, almost reverent, as he spoke the words. "You are the one for me."

"Exactly, just like that," you replied with a sweet smile, trying to hide the quickening of your heartbeat. "That's exactly how you'd say it.”

"And this is—'Would you like to go out with me?'" he asked, smiling softly as he read the next line from the paper. His smile was shy, almost hesitant, yet it lit up his face in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

You felt another flutter in your tummy as he smiled, and you nodded. "Yeah, that's really good pronunciation. You're ready to actually go out and say it...to someone." Your voice was soft, tinged with hope that he would catch on to your subtle hints. The café’s ambient chatter seemed to fade into the background as you willed him to understand what you truly meant. However, when he simply moved on to the next line, you felt convinced he would never see you that way. The moment passed, leaving you with a bittersweet ache. 

Meanwhile, sitting opposite you, Andrei was on the verge of pulling his hair out. How could the two of you not see it? It was so obvious to everyone else. You were sitting so close together, practising phrases about love and dating, yet neither of you seized the opportunity to act on it.

So, by the end of the day, Andrei was ready to confront the situation directly. As Pyotr had left for his goaltender yoga training, he looked at you with a curious expression.

"What?" you asked, noticing his intense gaze. "What is it, Andrei?"

"How can you not see it?" he asked, almost out of breath from frustration. "You and Pyotr... It's so clear—you like each other. You should go out on dates."

You shook your head. "He doesn't see me that way, Andrei... clearly, otherwise, he would... you know."

Andrei sighed deeply. "Y/N, Pyotr really, really likes you. But he's just a guy. He doesn't know how to express these things, even when it's right in front of him." He looked at you with a soft expression and added, "Not even in Russian."

You sighed softly, realising that you might have put too much hope and faith into small clues and hints that no one else understood as a request for something beyond friendship. "You really think he likes me?" you asked timidly.

"Y/N, Pyotr is head over heels in love with you," Andrei assured you with a gentle smile.

And you couldn't help but chuckle lightly. Andrei was truly an amazing friend, and you knew he would make someone very happy one day. 

"And now I'm sure you’ve actually learned something from today's lesson – using a phrase like that."

_

Andrei’s revelation had sparked a flicker of courage within you. And armed with newfound confidence, you resolved to confront Pyotr about your feelings. You had rehearsed the words in your mind, imagining how his reaction might unfold, but when you arrived at practice the following day, your hopes were dashed.

As you walked down the corridor, you saw Pyotr in deep conversation with a girl from the team’s support staff. Their body language spoke volumes—laughter, shared glances, a familiarity that cut through you like a knife. And it was clear he was asking her out, using the same phrases you had practised with him just days ago. The realisation hit you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, frozen, trying to process the sight before you. The warmth that had blossomed in your chest turned cold, replaced by a sinking feeling of disappointment and hurt.

But in truth, Pyotr had been dealing with a broken heart for some time, misinterpreting your growing closeness with Andrei as something more. And convinced that pursuing you would only bring him more pain, he decided to focus his attention elsewhere, hoping to distract himself from the agony of unreturned love.

Meanwhile, Andrei was caught between frustration and sympathy. He had watched the two of you skirt around your true feelings for far too long. Each missed chance to express yourselves left him exasperated, as he deeply cared for both of you and longed for you to recognise what was so evident to everyone else.

The hallway buzzed with activity around you, unaware of the emotional turmoil unfolding within. Pyotr and the girl exchanged smiles, arranging plans for the weekend, while you stood rooted to the spot, grappling with the shattered remnants of your hopes and the harsh reality before you.

And sensing your distress, Andrei approached quietly. His expression mirrored your anguish, a silent acknowledgment of shared disappointment. "I'm sorry, Y/N," he murmured softly, his voice tinged with regret. "He asked her out?"

You nodded your head numbly, unable to find the words. The weight of unspoken truths hung heavy in the air between you. And in that moment, the best comfort Andrei could offer was a tight, friendly hug. A hug that didn’t escape the corner of Pyotr’s eye.

___ 

The next day, however, the weight of unspoken emotions became too much for you to bear. As you watched the team wrap up after the day’s practice, you suddenly felt determined to confront Pyotr. So, finally breaking free from the uncertainty that had plagued you both, you steeled yourself for the conversation you had been avoiding.

