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#Bsd x you
fyorina · 2 days
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ᡣ𐭩 HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR!
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: you're finally back in yokohama after spending four years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night.
(wordcount: 7.1k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, f!receiving oral, gunplay, knife play (ish), spitting, pussy drunk!dazai (as always), light choking, overstim, office sex, semi-public/public sex, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing!)
AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys. GUYS. i had so much fun writing this, this is finally usurping in paper rings and picture frames as my fav fic that i've written. HAHAHH. i hope you guys like it too!!
You hear the door to your office swing open, and you press your lips together tightly, irritation swimming through your head as your grip tightens on the pen you’re using to fill out your paperwork. It’s already late—you’re tired and your head hurts, but you can’t leave the building until Akutagawa comes to hand you the report for his failed mission so you can pass it up to the boss. And you know that whichever subordinate this is, it’s definitely not Akutagawa because the boy would rather claw his own throat out than walk into your office without knocking. 
Which means it’s some upstart new recruit who has no manners and is likely going to make your night worse. You think being away for so long did some real damage to your reputation—four years ago, the lower ranked mafiosos avoided your floor like the plague, they didn’t barge in like they owned the place, but then again, four years ago, you also had a certain dark-haired executive (ex-executive now, you remind yourself bitterly) lurking around your floor constantly trying to get your attention, and if people weren’t nervous enough about you, they were definitely terrified of him.
“Five seconds to explain why you came into my office without knocking or I’m putting a bullet through your fucking skull,” you say, voice acerbic, not even bothering to look up, the fingers of your free hand closing around the gun you have holstered at your side. 
“There’s a few too many cameras in the hall for my liking to stand out there and wait for you to open the door.”
The fact that he manages to dodge the bullet shot in his direction is testament to his skill, but you’ve known Dazai Osamu long enough to know that when he dodges to the side, nine times out of ten, he dodges left, so you drop your pen as soon as you pull the trigger and swipe the knife laying haphazardly on your desk, launching it in his direction. You watch as his eyes widen just a bit when it impales the wall right next to his ear, just barely nicking his skin—both a warning and a threat.
“My, my, bella, you’ve gotten faster the past few years,” Dazai grins, unperturbed, smile as reckless and lazy as the day he left four years ago as he plucks the knife from the wall. “I’ve missed you too.”
“What the hell are you doing here, Dazai?” you ask, voice cold and sharp as your finger rests against the trigger of your gun. “How did you get up here?”
“Security’s gotten lax since I’ve been gone, I guess,” Dazai shrugs, but his eyes dance with mirth as he makes his way over to your desk. “You should probably do something about that.”
“Dazai,” you say, keeping your voice low and trying to reign in your temper. There are no cameras in your office, but the hall leading here is littered with them, hidden ones that were recently installed that he wouldn’t know about, if any one of them caught his face and it’s reported to Mori… “You think I won’t drag your ass to Mori myself? What the fuck are you doing?”
You’d have to, or it would be your head on the line for betraying the Port Mafia—you know better than anyone the treatment that traitors get, considering you were the one that dealt with them up until you were sent abroad four years ago to handle Mori’s foreign politics. 
“I don’t know, will you?” Dazai counters, head tilted to the side as he takes a seat on top of your desk next to you, a smile on his face that makes you think he knows something that you don’t. It makes you a bit sick to your stomach—you’ve only been back in Yokohama for a few days and you feel as if you have yet to even adjust to Dazai’s defection from the Port Mafia because you were away for so long. Him showing up like this opens up wounds that are too fresh for comfort—it reminds you of the days that feel like yesterday when he would show up at your office to distract you from your work, pouting and throwing himself on your couch when you blow him off to finish up your reports. 
“Maybe,” you answer, finger twitching on the trigger as you keep your gun pointed in his direction. 
Dazai is completely unbothered, leaning down until his nose is nearly brushing yours, lips tugged up in an unbearable smirk. 
“Then do it,” he challenges, and you glare at him, jaw tight and eyes hard. He reaches out, fingertips brushing your skin, and you feel like you’re on fire beneath his touch. You hate that your body still betrays you to him. “Don’t look at me like that, bella. I won’t even resist, I promise, as long as you promise to be the one to put a bullet through my skull, so your face can be the last thing I see. Ah, that would be a lovely death, wouldn’t it?” 
“You’re a fucking freak, Dazai,” you spit out, but make no move to get up or grab your phone. “What is wrong with you?”
Dazai doesn’t respond, only winking at you. Instead, his gaze shifts to the side and his hand drops from your face to his lap again. You hate even more that you miss his touch immediately. 
“You still have my couch,” Dazai notes to himself quietly, an odd tone to his voice as he stares at the dark couch in the far corner of your office, where he’d bundle himself up under blankets to avoid Chuuya, because Chuuya used to avoid your office like the plague when the three of you were younger.
“It’s my couch,” you say tightly, even though you know no one has touched it since Dazai left, and the ugly orange blanket he liked so much is still draped over the back of it, and it probably still smells like him. Your throat feels swollen, and you steel away your emotions and continue with, “I haven’t been back here since you left, anyway. What do you want, Dazai?”
“I heard you were finally back in Yokohama,” he says. “I wanted to see you.”
“Fuck off,” you say roughly. “So you decide to break into the main base of the Port Mafia and come all the way up to my office? You know where my apartment is, you could’ve shown up there. What do you really want?” 
“It’s the truth,” Dazai says easily, and his dark eyes meet yours—both of them, you note, and wonder when he decided to shed the bandages that covered his right eye. “I was at your apartment for a bit, I got impatient and came here instead.”
He’s telling the truth.
Oh, you realize—the clogged feeling in your throat is coming back, you force it away again and lean back in your chair, looking away from him to turn your gaze to the window. It’s well past midnight already, the moon is high in the sky and the stars are glittering above. In the distance, you can see the Ferris wheel of Cosmo World glowing a bright purple color and a string of flashing red and blue lights as the police chase after someone.
“Why?” you ask finally, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over the two of you. 
“I told you,” Dazai says quietly, and your eyes turn back to him. He looks… happier, you can’t help but note. A sick part of you feels jealous—you’re not sure if you’re jealous because he’s free and you’re still stuck in this place, or if you’re jealous because he’s happier and he’s happier in a life without you. You think it might be the latter. “I miss you.”
“Don’t give me bullshit, Dazai,” you snap, still trying to push away all of the feelings you’ve repressed for so long. “Get out of here before you find yourself killed. I’m not going to turn you in, but I’m not saving you if you get caught.”
“It’s not bullshit,” Dazai tells you, voice sharp in a way that it only ever is when he’s starting to get annoyed. “I-”
A knock at your door cuts Dazai off mid-sentence. Both of you freeze, Dazai looks at you as if waiting to see what you’re going to do, and you can so easily finish this now, let whoever is at your door in and drag Dazai back down to the torture room where he belongs, but instead you find yourself reaching for him. Your hand intertwines with his hair roughly, and you revel a bit in the hiss that escapes his lips as you yank him off the desk and roll your chair backward, kicking the back of his knee so that he crumples to the ground and you can push him beneath your desk. 
You lower your gun to your lap so you can keep it pointed at him and then glance down at him—he looks caught off-guard and disgruntled at being manhandled, but you think it's a bit funny how cramped he looks under there. 
“Not a single word,” you warn before fixing your chair and raising your voice. “Come in.”
Akutagawa wastes no time stepping into your office, nodding his head in respect as he makes his way over to the chair on the opposite side of your desk, a bundle of papers in hand. He doesn’t hand you the pile right away and he looks uncharacteristically nervous, and you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the issue is. 
“I am… unsure how to fill out some of the report,” Akutagawa says, unable to meet your eyes as he stares at the windows behind you. “The operation was… not a failure but not a success. The whole mission was in disarray, I do not know who was doing what at certain points.”
You stare at Akutagawa. “What do you want me to say to that?” you ask him, leaning back in your chair. “It’s your job to know that as the field officer for the mission. If you can’t handle that, Hirotsu will take back the position on the next major operation.”
Akutagawa bristles. “I can handle it,” he says, voice clipped. “This mission was just more chaotic than-”
“Than usual?” you ask idly, watching as he stiffens as your interruption. “This was child’s play, it’s unlike you to make excuses, Akutagawa.’
“I’m not making excuses,” he says immediately, “but…”
Akutagawa continues talking, but your attention is ripped away when you feel Dazai shift beneath the desk. You press your lips together tightly, stiffening as his hands rise to your thighs, spreading them a bit so he can settle between them. You glance down, he’s already peeking up at you, dark eyes glittering in a way that has you on edge. 
Don’t you dare, you warn silently, but Dazai only takes it as further encouragement, pressing his lips to your clothed inner thigh, you can feel the warmth and wetness through your slacks. It takes all of your self-control to not inhale sharply when he starts trailing open-mouthed kisses up your thigh until his mouth is hovering right above your cunt. 
You press the muzzle of your gun against his temple. 
He smiles. 
Your jaw clenches as he licks a long stripe between your legs through your slacks, making sure to press his tongue down hard over where your clit is hidden through your clothes. Akutagawa is still talking, oblivious to what’s happening beneath your desk as he airs his complaints about the mission. You could stop Dazai, place your foot on his shoulder and push him off of you, but you don’t, notably—you don’t want to acknowledge that though. You only vaguely hear Akutagawa’s issues, something about interference from a third party—the SDUP? What the hell were they doing there?— and Kajii blowing up an escape route. 
“Give me the report,” you say, cutting him off mid-sentence, and holding out your hand. You’re grateful that your voice comes out steadier than you feel with Dazai trying to tongue fuck your through your pants. 
As you lean forward to rip the papers from Akutagawa, you tense, feeling something sharp press against your inner thigh. Sitting back in your seat and glancing down, your eyes cut down to Dazai, who still has the knife you’d thrown at him and is using it to cut open your very expensive slacks.
You have half a mind to drive your foot into his face, but you refrain. If only barely.
It’s a miracle that you can keep your breath steady, because as Dazai cuts your pants, he kisses every inch of open skin that’s revealed to him. His lips are warm, wet, familiar—so familiar that your legs are instinctively spreading for him, giving him more room to work.
Your eyes scan the report but the words are just jumbled letters and not making any sense. Every time you try to understand, you feel Dazai’s teeth graze your thigh as he marks up your skin. You tense when you feel him bring the knife much closer to your cunt, to finish cutting off the material—you press the muzzle of your gun harder into the side of his head, warning him to be careful. You glance down only to see a hazy smile on his lips as he winks up at you, as if he’s drunk just off of the idea of what’s about to happen.
He works efficiently as always, freeing your lower body of your slacks and panties as quickly as possible, and he wastes no time burying his face between your legs. Your lashes flutter and the grip you have on your pen tightens dangerously, you think it might snap. Dazai’s tongue slides between your folds, lapping up the slick that had begun to pool—you know that if Akutagawa wasn’t sitting a few feet away, Dazai would be making a snide comment about how he knew you wanted him.
Dazai’s tongue flicks over your clit—you can feel him staring up at you, watching for every little reaction, the way your lip tightens as you bite back moans, the way your eyelids unconsciously start to slide shut, the way your breath is just a bit heavier than it usually is. 
This is so dangerous, you think to yourself desperately. If Akutagawa of all people figures out that Dazai is here-
You nearly choke when Dazai shifts a bit underneath the desk to kneel at a better angle, grateful that Akutagawa seems to be too busy wallowing in his own mistakes to notice your struggle. Your gaze  snaps down again, his eyes have fluttered shut as he buries his face deep into your cunt, nose pressed to your clit as he pushes his tongue into your hole and you can feel the way he lets out a silent, but shaky breath, barely holding back a moan.
You notice his free hand slide from where it was propped on your thigh down to his beige pants, fingers fumbling with the button as he desperately tries to slip his hand beneath his waistband to touch himself. You kick his wrist hard, using your foot to pin it against the side of your desk, watching him wince and withdraw his hand, looking up at you with those big brown eyes you can never say no to. 
God, he’s pathetic, his lashes are wet and his cheeks are flushed, eyes glossed over with pleasure as he looks up at you and you know you’ll let go of his wrist if he looks at you like that any longer, so you turn your gaze back up to Akutagawa, who’s staring at his lap and waiting for you to finish the report.
“Get out,” you tell him, voice sharper than you intended. Akutagawa’s eyes snap up to you, brows furrowed in confusion. “Go, I’ll handle this.”
“But-”
“Your job is to take orders, not question them,” you bite out, watching frustration flash across the boy’s face as he rises to his feet. You’re not usually this harsh with the kid, but you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to last and Akutagawa cannot be in here when you cum. You can feel the heat pooling in your stomach and that familiar hazy feeling clouding your mind. “Out, Akutagawa.”
Akutagawa inhales sharply but nods, turning stiffly on his heel to leave your office. As soon as the door to your office clicks shut, Dazai is pushing the chair backwards until the back of it hits the windows behind you, shifting into a more comfortable position as he resumes fucking you with his tongue in earnest. 
He moans into you, wanton and shameless, any restraint he had because of Akutagawa’s presence is long gone. While he was careful to not make noise before, now the sloppy sound of his tongue dragging in and out of your cunt drowns out any other noise in your office, he sucks and slurps, he’s so disgusting, like he can’t get enough of the taste of you, a man who’s been starved for years.
The knife clatters to the ground as he reaches up with both hands to grab your thighs, sliding them over his shoulders so he can push his tongue even deeper inside of you. Only sheer pride drives you to push away the creeping fog as Dazai’s tongue slides back up between your folds to draw figure eights around your clit.
“I should pull the fucking trigger, pulling this shit when he was in here,” you spit out, head falling back as a breathy noise escapes your parted lips when Dazai sucks gently at your clit. He moans again, as if the idea itself turns him on—it probably does, he’s always talked about wanting to die between your thighs. “You’re a fucking freak, Dazai.” 
He lets out a puff of air, you can’t tell if it's a laugh or another moan, maybe a mixture of both, but he’s too focused on drowning in your cunt to respond. Four years without him and you’ve forgotten just how good Dazai is with his tongue, working your body as easily as he did when the two of you were eighteen and seeking each other out before meetings and between missions for a quick fuck. You hate it—you hate that he’s treating you as if nothing has changed and you hate even more that your body is this responsive to him. 
Betrayal, you think, your own body betrays you for him. Again.
“Fuck,” you gasp the word out when Dazai rolls your clit between his teeth gently, sending a jolt through your body that throws you off just enough for that fog you’ve been fighting off to finally win. You choke over a moan, head pressed back against your desk chair, forearm coming up to press against your forehead as your eyes slide shut. Your free hand finally finds its place in his hair, tightening around his dark locks, he lets out a whimper against you, tongue flicking over your clit. “Like that. Just like that.”
You can hardly keep your head on straight as he traces letters around the sensitive bud, you try to figure out what he’s spelling but you’re too far gone. Your head is light and your chest is heaving. You’re barely able to bite back moans as your thighs tighten around his head, hips rocking against his face. You don’t even know if he can breathe, you don’t think you care, so close to the edge that your entire body is tingling and trembling; you don’t think he cares either from the way he’s moaning into you.
It takes one last suck, one last swirl around your clit, and you’re crying out his name, spots dotting your vision as your grip on his hair tightens, pushing his face impossibly deeper into you as you grind your hips against his face. God, it feels never-ending, a noise too close to a sob nearly escapes your lips as Dazai ardently laps up all of your cum, not letting a single drop go to waste. You can’t remember the last time you’ve cum this hard—with him, probably, you realize bitterly. None of the one-night stands you’ve had over the past few years have ever compared to him.
You’re still reeling even as you force yourself to straighten in your seat, not willing to let him know just how badly you’re thrown off by how intense your orgasm was. Your head is still spinning, vision still blurring, but you lift your leg and press your foot to Dazai’s shoulder, kicking him back and forcing him out from his position between your thighs. 
He grunts, looking thoroughly disgruntled as he falls back on his ass, pouting up at you as he tries to catch his breath. He looks debauched, lips swollen and wet, your cum smeared on the lower half of his face. His cock is straining against his beige pants and his eyes are still glazed over; he’s looking up at you with an expression that’s nothing short of reverent. 
God, he’s gorgeous. 
You hate him. 
You’ve missed him. 
You shift in your seat and Dazai is lifting himself to his knees, immediately leaning closer, a hazy smile on his lips as he angles his face up and pointedly parts his lips, sticking his tongue out. You know what he wants and the heat that had been slowly dissipating returns with a vengeance, breath catching as you look down at him.
“You’re gross,” you tell him, watching the corner of his lips quirk up even as he keeps his tongue out and waiting.
You don’t deny him. You never can. 
You shift forward, rising to your feet and reaching out to grab his chin, angling your face down. Your grip is too tight, it’ll leave bruises behind and you think that’s the least he deserves so you only tighten it a bit more as you lean over him. You don’t give him what he wants, not right away, letting the saliva gather on your tongue as you observe him, the way his pupils are blown wide and his chest is hardly rising and falling, as if he can’t even let himself breathe in anticipation.
Disgusting, you think again, but it’s fond this time, much to your displeasure.
You decide to put him out of his misery, letting the spit dribble from your mouth down to his. His eyes roll back as soon as it hits his tongue, and your hand slides from his chin to curl around his neck—not tight, just firm enough to feel the way his throat bobs as he swallows.
He lets out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering back open as he looks up at you, entirely blissed out. Your hand slides down more, curling around the ugly bolo tie he’s wearing in place of the black one you’re used to. You tug it hard, beckoning him to his feet; he acquiesces, albeit on shaky legs. 
