Hi Hi! I Love Your Writing Love! I Was Wondering Could I Request Taking Care Of Different Characters

SOMETHING I WAIT FOR . . . dazai has a close call. he barely makes it to your apartment but you’re there just in time, in more ways than one.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, blood and injuries, mentions of drowning / suicidal ideation from dazai, a little suggestive in some parts, 3.6k w.c.

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you catch the its okay to not be okay references, ily <3 !!

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai hates pain.

if the idiot who shot him would’ve aimed just a little bit higher, it might've been a fatal wound. instead, all he did was graze his shoulder. it wasn’t enough to cause serious harm, but just enough to make him bleed in miseryー just his luck.

the man must’ve been dead by now, taken care of by one of his subordinates. he didn’t stay long enough to find out, slipping from the scene before anyone could try to force him into the mafia’s infirmary. he knows your apartment is close. 

he’s nearing the point of being injured where the pain fades and melts into pure exhaustion. he hates the way his blood feels against his hands, and he uses it to ground himself. it’s already soaked through his shirt, wet and warm as it seeps between his fingers and drips down his arm, absorbing into the bandages around his wrist. his already obscured vision is fading, white stars glistening from beneath the edge of his lashes, but he keeps his eyes trained ahead on your building. he swears you used to only have one apartment door, his vision doubling and growing hazy. 

just a few more steps. that’s all he needs to make it to you.

he huffs as his hand slips from your doorknob, sliding off the metal from his weak grip. he falls forward, blood smearing against the doorframe where his palm flattens as he tries to steady himself, pressing his forehead against your door with a quiet thump. you have to be home right now. right? please be home right now.

as soon as you open your door from the other side of your apartment, he collapses, landing against your chest. he curls against you, inhaling the scent of your skin with the desperation of a man who’d just been saved from drowning. 

“dazai?” you stumble backward, but he doesn’t weigh nearly enough to make you fall. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he grips your shirt in his hands, trying to press himself impossibly closer to you. he can feel the moment you realize he’s bleeding, your chest stalling mid-inhale. “oh my god, dazai.”

his jacket slips from his shoulders, falling to the floor limply as you carry him inside, kicking the door closed with your foot. his feet drag against your carpet as he tries to walk, but he’d rather use his waning strength to snuggle closer into your side than keep his balance. even with your body supporting his own, he plops unceremoniously onto your couch.  

“it’s okay,” he shivers when you start to unbutton his shirt, pulling back the bloody, frayed fabric stuck to his skin. he can’t tell if you’re talking to him or yourself. “you’re okay.”

his bangs are damp, yokohama’s humidity and his own sweat gluing them to his forehead. you push them back, stroking your thumb along the edge of his bandage over his cheek tenderly.

“are you hurt anywhere else?”

he tilts his head to press his face into your palm and smiles at you. you’re so pretty when you frown at him like this.

“i’ll be right back,” you squish his cheeks between your hands, making his lips pucker. “don’t try to move.”

he has to stop himself from reaching back out for you when you let him go. he squeezes the fabric of his trousers instead, watching you disappear past the couch’s limited view. he wants to pull you on top of him and beg you to ignore the blood leaking out of his body, to just wrap your arms around him and hold him until there’s nothing left between the two of you. it still wouldn’t be close enough; if he had the choice, he would shrink down and make a home inside your chest.

he tries his best to relax into the cushions beneath him. he’d much rather be in your bed than on your couch, but it was still yours, and that made it enough for him to want to sink into it until it absorbed him whole. your apartment was nothing like his hollow shipping container, the metal walls suffocating in the summer heat.

he could’ve dragged himself there instead. maybe he would’ve finally died from blood loss if he was lucky. that’s what he wants. really.

so then why did he drag himself here? because you felt safe?

dazai came to a realization a few days ago, one more painful than the wound in his shoulder, or the fact he has a mission with chuuya a few days from now. ever since it planted its dirty roots in his brain, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

it grew deeper every time his chest tightened around you, or his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, or his stomach churned in jealousy when someone else touched you. 

this, his mind taunted him, is what people say love feels like. worst of all, when he whined to odasaku and ango about how annoying you were, they didn’t stop talking about his “crush” for the rest of the night. 

his body protests as he sits up, vision swimming as the walls of your living room tilt. he tries to blink it away when he hears you sigh as you come back from down the hallway. he makes his one visible eye big and pouts his lips when he looks at you.

“dazai,” the medical supplies you always keep on hand are cradled in your arms as you walk back toward him. “i told you not to move.”

“you took too long,” he whines. “i’m dying, you know.”

“you wish.” you guide him back down gently, your hands leaving tingles beneath his skin in their wake. he watches you kneel beside him, organizing the little bottles and boxes on your coffee table. you press down on one of the white lids with the heel of your palm, twisting it and knocking it upside down. you hand him one of the pills that fall out, and he swallows it dry.

you open another one of your bottles, and the familiar, sterile smell could be nothing other than saline. it’s cold against his skin, but your touch is what makes him shiver and his hair raise. you squeeze his leg softly, running your fingers against his thigh. it ignites something warm in his stomach, but it fades to white pain when the liquid absorbs into his wound. he jolts, and you murmur an apology, squeezing his thigh a little tighter. you’re trying to distract him, and it works pathetically well.

when you get closer to clean the drying blood off his skin, he can’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips, slightly parted in concentration. you’re close enough for him to kiss, and against the ache of his shoulder, all he can think about is how you might taste.

he wonders how soft you’d feel if he traced the shape of your lips with his tongue. he imagines the sweet sting of you pulling his hair as he memorizes every inch of you he can, taking everything you give him and more. it’d be different from the other people he’s kissed, he knows it; using his mouth to get information out of theirs did nothingー if anything, he felt more numb when it was over. 

he can see a familiar box from the corner of his eye: it’s the brand of bandages he always uses, the only kind that doesn’t irritate his scarred, sensitive skin. he watches your fingers as they delicately pull the beginning of the roll, imagining the feeling of you wrapped around his bare body instead of the cotton he adorns himself with. 

you turn him on his side to wrap the bandages around his shoulder and under his arm. once the ends are tied, nice and snug around him, you sit back on your heels.

“can i have your hand?” 

he gives you both, trying to hide the way they tremble. you grab the one covered in blood tenderly as you begin to clean it off. 

“i guess you weren’t lucky enough to die this time,” you smile teasingly, but he knows it isn’t real. it doesn’t look right on your face, like a mask that’s too big. he can see the worry you try to hide, clouding your eyes like murky water. he hates it. “sorry.”

“i never get what i want,” he sighs. “i think i’m cursed. do you have something to cure that in one of those little bottles too?”

“i don’t know if you’ll ever die, even when you become an old man,” if, not when, he wants to correct, but holds his tongue. “you’re like a cockroach.”

“yeah?” he reaches up to poke your face with his bloody fingers as you try to hold him still. “you’re like a little kid.”

“you’re more like a kid than i am.”

“nuh uh.”

“yeah,” you giggle, catching his hand back in your own. you wipe down each of his fingers, gently scrubbing the spaces in between. “you are.”

when he speaks again, he’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. he almost hopes you don’t hear him. “how?”

