#helplesslypurple77kinktober

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 13- Step Bro!Dazai/Reader/Step Bro!Fyodor

Notes: I think it's a little ooc, but i really couldn't decide which characters to go with so yeah.

also, uhm, that fyodor header picture has nothing to do with the actual story, i just though he looked so fucking hot with that gun(also yes, ik im using the step silbing/dad concept twice but its just so sexy to me yaknow*)(*and also, if your wondering, i actually have a wonderful relationship with my father)

Ever since you can remember the house had been cold. You didn't call it your house, even though you had lived there all your life. No, it was more akin to a creature unto itself, a perfect reflection of your childhood. You were born in this house, the only child Mother, or Cecilia as she insisted upon, didn't abort. You spent your younger years with a nanny, who cared for you the best she could. She taught you to read and write, and you excelled especially at math. But Cecilia didn't care. She never cared. And the house reflected her disinterest.

The nanny, a kind woman named Martha, had been disposed of when you turned eight. Cecilia decided you were old enough to function on your own and fired the waste of money. You spent your years after that in the library, absorbing information, reading fanciful stories with mothers who loved their daughters. You wondered why Cecilia never loved you. 

When you turned ten, Cecilia brought home a man. She introduced you, and you stood like instructed, pretty and well behaved. He patted you on the head, but never spared you a glance. He was tall, blond and very, very young. Much younger than Cecilia. And he was much too enamored to care for you, Cecilia's little child. Cecilia encouraged this behavior, and although the number of people in the house had grown, you were all alone. You were always alone. But it was ok, you were used to the silence. You sat in your large playroom, and cried into your pillow, muffling your feelings in the silk. Cecilia didn't need your burdensome feelings. 

The summer you turned eleven, Cecilia brought another man home. And this man was kind to you at first. He gave you candy and treated you with kindness, luring you into his trap like a spider. The first time he hit you, you had cried defiantly for Cecilia. And of course Cecilia had not come, for she would rather believe her boytoys over her own flesh and blood. Humans were cruel things, ready to hurt others at the drop of a hat. And Cecilia was the cruelest. Nothing comforted you for ounce as you cried into your comforter, as unloved as before. 

The summer you turned fifteen it was clear you had inherited Cecilia's peerless beauty. You spent the rest of the summer mastering makeup and when you arrived at your private school you were instantly popular. The makeup just elevated your already peerless beauty and people, both boys and girls fell at your feet. You reveled in the popularity, the love. A different kind of love, but love all the same. The house congratulated you, but Cecilia didn't care. She never did, after all.

Your grades never fell however, you simply could not let them. If you were proud of anything, it was your intelligence. It was wholly yours, unlike your beauty, inherited from Cecilia. You hated that you were her creation, hated it with your entire very being. You loved your intelligence, however. It came from your father, you were told briefly by Cecilia, and because you had never met him it was easier to accept his qualities. The house was from your father, his money at least. A gift to Cecilia. 

And the one gift he had ever gotten you was a ring, a gorgeous piece of silver and emeralds that Cecilia had taken, stoll right from your pudgy two year old hands. You had never even gotten to hold it as an adult. You didn't miss it, not really. But you hated the trait you shared with Cecilia, a sense of selfishness, and a love for jewelry. 

 It was on your sixteenth birthday, sitting at a table alone as you were blowing out the birthday candles, that you truly cried without the comfort of your pillows. Cecilia was out, and as you eat your cake, you soon come to realize that you had grown up too fast. You had been an adult since the moment Martha was fired and you had sat in the cold walls of your beige playroom, crying and crying for comfort, something that would never find you again. You were a shell, a puppet, a beautiful china doll empty of  love. You were Cecilia. The house laughed at your plight, as you sobbed into your pillow, muffling your feelings into the comforting silk. 

It was a hot summer day, a few weeks after you turned seventeen when Cecilia broke the news. You were sitting by the pool, sunbathing in your swimsuit. Cecilia simply walked in, spared you a glance, and informed you she was getting married. You felt a small shiver of surprise run up your spine. Cecilia had had many boyfriends, yes, but she never married them. This man had to be different. Or maybe it was her age, and her fading looks. You hated the spike of happiness that pillaged though your heart, you hated how feelings of hatred turned you into a spiteful shrew, just like Cecilia. Cecilia had cracked open a beer, flipping through her magazine, sparing you one last glance. “He has sons, two of them.” She had said, closing the screen door behind her. 

⋆｡ °✩

“There you are, Name. You're late.” Cecilia said, giving you her usual faintly disapproving stare mixed with disgust. You still quail under it, even though it's the same one you’ve seen for years and years and years. You still fear her disapproval, even after all. 

“I'm sorry Cecilia.” You say, straightening your spine. You're still in your school uniform, and the bus was late but you know better than to give excuses. Cecilia doesn't care for those. The little skirt and blazer combo is one of your favorites, and the only thing you truly love about St. Catherine's private school for young ladies. The walls of St Catherines are barren and cold, but not as cold as your own. Cecilia flips her hair, looking perfectly put together as always, although her age is beginning to show around her eyes. She hates it, you know, and you love it. You can't wait for Cecilia to wither away, her personal worst nightmare. 

“Don't embarrass me, Name.” Cecilia says, her cold eyed stair rooting you to your place. “Just smile pleasantly and entertain your step brothers, alright Sweetheart?” She says. The pet name reeks of disinterest but her disinterest is preferable to her anger. For when Cecilia angers the foundations of the very house shake. You nod, and Cecilia takes that as enough. A knock sounds on the door, and any ugly expression is gone from her face as she flies for the door, opening it and hopping into the arms of the man behind it. 

He’s your mothers usual type, tall and handsome, but several years older than you would have guessed. He spins her around, and they kiss. You look away. There are two boys standing behind him on the doorstep, and to your surprise they also look away from the torrid display. Their strange boys, both around the same height, but that is the only thing they share in common. They don't even really look related, but who are you to judge? Done with their display, Cecilia and her new husband step through the door, still attached at the hip. Cecilia throws you a glare, and you put on your customary smile, a smile so fake you feel like a barbie doll. 

“My daughter, Name.” Cecilia almost imperceptibly grimaces at the word daughter, gesturing at you. You smile. “Hello.” You say, feeling like a fake. The man gives you a smile, gesturing at his sons, who have stepped through the door, and now stand on either side of him and Cecilia. “My sons, Fyodor and Osamu.” The one on the right smiles at you, the other one simply gives you a nod. They're so different, you’d almost think them adopted. But you can see their features in their father. 

The smiling one, Osamu, has short wavy brown hair and sparkling brown eyes. He gives you a tiny wave, and you feel your smile become genuine for a second, before you catch yourself. The ones who smile are more dangerous, you had learned long ago. They lure you with kindness and hit you with force. He’s dressed in a wrinkled button down and uniform pants, his posture casual with his hands in his pockets. A matching tie hangs crooked on his neck. It's the uniform for your school, or the boys school across the street. St. Catherines school for young ladies and St. Andrews school for young men share a single campus separated by a metal fence. 

The one on the left side is pale, almost sickly pale, with dark circles to match his long dark hair. It looks soft, his hair, and brushes just below his jaw. H’s eyes are dark, and they run over your face, almost as if they're checking for cracks in your composure. He’s dressed in the same uniform, but his appearance is more neat. His tie is tied correctly, and he wears a black jacket over the rest of his uniform. They are strange boys, but you are very used to strange after all. 

“Name? Entertain your new brothers, Sweetheart.” Cecilia says. You wince at the nickname. You hate that nickname, you hate it so much. “Yes Cecilia.” You bite out, smile still in place. You feel empty, like a porcelain doll. A tool Cecilia can use and discard at any moment. You feel disposable. You hate it. 

⋆｡ °✩

Your new brothers are kind, if a little strange. The quiet one with pretty hair, Fyodor, is a year older than you. He plays cello and dislikes Cecilia, which makes you like him a lot. Fyodor treated you with an amount of distance at first, but slowly warmed up to you when he found out you play piano. He had informed you one day, when he was helping you with homework, that his mother was a Russian supermodel. And he’s handsome, you're not really surprised. He’s kind in a quiet kind of way, less teasing than his younger brother. You also notice how he subtly moves forward, shielding you whenever Cecilia is angry. You love him for it, that protectiveness. 

Osamu is younger than you by about six months, and loud. He quite clearly makes it his goal to be the loudest person in the room and you love how it annoys Cecilia every time he steals her thunder. He’s a very touchy person as well, unlike his brother. He would comfort you with jokes when he saw you were down, and could not cook for the life of him. His reaction to Cecilia was the most reactionary. He taunted her, shot smart alec remarks in her direction, or just plain ignored her. And every time he got a reaction. Cecilia’s face would flush red with anger, and she would strike out, just to be dodged with a snarky little comment. And the more angry she got, the more pleased Osamu became

And they hate each other, the brothers. At first you had thought they got along well, but then you noticed the snarky little comments they would trade back and forth, the glares behind their parents back. Everything is a constant competition, be it a board game or report cards they make it their goal to beat the other each time. And you don't really mind, the house feels warm and full of life, and you feel included. To them, life seems a game, and the people who live it merely pieces, to be moved to and fro to their pleasure. You must assume yourself a spectator, not a piece, but if you were a piece you would like to be the queen. Cecilia didn't like your new brothers, that much was obvious. But she still used them to belittle you every chance she got.  

“Your brothers got all A+.” She would say, pinning you with that faintly disgusted expression she used as default. “And you got an A.” You would surrender to your room to cry in peace, away from Cecilia's proud eyes, and the prying ears of your much to perceptive brothers. 

But if they shared anything, it was a sense of mystery. Because each of them never allowed you to get too close, keeping you forever just a length away. You tried not to take it personally, but you still shed a tear or two. 

But for the first time in many years, you were happy. The house congratulated you, as its hallways filled with laughter to replace to silence, its rooms with color to replace the beige. Cecilia was as unpleasant as ever, but she was busy with her husband, and left you and your step brothers to their own devices. But still you feared it would all go away. That soon, they would tire of you, that they would never let you close, that Cecilia would grow tired of her husband and toss out the trash as she always did. It was a nagging fear that came back to haunt you in dreams, until you woke up in a cold sweat. 

And there's an odd tension that hovers in the air, whenever you and the brothers interact. A strange tension that makes your blood sing with excitement, that leaves you on your toes with anticipation. When Osamu slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a loose hug of sorts. When Fyodor pulls your hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing your face, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It's a tension you’ve felt before, a tension you don't want to give name to, a tension that scares you. But then, you're sure it's just you, that your new brothers simply treat you as a sister, like how you should treat them. You should not desire your step brothers, Cecilia had told you the night before they moved in. But then again, Cecilia had never been a very good role model. 

⋆｡ °✩

It's raining, big fat drops pattering against the roof, wind splattering the droplets against the window panes. A faint clatter can be heard from outside, as if the wind itself is crying, banging at the doors. The wind sounded lonely. It banged on the doors of the world, begging to be let into the light, much like you had when you were young. You wanted to comfort the wind, to hold her in your arms with the warmth you had never been given, but everyone knew you could not hold the wind. So you simply told her to stay strong, and let the night and rain embrace her for you. 

You would always read when it rained. You remembered a book you had read long ago. It had been the one to solidify the wind as lonely, and had been oh so impressionable to your young mind. ‘Keep strong wind’ it read, ‘keep strong and soon the rain and night will hold you in their comforting embrace, will keep you warm and happy…’. You had always seen yourself in the lonely wind, and had dreamed of your rain and night to comfort you. The library had long been your only comfort, and you begged for human comfort, human warmth.(You didn't dare to hope that your step brothers could be your night and rain, because you knew god would hear you and laugh in your face. Because god loved Cecilia, not worthless you.)

Cecilia and her husband are gone, on a weekend trip to Hawaii. You were not invited, because of course not, and neither were your brothers. 

The house is almost silentand with Osamu out at book club the house seems to sigh in relief, giving itself time to relax before the loudness returns. 

You are curled up on the couch with a book, listening to Fyodor as he practices his Cello. It's a cozy evening, the fire crackling in the grate, the strains of the first movements of Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1 floating through the cozy atmosphere. You hear the piano part along with him unconsciously, fingers tapping your things in rhythm. You can never quite beat the musician out of you, it's embedded into your very being at this point. 

Brahms – Cello Sonata No. 1, the first movement is a deep piece, and slightly depressing if you're being honest. But you love the melancholy that surrounds it. It creates a certain air, allowing the instruments to tangle together beautifully almost as if the melodies are dancing together. They twist like lovers, the parts, dipping one then the other, a beautifully teasing medley of pure emotion, something you could never truly give in life. It would be nice to dance with Fyodor, he was such an elegant human being, from the way he walked to his looks. You imagined the two of you would sail across the floor of the ballroom, his gloved hand on your waist, twirling you and spinning you and only looking at you. You wanted him to gaze upon you with reverence, much like the men your mother married gazed upon her. You want to be loved.

The Cello part comes to an end, and you sit silently for a moment, hesitant to break the spell. Then Fyodor's accented voice, still slightly hushed, breaks through the atmosphere. “How was it?” He says. You love his accent, it feels all full and warm. “Good, good as always.” You say, putting a finger in your book and looking up. “You were a bit sharp on the first note of measure twenty seven.” You're reading Pride and Prejudice, again. You’ve always loved it, and have read it some many times you’ve simply lost count.

Fyodor sighs, leaning back in his chair and resting his cello back into its case. “You always catch my mistakes. What would I do without you, Name.” He says with a small smile. Your heart warms at the praise, your smile threatening to break out of its confinements, all together and split your face in two. You tamp it down, putting on a face of disinterest you're not sure he believes. You always get the vague feeling that your brothers know you better than you know yourself.

You flip through the channels on tv, happy to have control of the remote. It's all the usual, sports games and real housewives and spanish game show episodes. You put on a random movie, which sounded interesting. ‘Essential object of enjoyment,’(is a title that to anyone else would scream softcore porn film, to you, still a sheltered girl of seventeen years old, it seemed as innocent as a daisy. You were not a virgin, but inexperienced and somewhat oblivious, so at odds with your calm adult attitude.) Fyodor plops himself on the couch next to you, a tedious foot away. He seemed too far away but all at once to close, the heat of his body a tease beside you. You clench your legs together, pulling in on yourself.

The film is about a young woman named Maria, who is taking a vacation on a very sketchy manor in a strange small town. It's a low budget film, with crappy acting and even crappier scares, but it's entertaining and you find yourself settling in against the couch, slowly leaning closer and closer to the warm human beside you. And soon, as Maria decides to ignore all the advice of the locals and enter the abandoned church late at night, you're so close your shoulders are almost touching, and finally, you dare to lean into him. 

He lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders with an excuse none of you are listening to anyway, and pulls a small blanket over your bare legs. “You're cold aren't you?” he says, voice hushed in your ear. You shiver, with a nod. You arent that cold, but you want to be close to him, to feel his heat, his warmth. You're sure he knows this, and you let yourself feel hopeful for once, curling into his body like a pedigree cat. 

And as you watch the movie, heart pounding in your throat, it dawns on you that something is very clearly wrong. The budget is too cheap, but the camera work is too advanced, the camera’s to expensive. The acting is too bad, but the actress has professionally done makeup and hair. And then, as you watch Maria get tied up by the clean masked man, it all makes too much sense. It's softcore porn. You move for the remote, fishing around for it on the couch, desperately. You're already flushing, your thighs rubbing together as you reach around for it. The idea of watching a porn film with your step brother is humiliating and embarrassing and frustratingly arousing. 

“Do you need something?” Fyodor says, rubbing little soft patterns in your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. You nod. “The remote, gonna switch channels.” You're already flushing, but have stopped your frantic fishing for the remote. He frowns in disappointment and you automatically tense, so used to Cecilia’s disappointed or angry stares. “Can we leave it, I'm actually enjoying it.” He says. You glance at the screen, where Maria is now being threatened by a knife. You desperately want to say no, but the people pleaser in you insist you agree. And so, you sink back into his touch, flushing. 

‘Where is it? Where is it?’ The masked man is saying to Maria. The film takes a moment to focus on the actress’s bountiful chest, and you try not to writhe with embarrassment and jealousy. You bet Fyodor likes big boobs, Cecilia said all men like big boobs. Her’s are fake, but you don't feel the need to protest and get a slap. 

The bad guy of the film is a man in a purple mask. He’s thin in stature, and tall, overwhelming Maria’s small frame. He reminds you distinctly of the man sitting beside you, with his face hidden like that. He has a russian accent in the film as well, just like the man beside you, and as he whispers in her ear it does stuff to you. 

‘Tell me where it is or there will be consequences.’ the man in the mask says. 

‘I will never tell you!’ Maria says definitely. You watch in horror as the masked man's thin fingers slip between her thighs. The camera cuts to her face of surprise. It's clear that this is where the actress’s true chops shine, as her mouth drops open in a little oh of surprise. 

You feel hot, biting back a whimper as you press your thighs together, hoping that your step brother doesn't notice. 

‘Your such a slut for my fingers aren't you?’ The man in the mask bends Maria over a table, the camera now showing a cut of his hands pulling her thighs apart. All you can picture in your mind is you as Maria, and the man in the mask as Fyodor. When the man in the film speaks all you can hear is Fyodor’s voice, his teasing lines, him all him all him. 

And then, the other bad guy of the film appears. And honestly it should shock you out of your dirty fantasies, but the other man, this one in a teal mask, sounds very similar to your other step brother. 

You can imagine yourself in Maria's place, bent over a table like that, fingers shoved up your cunt, dick keeping you silent. And most of all, pretty praises falling out of your step brother's mouths. ‘Such a pretty girl, such a smart girl, so good for us, such a slut for us—’

Fyodor’s eyes are on you, you can feel them even as you focus resolutely on the screen. He speaks near your ear, a pur, a whisper, a tease ment for seduction. “What are you imagining, darling?” He says. He speaks like he already knows, and through your haze of arousal clouding your brain you let the words escape before you can stop them. 

“Fingers in my cunt.” You say, your voice a whimper. Maria on the screen begins to moan, loudly. The volume goes down on screen and you're too lust clouded to question why Fyodor had the remote. 

“You want fingers in your pretty cunt baby?” Fyodor purrs in your ear, his long pale fingers teasing the edge of your uniform skirt. “You want my fingers stuffed up that tight cunt of yours? Would that feel good?” You whine, head falling back against his arm, eyes falling closed. 

“Oh yes, please.” Your voice is embarrassing, all breathy and whiny. This whole situation is illogical, and if you were able to see through the haze of lust in your brain you would have backpedaled immediately. But you're horny and in love and he’s encouraging you. 

His fingers caress the edge of your panties, teasing you with glances of touches, driving you crazy. You grip his arm, the one teasing your pussy and shove the hand against your drooling cunt. The man beside you bites back a groan, muffling his pleasure, but you hear it. It reassures you that he wants you too, but also drives you insane, craving sweet relief with his touch. 

Fyodor’s fingers find purchase, clever musicians' hands pulling back the crotch of your panties. He chuckles as you clutch his arm, still clothed in his loose white turtleneck and jeans. “You're so wet darling, your little cunt is absolutely drooling.” he says, his accent doing things to your brain, to your pussy. Your eyes catch on the dirty picture. He drags his fingers through, collecting a fair bit of wetness and popping his fingers in his mouth. The picture is nasty. He keeps eye contact all throughout, sucking his fingers wetly, the dirty slurping sounds filling the room. 

“Here darling.” He holds out his wet fingers, dripping with a mix of saliva and your own arousal. “Suck.” He says. You take them in your mouth obediently, tasting the mix of arousal and saliva. The very idea that you're tasting him, that you're tasting his very being, makes your abandoned cunt clench around nothing, the nasty slurping sounds you make only fueling the arousal perfuming the air. At some point Fyodor had turned off the porn, and now the only sounds that fill the room are from the two of you. A different kind of music than that you're used to, a symphony of debauchery. 

His fingers leave your mouth with a pop, and you open your eyes. He smiles at you, all hazy eyes and spit slicked lips. “Good girl.” He says, and then shoves both fingers in your cunt. You arch off the couch at the abrupt intrusion, clenching down hard around his fingers with a scream. ‘Oh, oh god Fyodor!” You say, panting. He looks vaguely proud as he scissors you open, watching as you thrash around on his fingers, bucking desperately. 

The sound of the door slamming penetrates the haze, and you grip Fyodor’s fingers, trying to stop him. He just continues to fuck you open, grining all the while. 

“Man, fuck you Fyodor.” It's Osamu, looking less surprised and more annoyed. Fyodor just continues grinning as you moan on his fingers, drooling pussy on display. “I consider this a win then?” He says, smirking. Ah, another one of their competitions. You would pay more attention but your being fucked open by Fyodor’s long relentless fingers. You keen as he adds another one, gripping his arm with a nasty whine. 

Osamu speaks to Fyodor, but his eyes are fixed on you. “It's not over yet, you fucker.” He says, slamming his backpack down on the floor and sauntering over to you. “Name declares the winner. Deal?” Fyodor, now rubbing a thumb on your clit nods, holding out his other hand to shake. “Deal, that sound good darling?” You nod around your moans, not truly comprehending what that means. Osamu sends you a rather scary looking grin and pounces. 

They move you into a doggy position first, Fyodor replacing his fingers with his cock. You're already so close, and as you feel the large intrusion bully your walls apart you cum right there, your head falling against the couch cushions. “Oh, oh, oh god, ‘m coming!” You scream, drooling onto the couch. Fyodor grunts behind you. “You're tight.” He coos. Osamu grips your jaw, draggin you off the ouch to look at him. “So pretty too, just perfect aren't you.” His dick is already hard in his jeans, you can see the bulge as Fyodor begins to move, fucking you through the overstime. You whine in pain, the sharp pains of overstimulation mixing with the blinding pleasure they give you. Dazai chuckles. 

“We’re going to fuck you do good darling.” He says, running a gentle hand through your hair. “Make you feel our love.”

⋆｡ °✩

It's when you're three orgasms deep, and you're hung over the couch backwards, a dick down your throat and cum dripping from your pussy, that you maybe start to have second thoughts. Their stamina seems endless, and they bring to the edge relentlessly, their competitive natures making them drive you to orgasm after orgasm. The world is hazy at this point, and all you feel is pleasure, all you hear is their voices, all you want is them, them them. 

“Switch her around Osamu.” Fyodor says, his accent rough though the haze. You feel yourself hoisted up, and now you're folded into a mating press and Fyodor’s fat cock is bullying your walls again. Cum leaks out of all your holes, the loud squelching sound letting you know that you're thoroughly ruining Cecilia's favorite couch. You're covered in sweat, completely naked and makeup ruined, and to the boys you’ve never looked so pretty. They tell you at length, compliments showered on your exhausted form. 

And as you cum yet again, clenching around Fyodor’s dick with a weak cry, you feel so loved, so appreciated, and so optimistic. 

And then you bended into another position, Dazai’s dick lodged into your ass, Fyodor’s in your dripping cunt.

⋆｡ °✩

“So, which of us won anyway?” It's Dazai, and he sounds plenty exhausted. You sigh tiredly, holes dripping cum onto the carpet and exhausted. “Draw.” Is all you manage to pant out. 

Fyodor beside you chuckles. “I guess we’ll have to have a rematch then.” You're exhausted, but you feel your pussy clench tiredly at the mention of that. “Yeah.” You sigh out tiredly. The boys chuckle beside you, each pressing a kiss to your cheeks. 

“Love you Name.” You hear them whisper in your ear. You smile as you drift off the sleep. 

End Notes: I am actually a piano player, and every time I listen to classical pieces nowadays I feel really bad because I haven't been practicing lately because my piano teacher is taking a break because she had a baby. 

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai smut #fyodor x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 9- Dazai/Reader with promt Wet Dream

Notes:  this is partly inspired by this wonderful ChuuAtsu fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091097 

You know, when I write my reader characters, they usually end up not like me at all, but for some reason this Reader ended up like a little too much like me. also no actual sex guys, just dream sex, sorry

There are hands on you. Big hands, tugging at your clothes, desperately, hotly. You want to laugh at him, at his urgent attitude, but you feel the same. Your hands are just as desperate, tangled in that familiar brown hair, that insufferable smirk curved across his face. You hate him, but you never want him to let you go.

“I knew it, you secretly liked me all along.” You despise that voice, it's cocky and arrogant. And you hate how it turns you on. You kiss him harder, trying to shut him up.

It works too, at first. He abandoned his previous task of making fun of you and instead devotes himself to absolutely ruining you, running his fingers through your hair and yanking your close, tugging at the buttons of your shirt. Each button undone represents your pride, falling apart, ruined by the man before you. He pulls away from your mouth, pressing bruising kisses to your neck, his tongue laving over the harsher bites. 

“Hurry up Dazai.” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy, thick with lust as your head falls back, letting out a tiny embarrassing whimper. The man before you chuckles. “My my, impatient are we?” You hate how his teasing turns you on. 

But he obeys, and a clever hand tweaks your nipple, pulling a moan deep out of your throat. You hate him, hate what he does to you.

Another hand is trailing lower now, drawing a sinful path down your front, leaving a hot trail of fire in its wake. It arrives at its goal, and he chuckles at what he finds there.

“You're so wet.” He sounds proud, the insufferable bastard. “And I thought you hated me.”

You glare through the pleasure. “Shut up—”

You interrupt your complaints with a moan as he plays with your pussy, slipping a finger into your twitching hole. You moan, embarrassed of the squelching sounds that give away your real feelings. His fingers are long, longer than yours and they stretch you out nicely as he adds another one, scissoring them and prying your hole open. A rough padded thumb draws circles on your clit, driving you closer and closer to insanity, to the edge of the metaphorical cliff. 

“More, Osamu. Give me more.” You can feel his dick twitch in his pants at that name, and you take pride in the fact that he’s just as affected as you are. 

“Yes, my Belladonna, I shall obey your every command.” You hate that stupid nickname, the one he gives to all the women he flirts with, but never gave to you. You hate how your heart clenches with happiness. He slips a third finger in and your back arches, moans tumbling out of your mouth at a higher frequency. 

You grip his shoulders, one leg wrapped around his waist as his long fingers bring you closer and closer to the brink, your stubborn pride falling from you with every thrust of his fingers. And then, he finds it, that cushy spot that makes your back arch and you cum with a cry of his name.

“I love you, Osamu.”

˚⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 

You wake with a strange feeling of dissatisfaction, as if you're missing something. A strange wanting feeling, a familiar aching in your gut that disappears with a good shower. You take your time getting ready, because even though you’re late you know someone will be later than you. And you refuse to leave into the world looking like a caveman. You style your hair, put on some everyday makeup and make some eggs and toast, trying the new strawberry jam Kenji gave you. 

It's not until you're locking the door to the dorms behind you, purse in hand, that the dream suddenly rushes back into your brain. The hot steamy details and the worst part, the very last words. 

‘I love you, Osamu’

Fuck, your screwed.

˚⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 

The Detective Agency is hard at work when you step quietly through the door. You're offered the usual greetings, which you return with less than your usual enthusiasm, but if anyone notices, they don't say. You put your purse down, sitting at your desk between Atsushi and that damn Dazai, and pointedly ignore the latter man. You shoot Atsushi a smile however, you adore the boy. 

“Morning Atsushi.” Atsushi shoots you a smile. “Morning Name, do you have the paperwork for yesterdays mission? Kunikida told me to make copies in case Dazai loses them again.”

“Yeah, thats a good idea.” You nod, handing over said papers with a smile. “He totally would to.” You and Atsushi share a smile as an indignant squawk sounds on your other side. “What are you implying! I'm being egregiously slandered. I would never lose anything important anyway.” You avoid looking at him entirely, not even granting him a response. Atsushi shoots you an odd look, but humors you with a sigh in Dazai’s direction. “Yes Dazai, we all know you would. Thanks for these Name.” He takes the papers away with a smile and you turn to your desk as the door slams behind him. 

It's silent in the office, the sounds of typing and the beeping of Ranpo’s switch, and you're filling out reports for lost dogs when a familiar bandaged hand comes into your vision. 

“Nameeee~ why are you avoiding meee~” You can feel the blush creeping up the back of your neck, and flashes of those hands in a different context flash through your mind. You keep trying, not looking at him. 

“I'm not ignoring you. I'm doing reports.” You type faster, taking out your embarrassment on your computer. 

“No, see? You won't even look at me.” Infuriatingly, the man simply does not leave you alone. You sigh, maybe if you focus on how infuriating your find him you can survive without thinking of that dream again, and those stupid fucking words.

Your turn, glancing at him. “No, see, I'm looking at you.” And of course, this proved to be a huge mistake. Dazai’s handsomeness, it's always been obvious. But most of the people in the armed detective agency are handsome, for some reason. So to you it's always been easy to ignore. But now, you can't ignore it any more. The sun is pouring through the windows, casting a golden glow on his brown hair, highlighting the thousands of colored strands all blending together into brown. It highlights his eyes too, turning that brown transparent and beautiful, shining in the light. He’s wearing that stupid outfit as usual, but he’s hung his coat over the edge of the chair, and rolled his sleeves up and his delicate hands are on display. Damn those stupid sexy hands with their long fingers and blue veins. Damn Dazai and his stupid sexyness. You hate him for it. 

Worse however, are his lips. Because as soon as you look at them all you can think about is that dream, how he devoured your kisses, how he worshiped your neck. And now he’s biting them, drawing his teeth across them and leaving little indents across his top lip. You want to kiss them away.

Unknown to you, Dazai’s having his own little problems. You look at him, and you blink slowly, giving him the most dangerous pair of fuck me eyes he’s ever seen. You always look pretty, but now it's three times worse. The sun is highlighting you, and you glow like a goddess, coming down to slay the foolish mortals who worship her. He can imagine you as a goddess. Dressed in robes that hug your curves with every step, punishing the foolish mortals who desire her impurely. Demanding they worship you. He would gladly fall beneath your feet and worship you. Let you sit on his face and smother him with your thighs and pussy. He would beg for it. 

And your eyes are begging him to lean forward and kiss you, to selfishly steal the breath from your lungs, to take you on this very desk right here. He could imagine that too. Your pretty form bent over a desk, papers and office supplies falling to the floor as he fucks you. Your face twisted in pleasure as you screamed his name. His name, and only his. He swallows, wetting his throat and biting his lip. He cant breath, and he feels arousal start in his gut.

“Can you guys stop eye fucking each other and get back to work? Kunikida looks like he’s ready to burst a blood vessel.” Ranpo startles you out of your staring, and you turn with a glare at the older detective. “Im not eye fucking him. What are you even talking about?” Dazai jumps in rather halfheartedly. “I mean i could understand if you were eye fucking me, i am very handsome arent i.” You want to smack him. Instead you turn to your desk and resume your reports. Your mother always said violence was never the answer. 

But you’ve learned your lesson. From now on, you will do your best to avoid Dazai Osamu, lest you make a mistake you will regret.

˚⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 

Over the next few days you learned something important. Avoiding Dazai Osamu proved to be an impossible task. Because for some reason, Kunikida insisted on putting the two of you together for missions. For reasons unknown he had somehow decided that the two of you worked fabulously well together and to pair you on every mission so forth. 

And honestly a You from a different day might actually agree. It actually made sense. You were a combat focused Gifted, and Dazai was not. You were hardworking and followed directions and Dazai did neither. You wouldn't wander off the flirt with every woman who looked his way and Dazai would. Although, for some reason his serial flirting had stopped recently, and you hoped it was done for good. 

But, the You of today, who wanted to avoid this man were being thwarted at every turn, by Kunikida of all people. You had bribed Ranpo silent, because you were certain he knew about The Dream™, with a limited edition cake you bribed off Kyouka. And you were sure that after you avoided Dazai for a while you would eventually forget about The Dream™ and this stupid crush you had developed. But you weren't even given that privilege, because after One Day™, of avoiding him you were promptly put together on every mission, be it a missing dog or an actual fight. It was like you were joined at the hip. 

And here you were today, joining Ranpo on a murder case because you were assigned to go with Ranpo and then Dazai had made a fuss and said he wanted to go because, and you're directly quoting here, ‘hot policewomen’. That boiled your blood for numerous reasons. So here you are, standing behind Ranpo as he argued with the police, glaring at the man beside you.

“Why are you mad anyway?” Dazai whisper hisses at you. You're standing in the lobby of the police office. Minuro happened to be out today, and the replacement police chief, Chief Sugawara, seemed oddly hesitant to let Ranpo solve the case. You side glare at him, whispering right back. “Why did you have to come? And all for some hot police women.” There aren't even any women present, for some reason. You guess they have better things to do than argue with a bunch of detectives. And you're all for women. You know how the saying goes, ‘women support women until women stop supporting women’ but you hate to admit your glad. You would really dislike watching Dazai flirt with another pretty woman. It would hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

It kept you up at night. Embarrassing thoughts like: ‘why doesn't he flirt with me, he flirts with them.’ soon arrived at: ‘i guess i'm not pretty enough to be flirted with.’ that just added to your growing insecurity with your looks. You hated that he had that power over you. You hated that you allowed him to have that power over you. 

(You see, reader, you were so deep down in your own delusions, that you missed the signs. The looks men, and women gave you. Looks of awe, even just stares of admiration. The flirting that you dismissed as pleasantries, even Dazai’s lingering stares and rather obvious feelings. But I put it in for story reasons so just bear it for now.)

And so, here you were, forced to stand against the wall of the police department, bored out of your mind and still a little too reminded of The Dream™, because for some reason, you had been plagued by wet dreams for a few days now. And it was odd, while the first one seemed(as embarrassing as it was) thoroughly of your own creation, the others started not resembling anything you would like. Also, last night Dazai had been replaced by some guy you didn't even know? And the night before that it was the President. Now, the President was a handsome man, sure, but you had never even thought of him that way in passing, so something odd was going on for sure. 

And then, the Armed Detective Agency had received today's job. A request that stood out to you as soon as you read it. Apparently, people were dying mysteriously in the middle of the night. And, you're literally never going to believe this, apparently most of them had reported Wet Dreams the nights before to their close friends. So yeah, you had quickly volunteered. Strangely enough, a few people in the detective Agency, namely Atsushi and Naomi, had reported strange dreams.(Atsushi with extremely flushed cheeks and Naomi with, ehem, interesting details about finding it strange that the dream wasn't about her brother. Atsushi hadn’t mentioned anyone, but had said there were a few different people.)

Ranpo had been specifically requested, and the police dept had asked for a combat oriented Gifted, and so here you are. But Dazai had insisted on going along, for reasons unknown. Minoru had been the requester, but when you had arrived a worried police officer had quickly informed you that Minoru was out and Chief Sugawara didn't want ‘some private eye’ taking charge of the case. You wondered, for the thousandths time, why most police officers had a similar outtake on this. You assumed pride. 

You hear Ranpo’s prideful laughter, and he joins you with Chief Sugawara. You assume he’s done proving his worth, anyway. 

“So, how’d it go? We on the job?” You retuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Ranpo nods. “Oh course, Chief Sugawara came to realize that he was better off with a master detective on this job, and happily succeeded the case to me.” 

Chief Sugawara, a grumpy looking man in his mid forties, sighs. “I wouldn't say happily, but this cast has been bothering us, so we’ll welcome your help.” He starts walking down the hallway, and you and Dazai follow him and Ranpo into a small room. It's an odd room, almost empty with a small cot in the corner and a chair beside it. Windows stream sunlight into the room. The door shuts behind Chief Sugawara with a resounding slam. 

“So, I already know who the guy is, but I got some bad news.” Ranpo leans against the wall, unwrapping a lollipop he pulled from god knows where. “His ability allows him to infiltrate dreams and take any form. He then extracts sexual energy and kills them.” 

“Ok…” Dazai draws out the word. “So let's get the dude.”

“We can't.” Chief Sugawara jumps in, letting out a long suffering sigh. “He doesn't actually have a physical form anymore. He’s dead.” 

Confused silence falls. Ranpo sighs. “I'll elaborate for your poor minds. The man actually died a couple years ago. But his ability allows him to live on in the population's consciousness.” Ranpo says. “And he thinks that if he extracts enough life energy he can have a body again. He’s essentially living on through his ability right now.” 

“Ok, so how do we get him?” You have a feeling you know, but you ask anyway in case you're actually wrong. Ranpo smirks, and in that moment you know that your hunch was right. 

“Remember how earlier at the meeting you said that you’ve been having weird dreams as well?” You nod, avoiding Dazai’s eyes. “Well, it's obvious you're his next target. So, the plan is that you go to sleep and as soon as he arrives Dazai will neutralize the ability, therefore ‘killing’ it.” 

Yep, you knew it. You sigh. As much as you really, really, really don't want to do this, it seems like a good plan. Just embarrassing. Chief Sugawara runs a hand through his messy brown hair. “So Miss, are you willing to do this for us? You are definitely not required to.” 

You nod, sitting down on the cot with a weary, weary, sigh. “Yeah, I'll do it.” A rare smile makes its way across Chief Sugawara’s face, and he hands you a small pill. “A sleeping pill.” He says, as Ranpo begins to drag him out of the room. 

“Wait Ranpo, how will Dazai know when to neutralize it.” Ranpo smirks, pushing Chief Sugawara out of the door. “Oh, he’ll know. And Name? Tell him to take another form, maybe the President again, and not your crush ok? No distractions.” And with that he leaves, slamming the door behind you. You are left alone, with Dazai. You swallow the pill with the water they gave you in relative awkward silence. Dazai pulls the chair up beside the cot, a weird smile painted across his face. 

“So, name, I hear you have a crush?” You really can't believe you're here, having a discussion with your crush about your crush. You sigh. “Yeah, I guess. It's embarrassing.” You grimace that makes its way across his face as you lay down, but his face is back to a smile as you feel your vision waver. 

“Dazai?” You say before you slip away. “Yes, Bella?” 

“Don't leave me alone please.” He smiles. “I won't Belladonna.”

‘He called me Belladonna.’ Is the last thought you have before you slip away. 

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The scene you step into is familiar. The Armed Detective Agency office. Its evening, golden hour light slides through the windows, painting the floor with sunset colores. And, waiting for you with open arms is, of course, the President. You should just wait for Dazai to get rid of him, but you really want to see the limits of his ability. You hatch a mischievous plan. The Not President shoots you a very out of character smirk. “Ready for some of that good good lovin’ babygirl?” You almost choke. 

“I dont want to fuck the President.” You say, sitting down on the edge of someone’s desk. “I don't even have a crush on him, why would you choose him?”

The Not President shrugs. “He’s hot, and subconsciously you would totally fuck him. But whatever.” the figure shifts and morphs, and another familiar figure is standing before you. “Ranpo? Really?” 

“Fine” The scenery changes now, and you're in an unfamiliar office with a familiar 5 ‘3 redhead standing before you.

“Nope. I dont like short men.”

Not Chuuya shrugs. “You sure Darlin? All his height went somewhere else…”

“No.” 

“Fine, your call.” A flash, and you're in another office. You shake your head. 

“Definitely not Mori.”

The scenery shifts again, and you're floating in an odd golden ball with only a bed. A man is standing before you. He looks a little like Mori’s long lost cousin. 

You sigh. “I don't even know this guy.”

“And?” The man’s voice is accented, russian maybe.

“Just change it, it's my dream.”

The scenery shifts again, and now you're in the very room you're sleeping in right now. And advancing towards you, because of course, is Dazai.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

You look pretty while you're sleeping. And you're not moving, and that means you're not avoiding him. Dazai hates that you’re avoiding him, and you're also apparently having sex dreams about the president, while all of his dreams have been plagued by you in various states of undress for a long time. But, Dazai can admit the dream guy is obviously not affecting him, all of his dreams are clearly of his own creation, and not constant. 

You've plagued his dreams for a while now, ever since he realizes he had a small(massive) crush on you. In the beginning those dreams were innocent. You would hold his hand, tell him you loved him and maybe plant a kiss chaste kiss on his lips. But then, the Armed Detective Agency took a small vacation to the beach, for some reason.

He spent that day throwing sand at Kunikida and spending an unhealthy amount of time staring at you in that stupid skimpy bathing suite. It was truly a blessing and a curse because while he gotta see it, so did every other person on the beach that day. That night, the first of the dreams came. You, riding him in the very swimsuit on an empty beach, looking radiant and devastating a top him. He woke up guilty and hard that morning, and decided to take a long, cold, shower instead of dealing with it himself, because again, he was a little guilty. That had been the first of many, many dirty dreams. 

But of course you're apparently spending your sex dreams with the president instead of him, because life is unfair. And Dazai knows deep down that he doesnt deserve you, he knows that very well, but he still hopes. And hope is a cruel, unfair thing. 

You start twisting on the cot, your lips parting in something like a whimper. Dazai stands at attention, waiting for some kind of sign for him to use No Longer Human. But then, the moans start. 

Dazai almost chokes, gripping the side of the chair tightly because of course you would moan, and of corse Ranpo decided to subject him to this devine torture. And of course he decided to throw a fit today to come with you because he loved you and he didn't want you to avoid him anymore. Because now, he knows what your moans sound like. He’s never going to be able to look at you the same again. And now he has more wet dream fodder, like he needed anymore. 

“Oh, oh feels so good~” 

He’s going to die, he’s hard. He’s going to hell. He’s going to burn in hell and all because he’s a horn dog.