Immediately, his hands find your hips as he pushes you against your desk, spinning you around to face it before his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to bend you over it. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in demeanor, something you’ll never be able to get used to no matter how many times you fuck him; it always caught you off guard back then, it still catches you off guard now. He pulls off the remnants of your destroyed slacks and immediately is grinding his bulge against your ass, a low moan spilling from his lips. 
“How many people have you been with?” he suddenly asks, and you can hear him fumbling to unbutton his own pants. There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t like—something caught between jealousy and possessiveness, and you nearly want to scoff at it.
“What the fuck, Dazai?” you spit out, appalled and not expecting the question. “None of your damn business.” 
You turn your head to the side to rest your cheek on the desk, looking back at him from the corner of your eye. His eyes are still a bit hazy but there’s a tight expression on his face, reminiscent of the one that would be directed toward you whenever he stumbled in on you entertaining anyone other than him years ago. 
“Humor me,” he says, voice cold and eerily familiar. If you weren’t looking at him and if you couldn’t see the tan coat and bolo tie, you’d think you were talking to Dazai Osamu, Port Mafia Executive, and not Dazai Osamu, Detective. 
“A lot,” you finally tell him, feeling the way he stiffens behind you. “I don’t keep count. You?” 
You think he has some nerve asking when he’s probably slept around t-
“None.”
“Bullshit,” you snarl immediately. “How many? Don’t fucking lie to me, Dazai.”
“None,” he says again, gaze lifting from your back to meet yours, his eyes are dark—too dark, too still. Maybe he hasn’t changed as much as you assumed, because the way your chest swells with a confusing mixture of fear and arousal is far too familiar. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me.”
His gaze drags back down, with his pants unbuttoned, he lifts his free hand to caress the swell of your ass, a contemplative expression on his face as he stares down at you, his other hand still pinning you down to your desk. If your heart wasn’t thudding in your ears from sheer anticipation, you’d be irate over the fact that you were letting Dazai Osamu fuck you over your own desk in your own office, but you can’t bring yourself to care now.
“They never made you feel like this.” It’s a statement, not a question, and you want to scoff at his arrogance, but you can’t because he’s right. “They don’t know your body like I do.”
This time you do scoff. “You don’t know shit, Dazai. It’s been four years.”
Dazai’s eyes flicker back up to you, the way his lips curve up into a smile is dangerous.
“No?” he questions. 
A challenge. You never back down from one, not from him. 
“No.”
His smile sharpens.
“I know that after you cum for the first time,” he murmurs, rolling his hips forward. You bite back a moan when you feel the tip of his cock slip between your folds. “The second time comes right after.”
True to his words, your jaw falls slack and your entire body seizes as Dazai thrusts into you, splitting you right open on his cock. The moan he lets out is pornographic, and you wish you could see the way his head falls back and his eyes roll into his skull, but your own vision is white and you’re choking over a sob as you feel the familiar stretch of his cock against your walls.
“There you are.” Dazai has the nerve to let out a breathless laugh and another groan as he stills with his hips flush to your ass, feeling your walls spasm around him as you cum just from the feeling of him pushing inside of you. The hand he has placed between your shoulder blades slides up to curl around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up so only your thighs are pressed against the edge of your desk, back flush to his chest as you gasp, reeling from the suddenness of your second orgasm. You can feel him smile as he nudges his nose against the side of your head, lips pressed to your ear. “The third time takes a bit after the second, but I’ll fuck you through it. Maybe a fourth too.”
“Dazai,” you gasp, eyes blown wide as your head falls back against his shoulder. You don’t know what you’re trying to say, maybe hold on, or wait, because you know you’ll embarrass yourself if he doesn’t give you a second to recover.
He hums in response, and the slow rolls of his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls, it has your head in the clouds, body trembling. Your lips part to speak but no words leave them, and right when you think you can finally force the words out, Dazai draws his hips back and snaps them back against yours hard. Your lips part in a silent moan, only the hand around your throat and the one pressed to your lower belly holds you up as Dazai fucks you at a brutal pace. 
His face drops to the crook of your neck, he moans into your skin, teeth scraping hard as he kisses recklessly up and down every available inch. He’s going to leave marks, you realize, and that’s dangerous now that you’re back in Yokohama because you don’t need any of the other executives to get suspicious, but even if you wanted to tell him not to, you don’t think you’d be able to. Whatever little coherency you had left in your thought process does not translate when you try to speak, the only things leaving your lips being shaky moans and gasps of Dazai’s name.
“Made for me,” Dazai groans. His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make the air you breathe in shallow, your head feels light and you’re not sure if it’s because of his grip or if it’s the feeling of his cock bullying so deep into you that you can feel his tip pressing up against your cervix. “Waited so many years for this, feels even better than I remember, pussy’s made for me, isn’t it?”
Dazai babbles into your ear as he fucks you, tongue just as filthy and unbridled as the day he left. Shameless. He’s so shameless. Doesn’t even care that anyone could walk into your office and catch the two of you; doesn’t care that if anyone does, he’ll end up executed. He’s fucking you in a building full of people that want him dead and all he cares about is how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock.
Your breath hitches as Dazai shifts you to bend over just a little more, still keeping your back flush to his chest but fucking you at a new angle—one that nearly sends you spiraling over the edge for a third time. 
“Gonna give me your third now?” he pants. His hand on your lower stomach slips down, lithe fingers dipping between your folds to search for your clit—your back arches against him when he finds it, a sob spilling from your lips, vision swimming with tears. Dazai laughs again, this one is strained, catching over a moan as your walls convulse around him. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, you’re so tight.” 
Unconsciously, his grip on your throat tightens, cutting off even more air. You can hardly breathe, you can hardly think—each thrust of his hips has your head spinning, ripping the little air you can inhale right out of your lungs. The tip of his cock rubs against that spongy spot inside of you every time he snaps his hips against yours, the quick circles he rubs on your clit are electrifying. 
Your cheeks are wet, breath ragged, vision spotty. One last thrust, one last circle, and you’re wrecked, sobbing out his name as your legs give out, only held up by the way he has your thighs pinned to your desk and his hand on your neck. You cum all over his cock so hard that you think you black out for a second, your mind fuzzy and pins and needles pricking all over your body.
Dazai doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your third orgasm, relishing in the way your body twitches and trembles, too sensitive for his touch. 
“Your fourth will come quick,” he gasps. His pace is erratic now, chasing his own release. Your ears are ringing, heartbeat thudding in your ears, the wet, sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of you resounding through your office. “I don’t think I’ll last for five. Shit, shit, I’m close.”
You have to force yourself to move. You want to see him when he finishes. Your hand wraps around his wrist, nails digging into his skin to try to get his attention. It takes all of your will power to push the two words from your lips: “Flip me.”
He does. Without any sort of hesitation, his hand drops from your throat to your waist. His cock slips out of you for a split second and your cunt aches at the loss, but Dazai is immediately pushing himself back into you as he hoists you up by the thighs, sitting you down on your desk and wrapping your legs around his waist. 
Even through your blurry vision, Dazai is a fucking sight. His dark hair is matted to his forehead, pink lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed. His eyes glazed over and half rolled back as he chases his high. God, he’s stunning. You’ve missed him. You’ve missed him.
You’re not thinking as you lift your hand to cup his cheek, sliding around to the back of his head to pull his face down to yours, moving on pure instinct. You drag him down to press your lips against his and Dazai is gone. The moment your lips touch his, he’s moaning into your mouth, hips stuttering against you as he spills his cum deep inside of you, and he’s right, because the moment you feel his cum filling you up, warm and thick, so much of it that you can feel it dribbling around his cock, the stickiness smearing against your thighs and ruining your desk, you’re pushed over the edge for the fourth time.
This one is weaker than the rest, not a single noise escapes you but your jaw goes slack and Dazai whimpers into your mouth when he feels your walls tightening around him again. But he takes advantage of your pliancy, pushing you back gently so that your back is flush to your desk. He follows you down, keeping his chest pressed to yours as he maps out your mouth with his tongue. He rolls his hips against yours, slow and deep, fucking his cum deeper into you as the two of you slowly come down from your highs. He slants his lips against yours to deepen the kiss, hand coming up to cup your cheek, his other sliding up and down one of your thighs. 
It’s too intimate. You tell yourself that you only let it happen because you’re reeling from overstimulation but you know it's a lie.
You don’t even know how long you stay in that position with him. It could only be a few seconds, a few minutes, it could’ve been an hour for all you know, laying on your desk with him pressed on top of you, kissing you so passionately that it makes your head spin as much as the orgasms did. 
Finally, you press your hand against his shoulder, signaling for him to get off of you. He does, albeit with a reluctant sigh. You stare up at the ceiling as Dazai shakily rebuttons his pants, making his way over to the closet where you still keep your spare clothes from when you have to stay over at the office to work. 
What did you do?
You’re hyper aware of how swollen your lips are, of the marks littering your neck, of the cum dribbling out of your cunt, staining your desk. 
If anyone finds out about this-
You don’t get to finish the thought, because Dazai comes back over to you. Neither of you speak as he takes a tissue to clean up his cum from your thighs and as it dribbles out of you, nor do you speak when he shifts you into a sitting position, helping you pull on a new pair of panties and a new pair of slacks.
He stands in front of you, dozens of indecipherable emotions rocketing across his face as his dark eyes search your expression for something. You don’t know what, and you don’t even want to look at him but you can’t draw your gaze away from him.
After what feels like forever, he finally speaks.
“I missed you,” he says, voice hoarse as he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. 
You turn away from his touch, ignoring the hurt that flashes through his eyes. 
“Why don’t you believe me? You think four years has changed how I feel about you? I thought you knew me better than that.”
“It’s been four years,” you say, and you hate that your voice wavers a bit. You blame it on still being hazy after your orgasm but you know it’s a weak excuse. You hate that he still has this effect on you after all these years. You hate that you always give into him, and you hate that you know you’ll never get enough of him. You want to hate him, but you can’t. “Knowing how to fuck me isn’t the same as knowing me as a person. I barely know you anymore. You barely know me. And it’s not like you were open with how you felt four years ago. So, forgive me if it’s a bit hard to believe, Dazai.”
“You wear the same perfume. You still shoot with your non-dominant hand for some god forsaken reason. Your lips still twitch whenever you get annoyed even though you do your best to stop it. You-”
“Stop.”
“You still talk to me like you hate me even though your eyes are all soft and you’re leaning in toward me.” Dazai doesn’t stop, and to your horror, he’s right—you had begun to lean in to him instinctively as he spoke. You try to shift away from him, but he follows, fingers grazing your cheek, chest brushing yours. You don’t pull away this time. “I still wear the same cologne you bought me for my sixteenth birthday because it reminds me of you—I spent two months trying to figure out where you bought it when it first ran out. I don’t carry a gun around as often, but when I do, I still try to do that stupid flipping trick you tried to teach me when we were seventeen—I still can’t do it, almost shot myself in the knee last time I tried.”
The laugh he lets out at the last sentence is hollow. He hesitates, as if he wants to continue but isn’t sure if he should. You can feel his blunt nails scraping gently against your skin, his palm warm against your cheek. You want to pull away but you’ve missed him, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise, and you find yourself sinking into his touch. You’ve always questioned why Mori sent you away for so long, angry because you figured he thought you were weak when it comes to Dazai and he didn’t want to risk anything. 
Only a few days back in Yokohama, and you’re already proving him right.
“I’m not the same person,” you tell him, something desperate edges at your tone. Desperate to convince him, or yourself, you’re not sure.
“I still love you,” he rasps, voice quiet as if he’s scared to admit it even to himself, and your heart is suddenly lodged in your throat as you stare up at him with wide eyes, the words he refused to tell you back when you were teens ringing through your head over and over again. “I’ve always loved you. Thought about you every day. I missed you so much.”
“I should hate you,” you say, swallowing thickly, unshed tears blurring your vision. “You didn’t even say goodbye. When Mori said you defected in the middle of a mission, I laughed in his face. Not because I didn’t think you’d never betray the Port Mafia, but because I didn’t think you’d ever leave me without saying anything.”
“If I said goodbye to you, I never would have left,” Dazai tells you quietly, the admission echoing in your years. “And I had to leave. I had to.”
“I should hate you,” you repeat, voice a bit weaker now, and you feel pathetic for falling apart like this in front of him. But it’s Dazai, he’s always had this effect over you. You suppose some things haven’t changed, because that certainly hasn’t. 
“I know,” he murmurs. 
You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you push yourself off your desk and straighten out your clothes, trying to get your head back on straight. You should’ve known better than to think you’d be able to come back to Yokohama and pretend that Dazai Osamu didn’t exist, for better or for worse, the two of you would always find your way back to each other. Mori was right to send you away, although you suppose the man is rarely wrong anyway.
Dazai doesn’t say anything, watching you with an unreadable expression as you search through the ruined piles of paper on your desk for the report that Akutagawa had handed you. Your eye twitches when you realize that it’s stained, realizing that you’re going to have to rewrite the whole thing because you can’t submit a cum-stained report to Mori.
Dazai snorts behind you, as if realizing your predicament. The look you give him is lethal, he silences himself quickly. 
“Don’t get yourself killed on the way out,” you tell him, grabbing your black jacket off your chair and swinging it over your shoulders as you look back at him. “If you make it out of here alive, I’ll see you at my apartment later. Then we can talk.”
His face twists. “What? Wait, don’t leave me here,” he panics, nearly tripping over his feet and your desk chair to follow after you. “Help me sneak out.”
“You got in here yourself,” you say dismissively. “Get out yourself.”
The noise he lets out is pathetic. “You do hate me,” he accuses. 
“No, I could never,” you admit quietly. His expression softens a bit, but you give him a sharp smile. “But I’m definitely not going to make things easy for you. Akutagawa is still out here prowling around. So is Chuuya, actually. Said he’d be at the office all night today. Good luck, you’re gonna need it.”
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queer-n-here · 2 days
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imagine fucking tanizaki/chuuya in your sweater that was too big for him.. aww, poor baby is trying so hard to cover his face using the sleeves dangling off his arms while you ram into his hole mercilessly:3
Oh, ohohohohohohohohohohohohohoho! *smirks* Is it that time of the year? *Winks* Aha! Aha, aha! My, finally.
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I found this art on Pinterest, credits to the rightful owner. I thought it was really close to what I was imagining while writing this piece.
Contents: Fucking Tanizaki in a sweater too big for him <3
Warnings: Smut, top male reader, rough sex, biting.
Tanizaki probably didn't know the affect he had on you. Nope, he definitely did not know.
Why else would be standing at your balcony so nonchalantly, wearing absolutely nothing but one of your sweaters?
It was even bigger on him than the one that he usually wore, and it ended just above his knees. The neckline of the sweater was so wide that it was almost falling off Tanizaki's shoulder, exposing the pale skin that was heavily marked with bruises from last night's round of sex. He had tried to roll up the sleeves to keep his hands free, but they kept slipping down, and so he let them be.
God, it was too much.
You had only returned from a mission, and the moment you entered yours and Tanizaki's shared room, the sight that greeted you was this. You had planned to watch a movie and cuddle, but turns out tonight was not going to be so wholesome after all.
You walked up to him, using your ability to mask your footsteps. Once you were close enough, you wrapped your arms around his thin waist, startling him.
Tanizaki whipped around, eyes wide, only relaxing when he saw that it was you and no one else. "Phew, you scared me..."
"Mn," You lowered your head to press a soft kiss in the crook of his neck, right where you'd left hickeys about 20 hours ago.
Tanizaki smiled, shifting his arms to hold your face in his sweater-covered hands. He raised himself onto his tip-toes, and placed a small peck on your lips.
"I see you've stolen my sweater, hmm?" You said, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.
He flushed slightly. "And so what? It's not like you left me anything to wear."
You chuckled, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead before pulling back to look at him.
"But I must say," Your eyes raked over his body, from his bare legs to his exposed collarbone. "You look good."
Tanizaki's face reddened further, and he tried to pull the hem of the sweater down to cover his knees. You leaned forwards, sliding your hands underneath the fabric to let your fingertips ghost over his skin. He froze in place, hands rising to clutch your shoulders.
"Should we head to bed?" You asked him, smirking.
He nodded, and let you lead him back into the room, shutting the balcony door behind you two.
"Go and lie on the bed, hmm?" You whispered to him, and he obliged.
You opened the bedside drawer, and pulled out a bottle of lube before following Tanizaki to the bed. You looked over to him, and he looked up at you as you gently caressed his cheek.
"I never really expected you to look so gorgeous in my clothes..." You lowered your hand to his thigh instead, rubbing and massaging the skin there. "Had I known, I would've made you wear some earlier."
He looked at you, his hands placed against your chest as your hands kneaded his thigh. A soft hum left his lips.
"You like it that much?" Tanizaki asked, looking up at you shyly.
"Mn," You nodded, and leaned down to kiss him.
As his lips parted to yours, you slid your hand into his sweater, caressing his hip and waist gently. You kissed him passionately, nibbling and biting at his lips in the way you knew made him breathless. He wrapped his arms around your neck, letting you do as you liked. Slowly, you hooked your finger against the waistband of the boxers that he was wearing beneath the sweater.
Pulling away, you looked at him.
He was panting, face flushed completely and his hair was messy, expression slightly dazed. His lips were swollen and red.
"Hmm," You buried your head into the crook of his neck, kissing and biting at the exposed flesh. Tanizaki moaned, biting his lips to muffle the sound.
