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#f. bungou stray dogs
luffys · 7 months
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Now, who are the angels? Heavenly beings that others' hands cannot reach, namely the politicians. Their indiscretion births war. They must die and be reborn in the cycle, and that death must be painful. That is why we've taken our blades. I am the decay of angels, the sign of death that falls on a nation's greed.
@animangacreators challenge 22: summer 2023 → bungou stray dogs
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flametrashira · 18 days
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just saw ur sub dazai post
yes pls do
(ik u have the threesome thing but like..)
also how are u doing?? did u eat cake on ur bday? got any presents?
Helloooo! I'm so sorry I left this unanswered for 2 months but my sub!Dazai brainrot was going hard today so I finally had something to answer you with. Also this piece is heavily inspired by @heycharrr's stunning artwork, particularly this one
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Pairing: Sub!Dazai x dom!f!reader
Content Guidance: NSFW. Soft fem dom. Sub!Dazai. Giving Dazai head and then letting him fuck you like the good boy he is. Lots of praise, pretty boy used as a compliment, lots of Dazai whimpering and moaning. Mentions of scars and old injuries. Creampie. Cum everywhere. Approx 1.4k words
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UNRAVELED
The longer you knew Dazai, the more you came to understand he was always in control. He existed beneath the guise of a jester, concealing his machinations behind a façade of laziness, apathy, or frantic joviality. 
But not only was Dazai usually the one pulling the strings, he had often already put the puppets to rest in his toy box before they’d even realized he was the one playing with them, or even that they were puppets at all.
But not with you. With you he surrendered completely. 
The moment your lips caressed his skin, leaving pretty lipstick stains all over his long, lean frame, he was a wreck. Inch by quivering inch, you turned his battered and scarred body into a garden of red roses. His smirk, his swagger, all gone, replaced by an expression of pure bliss which bordered on agony.
There wasn’t an inch of him you didn’t know and hadn’t claimed; the smooth space between his bandages fair game for your affection. His angled jaw, the curves of his clavicle, the bottom of his ribcage, his narrow hips, his belly, his thighs. He moaned as you lavished his body with affection, reminding him of just how beautiful you found him between long, open-mouthed kisses. 
“Such a pretty boy, ‘Samu,” you crooned, licking a stripe down the center of his abdomen, stopping shy of the rough cotton wrapped across his rib cage. “My pretty boy.”
His belly flinched beneath your lips, your caresses simultaneously pleasurable yet bordering on unbearably ticklish. 
“Ahhh-ha! Oh shit–” He gasped as you moved lower and swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, coating it with the silken salt of his precum. “Hoh! I’m yours, I’m yours. Don’t stop…” His voice cracked, elegant fingers gripping the pillowcase above his head. “Oh! Feels so good.”
He had fresh scars and bruises since the last time you’d seen him naked– a fresh wound on his brow, new cuts on his legs, bruises on his arms and torso. Whatever had happened at Meursault had hurt him, and the thought of that made your heart squeeze uncomfortably. 
The pain was something you couldn’t undo, but his pleasure– he left that completely in your hands. And Dazai was so responsive to every single touch, and so damn greedy for it too. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, letting them slide down his length, taking him deeper, deeper as he tilted his head back and released a shaky whine of bliss. 
“Oh, so good. So good… thank you.”
His brow pinched in pleasure and anguish, cheeks and chest flushed, nipples hard and tenting the fabric of the bandages wrapped around his torso. You brought your hand to rest in the center of his chest, letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere. There were no cases to solve, no plots to unravel, nothing he needed to stay in control of right then. It was just you and him. All he needed to do was let go, surrender, feel. And Dazai found such comfort in mindlessness.
“Ah-ah-hahh!” That smart mouth of his which always had an answer for everything hung open, lips slack and capable only of uttering the most beautiful and wanton of moans. His back arched off the bed, allowing you to slide an arm beneath his hips, keeping them elevated so he couldn’t withdraw his cock from your mouth even if he wanted to. 
The delicate plush of his lower lip bore his teeth’s savagery as he sucked in a breath and released a guttural cry. Oh, the sounds he made; more beautiful than any music, twisting a knot in your core as your need to fuck him grew by the second. He’d been gone for so long; too damn long, and you had no intention of letting him out of bed any time soon.
“God, I missed you,” you whispered, letting your lips flutter over the weeping head of his cock as he squirmed and whined beneath you. “You’re so fucking pretty, ‘Samu. You know that, right?”
“Uh-huh,” he moaned, feet sliding against the bed sheets as he sought purchase. “‘M so close… if you keep teasing me like this I’m gonna cum.”
“Yeah?” You kissed his tip, earning you a desperate whimper. “You must have been so pent up in that prison cell…”
He threw his head back against the pillow as you lapped at his balls, “Oh fuck, you have no idea.”
A grin curved your lips as he fought the urge to clamp his thighs around your head, slender hands darting down to keep them spread for you as you dragged your tongue from the base of his cock to its bulbous crown. His pretty brown eyes watched intently as a glistening strand of precum connected his slit to the tip of your tongue.
