#claw's detective agency

[noirineverysense]

Claw's detective agency part eleven

masterlist

He had marched toward the office of a man who could do far worse than kill him without a plan. That was his first mistake.

His second was assuming the Professor would be alone. Like his designation states, he was a professor at a university. A professor of ethics of all things. He could have found people to work with, perhaps some staff or some post-grad students, no-one Claw thought should be worth worrying about if that man had managed to make friends.

Needless to say, he’d been surprised to find Rifle standing guard at the office door.

“Claw? What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same, Rifle. In fact, I demand it.”

Rifle barks out a laugh. “You don’t tell me shit about anything, even things I ought to know about and now you think you can ‘demand’ answers from me. I know you hate the Professor but you sure do sound a lot like him.”

“Fuck you.” Claw growls, surprising himself with the sudden venom in his voice.

“Touchy, are we?” Rifle’s lips purse and his voice is high and mocking. “But I don’t really care what you have it in for him. He told me he’ll tell me everything you hid from me if I work for him for a bit, which is a far better deal than you ever cut in for me.”

Claw lets out a heavy sigh. Perhaps part of this was his own doing. Still, he had hoped Rifle would have enough insight to not do something as dumb as this.

If anything, it proved him right. If telling Rifle even a bit about his past led to him going right back to the Professor, he was better off not knowing.

‘That’s not your decision to make!’ A voice that sounds like Talon yells in his mind. He ignores it.

“Rifle, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. You always were as stupid as you are tall.”

Rifle roared and threw his six foot and then some self at him and after a brief scuffle, Talon was always the better fighter out of the two of them, Rifle muscled him into a chair and pulled out some rope. Seemed like the Professor had known he was coming.

That was unfortunate and unsurprising.

There was some dust on the rope that wraps around him, it was an odd grey colour. Though he isn't given much time to ponder over it.

“You thought you could spring on me Isaiah,” the familiar, patronising tone carried itself through the doorway from the hall. “The classic catch a suspect off guard and they’ll be more likely to talk? You have a small mind and that makes you a wonderful pet, but a terrible detective.”

Claw shivered at the voice as he watches the man who had haunted him for so long stroll easily into the room while he struggled against the rope, helpless, like a fly that could see the spider coming but was already caught in the web. Rifle stood by the door, he supposed he couldn’t bet on any help arriving. Not yet anyway.

He hadn’t been thinking straight when he came here alone. He could admit that much.

“I just wanted a friendly chat that’s all. Maybe over tea? I think we could leave the unpleasantness until after some earl grey.”

The professor smiles with teeth, “And I think I prefer a more direct approach.”

Then he grips the armrests of the chair Claw was tied to and leans in slowly until they were face to face.

“Now, what was it you wanted to ask?”

Claw grits his teeth but keeps his tone even. “I don’t suppose you could tell me where Pewtree is being held could you?”

His captor scoffed, his hands thrown in the air in an exaggerated gesture. Claw notices the same grey dust on them.

“Well, you always were forward weren’t you, Isaiah? But no, it’s a little too early for that. I’ve invested a little too much to see this undone.”

Then he laughs a little, “You might be surprised that I’m admitting I’m involved but I’m sure you’ve deduced that much in your little detective game so I won’t offend you by pretending.”

Somehow, he didn’t believe that the Professor was particularly concerned with offending him. He could tell the play though; you give some information to hide the rest. Not that Claw was in any position to demand any information at all.

Still, arrogance was his specialty.

“Investment, you say? A financial one, I presume. As the one who previously was in charge of your finances, I’d wager you wouldn’t be involved with anything as risky as this unless you were expecting big returns.”

“You speak as though you were anything more to me than a pet gone astray. Believe me Isaiah, you weren’t.”

He did believe it, maybe a younger him had believed he was more, they were more. But nothing a man should learn more than when to know his loyalties are misplaced.

Perhaps he knew the truth but believed he could have always left if he wanted, even if he still felt like he was being suffocated for that decision all these years later.

“You speak as though this doesn’t say far more about your character than it does about mine.”

The Professor’s eyes narrow and there was a familar yet dangerous glint to them that Claw knew could only spell trouble.

“Still as insolent as ever. You forget your place. Though I am more than happy to remind you.”

He nods at Rifle and Claw’s brow furrow in confusion before his former friend steps in front of him with a hammer. A fucking hammer.

“If your legs don’t remind you of where you belong then you don’t need them.” The Professor’s smile is thin as he talks.

Rifle pulls up Claw’s pressed trouser leg before driving the hammer hard into where the brand was as if it was a nail, the pain was immediate and excruciating and Claw couldn’t bite back the scream.

Through the agony, he notices Rifle wincing when the bone shattered, well late sympathy was better than never he supposed.

The Professor starts to go on one of his long rants, Claw was aware that he was imagining himself more as a Shakespearian actor reciting a soliloquy for the pleasure of others than a man rambling to whoever was unfortunate enough to be nearby.

His head hung low, pain making him gasp and cough unable to catch his breath, but he refused his mind to shut. A skill that Talon might believe he didn’t possess was knowing when to shut up. Though there was a part of him that wanted to beg for help, he had a job to do. He needed to listen.

“-Tiger is an efficient worker even if he is an idiot, told the men to take everything they could find. The stolen loot is quite the-”

“Loot? Not Pewtree himself though?”

The professor stops talking and narrowed his eyes. Claw had got something and he wasn’t about to let go of his catch.

“And I suppose the painting of Argyll was a nice find, easy enough to get without entering the main halls.”

“What are you- ”

“Tiger is known for getting people to scrape gold out of old computer chips, yet the extensive gold and silver furnishings of the halls were remarkably untouched.”

The Professor grinds his teeth.

“They didn’t get in through the hallway, nor even through the door, did they? They went another way, that’s why they weren’t spotted. And this second passageway, would be a perfect place to store a kidnapping victim, wouldn’t it. You wouldn’t have to worry about transporting him out.”

The grey dust suddenly made sense. He can hear the click of information slotting together like a jigsaw.

The professor reaches for Claw, placing a hand on his neck as a warning. Claw’s heart races at the familiar gesture but continues regardless, “And if you left a singular person in charge of the victim, it was less likely that person would be caught because they wouldn’t leave the scene of the crime if no-one knew where it even was. Would be easy enough to sneak them in with the rest of the grunts and your business partner would be none the wiser.”

Claw made a show of humming in thought, “And this second passageway would be...” He could see veins bulging at the Professor’s temple. It was a satisfying sight even as the hand closed around his neck.

“Tell me Thomas, do you remember the fifth of November?”

The Professor snaps punching Claw in the jaw and Claw’s head whips back.

“How do you know that name?” The man growls out.

“Oh, that.” Claw answers boredly, head still tilted up to the white-tiled ceiling, quietly enjoying the other man finally losing his cool amidst the pain radiating from his chin.

“I looked through some files back when we worked together. I was keeping tabs on you too.”

He pulled his head forward, meeting the Professor’s eyes with a grin that made his chin hurt more, “Not such a bad detective, am I?”

The Professor roared and drove the hammer straight into Claw’s abdomen and bowled over with a grunt. The pain from his shattered leg seemed to intensify.

But through the pain, Claw knew he won.

[airyairyaucontraire]

Finally got around to watching Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake, I'm up to ep 3, and a) greatly enjoyed the flagrant Sailor Moon tribute of the first episode opening and b) it just makes me so happy seeing Finn as a grown-up man. Even if his voice isn't Commander Riker. (I know it makes much more sense that adult Finn's voice is simply adult Jeremy Shada, it was just so delightful when Jonathan Frakes voiced the grown-up Finn in "Puhoy," he was so hearty.) He's so big and strong! He's confident and happy! He has (Jim Broadbent voice) a great big bushy beard!

He should probably get those back wounds from episode two looked at!

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader

As much as you'd like to spend the rest of your life secluded away from the world, you need money. Conveniently enough, a new detective agency in town is hiring, and the salary is ridiculously good. The catch? Oh, you'll see once you sign the contract right...here. Congratulations! You've sealed a lifetime bond with their one and only employee, a demon from the depths of Hell!

Content: female reader, monster romance, dark humor, perverted goat demon yandere, based on ‘Yondemasuyo, Azazel-San’

[Part 2] [Monster masterlist]

There’s still enough time to go back, you think. It’s loud and crowded and you’d rather be home. The temptation is beginning to creep its tendrils over your mind, so you quickly pull out your phone and check your bank account. The numbers remind you why you’re here in the first place: if you don’t get a job soon, you’ll run out of savings.

Come on, it can’t be that bad. In fact, it’s the best offer you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Minimal interaction with humans, short hours, and absurdly good pay. A new detective agency opened in your town and they’re looking for an assistant. A regular person would most likely be put off by such shady circumstances. There must be a catch, but you couldn’t care less either way. What are they going to do, kill you? Sell your organs on the black market? They’d spare you the time to plan your own demise.

You climb the stairs and knock on the door. A deep voice tells you to enter, and you sheepishly make your entrance. The office is rather small and somewhat cramped, with stacks of papers scattered over the floor. Behind the desk sits a man – maybe in his thirties? – with messy black hair, sunken eyes, and an irked expression. Is this the detective? He looks like an angry thug. Not that you’re one to judge, given your overall gloomy aura that deters passersby with ease.

“Yes?” he asks curtly, not even looking up from his book.

“I’m here for the job offer. The assistant role?”

“Ah, yeah. Completely forgot about that.” He rummages through his drawer and pulls out a sheet of paper, slapping it on the desk. “Here’s the details. Same as in the ad. Here’s where you sign. Do you have questions?”

“Hmm, I guess not.” You hum, indifferent, and scribble your name.

The man finally glances at you, faint intrigue on his face.

“This went unexpectedly smoothly. What if it was a scam?”

“Then what?” You stare him in the eye with a flaccid smile. “There’s nothing to take from me. If it is a scam indeed, you’ll be the one disappointed in the end.”

His eyes narrow in an eerie grin, and he stands up.

“Perfect match.”

“Excuse me?”

He walks towards a secondary room and waits for you to follow him. Once you’ve joined, he turns on the lights, and you immediately notice a strange seal painted on the floor: Geometric symbols resembling a pentagram, surrounded by words in a language you don’t understand. You’re carefully observing the strange sight, so entranced that you don’t sense the detective lifting your hand and casually piercing your finger with a small scalpel.

Before you can react to the sudden attack, he presses your hand onto the contract you’d signed earlier. You wince in pain and swiftly pull your hand away, glaring at the man.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you demand angrily.

“I thought I’d already introduce you to the main tool we use to solve our cases.”

The sigil on the ground begins to glow and the edges move in a circular motion. A black ooze erupts from the center, rapidly expanding outwards. You glue yourself to the wall for safety, unsure of what is happening.

A clawed hand emerges from the cursed muck, grabbing onto the edges for support. Within seconds, a creature crawls its way out. A humanoid figure with curled horns and long locks, its body ending with goat hooves instead of legs, stands up and stretches before your terrified self. You tighten your jaw in anticipation.

“You always summon me during my best naps, damn it!” the demon barks.

The detective approaches the monster, completely unconcerned, and slaps its horns nonchalantly, earning a groan from the demon.

“Skip the unnecessary whining. This is our new assistant and your owner as of now.” He explains, dangling the contract before the horned creature and pointing a finger in your direction.

“The fuck? You said you’d end the deal if I completed that mission. You lied to me, you-!” the beast finally notices your presence and abruptly stops. “Well then, what do we have here?”

A wide, perverted smile replaces his frown, sharp fangs glistening with malice.

“Aren’t you a miserable one! You reek of apathy”, the demon exclaims, clacking his hooves in your direction. “Boy oh boy, I could just eat you up! Tell me your name.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You wonder if this is some bizarre dream after all. The demon clamps your lips back shut.

“Tempting offer, but I don’t need head right now. Save the gesture for later, alright? Let’s try again: Name!”

Your brows furrow in disbelief at his crass insolence.

“I-it’s (Y/N).” you finally manage to blurt out.