Meanwhile, after a rigorous training session, Pyotr trudged back to the locker room with a heavy heart. He had been trying to distance himself from the sight of you and Andrei together, hoping to quell the ache of jealousy that gnawed at him. And as he began to strip off his gear, the echoes of laughter and shared moments between you and Andrei haunted him still, causing the sound of approaching footsteps to startle him. And as he turned to see you standing in the doorway, your expression offered a mix of concern and determination.

"Pyotr, can we talk?" you asked softly, your voice breaking the heavy silence that hung between you.

He merely nodded, trying to steady his emotions. "Sure, what's up?"

You hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts before speaking again, and your eyes searched his, hoping to find the courage to voice what had been weighing on your heart. "I've noticed you've been distant lately. Is everything okay?"

Pyotr sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I... I have just had a lot on mind."

"Like what?" you gently pressed, taking a tentative step closer to him.

Then taking a deep breath, Pyotr knew it was now or never. "I see how close you are with Andrei. The way you laugh together, the way you look at each other... It is hard not to feel like I'm just an outsider."

Surprise flickered across your face, and you shook your head earnestly. "Pyotr, no. It’s not like that with Andrei. We’re just friends, I promise."

Pyotr looked away, unable to handle the intensity of your gaze. "Then what is it? Why do I feel like you’re always with him and not me?"

Your heart ached at his words, and you reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "Because I’ve been scared, Pyotr. Scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way about me."

His eyes flickered back to yours, filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "What do you mean?"

Summoning all your courage, you took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper. "I care about Andrei, but not the way I care about you. I want you, Pyotr. I’ve wanted you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to tell you."

Pyotr's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing as he absorbed your confession. "Are you serious?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded firmly, stepping closer to him. "Yes, but then I saw you with that other girl and…" You trailed off with a defeated sigh, the pain of seeing him with someone else clear in your eyes. "And I couldn’t believe it when Andrei told me that you might actually like me back."

A wave of guilt washed over Pyotr as he realised how his actions had inadvertently hurt you. "I do like you. She... doesn't mean anything to me," he blurted out earnestly, desperate to reassure you.

"Really?" you asked, searching his eyes for sincerity.

Pyotr nodded fervently, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the lingering doubts. 

"Just... please, tell me I'm the one."

"You're the one," he affirmed softly, his voice filled with unwavering certainty. "I have wanted you too, but I was afraid to say anything."

A sense of relief washed over you, tears of joy threatening to spill over as Pyotr's admission lifted a weight off your shoulders that you had carried for far too long. And a radiant smile spread across your face, your heart soaring with happiness. "Then what are we waiting for?" 

Then without hesitation, Pyotr pulled you into his arms. Closing the gap between you he leaned down to capture you lips with his, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. The kiss was tender, yet filled the desire that had been lingering for a while. 

The tension that had once divided you melted away in the warmth of his embrace, replaced by a newfound closeness and understanding. And in that moment, surrounded by the familiar scents of sweat and equipment in the locker room, you both knew this was the beginning of something beautiful.

For Pyotr, the doubts and insecurities that had clouded his heart were swept aside by the overwhelming joy of knowing that you chose him. And for you, the journey of unspoken feelings finally found its voice, setting the stage for a love that had waited patiently in the wings.

As you rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, Pyotr knew that despite the challenges that lay ahead, you were the one he wanted by his side. And that was all he needed to feel complete.

[probably-ren]

"You think you know me by the screen."

Schlatt x male reader

Summary: you were invited to his love or host and stupidly, you hosted him. You didn't expect to win, to be fair. Now, hes invited you to come collab with him in new york... For content purposes only.

I think im gonna turn this into a multiple part series because i dont have the attention span to do everything in one go😭

(New layout, what do we think?)

You sigh as you search around the airport for the man you had come to see, at the baggage claim you felt your phone get a notification and saw a dm from him that just said "turn around" you do as it says and are greeted the 6'3 man you had been talking to. a New York Yankees hat sitting firmly on his head, his mutton chops freshly groomed.

How did you get here? You decided to join a random streamers love or host because austin invited you. After watching a small part of his videos, you decided to host him. You found him annoying and much too blunt for your taste. But, during the actual love or host, you began to warm up to him. And when you won, you guys called afterwards and he offered to fly you out to New York to film some vlogs with him.

he smiles and hugs you "how are you man? Was the flight alright?"

You nod and hug him back. "Yeah, it was great! You know first class wasn't necessary right?" he had bought you first class with all upgrades he could, claiming it was just because planes are uncomfortable as fuck, which wasn't a total lie.

