#but i always come back to aku

[heysye]

froggy buddy (plush edition)

[ssaraexposs]

"HE IS CRAZY, BUT HE'S MINE"

[ilyhaitanii]

haiii aku ;3 hope u are well bby <333╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

can we get yr input on darling who’s struggling to take sylus’ cock in her cunny or butt :p he would be so sweet but condescending abt it me finks ….!

ps.. i still haven’t played l&ds because i cant STAND the long download at the start .. but i see ur rbs ever so often about ur boy sylus nd i’m starting to grow a liking!!!! ;D

mfhehdeosndnd ive been DYINGGGG 4 someone to ask me abt this !!!! i hope yr doing well too honey <333

mdni 18+ (mean-ish sylus, size kink, use of darling, sweetie, kitten, and slut, what kind of aku fic wld it be if there was no clit play or finger sucking!!!!!!! ++ darling is an implied virgin) mmm i think thats it :3)

trying to fit sylus inside of you is… exhausting to say the least. he’s so mean yet so sweet at the same time it somewhat gives you whiplash. one minute he’s cooing at how much your thighs are trembling, attempting to fit his cock inside of you but you can barely get past the stretch of just the tip.

he’s never really ever fucked you fully. always saying “it’s too much for you” or “that’s not something a sweet girl like yourself should worry about.” any other day, you would argue with him about it, but when his tongue is buried deep inside your cunt and his nose is rubbing against your clit, it’s pretty hard to come up with a coherent reply.

“need any help, sweetie? it’s admirable to admit defeat, you know?” sylus remarks as his nails gently tickle your sides. you flinch, squealing at the sensation. you squeeze around the head of his cock making him groan. he chuckle in a low tone, crimson eyes glowing with desire.

you’re the one who wanted to ride him, finally have his cock inside you. and with much begging (and a lot of his cum down your throat) you finally convinced him to let you try. keyword: try.

sylus enjoys playing with his food before eating it though. he watches the way you struggle to slide your knees down further, unsure as to how much pressure to use. your inexperienced hand placement as well has him reeling. there’s something beautiful about the way you shyly try to cover yourself, yet are spread wide on top of him as his cock is inside you. that gives him whiplash.

“shut up!” you say, cheeks flushing a darker red. you huff, trying to push your knees further down,

“slowly, kitty. no need to rush.” but you just can’t get him to fit inside you! he’s far too big for you. even after being stretched out with three fingers! you let out a soft cry, frustrated. sylus hums, swirling hearts into your clit,

“there’s so point in punishing yourself, sweetie. let me help, hm?” he lets out a soft rumble when your hands finally place themselves on his broad shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath your palm contract. sylus’s other hand cups your cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your lips.

“i can do it,” you argue back, sliding your knees down further. however, you lose you balance and slide all the way down sylus’s cock in one go. there’s a loud yelp that escapes your lips when your hips meet sylus’s. tears brim in your eyes at the stretch and this foreign fullness in your tummy.

with your chest pressed against his, sylus places his hands on your hips, sliding you back up.

“poor thing. you really do need my help, hm?” and finally you admit defeat. with little pearls falling down your cheeks you nod your head, sobbing into his neck. “my sweet little girl,” sylus murmurs into your skin as he lays you down in the mattress.

“this is the appropriate position for your first time, sweetie. what you were doing was far too advanced for you.” he chides, pinching your cheeks. sylus slides your knees up, parting your legs. he gets a good look at your weeping cunt and swollen clit. he lines up the head of his cock with your entrance and pushes forward. you try to push him away, but sylus takes ahold of your wrists.

“ah ah, none of that. be a good girl and lay still for me.” his voice is stern, yet the husk of his voice makes your brain feel dizzy. everything about him makes you feel light headed— his scent, his frame, his hands, his cock.

your adorable little mewls and heaves has sylus sinking his cock in further. the stretch is tolerable, but it burns in the best way possible. you can’t explain how the pain feels good. (you don’t have to worry about explaining how you feel, sylus will take care of it!)

“sy!” you reach out for his hand, crying. sylus holds your smaller hand in his, pressing kisses into your knuckles.

“easy there, sweetie. we have all the time in the world, no need to rush.” but your so desperate for him to fill you up, you just can’t take it. sylus watches your pout form as you push your hips against him.

sylus uses his elbows to press your knees to your chest, causing your eyes to flutter open. his thumb strokes your swollen clit as he pushes himself deeper and deeper. time to time, he slides himself all the way out and then fills you right back up. he allows you to adjust to every new inch.

the feeling is unlike any other. sylus’s too brushes against your most sensitive spot, white flashes clouding your view of him. his silver locs covering his eyes. you reach up to brush his hair away, but you feel his cock at a whole new angle.

“ah! sylus!” you moan our, holding onto him. you’re almost there, so close to taking him all the way. before you know it, sylus is fully inside you. you can feel him just below your belly button. the sight of his bulge in your tummy makes him weak. his balls tighten— he could just cum at the sight of it.

“easy there. see, it just took some patience, kitten.” sylus rubs away any tears with his thumb before peppering bites and kisses along your breasts and shoulders.

“you’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” you nod your head along to his words, sucking on his thick digits when they’re slid onto your heavy, sticky tongue.

“not a single thought in your head besides taking my cock, huh?” sylus whispers, watching the way you whine and clench around his cock. he cocks a brow, “oh? did that make you wetter?”

sylus slides his cock out slightly before ramming it into your sweet spot. you clutch onto his wrist, eyes retreating into the back of your skull. his free hand takes one of your ankles and places it on his shoulder. sylus gazes down at you with spit drooling down your lips.

“look at yourself. you’ve gone stupid on my cock and i haven’t even fully fucked you,” he leans in closer, pressing himself deeper. “this is why i was avoiding this. afraid of turning my sweet girl into a stupid slut.” you can’t understand why his words are making your tummy feel tight or why you feel yourself gushing around his length, but again: that’s none of your concern.

© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ ‘sayang’ is a double-edged sword — kuroo x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: based on the headcanon of a half-Indonesian kuroo. in which he learns that the language is full of contradictions.

content warnings: ANGST, mentions of bullying, homesickness

word count: 3.5k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

Sayang. A two syllable word that was the unofficial translation of love in the Indonesian language. Technically love was ‘cinta’, but you didn’t like how it felt in your mouth—bulky and awkward—too big for anything. You liked the way ‘sayang’ sounded better, the way it rolled off the tongue so easily—fleeting, almost carelessly. Sayang.

Aku sayang kamu. I love you.

Your mother called you sayang. You recalled running up to her after school, her arms outstretched and wide open, waiting to wrap around you. The sweet scent of her skin that was like honeysuckle and summer, the warmth of her smile—beaming at you from the driver’s seat as you babbled about your day. She would call you that term of endearment whenever she had the chance.

Sayang, come down for dinner. Sayang, it’s time to wake up. Sayang, have fun at school!

Indonesian was your mother tongue. The first language you had learned how to speak. In a way, your entire childhood was defined by it. There were things in your everyday vocabulary that didn’t make sense, or were different when translated. In that way, you always felt like there was something missing when you spoke English or Japanese. When you left Jakarta during the 1998 riots, your mother, alongside a handful of other families, managed to escape from the fiery wrath of the protestors, sought asylum from any other country that was willing to take you. Some of your friends moved to Singapore, others, Malaysia, or Taiwan—for you it was Japan, a country that once had colonized yours but was now your saving grace. With only two suitcases to your name and your mother’s limited Japanese learnt during her high-school years, the two of you tried to make home in the foreign country. You were starting all over again. Language. School. Friends. It would prove to be difficult.

Japanese kids were mean. Not beating-you-up kind of mean, but snickering-behind-your-back mean. Back home, they would say things to your face, pick fights and shouting matches with you, but here, they talked about you in hushed whispers and lingering gazes. It was in the sharpie doodles on your school shoes and the scattered laughter that echoed whenever you slipped up when you read aloud for the class. You were still bad at Japanese—the language a tangle of syllables in your mouth. Your mother told you that it was because your tongue was just used to speaking Indonesian. You thought it was because Japan was foreign to you, in the bad way. In the way that your body silently rebelled against it by fixing your jaw in ways so you couldn’t say things right—so that years later, even after you became fluent, the trace of your mother tongue still lingered.

That was the first thing that Kuroo Tetsuro pointed out. You talk funny, were his first words to you—finger pointed straight between your eyes. A rage bubbled in your chest at the mention of it. It was something that you were insecure about, something you felt the need to hide. You didn’t even know you were muttering to yourself when you played in the playground’s sandbox until he pointed it out to you, and you hated that, and you made sure to let him know how much you did—through a mash of fists and bruises and a black eye (his, not yours).

Your mother made you apologize—the Japanese way—kneeling, on the floor. You were red hot and flushed, humiliated for having done so. Not for beating up the kid but rather for having been caught, and having to apologize. Why should you? He started it. He was making fun of you. “You talk funny,” psh, he looked funny. His sharp cat-like eyes and almost permanent bed head—how could his parents let him out of the house looking like that? Someone might mistake him for a stray.

That apology was how you found out Kuroo was a little bit like you—half-Indonesian, from his mothers side. The tiny Indonesian population in Japan meant that whoever was from the motherland clung together like thieves at sea. Maybe it was because of familiarity, maybe because of homesickness. In a way, all they had left of their home country was each other, speaking the same language, knowing the same songs, the same streets—sometimes even the same people. For them, this was the closest thing to coming home. This was how you eventually became friends with Kuroo, after years and years of living down the street and your mother inviting him over and attending the same school and making the two of you befriend the other.

It was rough at first. You refused to speak Japanese around him, fearing the same insult would come and jab at you when you would. Despite his mother’s nationality, he was never able to understand or speak the language that you did—part of himself almost denying that part of him after his mother left. Maybe that was his way of getting revenge, refusing to acknowledge his mother’s culture, her homeland.

The two of you would pass the time playing congklak, the Indonesian version of the mancala. You practiced counting this way, dropping the shells in each divot one by one—starting again if there were any remaining. He babbled on about TV shows he watched, or mangas he read, trying to make a point about how Japanese he was, how un-Indonesian, and by extension, how unlike his mother. Sometimes you would watch Ikkyu-san together. Sometimes he would flip through the comics you had brought over—Mahabhrata and Gundala and Bobo. You remember the look on his face as he traced over the pages, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“It’s too confusing, all these words look foreign to me,” he would say, putting them back on the shelf.

“So what?” You shot back, “I had to do the same thing when I came here. Kanji still looks like scribbles to me.”

There was no mashing of fists or sound of crying this time, just a mutual understanding of the others’ struggle. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat and pick up the book again, finger tracing the sentences, sounding out the words—like a child learning how to read for the first time. You sighed, defeated, and sat down next to him, trying to teach him. He was a persistent child, often needing to get his way regardless of whatever circumstances but here he was—docile, obedient. Something between the two of you shifted.

Kuroo began to grow out of his shell in middle school; making new friends on the volleyball team and tagging along during their after-practice escapades, oftentimes raiding the local convenience store for all the goodies. Sometimes you would come with, slipping into the background of conversations and keeping to yourself. You still didn’t like talking in front of anyone—so you kept your lips pressed together and our gaze downcast, a faraway look in your eyes. Of course, this caught the attention of some of his teammates.

“Is she mute?” One of them had asked, hands shoved in his pockets, walking a few steps ahead of you. Despite you hanging back, you could still hear him, but then again, it wasn’t like he made any attempt to speak quietly either. Or maybe he thought that you were also deaf.

“Dude,” he sounds, offended for you, “she’s right here.”

“So? It’s not like she ever says anything. It’s like she’s deaf, or mute—or both.”

Kuroo frowns at this statement. At home, he sits across from you, pencil tapping against the pages of his ignored math homework. You look up at him with your eyebrow cocked, as if, beckoning for him to spit it out already.

“Would it kill you to make some friends?” He asks, words sharp and unforgiving. Your shoulders slump at the question, and you give him a deadpan look before returning your attention to your assignment, already miles ahead of him.

“I don’t need them,” you mumble, “too much of a hassle.”

“How do you survive without them? Like seriously, nobody to lean on?”

“That’s how I like it.”

He grumbles inaudibly under his breath at your response, a mixture of frustration and annoyance echoing through his voice. He chews on his bottom lip before speaking up again, this time, rather boldly.

“You’re not alone.” You look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He thumps his chest with his right hand almost solemnly, like making an oath. “You have me. I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line, not knowing what else to say. Instead, you nod your head in acknowledgement, and return your attention back to your homework. When you are done with the practice questions, you flip over your notebook so that he can copy your answers.

The first time he called you ‘sayang’ was in the spring of your freshman year. He said it after having heard your mother say that as she bid you goodbye for school. He had let it slip, almost by accident, as he repeated the word over and over in his mind as the two of you walked—sounding it out, feeling the weight of it in his mouth. He liked the way it rolled across his tongue, and something about it—the curve of the letters when spelled out, the softness of it seemed so you. When you had heard it, you stopped, the hair on the back of your neck raising as you looked back at him, almost incredulously. He stares back, puzzled at your reaction. This was the first time he had ever seen your reserved demeanor crack.

“What? What did I do?” He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“What did you say?”

“What, ‘sayang’?” His hands move up to straighten his tie, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry, was that a bad word?”

“No, it’s..” your voice trails off, cheeks reddening. You turn around and stomp forward, hands tight around the straps of your backpack. “Forget it. Don’t call me that.”

He stays at his place on the street, feet glued to the pavement, wondering what he had done wrong. The guilt creeps in, and in an attempt to absolve it, he hands you a steaming hot pork bun in between classes, even though the heat burns his skin and his fingertips are still red at the end of the school day. It’s something he’s willing to do for your forgiveness. Over the years he will find that he’s willing to do a lot for it, actually. Later, over dinner, he finds out through your mother that it's actually a term of endearment, something close to ‘my love’. The two of you exchanged awkward, embarrassed glances across the table.

The second time he called you ‘sayang’, it was by accident again—spoken absentmindedly as he thanked you for explaining the assignment. Thank you sayang, he said, before realizing and slapping his mouth with his hand. You looked at him with an equal amount of shock and horror. You excused yourself to the bathroom to compose yourself, and when you returned, the two of you acted like it had never happened. He wanted to apologize, but apologizing would mean having to explain himself, and that explanation would mean having to tell you that he had tried learning Indonesian and thought of calling you ‘sayang’ the same way they did in your mother’s sinetrons (Indonesian soap operas).

And you weren’t sure the exact moment that things had changed for the two of you. Before, it was a co-existence, the understanding that you existed in each other's worlds and just that. Now, it had warped into an odd and unfamiliar shape. He was running up to you in the hall, babbling on and on about every single thing—he was more Kuroo than he ever was before around you. And you couldn’t help but notice how much bolder and brighter he seemed. In the mornings on the walk to school, next to you, smiling through his stories of his strange dreams—you couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were actually hazel and not brown, and for a moment, before your consciousness kicked in, you thought he looked beautiful.

The third time he called you ‘sayang’, it was on purpose. No longer a freudian slip or accident, but deliberately—with intention.

The two of you were in the infirmary—you, pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek, and him, wincing at the sharp sensation. A fight had broken out. It was his friend, that same friend, calling you mute again, but this time Kuroo wasn’t as forgiving. There was the mashing of fists and bruises and a black eye again. His, not yours. Just like when you were kids the first time you met on the playground.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you speak up, finding some strength in the words. A rage bubbled in your stomach. You couldn’t make up whether you were upset at him or for him. He reaches out to touch the skin of your wrist, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort, and tries his best to keep his swollen eye open. The red will turn ugly and purple within a matter of hours.

“I wanted to,” he says softly, almost like a whisper, voice hoarse from yelling. “They don’t get to do that. Not to you.”

Your expression is almost pained, torn between screaming at him for his showmanship or kissing him for it. You couldn’t decide.

“Still,” you sound, “you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he repeats, this time, even softer. His other hand plucks out the second button from his uniform, his chest peeking through. He removes the ice pack and slips the button in between where your hand and his cheek meet. It’s still tender and aching, but the skin of his neck, where your pinkie finger grazed over, was so warm and inviting—so soft it seemed like a shame not to touch. You run your thumb over his jaw, tracing over the shape of it, and he winces. Still, he grabs your wrist and presses your hand against his cheek even harder, turning his head to plant a kiss on the skin of your palm.

You didn’t know your hands could ever feel like that. It was as if there were a hundred million nerves that you didn’t know previously existed, and now, suddenly all firing. It was almost too much.

“Sayang,” he mumbles into your hand, lips tracing on your skin—you don’t pull away. You are mesmerized, struck. How you went so long without having reached out for him you wouldn’t know. Again he calls you sayang, whispering it with his eyes closed, almost like a prayer. You bite your lip.

“Yes?” You answer.

His eyes flutter open, a small look of shock painted that is immediately replaced with relief, and then—a grin splitting his face, lips stretched as far as they could with the swelling. His hands wound tightly around yours, and again, that feeling of electricity, soaring right through you.

“You answered,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“You called,” you reply.

It would take 2 weeks for the black eye to heal completely, but even less time for him to slowly integrate ‘sayang’ into his everyday vocabulary. The word that once seemed awkward and bulky now slid off smoothly from his mouth every chance he got. He liked it. Liked the way it felt rolling off his tongue, liked the way you looked every time he did, but most importantly—he liked how nobody else (apart from your mother) called you that. Like an exclusive nickname, but thousand-fold. He tried learning Indonesian again, as an easy way to impress you. Selamat pagi (good morning). Terima kasih (thank you). Cantik (beautiful). On your birthday, he had prepared and memorized a little speech in your mother tongue. You laughed when he said ‘aku cinta kamu’. You tell him nobody says ‘I love you’ like that.

“They only use ‘aku sayang kamu’”, you explain.

“Why not ‘cinta’?” He pouts, flustered at his mistake. “Cinta also means love, right?”

“Cinta and sayang are different,” you explain, cutting into the cake your mother had baked: pandan with coconut and brown sugar frosting. She searched for the ingredients for weeks.

“Cinta is a declaration. Sayang is a promise,” you place the slice of cake on his plate, pushing it towards him, “sayang is the promise of loving someone no matter what—whether that love is reciprocated, whether it is burdensome.”

He shoves his mouth full in an attempt to soothe his embarrassment. The cake is fragrant and light, a foreign medley of flavors on his tongue. He looks over in your direction, happily digging into the treat, and worries that no matter how much he tries to learn about your culture, there will always be a divide—some unabridged gap he will never be able to cross. When the two of you join a cultural exchange trip to Indonesia in the summer before your senior year, he witnesses firsthand how you spring back to life—like a wilting plant finally being watered.

The two of you ravage through the city, attending bustling night markets and festivals. He watches in shock as you devour heaps of sambal with your food. You bargain with a lady for a fair price on batik, a souvenir and reminder of Indonesia that you wanted him to have. You wear these in weddings, you tell him. His mind wanders to you wearing white, walking down the aisle. You run up and down beaches, drink out of coconuts, plumeria flower tucked behind your ear, and chat with the locals—relieved to finally be surrounded by people who looked and talked like you. He watches you throw your head back laughing, and feels his heart ache. You had been homesick all this time. Trapped in a foreign country and forced to abandon your culture for his, living in a society that merely tolerated her identity, never embracing it. His home was not yours, this he now understood.

So when you told him that you were going to move back for college he wasn’t surprised. The country had recovered from the bloodbath of ‘98 and was now brimming with potential for growth. Even Forbes had called it the tiger of Southeast Asia. Some of your friends were also returning. It was a land of undiscovered opportunity.

“I have to go back,” you explained to him. “In Indonesia, I can be somebody; here, I am always second-class.”

And it stung, because he knew you were right, and he knew that it was cruel to make you stay—like keeping a butterfly in a jar. When he sends you off, he can’t help but think of his mother. That was one of the things the two of you had in common: the both of you leaving him. However, this time he doesn’t cry or scream or beg the way he did. He lets you go, maybe even with a little bit of grace, and he does so because cinta and sayang meant different things and he meant the latter.

“Aku sayang kamu,” he tells you as he waves you off. I love you. I love you enough to let you go.

When the two of you meet again, it will be years later and you will be older. You will be dressed in white and he will be in his batik that you had gotten for him all those years ago. He will stand, awestruck, as you walk down the aisle—not towards him, but towards somebody else, and his heart will ache in the way that it did only for you.

Sayang, he will think, but not in the affectionate way. In the way that implies unbelievable loss.

Sayang. A two-syllable word that’s used to convey both love and loss in the Indonesian language. It was strange, the way something could mean the exact opposite of itself, but Indonesian was strange like that. A language that was filled with metaphors and contradictions. One that is hard to forget, and even harder to unlearn. Each word carried a weight, a duality that made almost every conversation a dance between clarity and ambiguity. It was as if the language itself knew that life was never just one thing; it was a series of paradoxes, constantly contradicting itself, where joy and sorrow often walked hand in hand.

Its counterpart definition implied grief. You used it when talking about missed opportunities, or something that goes wrong when you wish it hadn’t. It almost means: what a shame. It was just one of those things that can’t be translated just as is, because the definition was so much deeper. The same way its first definition meant to love someone unconditionally, the second meant to describe the heartache that lingers in the face of loss, a longing that never quite fades. A word that blended affection and regret all in one and could only be understood by someone who felt both at once.

He felt it then, watching you get married to somebody else.

Sayang sekali, he says.

I love you, and also, what a waste.

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author’s note: my debut entry in the haikyuu fandom and its angst 😭😭 aNYWAYS WHERE ARE THE KUROO FANS MAKE SOME NOISE 🫵🫵🗣️🗣️‼️‼️ huge shoutout to @zumicho for having to hear me ramble on and on abt the fic and take forever to write it but it’s finally here !!!! and I’m so excited to share more w u guys aaaa I hope you guys like it 🥰🥰💥💥💥💥

[mncxbe]

For 8 SFW,can it be Chuuya, Akutagawa, Fydor, and anyone else you want to add?👀

Only if you want to do this though!!

i did Chuuya and Aku🥰 i love these little gremlins. hope you like it♡

8– accidentally walking in on them while they're changing

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑Chuu chuu

You finally got home around 8 p.m. Work was exhausting and you just couldn't wait to curl up in bed next to your boyfriend and watch a movie with him. Date nights were rare occasions since you were both busy people, so you tried to make the most out of the little free time you had.

When you got in front of the bedroom door you found it slightly open. Through the crack, you could see Chuuya taking off his tie and shit, slowly undoing the buttons with a deft hand as he held his phone in the other.

"Yes, boss, the mission went well. I'll hand in the report by tomorrow at noon." he spoke in a level voice as he put on a comfy t-shirt and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

You knew you shouldn't spy on him like this, especially when he had a work call, but you just couldn't help yourself. There was something so beautiful about watching Chuuya do things, even if it meant simply changing his clothes, because you knew you were the only one who got to see him like this. In the comfort of your home, the feared mafia executive turned into an ordinary man, your man.

Once he hung up the phone you slipped inside the room, the creaking sound of the door sliding open alerting your boyfriend. He turned to face you with a wide smile on his face. "Hey, princess. Good to have you home. How was your day?"

He opened his arms, welcoming you in his embrace and you basically melted against his chest. Running your hands through his ginger locks, you pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of his head "It was good, but I missed you. Couldn't wait for tonight."

"That's good to know, love. I'll pick a movie for us while you change, ok? Oh and I also ordered us some Chinese food. Hope you're hungry."

Yea, you were hungry– starved even, but you didn't want to let go of him just yet. So when Chuuya's hands settled on your hips to guide you away from him you hugged him even tighter, cooing "Just one more minute Chuu. I really like this...."

The redhead chuckled at your reaction, snaking his arms back around your hips "As you wish, my love."

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑Aku

Akutagawa has always been quite peculiar when it came to being naked around you, even months after you got together. That was part of the reason why your relationship lacked physical intimacy. Nevertheless, you understood his hesitance and respected his space.

At least until you accidentally walked in on him changing. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear your boyfriend moving around in his bedroom.

Akutagawa was standing shirtless in the middle of the room, his pants lowered to the middle of his thighs. When he noticed your presence, a frown etched itself on his features. "Y/N for god's sake can't you knock?" sneered the man, struggling to pull up his slacks.

Something about the way he fumbled with his clothes was utterly adorable. He looked... surprised, shy? Your eyes trailed along his figure: narrow shoulders and hips, pale skin littered with bruises and cuts from his battles. But you could clearly make out his lean muscles, flexing under his skin.

Akutagawa's initial annoyance melted away the moment he saw the adoring expression on your face. You looked at him like he was the most beautiful person on earth, your gaze so loving and gentle. A blush crept on his cheeks as he covered his face with the back of his hands, clearing his throat. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in his gruff voice and you smiled bashfully.

"You look really handsome" you admitted and he sighed contently. "Then come here, babe. I'll show you some more"

[popponn]

so what if itoshi rin suddenly confesses to you. he calls you to the rooftop and ask you to go out with him after telling you that he likes you.

the thing is that all this time, to you, he is a fellow classmate, a fellow third year who became a soccer superstar after he came back from the blue lock project around a year ago, and someone with a really scary face who doesn't really have friends. yes, you interacted with him quite often because you sat beside him in class—but still, to imagine him confessing to a meek nobody, a total average npc who is easily intimidated like you is something out of your imagination. but in the end, out of fear and panic upon looking at his sharp face, you blurt out a screeching "yes!" and the two of you are dating now.

imagine your surprise when he turns out to be a really sweet, good, proper boyfriend. you initially think he will still keep up the cold guy persona and break up with you harshly within a week—but no. rin could be cursing his teammates hell and back, then you enter the room and he is suddenly a shoujo manga lead who is cool, silent, and gentle. he listens to you, always offers to help you, studies with you every chance he get, he always tries for you, and the list goes on.

can anyone blame you for falling for that?

listen. so i read hay/aku/shitai/futa/ri (it apeared on the tag so there you go slashes) and kind of lost it. it's so cute. and also i keep writing tsundere!rin so i go haha what if i mix up things a bit and make it smitten!rin who fall and confess first to a meek nobody mc despite his cold, scary soccer maniac reputation at school. then suddenly i have a full fic planned out. including the backstory on how he falls to the shoujo esque fluffy ending. the image of a guy who is growling at everyone then just snap his mouth shut with floating flowers around him the moment his lover appear is cute in some ways. (this is an attempt at self control.) (rin is really cute. when will he come back seriously im crying.)(i can go on but my brain is blanking out i will add some if i remember. this is supposed to be my break day but rin delulu is so strong.)

[violentdelights-violentendss]

you couldn't keep me off for long 🤺🤺

how about the same three (dazai aku and fedya) but with a reader that runs super cold ?? i love this idea for no reason because dazai would tease, akutagawa would just be funny because haha sickly victorian children, and fedya has fuckign anemia so ofc he's cold 24/7 as well. ur writing style is also delectable i would like to eat it tysm

(me when i read ur things)

OMG I LOVE THIS! (Bro thank you sm i seriously feel like my writing style is shit but I love you…and please never fend off)

to the anon requested the bsd men and cold fic it is underway, I currently have written half of it…the ones with all BSD men take longer to write 😞😞

off I go to writing this ✨✨

BSD Men With a Reader That Runs Cold

In this post: 💃 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky💃

Pairing: Fem!reader/BSDMen

Synopsis: BSDMen and a gf that runs cold.

Osamu Dazai

Dazai is a man that burns with joy and passion in his everyday life. Consequently, his body temperature almost always runs high. And as the saying goes, opposites attract: you’re almost always cold, and Dazai, the man of your life, seems to have fire licking his skin constantly. He eagerly appoints himself to be your personal furnace, wrapping you in his arms when you shiver, and lending you his coat without you even having to utter a word. But his gestures come with a small price. Your boyfriend always teases you, his cat-like eyes smiling fondly as you glare at him, bundled in a mountain of covers and still needing his body heat. Dazai’s favorite joke is to propose sex as a way to warm you up. No matter how much he teases, however, he will always be ready to rescue you from the freezing cold that claws at your skin, enjoying the time he gets to spend holding you close to his heart.

You walked through the streets of Yokohama, shivering like you were experiencing your own magnitude level 5 earthquake. You were bundled up in a large coat, a scarf and gloves, even a small hat adoring your adorable face, and yet, you were still shivering so hard your teeth chattered.

Your boyfriend, Dazai, was walking leisurely in front of you, wearing only his usual trench coat, seemingly unaffected by the cold that held you tightly in its claws.

“D-Dazai!” You called, feeling as if you couldn’t take another step without shattering into a myriad of tiny ice shards.

“Yes, my belladonna?”

“M’ cold…”

Dazai sauntered over to you, leaning down to peck your nose. “Such a rare occasion, isn’t it, Bella?” He cooed mockingly, caressing your lips with his thumb.

You swatted his hand away, whining. “Stop teasing. I need solutions, not problems.”

“Okay, I have a great solution.” Dazai declared, looking in your eyes very seriously. You nodded, listening, blowing some warm air on your freezing hands, which still felt on the verge or falling off, even with your gloves on. Dazai’s hands took yours in his, warming them up with his own personal heat. “We go back there, and I fuck you so good — ”

“DAZAI!” You shouted, afraid someone could hear you. You rapidly checked around the both of you, terrified that a little kid might have been lurking in a corner. Returning to look at your boyfriend, you found him doubled over, laughing.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He said, a hint of laugh still dancing in his tone. “Come here,” he said, opening his trench coat. You slid inside, instantly feeling warmer. Dazai closed the coat around you, holding you tightly against him, feeling a little proud when you stopped shivering. “When we get home, l’ll make you some warm tea.” He promised, already seeing your apartment complex in the near distance.

“And then we cuddle on the couch.” You said, starting feel your ears again.

“And then we make out on the couch, yes.”

“DAZAI!”

Your joyful boyfriend started laughing, and you soon joined, your laughter intertwining into a beautiful melody, as you two walked home. Throughout the walk home, Dazai made sure you were completely covered by his coat, a perfect bundle of warmth. He promised himself he would always be there to hug you till you weren’t shivering anymore.

Ryonosuke Akutagawa

Akutagawa was a normal person, who never felt too hot or too cold. When you burst into his life, all joy and laughter, he had to get used to you, and all your wonderfully eccentric behavior. But the one thing he struggled most with, was your abnormally low body temperature. Whenever you told him you were cold, he would stare at the various layers of clothes you were wearing, as well as the winter coat you had thrown over your shoulders. Akutagawa just…couldn’t understand you. He didn’t try to be mean or anything, his mind just couldn’t make sense of it. Akutagawa soon realized that his body heat helped the perennial cold that seemingly nestled, like a frozen rose, in your heart. Whenever you would be shivering at night, Akutagawa would tentatively wrap you in his arms, and warm you with his body heat. He would crank the heat up in your apartment, despite your protests about the price (he had enough money to spend). Soon, you feeling cold became another quirky aspect of your relationship, and also gave Akutagawa the opportunity to always keep you in his arms without explicitly voicing his desire to do so, which suited your touch-starved boyfriend perfectly fine.

You were at the Port Mafia’s annual Christmas Party: an event that lasted all night long, in one of the many ballrooms owned by the criminal organization. The floors were made of polished wood, and the ceilings were decorated with wonderful paintings, and delicate flowers engraved in the dark wooden beams that supported the high ceilings. The moonlight filtered in through the mosaic windows, coloring the partygoers in different shades.

You were sitting at a table, a glass of glittering champagne in your hand. You were wearing a black slip dress Akutagawa had gifted you. It adorned your body perfectly, a slit exposing your right leg. You looked gorgeous, and Akutagawa stared at you for a good 5 minutes without being able to say anything when you had come out of the bathroom, finding you the epitome of beauty.

The night had been fun: you had successfully dragged Akutagawa to waltz with you, holding you close. You could feel Akutagawa’s heart beat against your chest, a small smile twinkling on his lips. The moment had abruptly ended when Mori had called Akutagawa to raise a toast to the Port Mafia with the rest of the high executives.

You, being a low-level Port Mafia member, had given him a kiss to send him off, and had gone back to sit at your designated table. All the dancing had made you sweat, and now the droplets were cooling on your skin, making you already colder than you always were. You had decided to sip on your champagne to warm yourself up, but your exposed arms were not helping. You had started shivering, setting the flute back down on the table, and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and create a little heat.

“Are you feeling cold, (Y/N)?” Akutagawa asked, dragging a chair to join you. You nodded, sheepishly. Akutagawa glanced at you for a few seconds, his eyes zeroing on your shivering shoulders. He exhaled, not believing he was about to do this.

Slowly, Akutagawa removed his coat, an item of clothing that was seemingly fused to his body: he rarely took it off, and only in the comfort of your home, where he knew the both of you were safe from any danger.

You watched him in utter disbelief as he draped it around your shoulders: it was the greatest act of trust Akutagawa could ever commit towards you.

Seemingly not having moved you to tears enough, he scooted closer with his chair, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tightly against him, trying to transfer some body heat.

Akutagawa was known for not liking any form of PDA. You knew. He knew. The whole Port Mafia knew, which explained the shocked glance Chuuya threw your way.

But honestly, you didn’t care, and nuzzled your face in Akutagawa’s chest, glimmering tears sliding down your cheeks and ruining your makeup: Akutagawa always found proclaiming his love to you to be extremely difficult, but clumsily, through his actions, he always found a way to tell you how much you meant to him.

Your boyfriend felt your shoulders shake, and mistook you to be still freezing. He held you even closer, until he noticed the wetness on his chest, harshly pulling you away from him to check on you. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” His panicked tone made you laugh through the tears.

“You’re just perfect, you know.” You whispered, bringing his hands to your mouth, leaving a red lipstick mark on his knuckles. “I couldn’t have gotten luckier.”

Now it was Akutagawa’s turn to feel his heart melt, his eyes suddenly watering. He coughed, looking away, trying to maintain his cold persona.

“Akutagawa, it’s our song!” You squealed, suddenly hearing the melody play. “Let’s go dance!” You excitedly grabbed his hand, almost dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, his coat still around your shoulders.

Akutagawa almost protested, but the smile that was engraved in your eyes the minute you started swaying in his arms was a force too strong for him to resist. You two ended the night in each others arms, singing the song’s romantic lyrics to one another, the mosaic windows coloring each part of your faces with a different color.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Listen, Fyodor is anemic, he’s always cold. Russia’s harsh winters must have infected his body, because this evil mastermind is always shivering. And when the two of you got together, and you told him you were a person that generally ran cold, Fyodor smiled, saying he was the same. The two of you share the same struggles on a daily basis, and try to rely on one another for warmth, but with little to no results. The heat in your apartment is always cranked so high that Nikolai directly comes in shorts whenever has to come over. Whenever you two sleep, you have at least 5 covers and huddle in each other’s arms. Whenever you whine that you’re cold, Fyodor does hug you, but you both know it won’t be enough, so he throws a cover on both of you, and only then can you two start to warm up. A warm tea, or a warm milk, are mandatory every night, and you have a multitude of hot water bottles stashed in the kitchen. You use one almost every night. Still, even if Fyodor knows that hugging you won’t change much, he secretly adores sleeping with you in his arms, because the love that you so clearly feel for him is enough to warms his heart.

“Fyodor, I’m still cold,” you whimpered, trying to huddle in his arms. The two of you had been cuddling in bed for thirty minutes, bundled underneath an avalanche of covers and duvets, each of you holding a warm water bottle. Fyodor was feeling…okay. Not warm, exactly but not as freezing as you were. You must have been tired: you usually felt colder when you were tired. Fyodor tried his best to rub his arms against yours, but to no avail.

“I can tell, myshka…you’re shivering,” he cooed, trying to tuck the covers around you. But nothing seemed to be working that night. Fyodor leaned back, trying to figure something out, his already fast mind moving at inhumane speed. “What if I draw us a warm bath?” He asked, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.

Your eyes shot open, a glimmer of hope in your smile. “Yes…please,” you scooted out of his embrace, watching as your boyfriend braved the cold, sliding out of the sheets. You instantly felt colder, now that he was gone. You hugged his hot water battle as well, watching as his tall form slid inside the bathroom. You heard the water running. The harsh sound of water on marble soon changing to water sloshing on water.

You waited impatiently, jumping out of the bed when you heard his sweet voice calling you. You ran to the bathroom, trying to avoid the cold’s claws that reached for you. You almost threw yourself in the bathroom, closing the door behind you to not let the heat from the heater make its escape.

Fyodor looked at you lovingly, helping you slide your clothes off. You didn’t wait for Fyodor, almost throwing yourself inside the large bathtub. You instantly felt the cold hidden in your limbs wither and die, finally feeling at peace. The water sloshed around you as Fyodor joined you in the tub, his pale skin almost taking a pearl-like shade in the dim lights.

You happily swam towards him, falling into his arms. Fyodor welcomed you with a small smile, glad to see your cheeks flushed with heat for once. “We should do this more often,” you thought out loud, playing with your boyfriend’s hands.

“Noted, milaya.” He purred, feeling a drowsy sense of relaxation spreading throughout his body. “This sure is peaceful,” he murmured, sinking further in the bathtub, eyeing your naked body underneath the trembling surface of the water.

“Stop,” you laughed, noticing his gaze, swimming away from him and flicking some water in his face with your foot. Fyodor moved uncharacteristically face, grabbing your ankle and tugging you toward him, and pressing a kiss to your soft skin. You giggled shyly, hiding underneath the water.

Fyodor dunked his head underneath the water, meeting your eyes. You smiled at him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you against him. He pulled both of you out of the water, watching as it cascade down both of your bodies. You laughed merrily; Fyodor laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes and humming quietly. You caressed his head, diving back in the water when you felt a sudden chill caress your spine.

You kissed Fyodor lazily, watching with half-lidded eyes as he opened the tap to let more scalding water fill the tub around you.

You two cuddled in the warm water for hours, sometimes kissing, sometimes just laying in each others arms.

You were falling in and out of consciousness, and barely noticed Fyodor lifting you out of the now lukewarm water, drying you and slipping your pjs on you. He then carried you to bed, tucking the both of you in, carefully. You snuggled against his chest, and peacefully fell asleep, finally warm, Fyodor’s hand held tightly in yours.

[maislovebot]

200 followers event: kunikida & akutagawa nsfw abcs

Tysm for the request!! I hope you enjoy it!! I’m so sorry for taking so long to post this, I have no excuses😭 also because you requested two characters the blurbs are a little shorter than the Sigma one!!

Contains:

General: afab + gn reader, established relationship,

Letter C:

Kuni: breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, protected & unprotected sex

Aku: very slight breeding kink, mentions of hair pulling

Letter D:

Kuni: riding, mentions of him being a pleasure dom

Aku: fantasies of exhibitionism

Letter K:

Kuni: lingerie, breeding, praise (giving), implied overstim

Aku: exhibitionism, praise (giving), aftercare, marking (giving & receiving), biting/hickies/nail marks, intimacy, oral fixation

Letter U:

Kuni: teasing (giving & receiving)

Aku: teasing (giving and receiving)

Letter Y: Idk there isn’t really much of a warning for either of these

Kunikida:

Cum:

Kunikida does have a thing for breeding. His liking for it definitely isn’t as vibrant as some of his other kinks, but he most certainly enjoys it. He finds it so hot when you’re whining and wrapping your legs around his waist as you clench around him as he cums. Especially when you come with him. Kunikida does want a family one day, so that does fuel it. But he also just finds it so. Hot.

He is a responsible person though, so until the two of you decide to have a family (if you two ever decide to), he will use a condom. If you were to tell him that you were fine with him cumming inside, he would have a field day!

Dirty secret:

Kunikida is such a hard worker, isn’t he? Well, that doesn’t change in bed. He absolutely makes sure to try his hardest to make you feel satisfied when having sex. And especially after having sex. But he’s such a hard worker, he can get burnt out. So there’s a part of him that just wants to sit back and be taken care of every so often. He could never admit it! While this may not seem like a big deal to most people, being a hard worker is Kunikida’s number one goal. He wants to put in the most effort possible in every situation, and make it the best outcome for you, but sometimes he needs a break.

He can never bring himself to admit this, so you’d have to bring it up on a day where he’s particularly stressed and more susceptible. But god, has he fantasized about you hovering over his hips and bouncing on his cock while he nuzzles his face in your neck, guiding your hips with his hands. Thinking about the little noises you’d make when he leaves small licks to your neck, or the way your legs would shake when you get close is enough to get him going!

Kink:

Kunikida is fairly vanilla, with very few kinks. But there are some things that he really enjoys.

Lingerie:

Kunikida is a classy man, he loves seeing you in pretty clothes and nice accessories, and that remains true in the bedroom. He loves to buy you nice things sometimes, especially if he gets a bonus in his paycheck or something. Anytime you do as much as show him a bra-strap with lace on it, he’s all over you!

Breeding:

I went into this a fair amount in letter C, but he loves to cum inside. He doesn’t even want kids, at least not right now. He just loves the feeling. And if you two do decide to have kids, he’ll be using it as an opportunity to fuck you full of his cum. You’re going to be exhausted by the time he’s done with you anytime he decides to breed you!

Praise:

Kunikida is such a good person, he deserves some recognition, doesn’t he? He is always checking in on you, making sure you’re having a good time. Being given that verbal validation that he’s able to make you feel good makes him so proud! He never allows himself to get cocky, but maybe he can let himself let loose whenever you’re giving him endless compliments and praise.

Unfair:

He doesn’t particularly like to tease? I mean sure, he will if you tell him you enjoy it, but he wouldn’t go out of his way to. It’s the same when it comes to being teased. He’s down if you’re down, but if you tease him, expect him to be extra desperate once you finally let him come. He’s gonna be all over you, fucking you desperately.

Yearning:

Due to him being so busy all the time, it tends to fluctuate. He’ll go a week or so without really thinking about it much at all because of all the stress he’s under, but as soon as that stress is lifted, it all catches up to him. You two end up having sex every day! There will also be times where because he’s under so much stress, all he wants to do is get home and fuck you. He tries to not let it hinder his work, but it’s really hard when he’s so horny all the time.

Akutagawa:

Cum:

Akutagawa is relatively neutral on where he cums, but he does like the trust that it takes to let him come inside. He also likes the power dynamic it gives him when he does.

When it comes to you cumming, he always makes sure that you do. He loves the way your legs start shaking when you’re close, and how you pull his hair and hold his hands to help stabilize yourself. How you zone out when you finally reach your orgasm, nothing filling your mind besides the pure bliss that comes from his hands on your clit.

Dirty secret:

Secret exhibitionist? Yes!! While he would never actually do anything in public, after all, it’s way too intimate of a thing for him to do in public. If anyone were to take him down, it would be while you two are having sex, so he prefers to do it in the comfort of his own home. But god that does not mean that he doesn’t fantasize about it. Picturing someone walking in and seeing how good he makes you feel is such a hot idea to him. Especially if it’s someone that he considers to be an enemy. But the idea of an enemy actually seeing him in such a..compromising position is terrifying.

Kink:

Exhibitionism:

As I mentioned before, he likes the concept of exhibitionism, but he’d never actually act on it. He’ll sure as hell fantasize about it though.

Praise:

Akutagawa has a constant worry that you’re going to leave him, realizing that you deserve better than him (his words, not yours), so being told that he’s enough is so reaffirming. It makes him feel giddy, although he’d never show it. He especially loves it during the aftercare. Mumbling kind words into his ear while you’re half asleep, holding him close. After all, people are at their most honest when they’re tired.

Marking:

This ties into letter D, he loves the idea of people seeing how good he makes you feel. And he loves people seeing that you’re with him, and that he’s with you. He’ll bite your shoulder when he’s close to cumming, or dig his nails into your skin. He doesn’t really want to hurt you, it just happens in the moment, and even if he apologizes for hurting you, he’s proud. He also loves when you leave hickies or bite him because he’s so pale, so it’s almost vibrant against his skin.

Oral fixation:

He does love to get head, but it pales compared to eating you out. It’s almost as if he’s proving himself to you. ‘See how good I make you feel? See how you’re practically dripping?’ Are some of the thoughts running through his head. Not to mention how good you taste.

Unfair:

He quite enjoys teasing you. He won’t do it often, but he will gladly do it. Hearing the whines that leave your mouth makes him give the slightest smile into your skin. Especially because once he finally does let you cum, you’re so loud. It’s so built up, that your reactions are extra enthralling.

Yearning:

He has a pretty high sex drive. It does take him a long time to get comfortable with doing anything past grinding against you, but once he is, he’s never gonna stop. He’d have sex with you every day if you let him. If not, that’s fine, of course, but he does have quite the drive. It’s like an addiction. He’s addicted to the feeling. At least it’s a relatively healthy addiction!!

Wc - 1.3k

I’m under a lot of stress so I think my immune system decided to glitch out on me and I’m sick so I’ll probably be taking yet another break😭 I’m so sorry about all the breaks I’m taking:( but I gotta work through this so that I can come back with better mental health, so the quality of my writing can improve!! I’ll probably be gone until next Friday, maybe sooner if I start feeling better

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Yours ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Armed Detective Agency: Atsushi Nakajima

a/n: took a while but here is the ~atsushi~ counterpart from the soft aku vs. atsushi fic poll. (here is the soft aku fic) i hope you enjoy ♡

genre: f!reader. smut with angst (you cheated on atsushi omg... 🥲). makeup sex.

content warnings: MDNI! possessiveness, unprotected sex + he cums inside (*these are very risky*), overstimulation, general angst, he gets rough at the end (yes ik it was supposed to be a soft fic, but...)

summary: no matter what happens, you'll always run back into the arms of the man who taught you how to love – and he'll run right back to you, too.

you don't know exactly how you ended up here. come to think of it, though, this is always where you end up – right in front of the ada's dorm at the crack of dawn. once the drunkenness of twilight has settled into a sobered reality, your feet stumble on their own in front of this door, seeking shelter from whatever it was that sent you reeling in the first place. it's been said that night time is the play time for sinners and devils. this past year, you found out that you're no exception to that rule – for here you are as living proof, crawling back in search of forgiveness from the very person you've wronged.

"for atsushi?" a familiar voice calls from behind you before your knuckles rap at the door. you barely heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, but you're not surprised to find that dazai's still up. how appropriate for the two people guilty to both be wide awake at this hour. still, running into him like this sends a shiver up your spine. you freeze in your tracks, half expecting him to discourage you from what you're about to do – but instead he just walks past you without another word, and maybe that's even worse. it's just a reminder that you were nothing to him, and that he's barely had to suffer from the consequences of the night you caught together.

you'd imagine that sleeping with atsushi's girlfriend put a strain on dazai's personal and professional relationship with him, even if it only happened one time. at the end of the day though, dazai was atsushi's superior – and the source of his food and housing – and atsushi had no choice but to accept that reality.

you, on the other hand, were cut out of his life. it had been months of no contact between you and your now ex-boyfriend. all texts were left on seen, every call sent to voicemail. you could even swear that atsushi was avoiding all the spots he used to frequent, just to make sure he didn't run into you by chance. you never thought you'd be a cheater – never, ever in a million years – but here you were, having done that very thing to the person who taught you the meaning of unconditional love.

how could you be so selfish? so thoughtless? stupid, even? you'd take it all back in an instant, but you know can't. your feet are about to move. you're about to turn back. you should... yes, that's exactly what you should do. tonight feels too soon – it's all wrong. running into dazai last minute proves that.

and yet, just as you're about to bolt down the stairs, you hear it – the sound of the door in front of you unlocking. it's like a quiet charm. his voice is like a wish that you whispered under your breath. "it's you..." soft-spoken, just as he always has been, and there he is –

– atsushi nakajima himself.

"do you need something?"

there's no malice in his voice – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him. something about it in this moment feels heartbreaking. you almost want him to yell at you or scold you, just so you can apologize to him with your whole self, or let him know how much you've regretted that day. instead, he stands there with his arms drooped at his sides, unfeeling. it's cruel, that minute of empty silence. you wonder if he's about to close the door on you. maybe he should. it feels like you're miles apart, and the distance is deafening.

just one second more, you think to yourself. it's selfish, you know. let me memorize what you look like. let me remember how your bangs fall. the color of your eyes.

you open your lips to speak, but it's your feet that move instead. one moment you're in front of him, but then you blink, and you're closing the distance between you – you're sobbing on his shoulder, your arms around his neck. silence, save for the sound of your stifled cries against his now-stained sweater.

he wants to push you away, but he doesn't. his arms wrap around your waist instead. the feeling of your body, pressed tight to his, is all too familiar. you're warm, and you smell so nice. it's that same shampoo you've always used, the one he likes on you. you're pretty today, hair falling into place like this. you're just as he remembers. this is his favorite knit on you – you look just as lovely as you did yesterday.

he says nothing, stunned. what is there to say in a situation like this? all he can do is cling to you, hope you don’t let go of him the way you did many nights before… that you don’t tire of him, toss him aside like you did that night. "why didn't you come back sooner–?" there’s a tremble in his voice, and he falls apart. when you meet his gaze, you realize the reason he hasn't pulled away is because there are tears in his liquid eyes. "don't tell me you wanted him instead?" his voice falters. you shake your head wildly, trying to force him to look at you again, but he's pawing your hands away. there’s a pain expression on his face when he finally looks back up at you, wincing. it’s like that of a beaten dog that's come crawling back to its master.

"i thought you hated me..." you confess, words spilling out, "– and you have every right to... it should have only been you.

i only want you."

your words strike him down. his hands are pushing you away at first. at least, that's what he thinks, because every part of him is telling you that's what they should be doing. every part of him is telling him to tell you to get out of his sight, to get out of his life, because he knows it must be wrong to do what he’s about to do. there's a reason that he avoided you in the first place, isn’t there?

but he's past the point of return now – in his heart, he knew this is just how you two would end up.

there's a reason he avoided you in the first place after all, isn't there?

with you in his arms, looking at him the same way you always have, it's no use. guided by sheer instinct, there's no shred of timidness in the fierce way that he grabs at you now. those same hands that pushed you away are now reaching for you, pulling you into his arms with just as much ferocity, eager to hold you again. there's a neediness to the way that he clings to every curve and crevice. you melt into him, and his lips are on yours.

it's been so long – too long. he didn't think your reunion would go like this. at least, he imagined that if it would begin with more talking. with you standing in front of him, though, the memories are all coming back so suddenly –

every laugh, every look;

every argument.

you were his first everything – god, he missed you.

how did he last this long without you?

his hands find your waist first, molding to your form. then, the next thing you know, his hands are on your ass, and he's digging into the fat with his fingertips, and you feel him pin his hips flush against yours as he backs you into the darkness of his room. tonight, it's not enough to just have you – he needs to claim you, all of you.

the door locks behind you, a quiet clinking of metal as atsushi's fingers fumble with the handle, then you feel your back thud loudly against the wall that you know is shared with dazai's room. you gasp quietly as teeth skim your neck, his lips latching onto the tender skin between your collarbone and shoulder. then, you feel his hands grasping you clumsily as he undresses you hastily, desperate to cover every inch that he's touched, to erase every memory of him that might be left.

"am i... being too rough?" he asks concernedly as he helps you out of your cardigan, discarding it on the floor. his voice is a heated whisper in your ear. "it's okay?"

groping him through his pants, you hear his breath grow shallow, watch as he swallows his own spit, his iridescent eyes following you closely as you trace his outline. his breath is ragged, hungry. he lowers his hands from you – lowers all of his defenses – and you sink to your knees, your hands caressing him everywhere, your lips tracing the lean muscle of his body, your mouth re-mapping his skin into your memory... as if you could ever forget what atsushi, of all people, feel like, when he's the very person who taught you what it meant to truly love someone.

your fingers hooking on the waistband of his pajamas, you tug them down his legs along with his boxers, then take his length into your hands. he sucks in a sharp, shaky breath, holding your gaze as you stroke him once from base to tip, enamored completely by the way you look right now on your knees for him – how long has it been since you've touched him like this? he's ashamed to admit that he's thought about this day more than once, now forced to spend an awful amount of time reflecting on how different his calloused hand feels from yours when he's touching himself at night, alone. now, here you are right in front of him, your palm wrapped around him so perfectly. it feels like a fantasy.

you're kissing it, lips pressed to the pretty tip as you bat your eyes at him. atsushi's barely had the time to process that you're here, and now you're flicking away the beads of pearlescent precum with your soft, wet tongue – and god, it feels so heavenly to have you like this. he reaches for you mindlessly, petting your hair, then he lets out these beautifully soft, whimpered moans as you suck on him – a breathless "oh my god..." rolling off of his lips when you finally take all of him into your mouth. "feels... so good..."

then suddenly, you hear him curse under his breath, tossing his head backward when you feel him abruptly hit the back of your throat, hips thrusting forward –

"– ah, god... fuck..." – before he quickly shoves his hand against his mouth in complete embarrassment, face flushing bright pink as he stammers out a quick apology and steadies himself. it's the first time you've ever heard him say something like that during such an intimate act. you stare at him wide-eyed, shocked, but he's avoiding looking at you now, blushing to himself and watching you through his fingers as he pants quietly into the palm of his hands.

then, "kiss me – please." it's a simple request, but it's full of urgency. god, how he's missed you. he cups your cheeks in his hands and brings your lips to his. it's a passionate kiss, sloppy and wet, the type of kiss that has teeth clumsily collide and noses briefly bump against each other. you feel his hand grasp your thigh. he wraps it around his waist, then suddenly his fingers are seeking you through your cotton panties. he pushes the fabric to the side, then you gasp aloud as you feel those slender fingers of his thrust so deep inside of you. it feels dirty – too dirty, even. different, at the very least. the two of you have only ever made love before, and now he's fucking you with his fingers.

"does it feel good?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. you can feel his hot breath on your neck, his tongue teasing your earlobe, as he slides his fingers in and out of you, collecting your sticky arousal on his fingertips. you moan as you feel his thumb find your clit, making slow, steady circles, then you pull back from the kiss to look at him, just to see the face he might be making at you. he's gazing at you with these half-lidded, lustful eyes that are just desperate to hear your praise. though inexperienced, atsushi's always been an attentive lover, keen to your every sound and movement. as his first, you taught him everything he knows – and as such, you've taught him exactly how to pleasure you. drawing his name from your sweet lips comes all too easily.

he's greedy with his fingers, eager to taste you on his tongue, and you watch him as he licks you off his fingers and kisses you again and again like it's never enough. he's even greedier with his words, eyes glinting with satisfaction after you cum on his fingertips, crying out for him.

"i can make you feel better than he can," he coos into your neck as you convulse in his arms. "i'll make you feel so good."

atsushi's never thought of himself as a possessive man, but things certainly change when someone takes away what's rightfully his. now, with you singing his praises, he can't help but want more. fingertips burrowing into your hips, he bends you over his desk and you hear him ask,

"can i put it in just like this?"

your eyes widen –

of all the things he could have said, you'd never expect this – and from atsushi, of all people. "raw?" you stutter out in disbelief, and he nods at you unflinchingly, continuing to pamper you with his affection, hands reaching for your breasts, shaping and squeezing them around his palms. "it's risky..." your voice trails on the last syllable, words subsiding into a soft moan as you feel his finger traces around your nipple before he claims them with his tongue. you push the messy bangs out of his forehead to read his expression, but there's not an ounce of hesitation on his face.

– "i know that."

you're trying to think straight, but you can't. all you can think about is how intensely hot your body feels right now, and what it might feel like to have him fuck you until you've been completely forgiven. slipping your soiled panties down your legs, you nod at him to continue. "yes, i want it," you whisper desperately, and you're surprised when your voice comes out like a whine as you ease your thighs apart for him. "put it in… please –"

he nods, then reaches for himself. he's as gentle as he always has been with you – perhaps even more so tonight as he presses fleeting kisses to your hair and murmurs reassurances into your shoulder that he's about to put it inside. his lips are soft against your neck and spine.

you moan as as he slips the blunt head inside your wet, waiting entrance. he’s careful not to hurt you, guiding it slowly. it’s perfect. how long has it been since you've felt this – since you've felt him touching you like this? so loving. so right. you sigh into his touch, listen to the sound of his sharp inhale and feel him nearly collapse into your back once he bottoms out inside you.

he's amazed by the feeling of your bareness against him and the way your slickness squeezes around him. he pauses, then glances down. oh, wow – the sight of himself disappearing inside of you is enough to drive him wild. you're so warm and wet. kunikida was wrong when he said sex without a condom feels the same as sex with a condom. he must have been lying just to keep him safe when he first started having sex because this feels a thousand times better – he can feel everything like this, all of you. every ridge, every pulse, the very ache that’s throbbing inside of you. you're gripping him so perfectly. he needs it so badly… needs you so badly.

"mm, it's so good..." he groans, pressing his lips to your neck. then, you feel him start to move from behind you, hear the quiet sound of his skin hitting yours as he brings your hips back against him, nice and slow. the room is silence save for the sound of your breath becoming shallow as his pace quickens. his fingers seek you again between the thighs, and you shudder forward, burying your face into the wood of the table as you gasp. "does it feel good for you too?" his voice is a low whisper in your ear. "yeah?"

you whimper out your approvals, feeling his thumb pressing on your clit again. you're so sensitive from your last high that you cry out, sobbing as you beg for more. he pins your wrists behind your back, pushing you into his desk, and you feel him reach you at an angle you've never felt him before. he's so rough tonight – but it feels so good.

"h-harder–" you stammer out, and you feel him shove your face against the desk as he thrusts faster. "i need you so bad." you're liquid in his hands and you melt as you moan out his name, tthe syllables are sloppy on your tongue, spilling from your lips like water as you cum from his fingers again.

"a... tsu.. shi... please. atsushi..."

yes, say it just like that – atsushi, atsushi. atsushi.

then, "where do you want it?"

– "inside me."

you feel his fingers tip your chin toward him, then his eyes are on you.

there's not an ounce of malice behind those iridescent eyes as he bats his eyelashes at you – just the same tenderness that he's always carried with him.

"watch me cum for you."

there's a steadiness to his voice, an unwavering certainty as he captures his lips in yours and leaves you breathless. "you're mine. don’t ever leave me again.”

then, you feel it: his cum leaking down your thighs.

warm and white, trickling down your legs.

you'll take all of it, all of him.

"i'm yours, atsushi. yours… yours."

author ps: yes it has similar themes to the aku x reader one yes i am a sskk shipper on the side

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[kissitbttr]

toji who just woke up and found out you're not in bed so he sleepily got out, looking for you, calling "bebbbbb" or "yaaaang". and you're alr up in another room doing chores like cooking or something and just went "iyaaaaa sayaaaang". when he went up to you he hugged you from behind and nuzzle his face into your neck asking you to go back to bed and cuddle 👉👈

ADUH ADUH YESSSS!! AAAAAA HE’D BE SO CLINGYYYY😭🥹❤️ (translations at the end!!)

for this lovely anon and @dangelus <333

—

toji had first met you in bali when he was on a vacation. you were one of the locals there who worked at the bar by the beach in uluwatu and he just thought that you are absolutely one of the most prettiest woman he’s ever laid his eyes on.

your smile was captivating, your laugh made his heart skip a beat, and the bali sun was just too perfect and complimented your already glowing skin,

a sight for sore eyes indeed and toji knew for a fact he had to get to know you.

fast forward to one year, he’s got nothing else to say other than being enamored by you and happy being the one who gets to be your man.

and he keeps telling everyone that,

toji always wakes up a bit late. compared to you being the morning person, he prefers to sleep in.

so waking up, seeing how you’re not beside him is nothing new to him. but that doesn’t stop his worries over you leaving,

“y/n?” he calls out after checking at the clock, low baritone voice echoing against the room. his hair is all messy. fingers coming to rub his eyes. “cintaaa” he calls out again with his favorite nickname for you,

one of the things he loves about dating you, is that he gets to learn about your native language. asking you to teach him how to say love or kiss in bahasa.

he’s about to pout and reach out for his phone when he receives no answer. until the sound of a person humming coming from downstairs. a smile then creeps into his face,

toji hurries up from the bed and reaches out for his sweatpants, putting them on and letting the bands hang low by his hips. not even bothered to put on a shirt.

his smile grows even bigger when he catches a glimpse of your back, wearing his shirt. cooking up something for breakfast as your favorite song plays softly in the background,

seeing how you don’t notice his presence just yet, toji decides to surprise you by hugging your waist from behind. chuckling when you jump.

“holy fuck— don’t do that!” you smack your hand against his forehead by the shoulder, only for him to chuckle more and tighten his grip around your waist. nose buried between the slope of your neck,

“you left before i even woke up” he pouts,

“i know, i’m sorry sayang” he suppresses a giggle when his favorite term of endearment being used,

he hums, tugging the hem of his shirt on you. “balik”

“huh?”

“kasur” he responds, continuing to tug. “balik”

“huh? ngomong apa sih kamu sayang?” you giggle as you put your focus on your sweet, large of a man who has been extra clingy today.

toji tilts his head to get a better look at you, finger pointing upstairs. “balik kasur. kamu sama aku”

it’s clear that he’s still pretty stiff when it comes to talking in your language. and it’s pretty damn cute.

he just wants to be apart of it.

“oohhh” now you get what he’s trying to say. “you want me to go back to bed with you?”

he nods eagerly. “to—fuck, what is it called? uhmm, pelukan.. cium cium” he tries to say, cheeks going red out of fear for butchering it.

god, this man is so damn adorable.

“you want cuddles?” another giggle surpasses you, watching him nod again. “iyaa sayang, okay—tunggu yaa” you plant a kiss on his head,

toji’s cheeks warm at the affection. if he could, he’d marry you right there and then

-

translations

cinta & sayang — love, baby (as a term of endearment)

balik — go back

kasur — bed

ngomong apasih kamu sayang? — what are you saying, baby?

kamu sama aku — you and me

peluk — hugs/cuddles

cium — kiss/ make out

tunggu yaa — wait for a minute

—

i will baby this man so fucking hard

[awoogayanderes]

DEFENDING THEM IN A CONVO

➪ request : “omg what about tecchou, jouno and aku when they hear a conversation where someone tells s/o that they're scary but she tells them that they’re wrong and they (the characters) are the purest person in the world.” - anonymous

➪ other notes : im on my writing streak fr (before i burnout and disappear again) non-edited !

Tecchou Suehiro :

- despite of tecchou’s passive attitude, he was a strong hunting dog who shouldn’t be taken lightly

- some people are shocked how you’re dating a strong swordsman and because of tecchou’s passive attitude they don’t have shame in asking you about him

- you were sitting at a table outside a cafe, suddenly a stranger sat in front of you, curiously recognizing who you were

- “i mean aren’t you terrified one day he’ll snap at you, i heard something similar about military men…” the random stranger inquired making a face at you

- unknown to them, tecchou was around the corner coming back with ice cream for both you and him

- it had never occurred in his mind that you would even care about him snapping as you know how well put he is with you

- that being said, he stayed where he was, wanting to see what you would say

- “tecchou’s the sweetest man i’ve ever met, he cares for me in a way no one has ever, so i’d really appreciate it if you stop talking about him so negatively,” and with that you stood up and left in a huff

- what you didn’t expect was to bump into your astonished boyfriend

- “tecchou! you’ll never guess what just happened,” you ramble to him about the rude stranger and he feels both of the ice creams in his hands melting as he’s in awe

- before either of you said anything else, he kissed you gently, a bright red showing up on his face

- “thank you for defending me my love,” he says, finally handing you your ice cream

- he’s extremely lucky to have you, someone who will defend him even if he’s not there, he couldn’t ask for a better partner

Saigiku Jouno :

- known to almost everybody, jouno is a very brutal man, and with the power of being a hunting dog that leads to fear

- everybody is shocked how this man is even dating someone who’s the complete opposite of him, despite most people fearing him, some were bold enough to talk to you about him

- you and jouno were at a restaurant, a minute after excusing himself to go to the restroom someone sat down next to you, weirdly looking at you

- “how could you possibly be with someone as brute as he is? i mean, are you okay in your relationship? do you need help?!” the stranger even reaches for your hand

- of course jouno and his perky ears heard everything, he could feel rage bubbling inside of you, so he silently waited for your reaction

- he knew his methods were considered wrong to most people, but at the end of the day your opinion was the only one that mattered to him

- a smile emerged from his lips as your heartbeat started getting faster

- “i don’t think his affairs concern you, he’s the one protecting you from those who want to harm, and yet you’re here complaining about it, he cares about me, more than anyone has ever cared about you,” you snatched your hand away before getting up with a scowl on your face

- jouno went after you not before hearing the gasp of the stranger

- “the nerve of some people,” you complain when you see your smirking boyfriend

- “no need to get all winded up my dear,” he grabs your hand and with that your heartbeat goes back to normal

- “though it excites me to see you angry over me,” he chuckles and you roll your eyes, thankful he can’t see you right now

- jouno hasn’t needed anyone his whole life, managing to do everything on his own but when you’re by his side, it keeps him calm, knowing that you’ll always be there for him

Ryūnosuke Akutagawa :

- well he’s known as the black fanged hellhound of the port mafia, what do you expect

- same as with jouno, everyone is shocked, even petrified that he’s in a relationship

- you were waiting outside of a store for aku, as he said that he forgot something, that something being a surprise gift for you, and as you were minding your business, a stranger comes up to you and gasps at you

- “aren’t you the one dating a mafia executive?you poor thing, what are you doing being with that monster?!” the stranger exclaims as they get closer to you

- akutagawa comes out of the store to see you angrily looking at the person in front of you, but in a fit of rage you didn’t see your partner

- if anything, he was more scared of you than he was of himself, you weren’t one to mess with when it came to the people you love so instead he waited patiently

- besides, he can’t anger himself too much as he promised the weretiger he wouldn’t kill anyone for six months, so he’ll let you handle it

- “how dare you talk about him like that, you call him a monster and yet he’s more human than you’ll ever be. he loves me and he’s made so much progress that your inhumane eyes will never see!” you yell at them, scaring them away

- as the stranger scurries off, ryū comes up to you, looking at you in a blank

- “sometimes i hate people and their ignorant beliefs,” you sigh looking at your boyfriend

- “um i got you something,” he hands you a box, trying to divert you away from your anger

- “awe you really do love me,” you squeal in delight, “don’t push it,” aku says back

- he knows the things he’s done are awful but if he can make you happy or bring a smile to your face, he knows he hasn’t disappointed you and that’s all he needs to stop him from going crazy

[bones4thecats]

Hello, I have another idea for Aku x eldritch!reader.

Do you remember episode with Aku in disguise(Ikra)? So when he was traveling with Jack and Reader, he flirted with them every opportunity, but Reader was not impressed. And then, at some moment, Reader gave him a peck and whispered that he had a good disguise. And then they went back to Jack after that, as if nothing had happened.

You can write headcanons or scenario.

— 👹Anon

Aku As Ikra Flirting With Eldritch! Reader

Character: Aku Requester: 👹Anon A/N: Instead of doing Hastur, I changed it to be a different Lovecraftian 'God'. This time, the Reader is themed after Yig, the God of Serpents in the Lovecraftian Mythos. There's a link to his Google Search below! This may not be my best piece, but I hope it's at least a little good. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of murder (not explicit) ⚠️ Yig, God of Sperents - Lovecraftian Mythos ; Link Here Images I based the Reader off: One, Two, Three

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Aku ═════════════════════════════════╝

👹 He had tried multiple times to get that Samurai to pass on so he could continue his rule, but this was getting ridiculous!

👹 Despite the fact that the man wielded the only thing that could kill him, he now had a new weapon he could use against the demon; an Eldritch being that could punish everyone who dared kill one snake that was the descendant of one of the most anger-filled deities

👹 Aku just so happened to witness this 'awakening' of yours, and he saw how you would defend the Samurai with the biggest amount of loyalty he'd ever seen

👹 Over the past few days, he was beginning to lose his patience. While yes, the warrior who called himself Jack, did not use you all of the time while fighting, or rather you would come out and pretty much... y'know, rip someone apart...

👹 Instead of going in as Aku, the Shogun of Sorrow decided to disguise himself as a woman, though he needed to come up with a name sooner or later. He'll think of one while manipulating the two of you

👹 While he spent time going 'after Aku in order to free Ikra's father', he begun to see just how deadly, yet compassionate, you were. Every time you would witness Jack or Ikra being put through something a hair bit overwhelming, you would slither down from a building's roof and attack their enemy

👹 He also saw how you fluently spoke to any serpent-like being the group came across, ranging from full-blooded snakes to monsters that were like snakes, you just connected with them very well

👹 Before he knew it, you had been staring at him more and more. Did you find out who he was? Heavily doubtful, the Samurai's guard was always up unless he truly trusted someone with his presence. And if he didn't know, you certainly couldn't...

👹 But, why did he enjoy your looks. Why did he like it when you would lightly pat his, or rather Ikra's, hands in reassurance when he needed to act like she was thinking of her father

👹 Eventually, you three had come across a more jungle-appearing area. You sniffed the air and sighed, your serpent-signally hood flaring down in relaxation while your once slit-pupils molded to be the average circles

👹 Jack looked at you and smiled before pointing towards a snake's nest. Aku watched you kneel down and pet the mother snake's head while the two observed you hum a slow song to her as she relaxed and you used a small spell to cover the next with an invisibility spell

"Won't that make it almost impossible for the snake to find her next again?" The shapeshifter asked.

"Oh far from it. This spell only works on those who would risk the safety of the animal. Though, on this one, only the mother snake, her babies, and those such as I can find the nest. I cannot risk one of my children to be harmed like others have done so."

👹 Samurai Jack began to walk forward after observing you and motioned for you both to follow deeper into the fruitful land. Ikra looked at you as you stood and began to walk towards her

👹 What were you going to do-

👹 Leaning your head slightly down at the demon, you kissed their cheek, making him falter. He had been flirting with you for the entire journey, hell, when he first saw you, he had winked at you, which made you scrunch your nose slightly with distaste instead of doing it back to him

"W-what..."

"Congrats on the masterful disguise, Lord Aku~" You whispered to the male, making his face flush a bright red matching Ikra's lips.

👹 While the rest of his plan went right and he escaped from Jack and you, he was flushed as he arrived back at his home, brushing his sharp fingers against the area you kissed just a couple hours prior

"How bold of you, Ancestor of Serpents."

[thedarkdisgrace]

Thread analysis from my twitter about soukoku & Dazai specific stuff in this DA art since people were interested in my thoughts on it lol reminder it’s my personal interpretations on it.

This is part 2 essentially of the original post. This focuses just on Dazai and Chuuya.

Alright, so I’ll just start by readdressing a point from my other post just for convenience for people who didn’t see the other post. You can reread this or skip down to my newer points. Red thread typically symbolizes those who are destined to be together.

Dazai has the red thread of fate wrapped around his neck. Chuuya has one end & it's wrapped around his wrist, that seems to symbolize he's holding Dazai's life in his hands. It’s also wrapped around the wrist where Chuuya has his childhood scar, the one proving he’s human.

An obvious link to their shared humanity to me, despite they, themselves, not believing in their own. But it’s no surprise Chuuya holds one side of Dazai’s life, we all know they're inexplicably linked & fated. Chuuya is always there to save Dazai & Asagiri said he's the only one who understands Dazai always.

But it's interesting the other half of Dazai's string is first wrapped around his own wrist before continuing to Aku. This essentially saying Dazai holds his own life in his hands. Which obviously seems super accurate since we know his biggest enemy is often his own mind & the hole inside his chest that he has a hard time filling. It's where his suicidal tendencies come from. But essentially, Dazai's life is held only by Chuuya & then himself and I love that detail.

Moving on. Another thing I found interesting about Dazai in this art (& in DA in general) is that he is wearing an all white suit with a black inner shirt. While Chuuya is in his typical black outer coat & white inner shirt.

I believe this choice serves to emphasize the “yin/yang” of their relationship. The red thread bounds them together while their individual natures complement/complete each other, making them whole. Dazai seems to often see himself/his soul as truly dark by nature even as he lives in the light now, so it seems fitting.

He utilizes his darker nature to *protect* the light now, as he understands the darkness (the villains) that come for those in the light. I touched on that above as well.

Chuuya is the opposite but also similar. Chuuya having a “lighter” soul/heart by nature despite being shrouded in darkness. This is showcased in his fierce protective nature of those he cares for as well as the city he protects. His intense, unyielding belief that, despite all he has been through, people are *worth* suffering for, they’re *worth* protecting.

This in contrast to Dazai when they first met who believed “nothing he could pursue is worth the cost of prolonging this life”.

Chuuya believes people are worth it even while still living in the darkness (which it’s important to note dark doesn’t equal evil, everyone is grey and everyone has a role to play).

But even while living in it, *despite* it, he still holds onto his light. His humanity. Humanity is a consistent theme between Dazai & Chuuya.

They both end up making the other feel human, feel alive. Even their abilities are almost named *for* each other.

Chuuya’s ‘no longer human’ when corruption takes over, until Dazai brings him back to it. (Just to be clear, Chuuya is human. That was confirmed).

Dazai is ‘the tainted sorrow’ that Chuuya is able to awaken from that sorrow with his very nature, his vibrant showcase of humanity. I believe it’s his relationship he was able to form with Chuuya that not only kept him alive (“Chuuya convinced me not to die yet”) but also opened Dazai to the possibility that there *are* people worth it out there. It’s why he was open enough to form his relationships with Oda and Ango.

But despite their struggles, despite their methods even, they both are trying to protect what they can. Both have the capability of acting in the light & dark in equal measure.

Essentially, they’re both made up of different light & darknesses but they end up completing each other.

It’s also interesting they put Chuuya on Dazai’s “good” side. The side Dazai’s see the light with. Kinda shows you how Dazai views Chuuya.

—

Something else about Dazai’s clothes, he seems to be wearing a yellow ribbon on his “darker” side. Which I find very interesting given the yellow wrapped ribbon normally represents suicide *prevention*.

Yellow in Japanese culture also tends to represent courage, which is also fitting, it even used to represent role models.

(This next part I’m definitely reading too much into it but I still found it fun and interesting!)

But moving to the next interesting pieces, Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.

The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.

But Dazai is holding an apple in his hand on his “darker” side. Given Dazai talks about apple suicide (+ being called dead apple) it seems these 2 pieces are at odds with each other.

The apple in this context representing death/suicide while the ribbon represents life/prevention.

So in this art, is the idea of apple suicide representing a dark irony? Dazai seeing death as good fortune? Or is the apple only representing the more surface level contrast of death with the ribbon being life? I think that’s up to interpretation.

Small side note, Chuuya’s hat being placed over his heart is definitely deliberate. The hat that helps protect his humanity, the hat that helps offer Chuuya some control, sitting atop of & covering his heart makes sense. It’s almost as armor, protecting his “light” as it were.

Now to talk about Dazai being the only one “awake” as it were & the specific eye that’s uncovered.

The fact it's the eye that used to be covered in the PM is an important choice. Especially given the eye that was open with the PM is closed.

Dazai seems to be seeing more of the good now, maybe even is starting to see the true value in light.

However, it's only because of his dark past he's been able to survive & help save the ada multiple times. I believe that's why it's *that* wrist, the wrist helping covering that eye that was open while in the mafia, that is bound by the red thread of fate.

That wrist being wrapped up symbolizing how he partly holds his own life in his hands (along side Chuuya holding the other part). His fate is bound by *both* his sides, the light & dark in equal measure.

Dazai holds one side for his own life because not only is he his own worse enemy but he ironically (sadly) can't live completely without that dark side of him.

It's the part that wants him to end his life but it's also thanks to that side & what he went through that he can survive so well now & help others. It’s allowed him to understand the villains they face. Of course his past is a tragedy, but what we go through makes us who we are. At least he can use it to save people now.

Another point, (this more of a stretch) the overall theme here seems to be fate, since the thread of fate is predominately featured.

Dazai being the only one with his eye open, the only one awake, could also mean he knows something about their fates that no one else does.

Maybe since his “light” eye is open it’s a good thing. But it could possibly even be linked to the book, either that he knows more about the book & what it contains more than everyone else or (& this is a much bigger stretch) that he may even have read/seen briefly a piece of the book

Maybe whatever the reason is part of the real reason he picked up both Atsushi & Akutagawa & formed shin soukoku. Because for all his & Chuuya’s might, they need something *specific* for what’s coming. Something only shin soukoku has & we already know Atsushi is connected to the book.

Plus the thread of fate is linking them *all* together here. Some more connected to each other obviously, soukoku together & then sskk + kyoka. But again, this last part is very much a stretch but it’s just something fun to think about.

I hope all this made sense. Like i said, this is all just my interpretations so take it as you will. Everyone is free to have their own interpretations & opinions. I definitely went a little overboard & went deeper than just the art itself but oh well lol

If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed my interpretations! Again some are deeper than originally intended & some are much more a stretch but thanks for coming to my ted talk lol

[yokohamapound]

Hello there! I absolutely love your content you write the boys so well 😭 if you are taking submissions could you do one convincing the BSD boys to have a massage? These guys are so touch starved istg 💖💖

Ooh, I love this! I know some guys who could really do with letting go of some tension...

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: gn!reader

Dazai Osamu

Dazai doesn't need much prodding to laze around and let someone pamper him, but he will balk at paying for it. The ADA pays okay, but Dazai's a cheapskate at heart. He doesn't see why he should pay for someone to give him a massage when his darling partner could just do it for free.

He pouts when you insist he should get a proper massage. Who knows what kind of muscle tension he's carrying? Dazai doesn't exactly look after himself—he sleeps in strange positions, regularly stuffs himself into bins and barrels, and generally has terrible posture.

The only way to convince him is to buy the massage for him as a gift or something.

"Thank you, bella, but they won't be able to get all the kinks out."

Terrible puns aside, Dazai falls asleep the minute he lays down on the massage bed, only waking up to squeal when the massage therapist digs into a particularly deep knot. You can hear him from the waiting room.

"H-harder!"

The receptionist at the massage place gives the door an alarmed look. You stare at your phone and pretend not to have heard anything.

When he comes out, he's as limp as a wet noodle, practically sparkling with relaxation.

Nakahara Chuuya

The only problem with getting Chuuya to have a massage is him finding the free time. He's also picky about who he lets put their hands on him. Not that he's worried about anyone being able to hurt him, of course.

He chooses an expensive treatment, probably a deep-tissue massage followed by hot stones or something. And it'll be a couple's massage session. If he's doing it, you're doing it too.

Probably at an onsen or some kind of spa place. A Port Mafia executive doesn't go to the dodgy place down the street, after all.

He grunts whenever the massage therapist finds another tense muscle, gripping the edge of the bed so hard the wood creaks. It feels like the therapist is drying to grind his muscles to dust. When he looks across at you, he scowls.

You're lying there in a state of bliss, your massage therapist's oiled hands gliding gently across your back. Why are you getting the light treatment?

Fuck it. He's a man. He can handle this.

Despite the therapist trying to roll him out like bread dough, he is pretty relaxed by the time they've laid hot stones on his back.

"Guy's lucky I didn't deck him," he grumbles sleepily.

"Sure thing, babe."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, so there's no way you're going to convince Aku to let some stranger lay their hands on him. It involves three things he hates:

1. Being vulnerable.

2. Strangers touching him.

3. Being naked.

The only way this is going to work is if you take a massage course, maybe throw in some aromatherapy too, and learn how to give a proper massage yourself. Even then, it's going to take a lot of wheedling and reassurance to convince him.

"No."

"Please? I really need to practice."

"Use someone else."

"Do you want me touching someone else's naked body?"

"..."

And so on and so forth.

When you finally wear him down, his thin, pale back is as rigid as a bowstring, practically vibrating with tension when you put your hands on him. He flinches, then grows even more tense. You warm some scented oil between your hands—mint, because he doesn't like citrus smells—and smooth them gently down his back.

It takes a while of that for him to start to relax. He keeps his head twisted to the side, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Aku doesn't like you seeing him without his clothes. He knows he's scrawny, and doesn't see what the appeal is. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to mock his appearance. It takes a lot of patience.

By the time you've worked your way up to his neck, gently kneading out the sailor-worthy knots from the amount of tension he carries, he's breathing easier. He might have let his eyes drift shut, although one hand will still be clenched in his coat, just in case.

See, Aku, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Kunikida Doppo

My god, does this man need to find some way to unwind. You may have noticed that he can be highly-strung and neurotic. Honestly, hard to blame him with his coworkers, but he's also very Type-A as a person.

Thankfully, Kunikida's ideals mean he is also very focused on maintaining his health and wellbeing. He won't ignore aches and pains, because they could well develop into more serious issues further down the line and that's not very ideal, is it?

Sadly, he's also wary of taking suggestions because of Dazai's penchant for coming up with bogus health advice. Kunikida is rather gullible, sometimes. Massage does have well-documented health benefits, though, so this shouldn't be a problem to convince him.

Just make sure it's pencilled into his schedule.

The main issue comes when it is actually time to relax. I'm convinced that Kunikida doesn't really know how. He has a couple of relaxing hobbies, like fishing, but even then he keeps a straight back and his mind is usually busy while his hands are idle.

He finds it very difficult to switch off, and the poor massage therapist is trying to massage the equivalent of a plank of wood. And when they look up, Kunikida is still trying to work—he needs to maximise every possible moment, after all!

"Sir? Sir! Are you checking your emails??"

"Yes, I have to keep on top of my inbox."

"Put the phone down, sir."

[mncxbe]

UGH IM LOVING ALL THE SUB AKU FICS you write him so well!! I wanna request one where he's getting a bj and he cries from pleasure

TYSM ANON you're so sweet and oh my your request got me so giddy. hope you like it mwuah♡♡

°☆○

Girl dinner♡

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smutty smut♡/ head is therapeutical

Akutagawa was a cold, ruthless man, feared by both his enemies and allies, raised to fight for the Port Mafia. That's why he never expected to fall so madly, clumsily, agonisingly in love with you.

He was like putty in your hands, always deliciously responsive to every little touch or praise you granted him. Even now, as you stood on your knees in front of him- right cheek pressed against his clothed thigh, hand lazily stroking his painfully hard dick, a coy smile stretching the corners of your lips- Akutagawa couldn't help but tense up:

Ragged breath, quivering lips pressed tightly in a futile attempt to contain those sweet sounds you so wanted to hear, fingers digging into the linen couch; this just wouldn't do.

"Relax baby. I'm just tryna make you feel good" you said softly and he immediately complied, as if your silken voice had him under a spell. You finally removed your head from his thigh, scooting closer to his dick and traced your tongue from its base to the leaking tip; earning a helpless groan from your boyfriend.

"You like it hm?" you purred and he nodded weakly. One of his hands came to rest atop your head, lithe fingers threading lightly through your hair as he guided your mouth back to his tip. You gave it a few licks, relishing the high-pitched hiss that rolled past his lips before taking him in your mouth.

Akutagawa's grip on your hair tightened when he felt your mouth around him, trying to refrain himself from pushing your head lower. You went at your own pace for a while, bobbing your head up and down his length as he tried his best to remain quiet, desperately holding on to his last shred of pride.

But soon enough, as always, his composure crumbled; both of his hands coming to rest on the sides of your head as he thrust his hips into your mouth. You gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze and rolled your sweet tongue around his tip, coaxing a needy moan from him. His mindless babbles and whimpers got louder and louder with each sloppy thrust as he pushed himself closer to his high.

Unbeknown to you, fat tears were pooling at his lashline, threatening to spill. Akutagawa knew how pathetic his current state was, shame rooting itself in his core as he choked up thank yous and praises for you. You moaned on his dick at the sound of his quivering voice and delicious pants- the last drop in his cocktail of pleasure- and he spilled in your mouth, painting it white with his cum.

The fierce grip on your hair finally loosened and you rose your head only to be met with his teary expression. A chuckle escaped your lips as you rested your head back on his thigh, smiling up at him.

"Ryuu you ok?" you asked softly to which he simply nodded, trembling fingers wiping the dried tears at the corner of his eyes.

"Yea I just..." he sighed, averting his gaze. Frankly, there was nothing he wanted more than to lock himself in the bathroom and remain hidden for the rest of eternity.

"You just what baby? Felt so good you ended up crying?" you pressed teasingly but he remained silent. Noting his lack of response you rose to standing and seized his chin as you leaned over his frame, forcing him to face you. And oh, how you loved the sight: eyes glistening with tears, brows scrunched up in disdainful expression, lips slightly parted as he tried to produce any sound except choked up babbles.

"Yea it felt that good" he eventually spoke up in a pleading voice. Akutagawa really didn't know what has gotten into him. It felt as if his brain had short-circuited and he was suffocating in desire. He was also aware of how hard he still was, tear stained cheeks flushing lightly as he took a deep breath in.

And then you lowered your gaze and noticed his throbbing erection, eyes gleaming with mischief as you tut disapprovingly.

"You're so needy, you know that baby?" you cooed while straddling his lap, earning a low hum from your boyfriend. Akutagawa's hands rested on your hips, drawing idle circles as he gazed up at you with those glassy eyes.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss which he eagerly returned, pulling you flush against his chest and in that moment, between welling tears and burning desire Akutagawa knew he was irredeemably, hopelessly infautated with you.

[sickficideas]

Actually i lied i have one more bc i forgot how much i adore the high fevers. I think both of sskk get fevers a lot but are affected by them very differently. Atsushi gets emotional and panicky, and has vivid fever dreams and hallucinations. He'll wake up screaming three or four times a night and aku will rush to his side and pet his hair and whisper to him until he feels safe enough to fall back asleep and start the cycle all over again 💔 Akutagawa has the change his sheets so frequently because he sweats so much. He keeps taking his temperature every time he wakes up and changing the cold cloth on his head but it just seems to keep climbing 💔💔 luckily illnesses probably shoot through him pretty fast because of his tiger healing, so he has 24 hours of aggressive illness before recovering fast.

Akutagawa, on the other hand, is the total opposite. His illnesses are drawn out, and he can always tell when he's getting sick because the symptoms start manifesting days before the full thing hits. He'll be drowsy and lightheaded for days and try to fight through it as long as he can before his fever gets bad enough to be bedridden. His fevers can last for days on end without going down, not high enough to be delirious, but high enough that he's exhausted and miserable. Atsushi is so so sweet through the whole thing, at his side lightning fast the moment he needs anything 🩷 The devoted bf he is, hes always on top when it comes to cooking comfort foods, changing pillow cases, and providing lots of forehead kisses that are justified as "tenperature checks". He'll sit next to aku on the bed and run his fingers through his hair and yammer on about things that happened at work and aku will be perfectly content to lay there and listen, he gets so lonely when hes sick in bed so he's endlessly grateful for atsushi being there 🩷🩷🩷 okay sorry for my rambling you triggered something deep in my soul

FEVERS ARE MY FAV....and you're SO right with this, the opposite ways they experience fevers AGH....ball of anxiety Atsushi and Victorian princess Akutagawa 🤌🤌 I think you checked every box with everything you've said here thank you so much for your service truly ....💖💖💖💖