“because,” your voice softens, holding his now clean hand. you trace over one of the lines on his palm with your thumb.  “you want to be loved.”

he feels like he can’t breathe as he realizes that for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. all of his walls he’s so carefully built, it’s like they’re made of glass around you. the possibility that you see him more clearly than he sees you terrifies him. 

the painkillers are starting to kick in, drowsiness creeping up on him and making his eyelids heavy as he melts against the cushions despite his pounding heart. when was the last time he slept? he can’t remember.your fingers are gentle as they brush his bangs back. your touch makes his eyes fall completely closed before he feels something soft and warm presses against his forehead. he hears a whisper of his name, a quiet sweet dreams, and then he’s asleep.

it only really feels like he blinked. when he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. the light from your kitchen leaks through the hall, permeating the living room in a soft glow. he wiggles his toes, feeling the soft blanket you draped over his legs while he slept.

he gets up slowly, creeping off the couch and across your floor. he peeks past the kitchen doorway, grinning when he sees your back is facing him. you’re halfway bent over the counter with your chin resting in your hand, staring absently at the tea kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

he keeps his steps quiet, walking on the tips of his toes. he sinks his teeth into his lip to bite back his smile as he leans closer, taking advantage of the fact you’re completely zoned out.

“boo.”

you flinch, hand closing around a butterknife on your counter, still smeared with jelly from a late-night snack. you turn sharply, pointing the dull blade in his direction. he grabs your wrist before it grazes him, smiling innocently.

“dazai,” he thinks his name sounds so pretty when you sigh it out like that. you drop the knife back onto your counter. “should you even be standing right now? go lay back down. i can bring you something to eat.”

the thought of you taking care of him like this ignites that warm feeling in his stomach again. an image of you as his personal nurse forms in his mind, and his insides flip at the thought. he wonders if being an executive would give him enough leniency to put you in a little white dress; surely there was one lying around somewhere at headquarters.

“what, did you hit your head too?” he whines when you poke his forehead, hard. “are you feeling better?”

he pouts at you, gaze drifting over your shoulder to a bottle of sake on the counter. it definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here.

“oh〜” he perks, holding the bottle up by its neck, eyes sparkling. “this is fancy! where did you get this from, hm? some secret date i don’t know about?”

“ane-san,” your eyes narrow as he flicks the stove off, breaking the seal on the bottle excitedly. “it was a gift from her after we finished that raid in osaka.”

he sniffs it, then takes a big sip straight from the bottle. it leaves a pleasant sting along the inside of his throat as he swallows.

he sits himself down on your kitchen tiles, pressing his back against the cabinets, cradling the sake in his arms. there’s something angelic about the way your kitchen light haloes around you as he looks up at you from the floor. 

he holds the bottle up, sloshing the liquid as he wiggles it back and forth. he pulls it out of your reach each time you try to grab it until you have no choice but to sit next to him, stretching across his lap to take it from him. you follow his lead and take a small sip from the mouth of the bottle, sighing as you sag backward. 

“what happened this time, anyway?” you tilt your head toward him lazily, gaze dipping down to his bandaged shoulder. 

“someone had bad aim,” he sighs, holding a finger up to his temple. “missed my head. unlucky, right?”

you take a bigger, longer sip.

“i don’t like when you get hurt, you know.”

he’s relieved your head is on his bandaged blindside; he doesn’t know if he wants to see the look on your face right now. he takes the bottle from you, taking a longer sip of his own.

“do you remember when we used to go to the beach?” he can hear the smile in your voice, and it makes his own rise on his cheeks. the two of you would always go after missions, bodies bruised and hair knotted. it was always early enough to watch the sunrise from the shore, eating a breakfast of shared instant ramen and candy stolen from the konbini down the street. 

he can only ignore the way the edge of the counter presses into the back of his head for so long, leaning his cheek against your hair and listening to you breathe. he can tell you’re getting tipsy when you start to cling to him, clumsily crawling into his lap. you insist on being the one to rebutton his shirt, swatting his hands away when he tries to do it himself. 

“can we go now?” the curl of your lip hits him like an arrow through his heart. “to the beach? please?”

you’re so close again, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. your hands warm as they rest above his heart, like you could go right through him and steal it for yourself, and he knows he could never possibly say no. 

you pick his coat up off the floor before you leave, draping it over his shoulders. you tug it a little tighter around him, nodding to yourself in satisfaction before you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and tugging him out the door.

the nighttime air is warm and sticky, but it gets cooler the closer you get to the shore. he keeps your smaller body close to his, guard raising as you approach the edge of port mafia territory. 

the sand sinks beneath his feet with every step, and he pulls his shoes off by the heel. the waves lap calmly, dancing back and forth with no audience to watch as they tease the shore. he breathes in deep, feeling his lungs expand, inviting the salt and sand inside.

you drop limply onto the ground, laying your head on his shoulder when he sits next to you. it’s quiet, only the distant sound of traffic and the soft splashing of water.

“i wish it could be like this all the time.” you sigh. there’s a determined glint in your sleepy eyes when you look up at him. “let’s run away.”

he smiles, tilting his head toward you until your noses are close enough to brush. “and just where would you take me?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “i don’t care as long as i’m with you.”

he always thought he was born with an empty cavity in place of where his heart should be, but around you, it felt so full he could explode. he thinks if he tried to say anything right now, something icky, like the pile of seaweed he can see rotting by the water, would come out of his mouth instead.

a particularly big wave draws your attention away from him, and he frowns when you look away. it only deepens when you stand up and leave him, walking towards the ocean. he watches as you stumble down the wet sand, squealing when the water splashes against your feet. you don’t stop walking until the water is deep enough to cover your shins.

he follows you to the water, hopping on each foot over the big rocks. he’s careful not to slip, crouching on the furthest one out to keep a closer eye on you. he keeps his weight on his ankles, spreading his knees and resting his arms between them. he feels drops of salt water hit his face as the waves crash against the sea stacks, gently blowing the fabric of his jacket. 

you turn back and smile at him, holding your hand out. the moon is large and eternal behind you, taking up nearly all the space in the sky and casting a pale blue glow over the dark water. it reflects onto you, illuminating your body in soft light, and he swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. you open and close your hand impatiently when he doesn’t move.

“what are you doing over there?” you tilt your head. “c’mere. it’s warm.”

he doesn’t bother to pull up his pants as he slips into the ocean, letting the waves move the fabric as they ebb and flow. he looks down at himself; he nearly blends in with the water, looking black in the night. he almost thinks he’ll dissolve into it like ink and wash away into the sea. 

you beam at him as the water laps at your knees. he wiggles his toes into the wet sand and waits to feel the unbridled joy that standing here seems to cause. all he feels is goop between his toes, and he sighs in disappointment. he wants to understand why something like this made you so happy. he wants to feel it too.

“isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him, and he wishes he could bottle it up and keep it for himself. that smile was just for him.

don’t.

he leans closer. he can’t help it; there’s alcohol still warm in his veins, and you’re magnetic.

don’t.

even closer, until he can feel your soft exhale against his face, eyes big. he always thought you were the prettiest up close.

you’ll lose her once you have her.

he freezes. he doesn’t have time to completely change his mind and forget this little slip-up ever happened before you close the gap, pressing your lips against his. you’re just as soft as he imagined, gentle even when you kiss him, like he was something worth handling with care.

you pull back all too soon, looking down at where his legs disappear beneath the water.

“sorry,” you mumble, and the watery way your voice comes out makes something ache deep inside of him. “i…i don’t know why i did that.”

oh.

he didn’t kiss you back.

he didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. he almost wants to laugh; you really like him too. you, with your stupid smile, making his heart flutter and his stomach hurt when it’s directed toward him. you, letting him sleep in your bed when he breaks into your apartment, holding his blood-soaked hands and letting him get close, despite knowing what he was. you were so, so stupid. 

he cups your cheeks with trembling fingers, bringing you back to his mouth. this could be the biggest mistake of his life; the fact he wants you could be your death sentence, but he’s never wanted anything else so badly before in his entire, sad life. 

he thought it’d be weird to touch you like this, but it only feels right. when his hands hover over your waist, you press them into your skin, and he can’t help but think they fit perfectly there, like you were made to be held by him.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against his nape, and his knees nearly buckle. he thinks if they did, if he fell into the sand right now and washed out to sea, he’d be content, but you’d never let that happen. he wouldn't even be mad if you resuscitated him; nothing would be better than your lips breathing life back into him. he wonders how mad you’d be if he tried to pull that as an excuse to have another kiss.

he kisses your forehead, your nose, and then tilts your chin up to kiss you properly agai , swallowing the giggle you press against his lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of you now that he’s had a taste.

