#bsd x y/n
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nsfw. fem!reader. (consensual) gunplay. praise + "whore" used once. just my thoughts. may be a continuation kinda to this.
pm!dazai watching you ride him with a twisted grin while holding the barrel of his gun pressed to your jaw's underside, making you throw your head back while he tuts about how good you look while huffing heavy breaths of air himself, the other hand simply laying beside him on the bed.
"yeah, just like that, baby, keep your chin up like the proud, proud girl you are."
pm!dazai pushing the barrel against your lips once it slides up your chin, whispering an amused "open up" to make you open your mouth and let the gun in.
"that's my good girl. suck it like you suck a cock, yeah? like a top-tier whore, mmhm."
pm!dazai watching your spit smear all over the barrel and dripping down your chin as you struggle to keep your mouth open with an already sore jaw while he keeps trying to push the gun further into your mouth, watching you choke on it while he's all smirks and grins.
"poor thing. should i help you and leave your pretty mouth alone for now? but you look so perfect right now, i think i want to keep it like this for a few more moments. be good for me, yeah?"
pm!dazai sliding the gun down to your navel and circling your hips agonizingly slowly before letting it glide down to your clit and feeling you twitch as well as around his length once it starts rubbing over the sensitive nub, even seeing you push your hips towards it to gain more friction.
"mmm, how desperate. i wonder how it feels to you, coming from a gun on your clit. probably very good if you're grinding against it yourself now, right?"
pm!dazai fucking you from behind and grabbing onto your hair to make your back do an unbelievably perfect arch for him, pressing the back of your head into his shoulder, as well as letting you feel the coldness of the gun under your chin and having his forefinger on the trigger all the time.
"ah-ah, don't look away, that won't do—you wouldn't want my finger to accidentally press just a little harder on the trigger, hm?"
#i wrote this while listening to my dead girlfriend uhhh#hashtag i need hashtag i crave#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai smut#bsd smut#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs smut#osamu dazai x you#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu x you#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs x you#bungo stray dogs x you
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SEX OBSESSION. 𝜗𝜚
(´∀`*)ε` ) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Fyodor and Nikolai + Angel!Sub!Fem!Reader ➜cws: unprotected sex, use of lube, crying, praising, biting, corruption, creampie, double penetration, multiple rounds, fingering, nipple play, blowjob, hair pulling. ᡴꪫ
꒰ † ੭ For the event! + Fyodor calls you MIlaya(darling) n Nikolai calls you Myla moya(my dear) ヽ(´▽`)ノ

Curious. You were a very curious angel, oblivious too probably, believing that the world is just so good. For some reason, you met them, Fyodor and Nikolai, apparently from some group called ‘Decay of Angels’, what's that? No clue, but they seem quite nice.
And what were you doing right now? no clue either but you know that whatever they do makes you feel all warm and fuzzy. A sensation you've never felt, it feels so good that you're ready to do it anytime, anywhere. They tell you that it's something very close friends do. Angelic mind all corrupted, well can you blame them? you're just so cute when you beg for them to fuck you stupid!
All you remember is that fyodor was pent up and wanted to get some relief, Nikolai nodded away while giggling. I mean you were living here free of cost so it's only fair that you help your best friend relieve some stress, right? Maybe a movie night, or a game night–
So here you were, sucking Fyodor off while Nikolai worked on your pussy, thrusting two fingers inside you as he whispered sweet praises to your ears, “Such a good angel you are, Myla moya!” Nikolai purred while he was twisting and pinching your nipples, taking them in his mouth as he bit on them gently. Giving each bud equal attention.
Soft muffled gasps and moans left your lips, causing Fyodor to chuckle as he wiped the tears from your eyes, looking prettily at him through your lashes.
“Really, how sinful are you myshka? Aren't you supposed to be a divine being, hm?” He cooed, “God would definitely punish you for such sinful acts.” Earning a whine from you, he knows how devoted you are to the so-called God. More fun to tease you.
You could feel you were close, making your tummy all weird and hot. Fyodor grabs your hair, making you take more of him as he chases his own high, eyes closed as he mumbled something you couldn't focus on. You feel his cock twitch as he climaxes in your mouth, cursing, your eyes rolling back.
“You did a good job, MIlaya, now it's only fair that we return the favour, right?”
Your pussy coming around Nikolai's fingers. He pulled them out, licking up your juices, you were laying your head on Fyodor's thighs, all tired.
You could feel yourself being carried by Fyodor as he put you on the bed. Nikolai in front of your legs while Fyodor was behind you.
“Wait n-no, m’ too tired–” You managed to breathe out.
Well how did it feel being fucked by two cocks? you were absolutely disheveled. Sweat glistening from your forehead, arms wrapped around Nikolai as you bit down on his shoulder. You were so sensitive at this point, you don't remember what round this was but the only thing you could focus on is how good their cocks feel. Shoulders littered with love bites, fyodor played with your hardened nipples.
You were so sensitive, gasping at every movement. They both let out a grunt when they feels your gummy walls clench around them. You can't even let words out, just whimpers and moans.
“Shit, Myla moya, you're hurting me.” Nikolai whines, drawing slow circles on your puffy clit to soothe you. Your eyes all glossy, nail marks visible on Nikolai's shoulder alongside the bite marks you gave him to calm down.
After some time you feel both of them coming inside your holes, filling you up to the brim with their hot n sticky cum. Your stomach bulging a bit. The scent was so intoxicating as you three caught your breaths.
“MIlaya, let me run you a warm bath, you must be tired.” Fyodor let's out a chuckle at how sleepy you were, he caressed your cheeks.
He picked you up as he heard Nikolai pouting about how he also deserves to have that type of treatment too! “Not fairrr! Fedya, run me a bath too..”
Fyodor's lips curl into a smile as he nods and takes you to the bathroom, putting you in the bathtub, Nikolai joins soon after.
#dom character#sub reader#bsd smut#bsd x female reader#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#fyodor smut#fyodor x reader#fyodor dostoevsky x you#fyodor dostoevsky x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky x reader#nikolai gogol smut#nikolai gogol x reader#nikolai smut#nikolai x reader#fyodor dostoyevsky smut#𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 :: 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 (ᵔ◡ᵔ)
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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.
contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total
notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3
𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .
there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.
your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.
the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.
the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.
chuuya kills them all — except for one.
the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.
“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.
he can feel the man swallowing.
chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.
“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.
he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.
the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.
how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.
finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.
chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.
“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.
limply, they fall to the floor.
chuuya rushes over to you.
the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.
“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.
“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”
it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”
guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.
he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…
“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”
he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”
“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.
“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”
“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”
"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.
finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .
the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.
with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.
though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.
he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.
“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.
but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.
but you… you’re different.
“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”
akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.
he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.
there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.
mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.
as regrettable as that may be.
akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.
“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.
“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.
even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.
akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.
what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.
and he can’t do that if you’re dead.
finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.
akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.
a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.
though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.
he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.
his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.
“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.
you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.
“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”
“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”
“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”
anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”
“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”
he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.
“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.
he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.
“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .
dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.
though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.
his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.
dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.
but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.
he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.
“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”
“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”
“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.
and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.
with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.
there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.
he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.
today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.
you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.
dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.
slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.
he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.
“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.
the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.
dazai hums. “you the leader?”
the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.
“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.
dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.
you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.
he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.
it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.
“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”
“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”
you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.
“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”
you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.
“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”
you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”
dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎
#bsd x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x reader#osamu dazai x you#dazai x you#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x you#bsd x you#bsd imagines#bsd x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#chuuya imagines#bsd fanfic#bsd x gender neutral reader#dazai x fem reader#akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader#akutagawa x you#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa x y/n
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𝗕𝗦𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗡 & 𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗦 ✩
[Warnings: maybe a *bit angsty? 99% fluff.ᐟ✰] [Word count: 375 || 𝓮𝓷𝓳𝓸𝔂.ᐟ]🍓
°ᡣ𐭩ft. dazai, chuuya, tecchou
Dazai
please be gentle. my baby has been through so much trauma, even if he doesn't let on that much. has a unbelievable amount of trust for you see him in such a vulnerable state. this is a super intimate moment for both of you, as the marks are proof of his past, things he tries to cover up. you're shocked and a little terrified by the horrendous scars tracing down his otherwise covered back, and of course he immediately tries to turn it into a joke. he's grinning, acting like he's completely unbothered, but deep down? he's holding his breath at your reaction.
Chuuya
tenses up the moment you touch them. not because he doesn't like it, but because he's never had anyone touch him before with such tenderness. his body is trained for combat, and every first instinct is to be on guard. but he doesn't pull away. if anything, he goes still, and slowly relaxes after a while. leans into your touch as well without realizing it. he's used to people looking at his scars as signs of battle, of violence, of how dangerous he is. but you? you touch them like they're just a part of him. like they don't make him any less deserving of love.
