#WHY ARE YOU PULLING A DAZAI | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

osachiyo · 8 months

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୧ ‧₊˚ I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE ! *¨¨*:·.♡.·:*¨¨*

﹙ ✿ ﹚── includes : dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, fukuzawa, oda x fem!reader ♡

﹙ ✿ ﹚── content warnings : nsfw content (mdni), breeding kink, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, squirting, mentions of pregnancy & babies, petnames, degradation, overstimulation, hairpulling, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be dumb like them), tit slapping, belly bulge etc ♡

﹙ ✿ ﹚── synopsis : baby makin' ♡

﹙ ✿ ﹚── author's note : here it is, baby making with bsd men as it was highly requested. you guys can read bsd men as dads here ♡ happy reading & I hope you guys like it :3

୨✩୧ DAZAI

You had the amazing idea of messing with Dazai, getting your karma because he messes with you all the time. Flirting with that cute waitress from the cafe, 'accidentally' eating your snacks...yeah you had enough. You remembered Chuuya, his oh so beloved rival and came up with the perfect plan. Atleast you thought it was perfect.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull from the mind numbing sensation of your husband's cock stirring your insides deep. Your legs were propped up on his shoulders, ass smacking against his hips with each mean thrust into your velvety, welcoming walls. His jaw slacked to let out moans everytime you clenched around him so good, pussy clinging onto his rigid cock like a fucking vice. "haah─ feels good doesn't it, 'donna?" He grinned mischeviously, rolling his hips in a way that makes you see stars. "yeah? feels good getting pounded like a little slut? yeaah" he drawled, smirking at the way your eyes cross. One of his bandaged hands reached down to squeeze your tits, rolling a nipple between his thumb and pointer finger as you jot and whine from the stimulation. "you wanted this, didn't you?" He growled, slapping your supple and soft tit then kneading it in his large hand. "is that why you were─ haah─ shoving your fuckin' tits all up in Chuuya's face?" You couldn't even think properly anymore, the only coherent thing you could say was your lover's name, chanting it like a mantra as he fucked your brains out. "should I just make you a mommy then? huh? Fill you up with so much cum that it leaks out?" His hand came down on your tits again, and it fucking stung but felt so good at the same time. "pleasepleasepleaseplease─ fuck! 'samu" you choked out, desperate to cum and relieve the tension in your tummy. "yeah? you want my cum? you want me to cum and fill up your pretty lil' pussy?" You could only nod, tears stinging your pretty eyes as you cum hard on his cock. After a few minutes, Dazai reaches his peak aswell, cumming in ropes with a loud groan. You could feel his warmth in your tummy, leaking out of your battered cunt when he pulls out.

୨✩୧ CHUUYA

"You think we would make good parents?" Chuuya asked you one day, chin resting on his palm as he flips through a magazine for baby stuff. You turned around to face him, eyebrows raised in shock because you two never had this conversation before. Now that he mentions it, you remember thinking a while ago how you and your lover would be as parents. You take a seat next to him, lips curved into a smile, "yes."

And that's how you ended up in chuuya's bed in a full mating press with him pressing all of his body weight on you, holding you down to fuck you nice and deep like you deserve. The once pristine sheets now stained and soiled with a mixture of your and chuuya's cum and other fluids, turning the silken sheets into a darker shade than it was previously. He had cum so many times before this already, but he just couldn't stop. He needed to feel you clenching on him even more, needed to hear you scream and moan his name when he kissed and bit your shoulders and chest, leaving his mark on you. He was desperate to feel your nails racking down his back while he fucked into you, thick cock hitting all your sweet spots. The pain and pleasure made his mind hazy, eyes flicking down to watch as a creamy white ring formed around the base of his cock from how long you two have been at this. He wasn't gonna stop until he was absolutely sure he had fucked a baby into you. "ya seein' t-this, doll?" He moved his hand from the back of your thigh to your lower tummy, pressing down on the slight bulge there as you squeal. You didn't know if you could handle not passing out from the pleasurely pain before he was done with you.