He strokes your head lovingly, as if he’s praising some house pet.

“Good girl. You can call me Zzy.”

For a moment, you completely forgot about the detective being in the same room. He places the demon under a firm hold and shoves him away from you, then hands you a thick, leathered book.

“This is his grimoire. Read it once you’re home. First day is tomorrow unless you need more time.”

“Tomorrow is fine”, you answer in a daze, fumbling to find the exit and ignoring the horned monster waving at you enthusiastically.

You’re lying in bed, still a little shaken from the events you witnessed earlier today. A detective agency that uses a demon to solve matters, and you’ve just been coerced into selling your soul for a lifetime bond with him. You sigh in exhaustion. At least the pay is good, you tell yourself as you trace your fingers over the old text of the grimoire:

“Great President of Hell, ruling three legions of demons. Brings insanity or great sorrow to any person the conjurer wishes. Feeds on sadness and fear. Causes people to end their life.”

Hard to believe that depraved buffoon holds such power. Although it does explain, at least, why the detective was eager to use you as a replacement. Or why the demon showed such intense interest.

“Who’s a buffoon?”

The voice is so close that you feel its hot breath on your ear. You scream and jump back in panic, tumbling out of the bed and scrambling onto the floor. You rub your eyes just to make sure: the half-goat creature is lounging under your sheets, gazing at you with a bored expression.

“Christ! I thought you’re not allowed to leave the office?” you inquire, baffled.

“That’s why I snuck this in your pocket!” he says as he procures a small coin. “I can track down cursed items. Hehe~”

As if remembering a vital detail, he throws himself up and joins you on the ground:

“Oh, but don’t tell Mr. Detective about it, or he’ll feed me to the dogs. It’s our secret.” he pleads, hands put together in a praying gesture.

“What are you even doing here?”

“I figured it’d be useful if we got to know each other as soon as possible, seeing as we’ll be working together from now on.”

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“Well…I also got really horny thinking of you and decided to just visit instead. How about a quick fuck?”

“Absolutely not. Eat a raw potato or something.”

“Don’t be like that! At least let me touch your boobs. Help a partner out, eh?”

Perhaps being scammed was not the worst-case scenario. You slap the demon’s groping fingers away and return to your previous spot in bed. It will be a long night.

[pin-k-ink]

paradox // kunikida doppo

tw ⇢ punishment sex, spanking, power play, sir kink, degradation, dirty talk, begging, unprotected sex, kinda bratty reader, manhandling, slightly possessive kunikida

wc ⇢ 5.7k

a/n: for the sake of the story, let’s just pretend that he has an office of his own. also, i’m not happy with this one at all :(

Kunikida pinched the bridge of his nose, trying and failing to ignore the pounding headache brought on by you once again. As an elite member of the Armed Detective Agency, he prided himself on maintaining strict order and following protocol to the letter. You, on the other hand, seemed to take immense pleasure in upending rules and sowing chaos wherever you went.

From the moment the agency had reluctantly taken you on as a recruit, you had been a thorn in Kunikida's side. Your flagrant disregard for authority and propensity for reckless behavior clashed violently with his regimented, by-the-book approach. He had tried every disciplinary method in the book to whip you into an ideal operative - stern reprimands, revoked privileges, even temporary suspensions. But you remained stubbornly defiant, meeting his gravely disapproving looks with that insufferable, mocking smirk.

And yet, Kunikida couldn't deny the alarming frequency with which his thoughts strayed to your insolent countenance, your brazen flaunting of the rules he held so dear. You frustrated him to no end, but also awoke a deeper, indefinable tension within him that he didn't quite understand. An unseemly, unbidden part of him wondered what it would take to finally break through that seemingly impenetrable veneer of nonchalance and make you bend to his will.

Perhaps that made him a hypocrite of sorts - dreaming of bending the rules himself when it came to dealing with his most problematic subordinate. But you inspired a sense of reckless abandon in Kunikida that both thrilled and deeply unsettled him...

No matter how firmly Kunikida attempted to lock away the inappropriate thoughts and urges you awoke within him, you always seemed to claw your way back into the forefront of his mind. Your blatant refusal to take anything seriously gnawed at his restraint in a way he couldn't quite explain.

During disciplinary meetings, he found his eyes inadvertently trailing over the swell of your lips as you responded to his reprimands with that aggravating pout and exaggerated eye-rolls. He cursed the spike of heat that rushed through him at your patent disregard for his authority. A dark part of him wondered what it would take to wipe that impudent look off your face and replace it with something else...something less insolent.

The mere thought made Kunikida's palm itch to land a stinging slap to that sarcastic mouth of yours. He quickly banished the highly inappropriate imagery, aghast at himself for even entertaining something so unprofessional. This was exactly the kind of lapse in his hallmark control that you always managed to inspire in him.

And you remained utterly oblivious to the war raging within Kunikida every time your brazen antics landed you in his office for punishment. You simply met his gravest tongue-lashings with that same unbothered defiance. As if you could sense the effect you had on rattling his sterling composure and relished every second of it.

"Are you even listening?" Kunikida's raised voice would inevitably cut through your studious inspection of your nails or whatever else you used to intentionally tune him out. Slowly, you'd raise your gaze to his thunderous expression and bite back a grin.

"Of course, sir," you'd reply in that dulcet, insincere tone that made his jaw clench. "You were just regaling me again about the importance of following orders like a good little worker bee. My bad for zoning out."

The blatant mockery made Kunikida's hand spasm with the effort of restraining the shameful urge to--what? Shake you until that infuriatingly placid look shattered? Drag you over his knee for a painful lesson in respect?

He ruthlessly blanked those disturbing thoughts. This was precisely why he could never seem to make any headway with curbing your unruly behavior. You prowled at the very edges of his control, threatening to pull him down into a pit of disarray that he couldn't allow. At least, not as long as he remained your commanding superior.

But an increasingly depraved part of Kunikida wondered...what if he stopped adhering so strictly to the rules and regulations, just this once? What if he finally allowed himself to unleash the darkly authoritative side of himself you always seemed to flirt with riling up?

The thought was offensive to his core principles of conduct. And yet, the longer you persisted in your defiance, the harder it became for Kunikida to ignore. He could feel his restraint slipping more each day. Eventually something would have to give - either he would find a way to break through your mulish refusal to obey...or you would finally succeed in shattering his hallowed self-control entirely.

And somewhere deep down, a reckless part of Kunikida feared that the latter possibility was becoming harder and harder to discount entirely.

With every insolent quirk of your brow, every piccant quip dripping from your lips, Kunikida could feel his grasp on his legendary restraint slipping further. You had evolved from a mere disciplinary headache into something more...an itch he couldn't scratch, a puzzle he couldn't solve no matter how sternly he attempted to enforce protocol.

You remained utterly unfazed by his harshest reprimands and threats of punishment. In fact, you seemed to take a impish sort of delight in watching his control splinter under your relentless provocations. As if your sole purpose was to unmake the foundations of order and decorum that Kunikida had spent his life upholding.

The truly unsettling part was the unmistakable frisson of darkness that surged through Kunikida whenever you managed to rattle his unshakable decorum. He couldn't deny the undercurrent of illicit satisfaction that came with fantasies of finally stripping away that veneer of nonchalance by any means necessary. Of making you bend to his dominance and discipline until that diffident smirk was replaces with open desperation.

These were dangerous thoughts, Kunikida knew. They strayed into shadowed territory completely unbefitting of his position and principles. And yet he found himself unable to purge them entirely from his mind's eye. Especially not after that deliciously fraught encounter last week...

You had reported for a disciplinary meeting as required after your latest fiasco in the field. But this time, Kunikida's stern rebukes seemed to land with more effectiveness than usual. For once, you didn't simply smirk and dismiss his words out of hand. Instead, you had gone conspicuously still and quiet, holding his blazing gaze with something like trepidation.

Perhaps emboldened by that minute response, Kunikida hadn't been able to resist stepping into your space, pinning you with the full force of his formidable presence. You shrank back fractionally, your pupils blown wide as Kunikida allowed his voice to drop to a dangerous register.

"I'm going to ask you one final time," he had uttered in a tone of hushed intensity. "Are you going to start adhering to the protocols I've outlined, or am I going to have to take...disciplinary measures?"

Your throat had worked convulsively at the undisguised threat in his words. And Kunikida hadn't missed the way your chest rose and fell in strained panting as his proximity increased. Recklessly, he allowed his hand to grasp your jaw, his thumb sweeping over the plump swell of your lower lip.

"W-what kind of measures?" You managed to whisper, your eyes locked on his with a look he had never seen before. Not defiance or amusement...but something murkier. Needier.

Kunikida felt his control stretching to the breaking point in that moment. He had opened his mouth, dizzy with the realization that you had finally responded to his dominance in a way that spoke to primal, ravenous drives he kept locked away...

But then the sharp rap at his office door had shattered the tension. In an instant, Kunikida had sprung back, snatching his hand from your face as if burned. You had quickly looked away, color flooding your cheeks as you smoothed your shirt with unsteady hands. And simply like that, the intoxicating spell was broken.

A deep, unsettling part of Kunikida remained haunted by the memory - by the implications of what could have happened had you two been left uninterrupted. It was the closest he had come to completely casting off his rigid restraints where you were involved.

And he knew it was only a matter of time before you well and truly pushed him past that line for good.

In the aftermath of that charged encounter, Kunikida found it utterly impossible to purge you from his thoughts. His mind kept revisiting that moment when you had peered up at him through hooded eyes, your quickened breaths and parted lips hinting at something dangerously intoxicating simmering beneath the surface.

For once, you had seemed to surrender to his dominance rather than reflexively defying it. And Kunikida couldn't lie to himself - a baser, unrestrained part of him had sorely wanted to capitalize on that rare show of submission. To finally unleash the full force of his authority upon your insubordinate defiance in the way he'd been craving.

The things he could have done in that heated instance made Kunikida's blood run hot with illicit imaginings. He saw himself crowding into your personal space, allowing you no chance to retreat as he caged you against the wall. His hand would be merciless in its grip on your jaw, forcing your gaze to remain locked on his as he uttered in a dangerous rumble:

"That's enough backtalk from you. I've indulged your deplorable lack of discipline for far too long." His free hand would skim torturously down the side of your body, hips pressing firmly against yours. "I think it's high time I revisited the more...traditional methods for addressing willful insubordination, don't you?"

He could easily envision the thunderstruck look on your face, the sharp intake of breath as you grasped the undeniable threat - and promise - in his words. You would have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the punishing weight of Kunikida's dominance as his dark presence utterly consumed you.

Imagining you pliant and submissive in his grasp made Kunikida's core run molten. But even more dizzying was picturing you defiantly attempting to wrest back control. Visualizing the lush curve of your lower lip caught between biting teeth, eyes flashing insolent challenge at him. Kunikida's hand would instinctively tighten its bruising hold in response, his hips flexing against yours in clear warning.

"That's no way to look at a superior officer giving you an order," he would growl in a low tone that vibrated with contained menace and hunger. "If you insist on persisting in open insubordination...I'll simply have to find increasingly creative means of ensuring your obedience."

Coherent thought scattered at the maelstrom of forbidden images that suggestion conjured. He pictured your quickened panting, the feverish sweep of his eyes over your parted lips. Imagined the feeling of bare, flushed skin beneath his roaming palms as he ruthlessly stripped away every last scrap of nonchalance and defiance until only desperation and dark desire remained. Until you openly craved the merciless onslaught of his discipline as the only way to slake the raging ache he had instilled...

Lost in the lurid tailspin of such depraved fantasy, Kunikida had to choke back a guttural groan. He couldn't allow this lapse of his restraints, this flagrant dereliction of his sworn ethics. He was a professional damn it, not some degenerate indulging prurient appetites with a subordinate.

And yet every passing encounter made it more difficult to maintain that line. Especially when you would provoke him intentionally, practically begging for him to give in and relieve this growing, suffocating tension between you both. You were utterly shameless about it - biting your lip as you met his furious glare, shifting your hips in a subtle grind, making a show of trailing your fingers along your throat or any other path that drew Kunikida's hungry gaze.