“Mmm, so, so good.” 

You're twisting in bed, and Dazai wonders if he should use No Longer Human. He probably should, right? 

“So good Osamu, treat me so good~” Dazai chokes. And grips your hand, activating No Longer Human. His mind is in shambles as the moans stop, because you just said his name.

And then one more fatal sentence escapes your mouth. “No, don't go ‘samu. I love you.” And then, you open your eyes.

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ 

It's late by the time you and Dazai start walking back home. After you had woken up the station had been abuzz with activity. You had been made to submit a mission report, reporting on what had happened in the dream world. Well most of it anyway. And Dazai is yanked away from you for other reports. It had been odd, honestly. When you had woken up he had been holding your hand, the light of No Longer Human still fading around you, with a shell shocked expression carved across his face.

The man of the hour clears his throat as you arrive as the Agency dorms, stopping you before as you unlock your door. 

“Um, Name.” He looks uncharacteristically unsure, like he’s weighing his words. “I have something to tell you.” 

You nod, fiddling with your keys. “What's up?” He’s wringing his hands, and this is all very strange and out of character. He clears his throat again.

“Well, I was wondering if you might want to go out to dinner with me.” 

You frown. “With the Agency? You should ask Kunikida, he’s in charge of scheduling and stuff like that, not me.”

“No.” Dazai looks almost timid. “As a date. I like–no, I love you.”

You drop your keys in shock. “What? Is this a joke? Because it's not funny.”

“No.” 

You shake your head, pinching yourself subtly. You literally have to be still dreaming now. But no, it hurts a lot. Dazai is still standing before you, trying to hide that unsure look with his usual smirk of confidence. It's failing, miserably.

“So, do you want to? Because i can understand if you don't, i—

You shut him up with a kiss. “Yes, I'd love to.” You say when you finally pull away. Still gripping his cheeks between your hands. Dazai smiles, a real genuine smile and dives back for another kiss.

End Notes: Dazai is a dramatic whore. He talks like me. Definitely a former theater kid right there. Also at some point in this fic i start drastically overusing the trademark™ sign, and i love it and it's so fun. Also the cloud ☁ emoji is so cute.

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai smut #dazai x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 15- Step Dad!Mori/Reader w/ Spanking & Daddy Kink

Notes: Mori is becoming dangerously tempting to me. It's scary actually. Also kinktober is almost over!! Im almost sad, even though it's been an interesting kind of hell(wouldn't trade it for the world though)

As usual art is from pinterest

Your mother had always wanted a girl. And when you were born after three boys you were almost sure to be spoiled. Your father died soon after your birth, and your mother and brothers turned their grief into passion, turned their attention on you and spoiled you rotten. 

You were the baby of the family. The first girl of three older brothers and spoiled rotten. Their little princess, and could have anything she wanted. A new playhouse? Already done. A fancy doll? Sure, whatever you want sweetheart. A fluffy cat? Done, in a heartbeat. You were their princess, dressed in pink and pretty to boot.

You were everyone's princess really. People would stop your mother on the street, and coo at how cute you were, ask to touch your hair and flatter your mother. You had that air about you, the air that drew eyes everywhere you went. 

When you got older, your brother's protectiveness kicked in. You could still have anything you wanted, but now you were a sheltered princess, locked away in her tower. You wanted to go to a party? No princess, but you can have a new necklace. A boy you liked asked you out? No, boys are wolves darling, here’s a new dress. 

Your mother was your only consolation. She understood your desire, your curiosity, and she allowed you the little freedoms she could, trying her best to reign in your brothers. And at first it worked. You were allowed to go to parties, and you even got a boyfriend(Brad was kind of stupid, but he was tall and muscly and kind and you loved him.) 

With your father long gone, your mother did her best to instill in you a sense of humility and kindness, and she did succeed, although you were still spoiled. But you grew up happy, surrounded by your doting brothers and kind mother. 

You grew up into a pretty young lady, sweet and genuine and just a bit naive, but happy and loved. And then when you turned eighteen, your mother got remarried.

Your step father was a nice man, who coddled you just as much as your brothers. Mori would bring you pretty dresses and new devices when he visited your mother, and after they got married it was always the same. He would pat your head reassuringly, and call you a pretty girl, and you like him a lot.

Your mother liked him too, and you sometimes heard the moans and screams that came from their bedroom. You closed your eyes and tried not to listen.

At the tail end of your senior year, your mother fell into a coma. She was on the way back from a dinner, and her car fell off a cliff, and as you and your family rushed to the hospital, she died holding your hand. Your mother had been our rock, your kindness, the one person who listened to your problems and offered you small freedoms. You almost broke that day, clutching her still warm hand while the doctors and nurses tried their best to console you. The room was full of them, all drawn by the sound of your cries of your unhappiness. Even when your brothers arrived, they could only watch on helplessly, not used to tears. They were a little emotionally stunted, your brothers. 

You were inconsolable in your grief. You would cry and cry and cry, and no material objects from your brothers could stop the waterfall of tears that fell from your eyes. And then your step father arrived. Mori took one look at the scene, your mothers cold body on the bed, the flatline of the heart monitor, your brothers wringing their hands in the corner and gently pulling you into a hug. He was silent, for ounce, just letting you soak the fabric of his expensive italian silk suit, and stroking your hair. 

He was stable, familiar, and cooed ressurences into your hair that you barely heard. And slowly, as the nurses and doctors leaked out of the room and your brothers left(each with one last look of worry), it was just you, him, and your mothers body. Your tears had stopped to a trickle, and still he simply held you against his chest, stroking soothing patterns into your back.

“What am I supposed to do now?” You whisper, the words slightly muffled in his suit jacket. O

“You don't have to do anything.” Mori had said, whispering it into your hair, along with a kiss. “I'll take care of you princess. Your brothers will too.”

He smelled like jasmine and bergamot and as you breathed in his scent, clutching at his back desperately like he would fade away if you did not, the seed of a dangerous tree was planted. A seed, that if watered, could change the dynamic of your relationship forever. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

Mori soon became your rock, much like your mother had been, in a way. But at the same time, your relationship was quite different. He was much more protective of you, and the partying stopped, Brad was scared off, and a curfew was enabled. You didn't mind, not really. Brad had been a run distraction, almost like an accessory, a purse. But you were a little sad about the curfew, and the parties. 

“It's for your own safety, princess.” Mori would say, patting your head. “We wouldnt know what to do if we lost you too.” 

You liked feeling valued, feeling prized. You liked it when he called you princess. You like it when he treated you kindly. You like him a lot. You loved him. 

You did miss the sex, the one thing Brad was good at. He used to fuck you down stupid into the bed, face down ass up and screaming. And you missed that, you were feeling pent up and horny. Your parents wouldn't allow sex toys, and although you were nearly nineteen you would never ask. And so you simply beared the horny haze that surrounded your thoughts, the dirty thoughts and inappropriate fantasies. 

And soon, Mori became the star. He treated you so kindly and had big rough hands that you wanted on your skin. You knew he would treat you good, make you scream and cum all over his fat cock. You fuck yourself with your fingers late at night, imagining the things he would do to you. It's wrong, it feels so wrong but also so good, and you find yourself not wanting to stop. 

And you know he would never want you that way, and that you're dishonoring your mothers memory like this, but you want him so badly you're delirious, and this simply can't go on. 

So one night, when Mori and your brothers are out at some sports thing, you sneak a boy in and finally get fucked dumb like you desired. It was good, not amazing, but good, and it curbed the dirty thoughts for a couple days, but then they came back with a vengeance. So you started sneaking out past curfew and going to parties. Sneaking boys upstairs when your family was out. But you knew it couldn't last forever, and one day it was all going to come crashing down around you. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

The hallway is dark as you quietly slip off your shoes, abandoning them by the pile of fancy heels your brothers gave you. You slip off your coat, hanging it on the rack with barely a sound.

The party was fine, but someone called the cops before you could get fucked like you desired and you were forced to run three blocks in pink sparkly pumps and a miniskit that barely covered your ass. All that exercise and not the kind you wanted. You were slightly out of breath, flushed and a little dizzy as you leaned against the wall, catching your breath. 

Along with your pumps and miniskirt you're wearing a shirt but it barely counts. It only reaches a little below your boobs, and your pink Victoria's secret bra is clearly visible. It's your favorite, one part of a matching set. The underwear is rubbing against your clit every time you move, the g-string jammed up your butt. You look sexy, and you didn't even get dick. It feels like a waist. Hurriedly, but on silent toes you move down the hall, dipping into the kitchen to grab a quick glass of water.

Your brothers are at a three day football sleepaway, but Mori is home, albeit asleep, and you need to be extra quiet. The thought of Mori makes that familiar heat in your gut twinge, as you settle against the kitchen counter, taking another sip of water. 

The whole point of sneaking out tonight was so you could get dicked down and hopefully banish any dirty thoughts about your step father. He’s more than twenty years older than you for god's sake, and yet that doesn't deter you in the slightest. 

(Based on the dreams you had awoken from, ‘daddy’ on your lips and your pussy throbbing. There were others too. Dreams where he punished you, spanked your ass until it was raw and then fucked you doggy on your mothers old couch. Or the ones where he made you suck his fat cock, fucked your face ruthlessly until you were drooling and then made you ride his thigh until you came. The dirtier the dream the more sorry you became, until you started sneaking out in an effort to get your libido under control. It was only somewhat working.)

Your pussy starts throbbing as you remember the dreams, and you slowly lower your water glass into the sink, tiptoeing into the living room. The stairs lay just beyond this room, and the second floor houses your bedroom respectively. But as you step into the room, your footsteps muffled by the shag carpet on the floor, the light switches on with a click. 

“Name, I'm disappointed in you.” Mori says, from his place in the gray couch across from the tv. He’s still wearing his work clothes, although he’s hung his suit jacket over the back and has his reading glasses on. He tuts disapprovingly, eying your outfit. 

“Where were you, and what are you wearing?” He says. You sigh, avoiding his eyes and twisting a strand of hair around your finger. 

“I was at a party…” You mumble. There's no point in lying, he’ll just be more mad. He tuts disapprovingly, running a hand through his hair. 

“Name, what did your brothers and I say about parties? This is the third time this month.” You hate how his anger turns you on, how the thought of what he could do to you makes your poor pussy clench. You rub your thighs together. 

“And you wore that to a party? Name, I can almost see your ass.” Mori says, laying his newspaper down beside him. You sigh, even though the thought of him seeing your ass makes your pussy throb. “It's not even that bad…” You say, your voice trailing off at the end. 

“Not that bad? Name, it's basically a swimsuit. You let all the nasty frat boys see you like that?” He sounds almost angry, or dare you say jealous. You bite back your smile, knowing that expression wont do any favors with him. Mori sighs, running a hand through his hair again. 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” He sounds like he’s expecting something, and when you don't speak he sighs. “You're obviously not sorry.” Mori says, patting his lap. “I'm sorry princess, but I'm going to have to punish you.” 

You look up in shock. You’ve never, ever in your nineteen years of living, been punished. “Punish me? Mom never punished me.” Your outrage is clear on your face. Mori just stares you down, meeting your eyes head on until you relent with a sigh. 

“Come here princess.” He says. You do as he instructs, standing before him on the couch. He yanks you right off your feet, your world spinning until your tossed ass up over his lap, face buried in the couch. Your pussy throbs as you feel a harsh slap landing on your ass cheek. You're already wet, and although he’s slapping you over the poor excuse for a mini skirt you know you’ve soaked through the pathetic crotch of your panties. You bite the couch with a wine, thrashing a little on his lap. 

“You’ve been such a bad girl lately.” Mori says, landing another slap on your ass. You bite your lips to keep in the moans. Mori continues. 

“Going out to parties, letting dirty frat boys touch your perfect skin. You obviously need to be taught a lesson.” A moan leaks out, and another few slaps hit your ass. The sound echoes in the almost empty room. You want him to slap you harder. You want him to roll up your skirt and slap your dirty pussy and call you a bad girl while he fucks you unto the couch, your moans echoing thourgh the house. Another slap lands on your asscheek, and you thrash on his lap with a whimper. 

“You're usually such a good girl Princess.” Mori chuckles, gripping the edge of your miniskirt and pulling it up so your bare ass is visible. You clench down around nothing, wanting your pussy stuffed more than anything in the world. He would fuck you so good, spread your legs out and fill you with thick cock until you were a good girl. You were a bad girl right now, a bad girl who needed to be punished. You needed your daddy to punish you good. 

Mori tuts as he takes in your victorias secret, another harsh slap landing on your ass. “Name, where did you even get this kind of underwear?” He sounds almost outraged, gripping the g-string and pulling it against your clit. You bite back another moan.

“Princess, I'm asking you a question.” He says. His voice is harsh, demanding. It teases your arousal, the urge to call him ‘daddy’ nearly irresistible. You hold on, at least until this torturous punishment is over. Another few slaps land on your ass and you answer, doing your best not to moan. 

“They were a gift from Brad.” You say. At that name, an extra hard slap lands on your ass, and your back arches with a moan. You hope he thinks it's pleasure. 

“Why were you going to a party princess?” Mori tuts, his big hand making soothing motions over your stinging ass. “Be honest.” He chides, when you open your mouth.

“I wanted to.” You say. This answer lands a harsh slap on your ass, and you cry out against the couch. “Honest, Princess.” Mori says, soothing your ass with his hand again.

“I was horny.” You whisper. Mori sighs above you, running a hand through your hair. A slap lands on your ass, but this one is softer, but you still bite the couch. Your ass is stinging now, and you know there’s red marks on each of your ass cheeks. The thought that he’s leaving his mark on you makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“So you went to be fucked dumb by some frat boys?” Mori says. He fraises it like a question, and when you nod he slaps your ass again. Hard. You whimper, hair falling all over the place, lipstick smudged. Your pussy throbs again, and you subtly bring a hand up, twisting your nipples in your top. 

“You're such a slut Princess.” Mori says. You moan, the degrading name sending bolts of pleasure straight to your clit. Mori chuckles cynically, and a slap lands on your ass, one for each cheek. “You don't even deny it huh. You're not supposed to enjoy your punishment Princess.” Mori says, his voice turning gravelly as his big hand leaves your ass, rubbing your crotch through the thin fabric of your undies. You moan, gripping the edges of the couch. You can't believe this is happening, but you're not going to test your luck and say something to stop him. You want his cock more than anything. You want him. 

“I'm sorry daddy.” You whimper out, and to your satisfaction something jumps against your thigh at that nickname. Mori chuckles, his hand leaving your pussy. “You don't sound very sorry princess.” He coo’s, and then a harsh slap lands against your pussy. You arch your back with a cry, a moan of his name.

It takes a minute for you to come down, and when you finally do another harsh slap lands on your ass, another for your pussy. You whine at the overstim, bucking on his lap.

“Did I say you could cum, princess.” Mori says, soothing your ass with his warm hands. “Apologize.” You whimper out your apology, whining as you feel his hot length against your thighs. 

“I'm sorry daddy, I came without permission.” Your voice is wracked with sobs, and full of arousal as his thick fingers play with the lips of your pussy, smearing the arousal around. There's none of your defiance left, it leaked out with that last orgasm. Now all you want is his dick, his kiss, his cum. You want him. You love him. 

You squirm against his lap as he fucks you open with two fingers, the occasional slap still landing on your ass. Everytime he hits it you arch up, as the arcs of pain are almost instantaneously transformed into shots of pleasure, driving you stupid until your panting, begging for his cock. Mori laughs at you. 

“What do you want, princess? My cock? Well beg for it then.” He teases, playing with your clit as he brings you to another orgasm. 

“Want daddy’s cock.” You pant, ass up over the arm of the couch face burried in teh gray upholstery, as he stands behind you, fucking you with anything but his cock. 

“I'm sorry princess.” Mori coos, sleeves of his fine italian suit rolled up. “Only good girls get daddy’s cock. Are you gonna be a good girl?” He asks, as if you wouldnt do anything for his cock and he knows it. You nod furiously against the couch, even though he can't see it very well. “Yes Daddy, ‘m gonna be a good girl, promise.” Your voice is a moan, your worlds slightly slurred. Mori chuckles, worshiping your ass with his hands. 

“Alright Princess, you beg so pretty.” His hands leave you and then your pussy is being bullied apart by a thick cock. He spreads your insides like butter, gripping your hips as he shields himself all the way inside, not even giving you time to adjust as he sets a brutal pace. He grips your hair in one hand, your waist in the other as he fucks you over the couch, cooing little whispers of intimacy in your ears.

“You're a good girl aren't you Princess.” Mori coos, landing a slap on your burning ass as you scream. “Such a good girl for your daddy. A pretty fuck toy.” His voice is gruff, the only sign of his slipping composure, the sweat lining his hairline and the fire in his eyes. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail for work, and the strands have started to slip from it as he fucks you, still wearing most of his suit. The top few buttons of the shirt are undone, and the tie is wrapped around your wrists, binding them in custom silk. His cock bullies your g spot as his hands let your hair go, flicking your clit meanly. 

“Gonna cum, princess?” He grunts. You nod furiously against the couch, doing your best to hold back your impending orgasm. 

“Gonna cum daddy, can i?” You whimper, gripping desperately for anything, and finding purchase on the gray pillow that sits on the end of the couch. “Want daddy’s cum, give it to me please?”

Mori chuckles roughly at your words, hand smoothing over the red marks on your ass. “You can cum, Princess. Go ahead, let go for me.” He says. You cum with a cry, clenching down around his cock as he fucks you through it. He pulls out, watching as you scramble around, and take his cock in your mouth.

He grunts as you do your best to take it all, choking as the girth fills your throat, robbing you of air. Mori chuckles. “Such a good girl. Will you let me fuck your face?” He says, hands finding purchase on your hair. You nod, whimpering as he fucks you face roughly, bullying your throat.

Spit falls from your lips as you let him take control, eyes stinging with tears at the corner. Mori coo’s praises at you. “Such a pretty girl, so obedient for me.” Mori says, his stuttering and rhythm getting more inconsistent. “Gonna cum down your throat pretty girl. Can i?” He asks. You nod.

He shoves his dick down your throat one more time, and you stay still as he shoves your head down, forcing you to swallow. You do your best, swallowing the hot liquid that races down your throat until he pulls out, patting you on the head.

“Did I do good?” You question, your throat raspy. Mori nods, stroking your hair and whipping your tears. “Yes, pretty girl. And there’s no need to go to parties anymore.” He says, pulling you to your feet. “Daddy can just fuck you whenever you want.”

Endnotes: so, uh, yeah. Ok cool, daddy kink go brrrr

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #mori x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 3-Fukuzawa/Reader w/ Lingerie and Wedding Night

Notes: btw the lingerie im describing is the Lorna Lace collection in white. It's super pretty you should google it. Haha lol, and i also realized halfway through writing this that this is technically a rich CEO au, jumping on the hype train i guess

I actually have a healthy relationship with my father, but like any good woman i have a weakness for sexy middle aged men

You had always known this would happen. It was the oldest daughter's duty to marry a man and carry on the family line. This was the fact that had been drilled into your head since you could walk. A girl could not inherit the daily company no, that duty went to the male children, no matter how dumb they were. And you had accepted it as well. It's not like you liked it or anything, in fact you thought the entire rule was old fashioned and doomed to fail, but there really wasn't much choice in the matter.

And you weren't too unhappy, you yourself didn't want to run the company, but your second sister deserved to, not your arrogant, lazy brothers. Second sister had worked hard all her life, was intelligent and beautiful and kind and deserved to inherit the company over the men. Everyone knew it, the servants whispered and gossip was prevalent around high society, but father refused, so intent on tradition that he doomed the company to fail. All you wanted in life was to live a comfortable life with a handsome man who treated you with respect, and maybe have a child or two.

So that's why you were here, a newlywed woman to a man twenty years your senior, sold off like cattle with no choice in the matter. You had never even seen your new husband. The marriage talks had happened without your input obviously and the ceremony was shot down by your father who, ‘didn't want to waste resources on a stuffy event like that.’ All you had were rumors, for your new husband did not like public appearances, and there were suspiciously few photos of him.

Yukichi Fukuzawa, the president of ADA corp, and a man of high social standing and wealth. He was forty-five, apparently a ‘highly upstanding person from a highly reputable background,’ and very wealthy. And also your new husband. You supposed you were lucky to ‘score’ such a highly sought after man, even if he was a lot older than you but you had at least hoped to marry a man closer to you in age. But if you were lucky he would leave you to your own devices and let you live your life happy, if a little lonely.

A knock sounded and second sister peaked her head in, sending you a smile. You relaxed, sinking back onto the soft silk of the bed you were sitting on, and shot her a nervous smile. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Second sister Helena was tall, and with her long golden hair and blue eyes she could have easily been mistaken for a model. She looked nothing like you, and it made sense, given that you had different mothers. Father had sired each of his children with a different woman in an effort to create the perfect male heir. And because father was a man of high standing many women were lining up for the chance to have a child support check. And of course, he picked only the most attractive women. Second sister’s mother was a Swedish runway model, while yours had been a movie actress. Your brother's mothers were also varied, from models to actresses to intellectuals, all with stunning looks and the brains to match. Your father might be a douchebag but his theory held water, all the children of your family were stunning beauties, and all intelligent as well.

She came to sit next to you on the bed, and passed a small box in your direction with an apologetic smile. “I missed your twenty-fifth birthday sis, so here.” You shoot her a grateful thanks, fingering the box in your lap. It's small, maybe five inches and perfectly square, wrapped in colorful polka dot paper. You carefully slip the sides open, trying not to make a mess. Your sister giggles beside you.

“You wanna hear something funny?” You stop, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Whenever that line excites your sister's mouth, she's usually talking about one of two things. Boys, or the most horrific thing you can think of. You'll never forget the one time she preceded that one line by telling you most gleefully that her ex boyfriend had ‘accidentally’ gotten run over then lit on fire then drowned in the ocean. She glares balefully at your expression. “What…it's nothing bad. I met your new husband, and girl,” She pauses, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly. “He's such a dilf! I'm so happy for you!”

It's about now when you get the paper off the present, and see the pink box with black letters scrawled across it that say , ‘Agent Provocateur’ in a pretty curly font. You choke on your spit, and start coughing violently. Your sister pounds you on the back in good spirits. When you finally finish your coughing fit, you turn to her with a bemused smile on your face. “I dont no weather to hit you or hug you, Helena.” She smiles. “Open it.” She says, excitement all over her face. “I just know you're going to love it.”

You do as she instructs, and from within the crinkly tissue paper you pull the naughty treasure inside. You shake your head with a smile, if nothing else your sister has always had good taste. Its white, befitting of a wedding/birthday gift, and the small amount of fabric it possesses is a pretty floral lace. The bra is a half cup, with little white bows at the spot where the strap starts. The panties are lace as well, with a diamond pattern line of holes going all the way around, leaving the embarrassing parts uncovered. It even comes with white lace stockings, and a garter to hold them up. You shoot your sister an embarrassed smile. “Thank you Helena, they're absolutely beautiful.” She gives you a small side hug in response. “I know.” She says. “Now try them on.”

All complaints are useless against her, she uses everything from pleading to guilt tripping and at some point you just give up and do as she requests. And as you gaze on yourself in the mirror, you can really say you're glad you did. You look innocent, but also sexy and powerful and you think that if you were marrying the man you loved you would wear this gift. You feel kind of bad that it's going to stay sealed away in a box for your entire life. The bra hugs your breast perfectly, shoving them up a little to provide the perfect amount of cleavage, and the lace panties frame your butt perfectly. The stockings and garter just add the perfect bit of naughty to the otherwise innocent(as innocent as Lingerie can get) picture. Your sister pokes her head around the bathroom door, grinning as you shriek in embarrassment and yank on the silk robe she had left you. Is suspiciously short, only reaching mid thigh but it's better than nothing.

She shoves you into a chair, and gets started on your makeup. You sigh. “Why do I even need makeup, it's not like anybody is going to see me.” She tuts threateningly. “It's to complete the look. Now don't move.” She starts on your base, and for a while the only sound is her gentle humming, and the squirt of makeup products.

It's not until Helena moves onto the hair that she breaks the peaceful mood. “And did father not tell you? You're supposed to ‘consummate’ the marriage tonight.” You open your eyes abruptly with a shout of surprise. “What?” She shrugs. “I guess he didn't, well anyway he should be coming…” Helena checks her watch with a glance, as she skilfully braids white and pink ribbons into your hair. “In about two minutes!”

Even with your shrieks of protest you're not allowed to move until she finishes her hair, and by the time she does it's already too late. She sends you a smile as she picks up her purse and kisses you on the cheek. You glare. “Helena! You took so long i dont have time to change.” She opens the door and you receive a playful grin. “I know,” She says, and you have the dreadful feeling you’ve fallen into a trap. “That was the plan. Have fun big sister.” And with that, she’s gone, leaving you a nervous wreck done up in lingerie, a honey trap just waiting for a man to fall right in. You rush to the bathroom, throwing a glance at the large mirror. You must admit she did a good job, you look very pretty with pink eyeshadow and gold glitter and your hair done up a sexy half updo, but you don't want to look good. You don't want to look like you were waiting here to seduce him. Hopefully you can just explain yourself and the two of you can just sleep. Of what if he thought you were trying to seduce him and got all cocky. That would be humiliating. Your pride would be forever tarnished and your dreams of a quiet life ruined. All because of Helena and her terrible ideas!

Your (probably too dramatic) spiral of doom is interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. You take a deep breath, steady your heart and tie your bathrobe tight, and answer the door.

The sight that greets you when you open the door is surprising to say the least and you suddenly understand what your sister meant when she said he was ‘a dilf’, for the man in the hallway is, quite literally, the quintessential dilf. He is tall, and oh so handsome, with silver hair and piercing gray blue eyes surrounded by the slightest wrinkles. He clears his throat. “Are you Miss Name?”

You thank your sister for making you learn a poker face and send him a small, blank smile. “Yes, are you Mr. Fukuzawa?” Those sexy eyes scan your face, catching on the gold glitter in the corners of your eyes before he nods. “May I come in Miss?” You open the door wider and allow him in, your smile never wavering. You take your seats, sitting across from each other conveniently ignoring the bed on the other side of the room. In horror you realize the box from your sister is still sitting on the table, but a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you see the top of the box is flipped over, the incriminating lettering hidden from sight.

It's hard not to notice how unfairly sexy Fukuzawa looks in a suit, and it makes all these really inappropriate thoughts of sitting on that lap pour into your brain. But still, you do your best to uphold your smile as you speak. “I'm sorry Mr. Fukuzawa, my father unfortunately forgot to inform me that you would be coming tonight.” Your father most definitely did not forget, it's more than likely that he didn't tell you in fear that you would escape. You cursed your father out in your brain, all while maintaining that smile on your lips.

He nods. “It is alright. I didn't intend to consummate this wedding in the first place.” This is what you wanted, but for some reason you feel a little let down. Maybe he doesn't find you attractive? You sigh, he must be blind then. Or gay.

“I see.” is all you say. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. It's almost comical how your mood has taken a dramatic turn. Not five minutes ago you were lamenting the fact that your husband might be interested, and now you were unhappy that he in fact, was not interested in you. A slight glare entered your eyes and with your mouth still curved into that small smile you made quite the threatening picture. Fukuzawa spoke again, probably fishing for things to say in an effort to make you more comfortable, because of corse he was kind and able to read the room, and of course he didnt want to fuck you.

“The weather is lovely today isn't it Miss Name?”

“I suppose.” You know you sound curt and unfriendly, and you know it's not fair of you, but you're really annoyed. Fukuzawa’s smile wavers a bit at your curt attitude, but he still smiles comfortingly at you. This only makes you angrier. How dare he be kind and handsome and rich, and not want to fuck you. Life is unfair.

$$$

Fukuzawa feels very uncomfortable right now. Because of course his new wife is a beautiful young thing who deserved someone more close to her age, of course she was upset with the plan that had been forced upon her. He most dearly wished he had been born ten years later, so he may woo her properly. He had read the report he was given of her. Miss Name was highly educated, of excellent parentage and absolutely gorgeous. She probably had a young and handsome boyfriend she wanted to marry.

If not for this whole ordeal she could have been with the man she loved, not a stuffy old man like him. It's really no wonder she’s upset. He sends her a small smile, hoping to sooth her probably injured feelings.

“I'm sorry you had to be involved in this mess Miss Name, I know this situation isn't ideal for both of us.” For some reason, her expression doesn't change at all. Her smile is still in place, but Fukuzawa can tell from her eyes that she’s upset. Her voice is curt when she responds.

“Thank you.” The temperature in the room drops a few degrees. He shivers involuntarily as the room falls back to silence, forcefully keeping his eyes away from her legs, covered in pure white lace, and the hint of a garter peeking out from under that small silk bathrobe. She didn't wear those for him for heaven sakes, she didn't even know he was coming tonight. He has no right to fantasize about what she’s wearing under that bathrobe, she may be his wife, but she will never desire him like that.

He clears his throat. “There's something I must tell you, I have an adopted son.” She perks up, the collar of her bathrobe falling a little, revealing a small strip of tantalizing white lace. The room feels too hot. “Really? How old is he?” The cold tone of her voice is melting away and Fukuzawa congratulates himself on the change of topic. “His name is Ranpo and he's five years old. Would you like to see a picture?” She nods, and Fukuzawa pulls out his phone, and shows her the lockscreen. She leans forward, and Fukuwawa is treated to a flash of white bows and lace as she coos at the photo. “He's so cute!”

Fukuzawa wonders if god hates him. Because of course his new wife is a pretty young thing who doesn't mind the fact that he has a son, and is whose collar is falling more and more, treating him to a divine temptation of white lace, and who will never love a boring older man like him. He wonders why the hell he's acting like a young man with these dirty thoughts, and takes a deep breath as she hands his phone back. The ice on her face has melted a bit, and she looks a bit less like she wants to flay him alive, although she still looks a bit sulky. It's much too adorable. Her lips are in a little pout, and it only succeeded in highlighting how plump and silky they look. They have a pink gloss smeared across them, and all Fukuzawa can think about is those lips wrapped around— he almost smacks himself across the face.

Ok so, Fukuzawa can admit that he is very much in lust with his new wife, it's pretty clear and he feels quite like a degenerate, he just hopes she cant tell. It's clear that she doesn't want him, heck she doesn't even seem to like him that much. And he would rather die, than ever force himself on her in any way. He clears his throat with a cough, shifting a little in his seat. “If it would make you more happy, you could have a lover, if that is what you wish.”

Any ice that had defrosted with Ranpo’s picture is immediately incinerated by her burning hot anger. She sits upright, her spine straight and her eyes burning. “Are you implying that I will cheat on you?” Fukuzawa waves his hands anxiously in denial. “No, that's not what i—” The fire abates, then returns in full force. “Wait, do you have a lover?” Fukuzawa shakes his head. ‘No! I only thought that you might have a younger boyfriend you wished to marry instead of me. After all, this decision was made without your input.” Fukuzawa is relieved to see the fire abate, replaced instead with a sweet kind of thanks.

She leans forward a little, a small sincere smile curving across her pretty lips. “I have no one. But it was very kind of you to ask.” She says, as the ties holding the bathrobe come looser and looser. “And even if I had someone, I would never ask for something like that.” Fukuzawa is horrified by the spike of hope that rises in his chest, pillaging through the walls around his heart and stabbing right in, warming his heart with a futile hope. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and emotions as she speaks.

“Would you like something to drink? I have some delicious green tea.” He nods, hoping the soothing aroma and taste will calm him down. She stands, and moves to the small kitchenette across from the bed, starting the tea. She speaks as she works. “So, I heard you met my sister Helena? Tall, blond…” Fukuzawa vividly remembers Helena, a tall blond woman who barged into his dinner and in no uncertain terms told him that if he mistreated her sister she would ruin his life. “Yes, she said hello to me at dinner.”

“I hope she didn't bother you, Helena is harmless, I promise.” It's clear how much love she has for her sister, it drips from every word as she chatters on, excitedly telling Fukuzawa story after story of her sister. Fukuzawa hopes dearly that one day, she will speak of him and Ranpo so fondly. His thoughts are imputent, he knows that, but it's in his best interests to not deny them. He's too old for all of this.

“Here you are, Mr. Fukuzawa.” She leans down, placing a fragrant cup of green tea on the table in front of him. “Call me Fukuzawa.” She shoots him a smile and a nod. “Call me Name.” It's small really, but it feels good. The atmosphere has become pleasant, so different from the earlier tense and icy landscape, and Fukuzawa feels relief, until of course, disaster strikes.

She trips slightly, and the glass of green tea she is carrying spills all over her chest, staining the white fabric green. Thankfully it's iced, but she still panics, probably worried about staining. And you see, the thing is, Fukuzawa knows he should turn around, he knows she’s panicking and she forgot herself for a moment, and he knows he should clear his throat or turn around or something. But he still watches in slow motion as she undoes the ties, pulling off that bathrobe and tossing it hurriedly away.

It's somehow straight out of his fantasies, and yet a curse of his nightmares. It's white, and lace and see-through and Fukuzawa feels all the blood in his body rush south. Maybe it's that the slight glimpses were teasing him the entire evening, or maybe he’s just too pent up, but he feels just like a virgin again, discovering porn for the first time. And it kind of is porn, forbidden 3d porn and he's going to die. She looks heavenly, the lace hugging her pretty boobs, the panties hiding nothing at all, and the garter and stocking combo just straight out of any man's wet dream. He feels like a creep, like a gross disgusting perverted old man and he wants her to suffocate him with that pretty pussy all wrapped up in white lace, he wants those pouty lips on his cock, he wants those legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds her into the bed—

His dick is hard, his mouth is open, and then she looks up, meeting his eyes and Fukuzawa feels fear for the first time in a while.

$$$

You know what happened, you were panicking about expensive lingerie and green tea stains and all you wanted to do was get the stain away from the actual underwear as fast as possible. But as your eyes meet Fukuzawa’s own and you take in his state, you can't really say your sorry. He looks wrecked. His eyes are hazy, his mouth open in shock, and the most telling evidence of all is the bulge in his pants. You let a small smirk overtake your face. He wanted you after all. Elation and arousal are the confusing cocktail at work in your stomach as you saunter around the kitchen table, and sit yourself directly on his inviting lap.

This seems to snap him right out of his daze, and he gestures frantically, an apology on his tongue. “I'm so sorry Name, i didn't—” You press a finger to his lips, feeling sexy and confident as you grind down slightly on the rather large bulge in his pants. He lets out a gratifying grunt, as you lean down, running your hands through his soft silver hair. Your voice is a pur when you speak. “You wanna know something?” you know you look devastatingly sexy, and it makes you feel powerful. “I really like you Fukuzawa.” His cheeks flush all cute, and his dick twitches under you. You continue. “And I want you. Do you want me?” His voice is husky, but still slightly formal when he speaks. “Yes. But are you sure you want me?”

You let out a coy little giggle, and grind down again. His little stifled noises are unfairly sexy, you can feel wetness in your panties already.

“I want you so bad hubby. Now kiss me.” With no more words he grants your request.

Fukuzawa kisses just like he looks, gentle and deep, devouring your very soul with his tongue. It makes your pussy throb desperately, and it makes you feel rushed and hot and the whole thing feels somehow even more sexy. Your hands knot in his hair, tangling the strands with your sweaty fingers as you rut together, barely covered pussy on still clothed cock, cores together. You know your whining, letting out little gasps and breaths and as he hoists you up, draping you right across the kitchen table, hands carefully pulling the crotch of your panties away from your drooling pussy. Its so dirty somehow, here you are, about to be fucked senseless by your sexy new husband, right on your kitchen table. You can't wait. He steps back, shedding his coat and tie, and unbuttoning a few of the top buttons.

He looks so sexy above you, panting as he slips a finger into your pussy, stroking your inner walls slowly. “More.” You whine out, the needy tone in your voice embarrassingly clear. Fukuzawa chuckles, adding another finger as per your request. “Do you have condoms? I'm afraid I didn't bring any.” He speeds up his fingers, playing slightly with your clit, and your head falls back. “Don't care. Maybe you can get me pregnant, hubby.” You can tell it affects him by the way his fingers retreat, swiftly replaced by his cock. You moan loudly as he bottoms out, as he hoists your legs over his shoulder, still almost fully clothed. It turns you on greatly, the contrast from your almost naked self, and his composed, still clothed person. His cock is thick, stretching your walls apart and it pulses inside you. You want him to fuck you stupid senseless.

Your hands grip the side of the table as he begins to move, his pace betraying his sense of urgency. Each thrust is deep, hard, and it moves you back on the table, before his hand on your legs pulls you back. His hair is sweat soaked, sticking to his cheeks as he fucks you, his eyes locked on your own.

“Feel good baby?” He pants, his voice a groan. “Yes, ohh so good.” Your voice is loud, and slightly husky with panted moans and breathes. You're seriously going to explode. For the first time in your life you want to thank your father, for finding you a sexy husband who could fuck you crazy. You still hated the man, but he had done some things right in his life.

He's ruining your insides, and you can feel every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you, all berriors gone. You feel unimaginably full and hot and purfect. He stops to lean down, and grips your thighs in both hands, speeding up his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he hits that spot, over and over and over again.

“Oh Fukuzawa!” He stops his thrusts, pausing deep inside you and you pant. “Yukichi.”

“What?”

“Call me Yukichi.” Your clenches, even as your heart rate speeds up and you gasp out his name, panting it like your last breath. “Yukichi!” The last of your sentence dissolves in a moan as he resumes, all pretense gone, slamming in and out and in and out, and destroying your insides. “You sound so pretty like this, screaming my name.” His voice is rough and full of pants, and so, so sexy. Your hands leave the edge of the table and reach for your breasts, playing with your nipples harshly. You can feel your orgasm building, that familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, begging to be released.

“ ‘m cumming.” You warn, as his thrusts stutter, losing their rhythm. “Me too.” His voice is deep, and as he slams in one more time, and a hot feeling shoots inside of you, you lose it. You know you scream when you come, and at some point he drops your legs and kisses you, his dick still lodged inside of you. And as you come down from your high, and you feel his strong arms carrying you to the bed, you feel hopeful for your future with your sweet new husband, and all the good fuckings that will come with it.

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #fukuzawa x reader #mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77Kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 8-Mori/Reader with prompts Fingering and Doctor Kink

Notes: Mori was getting dangerously attractive in that Yosano flashback…and obviously your ob-gyn should absolutely never do anything our doctor Mori is gonna do, this is a fanfiction, so, fiction. Anyway, enjoy(also im totally glossing over some of the less sexy bits of a normal appointment lol)

The familiar tickle of the bell welcomes you as you enter the familiar lobby of your Gynecologists. You check your watch, noting that you're a little early, so you set your purse on the coffee table and scroll through your phone absentmindedly. The office is surprisingly empty, only one other person sits in the lobby, a middle aged woman who smiles kindly in your direction, before Anne, the receptionist, calls her over with a wave. She’s definitely not new, you’ve known Anne since she started working here, and she’s still as pretty as ever, with long red hair and green eyes. She sends you a wink and a smile, and you smile back. 

You fiddle a bit with your necklace, bored. It's a new one, a classy thin gold chain with a single, red ruby. It winks prettily between your collarbones, drawing all eyes. You paired it with a white blouse, and a dark red skirt, as flashy as you could get away with at work, anyway. Your boss liked it when her employees quote unquote, ‘expressed themselves’, although you still got written up occasionally. Although it was probably Brad, your boyfriend, still salty about the shopping spree you had gone on when you found he cheated on you.

You're so bored you find yourself staring around at the familiar decorations for the thousandth time. The familiar fake flowers on the table, the tabloid and other magazines, the chairs around the front office, the pictures on all the walls. Your favorite one is a watercolor painting, naked fairies and female elves dancing around an enchanted forest. It was just so whimsical and pretty it had always fascinated you. 

“Miss Name Last-Name?” The receptionist smiles when you look up, gesturing at a pretty blond Nurse with a clipboard. She’s also young, maybe early thirties and she smiles as she leads you back into the room. Janet, the Nurse’s name she had informed you, quickly and efficiently takes care of the weight and height measurements, before she gives you a small smile and nod, and leaves the room. It's the same room you’ve been to before, ever since you were sixteen.

It's embarrassing but you've lived in the same town for most of your life. Your parents had moved you and your siblings here when you were seven years old, because your mom wanted to be by the sea and your father loved your mother a bit too much perhaps. But they were your parents and you loved them, no matter how embarrassingly lovey dovey they insisted on being. 

But anyway, this was your hometown. You had gone to school here, made lifelong friends here, and all of your doctors appointments had been in this town, including the Gynecologists. Your ob-gyn, Maya, had known you since you were young, and was a kindly middle aged woman, an old friend of your moms. It would be nice to see her again. You're sitting on the chair, legs not hooked but swinging in front of you when a knock on the door sounds and Nurse Janet peaks her head in. 

“I'm sorry miss Name, but Maya, your usual isn't available.” You frown in concern. “Is she ok?” The nurse steps in completely, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Yes, she just has a cold. I can either reschedule your appointment or assign you another doctor temporarily. What would you prefer?” The way the nurse speaks is a little peculiar, but you just brush it off. A new doctor, temporarily at least. You're tempted, just out of comfort to reschedule, but , and you've already driven here and gas prices are so high nowadays, it just feels like such a waste. You nod, coming to your decision. “I'll proceed with the appointment.” Janet nods, checking her clipboard. “Alright then, Doctor Mori will see you in about ten minutes.” The door closes and she’s gone.