Tecchou
at first, he doesn't react much. tecchou isn't the type to flinch or shy away, but instead sits there, blinking at you as if he's trying to figure out what you're doing. he lets you continue, though, no questions asked. he'll do anything for you, and this feels good. intimate. one time, you fell asleep while tracing his old wounds to see if any needed treatment, and he just sat there completely still. didn't move an inch because he didn't want to wake you. because if this is how you show love, then he'll return it tenfold.
a/n: i tried a different writing style for this one.ᐟ pls enjoy and reblog, i spent a long time making this, and ill feel motivated to write more if u do.ᐟ.ᐟ(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) pls, pls pls dont flop, im begging u tumblr i poured my heart into this one TT
𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓴 𝔂𝓸𝓾.ᐟ ʚ🍓ɞ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs + ʟɪᴋᴇs ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ
o(≧▽≦)o
#bsd#dazai x reader#bsd fanfic#bsd x y/n#bsd hcs#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x reader#bungo stray dogs#bsd fluff#bsd brainrot#fluff#tecchou x reader#bsd tecchou#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#bsd x reader#bsd headcanons#hcs#headcanons#chuuya x you#bsd x gn reader#bsd x gender neutral reader
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Pairing: Dazai x f!reader
Contents: NSFW, car sex (unfortunately for Kunikida), breath play, dazai levels of whining, but he always gets what he wants doesn't he, Approx. 1.5k words
“Don’t even think about it,” you breathed, grinding your hips against Dazai’s. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as a moan left his lips before it turned into a strained laugh. Dazai guided your hand to his neck. He bit at your lower lip playfully, languid thrusts drawing out your pleasure with every deep stroke.
“Pretty please?” Dazai whispered to your ear, his lazy smile widening as your fingers grazed the bandages he always wrapped himself in. “I’ll be a real good boy about it.”
“You’ve been anything but for the last half-hour,” you retorted. “I’ll think about it.”
Dazai pouted, his trademark gaze of innocence returning. He knew how to get what he wanted; even if it required you to play this game of fetch every time. Instead, you ground your hips down, enjoying the friction of him bottoming out in you.
The parking lot was empty this late, keeping your undertakings pleasantly obscured under the roof of your car.
You weren’t meant to be here, precisely.
Nor Kunikida’s car– it was supposed to be back hours ago. But then again Dazai was ever the opportunist; why waste a perfectly good vehicle when you’ve already used it the whole day to spy on a client? Might as well give yourself a treat for a job well done.
Dazai brushed your hair to the side, teeth sinking into your soft skin. You couldn’t move much, your hips straddling Dazai’s and the steering wheel digging into your back with his every thrust. He was keeping you in place, not giving much of any opportunity even as you wriggled and panted against his lips.
Postponing your orgasm was becoming somewhat of a speciality of his, especially with how grumpy it got you the longer he played around. That was what he wanted, more often than not. Predicting your actions was easy, and knowing how far to push to reach your breaking point–
easier.
Then he might get what he wanted.
Your hands drew him closer, your focus waning as the pressure built up again. You weren’t going to let Dazai ruin this one too. Maybe it counted as giving in or perhaps you felt like you were taking control this time, but…
Delicate fingers trailed around Dazai’s neck, making him shudder the moment he realised what you were up to. He wanted it, of course. As much as it annoyed you how desperate he would get only to have your hands wrap around his throat, the pressure building with every second.
You knew he liked the thrill of it. The suicidal maniac in him was ecstatic–playing with life like that. You on the other hand felt your worry building every time he so much as looked at you with that pleading gaze. It was only a play, no real harm behind it.
Plenty of people were into breath play, and yet…it felt different.
It scared you, sometimes—just a bit.
“Change of heart?” Dazai’s eyes were hooded. He looked beautiful like this, flush all the way down his chest. His hand trailed up your thigh, gripping tightly.
“We make a deal?” you asked, arching forward. He was easy to bargain with, like this. “I do this, and you give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had? No half-assing here, Osamu.”
Dazai fluttered his lashes and his grin turned vicious. “I do as you please, oh great beauty of mine.” And you could only blink your eyes closed, hands wrapped around his neck in preparation.
Dazai raised you up suddenly, his cock slipping out of you.
“Wh-at?” you asked, grabbing into his shoulders for balance.
“I’m a fast worker, what can I say?” Dazai smirked.
His hand went to your entrance, drawing slow steady drags of his fingers against your wet pussy lips. The moment his fingers entered you, a shudder crawled up your spine.
You weren’t sure where he was going with this. His fingers made quick work, moving within your walls and twisting to your sweet spot often enough to make you dizzy. You almost forgot what you were meant to do with your hands.
“Fuck,” you said, trying to force your attention back into focus.
Dazai was looking at you, enjoying every second of it.
A few more strokes and his hand pulled away, only for his cock to enter you again, sudden and filling. Your thighs clenched around him, breath coming ragged. The fingers now covered in your wetness went to skilfully move over your clit, thumb rocking back and forth in time with Dazai’s every thrust.
You had to remind yourself to breathe, eyes back to Dazai’s face. He was watching you, head thrown back as a smirk tilted his lips. You could have been a sight to see for all you knew.
But that didn’t bother you.
You reached up, tracing his jawline with both hands before going lower. Dazai’s whole focus was on you, every detail engraving itself in his mind as you wrapped your hands around his neck.
Such delicate work under these circumstances wasn’t ideal. You felt Dazai try to swallow under your hands, the pressure barely there to distract him. But he knew this was only a warmup. It takes time for you to ease into it; this wasn’t the first time you were hesitant to do this.
Dazai’s cheeks reddened. Slowly, ever so slowly, your pressure increased, and you marvelled at the way Dazai moaned weakly from the sensation of literary being suffocated.
Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut, head thrown back as his hold on you waist tightened.
He was beautiful like this, so vulnerable and entirely at your mercy.
You tried to regulate, watching his every twitch and grunt for the air he lacked. You were bringing him to the brink only to relax just enough to get his bearings back together.
Your legs were trembling from the strain, seeing as Dazai’s trust became sporadic, trying to force out as much of his strength into fucking you. Your lower belly tingled with your release which was steadily building up.
Dazai’s thumb didn’t stop, his hand going down to your entrance to gather more of your wetness before coming back to stroke at your clit. You could barely breathe at this point.
Dazai looked at you, choked sounds falling from his open mouth even as his upper teeth bit into his lip. He was having the time of his life.
“Good boy.” You smiled, diving for a kiss as your hands squeezed firmer, swallowing Dazai’s whine as your tongue trailed inside his mouth. Saliva trickled down his chin, making him a bigger mess with every second.
You felt his legs spasm, the tension increasing. Your pussy clenched around him, just the way he liked before he was near.
You held him, not letting go even as his belly fluttered, twitching with every strain to push his orgasm forward. You forced him into the seat, Dazai’s neck bared prettily as you hovered over him, the sound of your kissing filling the air almost as much as his rapid trusts as he struggled to reach you.
“Come on, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” you panted against Dazai’s lips.
Pleasure seeped in, not suddenly this time, but a steady buildup of more more more–and you were cumming, cunt fluttering around his cock enough to force Dazai’s eyes open, staring wide at the rooftop as a pitiful moan vibrated right from his chest. You felt his cock twitch inside you a moment later, his spent shooting inside you, warm and thick.
You only loosened your hold on him when you were sure he was coming down from the high. Dazai’s head lolled to the side, eyes still closed as he breathed hard between coughs for air. He looked utterly exhausted, his face pale with overstrain. He barely had the strength to move, let alone slip out of you.
Not that you could help, flopping against his chest to breathe in his musky scent. The air around you was hot, almost foggy. Like in those sappy romance movies where the couple run away to their car to finally have some alone time.
Except this one wasn’t yours.
You pulled yourself back, reaching with a groan for your phone.
“Whatcha doin’?” Dazai asked, kissing at your shoulder. He looked so pretty as he blinked at you, face serene.
“Looking for a nearby car wash,” you said, forcing your eyes to the screen.
A silence before Dazai’s hearty laugh filled the space. You looked at him, eyebrow raised.
“Were you expecting something else?”
“Not in the slightest,” Dazai said, clearing a tear from his eye. He still smiled when he said, “Kunikida sure has a great friend in you.”
“In both of us.” You leaned in for a quick peck. “Seeing as we’ll be splitting the bill.”
Dazai groaned but it didn’t sound as sincere as he would’ve liked. He pulled you in close, pouting all the while as you pretended not to notice him. He got his way this time around, it’s not like he had much to complain about.
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd fanfic#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd smut#dazai osamu#osamu x y/n#osamu x you#osamu x reader#dazai x y/n#dazai smut#dazai x reader#bsd dazai#dazai x you#n.sfw#osamu dazai#im really sleepy ill double edit later if i see any mistakes
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🇸 🇮 🇹 🇴 🇳 🇮 🇹 !
BSD MEN REACTING TO YOU ASKING TO SIT ON THEIR FACE.
↷ A/N ─ i love writing these lmk if yall like reading these by liking :D
★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa , fyodor
!! TAGS ─ f!reader, face-sitting, 69, cunnilingus
SMUT, 18+, MDNI
"can i sit on your face?"
ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.
yes yes and YES
you've never seen this man more excited
to think that you were the one who suggested it between you two!
we all know he's a freak
and a master pussy muncher
man's throbbing just hearing those 6 words from your mouth lmaoo
"Aw, would you look at that? This is the third time you've come, bella. Wanna squirt next?" he mocks from under you. "No complaints accepted. You were the one who suggested this."
ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.
chokes on his expensive ass wine (iconic)
turns his neck towards you so fast you think he might've snapped it
just stares at you flustered and blushing slightly
stares
stares
still staring
YANKS you and THROWS you onto the bed. yea man, that's defo leaving marks. but its chuuya saurrr 🤷🏻♀️
"Guess you really aren't as innocent as I thought you were, eh?" he says teasingly. "My, my, you're on top, yet you're the one dumbfucked. And I haven't even started yet!"
ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.
rolls his eyes LMFAO
him? abandoning his snacks?? as if
"what's in it for me huh?"
will only accept it if you agree to the 69 position so he gets something in return (man's a giver-taker)
eats you out and takes 2-3 second breaks in between for commentary to update you about how you taste and if it really was worth putting his candy stash down for you
"You think you're sweeter than my candies? Wanna bet?" he raises an eyebrow. "I mean, I already know the answer - you know, the greatest detective in the world and all that. But I'll give you a chance to prove yourself."
ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.
he will choke and die so WHY are you suggesting it /j
lets pretend for a moment that he WONT choke and die from the gorgeousness of your ass (love yourself !!)
he's a bit grossed out at the thought. just virgin things ig /j
if he somehow (and idk how) agrees, he'll grip your hips and place you down on his face gently like really really slowly
to the point where you grow impatient and shift so you can toy with his cock
and then that man just snaps and 🤭
"You like that? Is that right? You want more?" he glares at your pussy, heart nearly bursting out of his chest when he hears you pant 'Yes, yes, I love it.'
"Hm. I guess it's okay then."
ꜰʏᴏᴅᴏʀ.
DISGUSTED.
first off how tf is his tired ass anemic body supposed to hold your weight and not die
secondly you're messing with his religious faith!! stop trying to tempt him, satan!
you have to convince him. seduce him on the ultra pro iphone 15 max level.
will ask for a 69 position because ain't no way he's eating you out without getting a bj in return
"Really, now? You're forgetting your part of the deal?" he pats your ass impatiently, your body limp from pleasure and thus unable to give him head in the position. "I guess I'll have to do it myself then."
© chuulyssa 2024 - do not copy, plagiarize or repost my works on any platforms. do not translate.
#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bsd scenarios#bsd hcs#bsd headcanons#dazai hcs#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#chuuya imagines#chuuya x reader#fyodor hcs#fyodor x you#fyodor x reader#akutagawa hcs#akutagawa x reader#chuuya headcanons#dazai headcanons#dazai x you#fyodor imagines#dazai bsd#bsd smut#dazai smut#fyodor smut#chuuya smut#chuuya x you
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Level 3: Baby Fever [Breeding] for Kinktober.
ᡣ𐭩osamu dazai x afab! reader.



ᡣ𐭩Synopsis: you're thrilled to kick off the new kinky card game with your boyfriend, but you definitely didn't expect it to culminate in your first time going raw.
ᡣ𐭩Warnings: nsfw, mdni, 18+ content, smut with plot, breeding kink, mating press, bdsm elements, breathplay, alcohol consumption, profanity, kink and fetish themes, sexual challenges, pregnancy kink, unprotected sex, cum mentioned...etc.
ᡣ𐭩Word count: 2.3k
ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-
“Is everything set?” you ask, eyes locking onto your boyfriend’s figure as he places the last decently sized shot glass on the table looking you up with a mischievous smirk, sweet excitement sparkling in his brown irises.
“all set, my love.” he chuckles, enthusiasm radiating from him warm as the sunshine of spring as he rests both hands on the table in front of you, his sleeves rolled up and shirt fully unbuttoned.
you take a deep breath, feeling the exhilaration twisting in your stomach. tonight is the night you’ve been waiting for—a card game you’d eagerly anticipated all week: freak or drink. while the game is pretty straightforward, the risks and rewards are irresistibly enticing. each card drawn could push your boundaries, could strip you bare—figuratively and literally—just thought of it makes your thighs press together instinctively.
“okay, let’s start!” your voice betraying the nervous excitement that courses through your veins. you bite your lip as your hand hovers over the deck before pulling the top card from the pile, feeling the cool edges glide across your fingertips as you flip it over, eyes going wide at the challenge: “ sensual stuffing.”
you snort softly, caught between disbelief and laughter. “no way,” you scoff, shaking your head with a smile.
“c'mon, baby... are you shy?” dazai teases, leaning in closer against the table, eyes roving over your form, stripping you down before he even touches you.
you roll your eyes as the familiar rush of high heavens of pleasure pulse through you. “not shy, just... strategic,” you purr, smirking as your hands slide beneath the hem of your dress. the lace of your panties catches on your fingertips as you slowly drag them down, stepping out of them and holding them up, feeling the cool air hit the places where your warmth had been trapped.
with a sly grin, you twirl the delicate lace between your fingers, holding it up like a prize. “open up, pretty boy.”
dazai’s smirk never fades, his lips parting ever so slightly as his eyes flicker between your face and the panties dangling between your fingers. it feels exhilarating to push boundaries, especially with that brown haired-brat, who always keeps you on your toes.
you step closer, heat rushing to your face spreading a pink tint under the barrier of your skin as you bring the lace closer to his mouth. slowly, you press the delicate fabric past his lips, watching him hum softly, his tongue grazing the lace before biting down just enough to hold it in place, never breaking eye contact.
his smirk falters for a moment as he tastes your slick drenched panties, before he groans pulling the lace out of his mouth.
“two things that i love,” he murmurs, “you and how easily you get wet.” his tongue darts out, flicking over his lips, tasting the ghost of you still lingering there as he lazily draws the next card from the deck. it's obvious that his focus isn’t on the game but rather on you, completely.
he holds the card between his fingers for a moment, his smirk widening devilishly as he reads it aloud. “fuck yes!! 'body shot.'”
before you can respond, dazai’s grip tightens around your waist, hoisting you up effortlessly. the world spins for a second, your breath catching in your throat as he slams you down onto the couch, knocking the air from your lungs. you barely have time to gasp his name before his hands are on you again, fingers slipping under the fabric, peeling the dress from your body as if it were nothing more than a flimsy barrier in his way.
he doesn’t stop, brown irises completely dilated as he grabs the shot glass filled with your favourite amber liquid before tipping it ever so slowly over your chest. the cold alcohol spills onto your bare breasts and the sudden cold sensation makes you arch into him feeling a shiver ripples down your spine as the liquor trickles over your nipples, leaving a glistening trail.
“fuck...’samu,” you whimper, thighs instinctively clenching as he watches the liquid pool at the curve of your breast.
without hesitation, his lips are on your naked bud, tongue flicking out to lap up the trail of alcohol all over your aerola, relishing the feeling of his mouth hot against your chilled skin as he slurps up every drop with a fervent hunger, sucking and nibbling on your sensitive nipples, taking his time, to admire the way you writhe beneath him. each flick of his tongue sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, juices already starting to slick your thighs.
“you're a moaning mess when we're just getting started?” he pulls away with a low chuckle, stretching his arm to draw a card from the nearby table.
you’re barely recovering from the high of his touch, breath coming in short, needy gasps, “ugh—show meee,” you whine, making a grab for it.
“holy fuck—” the burnet curses under his breath, pausing for a moment.
“whattt?” you pout, leaning closer to catch the words on the card. 'breeding'. oh no! you’ve always been so careful—always on your pills, always using protection. you never let yourself slip, never let caution fall away. but this time? you can’t help it. the temptation eats you alive, a desperate, yearning desire to feel every inch of him, raw and reckless. what if it’s even better than you imagined? what if it’s a pleasure so intense, it leaves you breathless, trembling, and utterly undone?
the thought rushes through your mind and before you can fully process it, you feel his cold fingers dig into your bare skin again lifting you from the couch. needless to say, the next thing you hear is the bedroom door swinging open. suddenly, you’re being pushed down onto the bed, the soft mattress beneath you bouncing with the force.
“listen baby, we’re not just gonna try for a baby tonight. we’re gonna make one.”
once he says that with a whisper, your cunt clenches around nothing instinctively, you part your lips to utter something— anything.
“aa—’samu?” you manage, breathless, as he climbs onto the bed, hovering low, his hands press the mattress on either side of you.
“you’re gonna take all of me tonight, hmm?... spread your gorgeous legs baby—uh, fuck yes, just like that.” his large palms push apart the plushy gates of thighs and spread you wide by your perky ass cheeks, giving him a clearer view of your flushed folds.
no amount of imagination could prepare dazai for how much you're leaking right now. juices soaking your pillowy folds, and he can not move his eyes away from you. it's like he's been craving this very moment a long time ago.
“ahh... i've always dreamed of this moment, filling you up with my seed, ngh—!” you never expected to crave his thick, hot cum to fill you this much, but with the way he hangs above you now? mop of brown hair tickling the tip of your nose while his gaze locks on your spread-open thighs and puffy pussy—so ready to welcome his angry flushed cock, his pants hang low, barely clinging to his hips, just under the heavy weight of his balls.
“’s-samu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe his name. oh god, he's losing it, going absolutely wild just hearing his name drip so sweetly from your glossy lips. you feel it before you see it—his thick, swollen tip pressing against your slick entrance, throbbing and red as it starts to push inside your tight, resisting cunt.
“gonna wreck that pretty little pussy of yours,” he growls, head dropping forward to rest on your soft alcohol stained breasts “stretch it wide, make you my slut.”
“ffffuck- this feels better than i imagined—” he exhales sharply, trying his best to resist the urge not to slam his entire lengthy cock deep inside you.
you thrash under his touch, the languid, torturous rhythm making your hips buck toward him, seeking any sort of friction. “nngh—samu-please... more,” you gasp, eyes fluttering closed, head spinning from the combination of enthusiasm, desire, and his tip teasing your entrance.
he cannot help but hug you to his chest, feeling your heartbeats ripple through your ribcage and mingle with his own, he pushes several more inches through your sopping folds, your hips buck up involuntarily circling them over his cock, listening out for the lewd noises that sounds from both your sexes rubbing against one another.
drops of thick precum oozing from his cock finding solace between your gooey walls, the sensation of his bare lengthy cock slipping slowly inside you is ethereal.
finally he slams his entire cock through your fluttering cunt with a throaty groan, jaw completely slack as he gasps next to your ear shoving both of the legs to your chest from beneath your knees, completely folding you in half and sinking his cock deeper and deeper inside you. the full stretch makes your cunt clench and thighs spasm before trembling against his palms.
and oh god, the feeling of dopamine surging through you as technicolor bursts of pleasure dance behind your eyelids. you know your boyfriend's body all too well—his cock is more long than thick, with most of the heft in his swollen, heavy balls, slapping against your doughy ass with each thust. but this time? it’s different—this time, there’s no barrier between you. it’s raw. his bare cock filling you up to the brim in ways you’ve never felt before, and you can feel almost evey ridge, every vein of it pulsing between your tight, slick walls, making your nerve-endings buzz with pleasure.
“you feel that baby? ngh— you want me to make—oh shit—your pretty pussy leak with my cum hmm? put a baby in you?” he says in a low bristling tone making you swallow his cock even more with his words.
the constant hitting of his tip against your spongy spot is too much, but you can't push him from this position, even when your pretty nails are scaping his back, nothing would push him away.
“our baby's gonna have those pretty eyes of yours? and those sweet, soft lips?” he purrs gently, as if he isn't rearranging your guts and bottoming out inside you with a harsh, resounding slap of skin on skin, his heavy balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drives himself deep to the hilt almost breaking the bed as it creaks beneath you from the force of his thrusts.
“’sammuuu ahh— t’much mngh fuck—you're insane.” you cry out frantically, voice hoarse, body jiggling like jelly with each harsh thrust.
“stay with me, babe… mmff— it’s only been thirty minutes..i know you can handle more.” he murmurs, his forehead pressed against yours, lips forming a soft ‘o’ shape. “ goddammit mngh—you ready to be a mama?” with that, he begins a fast, deep rhythm inside you, his slender hips delivering the perfect stroke.
each thrust has his tip brushing delightfully against your cervix, making your cunt spasm wildly as each thrust sending your essence to splatter against his abs, slick and messy.
“fuck- s’tight and perfect,” dazai growls deeply, pressing his weight against you as he slips his tongue into your mouth, capturing your swollen pink lips and swallowing your moans and whimpers with your knees positioned on either side of your chest.
dazai osamu, the devil that he is, the man who has cradled your heart in his hands, is giving you the best night of your life—guiding you to meet whatever divine force dwells above the clouds as he fills your gooey hole so perfectly.
“mmph shiit—’s-amu..’m clos-e” you cry as he keeps hitting into you roughly, his pelvis grinding against your swollen clit as he grunts ferally into your mouth.
“yeah? gonna let me cum so hard inside you, baby?” he drawls against the sensitive skin where your jaw meets your neck, before gripping your ankles and pressing them back near your ears, his cock sinking into the endless black hole between your thighs, as if he's being consumed by the gravitational force of your cunt.
“gonna make you pregnant... fuh-k—your pussy feels so good mmph holy fuck—i love you hahh.. i fuckin’ love you,” he groans as his vision starts to blur with white-hot pleasure, his balls tightening almost painfully and hips stuttering as he pushes deeper into you, the sloppy heat of your tight walls squeezing every last drop from him. the moment he feels your walls spasm around his twitching cock signalling that you're cumming a throaty groan leaves his chest, spilling hot thick globs of cum inside you—and you couldn't help but unconsciously count the amout of pumps he's feeding your delicious cunt with. seven.. eight.. nine.. ten??—holy fuck! twelve? his cock pulsing with every shot as he kept going, pushing more and more of his release into you till tears cloud your vision.
his breath starts to subside, body finally beginning to relax as the intoxicating pleasure starts to fade into a hazy afterglow. he lets out a long, shaky sigh, pulling out leisurely, your soft whimper catching his ear as his softened cock slips free from your stuffed entrance with a slick 'plop' sound.
his eyes fix on the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of your now-so-wide cunt, a trail of white drops of ambrosia running down toward the bedsheets before he scoops some of it up with two fingers, pushing it back inside you again.
you instinctively grip his wrist tightly still breathing heavily, however you don’t stop him, in fact, your body shudders at the sensation as he gently plunges his fingers deeper, making sure every last drop stays inside as he watches, fascinated with how your trembling body accepts it all again.
he lets out a breathless chuckle as he glances at the nightstand, reaching for his phone, he then opens the camera app, focusing on you before snapping a picture of your dripping pussy.
“ugh ’samu, what are you doin’?!” you groan, trying to catch your breath.
“i'll save this for when our kid's old enough and say, 'this is how we made you.'”
“please don’t tell me you’re starting a scrapbook!” you breathe out, rolling your eyes, still trying to steady your racing heart.
“and ruin the surprise for our kid? tsk..never! i’ll keep the best bits for a bedtime story instead.” the burnet chuckles lowly, his hands tenderly massaging your trembling legs, fingers digging into the soft skin.
“that’s one way to guarantee therapy bills in the future.”
TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr
#osamu dazai smut#dazai osamu smut#dazai osamu x reader#osamu dazai x reader#bungou stray dogs#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#bsd#bsd dazai#s#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai bungou stray dogs#dazai bsd#dazai osamu#dazai x reader smut#dazai x reader#dazai x y/n#dazai x you#osamu dazai x you#osamu x reader#osamu dazai#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x you#bsd smut#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs smut#dazai x fem reader#bsd x female reader#bsd x reader smut
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for you, i would ruin myself / a million little times
o. dazai x reader
dazai reads poetry to you after sex ・❥・mentions of sex / physical intimacy (nothing specified) and aftercare
✎ headcanon i’ve had for a while and wanted to write on it <3 here you go.
special tag for: @osamucide because i love you (im sorry this took 86 years)
song: illicit affairs

dazai, obviously, loves to fuck you. feeling your skin pressed against his, lips embedded against yours lazily while he finds different ways to draw pleasure on your body. for him, its a point of distraction. you’re too busy feeling good to feel empty, even if its for a moment.
but its that moment after the high, the returning back to earth, he especially loves. almost reluctantly, he removes himself from you, slowly easing with gentleness you’d expect from him. he was never one for brash, brawny movements. just quiet intimacy with quiet thoughts that speak volumes. he catches his breath with you, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you sink into the pillows beneath him. he tentatively lifts his head from your shoulder as he collapses next to you.
he waits a few minutes. if you fall asleep, he’ll fall asleep next to you. if you’re still awake, he’ll throw some sweatpants on and grab you some water and take a shower. if you haven’t had enough, he’ll invite you to join him.
but it seems unlikely, since right now, you’re still reeling from it. stars and clouds swirl around in your eyes as he stares, lips curved with content. while he waits, he grabs a book from the nightstand.
the pages are browned and worn out. corners of pages have been folded as crude bookmarks, and the last few pages are wrinkled from the time atsushi knocked over a cup of water on his desk. though he offered to replace it, dazai never seemed to mind the way it aged, like the book itself mattered more. almost as if it were a gift from an old friend.
he sees you shift over to face him in his peripheral vision. instinctively, he extends an arm to you so you can sit up next to him against the headboard.
you don’t normally look through his things. though he wouldn’t mind- he doesn’t have much to hide, anyway. the things dazai does keep hidden are things he doesn’t have to worry about you stumbling across. he has quite a large collection of books, and seemingly, he’ll read or has read, anything. biographies, manuals, tales of clandestine meetings or stolen stares. surely, there should be something in that pile you would enjoy. some titles have peaked your interest, but you’ve never picked one up for yourself.
perhaps its because nothing could match the way dazai reads to you.
so you prompt him, though you both already know the answer: “what are you reading?”
he smiles as your voice, scratched from your previous activities hits his ear. the blankets pool around his waist, gaining all the warmth he needs simply by being next to you. “what do you want to hear?”
he gives you the choice because, to him, all poems, with even a small hint of love, in some way, shape, or form, were about you.
which is why he loves your answer so much: “anything, ‘samu.”
his fingers flip to a random page. 113.
brown eyes skim over the words, softening in recognition once he reaches the final verse. he clears his throat, his adam’s apple sitting beneath the skin you’ve kissed and touched many times before.
Leave the perfume on the shelf
That you picked only for him
Leave no trace behind
Because you don't even exist
A dwindling, mercurial high
illicit affairs
clandestine meetings, stolen stares
They show their truth one single time
But they lie, and lie, and lie
A million little times.
his voice is soft, sanguine. he’s never putting on a grandiose performance but never flattening out the words into boredom. he delivers each syllable with justice, with poised pronunciation but a witty flare that is uniquely his.
you can see in his eyes the words resonate with something he’d like to believe he buried. something about betrayal. about feeling betrayed when you have no reason to feel that way, or simply because they left. or about remembering someone for longer than you’ve known them.
but he shoves it down with a question. “do you like that one?”
his cologne has worn off. his hair, though it was never exactly neat, is feathering over his shoulders in coffee-brown tangles. you can see that flushed hint of red on his lips, beginning to swell from kissing too hard. his sleek clothes are somewhere on the floor, and you can feel- from his arm wrapped around you- residual sweat.
still, he notices how you look at him like he’s the entire world, even after reading the poem that brought up so many pushed-down things for him. you see colours in him you can’t see with anyone else.
he gazes at that colour in you, while he awaits your answer.
“i liked it.” you smile, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“thats all?”
“osamu, you could read a grocery list and i’d listen.”
you get a soft laugh out of him.
he presses his lips against your forehead, coaxing you to sleep as he lays you down. he only reads a few more poems in his head, though he may as well have the letters memorized.
a grocery list. he thinks to himself. there was a time in his life grocery lists were the furthest from his head. death and destruction seem to take up a majority of your mind, and groceries are left on the back burner.
oh, but with you? he can spend every sunday morning unpacking expensive, store bought ingredients with you, and momentarily forget about everything else in the world.
for as long as his heart remains beating, he’ll savour all of it. a million little times.
#osamu dazai x y/n#osamu dazai x you#bsd dazai x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x fem reader#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#dazai smut#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#osamu x y/n#osamu x you#osamu x reader#bsd x female reader#bsd x you#bsd x gender neutral reader#bungo stray dogs x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x you#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs fanfiction#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bsd x y/n#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs dazai
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Can we just take a moment and acknowledge how much of a mind fuck it would be to be Dazai's darling during his Port Mafia days, and continuing to be his darling after he joins the ADA.
After writing for ADA! Dazai, I came to the realization how similar but different those two versions of Dazai are.
PM! Dazai is a lot more unhinged, manipulative, and apathetic towards his darling.
ADA! Dazai gives you suprising amount of freedom, but not PM! Dazai! This man will drag you everywhere with him, and he's forced you to witness some pretty traumatizing shit.
You once saw him brat a man half to death because they fucked up on a mission. Afterwards, his eyes remained dead and lifeless. His words completely contradicted his eyes, he'd joke and comfort you, but his eyes told another story. The lack of care, the lack of concern, the lack of life.
If you start off as PM! Dazai's darling, when he joins the ADA, it's like a complete tone shift. Suddenly you have so much freedom. You can have friends again, and have a job? But, since you were with PM! Dazai for so long, it's a complete mind fuck. You assume it's a joke, another one of his test, but no. He will genuinely let you go to the mall by yourself.
The sudden change in behavior will most likely cause yiu to have a panic attack in public. There has to be a trick somewhere, there has to be. You were so used to PM! Dazai, the Dazai that would pull at you hair and yell at you until you cried just for making a simple mistake, and then apologize and beg for you forgiveness afterwards, the Dazai that wouldn't let you be alone at all, the Dazai that would snap at random and make you pay the price, the Dazai that knew exactly what to say and do to make you feel or act a certain way.
#bsd x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#yandere bsd#yandere bungou stray dogs#dazai x reader#yandere dazai#dazai x y/n#osamu dazai x reader#yandere osamu dazai
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₊˚⊹♡ comparing hands with Fyodor
❥ a!! i really want to get on vgen, and to be accepted i'd need 100 likes and 5 unique comments... please help a girlie out.....
❥ my vgen is vgen.co/lemoncrunch !!
It does not take a genius to notice that Fyodor's hands are pretty. It's a purely objective statement, or so you like to claim — his skin is pale to the point of shimmering with translucence, blue veins prominent, and his fingers are long and thin, knuckles protruding.
They're on display for you whenever he plays the cello, holding the bow and allowing it to glide over the strings, the motion elegant purely in itself, yet underlined by the music filling the room. The deep notes entrance you, willing you to step inside the room, warm with the fire place crackling just a few metres away despite the frost biting at the window panes, and just watch.
Despite the wonderful show of his obvious musical talent, your attention keeps flickering to his hands, to the way his fragile wrist flexes. It's no wonder you get curious — and even less of one that he's well aware of your fascination. Lilac eyes move towards you ever so often, observing you observing him, and it's only a matter of time until he puts the cello down, focus now on you.
“Is there something on your mind?” he asks, amusement faintly veiled, and you quickly nod.
“May I see your hands?”
You're glad he's this agreeable when it comes to indulging your every whim.
Moments later, you're perched up on the arm of the sofa, towering just a bit over him, and your palms are pressed together flat. His skin is cold to the touch, always a bit of a surprise, and, apart from the callouses on his fingers, smooth.
Pale lips twitch into a smile, Fyodor's eyebrows raised in humour. “And what exactly are you hoping to see?”
“Just our hands.” An unsatisfactory response, certainly, so you quickly tack on: “I don't really know, I merely like yours a lot. They're very pretty. At first I just wanted to look at them up close, but then I wanted to see how ours look together, you know? To see how they compare.”
He hums in response, soft. “And how do they compare?”
You squint a little. His fingers surpass yours, long and boney, and despite the gentle moment, you can't quite suppress a faint line of thoughts, asking yourself how they'd feel touching you anywhere else, ghosting over your skin, pushing inside of you. Quickly, you blink, forcing those fantasies away to indulge in another time.
“You're still biting your nails”, you say instead, tone scolding.
Fyodor huffs out a small chuckle. “Guilty as charged.”
“I told you that's a bad thing to do. They'll never grow strong when you keep doing that.”
“An old habit, I suppose. I need them to be short in order to play the cello, anyway.” Loose strands of black hair fall in front of his eyes when he shifts. Your hands are still pressed flush against each other's. “Are you done comparing?”
“I guess so.” Before he's able to pull away, you weave your fingers between his, clasping his hand in yours, smiling, victorious. “This was all a plan to trick you into holding hands, though. And you fell for it.”
You really can't tell if his surprise is genuine or faked — truthfully, you suspect the latter, though even that effort of his makes your chest feel warm inside —; his eyes widen before he exhales, allowing himself to dramatically slump against the sofa's backrest.
“It appears I did. Blame a man for letting his guard down around his beloved.”

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#vgencode#honeydazai writes#Fyodor x reader#Fyodor x you#Fyodor x y/n#Fyodor imagines#Fyodor headcanons#Bsd x reader#Bsd x you#Bsd x y/n#Bsd imagines#Bsd headcanons#Bungo stray dogs x reader#Bungo stray dogs x you#Bungo stray dogs x y/n#bungo stray dogs headcanons#bungo stray dogs imagines#Bungo stray dogs fanfic#Bsd fanfic#Bsd fyodor#Fyodor fanfic#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#Fyodor fluff
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— bsd twitter links / visuals ! part... multiple !
featuring . dazai, mykola, kunikida, akutagawa, yosano + bonus (separate).
notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! this part includes multiple chars because my inbox has quite a few reqs of visuals with different chars so instead of spamming them i decided to make them into one single post. i couldn't help myself with the bonus sorry chat...
— dazai.
handjob while he plays video games.
picking up his pace ! make sure to keep up <3
he can be pretty rough when he's not lazy wants to be.
↑ some more.
choking you while fingering you. ughh i need.
llllloves using toys on you. he's so mean about it too.
on the agency's couch...
absolutely undeniably dazai coded.
— mykola.
he loves it messy. or making you a mess, you choose.
changing positions every minute cause he wants to try literally everything.
surely he can go deeper. and faster.
anywhere? anywhere.
loves dressing you up.
↑ and himself as well.
— kunikida.
loves having you give him a titjob.
sucking him off.
he is absolutely folding when you hug him during sex.
slow n deep.
he finally fucks you on his desk.
he's already trembling once in your arms.
— akutagawa.
please give him a handjob. he'll fold.
tries to keep his mouth occupied because he's not sure where to put it.
hugging him while riding him.
he's so gentle like you're porcelain.
this. just kiss him and cockwarm him and he's gone.
his everyday routine.
cuddly on the side <3
does not have a breeding kink however loves just filling you up.
morning.
— yosano.
riding her in reverse cowgirl.
sucking her strap while she holds your hair back for you <3
overstimming you with a vibrator.
↑ and making you wear her skirt while at it.
quickie in the agency's restroom when you're needy.
riding her.
fingering you n choking you.
sucking on her tits when she comes home after a tiring day.
+ bonus !
— chuuya.
after aftercare.
↑ some more.
you're both needy at work so he takes you to the pm headquarters' restroom to take care of it.
slapping your ass & rewarding you after.
this w him is justtt.
he decides to take the initiative.
part 1 for — dazai / chuuya / fyodor.
(ignore) requests that were for these characters utc !






#dazai x reader#bsd x reader#nikolai gogol x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#kunikida doppo x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#yosano akiko x reader#bsd smut#akutagawa x reader#chuuya x reader#dazai osamu x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#akutagawa ryunosuke x reader#bungou stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs smut#bsd x you#bsd x female reader#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs x you#bungo stray dogs x you#osamu dazai x you#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x you#chuuya x you#kunikida x reader#kunikida x you#yosano x reader#akutagawa x you#bsd twitter links#nikolai gogol x you
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⌗ Please notice me, Senpai or others will have to die! ౨ৎ
Yandere!Troublemaker who follows you around like a puppy, even though you pay no attention to him. Sometimes he'd beat up people just to have your attention. Oh? You were scolding him, but all he could focus on was how your lips moved, imagining them around his cock.
Yandere!Troublemaker who would stare at you in class, fantasising about God knows what! He'd excuse himself from the class and go to the restroom to jerk off. His hands moved faster as he tried to think it was your hand.
Yandere!Troublemaker who would flirt with you shamelessly. He'd never let you avoid him— he has memorised your routine by heart, praise him a little would?
Yandere!Troublemaker who would lose his mind if he saw someone getting too touchy with you. He had even beaten up a student badly when he tried to confess to you. The student has to be admitted to a hospital. How dare they lay their eyes on you? You belong to him!
Yandere!Troublemaker who's waiting for you to confess to him, after all, he has the looks and personality— What do you mean he's not your type!? You must be kidding, for the time being he'd be patient with you. Surely one day, you'll see he's the perfect guy? <3
SYLUS, Tartaglia, Yuta, SCARA, Gojo, Leona, the Leech twins, GETO, Aventurine, DAZAI, Fyodor, Nikolai, SUKUNA, Toji, Wriothesley, BLADE, Boothill, Sampo, JIAOQIU, Satan and whoever fits! ᡴꪫ
#𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 :: 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 (ᵔ◡ᵔ)#dom character#sub reader#genshin impact smut#genshin smut#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#honkai star rail smut#hsr smut#genshin x y/n#genshin x female reader#genshin x gender neutral reader#genshin x male reader#genshin impact x you#hsr x you#hsr x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#obey me smut#obey me x y/n#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#bsd smut#bsd x reader#bsd x male reader#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs x you#bungou stray dogs x reader
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nsfw.
undoing his tie blindly and clumsily while sitting on his lap and grinding against his bulge, moaning and trembling —
— because making out with dazai is always so arousing. he is leaning against the headboard of the bed, has you on his lap with one hand on the small of your back to guide you into circles on top of his clothed bulge. as he sucks your lip, kissing you with so much passion, using his other hand to force your mouth open and spitting in it.
— because making out with chuuya is so messy and rough. he is comfortably leaning against the headpost of the bed, you are on his lap and his hands are on your bare ass, helping you bounce on his clothed member. he is pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, squishing your cheeks with his gloved hand to make your lips pout and then kissing and licking at them.
#ᝰ ira#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x you#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x you#bsd fanfic#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bsd x female reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x reader smut#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai x fem reader#dazai osamu x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#osamu dazai smut#chuuya x reader smut#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x fem!reader#chuuya nakahara smut#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x you#chuuya nakahara x reader
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' IS IT CASUAL NOW?
dazai osamu chuuya nakahara ranpo edogawa
sum. needy! lover boys—your relationship is not labeled, not defined by any means, but, god, they need you like air.
notes. suggestive ⤸ bottom dazai, top chuu fluff ⤸ painfully unaware ranpo
“It’s pathetic how much you’re trying to cling to control,” voice low, your fingers hover over the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when you keep crawling back to me every goddamn time.”
Your gaze slices through the unsheathed bravado, zeroing in on the way Dazai’s breath hitches, that fleeting crack in his confident mask—enough to send a shiver of triumph through you. Shifting in his lap, you hold him in place, and momentarily, his eyes flash, a tell that would go unnoticed by anyone else, but you catch it. He’s slipping, unraveling under the weight of your presence, and you haven’t even begun to dig in.
One by one, you undo his buttons, savoring the deliberate slowness, relishing the burn of discomfort that begins to cling to the air around you. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles pale, but you know—oh, you know—that this facade of restraint is nothing but a thin veil stretched too tightly over something far more volatile. You’re pushing him, probing the limits of his composure, searching for the breaking point where he shatters into something unrecognizable.
“You know I’m right,” your lips brush his ear, warm breath hitching in the space between you. His eyes flutter shut, a futile attempt to block out the heat pooling in his stomach, the magnetic pull he can’t escape. Yet, the evidence is there; muscles tighten beneath your touch, every feather-light caress igniting something primal within him. He wants this, wants you—each moment a descent into madness and desire.
With tantalizing slowness, your hands drift down his chest, fingers grazing the taut skin of his abdomen. Dazai shudders in response, a sharp intake of breath escaping his parted lips as he remains ensnared. Doing so, he allows you to peel away the layers of his defenses, one agonizing inch at a time. And, heavens, he needs you to.
When silence reigns, you dig your fingers into the flesh of his waist. It sends a jolt of heat through him, and rather than recoiling, he leans into it, breath hitching and back arching, desperate. Every inch of him seems to scream for more, yet you hold him there—caught in a tormenting limbo between fierce control and reckless surrender. He wouldn’t fight it. Couldn’t.
Pathetic.
The shirt falls open, and you take a moment to truly see him. Rapid breaths dance in concert with the frantic rhythm of his heart, skin flushed with a heady mix of frustration and something darker, deeper. You pull him closer, inch by inch, and he is letting you. Naturally.
With him, it’s always been the same. Out there, he’s a viper, a reaper, the ice-cold mafia executive everyone fears. But with you? He’s nothing but a mess, ready to get wrecked by the same power he held over others. He never stays long, never talks much—too consumed by his unapologetic needs.
But he always returns.
“You hate this,” you say, voice a whisper but charged with a devastating clarity. “You hate that you need this. That you need me.”
Dazai’s jaw clenches, a silent protest etched on his face before his dark eyes lock onto yours—searching, undone, half-lidded. “You sure do talk a lot.”
Yet, despite his foolishness, the truth, raw and wounding, is this: Dazai does hate it. But not in the way he wants you to believe. He hates that he can’t stop wanting this, wanting you, wanting the sweet release of surrender. He aches for it in a way he can’t express, in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel. Years of cold stone walls, the need for control, and yet they suffocate him, a noose tightening around his throat, while the thought of letting go shatters him anew.
You lean in closer then, tracing the edge of his belted waistband, the final barrier between you and the truth beneath. He doesn’t stop you. No fight left, only an acquiescence that settles heavy in the air. What resides here is undefined, a feral dance of power and submission, untamed and dangerous.
After unbuckling his belt, your eyes never leaving his, your fingers slip beneath his pants. Dazai gasps as he feels your fingers brush against his sensitive skin, the touch tentative yet purposeful, igniting a storm within him. He’s lost, and he knows it—his grip on those carefully crafted emotions fading like whispers in a tempest. You’re unraveling him, thread by thread, and he can do nothing but surrender, over and over again.
“Your body’s betraying your wicked mind, dear,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “Stop holding onto your selfish dreams.”
In response to your words and tightening grip, his hips lift subtly to meet your hand, the soundly inhale that escapes like a confession, the way his chest trembles with each shallow breath. It’s instinctive, a primal response that overrides the sharp precision of his mind, leaving nothing but raw need in its wake. He doesn’t just crave this—he starves for it, the hunger etched into the taut lines of his frame, his skin burning beneath your fingertips like kindling ready to ignite. Every nerve is alight, every inch of him unraveling under your deliberate torment, each brush of your hand pulling him deeper into a haze of helpless desire.
He falters further, a low, guttural sound slipping past his lips as his head tilts back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. His body answers you without hesitation, chasing every flicker of heat, every promise of release. The tension he carried like armor moments ago melts into something molten, spilling into the cracks of his carefully constructed facade. There’s poetry in his surrender, the way his body bows to you as if your touch were both a command and a sanctuary. He is undone, not just by touch but by the cruel truth in your gaze—the knowledge that you hold all the power he swore never to relinquish.
And still, he aches for it, again and again, day by day, for you, for the ruin you carve into him with every devastating touch.
The room throbs with heat, heavy with the remnants of desire and tension. The sheets cling to your damp skin, barely draping over the curve of your hip, yet even that scant barrier feels unbearable to him. Chuuya’s arm tightens around your waist, his hand sprawled possessively across your stomach, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His lips—swollen and red from what just transpired—trail soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each lingering touch a silent claim that mirrors the grip of his fingers.
His mind flickers back, replaying moments etched into the haze of passion. The way his hands roamed over your body, desperate to map every inch of you. His gloves abandoned long ago, he’d let his bare hands glide over the smooth expanse of your back, tracing the delicate dips and curves of your form. Rough yet reverent, his touch had left a trail of yearning in its wake. Even now, the memory only sharpens his hunger.
Desire courses through him, a need far from sated. He has touched, kissed, claimed—but it isn’t enough. It never is. Every soft sound you make, every shiver beneath his fingertips, only deepens the craving that burns within him. He wants more. He needs more.
When you shift, muscles tensing as if preparing to rise, his grip tightens instinctively.
“Don’t,” he murmurs, his gravelly voice sending a tremor down your spine.
You freeze, glancing over your shoulder. His crimson hair is a wild mess, damp strands clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, smolder darkly, heavy-lidded and brimming with something raw and unfiltered. In this moment, he looks utterly wrecked—and yet entirely unyielding.
“Chuuya, I need to—”
“You don’t need to do anything,” he interrupts, his tone low, dangerous. His hand slides lower, brushing against your hip, igniting a pulse of heat beneath your skin. “Stay.”
The other hand presses against your stomach, grounding you, pulling you closer. His lips graze your shoulder, trailing down to the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone, plunging you into a sea of sensation.
“This isn’t—” you begin, but your words falter as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin, followed by the warm glide of his tongue.
“I know exactly what this is.” Voice thick with desperate urgency, he adds “And I don’t care. You’re not leaving.”
Your breath hitches as his lips find the pulse in your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t relent, kisses turning into nips, his teeth grazing your skin like he’s intent on branding you, ensuring you’ll remember this.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, unconvincing beneath the weight of his touch.
A low chuckle rumbles against your skin, his lips curling into a smirk. “Doesn’t it?” he drawls, his hand sliding up to trace the edge of your ribs. “Then why are you still here?”
Your silence betrays you. His hand moves, brushing the sheet aside entirely, tracing lazy patterns over your bare skin.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, brushing the shell of your ear. “Trying so hard to deny it, but your body’s honest, doll.”
His words melt the last threads of your resolve, the mockery within them tinged with a need he can’t voice.
“Stay,” he repeats, his breath hot and insistent. “Stay with me. Tonight.”
And as his arms wind tighter around you, pulling you flush against him, his silent promise is undeniable: tonight, you’re not going anywhere.
Ranpo exists in his own untouchable world, one of brilliance and ease, where the weight of actions doesn’t hold meaning, and consequences are but distant whispers. He’s blissfully unaware of the intoxicating effect he has on those around him—on you, specifically. Why would he question it? He doesn’t notice how your breath catches like a startled songbird when his hand brushes against yours, nor how his mere proximity unravels you, thread by delicate thread. To him, it’s all so simple, so natural. You’re here, by his side, and that’s where he believes you belong. He doesn’t need to ponder why that feel so profoundly right.
He sits far too close on the couch, the soft press of his thigh against yours sending ripples of awareness through you—an illicit thrill, though you both know it isn’t intentional. He doesn’t spare a thought for the way the air between you has vanished, charged with unspoken promises. His attention, as fleeting as moonlight, flits lazily over the file in his lap, fingers flipping pages he’s not truly reading, his mind adrift in its own vibrant sea. The golden glow of the lamp bathes his face, casting light over the unruly strands of his dark hair and highlighting the serene expression he wears like a crown.
You’re acutely aware of him, of the faint scent of sweets that clings to him, of the steady rhythm of his breathing, of every casual move he makes as if they’re notes in a symphony composed just for you. And then, without even lifting his gaze from the file, he takes your hand in his, his grip light yet possessive, as though it belongs there—as if the universe conspired to create a perfect fit between you.
“Hold still,” he murmurs absently, as if you’d moved at all. The deep, velvet softness of his voice rolls over you like a warm tide, pulling you under its spell, and before you can muster a response, his lips kiss your knuckles, warm and fleeting. His touch is tender, unthinking, like a gentle breeze brushing over your skin, yet it sears into your consciousness, igniting you from within. Your chest tightens, heat swirling in your cheeks, but he remains blissfully ignorant of the way you stiffen under the weight of his gaze. To him, it’s nothing—just a moment of thoughtless affection. He shifts slightly, leaning closer into your space, the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours. His presence is consuming, enveloping you like a silken cloak—so achingly casual that it steals the breath from your lungs.
Ranpo pulls back just enough to allow the air to shimmer between you, eyes still glued to the paper, his thumb now tracing lazy circles along the back of your hand. The touch sends delightful shivers racing down your spine, but he doesn’t even glance up. And then, as if curious about the very fabric of your connectedness, he brings your hand to his lips again. This kiss lingers a heartbeat longer, soft and steady, his breath fanning across your skin, igniting butterflies in your stomach that flutter wildly.
“You’re warm,” he remarks offhandedly, his voice low and almost hypnotic, like the languid murmur of a summer breeze. “Maybe a little too warm.” Finally, he turns to you, and his green eyes twinkle with light amusement, a mischievous edge that makes your heart leap. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”
The words are nonchalant, drifting carelessly through the air, yet they strike you like lightning, leaving you flustered and helpless against the enchanting spell he’s unknowingly woven around you. He tilts his head slightly, studying you in that whimsical way of his, completely unaware of the way your resolve crumbles beneath his gaze.
Your cheeks burn as you nervously look away, praying he won’t see the vivid flush spreading across your skin. But he remains blissfully oblivious—of course, he doesn’t notice. He’s still holding your hand, still tracing slow, teasing patterns across your skin, still sitting far too close. He doesn’t realize the storm he’s ignited within you, fierce and unrelenting.
And yet, there’s a softness in the way he stays there, in the gentle cadence of his thumb moving in circles against your palm, in the way he breathes so steadily beside you, each rise and fall a hushed promise. He’s unaware, yes, but there’s an unmistakable thread of intention woven into his presence, buried deep within his unconscious mind.
You glance at him, trying to calm the tumult rage within your chest, but his face is turned back to the file, completely at ease in his world. He doesn’t see the chaos he’s left in his wake, doesn’t comprehend how every touch, every lingering kiss to your hand feels like a revelation, a realization of all the unspoken wishes you yearn to voice. But maybe, just maybe, some part of him knows—some deep, unspoken part of him that draws him close to you, closer than he’s ever been to anyone else.
And so, you let him stay, the warmth of his thigh pressed against yours, his hand loosely holding yours like it’s the most familiar thing in the world. Because for now, this quiet, undefined intimacy is enough. For now, he is more than enough.
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a/n: HELLO i am alive, no further comments. idek why i wrote this. and it’s probably highly ooc i‘m sorry (i am not, i need bottom dazai biblically) also, i couldn’t bring myself to make ranpo‘s part suggestive ㅤ:,) yikes but it’s, at least, cute. in a way ?
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd x reader#bsd x you#bsd x gender neutral reader#bsd x y/n#bungou stray dogs x you#bungou stray dogs x reader#chuuya x y/n#chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#dazai x reader#dazai smut#ranpo x reader#ranpo x you#ranpo fluff#ranpo x y/n#chuuya smut#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya nakahara x you#dazai osamu x reader#bungou stray dogs smut#bungou stray dogs fanfic#bsd fanfic#bsd smut#bsd fluff#bsd imagines#chuuya imagines
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Pairing: Dazai x reader
Contents: SFW, sleep deprivation, CW for hints at depression, best way to get someone to sleep is the tried and true method of forced couch cuddling, Approx 800 words
You held your breath, trying to be as still as possible while Dazai’s unconscious body shifted, his weight nestling even closer against your chest.
You counted in your mind, the seconds going by as Dazai slowly relaxed back into your embrace, face nuzzling right into the warmth of your neck. He was such a light sleeper usually, you weren’t going to take any risks now. Especially with how hard it was to get him here in the first place.
In retrospect, Dazai was such a good liar.
You beat yourself up for not noticing sooner; letting him flail about through the week like it was his average Sunday when he was only functioning on pure stubbornness and blank stares alone. He was practically one stairway misstep away from ending up in a fucking ER.
You swallowed hard, turning to your side to leave a gentle kiss against his forehead. You pulled Dazai closer, your hands firm around his shoulders as you tried to shove those thoughts away. Dazai being bad at caring for himself was as bright as day, the self-preservation instincts carelessly discarded in favour of whatever crossed his fancy at the time.
Which includes and is not limited to forgetting basic human needs. Like fucking sleeping.
It was hardly ideal now, lying on a couch in the only spare room at the Agency. An hour of rest, tops. It was the best you managed, dragging Dazai away as he whined through the whole ordeal.
It bugged you a lot. Dazai was never the type to complain about slacking off, which was exactly what you were up to now. At least Atsushi was covering for you, hopefully keeping Kunikida’s strict presence away from your hiding spot.
Pulling out any info about…this was just as fruitless; a sort of absent shrug accompanied by the most dramatic whine the only explanation Dazai provided. You could only purse your lips as you pulled him down, annoyance swirling in your chest while you made him lay beside you. Free will his ass. He was getting what he deserved and if you had to force it down his throat–so be it.
Until he rested his head on your shoulder, looking off in the distance with a face you hardly ever managed to see on him. Not when Dazai was so good at playing the jester, not a care in the world as he joked and teased away any worry you might have had for him.
And he fell asleep like this, quietly, after he gave up on playing it off against your unimpressed stares. Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut and he was out soon after. You wanted to grab at his jacket, shake him until he spilled his soul out. But your hands only trailed up, pulling him flush against you as you brushed his hair away from his face.
You didn’t dare move after that, letting him melt into your embrace as the minutes went by. An hour passed and still no one came to look for you. Nor did Dazai move–out like a light. You could feel his warm breath tickle against your skin, even and calm. He was an absolute princess, always wanting as much attention as he could exhort from you.
But moments like those were… quiet. Sweet in the peace they provided, the gentle warmth of your bodies against each other. It made your heart ache.
Your hand trailed up to Dazai's jawline, cradling it as you pulled slightly to gaze at his face. He looked so innocent now, face serene in its rest. You hoped he wasn’t dreaming anything; Dazai’s the type to appreciate the absence of thought when he could. It was almost like deleting himself from existence, and he found comfort in it.
Damn it.
You needed to talk. Yes. Talking helped, right? Of course it did, you knew that from experience. But forcing it out of someone was a whole different beast. And Dazai never talked. Not really. He prattled and rattled on, yes, but not about the important things. Not seriously at least.
You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead to his. “I… you know I love you, you damn idiot?” you whispered against his lips. “Just… be okay. You’re okay, alright?”
Dazai didn’t move, oblivious to the world. Your thumb brushed against his cheek, the touch gentle. You stayed like that, face to face, temple to temple.
Let him rest now. You’d deal with whatever came when you had to. Now…
Not now.
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd fanfic#bsd x reader#bsd x y/n#bsd x you#dazai osamu x reader#dazai osamu#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu x y/n#bsd dazai#dazai x reader#dazai bsd#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai x you#dazai x y/n#osamu x you#osamu x reader#osamu x y/n#osamu dazai x reader#osamu dazai x you#osamu dazai x y/n
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── ★ 𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐘 !
𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — bsd men and public sex scenarios
𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut
─── tw intended lowercase, public sex, exhibitionism, edging, begging, use of pet names (doll, love, angel etc), praise kink, cockwarming + fingering in fyodor's part, voyeurism + choking + nipple play in nikolai's part
𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai, chuuya, fyodor, nikolai x reader
𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 is always ready for sex, whether it be in the comfort of your bedroom or the last seat of a movie theater. you cannot physically count the number of times you've asked him to dick you down and he has cooed in reply, pulled you into a random corner, ridden your panties to the side and pried your legs apart with a smile. that, however, doesn't mean there aren't times when you have to beg for his fat cock. he is quite a nuisance, even when the two of you have to make it quick, locked up in a public room. he enjoys watching you flailing your arms around in a silent tantrum, unable to moan or groan or whine, afraid of being heard by others.
“now now bella,” he says in a sing-song voice. “if i give it to you now, and you end up being so loud that the others hear, it will be bad, won’t it?”
he watches you rub your cheek against his bare cock, throat dry from the hardness which he refused to let you suck.
“i’ll be quiet, i promise,” you say. “please please, can i have it?”
“you always say that, dolly,” he strokes your hair lovingly and you lean into his touch. “but we both know you never keep your promise. i would like you to hush for me, alright? we can be as loud as we want at home, but not here, hm? the president is in the next room; it’s a very important meeting, okay?”
you nod vigorously, and he chuckles.
“ah now you know i’m weak for those eyes,” he pulls you up and sits you nicely on his cock all in one go, clamping a hand over your mouth as your eyes widen at the forced penetration. “we’ve got an hour, baby. let’s make it nice and slow, yea? don’t want anything to spill or make a mess, hm? easy now, doll. ride me like a good girl, but quietly.”
𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 doesn't mind pissing off mori in ways more than one. he cannot recall how many times he's fucked you in his own office in various positions, and so messily too, just to see his boss's reaction. he, unlike dazai, doesn't have to be quiet though. it's his building, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, shove his cock down your throat wherever he wants. but he likes to go at a tantalizingly slow pace. he knows he can take his time. he's not gonna get 'caught'. his subordinates know better than to intrude on his business. it's just you, spread-eagled on the table, and him, rutting his hard cock inside you.
“you like it, yea? then why don’t you say it?” he groans in your ear. “you can tell me whose pussy this is, can’t you? why don’t you say my name, doll? whose girl are you?”
“y-yours, all yours,” you hiss and he gently pushes your face back into the mahogany table, the smell of fresh wood and sex clouding your senses.
“what’s my name?”
“chuuya–”
“chuuya what?”
“port mafia executive chuuya nakahara and the owner of my body,” you breathe. he's taught you to say that whenever he asks you that.
“good girl,” he says proudly, smile faltering for a second as he adjusts his pace. “you gonna come, baby? i can feel you. come, come on this cock, we’ll let it get on the floor and table, just to have some fun, yea?”
you widen your eyes, and he chuckles, gloved hand coming to pinch a nipple.
“no objections. mori's office or not, i decide what i do with my pussy.”
you shuddered. he's not afraid and it's seen. because after all, who's gonna fire him?
𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 isn't always the one to initiate sex, much less one in public. then again, your numb cunt and shaking legs are testimony of how well he does when he decides to. public sex for fyodor meant shoving you by your hair down on his cock, pretending to be interested in the ramblings of fukichi while you were sucking him off under the table. when he feels he has to reward you for good behaviour though, he allows you to perch on his lap, your panties shifted to the side as he nests his cock deep inside your warm pussy, offering his ideas while the others don't bat an eye at the unusual approach of the mastermind.
he drums his fingers on the table, sliding them down to pinch your clit. your eyes widen, neck snapping around to look at him as he continues to look ahead. from the corner of his sly smile, he mutters, “i’ve told you to stop moving so much, havent i, angel? or would you like to leave the meeting? i wouldn’t mind either way. you’re distracting a hard-working man.”
you frown at him. “i’m not moving around–” your angry whisper is cut off by a finger slipping inside your already filled cunt, stretching it out even more. you hiss loudly, fist clenching around his cape.
“quieten, printsessa, or i might have to send you away. you’re not being very good now. i’d like to have a word with you after the gathering departs. in private.”
you scowl and turn back to staring at a wall in front of you, when you feel his finger escaping your soaking cunt. sighing in relief, you barely anticipate the slight jolt of his hips as he forced his cock deeper inside you for the fraction of a second before bringing it back in place.
your eyes wander frantically to see if anyone noticed the act. nobody did, thankfully, or maybe they had learned not to intrude on his business. either way, you will pay the price for boredom in the next thirty minutes.
𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 is similar to dazai when it comes to enthusiasm related to public sex. he's into voyeurism, a bit much for your liking, but he swears by your name he won't do it if you don't like it. but you don't miss the way he casually lifts your skirt up to check your ass out, or how he sticks a finger inside your cleavage line to harden your nipples. he has always wanted to be free, and what defines freedom more than sex in the back of his car, where the windows are open and any passerby can hear the commotion, wild and alive like never before?
“but kolya, we have to be quiet, we can’t just–”
“hush, my little birdie. do as i say and you won’t be in trouble,” he lays you down comfortably on the seat before proceeding to bang the shit out of you. your meek attempt at stifling your moans by covering your mouth is unsuccessful, and highly futile, he thinks. “now why would you do that, my dove? why would you not bless my ears with your heavenly sounds? let me hear them, dove, please.”
“kolya–”
“yes yes yes love, just like that,” he coos praises into your ear. “but you can go louder, can’t you?”
his mouth sucks on one of your nipples, begging you silently to give him more, to say more.
“please tell me how i make you feel, dove. i might die.”
“so good, kolya, so good.”“yes dove, now can you tell the whole word how i make you feel? please? for me?” he fastens his pace to force moans out of you, hand reaching to your throat to make you say his name. “want the whole word to know you love me, dove. that you’re mine. all mine.”
and his demands grow sinister by the moment with threatening consequences.
“whoopsie, no dove you’re gonna have to keep it in for now. can’t let you come unless i see you beg for it, now can i?”
it was always a long night of satisfying sex with him.
#bsd x reader#bsd imagines#dazai x reader#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd fluff#bsd x y/n#bsd#bsd smut#dazai smut#chuuya x reader#chuuya smut#nikolai fluff#nikolai smut#nikolai x reader#fyodor x reader#fyodor smut#dazai bsd#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya#chuuya x y/n#chuuya bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungo stray dogs smut
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