୨✩୧ FYODOR

You absolutely adored Fyodor, your dear husband. He would treat you so gently like you're made out of porcelain, holding your cheek in his cold palm, rubbing the warm flesh gently as he mutters soft words of affection to you. That's exactly how he approached you when proposing to you that he wanted you to bear his children. You, his sweet little housewife, just how could you refuse him when he asks so sweetly? Deep voice smooth like honey as he told you how wonderful of a mother would be.

Just like he knew how to cherish you like the finest treasure in the world, he also knew exactly how to break you down into a sobbing, shuddering mess beneath him. He'd mutter the filthiest, most sinful words against your neck while thrusting into you, both of you a sweaty mess. The room smelled like sex from how long he'd been plowing into your sloppy cunt, absolutely drenching his thighs and cock in your arousal. He nipped and sucked little marks into your collarbones and neck, red and blue bruises blooming on the sensitive flesh as you screamed his name in pleasure. "oh, myshka, you feel just wonderful around me," fyodor grunted, hips smacking against yours in perfect precision. You could only babble dumbly in response, cockdrunk from how long he'd been at this. He was dead set on getting you pregnant. He imagined you, his darling wife's tummy full with his babies, tits swollen and heavy with milk and fuck. Just imagining that made him pound into you faster, harder as he desperately chased his sweet release. His hand reached down to thumb at your pretty clit, rubbing fast and tight circles on the little nub as the coil in your stomach finally snapped. Your cunt gushed all over him, making him finally reach his own release with a low groan as he held you close.

୨✩୧ SIGMA

You've been hinting at your lover that you finally wanted to try for children. But alas, he was just a little too oblivious to your hints. It was getting annoying at this point, he would just blush and stammer at your bold moves, looking away when you give him a playful but flirty smile. Hell, you even gave him some baby clothes to make it obvious but he just thought you bought that for him and just got a very wrong size. That was your last straw. You had to take matters into your own hands.

He came home late that night, it was a busy at the casino. He thought you'd be asleep already, tucked away into the comfort of your shared bed. Oh, how wrong he was. He walked into the living room, sighing as he took off the outer layer of his clothes. He was about to place it on the coat hanger when his greyish eyes landed on you, who was dressed in the prettiest white lingerie he'd ever seen. Good God, you looked like an angel. The faint glow of the candle light highlighted your features, making you look borderline otherwordly. He could hear his own heartbeat, his face and ears getting hot as you slowly stalked closer to him. Now standing infront him with a soft smile gracing your glossy lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He flinched from the contact of your bare skin against his own. "w-what's this about?" He gulped. You chuckled, getting on your tippy toes to mutter close to his ear, "I want you, Sigma. I want you to fuck me. I want your babies." He shivered when you playfully bit the shell of his ear, finally gaining the courage to touch you as he gripped your hips tightly.

Now here you were, bouncing on sigma's lap while he sucked on your perky tits. His slim fingers digging into your hips while you jumped on his stiff cock, shiny slick coating your's and his thighs. Your hands gripped his long luscious hair, tugging on it to hear him groan so prettily. He bucked his hips up suddenly, catching you off guard but you still kept bouncing. He thrusted upwards, matching your rhythm and it felt fucking euphoric. He could feel you tighten around his cock, throwing his head back. You could see his eyes slightly rolled back, drool dripping from his mouth as he tried his best to keep up with you. You both came shortly after, lips smashed against each other's as he swallowed your moans.

୨✩୧ FUKUZAWA

You were sitting in the living room, right across your beloved husband as you thought about what he could possibly want to talk to you about. He elegantly sipped on his tea, setting the cup down on the coffee table that was seperating you both. "I've been thinking about this for the past couple days," he started, " I think we should try for a child. Of course, if you don't want to that's comple─" "no! I-I mean.. I also think we should try" you cut him off. He smiles, "So we're on the same page?" You returned his smile, reachingyour hand out to hold his bigger ones, "definitely, dear."