Doctor Mori. You’ve heard the name, Maya has mentioned him in passing. And if Maya recommends him he has to be good, you have a lot of faith in your old friend. Your phone rings, loudly and with tha familiar ringtone that signifies your sister's calling. You check the clock on the wall, you have about even minutes, and quickly answer the phone. 

“Leila, i'm in the doctor's office.”

Your sister giggles. “I know.” She says, yelling over the chaos you can hear faintly in the background. “I'm calling because mom told me to tell you that Maya is out with a cold. So you should reschedule your appointment for next week or something.”

You sigh, as usual your mothers a little too late. “Um, it's too late for that. Couldn't you have told me like yesterday or something?” 

 “It's not my fault, blame mom.” Your sister scoffs.“So did you reschedule?”

“No, I decided to see another doctor, at least temporarily.” You pick your nails, checking the clock. Five minutes. “The new nurse called her Doctor Mori? You know, the other doctor that shares the building with Maya.”

“Oh yeah, I always remember Maya talking about him.” You can faintly hear your mother yelling in the background, and then your sister yells back, pulling the phone from her ear. “What mom? He? What? Just come here and tell her yourself!”

“Honey? That you?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your sister. “How are you honey?”

“I'm great mom.” You sigh. “Why didn't you tell me about Maya earlier.”

“Oh you know, i forgot.” Your mom giggles, shouting over the Bob Marley playing in the background. “Anyway honey, your sister told me you decided to see Doctor Mori?”

You check the clock. “Yeah, it seemed like a waste to just leave. And you gotta hurry mom, I'm almost out of time.”

“I see, I see.” Your mother makes no attempt to hurry, but then again she never does. “Well, Maya introduced me to Doctor Mori one time, and honey, he’s very handsome!”

“Yeah, yeah ok.” You check the clock one more time, you need to go. “Well I gotta go mom, i'll see you later then.” 

“Yeah, see you later Honey. Say hi to Anne for me. Oh, and tell her congratulations on her marriage.” And with a click, she’s gone. You sink back into your seat with a sigh, and then, something your mother said finally clicks. He. you shoot up in your seat, just as the door creaks open, and sure enough and man makes his way into the room. 

Your mother was right, he is handsome. His hair is slightly long and slightly messy with loose strands falling around his face. The dark strands tickle his neck, just barely brushing his shoulders. He’s clothed in a lab coat for some reason, underneath which is a gray purple button down and a slightly loose black tie. His eyes are dark, and slight wrinkles at the corner betray his age. He has a pair of small, rimless glasses hooked on his collar. 

“Miss Name? I'm Dr. Mori, I'll be filling in for Dr. Henderson today.” He blinks at you with a slightly absent smile. It feels unreal honestly, of course your replacement is a handsome older man who, in a few minutes, is going to have his hands all over your pussy. You curse every evil god who put you in this situation. And you hope, pray or anything else you can do that you won’t get wet. You sigh.

“It’s nice to meet you Dr, Ma-er, Dr Henderson has mentioned you before.” You smile, wishing that you weren’t currently at a gynecologist appointment with a man who was probably married who you were definitely thirsting over. “Although I thought…never mind.”

“You thought I was a woman?” You nod and the doctor laughs a little. “Yes, I’m not surprised. I’m actually partially retired, I just do Maya the occasional favor now and then.” Mori puts on his glasses, squinting at a clipboard. You try to subtly look at his hands, checking for a wedding ring.

“It looks like Maya took care of most of your checkups a few weeks ago?” He says. You nod. “Yes, we just ran out of time for the last few. She was going to do them today but…” The doctor nods, confirming your thought. He flips through the papers on the clipboard, before setting it down on the small desk next to a picture of a pretty blond girl with blue eyes, the doctor next to her in the picture. “Dr. Henderson already did most of the necessary tests. Looks like you guys didn't quite get around to the physical?” You give him a nod in responds and he smiles. “Alright, well I'll step out for a moment, can you please take off your underwear and hook your legs up in those—well you know what to do. I'll be back in a few minutes.” You give him a nervous little nod and laugh combo, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sigh, standing and rolling up your tight office skirt, and ridding yourself of your boring white panties. This is going to be so embarrassing, because you just know you're going to get at least a little damp. It's very different to have a fifty ish woman who you’ve known for years poking around your vagina, versus a finely aged dilf, with no wedding ring to speak of. You sigh again, climbing up into the strange reclining chair and hooking your knees in the stirrups. With your skirt rolled up like this, you can feel the cool air brushing your bare pussy, and you shiver a little. 

The door opens and Mori steps back in, noting your position on the chair with a nod. “I see you're ready to begin?” The doctor has a pair of plastic gloves on and he’s hooked his reading glasses back on his collar, the tie somehow slipping even more. You give him an affirmative, doing your best to nip any problems in the bud by focussing your thoughts squarely on your pet Cat. And it works too, as the doctor's gloved hands begin to feel surely on your pelvic bone, dancing around the lips of your pussy. Then, he starts to talk, distracting you from the cat.

“So, Miss Name, seems like you’ve known Maya for a while, huh.” He says. “Yep,” You reply, still trying to think of your cat. “I've had her since I was about seventeen. I assume you guys are old friends as well?”  

“Yes, we used to work together.” The doctores sure fingers pull at the lips of your pussy, and he squints. “That was until my ex-wife decided she didn't want me touching other women all day long, even if it was my job.” Your ears catch on ‘ex-wife’ and all thoughts of your cute pet cat fly from your mind. Your thighs twitch slightly, and you change the subject quickly. “That must be your daughter then, in the picture? Sorry if I snooped.” You bite your lip and avoid eye contact, it makes it all worse when you watch him prod at your pussy. Thankfully, for now at least, his fingers have left the more sensitive areas and are now poking at your pelvic bone again. 

“Yes, my little girl Elise. She’s pretty isn't she?” You nod, and he continues. “What about you? Any kids?” 

You shake your head with a laugh. “No, not quite yet anyway. I just broke up with my boyfriend actually.” Your tone turns a little resentful, you can't help yourself. “He cheated on me.” Mori makes a noise of surprise, cocking his head up to meet your eyes. “He cheated on a girl as pretty as you, huh. Spread your legs a bit for me darlin.” You almost choke, ninety nine percent sure you misheard. That damn pet name, Darlin’, and the complement? God you're doomed. The doctor chuckles at your silence, his dark eyes leaving your own as they dart back to your pussy. One hand spread your pussy lips apart, and two gloved fingers poke at your hole, pushing in slowly. You bit your lip, hard. You can hear the slight squelching his fingers make, and you literally want to die. Maybe if you pretend nothing is wrong, he will spare you the humiliation. 

“So, do you miss your job?” You clear your throat as his fingers reach deeper, pressing around looking for something. 

“Oh, a little.” The doctor's other hand goes higher, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach, feeling around. “Although, I usually don't get such pretty patients to work with. You're making this old man blush.” Oh, he knows, he’s definitely noticed how wet you are and he’s teasing you. You still can't quite tell if he’s flirting or not. He can't be, right? He’s a really handsome man, he must have a girlfriend or something. 

He withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you sigh with relief. But all your embarrassment comes rushing back as he reaches for the familiar speculum, slowly inserting it into your pussy with a squelch. You blush at the sound, but the doctor doesn't bat an eye as he ever so slowly opens it, peering inside for a few long, agonizing seconds. And then, he’s pulling it out with an embarrassing sound and placing it on a tray beside him. 

“Well, looks like we have no problems.” He takes off his gloves, balling them together and placing them on the tray beside the Speculum. “Everything looks good and you're plenty…” He pauses. “…Sensitive.” You blush, way too embarrassed to even complain. He clears his throat a little, dark eyes still darting back and forth between your pussy and your face. His eyes are dark, and they have a strange shine as they meet your own again. With a leap of faith, you decide to throw caution to the winds.

“I don't know doctor, you might need to check a little more thoroughly.” He eyes you for a moment, and an embarrassing silence fills the room for a moment. And just as you're about to backpedal, Mori stands, and with a click, locks the door. “You know…” He says, a new kind of gleam in his eye. “Maybe I should. Do you have any particular concerns?” This is absolutely crazy, and you love every minute of it. 

“Oh, I don't know, Doctor.” You shoot him a flirty little wink. “Maybe you should feel around in there some more, check for any irregularities?” 

“That's a good idea Darlin.” He pulls a stool over, and hangs his coat over a nearby chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Well, I'll start with an oral check up, then maybe use something a little longer to really check you out, that sound good?” You nod, your reply dissolving into a moan as he leans closer, the flattened length of his tongue coming in contact with your clit. He starts out slow, flattening his tongue against your clit, dancing around the edges of your hole, teasing you with his little smirks. He looks way too hot like that, face buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair. 

“You know Doctor,” You choke out, as the naughty slurping sounds fill the room. “My insides feel a little tight, maybe you should check those out.” Mori pulls away from your pussy, shooting you a spit slicked feral grin. “I was just thinking the same thing.” And then, he slips two fingers inside. Your head falls back against the chair, as his head disappears again, tongue licking your clit. He had his fingers inside you before, but it feels different now that he’s really trying to make you lose it. He scissors his fingers open, prying your hole open for future activities and your going to lose it. You need him inside you, right now.

“Doctor.” He looks up at you, fingers pausing inside of you. “I need you inside of me. Now.” 

Mori chuckles at your enthusiasm, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with a squelch, and moving to the cabinet. He pulls a foiled package out, and waves it in your direction. You giggle, playing with your tits through your shirt. “My my doctor, do you always fuck your patients?” 

“Nope, you're this old man’s first in a while.” He offers as a reply, unbuckling his pants. “We give free condoms to teens, to encourage safe sex.” He doesn't even pull down his pants, just pulls his erect cock out and strokes it a few times. You watch, licking your lips as he slides the condom down it. It's big, and you know he’ll stretch you out nicely. Maybe another time you would like to have it down your throat. But for today, you need him inside you.

Mori seems to share your enthusiasm, as he hurriedly lines his dick up with your hole, and with one last look of assurance, starts to slowly push in. The stretch is a lot, but with all that preparation it just barely stings. It also helps that he goes slowly, allowing for you to fully adjust to his hardness. He grips your thighs with his big hands as he fully shields himself inside of you, pulling out and using your thighs to pull you right back onto his dick. Your voice comes out in little pants and moans, joined by his grunts. 

“So doctor, everything alright?” Your voice is far from steady, but you can't really bring yourself to care. “How does it feel?” 

“Heavenly darling.” Mori’s mouth crashes onto yours, practically inhaling your face. He kisses with a wild kind of desperation, so different from the unhurried tone of voice he had taken up before. It's hot, the juxtaposition. And you can feel the coil of an orgasm curling in your stomach. “I'm close.” You pant out, as Mori nuzzles your jaw, his hair tangling with your own. “Same.” The doctor pants out, his steady rhythm speeding up a little, and you moan out especially loud as his calloused thumb works at your clit, rubbing little circles into it. 

The tangle of orgasm is building now, and then, the tip of his dick hits that spot, the spot that makes pleasure explode though your body. You shudder, and cum around his dick, gripping his shoulders and moaning out a garbled mix of his name and some moans. He continues thrusting, working you through your orgasm and just as you're about to come down he thrusts one more time, and with a small little moan in your ear, he withdraws. 

“So doctor.” You pant, leaning back against the chair. “Everything healthy?” 

“Very.” Mori says, disposing of the condom in the garbage and doing up his clothes. He scratches his neck awkwardly, watching you put on your underwear and roll down your skirt. “So, Miss Name? Do you maybe want to get coffee together or something?” 

You grab your purse, and turn, planting a bold little kiss on his lips, and pressing your business card into his hands. “I’d love to.” And with a ‘call me’ you close the door behind you.

End Notes: It's been a long time since i had an appointment lol, the details are hazy at best. Also barely got this one done in time

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #mori x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 11- Sakaguchi Ango/Reader with kinks Sitting Cowgirl/(Onsen)Bath Sex

Notes:this is almost entirely created out of horny daze from that one clip of dub Ango saying ‘you nasty man’ about Dazai and i just uhhhhh. You know, in the real world Ango would totally be my type. I love skinny nerds with glasses. But my fictional type is 100% more problematic. Also I turned Ango into a simp. Oops. 

His assistant loved skirts. She loved wearing little patterned secretary skirts with cute little blouses and her hair piled all across his shoulders and Ango wanted to throw himself out of the second story window his office was located on. He really didn't want to be one of those employers, the gross bosses who intentionally dropped stuff on the ground to stare down their assistants' shirts or had fantasies about them during working hours. But it was really hard. It also didn't help that you were intelligent and pretty and smiled at him kindly and brought him coffee on all nighters and he had the tiniest little crush on you. 

It had all started a few months ago, when Ango had finally been convinced to hire an assistant to deal with the workload he was drowning under. And he had hired you because you were intelligent and had an excellent resume, he would confess but also his jaw almost hit the floor the second you strutted into the room in your little red kitten heels, red flowy top and black skirt. You were drop dead gorgeous, and if he was being honest that was probably a huge part of the reason he hired you in the first place. But he was starting to regret it. It's not like you were incompetent, not far from it. You were extremely smart and kind and had been a great help to him over these last few months, it wasn't that. You were too perfect. You were smart and pretty and kind and he was a weak, sleep deprived man starved for affection who hadn't touched a woman in way too long and he maybe had a little crush on you. 

And ok, he thought as he caught himself daydreaming about your future wedding for the fifth time today, maybe it was a little more than a crush, maybe he was actually in love with you. Ok not maybe, he totally was. But could you really blame him? You looked lovely in the white(hence the wedding fantasies) blouse and blue skirt you had chosen for today, and it didn't help that it was low cut, showing Ango(and everyone else) the most teasing bit of delicious cleavage. And Ango hated the world because he had a meeting today and he knew all the similarly overworked and horny men would spend the entire time staring at His assistant, and then they would come over here all the time just to look at you and one of them would probably offer you a higher salary and steal you away right from under his nose—

“Mr Sakaguchi? I have the documents you wanted.” You're back from the front office and looking at him quizzically, a manila folder in your outstretched hand. Ango pushes up his glasses and gives you a sharp nod. “Wonderful, thank you.” He needs to get back to work and stop daydreaming or it's another sleepless night for him. “Please start the booking process for the company trip.” With a nod and a smile you turn, the sway of your hips horribly distracting as you make your way to your desk. Your desk is next to his, which is a really good thing because now if he stares at you it will be really obvious and his pride will help him focus on his work. 

But his work is boring and you are pretty and even though he has to actively turn his head he still catches himself staring at you. You look so pretty, typing away at your desk, occasionally catching your lip in your teeth distractingly. No, he has to focus on the documents, no matter how boring they are, he really, really doesn't want to stay overnight but maybe if he did you would stay too and then he would get even less work done. Anyway he can see it, he's screwed. He’s down bad and there's nothing he can do about it. 

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You really didn't even want to think about how you had ended up in this situation. Sharing a private Onsen and a room with your boss who you MAYBE, possibly, had a small miniscule crush on. You glared at the screen of your laptop dubiously, taking your anger and embarrassment out on the well worn keys of your old laptop. It was old, and a portion of the screen was completely black, but you loved the thing. And you didn't want to transfer all the data you had over here to a new laptop, that was more trouble than it was worth. 

And anyway, this situation was partly your fault. You had been dead tired when you booked this place. An Onsen was a classic choice for a work trip, and although this one was kind of expensive, only four people from your department could even make it. So low numbers ment less expenses, and also meant you could afford to splurge a little. So you booked two rooms, one for you and Akane, and another for your boss, Ango, and your coworker Jerry.

But anyway, you had thought you were going to share a room with your coworker, Akane, but she had decided to demand she share with her boyfriend, and you had jumped at the chance, thinking you would get a private room. But no, now you were sharing with your handsome boss. You really didn't understand why Akane was dating Jerry anyway. She was drop dead gorgeous, with long straight black hair and big, doll-like eyes. And Jerry was kind of, just average. But he was nice, you supposed, and that was just the way of the world. 

A knock sounded on the sliding door panel, and Ango peaked his head in. He sent you an apologetic little smile, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“It's time for dinner. We’re eating in Akane and Jerry’s room.” you closed your computer with a nod, standing up and following him out of the room and into the hall. It was silent, and the air hung with a strange awkward air. You coached, trying to make conversation. “I'm sorry this happened, Mr Sakaguchi.” You can't see his face from where you are, but he clears his throat. “It's alright, really.” You sigh silently to yourself. From his tone it sounds like he really doesn't want to share with you. It hurts, just a little. You ignore the panging in your chest and sigh. “I'm really sorry Sir, I would have liked to share with Akane, but she can be really convincing sometimes.” Ango’s shoulders stiffen, and he nods jerkally, with an awkward chuckle. “Yes, I suppose so.” And the both of you pad down the rest of the hall in awkward silence.

There is a large table set out in Akane and Jerry’s room, laden with delicious dishes. Your mouth waters, and you shove aside your hurt feelings for now and dig into the spread of delicious food before you. 

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You're left alone in the room, for now at least. Ango had informed you that he was heading out to the store to grab a few things, and promptly left you to yourself. The hot spring water is a soft milky white, and the steam rising off the surface scatters as your toe skims the surface. Ripples mar the previously untouched water as you slowly make your way in. The pool is large, about five feet in diameter and rounded, with decorative rocks by the wooden bamboo fence. Little plants run along the fence, ferns and pretty white flowers. The ceiling is painted with a beautiful starry night scene, to give the illusion of outdoors, and fake candles hide in the plants.

The address sitting by, the one that faces the room is more modern, with a thin Rock Ledge and a small basket for your towel. The fluffy white towels were provided with the room, along with some complimentary Yukata and only one futon, because of course. You think all the way into the water letting the soothing warmth sink into your bones. The ledge you are sitting on is beneath the water allowing the milky warm water to almost completely cover your breasts. You sigh, and lean your head back, closing your eyes. 

What a long, tiring, day it had been. First the long drive up, and then this dress of your co-workers insisting they share a room, and just because they were dating. And then after all of that along awkward dinner with your boss while the two of you watched your co-workers cuddle and feed each other the entire time. And then they had ditched both of you to definitely fuck. Yeah, so much fun.

You sighed, trying to cheer yourself up. You were being a bit grumpy after Akane had ditched you for her boyfriend. You considered her a good work friend, and even though you knew she was trying to set you up with Ango, you were still a bit salty. But honestly, it wasn't even that bad. The Onsen was lovely, and the food was delicious. The water was warm and delicious and soothed your bones, and you couldn't help the hopeful feeling that rose in your stomach. Maybe, something will finally happen between you and Ango. Even if the relationship was kind of inappropriate and you didn't think he liked you like that. You sighed, breathing deeply. 

The sound of the sliding door pulled you out of your musings. “Akane, that you?” You called, she had said she would stop by later. “You better have a good apology ready, girl.”The Intruder coughed, a distinctly masculine sound and your eyes shot open. And of course, because the gods were laughing at you, there stood Ango. He coughs again, cheeks pink and eyes avoiding your own. “Not Akane. Sorry. Um, I'll just go.”  he sounds strangely flustered, an emotion you haven't seen him express that often. You can't help it, you give him a potentially flirty smile. “You should come in, sir. The waters really nice.” Ango coughs again, his face turning redder, and you watch as his eyes dart between your collarbones and your face. 

And you really shouldn't, you know you shouldn't, but a theory is forming. A dangerous, sexy, hopeful theory. A theory that maybe, your boss has as much of a crush on you as you do on him. But, your theory needs more data, and so you rise slightly from the water, putting on an innocent smile. “You should really come in sir, and anyway, I need to talk to you. Mei was informing me the other day about some potential data leaks.” You turn with a smile, showing just enough cleavage to be a tease, but enough to spare your dignity if he declines. 

The man himself is still standing by the doorway, probably weighing the pros and cons behind those glasses of his. He’s still wearing his work suit, although his jacket hangs on a coat rack near the door, and he’s rolled up his sleeves a little, exposing his delicate wrists and hands. His hands are pretty, long pale fingers, ribbed slightly with blue veins, the skin slightly transparent. You want those fingers inside of you. Ango lets out the sigh of a very tired man, and with a push of his glasses, gives you a small nod. “I'll join you then.” He says, disappearing behind the bathroom door with a small smile. 

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This is honestly a disaster for his sanity. Ango knows it's a terrible idea, but he took one look at your smile and heard the damning words ‘data leak’ and feared for his future. Both for embarrassing himself and losing more sleep. He can hear faint splashing as he disrobes, folding his clothes and wrapping a towel around his hips to hopefully spare his dignity, at least until he inevitably gets hard and has to drown himself out of mortification. 

He peaks around the door, and his eyes catch on your back, the bit he can see above the water anyway. All he can see is the top of your shoulders, and of course your neck, as you’ve drawn your hair up. And somehow, that's actually worse because you're obviously naked but he still doesn't get a proper view. It feels like a tease. He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and walks towards the hot springs. He’s grateful that you keep your view on the fence as he removes the towel and quickly slips into the milky water, sitting as far away from you as he can without being obvious about it, which is about three feet. You open your eyes, shooting him a little smile. “It's nice isn't it?” You say, leaning towards him slightly. Ango watches as more and more of your clear skin is revealed, and yanks his eyes away from the top of your cleavage, meeting your eyes. “The water? Um, yes it's very nice.” 

He doesn't have his glasses on, and you make a dangerously sexy picture, what with the slight fuzziness maring the edge of his vision. The world behind you is blurry, and not of any importance. It's almost like a photograph, with you at the center. You seem to have gotten slightly closer, and Ango can pick out a mole on your collarbone. It naturally drags the eye to it, and that is definitely why he has a hard time yanking his eyes away from it. “So.” He says, clearing his throat. “You said something about Data leaks?” Is it his imagination or are you leaning closer. He can smell you now, that damn orange blossom perfume that taunts his dreams. 

You're definitely moving closer. “Yes, Mei informed me that some of the files from the classified cases have vanished.” Your smile is too seductive. He must be projecting. You continue. “I think it was files…oh i don't know, ill have to clarify with Mei.” 

Ango clears his throat, focusing his eyes somewhere over your left shoulder. “The classified cases? Potentially how bad are we talking.” He says. You clear your throat, drawing his eyes back to you. At least he can focus on your face. It's very pretty, but at least it does not create problems other than speeding up heart rate. 

“Um, I believe Mei said it was some files about the Hunting Dogs? Specifically Fukuchi.” You lean back against the side of the Onsen, closing your eyes. “I think it was investigative data pulled out of a port mafia exec? Strange little details and stuff like that.” 

The stuff your saying is very concerning, and usually Ango would be having a mini heart attack, but right now your naked and you're less than a foot away from him and all Ango can picture, instead of the sleepless nights he’ll be having soon, is you on top of him, bouncing up and down. You’d sound pretty, he knows it. It's one of his most recurring fantasies, you naked atop him, bouncing up and down and moaning his name. He had it the first time in the middle of a meeting, and he would have been more embarrassed but he knew for a fact that half the men in the room were fantasizing about you. It was still embarrassing though. 

You're so pretty, with your hair pulled up into a messy bun, a few strands falling out and brushing your neck, daring Ango to lay pretty kisses to it. You would look so pretty covered in hickeys, or dressed in pure white at the end of a wedding aisle. Because Ango is quite sure you're the one. You're pretty and smart and kind and so, so sexy and Ango wants to have babies with you. And maybe he’s a little far gone and this entire thing is kind of pathetic and sad but right now he can't bring himself to care because you're smiling at him and Ango is just a sad little man with a sad little crush. Or he can't really call it a crush anymore, can he. He’s quite plainly in love with you. 

“Ango? Are you listening?” Your saying. He looked up guiltily, because he wasn't listening. And now he just noticed you called his name, not his last name, not sir, and he loves it. Maybe a little too much. You sigh, and Ango watches in slow motion as you move closer still. The water ripples as you move, and Ango sees flashes of nipple below the milky surface. He almost chokes on his own spit. 

“Anyay, as I was saying. I think some of it…” You lean closer, and whisper in his ear. “Some of it was from Ace? About Demon Fyodor.” This is important stuff you're talking about, but then again you're also really close to him and you smell like orange blossoms and your boobs brush him under the water and Ango’s hard. He’s definitely hard and he can still feel your nipple brushing against his arm under the water and there's no way you dont feel it because how couldn't you. And now your shooting him fuck me eye’s and Ango knows you’re doing this on purpose. And all at once he feels a sense of relief and embarrassment at the same time and then, he feels your hand grip his wrist, and pull it, ever so slowly, to your chest. Your skin is soft, your nipple hard beneath his palm and as Ango’s hand comes in contact with it, his dick jumps under the water. 

“Um, Name? Wh-what are you doing?” He says, trying to get ahold of his voice. He fails. You're smirking at him, because even as he protests, his hand is still on your boob. 

“I really like you, Ango.” You say, moving closer until you're pressed as close as you can be, your shoulders touching. “I would like to go out with you, if you feel the same.” Ango cant breath, because he’s a simp and the woman he was just imagining in a wedding gown likes him too, and he needs to respond. “I like you too, I really do.” He says. “I was wondering if maybe you want to get coffee sometime? And maybe kiss me? Please kiss me.” 

“I'd love to get coffee. And kiss you too.” You're smiling, less sexily now and more just happily, and Ango’s smiling too, and now you're crawling onto his lap, and pressing your lips to his. And Ango’s dreamed of this, many different times but none of those fantasies can compare to the real thing. It's just a soft press of lips at first, a chaste, deep kiss. A kiss that tells of love and devotion, and less of carnal lust. And it's lovely, so wonderful and Ango’s heart is singing in his chest, and it's just all so wonderful. 

It feels heavenly, like kissing heaven, because you are heaven, and your boobs are pressing into his chest and he can feel his dick pressing against your stomach and he wants to just enjoy the kiss but the slight bit of pressure makes his kisses turn desperate, and now he’s gripping your head, trying to inhale ever bit of your being through your mouth. Your so pretty, so sexy, so attractive and smart and he really wants to fuck you, so bad. He presses his tongue against the seam of your mouth, asking, begging really for entrance. You grant it, and your tongues tangle together, a dance of devotion, now turning to carnal lust. A desire to know one another through your bodies, to feel each other's feelings, really, truly and deeply. 

You break away, panting against his mouth, and Ango feels you grind down, taking your pleasure against his legs. “God, I want you inside of me.” You pant against his mouth. Ango nods, begging you to have your way, pleading for your salvation. Your hands reach between the two of you, and Ango bites his lip as he feels your hands on his cock positioning it, and then he feels a hot pressure envelop the head. 

He bites back another moan, instead opting to watch you as you bite your lip, and slowly sink down the length of his cock, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat. It's so hot, everything is hot. From the onsen water surrounding him, to your body pressed against his, to your panted breaths by his ear as you collapse against him grinding your body slowly.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It's always the nerdy ones who are huge. You're panting against his neck, slowly grinding in circular motions. His dick scrapes against your walls deliciously, his little bitten back whimpers make your pussy clench around him. It's all so hot, so big, so steamy. You slowly rise, dropping down again, and repeat. He spares you deep, so deep. You whimper in his ear. 

“God Ango. god your fucking me so deep.” You moan in his ear, his hair tickling your skin. He lets out a bitten little grunt, hands anchored on your ass, helping your slow thrusts. “I've wanted this for so long.” Ango pants out, his voice all soft and raspy, delicious hands helping another thrust. “Used to stare at your ass in those skirts. Tried not to, I'm sorry.” He sounds so wrecked and pathetic it turns you on. And besides, the tough of straight laced Ango taking peeks at your ass thrilled you. 

“Aww, did you like those skirts?” You coo. He moans, his dick twitching inside of you. “I bet you peaked down my shirt too.” 

“I did, ‘m sorry. You were so pretty and so sexy and—” you shut him up with a kiss. His kisses are deep, full of devotion and lust, almost as if he’s trying to mold himself into you. His dick is wrecking your insides, each deep thrust giving you a dizzy shot of pleasure. And with each grind, your clit rubs against his pubic bone, driving you absolutely crazy. You can tell he feels the same, each painted grunt and moan in your ear is a dead giveaway. You're not much better though, and you kiss his neck, trying to muffle your moans. 

“Let me hear them.” Ango pants against you, hands gripping your ass in handfuls. “Wanna hear your pretty moans.” He sounds wrecked too, and you can't even bring yourself to be embarrassed anymore. You let your moans out, letting them echo around the space. It's all so steamy and intimate. 

You feel your orgasm building in your gut, and you pull your face away from his neck, meeting his eyes. You're looking down on him from here, and it's quite the sexy view. He’s pretty toned, especially because he spends all of his time in an office, but the most catching thing is his eyes. They're locked on your own, hazy and half lidded with lust, and swimming with so much love and devotion you almost cum right there. 

“Ango, ‘m close.” You catch his attention, whimpering the words, whispering them, inches from his lips. He nods. “Me to my darling.” He says. The pet's name is so sweet, so devoted. It hurts your soul, and at the same time warms you from the inside out. But it's the next thing that gets you. “I love you Name.” He whispers, staring so deep into your eyes you might cry. 

You cum with a cry, the pleasure shooting through your body, the pure devotion in his eyes making your heart soar even as your pussy clenches around his dick. “Oh god, I love you too, Ango.” The words are a moan as you grip him close to you, grinding your clit frantically down on his as you clench. You hear him hiss, and then his dick twitches inside you, ropes of hot cum staining your insides. He comes with a tiny little whimper, muffled against your boobs, and the sweetest little whisper of ‘i love you.’ you kiss the words back. You guys sit like that for a long while, pressing little I love you’s into each other's skin, and as his dick comes back to life, making love until the morning.

...

Endnotes: I don't know how Japanese work trips work. I used what I've seen in anime and manga as a basis, and ran with that. I've also never been to an onsen. And it shows.also, have you guys seen that one Ango illustration with the kimono and the book, like i literally cannot do this anymore. I’ll link it for you https://www.pinterest.com/pin/146859637833737986/ 

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ango sakaguchi #ango x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 16(free day)- Wtich!Reader/Landlord!Fukuzawa

Notes:  man, i'm going through a daddy thing huh. Also fair warning, there's a little bit of tentacle nonsense in this fic, but the tentacles are mostly a plot device.

You loved your job. Witch blood had been in your family for generations, and as the only girl of your family you were basically destined to become one. But you could not have been happier. Truly, you loved everything about it, from selling potions and candies to the village folk to hunting for special ingredients deep in the woods to summoning mystical creatures and striking bargains with them. You loved every minute of your witch work, always had. 

Your mother used to let you sit on her lap, braid your hair as she read potion ingredients to herself over your head. She used to let you add ingredients to the easier potions, your chubby toddler hands dumbing rosemary sticks into her bubbling cauldron, the same cauldron that now sat upon your fire. It has also been in your family for generations. 

While in the old days, witch work was more dangerous, now it had become a breeze. The villagers are kind and welcoming, and although you could charge them more for the quality of potion you produced, you decided to charge lower. This village was prosperous, but they were still just villagers, who needed to eat and buy clothes. You had magic, and didn't need these things as often. And besides, your kind older landlord lets you stay for really cheap, provided you let his eight cats come and go as they pleased. 

One of the cats, a white one striped like a tiger, is rubbing up against your leg now. You reach down, petting it a few times before it runs off, probably to join its fellow cats off somewhere. You smile as you watch him go. Really, you don't mind at all. Cats have always been a staple of your family. You have one of your own, a sleek black one named Fedya that refuses pets but secretly loves affection. For some reason he and one of your landlord Fukuzawa’s other cats(a brown one who had a strange affinity for bandages) always hiss at each other. 

Fukuzawa, the landlord who lived above you, was a kind older gentleman of forty-five, unmarried and perhaps the quintessential old cat grandpa(?). You had thought he was terrifying when you first moved in, with his stern eyes and shocking gray hair, but as soon as you saw him surrounded by eight cats of different sizes, smiling like a fool, that scary aura had disappeared, never to return again. He was kind to, treating you much like a daughter and giving you rent at half price. You provided him with free potions whenever he needed, although he always tried to refuse.

Truth be told, you actually had a bit of a crush on him. He was handsome and kind and very tall and you had a weakness for older men with stable jobs. Always had. But you knew he didn't think of you that way. He had even mentioned multiple times that he thought of you like a daughter. Every time you heard him say those words, it broke your heart anew. But you gritted your teeth and hid your crush and went on with life, because that was all you could do.

“Hello? Anyone there?” a woman says. The voice comes from behind you, out in the main part of your small shop. Whipping your hands on your apron and checking your caldron(it's empty, thank god. You almost burnt the house down once.) you exit the small potion preparation station and close the door behind you. The main part of your shop is airy, clean and almost always smelling faintly of oranges and lily’s. You have a glass case full of the more flashy potions, and bunches of herbs hand from the ceilings, perfuming the air with their scents. It's still not enough to overwhelm the orange thought. 

A young woman is standing anxiously at the entrance to the shop. She’s unfamiliar, with fluffy brown hair and skittish pale brown eyes, that dart from your face to her surroundings nervously. She’s an anxious, shy little thing and reminds you distinctly of a doe. You smile warmly at her, trying your best to reassure her. 

“How can I help you miss?” You say. The woman twirls a strand of hair anxiously around one finger. 

“Are you Miss Witch? I'm visiting and the villagers told me you're a witch by trade. Is that true?” She says. Her voice is soft, like ringing bells but it trembles. You nod reassuringly. “Yep, that's me. Do you need something in particular?” You say. 

“Um, do you have anything for insomnia?” The woman says, coming closer as she relaxes. You can see the dark circles lining her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights. You nod, reaching behind yourself and bringing two bottles out to show her. 

“Yep, I've got two. This one is a little stronger.” You hold up a green bottle, the golden label flashing in the midday sun. You continue, holding up another bottle, purple one with silver accents. “This one is a little weaker, but the overall effects are longer lasting. If I may ask, do you know the cause of your insomnia?”

The skittish girl jumps a little, coming closer and carefully examining the bottles closer. “I don't know Miss Witch, I just don't know.” The poor girl bursts into tears, bit fat droplets of water falling down her pink cheeks and splashing onto the wooden floor. You reach out, handing her a handkerchief. 

“Oh dear, well if you sit down I might be able to find the cause for you.” You say, putting both bottles away and walking across the counter, gently gripping the crying girl's shoulders and leading her over to the purple velvet couch set in the corner. She collapses onto it, whipping her tears with your handkerchief. 

She’s a frail thing, not enough meat on her bones and clearly sleep deprived, and you curse yourself for not noticing it sooner. The bell tinkles as one of Fukuzawa’s cats, the one you nicknamed The Bandaged Maniac, saunters in(you’ll never figure out how but he figured out how to open doors) and jumps on the girl's lap, licking up her remaining tears with his pink tongue. You’ve labeled him a ladies man, because he loves your female customers and could care less for your male ones. The girl laughs, and you swear The Bandaged Maniac smirks. 

“It's been happening for three months now.” The girl, Mila, starts out, handing you your soaked handkerchief apologetically. “Whenever I try to sleep, the nightmares come. Horrible, twisting monsters, who chase me and chase me and I just—” She breaks off, shuddering.

“Anyway Miss Witch, I'm so sorry about all of this.” She says, petting The Bandaged Maniac on his head. He starts to purr, sounding way too satisfied with himself. 

You smile, doing your best to be reassuring. “It's no problem Mila. and I think I know what your little problem is.”

⋆♱✮♱⋆

“Thank you Miss Witch, seriously.” Mila says, her pale hands gripping your own, her brown eyes, no longer ringed with shadows, bright with happiness. You smile. “It was no problem at all.” You say, seriously meaning it. You love your job, helping people gives you a rush you could never replace. 

Mila waves one more time, and darts out the door with a huge smile carved across her pretty face. You sink back onto the countertop with a breath. The door opens with a tinkle and your Landlord steps inside with a smile. You grin back, gently placing the necklace Mila had basically forced upon you when you said no charge on your glass countertop. The Bandaged Maniac noses at it, licking your fingers. You pick him up, planting a little kiss on his pink nose and dodging his kisses back. He curls up in your arms, purring up a storm. Fedya slips in the door behind Fukuzawa, and The Bandaged Maniac pulls his head out from between your boobs to hiss. Fedya sticks his nose in the air. 

Fukuzawa has a small package in his hands, and you watch, cooing on the inside as he pulls out some dried fish for Fedya. Fedya, like the little brat he is, turns up his little pink nose. You sigh.

“Fedya refuses to eat anything besides sashimi grade salmon, with a good fat marbling.” You say. He shakes his head with a small smile, stowing the box of dried fish in his inside pocket.

“I came to ask a favor if that's all right.” Fukuzawa says. His voice is as attractive as ever. You shove down any inappropriate thoughts and shoot him a small smile. He barely ever asks favors of you, and you have to bully him into taking any free potions. Sometimes when you turn your back he slips payment onto the counter top and leaves before you can complain. 

“Sure, anything you need. So what can I do for you?” You say, stroking Fedya as he leaps onto your shoulder, rubbing his black fur all over your neck. The Bandaged Maniac hisses as you put him down on the counter, and Fedya proudly leaps into your arms, as if he’s claiming you or something. You place him down as well. He glares balefully at you like you’ve somehow personally offended him, and proudly claims his seat, licking your necklace. 

Fukuzawa comes father into the store, petting the cat on his shoulder, a fat one named potato chip who leaps down, gripping onto your (thankfully covered) shoulder with sharp claws and sits purring on your shoulder. You sigh, pulling him off your shoulder and holding him in your arms. For some reason all of Fukuzawa’s cats are weirdly attached to you. You don't mind, you love cats. 

“Ranpo really loves you.” Fukuzawa chuckles, gesturing to the cat purring up a storm in your arms. You giggle. “I nicknamed him Potato Chip because he wont stop stealing my snacks.” You whisper, leaning forward as if you're telling a secret. Fukuzawa chuckles as you continue. “Anyway, you said you needed a favor?” 

You make your way back behind your shop, and Fukuzawa follows you. Fedya and The Bandaged Maniac follow you two, and Sushi(the black and white one) darts out from behind a chair, trotting up to The Bandaged Maniac and hopping unceremoniously onto his back. Sushi is a smaller cat, who at some point must have had some tiger blood mixed into his house cat genes. He was sweet and affectionate and a bit skittish, a rescue Fukuzawa had told you. Actually most of his cats were rescue’s. The Bandaged Maniac lets Sushi hang on, slowing down slightly so he doesnt fall off. 

You put down Potato Chip, who almost pouts at you unceremoniously, and move to your caldron, starting the fire with a wave of your hand. Fukuzawa sits down on your couch beside Potato Chip, and starts feeding him dried fish. 

“I was wondering if you could make a sleeping potion for me?” Fukuzawa says from behind you. You nod. “Yeah that's easy. Did you need a special one?” 

Fedya is crawling up your back, digging his claws into your skirt and leaping back up onto your shoulder. You sigh, chopping rumroot into identical pieces as Fukuzawa continues. “Well some of my cats have been having a hard time sleeping lately, and i was wondering…” He trails off, voice sounding apologetic. You smile. “Yep, i can finish that up by tonight. You can just stop by around eight to pick it up. That sound good?” You say, turning from your cutting bored to look at the man on the couch.

He’s just sitting, but he looks all relaxed and domestic and it makes your heart clench in your chest. You wouldn't say you want kids, but Fukuzawa evokes ‘id have your babies’ feelings in you sometimes. Hurriedly, you turn away. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Fukuzawa says, smiling. Fedya starts hissing from your shoulder. You sigh, reaching up to pet his soft fur reassuringly. 

“Yes, I know, I'll feed you right now baby. Sorry Fukuzawa, could you grab the sliced salmon out of the fridge?” 

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You really didn't know how you ended up in this situation. Well, actually you did, but it was all moving very fast. It was late, maybe 7:50 and you were on your hands and knees, drawing a summoning circle on the wooden floors of your work station. You need a few more ingredients, most notably the milk of a tentecalus, a strange monster from the ocean regions. The rest of Fukuzawa’s potion was bubbling on the stove, and you just need to finish it off with the fresh milk, and then it's done.

The summoning circle glows to life, and the strange smooth tentacles of the Tentecalus start sprouting through your floor. You’ve summoned this monster a few times before, but the strange blue glow the tentacles gave off was still a little concerning. You sighed, and moved closer to the beast. 

The Tentecalus was classified as a non sentient, meaning it was basically the same as an animal. So all you had to do was stroke one of the tentacles and get it to start secreting milk, which you would collect in a small cloth and squeeze into your potion. It's all going very well, and you're turning from the monster, and depositing Fukuzawa’s potion in a glass vial on the table when you feel a weird slimy thing wrapping around your bare leg. It's night, near bedtime and you're wearing a silk pajama sleep set, which leaves lots of bare skin exposed. 

Something wraps around your ankle and with a shriek, you're lifted into the air. Tentacles are wrapping you from all sides, two hoist your hands above your head, one worms its way around your torso, and yet another two grip your ankles, pulling your legs apart into a rather compromising position. You should feel scared, but then you notice the strange purple glow that has replaced the usual blue, and you realize you’ve forgotten one of the most basic rules of summoning Tentacalus’s. Don't summon them near october, their prime mating season. 