You pulled his boxers off, kneeling on the bed in front of him as you threw it away, and this time when you leaned down to kiss him you were rough. You spread his legs, pulling the hem of the sweater over Tanizaki's waist to reveal his semi-hard cock and already leaking hole.
Pulling away, you unbuckled and unzipped your pants, pulling them down and throwing them away to free your cock from its restraints as you looked down at the flushed mess of a man beneath you.
"Fuck, baby," You took up the bottle of lube and coated some over your dick.
Tanizaki was more than prepped, you'd done that only yesterday. Aligning your tip with his hole, you slid in, making him gasp and arch his back as his fingers scrambled to find purchase.
You were slow and gentle, something that Tanizaki knew wouldn't last long. You were always soft on him, outside of bed.
Sure enough, once you had entered completely, the movement of your hips was slow, but not gentle anymore. You sped up, gaining a rhythm as Tanizaki moaned underneath you, clutching at the sheets beneath his head for dear life. His cock was now fully hard, and it slapped against his stomach when you pushed into him.
"Nghh, ba- Hah! [Name]!" He said.
Your hips snapped into his, and his body moved in sync with yours. You began pounding into him at a ruthless pace, your eyes glued to his face. Both your thrusts and your gaze were like that of a ferocious animal proudly devouring its prey.
Tanizaki panted and huffed beneath you, his red face a stark contrast with the white sheets beneath him. His back was arched, eyes blurring up at the sensation of your tip against his gummy walls.
"Mmph, [Name]! S-slow down a- Ahh!" He bit his lips again. "Slow down a little bit!"
But you were far from listening.
You sped up instead, watching greedily as your thrusts made Tanizaki scramble to ground himself. Just the sight of his flushed face looking up at you and struggling to breath as your cock rearranged his insides was good enough to drive you feral.
His hole was fluttering around you now, making sparks of pleasure shoot up from the length of your cock. You wrapped his legs around your waist, and placed your hands on either side of his head. As you continued your onslaught on his poor hole, a particular thrust made Tanizaki's eyes widen. His back arched completely off the bed, and a sound as lewd as the devil himself left his pretty swollen lips.
Shifting, you hit that spot up again, smirking devilishly as the feeling of your tip bullying his sweet spot made Tanizaki turn and try to hide his face away from your predatory gaze. It wasn't working well, not when he could barely keep himself to the bed.
He raised his hands instead, using the sleeves of your own sweater to hide his blushing face from you, and you frowned in annoyance. Still, your hips showed no signs of slowing. Your thrusts grew more and more forceful, till Tanizaki had to bite down on the fabric to not scream. Tears had spilled down either side of his face, and his thighs were trembling around your waist.
You reached forwards, dissatisfied, and roughly yanked his hands away from his face. You pinned his wrists down on either side of his head, hips never stopping. Now Tanizaki could only cry out and arch his back, his brain muddling.
Your cock against his sweet spot with each thrust was making him lose sense of reality. His pupils were blown out, and his mouth was open as more cries spilled out of it. You were pinning him down so hard that his wrists were beginning to bruise, and yet neither your grip on him nor your hips softened.
You fucked Tanizaki hard and fast and just the way you knew was perfect to render his brains useless. His face was covered in tears, and sweat-soaked hair was sticking to his forehead.
"Gah! Hnng, [Name]!" He tried to speak through his pants. "C-close!"
One word, and you fully turned into a beast. Your hips pounded into Tanizaki at an inhumane speed, the bed starting to creak in protest under you. You fucked him, grunting at the feeling of him tightening miserably around you, a symptom of his upcoming orgasm.
He came, a crying ripping itself free from his throat as ropes of cum shot out of his untouched dick, his hole squeezing around you so tight it was starting to get difficult to pull out and push back in. His pretty fucked-out expression was more than enough to get you to come in him, painting his walls white with your seed as your hips finally slowed to a stop.
You let go of his wrists, pulling out of him to collapse on the bed beside him.
As you caught your breath, you turned your head to look at Tanizaki. He was still in a daze, his chest heaving with each breath. You leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"I love you, baby."
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4ngel-inc · 1 day
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࿔*:・ 𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 — 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐔𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 ࿐
tags — fem reader, a little angsty but mostly fluff !! ᰔ
𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 never wanted to let you go, he'd always believed you'd be together forever, but when he finally opened up and told you about his past—about his time in the mafia and everything that entailed—he thought he noticed a flicker of fear in your eyes, and it scared him. he simply couldn't handle the thought of being judged or abandoned later down the line for his past mistakes. it was selfish, really, the way the tears rolled down your cheeks solely from such an impulsive decision on his part. he regretted it immediately, but it was simply too late—he'd already broken your heart. for months, he contemplated how to get you back—flowers and apologies simply wouldn't be enough, he knew that. did he even deserve your love, after the heartache he'd put you through? he finally convinced you to grab coffee at your favorite cafe, and decided on a very simple approach, the one you deserved—spilling his heart out to you entirely. "i just want to be loved, i've never admitted it to anyone, and i've never loved anyone. i'm- uh, not sure what to do with my feelings." he looks sad, and it's the most serious you've ever seen him. after listening to him pour his heart out for a while, and overcoming a little hesitation, you decide to give him another chance. "we can try again, but please, let me see the real you this time, osamu," he waits for you to finish, "it wasn't fear in my eyes, it was love. i just can't bear the thought of you hurting, or of you being so lonely, but i'm here now, k?" you both smile, and share a sweet kiss.
𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 isn't the type to thrive off of instability—he likes safety, security in a relationship. he never wanted the type of relationship that was on and off again, it was childish in his eyes, and not something he found appealing. and so the first time you two had decided to take a break, he told himself it was the last time—he was done with the relationship, and brushed it off as a passing fling, since you two were only together less than a year. however, he begins to understand why he trusted you in the first place as time goes on and your absence starts to sink in—you made him feel different than the rest, made him feel like a different person. there was something in the way you touched him that made him feel worthy, like love wasn't a rarity or a foreign concept, but simply a part of his everyday life. and now, that feeling is gone. chuuya is quite stubborn, so it takes him a while to realize how much he truly misses you, but when it finally sinks in one night, as he aerates an expensive red wine in his glass he's sure you'd scold him for drinking so late at night, he decides enough is enough. it doesn't take long for him to show up at your door, and he's quite frank when he arrives—as soon as you open the door, he sighs, "no relationship is perfect, i'm sorry i gave up on ours, it was a stupid fight. can we try again, doll? i miss you, a lot actually." needless to say, you give in.
𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀 wasn't expecting you two to break up at all, but you just couldn't handle the pain of watching him come home bruised and bloodied every night. even more than that, you couldn't understand why he wanted to continue working for the mafia anyways, especially when they were clearly just using him—you butted heads about it a lot, and eventually you decided to leave, akutagawa coming home to an empty apartment one day. you'd warned him you were leaving a few days before, but that didn't lessen the hurt he felt the first time he had to sleep alone. even now, weeks later, as he showers and climbs into bed, he doesn't feel the same as he did before he met you. is he changing? he feels softer, more vulnerable, he feels like crying—he hates to admit it. however, you are the one who decides to come back to him, realizing you'd made a mistake. you knock on his front door one night as he's getting ready for bed, and though he answers with an inquisitive look in his eyes, he lets you in. "what are you doing here?" he asks. you sigh, "don't sound so happy to see me." he isn't sure how open he should be with his feelings, you'll likely just hurt him again. "should i be happy? you won't stay, anyways." you approach him hesitantly, "i was wrong about us, about you—the mafia is the life you know, and loving someone means accepting all of them. if you'll give me another chance, ryūnosuke," you pause before continuing again, "i'd like to show you how much i love you this time, i don't want to be scared anymore." it isn't difficult for him to give in, and you stay the night, and all of the nights after.
𝐅𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 never pictured himself in a serious relationship, so when he does find himself settling into one, it makes him a bit nervous. he isn't used to anything, or anyone, uprooting his life or shaking things up—other than work. so, he's a bit more critical of relationships that he might be otherwise. after your first petty argument, one that only happened months into your relationship, he convinces himself that maybe, the two of you just aren't quite a good fit. he lets you down easy, "dear, i'm worried maybe we've rushed into this a bit. i'd like to take a step back, for the time being." needless to say, it hurts, a lot. but you decide to respect his wishes and give him his space, and you find you're starting to enjoy being single again. moving on from fukuzawa isn't easy—he's the man of your dreams—but after convincing yourself you simply aren't the one he wants anymore, you begin to heal, and see the sun shine through the clouds a bit. however, fukuzawa only grows lonelier as the days go on. it's the silence of his home when he returns late at night, the way he craves the sweets you'd make him, the way he reads his books without you by his side, and the way he takes his walks without your hand there to hold, that make him realize life with you was always better than life alone. fukuzawa is a stern man, but not when it comes to this—he calls you and calmly asks to talk, and after humbly asking for another chance, it's easy to give him one. he's ready to love you with no inhibitions this time—you deserve the best of him, after all, and he'll gladly give it to you.
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bellodazai · 2 days
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‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚. - Kiss it better
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breaking the peaceful silence of the armed detective agency on a gorgeous sunny day was the yelp of Dazai. He who had for once had put pen to paper and was sorting through paperwork had given himself a paper cut.
"belllaaa" he whined to you from across the room to where your desks were placed, separated, as Dazai could not go for 5 minutes without distracting you in any way shape or form if you were close together. He. In his words would say "how can I not give attention to my bella when she is right there just begging for me to smoother her with kisses" he would say in a overdramatic tone as if you were dying and closing his eyes with his hand thrown over his forehead to add emphasis to the drama.
Dazai rolled his chair over to you making sure to bump into as many people as possible on his way, he stops right next to you at your desk his rolly chair bumping yours slightly making you stomp your feet to the ground to keep yourself in place.
"it hurts" he whined to you showing his tiny paper cut on his index finger which had a small white slash, not even oozing out blood. You stare at him, not phased by his dramas anymore as this was the norm. "this is a sign to never do my paper work again! to think of the time i spent slaving away today, only to be bestowed upon the paper attacking my poor flesh!" he said quite loudly causing an irritated Kunikida to shoot Dazai a glare as if to say "shut up" from the commotion he was causing in the one peaceful office. You gave his forehead a gentle kiss before saying "you'll be fine, now off to work please." Dazai stared at you for a split second flustered by your affection big brown eyes staring at you. The PDA doesn't go unnoticed by Kunikida who voices his displeasure with this being a "professional space" and not a place for PDA. Dazai just snickers, ready to antagonise Kunikida who can never catch a break. "you're just jealous that I have a beautiful girlfriend and you don't" he jeered towards his partner while half throwing his body onto yours over the rolly chair armrests. his words resulted in a threat being yelled at towards Dazai by a poor overwhelmed Kunikida.
You stand up before Dazai could say anything else, rolling Dazai back to his desk by pushing is chair his feet dragging against the ground in protest. he sighs loudly at his desk and begins to recklessly sort out his paperwork and not even a minute later theres a high pitched shriek from Dazai who yells out "i'm bleeding! the paper has yet again damaged me, i'm bleeding out now!" Before Kunikida can yell at Dazai again who looks at Dazai as if he is ready to strangle him, you grab Dazai by the arm pulling him into the infirmary currently empty a small smirk plastered onto his face shot towards Kunikida unnoticed by you.
Dazai sits on the bed long legs touching the ground, you look around finding some alcohol wipes and some bandaids before placing the items on the bed next to Dazai's seated form. Grabbing his bleeding index finger you take one alcohol wipe dabbing the small open wound wiping away the blood. His face winces in slight discomfort from the sting of the wipe on the wound. "this is what you get for acting recklessly Osamu" you said softly tossing the wipe in the bin before grabbing the bandaid and wrapping it around his index finger.
You keep ahold of his finger as he whines about how much his poor poor finger hurts and how he will never do paperwork again. Bringing his finger to your lips you gently kiss it softly causing Dazai's breath to hitch for a moment in slight shock, he stares at you lips parted slightly. "better?" you ask with a smile, a small smirk at making Dazai flustered. Gaining back his composure Dazai shakes his head "hurts here too" he said giving you his other index finger holding it up in front of your face waiting for you to kiss his other finger, to which you do earning a mischievous look to flash in his eyes.
"i knocked my head today here" he said with a sad tone pointing to his forehead. "kiss it better?" he asked jutting his bottom lip out into a pout which you can't say no to leaning down slightly to kiss his forehead.
"and here" he said as he kept directing you to different places in his face to kiss. "you know what hurts the most and is in desperate need for your precious healing kiss?" he asked hiding his smirk.
Dazai pointed to his lips and innocent look on his face. "my lips are in agony for your lips to give me a healing kiss to relinquish me from the horrors of injury" he exclaimed. You stare at him unamused by his antics but he grips your wrists not letting you move away from him.
"bella" he pouts "kiss kiss?" he said making kissing noises. "kiss kiss pain go away?" he said in a sad, innocent way. You lean down and press your lips to his gently, Dazai doesn't waste any time reciprocating, letting go of your wrists to bring his hands to cup your cheeks urging for more, whining when you pull away. "one more? it still hurts." he said still feigning misery from his 'pain'.
"no more Osamu' you giggle. "we need to go back to work if you want to go home on time today." he shakes his head in protest "just one more bella?" Dazai brings one of his hands to his heart, placing it palm down, the other raised slightly in the air "if you give me another kiss I promise to do some dreadful paperwork"
"Just one more" you smiled before leaning down to kiss him again.
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©bellodazai 2024
thank you for the love on the last post ❤️😭 I hope you enjoy this one :) Likes and reblogs are appreciated
dividers by @/benkeibear
taglist @saelique
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mvniro · 2 days
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BABY BABY, WON'T YOU SLEEP SOON?
father!chuuya nakahara nsfw drabble.
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having a baby with chuuya except,,
taking care of said baby as you cradle it in your arms only for your husband, the devil of the port mafia, nakahara chuuya, to come and once again prove why 'the devil' is a fitting nickname for him.
because when he wrapped his arms on your waist, making sure to not disturb his and your child by accidently touching the kid and risk waking it up as the baby is slowly falling into slumber, he didn't really look or act like an angel.
and it's a wonder how hands so rough when taking someone's life can feel so gently cruel right now as his hands slip under the waistband of your pajamas to tap against your clit, beginning to rub lazy circles around it while he presses himself slowly against you from the back. his hardness pressing against your ass and making your breath hitch.
his head is leaned down on your neck as he peppers it, as if your skin is his own journal and he is pouring out little secrets with his gentle and quick pecks.
"want me to help doll? the quicker we put him to sleep, the quicker i get you all to myself." chuuya whispered as he titled his head to speak into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sucking it.
his thumb circles around your clit faster and his humps are beginning to get noticeable, making your body move a bit with every thrust. his other hand was about to slither towards your clevage had it not been for the baby whimpering, the heartbreak of a slumber getting disturbed catching up with its fragile little heart and chuuya stops.
with a snicker, he kisses your nape and with one last thrust, he steps back. you hiss though your teeth, looking over your shoulder to glare at him as you clench your legs together.
you parted your lips to speak but the baby beat you to it, crying and you immediately looked at it, rocking the baby in your arms as you try to soothe it and chuuya smirked. he took steps back to plop down on the bed and spread his legs apart, watching you cradle the baby in your arms while you rubbed your legs together too, the wetness between your legs caused by him making you unable to stay calm and not head dive first to seek for some pleasure and release right now.
maybe it's the port mafia ways catching up to him or maybe he had always been a bit of a sick bastard deep down he thought as chuuya's hand slipped under his sweatpants to caress his hardened cock, pulling it out as he began to move his fists to the sight of you so hot and bothered yet not free to do anything about it. atleast not till the baby sleeps.
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k3m1y4 · 2 days
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“are we still friends?”
chuuya x reader
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summary: one-sided love, rejected by love itself. alone, rejected by society itself.
author’s note: kinda angsty, rejection, darliiiinggggg i’m back from jaillll!!!!<3, anyways i’m verri lazy and based this off my c.ai chats since i’m lazy making fanfics rn since my lazy ass is not WORKING, not proofread and some words are typed wrong words if so bc somehow idk how i do that?
©️. 🔛🔙🔝: playing :: are we still friends? ‘“
✖️: artist: Tyler, The Creator
©️©️:: — “are we still friends? can we be friends?”
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It’s been a half glass of 3 years, you’ve been in love with Chuuya Nakahara. You consider as your “bestfriend” and so does he say. Although, the lacing affection lingering in your actions suspects him so—the way you so randomly offer him alleged gifts, hats, and so whatever he has sitting in his empty wasteland of is a mind. Light lit open racing through the silky dark bluish night, stars shooting across the starry starred sky. For some reason, there’s a bothering sensation you can’t seem to shake off no matter how hard and desperate you try, you are unable to flee from your birdy antics. Well, per se. Words cannot just be said, without a facade of fineness in foolish, dumbly intentional acts. Changing topics once a star passes by each tick you shift your strings connecting your mind to who knows where it’ll deliberately reach?
Wherein, you sit beside Chuuya, Nakahara. Actually, until now. You were two, plainly sat on an edge. Higher where the ocean meets, high up the soaring clouds resting above the skies. Gliding gently, the wind pushes heavily. A place where you treasure deeply, buried in your veins of heart, with him. Enjoying his accompany, as usual, a single day will never be completely complete unless if two visits a location memories arose from its silent grave. You thought, you may have thought Nakahara was oblivious to your secret admiring feelings for him. He called you out, patiently waiting for you to place your gaze over him. “Name.” Chuuya’s voice rang in your ears, as he predicted. You pried your attention away from the sparkling skies distracting you from his snap. Before your mouth parts to let out a speech, “You know I don’t like you, right?” You pause discreetly, your body tensing. Have you been caught red-handed? “Hah…?” Your eyes narrowed slightly, in which he obviously noticed despite how small the detail was.
He raised a brow, his tine remaining cold and blunt, this was… uncommon for you, you were unable to adapt his quite harshness. “I said,” He repeated, “You know I don’t like you, right?” He asks once again, “Ohh, that.” You clear your throat before tearing your gaze away from his pierce for a moment. “Right…” Chuuya keeps his unbothered expression, he’s more of aware it’s difficult to hear stinging words coming from the person you loved, rejection. Was what you have gotten. So, he continues further on from speaking the truth.
“And you know I won’t change my mind, right?” This was the least he could do, than resulting your delusions into worse. “Yeah, I know.” You respond, replying with a single nod in addition. You needed time to process what’s happening right now, you must be going insane—you feel your heart dwelling in a hole. Unsure of what to concentrate on, terrible to experience. Feeling a knot tie in your stomach, can he feel what you feel? He sighs, creating an unpleasant conversation for the both of two individuals. He’s sorry, he really is. But, he can’t change his feelings for you. “So, you know there’s no point trying to make me change my mind?” He says softly as he held his hat in his gloved hands. “Well aware of that, certain fact.” You comment as you silently breathe, your thinking was crossing the borderline from the gash, ouch, that hurts. “So you’re not gonna convince me to date you, right?”
Bang.
That may have stabbed you, mentally. “No, I’d rather not.” You spat the words out, even though your heart was still throbbing in regret, oh how you wish you never met him at all, it wouldn’t have resort to this mess. Nakahara sighs, this whole thing wasn’t easy for him at all. He can’t help it at all, he asks her. “But I just have one question.” He has caught your attention, in repeat. “Are you going to give up on me?” He questions, curiosity piquing up on him. Answering with a nod, “Why?” Asking back, he tilts his head. He didn’t expect you, nor to predict you to simply say ‘yes’ out of your aching throat. “You’re really going to give up liking me?” He had to ask twice to assure she wasn’t lying to his face at all. “Yeah.” You straightforwardly accept, he takes a deep breath. “And, are you sure about that?” His sentences were filled to the brim with flooding unsure curiousness and slight concern. He felt, apologetic, sorry. You nod, “Then there’s something we have to clear out before proceeding with anything else.” Chuuya’s voice, hinting with worry. “Don’t ever try to convince me to like you or date you. If you did that, we’re done as bestfriends.” He remarks, his speaking really, really, made you vulnerable. Still, you managed to mask a facade.
“Yep.” You agree, to his terms. He was surprised, you were really giving up on him without a single fight, complaint, no. You did it so easily, he’s relieved. Smiling silently, “Are you sure?” He asks one more last time, “Yeah.” You say weakly, gluing a smile on your lips to return. “I’m sorry for making you give up like this, I’m really sorry.” His gaze suddenly soften, yours did too automatically. “It’s okay, I understand.” You sit up as the stars were still shining like usual somehow. “I’ll be taking my leave, that’s all.” He stood up and left. Leaving you alone, in the dark. You look down, how lame. Though, you look back. “Wait! Are we still friends?!” You yell back, standing quickly from your feet. His presence was gone, you were hanging on a cliff, now. Maybe not now.
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a/n: !—Hello pookies!!! I am verri sorry for being unactive 😔. I’ve been losing motivation this year and my ass is not producing a single braincell, I am losing motivation again!!! I’ll take a bit long to post since I need some time from writing this month, I decided to post another fanfic post anyways <3!!
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system-to-the-madness · 19 hours
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Cherry Blossom Break-Ups 🌸 Dazai Osamu x Reader
Pairing: Dazai Osamu x fem!Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used) Genre: hurt/comfort Word Count: 1 457 Warnings: mentions of alcohol, talk of breaking up, mentions of wounds and blood (symbolically) Summary: Dazai only met with you to break up with you, but he can’t bring himself to do it.
Sakura Festival Masterlist - Masterlist
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The air was tense. Not just from the impending thunderstorm that was brewing over your heads as you were sitting with your backs against the stem of a blooming cherry tree, shoulders almost touching, but also from the words you knew Dazai was holding back on. You had known today would come, and when he had asked you to meet out here, under that lone cherry tree with the view over the bay, you knew that this was it.
Really, maybe it was best this way.
Or at least that's what you kept telling yourself. Dazai had somehow seemed to have grown sadder in the past months, and you knew the time in which your presence brought him the comfort to keep the memories of the past at bay way over. Maybe he had grown used to you, the same way people started to grow used to the effect of alcohol, but with you there was no increase in the dosage.
This triggered the unwelcome thought that maybe he had only ever been with you because you made him feel better. Maybe your relationship had never been more than a bandage to wrap the wounds of his past. And now that the bandage was blood-soaked, it had gotten useless, and he was about to discard it. If your relationship really had never been more than that, then it would be better to end it.
But you didn't want him to end it!
You knew you should respect yourself more than that, but you knew it would break your heart. It had been foolish at best, stupid at worst, to allow him to pull you into this whirlwind of an affair. An affair that all too soon had turned serious enough to be a relationship, and him introducing you has his lover had only sealed that deal. And your stupid, little heart had fallen for those soft brown curls, those dark eyes that held both such joy and such pain. You should have held tighter onto your heart, but it had taken off, settling straight into Dazai's palm where it now patiently waited to be crushed.
At your side he suddenly groaned and stretched his arms over his head, his coat sleeves falling down to his elbows revealing his bandage-wrapped forearms. You had never seen him without those bandages. Part of you wondered if you should have asked him to take them off at some point, just to give him the feeling you wanted to reach deep into his heart. But you never had, out of respect for his boundaries.
"Just do it alread," you whispered, unable to take the silence any longer.
"I can't," Dazai replied, placing his hands down in his lap. "I really thought I could but… I can't." He kept his eyes trained on the horizon, blue, storm riddled waves meeting dark grey clouds. "I don't want to."
"You've drawn completely away from me, Osamu. You don't even hold me anymore at night and when you kiss me, it feels like you only do it as a chore, not because you want to. You brought us here to break up with me, so just do it."
Lightning cracked through the sky, followed by the deep rumbling of thunder. He still didn't meet your eyes.
"'s not a chore," he disagreed, but his voice barely carried over the wind. "you're right, I came here to break up with you but- I don't want to lose you. I… any relationship I've ever been in has been for no other purpose but my entertainment. I'm not prideful enough to deny that. But then I met you and I thought it would be just like that again. Another girl to share my meals with, to keep me warm at night. Yet it wasn't. And it scared me. Still does. And I thought I'd want to end it. But the more I think about it, the less I want to."
His voice carried over the wind picking up, tucking cherry petals from the trees and through the air like snow flakes. Another lightning flickered across the sky.
"I need you to understand the difference here. I can imagine what it would be like without you. It's not like I'm solemnly dependant on you, and I know you aren't on me. But I don't want to imagine it. I don't want to live without you anymore. But it's taken me to bring you out here to break up with you, to really understand that."
You turned you head away, unable to look at his averted eyes any longer. His words were brutally honest, cut small wounds into your heart, but you had a feeling they were the kinds of wounds you needed to heal. From the corner of your eyes you saw Dazai turn to you, but you refused to look at him.
"If you want to end things here, I understand. I'll even do you the favour of being the one to end things if that's what you need me to do. And I will do it, even though I don't want to."
You slightly shook your head. "I don't want you to, but Osamu-" turning to him, you momentarily forgot what you had wanted to say when you saw the emotions flickering in his eyes. Love, hope, sadness, despair, determination.
"Osamu," you repeated. "I don't want this to end, I love you and I know that we're still young, so much can still change, but for now I want to be with you. But we can't go on like we have in the past months! I can't constantly doubt your affections for me, whether my touch doesn't actually disgust you, whether I can hold a man like you. Every morning for the past few months I've woken up, thinking I had to be perfect, perfect clothes, perfect make up, perfect hair, perfect work just to earn my stay at your side-"
"My love," Dazai shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me you felt like this? It's true, I wasn't sure what I felt, but now I know. Now I know for sure. And I made my decision. I want to fight for you, for us. I want to be with you. Your touch," he took your hand in his. Your skin was cool from the spring storm stripping away the warmth from your hands, but his were warm and familiar. Lifting your hand up to his face, he nuzzled his cheek into your palm. "Your touch could never disgust me. It has never brought anything but comfort and an unrivalled feeling of safety. And it confused me because I've never known anything like that before. But I love you just like I love your touch and I'm no longer afraid to show or tell so. And I'm no longer afraid to feel so. I love you the way you are. The way you wake up in the morning, no make-up, no fancy clothes. I don't want a mask you put on; I want your authentic self. I want the weird ideas you sometimes get. I want the pranks you pull on me and Kunikida. I want your fears and your worries and all the emotions you consider bad and think you shouldn't feel. I want all of that just as I want your love, your joy, your laugh, your happiness. I want all of you… and that's quite selfish."
Slowly he dropped your hand back into your lap, but as he was about to let go, you grabbed hold of his hand.
"Then be selfish," you asked. "And I'll be selfish too. Because I want all of that from you too. I don't want things to end here. Just promise me, we'll get better at being with each other."
The wind caught Dazai's hair, ripping at it mercilessly as he stared at you with wide, brown eyes as if he was unable to believe you were willing to give the two of you another chance. Finally he nodded, the smile on his lips, faint, barely there, but you knew him well enough to know how relieved he was.
"We will get better," he nodded, placing his hand at your face, and pulling you in for a kiss. Soft, sweet, lingering. A kiss like you hadn't shared in weeks.
"Promise me, Osamu," you whispered against his lips. "Promise me we'll make this work."
Pink blossoms danced through the air as another lightning lit up the sky and the first drops of rain started to fall.
"I promise," Dazai replied, pulling away from your lips only long enough to phrase his answer before he leant back in, sealing his promise with a kiss.
And he never broke his promise.
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sleepdeprivedfyodor · 7 hours
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𝖬𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽
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𝖯𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝖭𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺 𝗑 GN! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
𝖠/𝖭: 𝖲𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖨 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗅𝗅! 𝖨'𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾! 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀, "𝖬𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖬𝗒 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽," 𝖻𝗒 𝖬𝗂𝗍𝗌𝗄𝗂. 𝖤𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒! ♥︎
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𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝖽.
𝖨𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖠𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖾, 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝖭𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇-𝗍𝗈-𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗎𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝖽.
𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺, 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖽𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾.
𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖬𝖺𝖿𝗂𝖺. 𝖳𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋.
𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺'𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖮𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖾𝖼𝗁, 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌, "𝖸/𝖭 𝖫/𝖭, 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖸/𝖭 𝖭𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺, 𝖨 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗐𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗐𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗂𝖽𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗃𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗇, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌," 𝖧𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒, 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗏𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽.
𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅. 𝖨𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆, "𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝖭𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺, 𝖨 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖳𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾, 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅. 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝖿𝖾, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖨'𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾. 𝖨 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾. 𝖳𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒. 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖾," 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗎𝗂𝗍.
𝖥𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖯𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗎𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.
𝖠𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖢𝗁𝗎𝗎𝗒𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗀𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝖼𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉,
"𝖫𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾, 𝖸/𝖭 𝖭𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺...?"
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akutasoda · 2 days
Note
tetchou, jouno and whoever you prefer with a country girlfriend how would they be/act
country girls
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synopsis - how are they with a country girl?
includes - atsushi, bram, jouno, tecchou
warnings - fem!reader, reader grew up in the countryside, fluff, slight crack, wc - 626
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atsushi nakajima ★↷
↪growing up in the orphanage, atsushi rarely saw outside it's walls. he knew that the caretakers and such would actively grow crops and raise animals for food however and the idea would occasionally peak his interest - maybe if his circumstances were different.
↪it definitely made him curious when he became aware you were from the countryside. you might have to be prepared for a barrage of questions about your upbringing but they would all come from a genuine peak of curiosity.
↪perhaps once his curiosity was satiated, he'd become a little embarrassed by how much he asked but would probably just love how your rural upbringing shaped who you were.
↪if his curiosity wasn't satiated, and if you were fine with it, he'd ask to be taught how to grow some crops if you used to do that. the agency does have crops growing thanks to kenji so nobody would notice a few extra.
bram stoker ★↷
↪back when bram was a respected count, and had all his body, he owned a lot of land but barely managed it himself as others would do so for him - but that never really stopped him from idly walking through his lands.
↪so when he was told by you or someone else that you were from countryside, he asked you that same question he asked the blonde farmer boy he met a little bit ago - 'would you like to tend to his lands'
↪perhaps you'd be more inclined if you were official or maybe you didn't want that country life at all anymore, whatever you're answer he'd respect it. it would never be a deciding factor in the relationship.
↪ultimately, he wouldn't care if you were born and raised in the countryside. it was just another unique aspect to you - even if it perhaps made you a but more rough tounged and headstrong in your actions and words.
saigiku jouno ★↷
↪we don't know much about any of the hunting dogs past but i would say jouno definitely didn't live in the countryside. he probably had quite a strict upbringing either however. so the idea of growing up in the country doesn't really appeal to him.
↪to him, there'd be too many sounds and noises that would drive him up the wall. he also doesn't really like the way that you're a bit more rough and tough, bit more harsh lipped.
↪maybe there is a small part of him that is interested in how being raised in the countryside would be but it's not much and he would happily kill those intriguing thoughts - or maybe on the offhand he'd ask about you about something that peaked his interest.
↪but ultimately he wouldn't really mind because he would get used to you and your country accent (if you had one).
tecchou suehiro ★↷
↪again, we don't know much about the hunting dog's previous situation but if anyone lived in the countryside out of them, it'd be him - or atleast he'd live slightly less well off. let's say he didn't for this scenario.
↪he probably would be one of the most intrigued aswell. you were slightly more harsh lipped and honest then anyone else he knew and he got very accustomed to your accent, if you had one.
↪he would occasionally ask you about your upbringing and if you were happy to give information away, he'd be asking more and more questions. and eventually if he really couldn't satiate his curiosity he might ask you to take him to where you grew up.
↪he would actually love that you came from a rural upbringing as the idea is just interesting to him and so you'd probably be asked questions on the daily.
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lovedazai · 5 months
Text
WHEN YOU CAN’T FALL ASLEEP
ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor
p.s.! ₊˚. for all my sleepy girls (gn) we’re in this together
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DAZAI ー dazai’s futon doesn’t allow you much space to move. you try to shift again, as delicately as you can with his body curled around yours. no matter how hard you tried to match your breathing to his, close your eyes, and relax, you just couldn’t seem to fall asleep tonight.
the last thing you want is to disturb him. dazai barely got enough rest, only sleeping through the night occasionally; he looks so pretty when he does, with his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, letting out soft, shallow breaths against your chest through his parted lips.
you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut and dropping your head back onto your pillow, when you hear a familiar whine, and your stomach drops.
he lifts his head, mumbling your name. his eyes are lidded, cheeks warm and imprinted by the wrinkles from your shirt. “what’s wrong?”
“nothing,” you try to urge his head back down, rubbing his scalp in the way you know he loves. “i’m okay. go back to sleep, ‘samu.”
you tilt your head to the side, looking down at him. he folds his arms against your chest, looking up at you from beneath his lashes.
“you’re not a good liar,” he smiles. it’s small and sleepy, and you wish you had enough energy to kiss it off his face.
“i can’t sleep,” you sigh. “but you should. it’s still early, i think.”
you try to peek at the time on your phone as he leans up on his elbows, turning your face towards his. he kisses your forehead, trailing down until his lips press against the space between your eyebrows, then down to the bridge of your nose.
“how am i supposed to kiss you awake if you don’t fall asleep first?” he whispers, tracing his thumb beneath your eye. you kiss the side of his wrist, leaning into his hand.
he pulls himself up until your positions are swapped, with his head on the pillow, and your head on his chest. he rests his cheek against your hair as he drags his fingertips down the back of your neck, rubbing little circles between your shoulder blades.
he hums softly, a song you can’t quite place. even barely murmuring, you can hear the sweetness in his voice, like he simply couldn’t hold in his adoration for you.
the calm beat of his heart and the soft vibrations from his chest soothe your mind. all your thoughts slip away, only a faraway whisper of sweet dreams, my love and the soft press of lips against your forehead before you fall asleep.
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CHUUYA ー you can hear chuuya’s quiet movements as he comes home from a late night mission, a mumbled curse slipping from his mouth when he’s a little too loud taking off his shoes. he cracks the bedroom door open, eyebrows raising when he sees you.
“you’re still awake?” he opens the door further. “you okay, baby?”
you nod into your comforter, watching blearily as he pulls his gloves off by each finger before he brushes your bangs away from your face.
“i’ll be right back,” he whispers, bending down to kiss your forehead. “don’t wait for me if you can help it, alright?”
you nod again, eyes falling shut as he kisses your forehead one more time. you hear the gentle thud of his dresser drawer closing, the sound of leather hitting the bathroom floor. you don’t know how much time has passed when you open your eyes again, looking up at him in a t-shirt and sweatpants.