"To me it was, so deal with it" he grunts and takes your suitcase before you had the chance to. "lets get back to my car, you must be tired."

You chuckle "you're right about that, there was a loud as fuck baby crying the whole flight and i couldn't sleep at all" you roll your eyes and huff, following him to his car.

"Bet everyone on the plane got some free reminders to use condoms." he snickers, opening the trunk to his car and putting your suitcases in the back, you had packed a decent amount, which was fair since you were staying a whole week.

You laugh "damn right we did." you snicker, climbing into the passenger seat. You hum tiredly as you lean back, watching the other man sit in the driver's seat and turn on the car, the gentle roar of the engine filling the silence between you two.

"do you need the address to my hotel?" you question.

"Hotel?" he asks "just stay with me" he huffs and doesn't look at you "New York hotels are shitty and expensive." he grumbles.

"You sure?" you question, looking at the reservation you were about to book, your thumb inches away from pressing 'pay'

"Very. don't book the damn hotel, I've got plenty of space." he grunts bluntly.

you sigh and nod, exiting out of the app and turning off your phone. Leaning back in the seat. You could smell a gentle vanilla cologne and air fresheners filling the car. schlatts gentle humming to the soft music along with the soft roar of the car couldve put you to sleep then and there. you glance over at him and see him calmly driving as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

in order to keep yourself awake, you decide to ask a question. "what kind of stuff are you thinking we film?"

schlatt glances at you, raising an eyebrow. "im not sure yet. im sure we could just explore the city, theres this really nice cafe not too far from my place we could check out tomorrow. its too late for them to be open right now." he offers, getting slightly embarrassed and looking away "if you want to, of course."

you nod softly "no, im down. that sounds fun" you smile, leaning back in your seat and watching as the city rolled by. the setting sun made the buildings glimmer and pricks of light dance on the glass as you drove past. it felt almost like a moment in a movie - or maybe that was the tiredness catching up to you.

slowly the ride turns into a calm silence, schlatt humming along to whatever song played on the radio. you had expected him to be more like his online persona, but from what you had seen so far, it was quite the opposite.

Soon, you both pull up to his apartment. He turns to look at you and snickers as he sees you fast asleep. He quietly turns off the car and gets out, going over to your side and opening the door, easily scooping you up bridal style and gently carrying you inside.

He walks towards the guest room and sighs as he remembers how trashed it is. "Oh well" he murmurs "he can have my room, i guess." he grunts "not because i care or anything, just because its closest." he reminds himself, walking towards his room quietly, his footsteps echoing on the wood flooring, jambo happily trailing behind him, practically begging for attention.

He enters his room and takes you to his bed, gently setting you down and chuckling as jambo immediately jumps up and lays right beside you, purring happily. [Redacted] was already asleep on his bed and woke up at the movement, hissing at your sleeping body.

"Be nice." he warns the black cat sternly as he takes off his Yankees hat and sets it on the nightstand, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over you, covering jambo in the process and causing him to crawl up and lay right beside your face. "Hope hes not allergic" schlatt snickers and yawns "ill get his bags tomorrow, im tired as fuck" he groans quietly and walks towards the exit of his bedroom.

He glances back at you, examining your sleeping face, your parted lips, the way your hair fell over your face slightly. He feels his face heat up and looks away. "Fuck that." he huffs and exits the room, the door shutting with a click.

[adorekento]

Addicted `

NSFW : In which xiao ended up on an inappropriate website and was astonished to see his best friend bare in front of his screen.

anon asked : do you perhaps write for camgirl/porn? If you do! Will you please write one, where xiao is desperate to feel y/n's tongue wrapped on his cock but unfortunately he can only watch her hump the pillow on screen :((

warnings : smut (mdni), camgirl/porn, dirty talk, cussing, degradation, fingering, riding pillow, wild thoughts, mild sexual content, strong language, etc.

notes : I don't know much about camgirl and riding pillow, this is just based on what I've seen in some fanfics, so if I wrote something wrong or IDK I am so sorry 😭😭

Xiao was not the type of person to spend his time watching nasty content on a website. Xiao did not have that kind of tolerance for such things. He was more than pleased to go out and do his job, or so he told himself when he found himself staring down at an open webpage on his phone, a little after midnight, as he saw a video of some guy who got drunk while dancing with his wife.