And sure enough, a thin blue tentacle is winding underneath your sleep shirt, twisting one of your nipples lightly. You bite back a sound, and try in vain to struggle from its grasp. But to no avail, it's got you snug. You have to erase part of the summoning circle, sending the monster back where it came from, but you can't reach it from where you are, hoisted in the air. You sigh, and sit tight, waiting for Fukuzawa to arrive. 

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Fukuzawa glances at the clock. 7:58. It's probably appropriate to go and visit you now. He gently lowers Sushi to the ground, closes the door behind him and makes his way down towards your unit. You’re such a sweet woman. It had been nearly four years since you first moved in, out of your depth and new to town. He was happy to offer a half price rent deal to you. It was really no issue to him, but you had looked so thrilled when he told you, all bright eyed smiles and friendly touches Fukuzawa hates how his heart clenched. You were much too young for him, pretty and fresh and vibrant and very popular with the village boys, although for some reason you never noticed.

You would never be interested in him as anything more than a friend, and Fukuzawa would have to convince himself the same. And so he tried his best to think of you like a daughter. You were a little old for that, but it helped him at least lie to himself that his feelings for you were fatherly compassion, and nothing more. He was a liar. And he was forced to come to terms with his less than pure feeling when he caught himself looking down your blouse. You were helping him hang Christmas decorations, holding the ladder as he climbed up it, and all he meant to do was look down as you handed him an ornament. 

But when he looked down all that he could see was your boobs, and the edge of your pretty white lace bra and he just…sort of short circuited for a moment, and almost fell off the ladder. You berated him and insisted you go up instead and then for the next half hour he got an eyeful of your matching panties, visible underneath your skirt. He really hated himself a little that night, when he found himself with his hand around his dick, your name on his lips. He felt like a pervert when it happened, like a nasty old perverted man. So he stopped lying to himself that he saw you as a daughter, and just focused on hiding his feelings and being a good friend, and not getting any more tempting glimpses of your underwear. 

He knocks lightly on your door, frowning as it opens with a creak. “Name?” Fukuzawa walls out, peaking around the door into your darkened shop. 

‘Oh thank goddess, come quickly Fukuzawa.” Your voice sounds strange, breathy and slightly muffled and Fukuzawa hurried inside, closing the door behind him and making sure to lock it. A faint purple glow is coming from inside your back room, and he pushes the door open, all ready to charge in and play the hero, but comes to a screeching halt as he takes in the picture in front of him.

The first thing he sees is your face. Eyes heavy lidded and full of relief as they gaze upon him, lips spit slicked with saliva and the most dangerous expression carved across your face. You look just how you look in his fantasies, when he has you bouncing on his cock, or when he has his face buried in your pussy, your hands tangled in his hair, yanking it as you buck against his face—

The second thing he notices, and maybe the most alarming, is the strange sea creature’s tentacles wrapped around your thighs, more around your boobs, still more pulling up your tank top and giving Fukuzawa a full view out of his fantasies as they work your boobs. But perhaps the worst is the two tentacles holding your legs open, and Fukuzawa’s eyes catch on the wet spot forming against the crotch of your matching sleep shorts. He gulps.

“I'm sorry about this Fukuzawa.” You say, and Fukuzawa immediately moves his gaze from the more intimate areas of your body back to your face. He subtly moves, adjusting himself in his pants. Hearing you say his name like that is not helping his boner go away. 

“I need you, ohh~” You interrupt yourself with a moan as the monster twists your nipple. Fukuzawa tells his fried brain that you don't need him, you need him to do something, obviously. His dick twitches anyway. You continue. “I need you to smudge the circle.” Your voice is breathy, desperate and devastating and Fukuzawa takes a hot minute to truly comprehend what you said. 

He does see something on the floor, a glowing summoning circle. Hurriedly, he smudges the chalk with his foot. The effect is immediate, the tentacles disappear and you fall through the air. Fukuzawa reaches out to catch you before his brain can tell him no, bad idea and suddenly he had an armful of turned on panting girl. You look up at him, eyes still clouded with lust. Fukuzawa gulps. He feels somehow like he’s already lost, that all you have to do is ask him, and he’ll bend to your will. Anything, he would do anything. Hell, he would even kill a man for you, just to get a taste of you.

“Fukuzawa.” You say, eyes on him. 

“Yes?” He replies, begging you dearly in his mind to let him have you. He would do anything.

“Kiss me.” You say, and like a puppet released from its strings, Fukuzawa does just that. 

⋆♱✮♱⋆

Fukuzawa kisses like a man staved, he kisses like he has been wanting, wanting, wanting, and is finally allowed to devour, and you love every minute of it. You feel desired, and treasured, and teased beyond measure and almost a little confused. But he’s still holding you in his arms, and carrying you across the room to lay you gently on the bed. The familiar covers feel soft beneath your skin, and Fukuzawa follows you down, pressing kiss after desperate kiss onto your lips, his thigh finding its way between your legs. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, the kisses turning dirty and desperate and you anchor your hands in his silver hair, tugging slightly. He groans and responds.

“Name.” Fukuzawa tries to pull away from your mouth. You keep pressing kisses onto his lips, robbing the breath from his throat. 

“Name, please.” He tries again. You answer, in between kisses. “Yes?” 

“I want to ask if—” He gets cut off again as you press a kiss to his pulse point, and he responds by kissing you deeper into the comforters, his thigh working between your legs. You moan and finally he pulls away, using a hand to hold your wrists against the comforter. You hate how much it turns you on. 

“I want to ask if this is just a one night stand for you.” He says, looking earnest and adorable, even as his big hand holds your wrists down. You squirm against his thigh, his stern expression thoroughly turning you on. He continues. “Because I really like you and would like this to be something more.” Your heart stutters at those words, the effect of them almost enough to pierce through the horny haze surrounding you. Almost. You do want to give him a true reply though.

“I would like it to be more too.” You say, the emotion is clear in your words. The effect is immediate, his gaze sofens, and his grip on your wrists loosens. You grind against his thigh again, his muscles tensing against your sensitive clit. He’s looking at you with such care, such clear emotion and love and yet you can also feel his dick, hard and throbbing against your leg. You grind down harder against his thigh, as he helpfully shoves it harder against you, releasing your hands as they fly up to his hair, dragging his mouth to your lips. He kisses you nonstop, rough, deep searching kisses that press you into the mattress. He recesses your hands, allowing them to tangle in his silver hair, yanking slightly on the strands. His hands are big, rough with sword calluses and deliciously warm as they smooth over your boobs, pulling your thin tank top over your head. He pulls away from your mouth, pressing kisses into your neck as he speaks. 

“You're so pretty.” Fukuzawa says, kissing lower and lower as he slides down, his hands reluctantly leaving your breasts to grip the waist of your sleep shorts, pulling them off. 

“Thanks.” You giggle, fingers lightly twisting your nipples, watching as his big hands grip your thighs, repositionsing you as he kneels down. “I always thought you were handsome, you know. Thought you saw me like a daughter.” You continue, head falling back as he licks your pussy, tongue dancing around your clit. He speaks in between licks, one thick finger prying you open. 

“Tried to convince myself, lied to myself. Always thought you were pretty and sexy and…” He cuts himself off as you moan, back arching as he adds another finger, scissoring you open. His fingers are thick, much thicker than yours and they fill you nicely. You know his cock will fill you better. 

“Want your cock.” You whimper, bucking into his hand widely. He pulls his mouth away from its dangerous motions on your clit, taking in your flustered appearance. You feel hot. Everything feels hot, and intimate, and you feel like you're going to go crazy if you don't have his cock inside you. Now. 

You tell him as much in begs, he chuckles at your enthusiasm, watching as you pull yourself off his fingers with a moan, pushing him onto the bed and crawling on top of him. You grip his thick cock in both hands, lining the head up with your dripping pussy. You sink down slowly, thighs burning as you watch his face. 

Fukuzawa bites his lip, eyes glued to where your pussy takes him in as you sink down, the slightest bit of sweat lining his temples. He has this dazed look on his face, like he can't believe this is happening, and you like it. No, you love it. The thought that he dreamed of this, that he desired this, made your pussy clench around him as you finally bottomed out, and you began to ride him. The naughty slaps of skin fill the air, your moans and Fukuzawa’s groans and the occasional whispered word. He lets you take control, at least until your thighs start burning and he lays you on your back, and then proceeds to fuck you nearly into oblivion. 

His thrusts are deep, almost like he’s trying to turn you inside out and with each thrust he brushes against your g-spot. Your back arches with a cry, coming off the mattress, and your nails dig scratches into his back. 

“Fukuzawa, I'm gonna cum.” You moan into his ear. He’s leaning above you, his big hands anchored by your head, leaving indentations in the bed. He puts his hips deep into you with each thrust, pushing you back into the soft surface of the bed. You cum with a cry, clenching around his legnth as he fucks you through it, whispering sweet little sentences into your ear.

Endnotes: sry the ending is rushed, i got super tired and my eyes started blurring over, so thats fun

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fukuzawa x reader #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd fukuzawa

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 14-Priest!Fyodor/Nun!Reader- with the prompt Masturbation

Notes: in an effort not to offend anyone, i'm using a made up fantasy religion that's not explicitly explained. I'm not religious and I don't want to accidentally offend anyone with this nasty little fic.

Also, if you’ve been reading my other Fyodor stuff and noticed that i mention his accent every chance i get, yes, i do love accent, probably a little too much(especially his it makes me h*rny)

The grand cathedral was a pristine place, sparkling white walls and large stained glass windows. You disliked it, the walls seemed to be always watching you. You preferred the smaller cathedral, the walls were a comforting wood paneling, and the arched ceiling was black, its stained glass windows showing pictures of orchards and dancing fairies, and not the angry eyes of the goddess. The goddess always seemed to be watching you in that cathedral, and lately you felt like avoiding her eyes. 

Chores are comforting in a way. They let you escape from the busy world for a minute, dodge the gossip of the younger nuns. You loved gossip, but sometimes you were just too tired to keep up, and escaped to the smaller temple to wind down. The goddess in this temple somehow seemed different than the angry one in the cathedral, as if they were two separate entities, two sides of the same coin.  

Carrying your mop and bucket, you open the large doors to the temple, taking a moment to soak up the atmosphere. It's a large room, long with a high arching ceiling. Blackwood beams arch into the sky, as if it's reaching for the goddesses mercy itself. You would appreciate some mercy, but you fear her too much to pray for forgiveness. 

The walls are made of blackwood too, and rough with tree knots interspersed throughout. Large, arching windows let the sunset light in the light sprawling across the floor in large spires, collared different colors as it reflects the stained glass. These stained glass have always been your favorite. They depict the goddess, but in a softer light. She’s smiling, and not looking directly at you, judging you for your sins. She frolics in the grass in one, takes a bite out of some fruit in another, and yet another depicts the goddess with her lover, smiling so brightly you mistake her for real for just a split second. 

A pedestal stands at the head of the room, a large statue of the goddess behind it. She’s pretty, your goddess. Tall, with curves and long, long wavy hair that trails the floor behind her. She stands with her hands outstretched, flowers flowing from her fingertips and trailing the ground. Her eyes are curved, her mouth carved into a pretty smile, a welcoming smile. Her eyes seem alive, and although the statue is made of marble, you get the vague sense that they are a startling vivid green. 

You feel her eyes on you, berating you with her upset face. A face of disappointment, a face of sadness. And that hurts you much more than the stakes of anger ever could. 

“I'm sorry, goddess.” The words echoed in the empty chamber, bouncing off the walls. The goddess looked on, unyielding, her face carved into a permanently happy expression. You hate the other statue of the goddess, the one whose face is carved into an unyieldingly blank smile, her eyes forcing guilt upon her worshipers. 

You turn your eyes away from the statue, and carefully work the mop across the wood floor, avoiding the metals impeded in it. Sister Mila said never to scrub the metal, it offends the goddess. And you really don't need to be offending the goddess anymore than you surely already have. Your heart is heavy as you try to banish the thoughts from your mind, the nasty wrong thoughts. The goddess would be disappointed in you. 

Finished with the moping, you move to dust the small confessional booth in the corner. It's tucked away from the main room, used by nuns who want to confess a sin of sorts, although the sins are usually trivial things like eating an extra serving of breakfast, or losing a friend's prize possession. Father Fyodor, the priest who usually takes care of the confessions is out right now, enabling you to clean the room in peace. It's good too, because seeing the Father right now might truly break you. You don't dare visit the confessional yourself, and confess your dirty thoughts to the star of your fantasies. 

The dangerous thoughts are coming back, terrible, dirty thoughts and you wash the wood paneling harder, as if it will scrub your brain of the dirty fantasies. 

It had started a few months ago, when Alina, one of the younger Nuns, had snuck into the village bookstore and purchased a certain kind of book.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“Guess what I got.” Alina says, flipping her hair over her shoulder excitedly. She’s holding a book in her freckled hands, the cover a rich deep red with the title ‘Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love’. You wince at the dubious title. The room is lit by a single candle, you and Alina huddled around it. Alina’s fiery red hair bounces dangerously close to the candle, and you subtly pull the flame away. 

“What? You were in town, right?” you say, pearing curiously at her. Alina nods. “Yep, Sister Mila took me and Hikari downtown to get the usual grocery run. And I snuck off.” She giggles, waving her book excitedly in your direction. You eye her curiously, a little apprehensive. Alina is the troublemaker of your little group, always sneaking off to do this or that or something. Although usually the kind of mischief she would get up to was wholly different. A book is a little, um, normal for her. You are almost more scared of the unknown it presents. 

You hush her with a finger, leaning close. “Remember, be quiet. We don't want Sister Mila to discover us.” She whispers. The three of you are huddled together in the middle of your shared room. The large lamps that usually light the room have been extinguished, and Alina leans closer to the candle, reading by the small ring of light it gives. You lean closer, becoming her to speak. Despite your apprehension at the dubious title, you love books. 

“It was a dark and stormy night…” Alina begins. Her soft voice is perfect for storytelling, and the story is interesting, about a nun like yourselves. It's not until Alina’s halfway through the second chapter, and the warning signs start to pop up, that you begin to have doubts. 

A character named Mikhail is the first red flag. A priest who the main character, Sofiya, speaks of a little too highly to be normal. “...Father Mikhail stole my attention once more, his piercing eyes undressing me from across the table…” 

And then, it turns out the book is a romance novel. Which is fine, actually. Great, considering you love romance novels. But then, the first explicit scene starts. 

“...He caressed my body with his thick hands, smoothing the goosebumps that lingered from his kiss, driving my body wild with his touch...” Alina is barely holding back her grin as she reads, looking up every so often to see how you respond. You can feel your face heating up, and you glare at her balefully, but make no move to protest. She continues on. 

“...‘oh Father Mikhail.’ I said, clutching desperately at his shoulders. ‘We mustn't do this. It is forbidden.’ he kissed the protests from my lips, his thick hands sliding beneath my skirt and caressing the meat of my thighs. ‘Do you really care what they think?’ He said, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Or do you care about us, about this heat we create—” Alina dissolves to the ground in giggles as you yank the book from her hands, face flaming. “Alina! How could you buy a…a…” You lower your voice, your face burning. “A dirty book.” You say, face on fire. Alina giggles at your response, yanking the book back. 

“It's an Erotica, and it's perfectly healthy to be curious about these things.” She says, a bit too loud. You shush her and she continues in a whisper. “Besides, I saw you enjoying it.” You blush, but don't deny her. It will do no good to lie after all. “But Sister Mila will be furious.” You say. Alina frowns with a sigh. “We’re already in our nineteenth year, old enough to make our own rules.” She says, opening the book back up. “So where did we leave off…‘Or do you care about us, and this heat we create’. I nod desperately against him, the heat of his…”

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

And ever since that day, when Alina had read her ‘erotica’ book to you, it was all you could think about. And everytime you laid eyes on Father Fyodor, all you could think about was the dream that had preceded it. You were ashamed when you woke up in the morning, a sticky wetness between your legs and the Father’s name on your lips. It was such a strange and uncomfortable feeling, the guilt thereafter. You had been driven nearly crazy by the heat between your legs that had abated only with a cold bath, but had left you feeling strangely unsatisfied and pent up. You hated it, and you hated how you didn't know what to do to make it go away.

It wasn't strange how you were fantasizing about Father Fyodor. It's quite embarrassing to admit but you’ve always found him handsome. The two of you entered the church around the same time, but he had risen through the ranks much faster than you, already a priest at the young age of twenty two. You were ranked high as well, but had yet to reach the rank you desired, that of a goddess nun. 

You remembered well the day you had arrived at the temple. The children who were sent to the temple every year were few, but still notable. You remember very clearly being plopped onto the carriage with a kiss by your mother, the only other occupant a pretty boy with long hair, who teased you and played with your hair. He was so cool to your ten year old mind, a boy who at fourteen, was practically the coolest thing in the world to you. The veneer had faded slightly, as the distance between you two had widened, until you barely spoke anymore. It hurt you more than you would let on. 

But, until now, you had thought your feelings were simply admiration, and nothing more. But as even the memories of the dreams made that frustrating heat pool in your lower regions, you are forced to accept that maybe your feelings are a little different. You clearly want him to do those things, the things Mikahil in the book had done to Sofiya, the things that would make this heat go away for good. But for now you would have to ignore the heat and avoid him for the life of you. It wouldn’t be hard, the two of you barely interacted anyway.

The guilt that always accompanies the heat is slowly eating away at you, the worries that you are a bad person, that this heat is bad. The dreams are bad, desiring a holy father you're sure is against the rules. Although you would never ask Sister Mila, you’re sure that it's wrong. 

Pushing away the spikes of sadness and guilt that those words bring on, you sigh to yourself and finish your chores in record time. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

“So, what did you need?” Alina is sitting across from you in the cafeteria, knitting something teal that vaguely looks like a hat. She’s already finished her blueberry pancakes, and the empty plate rests in front of her. You clear your throat.  “Well, um…” You say. You don't know if you should even ask this question, let alone at breakfast in the cafeteria, in earshot of the older Nuns. You play with your own pancakes, spearing a blueberry on your fork. Alina, worried at your silence, puts down her hat thing, and fixes her brilliant green eyes on you. 

“Name, is something wrong?” She says. She looks so genuinely worried and you start to feel a little bad. The issue isn't that bad, and you don't want to make her feel guilty by telling her the problem. Alina is a kind soul, who has been your best friend in this place for many, many years. You love her, but you don't want her to worry over your stupid problems. 

You do your best to paste on a smile, taking a bite of your fluffy pancakes. “Who’s supervising grocery duty today?” You say, hoping your voice sounds optimistic. Alina picks up her hat again, worries assuaged. “Um, I think it's Sister Katya? Not sure.” She says, leaning closer with a whisper. “You wanna sneak off and get more books?” She wiggles her eyebrows, the last word dripping with insinuations. You flush, and slowly shake your head. You're tempted though, because the books are not sinful themselves. It's your brain that has come up with the sinful scenarios involving a holy father. You feel that horrible guilt, accompanied obviously by that heat. You rub your thighs together. 

“You sure?” Aline says, still whispering. She leans forward with a wink. “They have Divine Desires: A Tale of Forbidden Love volume two…” She leaves the question open ended, her voice going up temptingly at the end. You hate how tempted you are.

“Alright, fine.” You whisper back. Alina grins in triumph, and pulls back as a senior nun walks behind the two of you, eyes full of suspicion. You quail under them, while Alina stares back defiantly. You’ve never been good with authority, and now it's even worse. All you can feel is guilt and hatred, hatred of your poisoned mind. For how could you think such thoughts of a pious man like Father Fyodor. You tense under the nuns searching eyes, and breathe a sigh of relief as she walks away. You hate yourself for it. 

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

Alina’s waiting for you by the large wrought iron gate that blocks the temple from the outside world. She waves you over, handing you a large canvas bag. “For the groceries.” She says with a wink. You look around, noting the suspicious absence of supervision. “Where’s Sister Katya?” You ask. Alina gestures towards the path back to the monastery, and sure enough here comes sister Katya, talking to a familiar dreaded head of pretty black hair. You immediately look away, making desperate eye contact with Alina. She shrugs, looking just as confused as you are.

Sister Katya is young, for a senior Nun, and blond. She’s very pretty too, and you feel a nasty emotion you know as jealousy as she smiles at Father Fyodor, their conversation too far away for you to hear. Alina, smirking by your side, asks the question as the two of them join your small posse by the gate. “Hi Sister Katya.” She starts out, as you avoid all eyes, staring instead at the red roses growing by the fence. “Why is Father Fyodor joining us?” Sister Katya frowns in disapproval. “Alina, don't speak so rudely. And Name?” She says. “Raise your eyes and greet your superiors.” You raise your eyes, focusing them on Sister Katya and not looking in the other ones direction. 

“Hello Sister Katya, Father Fyodor.” You're proud of how your voice doesn't waver, even though that guilt is eating you from the inside out. “It is nice to see your Name.” Fyodor’s familiar voice sounds from next to sister Katya, and involuntarily your eyes are on him again. He looks as handsome as ever with his dark, dark hair and piercing eyes. He somehow even manages to make a priest's outfit look attractive, and you feel that familiar heat built in the pit of your stomach. You quickly look away, flushed, embarrassed and oh, so guilty. 

Sister Katya spares you a small smile, and then unlocks the chains blocking the gate. The carriage is waiting, and you hop in across from Alina, hoping and praying to the goddess that Fyodor will take the other seat, the one far away from you. The goddess must be exacting her revenge for your nasty thoughts however because instead of sitting on the other side, Fyodor chooses to sit right next to you. You try your best to curb your nasty thoughts, but they creep back, almost involuntarily. The heat, that pulsing heat in your groin overtakes your thoughts and you rub your thighs together, seeking the nasty bit of friction it gains you. 

“It's been a while since I've seen you, Name.” Fyodor says. The carriage goes over a bump and you bounce a little. The seam of your underwear pulls against your crotch and you bite back a sound. “I suppose so, yes.” You reply, once the bumpiness has passed. You sound cold, you know, but you hope to discourage him from talking to you. You don't deserve his attention, with your nasty thoughts. 

“It seems you are doing well?” He says, that accent catching prettily on your ears. He’s had it forever, and for some reason it hasn't seemed to fade, even after years at the monastery. “I guess so, yes. You?” You say. You can't help continuing the conversation, even as you mentally yell at yourself. Fyodor smells like an idea, like an old abandoned church covered in moss, surrounded by lilies and ivy, alone and unforsaken but not lonely. He smells like heaven. You cough, embarrassed. 

“I've been busy, many come to confess lately.” He says. The idea of confessing your sins drives you crazy at night, tormenting your soul. You sigh as he continues. “Remember dear, if you ever need to confess a carnal sin the booth is open.” The phrasing catches you, stopping you dead in your tracks. An idea, a seedling planted in your brain, ready to sprout at the first drop of water. Your curiosity peaks, you dare to ask a question. 

“Carnal sin? Have many people been confessing sins of that sort lately?” You try to devise the anxiety in your voice, doing your best to sound casually curious. Sister Katya is sitting across from you still, lecturing Alina about proper worship positions. Fyodor leans down slightly, his breath tickling your ear as he speaks. “An erotic book cart had been stationed downtown for a couple weeks now.” He starts. Your heart pounds in your chest even as heat pulses in your groin. He’s much too close. He continues, seeming not to notice your distress. “I must reassure them over and over again, that such physical desires are natural. They insist on apologies to the goddess it seems.” 

A spike of home roars to life in your chest, but then you remember the kinds of dirty thoughts you're having. The goddess would never forgive a woman who desired a holy man. Maybe she would be happier if you did indeed confess your sins. Your mind made up, the tree in your brain sprouts, growing into a pretty little sapling, white lilies falling from the branches. Trying to probe subtly for information, you lean a little closer. 

“Are you working in the confession booth tonight Father?” You don't think you could confess your sins to the man you fantasized about. You don't have the guts. 

“I'm not sure, Dear, Father Nikolai and I switch off.” He says, laying a hand on your thigh as the carriage bumps again. The heat in your gut pulses, and you bite your lips to muffle your cry. Resolved to confess your sins tonight and beg the goddess for her mercy, you settle back into the torturous ride, with a small sigh of relief. 

You miss the smirk that carves its way across Fyodor’s face, the pieces of his little puzzle falling perfectly into place. 

You’ve always been such a good girl, and he knows you’ll be good for him too. He’s always loved you that about you.

⭒ ༺ ♰ ༻ ⭒

The shopping trip had been uneventful. Alina had disappeared for a while, and returned with a bag packed full of books, both erotic and regular. Father Fyodor had been glued to your side for some reason, and Sister Katya had spent the trip flirting with him. You had done your best to ignore her, and control your perverted urges around the Father.

It was night now, just after the curfew for the younger Nuns and you were sitting on your bed, still clothed, carefully lighting a lantern. You were technically breaking curfew, but there were certain rules that allowed you to go out after curfew, and confessing your sins was one of them. The temple had such strange rules, that if you wanted to, could be easily exploited. You yourself had never used this particular rule, simply because you didn't have a reason to.

The halls are quiet, the shadows arching gracefully along the high ceilinged hallways. The lamps flicker, and the shadows come to life, joyfully dancing with each other along the walls. The candlelight lamps through large circles of golden light along the floor, but they never touch. Forever alone, always watching, never touching. You hurry along the hallways, kitten heels making faint clicks on the hardwood floors. 

It's more well lit near the grand cathedral, and the sound of choral practice fills the hallway. You hurry past, taking care not to disturb the older nuns. While technically you were not doing anything wrong, you didn't want to poke the sleeping bear so to speak. The strains of music fade behind you as you move deeper into the church. The goddess's room, and subsequently the confessional booth, is in a much older part of the church, past the white marble of the newer sections and back to the black hardwood and titanium that the church had begun with. The lights turn purple, their shades a muted lavender and you hurry faster, wanting to escape the aerie hallway.

The door opens with a creak, and you notice the light that signals a priest is in fact inside. You can't tell who, but you pray to the goddess that she may grant you small mercy’s and that it's Father Nikolai. 

Father Nikolai is a strange man, with silver hair and a dramatic eye patch. He refuses to wear the uniform and instead wanders around wearing a strange jester uniform. He’s honestly not as weird as some of the other priests(Priestess Yosano who occasionally does strange experiments in the basement, and Father Dazai who owns a giant white tiger.) but Nikolai and Fyodor are the only priests who listen to confessions, you're not sure why. Father Nikolai tells way too many jokes and occasionally forces people to partake in his weird quizzes, but he’s harmless. You think. You're not totally sure, but you are sure you would rather take the weirdo with the stupid outfit than the object of your dirty fantasies. 

You step forward, knocking lightly on the door to signify that you are here. The confessional is one of the oldest antiques in the Temple, made of ancient black wood with real silver accents that have to be polished. It's two-sided, with two doors that can be locked just in case. You take a deep breath, extinguish your lantern and enter the chamber, closing the door with a resolute slam. Your side of the confessional is larger than you would have guessed, with enough room for three people to lay comfortably side by side. It’s wooden as well, and while a bench lines the far end, you choose to kneel in a worshiping position, begging the goddess for mercy in your mind. 

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been many years since my last confession.” You say, your voice low to match the atmosphere. The words feel foreign and heavy on your tongue. The man on the other side of the one way partition, Father Nikolai you hope, hums gently, signifying you to continue. You know he can see you, but you cannot see him. The glass is full length, and a special one imported from a foreign land you were told. You bow your head, and begin your sordid tale.

“I pray the goddess will forgive my sorry self, for I have sinned of the utmost. The sin of carnal flesh.” You're already trembling, but in horror you realize the dirty thoughts are pouring back into your head, and that dreaded heat is pooling in your stomach.

“I have desired a holy man, and I have felt temptation and I simply do not know what to do.” You're close to tears, but that heat in your gut is pulsing, and you rub your thighs together, your vision growing warm and fuzzy. You continue in earnest. “Even now, as I think of the dreams my body heats up, and I don't know what to do, Father, but beg for the goddess’s forgiveness.” 

The silence scares you, but you bow your head and beg the goddess’s forgiveness like you've been taught. And after a while, the voice you were least wanting to hear comes through from the other side. 

“My Dear, what a pleasant surprise.” Fyodor’s accent is unmistakable, and while your brain feels fear the heat in your guy pulses. The hardwood floors scrape your bare knees, and the thought of him makes that heat, that fire grow into a raging curtain, hell bent on ruining you. You bow your head lower, as the priest continues. 

“You wish to know how to stop the desire? That heat in your gut?” He sounds kind, his voice softened to almost a pur in the golden lamplight. You nod, expressing your enthusiasm but not trusting your voice. He chuckles. 

“I see.” he says, and you hear some shifting through the glass. “Well, then follow my instructions closely. Can you do that dear?” 

You nod, thanking the goddess gratefully for such an opportunity. The heat is still present, and has increased as the Fyodor has spoken. His accent does things to you, things you’d rather not think too hard of. When he speaks you want him to do things to you, forbidden things. Feeling rather guilty at the turn this has taken, you thank the Father as well, most profusely. “Thank you Father Fyodor, I am much indebted to you.” He chuckles behind the glass.

“Well then dear, sit down on the bench behind you.” He says. You scramble to do as he instructs, sitting down on the hardwood. The priest continues. “Now, do you feel a pulsing heat in your stomach?” At your nod, he continues on. “Now bring two fingers between your legs.” 

Your face is aflame, but you follow his instructions, slipping your hand beneath your skirt and hesitantly touching the gusset of your undergarments. To your surprise, the fabric feels damp. Your confusion must show on your face, because you can hear Fyodor chuckle.

“It's wet, isn't it Dear.” His voice is all husky, and the tone shoots a bolt of white hot pleasure between your legs. You feel your insides clench around nothing, and suddenly feel so dreadfully empty. You nod, and the priest continues. “Spread your legs for me, and pull up your skirt.” 

Your face is flushed with embarrassment, your heart pounding double time in your chest, but you do as he instructs, bunchin your skirt around your legs and spreading your thighs apart, baring your plain undergarments to the world. Fyodor makes a pleased sound through the barrier. 

“You're such a good girl.” He says. You whine at the praise, biting down on your lips to keep the embarrassing sounds in. A faint rustling can be heard through the partition, and Fyodor continues, almost slightly out of breath. “Now take off your panties Dear.” 

“I'm embarrassed Father.” You whine out. Your voice is unfamiliar to your ears, all breathy and full of something hot and needy. The man across the partition chuckles. “Call me Fyodor Darling.” He says. “And there is no need to be embarrassed, desire is a natural part of life my Dear. The goddess was a married woman, who partook in these types of things all the time.” His reassurance greatly helps, and the guilt slowly drains away with the rest of your common sense. Still slightly embarrassed, you slide your panties off, setting them gently beside you on the bench.

A slight breeze hits your cunt, and you shiver, another embarrassing sound working its way dangerously up your throat. “What’s next Fyodor.” You say.

A faint sound can be heard through the partition, almost as if someone is oiling a slick surface, and Fyodor’s voice comes out a little rough when he speaks. “Touch your cunt again dear, what do you feel?” You do as he instructs.

You can feel the lips, and you push past them to where you pee. To your surprise you jolt as a bolt of pure pleasure shoots up your spine. An embarrassing noise bullies its way past your bitten lips, echoing in the wooden chamber. Fyodor chuckles. “Feels good right Dear? Now slide your fingers down slowly, until you feel the wetness.” His accent is a little thicker now, and his words slur ever so slightly. The effect is much too sexy, you feel another bolt of pleasure, this is softer than the one before.

You do as he instructs, sliding your fingers away from the spot and down. You startle as you feel the large amounts of sticky wetness pooling down there. You pull your fingers away from your cunt, and up to your eyesight. They shine, and a thin string of the strange liquid stretches between your fingers as you pull them apart. Fyodor makes a choked up sound behind the partition. “So good darlin, so pretty. Now do you feel an opening down there?” He says.

You ring your fingers back down, and feel around until your fingers sink into something. You nod your assent, and Fyodor speaks again from behind the glass. “Sink one finger in until the knuckle to start.” He grunts out. For the first time you feel a slight bit of discomfort as your finger sinks in. You're being stretched open, and you feel the urge to pull them out again but you trust Fyodor, with your whole heart and soul. You let it sit in the heat for a moment, adjusting to the strange intrusion. 

“Now, sink in a little further Dear.” He says. The pet names are driving you crazy, giving you hope as another shot of pleasure rockets through your nerve endings. You whimper a moan, embarrassed, and do as he instructs. It takes a minute to sink the whole finger in, but you manage it, panting into the steamy air. The intrusion feels new, but not bad, not at all. It feels good to be full, but you also feel hollow, like you're missing something. You communicate this in a breathless voice.

“Want more Fyodor.” Your voice doesn't sound your own, torn with pleasure and bliss. “Pull your finger out, then put it back in.” Fyodor says, voice gruff. “Keep doing it.” The advice is strange, but you do as instructed and pull your finger out, then put it slowly back in. The sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Every time your fingers drag against your walls, pleasure rockets though your body, leaving you mentling on the bench, legs wide open. You're making weird noises, too busy with the pleasure to stop the noises from leaking out of your bitten lips, legs twitching against the floor as the pleasure rockets through you. 

“Oh goddess, feels so good Fyodor!” You moan, speaking the goddess's name in vain and not even caring. You're much too far gone to feel guilt or remorse anyway. “Want you more, want bigger.” You're begging for something you don't even understand, you're not sure what you want, you just want more, more, more.

Fyodor speaks from behind the glass. “You want more, pretty girl? You want me to come over and make you feel good?” He says. The prospect is so arousing your insides clench around your fingers, gone stupid with arousal. “Oh yes, oh yes please!” You say, thrusting your fingers in and out, in and out. You faintly hear a door slamming and then the door to your chamber is opening and Fyodor is in front of you.

He’s wearing a night outfit, just normal pants and a t-shirt, and his cheeks are flushed the palest pink. Your eyes catch on the tent in his white pants, and you feel spit gather in your mouth. He looks slightly disheveled, and devastatingly handsome. You pull your fingers from your cunt with a moan. 

“Oh Fyodor, I want you so bad. Is that wrong?” You whine, legs still spread for his viewing pleasure. He smiles, pulling off his gloves and laying them on the bench beside your panties. “No, it's perfectly all right.” HIs voice is slightly rough, his accent thick and gravelly. One hand draws teasing patterns on your thighs, driving you nearly insane with want. He continues, his other hand unbuckling his belt. “I want you too darling, you can see my desire for you clearly.” Your eyes catch on that hand, that tent in his pants. You remembered the description from the book, the long hard thing called a ‘cock’. You remembered how the main character had described the pleasure, and your cunt feels dreadfully empty. You whine.

“Want you to fill me up, Fyodor.” You say, reaching out a hand and pulling him closer. He grins at you, all feral teeth and clouded eyes. “You want me darling? Want my cock in your pretty pussy?” He says. You nod, trying to say with expression alone how much you want him. He seems to understand, because he pulls the thing out of his pants and in one move, lines the tip up with your drooling cunt. The stretch is painful, at first.

It burns a little, and as Fyodor grips your thigh, ever so slowly easing himself inside you, your head falls back against the wall of the confessional, a moan slipping past your lips. Is a moan of half pain, and half pleasure, and as he finally bottoms out, you wrap your legs around his back to keep him still. You feel too full. You can feel his length pulsing inside of you, you can feel the heat radiating through your entire body. He pants against you, his eyes never leaving yours for a moment as he speaks. “Feel good darling?” His voice is low, pressed almost into your lips as he speaks. You nod. “Oh yes please, move, please. I oh—” You cut off as he obliges your wish, pulling out slowly and then slamming back in repeatedly.

Loud squelches fill the confessional and your moans spill out unbidden, joined by his occasional grunts and groans and the naughty slapping of skin on skin. You don't remember why you were so guilty, all you feel is pleasure, white hot pleasure coursing through your veins and driving you nearly crazy. 

You feel a tight knot of something in your stomach, something hot and strange and you arch up, as it breaks. “Ohh Fyodor.” You moan out, your voice so full of pelasure it emberasses you. He grinds against you. “Did you cum Pretty girl?” He says, voice occasionally interrupted by grunts. You nod furiously, as you feel another strange knot building. “Warn be next time.” He continues, his breath hitting your ear. A hand works its way down your chest, and then Fyodor’s finger is playing with that bundle of nerves above your hole, and the knot brakes with a crash. 

“Oh god ‘m cumming!” You scream out, gripping Fyodor’s shoulder furiously. The second orgasm is more intense, the pleasure lasting for longer as Fyodor’s cock continues to fuck you through it. You come down again, and Fyodor’s hand on your clit drives you right back up again. He smiles, his hips stuttering slightly.

“Gonna cum again, sweet heart?” He bites out. You nod hurriedly as his hips piston in and out. “Hold on for a moment Name.” He continues. “I'm almost done.” You do your best to hold back, concentrating instead on his face. He’s biting his lip, his pearly white teeth leaving red marks in them. All the while, his eyes have never left you. 

“Fyodor, ‘m cuming, ‘m cuming.” You say, and he grips your head, pulling your close with a whisper. “Me to Name.” He says, and then crashes his lips onto yours. 

You cum for the third time with a muffled cry, and his hips stutter, driving deep into you one more time as hot liquid splashes inside you.

Endnotes: so uh, this ended up resembling christianity a little two much, but also not because the only church i've ever been to was a black baptist church, and this...is not that

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #helplesslypurple77kinktober #bsd smut #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #fyodor x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 12-Atsushi/Reader with Accidental Voyeurism and Breeding Kink

Notes: Atsushi my baby. I love him so much he’s so pretty. Also love breeding kinks so yay

“Are you sure this is the right place?” You say, eying the rundown inn dubiously. Atsushi nods, double checking the small piece of paper he holds in his hands. “Yes, this is the place.” He says. The smell of petrichor fills the air, the grass still wet after the rain. It's evening, and mist has started to creep it way over the treetops, obscuring all but the trunks. It's a thick fog, blanketing the world in a pretty mist. It makes everything feel smaller, warmer, more intimate. Probably because you can't see past the small ring of trees surrounding the inn. A lantern hanging by the door casts a ring of golden light on the grass, and an owl hoots in the distance. It's almost like you’ve entered a different world, a mysterious world full of mist and darkness. 

The clouds above you threaten more rain, and you grip Atsushi’s arm, almost afraid of the place. It always feels spookier during October. “Let's just go. I'm honestly too tired to even care.” You say, gripping Atsushi’s arm tighter. You don't notice the blush that crawls across his face as you move towards the Inn, dragging your small bags behind you. 

The lobby is lit in lowlight, more lanterns bathing the place in an orange yellow light. The corners are in shadow, and you can almost see shadow men in the corner, waiting to ambush you in your sleep. You shudder, clutching Atsushi’s arm close to your body as the two of you make your way towards the lady behind the front desk.

She’s very pretty, with her hair done up in a classical style, wearing a traditional kimono. She smiles at the two of you, looking very much like a proud mother. 

“Do you two lovebirds have a room?” She says. You blush, and drop Atsushi’s arm like it's personally offended you. “Yes, do you have any?” Atsushi says, placing the bags on the wooden floor. “And we’re not together like that.” Are you projecting or did he almost sound disappointed? You're probably projecting. 

“Sure sweetheart.” The front desk lady says, winking. “Aren't you guys lucky, you guys got our last room! We’re fully booked today.” She fished behind the desk, pulling out a key attached to a large wooden ring. “You guys are on the second floor, in room 8B. Breakfast is at eight thirty tomorrow, if you’d like to join us.” She says, smiling all the while. “And, try not to be too loud, if you know what I mean.” She throws the two of you one more wink, as you escape, your faces painted with matching blushes. 

The room is actually pretty big, with an attached bathroom, but the thing that your eyes catch immediately is the one(singular) queen bed sitting in the middle of it. You pause in the doorway, cheeks flushing again, as your eyes frantically scan the room for any other beds. But no, there isn't even a couch. Atsushi chokes beside you, and you scurry into the room, allowing him inside. The door closes behind you with a slam. His face probably rivals yours for color, and the two of you stand at the edge of the room, blushing and awkward for a good few minutes, before Atsushi rushes to speak.

“Don't worry, we can just get another room.” He says, placing your bags on the floor next to the bed. You shake your head. “They're fully booked, remember? The front desk lady told us.” You say, frantically trying to get control of your blush. 

“I can sleep on the floor then.” Atsushi says, shooting you a sweet smile. You almost melt at his kindness, but you shake your head. “No, I couldn't do that to you. And besides imscaredtosleepalone…” You whisper the last part, and as if to prove your point, the shadows in the corners dance wickedly, almost laughing at you. Atsushi frowns. “What was that? I didn't hear that last part.” You flush, embarrassed as you raise your voice. “I'm scared to sleep alone, ok? This place is spooky.” You say, blushing again, this time out of embarrassment. Blessedly, Atsushi doesn't laugh at you. He just nods, a pretty flush still painted across his face. 

In a hurry to change the subject, you flop into an armchair, sinking deep into the comforting cushions. “The mission went well huh.” You say, letting the exhaustion seep out of your bones. Atsushi nods, opening his small overnight bag. “Yes, thankfully.” He says, pulling out a phone charger. “I’m just thankful we were able to defeat him.” 

