omf i have no idea what i am doing

anonymous asked:

Hello there! I would like to ask a scenario for ada dazai who meets the reader and he falls really hard for her but he gets this job to find out who was behind the prime minister's murder ( lmao had to be powerful ) and he discovers it's actually the mafia reader? A fluff ending would be amazing but i just don't see it whatsoever so you do you? Maybe she doesn't want to fight him and they just share a long talk? Okay i am done now i promise

i think i have just the idea i see it so clearly and its too beautiful omf thank you for requesting bby i hope you like this! 

rly tho damn someone should write a movie about this i’d def watch it

also we are gonna assume that he already knew she was in the mafia, he just didn’t know what she was capable of bc lets be honest that man is smarter than that

Dazai was not the type of person to fall in love with someone so easily, so when he finally fell for you, he fell hard.

Loving someone meant trusting them, and trusting them meant not doubting them. Which is what he always have done with you, love you and trust you.

Except right now, all of that is being put to hold. 

Not knowing what to think or feel he just held the piece of paper in his hand, which had your name on it. All he knew at this moment is that the one responsible for killing the prime minister is none other than you.

He stood there for a full 5 minutes just staring at the piece of paper until the first and only thing to cross his mind was that he needed to see you.

It’s been almost 2 weeks since the two of you have actually seen each other, but that wasn’t so odd with the two of you. You both understood that no matter what, you still loved and cared about each other endlessly. You also understood that this was just the nature of your daily jobs.

Sometimes you would go two weeks without even calling each other, but that was still fine. You both knew that time never actually showed how much you truly loved someone or cared about them.

Dazai’s reasons to wanna see you all the time were everything but this. He hurriedly called your phone, but there was no answer. Not wanting to waltz in the Port Mafia unannounced he hoped you were at home.

Shoving the paper into his coat, he quickly started making his way to your apartment. It really did not help that the roads were crowded and the rain did not stop for anyone.

After half an hour of driving between the busy roads and the showers of rain with completely nothing but you on his mind, he was finally at the door of your apartment. 

He knocked on your door five times, no answer. He called your name, and still no answer. 

Were you sleeping? he wondered. 

Still, it’s like 8:30 pm and he never knew you for an early sleeper. Going for his last resort he tried opening your door and to his surprise it was unlocked.

Another thing he knew for sure right now is that he was worried. 

Why’d you keep your door unlocked? Did you flee? Is that what you’ve been doing for the past two weeks? Did your really leave him without even so much as an explanation, is this how much he mattered to you?

He walked in and found the lights off. In fact, all the lights were off. Except he noticed that your jacket was on the couch. If you really had fled, then you would have took all your clothes with you, right?

He walked more to observe what else is different, he walked in the bathroom and found that your toothbrush was still there, all of your things were still there in fact. 

He checked almost everywhere and it seemed like everything was still the same, nothing missing, nothing new. The only place he was yet to check was your bedroom.

He got closer to the door and put his ear to it. He could hear something, but he wasn’t sure what exactly. 

Slowly, he pushed the doorknob and opened it. He finally found you.

Your bedroom was also really dark with no lights turned on, he could barely make out your silhouette. 

You were curled up in bed, facing the wall and quietly crying. You didn’t even seem to notice someone just walked in on you, let alone your apartment door was unlocked.

Forgetting everything he knew right now, he ran by your side and put his hand in your hair, softly playing with it and putting it away from your face. 

“Shhh, I’m here now love, I got you.” he whispered, his hand still playing with your hair.

Your cries only grew stronger after hearing him say that, and your body only curled tighter. You were trembling and not wanting him to see your face, you kept it down. 

I’m sorry.” you mumbled.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

You grabbed his hand that was in your hair, and squeezed it gently before putting it away and sitting up to readjust yourself.

You wiped your tears away and looked him in the eyes. 

“If anyone saw me like this right now, they’d never think I’m capable of taking someone’s life, even though I have.” you chuckled.

You chuckled after saying that but he saw it. He saw it hurt you a lot more to actually say that than make you laugh. 

He didn’t say anything but remained on the floor watching you and waiting to hear you out.

“You know, even with me working in the Port Mafia, this is actually the first time I’ve ever killed someone. I always just hurt people but never actually took their own life.” you spoke with tears still pouring down your face.