He scrolled through it quickly, trying to find anything remotely amusing, until suddenly, a h/c haired girl popped up, dressed in only her bra and panties, wearing a smile plastered across her face. Xiao’s mouth gaped slightly, as he watched her take off her bra and slip it over one shoulder. As she moved closer to the camera, her bare chest seemed to be glowing softly under the light. He could see her belly button clearly from this angle, almost like a miniature moon. It felt weirdly intimate to see her like this, but there wasn't any way around that,

"y/n...?!" His heart pounded faster, As far as his fantasy could reach him, he never visualized his own best friend as a cam girl! Not to mention being an actual slut, playing with herself on camera while she's talking to a crowd full of people, But here he was, watching, helplessly and shocked.

He saw the comments start to stream in. The girl had been a total hit with the crowd. Most people were screaming at her for having breasts and showing them off so shamelessly. Xiao wondered if she even knew how much attention she was getting, and what people thought about the situation. He hoped not.

fuck me, mommy!!

I love u and ur tight cunt

ohh baby SHE'S SO HOTTT

who doesn't even wanna fuck her

LET'S JUST KISS TILL WE'RE NAKed

the urge to squish your badonkers is hard

I'm getting hard already, wanna fucking rip you

He paused reading the comments when he heard her laugh, "you guys are making me blush!" she said, in a soft voice that carried over the microphone, “So which toy do you guys want me to use first?" She asked playfully, "or should I start with this?” With a flick of her hand, she reached for her wet pussy. There were moans all around him now.

how much do i pay to have u on my bed

not an astronaut but i can explore uranus

i have two hands and you have two tits 🤘

oops, my phone went into my left hand 😍

at this point, xiao started to pump his dick slowly in response to the sound of her moaning. despite him knowing you entirely, he couldn’t help the blossoming of jealousy in his chest. with a scoff, he created an account and entered your live chatroom,

Use toys? Why not use your fingers, slut.

Xiao cringed as he typed that, if you were with him you would probably laugh at him, but you weren’t here right now. And you wouldn’t find out who he is anyway, at least not tonight. "oh? if that's what my new viewer wants, I'll make sure they get just exactly what they want." You replied, grinning evilly in return. With a flourish,

you pulled down the elastic top of your underwear and spread yourself wide open, your pussy glistening, your clit gleaming, the audience practically screaming with lust as their eyes followed the movements of your body. Xiao was unable to tear his gaze away from your face. He noticed how your tongue licked your lips as you smiled at them,

you started moving slowly in a circle around your clit, licking your lips as you moved. Xiao watched mesmerized by you, his erection growing harder as you rubbed circles around yourself, making small whimpering sounds.  Your head tilted back, and you looked sexy as hell as you continued to move in a circle. Xiao couldn't tear his eyes away from you. You had no idea what your viewers wanted to watch, yet, you still managed to make yourself look desirable and even hot.

Xiao’s heart raced as he imagined the way your lips felt on his cock, how wet you would taste. how hot, how tight your ass would feel wrapped around his cock. perfect you would feel, stroking his length, how wet he would feel, thrusting deeper inside of you, how good it would be as you moaned into the kisses you stole from his lips… Xiao bit his lip as he watched you. you were so gorgeous that sometimes, Xiao hated himself for watching you like this, he felt like a pervert, he felt disgusted. you didn’t deserve to be shown so blatantly like this, to be seen in the most intimate way possible.

he typed in one more comment, 'ride your pillow, and think of it as my cock.'

You stopped moving in your circling your clit, letting out a breathless sigh, a hint of excitement lingering in your smile, before you resumed circling and moving, teasing the audience, giving everyone the opportunity to watch. You looked completely unapologetic.

Xiao shook his head as he watched you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you onto him and fuck you until you begged him to stop until you cried out his name.

"Huh? I'm not even cumming yet and you're already asking me to do that? What a tease…" You smirked suggestively, before grabbing the nearest pillow and starting to hump on it. Your expression turned into one of pure bliss as you moaned your pleasure into it. Xiao gulped as he stared at the screen, imagining you like that, moaning his name, his hands roaming your body as you pleasured him.

You hump on the pillow, panting loudly, your thighs squeezing around your throbbing, pulsating clit. You took a deep inhale as your body shook, your face contorted, and your eyes closed shut as the noises of satisfaction spilled out of your mouth. You gripped onto the pillow, your fingers tightening around its fabric as you ground against it in your need to release yourself from your frustration. Xiao’s mouth went dry, his breath becoming shallow as he watched you.

you kept grunting and groaning, and every once in a while, a loud moan would escape your lips, before another came. The sound you made was sinful, and it sent shivers down Xiao’s spine. He wanted to listen to your voice, He wanted to watch you ride him, watch the pleasure dance across your face, watch you scream his name in sheer ecstasy, watch you come all over him as you fucked the air out of his lungs, he wanted you.