It was as if you had finally recognized the combustible effect you exerted on his decorum and were determined to see how far you could push until he finally snapped.

The thought made Kunikida's jaw clench hard enough that his teeth ached. Because for all his bluster about punishments and discipline, he knew you had him at a profound disadvantage. He was teetering inexorably toward that point of no return where he would finally abandon every professional protocol and ethical brake.

And once he crossed that line, once he allowed his authority to wholly dominate and subjugate your mutinous defiance...he feared even you wouldn't be prepared for the ferocity of his response.

The closer Kunikida skirted to that precarious line, the more unrestrained your provocations became. You seemed to realize on an instinctual level that his restraint was thinning perilously. And like a predator sent blood in the water, you honed in relentlessly.

Simple disciplinary meetings turned into charged exhibitions where Kunikida found himself battling dueling urges - to either haul you over his desk and put you in your place once and for all...or to retreat before his control shattered entirely. The way your eyes danced with smug challenge as you stretched lazily in your seat, your shirt riding up to reveal a teasing strip of toned midriff. How you made a show of sucking on the end of your pen while maintaining that boldly unwavering stare.

He knew exactly what you were doing, could perceive the deliberate allure in each languid movement and baiting look. Yet it made no difference. Despite himself, Kunikida remained inescapably, irresistibly ensnared.

On several occasions, he even caught himself entertaining dark fantasies of making you pay for such provocative behavior. Of grasping the back of your neck in a brutal grip as he hauled you against his body, hissing reprimands directly against the heated shell of your ear.

"You think you can toy with me indefinitely?" His voice would be low and dangerous, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Push my restraint until I finally snap and retaliate in kind?"

He imagined his free hand roaming with impunity up your thigh, reveling in your sharp inhalation and instinctive part of your legs at the first brush of calloused fingertips against overheated skin.

"Be very careful what you wish for," Kunikida would rumble with quiet intensity. "My patience is nearing its end. And when it does...you're going to be wholly unprepared for what I inflict as punishment."

The thought made something dark and primal flare in the depths of his gaze as he drank in your reaction - the abrupt dilation of your pupils, the rapid flutter of your pulse visible in your throat. He found himself aching to push further, to see how far he could shove before you finally broke composure.

Of course, these sordid imaginings remained locked behind a carefully impassive facade in reality. But you seemed to perceive the storm brewing beneath, needling Kunikida with increasingly overt temptations. It was only a matter of time before one side inevitably yielded to the other's insistent goading.

Both of you understood the dangerous inevitability of that outcome. And unless Kunikida missed his mark, a perverse thrill coursed through you at the sinful prospect. You wanted to test the true reaches of his brutally implacable dominance. Craved to know just how merciless and singleminded he could be in stripping you of every last shred of insolent defiance, replacing it with desperation.

And deep down, past his last remaining shreds of professionalism, Kunikida knew he ached to finally unleash the full, unrestrained extent of his discipline upon you. To make you keenly experience the consequences of your flagrant acts of mutiny in a way that would irrevocably shatter the dynamic between you both.

He could practically taste the exquisite downfall awaiting on the other side of that line. The thought made his blood burn with illicit, undeniable need. Soon...so very soon now, he could already sense it.

One of you was going to be driven past the point of no return. And may whatever gods existed have mercy on the both of you when that finally happened.

The tipping point arrived in an almost anticlimactic fashion after one too many instances of your flagrant disregard for authority. A missed stakeout, a botched pursuit, careless actions that nearly blew an undercover operation - all culminated into a perfect storm that saw Kunikida summon you to his office with a look of thunderous rage.

You sauntered in as usual, seemingly oblivious to the palpable danger radiating off Kunikida in waves. When you opened your mouth to likely spout some flippant dismissal, Kunikida's palm slammed down on the desk with an earth-shattering bang.

"That's it!" He roared, his voice dripping with a lethal combination of fury and something darker, more ominous. "I've reached the limit of my forbearance where your unruly behavior is concerned."

There was an undercurrent of promised violence quivering beneath his words that sent an illicit shiver down your spine. Finally, you found yourself pinned by the full, unleashed force of Kunikida's domineering presence with no filter or restraint.

"S-sir..." You started, surprised to find your voice coming out more breathless than intended.

"No!" He snarled, rounding the desk in two long strides to loom over your frozen form."Not another word from your intractably vexing mouth. All you've done is goad me time and again with open defiance and contemptuous flaunting of every order."

One hand shot out to clutch the front of your shirt, the other gripping your jaw in a bruising hold that you instinctively tried to pull back from. But Kunikida was having none of it, his enraged features just inches from yours as he effortlessly subdued your attempts at retreat.

"It's clear that reasoned disciplinary actions hold no efficacy for an endlessly incorrigible, disrespectful wanton like you," he growled, his eyes burning with a ferocious intensity you'd never witnessed. "Since you refuse to respond to anything other than enticement and temptation..."

His grip on you tightened painfully then, his hips pressing you back against the wall as he loomed into your space, suffocatingly overwhelming in his masculine potency.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you've been asking for this whole time. The disciplinary punishment you've been flagrantly courting with every insubordinate act and tawdry provocation!"

Your eyes went wide at the undisguised vow of dominance, thrills of excitement and apprehension chasing each other. This was it - the moment you had sought to goad into existence through increasingly outrageous mutinies. Finally, you had pushed past Kunikida's hallowed restraints, unleashing the full, untempered force of his merciless authority.

A tiny part of your mind whispered that you should be terrified at the implications of his furious promise. That you were utterly at his mercy now, stripped of all defiance or nonchalance to shield you from his implacable onslaught. But the rest of you trembled with shameless yearning at the exquisite anticipation.

You held his blazing stare, allowing your lips to curl in a last, insouciant smirk that you knew would infuriate him further. A final push past the point of no return.

"Well?" You heard yourself taunting breathlessly, even as your core tightened with need. "What are you waiting for, sir? I'm ready for my punishment..."

Kunikida's eyes dimmed to something utterly primal and implacable in that moment. His mouth crashed over yours in a searing, punishing embrace of total domination and possession that stole your very breath. You could only weakly surrender, every ounce of protest and defiance melting beneath the unstoppable force of his furious onslaught.

Kunikida's assault on your senses remained utterly merciless and consuming for long, dizzying moments. When he finally tore his mouth from yours with a rasping growl, you were left weak-kneed and panting, captive in the scorching heat of his stare.

"If you insist on receiving this punishment you've been so shamelessly angling for," he rumbled in a voice rendered husky with banked intensity, "Then we're going to establish a few ground rules first."

One hand released its grip on your shirt, only to slide possessively down the side of your waist. You shivered at the teasing, almost punishing touch as he pulled your hips flush against his own.

"First - you will address me as 'Sir' at all times without a single exception or hint of insolence," Kunikida stated with soft menace. "Any disobedience, disrespect or defiant behavior of any kind will result in..." His fingers dug warningly into the swell of your ass, making you gasp. "Harsher disciplinary actions, understood?"

You could only mutely nod, throat too dry with anticipation to summon words. Kunikida's blazing eyes pierced you with censure at the lack of verbal acquiescence.

"Answer me properly," he growled in clear reprimand.

"Y-Yes...Sir," you whispered feverishly.

Satisfaction flickered over his expression before that ruthless mask reasserted itself. His palm trailed up to cup the side of your jaw, thumb sweeping over your lower lip in a gesture that somehow felt more overtly profane than his earlier bruising embrace.

"Good girl. Secondly, you are to remain fully nude and available for inspection and use for the duration of your punishment. At any point I desire to revel you laid bare before me, you will comply without hesitation. Are we clear?"

Your blood turned to liquid fire at the dark promise, thighs clenching involuntarily even as you managed a strangled, "Yes, Sir..."

Kunikida's eyes glittered with undisguised approval and something infinitely more carnal. Another lascivious sweep of his thumb and then he was pressing even more insistently into your personal space, his height and bulk rendering you utterly dwarfed.

"Lastly," he uttered in a voice gone molten with depths of rough authority. "You are not to achieve any sort of completion or release without my express command. Doing so will only succeed in prolonging your disciplinary regimen...perhaps indefinitely."

The whispered threat made your knees buckle treacherously. You could only stare up at Kunikida with something akin to desperation, already entirely in his thrall. "Yes..." you choked out, beyond any semblance of defiance or impudence now. "Yes, Sir!"

A sensuous smile of dark promise curved Kunikida's lips as he drank in your naked, yearning avidity. "Then let's begin..."

With that, he closed the infinitesimal gap between your bodies, his large hands grasping to divest you of clothing as his mouth slanted over yours in a searing, claiming brand of possession and dominance.

You could only keen softly into the devouring onslaught, surrendering to the relentless force of Kunikida's unleashed ardor and discipline with desperate, helpless abandon.

Kunikida's hands continued their ruthless task of stripping you bare, leaving you flushed and exposed to the searing heat of his hungry gaze. But the moment your clothes lay a pile at your feet, his grip shifted to seize your wrists. In an instant, he had turned you both to pin you face-first against the wall.

"Now then..." His voice was a low rumble as his large palm trailed down your back to rest heavily on the curve of your backside. "Time to teach you what happens to those who flagrantly disobey and disregard direct orders."

The first smack of his palm landed without warning, making you jolt in surprise. The initial sting was followed by a blooming warmth and spreading sensation that sent shivers down your spine.

"One," he uttered, his hand massaging the sensitive area. "For missing that stakeout last week."

His palm struck again, harder this time, the impact forcing a breathless cry from your lips. "Two," he murmured, his fingers kneading the tender flesh with deliberate, cruel pressure. "For allowing that suspect to escape after being under strict surveillance."

"Three..." A third slap landed, sending ripples of heat and stinging pleasure-pain through you.

"Four..." The sound of your ragged gasps and Kunikida's low, hypnotic voice counted down each blow, making your skin run hot and flushed.

"Five..." Each impact left you feeling more lightheaded, the pain giving way to a pulsing ache of arousal that throbbed through you.

"Six..." Your legs trembled from the effort of keeping upright, and you couldn't contain the sharp moan that escaped as Kunikida's large, calloused palm delivered a punishing swat.

"Seven..." Kunikida's voice remained utterly calm and unwavering, as if the sight of your squirming and moaning in response to his harsh disciplinary measures was merely a formality.

"Eight..." Tears pricked your eyes, the pain of the strikes blurring with the overwhelming pleasure until it was nearly indistinguishable.

"Nine..." Your head tipped forward against the wall, unable to contain the soft whimpers escaping your lips.

"Ten."

The final slap was by far the hardest, and the most intense. It sent a flood of heat through you, the ache of pain mingling with a sharp spike of arousal. Kunikida's palms skimmed over the reddened, sensitive flesh, and a choked moan fell from your lips at the exquisite mixture of agony and need.

"Such a good girl, taking her punishment so well." Kunikida's low voice rumbled with approval, the heat of his chest suddenly pressed against your back. One hand curled around the front of your neck, his nose nudging against the shell of your ear.

"Now tell me..." His free hand slipped down the front of your body, his fingers delving between your trembling thighs. "How do you think I should punish this wanton little cunt for her brazen defiance?"

You whimpered and jerked against him, overwhelmed by the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick heat. He seemed to be purposefully avoiding your throbbing clit, instead spreading the evidence of your arousal over your folds.

"Shall I fill you to the brim and use you as I see fit until I've had my fill?" Kunikida mused, his teeth lightly grazing your earlobe. "Or should I leave you wanting and desperate, bound and helpless as I indulge myself at my leisure?"

A shuddering gasp fell from your lips, and you couldn't help pushing back against him, grinding shamelessly into his touch. You were utterly overcome with desire and need, the pain of his earlier chastisement still lingering but no longer enough to satiate.

"P-please..." you pleaded, unable to control the needy rocking of your hips. "Please, I need--"

"No." The sudden bite of his voice made you freeze, the hand around your throat tightening slightly. "I've given you enough liberties as it is. Now you're going to beg me properly for the privilege of relief."