You laugh. “We? Atsushi, don't be modest, you did most of the work.” The boy protests, but you laugh again. The mission had been deceptively simple on the surface, just an investigation. A young woman had requested someone to keep tabs on her boyfriend to see if he was cheating on her. Turns out he wasn't cheating on her, but he was running a drug smuggling ring, and was an ability user. You were much more investigative than combat focused, so you had done what you could but Atsushi had been the real star. You shift, rubbing your thighs together. Watching him fight was always so, for lack of a better word, sexy. He was usually  such a sweet polite boy, and while you loved him like that, you also loved watching him fight. His eyes would get all feral, and the way he would stare down enemies always made your pus—

You cut your dirty thoughts short as you feel your panties getting wet. You need to control your thoughts because Atsushi might be able to smell your arousal with that powerful animal nose of his. You stand hurriedly, reaching for your pajamas and other bath supplies. “Gonna take a shower first, that good Atsushi?” You say, hoping to god that he can't smell your arousal. He looks up from his place on the bed, fiddling with his phone and gives you a thumbs up. You disappear with a sigh of relief into the bathroom.

The steamy water feels wonderful, washing away both your arousal and the dirt of the day. You run soap over your body, washing each nook and cranny carefully. Your thoughts drift away as your shampoo your hair. It had been a long day. First the long train ride away from civilization, and then a pretty shady taxi ride out into the woods, and then shadowing the target for nearly three hours, and then finally the big fight. It had been a pretty hard fight, in your humble opinion, but Atsushi had very quickly taken out all of the henchmen, before moving to the main event. 

He hadn't even needed to fully transform, just his legs and arms to block the enemies attacks. The target, John’s ability allowed him to turn paper into projectiles as sharp as a knife. And he was combat experienced as well, to anybody else a hard foe. But Atsushi handled him easily. You still remembered how his eyes had narrowed, his pretty pupils turning cat eyed, a feral light turning them irresistible. He moved so fast and nimble, his feet barely touching the ground as he leaped in large bounds towards John, fast strikes aimed at his arms, meaning to incapacitate, never kill. 

But the worst, or best part had been when John had aimed a projectile at you, sitting on the sidelines. The first instant you were watching a hardened paper airplane fly at you, fearing for your safety and then the next you were pressed to the floor by Atsushi, his body covering the length of yours.

And honestly, you know you should have been scared but the first image that ran though your brain was thoughts of this position, but with Atsushi’s dick pummeling your pussy, railing you into the ground. He would pant in your ear, calling your name, hallowed with pants and grunts, and you would moan him in return, right there on the battlefield, John be damned. It was such a dirty thought, so unexpected that it shocked you, and even as Atsushi flew back in John’s direction, a feral light in his eyes, you stayed on the ground for a hot second, truly taking in that barrage of dirty images. 

You had already known you had a crush on Atsushi, ever since his sweet smiles and kindness had started to make your heart pound erratically in your chest. But you had never truly realized just how unhinged your thoughts could get, not until today however. 

You snap back out of your fantasies, still in the shower, but with a telling wetness between your legs. You sigh, sliping your hands between your legs. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

The vending machine down the hall didn't have his favorite drink. Now, this really wasn't a problem, but the only things the vending machine had was water, and mini bottles of Vodka. Both of those options were mildly concerning, to say the least, and Atsushi didn't even know if that was legal. With a sigh, Atsushi just punched in two waters and walked back to the room with his treasures. 

You're still in the shower when he opens the door, and Atsushi takes this opportunity to change into his pj’s and work on the mission brief. It's boring work however, and Atsushi feels his mind drifting back to the mission this afternoon. You always did especially well with intel missions, and this one was no exception. You had been the one to locate the target, you had been the one to initiate most of the sneaking, and you had been the one who had found the hideout in the first place. Atsushi had just been essentially muscle. And he wasn't complaining, however sappy it might sound, he was just happy to tag along with you, and have more of an opportunity to simply be in your presence. Happy to let his embarrassing little crush marinate and slowly grow bigger and bigger, the longer he spends around you. 

He takes a sip of water, filling in the details as much as he can, because Kunikida prefers it that way and he’s just going to have to redo it if he doesn't do it now. He thinks back on earlier, when they had first arrived at the inn and you had been clutching at his arm. He was sure his face had been bright red, but you hadn't noticed, much too scared of the surroundings to pay attention to his beating heart and red face. And then, when the Inn keeper had called the two of you a couple, Atsushi’s heart soared. The after insinuation had made him flush again though. But whatever, he was happy just to be in your aura. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

You're deep in your arousal, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt, full on moaning when your elbow hits the shampoo bottle, sending it to the floor with a clatter. You barely notice, to busy with the lust clouding your mind, the nasty fantasy staring Atsushi making you fuck yourself desperately, trying to get off quickly before you have to go to sleep in your shared bed. 

You're so deep in your lust, eyes closed, that you don't notice how loud the clatter really is, and that your jumpy temporary roommate outside will most definitely assume the worst. And you're so, so close. Your orgasm is hanging just above your head, and you're desperately reaching for it when the door slams open and a very worried Atsushi comes to a dramatic stop right in front of you. It's then that you open your hazy eyes, and see a very shocked Atsushi right in front of you.

And it's right then, that your orgasm hits you like a truck, and all you can do is let it rock you, trying to bite your moans in as he stares at you in shock. And then the orgasm recedes and leaves you, lust fogged and confused, staring up at him. 

“Huh? A-atsushi?” You say. Leaping to attention, Atsushi scrambles backwards, face firetruck red. 

“Um, i-im so sorry, I heard a clatter and I thought you were hurt. And i-uh-i'll just go, I'm sorry.” He says, tripping backwards and somehow making it out the door without any major injuries. “I'm so, so sorry.” he says one last time, before slamming the door behind him. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

Atsushi sits on the edge of the bed, fingers drumming patterns in his thighs, dick hard in his pants, and all he can see is the image, seared into his eyelids, of you, your face as you orgasmed. He sees it every time he closes his eyes. It's all he can see, along with flashes of your naked body, your breathless voice saying his name, right after you came. 

He’s going to hell, he’s going to rot in hell. His formerly innocent, fluffy little crush has changed, now he can't think straight, his heart is pounding, and half of his blood is going south. His dick is hard, and involuntarily he snakes a hand down, just putting a little pressure on it. That's ok, right? He can't out right jerk off, especially with you right in the other room, he can do this much right? 

It still feels gross though, but Atsushi can't stop himself as he moves his hand along his length, still trapped in his pants. You're so pretty, your curves perfect, the image of your perky boobs seared into his frontal lobe. You’d been fucking yourself with your fingers, and Atsushi can still remember the moment you’d cum, the exspression that had come across your face, your eyes as they made contact with his own.

Atsushi’s started panting, hand pressing down a little harder on his length as he imagined you. He can picture it, you beneath him, writhing against him, the heat of your walls. And then you’d cry his name, maybe like you had when you’d called his name in the shower, just before he’d stumbled out of there—

Atsushi’s keen tiger ears catch the absence of the shower, and he hurriedly scrambles backwards, his hand flying off his dick like i’d burned him, and frantically trying his best to compose himself as you exit the bathroom, dressed in a darling little pajama set. You avoid his eyes, your cheeks pink as you take a sip of water. Atsushi begs his dick to calm down, before it emberasses him any further. 

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦

The silence has never felt so loud. Atsushi had desperately avoided your eyes when you came out of the shower after that embarrassing debacle, and you'd avoided addressing the situation, and so the two of you had gone to bed in that very awkward silence.

You’re almost asleep when you hear the rustling of sheets. Every few minutes or so, one of you turns, rustling the sheets in the deathly silent room. You speak first. 

“I'm really sorry about earlier, Atsushi.” You say, grateful he at least can't see your embarrassment in the dark bedroom. You can hear him shaking his head in the darkness. You press on.

“I probably accidently traumatized you huh.” 

The boy hurries to deny, panic clear in his voice. “No, it's not that at all.” He says. His rather enthusiastic denial makes your ego grow a bit, but then he presses on. “It's just not everyday you see your crush naked, i was surprised.” The dead silence that falls after his sentence concludes isn't quite as bad as the earlier one, but it's still loud. You count to about four, and then you speak.

“Atsushi, you have a crush on me?” You say into the darkness. It takes Atsushi about three seconds before he realizes what he says and begins to sputter out a convoluted denial. “No, that—i…” He stops for a moment, pausing before letting out a defeated little, “Yes, I'm sorry.” He sounds so sure, so absolutely positive that you could never like him back, that it breaks your heart. You sigh, feeling for him in the dark. Some rustling sounds, and then the lamp on the side table switches on with a click and you're suddenly staring at those sunset colored eyes, so wide and vulnerable. 

“I like you too, Atsushi.” You say, coming in contact with his shoulder, and he jumps, leaning into your touch.

“I know, im sor—wait what?” He says, pulling away from your hand, the shock clear in his voice. You smile to yourself in the dark, elation singing through your veins. “Yes, I like you Atsushi, I like you a lot.” You can't help but rub it in a little, and suddenly you’re being pulled forward by Atsushi’s hand, and his warm body is enveloping you in a hug. 

“Really?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice sounding so fragile, so breakable yet so hopeful you almost cry. 

“Really.” you reply, a whisper in his ear. You pretend not to notice how he clutches you tighter, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. 

He pulls away slightly, just enough to stroke your cheek, his hand trembling against it. “Can I kiss you?” He asks, ever the gentleman. You smile, moving closer. “Yes.” You say, and then his lips are on you. 

Atsushi kisses softly, almost as if he expects you to reject him, shove him away and leave him cold and in bed alone. You could cry at his tenderness, at how his hands smooth over your side, carefully steering clear of any more sensitive areas. You love how he treats you like a princess, love how as he gets more confident, his kisses turn deeper, his hands more searching. And you especially love it when he rolls on top of you, how he almost whimpers when your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. 

His kisses slowly turn deeper, searching, begging for something more. And you’re happy to oblige, arching up into his body above you, teasing his tongue with yours. He kisses like he loves you, and you love it, you love him. 

“Atsushi.” You pant into his mouth. He murmurs a yes, reluctant to stop kissing you. “Want you to fuck me.” You kiss onto his lips, barely taking breaks to breathe. The effect is immediate. He shudders against you, something twitching against your thigh. You chuckle against his lips. “You want to?” You ask, your voice teasing. He breaks away from you, nodding hurriedly. “Yes, god yes.” He kisses into the skin of your neck, his eagerness just turning you on. You feel eager yourself, and your hands move from his hair to his back, pulling him closer to you as he laves kisses on your neck. His lips lock, sucking hickeys into your skin, his tongue coming out to sooth the marks, pressing a kiss to each. 

His hands stop at the hem of your sleep shirt, as he murmurs against your neck. “Can I take this off?” You nod, and his hands work your sleep top off your head, eyes catching on your boobs. You chuckle as he dives back down, tongue taking one in his mouth. You moan a little as his tongue teases it, hips bucking up. His hand kneads your other breast, teasing you. You grip his shoulders in your hands, moaning in his ear. “Take your shirt off.” You say, a pant really, in his ear.  He obliges you almost shyly.

He’s surprisingly toned, with the beginnings of abs beginning to show on his stomach. Your eyes catch on the scars on his stomach, burn scars. Your heart clenches, and you open your mouth to question him but he dives back down, his fingers working their way into your sleep shorts while he kisses the breath from your lips, and it's clear he doesn't want to talk about it. Oh well, one for another day.

His kisses are more desperate now, passionate and hot, and as he pulls away he just pants into your mouth, his finger hovering by your hole. 

“Can i?” He asks, and its sweet that he wants this much express consent, but your also really fucking horny, and you want him to fuck the living daylights out of you. So you grip his hair in your fists, and really stare in his eyes when you speak to him. “I love you Atsushi, you can do whatever you want with me.” You say. He shivers, eyes clouding with lust that you’re not sure was from the ‘i love you’ or the other part, but you don't find yourself caring as he slips a finger into your hole. You clench down around the intrusion, your grip moving from his hair to his shoulders. 

“You're really wet.” He says, sliping another finger inside you. It's more of a basic observation, and not dirty talk but it still makes you clench around his fingers, moaning his name into his ear. He moves them in and out slowly, curving them up every now and then and you start to seriously wonder how much experience he’s actually had. You had assumed little to none, and either you're very wrong, or he’s just good at adapting. You’ve seen him train, and you would guess the latter, but you make a mental note to ask him later. 

He’s watching you closely, watching carefully for any signs of pain but you're in heaven. Every few thrusts he curves his fingers into your walls, searching for something, until finally he finds it and you arch up, gripping his shoulders tightly. “God, fuck.” You moan, probably a bit too loudly. “Good?” Atsushi asks by your ear, either seeking validation or teasing you and you truly don't care because god it was. “God yes, ‘m gonna cum.” You're slightly embarrassed, but also not because your boyfriend is looking at you like he doesn't believe you. 

“Really? Because Dazai said that sometimes women lie to make their boyfriends feel better, and if you aren't, tell me so I can do better.” He says. He looks adorably earnest, and you make a mental note to ask what the hell Dazai’s been teaching him. 

“Really Atsushi, seriously, swear on my life or whatever.” Your voice sounds desperate and embarrassing, and honestly you don't know if you could fake that if your life depended on it, but it's not like he knows that. “Now faster ‘sushi.” he obliges, looking adorably reassured. 

Atsushi shifts, adjusting the angle and then his thumb is rubbing circles onto your clit. That pushes you over the edge, and you come with a cry. “Oh god Atsushi, ‘m cuming!” His fingers fuck you through it, eyes never leaving you as your back arches until you collapse back onto the bed with a sigh. He rolls off you with a sigh, and you sit up in confusion. “Atsushi, where are you going? We're not done.” You say. You can still see a very prominent and obvious bulge beneath the blankets. He sits back up, eyeing you bashfully. “Well, I didn't want to assume and pressure you into anything—” You love him, you really do, but you want his dick inside of you. 

In one move you shove him down onto the comforter, and crawl above him. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing, and you lick it, kicking your shorts and panties the rest of the way off. He gulps again as you pull his pants down just enough to get his dick out. He’s bigger than you thought he would be, and thick. You stroke him a few times, your mouth watering. Maybe it's because he’s still thin from years of partial starvation, but he almost looks unproportional. It's almost pretty though, pale as his skin and flushed pink at the tip with blood. You position it by your drooling pussy. 

“Condom?” he chokes out. A valiant effort, sure, but you are getting this dick inside you tonight one way or another. And, you have a small hunch that you want to test. “No condom baby, sorry.” You coo. “But besides, don't you want to put a baby into me?” his dick twitches in your hand and his cheeks flush a charming red. You smirk. A hunch had been biggling at the back of your mind, that maybe, just maybe he might have a bit of a breeding kink. Part animal blah blah blah. And yes, it sounded a little crazy but you were right.

“Are you sure?” Atsushi says, eyes locked on your pussy as you run his dick along your slit. You can clearly see he really wants to fuck you, and the fact that he makes sure to double check, makes your heart clench in your chest. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Yes, I really want you, Atsushi. I’m clean, you?” You ask, checking to be sure. He nods, and with that ascend you start sliding down his dick.

It takes a hot minute to sink all the way down, even after all that penetration but when you finally sink down all the way, panting as he grips your hips, you feel so full. It's been a long time, and Atsushi fills you up so good, your panting already as you begin to move, thighs straining as you set a pace. Atsushi ‘s eyes follow you, mesmerized as you bounce. His eyes are so full of admiration and you feel so powerful, so sexy, but your thighs are burning and you can feel an orgasm teasing you just around the corner. You sink down, panting. 

“Baby, ‘want you to take control.” You pant. “Want you to fuck a baby into me.” It's like a switch is flipped. He sits up, and you tumble down onto your back, his dick still lodged inside of you. Lifting your legs over his thighs, he grabs your waist as he begins to move. The pace he sets is slower, but every thrust hits you so deep you hear the bed frame squeaking a little. His hands on your waist anchor you as you throw your head back, moans tearing their way out of your throat with each thrust. 

You can already feel an orgasm building, and by the way his thrusts get more unsteady, you can tell he’s nearing the end as well. “Gonna fuck pretty babies into you.” He grunts, almost moaning the words really. “Gonna be pretty like you.” The almost out of character words make you clench around him, and he moans, leaning close to you.

Your sharing breaths now, panted breaths into each other's mouths as you kiss sloppily, your orgasms impending. You moan out a warning as he hits your g-spot, and then you tumble from the cliff with a scream of his name. He rutts you right through your orgasm, even as you feel his dick twitch inside you, hot liquid shooting inside you. It prolongs your orgasm and even as he twitches with overstimulation, he fucks you through it, as you coo praises into his ear. “I love you, Atsushi baby.” You pant exhaustedly into his ear as you come down. He nods against you. “I love you too, Name.”

Endnotes: the ending is rushed because i had to go to sleep or i would have been even more sleep deprived lol

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #atsushi x reader

[helplesslypurple77]

Kinktober Day 1-Atsushi/Reader w/ promts Cunnilingus and First Time

Notes: Kinktober day 1 yayayay, also i intended for all of these to be cutsy little drabbles, you know like 800 words or something, but now all of them sit at over 2,000 words sooooooo

Never before has four feet felt so far apart. It's like you're stranded on one side of a large crater, just barely able to see your boyfriend on the other side. And if that wasn't enough, the crater is clearly made up of the most awkward silence known to man. Not a single bird dares to fly across the skies, scared of the consequences that might ensue, less they dare to traverse these tense skies.

Ok maybe you're being a bit dramatic, but the inocuos four feet of comforter between you and your boyfriend Atsushi really does feel so big, and yet so small. Your fingers tap anxiously against the blankets, drawing little invisible patterns on the blue comforter. Atsushi’s own fingers are clasped anxiously in his lap, his foot tapping on the floor. You clear your throat, and interrupt the silence that had enveloped the two of you.

“Where’s Kyoka?”

Atsushi startles, a little shiver running the length of his body and he avoids your eyes as he responds. “Dazai took her and Ranpo out for all you can eat dessert.” The silence envelopes the two of you again. Your heart pounds against your chest, your pulse embarrassingly fast, and you know for a fact Atsushi can hear it with those tiger senses of his. Your only reassurance is that you can hear his heartbeat as well, pounding just as embarrassingly as your own.

Atsushi jumps to his feet, startling you out of your own embarrassment. “I'll get you some water.” he stutters out and with that he's gone, and you can hear the sound of the kitchen tap running. You take a deep breath, studying your breath and taking off your coat and hat, forgotten in your mortification.

You and Atsushi have been dating for about a month, and had gotten pretty comfortable with each other, but one step into his house alone and all of a sudden it was like the first date all over again. If you were being honest, you were really hoping something would happen. You loved Atsushi dearly, and would want nothing more than to move to the next step with him, and finally connect on a more intimate level. And it would also be nice to shed your Virgin status.

Footsteps notify you of the return of your boyfriend, as he makes his way back out of the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. It happens in slow motion. Your usually careful boyfriend’s foot catches on the side of the rug, and he trips, the glass in his hand flying towards you. You dodge the glass, but you're not so lucky with the water, and it splashes all over your shirt, soaking the white fabric. Atsushi rushes forward, apologies on his lips.

“I'm so sorry, Name! Are you ok?” He grips your shoulders, checking you over for injuries just in case. You let out a laugh, all the earlier awkwardness gone from the air. “Yeah i'm fine, i just got a little wet,” You don't notice as your boyfriend looks down, his eyes widening at the sight of your black lacy bra, showing through the see through fabric of your shirt. He interrupts with a shriek, falling backwards onto the floor in an effort to get away, his hands over his eyes as he babbles, “I'm so sorry I didn't mean to see! I mean I swear I didn't see anything! Nope! Nothing at all!”

You stare at him, confused, until your eyes follow his as they drift down. You feel your cheeks flush, and you want to cover your chest, but fate seems to have presented you with an opportunity. You ignore the burning on your cheeks as you pull your shirt over your head. The only sounds in the room are the garbled noises of distress from your boyfriend. You toss your wet shirt to the floor, the wet slap echoing in the room. You crook your finger at Atsushi, and act as if your own cheeks aren't burning. “Wanna touch me?” You put a little pur in your voice, and unzip your skirt, tossing it to the floor as well. Your boyfriend manages a whole sentence, his cheeks still furiously red.

“Well I want to touch you. A lot.” He averts his eyes, looking a little two guilty for your liking. “But I would never want to pressure you into anything—” You slip off the bed and bend down, shutting him up with a sweet kiss. One of the many things you love about him is his considerate nature, but sometimes it really bites you in the butt. You pull back, meeting his eyes. “I want you Atsushi, I've been wanting this for a while.”

His lips meet yours again, and he stands, pulling you with him to the bed. He sits and you follow suit, sinking onto his lap, your lips still sealed. His kiss is soft and familiar, but as you settle on his lap it changes, becoming a little more hungry. Atsushi’s hands fall to your waist, holding you against him as your hands tangle in his hair, your bodies pressed so close. You can feel his heartbeat, pounding against his chest, and you know he can feel yours in turn. You feel unstable and out of breath as you pull apart, udjusting on his lap as you feel a hardness pressed against your panties. Atsushi muffles a groan and a muttered apology in your neck. You move your hips back and forth, copying what you see in porn, and let out a little moan as a bolt of pleasure shoots up your body, electrifying your nerves with pleasure. It feels amazing, and you press down a little harder. Atsushi’s hands feel like a brand on your waist as they grip you tighter, helping you move your hips along the hot length still trapped in his pants.

Everything feels warm and fuzzy and wonderful and you love the little noises Atsushi makes into your neck, but all you want is more. Your voice sounds strange when you speak, all raspy and sexy. “More…”

Atsushi stops, lifting his head from your neck and meeting your eyes. “What?” “I want more.” The air seems to crackle between you two, and you feel a wetness in your underwear rubbing against your thighs as you roll off him, positioning yourself back on his bed.

Atsushi still has that dazed look in his eye, but he returns to the world as you flick off your bra. He averts his eyes and holds out hand. “Wait!” You look up, in the process of shedding your panties, and eye him impatiently. “What?” He's worrying his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers round and round in an anxious display. The impatient mood melts from your body, and you sink back into the pillow, a slight bit of insecurity worming its way into your brain. “Do you not want me?” Atsushi shakes his head vigorously. “No, god no that's not it.” he says, his eyes dropping ever so much to the tent in his pants and his cheeks turning pink. “It's just, um, im a virgin…” he almost whisperes the last part, his cheeks pink, his pretty eyes averted.

You can't help the little laugh you let out. You smile at him as he stares incredulously at you. You're still giggling when you speak. “Me too.” The tension melts out of his frame, and he laughs a little as well. But you watch as his shoulders sink again, and he stops starting at your boobs and meets your eyes instead. “Are you sure you want me to take your virginity—” You kiss him again, pulling him back onto the bed with you. You love Atsushi, so so much and it hurts to see his opinion of himself. To you, he deserves everything in the world, but he doesn't seem to think so. So it's your job as his girlfriend to show him that he deserved the world, and anything else he wanted as well.

His complaints seem to have died down, but that's probably because he's far too busy devouring your mouth with his own, all while your hands work the buttons of his shirt down, fingers shaky with urgency. Kissing is a song and dance the two of you have done many times before, and as your hands rid him of his shirt and tie, tossing them somewhere on the floor, his skillful tongue plays with your own, teasing your mouth in a way that makes your nether regions throb with desire. You want him to eat you out.

You tell him as much when the two of you pull away for air, and watch with desire as his cheeks flush a dark red, and he slowly makes his way down your chest, leaving little love bits on your skin. He gets a little distracted by your boobs, but you're not complaining as the sensations of his tongue on your nipples sends shocks of pleasure to your clit.

His eyes are hazy, their brilliant purple and yellow tones clouded with devotion and love, something that looks very familiar to hunger. Lust.

He already feels much more experienced than you, and that feeling is only heightened by the feeling of his rough tongue on your lower region. He finds the clit almost alarmingly fast, and as you grip his hair with a cry, you question him. “How are you this good?”

He pulls his face away from your pussy and sends you a little smile, more suited to another activity than this one. “Dazai forced most of the Agency to watch him do a presentation on cunnilingus. He got almost all the way through before Kunikida died of mortification, and Ranpo doubted his ability to ‘get pussy’.” You are momentarily distracted by imagining the scene but all thoughts of the others flee your mind as he dives back down, layving little kitten(heh) licks to your clit interspersed with slower licks around your hole, occasionally dipping in, doing his best to drive you insane with pleasure.

Your eyes want to close, but the sight between your legs is motivation enough to keep them wide open. Atsushi looks wrecked. His hair is a mess, the soft silver strands tangled between your fingers as you buck your hips, pushing your clit against his nose as he tongue fucks you hole. His eyes have fallen closed, and sweat pebbles at his temple as you moan, a tight ball of heat pooling in your lower stomach. You feel like you know what that means, and as much as you want him to do this forever, you want something else more. You want him inside of you. You pull him off you, his relentless tongue leaving you, as he openes hi eyes in confusion.

His eyes are heavy lidded, foggy and so lidded with desire that the purple is almost entirely covered, the usually brilliant yellow a more heavy golden shade. He cocks his head in confusion.

“Condom?” You choke out as he crawls forward, looking far too similar to a predator eyeing its next meal. You suppose that's not entirely untrue. He shakes some of the haze out of his eyes. “In the bedside table.” You reach around blindly, and your fingers come in contact with it, pulling it out and raising an eyebrow, reading the words written in blindingly white text on the wrapper.

“John's ultra soft bandages?” Atsushi, who has just finished shedding his pants, coughs and snatches it from you. “Dazai gave them to me, he said they were from a free giveaway.”

If you were not in the middle of something, the fact that apparently bandage companies give away free condoms now would have more of an impact, but you're far too distracted by Atsushi’s clumsy hands as they tear open the packaging, and roll the condom down his length.

Maybe it's because you trust him with your entire heart, but you don't feel apprehensive or nervous, even as he lines his throbbing length up with your hole, and ever so slowly nudges in. The stretch isn't painful, not even by a longshot with all that preparation he did, but it still burns a bit as he finally bottoms out with a breath, his hips trembling as he holds himself still for your sake.

You feel so close, so connected, so loved. You can feel his heartbeat pressed against your chest, his warm throbbing length buried deep inside you, his ragged breaths in your ear. You can tell how much effort it takes to hold himself back, to not rut into you desperately, and yet he still holds still, just for you. You feel so full, both literally and figuratively, and you love it.

“Move baby.” You rasp in his ear, your hands gripping his shoulders as he whimpers, doing as you request. His thrustsq aren't steady, but what he lacks in experience he makes up for in sheer size and accuracy, his well aimed thrusts pushing you closer and closer to the edge of the metaphorical cliff.

Your moans fill the air, joining his little grunts and moans to make a wonderful orchestra of pleasure, your shouts of his name only encouraging him more. And then he hits it, a spot inside of you that makes white hot pleasure race through your body. “There! Right there Sushi!” He obeys and makes sure to hit that spot every. single. time. You move your hand down, rubbing your clit furiously, and now you're truly done for. You can tell he's getting close as well, when you open your eyes, and almost lose it right there.

He looks almost feral, eyes alight with lust and pleasure, sweat dripping down his temples, the lowlight doing its best to turn him to an angel, hallowed by the silver main of hair falling around his face. Your lips part as he meets your eyes. “Sushi?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I love you.”

You cum with a cry, fingernails leaving long scratches in his pale skin. You feel like the tight line of tensions inside you has finally snapped, leaving you falling into a well of deep pleasure, drowning inside him.

You feel his hips still, and you hear his raspy reply as his dick twitches inside you. “I love you to Name, so much.”

...

End Notes: Just imagine Dazai forcing them all to watch a slideshow thats actually pretty informative, but full of dumb memes and stupid emojis and every metafore has something to do with suicide. And of course, Ranpo isnt paying attention, Kunikida is mortified, and Atsushi is actually taking notes

#bungou stray dogs #atsushi x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77Kinktober #kinktober 2023

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 5 Atsushi/Dazai w/ forced Proximity(stuck in a closet)

Notes: shut up ik that i already used a closet in the Fyodor one, but in this one the closet is more heavily featured, so there. Slowly but surely “Kinktober” has turned into “AtsushiFuckTober”. Maybe I should do that next year too.

Atsushi was grateful to Dazai, he owed the man his comfortable life, and that was a debt he would never be able to pay.

“Um Mr. Nakajima, please come this way.” A soft, feminine voice at his side, and Dazai was missing again.

He idolized the man of course, and recently, new feelings had been popping up, but for the love of god, he wished the man would quit trying to throw himself into every single body of water they came across. Be it a sink, or a bathtub, as soon as he spotted it, Osamu Dazai would make a break for the water, shouting gleefully about suicide, and Atsushi was rapidly loosing the little amounts of patience he had left.

It didn't help that their companion, a pretty woman by the name of Akari, who had graciously volunteered to lead them to their destination, had to also deal with the fallout. She smiled patiently, even as Atsushi dragged Dazai away from a fucking bathtub, for the hundreth time this evening.

He didnt know what was happening, and why Dazai had suddenly doubled his suicide efforts, and in the middle of a mission of gods sake, but as he dragged Dazai away from the barrely filled bathtub and down the carpeted hall, he bemouned his circumstances.

“I apologize, Miss Akari. He usually isn't this bad.” Miss Akari had to be an angel in disguise, because she just laughed a little, and gripped his arm leading him down the hallway. Dazai trailed behind them, rattling off suicide facts.

“At~su~shiiii~” Atsushi wonders if Dazai has been eating poisonous mushrooms again. “What, Dazai?”

Dazai giggles as they make their way down the chandelier lit hallway. “Did you know that on average, 1 person dies by suicide every 11 minutes in the US?”

“Dazai, we live in Japan.” Dazai ignores him, opening his arms dramatically, his bandages catching the light. “Oh how I long for the sweet embrace of death, how I crave the kiss of the underworld king, summoning me to my final embrace…”

Its weird actually, given how pretty Miss Akari was, Atsushi would have expected at least one invitation for double suicide, or at least a bad pickup line, but nothing, the whole night. It was strange, but Atsushi is just glad he doesn't have to apologize to Miss Akari for anything other than minor inconveniences. Dazai is talking again, but Atsushi tunes him out, instead focusing on the beautiful scenery surrounding them. They walk down a long hallway, lined with gold framed portraits of families. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and the floor is carpeted in red velvet. The entire place screams money. Atsushi supposes that makes sense, their target is a very rich man after all.

Miss Akari is still clutching his arm, her gloved hands shaking slightly. She's very pretty, with long black hair and big, doe eyes with long lashes, dressed prettily in a pink dress with white gloves. And, given how she's just Dazai’s type, Atsushi seriously would have expected an invitation for double suicide.

‘Your skin is lily white, your eyes captivatingly beautiful, your long dark hair reminds me of the night sky, you would make me a happy man if you joined me on a double suicide.’ or something like that.

And then Atsushi would have to apologize to the poor woman, and she would probably run away screaming, and their mission would be ruined—

“Mr. Nakajima?” Atsushi startled, and sent her a small smile of apology. She continued, her voice as soft as a spring breeze. “I was just wondering about you. I hear you work for the Armed Detective Agency?” It's odd that she's asking about him, but Atsushi guesses she's just curious. He smiles, ignoring Dazai yet again. “Yes, as well as the bandaged idiot behind me.” She laughs, the sound like bells. Atsushi wonders yet again about the strange absence of double suicide invitations. “That must be hard work. You really are amazing!” She pressed close to him, her body pressed against his side, her hands still clutching his arm. She must be scared. Atsushi tries his best to send her a reassuring smile.

“It's not too hard, I'm lucky that I get to work with such amazing people.” She lets out a little giggle, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at him. “So, what's your ability? I'm sure it's amazing.” Atsushi laughs a little, she really is a kind person. “It's called Beast Beneath the Moonlight. I can transform into a giant white tiger.” She giggles again, clutching his arm. “Wow you're so strong, I feel so reassured now that i'm next to you.”

Atsushi is glad she feels safe, but then the suspicious lack of loud Dazai noises gets to him and he turns, and of course, Dazai is gone. He turns again, Miss Akari still on his arm. “I'm sorry, I have to find my colleague. Could you wait here for a minute?” She nods, her eyelashes fluttering again and Atsushi sends her a grateful smile. “Thanks, you're an angel.” When he leaves, he sees her leaning against the wall, her hands over her cheeks, smiling.

When he finds Dazai around the corner, once again trying to drown himself in a bathtub, Atsushi lets out a long, suffering sigh. “Dazai, that bathtub has no water in it.”

“Alas, i am simply imagining what it would feel like, the sweet embrace of the water—”

When Atsushi drags him back, Miss Akari is still waiting, like the patient person she is. Atsushi smiles at her as she takes his arm again, clutching it tightly as they walk through the gilded corridors, looking for their target. The faint sounds of music and laughter echo from upstairs, the occasional clink of glassware and silverware barely heard under the cacophony of noise downstairs. It's a dinner party, a family reuniting for a will reading and Atsushi can hear the arguments all the way up here. Miss Akari, a daughter of the dead woman, had requested they come, because she suspected someone would break in and attempt to kill the family, while they were all in one place. The family was an old money family with dealings with the port mafia, and Atsushi had asked why they didn't help but Akari had informed him that they didn't do that sort of thing. It made sense, he supposed.

Right now, they're supposed to be patrolling the upper hallways while the family ate, because Miss Akari was sure the person wouldn't strike until after dinner, when the family gathered for the will reading. She had informed them that she would rather not let the others know, because in her words; ‘there was sure to be a riot!’. And so, they were sneaking around the upper floors of a rich person's house(scratch that, it was basically a castle, Atsushi had never seen so much wealth in his life.) Dodging the occasional stray family member had been easy, but they were becoming more and more frequent as the night went on, the partygoers tiring of the endless arguments and retreating upstairs to the many different entertainment rooms.

“Atsushi?” Miss Akari is speaking again, pulling him out of his brain and back to reality. She leans up, whispering in his ear. She smells faintly of rose petals. “I think someone in my family might be responsible for moms death.” Atsushi feels this isn't something she should tell just anyone, even if she feels they are trustworthy, but he nods along with her anyway.

“You think so?”

☘ ☘ ☘

Miss Akari is the most suspiciously suspicious person Dazai has ever met. I mean it's obvious. Why else would she be hanging off Atsushi like that, stealing Dazai’s rightfully deserved attention. The wench. She was obviously an enemy spy or something like that, hellbent on pulling Atsushi to the dark side! Dazai scowled as they walked down the hall. They were obviously leaving him out like this, whispering and flirting like that, and right in front of his salad(I'm sorry). How dare that Harlot, steal his Atsushi from him.

Dazai scoffed. She wasn't even that pretty. Ok, maybe he was being a tad dramatic. Miss Akari was actually very pretty. She had long straight black hair and dark black eyes, and she was clothed prettily in a nice sunday dress and small kitten heels. And honestly a long time ago she would have been Dazai’s type, but recently he had found himself into people less like Miss Akari, and more like Atsushi. Or rather, he had discovered he was in love with Atsushi.

It was embarrassing and dumb and humiliating and entirely too hard to deny, and if he was being truthful, he was just jealous of that wench. Jealous that Atsushi would let her hang all over him like that. Probably smashing her plentiful bosom and ladylike charms all against him and stealing him from right under Dazai’s nose. And it was highly unlikely she was an enemy spy, she was just an admittedly kind and pretty young woman who was interested in Atsushi, and Dazai hated her for it. There were times, times when his darker days came back to haunt him, times when he got unhealthy ideas like keeping Atsushi locked away, for if he was locked away only Dazai could have the privilege to gaze upon his form. But most of all he wanted Atsushi to be happy, and no one would be happy caged like a decorative bird.

And so, he simply stood back and allowed that Harlot to hang all over Atsushi. But of course, not without the occasional ploy to steal his attention back. But alas, it had seemed Atsushi had tired of his antics, and Dazai had been threatened, in no uncertain terms, to be left behind with the old ladies. And so, he had to be content with watching. For once he was thankful for Atsushi’s dense personality, because although it had screwed him over, it had also screwed everyone else who had approached him too.

Dazai’s love for his subordinate had snuck up on him like a tiger hunting its prey, and then jumped him from behind and completely overwhelmed him. It was even beginning to overtake his desire for a double suicide, wich was a terifying thought. It had been a slow, but steady process but subconsciously he knew he was doomed from the moment he met Atsushi. When he had first opened his eyes, soaking wet on the riverbank, he was sure he had succeeded in his suicidal endevors. For why else would there be an angel hovering above him, highlighted by the setting sun.

Their relationship had been a series of devastating blows delivered under the sunset. For it had been sunset when they had first met, and Dazai had found out that Atsushi was not, in fact, an angel, but a poor orphan boy. He was sure Oda was laughing at him from behind the grave, when he took him in, purely with hidden selfish reasons. Reasons he himself didn't even see when he did it.

The second sunset, on the way back from Ranpo’s case with Atsushi. He had refused to admit he got himself caught in the net to be in Atsushi’s proximity. He had justified it with ‘i just want to watch his progress, and kunikida wont let me,’ but it was obvious to an older and wiser Dazai that he just wanted to be around him. It was embarrassing, but all Dazai could feel was the heat of his body, the close proximity, only a few measly inches between their shoulders. He had longed, subconsciously as he prattle on, to pull the boy close, maybe wind an arm around his thin shoulders.

The third sunset, the one that graced them as they sat on that parkbench, on the day Atsushi figured out the orphanage headmaster had died. And although Dazai had appeared calm and rational, like he always pretended, the mere mention of the man's death had filled him with glee. The extent of the abuse he had subjected Atsushi two filled him with an indescribable amount of rage, that he had always chalked up to protectiveness as a friend. It was apparent that it was not, that the extent of the protectiveness he felt was far and beyond. That was the second sunset, and perhaps maybe the tipping point.

But the third sunset, the sunset on the ship after the defeat of the guild, was the breaking point. As he had nonshalontly raised a glass, and as Atsushi had smiled at him, his eyes mirroring the color of the sunset, his heart had stopped. And then it had resumed, beating triple time against his chest, threatening to leap out completely. He had been overwhelmed by how beautiful the boy across from him was and how desperately Dazai wanted to embrace him, to hold his thin frame close and press kisses to his lips and he had just stopped functioning for a moment.

And that was when he knew, that he was well and truly gone, that he was unequivocally, irreversibly, deeply and truly in love. And then, he had kind of accepted his fate. It was obvious that the affection Atsushi held for him was purely platonic, and even if he had other feelings the boy himself was unaware of them, at least for now. And truly, the boy was terribly, annoying, incredibly dense. Even outright flirting was just brushed off with a laugh and an eye roll, and any physical affection(aside from outright just kissing him) was just attributed to platonic feelings, and Dazai had been about three second from pulling all his hair out and jumping out a second story window, so he essentially gave up. Not completely, he just bided his time and would have to make do with fantasies and daydreams, until the day he decided to take a leap of faith.

But, this harlot was testing his last nerve. She was far too conventionally attractive and although Atsushi didn't seem to notice how hard she was flirting, Dazai was sure that at some point she would give up on subtlety and just ask him out. And then Atsuhsi would blush adorably and accept and then they would start going out and it would be all suffocatingly cute and cuddly and then one day they would get married and Atsushi would of course ask Dazai to be the best man and Dazai’s heart would break into tiny little pieces but he would do it because he would do anything for Atsushi and then they would have little kids who looked like Atsushi and Dazai would grow old alone and sad and have to watch their happily ever after—

“…zai. Dazai. Earth to Dazai!” Dazai pulls himself out of his depressing fantasies and back to reality with a jolt. Atsushi is standing in front of him, noticeably missing the evil harlot Miss Akari, his hands on his hips. Dazai almost skips to meet him, grabbing his arm as they make their way down the hallway. “So, where did Miss Akari go?”

“She had to entertain her guests, remember?” Atsushi regrettably pulls away from Dazai, crossing his arm and coming to a stop. “Really Dazai, she's a really nice woman. You should pay attention to her.” Dazai really will throw himself out a second story window. Watch him, he’ll actually do it, just watch. “Do you like her or something?” He sounds like a middle school boy. Embarrassing. Atsushi smiles. “Yes actually.” Dazai’s heart drops into the pit of his stomach. The boy continues to drive knives into his poor heart. “She’s a very kind woman. And she’s very pretty too. I was sure you would have invited her to do a double suicide with you by now.”

If it were, perhaps, a few months earlier, Dazai definitely would have. But now he’s down bad for his subordinate, who apparently ‘loves’ Miss Akari. He forces a smile, almost choking on actual tears. Embarrassing. “So, when's the wedding?” Atsushi just looks confused. “Wedding?” Dazai might actually cry. “Yeah, Wedding. She’s obviously into you and if you love her back you might as well just get married then.” Atsushi blushes pretty, his pale cheeks turning a dark pink. Dazai wishes he were the cause of that. “What are you talking about! I don't like her like that, I thought you meant if i thought she was nice.” Dazai’s tears are suddenly gone, done choking up his throat and clogging his stomach. “And she’s not into me anyway. People usually aren't ‘into me’.”