You wiped them again and continued. “I’m not trying to justify what I did or say it wasn’t wrong, because it was. Although, even though I know it’s wrong and even though I regret it, I can’t say he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t really the best person.”

“I just wish I wasn’t the one to do it.” you finished.

In fact you’ve spent those two weeks wallowing in regret and self hatred. You haven’t even been to work ever since then. You barely slept, you barely ate, just breathing seemed exhausting.

You hated yourself after doing this.

How can anyone even love me after doing that? you thought. 

You really cherished those times before you did what you did. Those times where you thought you weren’t such a horrible person, those times you could go on with your day without remembering that someone’s blood was on your hands.

Those times where Dazai loved you so much.

How can he love you now? After knowing what you did? You can’t even forgive yourself, how can anyone forgive you?

You’re glad you at least got to have someone love you for once.

You made a mistake, people make mistakes. You did something and you regret it, but you learn from it.” he finally interrupted your thoughts and spoke out loud.

“But I killed a person! I made the selfish decision of deciding wether he gets to live or not.” you cried.

He smiled at you.

Even though Dazai was disappointed, he knew the regret of making huge mistakes. He knew what it felt to do something and feel like utter crap after it. He knew how it really felt to take away someone’s life and regret it.

He knew how you felt, which is why he can empathize and help you get through it. He was the last person to ever have the right to judge you, not when he too had made many mistakes in his life.

He too have done what you did before and even worse. He too have been where you are right now, he too thought he should give up on himself, on everything and think it’s too late to fix anything.

But that was until someone came along and told him to do the right thing. Someone still saw the good in him even when he couldn’t see it himself. Someone taught him that mistakes are made to be learnt from and not took as an example for who you truly are. 

Mistakes never defined a person and no one better than him knew that.

How can he let the person he loved the most go through what he’s gone through without trying to understand? Without trying to help?

He wasn’t ready to give up on you just yet, but he was ready to be your someone.

If someone took the time to actually see the good in him, then he sure as hell can see the good in you. He wasn’t any better than you, and he won’t forgive himself if he let you go this easily.

He stood up and brought his body closer to yours. He held you tight to his chest and let you cry on it. He noticed your body was still trembling from crying so much so he started caressing your back gently.

“I know it’s hard, but I promise, we’ll get through this together.” he whispered closely to your ears and then kissed the top of your head.

He held you in his arms the entire night, his hands roaming in your hair until you finally fell asleep. 

BTS x Tampons
  • Jungkook: Noona~
  • You: Yes Kookie?
  • Jungkook: Do you use tampons??
  • You: *chokes on air* WHY ARe YOU AsKinG mE THat!?
  • Jungkook: I just wanted to know if hyung was the only thing going in there....?
  • Jungkook: hm... You're deflecting the question....
  • You: whu---
  • Jungkook: I bet she names her tampons Baekhyun...
  • You: WHAT?? NOOOOO!!
  • Namjoon: Jin hyung...
  • Jimin: um…
  • You: yes jimin?
  • Jimin: do you have any jimins??
  • You: what.
  • Jimin: are any of your tampons named Jimin :3
  • You: n O
  • Jimin: but—
  • Taehyung: Excuse y’all but I’m ______’s only tampon
  • Jungkook: *turns to admin tokki* jagi, am I your tampon??
  • Admin Tokki: My tampon’s name is Kotex… goodbye Jungkook.
  • Jungkook: WHO THE FUCK IS KOTEX!?!?!
  • You: are you seri—
  • Jungkook: WHERE IS HE!?!?! LEMME AT HIM—
  • You: kotex is a brand jungkook….
  • Jungkook: So he’s rich -.-;;
  • You: …you know what?? sure… he’s very rich Jungkook
  • Jungkook: how do I compete…?? *sulks in corner*
  • Admin tokki: *chucks box of tampons at Jungkook* THIS IS KOTEX YOU IDIOT.
  • Jungkook: @_@ *awkwardly holds box*
  • Admin tokki: yep.
  • Jungkook: so this means….
  • Admin tokki: you were wron—
  • You:
  • Bangtan:
  • Admin Tokki: G O O D B Y E
Muke: To The End

Request: Heyyy can you please write a muke smut where Luke is French and then they have the cheeky bum secks and he justs speaks French while they’re doing the do oMF thanks ily :)


A/N: I take French and I literally have no idea if I used anything correctly, nothing whatsoever, so anyone who speaks French fluently or is from there please don’t take offence. I also have no idea what ‘cheeky bum secks’ is. I am an idiot, soz.