“Fffffuck…”
“Such a good boy,” you praised him, kissing his cock to punctuate your affection. 
“Oh God. Please… please let me cum now. I need to– I need–”
“Do you want to cum in my mouth, or do you want to fuck my pussy?”
He could hardly contain himself at that, slinging an arm across his eyes as he nodded enthusiastically. “Pussy. Please let me fuck you. I need it. I’ll fuck you so good.”
He was so eager, clambering to his feet as you bent over, bracing yourself against the bedroom wall as he stepped up behind you and slid his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. 
“Fuck…” he breathed, long fingers digging into your hips, instinctively sliding around your belly before remembering himself and pausing for permission. 
“You can touch me,” you told him. 
With a grateful whine against the back of your neck he reached around, stroking your clit, the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, desperate to sink into you but knowing himself well enough to be certain it would only be a matter of seconds before he came if he did. And he so desperately loved to feel you cum on his cock first. 
Still, all the self-control in the world couldn’t stop him subconsciously rocking against you as he fingered you, his cheeks flushed, lips parted around a silent cry. He stroked your clit expertly, teasing you with a slow beckoning gesture, so eager to please you, to earn your pleasure, to sink into the heat of your pussy and feel your body respond to his. 
Hot air blew against the nape of your neck, his lips slack and wet, his belly pressing against the small of your back with every labored, panting breath he drew. 
“That’s it, ‘Samu… so good,” you gasped as your orgasm drew near. “I’m close…”
Eagerly, he pressed forward, pushing his cock into the wet heat of your pussy with a gasped, “Shit, baby!” 
The stretch of his cock, sliding into your throbbing pussy sent a frisson of pleasure tingling down your spine, tightening the coil in your core to near unbearable levels. Dazai fingered your harder, fucked you desperately. Neither of you were going to last, both of you frantic, craving release, and completely smitten with each other. The rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh filled the room, raising goosebumps along Dazai’s bandaged arms as he screwed his eyes tight and tried not to cum. 
“Hah- hah- hah- mmh– pussy so good– fuck— oh… Oh!” 
He gripped your hips as you rocked back against him, matching his rhythm, making him bottom out inside you and tipping yourself over the edge with a broken cry. He was right there with you, grinding his hips against the plush of your ass, filling you with his spend as he trembled through his orgasm, legs buckling and sending you both off balance. “Oh fuck!”
His cum dripped, warm and thick down your inner thighs, his breaths hot between your shoulder blades as he pressed his forehead against you, trying to pull together the tatters of his composure.
And when you both could move again, you climbed back into bed to let him lie in your arms, his long limbs tangling with yours, his lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Thank you,” he whispered, laying his head against your chest as you carded your fingers through his hair; his cock satisfied, his mind quiet, but his soul still craving your comfort, as it always did. “Heh… I love you.”
There was never any mask when he lay with you in the aftermath, only a quiet and genuine peace, so utterly precious and delicate, and no easier to hold on to than smoke.
But it was all for you, and so was Dazai. 
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please please please reblog if you like this aha it would be so hot of you.
More stories here!
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guacamoleroll · 15 days
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ɪᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴀ ᴛᴀꜱᴛᴇ · ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘʟᴇ ʙꜱᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ༉‧₊˚
featured. osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma. content. f!reader. based on a request. mentions of alcohol (dazai), mentions of food, nicknames, slavic dishes. (minor) spoilers for stormbringer. translation at the end. not proofread.
author's note. this was an incredibly fun request! these men either shift between being incompetent, or not being reliant on others, so it took a sweet turn.
would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!
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synopsis. the kitchen can be many things. a refuge from the toils of everyday life. a workshop for the creation of exquisite tastes. an assemblage of conversation over collaboration.
but one thing is certain—a well-endeavored meal can warm the coldest of hearts.
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𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 arrived home late one evening, tromping through the doorway with the confidence only a drunken man could muster. It had been one of those nights, ones in which he was all too aware of the hollowness of his own heart. One of those days where everything was too loud, the ones where he picked up every minuscule detail, whether he wanted to or not. So, he had taken to a drink or two to fill a void, only to dip into another—before he knew it, the room was spinning, and he found himself kicked out of the bar.
But he still had you to return to, so he gathered any soberness left within him and clambered to place his trench coat and shoes in the spots you had set out for them. He was glad you didn't hear him walk in. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been granted the opportunity to take in the view. You pranced around the kitchen, a lifted twirl in your heel as you stirred ingredients in a saucepan, the domestic mess of powders against your skin.
You were all his. The reason he had a home to return to. His sanctuary from his own mind. He often fretted—though he pretended not to—about the idea of you being taken away from him, a fact that he had come to accept as his reality. But in these simple moments, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you encompassed for a moment longer.
His arms fit snug around your waist, his head like a puzzle piece against the curve of your shoulder. "Is that for me?"
You hummed, pressing a peck on his cheek as you leaned into him.
"You'll always have a meal to return home to, Osamu."
Yeah. He'd indulge for just a little longer.