You swallowed hard, the pressure on your neck only serving to heighten your desperation. "Please..." you whispered, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable. "Please, I'll do anything, just--"

"Not good enough." Kunikida's fingers abruptly pulled away, and you barely stifled a needy whine. "Beg."

His command was punctuated with a firm swat to the side of your ass, the sting reigniting the dull ache from earlier. You yelped and bucked against him, and you could feel his hardness pressing against your thigh.

"P-please..." The word was torn from your throat, raw and pleading. "Please, I need to feel you inside me. Need you to fill me, fuck me, please..."

"Very good." There was a dark, pleased note in Kunikida's voice, and you shuddered in anticipation. His hand left your throat, only to tangle in your hair and yank your head back, exposing your neck.

"But first, one final lesson in obedience."

You barely had time to register his words before his lips descended on your throat, sucking and biting a dark bruise into your skin. You cried out, arching into his touch, your hips grinding against his as he marked you.

"Mine." The single word was uttered with such possessive certainty that it sent a thrill down your spine. His other hand grasped your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as he held you in place.

"Say it."

The command was accompanied by a sharp nip to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, and you moaned shamelessly. "Yours," you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips without hesitation.

Kunikida's low growl of approval sent a shiver through you, and you could feel him shift behind you, his hands leaving your body for a moment.

"I want to see you."

The words were growled into your ear, his presence behind you disappearing for a moment. The next thing you knew, his large hands were gripping your waist, turning you to face him. He looked utterly wrecked, his eyes dark and pupils blown wide, his chest heaving and cheeks flushed.

It was a heady feeling, seeing such a usually composed, self-possessed man reduced to such a state of undone hunger. Especially because of you.

Your eyes dropped to his pants, which were straining around the impressive bulge of his erection. You licked your lips, suddenly overcome with the urge to taste him, to feel him fill your mouth as you knelt at his feet.

"Sir, may I--"

"No." His voice was hard and firm, his eyes flashing with dangerous heat. "You are not in a position to make demands or requests right now."

A wave of defiance washed through you, and you bit your lip, unable to resist a parting shot. "Then perhaps I should simply find another way to entertain myself while you get yourself together, sir."

A low, feral sound tore from Kunikida's throat, and before you could react, his hands were gripping your waist, tossing you unceremoniously onto his desk. Papers went flying, and you had just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows before his hands were pinning you in place.

"Do not," he hissed, his face mere inches from yours. "Test me right now."

Your breath hitched, a flush of heat going through you at the intensity of his gaze. His lips crashed over yours in a rough, claiming kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, arching against him, desperate for friction.

He seemed just as impatient, his hands leaving your wrists to slide down your body, his fingers finally - blessedly - finding your clit. You broke the kiss, gasping as he stroked you, circling your clit and spreading the wetness gathering at your entrance.

"Fuck, you're soaking," he muttered, his eyes darkening as he watched you writhe beneath him. "You really do enjoy this, don't you? Being put in your place, taken apart by my authority."

His fingers dipped lower, teasing at your entrance, and you whined. "P-please," you gasped, grinding against his hand. "Please, I need--"

"You need me to fill you, don't you?" He rumbled, the tip of his finger sinking into you. "Need to feel me inside you, stretching you, fucking you."

You could only moan in response, the ache in your core growing unbearable. His fingers were driving you crazy, the way he kept just brushing against your g-spot but never quite pressing fully inside. It was maddening, and you could feel your arousal growing with each passing second.

"Well, since you've been such a good girl and taken your punishment so well," he murmured, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit, "Perhaps I'll give you a little reward."

With that, he pulled away, and you bit back a groan of frustration. But then you saw him unbuttoning his pants, the sight making your mouth go dry. You couldn't tear your eyes away as he pulled his cock free, stroking himself as he looked down at you.

"Spread your legs."

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. You obeyed immediately, parting your thighs as he moved to stand between them. His hands were on your hips, pulling you toward the edge of the desk, and you could feel the head of his cock brushing against your entrance.

"Look at me."

You did, meeting his eyes as he slowly pushed into you, inch by torturous inch. Your head fell back, and you moaned as he stretched you, filling you to the brim. He was big, and you could feel your inner walls fluttering around him, adjusting to his size.

He was watching you intently, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, flushed and needy, spread out on his desk. He began to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back into you, his pace steady and firm. You moaned, clutching at the edge of the desk as he fucked you, the delicious stretch and friction making you dizzy with pleasure.

"You feel so good, taking my cock so well," he groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he increased his pace. "You're such a good girl, letting me fill you up like this."

His words made a flush of heat go through you, and you clenched around him, earning a low groan from him. He was hitting all the right spots, the angle allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

"God, the things I want to do to you..." His voice was low and rough, his gaze dark with arousal. "I could keep you like this, desperate and aching for me, for hours. Just waiting to be used and filled as I see fit."

His fingers slid down your thigh, finding your clit again and making you jerk against him. You were so close, the tension coiling in your core with each thrust of his hips.

"And the next time you try to defy my orders, I'm going to tie you down and have my way with you until you're begging for release. Maybe even put a vibrator on that pretty little clit of yours and make you ride it until you're screaming my name."

You whimpered, the image his words conjured making your inner walls tighten around him. His thrusts were becoming more erratic, and you could tell he was getting close. You were right on the edge, the tension building inside you with each passing second.

"Now come."

His voice was a command, and you could no more disobey it than stop breathing. Your climax crashed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You were vaguely aware of his fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts growing frantic before he stilled, spilling inside you with a low groan.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing as you both came down from your high. You were still trying to catch your breath when Kunikida spoke, his voice quiet and steady.

"I hope this will serve as a sufficient reminder for you to obey my orders in the future."

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, the corner of your mouth twitching upward.

"Perhaps we should repeat the lesson a few more times, sir, just to be certain I remember."

His expression was unreadable, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes as he regarded you.

"As you wish, my dear."

[chuuyanakaahara]

masterlist of my bsd fics; —

multi-chapter fics; —

delusion is weighing me down; — shin soukoku, 100,037 words, complete

A bad day at work, and Atsushi Nakajima is left with a dilemma: claw marks across his arm that won't heal, a haywire tiger, and a fallacy in No Longer Human that leaves Dazai unable to reverse his condition. As Dazai always causes, there's trouble on the horizon when Atsushi's told he'll be staying with Ryuunosuke Akutagawa until his symptoms wear off. How this leads to cooking for the mafia, finding kinship in a mafia Executive that hates his guts, and facing his past in one fell swoop, he doesn't know.

act of faith; — soukoku, 125,207 words, complete

Chuuya Nakahara wakes in the infirmary of the Armed Detective Agency with no memories of what landed him there, or why he isn't able to manipulate gravity at will. Dazai's at his side, tight-lipped about the ordeal and hiding behind his veneer of calm, and lets the doctor inform Chuuya that he'll be staying at the Armed Detective Agency until further notice, the deal already negotiated between their organizations. Living with Dazai keeps bringing up the past, though, and there's nothing worse than being forced back into old memories where none new can form.

stray god; — tachizaki, 73,729 words, complete

Junichirou Tanizaki exists in the background. And in the background, he meets Michizou Tachihara, the Black Lizard battalion leader with more secrets under his skin than lies on his tongue; someone to loathe, someone to spit at. Strenuous circumstances keep bringing them together, but the stakes keep getting higher. The Shibusawa Incident made them a pair, and the mission after leaves them, and Dazai, as the only people in the world who remember who Junichirou Tanizaki and Michizou Tachihara are.

retribution for the dead; — shin soukoku, 30,206 words, incomplete

Yokohama is known for its underground street-racing circuit, a way to make cash and watch as the sanest of minds lose their way through the twisting streets and sharp corners. If you can't race, you're dead. Atsushi Nakajima, a rookie on the scene with his strings being pulled by an old legend hiding behind a new name, plans on taking first place in terms of reputation, sparking a rivalry far beyond his control.

an order of worship; — tachigin, 24,010 words, complete

Michizou Tachihara has lived a life of tragedy, but there is one, single decision that he’ll take with him to his grave, as a cherished memory and a curse on his tombstone: meeting Gin Akutagawa. His work partner, the assassin of the Black Lizards, is one of the few people able to sneak up on him; one of the single human beings in the world that takes him by surprise every time they speak. Gin speaks few words. The first time they meet, Gin sends him a dismissive look, tries to slit his throat, and glares when he evades the attack. It’s the start of the best thing in his life.

frosted mirrors; — ranpo & mori & fukuzawa, 11,104 words, incomplete

Ranpo Edogawa is thirteen years old when his parents are slaughtered. He is thirteen years old when he doesn’t know what to do beyond run - there are atrocities and then there is this, and his parents didn’t do anything wrong, really, they were good people, and the social worker gives him a pitying smile and he runs. He isn’t stupid, he knows that. He’s painfully average but he isn’t stupid, and he knows that Japan is still in the midst of war, knows that no one is going to realize he’s missing, knows that he can run and there won’t be anyone to find him because his parents certainly can’t. He buys a train ticket to Yokohama and doesn’t look back, but it isn’t a bodyguard who finds him - it's an assassin Port Mafia sent, and an underground doctor returning from the undead battalion; Ougai Mori.

one-shots 10k-30k; —

apple of my eye; — suegiku, 21,031 words

Saigiku Jouno is given worth only by his eyes. Pretty, astounding things, made to be looked at and little else, a trophy son - and the trophy son is losing his sight. Or, how Saigiku Jouno joined the Hunting Dogs.

taste of fear; — junichirou & the port mafia, 17,286 words

Junichirou Tanizaki is a background character. This, he knows; this, he's okay with. Everything can be handled by someone more capable, someone who knows better. When an ability interferes with his life in the worst way possible, he finds himself on the run from the Agency and the Hunting Dogs, with the Port Mafia as his safe haven. However, his salvation comes with a price: work for them, stay safe. The price gets steeper as the stakes rise, and Junichirou might die trying. His morality has always been a fickle thing, but in his search to reverse the ability, the world - the world being one remarkably cocky Tachihara Michizou - learns what Junichirou Tanizaki is truly capable of.

one-shots 1k-9k; —

corruption bringer; — shirase & chuuya, 7,673 words

Chuuya Nakahara is a soldier. This is inevitable - wherever he is, he acts out a will that is not his own because loyalty defines him. The Sheep. The Flags. The Port Mafia as a whole. When he is eight years old, he is taken from a lab and he does not know that he is responsible for the destruction of a city. When he is twelve years old, he gets experimented on a second time to protect his family. When he is fifteen, he loses one family and gains another. At sixteen, he loses that one, too. His story is of loss and loyalty - of loss due to loyalty - and that trend threatens to continue in the worst way when he finds himself in London on a case. He goes to the one person who might be able to help him - the one person in the world who still calls him the King of the Sheep. Shirase isn't happy to see him. Chuuya just wants to avoid bleeding out.

guilt crowns (one by war & one by won); — tachigin, 3,672 words

When Michizou Tachihara gets home from a mission, finally, he's looking forward to catching at least a couple of hours of sleep. Instead, he finds himself on-call once again, and in a hotel in Tokyo, he finds himself sharing a room with one Gin Akutagawa. With the secrets they have between them bared in the open, silk nightgowns and guilt crowns, Michizou finds something close to serenity.

backstage altars; — tachigin, 4,609 words, contains sexual content

Between Michizou Tachihara's bad habit of trying to pass the time and finding a reason to justify what he does with his life - being a guitarist in a small band -, he accidentally finds his religion in the form of their bassist - Gin Akutagawa - when she rarely gives him the time of day beyond impulsive hook-ups. Unfortunately, change is on the horizon after their drummer Higuchi walks in on something she shouldn't, and Gin doesn't want to talk about it. As per usual.

fig tea accusations; — shin soukoku, 3,772 words

Look, Atsushi figures he should've known something was up when Gin tried to assassinate him while getting groceries; he doesn't know why he's getting the shovel talk from Kouyou Ozaki when he isn't even dating anyone. Let alone anyone in the mafia!

[ continued under the cut ]

starbound (we'll meet again); — kunichuu, 3,960 words

When Doppo Kunikida is seventeen, he goes out for a smoke on the pier and finds himself in the midst of a strange conversation with a Port Mafia-affiliated red-head with exhaustion as evident as beauty. Or, Doppo and Chuuya meet far before Doppo's employment at the Armed Detective Agency. Doppo's simply never put the pieces together of the two - the red-head with a flair for the dramatic and existentialism - being the same as the Executive of the Port Mafia.

familial ties (lost & found); — ranpo & fukuzawa, 3,396 words

Ranpo Edogawa is seventeen and alone on the anniversary of his parents' death. He does what any logical seventeen-year-old does when their grief threatens to drown them - steals Fukuzawa's sake since the man is out of town, and nearly drowns in his grief regardless. Fukuzawa takes everything Ranpo throws at him and comes back anyway.

the stages of a nightmare; — fukumori, 10,068 words

Fukuzawa Yukichi is no stranger to assassination attempts, or even assassination attempts made possible by strange abilities. That doesn't change the fact that it's inconvenient, often dangerously close to deadly, and often side-by-side with Mori Ougai. It's rather odd people always try to assassinate them both at the same time, but Fukuzawa deals with it as best he can when he falls asleep and wakes up in a world compromised of his worst fears brought to life.

all the while i've been locked inside that house; — tachizaki, 3,272 words, complete.

Michizou Tachihara finds himself scorned from the only two families he's ever had - which is how he finds himself staying at Junichirou Tanizaki's dorm room while he tries to put his life back together. Tanizaki seems to have faith in him. Michizou doesn't know why. They find their middle ground in the middle of the night when neither can sleep.

drink me down, save me later; — kousano, 5,736 words, contains vague sexual content

Kouyou realizes how much Akiko Yosano truly means to when Akiko brings up her stance on the matter during the only time Kouyou is vulnerable enough to talk about it - in bed.

symptoms of singularity; — soukoku, 6,922 words, complete.

Atsushi's day starts at five in the morning with an emergency call from Kunikida. The next three weeks proceed as follows: Nakahara Chuuya uses Corruption, Nakahara Chuuya dies, Dazai's status as a married man is known to everyone but Atsushi, and Yosano wants to know why she couldn't heal him fully.

ink traditions (similarity in memory); — shin soukoku, 3,823 words

The tradition Atsushi and Akutagawa have is one born at three in the morning in a hotel room in Sweden with a ballpoint pen and the exhaustion of a sleepless night. Atsushi has never claimed to be an artist, but he and Akutagawa - solace offers its wings when he can draw his pain away, when he can cover the living memories on Akutagawa's skin.

graveyard blues; — mori & dazai, 3,156 words

Mori Ougai plans meticulously for many things, but digging up an unmarked grave on a cemetery walk is not one of them.

stranger to stranger (i can find your way home); — chuuya & junichirou, 4,516 words

Nakahara Chuuya is surprised by little in his line of work, but his night is thrown off-kilter when he finds a twelve-year-old Tanizaki Junichirou wandering around Yokohama's docks at two in the morning. Like a good citizen, Chuuya returns him. He finds they have more in common than expected.

hey, i know it's late; — tachizaki, 2,293 words

Junichirou finds it hilarious that he's technically more of a delinquent than the mafioso he shares a bed with; naturally, this leads to piercing Tachihara's ears in the bathroom of his Agency-provided dorm with a safety pin.

from life to death, death to life; — mori & dazai, 3,350 words

Ougai Mori runs an underground clinic in Yokohama's slums. There's a particular boy that comes by, a stench of death following him whenever he visits. Ougai finds being a hero is not his specialty, but to save one kid, he has to save them all.

an easy kind of love; — chuuatsu, 7,499 words

Atsushi is rather confused when he finds himself in a mafioso's bed first thing in the morning, with no recollection of the night prior; and he's rather concerned when Kouyou Ozaki practically forces him into a fake relationship for the sake of... some reputation he doesn't care about. On the bright side, he gets to know more about Chuuya, and finds that falling in love was easier than he expected.

i find forgiveness in your devotion; — chuuatsu, 2,002 words

Love is foreign to Chuuya, and it's easier to lie to himself when he doesn't meet Atsushi's gaze, late at night with smoke between them.

homebound (my peace of mind is my piece of you); — tachigin, 5,608 words, complete.

Where there is never glamor in a life of betrayal and blood, Michizou has carved out a space for himself. Until Gin is severely injured after a mission, he doesn't realize she was always part of that space.

pigment of heartache; — fukumori, 2,156 words, complete.

As the Director of the Armed Detective Agency, Fukuzawa would like to consider himself strong-minded, if not stubborn and headstrong as he's prone to be when it's his subordinates in danger. Still, he's only a man, and after a drink too many he ends up on the phone with his ex-husband for, perhaps, the fifth time this month. It's getting old, yes, but he still has Mori's number and it's time that took them apart. Is it wrong to miss till death do us part?

[mncxbe]

how about a smut with ranpo? he's just so exhausted after that case in early season 4 (I forgor 💀) worrying about the announcement that mushitarō told him and put it all on the fem s/o?

omg yes?? I wanted to write some Ranpo smut for such a long time now djdjsj. Also made it extra sweet cuz i love him sm. hope you like it♡♡

°☆●

u.

𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ comfort

Ranpo promised himself he wouldn't do this again and yet, here he was, taking all his worries and frustrations out on you again. Hips smashing into yours at a relentless speed, the tips of his fingers dug deep into the soft skin of your thighs in a desperate attempt to keep you closer; to feel more of you.

" 'm sorry sugar" he uttered between mindless moans and grunts "I know you're tired and-"

"Shh" you cooed, placing a finger over his glossy, parted lips to shush him. "It's okay baby. Lemme help you relax."

Your hips glided back and forth against his, syncing perfectly with the steady rhythm of his thrusts, sending him to heaven and back.

Ever since that morning when Mushitarō warned him about what's to come, Ranpo's mind has been plagued by dark thoughts and theories: what was his friend apprising him of? He knew it was connected to the Decay of Angels, but nothing more.

Mushitarō has told him not to accept the next mission they are commissioned for. But could he really say no? He knew that without hard facts he stood no chance of convincing Fukuzawa, who had a "no rejecting cases" policy, to let this one go.

And yet what could he do? No matter how hard he tried, his brilliant mind was unable to pinpoint any scenarios; and not because none were likely enough to lead to the downfall of the Agency. No, it was the other way around. He was going against Fyodor, the only person who managed to match his intellect. Aware of the Russian's cunning nature, Ranpo knew that any possible scenario that he came up with had already crossed his rival's mind, therefore being a dead end.

And this was what's been weighing on his poor, tired mind all day, the racing thoughts brining him to the point of exhaustion.

But now, as he mercilessly fucked himself into you, he was finally at peace. Your sweet sounds echoed in his mind; loud enough to drown the torrent of worries and your half-lidded gaze put him under a delicious spell.

Whenever the haunting thoughts would resurface he'd pick up the pace, eliciting louder whines and pleas from you.

"Ranpo please slow down a bit." you babbled out as you clawed at his chest, manicured nails leaving crescent shaped all over his damp skin.

But he was too lost in thought to even hear you, desperately chasing his own high. His gaze lingered on his pelvis, which was glazed in your slick and juices from your previous orgasms, and he felt the knot in his stomach tighten, threatening to snap.

He pounded into you even faster, deeper; he needed more and more and more and he knew you could take it. You always did.

Rolling his emerald eyes back in his skull, he gripped onto your hips and bounced you on his cock like a man starved.

"Cmon sugar this is the last I promise." he whined, his eyes meeting yours as you nodded with a smile.

And soon enough a wave of pleasure washed over him and he halted his movements, spilling his cum deep inside you as you moaned in unison.

"Shit baby" he sighed and you couldn't help but chuckle.

You slowly got off him and laid by his side, arms snaking around his torso. Ranpo instinctively turned to face you and buried his head in the crook of your neck, relishing your sweet, comforting scent.

"Feeling better?" you eventually asked but your boyfriend only nodded.

"Look" you began again, gently combing your fingers through his coffee coloured hair "I don't know what it is that's stressing you out right now and you don't have to tell me. I'm sure you'll get to the end of this tho. After all, you're the greatest detective in the whole world and you can do whatever you put your mind up to."

A smile tugged at the corners of Ranpo's lips upon hearing your words.

"Thanks sugar. It means a lot." he replied, placing a feathery kiss on your collarbone.

"Good, I'm glad then"

The following minutes were spent in silence, the steady motion of your digits along his brown strands slowly lulled Ranpo into a slumber. His worries seemed far away now that he was with you and he finally allowed himself to rest.

Feeling how his tense body relaxed in your embrace you closed your eyes.

"Goodnight dear" you whispered softly before brushing your lips against his forehead and he hummed in response.

Ranpo fell asleep soon after, sheltered in your gentle hold. Somewhere in a god forgotten building, his enemies were probably plotting his demise, the end of the Agency and of all the things he had ever loved; but right now none of that mattered. The nights were about you.

[jackiepackiee]

So… I need to be more careful 😭 I accidentally deleted a request but I remember it!

Atsushi x gn!reader

Hurt to comfort, tiger form

Warnings - his ability hurts you, not too graphic

Type - story

I’m watching the prince of Egypt while writing this I’m so distracted

He had no idea what happened. One moment, you’re on a mission together for the armed detective agency.

The next moment, you’re being rushed to Yosano for healing. Claw marks across your body, skin torn.

“Atsushi, stop it! Snap out of it!” Pleading. Fear was evident in your voice. Atsushi would’ve stopped. Hell he’d never hurt you in the first place. But this wasn’t him.

The white tiger was above you. Bodies of the enemies surrounded the two of you, still alive. Although barely.

He had no sense of himself, he was just a beast beneath the moonlight. Fukuzawa’s ability of controlling the beast was gone. He was too far away to know what was happening. You were scared, no. You were terrified.

You could hear the skin break, blood pour. Then you passed out. Right before Dazai came in a rushed manner.

His calm demeanor wasn’t there. Playful eyes now serious. He wasn’t scared of Atsushi, he was scared that he’s lose himself once he found out how he’d hurt you.

“Atsushi? Atsushi, they’re awake. You can go in.”

He jumped out of his chair. Pulled from the nightmare of seeing you unconscious. Skin painted red, shallow breathing. All his fault.

“Thank you Miss Yosano, thank you so so much.”

In a whirlwind he was up, bowing to Yosano like she was his savior. Never had he felt so grateful, never had such a relief he’d been blessed with. You were alive.

He rushed into the room, for you. The curtain was torn. Gentle was his intention, but his emotions got the better of him. He had to see you.

And there you were. Resting softly on the bed like a teddy bear. Unmoving. Until you turned to face him.

“Atsu.” You choked out, still recovering. A cough came out as you tried to speak more. He shushed you.

Never taking a step closer, or back. He was frozen.

He had stayed strong, not crying or even tearing up. Until now, at least.

It was deathly silent, only the sound of your labored breathing and his tears crashing against the hard tile floors were heard.

Only you two existed to him, not a single other soul was of importance.

“You’re alive.”

It was above a whisper, although so meek in its delivery.

His head shook in disbelief. “You’re alive!”

“I’m so sorry… sorry isn’t enough. Love, I can’t believe- please forgive me.”

Was he begging?

“Atsu… you don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes I do! I hurt you. If mister Dazai hadn’t showed up, you could’ve-“ you cut him off, he was gonna drive himself to a breakdown on this route.

“Shh. I’m alive, Atsu. I’m here.”

The dam of his emotions cracked. First a single tear. All it took was your gentle reassurance to crumble the stone.

He rushed to your side.

A gentle kiss, all it was. Something you shared everyday. But never had it felt so special.

A kiss was all the healing you needed.

[sonic-fankid-showdown]

Poll 24, Round 1.

About Ebony: (by @idrptr3) Ebony is a very kind and joyful child, although due to the shape of his eyes, he seems to look angry, which confuses others He's not the fastest creature in the world, but he's pretty strong. He wields large claws with crushing power, fueled by his energy and uses a lot of other sharp things He usually spends his time with his parents and friends or going on adventures with them. He still has a lot to grow up and learn!

About Castor: (by @spiritofrainbursts) Created to be the next Ultimate Lifeform before being rescued by the Chaotix Detective agency, Castor is the mysterious, charming, aroace trans son of the renowned Sonic and Shadow Niclaw, as well as the eventual father of none other than Silver Niclaw, who can use his powers of Oneriokinisis to cast your dreams into reality or help you traverse your worst nightmares not too unlike a certain ram or nightmaren who reside within in the dream realm.

[poeticlilies]

I really loved the akutagawa x reader post. Could you maybe do one for dazai?

♡ Melancholy

Dazai Osamu x Reader

Desc: You comfort Dazai after a bad day. (fem reader)

TW/CW: angst, spoilers, harmful thoughts, dazai's past, abuse, might be ooc? not too familiar w bsd yet i'm new to the fandom :')

Dazai Osamu was a man who had lived through at least seven lifetimes in the span of one.

He'd seen things; things that nobody should've seen, but it didn't stop him from seeing them.

He saw Mori kill the old boss and rebuild Port Mafia anew; he was abused by him, and continued the cycle of abuse with Akutagawa, who eventually did it to Kyouka.

Oh, he was a bad man; a wicked, bad, person who had done unspeakable things under the orders of Mori (although some of those actions were not orders; rather, they were committed of his own will).

And although he has betrayed the mafia and joined the Armed Detective Agency, although he has saved countless lives (and the city of Yokohama, several times) he still sometimes finds himself thinking it wasn't enough.

Wasn't enough to wash his hands of the blood he's spilt; wasn't enough to cleanse his sins as they clung to him, digging their claws into his back and oozing inside, whispering in his ear that he'll never be good enough, never be able to do enough, never be able to save enough lives.

And sometimes, when you aren't around, he curls up into a little ball under his sheets and cries, sobbing into the comforter and choking as he tries to breathe (but miserably fails).

He wails into his blanket, shaking all over, hands trembling and eyes wide as he scratches at his throat and his chest, leaving red irritated marks as he tries to rid himself of his sins.

In the detective agency, he was Dazai; a charming, annoying, womanizer who never worked but always somehow managed to turn his share of the paperwork in.

At home, in the privacy of his bedroom, he was Osamu; a man who grew from the broken mold of his childhood, desperately picking up the pieces of his heart and gluing them back together only to fall apart at another one of Kunikida's scathing remarks or the looks from the Agency members varying from pitiful to condescending.

Osamu is sure that he's useless. A burden to the agency; kept around only as a pretty face for sore eyes.

He's been hurt much too much to let anyone know of his meltdowns; there was one close call when Atsushi questioned the splotchy patches of red on his face when he came out of the bathroom, but he managed to convince him it was the aftereffects of another poisonous mushroom and that he was fine, having already been treated by Yosano.

He's hurt too much to even want to fathom the idea of letting someone into his heart. No, what if they see the ugly creature of anxiety and fear and shun him, kicking the soft organ in disgust and making it crumble further into pieces?

You had been let in unwillingly; after worming your way into his heart, one day, things had changed.

You found him crying in your shared bedroom; chest heaving as he sobs into his palms, occasionally pawing at his bandages and tearing the soft fabric. He was so scared, that day, that moment; everything seemed to have been frozen as you two lock eyes, and for a moment, he's absolutely sure that his worst fears have come true, that you will shun him and kick him and sneer at him in disgust, before leaving and never coming back.

Oh, he was so surprised to learn that wasn't the case; when you had shushed him and pulled him into a soft, gentle, hug, and told him it would be alright, despite not knowing what he was crying about, he almost giggled; you didn't hate him? even after knowing his past? you didn't hate the monster that was in your arms?

Of course not, you told him. You're not a monster, Osamu, you murmur, hand carding through his hair as he shudders in your arms.

He blinks, once, twice; before fresh tears come into his eyes (these are ones of happiness) and a soft smiles curls his lips upwards as he lets his façade melt away and allows himself just this once to be rocked to a comfortable nap, knowing that if you've seen this side of him and still chose to embrace him that nothing would hurt him now because you were here, and you cared, and you forgave him for his sins.

And his heart twists in melancholy; there's something just on the tip of his tongue, something about his past that he can't quite piece together, but you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head and the thoughts and sadness melt away until he is not Dazai Osamu, the demon prodigy of the Port Mafia, the ability user who harnesses No Longer Human, and he is simply just a man who has found someone who cares about him.

And he feels a little branch grow out of his cold, dead heart, and he tells himself that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be loved by you.

--

shii bro this one was long asf... uhmmmm i kinda got carried away :') wHOoPsiE

still very new to the bsd fandom so i apologize if my little scrunkly is ooc

[nogu-d-reamers]

WELCOME TO PLAYTOWN/POPPY PLAYTOWN- CHARACTER REFERENCE #1.

CATNAP NUITLUNE- DESIGN AND DATA.

Information data:

Name: Catnap NuitLune.

Age: 24

Height: 320 mts/10'4 fts.

Species: Smiling critter creature. Cat (Maine coon cat).

Occupation: private detective.

Genre: male (he, him).

Sexuality: anthro.

Magical usser type: cursed.

Birth place: Gasetúde (Playgrounds).

Birth day: august 8th (not real birthday, it's just a symbolic date).

Personality:

He is usually a reserved, quiet man, little bit sarcastic and to a certain extent withdrawn and in his world. Because of his type of work and the night schedules he manages; It is common to see him asleep during the day anywhere in his work clothes at the Piggy family restaurant or near Kickin's cabin (or in general keeping him company while he rests with one of his friends).Although he usually seems to be a lazy person, and some of his own comments towards himself; He is someone who puts the people he cares about above his own well-being and is loyal to his friends to an absurd degree.

On the other hand, topics such as his family, his past in "beta-unit 1006" or the "prototypism" tend to make him uncomfortable and he will skip the topic immediately or pretends he needs another cigarette (even if he's smoking a new one)..

A funny gag with him is that he usually appears out of nowhere in favor of the situation and scaring everyone at the same time while repeating «it's not my turn, but...»

about his work and daily life.

He is a As mentioned above, he is a private detective who, due to his predilection, works the night shift (which is why he spends the rest of the day half asleep). He works for the detective agency "Mob Inc." Therefore, his way of dressing in civilian clothes at work does not have many differences and he maintains a dark color palette. In that agency he works only with Mr. Mob (founder and chief financial officer) and his "brother" and day shift colleague Boxy Boo.

He ended up getting entangled in the world of detectives due to an altercation in his youth where he tried to steal the wallet of who would be his boss and was given two options: hand him over to the police or work for him and have a formal job.

"Magic" data (and other skills):

like a cursed, it has the standard abilities that they generally have without the need for it to be activated =

- improved brute force.

- hyperdeveloped senses.

-permission and knowledge of handling weapons of his rank.

But, this can be activated when your body is under a very high stress situation or in a situation of extreme danger.

His curse has 3 phases=

Phase 1: activated.

His body begins to secrete and expel poppy smoke (a reminder that poppies are an inhibitor of magic, and for beings like witches it is a lethal poison) through the respiratory tract and his character, due to the pain it causes, becomes aggressive and alert. ; If panic does not take over, he can deactivate it voluntarily.

Phase 2: controlled/stable form.

It's the shape they wanted to achieve when they experimented with it in the first place.

His body begins to adapt to the poppy gas and has a "mild growth spurt"; The gas also goes from being just a sleeping pill to a tool to generate illusions in its favor and can generate the gas or poppy substance in a more solid way in its claws or fangs. His attitude also changes, becoming more sinic and playful; like a hunter who enjoys torturing his prey.

He can be reasoned with to a certain degree and if he realizes that he has hurt someone important to him he can revert to his activated form.

If he spends too much time in that way...he can get out of control.

Phase 3: uncontrolled/ unstable form.

It is what went wrong and made him consider a failure.

If he spends too much time in his controlled form the Poppy Smoke itself "takes over" Catnap's body, giving him the grotesque appearance of a skeletal cat surrounded by smoke; the only trace of his actual body being his eyes and mouth injected with poppy gas.

You can't reason with him...

You can't fight him...

You can only do two things = run away and pray that his energy runs out quickly so that he returns to his base form.

Medical notes:

-He is under strict medical treatment so that one day his curse cannot affect him.

-Even though he is stable, due to his physical modification, his body feels the need for the poppy substance; So as contradictory as it may sound, you are allowed to smoke a certain limited amount of cigarettes solely made from these flowers while investigating an alternative for his case; His trademark is "the hour of joy."

-Bobby is his designated therapist.

other random data:

favorite food: niçoise salad «un delice~♪».

Favorite dessert: beignets «i love desserts, mais;the beignets are my biggest weakness».

hated food: militar cookies «...bad memories...».

smell: lavender + poppy.

strength: loyalty, insight, thirst for research.

weakness:self-deprecation.

favorite physical appearance: star-freckles «everyone loves the étoiles, Right?».

hated physical appearance:«that stupid mark».

person you respect most: kickin «I owe a lot to that stupid coq»

person you don't want as an enemy: Bobby «She's scary when I'm not on time for treatment... and boy, nothing scares moi».

hobby:sleeping and gossip.

Some crush?: ... «Mr. Witcher».

[deaths-presence]

Two of a Kind || Dazai x Reader Part 4: Woven Threads

Story Summary: The search for your brother has led you into conflict between the Armed Detective Agency of Yokohama and the Guild. Fitzgerald keeps you involuntarily, that is until you finally find your chance of escape. Will you find strength within the ADA, or will you only become more astray? Word Count: 2.2k Characters Featured: F. Scott Fitzgerald, Atsushi Nakajima, Lucy Montgomery Warnings: afab!reader, slowburn, plot heavy to build up romance, very tiny small mention of Atsushi's abuse, lmk if I happened to miss anything please! Tag List: @decaf-nosebleed @isa-ghost @xakumi @bunchofdoodlesinspace A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list, feel free to let me know! Psssst, guess who's finally showing up next chapter now that we're done building the beginning plot? :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Time was a blur as you ran. Your lungs were on fire and your feet slapped against the hard pavement in a steady rhythm. You ignored the curious stares that followed you, and you attempted to stay close to the docks. You didn’t know where to go. You were in an unfamiliar city in a foreign country. You had nobody to rely on, and every thought swarming through your head about the Guild and the Port Mafia was only creating more anxiety. You had to leave, and you didn’t know how. You wish you had just found Roberte already. There was no calling for help unless you went through the Guild, and you did not want to resort to crawling back into Fitzgerald’s clutches. Your freedom was right in front of you, and you were going to steal it back.

You were forced to catch your breath, the air in your chest circulating in and out in desperate wheezes as you leaned against the nearest wall. You doubled over and closed your eyes as you focused on taking a slow, deep inhale and letting it out slowly. You repeated this several times, and not only did it help with feeling like you were no longer suffocating, but also helped in regaining awareness of your situation.

The relaxing silence was interrupted with a small commotion that sounded close. You instinctively made yourself small and proceeded with silent footsteps to investigate. The voice inside your head screamed at you to keep running and find a ship that was heading back to America, but your curiosity was winning.

As you turned one of the corners, you gasped before slapping a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. You silently prayed while you hid yourself behind the corner of the building again, hoping that Fitzgerald did not spot you. With no footsteps hurrying toward you, you gave a sigh of relief and cautiously allowed yourself to evaluate the scene.

Your eyes were stuck on one individual, and it wasn’t Fitzgerald. Despite your captor and Melville being present, the boy with white choppy hair that you thought dead was standing right before your eyes. He was accompanied by a small girl in a red kimono, her black hair pulled into two twin-tails. You remember seeing a glimpse of her when you had landed with Hawthorne and the others, but she had seemingly run off while no one noticed.