“c’mon,” he squeezes your hand, sheets falling to your waist as he pulls you to sit up. “let’s go for a drive.”
the cool leather of chuuya’s car seat isn’t as comfortable as your bed, but you can already feel the heaviness in your chest start to dissipate as he drives.
you rest your head on the tinted window, looking out at the passing buildings. his hand rests against your thigh, and you lift it off, just enough for you to slide your fingers in between his own.
there aren’t many people out on the road this late, but he’s still careful, only sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye. with the security and warmth that comes from chuuya’s presence next to you, and the gentle movement of the car, it doesn’t take long for your eyes to fall shut.
when he looks over and sees your face, completely relaxed, he exhales, sagging in relief against his headrest. he can’t get enough of you, bundled up in his passenger seat, holding his hand firmly, even in your sleep.
he’ll drive around a little longer, he decides, just to watch the way the lights wash over your pretty face, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones, the pretty pink of your lips.
at least it’d be no problem for him to carry you back to bed.
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RANPO ー every night, ranpo curls on top of you with the lingering scent of freshly baked pastries clinging to his skin, and his messy hair tickling your jaw from how he nuzzles his face against your neck.
his body is always a comforting weight, but sleep evades you tonight. you stare up at the ceiling, gently drawing little shapes through his shirt with your finger.
“i know you’re awake.”
you jump when he whispers in your ear, heart rate spiking painfully in your chest. he lifts his head up; his eyes are open, bright green and staring at you. the tips of your noses brush from how close he is.
“your thoughts woke me up,” he answers before you can ask, poking your forehead. “they’re too loud.”
“sorry,” you sigh, wincing when he flicks your forehead.
“why are you apologizing?” he whispers, tilting his chin up to kiss the spot he flicked. “go to sleep.”
“i can’t,” you whine, childishness rivaling his own.
“that’s ‘cause you’re not trying hard enough,” he mumbles, pout evident in his voice. “your eyes aren’t even closed.”
he traces his finger down the bridge of your nose, then up again. he grazes your hairline as he travels across your forehead next, and your eyes grow heavy with each movement, slowly falling shut.
“ranpoー”
“shhh,” he smooths his thumb along your eyebrow, making his way back down your nose. “go to sleep.”
he keeps tracing your features, even after your eyes are all the way closed and your face is completely relaxed beneath his hand. he brushes his fingers across your cupid’s bow, tracing down to the plush of your bottom lip.
“there,” he whispers, leaving butterfly kisses along your jaw as he nuzzles back into you. “that’s better.”
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FYODOR ー you’ve been teetering on the edge of sleep ever since you first laid down, hours ago. you’re sure it’s the early hours of the morning by now, and you sigh, stretching your arm to the other side of the bed. it’s cold, sheets still untouched.
it was rare fedya came to bed at night, no matter how much you wished he would. curling into his side always helped you rest easier. his presence is a calming one, maybe only to you.
you bundle up your blanket, holding it in place around your shoulders as you get out of bed. the ends trail along the hallway floor like a cloak as you tiptoe to his office. the steady sound of him typing comes to a stop as soon as you open the door, and he turns around in his chair, just enough to look at you.
“what are you doing up at this hour?” his eyebrows furrow, like the hypocrite he is.
“i don’t know,” you mumble around a yawn. “i just missed you.”
he swivels completely to face you, opening his arms. he makes no complaints about accommodating you as you sit on his lap, curling yourself around him, cheek falling to rest against his shoulder. you shift to look at his screens, monitor light seeming so much brighter to your tired eyes in the darkness of his office.
“don’t look at those,” he tilts your head further into his shoulder. “you’ll only keep yourself awake longer.”
you press your face into his neck, seeking out the soothing chill of his skin. you arch further into him when his fingertips sneak beneath your shirt, rubbing along the knobs of your spine. his typing is rhythmic, fingers gently pressing into your skin each time he pauses to think as you feel the rise and fall of his chest against your body.
he feels your breaths, deep and even against his shoulder, and spares a glance at you: asleep. he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, lips curling up as you try to snuggle impossibly closer to him.
“rest well, my dear,” he pulls the edge of the blanket tighter around you. “i’ll be here when you wake up.”
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BSD MASTERLIST
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honeydazai · 26 days
Text
୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ sending them suggestive pictures while they're at work
feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Sigma
content: nsfw, female reader, spanking, sexting, oral sxx, masturbation, semi public
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It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.
He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.
[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”
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CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.
He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.
“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”
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Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.
He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.
[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”
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FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.
He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.
“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”
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It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.
While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.
“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”
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The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.
When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.
“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”
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allisonlol · 9 months
Note
chuuya dazai and fyodor when reader tries to remove the hickies they gave reader the next day OHKYIGOAHSS
a/n: hiii everyone i have crawled out of my void to offer you this post !! ty to the anon who came up with this wonderful idea. i've missed posting omg and we somehow are so close to 3k despite my inactivity??? slay. shall open reqs again once we get there mwehehe
warnings: slight nsfw
(Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor) When You Try to Remove Hickeys
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Chuuya
he's gonna be the most chill about this tbh
it's your body and if you don't want ppl seeing that on you then that's ur choice!!
however
hiding them is one thing, but that doesn't mean he wants to see you removing them
so yknow that hack where you take a whisk and like,,,twist it over the mark to get rid of it?
yeah so you tried that...and it was actually working until chuuya barged into the room and demanded to know what you were doing
bro is not happy to see the hickies he'd proudly left on you last night being somehow removed by a WHISK
grabs that mf thing and throws it across the room
chuuya's not angry at you, more so frustrated and insecure?? cuz like why would u wanna get rid of them
he's lowkey gonna start pouting tbh. won't say anything else but will glare & give u silent treatment
won't stop until you admit the only reason u removed them is because it was too visible with your work uniform and u didn't want everyone staring smh
insist that he should give you more in areas that people won't see and there's no guarantee y'all won't be late to work <3
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Dazai
oh lord
so dazai really loves to mark you up
and last night was no different. your neck was black and blue with hickies
deadass to the point where you nearly had a heart attack when you saw it in the morning
"how am i gonna go to work like this?!" you practically sob to him while he LAUGHS
his only advice is "then don't go" as if both of y'all don't need to have ur asses at the agency in 20 minutes
you check ur phone for the time and when u see this you panic and sprint to your shared bedroom
you try everything you can think of to cover them
first you hastily layer concealer on your neck, to no avail as the marks were too dark
then digging through ur closet for clothes with a high enough neckline to hide it, to which you found none
whole time dazai is leaning against the doorframe, watching ur meltdown with an amused expression
he approaches and helps u up from the floor where u had collapsed with all the clothes strewn around you ☹️
"allow me to pick out something for you to wear" ….oh god
u guys are beyond late at this point so you sigh and accept defeat, to which dazai picks a shirt that of course displays all the marks on your neck
you got lots of stares that day to say the least
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Fyodor
surprisingly fyodor doesn't usually leave too many marks on you to begin with
he's got that old fashioned take where it's like "other people don't need to see that and be in our business" if u know what i mean
however, he is also a very possessive man
^so when he gets worked up and does leave hickeys on you, the last thing he wants to see is you trying to hide or remove them
which is exactly what he walked in on u doing today
you were trying the good old "rub an ice cube on it" hack before u had to work
now this mf thinks you have some hidden agenda as to why you wanted them gone
"are you seeing someone else" 💀💀
PLS u didn't realize he had been watching from the doorway and this scares u so bad u drop the ice cube down ur shirt
u start frantically trying to get it out of ur shirt while yelling at him like "i have to work, wtf are u talking about???"
u immediately stop tho when he storms up to u and grabs your face to make you look at him
his face is so cold and unreadable omg it's scary
his eyes shift to the marks on your neck as he traces over them with his fingers
"leave these alone" he says lowly, then adjusts the collar of your shirt so they are partially covered
neither of u will say anything more about it after that, but fyodor sends sigma to secretly follow u to work to make sure that's where ur really going 😓
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queer-n-here · 1 day
Text
Ango x Muscular Reader Headcannons
This for my bro 🦅 anon. I'm sorry, I accidentally deleted your original req, thank God I still remember what you asked for!
Also, *removes glasses and grimly rubs forehead* I felt kinda guilty since I wasn't able to do your recent Fyodor ask justice, so this is a compensation for that. Hope you like it.
Contents: Muscular Reader x Ango Akaguchi. Both SFW and NSFW Headcannons.
Warnings: Smut, Top male reader, Nipple play, virgin Ango, virginity loss.
SFW
I can see Ango getting slightly flustered when he first sees you.
You, a rookie ability user in the Special Division for Unusual Powers unit, greeting him formally, and the first thing Ango registers is your sheer size.
To begin with, you're 6'2", considerably taller than Ango himself at 5'8". (Yes, I looked up his height.)
Moreover, that's not all to your build. One glance at you and anyone would be able to tell you work out. Your arms are as thick as an average man's quads, to say the least. And your uniform is visibly straining against your chest; that thing is not going to last long.
But in the beginning Ango is only slightly impressed, glad to have someone who's physically strong on the team, just in case an incident like that of Tatsuhiko Shibusawa happens again. Draconia was frightening, and Ango is more than happy to have someone who would have a chance fighting against their own ability.
And then you two get partnered up for your first mission.
The only reason Ango gets put on it is because of his ability 'Decadence of Discourse'. The government needs him to unravel the location of an ability user mass bomber, who's recently escaped from prison.
It's not an easy one, and Ango feels obligated to guide you through it, but as you two unravel mystery after mystery, he slowly learns that you're not ignorant enough to be a total rookie.
So, after the mission is completed, he treats you to dinner. It's a simple gesture, but you notice the intention behind it all the same. And yet, you go.
He tries to get you drunk, but your alcohol tolerance is too much, and at the end of the day, you pretend to be wasted just to see what he'd do.
When Ango uses his ability on you, you let him, having nothing to hide. And he finds out more than enough to satisfy his curiosity.
You were in the Port Mafia before.
Despite knowing, he doesn't bring it up. You find it amusing, how he went so far to find out, and then withdrew silently.
Time passes, and Ango and you grow closer. He tries not to trust you, his job does not permit him to, yet you somehow wiggle your way into his heart, all big and strong.
Now, when you lean over him, or get too close in an elevator, he feels his face heat up, and tries his best to look away. He can't afford to have feelings, he tells himself.
And yet they're out of his control.
You notice, just how you notice everything else. Slightly amused, you tease him a little, standing a little too close when you talk to him, or leaning across him to reach things you could have grabbed either way, just feel his breath hitch.
But I mean, could you deny that you felt the same way, though? Not when Ango adjusts his glasses the way he does every time he gets flustered, a habit you notice that he wasn't aware of himself. How cute, you think.
So when you two do get into a relationship (after an adorable drunk confession from Ango and a whole morning of coaxing him to admit what he said last night) you feel quite decently accomplished in getting THE Ango Sakaguchi all red and stuttering just with a forehead kiss.
NSFW
The first time you two have sex, Ango is more than nervous, even though it's him who asked you if you wanted to do it.
So prep him gently, placing kisses along his jawline and down along his collarbone as he moans and clutches the sheets underneath him.
And when you finally put your fat cock in him, do give him time to adjust. Being a member of a confidential governmental department, dating opportunities don't come by everyday, so you'll excuse him for being a virgin, right?
Start gentle, your cock pumping in and out of Ango as he gets used to the feeling of your tip against his walls, moans spilling non-stop from his pretty mouth.
Kiss him quiet, your neighbours won't be happy at the amount of noise he's making. Or fuck him faster, each of his sounds driving you to please him more, more.
Slam into his sweet spot, and he'll arch his back off the bed, blunt nails digging into your back and drawing blood as a cry rips itself from his throat, eyes wide and tearing up.
Fuck him nice and good, till he forgets his own name, till the only thing his brain can process is your cock against his tight walls, abusing and bullying his sweet spot with such precision it makes him see stars.
Wipe away his tears before you continue to pound into him, and plant soft kisses on his face and chest. Suck on his nipples, kiss and bite them, and he'll come undone right then, hips bucking as cum shoots out of his untouched dick, hole clenching pathetically around you.
Let him come down from his high before you continue; it's only his first time, you can overstimulate him some other day, right?
When you start over, he will bury his face into the crook of your neck, muffling his moans and cries against your skin and just sobbing into your shoulder.
Fuck him till you come, bringing him to his second orgasm just with the feeling of your seed hitting his walls.
Pull out of him and kiss him softly, tell him he did good, and he'll smile dazedly, burying his face into your thick chest.
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kentopedia · 6 months
Text
♰ his parliament's on fire — dazai osamu
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.𖥔 ݁ ˖🕸️🕷.𖥔 ݁ ˖ KINKTOBER NO. 1 - nightclub owner!dazai
every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they’d commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai’s.
contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, port mafia boss!dazai, port mafia member!reader, bsd typical blood / violence, unprotected sex, established relationship, takes place before doa, dazai & reader are a lil unhinged bc they're in love, praise, soft dazai, riding dazai, sub reader, v slight breeding kink oops — 10.1k
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The music shook your chest as you watched people head to the front of the club for a dance, a combination of those that were regulars, and those who were just desperate to blow their money on an evening in one of the finest night clubs in the country.
It had grown hot in the club, even for an autumn evening in Yokohoma. There were more people filling the tables than usual, standing only to swing their partners around on the dancefloor. A woman sung sultrily to the crowd, a song that you hadn’t heard in ages. Even for a Saturday, it was crowded, the capacity met, and then surpassed, packed to the brim as a group of foreign billionaires weaseled their way in by paying twice the entry fee.
You swirled your glass, sitting alone at the bar with your legs crossed, the tight, red dress rising up on your thighs. Beside you, a man was puffing a cigar, blowing the smoke back in your face so frequently that it took all your effort not to cough. Still, he paid you little attention, too enraptured by a skinny young woman that giggled every time he touched her arm.
A few more individuals made their way to the dancefloor, tracking unaccompanied dancers like prey, hopeful that they could score a partner for the evening. It was amusing, really, how often you’d seen some of the same men come back. They’d throw stacks of money on the table in a desperation to acquaint themselves with beautiful, upper-class women, even if they’d go home unhappy and broke.
Ice clinked against the sides of your glass as the last drop disappeared down your throat, warming you up for the rest of the evening. Already, you had caught the glimpse of several men in the club. But those who knew who you were knew to keep their distance, and they never tried to sneak more than a subtle glance in your direction.
Those who didn’t usually noticed nothing but your striking beauty and the allure of darkness that seemed to follow you. They were drawn to you easily, smiling at you like they were entitled to gawk at your appearance, like it would be criminal for anyone so beautiful to shield herself away from the world.
Rarely did that ever end well for them.
You handed your empty glass off to the bartender—a dear friend that you’d convinced to work for you at the club—and made your way over to the dance floor. The crowd parted for you with quick glances and slackened jaws, stumbling on their own feet to get out of your way. Once you passed, the world seemed to resume itself. Everyone continued about their business, averted their gaze, even if they were careful not to get too close to you.
Something about that made you smile.
For a while, you danced on your own, grinning carelessly to yourself as you twisted your hips, unbound yourself to the music and the alcohol that ran through your veins. It was a different kind of freedom, and though you’d once been wary of the watchful eyes, they no longer bothered you. You loved losing yourself in the rhythm, loved feeling transported to another realm.
The setlist for the evening included a few of your favorites, and you carried on until there was sweat on your forehead, a single bead trickling down your temple, one that you hastily wiped off. Breaths came to you more stiflingly, heaving inhales and exhales that paired with your thirst.
Finally, the tempo of the music slowed, just enough to snap you back into the present, and the energy zapped out of you as your mood darkened. The time of the evening had passed when you realized that it was no longer fun to dance alone.
You sighed, and with a frown, let your gaze trail across the room to find the cool brown eyes that you loved more than the music you spun in circles to. But Dazai was already in a conversation with someone else, tapping slender fingers against his glass full of amber liquid. He listened intently to a conversation between two men twice his age.
Beside him, Chuuya stood at the edge of the table like a loyal bloodhound, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. You caught his eye instead and smiled to him, though not a single muscle in his face twitched. It seemed as though he was intent on keeping up the charade for the evening.
As much as you wanted to smile even more sweetly and taunt him mercilessly, you didn’t let yourself get too distracted. Instead, you refocused your sights on your other goal.
The stocky, tall man was right where Dazai said he’d be, sitting with a couple woman and a few empty glasses in front of him. He had a neatly trimmed, graying beard, sporting a watch that was, at least, a couple million yen.
You caught him watching you over the edge of the table, his smile slow as you bat your eyelashes at him, sauntering past him with a perfectly coy expression. Eyes lingered on the curves of your hips; the smooth skin of your legs revealed by the dress. The lust came in near waves off of him, thick and heavy as they reached you.
It made your job easier, the obvious attraction that they never tried to hide from you. You smiled to yourself, and felt a sense of satisfaction, despite his disgraceful leering.
The seats at the bar had been filled up when you returned, leaving no room for you and your new companion to retreat.
A younger regular, one with an overabundance of nerves and an awkward smile, spoke in hushed whispers to his friend, one that was dressed in a suit far too cheap to be in this club.
You tapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him in the way that had everyone bending over backwards for you. “Excuse me?”
He looked over, irritated for a fleeting second before realizing who it was that had approached him. Immediately, he was to his feet, stammering over a greeting while his friend gawked at him with incredulity.
“Sorry to bother you,” you said, softening your voice. “I was wondering if I could have those seats. I hate to—”
“No, no,” he said, practically shoving the other man away, pushing him out of the chair while he sputtered confused nonsense. “Take them! We’ll be out of your hair.”
You thanked them before placing yourself neatly back onto the stool you’d occupied before. It was far too easy.