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𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 did not expect to pass out. He had returned home from a weeks-long mission overseas, anxiously awaiting the moment you reunited and ran into his arms—only for him to arrive early to an empty home. You were at work, and it wasn't his fault the couch clung to him like a vice! For a moment, he thought he had been dreaming of the fresh smell of savory pasta sauce and spices.
Wait. He can't dream.
He cracked open his eyes, his vision steadily straightening out, and trudged into the kitchen with a befuddled pout, his sight narrowing in on exactly what you had been up to.
"Babe."
"Chuuya!" you yelled, almost losing your grip on your spoon before you managed to catch it, clutching it close to your chest as you twisted the knob on the stove to place the heat at a simmer. "You scared me!"
His arms crossed as he leaned on the doorway. "What're you doing cooking in here by yourself?" he asked sternly, scanning the contents of the pot along with your face. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume he was mad. But you did know better, catching onto the subtle tilt of his brow, narrowed in simultaneous amusement and disappointment. Cooking was often a partnered endeavor.
You couldn't resist laughter, cupping his cheek as if comforting an upset child. "You've had a long week, and you looked so peaceful lying there. I couldn't bring myself to disturb you."
He would've been quick to argue—you could wake him anytime, no matter the circumstance—but a thought overwhelmed him and kept his mouth at bay. You had done something for him, not with anything to gain, but simply because you cared. He was used to it happening the other way around, but this. . .this felt nice.
So, he relented, his ginger locks tickling your skin as he tucked his face into your neck with a sigh. "Thank you, baby."
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𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 had been busy preparing the next phase of his plans, though you supposed he was always busy—too busy to take care of his own basic needs, that was for sure. He was always sorting through different data, exploring multiple angles to achieve his goals.
With the many tasks flooding his brain, he hardly had time to abandon his screens. The skin of his thumb had worn from his subconscious biting habit as he looked over another spreadsheet of banking information, his hands about to slide over the keys yet again.
The scent of stroganoff stirred him from his trance. His eyes shifted to find a steaming plate of the delectable dish sitting next to him on the desk. And he finally registered the firm hand propped against his shoulder, with you looking upon him from above with a sweet but knowing smile.
"Eat."
He wouldn't have customarily taken kindly to such a harsh demand, but he bent to the stern look of your gaze, one that hid behind it a level of care he ravenously craved. You worried for him, not in the same fashion as his so-called "friends," but with the genuine desire to see him thrive, no matter the circumstance.
So, the demon allowed himself a momentary reprieve, kissing a smile into your hand before taking a bite of the dish.
"Delicious, as always, моя милая."
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𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐈 had practically burst through the door, prepared to recount the travesties and trials of his day. That was until he caught onto the unmistakable scent of savory pirozhki filling. He followed his nose like a bloodhound, the smell creating a distinct path into the kitchen, where you stood, unaware of the man behind you as you mixed spices into a pan.
"What'cha cooking, dove?" His breath bristled against your ear as he sprung up next to you, using his ability with a shit-eating grin. Your expression mirrored his own, used to the stint of your lover's sudden appearances.
"I found some old Ukrainian recipes online and wanted to try them out." You held out a spoon, and he bit into the filling without a second thought—a mistake. He clutched his throat as his eyes watered, realizing it was too hot for consumption far too late. He finally managed to choke it down, releasing a loud whew!
"Trying to kill me so soon! How cruel!" he exclaimed.
Your laughter roared throughout your home, a shaking hand rubbing his back as you wiped tears from your eyes with the other. "Is it good?"
He brought a finger up to stroke his non-existent beard, humming a quick tune. "Hmm, perhaps a cup of chili powder."
"Коля," you deadpanned. "That's too much."
He sighed, a pout settled on his lips, but you caught the hand sneaking into the interior of his overcoat, snatching his wrist before he poured something irreversible into your dish. He cackled, attempting to pull away as you chased him around the kitchen island.
For a moment, it felt as if you were the only two people in the world—free of restraint. He could feel the bonds tied around him loosen. He could reach out, taste that sensation of freedom for himself. A freedom he had always found in you.
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𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 had arrived back to his section of the Sky Casino earlier than he expected, having a strange lack of paperwork. But he simply decided to take it as a sign that he had been doing good work, and ignored the anxious feelings that always sprung from not having anything to do.
"I'm home—!" he called, but was stopped in the entryway by a sweet aroma. It was intoxicating, and he couldn't resist the temptation to lurk into the kitchen.
"Welcome home, honey!" you called back, your voice echoing down the hallway. He stripped himself of his coat, leaving it folded on one of the benches before he trekked across the threshold, a curious shift in his furrowed brow.
You were baking cookies, fluffy chocolate-chip cookies. He couldn't resist the smile on his face, even if he wanted to, nor could he ignore the bubbling warmth in his heart. But he couldn't help his confusion.
"Cookies?" he asked, dipping his finger into a batch of dough before he popped it into his mouth. "What's the occasion?"
You swiped at him with a flour-coated hand before dusting the rest of it off on a towel. "You've been busy lately, so I wanted to make you something sweet," you stated as if it were the simplest thing. But those few simple words took him aback.
