Stuff Me Full ! — O. Dazai

in denial of being in love with you, his friend

He isn’t interested in anyone. No, really. He- he doesn’t like you at all. Well- he likes you as a friend ! Yeah ! A friend ! He totally doesn’t notice when your style has changed from before, or when your nails get done. Or uh- how you changed your lipgloss and that you switched your perfume for another one. And he totally, totally doesn’t notice when your hair is at least one inch shorter than yesterday. Yep, he just likes you as a really, really close friend ! He really, honestly doesn’t talk about you for hours, describing how perfect and heaven sent you are. Doesn’t daydream about dating you and proposing and then getting married haha . . . Yeah. 

☆ sunday , aventurine , 18dazai , s1gojo , megumi , chuuya , reo , kaiser , isagi

One day, you finally decide to join Katsuki at the gym. As soon as Bakugou walks through the doors, the place practically pauses. Everyone’s eyes are on him, some with smiles, others with admiring glances.

You grin to yourself, pleased to see it wasn’t just you who noticed the results of your boyfriend’s hard work. While you’re taking in the gym’s vibe, you hear Katsuki calling your name softly from where the barbells are.

“Come help me with my set.” He gestures over to where he’s standing, and you walk over quickly, eager to join him.

Katsuki plops down onto a bench, grabbing two barbells and setting them on the mat. He sits beside them, waiting with his usual impatient-but-soft expression as you walk over and slide your foot under the barbells.

You start a set of sit-ups, but when you feel Katsuki's hand brush against your thigh, you sit up with a sigh, beads of sweat already making their way down your face.

“God, I’m so unfit…”

“You’re fine, babe.” Katsuki leans forward, grabbing a towel and gently dabbing it across your forehead. “Look at you, though… sweating already.” He smirks, then adds, “Wanna help me with my push-ups?”

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “How am I supposed to help you with your push-ups?”

Katsuki grins, stands up, and walks over to return the barbells to their proper place. When he comes back, he lowers himself into a plank position and shoots you a look.

“Sit on my back. Cheer me on.”

You can’t help but laugh, crawling toward him with a shake of your head. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“You sure you want to miss this?” He hums, a playful challenge in his tone.

“Do I have a choice?” you tease, but you can't resist. Carefully, you crawl onto his back, crossing your legs and resting your hands gently on his shoulder blades. “Okay, here goes…” You say with mock hesitation, though your heart is fluttering a little.

“Hold on tight, baby, or you’ll fall,” he grunts, and you feel the slight tension in his body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the floor and pushes back up, without even breaking a sweat.

You sit there, completely entranced, as he picks up his pace effortlessly. The way his muscles flex, the steady rhythm of his push-ups—it’s almost hypnotizing.

“Where’s my encouragement, baby?” he calls out between reps, smirking.

Caught in the moment, you start whispering praises without even realizing it. “You’re incredible. Seriously. Look at you.”

“You better be cheering me on like you mean it,” he teases, not missing a beat.

You chuckle, your heart swelling with admiration, and give him a soft squeeze on his shoulder. “Okay, okay, you’re the strongest guy in here. Happy?”

“Good,” he says with a satisfied grin, pushing himself up again. “Now, don’t go falling off. I might need a spotter.”

God, you love your strong boyfriend—and all his ridiculous, charming ways.

when you don’t say “i love you” back to bakugou.

Bakugou says, “I love you,” every time he’s about to leave the house without you. It’s something that he got from his father, and to put it simply, he got influenced.

He’s about to finish putting on his hero gear. His gauntlets were already in place, his boots laced, and his mask pushing his hair away from his face—kind of like how he wore it during high school whenever it wasn’t necessary to wear it properly.

And there you were, sitting cross-legged on the floor without a care in the world.

Books were scattered around you in piles, organized by some system only you seemed to understand. You were focused as you murmured to yourself quietly, comparing sizes, genres, and authors, completely absorbed in your task of organizing the living room’s bookshelf.

“I’m heading out.”