‘Me!’ Dazai wants to scream. ‘I'm into you and you are worth it and I want to kiss you please let me kiss you please—’ but he holds it in. He doesn't, however, hold in his gleeful smile. Atsushi gives him a baleful glare. “You could have been nicer to her, and did you really have to try to throw yourself into any bathtub–, no, anything that holds water?” Mood restored, Dazai swings his arms by his side. “Really Atsushi. You’ll never understand the joys of suicide.”

And the rest of the evening is going just wonderfully, it's all just wonderful and sunshine and rainbows really until suddenly Atsushi is grabbing his collar and he's being yanked backward and shoved not so nicely into a closet. Really, he's about to complain, but Atsushi makes an adorable little shushing noise and crowds inside as well, and Dazai hears the sound of footsteps and conversation. And he remembers the only part of the conversation he had listened to, where Miss Akari had told them she didn't want the rest of the family to know she had invited agents. And really, he should be concentrating on what the people walking by the small closet they're in are talking about but the only thing he can concentrate on is Atsushi’s proximity.

It's a small closet, made for sheets and towels, and the lack of space forced Atsushi to press in tight, his back shoving Dazai against the wall. Dazai’s senses are asaulted by the clean scent of green tea and cheap soap and the heat radiating from Atsushi’s back and Dazai is simultaniasly cursing and praising whatever fucked up god got him into this position because his pretty subordinate is pressed against him and all his fantasies are coming back to haunt him.

Atsushi is shorter than him, about two or three inches, and his frame is smaller. Dazai’s body almost cages him in, even with his arms pinned to his sides in what little space they have, and it's frighteningly arousing. Dazai’s nose is shoved in his hair, Atsushi’s back lines up with his chest and most damning of all, his but presses directly on Dazai’s dick. People are walking by the room, and Dazai knows it definitely isn't the time to get hard, so he puts all impure thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

Really, he should take advantage of this opportunity, and he does. He wraps his arms around Atsushi’s frame pulling him closer even still, and allowing himself to hug the boy their warmth blending together. And it feels wonderful and comforting and like all is right in the world, until Atsushi squirms, grinding his ass back directly on Dazai’s clothed dick. Dazai’s hands drop like a hot stone, shooting to his side as he tries to separate himself from Atsushi, to no avail. Because now all those times he had arrived after a fight to see Atsushi laying face down on the ground, his cute little ass on display for Dazai(and the world). And he didn't know why the boy insisted on landing in this position every chance he got, but it was truly a strange(sexy) position. For every time he did that all Dazai could think about was that position in a different context, maybe something with one hundred percent less clothes and it was all coming back to haunt him.

For some reason the people outside the closet have insisted on talking like three feet away from the closet doors, and not moving and now Dazai knew his dick was at least semi hard and he was never going to recover from this one—

“Dazai?” Atsushi has turned around to whisper, and now it's almost worse because their faces are a two measly inches away from each other, breaths tangling together and Atsushi’s eyes are breathtakingly beautiful. “Dazai, do you have something in your pocket, its poking against me.” Oh now this is just lovely. He's taking to long to respond and Atsushi’s going to get suspicious. “Yes actually. A gun.” Atsushi rolls his eyes. “It's not a gun, that's not what a gun feels like.” Fuck. “Jesus Dazai, what is it? Is it something your not supposed to have?” He’s still whispering, but now he looks slightly panicked. “Did you bring a random knife or prescription pills on missions again? You know Kunikida’s going to kill you.” This conversation should be killing him hard on but it's still there, and harder than ever. Dazai hates himself.

His lack of response seems to be worrying Atsushi because now, to his horror, Dazai feels his hand trying to get in between their bodies. He grabs it, trying to hold him away from his overeager dick. Atsushi frowns, whisper yelling at him. “Dazai, lemme see it!”

“Don't worry about it, Atsushi!” This, obviously, does not deter him.

“Now I'm even more worried!”

As much as he would like Atsushi’s hands all over his dick, he really would prefer different circumstances and so he thoughtlessly grabs the boy's wrist, pinning them above his head. It's almost worse this way. Their faces are close together, breaths intermingling again, and to Dazai’s satisfaction, he sees the blush spreading across Atsushi’s cheeks. It's visible even in the dark closet as the boy evades his eyes, blush furious across his pale skin. Dazai can't resist the urge to tease him.

“My Atsushi, what’s got you so flustered?” The boy glares, all while that cute little blush is still plastered across his face. “Shut up Dazai.” And so, Dazai seels his lips with a kiss.

...

End Notes: I always headcanoned that Atsushi is oblivious to flirting because of his low self esteem lol. A pretty girl could be hanging off his arm, telling him how amazing he is and stuff and he would go ‘haha lol she's so kind.’ or ‘haha lol she must be scared.’ also i'm tired of writing full smut so here you go, half smut

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #dazatsu #bsd smut #bungo gay dogs #stray dogs smut #mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77Kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 4-Ranpo/Atsushi w/ Sex Pollen and Floor Sex

Notes: haha rare pare go brrrr, also the sex pollen is an ability because the author is lazy. Also it may be a little ooc but blame it on the sex pollen(not the author)

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, pretty fluffy clouds hung along the horizon, and there were new trees lining the road. Pretty trees with bright green leaves and pink fluffy flowers that hung in the still air. They had sprouted almost overnight, but Atsushi had long ago learned not to be surprised by what happened at the Armed Detective Agency. What was surprising however, was the suspiciously empty office. The only occupant was Ranpo, sitting cheerfully on his usual desk, chomping away at a huge bag of chips. He sends Atsushi a grin and a morning greeting. “Mornin’ Atsushi!”

“Good Morning Ranpo.” Atsushi says, looking around the office for any other signs of life. “Um, where is everyone?” Ranpo holds out the bag, and when Atsushi declines, chomps on his chips with a shrug. “They went to a boring meeting. Something to do with citi laws.”

“I see.” Atsushi sits down at his desk, pulling out the paperwork he’d been putting off. He has several different reports to do, as well as sort through the request forms and then he needs to head out to get some medical supplies for Yosano—

Atsushi stops as a pink bag of candy fills his vision, blinking in shock. Ranpo pouts, glaring at him. “I'm bored. Entertain me.” Atsushi sighs. “I'm sorry Ranpo, I need to get these reports done. Maybe you can go down and help the police with their cases? I'm sure they need your help?” Ranpo shakes his head, setting himself on Dazais abandoned desk. “Unfortunately, all the cases are boring.” He chomps happily on the bag of candy. “You should be thrilled. I have chosen you to entertain me for today!”

Ranpo is one of the most impressive people, in Atsushi’s humble opinion, in the Armed Detective Agency. His ability to see through everything is amazing and honestly terrifying, and Atsushi just hopes dearly that he hasn't picked up on Atsushi’s own embarrassing feelings towards him. But that doesn't mean he can entertain Ranpo for the entire day either. And just as he's about to turn him down, somewhat reluctantly, the phone rings.

❀❀❀

The case was somewhat interesting, Ranpo mused to himself as he walked up the path to the Agency, but the fallout had been annoying. He had been kept at the station almost all day, filing paperwork and doing witness testimony, and he was exhausted. Apparently, they didn't let you eat snacks while you were a witness. The perpetrator had been easy to catch, it had taken Ranpo about 20 second to be precise, but apparently he was a mass murderer that had been on the run for sixty years so as a result Ranpo was required to do interviews as a key witness and other lame stuff, instead of playing with Atsushi and eating snacks, a much better passtime in his opinion.

And speaking of Atsushi, he was someone Ranpo could never understand. He had questions, questions his ultra deduction couldn't answer. Questions about how, how such a young man could remain so kind and optimistic, even after being put through events that would traumatize anyone. How could a boy with such a fearsome combat ability, still feel fear. How could he go about life with such a cute, carefree smile.

And then there were the other questions. Embarrassing, carnal questions that Ranpo banned himself from ever answering, even if he could with his ability. Questions like… Did Atsushi like men? Did he like Ranpo? Did he like kisses? Did he want to kiss Ranpo? Has he ever had a lover? How would he feel about having a lover? How would he feel about having Ranpo as a lover?

Questions like that were embarrassing, and for the life of him Ranpo could never banish them from his head. They just floated there, driving him crazy, along with…other thoughts.(even more embarrassing and impure questions, like what sounds did Atsushi make? Did he moan loudly? Or did he whimper. What did Atsushi look like under those clothes of his?) He wondered if this was what people felt like when they loved someone. And not the kind of love he had for the other members of the Armed Detective Agency. Out of curiosity one day, Ranpo had asked himself if he wanted to ask Kunikida the same questions. The answer had been a resounding no.

That had been the day he had realized the feelings he felt for Atsushi were different from how he felt about the others. The thought of Atsushi dying made his chest squeeze painfully, and his heart sink into his stomach, leaving him with no appetite for his snacks. Ranpo not wanting his snacks was unheard of. And so, he had taken and considered the facts.(Facts like how when Atsushi smiled at him, his snacks suddenly tasted better, how when the boys pretty eyes glowed in admiration when Ranpo used his ability, Ranpo had the urge to kiss the praises of his lips, the pounding in his chest and the sweat on his palms as the boy came close to him, and the disappointment when he moved away)

He had taken and organized the facts, and came to the irrefutable conclusion. He had an embarrassing crush on Atsushi. Ranpo dearly wondered what the boy thought of him. On one hand, he obviously found him impressive, but it wasn't clear whether or not those feelings went as far as love. And even though Ranpo could find out the answers to these questions rather easily, he was to afraid of the answer.

The sun was burning the horizon a pretty yellow, the way it blended into the purple of the night rominding Ranpo of Atsushi’s pretty eyes, their rare colors. The trees that had shown up this morning had begun to bloom as well, the petals of the pink flowers pulling apart to show their red insides. The petals were a pretty heart shape, almost too perfect. The pollen floated on the wind, and Ranpo feared for anyone with a pollen allergy. The street was empty, almost suspiciously so, but Ranpo found himself not caring that much at all. The pretty scenery and the prospect of snacks and Atsushi was putting him in a good mood, and when he was in a good mood he tended to miss things, to not notice things he maybe should have taken notice of.

He threw open the doors to the Armed Detective Agency, loudly announcing his arrival. The only person in the room was Atsushi, sitting by himself at his desk surrounded by papers. He looked up as Ranpo entered, and smiled at him. “Ranpo, your back. How was the case?”

“Boring, they made me do interviews for like, way too long.” Ranpo plopped down on a desk, loudly opening a bag of chips. “Did you know they dont let you eat during witness testimony?” Atsushi graces him with a small laugh, his silver hair fluttering in the breeze from the open windows. He looks radiant.

He's just sitting there, doing his paperwork boringly, but Ranpo can't tear his eyes away from him. He looks so peaceful, his brilliant silver hair settling around his face, the asymmetrical bangs that would look terrible on anyone else only add to his beauty, adding a sense of uniqueness to his face. And oh, those eyes. Those rare beautiful eyes, shining like rare jewels in the fading light, pulling each and every person who looked at him deeper into his trap.

He's like an angel, a thing you can only dare to glance upon, and yet Ranpo could touch him, if he only dared, he could reach out, run his fingers through that hair and cup that face. He could watch as Atsushi’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the closeness, and then he could lean down, pressing a kiss to those lips, to those pretty lips that could be doing more interesting things, like wrapping around something, something like Ranpo’s co—

Ranpo shifts uncomfortably, shaking any thoughts like that one out of his head. It's strange, he usually wouldn't be having such thoughts in the workplace. It must be the lack of other people. Atsushi shifts in his seat, drawing Ranpo’s eyes back to him. He's biting his lip, catching it in his teeth and running his little pink tongue over it and Ranpo wonders distinctly whether his tongue is rough, like a cats. He’s part cat, well tiger, and he can transform, so it would be logical that he would have a rough tongue. But then again, it's not like he's fully part cat, especially now when he's not using his ability. Ranpo imagines his tongue must be soft, and as Atsushi licks his lips again, Ranpo can't help but imagine that small pink tongue tangling with his own, or maybe licking his co—

“Ranpo?” It's Atsushi, and Ranpo forcibly jerks himself away from the unholy thoughts possessing his mind to send the boy a strained smile. He’s looked up, away from the boring paperwork and at Ranpo, his pretty eyes focused directly on him. Ranpo can't breathe. It's too hot. He fixes him with a look of concern, and Ranpo’s heart clenches in his chest. “Is something wrong? You haven't eaten your chips.” Ranpo realized that yes, he hasn't. The open bag is just sitting in his hand, untouched, and strangely, he's not hungry for the chips. He feels hungry, but a different kind of hunger, the kind of hunger no snack in the world can satisfy. But Atsushi’s looking at him and he manages to formulate a response. “I'm fine! See?” He demonstrates by eating a chip, and sending the younger boy a smile. It seems to satisfy him, and Atsushi returns to his paperwork.

Ranpo can see his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, he shifts in his seat slightly, and usually Ranpo would quickly identify something as wrong. But right now all he can focus on is Atsushi’s fingers, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and pulling the collar wide, allowing Ranpo a teasing view of thin collarbones and pale skin. His black tie is resting on the desk beside his work, allowing for an unobstructed vision of skin. It's just skin, and yet it's so sensual somehow. Maybe it's the small beads of sweat dripping down his neck, across the mountains and valleys of his collarbones and into his thin white shirt.

His collarbones are somehow so graceful, yanking Ranpo’s eyes directly to them. He wants to kiss them. Atsushi is still thin, it's obvious even through his shirt, but still better than when he came to the Agency, he was thin in those days, starved from the orphanage.

He undoes another button, Ranpo’s eyes are treated with more and more pale skin. It would look so pretty with marks all over it. Ranpo can see it in his mind's eye, Atsushi splayed across the floor, pretty marks scattered across his neck and shoulders, mouth leaking little moans and whimpers into the air, hands wrapped around his co—

Atsushi’s nervous little laugh interrupts his(frankly quite inappropriate)fantasies. “It's quite hot, isn't it?” Ranpo shifts, his own dick is hard in his pants, and yes, it is strangely, suspiciously, hot. He sheds his brown coat and vest anyway. It's odd, these fantasies aren't really anything new, but they're almost involuntary, like he's not controlling them. He feels too hot scalding really, and the sun is almost done sinking below the cityscape. And, not to mention those pretty flowers are still blowing pollen all across the office…

A hypothesis is forming, through the fantasy fog in his brain. “Atsushi?” The boy jumps, cheeks flushed pretty pink. “Yes?”

“Tell me, do you feel abnormally hot?” A nod. “Your own, ehem, thoughts out of your control?” A nod. Ranpo can feel heat on his cheeks as he mentally checks off the bulletpoints, coming to the last, mortifying one. “Maybe, turned on?” A small, blushing, nod. Ranpo has to physically resist the urge to dive across the room and press his against that desk, kissing his pretty, flushed lips senseless. He digs his fingernails into his palm, trying to get ahold of his sanity, at least for now. And all of a sudden, it makes complete sense. The uncontrollable fantasies, the strange heat. It's the trees.

He's heard of sex pollen before, but it only existed in books and fanfics(according to Dazai annyway) but, it had to be that. And guessing by how fast the trees had shown up, it had to be an ability, there was no other explanation. It was kind of a funny ability in a way, but really Ranpo cant find it in himself to care right now, because Atsushi is staring at him in confusion and he needs to explain. He can actively feel his reason slipping away, threateningly to abandon him and leave him on the edge of a cliff, ready to tumble down. He pulls out a pair of popsicles he was saving for the summer months, and waves one at Atsushi. He takes it gratefully, unwrapping it and licking it delicately. Ranpo begins to explain, around licks.

“You saw the trees this morning right? Well, they probably released sex pollen, and—” a clatter, Atsushi’s tripped on his chair, his body splayed across the floor. His face is distinctly the color of a tomato. Ranpo sighs, explaining patiently. “Sex pollen. It induces uncontrollable arousal. Based on the fact that you have been here all day you’ll probably succumb first—”

“Wait, slow down!”Atsushi is waving his free hand frantically, the popsicle momentarily forgotten. “Is it dangerous? Does it wear off? Are you affected too, Ranpo?” The popsicle has started to drip down his fingers, and Ranpo watches in rapt fascination as Atsushi’s sticky fingers disappear into his mouth one by one. He's too distracted, he needs to respond.

“I dont think it's dangerous. I don't know, and yes.” Atsushi gives him a nod of understanding, mouth closing around the popsicle distractingly. Ranpo’s dick throbs in his pants and his fist tightens, leaving angry red nail marks in his palm. He jumps to his feet, hoping the laps will help him not succumb to the arousal. It's easier for him to regain control, considering he's only been here for about fifteen minutes, and if Ranpo had to guess the tiger has been slowly healing Atsushi. If Atsushi were any normal human he would have succumbed way earlier, and Ranpo would have perhaps come back to an entirely different scene. He can't help but imagine it a little, his poor dick heavy in his pants.

Ranpo can see the effects coming in full force in Atsushi, he's started panting and his eyes are hazy. And then he's gone. The popsicle falls to the ground with a plop, and Ranpo turns just in time to see the world tilt on its axis, his back hitting the floor with a thumb. An angel is on top of him, or maybe the proper word is an incubus. A being of pure seduction, come to torment him with beauty, to test his restraint and rain down hellfire upon the unworthy. Ranpo does feel a bit unworthy. And, as Atsushi sits pretty on his dick, nimble fingers undoing more and more buttons, he is very close to losing what little restraint he had. It was bad enough dealing with the pollen itself, but a turned on, confused and devastatingly beautiful Atsushi, sitting right on his dick was almost too much.

He knows his nails are drawing blood now, their blunt tips digging into the soft skin of his palm in a desperate effort to stay sane and in control. Atsushi's suspenders hit the floor, followed shortly after by his white shirt. Ranpo is treated to an unobstructed view of Atsushi’s frame. He's thin, and slightly toned with a small, grabbable waist and long thin burn scars wrapping around his hips, disappearing into his pants.

And really, if Ranpo werent currently doing everything in his power not to succumb to the overwhelming urge to fuck Atsushi’s brains out, his heart would have sunk at the sight of those scars, at the reminder of the trauma Atsushi had suffered at the hands of his orphanage, but Atsushi’s hands are very quickly ridding him of the rest of his clothes. Blood is rolling down his palms, a warm copper smell perfuming the air as Atsushi tosses aside the pants, the belt, and finally, the only things that stay on are Atsushi’s gray boxers, and his black fingerless gloves. The same gloves Ranpo had gifted him all that time ago. Ranpo knows it's weird, but it feels oddly intimate.

Atsushi’s face is flushed, his blush running down his neck and brushing his collarbones. His fingers are frantic as they fumble with Ranpo’s buttons, finally losing all patience and ripping the shirt down the middle. Buttons scatter across the floor and if Ranpo was currently doing everything possible not to lose it he might complain. But his dick thinks it's hot and since his brain is currently housed in his dick he's not complaining.

He's going to die. No ability in the world should be this powerful, no single person should have the means to control arousal, the consequences would be disastrous. He manages to sit up slightly, knocking Atsushi part way onto the ground. The boy shoots him a slightly resentful look, still clouded by arousal. “Wait, Atsushi—” Atsushi’s fingers are fumbling with the small thin fabric between Atsushi’s fingers and Ranpo losing all control(his dick). The sensations are teasing, little shocks of pleasure leaving him begging, pleading desperate for more. It's a cruel and unusual punishment.

He tries to stop him, to sit up and move the boy away, but Atsushi’s little hand is planted directly on his lower abs, a lead weight pinning him to the ground. Atsushi isn't the strongest, but he's much stronger than Ranpo and he's able to keep him down relatively easily. If Ranpos is being honest, he only struggles a little and even that is half hearted at best, especially when Atsushi’s bare fingers find their destination. As soon as Atsushi’s calloused fingers wrap around his dick, the effect is immediate: Ranpo’s hips cant up, moans leaking out of his clenched lips. He can actively feel the arousal trying to control him, whispering in the back of his mind; ‘all your fantasies could come true, why do you resist?’.

And Ranpo’s close to not resisting, especially when Atsushi’s head dips, his lips wrapping around the tip, and sucking. Its plain Atsushi doesn't really know what he’s doing, but his clumsy efforts coupled with the already building arousal are enough, really too much. His clumsy little mouth does its best to swallow Ranpo’s dick, his throat taking the large intrusion as spit escapes from the corners of his mouth. It feels extraordinary. The tight wet sensations of Atsushi’s throat are rapidly killing the rest of his sanity, and when the boy pulls away from his spit soaked dick, he meets his eyes.

All this time, no one has spoken. The only sounds have been the wet slurps and small moans and whimpers and it's maybe the only reason Ranpo has been able to hold on. But as Atsushi speaks, Ranpo knows he's lost.

“Want you…” He says his voice is breathy and smooth as chocolate, and just as irresistible. His mouth is swollen, spit soaked lips cherry pink and so, so pretty. Ranpo loses the fight with dignity, waving his white flag of surrender and tips Atsushi over. His back hits the floor, his silver hair splaying around him like a halo, and Ranpo’s pants are unbuttoned in a second. Now normally, Ranpo preferred a passive role in these type of things, but right now he's frantic and he just needs to be inside Atsushi this instant or he's going to combust and die—

It's too hot, everythings hot, and the only cure is Atsushi, his skin, his touch, his whimpers and moans, and as Ranpo finally shoves himself in, the relief is immediate. He falls forward, chest to chest, skin to skin, pounding hearts together. Atsushi’s legs are hooked over his clothed thighs as Ranpo helplessly ruts into him, his own embarrassing moans muffled in the boy's neck. It's all hot and steamy and vague and Ranpo doesn't know how many times he comes, or Atsushi for that matter. At some point Atsushi ends up on top of him, hallowed by the ceiling lights, both their lower stomachs spattered with cum, and Ranpo has the stray thought that he hopes Atsushi isn't mad at him when this is over. That would be his worst nightmare.

At some point Ranpo becomes more lucide, and he's able to truly take in the vision Atsushi has become. There in the Agency’s emergency shower( Kunikida had basically banned them from using it because of ‘water bills’) and it probably wasn't intended for this, but it was better than leaving behind a mess.

It's all steamy and intimate, Atsushi’s back is pressed against the glass wall of the shower, pressed as close to Ranpo’s chest as possible. Their hearts are beating together, they are still connected as one. Ranpo can feel the next orgasm building, and just as he's about to lose it to the arousal once more, he leaves one little love bite, a harmless one an inch below Atsushi’s ear, partially hidden behind the longer strand of his hair. It's a jealous little love bit, embarrassing and possessive and as Ranpo slips away, he feels strangely proud of himself.

And just when the fire is becoming unbearable, it pulls away, leaving only exhausted boys behind. They have enough sense to dry off and dress, and as they crawl back into the main office, they curl up on one of the brown leather couches, and fall asleep.

❀❀❀

It's late when the others come back, trudging through the Agency door, clothed in gas masks and wearing their exhaustion on their entire body.

“What a waste of time.” Says Dazai, throwing his coat on his desk and sinking into the chair. “Wel Dazai, maybe if you hadn't let the ability user get away it wouldn't have been.” Kunikida sounds less angry and just beats down, lazily flipping through his notebook. “And anyway, we were already too late, she said she’s already planted the seeds, whatever that means.”

A little giggle interrupts their lazy conversation. Yosano and Kenji wave them over, and the whole Armed Detective Agency surrounds the adorable picture on the couch. The boys are tangled together, clothed in their matching white button-downs(although Ranpo’s is missing some buttons), and pants, their legs intertwined, their chests pressed together in a rough spooning position. Atsushi’s hair has tumbled aside, revealing a dark red mark below his ear. The silence that permeates through the room is loud, and only broken when Yosano chokes on a laugh.

“I guess we know what she meant then, she had gotten to us, although I'm not sure it was necessarily a bad thing.” Interestingly, it's the president who agrees with her. He nods, looking as solemn as ever as he begins to move away. “I agree. It was high time for Ranpo to make a move.” The other, still standing around the couch, trade baffled expressions. It's Kenji who breaks the silence. “What did he mean by that?” Dazai shoves the group away with a small smirk curved across his face. “You’ll learn when you're older. Also, someone should clean the floor.”

...

End Notes: they left them like that and the two of them woke up in the morning, mortified(Atsushi) and pleased(Ranpo). they stewed before Atsushi took the dive and asked Ranpo on a date.

Taglist: @mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #bungo gay dogs #bungo stray dogs smut #helplesslypurple77Kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #mariannacrxss

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 10- Mori/Atsushi/Fukuzawa- with promts Spitroasting & threesome

Notes: So just pretend that the Q mess was instantly cleaned up or something, i don't want to deal with it. But Francis is still out there, menacingly or whatever. I literally could not figure out when Atsushi finds out that Mori is the boss of the port mafia, so I'm going to assume Atsushi doesnt know at this point.

Also im keeping some age gap because it's hot but I'm making Atsushi twenty instead of eighteen. Btw the legal age of drinking in japan is 20, i checked

“Um Sir, are you sure it's ok for me to come?” Atsushi twists his hands in circles, following closely behind Fukuzawa as they make their way down a brightly lit street. “Yes, of course. This was your idea, Atsushi, so you deserve to be there.” Fukuzawa walks in long strides, looking unfamiliar in a three piece suit. Atsushi walks double to keep up, the pants of his own suit, kindly gifted to him by the President, stiff and hard to run in. They fit perfectly, almost like they were tailor made to his body measurements. The President slows down slightly, allowing Atsushi to walk beside him. He shoots the shorter boy an apologetic glance.

They walk through downtown Yokohama at dusk. The lights have come on, and the roads are choked with cars, people on their way home from work probably. The sidewalks are busy as well, and people pore in and out of the brightly lit restaurants, laughter perfuming the air. In all honesty, Atsushi had not thought that Fukuzawa would accept his suggestion of an alliance. He was a new member of the Agency after all, and an Alliance with the Port Mafia sounded a little crazy, even to his ears. But to his surprise, Fukuzawa had accepted with only a few clarifying questions. And so here they were, walking down a main restaurant district street apparently going to meet with the boss of the port mafia.

“Um Fukuzawa Sir?” They stop at a red light, and Fukuzawa turns those eyes on him. “Yes?” Honestly when Atsushi had first arrived at the detective Agency he had been scared of the president. But then, he saw him cooing over cats in the backyard and his image was forever changed. “Well, I was wondering where we’re going.” The light changes and they move across the street, toward where the more expensive restaurants are. “We’re going to the meeting.” Fukuzaw responds.

Atsushi feels lost. He follows Fukuzawa, dodging the occasional pedestrian as people pass by them. Large groups, clearly leaving work parties. Loves truck couples on dates, families headed to dinner. Even the occasional large group of giggling school girls, who shoot Fukuzawa dreamy eyed stares. I mean it makes sense. The President is a handsome man and he looks especially dashing in a suit. It's a dark grayish green three piece, with a white shirt and a yellow green tie. Atsushi’s own outfit is fancy as well, a black double breasted vest, a dark gray shirt and black tie pulling the whole thing together. It's expensive, Atsushi can tell from the fabric. The same group of girls shoots Atsushi a jealous look as he catches up, and Fukuzawa grips his waist, pulling him away from a biker careening a bit too close to the sidewalk. Atsushi ignores their angry stares. 

“Um sir, sorry but i'm a little confused.” Atsushi says, leaving the high school girls angry stares behind. “I thought we were going to the Port Mafia building.”

“We decided that instead of going to meet in a public park or something, we would meet somewhere else.” Fukuzawa sighs, an angry tick in his jaw. “Mori insisted, after I told him I was bringing you, for some reason.” That name sounds familiar, but Atsushi just can't place it. And for some reason, it looks like the President and this Mori fellow know each other better than Fukuzawa had let on. “We’re here.” The president says.

They’ve come to a stop outside of a sushi restaurant. It's a new age design, and Atsushi blanches as he spots the line out the door that weaves around the corner. People, mostly couples, lined up around the corner, dressed in semi formal outfits and anxiously checking watches. Every few minutes a smartly dressed waiter steps out of the restaurant, and whispers something to the Maitre D who nods, calling out a number and guiding a group through the foggy double doors. But just as fast as someone goes in, three more people get in line behind. Atsushi frowns, following Fukuzawa as he marches straight up to the maitre d, a smartly dressed woman standing behind a small podium by the double glass doors. The woman glares. “Can't you see we have a line, Sir.” 

Atsushi flinches. She’s rather rude for someone running the front of a restaurant. Fukuzawa mearly sighs. “We have a reservation for a back room.” The woman glares on, unimpressed. “Card?” Fukuzawa hands her a small golden card. There's black writing on it, but Atsushi can't quite make it out. The woman flips it around, scanning the letters with a magnifying glass, carefully looking for something, what Atsushi doesn't know. But after a minute or so, she nods, and a waiter steps out from behind the frosted double doors, smiling much more pleasantly at the two of them. “If you and your date will follow me, Sir.” Atsushi flushes, and opens his mouth to protest but Fukuzawa just slips a hand on his waist, a silent confirmation. 

“Come on Dear, this way.” Atsushi knows he’s blushing like a tomato, but he does the wise thing and shuts up as the waiter leads them through a crowded restaurant. Fukuzawa leans down. “Sorry Atsushi, but bear with it for now. They won't let you in without a reservation card.”

He must be talking about that strange little golden card Fukuzawa gave the Maitre D earlier. Face still steaming, Atsushi manages a nod and clutches at Fukuzawa’s dark suit jacket in what he hopes is a ‘couply’ way. Fukuzawa’s hand is big, big enough to wind quite a long way around Atsushi’s waist. Atsushi can feel the heat of it through his layers. Fukuzawa is a good bit taller than him as well, and as Fukuzawa tugs him closer still Atsushi’s head hits his shoulder lightly, his silver hair brushes against it. 

The room the waiter leads them to is empty. The room is small, with a large table set for three waits for them in the middle, and little outcoves full of flowers. “I’ll be back soon with the rest of your party.” The waiter says, and then closes the door behind them. A slightly awkward silence fills the small room. Fukuzawa’s hand is still on Atsushi’s waist as he leads him to a seat, placed on the short side of the rectangular table. The other two place settings are exactly opposite each other, conveniently placed just out of weapon range. They seat themselves, and before the silence can get any more awkward the door opens and a smug, familiar man follows the Waiter into the room. 

“Didn't wait to seat yourselves i see, still as rude as ever huh Fukuzawa.” There, standing smartly in a pitch black suit is the strange doctor fellow Atsushi had met in Anne’s room. This time cleanly shaven and with a peculiar unfamiliar gleam in his eyes. Atsushi’s jaw almost hits the floor. Fukuzawa merely sighs. “Give your scalpels to the waiter Mori, they aren't allowed in here.” Mori chuckles darkly, and holds up his hands in surrender. Two metal scalpels are placed in the waiter's hands. The waiter for the most part looks mostly unfazed, and simply hands over the menus and is gone with a smile. Mori’s eyes fall on him, and, Atsushi must be hallucinating, he throws him a little wink. “Well well Were-Tiger, it's nice to see you again.” 

The shocked look must be plain on his face because Mori chuckles. Fukuzawa turns a confused look on Atsushi. “You know him?” Atsushi picks his jaw up off the ground. “Um, when Lucy from the Guild captured me and Junichiro, he helped us.” Mori smiles, a rather predatory smile, but still attractive. “Yes that's right.” Mori sidles around the table, brushing close to Atsushi. He smells faintly of rosemary, sandalwood and something deep he can't quite place. The two men sit across from each other, twin expressions of hatred painted across their faces. Atsushi realizes all at once that this is going to be a long dinner. 

“It's so nice to see you, although I see you haven't bought your creepy ability this time.” Fukuzawa flips the Menu open aggressively, as if the laminated pages have personally wronged him.

“The feeling is mutual, Fukuzawa. I see you still have a fondness for cats.” Mori gestures in Atsushi’s direction, and Atsushi flushes. “But tell me kid, how old are you?” Its and odd question, and Fukuzawa’s face visibly darkens, but Atsushi see’s no reason not to respond. “I just turned twenty.” 

Mori’s dark eyes twinkle, and Fukuzawa frowns even harder. “How nice!” He gestures at the menu before him, shooting Atsushi another wink. “Order whatever you want, kitten, think of it as a late birthday gift.” Atsushi flushes at the nickname, but the prospect of free sushi almost has him drooling. “Are you sure?” He asks, although he knows his eyes are shining with anticipation. “You already gave me this nice suit Sir.” Fukuzawa’s face loses its glare as he turns to him, and smiles faintly. “Sure, we’ll split the bill.” 

Atsushi can't hold back his excitement as he eyes the menu. The place is so fancy they don't even list the prices, and although it's slightly concerning, he’s not paying so he doesn't care. His mouth is watering as he stares at the nigiri. The two men chuckle at his enthusiasm. Mori smiles his way. “So, Fukuzawa bought you a suit huh?” Fukuzawa glares, Mori just smiles wider. “That's a custom tailored model, he must have prepared it early.” 

“You're finally cracking Mori, that's clearly not true.” Atsushi isn't even really paying much attention, still drooling over the pictures in the menu. Mori just smirks, that feral smirk. “I bet you dreamed about seeing him—” Fukuzawa kicks him hard, Mori just smiles. “Ooh, touched a nerve. Straight laced Fukuzawa desiring a subordinate. Blasphemous.” 

Atsushi catches the last words, looking up from the menu and at the two men glaring at each other. “What was that? Something about blasphemy?” Mori opens his mouth, but the waiter interrupts him, stepping back into the room with a smile.

“What can I get you gentlemen to start?”

“You want some sake kitten? I know your president does.” Mori gets another kick under the table, but Atsushi nods. The older men give their orders and the waiter leaves with a nod. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The door closes behind Atsushi with a decisive little click, on his way to the bathroom. Fukuzawa glares at the man in front of him. Mori smirks, leaning back in his chair.

“What an adorable little subordinate you’ve got.” Mori leans forward like he’s telling a secret.  “Im just dying to fuck him.” Fukuzawa glares so hard he thinks his eyebrows might actually fall off. “How inappropriate, he’s much younger than both of us.” Fukuzawa hates how the suggestion brings in images he’s been dying to erase from his mind. 

“But that's boring.” Mori says. Fukuzawa rolls his eyes so far back into his head that he thinks they may get stuck there. Mori continues. “I saw you staring at his cute little ass when he left for the bathroom. Nice job with the suit by the way, fits him like a glove.” 

“I was not staring at his butt.” Fukuzawa totally was, but he’ll take that secret to the grave. “You can admit it to me, you know.” Mori says. He downs a cup of sake, pouring himself another. “I can imagine what I'd do to him. ” Fukuzawa can imagine it too. He glares. Mori laughs. “Oh my bad. I’d be happy to share him, maybe over the table?” Mori says. He chuckles, passing Fukuzawa the sake bottle.  “Ah, reminds me of the old days.” Fukuzawa feels his thoughts drift involuntarily back to the ‘old days’. Several occasions with a woman between them in a hotel room.(and the other occasions he’d rather forget, without the woman between them. Just heat and soft skin and panted angry ‘I hate you’s. He'd rather die than think of those days again however.)

It's appalling how clearly he can imagine the scene. Atsushi’s thin body painted with hickeys, his pretty mouth spit slicked mouth wrapped around Fukuzawa’s co—

Fukuzawa coughs, clearing his throat and hopefully his brain at the same time. 

“You know why we’re having this meeting in the first place Mori, so please try to be serious.” Mori bats a hand at him, much akin to the way someone would bat at an especially annoying bug. “Yeah yeah, I agree with the alliance and everything. So anyway, does Atsushi like men?” Fukuzawa almost chokes. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah, it's a really good idea, no matter how distasteful the idea of working with you is. But answer my question.” Mori says, sipping on the sake the waiter had returned with. “I don't know, it's not my business to pry into my coworkers' sexuality's.” Fukuzawa says, clearing his throat with a cough. “Don't be dramatic, it's called gossip.” Mori says. Fukuzawa shoots him an eye roll. Whenever the two of them are together they seem to revert to their younger selves again. It's honestly a little embarrassing. Mori sighs. “I'll just have to ask Dazai.” He takes out his phone, and scrolls through his contacts. Fukuzawa eyes it with a glare as it begins to ring. “Why do you even want to know?” Mori simply raises an eyebrow at him, wiggling it suggestively, Fukuzawa feels heat start in his neck. Mori chuckles. “Don't you want to know too, Fukuzawa.” And although he chokes out a denial, Fukuzawa listens a little two closely as Dazai picks up.

“What do you want, Mori.” Dazai sounds annoyed.

“Oh nothing, I just had a question.” Mori says, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. He almost resembles a high school girl gossiping on the phone. Almost. Ok he really doesn't.

“Shoot.”

“Does Atsushi like men?” 

Fukuzawa hears a choking on the other side of the line, and faintly he can hear laughter in the background. A lot of it. Dazai must be still at work, although he’s probably not working. 

“Yes–No–Why would I tell you?” Fukuzawa is almost disappointed, and then corrects his attitude and immediately congratulates Dazai in his head with only the mildest bit of bitterness.

“Your president wants to know.” Fukuzawa barely resists the urge to throw something at Mori, maybe a sake cup. 

“No, no it dont. I don't care. I don't.” Fukuzawa blurts out, and that was probably a bad idea because now Mori is smirking.

“See? He wants to know.”

“Well I actually don't know, but we do have an office bet running.” Dazai says, his voice less full of venom and more amusement. 

“You have a what?” Fukuzawa feels he needs to have a talk with all of them about proper office conduct, but he doubts it will have that much effect.

“Sorry Boss.” Dazai doesn't really sound that sorry at all.

“So, how's it going?” Mori sounds a bit too invested. Fukuzawa glares at him. 

“Well, Yosano and i bet Bisexual, Naomi and Tanzaki think Gay, and Kunikida said he refuses to participate in such activities.” Fukuzawa makes a mental note to give Kunikida a raise. 

“What did Ranpo say?” Fukuzawa asks, in spite of himself. 

“We banned him from betting, it wouldn't be any fun.”

Ranpo’s voice comes out muffled through the speaker. “For the record, he’s Bisexual.” A series of groans echo through the room, and Fukuzawa can faintly hear money being passed around.

“Sorry I took so long, some ladies ambushed me by the bathrooms.” It's Atsushi, closing the door behind him with a click. “By the way, what's a sugar daddy?” Dead fucking silence wraps the room for a moment, before someone chokes on the line and the whole armed detective Agency bursts out laughing. Atsushi frowns in confusion. “The ladies by the bathrooms kept congratulating me for getting two Sugar Daddies, and said it made sense because I was pretty.” Fukuzawa feels his face burning red and even Mori across from him is flushed, even though he is smiling. 

“You see Atsushi…” Damn it Dazai is still on the phone. “A Sugar Daddy is a rich older man who  gives gifts to a young person in return for sex—” Mori hangs up on him with a beep, but the damage has been done, Atsushi’s face is flushed a charming red. Fukuzawa sighs, deep and long. But before he can launch into the speech he’s mentally preparing, the waiter arrives with their food. Fukuzawa resolves to leave a large tip

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Its plate by the time they finish up at the restaurant, and step out into the street. Atsushi feels full and satisfied, and it didn't cost him a scent. The two men kept their word and paid for the meal in full. Apparently Mori had agreed to the alliance, but the actual details of it where still being hammered out. 

“I will not give you free reign over the harbor district.” Fukuzawa says, hand twitching for his sword. Atsushi sighs. 

“Well, I need the harbor district to conduct work.” Mori says, speaking directly over Atsushi’s head. He’s sandwiched between them as they stand outside of the restaurant, and he feels very short. 

“What kind of work? Illegal work?”

“We are the mafia.” 

“Um Sir, if it's alright to interject.” Both men turn to look at him and he shrinks under their combined gazes. “Maybe you guys should have this conversation somewhere else? People are staring.” The bubble seemingly popped, both men look around and take in the different kinds of stares their getting. The angry stares of people trying to go around them on the street, the curious stares of people in line, and even a few stares of disgust, from people who probably still think that these men are his ‘sugar daddies’. Atsushi flushes a little at the implications. 

“We can go to my office.” Mori offers. Fukuzawa glares. “And probably have to fight through several hundred armed guards?” And now they're arguing again. Atsushi is distinctly reminded a bit of Dazai and Kunikida, if Dazai and Kunikida threw insults at each other like two year olds. It's sometimes easy to forget that Mori is perhaps one of the most powerful men in Yokohama, and the same for the president. 

“Um, we could go to your office Fukuzawa sir, it's easily accessible and the only people that will be there this late at night is Kunikida.” The men turn their eyes back on him again, considering. Atsushi is kind of waiting for his suggestion to get shut down, but then Fukuzawa nods, and Mori winds an arm around his waist, subtly pulling him away from Fukuzawa. 

“What an excellent suggestion Kitten! You’re quite impressive, you know.” Atsushi flushes at the praise. Fukuzawa grabs his arm, pulling him away from Mori’s arm. “This way Atsushi, hurry up.” Fukuzawa says, pulling Atsushi's arm. Mori grabs his other arm. “Now wait up, it'll be fast to call a company car. The sidewalks are choked up at this time of night. And besides,” He says, gesturing at a darkened ally. “It gets sketchy as hell around here, and I'd prefer not to get blood on this suit.” 