"shh, darling. you're doing so good for me," he gasped, rocking his hips gently against your plush ones. He felt so big inside you, your pussy molding to the shape of his cock. Everything about him was so elegant. The way he softly intertwined his fingers with yours as he fucked you dumb on his cock. He wasn't even going hard on you, the sheer size of his girth made you see stars and eyes roll back. His other hand was gently stroking your cheek, wiping the unshed tears in your waterline with his thumb while mumbling sweet nothings into your ear. A low rumble formed in his chest when you clenched around him, "are you going to cum, sweetheart?" "nghh─ 'm gonna cum! please, fuck! don' stop!" You babbled, gasping when he picked up his pace. "go on, sweet girl. cum on this cock right now," he grunted, his grip on your hand tightening as you both cum. You were panting, mouth agape as you tried to come down from the mind numbing high of your orgasm when he started moving again, not giving you time to rest. You tried to stop him, pressing a hand agaisnt his hard chest but he just pinned you down easily, muttering something about he wasn't gonna stop until he was sure you took his seed.

୨✩୧ ODA

You knew your man loved kids, and you did too. So why not have some of your own? The thought of starting a family with the man of your dreams made butterflies flutter in your stomach. When you confronted him about it, he was ecstatic. He imagined a mini you or him running around the house. He thought about it a lot. Would it really be a good idea considering his dangerous job in the mafia? Fortunately, you were there to reassure him. Telling him that even if he worked for the mafia, he wasn't a bad person. He deserved happiness in his life and you would be glad to give it to him. Heavens, how he adored you.

You don't know how many hours have passed since Oda started drilling his fat cock into you, reaching every crevice with ease as he rolls his muscular hips just right. You don't even remember how many times you've came─ your mind not being able to keep up. Everything felt so blurry, you could hear ringing in your ears, with your legs being pushed back all the way against your chest. Your knees almost touching your ears as he folds you into whatever position he pleases. His cock pounding you so hard while his balls smacked against your ass, the soft fat jiggling with each brutal thrust of his hips. It's like something snapped inside of him, crumbling all his restraint to take you slowly, lovingly and gently. He was never this rough with you. Did the subject of him getting you pregnant really affect him that much? Whatever it was, you didn't have the brain capacity to think about it right now, not while Oda was absolutely destroying your cunt. "you see that, honey?" He groans, staring in awe at your tiny cunt stretching around him. "she's droolin' on me, fuck─" he cut himself off with a gasp, watching as you shamelessly squirt all over his cock, drenching his abdomen and the sheets beneath you. "holy shit, and I thought you couldn't get sexier," he laughed, running a hand through his hair, which was damp with sweat. "don't worry, pretty. cum all you want, I'm not stopping till' I'm done with you."

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

TAGS : @hypocritic-trash-baby @gimme-noodles-please @dazaiserectnips @leonslxtkennedy

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fyorina · 1 month

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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 three 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—three 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, 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 three 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.

“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’ve hardly 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.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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oikasugayama · 5 months

Text

YOU TELL HIM THAT YOU'RE H0RN¥

PREMISE: You're just friends, but you wanna test the boundaries. How does he react when you tell him that you're horny?

INCLUDES: Akutagawa, Dazai, Nikolai, Poe, Atsushi, Ranpo

No smut, heavy on dialogue. These are goofy!! One part only.

Akutagawa

That gif is the horny taking over his body.

"Akutagawa."

"Hm?"

"I'm horny."

He looks up at you, face somewhere between horror-stricken and confused.

"Why would you say such a thing to me?"

"Obviously because I want you to do something about it."

"What?"

"I said--"

"--No, no, I heard you the first time."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Sooo, do you want to have sex, orrr?"

Akutagawa stares blankly at something nearby for a solid minute, completely silent, and then stands up abruptly.

"Yes. Let's go to a love hotel."

Dazai

"Dazaaaaai. I'm horny," you whine, an over-exaggerated pout on your face.

"Ohh? Shall I help you take care of that?" He purrs, exaggeratedly flirting. "I'll treat you reaaaal nice." He winks, ready for you to say something like "ew no, freak" and laugh it off like usual. Except...

"God, yes. I was gonna ask."

"Huh?" He short-circuits. He pauses, trying to figure out if you're fucking with him or not. Usually you'd start laughing after two or three seconds, but you're standing up and walking toward him--

"Holy shit. Oh my god, you're serious?!" He jumps up from his chair, eyes lighting up, and horny stirring in his pants. "If you're joking you have to tell me right now."

"Why don't you come with me to the broom closet and see if I'm joking?"

"This is the greatest day of my life," he says as you pull him along.

Nikolai

"I'm really horny, so you're gonna have to stop looking so hot or I'm gonna have to leave."