You cooked for him. No one had ever done that before, not without being an employee or attempting to manipulate him—or both. And in a matter of seconds, only enough to let in a sweep of hot air from the oven to warm his skin, he realized something that had long remained empty had been filled. He felt whole.
"Sigma!" you exclaimed, and he realized that he had tears streaming down his face. The look of concern drawn through your strained lips, your furrowed brow, and your shifting eyes only further set in his new reality—he had his family. He had found his home.
"I'm okay, love. Just. . .thank you."
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моя милая = my dear коля = kolya
ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @lovedazai @osameowdazai @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @ajaxism @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @sillyspookycat @aureatchi @mxxny-lupin @emyyy007 @betweensinners
© ɢᴜᴀᴄᴀᴍᴏʟᴇʀᴏʟʟ 2024 — ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ. ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜʀᴀɢᴇᴅ
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zzzx009 · 1 month
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SHEEP DACHU AU!
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Aka au where dazai was in the sheep as well
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fury176 · 5 months
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Not sure if these are blessed or cursed
The idea to play around with the Guild members' designs (hell yeah, I want to make more!!) came from me laughing at a mental image of Fitzgerald with long hair doing a fabulous hair flip. Someday I'm gonna draw that too - fem Fitz with long hair and really HUGE ti-- cough ANYWAY
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nopeleavemealoone · 10 months
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Bungou as reductress headlines
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Textposts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5
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rae-pss · 5 days
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masterlist
˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . little something i wrote to help with my inner thoughts. ˗ˏˋ꒰ 💭 ꒱ . . . lowercase intended, 195 words, mentions of scars in the forearm, not specified the reason why they're there.
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with a fondness almost unknown to you, his hand held your wrist firmly; raising your arm enough to have it close to his face. a lateral movement of his wrist and your forearm was already under his watchful eye. deep gaze that carefully examined your skin, marked by a pain that you never wanted to have to experience again. a part of you that you longed to bury underground forever, but, one more part of you for him to love.
—you don't have to do this. –you tried to reason, not wanting him to be aware of the pain that still resided in your grieving soul.
carefully, his gaze met yours, a prolonged silence formed between the two of you. however, with delicate slowness, in case you decided to reject his actions, he lowered his face until the gentle commissure of his lips made contact with the back of your wrists. unhurriedly and gently, he began to leave tender kisses all over your forearm, paying special attention to the deeper marks that decorated your skin.
—just... –he started uttering. —let me know all the times that, despite not knowing it, i failed to protect you.
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satan, mammon (whb); jotaro, bruno, wammu, josuke (jjba); satoru, suguru, itadori (jjk); dante (dmc); dazai (bsd); jack, buddha, qin, hades (snv/ror); mammon, simeon, diavolo (om); giyuu, sanemi, rengoku, akaza (kny); draken, mitsuya, kakucho (tokrev); your favs (<3).
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sy5t3merr0r · 2 months
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I had a vision and too much free time...
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vivid-vices · 9 months
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have some more of these :)
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saelique · 2 months
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DAZAI OSAMU AS A FATHER
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✦ — ft. the agency + chuuya ! ✦ — cw : fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst :0 uh- broken humour and bad writing :( english is not my first language ! uh. dazai gets beat up by chuuya, feminine pet names so reader is female :3 NOT PROOFREAD !
feel like he would wanna have one girl and one boy :0 [s/n] -> son’s name [d/n] -> daughter’s name! they’ll be twins cause why not? :V 
he’s kinda of a 50/50. not the best but he’s definitely trying so that’s a point ! 
he would most likely would be the fun parent. always taking your kids out to play, letting them play with his hair and tying them up in silly hairstyles, or maybe just plain causes chaos with them. 
he would sooo take them to the agency to bother kunikida (failed) and to also take them to visit the rest of the agency members and staff of course! 
atsushi absolutely adores them! so that’s why you usually drop off [s/n] and [d/n] at his place. kyouka also helps with taking care the two of them which is the sweetest thing ever ! 
ranpo and yosano are like the fun uncle and aunts ! basically they take your kids out to everywhere. even missions. so that’s why they do get scolded by you quite often. but as long as they have fun and with the fact that they’re most definitely safe, why not just let them do it? (no one can get hurt with yosano’s ability soo no casualties!) 
mmm kunikida is the so very strict uncle that secretly cares for them. it’s super heartwarming to see him interacting with [s/n] since apparently your son likes him the most for some weird reason. and of course, dazai always complains and whines about it. which is hilarious to you. considering [s/n]’s personality was very similar to dazai’s. 
kenji is like a older brother figure to them! he even teaches [s/n] and [d/n] how to plant crops, etc. etc. but unfortunately they don’t really 100% listen to him. But kenji doesn’t mind at all! In fact, he even takes them out to the fields to have fun. 
naomi and tanizaki…well…your kids definitely think they’re weird. no offense! they just…tend to…y’know..
fukuzawa and your daughter are super close! sometimes you think you would get diabetes from seeing them together. he would always teach her how to play chess, and in turn [d/n] tells him about what she learned recently in school! 
and of course, chuuya knows all about them! despite not even meeting them! all thanks to dazai! of course, he’s happy for his ex partner. but sometimes it just gets too annoying so don’t mind it when your husband comes back home bruised and beaten, yeah?