It wasn’t that Michael hated Luke or anything, he just hated the fact that he couldn’t understand half of the shit the boy said.

It was always ‘je’ this or 'vous’ that and Michael was lost; he couldn’t hold a conversation with the French exchange student if his life depended on it and he honestly wanted to scream because he’d taken like six years of the damn language and Luke was really fucking hot, and Michael deserved to be able to communicate the fact that he wanted to fuck the boy into next month. Really, was it that much to ask for? He didn’t think so.

He relied on a translating app for most of the things Luke said; mainly about how warm it was all the time and how quaint Michaels family was (Michael was 99% sure Luke said that in an attempt to kiss ass, he seemed like that type of guy). There were some things that Michael couldn’t understand and when Luke would look at him with an inquisitive expression like 'you’ve got no answer’ Michael would nod and smile because that’s what he saw people do in movies.

Luke was on the couch, playing with the television remote. He kept pressing the buttons, flipping channels, turning the volume up and down, and at one point changing the input to DVD and making the screen go blue.

Michael’d tried to wrestle the remote from the boys grasp. “Luke, chill. I’ll fix it if you give me the remote.”

It sometimes felt like he was dealing with a five year old. Luke got attached fairly quickly to various things, like the socks Michael let him borrow when they got caught in a thunderstorm on the way home from the library, and a teddy bear Michael had thrown in the spare room closet and Luke had found when he was unpacking.

“Non, je l'ai eu il.” Luke held the remote away from Michael, pushing at more buttons until the television turned off. He shot Michael a guilty smile. “Désolé.”

Michael rolled his eyes. It’d been three weeks with the blonde living with his family, and god, Michael had never thanked his parents as much as he did then for not having anymore kids.

“Do you want me to show you how it works? For the fortieth time?” Michael held out his hand and Luke shook his head.

“Non, j'ai bien. Je comprends un peu.”

Michael sighed, pulling out his phone. He typed in the words he kind of understood into the translator and a bunch of nonsense spit itself out. He dropped the device on the seat, watching Luke fumble around with the television remote again.

“Vous êtes si chaud.”

Michael frowned at Luke’s words because what the fuck did he say? Luke had this shit eating grin on his face that made Michaels stomach twist nervously. “What?”

“You are hot.” Luke’s eyebrows creased as he spoke, clearly not sure if that was the English translation. He looked at Michael with these eyes that screamed, did I do it? Am I right?“

Michael snorted, shaking his head. “Thanks, Lukey.” He gently punched the boy in the arm, watching as the boy turned away from him, almost crawling into himself. Michael could see his cheeks were tinged red, he was probably unsure of what had just gone on and if he was even speaking the proper English.

“Vous êtes si méchant.” Luke mumbled ever so quietly, face nearly buried in one of the throw pillows.

Now that Michael knew. He frowned, pulling at the French boys arm. “Luke, why am I mean?”

“Parce que.”

“No, Luke, I want a reason.” Michael shifted himself closer to Luke, pulling his arm in a feeble attempt to turn the blond to look at him. “What did I do?”

Luke sighed, turning to look at Michael. His cheeks were flushed a faint pink that settled nicely on his fair skin. “Vous avez fait pousser des fleurs dans mes poumons et même si elles sont belles, je ne peux pas respirer.”

Michael had absolutely no idea what Luke had just said besides that he couldn’t breath, something was beautiful and flowers. The dour expression on Luke’s face gave him no insight into his words and Michael was almost 100% sure Luke couldn’t translate it into English.

“I like you?” Luke said, the words more of a question than a statement. Nonetheless Michael grinned, silently pleased with the situation taking place.

“Do you?” Michael couldn’t help the teasing tone that inked its way into his voice.

Luke nodded, hesitantly like he wasn’t quite sure if he was answering properly. He was facing Michael fully now, cheeks slowly going back to the creamy white that Michael wanted to see flush pink again.

“Je veux baiser.” Luke’s cheeks heated up quickly, burnishing a dark red that Michael quite enjoyed on him.

He understood this; he’d used these words on plenty of girls before in hopes of getting laid. Of course, almost none of his attempts had worked (give or take a few), but with Luke sitting as close as he was, having just said that he wanted to fuck in French, shit; Michael couldn’t say no.