The grin he already wore spread wider across his face.

"Is that so?"

He summons and portal and in the blink of an eye is crowding you in your space, laying a hand on your thigh, breathing on your neck.

"What's doing it for you, dovey? Is it the beautiful, luscious hair? My devilishly handsome smile?"

"It's those fucking thunder thighs in the striped pants is what it is," you huff, trying to push him back, but he takes your hands and moves your arms to be around his shoulders.

"I can keep them on while I fuck you," he says lowly into your ear. "Would you like that?"

You pull him against you.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Nikolai."

Poe

"Poe, I'm having a really nice time hanging out with you and all, but I have to be honest: I'm really horny, so I probably need to go home before I start trying to fuck you."

He is so flustered that he can't even form a sentence. What you can see of his face is beet red, and he scrambles for the door. You think he's going to open it and usher you out, but he presses his back against it, blocking your exit.

"No," he finally says, "Don't leave."

"Poe, you're in the danger zone. If I don't relieve some tension I'm gonna get really grouchy."

"I can help," he stutters out.

"Huh?"

He starts trying to apologize, but you laugh and cross the room to him.

"I didn't expect you to be into it," you admit. "I definitely said it to get your attention, but I thought you'd say no."

"Then I have not made my feelings known enough."

Atsushi

"Can I ask you a stupid question?"

"Sure!" Atsushi responds enthusiastically. Your head is laying in his lap and you're staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Do you ever get horny when you hang out with your friends?"

"Uhh, I don't think that's something that happens with your friends," he says, and you turn to look up at him.

"It doesn't? Like, you've never gotten horny while spending time with me?"

"Uhh..." His face slowly starts turning red.

"I've gotten horny hanging out with you. I'm kind of horny right now, honestly."

"UMMMMM..........."

"So you're saying that right now my face being near your dick isn't turning you on?"

"I wouldn't say that..."

"I sure hope you wouldn't because I think I can literally feel you getting hard against my skull. Do you wanna stop talking and start making out now?"

Ranpo

"I'm horny."

"I know."

"What? How do you know?"

"You keep squirming in your seat, you're trying to arch your back when you lean your elbow on the table, and you keep biting your lip when you think I'm not looking at you."

"But you must be looking at me because you noticed all of that. But I haven't seen your eyes on me."

"I'm watching you from the corner of my eye like I usually do."

"Oh? And why would you be watching me, Ranpo?"

"Because I like to?" he says like it's obvious.

"Do you have a little crush on me, Ranpo?"

"Wouldn't you like to know. If only you have my super deduction you'd know."

"I don't think I need super deduction to know. I think I can figure it out in one question."

"Oh? Try me."

"When are you going to fuck me?"

He tries to bite back a smile but he can't. He finally looks directly at you, and it tells you everything you need to know.

"Your place or mine?"

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whathorselegs · 3 months

Text

Going feral over the differences in how Akutagawa and Chuuya remember Dazai during his Port Mafia days.

First image is Akutagawa's memory and the second image is Chuuya's memory.

Neither of them are accurate representations of what Dazai actually looked like, they are two peoples' perceptions of him.

Akutagawa idolizes Dazai, he was strength and power manifested, he was an ideal. He looks more put together than we ever see Dazai. He's looking down on Akutagawa both physically and symbolically. He's in all black, a true Port Mafia Executive from head to toe. His arms are concealed in Mori's coat, he's comfortable there, it fits him, he belongs. Akutagawa never saw him any other way, that's why Dazai leaving was something Akutagawa could never even begin to accept or understand.

But, God, it's such a different story in Chuuya's memory. He's disheveled, he looks so thin. In Chuuya's memory the Port Mafia life is wasting Dazai away. The mafia members behind him are ghastly shades, monsters of Dazai's past. He's wearing his Agency clothes under Mori's coat, whilst he pulls it around himself because it's all he knows. Signifying that Chuuya always knew Dazai's loyalty to Mori was fickle, that he wanted an out. Perhaps showing that Chuuya believes Dazai was always destined to be somewhere other than the mafia, that he knows he was destined for the Agency.

And then if you compare both of those to how Oda saw Dazai

It truly emphasizes just how young Dazai was to Oda. A kid who still had the chance to change, who didn't have to be the monster that mafia made of him.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd akutagawa #bsd odasaku #rambling #and there's where my thoughts stop being coherent and I start frothing at the mouth

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lovedazai · 1 year

Text

AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. dazai, chuuya, ranpo, fyodor, jouno

DAZAI ー the longer the conversation went on, the more dazai’s face hardened; you could see the switch as soon as he realized you were genuinely upset with him and his sweet nothings wouldn’t get him out of it. for once, he has nothing to say as he quietly grabs his coat and leaves.

he comes back only when he knows you’ll be asleep. he brings a bouquet of flowers with him, only a little wilted from being carried around as he strolled through yokohama, waiting for time to pass before he returned home.

his stomach drops when he sees you’re on the very edge of his futon, as far as you can be from him. the question is on his mind, but he’s terrified of the answerーdo you really want to be away from me that badly?

he still lays down next to you, staring at the ceiling quietly, hands uncharacteristically to himself. he was always silently preparing for you to be taken away from him, but he never accounted that he would be the reason why.

he blinks when you let out a little noise, rolling over until your head is nestled on his chest. he doesn’t miss his opportunity; his arms wrap around you to hold you in place, his nose buries in your hair, and his lips brush the crown of your head. he relishes in the way you sleepily sigh, melting into his body as he rubs along the arch of your back.

“please don’t be too angry with me when you wake up,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline. “i’ll make it up to you. i promise.”

CHUUYA ー chuuya is very aware he has a temper. he tries to keep it in check for you; the last thing he wants is to upset you, or even worse, scare you, but when he comes home after a particularly rough mission, he lets it slip.

he runs his hand through his hair in frustration when he realizes what he’s done. the only thing that got him through the day was the thought of coming home to you, and now, you didn’t even want to be around him. he tells himself he’ll wait a few minutes to let you calm down, but he can’t help but try to fix things immediately when he thinks of causing you, so soft and sweet and good, anything other than happiness.

his knocks are only a little frantic as he calls your name through the bedroom door. “can we talk? please?”

you don’t respond, and normally he’d take that as a no, but he’s too anxious. he twists the doorknob, heart shattering when he’s met with the sound of you crying.

“hey,” he’s relieved when you don’t shy away from his touch. “please don’t cry. i’ll do anything to make it up to you,” he holds your face, soft thumbs wiping away your tears as they fall. “you’re breakin’ my heart right now.”

“why did you say that?” you sniffle. “you know i hate arguing with you. i feel like you’re trying to pick a fight with me tonight.”

“i know,” he sighs. “i’m sorry. i’m stupid like that sometimes.”

“yeah, you are.” your voice is tiny and your nose is runny, but you still lift your hand to rest on his chest and your lips curl up in the smallest of smiles. it’s like a balm to his cracked heart.

“c’mon,” he pulls you against him, falling back on the bed until he’s looking up at your flushed, dewy cheeks. “let me make it up to you. i’ll spoil you tonight, ‘kay?”

RANPO ー fighting with ranpo was impossible. his childish nature and stubborn arrogance were exhausting, and you didn’t even know what you were arguing about anymore. you end the conversation by grabbing your favorite blanket off your bed before you go to the couch, tension in the bedroom too thick to sleep in.

you scroll through your phone in silence, only looking up when you hear his light footsteps come down the hallway.

“what are you doing out here?” you tilt your head back against the armrest to meet his open green eyes. “i mean, you can’t possibly sleep without me, can you?”

he looks smaller than usual with his shoulders slumped, and the nervousness in his voice pulls at your heart. you’re still angry though, so you stay quiet, looking back at your phone.

“fine!” you hear the sole of his bunny slipper slap against the ground as he stomps his foot, but he’s already gone when you look back behind you. you wouldn’t be surprised if he was taking up all the space in bed out of spite, just in case you decided to join him.

you sink back into the cushions, staring at the ceiling. the couch isn’t as comfortable as your bed, and you’re a little cold without your boyfriend snuggling next to you, but you still try your best to fall asleep, emotionally and physically exhausted.

you don’t know how much time has passed when you’re woken up to a heavy weight on your chest, skin tickled from wayward strands and warm breaths against your neck.

“ranpo,” his arms are wrapped around your waist, and his tiny body is completely on top of yours. you try to nudge him off you, but he tightens his grip. “what’re you doing?”

“i’m trying to sleep. duh.”

you open your eyes to squint at him. even like this, he was still such a brat. you hear him mutter something into your shirt, and lift your head a bit more. “huh?”

“i can’t sleep without you,” he says, louder, before his voice softens again. “i’m sorry.”

there’s a furrow in his brow when you look down at him, his lips nearly quivering, and the sight makes your heart break right in two.

“i’m still here,” you wrap your arms around him, hugging him to your chest as tightly as you can. “you can go to sleep. it’s okay.”

“i can’t sleep without a goodnight kiss either.” he mumbles.

you brush his bangs back, kissing his forehead; you can see his dimpled cheeks from his smile as he lets out a little giggle, nuzzling closer to you.

“mhm. much better.”

FYODOR ー “my dearest?” he knocks his hand against the doorframe. “i brought you some tea.”

fyodor knew you’d been crying after your argument. it was a sight he hated to see, especially when he was the reason why. not only would the tea help calm your emotions and soothe your throat, but it’d also, hopefully, get him back in your good graces.

when you don’t respond, he approaches you. he places the cup on your little table, taking it upon himself to sit down beside you.

“would you like to say something?” he asks. he glances down to your hands; playing with his fingers was one of many adorable habits you had, but you were fidgeting with your own instead, even when he was sitting right next to you. it makes his lips curl into a frown.

“would you?”

he tilts his head. you’re actively avoiding his gaze, eyes flitting from the ground to the cup of tea. he curls a finger under your chin, turning your face towards him.

“there you are,” he gives you a small smile you don’t reciprocate, but he doesn’t miss how your cheeks get rosy. “you know i’d give you the world if i could. don’t let something as silly as an argument cloud your judgment.”

he drops his hold on your face to take hold of your hand, pressing a kiss to every fingertip.

“you still hurt my feelings,” you pout, but you don’t pull away from him. an unfamiliar, guilty feeling stirs in his stomach, and he wants to eliminate it immediately. he intertwines his hand with your own, shifting so he’s as close as he can be.

“allow me to make it up to you,” he presses his lips to yours. "…please?”

JOUNO ー what started as a stupid conversation turned into a fight that had you burying yourself under your covers for the rest of the day as you stewed in your emotions. the two of you were too argumentative for your own good.

you sigh when you realize how late it's gotten; you wanted to reconcile with your boyfriend before going to sleep, but you know how hard he is to talk to when he thinks he’s right. you find him in the living room, blanket trailing behind you from where it’s wrapped around your shoulders.

“jouno?” no response. you know he heard youーhe hears everything. “jouno.”

“what?” he huffs. “did you finally realize you were wrong?”

you grip your blanket harder, pulling it off and balling it in your hands before you toss it at him, not caring that it hits him in the back of the head, unfurling on impact and draping across his body.

“actually, i realized you were sleeping on the couch. goodnight.”

he flinches when you slam the bedroom door, the vibration of the wood grating on his sensitive ears. he grips the blanket in his hands; it was his favorite one, the extra soft fabric especially nice to his heightened senses, and it isn’t lost on him that you were using it in place of him.

even if he wanted to sleep, he can’t; he’s too tall to lay on the couch without his feet hanging off the side, and the traffic from outside is especially aggravating tonight, usually drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat. he hates to admit he feels bad, but he can feel your emotions all the way from your shared bedroom, and knowing he made you so upset makes something unpleasant curl in his chest.

he knows you’re still awake as he cracks the door open. “‘m sorry.”

“hm?” you lazily lift your head. “i’m not quite sure i heard you.”

he sighs, crawling to his rightful place beside you.

“yes, you did,” he pokes your forehead. “i’m not saying it again.”

he pulls the blanket up over the two of you before he lets you curl your leg around his. the sound of your heartbeat is a soothing one, and he grins when it speeds up as he presses his lips to your forehead, awaiting the satisfying moment when you fall asleep and it’ll fall into the same rhythm as his own.

p.s.! i finally posted this !! it’s a little longer than i thought, oopsy. tysm for reading (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) !!

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