The growing burning sensation in your chest was not from lack of oxygen this time, and it was with surprise that you recognized it as anger. You noticed that the boy was already disheveled and bleeding, whether it was by Fitzgerald’s hands or not, it didn’t matter. You decided not to make the same mistake again.

A brave step out was met with the sight of the boy’s hand turning into the claws of a tiger, but before he could attack the two Guild members, a bullet shot across and met with his head to render him unconscious. The girl had started to reveal her short sword before a bullet contacted her hand, leaving it instantaneously bleeding and bruised red. You realized with horror just who was shooting these bullets. Though they were made of rubber, only one person could be so skilled.

The knowing laugh made you nauseated, your eyes finally looking at Fitzgerald as he smiled at you. Your freedom was a sick joke. You were never unshackled, and what Fitzgerald said next only confirmed it.

“Miss Louisa’s strategies are always so perfect.”

Your dreadful world turned black after you heard the next and final shot.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Waking up was a chore for once. The adrenaline in your body had finally worn off, and the soreness in your muscles made you want to cry out pathetically. You nearly sobbed for another reason. Your surroundings were all too familiar. You were back on the Moby Dick; in the very same room you were previously using. The frustrated scream that was torn from your chest shocked you, but you couldn’t stop it. It felt like minutes before it finally cut off with choppy breath, slamming your fist against one of the walls. You would never escape.

You stood up carefully and shuffled over to the nearest corner, hugging your knees to your chest and hiding your face. Later, the door opened and the voice of a boy yelling to be let go entered your ears. You were startled enough to finally look up when he attempted to hit the walls and look out the compact window. At the same time, he noticed you. It was the tiger boy.

“I have to get out of here. Yokohama is in danger,” he said weakly, realizing his defeat being encased in the room; just as you already had for months. You shook your head quietly at him, and it pained you to see him look forlorn and broken.

“I’m afraid that this aircraft is meant to keep us inside,” you murmured in a horrible attempt at comfort. “It is good to at least see you alive, minus the circumstances.”

It was quiet for a long moment, and you nearly assumed he wouldn’t remember you before you felt a presence beside you. Your eyes flickered to the left of where you were sitting to see him joined with you on the floor. This close, you saw more details of him. Whoever had cut his bangs must have been scared by something while they had the scissors in their hands. Out of all the hair that was white, there was one strip of it that was black. His eyes still reminded you of the late summer sunsets, warm and innocent as they watched you.

“I’m Atsushi,” he introduced himself with a gentle smile. Such a warm welcome nearly brought tears to your eyes, and you looked away before he could see. You saw the way his smile began to fade at your reaction, but you offered your own name quietly and the smile returned.

“I’ve never wanted to hurt people,” you began to explain. “I simply ended up in the wrong hands, and now I am paying the price for my own trusting nature. I haven’t had free will for months. I’ve been forced to follow and stay silent unless spoken to. It’s safer that way. I came here to reunite with my brother, but instead I am finding myself a bird in a luxurious cage and my ability to be used until I am disposed of.”

Atsushi’s sympathetic expression lifted a weight off your shoulders. For the first time in a long while, you felt heard and seen by someone who felt more like a friend than a superior. The words you had spoken were probably the most you had heard from yourself in several weeks, and it certainly made you emotional. You felt on the verge of finally breaking, but you wouldn’t leave Atsushi to deal with that uncomfortable situation. You pushed back the threat of tears pricking at your eyes and focused on him.

“I didn’t even know you were the weretiger Lord Francis was looking for,” you mentioned with a clear grimace. “That’s how uninvolved I am. I have only heard mentions of you in passing between other Guild members, and I always wondered what was so special that he placed a bounty on your head. I was the one that hesitated to hurt you in that fight by the fountain; the one with the water ability. I can take on other appearances, and with them their abilities if the person harbors one.”

Something in your words made Atsushi frown, and for a moment you were terrified that you had offended him, or worse scared him with the mention of what you could do. The one person who you were managing to befriend, and you could easily tarnish it and have it pulled out of your grasp. Thankfully, he reassured you with his reply. “I would like to thank you for sparing me that day. Many say that hesitation is weak, but you have a sense of mercy. I could see in your eyes,” he stated with a little smile “As for Fitzgerald, he said something about me being a key of some sort. A ‘tiger beetle.’ I have no idea what he’s talking about,” he recalled. You nodded, not out of understanding, but to let Atsushi know that he had your attention.

“You said that Yokohama was in danger?” you timidly questioned. You felt the urge to hug the poor boy as he was pulled back into the current dilemma, his expression changing from confusion to the dawning apprehension that his city was being threatened.

“Fitzgerald plans to burn it all to the ground, the Agency and the Port Mafia along with it. He said it was some sort of incineration operation. I have to warn everyone. I have to get the doll to Dazai.”

You were about to interject his panicked rambling when you both were interrupted by another outside source.

“You two sure do look cozy in there. I just came to check on you when I was taking out the garbage,” Lucy said, her tone dripping with smugness. Her voice prompted Atsushi to leave your side and attempt to convince her to let him out. Normally you would be comforted by Lucy’s presence, but your thoughts went elsewhere while they conversed. You were able to pick up on their conversation when they both showed their burn scars from a hot iron poker. Your heart ached with sympathy for each of them, and you saw the gears of similarity clicking together and turning.

One moment you were in the locked room, but in the blink of an eye you found yourself with Atsushi in Lucy’s room. Her ability allowed her to create a personal space for her and the giant ragdoll called Anne, time and space warping to create such an idea. It had been the first time she had allowed you in, and you could see why she would want to use it as her own escape where no one could reach her. It was then you noticed that in one of her hands was the doll that Atsushi must have referenced earlier.

“Dazai only needs to be able to touch the doll in order to stop the curse,” he guaranteed Lucy when she said it would be too late.

“We are high in the air and unlikely to come down any time soon. What are you planning—?" you began to question, but the look on Atsushi’s face told you and Lucy that he would risk his own life to get the doll to whoever Dazai was.

“Atsushi, you can’t—” you started while shaking your head. “You’ll die.”

There was a moment of silence before Lucy spoke. “So, if you’re serious, then you’ll probably get shot and killed in the air or get cut up by the mad men down there. You know that already, and you’re still going to do it.”

“There was an old book I read back at the orphanage,” Atsushi replied. “One of the passages stood out to me. It read, ‘I’ve never regretted any of the things I’ve done. I’ve only regretted the things that I didn’t do.’”

Atsushi was pulled out of his thoughts when Anne loomed over him to offer a parachute bag. The boy’s sunset eyes observed it in confusion before Lucy explained that she had kept it in case she needed to escape.

“I only have one, so if you would like to stay with me in Anne’s room,” she offered to you, but you watched the surprise take over her expression further when you shook your head.

“I can’t stay here any longer, Lucy. I have to find Roberte even if he isn’t here, and I realize how much of my life I’m beginning to miss being trapped in this aircraft forever in Fitzgerald’s hands. I’ll come back for you.” You offered her a smile which she returned.

“We both will,” Atsushi added with determination.

“How will you get down? I only have one parachute and it’s Atsushi’s,” Lucy inquired with a frown. “You’ll die instead of him.”

“Don’t forget why I was captured to begin with. I have several cards up my sleeve,” you answered.

The door in Anne’s Room opened to show the exterior of the Moby Dick, the wind coursing through your hair. Your body tensed at the idea of how high up in the atmosphere you were, the clouds just below you and the city of Yokohama so small beyond them. You could see pillars of smoke from several directions, a heavy feeling in your stomach as you realized Fitzgerald already put his plan in motion.

You took a deep breath and focused on using your ability. You took on the Change that you used to escape the Zelda when it was set aflame with explosions, the wings protruding from your back and your blonde hair glowing orange in the setting sun. Your eyes didn’t have to adjust as harshly as before once the Change was completed.

You barely registered having time to brace yourself for the big drop down as Atsushi gave you a determined nod, then bravely jumped without hesitation. You glanced back at Lucy one last time, nodding your thanks before leaping after Atsushi. You were airborne.

[starlightshadowsworld]

Seeing the way Kyouka is after being the way she is after several months of being in the Port Mafia.

It's a miracle that Atsushi is a functioning human being at all.

Like Kyouka at the very least had a loving family before she was dragged into this life and found her way out of it.

Atsushi had no one his whole life who was ever kind to him.

Kouyou looks at him, rolling her eyes. "Your a fool boy, Kyouka was raised in darkness. She belongs to it, the light isn't for her."

Atsushi looks at her and she feels herself almost flinch.

His eyes that glow with such warmth are blank.

He tilts his head "and it's for me?" He says it with a hint of amusement, not that she understands why.

"I was born into darkness. Every second of my life I've been had hands around my neck trying to drag me back.

My shadows haunt me.

And yet I am here.

I am standing in the light, I clawed my way here with no one to help me up until recently.

If I can get here despite all the misfortune I've spread, so can she."

Kouyou finds that hard to believe but there's something about the way he speaks that makes her think he's not lying.

She thinks of Dazai, an ex Port Mafia executive in the Detective Agency.

Surely... It was just a fluke. She's seen his eyes, so much changed and so much the same.

Even so...

"... She's killed 35 people."

Atsushi laughs.

It's not a kind one either.

"Only 35?" He says incredulously. "You think they called me a man eating tiger for nothing?" His eyes turn to slits and his teeth sharpen before her eyes.

"You think they give a 7 billion yen bounty, for someone harmless?"

He was cloaked in darkness and yet his eyes shone bright.

... Just who was this kid?

One things for sure, Dazai sure knew how to pick his proteges.

[wri0thesley]

Sometimes i wish that darling had successfully escaped. But then how genshin men would suffer after this? I'm pretty sure yan Kaeya would be hella angry for abandoning him or how Diluc would make LITERALLY a whole group of detectives or something but didn't contact the knights of Favonius...

OOH. well. obviously, by virtue of being yanderes, they are not going to let you go so easily; and some of them would certainly take it . . . worse than others.

ft: tighnari, diluc, ayato, zhongli, childe

tighnari would take it horribly. fennec foxes mate for life; he chose you for the rest of his life. part of his yandere inclinations are because you wouldn't truly understand how heart-wrenching and soul-destroying it would be for someone of his species to watch his mate - the love of his life, his soulmate - leave him. he gets . . . despondent. honestly, half of gandharva ville's forest rangers are out looking for you to drag you back to him - they not only don't believe tighnari could do something so awful, but they're more likely to blame you for running away.

diluc takes it horribly too. he's already a vigilante, but with you gone, he's probably out every night desperately looking for you. calling in every favour he's ever been owed, listening to every piece of gossip, getting in contact with his old intelligence agency . . . diluc won't believe you've done it on purpose. he's keeping you safe - so, without him, the only option is that you've been taken by someone untrustworthy and you're in danger. at least when he gets you back he'll be too relieved to properly punish you.

ayato takes it reasonably well on the outside; he calls in the shuumatsuban and tells them to find you at any cost, and keeps his face polite and his smile serene. inside, he's raging - but he's a master at playing games to his advantage. he knows you'll be found - and when you're back in his clutches, there'll be hell to pay.

zhongli also takes it reasonably well - at first. it's only when he's alone he lets his full rage out; dragon nature angry that his greatest treasure has been stolen, hands shifting into claws as he resists the urge to call forth pillars and shatter every stone and rock in sight. if you're extremely unlucky, this emotional imbalance on a man normally so stoic might help the erosion along a little . . . and then, the man who finds you and drags you back to his nest home is far more morax than zhongli.

childe is incensed; rages and growls and starts fights with anyone who may have seen you or who didn't manage to keep you under control. he doesn't care about how much he hurts them, how much blood is spilt - they are keeping you away from him, and that's simply inexcusable. he will hunt you down mercilessly; and when he's found you, he'll insist on a little battle to work out his aggression. the battle will almost certainly end with you slung over his shoulder, the victor, as he forcibly drags you back to your prison with the abyss still raging in his eyes. you're not going to be able to sit down for months.