Fukuzawa frowns, and Atsushi is sure he's going to protest just for protestings sake, but then he nods with a sigh. “Fine.” He says, dropping Atsushi’s arm. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The car was really fancy. A sleek black on the outside and inside and it even had a driver! The car ride was kind of annoying though. Fukuzawa refused to let him sit in the back with Mori, and Mori refused to sit next to Fukuzawa so Atsushi spent the car ride smashed between two handsome men who wouldn't stop throwing petty insults back and forth. He could smell them again, Mori’s scent of rosemary and sandalwood, and Fukuzawa’s clean smell, tinged with green tea. And as pleasant as that may sound, the rest of it was not. When they were not insulting each other, Mori would try to ask him a question or say something nice and Fukuzawa would swing at him over Atsushi’s head and suddenly two middle aged men were having a slap war above his head. It was the same way when Fukuzawa tried to say something to him as well. 

But now it's over and they're walking up the stairs of the Agency building, and Mori is snidely insulting the building and Fukuzawa is saying something insulting right back. And Atsushi would defend the building but he has a feeling Mori doesnt actually think that he’s just saying it to fuck with Fukuzawa and Atsushi really is forgetting how powerful these two men are. 

Also, through the entire night, it almost seems like Mori’s flirting with him. Now Atsushi doesn't have much experience with this stuff, and his knee jerk reaction is to deny, but then again…

“You cant do a double suicide, all by yourself~” Atsushi can hear it from all the way down the hall. Fukuzawa sighs, and murmurs something about apologizing to the people downstairs as Atsushi pulls the wooden door to the detective Agency open. 

Surprisingly, a good number of people are in the office when they arrive. Dazai is sitting at his desk with headphones on singing really loudly and off-key. Kunikida is at his desk with earplugs on, pointedly ignoring Dazai. Ranpo is perched on his desk, playing some video games and munching on snacks, also with headphones in. Naomi and Junichiro are sitting at their desks, sorting thirdly through paperwork. They all look up at the three new arrivals. 

Kunikida looks up a little late, pulling his earplugs out of his ears. 

“So Atsushi, I see you brought your new ‘Sugar Daddies’, huh.” Kunikida, who Atsushi guesses was absent from the office during The Phone Call™, chokes on his own spit. “Wha-who, excuse me—” Atsushi can feel the flush working up his neck again. Mori smirks, and Fukuzawa, perhaps sensing danger, jumps in. “That is highly inappropriate, Dazai. We’re still negotiating contract details, Kunikida, and since we didn't finish at the restaurant Atsushi very smartly suggested we come here.”

“They were arguing about the Harbor district in the middle of the street.” Atsushi, who’s kind of tired of their nonsense, says. “And then they spent the entire car ride insulting each other over my head.”

“Yes,” Mori says, giving a fake sad sigh. “Unfortunately Fukuzawa just refused to sit in the front of the limo. So poor this kitten was squished between us.” Someone chokes, probably Kunikida and Dazai murmurs ‘kitten?’ under his breath.

“Well you refused to sit next to me, and so Atsushi had to sit between us. And I refuse to let my prescouse subordinate sit alone in the back with you, especially with the way you were eyeing him.” Fukuzawa glares, and they're at it again. Naomi sends Atsushi a sympathetic look. “They’ve been like this all night then?” She says, shooting him a small smile at his nod of conformation. 

“I would never do anything in the limo, that's not my kink Fukuzawa. You know that.” 

“I wish I didn't. I'll never forget—”

“Um, Fukuzawa Sir, Mr Mori Sir, how about you guys go negotiate alliance details in the office. I have some stuff i need to—”

Atsushi is interrupted by Mori’s arm, winding around his waist again. “Nonsense! Without you there we would simply devolve to bloodshed or something worse.” Mori says, his gloved hand stroking Atsushi’s waist softly. It feels nice, and Atsushi can feel the warmth of his hand through all the layers of fabric. 

“For ounce, I actually agree with Mori. You can simply give your work to Dazai.” Fukuzawa says, smiling slightly. “Think of it as payback for how he pawns his work onto you.” 

A few stares are traded around the office as Atsushi is dragged away. Kunikida simply looks confused, while Naomi and Junichiro trade equally knowing looks. Dazai just chuckles to himself, then goes back to his horrendous singing. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The actual process of arguing small details didn't take that too long. After about forty minutes of back and forth about the harbor district, where about halfway through Kunikida brought them some alcohol and cups and informed them the others were leaving, Fukuzawa compromised about The Harbor district. And after that, the problems just flew by. And then they were shaking hands and signing a formal document with Atsushi as witness. And then, it was all over and they were all drinking and Atsushi could feel a faint pleasant buzz. He was by no means drunk, just clearly a bit tipsy. 

A record in the corner is playing slow, sexy jazz and somehow, over the ten or so minutes they’ve been drinking, Atsushi’s been sandwiched between the two men again. But this time, it's less uncomfortable because they're drinking and laughing, and both of them have taken off their coats to relax. And although they can't help but throw a dig or two in there, the constant insults have stopped, and the two of them are, if not friends, resembling something closer. 

Atsushi lets himself sink back into the couch, his head hitting Mori’s arm, which slung across the back of the couch. He’s noticed over the entirety of the evening, that the man seems to be a very physical person. He would very freely touch Atsushi’s arm or waist, and even now his hand, the one currently not holding a glass of whiskey, was reaching up, stroking Atsushi’s head softly. It felt really nice. Mori was a strange man. At times Atsushi really forgot that he was the head of the port mafia, a man whose clothes were stained with blood. But, he had been quite kind to Atsushi. 

And he was handsome. Very handsome in a sexy aged kind of way. Not unlike a wine. Yeah, the president was like a Wine too. A white wine though. The president was white wine, while Mori was red wine. Atsushi chuckles to himself. 

“What are you laughing about, kitten?” Mori’s eyes are sparkly. He’s not sure why he didn't notice that earlier. 

“Oh, i was noticing how you guys are like wine.” Atsushi says.

“Like wine?” Fukuzawa’s voice is sexy, all deep and raspy. It resonates in Atsushi’s bones, warming his body slightly. 

“You guys are so handsome. In an aged kind of way.” Atsushi says. Fukuzawa chokes, and Mori chuckles. Atsushi continues, smiling slightly. “The president is a white wine, and Mr. Mori is a red wine.” Mori’s hand is tangled in his hair now, lightly massaging his scalp. It feels good. 

“You think we’re handsome?” Mori says, placing his mostly empty glass on the coffee table before him. Atsushi nods. “Yes, very. I’ve been thinking about it the whole night.” He says. Someone in the back of his mind is screaming at him to shut up, but he feels pleasantly buzzed and his walls are slipping. Mori chuckles. “Well kitten, Fukuzawa and I think you're very pretty. Infact,” He leans close like he’s telling a secret, and Atsushi smells that scent of rosemary and sandalwood. “I’ve just been dying to fuck you stupid.” Atsushi feels a twinge of arousal sing though his body. He would like that, he definitely would very much so. 

On his other side, Fukuzawa coughs, directing his ire at Mori. “Seriously Mori? I'm right here.” Atsushi personally see’s no problem in this, and Mori seems to agree, because he speaks directly to Fukuzawa. “Why don't you join in? Atsushi wants you to. Right Kitten?” Atsushi nods, turning to look at the President on his other side. “Yes, I want you Sir.” 

“See Fukuzawa, no need to hold back.” Mori’s hand, still tangled in his hair, gently draws Atsushi’s eyes back to his own. Red eyes, pretting red eyes, twinkling with a strange light, heavy lidded. And then the hand on Atsushi’s head is pulling him forward, and Atsushi closes his eyes as Mori’s lips touch his own. Mori kisses deep, devouring Atsushi’s lips, stealing his breath away. His other hand winds up, slowly working the buttons on Atsushi’s double breasted vest, showing no hurry. Atsushi does his best to keep up, slowly following Mori’s lead. He feels a warm hand on his thigh, slowly stroking it, fingers just avoiding where he needs them to be. Fukuzawa’s other hand strokes his back, almost soothingly. 

Mori’s tongue is tracing the seam of his lips now, begging for entrance. Atsushi opens his mouth. Mori is obviously experienced, his tongue tangles with Atsushi’s own much more skillfully, tracing the inseams of his mouth, all while those fingers slowly undo his buttons. The hand on his thigh is tracing closer and closer to where he needs it, and Atsushi feels like a tightly wound bobble, waiting for the caress of a hand on his hard dick. 

Mori separates from his mouth, and Atsushi flushes at the dirty string of saliva that follows their separating tongues. It breaks when Mori dives back in, this time leaving little kisses on his neck. Atsushi’s head falls back, mouth parting in a soft moan as Fukuzawa’s hand finally strokes his dick. It feels good, even with layers of fabric softening the sensation. 

“Feel good?” Fukuzawa is watching him, his voice dropped down to a sensual whisper. Atsushi nods. “Yes, Fukuzawa Sir.” 

“Wow, Sir. That's hardcore.” Mori murmurs against his neck, and Atsushi moves as Mori’s skilled fingers undo the last button, discarding the vest on the coffee table. He presses a delicate kiss to his jaw, as his fingers move much faster, undoing the buttons of his shirt. Fukuzawa’s still applied the slightest of pressures to Atsushi’s clothed dick. He speaks right over Atsushi’s head. 

“Shut up Mori.” Although his words are aggressive, his tone doesn't match. It's still all low and sensual, and Atsushi moans as his fingers dance over his dick, the teasing touches a cruel torture as Fukuzawa undoes the zipper of his pants. But it's all worth it when Fukuzawa’s hand reaches into his boxers, finally coming in contact with his dick. Atsushi’s head falls back with an embarrassing moan, and he thrusts up into Fukuzawa’s hand. 

Mori had shed his gloves at some point during the drinking, and now his bare hand is trailing across Atsushi’s chest, the slightest bit of contact a delicious tease until he comes in contact with a nipple, brushing over the hard nub. Atsushi whimpers, an embarrassing sound, loud to his ears but still barely hearable over the jazz. Mori chuckles. “Such a very sensitive Kitten.” He says, shoving two fingers into Atsushi’s open mouth. “Now be a good boy and suck.” Atsushi obeys to the best of his abilities, distracted as he is by the stimulus on his dick and nipples. He sucks hard on Mori’s fingers, creating what he hopes is a pleasurable vacuum, occasionally using his tongue to trace the rough pads. 

“You're doing so well, Kitten. Such a good boy.” Mori says. The praise warms his heart, and at the same time he bucks into Fukuzawa’s hand. “Praise, huh. Stand for me, Atsushi.” Fukuzawa says, his hands momentarily leaving Atsushi’s dick to push down his pants. Mori’s fingers slip out of his mouth as he gets to his feet, kicking his pants away. And then his world is spinning as Fukuzawa’s big hands grip his waist, sitting him smack dab on Mori’s lap. 

“Condoms?” Mori asks, promptly shoving his fingers back into Atsushi’s mouth, rather roughly. Atsushi chokes around the intrusion, much more forceful this time, but shamefully his dick twitches at the force, and he shifts on Mori’s lap. Mori definitely notices. 

“Oh, you like it rough huh.” Atsushi nods around the fingers, whimpering. Mori smirks. “How dirty Kitten, just the way I like it.” He moves his fingers out and in, and Atsushi just lets his jaw fall slack, letting Mori do what he wishes. It's arousing to surrender control, to let this dangerous man do what he wills, and Atsushi’s free hand moves down the stroke himself over his boxers. His dick is leaking, staining his boxers with a quickly spreading wet stain, and as Atsushi grinds down against Mori’s lap, he feels a large hard thing under his ass. Mori groans in his ear, and Atsushi’s world is tilted on its axis.

When the spinning stops, Atsushi finds himself laying on his hands and knees on Fukuzawa’s brown couch, Mori’s hands smoothing over his butt. 

“You look so sexy like this kitten.” Mori says, his wet fingers prodding slightly at Atsushi’s hole. Atsushi shivers at the praise, and then keens as fingers penetrate his hole. It's an odd feeling, but not entirely unpleasant. But still, Atsushi feels himself flagging a little as Mori shoves his fingers in, stretching his ass out for a bigger intrusion. Mori notices. 

“Does it hurt?” He says, pausing his motions, his fingers still lodged deep in Atsushi’s ass. Atsushi shakes his head. “No, just strange.” 

“I see.” Mori resumes his motions, slowly withdrawing almost all the way out before he enters again, his pace slow and deep. And soon, Atsushi feels the strange discomfort turn to pleasure. And soon he’s arching his back, keening, begging for more. 

“I'm back, I had to borrow some from the infirmary.” Fukuzawa says, passing a foil packet to Mori. When had he left? Atsushi hadn't noticed. He returns to the couch, bending over to kiss Atsushi harshly on the mouth. His kiss is different from Mori’s, much more aggressive, but Atsushi can't decide which one he likes more. And while he’s distracted, having his tongue sucked on by Fukuzawa, Mori slips on the condom, lining the head of his cock up with Atsushi’s ass. 

He pushes in slowly but Atsushi feels it, pulling away from Fukuzawa’s mouth the moan loudly, a garbled mix of Mori’s name and nonsense. The stretch burns a little, but Atsushi finds he likes it. His back arches, eyes falling closed as Mori moves slowly, before finally stopping, all the way in. Atsushi doesn't think he’s ever felt this full. He’s left panting against the couch, Fukuzawa’s fingers tangled in his hair, soothing him. 

“Such a pretty boy.” Mori coos, big hands gripping Atsushi’s waist. “Staying so still for me. Can I move, Kitten?” That nickname makes Atsushi clench down, moaning loudly out a, “Yes Mori. Oh god please yes!” Mori chuckles, and obliges. Mori sets a fast pace, his hands making good use of Atsushi’s waist, his balls slapping on Atsushi’s ass. Atsushi is moaning up a storm, eyes closed when Fukuzawa’s hand, still lodged in his hair, pulls him upward.

“Atsushi.” Atsushi opens his eyes, and comes face to face with Fukuzawa’s hard cock, bobbing in front of him. Atsushi nods, understanding what he wants. Fukuzawa’s dick is long, and heavy on his tongue, the taste faintly salty. Atsushi does his best, doing what he’d done to Mori’s fingers earlier, but he soon just surrenders and lets Fukuzawa fuck his throat. 

“Such a good boy.” Mori grunts, hand reaching around to stroke Atsushi’s dick. “Taking me so well, letting him fuck your throat raw.” he leans down, cooing directly in Atsushi’s ear. “You were made for this, made to be fucked stupid.” Atsushi keens, moaning around Fukuzawa’s dick, his back arching as he cums. 

“Did you cum pretty boy?” Mori says, trying for a chuckle, but ending up with more of a choked up grunt. Atsushi nods, trying his best to apologize around Fukuzawa’s dick. “No need to apologize.” Mori continues. “We’ll just make you cum again, won't we Fukuzawa?” 

“Mhm.” Fukuzawa responds, much more prioritized with Atsushi’s mouth. Mori was very vocal during sex, cooing dirty talk and praise in his ear, moaning and grunting as he thrusts in and out. Fukuzawa was much more quiet, occasionally grunting or groaning quietly, but not much speaking. His dick is still twitching, already coming back to hardness as Mori fucks him hard, landing the occasional slap on Atsushi’s butt. 

“No refractory period. Interesting.” Mori doesn't sound interested, he just sounds raspy and sexy and Atsushi almost comes again. And then, he hits a spot inside Atsushi that makes him white out for a second. Atsushi moans, choking around Fukuzawa’s dick, spit sliding from his mouth and landing on the couch. Mori seems to understand, and hits that spot again, and again, and again until Atsushi is cuming again, shooting ropes of semen onto the couch. 

“Atsushi, ‘m cuming.” Fukuzawa says above him, shoving himself down Atsushi’s throat one more time, and soon hot seed is running down Atsushi’s throat. He swallows it all, or tries his best as he’s still cumming. “Me too.” Mori murmurs, still stroking Atsushi’s dick as his rhythm stutters, and he shoves his hips in one more time. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Work the next day is a little awkward. For him at least. The rest of the Agency has no problem interrogating him for details. 

“So, what happened again?”

Atsushi sighs. “It took a whole entire dinner, car ride, and about another hour but the Alliance has been finalized. Or whatever.” 

Naomi frowns. “No, that's not what we ment. We ment did—”

“Yo, lame ass detective Agency, i have something for you.” Chuuya pokes his head in, sending Dazai a glare and the rest of them mostly a confused sort of smile. 

“What are you doing here mackerel?” Dazai says, his eyes darkening. 

“Shut up stupid Dazai, I've been demoted to a delivery guy apparently.” Chuuya says, walking over and depositing a box in Atsushi’s desk. “Here you go Were-Tiger, it's from the boss.”

Dead silence falls for a moment, and then Dazai speaks. “I guess he really is your Sugar Daddy huh.”

Atsushi throws a pencil holder at his head. 

End Notes: so, this is a thing, that exists. I dunno man. I'm going to hell. also this got long as helllll i dont know what happened

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bungo stray dogs smut

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 7-Atsushi/Fukuzawa with kinks Aphrodisiacs and Praise kink

Notes: Really Rare Pair lol. I dunno, it's fun(I'm a multishipper). ALSO DID YOU GUYS KNOW THAT BENTO’S IN JAPAN COST LIKE 3-5 BUCKS? I'M SO JEALOUS THEIR LIKE 15$ HERE!

It was a relatively peaceful evening at the Agency. And that was because he was the only one here. Atsushi doubted that it would be this quiet if they all had not abandoned him alone to do paperwork and went off on missions. Well, besides Dazai. No one knew where he was. They had their guesses. Kunikida had guessed, ‘off somewhere slacking off as usual,’ Ranpo had simply said ‘woman’ and Yosano and Kenji had guessed suicide attempt. Kyouka hadn't weighed in, and neither had Tanzaki and Naomi, but that was because they hadn't been there. Atsushi was sure that if they had been there, they would have had their own opinions.

But anyway, everyone was out and Atsushi was demoted to doing paperwork all day long in his loneliness. It wasn't too bad in all honesty. It was quiet, and the sun was just burning the horizon with orange and yellows. It was peaceful. The wind was gentle and smelled faintly of something sweet, and a street musician was playing faintly in the background. Atsushi was the only one here, as far as he knew. And he had gotten through a substantial amount of the work he had been avoiding, and he had secretly raided Ranpo’s snack drawer(although based on how it wasnt locked like it usually was, Atsushi wouldn't be surprised if the man left it open for him as an apology).

Atsushi leaned back in his chair, stretching. He might as well go to the corner store and get some dinner, maybe replace a few of Ranpo’s snacks while he was at it. The wind caressed his face as he closed the door behind him, tossing his hair gently around, letting the longer strands tickle his cheeks. It was a good temperature, not too cold and not too warm and the sun splashed a pretty sunset over the horizon. Golden hour light highlighted the world, casting it in a brilliant ethereal glow. It was nice to get out of the office for a minute, to walk through the streets, busy with people on their way home from work, and simply stretch for a minute. 

He's turning the corner to the supermarket when he spots it, the cute little bento shop right next door, with a big red ‘buy one get one free!’ sign, and he’s never really been one to resist a good sale. The bell tinkles as he enters the shop, the only other customer, a giggly couple in the corner, barely pay him mind as he walks to the counter. The woman working the register smiles brightly at him. 

“Hi cutie, what can I getcha?” Atsushi can't help the red that scrawled across his cheeks, he’s still not used to compliments. The woman is pretty too, and while these days Atsushi’s type is a little different, he can at least admit she’s pretty. Dazai would probably ask her for double suicide. “Um, I'll take the Katsu Bento please!” The woman, whose name tag reads Akiko nods, tapping away at the register with her long acrylic nails. “Oh yeah!” Akiko looks up. “We're actually offering a discount right now. If you try our new pickles we give 50% off! What do ya think, sweety?” Atsushi’s nodding before he can even think properly. “I'll take it. I also saw you guys have a buy one get one free deal right now?” Akiko nods, smiling. “Yep, so you want two Katsu bento’s with the new pickles. That’ll be 200¥.” Atsushi hands over the coins with a smile, and the woman slides his bentos across the counter. She tosses him a wink as he leaves. “Enjoy baby.” 

The bell tinkles as he leaves, the breeze welcomes him back into the dusk. The sun has sunk a little more, but still peaks over the horizon, as if it longs to stay for one more hour. Birds chirp and leaves spin through the air and a little girl runs past him, chasing a runaway balloon. The afternoon is perfect, but almost two perfect and Atsushi’s almost waiting for Akutagawa to jump out of the shadows and threaten him with a few amputated limbs. But he makes it all the way back to the Agency without any notable accidents. 

The Agency is no longer empty when he gets back, the president is sitting on the brown leather couch by the door, flipping through a book. And Atsushi hates how his heart speeds up a little bit when he sees him. He looks unfairly dignified and attractive as he flips through his book, looking up and meeting Atsushi’s eyes. “There you are, Atsushi, I was wondering where you had gone off two.” Atsushi pointedly ignores his flushed cheeks and speeds up heart rate and holds up the to-go bag. “Went out to grab some dinner. Would you like one sir? I have an extra bento.” The President closes his book with a nod. “I would like one, thank you.” 

◈◈◈

The bento Atsushi hands him is lovely, with one side of rice with a rather generous piece of Katsu sliced across it. There are three different types of sides, including a lovely cucumber salad, a pickled leaf that looks a bit like perilla, and a little mochi for dessert. He gratefully takes the chopsticks Atsushi hands him, giving the boy a grateful smile. The little flush on his face is charming. “This looks delicious, Atsushi. Tell me how much I owe you.” Atsushi unwraps his own chopsticks, a bashful little smile curved across his face. “Oh don't worry about it, it was a buy one get one free deal. They also gave me a 50% off discount if I tried their new pickles.” He uses a chopstick to pick one of the leaves out, taking a bite. “Oh, these are good.” Fukuzawa takes a bite of one and finds he does not care for the taste at all. It has a distinctly mint like flavor, but strangely not and because of the pickling, kind of bitter. He scoops his into Atsushi’s bento. Atsushi sends him a grateful little smile. 

The rest of the Bento is delicious, and Fukuzawa digs in as they talk. “You know Atsushi.” Fukuzawa starts out, “You have been doing exceptionally well with your jobs lately.” The flush that takes his cheeks is adorable, and Fukuzawa can't help the thought, exceptionally cute. The boy has always been susceptible to praise. “You don't have to say that, Sir.” Fukuzawa shakes his head. “No, I mean it. And your suggestion to team up with the mafia proved a very good one.” And, although he won't say this part, he likely would have not thought of it himself, or even if he had, he would have disregarded the thought. He didn't want to think too hard about the reason he even thought properly about it in the first place. The boy smiles bashfully at the praise, his whole body practically singing with joy, his ears and tail flicking happily—

Wait, a tail and ears? Fukuzawa looks again, just in case he hallucinates in his old age. Sure enough, two ears have sprouted on the boy's  head, and a tail flicks behind him, wagging slightly. Fukuzawa frowns. While it's admittedly kind of adorable, and his hands are itching to stroke the soft white fur, he should probably tell him. But he really doesn't want to. Atsushi is sure to put them away then, and they're just so cute! Fukuzawa really, really wants to pet them, maybe run his hands through Atsushi’s soft hair while he’s at it. 

Atsushi still hasn't noticed the ears, and is happily munching away at those new pickles. He seems to really like them, it's almost charming how he chomps away happily, a little smile curved across his face. Those leaves look strangely familiar though, but Fukuzawa just can't place them…

“Um Sir? Is something wrong?” Those eyes are looking at him, and Fukuzawa realizes he's staring. He shakes his head, clearing thoughts of petting Atsushi out of his head. He really should just tell him about the ears, as much as he doesn't want to. He opens his mouth, ready to tell all, but he never gets the chance because suddenly Atsushi is gone, replaced by a huge white tiger. The change is almost instantaneous, and although Fukuzawa should be scared, he really isn't because the tiger looks less fearsome and more just adorable as it pads around the table, pouncing on the couch and laying its head in Fukuzawa’s lap. Fukuzawa almost melts, because his lap is full of giant Atsushi kitty and he just has to stroke him.

The fur is as soft as he imagined, and a deep pur rumbles out of Atsushi Kitty, the vibrations rattling him and the couch. The massive cat nuzzles his hand, almost begging for more pets. With joy, Fukuzawa obliges. 

The ring of his phone cuts through the calm of the room. Atsushi Kitty’s ears flick slightly as Fukuzawa removes one hand to answer. It's Dazai. 

“Yo, Boss? Is Atsushi with you?” 

Fukuzawa chuckles, “Yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Uh, ok. Well, he’s not picking up his phone.” Dazai sounds like he’s barely holding back laughter. “I forgot to tell him that he should not get the Bento’s from that place down the street.” 

Fukuzawa’s blood runs cold. “Why?”

“You sound panicked.” Dazai sounds far too pleased. “Don't worry, it's nothing bad. They have a few deals and you know how Atsushi can't resist those.” 

Dazai says it's nothing but ice cold panic still runs through Fukuzawa’s veins. 

“Anyway, they have a new pickle that he shouldn't eat.” He hears a commotion on the line, and then Dazai’s voice is replaced by Kunikida. “President? Yes, Dazai was dallying so i'll just tell you.” 

“What's wrong with the pickles?” Fuuzawa tries to steady his voice, but an embarrassing tremor is still there. Fukuzawa can almost hear Kunikida frowning through the phone. “He ate them, didn't he?” 

“Yes”

Fukuzawa can hear giggling in the background, probably Dazai. Kunikida continues. “Don't worry, they aren't poisonous. I talked to the lady down the street and she said it is a new strain of catnip they’ve developed.” 

The panic is gone, replaced by amusement. “I see, well that's not a problem then.” 

“Well, um, you see…” Kunikida sounds almost flustered, and then he's replaced by Dazai again.

“What Kunikida is too flustered to say is that the Catnip acts as a potent aphrodisiac.” Fukuzawa almost chokes, Dazai sounds far too thrilled as he continues. “Apparently, it has no effect on humans, but most cats almost immediately go into a heat of some type.”

“But what effect will it have on Atsushi? He’s technically a tiger.” Fukuzawa is grasping at straws here, desperately trying to tamp down any inappropriate thoughts. Dazai is replaced, but with Ranpo this time.

“Hey boss, did Atsushi eat all my snacks” 

“Ranpo, I don't think that's our priority right now.”

“Yeah yeah, well the aphrodisiac should have an effect on Atsushi, because of the tiger.” Fukuzawa loves his members, but seriously, he just needs information right now. Ranpo continues. “I'd guess there would be like three stages. One, cat ears and tail, two, full tiger form, and three back to human.” Fukuzawa can faintly hear rustling in the background, and a few muffled giggles.

“He’ll probably go all horny when he’s back in human form.” Ranpo chomps on something, probably some chips. “This is good for you, Boss. you can finally stop lying to yourself—

Fukuzawa hears a commotion in the background again and then Dazai is grabbing the phone. “Don't worry Prez, I'd be happy to come back and take care of him, you don't have to do any—” There’s a smack, and then the line goes dead. 

Fukuzawa is frozen for a moment, truly taking in the information. Apparently, the store down the road decided to mutate a new type of Catnip, specifically for pickles? In his old age, Fukuzawa has truly stopped being surprised by most things but this one, this one almost gets him. The massive tiger on his lap purrs, nuzzling into his hand as he resumes his petting, trying to come up with a game plan for when Atsushi returns to his human form and inevitably ‘goes all horny’. He has, to his knowledge, three options. One, he could call Dazai back and have him ‘deal with it’. This option on the surface seems like a good one, but the thought of Dazai’s hands all over Atsushi makes a weird feeling start in his chest.(he knows it's jealousy, but he can't admit it, even just to himself.) Option two is to take care of it himself. And, although it's the most attractive option, that one is out of the question. He has grown much too old to be messing around like that, especially with a much younger employee. 

The third option is quickly looking to be his only option, to simply wait it out and do nothing. And in the end, its the only option he really has.(In the back of his mind, Fuykuzawa prepares himself for the battle of a lifetime, because he’s not sure what's going to happen when Atsushi returns to human form, but he can certainly imagine it. Atsushi’s pretty flushed face, his lips parting in moans and whimpers, his flushed chest covered in pretty hickeys, his voice panting out that stupid appellation the boy likes to use, “Oh, Fukuzawa Sir, it feels so good. Oh oh oh—)

His phone ringtone startles Fukuzawa out of his thoughts. Atsushi’s ears flick in displeasure as Fukuzawa removes his hands, answering the call. 

“Yo Prez.” Dazai sounds thrilled. “We got some info.”

“I see.” The massive tiger in his lap is purring again, and Fukuzawa almost melts into a puddle of sappy joy. Dazai chuckles. 

“Apparently, you have a couple options.” Dazai says. “One, pardon my french, you fuck it out of him.” Fukuzawa clears his throat, hoping to clear his mind of all the images that conjured up. Dazai continues, sounding much too amused. “Two, ask Lucy to do it. Or three, I'm still available to come home and do it for you.”

“Can I not just wait it out?” Fukuzawa hates the green monster of jealousy that rears its ugly head at the mention of Dazai or even Lucy ‘dealing with it’. 

“Nope.” Dazai replies. “Apparently if you let it go he could get seriously injured. I dunno, I wasn't listening to the specifics.”

A small silence descends upon the two men on the phone, before Dazai speaks up once more. “So Prez, can I do it?” Fukuzawa doesn't like how excited he sounds, positively gleeful. “Put Ranpo on please.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know, maybe this is good. You can finally stop lying to yourself and we at the office can stop seeing Atsushi’s abandoned little puppy eyes every time you enter the room—”

A commotion sounds on the other side of the phone, but Fukuzawa doesn't really notice because it's at this moment that the fur on the giant tiger recedes, leaving behind a sleeping boy, head still nestled on Fukuzawa’s lap. 

“Yo, boss? Did Atsushi eat all my snacks? I left to drawer open as an apology for leaving him there, but i only did it because i thought he would be too polite to eat them all—”

“Ranpo, is that really our priority right now?” Fukuzawa isn't proud of how his voice shakes slightly.

“Geez, ok. Did you need something?” Fukuzawa can actively hear Ranpo’s eye roll. “Cause we were just stopping at the store to get a snack refill.”

Fukuzawa is truly tempted to roll his eyes. “Atsushi is asleep right now. How long until the aphrodisiac kicks in.”

“I dunno, maybe ten minutes.” Ranpo says. “You should probably take him back to the dorms.”

“But i don't intend—” “Yeah sure, whatever you say.” And with a beep, the line goes dead. With a sigh, Fukuzawa gently hoists a still sleeping Atsushi into his arms, and starts the trek back to the dorms.

◈◈◈

Dusk has fallen, the sun has all but vanished over the horizon and a thousand stars paint the sky, He only gets a few strange looks on the way home, but it's clear that the people of Yokohama have long since grown used to the strange happenings around the Agency building and he gets back to the dorms, and into Atsushi’s apartment with no problems. It's only once he's stepped inside, when he’s set Atsushi gently on the floor and is rummaging around for the futon when he truly asks himself what he’s planning to do once the boy wakes up. And when he’s settling Atsushi gently on the futon, and is sitting beside it, he tries his best to think of a solution, any solution besides the one that's screaming at him. But he fails, and as he stands, ready to get Dazai and live with the jealousy, he feels a hand on his Yukata, pulling him to a stop, and he meets the hazy eyes of Atsushi Nakajima, awake but not totally lucid.

Truthfully, as soon as he meets those eyes, hazy with lust and slipping, he knows he's done for. But he still holds out hope that he can at least try to resist. He can at least tell himself that he’s going to stand up and leave the boy, and call Dazai. But he’s always been a stubborn man, at least to himself, and he does his best to shake Atsushi’s hand off gently. The younger boy has pulled himself into a sitting position, and is lazily undoing his tie with one hand, the other still hooked on the hem of Fukuzawa’s Yukata. “Sir, I feel so hot.” His voice is a calculated seduction, each movement, from the flick of his wrist as he pulls his tie from his neck, to the low lidded eyes and fluttering eyelashes is precisely calculated to wear down the walls separating his good sense from his dick. 

And yes, Fukuzawa knows that most of this is likely involuntary, but it still works. Too well. Fukuzawa’s green hakama falls to the floor, knocked completely from his shoulders as Atsushi tugs especially hard, and in an effort to twist away, Fukuzawa trips, sprawling to the floor with a crash. He lands on his butt, his hands catching him on the way down, and Atsushi’s on him in a flash, crawling towards him along the floor. Frukuzawa grabs his shoulders, stopping him before he can do anything drastic. And puts up his last line of defense.

“Atsushi, do you, as well as you can, consent to this?” Atsushi is undoing more and more buttons, still gazing at him with those lust blown eyes. He nods, tugging gently on the hem of Fukuzawa’s Yukata. “Yes, Sir.” That address, that darn address makes his dick twitch in his pants, coming to life with a furry. Maybe it's because of the (substantial) age gap, or maybe because it's just Atsushi, but Fukuzawa knows he will never be able to hear it the same way again. 

He wants to kiss him, he wants to press his lips to Atsushi’s own and caress him gently and take his time, but he feels like he doesn't have the right to. He feels, that he already has the privilege of touching Atsushi, because even though the boy seems to hold some affection for him, he’s still his boss, and a much older man, and its natural for Atsushi, a boy who had previously had no one to rely on but himself, to develop a crush on an older source of comfort in his life. And it should be Fukuzawa’s job to gently rebuke the boy's affections, and watch him fall for more suitable people like Lucy(and not Dazai, because that green monster of jealousy is rearing its ugly head once again.) He feels almost like he’s stealing something precious, something he can never return. And so, instead of kissing Atsushi, he flips the shorter boy over, letting him lay lewdly on his stomach, his ass pointed in the air. It's much more raunchy and dirty, and much less intimate, making him much less likely to get overwhelmed by his swiftly growing feelings and say something useless. 

He takes the time to properly undo his Yukata and underlayer, folding them neatly if only to prove how sane and controlled he is right now, and when he looks back, he's greeted by the sight of a mostly naked Atsushi, grinding his hips down against the futon covering. Fukuzawa can feel his dick jump to hardness, because it's quite a pretty sight. The boy is thin, a small waist tapering into surprisingly wide hips and round little butt. Usually, he would take his time, maybe gently caress the boy and press kisses to those shoulders, but he just needs to fuck the Catnip out of his system, and hopefully avoid any awkwardly intimate things like hickeys and i love you’s(if only for his own sanity and integrity as an employer). 

He highly doubts the boy has lube, and so he does the next best thing. He spits in his hand, lubing up his cock the best he can, under the circumstances. He lines his cock head up with Atsushi’s hole, stopping just one more time to check.

“Are you sure Atsushi? I could call Dazai—” Atsushi takes the decision out of his hands by gripping Fukuzawa’s cock, and gently shoving the head into his hole. Atsushi’s back arches, and a whimper exits his mouth, a whimper of Fukuzawa’s name and that stupid, sensual ‘sir’. Fukuzawa isn't proud of how he shoves the rest of the way in, gripping Atsushi’s waist with a groan. It's been a long time, too long, apparently. “Feel good?” He says as he begins to move, pulling out all the way and back in, in long, slow thrusts. “Yes, ohh Sir!” Atsushi’s hands are tangled in the Futon cover, head turned to the side, hair splayed across the blue comforter in a striking contrast. 

He looks heavenly and sinful and Fukuzawa doubts he’ll be able to erase the image of Atsushi beneath him for a long, long time. His moans are pretty, just as pretty as his eyes, that beautiful vertical heterochromia, those gorgeous colores, the color of the sunset sky. A sunset sky overcast with the clouds of lust and devotion. His hole is tight and pulsing, hugging Fukuzawa’s cock in a warm welcome, almost telling him to never leave, to fuck this pretty boy forever, to love this boy forever. Fukuzawa can feel himself getting sappy, because he’s a weak, sappy old man and he can't help it. 

Somehow, all his protests before have vanished all at once. Maybe he’s too far gone, too enamored with the boy and his pretty body to lie to himself anymore. Maybe, he considered as he leaned down, pressing Atsushi’s body into the mattress, letting his strokes speed up as the boy moaned his name once more, maybe this really was a good thing, a blessing in disguise as his colleagues had suggested. 

“Ohh oh sir, I'm cumming!” Fukuzawa gives up on not being sappy, and tangles his hands with Atsushi’s, grinding his hips deep inside the boy as he cums, letting himself go not soon after. And, as he cleans the boy up a little and pulls the futon covers over his sleepy form, he lets himself seriously consider courting Atsushi, and gives the Bento box a five star review.

(And he never did hear Sir the same way again, every time Atsushi uttered the word it reminded him of that night, and made him flush in a business meeting. )

End Notes: Also, did you know that technically, catnip counts as an aphrodisiac when promoting cat mating? Well i didn't, and i learned it when i had to do research for this fic man. Also tigers don't really respond to catnip, but now they do because I said so.(and because i made up a mutation of it)

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #kinktober 2023 #mariannacrxss #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #im so tired

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 6-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ kinks restraints and blinfods(also vampire au)

Notes: rarepare, yes, i know. Also I'm literally obsessed with Fyodor's dead apple outfit. Like did they all go to the mall to try on matching suites?? Where they all like, ‘bro, those jackets are too long.’ or, ‘Fyodor you should wear two fancy coats over your normal clothes,’ or ‘Dazai that looks bad on you try this one.’? I'm literally obsessed you don't understand 

It was freezing in the mountains. A bitter cold chill seeped into his bones and froze him from the inside out, even as the tiger did its best to fight the frostbite away. Atsushi pulled his fur lined cloak closer around his body and trudged on through the snowstorm. The wind abused his face raw, and as quickly as the pain hit it receded, healed by the tiger inside of him. For once in his life Atsushi truly thanked the tiger. For with its strength he was this year's trader, a great honor in his village, as well as one of the members strong enough to make the trek up the mountains and across the snow tundra below them to the neighboring town, to trade. 

The snowy mountain ranges blocking Atsushi’s small village from the neighboring village were truly a blessing sometimes. Legend had it that the mountains had risen from the ground after the bloody battle that split Yokohama City, the capital of Yokohama island in half, forever separating the warring factions. The Northern village, run primarily by the Mafia Guild, and the Southern Village, Atsushi’s home, run by the Armed Detective Guild. The villages never interacted, the inhabitants far too volatile or just plain violent to have calm relations, except for one day out of the year, when one person from each village would cross the snowy mountains and trade with the other village. There was an unspoken truce these days, ‘you kill our resident and we kill yours’, and of course, as the least volatile of the Armed Detective Guild, Atsushi was saddled with the honor of making his way across the forever snowing mountains. 

(Last year's trader, Atsushi’s mentor Dazai almost incited all out war between the two villages, and had subsequently been banned from ever doing it again. Since then the traders have been chosen with greater care, and the entire job holds a strange reverence about it.) Atsushi didn't mind the job, not really. It was interesting to visit the other village, and most of the Mafia Guild were pleasant, if a little strange. The bloody war was almost two decades ago, and only the oldest Guild members could even remember a time when the villages were one. And so, it was a unique opportunity to meet people he wouldn't usually see, and maybe get some delicacies for the long months to come. The problem, this year, was the snow, and the strange things that had been happening in the mountains lately. 

It always snowed in the mountains, no matter the season. The snow piled higher and higher until it fell, rolling down the slopes in big balls and melting at the bottom, creating the lakes that littered the island. But it was usually a peaceful kind of snow. No wind ever disturbed the peaceful atmosphere. At least, that was how it had been. Now, fearsome winds battered the snowflakes against Atsushi’s face, rubbing his cheeks red raw. The trees, formerly covered in fluffy white, shrieked with the wind, their bare dead blanches scratching his face and hands. The mountain was as barren of life as ever, but ever so often Atsushi had the strange sensation that someone was watching him.

The other change, and the most noticeable was the large gothic castle that had materialized in the mountains, right at the top. Its large arches and dark marble walls were visible even from the ground. It appeared dead of life in the daytime, but as soon as evening hit, lights poured out from the large windows, and occasionally music could be heard. None of the Guild Members had ever seen anyone leave or enter the place, and yet it didn't worry them at all.

“This is Yokohama island, strange things are commonplace.” Was all Kunikida, the Guilds vice President had told him when he asked about it.

Atsushi was kind of worried though. Castles did not just pop out of the ground for no reason, and as he was the one trekking across the mountains this year, he was a little worried. He hoped to steer clear of the place and make it across the snow without any major problems.

As if god had heard his problems, and then proceeded to laugh in his face, the snow began pelting him faster and faster, the trees bare arms seemed to reach for him, to scratch his arms and pull at his fur lined cloak, pulling it from his shoulders with a yank. Atsushi watched in disappointment as it flew away, the black velvet outside disappearing in the snow storm. He almost felt like crying. That cloak had been a gift from his mentor Dazai when he had first joined the guild, and was one of his most treasured possessions. He was left in only his button down shirt and vest, warm but still thin black pants and snow boots. Without the coat, Atsushi knew he could not make it across the mountain without freezing to death, and so, with a resigned sigh he made his way towards the winking lights of the gothic castle in the distance. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The castle was huge up close, golden light spilled out of the large windows, the black glass spires spearing the sky. It was beautiful, and at the same time cold, not unlike the queen of winter herself. Hesitantly, Atsushi raised his hand and knocked. The sound echoed off the walls and then faded into the snowstorm, whirling away with the wind. The large black marble arched doorway is clearly decorative, and a much smaller door opens slowly with a creak.