“is this really okay?” you’re looking up at him with eyes bigger than the moon, glittering just as bright.

“yeah,” he can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “it’s okay.”

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1

@janbannan @snowsilver2000 @mochiii-sama @aureatchi @bakananya

@warcelia

♤ Touch me like I'm yours, baby. ♤

Tags: Chuuya N. / afab! Reader, passionate sex, pet names (sweetheart, doll, baby, "baby" for Chuuya), praising, fingering, slight teasing, overstimulation?, slight degrading (being called "slutty/slut"), ooc! Chuuya?, handsy! Chuuya?, smudged makeup, car sex, pw/op, might contain grammar errors, rushed?, etc.

Notes: I RECENTLY STARTED JJK !! (currently on s1 ep2 ) ^_^

You got all pretty for him, just putting on some lipstick to seem cuter. Why? Because you both went out that night, just the both of you, driving around during night. All plans made by Chuuya, what really wasn't planed was you on his lap smudging some of your lipstick and staining his lips slightly. So yes, the both of you were making out in his car, which the neither of you complained about actually.

With your eyes closed, you felt his hands roaming around your waist, kinda pulling you closer. Your back slightly arched, just a little, you opened your eyes to see that Chuuya's lips now had a slight red tint now. The sight made you giggle to yourself quietly as you lowered your kisses down to his neck. "What's so funny, baby?", Chuuya asked pointing out your slient giggles. "Nothing, but red lipstick would suit you.", he just exposed his neck slightly further for better access while scoffing to himself. "Thanks, I guess,", he said before his breathing slowly got heavier, mainly because he was quite sensitive on some parts of his neck.

Now that his neck was covered in faint lipstick you lifted your head again. "What now?", you asked curiously, Chuuya let his hand wander to your thigh. His other free hand made it's way to the car's radio to let music play, which was connected to his playlist. Music started to play, Streets by Doja Cat to be exact, his fingers sneaked themselves to your inner thighs. He smirked at you, Chuuya's smirk and fingers got you feeling something only he could make you feel. "How about I make you feel good, doll?", without giving you time to answer, his fingers were suddenly resting on your lips, you knew what he wanted you to do.

Your lips parted a little, he shoved his finger in a little, until your teeth bit down gentle but firm enough for him to pull his glove off. "Good girl.", Chuuya's ungloved hand made it's way back down to your inner thighs, now his fingers pushed your panties to the side and entered your cunt. You whimpered quietly to yourself, his fingers never disappointed you. Since there was music playing in the background, he just made use of that by hitting your best spots by each beat. Oh God, this was the most dangerous combo known to mankind, two minutes into the song and he already had you see stars. By this time your chest was against his while Chuuya took his time making you feel good. "Ngh— Chuuya. .", he looked you into your eyes. "Feels good, sweetheart?", you nodded, your cheeks flushed.

Another five minutes after a different song started playing, you came around his fingers. Chuuya pulled them out and licked them clean, making you wet again. "I. . I want more, baby, p–please.", you asked rather pathetically, but you're his princess, why should he deny you? "More? Does my slutty little girl want more?", he teasingly asked. "You want me to fuck you, doll?", he repeatedly asked while unbuckling his belt, looking you in the eye while doing so. "Why don't you fuck yourself on it, hm? Make us both feel good, just like the good girl you are,", Chuuya held his dick in his hand, while he made you his suggestion he was obviously rubbing himself. ". . F–fine.", you agreed, as if you didn't do this multiple times before!

You gently grabbed his dick, Chuuya pushed your panties to the side again to make it easier for you. When you slowly sunk down on him, it took a lot of self-restraint to not moan out loud. He waited for you to adjust, that's when Chuuya noticed the song currently playing, Naughty Girl by Beyoncé. Without really noticing, he felt you moving, finally. Yes, he did let a surprise moan slip but that was it! You didn't pay attention to it anyway, all what mattered to you was to make you both feel good. Moans and whimpers left your mouth, skin clapping filling the car and the windows now slowly starting to fog up. Could it not get any better? "Keep being such a good slut for me, baby, fuck. .", Chuuya cursed to himself, his head now thrown back. "S–sensitive. . ah!", you moaned, of course you were, with the way he handled you earlier?! But anyway, to at least be a little helpful, Chuuya grabbed your hips to guide you riding.

It was getting close, both of your orgasms now nearing. "So pretty,", Chuuya said, another song which was playing in the background was recognized by him again, Do I wanna know? by Artic Monkeys, making everything better. God, he really should let music play more often. "You sound even better than the song, sweetheart. Keep making this noise for me,", the pleasure got more intense by each bounce, the sweet release not far away. Chuuya let one low grunt out, he was twitching lightly inside you which made you feel even better. Then there it was, before you knew it, your back arched and you gushed around him meanwhile he busted his load inside you.

"Oh shit, let's hope the seats don't get stained. ."

Yeah I finished this at 1am bro..

@heluvaku (don't mind this I js wanted to get a second opinion lol)

imagine long-term bf katsuki being hung up on what engagement ring to buy you. he’s gnawing at his cheeks, constantly sighing and running his fingers through his hair for a couple of months, trying to find a ring that’s good enough for you.

after patrol, he browses every reputable jewellery store in tokyo, searching for your engagement ring. he takes pictures of every one he thinks might suit you and sends them to eijiro.

shitty hair: idk about this one man. diamonds are nice but y/n gives more garnet or ruby vibes

explosive: the fuck you mean? i have to get her diamonds

shitty hair: nah bro, you should get something that suits her. not every girl wants diamonds.

explosive: stfu i know what she wants better than you do

shitty hair: 🤷‍♂️ just my opinion man

you noticed immediately that katsuki was coming home later than he usually does. you didn’t say anything at first because maybe something came up, and he did seem really exhausted.

but as weeks turn into months, you become suspicious. what is it that your boyfriend's doing after work that you can’t know about. he hasn’t changed how he treats you. if anything, he’s been even softer and sweeter with you lately.

you decide to confront him about it.

you sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. as 8pm fades into 10pm and drips into 12am, your anxiety ramps up. your palms are all sweaty and your heart beats erratically in your chest.

you’re on your feet as soon as the lock eventually clicks and the front door is forced open. you stalk up to a sleepy katsuki, who flings his duffel bag on the floor with a sigh.

when he turns around, you’re looking at him angrier than ever. there’s fire in your eyes as you stare up at him, your brows knitted together and jaw tight.

you spit out, “where have you been?” katsuki blinks slowly, too tired to register your words and respond. he moves to throw his arms around you, but you step back, dodging his embrace.

this time, you repeat yourself with more venom, “where have you been?” you sigh, “i’ve been waiting for you since eight.”

he grunts thickly, “why’d you stay up, babe?” you roll your eyes and slightly suck in your cheeks.

you say exasperatedly, “because i was worried about you. you’ve been coming home late from work for the last two months now.” you fold your arms beneath your chest as you scold him, “so where have you been?! seriously, like, where the fuck have you been wandering off to while i make you dinner and do your laundry?”

katsuki shakes his head, whispering, “baby, s’not like that.”

you catch his words and scoff, “so then, what is it like? i clearly don’t know so why don’t you tell me?”