[synthleeius]

IM GENUINELY SO SORRY FOR THIS.

listen right in the middle of this fic i got bsd burn out HARDD snd it was HORRIBLE so its kinda a drabble now snd its like kind of bad I KNOW IM SORry but um i tried

It was rare to see you so touchy and somewhat intimate, but it's different this time.

You and Dazai laid in the messy apartment supplied by the agency, tangled in each other. It was extremely out of character for you, but tonight, you decided to indulge him and his annoying antics. You were tired after all, it's not your fault…

With that, you laid limply in the arms of the one and only Dazai Osamu, after him nagging you about it. He began to speak, his voice full of smugness. “You comfy down there~?” He asked.

You had the urge to just not reply at all, just to piss him off a bit.. But, better not, you thought. If you did, you wouldn't hear the end of it.. “mhm.” You mumbled, not enough energy in you to actually voice a proper response.

“What? That's all I get?” He asked with a painfully obvious fake pout, shaking you in his arms a bit. You just groaned, shoving his shoulders a bit to make him back off. He did.. but you both ended up in the same position as before, which you definitely weren't opposed to.

“Hey.” You mumbled after a bit of comfortable silence, moving to look up at him. You heard him chuckle softly, glancing into your eyes. “Mhm?” He hummed with an awfully curious tone, one that immediately put a smile on your face.

You didn't respond, seemingly dozing off. You snapped back to reality when you felt a gentle tap on your back. “Whaaatt~? Speak.” He said with a slight whine.

“shhh, shut up.” You mumbled, moving to grab one of Dazai’s wrists and hold his hand in between yours. “Guess what?” You began again, an uncharacteristically playful smile on your face.

“What?” Dazai immediately responded, another child-like look of curiosity taking up his expression. “I can read palms. Yknow, the lines.” You said absentmindedly, “I've decided that today.”

“Oh, you’ve decided, have you? Tell me then, what messages do my palms have?” He replied with a soft chuckle, enjoying the unusual playful aura around the both of you. “Mhm. You see, this one says..”

You began to trace a finger down the biggest line on his palm, smirking smugly when you felt his wrist flex back and the base of his hand squirm slightly in your grasp. “This line represents how unbelievably ticklish you are for a detective agency member. Isn't that fun?”

“Wait-” His words tumbled out, stuttering over themselves a bit. “theheres no way this is coming frohom you!”

“And what's that comment supposed to mean? You think I'm not capable of having fun?” You replied with a chuckle, pressing your fingers into the upper area of his palm and scratching your way down to his wrist.

“kihind of..?” He mumbled absentmindedly, his attention mostly on trying to wiggle his hand out of your firm grasp. At his words, you let out a fake-offended gasp. “That's so rude!” You exclaimed, letting his wrist go. While you provided him a temporary relief from the tingly sensations, you still looked for other spots to grab at..

“Not if it's true~” He teased, moving his hands to sit comfortably around your waist and join together behind your back. “Remember, you're under me right now. I could just..” He moved his hands to sit on the back of your sides, his fingers making a claw.

Sure, that made you jolt a bit, but.. you werent the one who was going to end up in that position, not again.. “Maybe you're the one who should remember my position, Dazai..” You began in a teasing tone, moving your head up to sit in the crook of his neck. “I can do this.”

With that, you blew a soft stream of air on his collarbone, causing him to jolt backwards with a giggle. “Stohop- stop, this is horriblllleee~” He whined.

“It's not horrible if you like it,” You mumbled in his ear, pressing your hand up against his back before slipping it under his shirt and dragging a nail up his spine. He simply whined again, shaking his head a bit. “Ihi dohont!”

“Are you sure? Hmm?” You giggled a bit at his reaction, your nails tracing small circles on the side of his back. “Because it seems like you like it.. Maybe you should work on that y'know.”

“Leave me alone! Oh my god, you're trying to kill me!” He said in a childish tone, “This is why I hate stupid detectives!”

“You are a stupid detective.” You pointed out with a deadpan tone. You moved your hand to his waist, dragging your fingertips up and down the soft skin.

“you're so dramatic; I'm barely touching you."

“Nohot a detective if i dont do hahalf the work! Yohour wrohonggg~” god, even when he was in this predicament, he still had the same snarky attitude. “Im not drahamatic, your dramahatic.”

With that comment, you dug your fingers in a little bit. After you elited a muffled squeal and a jolt from him, you soon switched back to gentle strokes. “Yeah? Wanna repeat that?”

“fUhuck yohou!” He laughed out, his body jerking backwards involuntarily at the sensations before he returned to breathy giggles. “ugh.. yohour evil.”

“Am I now?” You scoffed, “That's craaazy. I’ll think about that, really take it into consideration for you.”

Soon enough, your fingers slowed to a stop and slipped back to your own torso. “Mmh.. So you finally decided to spare me?” He said smugly, squeezing you a bit in his embrace.

“Is that your way of saying that you want more? Huh?” You tilted your head up at him, a teasing tone in your words. “noho- no, i'm good..” He chuckled.

“That's what I thought.”

[the-biscuit-agreement]

Thoughts:

Lockwood and Co: Events of one series covers about a week. They work at night. But they don't have second, non-ghost-hunting jobs and their beds are primarily for sleeping and not the other thing. Plus Lucy spent 14 hours unconscious at one point.

Nancy Drew: Four seasons span about six months. Protecting a town while running a restaurant/youth club/detective agency and still finding time to bed at least a quarter of the youth adult population of their small town. But how much work did they actually do at the Claw? They, surprising, had more active adult supervision than Lockwood and Co and have taken time off fighting ghosts across the seasons.

[saffronandperi]

Casting Call: Season Five

Saffron and Peri: Season 5 Casting Call

Saffron and Peri is coming back with a fifth season and we need more voices!  

If you’re interested in lending your voice to the fifth season of Saffron and Peri, we have a form for you to fill out, and a list of characters for you to get acquainted with.

Once your form is filled out, and an mp3 file of your audition is ready, please email us at SaffronAndPeri @ gmail.com (no spaces). 

Please note that your audition has to be crisp and clear, and it is very much preferred if you have access to recording equipment. 

The deadline to submit your audition is Friday, August 25th. 

Feel free to leave me a message if you have any questions. Good luck! 

Character List

The Seven Dwarves: 

Sunny Day:

Gender: Any 

Description: Dwarf, Copywriter at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: A self-proclaimed poet. A bit dreamy and easily confused.  

Lines: 

I brought another poem.

This is dedicated to a true friend and honorary dwarf *Ahem* 

Snow White, Snow Bright, 

Still your star shines oh so Bright. 

Minnie Day:

Gender: Female  

Description: Dwarf, Receptionist at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Self-obsessed and dramatic. If you like, you can try a stereotypical valley girl accent

Lines: 

Hey guuurrrll, Snow, you look so good for a dead person! 

As you probably already noticed, the first thing upon entering is me, Minnie Day. The face of the company. 

Tutu Day:

Gender: Female  

Description: Dwarf, Fashion Consultant at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Condescending and snobby. Thinks she knows best. The type of person who calls everyone “dear” and never means it.

Lines: 

Oh yes, your complexion is as blindingly pallid as the first time we saw you.

Seven League Boots are SO last season, dear. Perhaps you should pop those in the donation bin?

Wendy Day:

Gender: Female  

Description: Dwarf, Graphic Designer at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Morose and very prone to crying. Some lines of dialogue will just be incomprehensible sobs. 

Lines: 

Sn-Snow, I want you to know.. *weeps*

*weeps like she’s trying to say something* 

*weeps more desperately*

Arthur Day:

Gender: Male  

Description: Dwarf, Accountant at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Polite, non-confrontational. A very practical dwarf who’s very good at math.

Lines: 

Magic? No no, it’s not magic. Excellently crafted, yes, but not magic. 

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh - OOOF.  *bumps into a wall here*

Farah Day:

Gender: Female   

Description: Dwarf, Talent Scout at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Outgoing, a go getter, and never misses a chance to do business. Likes to encourage people to be as motivated as she is. 

Lines: 

Ignore Minnie! Hi, I’m Farah. Farah Day of Ad-a-Day Agency. Did anyone ever tell you that you have a gorgeous profile? And your friend here has the most beautifully manicured claws I ever saw! Did you two ever think of modeling? Our card. 

Sadie Day:

Gender: Female   

Description: Dwarf, Manager at the Ad-a-Day Agency

Personality: Full of eldest sibling energy. Organized and meticulous, but still makes the business feel like a cozy family affair. A little sarcastic. 

Lines: 

Welcome to the Ad-a-Day Agency! Founded by seven siblings - we apply our dwarven diligence and craftsmanship to create top notch, top trending advertising campaigns. 

Other Characters: 

Grock: 

Gender: Male   

Description: Rock Troll, Secretary/hired goon/transportation at the Detective Agency.

Personality: An intellectual snob who thinks very highly of his own “genius”. Constantly neglects his job to work on his plays. Abrupt and insulting, he does not take kindly to interruptions or criticism. 

Lines: 

 Silence! The muse has called to me! I must write!

Interior: detective office. An under-appreciated and undiscovered playwright stares soulfully out the window. Enter: two hooligan youths. Youth 1: Hark noble faced Sirrah, word of your wordsmithing and crime solving has reached us in yonder far away lands

That, you myopic munchkin, is precisely the point!

Prince Bartholomew: 

Gender: Male   

Description: Prince and ex-husband of Snow White. 

Personality: Has courtly manners and a gentle spirit. 

Lines: 

 AAAAGGHHH. ULP (like he’s being choked. In this scene, he’s attacked and the attacker goes for the throat) 

Forgive me if this is crass, but isn’t Snow White dead? 

Thank you, your majesty, for allowing us to join you today. 

Mrs Garden: 

Gender: Female    

Description: Human, Grieving mother. Middle aged

Personality: Usually quiet and soft-spoken 

Lines: 

 I can’t imagine anyone heartless enough to do such a thing!

Now, now, let’s not be too hasty. 

Mr. Garden: 

Gender: Male    

Description: Human, Grieving father. Middle aged. 

Personality: More talkative and action-oriented. A good foil to his wife. Grief translates to anger for him.  

Lines: 

If I ever get my hands on whoever did this…. 

Donna: 

Gender: Female    

Description: Human, young college student. 

Personality: Usually kind, but has a dark side that comes out when someone hurts her friends. 

Lines: 

*grief stricken* I tried! I tried! I tried everything under the sun! Nothing would work.

Have you ever heard of the “quiet ones” who suddenly go violent? That’s me. 

Rhubarb: 

Gender: Female    

Description: Fairy 

Personality: Dramatic as all fairies in this universe are. Hot-headed and jumps to conclusions frequently. 

Lines: 

Ahhhh! Thank you both so much for coming!! 

Oh, I’m so glad that stereotype about how teenage girls love to solve mysteries is true!

Agghhh, okay, so I threaten to do creative and violent things sometimes! But what fairy doesn’t??

Guard: 

Gender: Any    

Description: Prison Guard.  

Personality: Stiff and rule-abiding. 

Lines: 

you have fifteen minutes. No funny business. 

Saffron and Peri Voice Actor Form

When emailing us your audition, please fill out the following form and include it in your email. 

Name/Contact Information:

(Please provide your name and an active email address where you can be reached.)

How you would like to be credited: 

(If you don’t want to use your actual name and have a stage-name you would prefer to go by, please state it here.)

Part(s) auditioning for: 

(Please list the part or parts you are auditioning for.)

Previous Experience:

(If you have had any previous experience lending your voice to a podcast or other such project, please list them here.)

Commitment:

(Can you assure us that you can submit your work within the time limits we set? If you have a minimum amount of time you need to provide us with your work, please state it here. Example: “I can only record on weekends” or “I need at least a week to record an episode”)

Social media:

(Please list any social media accounts like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, or some other site. Please let us know if you would like us to link to your accounts in our cast page, that way listeners will be able to find you elsewhere if they’d like.)