“ouch- ouch-ow! lets just- ow!” Dazai repeatedly winces dramatically when you try and clean his wounds with a wet cloth, dabbing it on his skin as gently as possible.  “you wouldn’t have to go through this if you just didn’t bother nakahara y’know?” you chuckle, “awww..but I wanted to tell him how [s/n] beat the living daylights out of a classmate that was annoying him :(“ you pause your movements, obviously in shock at what dazai just said.  “[s/n] did what?” you asked, widening yours eyes before hitting your (stupidly loveable) husband in the head with the wet cloth, water splattered onto his clothes and hair. “ouch!” “I can’t believe you never told me! how could you?!” “dont worry! i took him out for ice cream!” “that’s not what I meant!” 
ahem. anyways! 
please please please don’t let dazai and your kids in the kitchen. they’ll practically burn it down to ashes without your supervision. and if they didn’t burn it down, the food would most likely taste horrendous. with horrible food combos. 
but alas, you’re already used to their shenanigans. what could you do? 
”I’m ba-what is this?” you froze at the sight of a black gooey looking dish, you had just returned from the agency to do something important and what you came home to was two children and a grown adult man stained with eggs, flour, etc. and a plate of suspicious food.  “we made it for you mama!” your son exclaims happily while your daughter and husband nods. “…I’m not hungry right now.” you laugh awkwardly, trying to escape from eating whatever that was. “come on honey, it wouldn’t hurt by having a taste right? aaahh…” your husband takes a spoon, scoops some up and raises it to your mouth, seemingly enjoying the petrified face on you. “…fine..” you slightly wince when you say that, regretting for agreeing to eat what they made and without warning, dazai shoves the whole spoonful of food into your mouth as you splutter. after you somehow manage to swallow it all, clasping your hand over your mouth, you look up to see the trio very very…happy somehow.  imaginary flowers and sparkles seem to shine about them. dazai was especially happy…goodness. he was the mastermind wasnt he? “mama! how did it taste?” [s/n] rushes towards you and looks up at you, a puppy expression on his face as you gulp. “v-very nice sweetheart.” you smile at him, still fighting against the urge to throw up all the contents. “Yay!” he cheered, running around the room “we did it!“ “haha.. no wonder ranpo told me to not go home yet..” you mumbled the last bit. “what was that, belladonna?” “nothing!” 
…you got food poisoning in the end. not suprising at all. but whnever dazai offered to cook, you promptly tell him that you already ordered takeout. 
and dazai would be so so so so so sweet with the twins when it’s their bedtime. like- he would literally hum a melody or read a story, whatever they like. and it just usually makes you chuckle at the sight of how gentle he was with them. 
he definitely is really cautious with them since he’s always scared that they’ll slip away. same with you though, that’s why he likes to hug you like a koala when the two of you are asleep.
and when [s/n] or [d/n] has nightmares? he would try his best to soothe them, sometimes ending up falling asleep in their room on the floor. 
but in the end, everything is peaceful and happy. 
even though dazai may be far, far from perfect, there’s no one else you’d rather to be the father of your children ♡
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it’s done ! :D yay! ‘m rlly srry for all the grammar + my English since it’s bad aaahhh T^T *sobs* but I hope u liked it <3 thank u for reading !! (tried my best to not make this too long) I suck at endings :( 
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fitzgerald: perhaps we can discuss this with the weretiger himself
fukuzawa: i already made myself clear. atsushi will not be going with you
fitzgerald: ah perhaps i cannot buy him off you. but if he chose to come willingly... could u stop it?
fukuzawa: can u not hear? i already said multiple times that you are not to get anywhere near him.
fitzgerald, scoffing: you can stop him from meeting me? what are you, his dad?
fukuzawa, pulling out adoption papers and signing them then and there: yes.
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luffys · 2 months
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Friends (7.08) | Bungou Stray Dogs (4.03)
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flametrashira · 21 days
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I AM DYING FOR THE ANGO FICS AHHH
(obviously no pressure take your time but) ANGO IS MAKING ME FEEL THINGS
😵
Right?? He's the epitome of babygirl. I need him a disturbing amount.
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Pairing: Ango x f!reader
Content Guidance: NSFW. Putting lipstick on Ango and then having him ruin it by eating you out. That's the entire plot. Sub!Ango. Dom!reader. This is my first time writing for him, I hope I did him justice. Approx 1300 words.
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Lipstick
“I'll remind you I'm on the clock. I’m not supposed to be socializing,” Ango chastised, though you knew him well enough to know he was at least inwardly pleased by your impromptu visit. “And my office is for authorized personnel only.”
You twisted the bottom of your lipstick and watched the deep red cylinder slide out before applying it to your lips. “And I'll remind you that you stood me up–”
“It won't happen again.”
“– for the second time this month.”
Ango’s already fragile smile dropped. “Actually, I believe this is technically the third. I'm sorry.”
The poor man looked exhausted. His hair was stuck up at the front from where he'd tugged on it in frustration, and his eyes were tired and heavy. You weren't allowed to know what he was working on, but it was plain to see he was utterly beaten down by it, which usually meant Osamu Dazai had some involvement.
“Can you take a break?” you asked, putting the cap back on the lipstick. “Just a half hour to get coffee with me…?”
“If I drink one more cup of coffee it'll start seeping out of my pores.”
“Gross.”
“But I can spare a little time to begin making it up to you. I'll admit, I've missed you more than I've missed sleeping in bed. Which is to say, terribly.”
“I’ve missed you too.” You glanced toward the door, then back at him, wondering just how much privacy you had. 
Ango chuckled, adept as ever at reading you. “I don’t have any appointments scheduled. We should be alone for a little while…”
You didn’t need any further encouragement. Leaning over his desk, you kissed him softly, his staggered breath fanning over your lips as his exhaustion gave way to need. As reserved as Ango was, he was also touch-starved after sleeping in the office for three days straight.
When you pulled away, he clung to you a moment longer, brow creased with desperation. And his delicate lips were tinted with the crimson of your lipstick.
With a smile, you smeared it with your thumb, attempting to clean it off.
“Ah. You’ve made a mess of me, haven’t you?” he said, without the slightest hint of disapproval.
“You’re not a mess at all. Actually, it suits you.”
“Does it now?” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "How convenient that we both suit the same shade."
You smirked as you walked around to his side of the desk and perched on the edge, taking out the lipstick once more and gently clasping his chin between your fingers. 
“Open… just a little…”
He did as you asked– he always did– a rosy blush flooding his face as you carefully applied the crimson to his lips, taking time to ensure it was perfect. His eyes remained fixed on yours, heavy-lidded, pupils spreading like ink blots. It was clear he was fighting to retain his composure, his breaths fragmented, hands coming to rest on the bare skin of your thighs.
“So focused…” he uttered, hardly daring to move his lips.
“Hush…”
A slow, staggered intake of air telegraphed his need. As did the rapidly swelling bulge forming between his legs as you swiped your thumb along his lower lip line, creating a perfect, crisp edge.
“There,” you said when you were done. You opened up your phone’s camera and turned it so he could see his image reflected back at him. “Look how pretty you are.”
And he was; his delicate features heightened by the vivid color, the little beauty mole above the left side of his upper lip only adding to the allure. A dry chuckle escaped him as he locked your screen and handed the device back to you. 
“You’re not actually supposed to have your phone in here you know. There’s a lot of information in here which—”
You rendered him silent with a kiss, pulling his tie like a leash toward you, and as always, Ango obeyed your demand. He moaned against your lips, fingers gripping your thighs, thumbs teasing the edge of your skirt, as if desperate to push it up but waiting for permission. His lips parted as you slipped your tongue between them, submitting to you with a yearning whine. 
“Oh, Ango, look at you,” you breathed, pulling back to look at him, at the lipstick smeared across his already lust-drunk face. “And on company time too, you naughty boy.”
Ango was always easy to fluster, wound so tight it took the slightest teasing to unravel him. He never swore; not unless you had him completely out of his mind. But he was always eager to please you, to prove himself. All it took was a shift of your hips, the parting of your thighs, the slightest pressure of your palm at the back of his head, before his face was pressed to your pussy. 
Pulling aside your underwear, he moaned at the first taste of you, his hands sliding round to grip your ass as he pressed lingering kisses to your clit. God, no one worshiped pussy quite like Ango Sakaguchi; he devoured you like it was the only respite he had, as if your pleasure was the only thing in the world that truly mattered to him. 
The door was unlocked; anyone could barge in at any time. And they’d find you sat on the desk with your legs spread, one foot resting on an armrest, the other hooked over his shoulder as he devoured you. They’d see their assistant counselor covered in lipstick, glasses fogged, moaning and whining against your pussy as if he was the one on the brink of orgasm. And at that moment he didn’t care one bit if they did. 
The slippery heat of his tongue against your clit left you breathless. You threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging it to make him moan again, using it to steer his mouth and get yourself off. He kept his hair long especially for that; handing you the almost literal reins, finding total release in the act of submission. 
For a little while, every decision was taken from him; the weight of the world temporarily lifted from his shoulders. His only job was to stick out his tongue and let you use it for your pleasure while his cock ached and throbbed against the fabric of his suit.
And when you came against his mouth, he turned voracious, lapping, moaning, feasting on you, relishing every twitch and pulse of your pussy beneath his smeared, ruby lips.
“Ohhh, yes… thank you, thank you…” he moaned between gasped breaths of pleasure, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, pulling you closer still. 
He kissed your pussy so softly as you came down from your high, lips curving into a gentle smile as you praised him for doing it so well. 
“Thank you,” he whispered, leaving a trail of lipstick stains along your inner thighs. “You have no idea how badly I needed that.”
When he pulled away, his lips were swollen and smeared, the crimson glistening with your essence. His hair was tousled, his glasses slightly askew, the knot on his tie pulled too tight. Even after sleeping in the office for the past three days he’d still managed to appear presentable. But ten minutes with you had Ango disheveled and in complete disarray, and you’d hardly touched him. 
“Oh, Ango,” you said softly, adoringly, cupping his pretty face between your hands. “You’re such a mess. My perfect little slut.”
“God…” he whispered on an exhale, the erection tenting his trousers twitching at your words. “I wish we had more time alone. I need… I need to…”
“Use your words, assistant counselor.”
He put his head back, closing his eyes as his throat flexed and he summoned his resolve. “I need to be fucked. I need you to fuck me until I can’t think anymore. God, I need it so badly. You have no idea."
"Mm... I think I can manage that."
"Nothing in the world can keep me from coming home to you tonight, I swear.”
“Good,” you said, kissing his cheek and leaving a tiny crimson smear. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Yes you will.” He swiped his hands back through his hair before getting to work loosening the knot of his tie. “You most certainly will.”
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guacamoleroll · 3 months
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— 𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝖍𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖎'𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖒! ⋆⁺₊
featured: osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol, sigma
content warning(s): fem!reader, domestic moments, mentions of marriage, kisses and cuddling, these men are whipped, fluff, references to christmas traditions
author's note: i hope you're all enjoying (or at least relaxing) during the holidays! sit back, grab a cup of steaming coffee or hot chocolate, and enjoy some sweet moments with our bungou boys ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-
summary: what gifts do our bungou husbands gift you during the holidays?
would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!
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𝗢𝗦𝗔𝗠𝗨 𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
Your eyes flutter open as sprinkles of sunlight peeking through the blinds serve as your only alarm, traces of chocolatey hair prickling your skin as he nuzzles into your neck. Your fingers twirl the coils of his knotted tresses, smoothing them into shining waves before pressing kisses against his ear. And that's when you see it.
A basket perched on your nightstand, tied neatly with a bow, and piled high with various cosmetics and accessories. As you sort through each item, feeling nostalgia pinging with every gift, you realize there's a reason you recognize them. 
Each is a small element from a moment in your relationship—the nail polish you wore on your first date, the lipstick you chose for your first kiss. He notes the quirks of others subconsciously, though he chooses to ignore them unless it benefits him. But not with you.
He cherishes every ephemeral habit—the crease of your forehead as candles burn on, the haze of your eyes as raindrops pour down, the indention of your lips as movies summit closed. You're always too preoccupied to notice, but he gawks at you without shame, admiring the purity of your features. He is known for being abstract, but you are his complete opposite. So completely unabashed in sharing your opinions and sentiments, even through your own expressions. And in a way, you're far braver than he believes himself to be, so he knows he must remind you of that.
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𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 𝗡𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
Your sleep is interrupted by a yelp. For a moment, you wanted to keep your eyes closed, still sluggish with sleep, but a sequence of other noises pulled you out of bed. Unaware of the eyes peeking out from under the covers, a smirk on their proprietor's face as you shuffled out of the room, you journeyed into the living room. And he knew that you had found precisely what you were looking for when he heard a barrage of coos and badly muffled shrieks escape your lips, rushing back into the room with a puppy snuggled in your arms, a cute bow fastened to its collar. He knew your heart had been stolen at a glance, much like he had been long ago.
That puppy is now your child, a part of your family. Even if you don't realize it, this dog expresses his eternal fondness and dedication to you and any family you plan to have. He would prefer to pick a larger dog breed, the loyal type of canines that remain devoted to their families (Akitas, Belgian Malinois, German Shepherds, etc.). He knows you'd love any dog, but he wants to guarantee that you'll be protected if he isn't there.
And don't be surprised if an engagement ring follows a few months later. You're raising an animal together—your fur baby—and while it's a bit out of order, he wants to tie the knot officially. And you'll have the cutest little ring bearer in the world ⋆˙⟡♡
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𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 𝗗𝗢𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗘𝗩𝗦𝗞𝗬 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
(I briefly discussed this in a post a while ago, but I wanted to expand on it a bit further.)
A stack of uniform presents pile in symmetrical mountains around the base of your shared tree; each fold intricately pristine. However, he insists on having a large breakfast, reveling in your anticipation with each course as you eye the gifts—it's too cute. Once you've finally reached the tree, he observes with unstated delight as you rip open the wrapping paper, only to discover hardcover copies of classic novels in your favorite genres.
He knows you peruse through his personal collection while he is away on missions, missing him and seeking comfort in his familiar words. Without your knowledge, he has caught you with a beaming grin on your face, skimming the story, enamored by his annotations. So once you've finished the book, with your thoughts written neatly inside the pages, he'd offer to swap with you, finding a sudden interest in the story.
Because the way your brain operates is absolutely fascinating to him—it is, in his (correct) opinion, one of your most stunning attributes. He finds himself seeking other ways to look into your thoughts, and if you just so happen to get inside his head as a result, he finds that he doesn't mind all the much.
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𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 𝗚𝗢𝗚𝗢𝗟 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
He would be bouncing up and down as soon as the sun rose, forcing you onto the sofa as he picked presents up from across the room. However, breaking away from tradition, he insisted that he opened the first few, utilizing many of your gifts as props for a little skit.