“Mmhm,” you replied absentmindedly, holding up two books and tilting your head as if the slight angle would help you decide which belonged on the top shelf.

Bakugou frowned, his brow twitching. “Oi, did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, still not looking at him. “Be careful, Katsuki.”

He let out a huff, running a hand through his hair. He was used to you getting lost in your little projects, but this felt different (were you playing a prank on him?). He stepped closer, crouching down beside you to meet your eye level. “Don’t overwork yourself while I’m gone,” he said, softer this time.

“I won’t.”

Still not looking at him. Unbelievable.

To Bakugou, it felt like being thrown through a building and back—and he wasn’t even exaggerating because it actually happened to him once! And he could definitely conclude that the feeling’s similar when you’re ignoring (not paying that much attention to) him.

Bakugou watched you for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing slightly before he sighed. “I love you,” he murmured, his tone quieter.

“Uh-huh. Have a good day at work.”

Just as Bakugou was about to stand back up, he blinked, the words sinking in slowly. His brow furrowed as the realization hit him—he’s so confused.

You didn’t say it back.

“What the hell?” he muttered, more to himself than to you—because you didn’t even hear him.

He huffed, taking the book you were inspecting as he let your hands fall on his arms instead.

“Hey.”

“Hm?” you glanced at him, your expression innocent as if nothing unusual had happened.

“You didn’t say it back,” he said, his tone sharp, though there was a hint of disbelief beneath the irritation.

The audacity you had. After almost always saying “I love you” to him to the point where Bakugou realized he couldn’t go on his day without hearing it, you decide to not say it now?

What’s next? You’re going to tell him you want a divorce? He’s overreacting, he thinks.

“Say what back?”

He clenched his jaw, his cheeks flushing faintly. “I said I love you, dumbass.”

Realization dawned on your face, followed by a sheepish smile. That smile—the one that managed to win him over—it’s so infectious it might as well be a cause of an epidemic.

“Oh! Katsuki, I’m sorry. I was distracted.”

“Tch,” he muttered, looking away from you. “Yeah, I noticed.”

You leaned closer to where he was crouching, squeezing his forearm softly, your touch light and apologetic. “You know I love you too, right?”

He side-eyed you, his scowl deepening, though it was clear his annoyance was fading.

“Doesn’t count if I gotta remind you,” Bakugou grumbled—almost pouting.

Your laughter bubbled out, so familiar that Bakugou was reminded where his home is, as you then held his face gently—then squishing his cheeks so that his lips are puckered. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice warm and teasing. “I’ll make sure to say it next time, promise.”

“Better keep thath promish,” he muffled out.

“I will,” you assured him, loosening your hold as you gave him a soft kiss on the lips. Strawberry-flavored chapstick, one of Bakugou’s favorites whenever you kiss him.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He tried to maintain his frown, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward as you kissed him once more. “You better.”

“Now go save the day, my hero.”

With a sigh, Bakugou leaned away from you, his posture reluctant to even leave you. He made his way to the door, pausing to glance over his shoulder one last time. You were looking at him, blowing him lots of kisses with the emphasized “mwah!”

“Don’t get so caught up in your books that you forget I exist,” he tells you.

You smiled, nodding along. “Never.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too! Text me when you get to your agency; love you lots!” That’s better.

As he closed the door behind him, Bakugou shook his head, muttering to himself, “Ignored for some damn books. Unbelievable.”

Still, despite his grumbling, the faint smile on his face said he wasn’t really mad.