The bartender sent you a knowing look, all too familiar with your games, before going back to mixing a drink.
Moments later, you felt the presence of another behind you, an overwhelming smell of tobacco and pine assaulting your senses. He was taller up close, taller than Dazai, at least, and older than you’d originally thought. Deep wrinkles weathered his skin, his eyes, and though there was still a hint of black in his dark hair, it was slowly being overtaken by the signs of a life that was twice as long as yours.
“Pretty dress.” That was the first thing he said to you, letting his eyes wander over your chest, lips curling into an ugly smirk. “It suits you nicely.”
You wouldn’t be won over so easily, so you merely smiled at him, nodding in thanks. Though, that had him coming on twice as strong, as if the simple eye contact that you’d made earlier had been a full invitation to fuck you. He took the seat next to you, signaling the bartender over.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and though it was a kind proposition, it always made you laugh. You received a million free drinks from strangers here.
Still, you shrugged and let him, unsurprised that he knew what you’d been drinking earlier. It was a clear sign that he’d been watching you since before you even got up to dance.
“What’s your name?” 
“Should I give it away that easily?” Your voice was silky in your response, unimpressed, but luring him in, nonetheless.
He laughed, and offered you his own instead, Tanaka, as if you didn’t already know it. You’d been planning on springing him into this trap since the moment he’d arrived that evening. It was a target and a plan that had been set in motion for days.
His grin was uncomfortable, but he thought so highly of the way his lips curled, seemingly luring you in.
In reality, you weren’t sure how any woman could stand to get down on her knees for that.
Half an hour passed as you talked with him, preening under his endless string of compliments, wishing that you could string him on for a little bit longer. You enjoyed the words well enough, just another thing to stroke your ego, but the minute he moved closer, you inched away, placing distance between you before he could touch you.
It was obvious it frustrated him, but one look at the flash in his irises had you knowing that he enjoyed the chase.
He droned on, careless conversation about hobbies you didn’t want to understand, and though you smiled, pretending to be interested, your focus drifted to the table where Dazai sat.
His conversation had shifted to Chuuya, the two other men from earlier gone. It seemed strained between them, sharp words spoken as they glared at one another, visibly at odds about something.
Despite the clear dispute, anger cleared away from their expressions within seconds, Chuuya straightening like a board beside his boss once again.
Dazai looked up; it was less than a second that your eyes met, but your knees had weakened, heart stuttering in your chest as it skipped a pulse.
A soft exhale left you, and you longed for Dazai, craved the feeling of his strong palm on your skin, the kiss of his lips on your neck. You had half a mind to say fuck the mission and walk right over to the table and plant yourself on his lap.
It would certainly cause a scene, especially when there were so many new customers there who knew about Dazai but didn’t know about you.
Still, you knew Dazai wouldn’t object. He’d merely smile into your hair and curl his hand around your hip, continuing on with his conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.
You looked away. If you were to make it through the rest of the night, you couldn’t get distracted by the beautiful man just feet away from you. “Sorry,” you said, turning back to Tanaka. “What were you saying?”
His interest in conversation had already waned, and he faced Dazai, displeased by the uptick of fascination within your expression. “Found someone more interesting already?”
You laughed, shaking your head as you pressed your palms into your thighs. You may have longed for Dazai, been so desperate that you couldn’t spare him another glimpse, but you could still play this role well. There couldn’t be another slip, every move had to be precise.
“I’m just curious,” you said, puckering your lips in a pout. “He looks important.”
Tanaka took a sip of his drink as you spoke, nearly spitting it back out when your sentence concluded. His eyes were hard, narrowing at the sight of Dazai just meters away, surrounded by a security of sorts, “You don’t know him?” He coughed.
You frowned, tilting your head. “Should I?”
“That’s Dazai Osamu. He owns this place.”
There was room for a theatrical pause. You took that moment to pretend to think. “Oh, of course. What a silly question,” you said, humming, and set your chin down on your hand to glance back over at the table of Port Mafia personnel. “I hear he owns a lot of things.” You tilted your head, gauging the man with siren eyes. “Is that true?”
Tanaka huffed, but he didn’t deny it, looking down at his two-million-yen watch like it was nothing more than a trinket. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry about him.” He seemed irritated, though he didn’t let it show, his voice the only indicator that you had upset him. “But I can tell you it sure gets hard to run a business in Yokohama when the Port Mafia owns half the city.”
You widened your eyes, leaning forward. “You’re telling me the Port Mafia owns this place?”
Tanaka laughed, loud and haughty, looking at you like you were just a poor idiot from the countryside, even if the dress you wore cost just as much as his entire suit put together. “Oh, hon, if only you knew.”
The condescending tone sent a screech through your entire body, momentarily halting any proper responses in your current act. But he was unfazed, already moving onto the next topic of conversation, telling you all about the business dealings that you’d known about from the long list of jobs within his file.
There was, truly, nothing about him that you hadn’t already dug up. It was boring you immensely, but you smiled on, nodding enthusiastically as he spun the most lackluster story you’d ever heard.
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Dazai, across the room, stared at you as you conversed, clenching his jaw at the way the man eyed you, the gaze that scoured your body like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.
Oh, he would certainly enjoy tearing him apart later, even if he would be too easy of a case to break.  
“When are we leaving?”
Chuuya’s voice snapped him out of his onlooking, and Dazai leaned back in the chair, shedding the tension in his shoulders to resume a comfortable position.
“Not until they’re both in the car and I can confirm with Tachihara and Gin that she’s safe,” Dazai said, crossing his arms over the table. He couldn’t forget that there were others around him, those who would never say a word to him, but knew who he was, knew what he stood for. Even here, he couldn’t let his guard down.
“Safe?” Chuuya laughed, though it was without any humor. His irises flashed dangerously, steely grey darkening into a deep silver. “You trust that idiot not to lay a hand on her? He’s undressing her with his eyes.”
Chuuya seemed intent on irritating him that evening, as usual.
“I don’t trust anyone who comes here.” Dazai scowled. “Don’t be a fool.”
A moment of silence lapsed between them, and Dazai became sickened by the way the man was eyeing you. Though you took it all in stride, leaning just far enough away so his knee didn’t graze yours, and his palm didn’t brush against your own, it still lit a fire deep within him.
It was all the better, he supposed, to feel such deep hatred for his enemies. It made it easier to tear them apart without any guilt. 
“How long are you going to make her do this, huh?” Chuuya spoke up once more from beside him, his voice nothing more than a grumble as he whispered down to Dazai. “This charade you two are carrying on has lasted long enough. I mean, you’re whoring out your wife for fuck’s sake—”
Dazai reacted without a thought, despite not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a second. He gritted his teeth and turned on Chuuya, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket, finger tight on the trigger. Enough of a warning for him to know how sincerely the simple comment irritated him.
“Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t love my wife, Chuuya, or it’ll be the last thing you ever say.” Dazai spat the words out carefully, just under his breath, holding Chuuya’s piercing gaze without blinking. “You may be a valuable asset to the Port Mafia, but I will not listen to your opinions on matters that don’t concern you.”
Chuuya stared, setting his jaw before turning away once more. The two of them looked back to where you were smiling, leading the other man out of the room, though still not touching, placing a respectable distance between you.
“I’m just surprised, Dazai.” Chuuya leaned back, crossing his arms as he titled his head, watching your figure fade into the shadows. “You love her so fiercely, and yet, you watch as this carries on time and time again. I don’t understand.”
Dazai stood from the booth, tucking the gun back into his waistbad, under his coat. He straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. “I think you’re underestimating her if you truly believe she doesn’t have a handle on the situation.” His hands slipped into his pockets as Chuuya followed, grumbling from just a few feet away. “Besides, I’ve never forced her into anything. It was her idea in the first place.”
“Why?”
Dazai sighed, though it was almost wistful, the mere thought of you enough to turn him into a lovesick fool. “Perhaps it is because there are many men that seem to think they can crawl into her bed so easily, and she enjoys their humiliation when they realize that they are so far beneath her.” Dazai shrugged, and smiled lightheartedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps, she just wants to make everyone’s lives a little easier, including yours. You should thank her sometime.”
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Tanaka sat beside you in the car, his hand lingering in the leather seat between his thigh and your own. Night had fallen deep across the city, the sky a navy through the haze of streetlights. Though it was nearing one o’clock in the morning, there were crowds of people out and about, lines at all of the much more affordable clubs in the area.
It hadn’t taken much to get him to come with you. You’d batted your eyelashes, smiled at him from under them, and told him you had a car waiting out back.
That was enough. When you’d pulled yourself down from the barstool, he’d followed after you, eyes blown wide as you’d begun leading him out of the room.
All it took was a dress that hugged your curves and a small grin, and he was in the car with a man that worked for you, heading to a building that your husband owned.
“Do you live far?” Tanaka asked, itching to put his hands on you, even though you’d convinced him to hold off until you got back to your room.
You placed your chin on the inside of your palm, glancing out the window at your own reflection. “Not too far.” You turned back to him, offering him a shy smile. “Why? Are you getting impatient?”
He grinned wolfishly. Your stomach churned anxiously at the sight of it, even when he was no match for you, nor all the other, powerful individuals that surrounded you. “I don’t think I need to answer that.”
Through the rearview mirror, Tachihara met your eyes, and they softened, just barely, silently showing his support from the front of the vehicle.
It was, in a way, a relief. You relaxed, regained a sense of composure, and let your ruby red lips spread over your teeth, cocking your head as Tanaka indulged himself in whatever fantasy was milling about in his mind. His eyes were cruel, though the darkness in them was nothing compared to what you were used to.
Idly, he made comments in your ear of all the things he wanted to do to you, his unpleasant breath tickling the skin there as you tried your best not to recoil. The smell of him was growing heavy in the car, overwhelming and nauseating. You sat even more stiffly, pressing Tanaka away with a palm to his chest as you giggled to yourself, pretending to enjoy his vulgar words.
Tachihara pulled the car around to the back of the building, letting the two of you out as he put it into park.
Any fool should’ve known where they were, what the dark building in the middle of the city stood for, but Tanaka was all too focused on you, intoxicated and inattentive. The mafia headquarters loomed overhead, dark, and unassuming, a triad of buildings stacked perfectly against one another.
“Thank you,” you said to Tachihara, winking at him as Tanaka turned his back, too disoriented to take in anything but the sight of you right before him.
The car drove away, then, and you were left to guide your guest into the building, towards the room that you had already planned to meet Dazai in. When you reached the elevator, Gin was waiting for you, dressed in female attire, this time, charading as a worker instead of the trained assassin that she truly was.
“Impressive building,” Tanaka said, as if not noticing all the obvious signs of the mafia base. “You must come from quite a wealthy family.”
You smiled at him over your shoulder, curious as to why he didn’t assume you’d come into the riches on your own. “I suppose you could say that.”
Gin opened the elevator, then began typing a message to her boss, alerting him of your arrival. Tachihara had taken the longest route back, giving Dazai just enough time to arrive home before you.
“Are you a renter?” he asked, staring as the numbers on the elevator increased, climbed higher while you went towards a floor that was only two below the penthouse.
“We own it.”
Tanaka turned towards you, eyes wide with surprise, perplexed even further by the alcohol running through his veins. “You didn’t say—”
Abruptly, he cut himself off. Whatever comment he was about to make was overshadowed by the fact that he’d met you at the Port Mafia’s night club. That was certainly no place for anyone that didn’t have a million yen to spare in their pockets.
Finally, the elevator dinged, and you relaxed at the sight of the familiar hall, the carpet that had recently been replaced, the paintings that you’d personally added, ones that had been purchased at an auction. There were traces of you everywhere, and though it belonged to many members of the mafia, it was, inherently, your home.
You grabbed Tanaka’s hand, realizing just how cold it was, wrinkled with calluses and dirtied nails. It took everything in you not to grimace as you pulled him towards the fourth door on the right, the one that had been used for every interrogation over the past two years.
It had become something of a holding cell for the mafia’s enemies, and most didn’t remain here long. You doubted that this man would be of any exception.
Tugging him along, you increased your speed, an invisible string guiding you right back to Dazai. He was your fiery beacon, and though you were still separated by walls, your heart thumped at being so near to him.
“Eager, are we?” Tanaka asked, and when he grinned in the lights, you realized how slimy it was, a hunger dripping off the edges of his yellowed teeth.
You smiled right back, but it was forceful, painful as it etched its way onto your cheeks. An itch started in the cracks of your palm, willing you to snatch it out of Tanaka’s hand and scrub it clean. Still, you held on, remembering that this was for the Port Mafia, this was for Dazai and everything you’d worked for over the years.Your determination increased tenfold. “It’s just around the corner.”
Finally, you reached the room where you knew Dazai would be waiting, and just like every other time you’d done this, every time you’d brought another willing victim into a den of wolves, you could finally relax.
You entered the room, not bothering to flip on any of the light switches. There was furniture, but it was dusty, bloody, and it would make it far too obvious that you were not leading Tanaka back to your bedroom. You didn’t want him turning tail too quickly, running when he discovered you had no intention of rolling around in the sheets with him.
He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, advancing on you like a hunter. It would’ve been threatening, intimidating perhaps, if you had not been able to sense Dazai on the other side of the wall. You knew that whatever control Tanaka thought he had on the situation had quickly evaporated, and it was only a false blanket of security that he’d wrapped himself up in.
“Can I get you anything? Maybe a drink?” you asked, stopping Tanaka with a flat palm to his chest, not allowing him to come any closer. “The alcohol in me is starting to wear off.”
He ignored your wishes entirely, upon you once more. One larger hand ripped yours from his chest, pulling you just another inch closer. “I’ve had enough tonight,” Tanaka said, teeth flashing in the dim starlight. “I’m dying to fuck you.”
You frowned, eyebrows wrinkling. “Well, I’d like a drink first.”
“I’m not in the mood.” He yanked on your hand again, and this time, you knew he’d kiss you, knew he’d plant the cracking pale lips of his own on yours. The thought of it made you ill.
Without thinking, you slung a fist across his face, a crunch sounding from his nose at the force of your hit. Blood trickled from one nostril, flowing in a fast stream over his lips, into his teeth.
He bent over, and you stood, straighter, staring over him as he cursed. The punch had been much more forceful than you’d intended.
“What the fuck.” He was angrier than before, and though his pain was immense, it did little to dissuade him. You kept your face hard, inching backwards as he stood tall, so much bigger than you’d remembered. It wouldn’t take much for him to lift you, throw you onto any surface he wanted.
You’d use your ability if you had to, kill the man if it was necessary, but that would mean the entire plan had gone to waste.
“You bitch—”
Without letting any fear cloud your face, you took a step back and bumped into something solid and warm. A cologne more familiar than Tanaka’s enveloped you in a safety net. 
The older man made it one step further, aggressively, before every ounce of determination waned from his eyes. He staggered, tripping over himself and stared back at the man that had slowly come up behind you. The one that was brushing soft fingertips between your shoulder blades, his steady breath tickling the crown of your head.
Dazai smiled, in a way that was so menacing that your heart thumped twice in its chest before resuming its natural melody. Tanaka took a step back, scrambling away, nearly tripping over himself in the process, eyes dilated in fear.
“You,” he breathed. “Dazai—” Tanaka didn’t finish his sentence, too stunned as he stared between the two of you. “What’s going on?”
Dazai stepped forward, letting his hands fall away from you as he cornered the newest addition to his long list of enemies. Already, you missed the warmth of Dazai’s touch, the security that came with his proximity.
Tanaka cowered before him, suddenly so small, weak under the breadth of Dazai’s power. A sense of twisted satisfaction curled within you, lightning up every pore under your cold skin.
“I believe you owe my wife an apology,” Dazai said, and his tone was even, hard, not a hint of amusement laced within the words. Tanaka’s eyes darted to you, where you stood with your arms loose at your sides, eyes softer, every inch of you more delicate now that Dazai was in the room. 
“Wife—” The word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it, hesitant. “You said you didn’t know him. You asked me questions about him.”
You slid the ring back onto your finger, the one that you’d kept tucked away in the pocket of your bag. It glimmered in the beams of the moon, the diamond and rubies sparkling. “I can lie just as easily as a man can.” Crossing your arms, you sighed, and stared at Dazai’s taut back, the strained muscles in his shoulders as he stood over Tanaka. “You’re all so stupid sometimes. It only takes a simple question, and you never ask it. Anyone in that club could’ve told you who I am.”
He balked, considering his own ignorance, and followed your eyes back to Dazai, who had gone just a few steps behind you, to the small storage of top-shelf alcohol that you kept locked up in the room. “What is this about?” he asked, shaking his head to clear away his distress. “You’ve obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?”
“I find it funny that you think you’re the one in control of the situation,” Dazai said, turning his back to fix himself a drink. He didn’t doubt that you would watch Tanaka for him with careful eyes. Even the smallest twitch of his eyebrows would be telling. “You don’t get to ask questions.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he said, and though his voice was hard, there was underlying panic. “I’ve stayed well out of the Mafia’s business, as promised—”
“Perhaps.” Dazai interrupted smoothly, coolly. “Our agreement wasn’t broken, per se. I just happen to think that working with outsiders is an act of much higher treason.”
Tanaka blinked, faltering. His jaw went slack, a mere second ticking before he replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t try to lie to me.” Dazai glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about Dostoevsky. The rats that are trying to take over my city.” He tsked, rolling the glass around on the counter, clinking it against the granite. Then, he popped a crystal bottle open, letting it fill a quarter of the glass.  “Such a shame. You’ve built quite a name for yourself in Yokohama. Is this really worth losing all that?”
Tanaka stuck both hands in his pocket, shaking his head vigorously. His fingers flexed against his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who that is, I’ve never crossed anyone by that name.”
Seeing an opportunity while Dazai’s back was turned, Tanaka began to pull out a pistol from his coat; one you had, stupidly, forgotten to check for. It seemed he doubted that you were a threat, and if he could just kill Dazai, you’d be an easy target.
You moved without thinking, making the single-step distance between you and Dazai. There was a gun relaxed at his waistband, and you stole it, knowing exactly where he kept it hidden. Before Tanaka could point his own at the head of your lover, you’d acted first, aiming Dazai’s gun, your jaw tense and back straight. “Put it down.”
Tanaka, caught off guard, locked his jaw, and his fingers twisted tighter around the handle of the gun, inching towards the trigger. For a moment, he contemplated, but even without knowing the thoughts in his mind, you could read his actions.
You wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do as he wanted. Instead, you fired your own gun, digging the bullet into his fingers, shattering them, blood spattering as Tanaka dropped the pistol to the floor in a ghoulish scream.
For a second more, he writhed in pain at your own hand, once again. You held your arm taut, before letting the gun drop to your side as Dazai hummed behind you. Tanaka had fallen to his knees, tears welling up, his vision glossy as he dropped the maimed hand to his thighs.
Dazai came up beside you, smiling at you, and brushed his fingers down your arm. Slowly, he took the gun, placing it back into his waistband, his touch electric on every centimeter of your skin. “You’ve handled it beautifully, my love.” Dazai squeezed your hand, tilting his head so dark hair cleared away from his eyes. “I can take it from here.”
You nodded, and though Dazai was, by no means, pushing you out of the room, he could see how exhausted you’d become by the whole ordeal. If you wanted to leave—and you did—he wouldn’t object.
“Will you be long?” you asked, just a whisper over Tanaka’s heavy breaths of pain.
Dazai laughed easily, his breath ghosting the bridge of your nose. “Akutagawa will be here soon.” A touch lingered on your hands for a minute longer before he pulled away completely. “Then, I’m yours for the rest of the night.”
It was already late, but you’d take whatever time you could get with Dazai, even if you were drained. You nodded, and he turned away, going back towards his enemy, pulling Tanaka up roughly by his collar. Dazai’s expression changed into a man you almost didn’t recognize, if it hadn’t been for the moments that you’d had to see him shift into the underworld’s fearsome demon.
You left the room, yawning, Dazai’s voice the last thing you heard before you shut the door silently.
“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, perhaps you’ll be more willing to tell me everything you know,” he said.
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Despite Dazai promising to leave once Akutagawa arrived, he’d been gone for nearly two hours, with no indication that he’d be returning anytime soon.
You waited for him in the penthouse of the Port Mafia headquarters, the home you’d come to know well in the past few years. A glass of imported wine was beside you on the nightstand, resting between a book you’d been too tired to read before bed.
You sat up, unable to fall asleep, and chewed your lip thoughtfully. It seemed ridiculous, really, for you to already miss a man that you woke up next to and fell asleep beside every night.
Still, you couldn’t help the desperation in your chest, the need to see him, to brush the mask of the Port Mafia boss away so Osamu could take his place.  
You finished the wine, then headed towards the door. The room felt cold and lonely, and if Dazai wasn’t going to return soon, you’d just find someone else to bother on the lower levels of the building.
Though, just as you were about to slip on a pair of shoes, the door unlocked, swung on its hinges, and Dazai stepped through the threshold, a vision of gore and violence and every ounce the man you adored.
“Osamu,” you said, and even when you’d said his name a thousand times before, it still left your lips like a prayer. A smile formed, and you dropped your shoes, eyes sparkling, as you regarded the mess that he was in.
Dazai took one look at you and relaxed, shoulders falling as you closed the distance between the two of you. “Sorry it took so long, sweetheart,” he said, craning his taller frame down to kiss you.
You gripped the lapels of his coat, holding on tight as you pressed into him, deepening the kiss. Dazai’s bloody fingers cupped your cheeks, smearing red along your jaw, ruining your clean skin. Though, as you exhaled a sigh deep into his mouth, you couldn’t have cared less.
“I thought you said Akutagawa was going to take care of it?” you asked as Dazai released you, offering you a small, almost defeated smile.
He walked past you, towards the bathroom, feet dragging as he shrugged off his dark coat. Under the crisp top, his muscles were stiff, strained from all the stress. He wiped another hand over his face, doing little to clean up the mess of red that remained on his cheeks.
You followed him, trailing a few feet behind, feeling silly for wanting to cling to him so tightly. Yet, you couldn’t get enough of him, and you watched as Dazai remained silent, pausing in front of the mirror to regard his own appearance. He made a face in the glass as he gazed back into his own expression, sticking his hands under the faucet. The water ran in a steady stream, staining the sink a rose color as he scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his nails. There were parts of his bandages that had been soiled, and he ripped them right off, exposing pale wrists that hadn’t seen the sun in ages.
You mimicked his action, washing your hands in the second sink before scrubbing the blood from your face, clearing away the smear of maroon that he’d put there. The water shut off, briefly, and Dazai regarded you, frowning as you rid the evidence of his crime from yourself.
“I sent Akutagawa home.” Dazai finally answered your previous question and sighed, frustration evident. He stretched his hands over his head, the bones popping in one fell swoop. “Tanaka cracked right open; he really didn’t know anything.” He blinked at himself in the mirror once more, tidied his hair, then scowled. “He’s just a low man on the totem pole, and he paid for it with his life.”
Dazai seemed at odds with himself, and he drummed his nails against the countertop before patting his hands dry. The blood had been cleaned from his skin, and even though his hair was still unkempt, it was the only evidence that any wrongdoing had happened at all. Nothing but a speck of blood remained on his collar, the rest garnishing his coat instead.
You shifted, leaning against the counter. “Did you get anything out of him?”
“Names, a location.” Dazai clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. “He wasn’t lying, but who knows if they’re real or not. He could’ve been given fake locations. I’ve asked Ango to check on it.”
Dazai, once again, left you standing, contemplative, in the bathroom. You could hear him shuffle around in the other room; he released a small sound of relief as he stretched out his sore muscles.
When he’d finished moving around, you returned to the other room, and he was settled in the red armchair, legs spread out in front of him. Dazai rested his head against the back cushion, his eyes closed in serenity, a deep exhale expelling the tightness in his body.
It was almost a sight too serene to spoil.
“Do you want some space?” you asked, and though you’d always respect his wishes, that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You wanted to consume him completely, to press yourself against every crevice of his being and swallow him whole.
Dazai opened his eyes and blinked at you. Instead of replying, he smiled, slowly, and gestured to his thighs, sparing a glance at his knees.
Your heart pounded, launching its way up your throat, and you scrambled over yourself to crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs, the muscle strong beneath you.
Gently, he smiled at you, and brushed your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, and slowly, you removed the bandage from his eye, hating whenever he tried to hide any part of himself from you.
You waited for him to protest, but he relented, and let you kiss his forehead, the very darkest parts of himself on display for you alone. It was hard not to collapse under the weight of your love for him.
You discarded the bandages, tossing them onto the table as Dazai tapped a pattern in the crevices of your skin.
For a moment, neither of you said a word. You noted every feature of his that you loved so dearly, and Dazai just watched you study him, tried hard not to smile against your lips when you kissed him.
If only he could see how beautiful he was, surely, he would understand that he deserved a life so much better than the one he’d been dealt. That someone with a smile brighter than a dying star shouldn’t have it taken away by years of endless anguish.
Finally, Dazai spoke, whispering your name in a tone he never used on any word but that one. “You don’t have to do this anymore if you don’t want to.”
“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head, so distracted by the endless galaxy within his eyes.
Dazai huffed, placing a possessive hand on your hip. His thumb grazed the bone and you shivered, smiling at him in confusion.
“Sweetheart, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re obligated to do something just because you’re my wife.” He looked past you, an uncertainty beneath his words that he was ashamed of. “If you don’t want to take on any more assignments—"
“I told you already, Osamu,” you began, brushing the hair at the back of his neck that was hidden beneath the collar. “I don’t mind.”
“I know, but—” Dazai hesitated, his gaze steady on the doors behind you, the ones that led to your bedroom. Somehow, he seemed to think all the answers would be there, a script written out for him to recite to you. “Chuuya brought it up to me earlier. He said that I’m…” Dazai swallowed the words, shaking his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to promise me that you know if you want to stop, you can stop. Even if you wanted to quit the Port Mafia altogether, I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”
You smiled, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows in the hope that it would ease the anxiety in his expression. The tension was such an unusual thing for anyone but you to see, as Dazai had such trouble revealing his vulnerabilities to the world.
“I promise.” You swept your thumb over his lip, watching as it bounced right back into place, so soft and lovely. “I just don’t want to quit.” You leaned back on his lap, so you were able to see the entirety of his face.  
Dazai’s eyebrows drew together once more, putting that worry right back on his appearance, and a part of you hated that of all the things he had to be stressed about, it was something as silly as you not wanting to quit your job.
“Why?” Dazai asked, tilting his chin, searching the depths of your soul for an answer that would appease him. “I don’t understand. You hate them; you tell me you hate them every time they try and lay a finger on you.”
He wasn’t wrong, certainly not about something like that. You loathed that men looked at you like you were something that they could just steal away, like they were entitled to the subtle way that they brushed your hip in passing, caressed your back when they walked behind you.
You just didn’t hate everything about the work you’d been doing. After all, it was your idea.
“I just don’t want to,” you said, looking over his shoulder to the open curtains, the bright expanse of Yokohama laid out before you. Twinkling star lights from skyscrapers and the port in the distance. “It doesn’t matter.”
It was your home, your city, and it always would be. You wouldn’t let Dazai die, wouldn’t let anyone take him from you—including himself. You’d continue to do whatever it took to protect that. Whether or not you used your appearance to achieve those ends didn’t matter. When it was all said and done, Dazai’s enemies would be dead, and you’d still have him to come home to.
“It matters to me.”
You shook your head, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. There were a million different ways you could’ve explained it, but none that were intelligent. “It’s embarrassing, ‘samu.”
Dazai laughed, a genuine noise, and kissed your shoulder as you sighed, relaxing into him once more. “I can’t think of anything about you that could possibly be embarrassing.”
You held his gaze, wishing for him to relent, to just give up and let you have this one. Instead, he just smiled back patiently, hoping you’d reveal another part of yourself to him as he slowly traced your hard collarbone.
Those pools behind his eyes were too distracting, the thumb on your neck dangerously close to your throbbing pulse. You swallowed, letting him feel every movement as your throat bobbed up and down.
“I guess,” you said shyly, “I like it. I like leading on your enemies, letting them think that they could possibly have a chance with someone like me. I like the look on their faces when they realize they’ve been made a fool of, that the girl who they wanted so badly belongs so completely to the boss of the Port Mafia.”
Dazai studied you for a moment as you shrugged the revelation off, his deep brown eyes darting over every crevice of your face. “You want to make them jealous of me?”
“Maybe.” Your cheeks heated, and though you’d been together for years, loved him for even longer, you still shied under the weight of your own desire for him. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want them all to know that I’m as much the boss of the Port Mafia as you.” You wound your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him, the only person you’d ever need in the dangerous world. “They’re blind to their desire, and they refuse to see that I have complete control over them.” You smiled, lazily, fondly. “Don’t they know that this is my city, too?”
Dazai’s strength made an appearance then, and he gripped your cheeks, holding you with a spiraled mix of possession and affection. “It is,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own, “and I’d burn it all down before I let anyone take it from you.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest at his deepened tone, the seriousness that drew on his normally playful inflection. You grew hot, and a twist of desire started deep within you, spreading down easily, slowly turning your thoughts into a muddled mess.
“I know,” you said, trying to keep your words steady as Dazai drew lazy circles up and down your sides. “Everyone knows.” You met his eyes, soft, yet dark, clouded with a longing you weren’t unfamiliar to. “The woman who brought them to their knees is still nothing more than a simple fool for Osamu Dazai.” You inhaled drawing your fingers to his open collar, the crisp bandages around his chest. “What could they ever do to deserve that kind of devotion?”
Dazai waited, watched your smaller hand run across his neck, his smirk slowly growing on his lips. “I’m a lucky man, indeed,” he said, drawing the words out slow and lazily. He tipped your chin down to him, his smile displaying the almost sharpened points of his canines. Slender fingers caressed your hipbone, pressing you farther down onto his thigh.
You let out a small sound, not taking your eyes off of his as his expression grew wily, and the slip you wore slowly began to rise up your thighs, exposing the softer skin of your leg.
“I admit, I can’t stand that everyone in this city wants you so fucking bad.” Dazai sunk his lips to your neck, kissing the space between your shoulder and jaw. “But I can’t blame them. My beautiful angel.” He smiled under your jaw, gripping your hips harder, forcing you to drag against his thigh. A puff of air left your throat as Dazai grinned, spiking your arousal. “It’s for the best, isn’t it? I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”
Your eyes flashed; Dazai bounched his leg, just once, his eyes shining, every move calculated. He’d always known exactly how to touch you, and he’d never forget, never stop enjoying the way you jerked so easily under his palm, the way you were already trying to rub yourself against him.
“Osamu,” you began, desperate for just a moment of friction, to feel his rigid muscle drag against your cunt. You wanted him so badly that your heart stumbled over itself, all the love you held, locked up there and looking for a way out.
He made a sound of disapproval, holding you still with a tight grip on your hips. His fingers dug into the bone, but it did little to ease your aching need for him.
“See?” Dazai’s kisses were light as he whispered against the shell of your ear, the sound nothing more than a breath of air. “I barely have to touch you and you’re a whimpering mess.”
You swallowed, tugging at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to remain steady, if only for him to give you what you wanted.
Dazai seemed to be in a generous mood, worn from the previous mission, and he was grinning lazily, two fingers slipping under your dress.
His grip loosened, and you shifted, letting him pull on the strap of your panties, drag them down your thighs, over your knees, to discard beside the chair. Already, there was evidence of your desire, a spot of wetness obvious against the red satin.
He let the garment hang between his fingers before he looked back at you, watching as it softly fell to the floor. “If only they knew how easy it was to get you wet,” he said, shrewdly, “they’d want you twice as much as they did before.”
You let out a soft whimper, trying to direct his beautiful hands back between your thighs. Though, Dazai kept his fingers away, and in an act of desperation, you pressed your forehead to his, conveying every ounce of your affection for him.
“Osamu,” you breathed, blinking into his warm irises, a shade of brown that had easily become your favorite. “I’m so crazy about you.” You kissed his cheeks, smearing your lip gloss all over the skin he’d just wiped clean. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. Everyone in Yokohama watches me, but I ache for you.”
His eyes flashed, pleased, and he relented, nudging his thumb to the inner most part of your thigh. The smile was still mocking, but he gave you at least some relief; Dazai let you sink back down on his thigh, the pressure just enough to have you clawing your nails into his chest.
He kissed your nose, but kept you where you were, perched on the middle of his leg and much too far from his cock. “What would you ever do if I wasn’t here to take care of you, hm, darling?"
You softened; even if his gaze was taunting, there was utter devotion between his dilated pupils.
All those men who fell for your act may have been complete fools, but Dazai was even worse off than them: he was a fool in love.
“It’s so hard not to crawl into your arms every time you’re around,” you admitted, grabbing the buckle of his belt to undo it with a clank. The mere sound, the feel of the leather between your fingers, nearly had you salivating. “I’m stronger than a lot of men in Yokohama.” Your features contorted then, eyes vulnerable as you looked up at him through delicate lashes, no longer a vision of authority, but of someone who desperately wanted to be taken care of. “Not you, though.”
Dazai’s grip on you relaxed, and something in his eyes shifted, lips parting as an exhale left them. He said nothing as you removed the belt, and instead, let himself sink deeper into the cushion, bearing your weight.
Hastily, you pulled down the zipper of his slacks. The weight of his heavy cock in your hands was so familiar. You stroked him gently, watching for any reaction, and while his face remained steady, you could sense the change in his heartbeat.
“I don’t need you to be strong around me,” Dazai said. His voice had deepened, your name leaving his lips, raspy by the end of his sentence. “You can fall apart if you want to, my love.” His erection grew slowly in your palm, and he brought you closer, your bare, soaked cunt dragging against his thigh. “I’ll always be here to put you back together.”
You smiled, flushing as he hardened, his breath growing uneven. When you had him leaking within your palm, you shifted forward on your knees, grinning at his reddened cheeks. Dazai’s eyes drifted towards your chest, just inches from his face.  
Uncertain, you hesitated, even though you wanted him, needed him with every fiber of your being. It was an unfamiliar position. He could take control of the situation at any moment, but you weren’t usually the one looming over him.
“Osamu—”
“What?” he released with a sigh, and in one swift motion, lifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. “You walk around my nightclub in those dresses I buy you, force those pretty tits into other men’s faces, but now you’re too shy to fuck your husband?”
You made a face, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you, and if only to prove a point, you sunk down on him, your folds slick. Dazai slid into you easily, a sinful noise breaking the silence between you as he grinned. “I’ll f-fuck you,” you stuttered, swallowing under the heat of his watchful eyes. “It’s just…” Your words failed again as his cock went deeper in you, your focus entirely on your own pleasure.