“D'accord.” The most simplistic word in the French vocabulary -after la bitte, Michaels favourite word when he got angry and didn’t want his parents to know he was screaming dick- had Luke launching himself over the cushions and onto Michaels lap, clumsily of course, and with a near head banging injury.

Luke’s baby blue eyes roamed Michaels face, drinking in his features like he’d never seen the boy before in his life.

Michael couldn’t help but let his gaze fall to Luke’s lips. They were pink and nicely shaped, probably a bit rough too as he was always chewing on them. There was a hole Michael hadn’t noticed before on Luke’s bottom lip, a small puncture a little to the left that could only be from a lip ring. “Uh… vous avez une bouche de perçage?” So maybe his six years of French paid off a little more than he’d expected.

Luke nodded. He leaned in a bit, enough that Michael could smell his shampoo, the very one he smelled every night when he went in to get a shower after Luke finished his. His right leg was pressed against Michaels, warm and hard, probably muscle from playing footy with his friends back in France.

“C'est cool.”

He breathed a sigh of relief when Luke smiled at his words. The blonde boys face was hovering dangerously close to his own, and Michael had to hold himself back from kissing him. If anything, Luke would make the first move, it would make everything much easier.

Evidently Luke realised this too, his lips were soft on Michaels, hinting at a harsh plumpness that Michael realised must’ve been from his excessive nervous chewing. He tasted like chocolate chip pancakes -or crêpés as he called them. Luke was gentle, moving his hands onto Michaels arms and rubbing up and down slowly, soft and caressing. He shifted slowly, deliberately but with enough stealth that Michael barely realised when Luke’s legs swung over his own, leaving the blonde straddling Michaels lap.

Michael debated to grabbing his ass; it was probably the best idea he’d ever had, but he wasn’t sure of Luke’s reactions so he decided against it, instead letting his hands fall to rest on Luke’s narrow hips, bunching up the soft material of his cotton t-shirt.

Luke hummed against Michaels lips, his mouth opening slightly before he pulled back, not allowing Michael in. “S'il vous plaît, me baiser.”

It seemed like out of seven words, Michael understood two -albeit they were the two that could make or break the whole conversation. “Lose the shirt.”

Luke was quick to pull the white cotton over his head, dropping it to the floor and placing his hands on Michaels chest, pushing up the fabric of his shirt. “You too.”

His accent was so thick, Michael couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning up to pull his shirt over his head. Luke’s hands were back on him, running along his torso smoothly, taking in the soft pale skin and dark tattoos scattered about. He drew his fingertip across the inked skin, tracing the permanence.

“Take pants off too?” Luke was staring at Michael intently, hands poised as if waiting for a signal. Michael nodded and Luke’s fingers were popping the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. The tips of his fingers rolled beneath the waistband of his jeans, leaving little promises and testy dips. Luke shifted up, enough so that Michael could lift his hips and slid his jeans down his thighs, leaving his cartoon designed boxers on show.

Luke seemed to be impatient. His hands were back to Michaels chest, splayed across the warm skin. He was fully on Michaels lap, enough so that Michael could feel the curve of his ass riding along his cock.

“Off.” Michaels hands were on Luke’s jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down. He didn’t wait for Luke to lift his hips or give him an angle good enough for him to slide the pants off; he yanked at them and Luke moved with him, scooting around until Michael could drag the denim material from his legs and leave them on the floor, a crumpled blue mess.

Luke moved in, lips attaching to Michaels feverishly, delicately squirming around in his lap like a puppy trying tiger comfortable; Michael knew better, he felt the movements, the sudden acuity of where Michaels cock was and how Luke’s was almost pressed against it perfectly.

“These too.” Michael gestured to Luke’s boxers, eyes glued to the bulge against the black fabric that accented his pale skin wonderfully.

Luke stood up from Michaels lap, hands going to the waistband of his boxers. He hesitated and Michael froze, prepared to tell the boy they didn’t have to do anything else because shit, he had fucking hesitated like he wasn’t sure about anything happening in those moments.

And then the boxers were on the floor around Luke’s ankles, his cock standing proudly against his stomach flushed a pink-red -that totally competed for Michaels favourite colour on the boy- and dribbling precum.

Michaels mouth hung open slightly and drool pooled. He wanted to get his lips around Luke’s cock, god, he’d do anything to be able to taste the blonde boy.

Luke took a few tentative steps towards Michael, much smaller than necessary before straddling his lap again, right hand going to his cock and stroking smoothly. Michael let himself sit there and watch Luke jerk at himself, lower lip pulled into his mouth and cheeks a light pink, barely flushed at all.

“Come here.” Michael tapped his chest, signalling for Luke to lay his head down. The boy did, the scent of his shampoo stronger now. Michael could see the soft curve of his ass swooping down below his back, round and smooth, he wanted to touch it.

He knew it was intimate, everything about their current position was, but he had no qualms wetting two of his fingers and bringing them down to Luke’s puckered muscle, pushing one in slowly before dragging it back out, testing the waters. He ignored the soft gasp Luke gave, mildly pleased at the thought of Luke being so exceptionally tight because he’d never had sex before and the sudden pressure moving into him was so unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He pushed the finger in again, this time continuing, free hand moving to hold Luke’s back down from arching suddenly and blocking his delicious view.

“You look lovely like this.” Michael was almost knuckle deep in the boy when Luke shuddered, breath hot against Michaels chest.

Luke shifted his hips, his cock dragging along Michaels and his hole riding along his finger. “Encore un.”

Michael hummed, pulling out his finger and pressing two in, softly of course, all the while mumbling soft nothing’s in Luke’s ear as the boys breathed became more and more ragged. He debated on a third finger, deciding to wait for Luke to plead for it, hopefully in French -Michael swore Luke’s little pleas in his native language turned him on, just a little more than it should’ve.

“Mon dieu, plus.” There it was, the soft mumbling pleas that Michael just couldn’t say no to. His third finger slid in alongside the other two, opening Luke’s body and leaving the boy gasping. “Mon dieu.”

Michael couldn’t agree more as he opened the boy delicately, allowing Luke to control the speed and deepness of each press.

“Me baiser.” Luke’s words were throaty, hanging heavy with his accent.

Michael nodded, slowly slipping his fingers from the boy. He rolled Luke off of him, watching as the boys chest rolled harshly with every breath and his eyes, as glazed as they were, stayed locked on Michael. He slid his boxers off, allowing them to drop to his feet before he stepped out, kicking them a few feet away where they landed a crumpled mess, much like Luke’s had.

Luke spread his legs, just about holding his feet up in the air as Michael approached him, spitting in his hand and coating his cock, stroking gently up and down his flushed member, eyes focused on Luke’s hungry gaze watching his hand move.

He leaned over Luke’s body, pressing it into the couch. Luke’s legs went to his waist, shy at first before wrapping tightly as Michael glided his cock along Luke’s hole, not quite pushing in.

When he finally entered the blondes body, the room was filled with gasps of surprise and probably pain, it wouldn’t have surprised Michael. He continued to move in, knowing it wouldn’t benefit anyone if he froze and waited, Luke would still be tight and almost unwilling to take him, body clenching.

“Relax.” Michael brushed at Luke’s face, knuckles trailing along the boys cheeks softly. Luke nodded, seeming to understand. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breaths. Michael felt no difference, continuing to push in.

Luke whined out, legs tightening. “Vous êtes queue est si grande.”

Michael smiled, hips stuttering as he bottomed out. Luke’s one arm was thrown around his neck, holding on as his legs wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him close.

“Oui.” Luke was mumbling the word repeatedly, hips jerking up to meet Michaels first testing trust. “Plus difficile, Michael.”

His hips snapped against Luke’s ass, digging in to the soft skin as he allowed himself to fall apart to the point of Luke crying out; and his hand dancing around his flushed cock, hungry to come.

Luke whined loudly. “Tu me fais tellement bon.” He barely finished his sentence when he came, coating his roach in strings of white, his hole clenching like nobodies business around Michaels cock, drinking from him thriftily.

Michael continued to thrust into him, sloppy and uncoordinated. His hips stuttered as he came, filling the blonde with his warm seed and tired promises of continuous sex until he left. He rolled off of the blonde, cock slowly slipping out of him, leaving him a leaking, panting mess.

He decided the pink-red flush of Luke’s cock springing from his boxers was his favourite colour on the boy and made him promise that if he wanted to fuck again, to let Michael know.