"ah... I'm close..."  You whispered as you came undone, the last thing you could say before falling limp against the bed. Xiao's eyes flickered between you, and the screen in front of him. Your mouth hung agape and his pulse quickened, as he felt himself release at the same time as you, he was touching himself the whole time even stopping just so he could cum along with you. After all, who doesn’t want to feel your sweet juice dripping down their cock,

"Ah... that felt so good... looks like I'll have to wash my pillows later...” you mumbled as your breathing returned to normal. Xiao was speechless. He couldn't believe that you, of all people, would hump their pillow in such a vulgar manner,

'once I see y/n, I won't be able to look at her the same way anymore..'

© [ adorekento ] do not steal, repost, or translate my work.

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Long Distance Fic Recs

I didn't know this would happen when I picked this theme, but my fiancée spent the last week away at her sister's -- celebrating a new nibling! So an exciting time, but I definitely missed her, even for only a few days. So really feeling this list of long distance recs, loving each other despite the miles and yearning to be reuinited. Here are seven amazing fics!

Baby, I'm Right Here by FallingLikeThis/suddenclarityharry (8186, Explicit, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles) – fic post

Leave it to Harry to not realize he's in love with his friend until they're living in different hemispheres. It takes a date with a lovely guy who just isn't HIS lovely guy for Louis to finally say what they've both been thinking.

Reccer says: I love their easy back and forth banter and the comfortable solidness of their friendship. And when that transitions into romance -- beautiful. I'm always a fan of a meddling Niall, too, even if he's meddling in a different way than usual here!

Danger I can’t hide by CelticSky (227290, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Flying Officer Styles and Sergeant Tomlinson would have likely never crossed paths in a time of peace, their lives laid out neatly, predictably before them. But then the world became unrecognisable. Too soon they grew accustomed to fear, surrounded by death and destruction, not even their freedom a certainty any more. Until they found eachother. Comfort. Companionship. Understanding. Another person to lose.

Reccer says: In my opinion, this fic is the masterpiece of 2023. It's one of those fics that should be a movie. It's perfect. The script is masterful. The story is gripping. The characters are masterfully constructed. There's emotion, anguish. It's beautiful. It's powerful. A gem.

Du är mitt livs kärlek (You are the love of my life) by goldenkinglouis (1749, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry finally meets Louis at the airport after six months of long-distance love.

Reccer says: This fic is so sweet my teeth hurt and I just want more. So adorable and romantic and full of love.

From Eight Until Late, I Think About You by supernope (35227, Explicit, Louis Tomlinson/Harry Styles)

Louis and Harry are both YouTubers, and if they didn't want all their viewers to ship them they should maybe stop flirting in the comments of each other's videos. They don't live all that far apart in miles, but it still takes almost a year for them to meet in person. When they're paired up as roommates at a YouTube meetup, there is NOT only one bed, but that doesn't stop them.

Reccer says: I always love watching a relationship build and grow, and this fic does it beautifully. From joking comments to texting to Snapchat to meeting up (and promptly making VERY questionable but hysterically funny decisions together) it's just great.

miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry (SoLongAndThanksForAllTheFic) (1749, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations (Image descriptions are available)

Reccer says: it was the first all-media fic i've read, but i was impressed how the entire story/feelings etc came across in just pictures

seven hours behind by justanothershadeofblue (5000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry gets Louis off over the phone during Louis’ first tour.

Reccer says: Really fun slice-of-tour-life fic, and also hot!

the blue never ending sky by justanothershadeofblue (4000, Teen, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

a heart-aching AU where Harry and Louis had a dream to go off and make music together after school, but then Harry goes… without Louis. Louis PoV, with an epistolary element.

Reccer says: this fic is simple but perfectly angsty! you don’t see a lot of ambiguous-ending fics in this fandom, but this one nails it.

[msookyspooky]

i would love to hear your thoughts on mickey alterti as a yandere cause he definitely would be one 🫶

OMFG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE 😩😭😏

♡ Mickey Being Obsessed With You ♡

Yandere Mickey x GN!Reader • Problematic af

- He saw you on campus and flirted with you regularly. You just laughed it off and soon he started mingling within your friend group.