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01. ACROSS THE UNIVERSE . . . while reminiscing, dazai finds you again.

ft. beast!dazai + f!reader, pm boss!dazai, civilian!reader, dazai is a little bit manipulative, spoilers for beast light novel & manga

SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai knows this coffee shop.

it didn’t matter that he’d never set foot inside the building. it was all burned into his mind: the counters lined with expensive equipment and machines, perfectly washed white mugs next to paper ones with lids, the small tulip dining tables peppered around the floor and circled by wooden chairs, the scent of ground beans and homemade dough, freshly baked cookies and croissants enclosed by glass; most importantly, he remembered the ghost of your face, smiling at him from across the table.

he makes a point for his driver to go past it every day, even if it makes the route to headquarters take a few minutes longer, just to catch a glimpse of the white exterior and the fabric awning ruffling in the wind.

he never dared to go inside, until today.

he feels like an imposter as soon as he steps through the door, even more so when he takes his seat at the same table you would sit at together. the smooth bottom of the chair beneath him felt sacred. it’s the one by the window, and he can recall the soft expression on your face as you watched the people walking past in the afternoon, your knowing smile as you teased him about any dogs that trotted by. in the evening, you sought it out after a hard day’s work, tugging him with you so you could admire the way the sun’s dying rays coated his features in dripping gold.

he could see why you found such a place so comforting, the atmosphere nothing but warm and inviting. he didn’t feel like he belonged, destined to dwell in the shadows of the city.

the coffee tastes the same as he remembered, pleasantly fragrant as he brings the mug up to his lips and smooth against his throat as he swallows it down. the pastry he can still recall wiping off your cheek is plated in front of him, barely touched. it isn’t nearly as sweet without you smiling across from him, intertwined ankles swinging beneath the table, the flavor of vanilla glaze on his tongue as he kisses away the crumbs on the corner of your mouth.

he takes another sip, licking the remnants of frothed milk off his lips. his one visible eye glances to the door when he hears the tinny jingle of a bell as it opens. his mug nearly slips from his hand, tiny curved handle squeezed between his fingers desperately when he realizes who’s arrived.

it’s you.

his fantasy of you was nothing compared to how you truly looked. you’re the kind of gorgeous that steals the air from his lungs and makes it impossible not to stare. it’s in the way your hair falls down your back, his nails digging into his palm as he imagines how the strands would feel between his fingers. the smooth curve of your neck, his mouth watering as he imagines the feeling of your fluttering pulse against his lips. the cute puff of your cheeks as you politely smile at the barista welcoming you inside.

he’d only seen you in haunting memories, the lingering image of your face in his mind when he wakes up and feels for a body that isn’t actually there. he spends his time yearning for someone who he’d never had, or even known, yet here you are, within his reach.

this wasn’t manifestation; he knew that you’d be here, that’s why he came inside, after all. seeing you with his own eyes should’ve been enough to satisfy him, as if he didn’t already know everything about you, inside and out.

his gaze follows your figure as you walk to the counter when a dark something catches in the corner of his eye. it feels almost painful to look away from you, but he’s so grateful he does because that’s when he sees it: your wallet, lying pitifully on the tiled floor, right next to him. he thinks this must be some kind of a glitch, an error. 

his eyes flicker back to you. seeing you may have been enough for anyone else, but he’s always been a greedy man.

the trap practically sets itself. he extends his leg, discreetly sliding your wallet over to his side with the sole of his shoe. he bends down and picks it up, safely placing it in his coat pocket, eyes never leaving you.

“oh no,” your lips curl into the prettiest pout, hand deep in your bag as you rustle through it. his legs are already carrying him towards you. “i must’ve left my wallet at home. i swore i had it. i’m so sorry, i’ll just come back later andー”

“excuse me,” when you turn to look at him, it’s like everything has fallen into place. your eyes are even prettier than he remembered, wide and blinking, eyeing his bandages curiously. he smiles, a big, genuine one that curls without his permission. “if it’s alright, i’ll cover it.”

he pulls a sleek, black credit card out, holding it between two fingers as the barista takes it silently. he doesn’t even spare her a glance, completely enamored by the girl in front of him.

it’s like the walls of the cafe are made of paper, crumbling and peeling away, the mindless chatter of the other customers fading into static. it’s just you and him, nothing else exists. how long has he waited for this moment? gathering bits and pieces of your life into a mosaic of knowledge to ensure your safety, all while he spent his days existing within the black void of loneliness that covered him like a sheet he’d pulled over his head, it was all to find his way back to you. it isn’t until the barista clears her throat, holding the card back out for him to take, that he comes back down to earth.