“Just what?” He stopped you for a moment, planting you on his thighs, his cock still straining, filling you. Glaring, vibrating with need, you opened your eyes, lips parting as he whispered against your mouth “Finish your sentence, sweetheart.”  
“It’s not my fault, Osamu,” you said, on the edge of a whine, squirming within his hold. “I can’t help that they stare.”
He laughed, then, and it was just a brush against your swollen mouth, the one he kept coming back to. “They can stare all they want,” Dazai said, tilting your chin up. “As long as they know who you belong to.”
Finally, he let you go, his hands tracing the edges of your knees, and you started a slow, steady pace, gasping as you held onto his neck tightly. He bowed his head into your collarbone, and kissed you once, before leaning back lazily, watching you take and take and take.
“Doing so good, angel,” he said, watching you with such a passion that it was distracting, as he let his palms rest simply on your thighs. “You always look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, don’t you?”
“Feels so good,” you muttered.
“I know.” Dazai seemed too devilish with his dark hair fanned out against the red chair, grinning in a way that twisted up your insides, sweat beading down your forehead as you tried to reach your orgasm.
You were hot with his piercing gaze upon you, but he didn’t bother to move his hands, did nothing to even pretend like he was fazed. You sunk down faster, heart racing, as the muscles of your hips strained, burned. Already, you were growing tired, sleepy from a full evening, but still so desperate to come around him.
You leaned forward, trying to angle your body, gain some relief from the position. Though it did little, and instead you were left sighing in frustration, wishing that he would do anything, instead of just look at you with a lust blown smile.
With every moment, the pain began to grow, the ache in your legs far too much to give way to pleasure. You started back at Dazai, frustrated, eyes glossy with need.
Dazai laughed at you then; it wasn’t quite mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”
Frustrated and impatient as you dripped down your own thighs, you grabbed his throat, thrusting his head into the back of the chair.
Dazai, eyes wide with surprise, stopped smiling as you curled your hand around his neck, his fingers digging into your thighs.
“Are you just going to sit there, Osamu?” you said, your words high-pitched and desperate. “Or are you going to—”
The end of your sentence was cut off by him gripping the back of your hair, smashing your lips into his own. The hand on his neck fell away, drifting to the lapels of his bloodstained collar, as he brought you down hard on his cock, hitting a place deep inside you that you hadn’t been able to reach with your own strength.
Dazai’s fingertips left bruises on your skin as he devoured the inside of your mouth, bringing you down over and over, stretching your walls with each movement.
“So pretty and desperate for me,” Dazai laughed, but he was breathless, his own tenacity crumbling from adoration. “Can’t do anything by yourself, can you, baby?” His kisses were sloppy as he dragged them across your neck, tongue grazing the sharp vein under your ear.
“No, but you said—” you were losing your breath and your words. “You said you’d take care of me. I don’t want to cum all on my own, ‘samu.”
Dazai groaned, his gaze drifting down to the space between your bodies, where you were sucking him back in, your own body aligned with your heart, never wanting to let him go.
“Fuck,” he said, slamming you back down on his thighs, his eyes hazy with love. “Of course I’ll take care of you.” One hand guided your hips as the other curled around your jaw, setting the pace with half his strength. “You’re my whole world.” His words stuttered, aching cock twitching inside you. “I’m nothing without you, understand?”
You nodded, but you weren’t quite thinking straight, the words a jumbled mess when they entered your mind. “I love you,” you said, gasping the end of his name. “I love you, Osamu, need more.”
Dazai breathed, just as heavily, softening as he regarded you. He’d always loved the look on your face as you came apart. “You take it so well,” he said eyelids fluttering over hazy eyes, and he kissed your forehead. You dragged your hands all over his chest, just wanting to touch any part of him. “Wish you could see yourself. You’re so beautiful.”
You groaned, pulling him closer, until there was nowhere left to go, surrounded completely by Dazai; the smell of him, the taste of him. “Say it back,” you muttered, “say you love me too.”
He choked on a laugh, and the lewd sounds of your wet arousal were loud as he came in and out of you. “I love you, angel, you know how much I love you.” Dazai kissed you, then, and your heart sped at how hoarse his voice had become, how easily it was for you to make the most powerful man in Yokohama fall apart at the seams. “You’ve got a pretty ring to prove it, don’t you? I don’t want anyone but you. I never will.”
“Come inside me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as his cock reached impossibly deep within you, stretching you, your legs shaking as you tried to ignore the dull ache within your tense muscles. Tears sprang to your eyes, coating your lashes; it was almost devastating how much you loved him. “Please. Feel so full, ‘samu.”
“Yeah?” He reached between you to play with your clit, and you were so close, crying out a broken moan as he touched you. “Need to remind everyone that you’re my girl, hm?” He knew just how you liked to be touched, how easy it was to get you to come when he fucked you like you needed. “Want me to put a baby in you next, sweetheart? Shit.” He curled his fingers, bruising your mouth as he stole the oxygen from your chest. “Everyone would know then, wouldn’t they? How could they doubt you’re mine when you’re carrying my child.”
You cried out, then, breaking, spasming around his cock as you fell onto his chest. Dazai said your name, kissed the top of your head, but you were too full of love for him. You breathed heavily as he brought you down once more, twitching against him from the ache in your sensitive cunt.
A moment later, Dazai jerked, then came inside you, spilling his warm cum against your folds, the white ropes dripping down your thighs, staining his dark, wrinkled slacks. Slowly, he pulled out of you, letting you rest on his chest as you breathed, your legs sore. A gentle touch ran up and down your spine as Dazai wrapped his arms tight around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.
“God, you’re perfect,” Dazai said, and his voice sounded almost broken, devastatingly emotional. “You can’t ever leave me, okay, angel? I need you right here by my side.” Lips grazed your temple, so sweetly, gently. “What’s the point of all this if I can’t share it with you?”
You smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck, eyes full of tears as you kissed him. “I’m not going anywhere, Osamu. I promise.”
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OCTOBER MASTERLIST - leave a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the tag list
tag list: @satohruu (hannah i planned this one bc of your tags on my last pm dazai fic HDSFHSFH) @cha0thicpisces
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4ngel-inc · 1 month
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BUNGO STRAY DOGS — WITH AN S/O WHO HAS A HIGH SEX DRIVE ♡‧₊˚✧˖°
notes — [mdni / 18+], fem reader, dirty talk, etc.
DAZAI is pretty much always horny, even in moments when he's distracted by work or another project, so it's difficult to top his sex drive. when you sneak up behind him, whining about how horny you are—he's rock solid in a matter of seconds. it isn't just the eroticism that turns him on, but the fact you desire him so wholeheartedly—his mind, body, and soul. love and devotion turn him on—luckily, he's received more than he could've asked for from you. "oh yeah? c'mere then, angel. . . ride my face, use your boyfriend like the slutty little thing you are." dazai will grab you and throw you on the bed before climbing on top and gently biting your nipples, ultimately settling at your apex to spread your legs and have a little taste. he's always wrapped up in his own mind, in his own lust and enamor with your body, seemingly talking to your pussy rather than to you—"y'missed me, huh? ooh, look how wet you are already, all for me, yeah?" dazai is down to fuck whenever you are, it doesn't take much to turn him on—just tell him you love him and he's already leaking for you.
CHUUYA is another one who's always down to give you what you need—he wants it just as badly as you do. chuuya is a true romantic, and to him, sex is about more than just fucking. he wants to make love to you so badly, always—to claim you and protect your heart is a great honor to him. he's really a gentleman, but he can get a little antsy, just like you—you're usually the one to initiate sex, but it isn't because he doesn't want it, you just always seem to beat him to the punch. as soon as he walks in the door your hands are all over him, cupping his face and kissing him deeply, grabbing at his coat and pulling him to the bedroom by his lapel. sometimes you don't make it to the bedroom, and settle for the couch instead, chuuya resting his back against the cushions and spreading his legs on instinct, "one of those days, baby? ya missed me, huh?" he barely flinches as you unbuckle his belt hastily, a cocky smirk on his face. "my girl just can't stop her pussy from getting wet when she thinks about me, huh? love how slutty you are, doll, and you're all mine."
AKUTAGAWA is, surprisingly, always down to fuck. getting you off turns him on—he never thought he'd be the one to bring such pleasure, never thought he'd be the one you chose to share your beautiful body with. anyone who knows him knows he's quite stern and unapproachable, but with you, he's very compliant, especially when your hands are running all over his body. his biggest turn on is seeing you bent over for him in the morning, knowing the first thought on your mind when you wake up is his cock. "y-you want this now?" your lips are on his neck, your hand in his briefs stroking his hard-on. "mhmm, you want it too, don't you? you're leaking in my hand already." he rolls his eyes, "i always wake up like this, i can't control it." you get into position, sliding your panties down and bending over for him, spreading your cheeks the way he likes. "this is how you want me, isn't it, ryu? don't be shy, you were begging for it last night." he slaps your ass as he positions himself behind you, teasing you with only an inch or so of his cock, "that's right, and i'll have you begging for it this time."
SIGMA is sooo flattered that you want to fuck him, he's practically stripping his clothes off the second you even hint that you're in the mood. you kiss his neck and nibble on his ear a little, and he's already whimpering, shivering at even the briefest contact with you—"honey, that feels so good, are we doing it again, already? the thing we did earlier?" sigma is so damn adorable you can't help but tease a little, but when his legs tremble as you stroke him through his pants, you find it difficult to wait any longer. "yes, baby, 'm gonna fuck you again, that ok? y'want me to ride you again?" his eyes practically roll into the back of his head when you ask—"you know i'll give you anything you want, i love feeling you—i love you." the words are panted out as he's undressing, much quicker than you are, and it makes you giggle. "you're always so anxious, aren't you?" he frowns a little at that, already laying on the bed naked and waiting for you to sit on him, his cock fully erect and standing tall. "huh? isn't this what you want? i want it too, honey, don't tease me anymore, please. just fuck me."
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cheriiyaya · 3 months
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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 uh oh, what do the BSD boys do when they're a little too jealous of the attention you're getting?
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 Contents: Fyodor, dazai, and chuuya x Fem!reader (separately), sfw but suggestive (except in fedya's bc he's a "good christian"),they all wanna kill the guy "flirting" w you (fyodor actually kills him lmfao), uh not proofread so excuse any spelling errors, kinda a test run for me writing for fyodor, reader knows Russian in fedya's part, fyodor being kiiinda manipulative, religious themes in fedyas
𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 A/N: was this an excuse for me to write them a lil possessive?...yeah it was. anyways this is my first time writing something suggestive so i hope it's good (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
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Dazai Osamu
Dazai is indeed, a rather selfish man. While he's not so selfish as to be extremely possessive of you, he does get jealous. Most of the time it's petty; small pouts and whines that are easily remedied when you pepper kisses onto his face and spoil him with your attention that he loves so much.
this was not one of those times. Right now, he can't believe what he's seeing:
A client of the detective agency, flirting with you.
Dazai watches in cold silence as the man laughs at something you said The man leans over a little too close for dazai's liking and whispered something in your ear, causing you to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a laugh.
If he was his teen self, dazai would've stuck bullet after bullet in the man's head.
He clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes in your direction, trying to pull you attention away from that man and towards him with some unknown pull. But you were too engrossed in conversation to notice, fluttering pretty lashes with every blink of your eyes and tilting your head in that endearing way as the man was telling you something..
There was a sensible part in dazai's mind that told him that you weren't reciprocating the man's advances, saying that it wasn't that big of a deal, but he couldn't ignore the curl and twist in is stomach and heart watching you and this man.
Then after a minute or two he just couldn't take it.
He gets up from his desk abruptly, ignoring the few pens and papers that fell off his desk as he strides behind you. He plants his chin on the crown of your head, cocking a lopsided smile that read more like a hidden threat towards the man.
"Bella'! Ah, socializing I see, aren't we?" He runs his bandaged hands down your arms, squeezing the squishy flesh on your upper forearm. His eyes were trained on the client, who was now blinking, looking at you then at dazai for a few time before realizing his error. The man scrambles up, chuckling awkwardly before walking away, and from the look on his blood-drained face you can tell he'll probably ask another one of the detectives in the agency to help with his case.
Once the man leaves you look up at dazai, a crease forming in between your furrowed eyebrows." Osam-" You were cut off by a sharp kiss, dazai hooking a finger under your chin and drawing you closer to him. Letting out a muffled cry of surprise, you try to pull away, which succeeded doing absolutely nothing. With a breathy shudder dazai digs his nails into your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest and teeth nipping your bottom lip which elicits a soft whine from the back of your throat. He presses his lips onto yours roughly, sucking away the breath in your lungs and only pulling away when he's red in the cheeks and breathless. He pulls away slowly and you draw in a shaky breath through swelling and parted lips, the world around you spinning and your limbs trembling furiously. He runs a thumb over your bottom lip, rubbing it and pressing down onto its soft plush. Dazai draws you close and whispers against your ear, breath brushing against your neck and causing your hair to stand up on end as he speaks;
"My, my bella', seems like you've forgot who's girl you are, hm? Don't worry, I'll make you remember soon enough, juuust wait."
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Nakahara Chuuya
Oh god he was so going to kill mori after this.
The two of you were sent on a mission to collect information from a man, which landed the you two in an expensive bar in the heart of Yokohama.
He's repeating the same few words over and over again in his head like a mantra: "it's only a mission, it's only a mission" as he watches you sit flush besides the target, a young man in his late twenties.
But he felt seething envy curl up like flames in his stomach and sear his thrumming heart.
"No, it's just the alcohol." He mumbles, taking a sip of the expensive wine he had ordered, his thoughts drowning out the noisy chatter of people and music and the bright lights of the bar to an incessant buzz. He wasn't...envious or anything. That's quite stupid you don't even like that man! Yet he just can't help but look at the two of you, the way your pretty lips curled into that sweet smile chuuya loves so much as you placed a hand on the man's arm and giggled bashfully at whatever joke the man had told you.
Probably wasn't even that funny. Chuuya bites down on his tongue, resisting the urge to pull you away from that man as he took a sip of the wine that burned down his throat and settled a warmth in the pit of his stomach.
That warmth that brought drowsiness did not help the flare of envy chuuya felt as the man tugs you onto his lap. The man had one hand just under your ribcage and one in between your shoulder blades, tugging you close to him and whispering against your ear.
Bad idea. A very bad idea indeed.
In a flash chuuya weaved his way through the crowd of patrons-or rather shoved his way through with no regards to anyone-over beside you and glared at the man, eyes piercing holes into the man as he pulled you off his lap.
"Don't ya think you're a little to drunk doll?" He chuckles, but he did a terrible job at hiding the bitterness in his voice. This was so stupid, it would jeopardize the whole mission but chuuya didn't care;
Right now, the only thing on his mind was you and jealousy.
You look up at him, blinking and opening your mouth to protest against your alleged intoxicated state when chuuya pulled your through the crowd of people by the arm and out into the cool night street. Once out, you looked at chuuya with wide eyes and mouth agape from shock.
"Chuuya! What are you doing, you could've ruined the mission!" You scoff, blinking a few times before realizing something from his silence and the stare he's giving you.
"You're jealo-" Your chuckle of disbelief was cut off by his lips meeting yours, chuuya pulling closer to him. He mumbles in between kisses, ranging from short and sweet to hungry and harsh. A gloved thumb dragged from the corner of your mouth to your cheekbone as chuuya pulls away from your lips to leave desperate kisses over your face and jaw. Somehow in the midst your fingers found their place tangled in messy ginger strands and you only realized this fact once he pulls away, leaving you breathless with redden cheeks.
"Ha, can't believe some guy would try to take this sight from me, huh pretty girl? Better keep you by me all times now, can't let some guy think he has a chance with my sweet girl."
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Fyodor Dostoevsky
Fyodor is no jealous man. Envy was one of the seven cardinal sins, and Fyodor was a man of God. Besides, what is there to be jealous of for a man like him?
Until, he feels an unfamiliar feeling stir inside him as he sees you with another man as you waited for Fyodor.
The way your face lights up in that way when you flash a mirthful smile to that man as the two of you chat about some mundane things. The way delicate fingers tuck stray strands of hair from your face and hold them there as you talk to this stranger causes fyodor to feel something that he hadn't felt in a while (or perhaps just blocked out).
You hadn't realized fyodor coming up behind you until you felt him tap you your shoulder.
"Ah, who is this, milaya?" He smiles in that unnerving way, not the soft smile he'd give you after you beg him to take so rest from his work. This smile read more as a threat.
To you or to the man you were speaking to, you couldn't tell.
Fyodor tugs you to his side, quickly telling the man you were waiting for him before he pulls you along with him.
"Who was that? What were you telling him myshka?" He spoke in Russian, the sharp pronunciation vibrating off the walls of your ears.
"mh, just a man, Fedya. Why?" You tilt your head, furrowing your eyebrows. He sighs and smooths his thumb over the crease, offering a smile to ease your troubled expression
"Ah, just worried. Don't talk to strangers, who knows what kind of intentions they may have." Intentions such as distancing you from him. He brings your hand up to his mouth,, gently kissing your knuckles and rubbing soothing circles onto your palm.
No matter, there would be no way anyone would take you away from him. You were his little doll.
The next day, Fyodor offers to stay inside all day saying that he wished to spend time with you.
How naive for you to believe that, instead he kept you in to keep you unaware of the news of the man dead on the banks of a river.
Wrath, another cardinal sin yet there was no sin great enough that Fyodor wouldn't commit to keep you.
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REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!
©Cheriiyaya 2024
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