He enjoys your laughter more than any other sound in this world. It's such a freeing sight, watching you throw back your head, unable to help yourself. Even in the midst of his antics, he finds himself unable to avert his gaze, wide-eyed as you laugh without a care in the world. To him, you're always beautiful, but especially when you're happy.
And in that, he realizes that he wants to make you laugh all the time. Every second that you're together should be filled with joy. His heart constricts painfully whenever he sees sorrow on your face, and he has made it his prime duty in life to relieve your suffering. Anything that has ever made you laugh is collected in those gift boxes, and he feels lighter than ever as you giggle in your seat.
You have become the rope that tethered him to the ground, but he finds that he no longer wishes to fly free. Perhaps he has become exactly what he used to fear: his own attachments anchoring him, but he doesn't mind. He is a fool, but only for you.
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𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 ⋆⁺₊ ⸺⸺⸺
He has never had anyone to celebrate the holiday with before; there hasn't been a reason. So instead, he would bury himself in his paperwork, trying to find a purpose through the letters, though he knew it was all in vain. So when he finds someone to celebrate with, he will ensure that you will stick around until the holiday next year.
You're met with bundles of presents, heavy with luxurious clothes and fragrant accessories, things he knows you like. But one of those gifts stands out amongst the rest: a simple box with a neat but fashionable outfit inside. Your eyes scan the seams, and it dawns on you—these are handmade. 
He knows his stuff about fabrics and colors, constantly choosing different options for the casino, and one of his stress-relieving hobbies (in my headcanon) is sewing. Before you came into his life, he made his own clothes, finding only brief comfort in the repetitive stitches.
But there is something so domestic about creating clothes for someone you care about. Thoughts of them are embuded in every stitch, seams pressed with care as it's molded to flatter your body specifically. It reassures him whenever you walk around the building, showing off your new clothes with a smile on your face—you are his family, his home. His other half. And you are here to stay.
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ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imhandicapableofmath @lovedazai @hauntedsol @ruru-kiss @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @fedyascoffin @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @miloofc @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @dazaisms @deepseafragments @justanotherjester @sillyspookycat @kotysluny @aureatchi
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circuswhisprs · 4 months
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(dont tag fyodor as kin/me or nikolai as f/o)
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tojifile · 3 months
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Hallo
I really like your work, can I get the angst where s/o Dazai wants to ask to break up because Dazai always plays with other women, and Dazai tries to maintain their relationship
Thank you 🥰
@Dazai Osamu . . . ( ノ´ヮ`) ノ
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Tags: ada!dazai, f!reader, established relationship, angst, suggestive, cursing, gaslighting, yandere themes if you squint, possessive and obsessive dad—Dazai, hypocrite Dazai, anxiety, drabble, happy ending ?
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A/N: Hello Anon! I don’t understand a part of your request, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you intended. I took it as Dazai wants to break up because he thinks reader isn’t “the one” but he still acts like nothing happened between them at work. (??) But I think reader wanting to break up makes more sense, I’m not really sure what to follow so I’m going to use reader wnats to break up because that makes more sense, considering you said Dazai tries to “maintain their relationship”
Links: Masterlist
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Womanizer, womanizer, womanizer – 💋
“Let’s break up,” you said in a nonchalant tone. “What?” Was all the response you got, “Let’s break up.” You repeated without giving him a glance.
You and Dazai were sitting on opposite ends of his couch as you watched a movie. Usually people meant something different when saying “Netflix and chill” but you weren’t about to let this scenario escalate. Especially not after you saw him flirting with a client. That was your last straw.
Dazai immediately sat up and paused the movie you were watching. No one was actually paying attention to it anyways. You finally faced him, you knew he wanted you to explain, so you gave in and spoke first. “I don’t like being treated like another one of your options, Dazai.”
Ouch! She said ‘ Dazai ’ he thought to himself. He went up to you with a soft sigh, picking you up like a child that needed to be calmed down. “Darling.. where is all of this coming from?”
And just like that, you started to tear up. His words, his tone, his affection. You just keep coming back to him, even when you know he isn’t loyal to you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you. “Shh.. stop crying princess.” He spoke softly. You then look up at him with teary and puffy eyes, a red nose, and a small frown.
He chuckled at your disheveled appearance. Oh how he loved playing with your feelings, knowing you’ll come back. After all, he chose you to play with.
Fuck, he didn’t even have to explain. He just had to baby you and that was that. You were his again. It was frustrating but you came back every single time.
“‘Samu-kun!” You whined, choking slightly at the end due to your tears. There it was, you said the cute little nickname you’d call him. He found you so adorable when you were jealous and crying.
He kissed your lips, sucking on the lower lip that was chapped and bleeding from your anxiety. You tried to push him off weakly, knowing you wanted to stay. “‘Samu-kun..” you whined in a defeated tone as he pulled away.
“Come now darling, I’ll prove to you that you’re the only woman I want.” He said as he walked to his room with you still in his arms. It wasn’t long before you were a babbling mess under him. There was no way Dazai Osamu was going to let you leave him. You were his favorite plaything!
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@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !
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