“thank you,” you smile at him, and his heart stalls in his chest. “i don’t know how i would’ve gotten through my day without my coffee.”

he hums. “i feel the same about something a little stronger.”

you giggle, and his face lights up in pride. he steps the slightest bit closer, smiling hopefully.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“it has?” you tilt your head, eyes scanning over his face. “i don’t remember meeting you before. i’m sorry.”

“my mistake, you’re right,” he presses his lips together, smile turning bitter. “of course you’re right. we haven’t met before. my name is dazai.”

he frowns as you’re interrupted by the barista calling your name. he watches the way your fingers curl around your cup delicately, trying not to burn your hand. the realization that your conversation is already about to end makes panic settle in his stomach, unfamiliar and heavy beneath his ribs.

you’re searching around the café aimlessly now; nearly every table is occupied by another patron. he pulls the seat from his own table out, offering you the one across from him, just like he remembered. he looks at you expectantly, tilting his head.

“are you sure?” you run your finger around the rim of your mug, looking down at your drink shyly. “i don’t want to bother you.”

“i insist,” he tries to smile genuinely, but he feels the way his lips quiver at the thought of losing you when you’re so close to him. “i’d love to have the company of a pretty lady.”

he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you sit down. his knuckles brush against your back as he pushes you in until your waist is level with the edge of the table. this close, he can smell the warm undertones of your perfume, and suddenly, he recalls the ghost of your fingers brushing his hair away, kissing his skin. it stirs something in his stomach akin to homesickness.

“that’s my favorite, too,” you nod to the pastry, still abandoned on the table.

“you can have some if you’d like,” he slides the plate towards you. he sits back in his seat, crossing his legs. he’s careful not to bump his knees on the underside of the table.

you take a small bite, out of politeness, he assumes. he regrets that he can’t feed it to you himself.

“do you come here often?” you ask, mug halfway to your lips. he watches as your lip gloss leaves a stain on the edge, and feels envy curl like thorned vines in his stomach.

“no,” he folds his hands together beneath his chin. “this is my first time.”

“it’s my favorite café,” you sigh dreamily, turning your head and looking out the window. “it’s nice, right? i love the view.”

you look ethereal with the morning sun peeking through panes, emitting an angelic glow around your profile. spots of light project onto your skin, and it catches on your eyes, saturating the color of your pupils. “me too.”

it’s quiet, the kind of natural lull in a conversation that would happen between two strangers, and you’re nearly done with your coffee. he reaches into his coat, fingers wrapping around the smooth fabric of your wallet as he extracts it from his pocket. “i have something for you.”

“my wallet!” he waits for you to grow angry, but all you do is smile, eyes glistening with gratitude. “buying my coffee for me and finding this…you must be my guardian angel today.”

he blinks. his mouth goes dry, but he forces his words out anyway. “do i really look like such a nice person?”

“yes,” you answer it like it’s obvious, and for the second time that day, he feels his heart stall in his chest. “i can’t thank you enough. is there anything i can do? without you, i would’ve been miserable all day.”

“that’s…” exactly what he wanted. “not necessary.”

“please?” you pout. “at least let me repay you for the coffee.”

he has the memory of big bouquets, sugarcoated words, and flustered giggles, but looking at you face to face, all of the apparent suaveness he’d once possessed is gone.

“if you insist,” his smile wobbles. “would it be too forward of me to ask such a pretty girl out to dinner?”

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @avocate-assia-dazai @annoyingpainterprincess @kentopedia @walking-simp @anqelically @seimpathyopera @pinky-99 @s1eepybunny @little-miss-chaoss @h4wkz @auraxins @chososbbg @pussydrunkfyodor @getoso @ruanais @osaemu @liliavalentine @cyndaquels @doonifox @its-vante @amnda-ft-fyodor @x-whyareyoureadingthis-x

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.