- You didn't think much about it at first...But it was odd that everytime something 'bad' happened; he was there to offer you comfort and support

- When the Ghostface kills happened, he was the first one to tell you everything was okay and he wouldn't let anything happen to you

- When you found a body for the first time, he hugged you close to him and sshhed you that everything would be alright...How weird he didn't seem too distraught over seeing someone mangled...

- Soon people that slighted you were coming up missing and later found dead. Mutilated beyond recognition, actually. You always saw the way Mickey would glare at them. Absolute hatred towards anyone mean or rude to you...You just thought he was a good friend!

- But when your friends came up dead, this time, you started to freak out. Mickey talked to you in private after a good friend was attacked with a superficial wound. He told you, "...Why would the killer not kill them? Just be careful with them, YN."

- The police were suspecting you or someone in your inner circle. Mickey panicked when the police made you a suspect. You thought he was just THAT loyal that he believed you could never be the killer.

- Soon, your friend was found with evidence in their bag that they screamed wasn't there's. They were arrested and all you could do was accept your friend was the killer all along. You were devastated!

- You felt suspicious of Mickey just because his behavior was odd but with your friend being caught red handed; he was just a good guy! A bit cynical, dark humor, overbearing and overprotective but he wasn't a killer.

- Mickey was the only person you had left and he wanted you to have a movie night with him just to make sure you were okay.

- While at his place, he went to get snacks and you saw his camrecorder just sitting there...You smiled to yourself and snuck a peak. Thinking you'd see movie shots or his friends....Your face fell when you saw the footage.

- Every video was you. From far away a long time ago before you even talked to him clear up to present day. It was endless reel of you. You. You....You.

- You snuck out and ran as fast as you could. Terrified.

- You hid, trying to get to the police when a Ghostface appeared. Trying to grab you as you fought back. You fought with everything you had. Then you heard the voice. Confirming who the killer really was.

- "Don't make me hurt you, YN!" He peeled off the mask and looked at you like you were the only person in the world. "We're okay now. Especially with all those annoying people out of the way. Don't you see it!? We can be together now! It's okay...You can be with me now."

- He holds you captive from that point forward. Whispering sweet words to you in a soft voice while he held his knife dangerously close to your throat. He took you back to his place, letting you know that if you told; he'd kill you or someone you care about. Be a shame if you told police and he wasn't caught. What if your entire family or friends off campus came up dead?...He knew where you lived, where they lived, when they were home....He knew everything about you.

- The killings stopped. Your friend was going to trial. Mickey and you were 'dating' now. It was A-Okay and only because you let him love you.

- He constantly recorded you no matter how miserable you looked. Claiming you were his muse with an adoring smile.

- He was extremely loving towards you. So soft, playful, loyal. He was arguably the best boyfriend you had when he was in a good mood.

- However, that dark look would enter his eyes whenever anyone but him held your attention for too long. Especially another guy. His grip on you would get painful, his mood would sour and he'd start making threats again. Swearing that if you left him; people would die. Maybe even you...If he couldn't have you, no one could.

- He'd hunt you down if you tried to leave him. Knife in hand and a feral look in his eyes. "Don't fight me, YN. You know I love you. You know I only want what's best for you...Just accept it!"

- You were his only. You didn't need friends when you had him. As long as you were good; the mask and knife stayed hidden. But if you acted up and someone got killed? That wasn't Mickey's doing, that was yours. If you ran away and he hurt you? That was your fault too. He can't control himself, you know this. Just be so good for him and let him be a good boyfriend.

- Once you accepted it; he was an amazing guy. He did anything for you. Had no eyes for anyone else. Laughed at every joke. Listened intently to what you had to say with a grin on his face. Would hold you close if anyone dared come near you especially in a flirty way. Loved you like you were the only love he ever knew. Desperate for you every time you were together.

- HOWEVER...Friends were only permitted as long as they didn't take time away from him. People joked that you and Mickey were attached at the hip and you forced a smile to play along no matter how much you wanted to tell them. He had to come to every family get together. He would become distraught, close to tears and rage if you just simply wanted time away with a family member or alone time. It took hours of him trying to emotionally manipulate you and you trying to argue it was fine...He usually won.

- You were his. Only his. You just had to accept this was your life now. That your boyfriend was an obsessed serial killer that made you the object of his obsession.