his full lips draw into a hard line as he huffs, contemplating whether to tell you he’s been hunting for the perfect engagement ring for his perfect girl… and that he’s finally found one. it wasn’t easy, especially since he has just put up with yappertron 3000 chargebolt, skateboard freak elbows, and shitty hair for the past three hours while acquiring this ring.

he bites his tongue, mumbling, “look, i’ve just been busy, yea?”

you chuckle derisively, “you’ve been busy? right, okay.” you turn around and begin walking away from him when he catches your elbow. his grip is firm but considerate.

he tugs you back, making you stumble into his chest. you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t even budge as he draws you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly.

you shout, “just fuck off, katsuki!”

wincing, he rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs, “no more late nights, baby, i promise. at least not for a while.” his body is so warm against yours, and his musk is so strong. you give up your assault on his concealed but delicious muscles and still in his grasp.

you grumble, “it’s not about the late nights, katsuki. it’s about you keeping things from me.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs circles on your back with his calloused palms.

he mutters into your hair, “i’ll tell you soon, okay?” you shake your head before tilting it back, returning his soft gaze with your harsher one.

you murmur, “so you’re not cheating on me? or are you cheating on me but intend to come clean?” your boyfriend’s mouth falls open as he stares at you, his blond brows raised slightly. regaining his composure, his usual scowl is back on his face.

he grumbles, “cheating? why the fuck would i be cheating on you?!” he licks his lips and gazes past you for a moment, sighing, “for fuck’s sake, babe. god, why the fuck would i be cheating on you? d’you really think i’m a cheater?!” you shake your head, taken aback by his sudden frustration.

he shouts, “I’VE NEVER CHEATED! NEVER! NOT LIKE FUCK-ASS DEKU WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK AND THEN—”

you gently pat his chest as you try to soothe him, “okay, okay, honey, it’s okay. i know you’re not a cheater.” after a few minutes, he calms down (for the most part).

he grunts, “d’you really think i’d do that?” a droplet of his spit hits your eyebrow. you go to wipe it away but he beats you to it, apologising all the while. you reassure him it's okay as you stroke his well-defined back up and down.

you say softly, “of course not. but if you’re not cheating on me, then what else are you doing? i just don’t understand, suki.” he shakes his head before settling back into the crook of your neck; his resting place.

he murmurs into your hot flesh, “just give me a few days n’ i’ll tell you, alright?” you pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands while his fingers clench the back of your shirt.

you shake your head, saying, “you can tell me now.”

he huffs, “babe—”

“no,” you cut him off. “tell me now. i deserve to know why you’ve been coming home so late.” he gazes down momentarily as his fingers curl into your shirt even more, close to tearing the fabric with how tight his grip is.

he mumbles, “stubborn brat.”

it’s like something snaps. he releases your shirt from his killer grasp and smirks. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvety red, ring box.

he grabs your wrist and places it in your palm, saying, “that’s the reason.” he gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to open the box. but you’re in shock.

your wide eyes bore into his narrow ones as you blink dumbly. your lips are slightly parted, open enough for the flies to make a home in your mouth. and they could with how little you’re registering right now. you can’t think or speak or move. all you know is that your long-term partner just placed a ring box in your hand.

katsuki rolls his eyes, attempting to hide the pain in his expression as you continue staring at him. he huffs, “well, are you gonna open it or not?”

you nod, your mouth awfully dry. you seal your lips as you shakily open the box. inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. leaves protrude from the band and petals encircle a bright ruby glistening in the golden living room light; a rose. your gaze flickers up to him before switching back to the ring, and then back up to him.

you stutter, “a-are y-you, u-um, a-ask-asking m-me t-too—”

“yes,” he says solemnly. “you’re everything to me, baby. s-so, yea, will you be my wife?” you nod furiously. smirking, he takes the little box from your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. all the tension pent up in his body dissipates as he embraces you once more.

you squeeze his slutty waist tight as you begin tearing up, trying to process that your boyfriend just became your fiancé. katsuki sweetly kisses your forehead before resting his against yours.

he mutters, “i don’t tell you how much i love you enough. clearly like fuck. i fuckin’ love you, baby girl. more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: link to the engagement ring design here (please lmk if it doesn't work); just imagine that it's a ruby and not a diamond.

☰ ❝HEART BEAT❞

— contents: sleepy katsuki. denki and kirishima are menaces. established relationship. short. — word count ﹕ 556 — a/n: request found here.

“what is happening right now?”

”dude . . . he’s, like, asleep. in public.”

you don’t have to open your eyes to know it’s kirishima and denki standing in front of the couch, peering down at you and katsuki. you’d warned the blonde that falling asleep in the common room went against everything he stood for, and increased the risk of people finding out you were together, but he’d shrugged and said he didn't give a damn.

your eyes open just the slightest bit and kirishima flinches, taking a step back. “jesus, y/n!” he exclaims, clutching his chest dramatically. “you can’t scare a guy like that . . .”

”you guys better shut the hell up,” you whisper harshly, narrowing your eyes. you make sure not to move—not to shift too much and wake up your sleeping boyfriend. “if he wakes up and sees you two idiots staring at him, he’ll never take a nap again.”

simultaneously, they raise their hands in defense. 

“sorry, y/n,” denki says. “please, carry on with your . . . nap.”

the two of them share a glance, then snicker, then make their way out of the room. you let your head fall back into place, tucked into the crook of katsuki’s neck, and close your eyes with a sigh.

there’s maybe a minute and a half of silence before you hear giggles in the distance, accompanied by the sound of a camera going off. your eyes shoot open, immediately darting to the stairs, where kirishima, denki, mina, sero, and jiro are crouched down, phones pointed at the couch.

you narrow your eyes once again and furrow your brows. “what are you doing?” you mouth to them, lifting your head to look at them properly.

mina shrugs, a wide grin on her face. “when is the next time we’ll actually catch him lacking, huh?” she raises her brows and nods. “we have to take this loss and use it for our blackmail folder.”

”blackma—“ you start to repeat what she said, but katsuki shifts beside you and everyone freezes. nobody moves, nobody breathes.

katsuki isn’t a scary guy. no matter how the public paints him, no matter how many times he threatens to kill people, no matter how many times he’s accidentally made children cry—he’s not scary. 

however.

he does, in fact, hold a grudge. you ate his leftovers in first year once, and he didn’t talk to you for three months— even when you were his assigned training partner! denki made fun of his “bedtime” once, and the next day, denki had lime green hair.

you lay your head back down, keeping your eyes trained on the band of miscreants sitting on the stairs, and begin softly trailing your fingers across katsuki’s arm. you’re pretty sure you’ve pavlov trained him into falling asleep whenever you tickle his arm.

his breathing evens out again, chest heaving with a big breath, and then he’s fast asleep again. it almost brings a frown to your face because that’s just how tired he is. he’s been working so hard lately—he always had, but third year has been kicking his ass.

”go away,” you whisper to your friends.

surprisingly, they listen. they trail back up the stairs, mumbling to each other about something you can’t hear. you don’t really care though, because your occupied with your boyfriend's heart beating in your ear.

(*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ) Minors DNI (*꒦ິ꒳꒦ີ)

Absolutely frothing at the mouth thinking of the boyfriends that seem all poised and sweet in public but get really fucking mean in bed.

He'll be so gentle with his mannerisms, only soft touches and feather light kisses. His lips would just brush your skin, warm breath fanning your skin as he sneaks in a kiss on your jaw, or dipping down to bite the fullness of your cheek because you're cute and he can't help it. His fingers would rest idly on your waist grazing the small of your back once in a while. He does it just enough to make you flustered and then laughs at your reaction. It's pure adoration and makes your friends swoon at how lovely he treats you. Kind and gentle like he's touching a doll made of glass.

If its not his small gestures, its his gaze really. It rests in the way he looks at you. Like the world could tip off its axis, but it still wouldn't waver his devotion. But it's only you, who can feel the blight of the fire under all the reverence. It burns white hot and consumes you entirely, making you take in a laboured breath in thoughts of what was to come later.

Because you also know the other side, when the devotion spills over.

Just the way he talks dirty makes you curl your toes. He says filthy, degrading things with that same lovesick tone while calling you pretty names.

"I'm not letting you go until I'm done breeding this tight cunt, princess."

And like a starved man, he will also be fisting your hair pushing you down, forcing you to arch your back as he pounds his entire length into you. You can feel the way he wants you, the cautious flirty touch turning into something so insatiable that he can't stop until you're a drooling, sloppy mess on his cock. You know he likes to get rough, to smack the curve of your ass and bite down on your breasts, fucking you in front of a mirror so you could watch yourself get pounded. Treating you like his cock sleeve like he wants to brand his love on your body.

I mean how could he not? He just loves you too much not to show it.

GETO, CHILDE, Zhongli, Sanji, JingYuan, Dazai,

thinking....about bsd men with a gf who's just...smaller than them...(I'm literally 5'1)

small enough that their cock doesn't even fit all the way, pushing up against her cervix and there's still like 1-2 inches that just do not fit

im so insane for this it's making me scream

especially Dazai and Fyodor???? Ngh

.ೃ࿐ BSD MEN WITH A SIZE KINK

contents: dazai + fyodor. fem!reader. they are not gentle! sorta dubcon, degradation/teasing, size kink (duh), pain kink ig, subtle dacryphilia. kinda turned into a "make it fit" drabble so uh oops. my bad. anyways. got self-indulgent while i was writing this so ima post and run away..

★ ━ OSAMU DAZAI

if you physically can't take all of him, dazai would burst into laughter.

he thinks it's just so funny that you, for all your talk, can't even fit all of him inside your pretty little cunt.

and he'd be so condescending about it too—dazai'd be like "aw, darlin', can't take it all? poor baby, c'mon, let's make it fit"

anyways he just spreads your legs even wider and talks you through it, ignoring your whimpers and protests that you just can't take him all.

"i c-can't—"

"yes you can. just breathe for me, 'kay?"

yeah, it hurts.

but eventually, dazai's right—after a couple minutes of you whining and begging him to slow down, he somehow manages to make it fit!

does it hurt like hell? yes. but does it start to feel good after a while? also yes.

★ ━ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

he's mean about it.

not in a teasing way, like dazai, but in a way that's just so degrading that it makes you cry.

"tch, is that all?" fyodor jeers, snickering at the way your cheeks are wet with freshly-shed tears.

just like dazai, fyodor would make it fit, but don't expect him to be gentle or talk you through it.

he'd push your thighs apart impossibly farther, ignoring the pained whine that slips out of your lips.

"shh, don't cry," he murmurs, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours for a short moment. fyodor grins when you sniffle, trembling around his aching dick.

fyodor basically forces it in—and it hurts, duh.

but just like dazai, after he gets his dick all the way in, he's a lot more gentle and helps you get used to it. he wouldn't wanna hurt you too much to the point where he scares you away—not that you could escape anyways.

"did so good for me, pretty," fyodor says approvingly, eying you fondly.

well, at least he promises to be gentle for the rest of the night!

you don’t even get a chance to put your bag down before bakugo is yanking you into his arms, grumbling something about how damn long you kept him waiting.

“katsuki—”

“shut up,” he mumbles, already burying his face into your shoulder. “just lemme have this.”

you sigh, but it’s hard to be exasperated when he’s clinging to you like this—arms tight around your waist, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.

“you’re so needy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

he grunts. “so what?”

you laugh softly. “so nothing. it’s cute.”

his grip tightens. “ain’t cute.”

you can feel how warm his face gets, even if he’s trying to hide it against your neck. his breath is warm, sending a little shiver down your spine when he mutters, “kiss me.”

you smile, pressing a kiss to his temple.

he tenses. then pulls back just enough to glare at you. “babe. a real one.”

before you can even think about teasing him again, he’s already moving—cupping your face, leaning in, kissing you slow and deep like he’s making up for lost time.

when he finally pulls away, he stays close, forehead resting against yours. “missed you,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper.

your heart melts. “i was only gone for a few hours.”

“too long.” he huffs, dragging you toward the couch. “now shut up and cuddle me.”

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — currently at 21k words

PART III ♰ MASTERLIST

Night after night, you returned to the bar to indulge in the taste of Dazai, the single ambrosia from Heaven that your ill-forgotten God had bestowed upon the earth. How lucky you were, you believed, to be the sole being that he would share himself with completely; no one else would know such bliss.

The conversation started out as little, but as the days and nights continued, you found yourself seeping into his presence, remembering just how easy it was and would always be. Osamu was your sole addiction, and like any weak person would, you continued to return to your vice.

Each moment you spent with him was like a beginning and end. A longing for a time that you could never return to and a fresh start all at once. Unlike the man from your old memories, he never turned to smirk at the women that were leering at him, brown irises focused only on the small quip of your lips as he drew an exhale of a laugh from you.

His humor was dry, and Dazai teased you often, but he wasn’t unkind—he wasn’t the evil monster that you remembered him being, even in the moments that you loved him with every ounce of your body and soul.

For the first time in his life, he opened up to you, told you things that he had never told anyone before. His life had been a mystery to you for decades; he’d kept it sheltered inside of him, a vulnerability that he would never let any enemy capitalize on. Now, though, he trusted you, perhaps in a way that he didn’t think he could until you’d spent time apart.

If you hadn’t turned on him in his darkest moments, sought to end him in a way that he’d always claimed to want, then certainly, at least a fraction of your love was true.

Despite all of that, though, you kept everything about your relationship transactional. You met up with him, gave him an ear and shared some of your own trials from the times you were apart. At the end of it all, you considered him nothing more than the man you once loved, the one that had turned you when you’d been at the lowest point of your life.

The relationship you shared could never be explained by a singular word. It was years of tragedy and misery and a love so deep that it consumed you from the inside out until it destroyed you.

That love would always be there. You’d always love him, but you were resolved to letting him go. This time, you could close this chapter of your life, could end things with Dazai on a note that didn’t leave a bitter taste in your mouth. You could become a person outside of him, could love Atsushi and learn what your new immortal life would be like with a man that had a silver heart, instead of one encased in iron.

Every night, when you left the bar and crawled back into bed with Atsushi, that’s what you reminded yourself of. If he ever grew suspicious of your activity, he never made note of it, and he stopped mentioning the deaths that had increased tenfold, the ones that were bleeding him dry and exhausting him to the point of collapse.

When three weeks had passed, and things had continued in the same vein, Atsushi reached his breaking point. His eyes were red, dark circles around them, his cheeks hollow. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed how much weight he’d lost until then, how pale his skin had become.

Atsushi had waited up for you, his knees curled up in his chest as he sat against the headboard. There was something vacant about his eyes, the life that lingered there had nearly disappeared.

Guilt clawed its way up your body until it tasted like nausea, and you wanted to vomit from the horrid emotion that took control. In every possible way, you’d neglected the man that was supposed to be the love of your life, turned a blind eye to spend time with the vampire that had once broken you so completely. It was a sickening twist of fate, and you had no idea how to even begin apologizing.

“Atsushi,” you said, the syllables tumbling out of your dry lips.

Though, you didn’t get far with whatever miserable statement you were attempting to make. Atsushi sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, tipping his head back as he rang his fingers together. “They’re sending me away for a week. Starting tomorrow.”

It took you a moment to process his words. You stared back at him, before rushing towards the bed, not bothering to kick off your shoes. “What?” you asked, aghast. “For more work? Atsushi, look at you. Some days, you can hardly stand.”

He shook his head, smiling softly as you came into his orbit. Atsushi’s hands were soft on your thigh, even though you couldn’t feel a thing under the thick layers of your dress. His purple eyes were full of an intense love, but so different than the predatory, desperate affection that Dazai had always shared.

You stiffened under his palm, hating that Dazai even crossed your mind. Atsushi retracted his hand, eyebrows narrowing together.

“It’s not for more work,” he said, yawning, despite himself. “They want me to take a break. Get out of the city and away from the murders for a while.” Atsushi laughed, though it was bitter and self-deprecating. “I don’t blame them. I’m a detective, and I can’t handle—”

“Atsushi, they’re gruesome. They’re vile. That doesn’t make you weak, that means you’re caring.” You deflated, crawling over to him to hold his cheek gently. “Any normal person would vomit at the sight of that. You shouldn’t be criticizing yourself for something like that.”

His frown deepened, but he said nothing.

“Can I come too?” you asked, even though you knew it would be difficult. There wasn’t enough time to plan, enough time to figure out an alternative to Dazai’s blood while you were in proximity to Atsushi.

Something that, you began to realize, would quickly become an issue. As long as Atsushi was human, you would always run the risk of hurting him.

Atsushi shook his head, finally, lacing his fingers in with yours against his cheek. “I think it’s best if I go alone. I need some time to process everything, and I think I’ll rest more this way.”

“But I don’t want you to be alone with all those horrible thoughts,” you frowned. “You’ll ruminate on them, and I don’t want you to come back feeling even worse than before.”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. “I love you, but I want to worry about this on my own. Can you understand that?”

You were silent, a part of you secretly relieved, but evenly concerned. It seemed like the first step Atsushi might take in pushing you away, even if you had been the one to topple the first domino.

“Alright,” you finally said, standing once again to change into your night clothes. “Come back immediately if you don’t think you’re okay. Can you promise me that, at least?”

Atsushi nodded.

He left the next day.

You arrived at the bar earlier than Dazai, this time, your usual barstools occupied by two old men smoking new cigars. Instead, you sat at the table by the piano, with the woman that had long since learned Dazai wasn’t interested.

The bartender made you a drink you hadn’t asked for, finally taking his shot in the dark now that Dazai wasn’t around. Although you took it, you politely refused conversation, staring ahead at the wall instead, in the hopes that your once lifelong companion would hurry.

It had been two days since Atsushi had gone away, and you’d avoided Dazai in the meantime. An unwise decision, considering that your hunger had only increased tenfold in the hours that you were holed up in your apartment. There was nothing to occupy you there but a collection of books you’d already read and a piano that Atsushi hadn’t tuned in ages.

You tapped your fingers against the table impatiently. The door chimed again. This time, when you looked up, a pair of dark eyes were staring back, feet already dragging him across the room to greet you.

Dazai pulled out the chair, raising his eyebrows at your sour expression. “I take it something’s wrong?”

“Atsushi left,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned back in the chair. “He’s been overworking himself, trying to figure out who this mass murderer is that’s roaming the streets. I have to sit there with a pretty smile and pretend I have no idea what’s happening at all.”

“You don’t have to. You could tell him everything, turn me over to him and spill every secret I’ve ever told you to the vampire hunters that will certainly come after me.” Dazai smiled lazily, leaning over the table. “You could do that. Why don’t you?”

You made a face at him. As if it wasn’t obvious that if you hadn’t turned him over already, then you wouldn’t do it now. Perhaps it was for the sake of all the good memories that you’d shared over the century. Perhaps it was only the fact that his blood had turned you into something immortal, and that part of your soul would never let you turn him over.

It didn’t really matter. That just wasn’t an option.

“You promised you’d cover your tracks better,” you said, ignoring his previous question to lean further over the table. “You’ve killed more people than live in my neighborhood, all in the span of a month. How can you sit there and pretend like—” you stopped, hushing as someone from two tables over began to listen in. “Osamu…”

“I’ve hidden my tracks better than you realize. I have centuries of experience, and I don’t need you to worry about that.” He shook his head, reaching for you across the table.

For once, you let him. Dazai gave a small smile as he took your hand, caressing the crease between your thumb and index finger.

“I can’t keep up with your increasing appetite on my usual diet,” he said, squeezing your palm once more before releasing it. “You cannot continue living with this human on a diet of animal blood, and I cannot continue feeding you without feeding off twice as many people.” He pinned you with his steely gaze, and, against every rational part of your being, you pressed your thighs together, shifting uncomfortably.

“You don’t have to drain them, Osamu. Let them live.”

He laughed, leaning away from you. “Well, I certainly haven’t been killing everyone, sweetheart. Just enough to keep your precious little pet busy. That way, he’ll never notice that his lovely fiancé is sneaking off to see her much more charming lover.”

You clenched your jaw, digging your nails so sharply into your thighs that blood dribbled down your legs. None of that should’ve come as a shock to you. That Dazai would plan something so elaborate, that he would lure you away from Atsushi; it was exactly the kind of plot that he would weave.

“You’re such a fool,” you spat, shaking your head as you turned away to face the door once more. It chimed as people came in and out, leaving the bar only by stumbling over their feet. It was too early; much too early for anyone to be such a mess. “I’m never going to love you again, Osamu. You lie, and you lie, and you lie.”

Dazai’s eyes flashed. “Is that the case?” He peered into every crevice of your face, into your soul, into the truths of your heart that were stripped bare by understanding. “From where I’m sitting, you’re the liar. You don’t tell the human where you’re going, and you pretend that you don’t have to tear yourself away from me every time you have a taste of my blood.”

He seemed far too proud of himself for you to be anything but irritated.

“We aren’t friends, Osamu. This is nothing more than a way for me to survive. Don’t pretend to know otherwise.”

“No, we never really have been friends, have we?” he laughed. “Yet, I never ran out of reasons to love you. Even more, I find something about you that I adore, something that I didn’t already know.”

You set your jaw, finally turning back to him. There was an openness to his features, a small smile that sent you whirling.

Every time he reminded you of his pure adoration, you tripped back over yourself, stumbling into a person that you haven’t been in half a century, one that lost all her senses when it came to an ancient vampire with those burning eyes.

“You don’t mean anything to me,” you said, and though Dazai was grinning at you, knowing too well that you were lying, you kept your voice steady. “We’ve both agreed to keep this relationship as it is, so don’t push your luck.”

“If that’s the case, then come back to my hotel with me,” he whispered, almost like a command, like he could twist your mind the same way that he could a human’s. “You can have as much as you want without worrying that someone will walk around the corner.”

“No,” you shook your head fiercely, not allowing your mind to wander into that territory. You thought of all the times you’d had Dazai laid out on your bed, ripping into his throat as he came inside of you. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you dug your fingers harder into your thigh. “It doesn’t matter if anyone sees, you and I both know that you can just erase their memories.”

He huffed. “But it’s so much more enjoyable in private, isn’t it?”

“No.”

He drew your name out on his lips, teasing and lighthearted. You denied one more time, clenching your jaw.

Dazai was silent. You’d thought that you’d won, that you could get your way with him once and for all. You made your way to your feet, ready to walk out in the alley and launch yourself at him. Perhaps this time, you would finally bleed him dry. Then, he’d be weak enough for you to kill, and you’d never have to put up with him again.

Though, none of that happened. Dazai’s expression shifted at the drop of a pin, turning into one of flat stoicism. His tone was no longer playful, and it instead became deep and serious, one that he saved for so few occasions because he knew what it did to you.

“Sit back down.”

You glared, feeling the annoyance twist into something different. “And if I don’t?”

“You’ll do what I say, or you won’t get any of my blood, sweetheart.” Though you nearly snapped the chair at the sound of his deepened voice, you followed his directions. Something had been set aflame deep within you, and he was a cheating bastard, cruel and conniving and everything that you’d once held dear. “Good girl,” he said in a whisper that only your vampiric hearing could translate.

You stared at him, too afraid that if you moved a muscle, you would lose every ounce of your composure.

His eyes raked over you, eyelashes fluttering over his cheekbones before settling on your flushed cheeks, the way you shifted uncomfortably, repeating Atsushi’s name over in your head, even though it started to sound suspiciously like Osamu.

“You’ll come back with me now, won’t you?”

Dazai watched for a moment longer as you squirmed under his steely gaze, and then his lips broke into a smile, like he’d just won a game and you were his prize for the taking.

“Nothing more,” you said, your words far too weak and wispy to come from your own throat. “I want your blood and nothing more.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning over the table two get close to your ear. “Don’t lie to me. I can smell how wet you’re getting.”

You flew out of the chair, taking two steps backward before you crashed into the waitress, who dropped the tray of drinks all over the floor, cursing at you as the glasses shattered.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, flustered as you remembered the last time something like that had happened, and it all seemed too familiar that you wondered if you had already died and this was your own brand of personal hell.

Resisting Dazai seemed more of a feat than braving the seven circles.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, and you backed up once more, crashing into Dazai’s chest, the smell of him all so overwhelming that you were salivating, desperate. He held you tightly to him, snaking a possessive arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry about my darling wife. She’s had a very stressful week.”

Something about that word made you weak in the knees, and you were only held up by Dazai’s strong embrace, forced to let his strength carry you. For decades, you’d lived in marriage, and he’d never referred to you as such. Never had Atsushi muttered the word so lyrically, had never drawn it out on his tongue in a way that made you desperate for him.

It was special when it came from Dazai. You could only melt from it.

The woman said nothing as Dazai dragged you away, forced you to gain control of yourself before you were out of the bar. Just a few steps and you would be outside, free to take what you wanted, the drink of ambrosia just inches from your lips.

“Let me, ‘samu,” you said, your voice small as soon as you reached the cool, evening air. “I’m so hungry.”

Though, he wouldn’t let you indulge, kept your lips from his vein as he smiled, brushing your hair away from your face. “Not yet, sweetheart. Be patient.”

You were buzzing, vibrating under your skin with anticipation, and if it wasn’t for Dazai’s strong grip on your arm, you would’ve lunged after one of the passersby. The scent of him so near to you drove you to the brink of insanity. Yet, he refused to let you so much as kiss his dark vein, keeping you at a distance as he waited for a carriage.

Neither of you spoke until you got to his hotel, one of the finest in the city, paid for by the centuries of wealth he had accumulated.

Dazai greeted those who walked out the door like they were old friends, a sideways smile at the man who stood behind the desk. They let him pass with nothing more than cheerful grins, already adoring the beautiful vampire with the sensual air that never seemed to leave him.

“Almost there, my darling,” he whispered under his breath, hushed and sultry. “Then, I promise you can take as much as you want.”

You ached, clutching onto his arm, your lust, hunger, and undying love all hitting you at once. It was like you were drowning in it, swallowed whole by the man that you wanted so deeply, so passionately. You needed him like a mortal needed air, even if you refused to let yourself accept it. 

Dazai shut the door, locked it. You barely had time to register your surroundings, the finest linens and carpets that were draped across the room.

Instead, all you could stare at were his lips—the perfect shape of them, the perfect curve. How soft they appeared in the dark light of the evening, and how much you wanted to kiss them.

One time.

That would be all. It would be enough to get him out of your system, and then you’d never have to see him again.

With a speed that would have been imperceptible to a human, Dazai was upon you, his hands on your jaw tightly as he backed you into a wall, kissing you with every ounce of passion within him. His nails drew blood from your cheeks, seeping between the cracks in his fingers as you kissed him so hard that his lips bruised.

You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you touched him all over, his jaw, his shoulders, the lean expanse of his chest. He pressed himself closer, and you could feel him straining against his pants, the bulge so prominent that it had only been hidden by his coat before.

“Do you understand what you do to me? How badly I crave you?” He was kissing you over and over, across your jaw, down your neck, licking a long stripe from your ear to your collarbone before nuzzling his nose just below your ear. “Let me,” he said, digging his nails into your hips as he held you against the wall. “Fuck. I need to taste you.”

“No,” you said, but it was weak, and you were slowly falling apart under him. “No, Osamu.”

“I’ve stopped myself so many times.” He pressed open-mouthed kisses against your neck, and you could feel his fangs slip out, so smooth and white. “The blood of a fallen angel, stripped of her grace by the man she loves so dearly. Such a beautiful resolution to this show you’re putting on.”

You were hot from the tips of your toes all the way to your forehead, and though Dazai didn’t bite you, you were too close to giving in, to letting him take from every part of you.

Before he could act on his urges, you gripped his hair, yanked him away from your neck and sank your teeth into his own vein instead.

Dazai let out a moan as his blood flooded into your mouth, his fingers tracing your spine. As you drank, your grip on Dazai slackened, before you were falling, losing yourself in him.

You were so dazed from the blood, you weren’t sure when you moved, when he had gotten you across the room into his lap. He set you on his thigh, his hands guiding your hips along the lean muscles there, dragging your clit along the ridges of his slacks.

“‘samu,” you gasped into his mouth, aching with need and want and everything in between. His pupils had dilated, eyes darkening with mischief as he bumped his leg against you once more, sending a jolt through you that had you tearing at his skin, spilling more blood into your mouth. “I shouldn’t want you.” Your breath caught. “I hate you.”

“I love you.” He said just as quickly, and smiled, petting your hair as you latched onto his vein, guiding your hips so you were riding his thigh. The friction was just enough for you to need more, for your arousal to seep through your panties, the cloth already wet. “Take what you need from me. Everything.”

You tore yourself away from his throat and kissed him, letting him taste his own blood as you pressed one of his hands to your breast.

His eyes flashed, and he cupped the outside of your dress, tearing right down the middle of the garment to expose your chest. Dazai kissed down your clavicle, swirling his tongue around the place where your heart no longer beat, before sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You moaned, throwing your head back while Dazai kissed you, curling his tongue in a practiced manner—he’d always known you from the inside out.

“Such beautiful noises,” he muttered, the words from his lips vibrating against your breast. “It makes me sick to know that another man has heard you like this. That someone can think their devotion to you is even a fraction of everything I’ve ever felt about you.”

Tears sprung to your eyes, bloody and red as Dazai rocked you against his thigh, pressed your aching cunt into his strong muscle. “Your love for me is unhealthy. It’s twisted.”

“I may not love you in the way that you want, but to the very deepest part of your soul, you know that I love you the way you need.” Dazai’s eyes were blown wide with lust, the irises a shade so dark they were nearly black. He looked every bit the true predator that he was, the absolute devil that had been put on this earth to destroy.

You threaded your fingers through his hair as Dazai kissed between your breasts, right below your neck, worshiping every bit of your body. “You tear me to pieces, Osamu.”

“Doesn’t matter. Every last piece of you belongs to me,” he said, bouncing his thigh just enough that you were gasping, tearing his skin as your clit caught on the fabric between you.

You were close, so close to your release, and you’d nearly forgotten how easily Dazai could make a mess of you.

“Your little human pet doesn’t take care of you, does he?” Dazai asked, cupping the soft skin of your breast, squeezing delicately before flicking the nipple with his thumb. “Didn’t even get to put my mouth on that pretty pussy and you’ve already ruined my pants.”

You flushed, hot as you sped the strokes of your hip, your grip so tight that your nails had claimed a home in Dazai’s bicep. The breaths that left your lips were so ragged it was almost shameful, that so little had happened, and you were already his for the taking.

“Osamu,” you said, the word barely a sound at all. “Osamu.”

“I know.” He shifted his head to reveal the bite mark that hadn’t quite healed, the vein that you hadn’t quite finished drinking from. “You need to cum so bad, don’t you, sweetheart? Haven’t been fucked properly since you left me.” Dazai smiled, dropping your head to his neck so you could smell his sweet aroma once more, could indulge in the taste of him. “My beautiful girl sleeps in another man’s bed every night, and he can’t even take care of her.”

You contemplated arguing, telling him that it wasn’t true, that Atsushi had always pleased you, had always made sure that your own pleasure came before his. But it was nothing compared to Dazai, nothing compared to the bright lights that flashed behind your eyes as he touched you, the gates of heaven opening up for two monsters that didn’t deserve something so holy.

“I’m so close,” you said, your teeth just barely breaking his skin. “Please, Osamu.”

“You don’t know how badly I want you right now. How much I missed sinking into you, feeling you so tight around me.” Dazai gripped your own thighs harder, his voice raspy and hoarse. “I promised you I wouldn’t kill him, but, god, I want to.”

You felt the sharp snap of something within you, and you bit down hard on Dazai’s neck, his sweet blood too much when it was mixed with the orgasm that hit you all at once. There was a fog in your mind, nothing there besides his name, his voice, his scent, and you started to wonder why you’d ever wanted anyone but him.

How much you wanted to love him, how badly you craved to indulge in it had, really, never been the question. You’d always been painfully in love with Osamu Dazai, hadn’t you? — and you were certain it had started the moment you met him, decades ago.

Tears fell down your lashes, and Dazai brushed them away, pulled you tight in his arms as you finally unlatch from his skin. All over, you buzzed from the feeling that only his blood could make you feel.

Dazai held you so close, shielding you from something you couldn’t discern, and you felt so lost, so confused, dazed from the man who wasn’t quite yours, but who had never belonged to anyone else.

He kissed your forehead and your cheeks with a gentleness you’d forgotten he was capable of. Without straining a muscle, he carried you across the room, his fingers leaving tiny little marks on your skin. Still, the sadness, the guilt wouldn’t leave you, your eyes burning with perplexity, even through the haze that his blood always induced in you.

“I only have one coffin, my love, and the room isn’t sun-proofed,” Dazai said, leading into the other room to open the coffin he’d made a bed.

“samu, I need to go home.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you yawned, dropping your head on his shoulder. “I can’t stay here with you.”

“There’s no one there.” Dazai’s fingers were gentle as they carded through your hair, scratched at your scalp. “And it’s not safe. The sun is about to rise.”

“I need to leave.”

You drew back to look at his face, surprised by the raw emotion that you saw there. For once, he seemed desperate, wanting to keep you near him, the heart that he held in the palm of his hand, even if you hadn’t realized it until now.

“Please,” he said, stroking your cheek gently. “I want you here.”

The hazy fog still lingered. It was no use trying to rationalize your thoughts. There was no reason to try and wash yourself of your sins, not when you’d already done something that you wouldn’t forgive yourself for after. “This can’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again.”

Dazai climbed into the coffin and held out a hand, glowing in the moonlight, a creature of the night straight from the stories that you’d heard as a child. “We’ll see if that stands true tomorrow.”

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @hauntedsol @hannzai @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @sukiischaotic @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @sookisaurus @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai @mort-froggoo @fyodorisbbg @iluv-ace@kemis-world @pe4rl-diver @lacunaanonymoused @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia

notes: mmmkay so my editing on this is not that great, please let me know if there's any glaring errors HSDHSHDf. there was another scene written, but i felt like this was a better stopping point (and i didn't get the next scene quite finished)

Couple of the Year: In the End, Love Overpowers Fame.

As the years passed, Katsuki's fame grew steadily. His name quickly became known in the charts, and despite not being the number-one Hero, his contributions were never overlooked. You, too, had your share of fame as an ever-rising supermodel. Despite the massive recognition both of you received, your private lives remained untouched.

"DYNAMIGHT!"

"DYNAMIGHT! OVER HERE!"

"ONE QUESTION, DYNAMIGHT! JUST ONE INTERVIEW!"

The Met Gala was always a spectacle, and every year, the crowd of paparazzi seemed to grow larger and more relentless.

"You know, with all your fame, I can't help but wonder when you're finally going to fall and fail."

Katsuki’s posture didn’t change, but his eyes shifted to the source of the voice. His anger flared at the sight of the man standing next to him, grinning smugly at the cameras. Yoshiki Kenai was tall, brunette, with perfect teeth and an annoying level of confidence.

He worked in the same modeling industry as you, and ever since you’d entered the scene, he’d made it his personal mission to flirt with you at every opportunity. Fortunately, this year, his advances were more restrained.

"I question your logic, Bakugou. Should you really be settling down so quickly when your job is so risky? It's a selfish decision, really. Your fame is honestly undeserved, a selfish wannabe hero is all you are." Yoshiki now turned his head toward Katsuki, his smirk widening as he awaited a response.

Katsuki knew his job was dangerous. Every mission carried a risk. But for Yoshiki—of all people—to lecture him? His blood boiled as he fixed the man with a scowl.

"What about you? Do you hear the crowd? You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who’ll never gain recognition unless your in my presence. The people need me. I can't be replaced. You, on the other hand, can be." Katsuki spat his words through gritted teeth, his face twisted with anger. Despite his fury, his posture remained casual, hands tucked into his pants, stance relaxed.

Yoshiki’s smirk faltered, and his face reddened in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Before he could fire back, Katsuki continued, his expression now calmer, though his voice still held a trace of irritation.

"At least you're smart enough to talk to me in front of the cameras. You know damn well that if you said this anywhere else, your ass would already be halfway across the world."

Katsuki turned his gaze back to the paparazzi, scanning the crowd slowly as he continued speaking.

"Smile bright, Kenai. Take advantage of this privilege. Maybe then you'll get some recognition just from being seen with me."

Yoshiki quickly walked off, his forced smile back in place, but his posture was stiff, and his cheeks were still burning with embarrassment.

"That was interesting," Kirishima said, appearing beside Katsuki, his expression a mix of amusement and mild concern. "Wonder how the paparazzi will spin this little interaction."

"Who gives a fuck?" Katsuki muttered, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as his earlier annoyance began to fade. His gaze shifted to you in the distance, gleefully interacting with the crowd. He was only at this event for you, and now, seeing you so happy, he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

"As long as that little fucker knows his place and stays away from me and my wife, the paparazzi can say whatever they want." You glanced over at your husband just as his eyes locked with yours, filled with affection.

You smiled at him, your eyes gleaming. No matter how many fans or events you attended, it was only Katsuki’s gaze that could disarm you so completely. Katsuki, too, realised how easily he folded when you smiled at him. Despite his fears about dangerous missions, it would always quickly disappear the moment his eyes met yours.

The next day, the cover of nearly every magazine and website featured you and Katsuki. You both stood a little apart, with Kirishima standing next to Katsuki. The crowd and flashing lights surrounded all three of you, but no matter the chaos, your eyes always seemed to find each other.

The headline read: Couple of the Year: In the End, Love Overpowers Fame.

Kirishima texted Katsuki in playful annoyance at being portrayed as the third wheel—though, in truth, he was always more than happy to play that role.

he's so pretty<3333

Have u.,,,,have u drawn beast chuya

-k anon

Yeah