Bakugou doesn’t beg. It’s not in his blood— the word “please” lays foreign on his tongue, absent from his vocabulary.

He didn’t beg for UA to accept him when he was 15, he hadn’t begged when death came knocking on his doors in the Great War at 17. Because begging feels like a thousand stabbing knives— the walls he built: of pride, of faux confidence, of insecurity, they all shatter and crumble at your feet when the word “please” escapes his pharynx like tumbleweed.

Nitroglycerin reduces the things around him to ruins, explosions casted from the epicentres of his palm with agglomerated sweat that fuels his destruction. He becomes a ground of ruins.

“Please” don’t leave me. “Please” I’m sorry.

Bakugou never had a habit of begging, but when he’s at your doorstep at midnight, shirt crinkling between his fingers, sweat drapes over his entire being.

(He becomes a ground of ruins.)

Please.

how studio bones draws katsuki:

how 𝒽ℴ𝓇𝒾𝓀ℴ𝓈𝒽𝒾 (<3) draws katsuki:

chaos

platonic! jujutsu kaisen x scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader

masterlist | rules

“your daughter is the scarlet witch. a being not born, but forged from chaos.

she’s unique from the rest of her versions. it intrigues me to find out what path she will take in this one. will she ask me to mentor her again? will she create another reality? who knows? it’s exciting and frightening at the same time.”

synopsis:

you were the youngest child of fushiguro, toji. you were also born with exceptional cursed energy, or so they thought. they couldn’t exactly sense that cursed energy from you unless you made it specify known.

before your father took his last breath, he left you in gojo’s care, little did you know that it was going to be one hell of a rollercoaster of chaos and heart attacks for you and your father-figure, gojo satoru.

warning:

major manga/anime spoilers—along with wandavision, wanda maximoff in general; themes of angst, sad, crack and fluff.

this is going to be a crack themed series, consisting of scenarios and headcanons as requested :) do note that the portrayal of the jjk characters might be a lil’ ooc!

there is no accurate timeline or year gaps so please don’t attack me with “why is scarlet bb fushiguro still a baby when gojo got her around the time toji died, and then cue timeskip?” this is a oneshot series and a crossover, meaning that jujutsu kaisen might crossover fandoms like tokyo revengers and bungou stray dog, but all of it will be dependent on the request sent at my inbox / ask-box.

reader is afab unless stated/requested otherwise.

check the links in my pinned post before requesting.

Keep reading

bf!katsuki loves to spoil you rotten.

he’s taking you out to dinner? bam, you find a new dress in your closet.

you two are out shopping and he notices your eyes lingering on a necklace? its yours.

you’re home by yourself and hungry? he’s ordering whatever you want.

you call him complaining about your bad day? theres flowers at your door within the hour.

you and katsuki are hanging out and you begin looking at your hand, noticing how much your nails have grown out since you last got them done.

“what’s up with your hand?” katsuki asks you.

“nothing, just need to get my nails done again soon. its so expensive to go to nail techs though, so i’ve been holding off on it,” you tell him.

“how much is it?” he asks, and you immediately know what he’s hinting at.

“kats, no. ill probably just paint them myself or something”

“hell no. if you want to get them done then ill make sure it happens.”

“are you sure?”

“‘course. you know i’m a man of my word,” he nods, “I take care of whats mine.”

oh and he meant it. sure enough, you booked your appointment and got them done, and paid for them with katsuki’s card.

later that day you stood in front of katsuki, now admiring your new set with that cute design you had been wanting.

“thank you again, kats. you didnt have to pay for them,”

“stop thanking me, baby. you deserve whatever you want.” he hummed as he grabs your hands gently to get a good look at them. “looks fuckin’ beautiful on you.”

you felt a sudden flush on your cheeks as katsuki begins pressing faint kisses to your knuckles, caressing them with his thumbs.

“you spoil me too much kats.”

he pulls you by the waist, pressing you against him. “dont care. always gonna take care of ‘ya.”

. ° .