The man who steps out is a strange man, about a head taller than Atsushi, and very pale. He's wrapped up in a white outfit, a fuzzy white hat over his dark, purple black hair. He seems to be wearing two coats, a long one on the inside with a golden design on the bottom, and a shorter overcoat, with a fur lining. He looks very cozy, but he still shivers slightly, pale cheeks painted with a slight bit of pink. His dark eyes scan Atsushi questioningly, and Atsushi shivers. The man is so pale he looks almost sickly. His eyes are underlined with bags that give him an alluring, mysterious vibe.

“What can I help you with?” The man's voice is slightly accented, something Atsushi has never heard on the island. The whole man has a foreign air about him, from his fuzzy hat to his smooth accent. It's not weird, in fact Atsushi feels slightly mesmerized, as he replies. 

“Um, I was wondering if I could stay the night. I can't make it across the mountain tonight.” Atsushi draws his arms around himself, trying to keep himself warm. The man stares at him for a moment longer. “Where are you coming from, little one?” He says. His accent is so foreign, Atsushi just can't place it.

“Oh, I'm coming from the village down the mountains.” Atsushi says quickly. “I'm heading over to the other village to trade for this year.” The man nods. “I see.” He stands back, opening the door wider and allowing Atsushi to enter. “You are welcome to stay the night.” Atsushi thanks him gratefully as he steps into the warmth of the building, the door closing with a resounding slam behind him. 

The inside of the castle is as grand as the outside. The walls are a dark purple, with white and silver accents. White candlelight floods the long hallway and Atsushi can't help staring around in awe as the man leads him down the hallway and into a warm and cozy living room. The ceilings are high, so high that Atsushi can barely make them out, and shadows dance happily in the corners where the light doesn't reach. The whole building has a lonely feel about it, like a beautiful princess stuck in her solitary tower, looking desperately for some company. 

The man chuckles, as he slowly sheds a layer as the fireplace roared with white hot flames. “It's beautiful, isn't it?” His thin pale fingers undo the claspes of his first jacket, draping it gracefully over a large armchair. Atsushi nods. “Oh yes, I've never seen such a large castle in my life.” He turns to the man. “Thank you so much for letting me stay Mr…” 

“Fyodor, little one.” 

“Mr Fyodor. I don't think I would have been able to make it across the mountain tonight. It was really kind of you to let me stay.” Atsushi fidgets with his hands nervously as Fyodor looks at him, blinking his eyes slowly. “Yes, as you can see I have plenty of space.” Fyodor says, smiling a small little smile. “Now Atsushi, would you like something to eat?” Atsushi nods happily, and honestly he's too hungry to even notice that Fydor said his name. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

The dining room is huge, the floors carpeted in a silver and purple rug, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, spilling silver candlelight all over the room. The table was long, and one side was set for two, completely covered in different dishes Atsushi had never seen before. It all smelled delicious, and Atsushi’s mouth watered as he stared at the spread of dishes. Fyodor chuckled next to him, his gloved hands leading Atsushi to a seat and pulling it out for him. 

“You're hungry, enjoy.” The man took a seat across from him, and Atsushi dug in. The first thing he reached for was a meat skewer, the meat dripping and tender and he tore into it. He let out a little groan of happiness. It’s delicious, the flavors melting into his mouth delightfully. The dishes are things he’s never seen before but he’s so curious to try them all. Fyodor sits across from him, sipping delicately on what looks like wine, not touching the food. 

“Are you not hungry?” Atsushi says, teeth sinking into a flaky pastry filled with meat and potatoes. “I'll have my dinner later, little one.” Fyodor chuckles. “Now tell me, why are you venturing out on a night such as this one? It's far too dangerous for a pretty boy like you to be out in the snow.” Atsushi flushes at the compliment, sipping at some red soup that warms his insides, whipping the residue with the silk napkins he was given. “Well, every year someone has to travel across the mountains to trade with the other village.” He takes another few bites, this time of the meat skewers again. “It's usually pretty easy, the weather was especially bad this time.” 

“I see, and why are you the one trekking across these dangerous mountains?” Fyodor takes another sip of his dark red wine, swirling delicately in the crystal stem glass. Atsushi leans back, patting his belly with a small groan. “Well, last year they sent another guy. My mentor Dazai.” Fyodor’s small smile falls, his face unreadable. 

“Dazai, you say?” he says, his voice blank. 

“Yeah, Dazai.” Atsushi frowns. “Do you know him?” 

The silence that descends for a moment is excruciating. Atsushi begins twisting his hands again and again, resisting the urge to backpedal and apologize. Finally, Fyodor smiles again. “No, the name just sounded familiar.” He stands, and Atsushi jumps to his feet, in a hurry to please. Fyodor has that small little smile curving his lips again, as he leads Atsushi out of the dining room, and up a large winding staircase. 

The castle is huge. Their footsteps echo off the walls, before Fyodor leads him into a carpeted section of the house. Atsushi pasess door after door, corridor after corridor before Fyodor finally stops outside of a small door, with a silver door handle. The knocker is silver two, and made in the shape of a roaring tiger. The tiger almost looks alive, and its brilliant yellow eyes sparkle, almost seeming to follow his every move. Fyodor coughs, dragging Atsushi’s eyes away from the sparkling yellow eyes. He hands him a small pile of folded clothes with a smirk. Atsushi thanks him gratefully, but he simply chuckles and waves it off.

“It is no problem at all. But Atsushi, I need you to promise me something.” Fyodor says, gripping Atsushi’s shoulders and meeting his eyes. Atsushi has to look up at him, and he feels his face heat up for some reason, his heart pounding slightly in his chest. Fyodor continues, voice serious. “You must not come downstairs after nine o’clock. No matter what noises you hear.” It's a strange request, to be sure. But it's Fyodor’s house, and this whole situation is strange. Atsushi ignores his blushing cheeks and nods. “I promise.” 

Fyodor simply looks at him for a moment. His dark eyes scan Atsushi’s face and Atsushi tries vainly to keep the blushing in control. The man is close to him, and Atsushi can take in every feature on his face. He’s pale, so so pale, with only a slight amount of pink on those cheeks. Dark circles highlight his dark eyes, effectively giving him a sickly appearance. It's strange how that face makes Atsushi’s body heat up. ‘I want him to come closer.’ Atsushi slaps the stray traitorous thought away. 

He feels for a moment that the taller man will lean close, and maybe press those pale lips against Atsushi’s own. But finally, he steps away, and with a wave he turns the corner, leaving Atsushi alone in the carpeted hallway, a pile of clothes clutched in his hands. He shakes himself out of his stupor and twists the door handle, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. 

The clothes Fyodor gave him are simple, just a thin cotton button down and pants. The fabric is soft however, and strangely warm. Atsushi takes care to fold his clothes and place them on the small table by the fireplace. He should ask Fyodor for a coat tomorrow morning, before he leaves. The room is large, and very luxurious, with a white carpet covering the entire floor. The bed is large as well, and covered with a purple covering that shines strangely in the light. It even has an attached bath that Atsushi used happily. He now sits, warm and comfortable on the side of his bed, just letting the day wash over.

What a strange man the owner of the castle was. Quiet and handsome, and dressed completely in white. He was a nice man too, feeding Atsushi delicious food and letting him stay the night. His instructions were a little odd though. ‘Not to go downstairs, no matter what.’ But whatever, Atsushi had a nice place to sleep and a full tummy, he was very happy indeed. 

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

He’s almost asleep when he hears it. Piercing the silence of the darkness, the faint strains of a waltz. How strange. But Atsushi remembers the words from earlier, and does his best to tune it out and go to sleep. But for the strangest reason, he can't. The music gets louder, filled with laughter and joy and the tapping of heels and Atsushi can't resist. He steps down the carpeted hallway, following the strains of a waltz. ‘I want to go downstairs.’ he thinks, almost involuntarily. ‘I need to go downstairs.’

The music leads him on, begging him to continue, pleading him to follow, teasing him with delight. It leads him through twisting hallways lined with portraits, through large empty rooms, until finally he stops, in the entrance to a ballroom. Hesitantly, hoping no one sees him, he peaks around the entrance, mesmerized by the lights.

The ballroom is alight with music, full of people, full of laughter. The lights and colors mesmerize him speechless. The whirling skirts of the pretty women and the suites of the men, the ballroom is full of life. The dancers move perfectly, each move graceful, begging his eyes to stay, pulling him in, begging him to join. The music seems to come from all over, and Atsushi can't seem to pinpoint an exact source, but it swells and dips and crescendos and someone is telling him to go, to join the festivities and be happy. To feel the joy that they must be feeling, to join in the celebratory mood of the party. Atsushi stumbles forward, begging for the light, longing for the happiness…

Suddenly, it's all gone. Atsushi feels a slight stinging on his neck, and reaches up involuntarily. His hand comes away bloody. The culprit is a crystal light fixture, pointed sharply and dangerously. Atsushi feels strange. He doesn't quite know why he wanted to join the dancers, it seemed fun, sure, but kind of illogical. It almost felt like someone was telling him to do that, to join the dancers and dance to the music. And then, Atsushi notices something strange. The music, that joyful waltz, has come to a halt.

He looks up, and freezes with fear. The entire ballroom has come to a halt. The dancers are standing still on the dancefloor, and the people scattered across the room have stopped their conversations as well. Every eye in the room is turned on him. Atsushi feels a cold sensation run down the length of his body, because their stares, they aren't stars of disappointment, or even accusation. ���No, these stars are hungry.’ He thinks, mentally calculating an escape route. One of the men on the ballroom floor steps forward.

“Well, what are you doing here, little human?” He says, advancing slowly on Atsushi. Atsushi has the urge to step back.

“I'm sorry for bothering your party, I'll leave now.” He says, slowly starting to back away. Atsushi feels like he needs to leave. He doesn't know why, but all his instincts are screaming at him to get away. The man vanishes, and suddenly he reappears, grabbing Atsushi’s arm and with supernatural strength, pulling him to an abrupt stop. 

“Not so fast, human.” The man grins, revealing white teeth, his canines sharpened to dangerous points. In a heartbeat, Atsushi realizes what these people are. ‘Vampires, they have to be.’ He thinks to himself. 

He’s surrounded by dangerous creatures of night and he needs to get away. He tries to shake his arm free, but to no avail. The strength the tiger has granted him is useless against this man, and Atsushi stumbles back again, trying to at least shake him off. He trips, crashing back and abruptly hitting another person. The words flash through his head, embarrassingly. ‘I'm scared. I don't want to die.’

A hand falls over his eyes, and abruptly, the man's hand is yanked from his arm. Atsushi is enveloped in the smell of lilies and apples, and a familiar voice speaks by his ear. 

“What are you doing down here, little lost kitten.” Fyodor. Atsushi immediately relaxes into his hold, sinking into the comfort of it. He knows this man at least, will not hurt him. The silver door knobs on the room Atsushi was given, reflect that in startling clarity. Fyodor is speaking over him, in a language Atsushi cannot understand. 

“Этот мой, тронь его и я тебя убью.” The language is smooth and strange, but somehow very pretty to Atsushi’s ears. The man says something back, in the same language. 

“Не портите вечеринку, поделитесь человеческим мальчиком с другими.” His voice is pleading, but with another word from Fyodor Atsushi hears a crack, and his voice dissolves into a scream. He doesn't really want to know what happened. Fyodor escorts him away, and removes the hand over his eyes as the man's screams fade in the background.

Atsushi feels an anxious mix of fear and the urge to apologize to Fyodor for disobeying his command, and after all the man had done for him. But he remains quiet, until they enter Atsushi’s room and Fyodor closes the door behind him. 

“I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me. And i know you told be not to go down and you were so nice to me and fed me yummy food and i just—”

Fyodor holds up a hand, and Atsushi comes to a flustered stop, wringing his hands anxiously. 

“It's all right, Vampire music tends to have that effect on people.” Fyodor says, seating himself on the couch across from the fire. Atsushi sits down next to him, still a little nervous. It's strange, but to Atsushi’s eyes, Fyodor doesn't really look surprised. He looks more resigned as he leans back against the fine cloth of the couch. Everything about this man is strange, and Atsushi really shouldn't be surprised that he has ties to the supernatural. ‘I mean, he can't be a vampire…right?’ Atsushi thinks to himself, fiddling with his hands again. ‘Im still bleeding and he has no reaction.’ 

“Um, Fyodor? Are you a vampire too?” it occurs to Atsushi a second to late that he doesn't know if that's a rude question, but Fyodor answers before he can apologize. “So, you figured it out? Yes, I am.” The surprise must show on his face, because Fyodor chuckles. “Why, are you surprised? Was it not obvious?” Atsushi shakes his head, a little embarrassed. “I just thought…well, because you're not affected by my blood…” Fyodor chuckles again, and in an instant, erases any distance between their bodies.

Fyodor’s breath tickles his neck, and his voice is thick with something hot when he speaks. “Oh, is that what you think?” Atsushi shivers, as hot breath hits his ear. 

And in an instant, the man before him has fallen apart. His eyes burn, tracing every contour of Atsushi’s face as he speaks. “Every time you move i smell it. The aroma of your blood, teasing my tastebuds, dancing a dangerous tango with arousal.” 

All pretenses of put togetherness are gone now, as Atsushi’s back hits the arm of the couch, Fyodor’s thin body cornering him against the hard edge. Thin fingers tangle in his hair, the long strand framing his face, twisting the silver strands around his fingers. Another hand traces his jawbone, gathering the remaining blood of his neck in a delicate swipe. Fyodor makes sinful eye contact as his tongue darts out, licking the blood of his finger. 

Every nerve ending in Atsushi’s body is at war, caught between a rock and a hard place, a small silver tiger, cornered by a creature of myths, a creature draped in darkness and danger. He wants to run, but he also wants to submit, to let his head fall back against the couch, to allow this creature, this man, to take him any way he wished. It was an odd feeling, but not terribly unpleasant. 

“Tell me little one.” Fyodor’s mouth curves into a smile, his fangs flashing in the light. “Will you allow me a taste of your blood?” Every part of his brain screems at him that this is a bad idea. He could be seriously injured, or worse, die. But every other part of his body is telling him to give in, to consent and give this man permission to do waht he wished. And Atsushi feels more inclined to go with those feelings. He nods, squeaking out an answer. “Yes, you can do what you want.” It's probably a dangerous response, but Fyodor seems pleased as he pulls two thick black ribbons out of his pocket. “Hold out your hands, little one.” 

The ribbon is silk, soft on his skin, and dramatically black against his pale skin. It feels strange to have his hands tied like this, and even though he could easily rip the ribbon apart, he would rather enjoy the feeling. Fyodor comes closer, and leans forward, securing the other ribbon over his eyes. The world goes black, one of his senses taken away. It only serves to heighten the excitement, because now without sight, all his other senses are sharpened. He can hear the rustling of clothes as Fyodor undoes his button down, feel the coldness of his skin stroking Atsushi’s bare chest, the thin trails of cold tickling his waistband, stroking him over the thin fabric of his pants. The man yanks his pants down slightly, just far enough that Atsushi’s dick is set free. 

He bucks up involuntarily, the cold pressure of Fyodor’s hand both a relief and a tease for his hard on. The man above him chuckles, his voice gradually coming closer. “Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit.” His voice is right by Atsushi’s ear, and he shivers with anticipation. “In fact, I think you’ll enjoy it.” And then, teeth puncture his skin. 

The pain only lasts for a second. It's a meager prick of pain, the pain of skin being broken, and it's swiftly overwhelmed by pleasure. A heat, a blinding heat is running through his veins, tainting his soul with pleasure. Pleasure, running from the bite of his neck, through his body, driving his crazy. He knows he must be letting obscene moans leak through, but he can't even bring himself to care. His dick twitches, shooting ropes of cum all over his stomach as Fyodor gulps hungrily at his neck, little groans of pleasure occasionally leaking through the obscene sounds Atsushi can faintly hear himself making.

It's like nothing he has ever experienced before. He’s still twitching slightly, coming down from his abrupt orgasm when he feels Fyodor draw away from his neck panting. Then cold hands are on his waist, flipping him over effortlessly, pulling his pants all the way off. Atsushi’s hands fall forward, tied wrists hitting the hard arm of the couch, head falling forward onto the soft cushions. He’s on his knees, hands still tied, eyes still covered, dick dripping cum onto the couch cushions, back arched ass up, for the man behind him. The position is embarrassing, even in his post orgasm haze, but the embarrassment doesn't last long, as Atsushi hears a cap open, and then cold, wet fingers are working his hole open. 

Atsushi moans again, loud and obscene as his dick twitches, leaking onto the couch. Fyodor chuckles behind him. “I wish you could see yourself right now, all tied up and pretty.” Atsushi’s dick twitches at the praise, even as he heats up with pleasure. Fyodor continues, his accent thickening slightly. “I know you’ll look even prettier screaming around my cock.”

Atsushi feels a pressure against his asshole, and then something big is stretching him open. It hurts just a little, but Atsushi feels himself bucking backwards, begging the man to move faster. And he does. In one fluid stroke Fyodor buries himself deep in Atsushi, hands gripping his waist like an ice cold brand. Atsushi screams a moan as he moves, setting a deep brutal pace. It hurts slightly, Fyodor is big, but only in the best way, and Atsushi lets out more obscene noises as the slaps of skin fill the air. 

What an odd day this has been. He would have never guessed he would end the day, bent over a couch and blindfolded by a vampire, a vampire who is now leaning down, breath teasing Atsushi’s neck again, cooing compliments in his ear.

“So pretty.” an especially hard thrust hit a spot inside Atsushi that makes his eyes white behind the blindfold. “So obedient. You like a bit of pain, don't you?” A moaned yes, then a scrap of teeth followed by a hot tongue. Fyodor’s smug chuckle is slightly huskier, a sign of his slipping composure. “Do you want me to bite you again?” Fyodor says, tone full of mocking. “You liked that last time didn't you.” 

Atsushi can imagine it, the overwhelming pleasure, the forced orgasm. He wants to feel that all over gain. “God, yes please!” He sounds embarrassingly needy, but he can't bring it in himself to care. Fyodor rams that spot again, and Atsushi’s back arches. “Oh, you want me to bite you again.” Fyodor says, all smug. “Then beg, pretty boy.” Atsushi is too far gone to even care. He would gladly beg for the pleasure again, no matter how humiliating it was. “Please Fyodor, please bite me again!” His voice is breathy and tight, full of pleasure and pleading. Fyodor grunts, cold hands still gripping Atsushi’s waist. 

“You're such a dirty boy aren't you.” Atsushi nods frantically, begging, pleading the man above him to sink those sharp fangs into him once more. Fyodor sighs mockingly. “Very well, since you begged so nicely, I'll do as you wish.” Atsushi moans in joy and agreement, back arching as he feels the fabric of Fyodor’s shirt scraping his bare back, and feels the tickling of his shoulder length hair on the nape of Atsushi’s neck. He can't help but moan in anticipation, and Fyodor just seems more pleased as he leans closer, whispering in Atsushi’s ear.

“You're such an obedient pet, maybe I should keep you here for all eternity. My little fucking doll, you’d like that wouldnt you.” Atsushi clenches involuntarily at the thought, his dick dripping more and more precum onto the couch. Fyodor huffs a small laugh. “You naughty boy, and over such a depraved thought.” Atsushi can feel an orgasm building, winding pretty little knots of pleasure tangling in his gut, and at that picture, he almost falls apart. The thought of spending eternity here with this man, getting fucked ruthlessly by his big dick and fed delisous food, sounded honestly like a dream. It was a dirty thought, to leave all his responsibilities behind, but in the heat of the moment, it was all he could think of.

Fyodor’s tongue teased his ear, hot breath tickling the soft skin, as he trailed kisses down his jaw, teeth scraping his neck in anticipation. Atsushi fears he’ll cum early, and as those teeth puncture his neck, he does. It's embarrassing how he cums at the shot of pain that precedes the pleasure, but he does, spraying ropes of cum all over the couch beneath him. And then, the pleasure hits and he cums again, moaning out an obscene garbled mix of Fyodor’s name, as his asshole clenches down on the large protrusion lodge inside of him. 

And just when he thinks he cant cum anymore, Fyodor hits that spot inside him for the last time, and Atsushi’s spent dick twitches to life again, leaving more trails of cum all across the poor couch. Fyodor’s teeth are still lodged in his throat, and his dick twitches inside Atsushi as he releases hot ropes of cum inside him. The pleasure is so great he almost blacks out, his dick twitching limply against his thighs. 

Hes hazy when he comes down, and when Fyodor unties his hands, pulling the blindfold away from his eyes he blinks sharply, his eyes adjusting to the light. And hes tired, so, so tired. Fyodor seems to sense his mood, because he doesn't say much as he cleans Atsushi off, and pulls a blanket over his spent body. With a snap of his pale fingers, the candles are out and with one last little smile, Fyodor bids him goodnight, and Atsushi drifts off into dreamland.

End Notes: the russian is google translated. Fyodor says: ‘This one is mine, touch him and I will kill you.’ and then the man says: ‘Don't spoil the party, share the human boy with others.’ And then Fyodor breaks his arm. His red flags are big but so is his dick…

Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n

#bungou stray dogs #mariannacrxss #kinktober 2023 #bsd smut #helplesslypurple77kinktober #kinktober #bsd rarepair #i need to stop with these rarepaires #i also need sleep

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 2-Atsushi/Fyodor w/ Crossdressing and Breathplay(yes, i know rarepare)

Notes: Just pretend they’ve met in canon, also don't ask me how so much talking can happen in a three minute song, just don't. Also the waltz is Shostokovich Waltz no 2(because obvi)

This is partly inspired by this fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23803525/chapters/57187927 but also just my imagination

“Excuse me, pretty miss.” This was so humiliating. “May I have your number?” Atsushi forced a smile and pitched his voice a little higher, just like Yosano had instructed. “I'm sorry sir, but I'm on a work trip. I'm afraid I can't accept any numbers or invitations.” The man slinked away sadly and Atsushi breathed a sigh of relief, carefully taking a sip of the drink in his hand. How had he gotten here, in the fancy ballroom surrounded by a bunch of drooling men. And most importantly, why was he dressed as a girl?

☠☠☠

“Dont worry Atsushi, you're going to look great!” Atsushi frowned, eyeing the hot iron Naomi was brandishing with apprehension. “Are you sure that's safe?” Naomi giggled, putting it down and picking up some silver hair extensions instead, talking with the other two over his head.

“Cute or sexy?” Naomi sounded way too excited. Yosano responded from her place across the room, looking through a rack of dresses. “Let's go with the unattainable sexy vibe. Maybe a slit dress and a fur?” Kyouka, the quietest, responded from her place beside Atsushi, filing his nails to even little rounds. “Black. He looks good in black.” She put down the filler, and picked up a small bottle of clear liquid, which she started spreading it on his nails. Yosano yanked a dress from the rack, and Atsushi could feel himself blushing all the way across the room. “This one?”

Naomi nodded, her hands pinning fake hair on Atsushi’s head. “Yeah that's perfect. Definitely going to attract a lot of attention. Should we go with pin straight or waves?”

“Waves I think, we're going for that sultry vibe.” Yosano responded. Kyouka was blowing on his nails now, finished with the first layer of gooey clear and moving on to a bottle of black paint. Two other bottles rested near her on the table, another clear and a shiny silver that sparkled in the light.

Yosano had hung the mortifying dress on a chair, and was pulling from a shelf of fur ruffs. She held up a tiger striped one, laughter in her eyes. “What do you guys think? Too obvious?” Naomi laughed, and even Kyouka giggled a bit. “Nah, it's perfect. Atsushi?” Atsushi startled, so used to them talking over him. He had to admit the ruff was funny, and if it could hide some skin he was all for it. “It's good Doctor Yosano.” She smiled, plucking the dress off the chair and tossing the entire thing at him. “Great, now go change please.”

The dress was as mortifying as he had expected it to be. It was a chinese design, with little clasps running along his collarbone, and short sleeves. It fit him like a glove, hugging his waist and hips snugly. The problem was the bottom half of the dress. It was divided in half, with two slits big enough for both his legs to show through falling all the way down the dress. He had to admit, it was a pretty easy outfit to run in, but the idea of showing so much skin in such a way was mortifying. The ruff was cute however, covering his shoulders and a bit of his arms. He slipped the small heals the girls had given him on and exited the room, and back into their clutches. Yosano whistles jokingly, while Naomi and Kyouka clapped enthusiastically. Atsushi blushed. Naomi was waving that weapon she called a hair curler around dangerously, and Atsushi spotted the cosmetics resting on the table. He sat on the chair they guided him to, surrendering to his fate. His eyes were closed, and the tap of brushed on his face was the only thing he felt for some time. As well as a concerning heat near his head but he was sure Naomi knew what she was doing.(He dearly hoped she did.)

The girls were talking over him again, but nothing of any importance, mostly chatting about different brands of makeup, and what perfume to use on him. And it was calming, at least until they informed him he was done, and he opened his eyes. He had to admit, he really did look like a girl. Or maybe a girl version of himself. They hadn't really transformed his features, just made his eyes appear bigger, the lashes longer. His lips were covered in a thin red glossy thing, and slightly sticky. They shone in the mirror, looking delicate and strange, but at the same time very beautiful. His hair was long and curled in big waves around his shoulders. The dress looked as mortifying as it felt, but the ruff helped hide the fact that he clearly didn't have any boobs.

Atsushi could recognize himself, but at the same time he could not at all. It was still embarrassing though. Three giggling women stood behind him, smirking. Yosano’s hand lands on his shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Now, it's time to test this baby out.” Atsushi feels a strong pulse of dread, as he's gripped tightly and dragged out of the room and towards the AdA office.

☠☠☠

One of the many reasons Yosano volaintered Atsushi for this job was the look on Dazai’s face, and hoo boy, he didn't disappoint. Shock, dead fucking shock with hints of arousal greated her as she and the girls dragged a dolled up Atsushi back into the front office. Kunikida’s expression was a treat too. More shock and arousal, mixed with cheeks the color of a tomato. Even Ranpo, sitting by the window as usual with a still wrapped lollipop in his hand, was so surprised an actual flicker of it showed on his face. Yosano was enjoying herself very much right now, and she knew the other girls were two. The only two men in the room who weren't a little turned on were the president and Kenji, and the pure shock on their faces made up for it. Yosano practically flew across the room, yanking the lollipop out of Ranpo’s hand, and unwrapping it, shoving it into Atsushi’s protesting mouth. He sent her a tiny little glare, but seemed to enjoy the lollipop, taking it out and licking it and definitely doing a number on the men in the room. Yosano was having a hard time holding back her laughter, Naomi as well, but Atsushi looked oblivious, going at his lollipop happily and oblivious to the state the room had been reduced to. Even if she had used up a good portion of the Agency’s budget on high quality hair extensions, she didn't regret a thing.

☠☠☠

And so here Atsushi was, dolled up and standing against the back wall of the grand ballroom, scanning the room for their target. He was supposedly a middle aged man with brown hair and green eyes, and apparently a total womanizer. That was why Atsushi was dolled up in the first place, the Agency had decided that it was safer to send Atsushi in than one of the women. And not safer for the women, no for the target. They were supposed to take him in, not kill him. Yosano had been the first option, but Kunikida had decided against it, because they all knew the moment the creep came close Yosano would(rightly) inflict some permanent damage. The same could be said for Kyouka, and anyway Atsushi didn't feel safe leaving here with some middle aged creep, and Naomi wasn't an option, because she didn't have a way to protect herself. So Yosano had joyfully suggested Atsushi, and here he was, at a grand ball, a living honey trap.

He sighed, leaning against the wall. At least it was pretty. The ballroom was gilded in gold, and the dancefloor was a whirl of skirts of different collars. The orchestra was raised on the side of the room, their instruments boosted with some kind of magic so the waltzes being played echoed loud enough for the entire room. The only odd thing about the picture was the strange ratio of men to women. The majority of the large crowd were men, and besides the seven or eight on the dancefloor, Atsushi spotted about twelve women in total. He suspected it had to do with the reputation of the host, and target of tonight's mission. John Remy was a businessman and a major creep, now also suspected of killing three women. And of course these missing women had been last spotted at these parties, so it wasn't a surprise that not many women were jumping at the chance to be a guest at said party.

The consequence of this decision was that Atsushi, one of the few ‘women’ not already with a partner, was subject to many requests to dance, lecherous stares, and bad pickup lines from a bunch of thirsty men. He could see the next one approaching now. Ice shot down his spine as he recognized the familiar face of Ango. Ango would totally recognize him, and then what? He needed to get away. He booked it away from the corner, as gracefully as he could while still trying to hurry, and towards the large crowd near the refreshment table.

In his hurry to get away, and in consequence that he was wearing heels, he smacked nose first into someone's shoulder. Temporarily blinded by white and fur, it took him a moment to realize exactly who it was he had bumped into. His heart leaped and fell at the same time as he took in that familiar grinning face surrounded by that familiar purple black hair and pale skin.

“My, what are you doing here little weretiger?” Fyodor’s accent was unmistakable, and erased any doubt that Atsushi might have had left that maybe this was actually Mori, or Yosano’s secret long lost twin brother. But no, it was definitely him, and Ango was closing in, and he would never live down the humiliation, and the undercover operation would be ruined. He steeled himself, and took a slightly less humiliating leap of desperation.

“Yes! I would love to dance!” Gripping one of Fyodor’s gloved hands tightly, he all but dragged him onto the dance floor, just as a waltz started. Fyodor seemed to catch on quickly, and Atsushi blushed as he felt his hand gripping his waist, the other one still clasped in his own. The waltz started, and Fyodor whirled him around, across the floor and away from Ango.

Fyodor chuckled lowly, even as they moved across the floor with the other dancers. “Im flattered weretiger.” A tap on Atsushi’s waist urged him into a turn. “To think you wanted to dance with little old me.” Atsushi flushed. “I was trying to escape certain humiliation and defeat.” Fyodor lets out a small laugh, as the music crescendos slightly. “But really, what are you doing here, looking like…that.” He pauses slightly, and the last word is laced with something Atsushi can't really decipher. He hopes the taller man isn't laughing at him. “I'm looking for the host, John Remy.” Another tap, another spin. He's glad Yosano taught him the basics before this mission. “Oh my.” Fyodor deftly avoids another couple, pulling him close for a second too long before they spin away. “Is he your type?” Atsushi coughs. “No! He's suspected of murder.”

“I see. Well, unfortunately he's not here today, I asked around.” Atsushi sighs. “Well, all this makeup and hair and dress for nothing then, Yosano is going to be disappointed.” Another tap, another spin, another graceful fall into Fyodor’s arms. “I wouldn't say it's for nothing.” Atsushi hates how attractive he finds this man, truly. “You have gained more than a few admirers.”

Atsushi has to laugh a little. “What? They only want to dance because there aren't that many women here in the first place.” The curls in Atsushi’s hair tickle his cheeks as he spins once again, as Fyodor pulls him close for the next part of the dance. Fyodor is taller than him, but only by a little, so as the song slows and Fyodor pulls him close, all Atsushi can see is the man in front of him.

Their noses are inches apart, their chests so close, one hand linked, the other still a hot brand on his waist, lulling him into a hazy state. Fyodor’s voice has gotten softer, and if Atsushi didn't know better he would almost call it sultry. A smirk still curves his mouth as he speaks. “Look around you Weretiger. They're all jealous. Jealous that you chose to dance with me, and not them. Jealous that I can touch you like this, have you this close, while they can only dream.” They get closer, and Atsushi cant breath, he can feel his heart beating through his chest. “You do look very pretty, although I prefer you in your normal state.” It almost sounds like Fyodor is complimenting him. His shock must show on his face, because Fyodor lets out a pleased little laugh. “I'll give you some free information, Weretiger.” Fyodor’s voice is a pur, and Atsushi is losing his mind. “Your target is currently stalking a young lady undercover policeman. They’ll have him in custody soon.” Relief floods Atsushi’s mind, temporarily distracting him from the fact that Fyodor is literally almost on top of him, so close they could kiss in the middle of this ballroom(and truthfully, he kinda hopes it would happen). And maybe he said that out loud, because as the song crescendos, Fyodor dips him, and presses the slightest little kiss to his cherry stained lips. And with that, the song ends and he turns to leave.

Atsushi’s hand moves of its own accord, catching the tail of Fyodor’s white coat and pulling the man to a stop. He feels a bit like he’s been caught in a trap, especially when Fyodor turns, his lips, stained with Atsushi’s gloss, curved into a smirk. But truthfully, as Fyodor leads him off the dance floor he can't bring himself to mind.

☠☠☠

It's cramped in the closet they’ve found themselves in, a little stuffy and full of coats, but as Fyodor’s mouth sucks little hickeys into his neck, his body pressing Atsushi against the wall he can't really bring himself to mind. The closet is a little off the main hall, down a small side passage and, in this den of rich people, virtually impossible to find. Atsushi thinks it's a coat closet, but he doesn't really have the brain power to think at all right now, not with a mouth on his neck and a hot dick pressed against his butt.

He’s pressed against the wall, fur ruff discarded somewhere on the floor, still clothed in the dress. Fyodor’s mouth is ruining him, leaving little hickeys all over his neck and shoulders, probably too many but Atsushi can't bring himself to care.

The demon behind him chuckles, as Atsushi grinds back desperately. “My, aren't you an impatient little one.” His voice is teasing, his accent is slightly thicker, the only sign of his slipping composure . Atsushi grumbles, his voice slightly too breathy to be convincing. “We need to hurry before someone discovers us.”

Fyodor's mouth leaves his neck, and Atsushi feels hands pulling his dress up, hitching it over his butt, and cold hands at the hem of his underwear, pulling them down. He's not even fully undressed, but the whole idea just feels so dirty, that Atsushi shivers. Then, a cold hand wraps around his dick.

Atsushi moans far too loud and Fyodor’s other hand comes around, sticking two fingers unceremoniously in his mouth to shut him up.

“Quiet little kitty, we wouldn't want to be discovered.” Atsushi does his best, sucking on the fingers in his mouth to keep quiet, but at some point he just gives up, and the fingers leave his mouth and prod at his lower hole. Fyodor’s mouth nips at his ear, voice throaty. “Have you ever been with a man, kitten.” Atsushi shakes his head, biting his lips to keep the whimpers in as a finger penetrates him, wiggling around a little, but stilling for Atsushi to adjust. “I see.” Fyodor chuckles, all rough and low. “I'm honored to be your first. Man, that is.”

It feels strange, but not uncomfortable to have a finger penetrating him and Atsushi finds his hips canting back a bit, urging the man behind him to move. The only sounds that penetrate the thick air in the coat closet or painted breaths and the occasional small grunt, as Fyodor begins to move his finger, setting a slow, deep pace. Atsushi lets his head fall back, his eyes falling closed. He would never have expected the evening to end like this, pressed up against the wall by a known enemy, still dressed as a girl, and having his insides pried open by one, no two(Atsushi lets a little moan escape his lips, still red with lip gloss as Fyodor adds another finger.)long fingers. He doubts even Ranpo could have predicted this, god he hopes Ranpo never finds out what’s happening, that would be mortifying.

Fyodor bends the fingers lodged inside of him, and presses against the side of his walls, trying to find something. Atsushi turns his head, about to ask what he's doing when Fyodor’s fingers press against something that makes his brain blank, and little stars float across his vision. He can't help the loud moan that escapes his lips, even as Fyodor levels a teasing smirk his way. “Careful little kitten, don't let anyone hear you.” He's mocking him, and Atsushi doesn't even care.

He does start to care when Fyodor removes his fingers. Atsushi suddenly feels all empty and cold, and he turns again, leveling Fyodor with an(admittedly pathetic) glare. “Why’d you stop?” The clink of a belt and the rustle of fabric greet his ears as Fyodor chuckles.

“Stop? My, we are just getting started.” And then something big and hot is pressing at his entrance. “Ready, kitten?” Faintly, Atsushi feels the slightest prick of apprehension, but it's far overwhelmed by the hot need in his gut, and his throbbing dick. So, Atsushi nods as best he can, canting his hips back against Fyodor’s cock.

The sting is slight, but mostly Atsushi simply feels full as he's penetrated, his poor neglected dick throbbing heavily. His back arches and Atsushi moans against the wall as Fyodor bottoms out, not even giving him a second to adjust. The pace he sets is brutal and oh, so good, and Atsushi starts to seriously wonder if he has a bit of a masochistic streak or something, as Fyodor does his best to bruise his insides. His thrusts are long and deep, he pulls almost all the way before slamming back in, one of his hands caging Atsushi against the wall, little grunts escaping his mouth. Atsushi knows he's moaning up a storm, but he can't really bring himself to care, even if someone may discover them. It's obvious that's the last thing on Fyodor’s mind as well.

“Feel good?” Fyodor is practically puring in his ear, his voice full of pride at the state he’s reduced Atsushi too, and honestly, it's pretty sexy. He nods his accent, his cheek scraping against the wall.

“And you sound so good, so pretty.” Fyodor continues, his voice throaty. Atsushi keens at the praise.“Such a pretty, obedient kitten. It's a wonder Dazai has not done you like this.”

“Dazai doesn't like men.” Atsushi’s voice is embarrassing, his sentences interrupted by moans. Fyodor seems to find his sentence slightly funny. But a simple, “is that so?” is his only reply. Another deep stroke, and a husky moan by his ear. “Well, he's certainly missing out.”

One of Fyodor's hands is still on the wall by his head, but the other makes its way up, carefully pressing Atsushi against the wall, curled around his neck. Atsushi’s moans as his airway is slightly cut off. He can still breathe the slightest bit, but it takes deep heaves, in between the moans of pleasure. Atsushi wonders if he’s crazy, because he feels his dick twitch, and the heat in his gut doubles. Fyodor chuckles as his moans double. “How dirty, you like being choked, little kitten?”

It's an entirely rhetorical question, but Atsushi doesnt think he could answer anyway. Fyodor doesn't seem to mind. Atsushi can feel himself nearing his peak, he's most certainly dripping precome all over the floor, and his heart pounds insistently in his chest, his moans more and more frequent.

He can tell Fyodor is as well, by the way his grunts and small groans become full blown moans. As his head drops into Atsushi’s shoulder, his hand from its position on Atsushi's neck wraps around his waist, pulling the men together until there's no space between their bodies. Is strangely intimate, and he's sure if Fyodor weren't on the cusp of an orgasm, the man would never do anything like this, but Atsushi feels almost honored none the less. He loves it, the feeling of love that comes with this position, and as his mind blanks out for a moment as he cums, he knows he screams Fyodor’s name, much too loudly.

Fyodor shivers behind him, and a hot feeling fills Atsushi’s ass.

The redressing act is subdued, Fyodor helps Atsushi clean himself up, tidying his fake hair and dress and placing the ruff back around Atsushi’s shoulders. Unfortunately, they can't do anything about the hickeys, and they remain, glaring proof about what had happened that evening.(although Fyodor looks suspiciously pleased by the fact). Atsushi leaves the closet first, and makes his escape from the party altogether. It's not too bad, although he does get a few stares as he excites the lobby, and calls a taxi. The taxi driver is thankfully silent, probably used to this kind of thing.

☠☠☠

Its now about eleven, and as Atsushi opens the door to the Ada, he's oddly touched by the fact that they stayed up for him. The younger ones have gone to bed, and Tanzaki and Naomi are absent, but the rest of them are here, sprawled across various chairs across the room. They look up when he enters.

Kunikida speaks first, still typing on his computer. “So Atsushi, how did it go? Were you able to apprehend him?”

“Apparently, the police had an undercover mission going, so I wasn't needed after all.” Atsushi says, sinking into a chair with a sigh, dropping the small purse Yosano had forced him to carry onto the table, and discarding the ruff beside it. “So it was a lot of wasted effort.”

Kunikida hums, but no one else responds. Atsushi frowns. “What?” Yosano is snickering, seated somewhere behind him. Kunikida is still typing, but everyone elses eyes are glued to him.

“What’s going on?” Eventually Kunikida, tired of the silence, glanced up. Atsushi watches in confusion as the man jumps to his feet, trips over his own chair and falls with a clatter to the floor, his face bright red. Ranpo giggles. “Well, I wouldn't say it was a totally wasted effort.” He motions at his neck and then it hits Atsushi, he swears his face is the shade of a tomato.

Ranpo hops off the desk, gathering all his snacks in a large bag and making his way towards the door. “Oh yeah.” He says, as he turns. “He left you his number, Atsushi. If he was that good maybe you should add it.” Yosano is choking on her laughter, but no one else seems to think it's that funny. Kunikida is still blushing as he asks the loaded question. “Who is ‘he’, Ranpo?”

Atsushi prays that Ranpo will just shut up, but of course, he doesn't. “Fyodor, you know, the strange Russian guy.” He sends them a confused look. “Wasn't it obvious?” He slams the door on the chaos that erupts behind him.

...

End Notes: Ango totally didn't recognize him, he just wanted to get a dance from the pretty lady in the corner, and she ran away from him. He definitely cried about it over a drink later. Also, ‘kitten’ is cringy, except when its literal

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#bungou stray dogs #atsushi x fyodor #bsd smut #mariannacrxss #helplesslypurple77Kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober