Imagine How Much Stamina Jjk Men Has During Sex, Can You Please Make This A Multi Headcanon?😭😭

SOMETHING I WAIT FOR . . . dazai has a close call. he barely makes it to your apartment but you’re there just in time, in more ways than one.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, blood and injuries, mentions of drowning / suicidal ideation from dazai, a little suggestive in some parts, 3.6k w.c.

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ if you catch the its okay to not be okay references, ily <3 !!

EVERYWHERE, EVERYTHING SERIES MASTERLIST

dazai hates pain.

if the idiot who shot him would’ve aimed just a little bit higher, it might've been a fatal wound. instead, all he did was graze his shoulder. it wasn’t enough to cause serious harm, but just enough to make him bleed in miseryー just his luck.

the man must’ve been dead by now, taken care of by one of his subordinates. he didn’t stay long enough to find out, slipping from the scene before anyone could try to force him into the mafia’s infirmary. he knows your apartment is close. 

he’s nearing the point of being injured where the pain fades and melts into pure exhaustion. he hates the way his blood feels against his hands, and he uses it to ground himself. it’s already soaked through his shirt, wet and warm as it seeps between his fingers and drips down his arm, absorbing into the bandages around his wrist. his already obscured vision is fading, white stars glistening from beneath the edge of his lashes, but he keeps his eyes trained ahead on your building. he swears you used to only have one apartment door, his vision doubling and growing hazy. 

just a few more steps. that’s all he needs to make it to you.

he huffs as his hand slips from your doorknob, sliding off the metal from his weak grip. he falls forward, blood smearing against the doorframe where his palm flattens as he tries to steady himself, pressing his forehead against your door with a quiet thump. you have to be home right now. right? please be home right now.

as soon as you open your door from the other side of your apartment, he collapses, landing against your chest. he curls against you, inhaling the scent of your skin with the desperation of a man who’d just been saved from drowning. 

“dazai?” you stumble backward, but he doesn’t weigh nearly enough to make you fall. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he grips your shirt in his hands, trying to press himself impossibly closer to you. he can feel the moment you realize he’s bleeding, your chest stalling mid-inhale. “oh my god, dazai.”

his jacket slips from his shoulders, falling to the floor limply as you carry him inside, kicking the door closed with your foot. his feet drag against your carpet as he tries to walk, but he’d rather use his waning strength to snuggle closer into your side than keep his balance. even with your body supporting his own, he plops unceremoniously onto your couch.  

“it’s okay,” he shivers when you start to unbutton his shirt, pulling back the bloody, frayed fabric stuck to his skin. he can’t tell if you’re talking to him or yourself. “you’re okay.”

his bangs are damp, yokohama’s humidity and his own sweat gluing them to his forehead. you push them back, stroking your thumb along the edge of his bandage over his cheek tenderly.

“are you hurt anywhere else?”

he tilts his head to press his face into your palm and smiles at you. you’re so pretty when you frown at him like this.

“i’ll be right back,” you squish his cheeks between your hands, making his lips pucker. “don’t try to move.”

he has to stop himself from reaching back out for you when you let him go. he squeezes the fabric of his trousers instead, watching you disappear past the couch’s limited view. he wants to pull you on top of him and beg you to ignore the blood leaking out of his body, to just wrap your arms around him and hold him until there’s nothing left between the two of you. it still wouldn’t be close enough; if he had the choice, he would shrink down and make a home inside your chest.

he tries his best to relax into the cushions beneath him. he’d much rather be in your bed than on your couch, but it was still yours, and that made it enough for him to want to sink into it until it absorbed him whole. your apartment was nothing like his hollow shipping container, the metal walls suffocating in the summer heat.

he could’ve dragged himself there instead. maybe he would’ve finally died from blood loss if he was lucky. that’s what he wants. really.

so then why did he drag himself here? because you felt safe?

dazai came to a realization a few days ago, one more painful than the wound in his shoulder, or the fact he has a mission with chuuya a few days from now. ever since it planted its dirty roots in his brain, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. 

it grew deeper every time his chest tightened around you, or his heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, or his stomach churned in jealousy when someone else touched you. 

this, his mind taunted him, is what people say love feels like. worst of all, when he whined to odasaku and ango about how annoying you were, they didn’t stop talking about his “crush” for the rest of the night. 

his body protests as he sits up, vision swimming as the walls of your living room tilt. he tries to blink it away when he hears you sigh as you come back from down the hallway. he makes his one visible eye big and pouts his lips when he looks at you.

“dazai,” the medical supplies you always keep on hand are cradled in your arms as you walk back toward him. “i told you not to move.”

“you took too long,” he whines. “i’m dying, you know.”

“you wish.” you guide him back down gently, your hands leaving tingles beneath his skin in their wake. he watches you kneel beside him, organizing the little bottles and boxes on your coffee table. you press down on one of the white lids with the heel of your palm, twisting it and knocking it upside down. you hand him one of the pills that fall out, and he swallows it dry.

you open another one of your bottles, and the familiar, sterile smell could be nothing other than saline. it’s cold against his skin, but your touch is what makes him shiver and his hair raise. you squeeze his leg softly, running your fingers against his thigh. it ignites something warm in his stomach, but it fades to white pain when the liquid absorbs into his wound. he jolts, and you murmur an apology, squeezing his thigh a little tighter. you’re trying to distract him, and it works pathetically well.

when you get closer to clean the drying blood off his skin, he can’t help but let his eyes fall to your lips, slightly parted in concentration. you’re close enough for him to kiss, and against the ache of his shoulder, all he can think about is how you might taste.

he wonders how soft you’d feel if he traced the shape of your lips with his tongue. he imagines the sweet sting of you pulling his hair as he memorizes every inch of you he can, taking everything you give him and more. it’d be different from the other people he’s kissed, he knows it; using his mouth to get information out of theirs did nothingー if anything, he felt more numb when it was over. 

he can see a familiar box from the corner of his eye: it’s the brand of bandages he always uses, the only kind that doesn’t irritate his scarred, sensitive skin. he watches your fingers as they delicately pull the beginning of the roll, imagining the feeling of you wrapped around his bare body instead of the cotton he adorns himself with. 

you turn him on his side to wrap the bandages around his shoulder and under his arm. once the ends are tied, nice and snug around him, you sit back on your heels.

“can i have your hand?” 

he gives you both, trying to hide the way they tremble. you grab the one covered in blood tenderly as you begin to clean it off. 

“i guess you weren’t lucky enough to die this time,” you smile teasingly, but he knows it isn’t real. it doesn’t look right on your face, like a mask that’s too big. he can see the worry you try to hide, clouding your eyes like murky water. he hates it. “sorry.”

“i never get what i want,” he sighs. “i think i’m cursed. do you have something to cure that in one of those little bottles too?”

“i don’t know if you’ll ever die, even when you become an old man,” if, not when, he wants to correct, but holds his tongue. “you’re like a cockroach.”

“yeah?” he reaches up to poke your face with his bloody fingers as you try to hold him still. “you’re like a little kid.”

“you’re more like a kid than i am.”

“nuh uh.”

“yeah,” you giggle, catching his hand back in your own. you wipe down each of his fingers, gently scrubbing the spaces in between. “you are.”

when he speaks again, he’s surprised by how quiet his voice is. he almost hopes you don’t hear him. “how?”

“because,” your voice softens, holding his now clean hand. you trace over one of the lines on his palm with your thumb.  “you want to be loved.”

he feels like he can’t breathe as he realizes that for once, he doesn’t have the upper hand. all of his walls he’s so carefully built, it’s like they’re made of glass around you. the possibility that you see him more clearly than he sees you terrifies him. 

the painkillers are starting to kick in, drowsiness creeping up on him and making his eyelids heavy as he melts against the cushions despite his pounding heart. when was the last time he slept? he can’t remember.your fingers are gentle as they brush his bangs back. your touch makes his eyes fall completely closed before he feels something soft and warm presses against his forehead. he hears a whisper of his name, a quiet sweet dreams, and then he’s asleep.

it only really feels like he blinked. when he opens his eyes again, it’s dark. the light from your kitchen leaks through the hall, permeating the living room in a soft glow. he wiggles his toes, feeling the soft blanket you draped over his legs while he slept.

he gets up slowly, creeping off the couch and across your floor. he peeks past the kitchen doorway, grinning when he sees your back is facing him. you’re halfway bent over the counter with your chin resting in your hand, staring absently at the tea kettle on the stove, waiting for it to boil.

he keeps his steps quiet, walking on the tips of his toes. he sinks his teeth into his lip to bite back his smile as he leans closer, taking advantage of the fact you’re completely zoned out.

“boo.”

you flinch, hand closing around a butterknife on your counter, still smeared with jelly from a late-night snack. you turn sharply, pointing the dull blade in his direction. he grabs your wrist before it grazes him, smiling innocently.

“dazai,” he thinks his name sounds so pretty when you sigh it out like that. you drop the knife back onto your counter. “should you even be standing right now? go lay back down. i can bring you something to eat.”

the thought of you taking care of him like this ignites that warm feeling in his stomach again. an image of you as his personal nurse forms in his mind, and his insides flip at the thought. he wonders if being an executive would give him enough leniency to put you in a little white dress; surely there was one lying around somewhere at headquarters.

“what, did you hit your head too?” he whines when you poke his forehead, hard. “are you feeling better?”

he pouts at you, gaze drifting over your shoulder to a bottle of sake on the counter. it definitely wasn’t there the last time he was here.

“oh〜” he perks, holding the bottle up by its neck, eyes sparkling. “this is fancy! where did you get this from, hm? some secret date i don’t know about?”

“ane-san,” your eyes narrow as he flicks the stove off, breaking the seal on the bottle excitedly. “it was a gift from her after we finished that raid in osaka.”

he sniffs it, then takes a big sip straight from the bottle. it leaves a pleasant sting along the inside of his throat as he swallows.

he sits himself down on your kitchen tiles, pressing his back against the cabinets, cradling the sake in his arms. there’s something angelic about the way your kitchen light haloes around you as he looks up at you from the floor. 

he holds the bottle up, sloshing the liquid as he wiggles it back and forth. he pulls it out of your reach each time you try to grab it until you have no choice but to sit next to him, stretching across his lap to take it from him. you follow his lead and take a small sip from the mouth of the bottle, sighing as you sag backward. 

“what happened this time, anyway?” you tilt your head toward him lazily, gaze dipping down to his bandaged shoulder. 

“someone had bad aim,” he sighs, holding a finger up to his temple. “missed my head. unlucky, right?”

you take a bigger, longer sip.

“i don’t like when you get hurt, you know.”

he’s relieved your head is on his bandaged blindside; he doesn’t know if he wants to see the look on your face right now. he takes the bottle from you, taking a longer sip of his own.

“do you remember when we used to go to the beach?” he can hear the smile in your voice, and it makes his own rise on his cheeks. the two of you would always go after missions, bodies bruised and hair knotted. it was always early enough to watch the sunrise from the shore, eating a breakfast of shared instant ramen and candy stolen from the konbini down the street. 

he can only ignore the way the edge of the counter presses into the back of his head for so long, leaning his cheek against your hair and listening to you breathe. he can tell you’re getting tipsy when you start to cling to him, clumsily crawling into his lap. you insist on being the one to rebutton his shirt, swatting his hands away when he tries to do it himself. 

“can we go now?” the curl of your lip hits him like an arrow through his heart. “to the beach? please?”

you’re so close again, looking up at him so prettily through your lashes. your hands warm as they rest above his heart, like you could go right through him and steal it for yourself, and he knows he could never possibly say no. 

you pick his coat up off the floor before you leave, draping it over his shoulders. you tug it a little tighter around him, nodding to yourself in satisfaction before you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and tugging him out the door.

the nighttime air is warm and sticky, but it gets cooler the closer you get to the shore. he keeps your smaller body close to his, guard raising as you approach the edge of port mafia territory. 

the sand sinks beneath his feet with every step, and he pulls his shoes off by the heel. the waves lap calmly, dancing back and forth with no audience to watch as they tease the shore. he breathes in deep, feeling his lungs expand, inviting the salt and sand inside.

you drop limply onto the ground, laying your head on his shoulder when he sits next to you. it’s quiet, only the distant sound of traffic and the soft splashing of water.

“i wish it could be like this all the time.” you sigh. there’s a determined glint in your sleepy eyes when you look up at him. “let’s run away.”

he smiles, tilting his head toward you until your noses are close enough to brush. “and just where would you take me?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble. “i don’t care as long as i’m with you.”

he always thought he was born with an empty cavity in place of where his heart should be, but around you, it felt so full he could explode. he thinks if he tried to say anything right now, something icky, like the pile of seaweed he can see rotting by the water, would come out of his mouth instead.

a particularly big wave draws your attention away from him, and he frowns when you look away. it only deepens when you stand up and leave him, walking towards the ocean. he watches as you stumble down the wet sand, squealing when the water splashes against your feet. you don’t stop walking until the water is deep enough to cover your shins.

he follows you to the water, hopping on each foot over the big rocks. he’s careful not to slip, crouching on the furthest one out to keep a closer eye on you. he keeps his weight on his ankles, spreading his knees and resting his arms between them. he feels drops of salt water hit his face as the waves crash against the sea stacks, gently blowing the fabric of his jacket. 

you turn back and smile at him, holding your hand out. the moon is large and eternal behind you, taking up nearly all the space in the sky and casting a pale blue glow over the dark water. it reflects onto you, illuminating your body in soft light, and he swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful. you open and close your hand impatiently when he doesn’t move.

“what are you doing over there?” you tilt your head. “c’mere. it’s warm.”

he doesn’t bother to pull up his pants as he slips into the ocean, letting the waves move the fabric as they ebb and flow. he looks down at himself; he nearly blends in with the water, looking black in the night. he almost thinks he’ll dissolve into it like ink and wash away into the sea. 

you beam at him as the water laps at your knees. he wiggles his toes into the wet sand and waits to feel the unbridled joy that standing here seems to cause. all he feels is goop between his toes, and he sighs in disappointment. he wants to understand why something like this made you so happy. he wants to feel it too.

“isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him, and he wishes he could bottle it up and keep it for himself. that smile was just for him.

don’t.

he leans closer. he can’t help it; there’s alcohol still warm in his veins, and you’re magnetic.

don’t.

even closer, until he can feel your soft exhale against his face, eyes big. he always thought you were the prettiest up close.

you’ll lose her once you have her.

he freezes. he doesn’t have time to completely change his mind and forget this little slip-up ever happened before you close the gap, pressing your lips against his. you’re just as soft as he imagined, gentle even when you kiss him, like he was something worth handling with care.

you pull back all too soon, looking down at where his legs disappear beneath the water.

“sorry,” you mumble, and the watery way your voice comes out makes something ache deep inside of him. “i…i don’t know why i did that.”

oh.

he didn’t kiss you back.

he didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. he almost wants to laugh; you really like him too. you, with your stupid smile, making his heart flutter and his stomach hurt when it’s directed toward him. you, letting him sleep in your bed when he breaks into your apartment, holding his blood-soaked hands and letting him get close, despite knowing what he was. you were so, so stupid. 

he cups your cheeks with trembling fingers, bringing you back to his mouth. this could be the biggest mistake of his life; the fact he wants you could be your death sentence, but he’s never wanted anything else so badly before in his entire, sad life. 

he thought it’d be weird to touch you like this, but it only feels right. when his hands hover over your waist, you press them into your skin, and he can’t help but think they fit perfectly there, like you were made to be held by him.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers brushing against his nape, and his knees nearly buckle. he thinks if they did, if he fell into the sand right now and washed out to sea, he’d be content, but you’d never let that happen. he wouldn't even be mad if you resuscitated him; nothing would be better than your lips breathing life back into him. he wonders how mad you’d be if he tried to pull that as an excuse to have another kiss.

he kisses your forehead, your nose, and then tilts your chin up to kiss you properly agai , swallowing the giggle you press against his lips. he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to get enough of you now that he’s had a taste.

“is this really okay?” you’re looking up at him with eyes bigger than the moon, glittering just as bright.

“yeah,” he can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. “it’s okay.”

BSD MASTERLIST

taglist . . . @little-miss-chaoss @almond-t0fu @yaeeko @annoyingpainterprincess @callm3-tash1

@janbannan @snowsilver2000 @mochiii-sama @aureatchi @bakananya

@warcelia

morning, darling ! bsd men

౨ৎ… morning scenarios with the bsd men <3 ft. dazai, kunikida, ranpo, sigma and chuuya

౨ৎ… fluff, slightly suggestive in kunikida and dazai’s parts, mostly domestic scenarios, established relationship, they’re all lovesick idiots ₊ ⊹ 6k words total

— OSAMU DAZAI;

one thing about dazai is this man is clingy as fuck in the mornings (not that he usually is any different). as soon as he wakes up he’ll pepper your face with kisses, caress your skin and play with your hair not caring if you are awake or not. most of the time the first thing you utter as soon as you start to wake up is “ughh.. osamu…” which always gets him to chuckle like a schoolboy who played a prank on his parents.

“good morning, m’lady” he says in his la-di-da voice as you stare him down, wondering how the fuck he’s so energetic in the morning. you know the answer though: between his sleep issues and his usual “very healthy” mindset, this man could not, for the life of him, behave normally. you sometimes cursed yourself for getting into a relationship with this man (which never lasted long, considering that you melted each time he touched you).

you get up lazily, yawning loudly before you stretch your back. dazai’s eyes wander over your belly the second your shirt rolls up, like the weirdo that he is and the moment your spine makes a tiny cracking sound and dazai lets out an over-the-top, exaggerated noise of shock “MY BEAUTIFUL LADY! YOU’LL HURT THY BACK!” he dramatises as you squint your eyes at him yet again. oh, how he loved to piss you off when you hadn’t woken up yet.

“can you stop talking to me like we’re in a medieval fantasy book? you’re annoying” you sigh as dazai slaps a hand to his chest, gasping yet again. it only makes you roll your eyes as he continues to speak in a very bad accent and tries not to chuckle at the end of every sentence.

“but, my lady! that is most preposterous! how could i ever hold my tongue with such a divine sight in front of me?!” you’re so close to smacking this man. dazai’s front finally breaks and he starts laughing loudly, clutching his stomach with his bandaged hands as you roll your eyes at him.

“stop it” and when dazai leans back against the headboard, eyes staring you up and down: from your bed head to the way the oversized shirt you were wearing hangs low on your chest, he can’t help but bite his lip at the sight. even in the morning, after just waking up, you were incredibly stunning to him.

“yes ma’am” he says with absolutely no hesitation, patting his lap to make you get closer. when you look at him unconvinced, dazai sucks his teeth and gets closer, picking you up and placing you on his lap. when your hands instinctively wrap around his neck and start playing with the ends of his dark curls, dazai flashes you a smile. he rubs your back gently, tapping his fingertips on your clothed skin “want me to help with the back pain? i happen to be very skilled with my hands.”

you scoff at the remark as his grin only gets wider “you could actually massage it, you know? it actually hurts pretty bad” you reply, your skin buzzing from the feel of his cold fingers sliding under your shirt to make contact with your skin. dazai’s fingers travel on the curve of your spine, eyes glued to yours as he extends his neck upwards.

“i could.. for a fair price” how you wish you could wipe that cocky smile off his face.. but considering how sore your back was from having slept in an awkward position all night, you considered it. you tuck one side of his hair behind his ear and, cupping his jaw gently, you bring him in for a kiss. dazai hums against your mouth, content to get the payment he deserves and slowly pushes you on your back, towering over you to deepen the kiss and make it last a little longer than he knew you intended it to be.

“turn. lay on your belly for me” you comply with a satisfied smile, rolling on your chest before pulling the shirt off of you. dazai’s fingers trace your bare back, nails grazing at your sides before he places himself properly behind you. you put your arms under your head expectantly, shivering when you feel his lips make contact with your skin instead.

“osamu!” you threaten as he smiles, stealing a few more kisses to the back of your neck and your shoulder blades. god, this man was shameless.

“sorry, my love. couldn’t resist” his affirmation makes you smile to yourself for a bit as he reaches for the body cream you used in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. he layers it on his hands, starting to make upward motions with his palms on your back. when you let out a shaken breath, he stops “where does it hurt most?”

“here” you point to the area which is causing you the most trouble, letting dazai take care of it. turns out he wasn’t lying. his palms and fingers make wonders on your back as he expertly massages your tense muscles. you gasp repeatedly as your back de-tenses, point in which dazai stops, sighs and removes his hands. you turn around, confused “why’d you stop?”

“listen.. if you’re gonna make those pornographic sounds it’s gonna become a problem” dazai’s lips curl into a mischievous smile, one that makes you give him an ugly stare again.

“you’re just a weirdo” dazai chuckles at your annoyed remark, bending to press a chaste kiss to your cheekbone before getting back to work.

“i was joking… probably” you roll your eyes again, knowing well enough he was not joking. he continues to rub and massage your back until most of the pain and soreness is gone. you put your shirt back on, putting the lid on the cream back on while dazai thoroughly washes his hands in the bathroom. when he’s back in the room, however, he’s quick to jump on you, requesting even more kisses.

“how did i do?” he asks gingerly, his eyes widening in excitement. you sigh softly, playing with the edge of the bandage that’s wrapped around his neck.

“you did great actually. but you might’ve broken a few of my bones just now…” you both chuckle at the remark. dazai relaxes instantly when you kiss him, softly touching the side of your face and promising to massage you again whenever you want. you think he might need to soon, considering how he refuses to get off of you, crushing you with his weight the whole day.

— KUNIKIDA DOPPO;

we already know by now that kunikida is stressed if his plans don’t go right. so when you turn off his alarm so he can sleep in one beautiful morning, he panics as soon as he wakes up.

and trust me, he’s ready to scold you like you’re a child for how you behaved. sure, it’s nice of you to want him to get more rest but his ideals? what will happen to them? of course he has to wake up at 7am on weekends and review his ideals notebook over and over, are you kidding?

but the moment he sets his glasses on the bridge of his nose and turns to you his demeanour falls and his heart begins to race against his chest. there you are, curled into his chest and holding onto his waist like you’re afraid he’ll disappear, there you are, sleeping soundly because of his presence. oh, this man is so flustered. i’m talking red cheeks and closed eyes because he can’t handle how cute you are.

his hand finds its way to your face and he brushes his fingertips through your hair, lightly grazing your scalp before cradling the back of your head to bring you in for a kiss. and he’s beating himself over it too. how could he steal a kiss so shamelessly without asking permission? (even if you had told him numerous times that you didn’t mind) how could he do such a thing to his beautiful girl?

he can’t help it. as stern and polite as kunikida is, this man turns to goo the moment you enter the room, glance his way, open your mouth, and touch him in the slightest. his defiance always falters and whatever you ask for you get. a simple question will get kunikida to automatically say ‘yes’, without thinking, without even letting you finish. he’s just that in love with you.

and he doesn’t want to leave bed now. he doesn’t want to break free from your warm embrace. but now that he’s awake and can’t fall asleep, he badly craves a coffee. so, with regret, he stands up slightly and replaces the warmth of his body with the fluffiness of his pillow, hoping it would suffice. but don’t think he’s gonna leave without pressing another kiss to your furrowed brows. oh no. he keeps his lips pressed against your wrinkled skin for a few seconds, getting it to relax before muttering a small “i apologise” and exiting the bedroom.

kunikida heads straight to the kitchen. sure, it would be more logical to use the bathroom first but in all honesty, the last thing he needs is to see himself all flustered from seeing you cuddled up to him alone. he knows the image of himself will only make his face get redder and then what? you’ll wake up and make fun of him for being a lovesick fool.

like the time you made fun of him for becoming red after seeing you in the anniversary outfit that you had picked up specifically for your date. or when you made fun of him for how shy he acted when he slid the promise ring on your finger, asking you if you’d be his one day. legally, of course. or the day you slightly suggested, as a joke, to relieve kunikida’s stress from under the desk, right in the office. the poor guy almost had a panic attack.

and now here he was, smiling like an idiot as his coffee brewed, as he stirred into the cup. kunikida had never felt this way, about anyone. to him, you were ideal. which at first was scary to him, considering you didn’t meet all of his ideal qualities in a woman (would be damn near impossible anyway). but he loved you, he wanted you around him all the time and– “what are you smiling for?”

he turns around sharply spilling half of the coffee in his cup on his shirt and cursing at himself for doing so. you laugh from the hallway, shoulder pressed to the doorframe as you step into the kitchen, grabbing the hands of your panicked boyfriend “easy now, did you burn yourself?” you check every spot on his hands for burn marks before looking up at him.

“no.. no.. uhm, did i wake you?” kunikida stammers as he sets the cup down on the counter “fuck” he sharply states one more time as you chuckle. he inspects the state of his shirt, sighing in exasperation when he sees the big brown spot on his smooth blue cloth. before he can do anything rash, however, you cup his face with your hands.

“you didn’t. it’s fine, my love. i’ll take care of it, okay?” he feels his temperature drop a bit. you were always the one who could calm him down, the one who could ground him when he acted out of line for whatever little mishap. he gives you a small nod, parting away from you to hurry and make you a coffee. as you jump up on the counter, your boyfriend expertly prepares your coffee, handing it to you and fixing his glasses.

“how did you sleep?” his eyes rest over your figure a little, taking note of the satisfaction in your features when you take a sip of coffee. he follows suit, bringing the cup to his lips and tasting whatever he has left in it. he thinks it’s probably time to make another one. maybe this one he won’t spill.

“hmm, good. even better that my handsome boyfriend was ogling me like i was the most precious thing” and here goes the rest of the coffee, as kunikida projectile spits it in the sink. well, what can you say? at least he reached the sink. you can’t help but laugh at his silly action as he goes red all the way to his ears “say, you’re not upset i turned off your alarm, are you?”

kunikida takes a few moments to compose himself, his fingers pressed to his mouth before he turns again. his pupils widen at the sight of you, his pretty little thing, up on the counter and tilting your head with the biggest grin on your face. normally, if it was anyone else, he’d get angry. but you? who could get angry at you? clearing his throat, he finally gets closer.

“i’m not” your hands find his neck, as you pull him between your legs just so he’s closer. “i have to admit.. the extra sleep felt good… but don’t do it again” he sternly asks, earning a pout from you. he wants to kiss those pretty lips so bad, oh so bad. kunikida’s mind is going absolutely feral as he watches you get all pouty at his request.

“you don’t want to spend time in bed with me?”

“that’s not the point, darling, i–“

“come on, kuni.. you know you liked it.. indulge me” you beg sweetly. you watch as his eyes light up at the nickname, a small snicker evading his mouth before he agrees sheepishly “so then..” you add, closing the space between the two of you until your noises touch “care to join me back in bed?”

and he shouldn’t. kunikida’s day had already started. he got up, drank his coffee (or what was left of it) and was supposed to get dressed and go do some work. but as mentioned previously: this man simply cannot resist you. so he lets himself get persuaded, especially when your lips touch his so gently. you didn’t have to, really, he was already going to say yes. but an extra kiss sure does help.

— EDOGAWA RANPO;

there is not one man in this whole wide world who hates waking up in the morning more than ranpo does. the moment the sun shines through the window and hits his closed eyelids, this man starts groaning and whining, most of the time still asleep, at how uncomfortable it feels. ranpo loves naps, he loves staying in the comfort of his own bed and even more so that he had you as a pillow.

you open your eyes to the sound of your boyfriend huffing and puffing about being woken up by the noise of the busy streets outside. his messy dark hair tickles your chin, his cheek still pressed to your chest as he keeps his eyes shut, attempting to go back to sleep and failing miserably. his grip on your waist tightens and sighs, finally speaking properly “i know you’re awake.”

you let out an amused breath, hand going straight to his hair to play with it “did you deduct that with your amazing skills or did you realise you’ve woken me up?” ranpo’s head shoots up in a faux shocked expression, dramatically gasping as he removes his upper body from yours. never mind that his legs were still tangled with yours, if you were gonna give him sass he was going to reply with sass.

“excuse me? are you denying my amazing ability? are you excusing the behaviour of these insane people yelling outside for no reason? i am a victim!” he dramatises, hitting his closed fist on the mattress. you giggle, cupping his cheek with one hand as you scan his pouty face “it’s the weekend! why do people have to be going places at this hour?”

“it’s 1pm, baby” you remind him gently. that however doesn’t stop him from further jutting his lip out and parting away from you completely so he can glance out the window with the nastiest look he could give. to appear even more menacing, ranpo crosses his arms in annoyance as he continues to complain about his ruined beauty sleep. you think he resembles a very cute dumpling.

sliding across the sheets, your arms find his waist just as quick as your lips find that spot on his neck that makes him ticklish. ranpo’s whines are interrupted by a small “hey!” as his face brightens from your touch. you sigh into his neck, taking in his scent and allowing him to cool down from his little tantrum. you watch the leaves of a tree move outside from a slight breeze.

“i really cherish my naps.. i find this inhumane!” ranpo continues to protest even after he’s completely relaxed in your arms, head thrown back against your shoulder. you smile at this child-like behaviour, pressing kisses to his cheek, jaw, neck and all the way down to his exposed collarbone. you watch as his skin starts to get redder, feel the heat grow into his cheeks and continue to shower him with affection.

“you missed a spot..” ranpo finally says, pouting his lips and pointing at them with his index. can this man get any cuter? the answer is yes, because the moment you don’t immediately attack his lips, ranpo moves closer, eyes glued to yours “kiss.. please” how can you deny him? you couldn’t even if you tried. you press a tiny kiss between his brows, two down the bridge of his nose, another two to the tip before you arrive at his lips, smooching them tenderly.

ranpo sighs against your lips, finally calming down as he holds onto your hand. his long eyelashes reveal his starstruck eyes and he reaches in again, kissing you with more heat than before. you give in, returning the kiss fully as his tongue swipes over your bottom lip and you sneak a hand under his shirt to caress his waist. the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek, his chin bumps into yours and before you know it you’re both out of breath.

“feeling better?” you ask softly, making ranpo grin all the way to his ears. he leans into your touch, sighing softly before an idea appears in his mind, making him jump. startled, you watch him as he jumps out of bed with excitement, raising his hand in the sky like he reached an epiphany.

“yes! in fact, i have the most wonderful idea!” you fear what his idea might involve. ranpo was smart, incredibly smart, sure. but the man wasn’t known for having necessarily good ideas, or safe ones, for that matter. he grabs your hands happily dragging you into the kitchen after him. hopping on the counter, ranpo makes his announcement “we should make pancakes! yaaayy!!”

you smile at him, letting out a soft breath before agreeing. after all, denying ranpo of both sleep, cuddles and sweets would be considered a federal crime. at least in his book. you look through the drawers and cabinets for all the necessary utensils before asking him to search for the ingredients in the fridge.

as expected, cooking with ranpo is messy. from butting in because “he knows better” to taste testing the batter so much you have to chase him for the bowl, it’s safe to say that by the time the pancakes are done, you don’t even feel hungry anymore. you sit yourself on the couch, totally spent as ranpo jumps on the cushion next to you and sets the empty pancakes on the coffee table alongside the different sweet fillings and sauces. after a while of messily preparing breakfast, he urges you to open wide “ahhhh!”

“baby, i don’t think—“ you don’t get to finish before a forkful of dessert is shoved into your mouth. you fearfully chew on the food, scared to gulp it down for a very good reason: ranpo had the sweetest tooth ever, which meant the pancake would probably be filled with anything and everything to make it sweeter. you simply didn’t want a toothache.

to your surprise, however, the taste is familiar and you turn around to your smiling boyfriend who prepares another bite for you “like it? i filled it with your favourite jam!” the urge to kiss him has never been stronger. so you decide to give into it, grabbing his face and pressing a wet, sticky-sweet smooch to his lips. taken aback, ranpo almost drops the fork he was holding and looks up at you, face flushed as you pull away and take the other bite he prepared “guess you like it, huh?”

“of course i do! made by the best boyfriend of all time!” you can basically see his back straighten and his chest widen at the sudden praise, a big grin on his lips as he gives you his characteristic smile before wholeheartedly agreeing “where’s your pancakes?…” you ask, looking around before you see it.

plate chock-full of pancakes that are filled with different kinds of jams, chocolate and tons of whipped cream with sprinkles. your eyes go wide, mouth going dry as ranpo proudly looks at his delicacy “tasty-looking, right? but i won’t share! i already prepared your breakfast for you!”

you spend the next few minutes enjoying the pancakes he prepared for you and then swiping the whipped cream off of his lips (sometimes with your thumb, sometimes by kissing him). and obviously, ranpo is elated by his culinary prowess. you just wonder how he’s still so calm and relaxed after eating so much sugar, insisting on taking another nap, right there on the couch. cuddles included and required !

— SIGMA;

sigma is a man of habit. from running the casino to your relationship, he always does his best to provide. he wakes up early, he does his chores around the house and then goes to work up until late, taking care of matters he only entrusts himself to. his reward? soft touches, giggly kisses and whispered “i love you’s” from his one and only. and he won’t have it any other way.

that’s why, when sigma wakes up before the sun rises, he takes a few good minutes to take you in. a good patch of his life was meaningless. besides the casino, he knew nothing, he felt like nothing. and when you appeared, that changed. sigma takes a while to reminisce all the moments between the two of you, a soft smile on his lips as he caresses your cheek with his hand. when your eyelids shift and you smile at his touch, sigma’s face goes red, completely enamoured with you.

he wants to show you how much he cares, how much he loves you. and so, he brings the covers all the way to your neck before getting up and opening the window for some fresh air. he goes to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and doing his skincare (not that he needed any, he enjoyed the routine) before returning to your shared bedroom and closing the window, afraid his princess might catch a cold.

he worries the noise he’s been making by walking around might wake you up soon… and you’ll definitely be hungry! and how could he let his darling go hungry? sigma glances lovingly at your sleeping figure one more time before stepping out into the hallway and making his way to the kitchen and starting to browse through the cookbook for a breakfast fit for his beloved.

he ties his long silky hair in a bun, ties your pretty apron to his waist and gets to work instantly. from eggs to steamed rice and rolled omelette with a side of seaweed (his speciality), this man takes his time to cook up a few tasty dishes that you can share together when you wake up. he cuts up your favourite fruit, sets it on a platter and looks around to see what he can add to the already delicious meals he prepared.

“ah! orange juice!” he exclaims, starting to cut up fresh oranges to make you your beverage of choice. the kitchen table is soon filled with plates of all kinds, different beverages and even napkins. as he sets down the last two glasses on the table, there sound of dragged footsteps reaches the room.

and when you enter: oh, what a sight! the table is filled with delicious dishes that entice your senses, sun rays hitting the table and your beautiful boyfriend, bent over the table and looking up at you as he places a glass of orange juice down “good morning” sigma gives you a small smile, straightening his back as he scans your awed face.

“what’s all this?” you inquire, now fully awake. you get closer, examining the dishes and taking notice of the beautiful designs on them. your boyfriend had not only made you breakfast, but he had also taken care of every bit of detail to make sure it was perfect “do we.. have someone over?” you smile as you scan all the food on the table. sure, it was all amazing and appetising but.. how were the two of you going to eat all of that?

“uh, no.. i… i made you breakfast. i didn’t know what you wanted but i didn’t want to wait until you woke up. i wanted it to be ready for you when you got up so–“ sigma’s explanation is cut off by a tender kiss to his lips, one that makes his mind spin and his ears catch a tint of red. he doesn’t know what to do with his hands for a couple of seconds, not with the way your palms rest at the base of his neck, holding him gently like he’s the most special thing (and he is). he soon wraps his arms around you, kissing back and pulling away slightly, only so he can apply two more pecks to your lips.

“i think it might be too much food” you smile against his lips, making him blush. was it too much? had he gone overboard? sigma’s palms start to sweat, something you notice. you take his face into your palms, looking at him softly “thank you, my love. you didn’t have to. but thank you” and he pulls you back in, alternating between longer, needier kisses and soft hurried ones that make you both chuckle against each other. when he finally pulls away, he urges you to sit down, dragging a chair for you like the gentleman he is.

“oh! i forgot the straws!” he exclaims, rushing back to the counter to grab two straws for your juice before finally sitting down across from you. “please.. let me know how i did” he urges, pointing at the dishes as you glance at him. it doesn’t take long for you to start taking bites from everything, expressing just how tasty everything is, how nicely paired the condiments are and how the food melts in your mouth.

sigma’s chin rests in his palm, watching you with loving eyes as you eat your fill from every dish. he might be full just from looking at you eating what he prepared with such hastiness that you honestly don’t even realise he hasn’t touched the food for a good 10 minutes. the moment you do, however… “do not let me eat all this by myself, i’m gonna get sick! it’s all too good!”

sigma chuckles, taking a sip of his orange juices before his eyes stop back on your cute cheeks that get puffier with each bite “i made it for you anyway. eat all you’d like.” you sit the chopsticks down with a bang, attempting to swallow the food in your mouth quicker so you can lecture him about not eating.

sigma is amused, thoroughly enjoying your cute behaviour before he finally gives in and takes some food for himself. you’re right, the food he prepared wasn’t nearly as bad as he feared it was. but you enjoying it made him feel amazing nonetheless. he despises the thought that in a few minutes, he’ll have to get up, get dressed and be out the door to go to work, but spending time with you is all the more rewarding.

as he grabs his keys and puts on his shoes, untying his hair from the previous bun, sigma turns to you. you smooth the ridges in his coat, slide your palms over his shoulders and detangle some strands of hair before grabbing his face and pressing several kisses to his glossy lips “that apron really suited you, you know?” you smile as you brush sigma’s bangs away from his eyes.

sigma’s eyes soften, his heart swells and he fights the urge to not pick you up and trap you in his arms. he hates that he has to leave for work, he hates that you can’t go with him. he knows that he’d be distracted the whole day if you were there but does it matter? he thinks it’s unfair he can’t have you next to him all the time “really? i should cook for you more often then.”

“maybe you should. i’m starting to think you’re a better cook than me anyway” you both smile, kissing passionately and not intending to let go. unfortunately for you, his alarm rings, signalling that an incident that requires his immediate attention has happened in the casino. he sighs says his ‘see you later’, opens the door and halts before turning back and grabbing you into another kiss “go! you’ll be late! one more kiss and you won’t leave!”

sigma smiles, pressing his forehead onto yours and drinking you in one last time before finally whispering “see you tonight” and exiting the apartment. he knew you were right. one more kiss and his employees would’ve had to deal with the incident. he hopes the day will pass by quick so he can be back in your arms again.

— NAKAHARA CHUUYA;

now, our beloved ginger wakes up hungover most days of the week. after a job well done nothing goes better than a few bottles of wine shared with his pretty girl and, considering how lightweight he is, it also guarantees him some restful sleep.

it’s hell for him when he wakes up though. his eyes, head and body hurt, he can’t go back to sleep but can’t function properly either. he requires medicine to get his day going. and on most occasions, the best medicine to make chuuya’s head stop spinning is a few kisses from you.

“fuck…” the man beside you growls in annoyance as he turns on his back, placing his hand on his eyes to block out the sunlight “the light is too fucking loud….” he complains in a high-pitched manner before mumbling a string of curses and a bunch of ‘i will never drink again’. it makes you chuckle, amused at his behaviour as he only seems to get more and more annoyed.

“loud? don’t you mean bright?” you smile, scooting over so you can rest your chin on his chest, your right index drawing circles on his clothed skin. chuuya grumbles something unintelligible, glancing down at you and catching your eyes right before you bend your face down to press a kiss to his peck. with a bite to his lip, this man is gone completely, heart thumping against his chest as heat rises to his cheeks. what was he even mad about?

“whatever…” he sighs, rolling his eyes before covering them again with a groan. one of your hands slide down to his waist, gently holding onto it as you use the other to push yourself upwards so you can place chaste kisses on his chin. a stray kiss to chuuya’s neck makes him giggle for a second and he lets you remove his hand away so you can litter his face with your affections “shit, it’s bright..”

“oh? looks like you’re sobering up already!” you tease him, making him roll his eyes and childishly mock your words before starting to caress your back. he lets himself get kissed until he’s melting into the covers and, when he thinks you’ve played games enough he grabs your chin and stares at your lips, at your knowing smile, before he takes your mouth on his. it calms him, having you on top of him, hands either on the side of his face or his chest as you give him lazy morning kisses to wake him up.

unfortunately, the dream breaks away quite quickly when you break free from his grasp, urging him to take the hangover medicine on the nightstand before getting dressed. chuuya’s eyes wander over your figure as he takes the pill, gulping it down with a chug of water “i’m going to go and buy some rice. we ran out and you need to eat” you explain as you press a kiss between his brows.

his muscles relax, hand going to your wrist and caressing the hand that rested on his face. when you specifically instruct him not to come with you and stay in bed, chuuya’s anger gets the best of him again “i don’t need shitty rice! you can go later! i’m not even hungry!” and like it was meant to betray him, his stomach lets out a loud growl that makes you grin.

“i won’t be long, baby. you won’t even notice my absence” you try to talk him out of his little tantrum. no use. chuuya should be able to enjoy spending time with his girl on weekend mornings! why would you want to disturb his peace? seeing him get so bothered by it was nonetheless extremely cute. and seeing as you’re set on going to the store to cook breakfast for him, that’s when chuuya thinks of a plan.

“one more kiss? and then you go?” he almost begs, seemingly not bothered anymore by you leaving. you comply, bending over to place a sweet kiss on his lips, letting him hold the back of your head. and right before you intend to pull away…

“mmph– chuuya!” he grabs you by your waist, pulling you on top of him and rolling over, securing his grip on you with both his arms and his legs. you look at him absolutely shocked, insisting he lets go! no use. chuuya’s acting no older than a 5 year old, burying his face in the crook of your neck to escape the light and refusing to let go.

“just order takeout! i’ll pay for it…” he says as he tightens his grip more and more. your muscles relax, your arms wrap around him and the only thing you can do is open your phone, selecting his favourite food and ordering it before starting to run your hand through his messy orange curls. it takes a while for him to agree to get out of bed. hell, he even insists you don’t leave the bed once the delivery guy rings the doorbell.

“you’re so clingy” you say matter-of-factly as he rolls his eyes, chewing on his food. your thumb grazes the corner of his mouth, swiping some sauce away from his lip before staring into his stormy eyes. by the look of his face, he was starting to sober up more and more, leaving the goofy and silly drunk chuuya behind and bringing the port mafia’s gravity user back… which was in fact probably more silly in secret than he was when drunk.

“yeah yeah well… don’t act like you don’t like it” chuuya retorts, smiling as he hears your laughter reach his ears. he says nothing, bending over the table and giving you a small kiss to your lips before turning back to his food, which he eats quickly due to how hungry he actually was. he promises not to drink any more wine that night. a promise he doesn’t keep, obviously. but what can you do? he’s your man. and if taking care of him in the morning after getting drunk was what it took to have him, you’d keep doing it.

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

PART TWO

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

⋆｡˚ ⁀➷ SWEET OBSESSION

SUM. gojo is your childhood best friend so why does he watch p*rn of girls that look like you?…

PAIRING: childhood friend!satoru gojo x reader

CONTENT. nsfw, childhood friend troupe, gojo kinda a p*rn addict, kissing, creampie, overstimulation, tit worship, bde, jealous gojo, fingering, oral f!receiving, slight dacryphilia, dumbification, pet names, praise kink, spanking, squirting, nice gojo,

A/N: inspired by the manwha ‘Childhood Friend Complex’

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! MDNI. MDNI. MDNI. MDNI.

satoru never liked using his brain too much when it came to relationships. people came in and out of his life and he just went with it. so knowing you for twenty-two years now was natural to him. your moms were best friends so it was just a thing to always see you. you were comfortable, he didn’t have to do anything. you argued and fought but it was never anything serious aftet a week. yes the longest you’ve argued was exactly seven days and you made up after that. why? because that was just how your relationship was.

so how did he end up here, watching your face twist in absolute pleasure as you cried for him to be more gentle….did it just happen or was it the small things…?

“wanna go eat?” satoru easily leaned against you as you studied.

your jaw clenched. “ow!” you dramatically snap, elbowing him in the gut. “get off me.”

“ow!” he grits his teeth, shoving you so you slid slightly off the bench.

“you’re so annoying, seriously!—“ you kicked him, completely throwing him off the bench. neither of you caring about the students passing around campus staring at you. his nerve twitched aggressively on his forehead making you break out laughing, only for him to grab the back of your shirt and yank you down. the one thing he did easily was cup the back of your head so it wouldn’t slam against the concrete. “what the hell!” you yell, not even noticing that little gesture.

“are you on your period or something, why’re you so mean today!” he shouts, rubbing his side.

but he notices you sitting up, slapping your hands to your face as you start shaking with frustration. “I’m just studying.” you fake gag, to which he jumps back. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this exam! It’s so bad! LIKE REALLY BAD!!!” satoru sits back on his hands as he listens to your crying rant until you’re sitting across from each other eating cheap pizza.

“stop i like these,” satoru tries to slap your hand away as you pick the olives from his pizza.

“no i like them more, stop being a baby,” you huff when he grabs your wrist and eats your whole finger taking the olive. you jerk back in disgust, he’s laughing as you wipe your hand on his shirt. “disgusting.”

because it was disgusting. you never thought about satoru, other than the fact that he was an annoying parasite that you doubt will ever leave your life. people doubted your friendship. it started in middle school when the question of if you like each other first came up. you both almost threw up at even being asked that question. but eventually it turned into even more of nuance, especially with the women that whispered about satoru, people highly doubted something platonic can be around someone that beautiful. but even so, nothing changed.

even as it came to the last year of university, all you could do was focus on your studies and the growing anxiety of graduating and actually finding a job. satoru was just someone that you spent a lot of time with. that’s it.

“you have to!” your friend, noah, groans, glaring at you as you both sit in the computer lab editing your final films.

“stopppp I don’t have time for this,” you whine, crying on the table as you push her face away from you.

your other friends take their headphones off as they join the conversation. and that conversation is about your nonexistent sex life.

your head falls back on the chair, staring up at the ceiling.

“just lose it tonight.” noah grabs your hand.

you glare at her, “ya definitely with the boyfriend I don’t have?”

“with anyone!”

you frown.

“everyone does it. seriously the first is just the ice breaker then you can do it with someone you actually like. the first guy just has to be attractive,” shoko — who’s not even a film student but is just here to bother you guys — says.

you whine, covering your ears because you already know how hot your face is and this was the only way you can preserve some of your dignity. “i…I don’t wanna talk about this.” you flush even more hiding in your shirt.

“why, do you want it to be romantic with rose petals everywhere—“

“no!” you blurt. “I-i just want it with someone i can trust…I don’t want anyone seeing me naked.”

“you’re such a baby. I’ve seen you naked a billion times, you’ve got a great body!—“

“I ate a lot during thanksgiving!” you whine, “no one is gonna like that, and I don’t have pretty lingerie—“

noah goes quiet as does shoko because standing by the door is satoru, his lips between his teeth, desperately trying to stifle his laughter.

you notice their eyes and glance up.

your vein snaps the second he breaks out laughing. tears fill his eyes as he cries, it was almost painful how much he’s laughing. “shut up!” you stand up, punching him hard in the stomach.

he buckles over, gasping, but it turns into more laughing on the ground. your jaw clenches, as you grab the back of his collar and pull him along with you. “shut the fuck up!” you groan as he continues laughing.

but eventually you end up at his apartment eating his moms cookies, because she of course gave them to him to give to you.

“do you have something to drink….like alcohol or something?” you mutter, stuffing your face in the kitchen.

satoru raises a brow, “since when do you drink?”

“UGHHHHHH can I do anything anymore!”

satoru cringes. “what the fuck…” he grabs some vodka, soda and two cups. the second he pours them together you snatch it from him and chug the entire thing. you slam the cup on the table.

you stare at him.

he stares back. his brow quirks.

“have you had sex?”

your question definitely flew out of your mouth faster than you could think, but then again, it’s just satoru so who cares.

he sighs, relaxing on the stool grabbing his own cup. you watch him as he takes a long time pouring himself a drink, then watch him slowly drink it. your eyes narrow in annoyance until he meets your eyes.

“i don’t wanna talk about it.”

your nose scrunches. “so you haven’t.” you roll your eyes.

“no! I didn’t say that!” he screeches, whining even more when you shrug him off grabbing some more alcohol to empty your brain.

“everyone’s obsessed with having sex. but guess what! not all of us can do it that easy! i have—i have….” you grab your head, screaming internally as you whine. he watches in amusement, you’ve gotten drunk a couple of times and it always made you do the stupidest shit which you’d regret the very next day.

“I don’t wanna hear it—“

“whatever,” you continue drinking. the topic changing with your mood as you both start bickering again then laughing, but you’re getting even more drunk. and maybe worse than you was satoru. satoru was now thinking about what you were going to say earlier. you have what? you have…needs? expectations?….but that made him start thinking about who would be your first. would they be a nice guy or a mean guy? would you kiss him? would you let them kiss you? what if they use you? what if they break your heart? what if they hurt you…

“fuck I’m drunk,” he grumbles out loud. glancing up at you who is scrolling through your phone. “what’re you doing?”

“huh?” you look up eyes heavy before going back to your phone. “noah and me are going on a blind date tomorrow with some guys.”

“what?!” he shouts, eyes wide. “are you horny or something?! just touch yourself to that ugly ass mma dude with the scar on his mouth—don’t sell your body!”

“I’m not selling anything,” you mutter lazily, still drunk texting your friend to confirm the date. “and nothings gonna happen, I’m not that easy.” you glare at him to which he rolls his eyes, yeah yeah.

satoru was many things. truly. but spying on your date was not one of them. it was an honest coincidence that him and suguru passed by a restaurant and he noticed you sitting by the window. he didn’t even think twice before slamming his hands against the glass scaring the living shit out of you.

you and noah both scream. but the second you recognize the idiot he’s already laughing, rubbing his face on the glass as if he isn’t the one getting all the germs on him. you flip him off and bang on the glass making him jump back laughing harder.

“leave,” you groan when he comes inside standing in front of the table as suguru stands a couple feet away giving you an amused wave. “take him with you.”

“what! I wanna eat here too, is that a crime?? you don’t own the place,” he smiles at you, only for you to scrunch your face in ugly annoyance, especially because it was embarrassing for him to see you on this stupid blind date. you stand up, apologizing to the men as you grab him by the collar pulling him with you.

he coughs, “you’re choking me.”

“I’m not,” you sigh when you manage to get him outside. your lips part as you cover your face suddenly.

his eyes go wide. “woah, i was just messing around, don’t be upset—“

“is this embarrassing?” you mutter through your hands. his brow rises, eyes growing even more when he sees your eyes peak between your fingers, almost seeing the steam coming off your face. what’s with this reaction? why did you kinda look cute?

“is it embarrassing that I’m going on a blind date with randos and I’m in my senior year of college?”

“it’s more embarrassing that you’re embarrassed,” you cover your face again.

you whine, “I know! I’m so nervous, this feels so weird.” you feel so out of your comfort zone. It’s never been hard to talk to people or guys, but in a setting where it’s a date, it was so foreign. “I’m gonna die alone, satoru.”

“ya probably,” he laughs, but then you lean your head against his chest.

“don’t say that,” you mutter. “I can do this.” unbeknownst to satoru who’s suddenly realizing that you actually want to be in a relationship with someone. maybe he shouldn’t be so mean then.

he pats your head. growing even more conflicted when he squints to see the guys you’re having dinner with. you weren’t the naive type, that’s unless it came to relationships and actually engaging with the opposite sex romantically. i mean he can still remember the first time a guy hugged you back in elementary school. the way you were having fun playing jump rope during recess and some boy suddenly stood in front of you stopping the game and then hugged you out of nowhere. you started screaming and hitting him back which resulted in you standing outside the principals office and satoru laughed.

albeit you were still young then so you didn’t know that meant that boy liked you. if he was to remember something more recent then maybe the time you went to the amusement park as a group and satoru knew for a fact one of his friends liked you. and yet the entire time you were absolutely dumb as a brick. laughing and having fun with him not realizing you were basically matching his energy until he tried to lean for a kiss and you backed away stumbling into satoru. it turned into a very awkward moment and satoru’s friend saying that you were leading him on. and now you’re here saying you want a serious relationship but could never take a hint even if it slapped you in the face?

satoru takes a deep breath. patting your head by accident. you look up, eyes so bright under the moonlight that it leaves him momentarily speechless. woah.

he looks away. rather too quickly to be subtle that you lean on your tippy toes grabbing his face with your hands.

“what is it?” you’re staring into his soul.

“nothing!” he tries to pull your wrists away, but why were your hands so soft against his cheek and strong?

“you just stared at me then jerked your head away. what were you thinking??”

“nothing! I just didn’t wanna see you cry like an ugly baby again!”

“I wasn’t crying!” you whine loudly, shoving him.

“you so were.”

“no!”

“yaaa!”

that went on for a couple seconds until you gave up with a scoff. “go, you’re so annoying.”

“gladly.”

satoru turns sharply, only to look over his shoulder again, you were walking back to the restaurant, his eyes skim down your outfit. you were wearing a pretty cute skirt, something he’d rarely ever seen you wear. you were always afraid of the wind or running and your skirt lifting up so you rarely wore them. but he’s never seen this one before, it was a cute black one. he’d definitely be all over it if it wasn’t you who was wearing it. you with your surprisingly soft hands, and big doe eyes. were your thighs just as soft? would they fill his palms if he squeezes them?

his mind easily remembered the question you asked him yesterday. have you ever had sex? why’re you thinking about things like that? is that why you’re on this blind date? did you wanna fuck one of these guys? if he was thinking about how nice the skirt made your thighs look, what’s stopping those guys from thinking the same thing—

“here.”

you pause as you feel satoru tie his jacket around your waist.

“it’s not cold.”

“whatever, take it, it doesn’t match my outfit anyways.” he lies, and you shrug taking it aggressively, trying to say you’re still annoyed by him as you walk inside. that’s when satoru steps in again, grabbing your wrist gently.

“don’t drink too much.”

“okay, dad,” you scoff.

satoru mimics you before rolling his eyes. “I’m just being considerate, idiot. you’re the one that says you wanna wake up early this entire week to finish editing.” you fall silent, frowning as you pucker your lips.

“ya ya.” you give in.

however even though he told you not to drink, that didn’t stop him from worrying. especially when he was in a private karaoke suite with a bunch of hot women and suguru.

“she’s probably still out with those uglies,” satoru mutters, knee bouncing as one of the other girls gets up to sing. that’s when satoru notices she’s wearing the same skirt as you, but it’s not nearly as fitting on her as it was on you.

suguru raises the can to his lips. “if you’re so worried, call her.”

“we’re in a fight right now. she has to call me first.” he crosses his arms leaning back into the couch, legs spread wide.

“how’re you fighting?”

“we just are.”

suguru met satoru in middle school. he was also one of the kids that assumed satoru had a crush on you or was dating you. how would he know? the two of you were inseparable. but the confirmation you two weren’t dating, only opened more stupid thoughts in suguru’s head, such as: you will date in the future then. but that idea became spotty. he no longer understood your relationship especially during high school and especially in college. you were childhood friends since birth, you knew basically everything about each other, both of you swearing up and down that you can’t stand to look at the other, both of you almost throwing up (no joke) when you were put in a closet for seven minutes in heaven back in eleventh grade….and yet satoru seems to have a very specific type.

satoru arrived back at his apartment pretty late. but nonetheless as he leaned back into his bed after a nice shower he easily opened up his phone and scrolled to his messages where suguru sent him another video on x.

“fuck.”

satoru teased himself over his shorts as he watched the explicit video of a girl laying on her back, legs spread as she’s getting fingered while sucking her lover off. it was one of the many videos satoru would watch, even asking suguru to send him more videos of women that look like her. it was subconscious. the sudden spark that would ignite in him when he’d watch videos of women that look like this. he didn’t know why, but that didn’t stop him from tightening his grip on his cock as he tugged and squeezed his painful dick.

his eyes were growing heavy as he felt the arousal buildup, his fat cock desperately wanting to release but then—

BUZZ BUZZ

his breath hitched seeing your face on his screen.

why the fuck are you FaceTiming him?? he clicks decline. cheeks flush as he tries to get in the mood again, but you’re calling again. he declines. that’s when a rapid number of texts start coming one after the other. your messages were spotty. broken words, the sentences weren’t even making sense except for a couple that would say ‘answer’ or in all caps ‘HELLOOOO’ .

his blood level is spiking, cheeks flooding red seeing your stupid face on his screen again that he finally answers.

“WHAT?!”

you’re walking outside, brows pinched as you finally see his face fill your screen.

“i drank too much. and missed the last train…come, satoruu.” you’re whining and throwing a tantrum as you plead with him.

his throat bobs as he sees you squat by a bench. your neckline dipping to show a little of your cleavage and he accidentally squeezes his cock. a choked grunt escapes his lips as you frown even more. your cute face scrunching and your cheeks flushed adorably, fuck you looked completely wasted.

“why is your face all red?”

his heart stops. “it’s not.”

“your face is all flushed.”

“no. you’re just fucking drunk.”

you frown, “come get me, please please pleaseee”

….fucking idiot.

your eyes light up as you see the familiar motorcycle pull up. you bounce up to your feet, with a huge smile as the rain pours down, you were using his jacket as a cover as you run over to him. “satoru!” you cry, hugging him tight as he pats your back, annoyed.

it took almost an hour for him to find you because you had no idea where you were. he couldn’t even go to the restaurant because you all went to another bar, but you weren’t paying attention to the name when you walked in and after you all walked by the water before everyone went their separate ways. so satoru was driving around the entire city, growing annoyed by each passing second, especially when your phone died and it started raining.

“what happened to that fucking portable charger you used with my money?”

“i lent it to noah,” you lean against his leg as thunder starts cracking above pouring even more. you definitely were wearing the worst outfit for the rain. your skirt was dripping wet, stinking to your thighs, and as for the baby blue blouse that was tied with two dingy strings in the back, well it was sticking to your very full chest so that he could see your black bra so easily through the thin material.

his cheeks went hot.

“get on,” he pulls the extra helmet out from the seat handing it to you. it fit perfectly, considering that when he bought the motorcycle he also bought two helmets. one for him and one for you.

you’re a little unsteady, his hand holding your arm as you slip his jacket on, and climb behind him. your stomach growling. “im hungry.”

“shut up.”

he makes sure your arms are secure around his torso. “don’t let go.”

“obviously.” you huff, squeezing tighter as you come closer to him, he can feel you shivering behind him as more rain pours down. he’s silent as he starts his engine again his hand giving yours a squeeze. in response you squeeze back, signaling that you’re ready.

the city was still awake as you drove. your eyes bright under the mask as you looked at the lights. your mind so in the clouds that you didn’t even regret drinking so much, even though it was still pouring, you felt so alive. you were so lost in your head that you even pushed back that feeling you felt earlier. especially after what happened at the bar…

“are you okay?” satoru yells as he feels you squeeze him a little tighter,

you hum, before realizing that he can’t hear you. “ya!” your sing song voice has him laughing, driving just a little faster. he didn’t think about the satisfying feeling that stirred inside him when you pressed yourself fully against his back. your thighs squeezed the seat, as you came closer to him, moving your arms from his torso to stretch your arms out.

satoru was quick to grab your arm and put it back around his torso, gripping your wrist tight:

“idiot!”

you laugh as he drives faster the rain was lighting up, no longer pouring like before. you yell for him to go faster and he does just a little almost running a red light before stopping at the next one. this gave him the chance to look over his shoulder.

“i told you not to move.”

“i was stretching, idiot.”

he tsks, “same thing.” your arms wrap around his torso fully as you press your chest against his shoulder blades, whining in the helmet. “don’t fucking cry.”

“im not crying. my clothes are all soaked because of the seat and my panties are wet too now!”

what the fuck?! satoru mentally screams, are you dumb? you can’t say things like that to him. he’s still a man at the end of the day. asking him about sex, wearing a short skirt. you’re you! the stupid idiot that’s been stuck by his side since practically ever. but now there is an explicit image in his head of your panties being soaked to transparency. were they black like your bra. what if they’re blue like your blouse? and now they’re so wet from the rain and sitting on his seat that it’s stuck to your folds—

“s-shut up!” he stammers, so hyperaware of your proximity that he feels his lower stomach burning up. your legs were all wet and your thighs were pressing into his side.

satoru wanted to drive faster to finally get you away from him, but he was also aware of your safety.

“finally!” you sigh, arms in the air as he parks his motorcycle in front of his high end apartment complex. “help me.”

satoru sighs, taking off his helmet and turning in the seat to help you. your leg casually moves on his thigh as he tilts your chin up, undoing the clip. he can feel your eyes on him under the mask, but his own mistakenly drift down to your skirt which was lifted high up your thigh revealing a glimpse of your very soaked panties.

you take the helmet off. your eyes blinking as satoru remains sitting, turning away from you. “let’s go inside, I’m hungry.” you move off the bike as satoru still remains seated ,his hand covering his face. your brow quirks. “satoru.” you move to touch his shoulder when he grabs your wrist. your eyes wide. “woah, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

he lets go, grabbing his helmet and going inside.

sometimes he thanks god that there is no such thing as mind readers. because if their was one, he’d definitely be labeled as a fucking pervert. the image of your panties was imprinted in the front of his brain as he replayed that image over and over. have you ever had sex? your stupid question sent him into a spiral. who’s gonna be the one to see your panties? were they gonna treat you well? would he treat you well? would they peal your panties to the side and see your wet glistening pussy—

“satoru, go make some ramen,” you push him into the kitchen. your arms stretching above your head as you groan. “i had such a long day. I’ll need to get up early tomorrow too. I don’t think i can.”

the way you were talking sounds like you’ve sobered up some more. you were still pretty hyper and in a good mood, which he found interesting. that’s when he finally asked about your date.

“oh it was good. he’s an architecture major. they’re always doing projects and their classes are just as long as my film classes,” satoru hums. “oh i should call my mom. i told her I’d tell her when I’m home.”

satoru doesn’t even respond because you’re stupid date is now on his mind. did you tell him about your projects too? but you usually brainstorm with him. you probably didn’t. you don’t know how to talk to guys anyways. but you still looked to be in a good mood. satoru poured the ramen into two bowls as he dropped a hard boiled egg in each. “here you go.”

he places your bowl in front of you. he glances up and his heart nearly stops.

your eyes are wide as you stare at his phone screen and he knew exactly what you were looking at because he could hear it. the lewd sounds of some girl choking on a guys cock and the squelching of her pussy as she’s getting finger-fucked to tears, even the clap of his palm hitting her pussy rang in his ears and made him see bright pink—

“christ, y/n!” satoru yanks his phone from your grasp as he x’s out. his ears were bright red. as he feels his face unbelievably flushed. “what the hell.”

satoru can’t even bare to look up to see your face and wait to hear your loud laugh. but he still does. his eyes go wide.

you’re not laughing. your eyes were down as you stared at your lap and your hands balled into fists around your wet skirt. you looked like the most flustered person in the world. satoru felt another wave of pink wash his face as he stared at you’re flustered face. he can’t remember ever seeing that reaction from you.

“sorry.” you finally mutter. “i was just gonna text my mom. but i opened and um…yea.”

satoru felt even more embarrassed just hearing you explain and apologize.

“it’s fine. just eat.”

he shoves your bowl closer to you as he also starts shoving his face. you awkwardly take the chopsticks and start eating. the sound of your slurping echos in the living room which made your mind wander back to what just happened and the tension only grew. satoru grabbed the remote and turned on the most random show you both have seen before just to fill the awkward silence.

you felt so sober. like the video snapped you back to sanity that even you could process what you’d seen.

“do you watch porn a lot?”

satoru chokes. he coughs violently, glancing at you. “shut up.”

“it’s just a question.” you huff.

satoru keeps his eyes on the tv, “it’s a stupid fucking question.”

“you didn’t even bother swiping out, kinda makes it seem like you watch it a lot.”

“I don’t!” satoru’s face is bright red, almost flaring so bright he might catch on fire. you feel overwhelmed seeing him like this, especially when he runs a hand through his hair almost pulling at it.

but a few more minutes pass. after you finish your food. the next episode playing, and you open your mouth again.

“she kinda looks like me..”

“huh?”

“the girl in the video kinda looks like me.”

satoru snickers, loudly. you narrow your eyes. “no she doesn’t.”

“ya she does, her hair is the same and she’s the same size as me too-“

satoru rolls his eyes shaking his head, what kind of assumption even is that? “her boobs are much bigger than yours.”

“they literally aren’t!”

“oh ya? then prove it!”

“fine!”

it seems that both of you have lost some brain cells, because your arms are pulling at the wet strings of your blouse, tossing it off, leaving you in your tight skimpy black bra. satoru swallows thickly as he feels his cheeks flush again. your skin was damp, and your chest was heaving slightly from the fueled fight.

“same size.”

satoru leans his chin in his hand. eyes looking at your chest. “I can’t see.”

fuck, he really is a pervert. it’s you for crying out loud. just yell at him and call him a fucking weirdo. but instead you’re grumbling and moving your arms behind your back, unclasping the material until your bra is landing on your lap letting your full tits hang out. satoru’s hand envelopes his chin and mouth as he stares. your nipples were pretty, his mouth salivating as they turned hard.

“now you can’t say anything.” you feel warm. you want to cover yourself, but he was staring so hard, he’s never stared this hard before. and at you nonetheless. it was making you feel warm all over.

satoru rubs his chin, his chest was hammering as he felt so fucking confused. you look so fucking hot, and your eyes were not looking away from him.

“satoru?”

“hmm?”

“admit it.”

he grins, “admit what?”

“that the girl looks like me.”

“what girl?”

“the one in the video!” you slap his chest, and he’d slap you back if he didn’t catch the way your boobs bounced slightly from the action.

he leaned forward, hand placed in front as his hand moves to your tit. “the girl in the video doesn’t have this.” his thumb brushes a small mole under your nipple, one that he’s never seen before.

you hold his wrist, confused. you’re always confused, but never about satoru. no he was the only thing you’re ever sure about. you knew everything about him, seriously everything. but you don’t know about his sex life, or that he watches porn, or what kind of face he’s making right now…you didn’t want to admit it, but you liked not knowing something about him.

“what?” your head tilts, wet hair swaying that satoru can’t help but smile nervously.

“you have a couple moles here,” he’s staring up at you. still leaning against his arm. his eyes fall down to your perky tits. “let me…” his words are stopped by his own actions. his lips wrapping around your nipple sucking gently.

you gasp in shock, hand falling behind you as the other touches his shoulder. his lips suck like a greedy baby until it feels like he’s kissing you and swirling his tongue around the bud. “s-satoru…” you gasp in pleasure. “what’re you doing?” your fist tightens on his shirt.

he’s not drunk. but his head is filled with heat, his lips can’t stop attacking your boobs. fuck he loved hearing your little gasp, and sucking your nipple was making him so fucking turned on. he wanted more.

you whine under your breath, gently pushing his shoulder back away from your chest until his lips unattach, leaving a string of spit connecting his lower lip and your nipple. “you’re being weird.” you’re slightly out of breath, especially when you’re staring down at your best friend, his face completely flushed and his eyes darker than usual. “it’s not fair that you’re seeing me like this.”

“you’re the one who wanted to compare,” satoru snickers, sitting up. “are you embarrassed?”

“no.” you frown, moving to cover your tits up but he moves to grab your chin, his thumb caressing your cheek unexpectedly.

“we didn’t finish comparing?”

you raise a brow, only to feel satoru moves his arms around your waist pulling you forward letting you fall back, catching yourself with your arms. “wait, what’re you—satoru!”

fuck. his eyes were big, staring between your spread legs. your panties were still wet and completely transparent that he felt himself grow more pre-cum into his boxers.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wanna change,” he’s almost mumbling, dragging his hands across your thighs, squeezing the flesh making you flush deep. you move a hand to his shoulder again, especially when he leans down, kissing your sternum. it was surreal hearing the sounds of his lips leave wet kisses across your breasts. your legs were spreading unconsciously the more he leaned down, his hand rubbing your thighs.

“you never wear low tops, is it because of your tits?” he laughs against your skin, making your cheeks hot.

“you’re not being fair,” you push him back, sitting up.

he frowns, “what?”

once you’re sat, your hand moves down under his shirt. you immediately feel his abs, your cheeks grow warm as you caresses his skin. “do you jerk off a lot?”

his head falls back. “quit asking about that.”

“why?”

“because I don’t wanna tell you.”

“but why?”

“because!”

“because why?!”

“because it’s fucking nasty, you don’t need to hear it!”

your eyes narrow. his cheeks are red and his own brows are creased together. you lean forward, hand going up his chest, until it rests on his sternum. “you never talk about sex….are you a prude or something?”

his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly as he feels your hand push his shirt up, helping him take it off. seeing your satoru so flustered was making you jittery. since when was he so cute and fucking hot. his body was definitely bigger than the average guy. was he always this big? i mean you were taller when you were younger but he basically hit the ceiling in eighth grade and just got taller since. but for some reason you didn’t notice him building so much muscle. “did you get bigger?”

his eyes stare at every move you’re doing. “ya I guess,” he took up mma earlier this year too for no apparent reason. “you like?”

you hum, “it’s hot.” you eye his firm abs, your legs squeezing together as you watch the way his stomach flexes, your finger circling his nipple.

“shit.” your lips connect with his nipple, sucking gently making him jump. you hum around him in pleasure as he lets you suck for a couple seconds before pulling you off. his face beat red, holding your shoulder back. “what’re you doing??”

“I’m just doing what you did?”

were you really clueless?

“you…” he feels so flustered, the way your cute lips wrapped around his nipple, arching over him as you sucked. “i can only do that.”

“why? i liked it, so i did it to you??” you were annoyed with him. why is he being so confusing? “what—hey!”

his hand covers your eyes because he couldn’t handle the way you’re staring up at him topless and dumb brained. “stop talking.”

“what’re you—“ his lips brush yours, hesitating for a second before kissing you.

you’re frozen, lips part as he continues kissing you. “kiss me back.” he whispers. you feel like burning through your skin as you kiss him back. his hand still over your eyes as he kisses your bottom lip, sucking it, only for you to hold his wrist . fuck you’re so submissive.

you pull away, lips wet as you remove his hand. his eyes flick down to your chest as you stare up at him.

“how was it?”

your cheeks are so cute and full, and he almost has to bite his tongue when you lean forward and hold his face. “another one.”

ah fuck. his lips crash into yours again. it was messier this time. your lips felt so inexperienced against his, but feeling your tongue try and play with him and follow his lead had him yearning for more. you’re so cute. his hand moves to grab your boob again, squeezing it in his palm as you whine, hand moving up to grab his fluffy hair. “ach…toru,” you pant, catching your breath. “I like kissing.”

“i bet.”

you’re still panting, lips grazing his again as you move closer to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “have you kissed anyone before?”

why’re you asking him these questions?!

“it doesn’t matter.”

you’re so drunk off his lips that you kiss him again and again. his arms move to wrap around you, hoisting you on his lap as you pant, hands holding his cheeks as he feels your ass. his mind was going crazy as his palms groped you. your cheeks were so soft as he kneaded the flesh.

you wanted more….why have you never experienced this before? and satoru was here the whole time. if you knew he would be here you should’ve brought it up sooner. wait…what’re you thinking? should you be doing this? this isn’t something you should do with him—

“satoru,” your arms wrap around his shoulders, face hot as you press yourself against his chest. dodging his lips so it connects with your cheek.

he groans, the deep low rumble making you flush. “don’t turn away from me.” he huffs, grabbing your face and squishing your cheeks together.

you squirm, hitting his forearm as you shake your head, but he just laughs. “stoph hit.” he laughs even more as you talk with your cheeks squished until you start pulling his hair, hard.

“ack!” he winces as you tug harshly making him loosen his grip on your face and reach for his head. you’re laughing, until you feel something hard between your legs.

your face bursts with heat as you freeze. satoru grunts, yanking your wrist from his hair. he then notices your tense body, your eyes looking down at your seat. he immediately realizes what’s going on and feels more heat rush to his head. “are you gonna do something?”

your words had him staring at you with wide eyes. “oh um ya.”

he does a cautious roll of his hips, pushing his bulge against your wet panties, the feeling wasn’t foreign. you’ve touched yourself more than once, but it definitely was different. you had more of a reaction, especially as you smelled his aroma. you’ve never been affected by his scent till now. you remember all through middle school when you’d both finish soccer practice, but satoru reeked like no other. especially when he’d come back from jujutsu practice in high school and would purposely bother you. however seeing his face so flush now, and the small beads of sweats sent a new kind of pleasure flooding between your legs.

“can you take your pants off?”

his throat bobs as he hums lifting his hips up as you move to sit next to him watching him shuffle out of his cargo pants. your eyes focused on the prominent outline of his dick through his boxers. he turns back after discarding the annoying material, his breath catches.

you looked so flustered.

his mind was recalibrating. is this a good idea? will this ruin your friendship?

“I’ll take mine off too.” you mutter, only for satoru to almost faint. his hand stretching out to hold your wrist. you glance up, and he immediately realizes how confusing this ordeal is and he doesn’t care. his lips attack yours again. the moan that comes from the back of your throat has him groaning. he cradles your head, tongue playing with yours as you whine, touching his chest as you feel his muscles under your palm. it was electric, the chills that broke across your body as the sudden pulse between your legs the more satoru’s hands squeezed and caressed.

“spread your legs.”

you obey so easily you’re immediately embarrassed. cheeks hot as you stare up at satoru as he licks his lips. your hands fall on your chest, tummy warm as he trails his palm down until his finger plays with the waistband of your panties.

he glances up. “why didn’t you wear any shorts?”

“they were in the laundry…” you flush. satoru hums, still fiddling with your panties, the tension rising even more. you moved to close your legs, but he pushes his body between them, preventing you from achieving your goal. his arm wraps around one of your legs, hoisting it up on his shoulder and kissing your calf.

why the fuck?! your skin broke into a hot mess, eyes dizzy as his thumb caressed your clothed pussy, as he left kisses up your legs. his thumb pushing your transparent panties between your wet folds, smiling at the squeak you let out once he found your clit. “ya look so dumb.” he laughs, making you huff — you cover your face, but his hand reflectively catches your wrist pulling it down.

“you just made fun of me.”

“it was a joke.” he sighs, leaning over to kiss your cheek. “i was just joking, idiot.”

you scoff, moving your hand to grab his hair until he catches it again. your brows pinch in annoyance. why is he suddenly using his strength against you? he’s never like that. satoru liked being messed with, and now that you’re thinking about it, he’s manhandled you a couple times without you even noticing. but why are you suddenly aware of it now?

satoru’s eyes narrow once you turn your face away, closing your eyes. “what the hell?”

“what?”

“why’re you looking away?”

“your face is ugly.”

he scoffs, “so why am I staring at you?”

“cuz im not ugly.”

he laughs loud. “as if.” he notices the vein popping in your head. “lemme see that ugly face.”

his hand grabs your face, once again, forcing you to look at him against your will, your eyes remained shut, so he decided to lean even closer, and lick your eye.

“ew, satoru!” your eyes blink open as you try to wipe your eye, but satoru can only lick your cheek then. even spitting. “what the hell?!” you whine as he continues to litter your face with his salvia. the licks turn into very wet kisses as he licks your ear and cheek, biting your bottom lip and running his tongue over it. you’re initial disgust oddly and quickly, morphes into surprising pleasure. your nails scratching his undercut, dragging them to his damp curls as he grunts in pleasure.

his hips start to rock into you again, it felt even better without his pants. he felt like a dog, so desperate for relief, but also finding more pleasure in the slow burn of it.

“you’re so disgusting,” you sigh into his lips.

his lips curl, “fine by me.” his tongue laps at your lips dramatically, making you flush because you weren’t disgusted by it. “not gonna push me off?” he chuckles.

“no,” you sigh, holding his neck as you pull him to your lips again. your tongue sticks out as he smiles, licking yours as he lets a small amount of spit go into your mouth. you tug his hair, but not in the usual way.

his judgement now completely clouded, he suddenly pushes his body up and grabs your legs easily. your lower half is on his lap giving him easy access to bury his face between your legs.

you gasp, back arching in surprise. “satoru!” you cry, eyes wide as he pushes your panties to the side, kissing your folds. what the fuck is this look? he looked completely hypnotized. eyes drunk as his tongue pushed between your folds, licking a bold strip up to your clit, making your whole body shudder.

“did ya learn this from p-porn?” you gasp, pushing his hair back as he moans into your pussy. your arousal fills his tastebuds as he slurps more.

“stop asking about that.” he groans, especially when you start tugging his hair, but instead of his usual annoyed face, his eyes flutter shut, the tugging egging him on. “taste so good.” he moans, pushing his tongue into your pussy hole as his nails dig into your thighs. the sounds of his lips against your pussy were lewd. your eyes fluttering shut as you felt something inside you. your pussy was drenched, the sweet taste of your arousal coating satoru’s tongue filling his head. his best friend tastes like heaven!

“sa-ah-toru—more, ungh ngh more,” you whine, tugging his hair harder as you buck your hips to meet his lips, eyes hazy as you gasp, moans getting a little more high pitched as satoru sucks your clit into his mouth. he was being greedy, hearing you cry out loudly, pulling his hair hard until you cum.

your legs shake as you press his face against your pussy, feeling him groan, not realizing he was looking at you the entire time until you’re pushing his head back.

“fuck, you’re mean,” he groans rubbing his head from the harsh tugging. your chest is heaving as you stare up at the ceiling. you’ve never cum that hard when you touched yourself. “y/n?”

satoru moves into your line of vision. his face flushed as he stares down at you. his mouth and chin covered in your juices making your pussy clench. fuck his dick really hurts. your hand reaches up, and satoru leans down licking your palm as you wipe the mess off his face. “you’re such a dog,” you tsk. his eyes lighting up as he leans down, kissing your neck.

“but you’re the one being such a good girl,” his words sent a red hot blaze pierce through your veins.

your hand moves to your face covering your mouth as you look away. “s-shut up, dog.”

satoru’s eyes go dark, you were so fucking hot. his arms easily lift your legs up, pulling your skirt and panties off, tossing them aside. you glance up, heart beating rapidly, he was pushing his boxers down—

what the fuck.

s-satoru was big.

fuck, why was he so big?? your tummy felt hot as you reach for his neck. “sat—“ his tongue pushes into your lips, swallowing your words as he pumps his cock, wincing slightly as he drags his tip between your folds making you gasp.

“wrap your arms around me.”

his command was easily obeyed, and in seconds, his arm wraps under your ass lifting you both up. you press your cheek to his as you pant. “he really is strong”.

“i know,” he laughs, making you speechless at the cockiness. fuck he really is a dick. satoru is kissing you nonstop. eyes open as he makes his way to his bathroom, leaning you on the counter, arm still around your waist as he rummages through the cabinet and ripping open the condom box. it was messy. he falls back on the ground where your clothes are and rips the condom open.

“you’re so fucking wet,” he points pushing his tip inside without warning. he’s kneeling with spread legs, holding your thigh and lower back angling your hips up. this was unlike anything ever.

your throat is dry, full of shocked gasps and surprised moans. “w-wait…” your lashes flutter, chest heaving as you stare up at your best friend. “you wanna have sex with me?”

satoru snorts, nails digging into your flesh as he leans over, bending you up so he can be up in your space. “i know you’re slow, dummy.” he bites your cheek. “but we’re both naked right now. I just sucked on your fat tits, and my dick is really fucking hard because of you so ya, we’re gonna have sex.”

“ookay.”

satoru melts.

he buries his face in your neck. your heart beating quicker as he turns his face to your neck as you feel his lips move. “one word?”

“ya. I wanna do it.” satoru trails his lips to your ear. his breath was hot and heavy especially with his annoying dick poking its tip on your clit.

“do you wanna do it with me?”

you can’t pinpoint the reason your heart skipped a beat. but you hum to his question. “please.” you roughly tug his hair up, a groan escapes his lips as he sits up, grabbing your thigh and dragging his cock between your folds. his eyes are laser focused on the first stretch of your hole, pushing his pink tip inside.

you squirm, head turning at the painful stretch. satoru however groans in absolute pleasure, your soft walls squeezing him so beautifully. “fuck you’re amazing.” your tits heave, hand holding his wrist as he drags his cock out and back in. your body feels hot as satoru starts fucking his hips faster, the pace picking up making your body squirm as you whimper.

“s…slow—slow please—“ you reach for his bicep, eyes wide as you feel the stretch sting, a shock running up your spine.

“you’ve never liked anything slow before,” his devilish smile makes you dizzy. you knew satoru was a cocky bastard, but seeing him like this was making your mind cloudy. but he still slides his hand below to the dimple of your lower back, smiling the second he pressed into it making your back arch like a button. “ha good girl.”

“satoru!” you moan out as you feel him slide deeper, his words were mean, like always, but his touch was gentle and intimate.

how else would he handle you? he wasn’t even conscious of it, because he always handled you with care. your soft skin like smooth glass, your whimpers like soft melodies — he wanted to hear you more clearly, his best friend that sounds so fucking hot whimpering and crying because of him. he leaned back lifting your legs up as he kissed your inner knee, pressing his cheek against your leg as he watched the drag of his fat cock disappear into his childhood friends pussy.

your eyes were big and full of bliss as he thrusted into you. your pussy sucking him in with each clap, as he groans. fuck you were beautiful to look at. you pussy crying as he hammered himself deeper into you, his mind going hazy as he saw another side of you. one so intimate it was only fitting for him to see.

“ngh ugh, wha-toru, I’m gonna c-cum!” a sudden glint shot in his eyes, your moans making his stomach flip with excitement as he smiled so big you crashed out.

“s-shit!” he swore loudly— you cried, squeezing him to death as you shook with pleasure. satoru released the coil he was holding back, filling the condom with his hot seed. “didn’t think you’d cum that fast.” he chuckled, pulling out and wrapping the condom and tossing it to the side. you were panting, but you felt his arm lift your legs up, staring down at your messy hole.

he slid your body to the side, it was embarrassing how easy he handles your body. you were a heaving mess, not realizing he was rubbing his raw cock between your folds again. until he grunts a gentle… “take it again.”

your hand shoots out grabbing his forearm, your nails digging into his skin as you gasp, cheeks flush as you look up at him and your breath fucking catches. his cheeks were just as flushed, his chest sweaty and hair pushed back as he gripped your thighs, with one single muscular arm, keeping your legs together and to the side as he kept his own big thighs spread apart as he pressed his still erect dick against you. has he always been this hot?

“you wanna take it again, right?” satoru rests his cheek against your legs, hugging them close like you were the most precious thing in the world.

“h-how can you go again?” you pant, still holding his arm as you glance away from him. suddenly feeling embarrassed by his unwavering gaze.

satoru slides his engorged tip past your folds, rubbing his pre-cum with your slick. “because i thought about being inside you again…” his jaw clenches as pushes in feeling you squirm again. “and ngh fuck it made me wanna fuck you again. feel you clench around me raw.”

you choke as he slides deeper than before. “I wanna see ugh if i can put it-it all in this time—fuck!” satoru throws his head back as he pushes in your tight fucking pussy. keeping your legs together like this was making you even tighter and it felt so delicious.

“y-you put it in before—“

“not all of it, pretty.”

even though your childhood friend’s dick is currently inside you, pulsing and stretching you out in ways you couldn’t even imagine, the thing that made your skin break into a hot mess was hearing that one silly nickname. “shit, you’re squeezing me to death, pretty girl,” satoru chokes as you clench around him again. “fuck.”

you’re burying your face to the side, face hot as satoru grips your legs, abs clenching as he feels your gummy walls tighten around him. “s-shut up.”

his eyes flick over to your turned face. “wh-what?” his jaw is clenched as he grunts again, jamming his cock deeper making you claw at your shirt on the floor. “fuck-you’re fucking tight, baby.”

your hand goes up to his face, covering his mouth as you squeeze around him again and that’s when the realization dawns on his flushed face.

you feel a devilish smile form under your hand which drops when he pulls out, grabbing your legs and hoisting them up. he slides his entire length in causing your arm to fall. he grabs your wrist, swearing with a smile as he pants. “what is it, pretty?”

“d-don’t!” your eyes flutter , as you try to turn your face again but his grip on your wrist was tight as he pulls out, glancing down at the slick that fully coats the base of his throbbing cock, and pushing it back inside you hearing the squelch. he starts to pick up an even pace that sends shocks of pleasure through your body.

“ah fuck, you’re such an idiot,” satoru grunts, leaning down as he fucks you harder, the claps of his thighs meeting your ass made your head spin. his hand slid to hold your cheek the drool coating his palm as he turned your face over. “ah..aha ya that’s it.” he felt your hot breath fan right on his face as he stared at how pretty you are letting him fuck you. and you were getting soo turned on by silly nicknames, your pussy felt even sweeter. “cmon, praise me too. ngh tell me how much ya like it, baby.”

“i-i like it,” you gasp, whining when he pushed one leg down and holding one up to his chest fucking you deep. “angh tor-u fuck I like it—I like it!—you’re dick is fucking me so good! angh so big—“

you can’t even register the fact that you’re climaxing until you were gasping in his kisses. “you’re so hot when you cum, pretty girl.” your thighs clench together as he drools in your kiss until you’re meeting his same energy and force. his kisses were so messy and mean, like you were going to disappear, but his hand cradled the back of your head like his most precious thing. you whine in his mouth, hand going to wrap around his shoulders. “easy,” he sighs, once again handling you gently as he turns you around, kissing your shoulder as he keeps a secure arm around your waist, right under your tits.

“j-just tell me to turn,” you heave, chest rising and falling as you come down from the previous orgasms. you feel satoru smile as he rests his cheek on your shoulder looking up at you as you glance down.

“but you’re just my dumb pretty girl. I haveta do everything for ya. ain’t that right?” you glare at him, of course he’s still a fucking smartass. but still it makes your cheeks hot and your eyes roll. “no comeback?”

“you want me to say something?”

satoru smiles, kneeing your legs apart as he presses his leaky dick against your pussy. “my name wouldn’t be bad..,.angh haha there we go, you’re so sensitive,” he chuckles feeling your pussy flutter against his tip.

your arm holds his as you squirm. “fuck, angh why are you so big?”

“you almost sound like you’re complaining?”

you whine as he pushes in again, the stretch was fucking thrilling, “because I amm!”

“ah!” you yell, the spank to your clit pulsing. “what the fuck!” you glare at him, and he breaks into a laugh as he kisses your neck, his tongue running in circles as he pushes his painfully hard cock even deeper, groaning as he slaps your clit again to be even more mean.

“ahh!” you cry, nails digging into the forearm under your tits. your pussy was twitching like crazy, gripping him much tighter than before, clearly sensitive from the abuse he was giving your poor swollen clit. “s-satoru, stop hitting it.”

“holy fuck, you feel like heaven,” he continues to play with your clit no longer slapping it, but rubbing harsh circles and occasionally pinching it to invoke a deathly squeeze that left his entire body shaking from the edging.

your eyes begin to cross as he starts going faster again, his pace was always building up, but he was going for much longer than you were expecting. his arm moved up, grabbing a handful of your tits as he scratched and twisted your nipple making you cry, head falling back on his shoulder.

“just like that, babygirl,” he laughed, bouncing you on his dick as you grow dumber by the second. “my dumb baby! fuck your pussy is so good!” your juices coat his thighs and balls, it was so cute how much of a mess you were making.

your head is spinning at the relief and pleasure coursing through your veins.

“ngh fuck, toru, you’re so big, faster—pleaseplease…nghh ha ha!” you were absolutely delirious.

satoru was fucking pussy whipped, his cock hurt with the edging he was doing, slowling the pace when he’d feel himself about to cum, then picking it up again to make you cum on his dick. he was selfish. very much so that he needed you on every level, including this, and he didn’t even realize how starved he was until he got a taste of you.

“scream my name, shit—I’m gonna cum, fuck wanna fill you up!” satoru’s deep grunts and moans was fucking hypnotizing,

your insides tightening, stomach clenching as you cry, turning your face to kiss him. it was messy, and barely a kiss as you moaned into his mouth, tears running down your face as you felt his fat cock start to twitch and grow inside you, every vein sliding against your walls as he holds you up with his strong arm.

“come on—cmon hngh cum with me,” satoru was shaking as he held you unbelievably close fucking his hips even harsher and faster the clapping filled your ears until he started groaning loudly.

“satoru!”

he couldn’t even register what happened.

the relief that burst in white ropes filled his soul. his drawn out groan became hiccups as he groaned with each thrust into your tight fucking pussy, feeling more ropes of his hot white cum spill into your tight walls, his cock engulfed by sticky warmth as you shook.

“fuck me,” his presses his face into your neck as he shakes, his balls tightening as you squeeze around him. “shit, too much.” he whimpers. only to realize how limp your body is. “baby?” his arms relax around you, only for you to fall back into his chest, “shit.” he holds you up, his hand coming up to your face, slapping your cheek lightly trying to wake you back up. “open your eyes,” he continues slapping you until you’re blinking. “there we go.”

“wha—ah,” you jump at the sticky mess. your insides making you squeeze around him as satoru held your face to the side looking at him. “what happened?”

“you passed out is what,” he looked angry. your lips frown. “did you feel me cumming inside ya?”

your face burns. “what the hell?!”

“did you??”

“shut up, oh my god,” you groan, flustered by the question. but he doesn’t stop, instead he lifts you off him, his soft cock sliding out as more cum oozes out of your hole, but instead of placing you down, he keeps you up, arm hooked under your legs, as his free hand cups your pussy, shoving two fingers deep inside.

“wait!” you cry, shaking as satoru starts fingering his cum back inside, making you cry out. “I said wait! I can’t—satoru,” you cry out, nails digging into his arm as you feel him press his thumb against your clit until you’re shaking with pleasure.

“fucking dumped so much cum in you and you weren’t even conscious for it,” satoru grunts, he really sounded annoyed, but you didn’t care, because you were coming undone, legs shaking as you suddenly felt a new feeling start to come over you.

“sa—toru—wait wait!—angh!” you’re entire body shakes, as your pussy squirts aggressively. satoru’s eyes grow wide, hand drenched. “what the fuck,” you cry, covering your face as satoru puts you down, rubbing your pussy gently.

“fuck you,” you slap his arm hard. your chest heaving and your legs shaking, as you keep them closed.

“you just squirted.”

“ew shut up,” you’re beyond embarrassed. that’s not a flex. you just made a mess! but your best friend didn’t look upset, especially as he loomed over you, his eyes looking over every inch of your body. his hand coming up to rub your belly. “you better only do that for me.”

“weirdo,” you cover your chest but he pushes your arms open, hand gropping your boobs. “you really like my boobs?”

“hmm.”

satoru leans down, tongue falling open to suck on your tits again. “if only there was milk.”

“the fuck! oh my god,” you slap his head, making him laugh, but continues sucking. his hips roll slightly, put you manage to reach a hand down to grab his semi hard cock, he moans around your nipple. his cock was sticky but you didn’t mind, it made you blush just holding it, you were holding your best friends dick and he was moaning. you whine as satoru sinks his teeth into your nipple as you squeeze his tip, thumb pressing on his slit as you pump it. his fingers slide back to your pussy, playing with your fat lips and then your bundle, his fingers getting coated in his cum.

after a few seconds satoru pulled his lips away, a long string of spit fell as he sat up, moving your hand as he aggressively pumped his dick in front of your face.

you were mesmerized. his face was red as he shook like crazy, his abs were clenched, every muscle of his body flexing, his thighs were apart and you could see his heavy balls shake, he was completely overstimulated, was he going to come on your face? your boobs? please you wanted a taste. but instead he pushed your legs open—

“wait no—Im too full! angh!!”

satoru slammed his cock back inside your pussy and came right there. his cock bursting cum as you cried, closing your knees together squeezing him as you felt his cum fill your tummy up. satoru fell on top of you, his body shaking as he buried his face in your neck. his body jumping more cum into you as he whimpered.

“you’re so warm, did you feel me cum?”

“mhm,” you sniffle, the warmth inside you sent flutters around your head. you loved it. his cock inside you, his cum filling your insides, how selfish he was being. “do you like it when girls feel your cum?”

satoru rolls off you, his hand sliding down to hold his oozing cock, as you roll to your side when he ignores you. “satoruuuuu.”

“what?”

“how many girls have you cum in?” satoru covers his face with his arm. you sit up, leaning over his body. “why’re you ignoring me?”

“because it doesn’t matter.”

“but why?” you frown. “was I not good? I literally took so much of your cum!” satoru’s face goes bright red. “you never talk to me about your sex life-“

“because I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!” he tries to turn away but you press both arms down on his chest, moving to sit on top of him, fighting to push his arms away. but it was useless, so you move your face under his arm, tongue licking his lips making him squirm, and finally releasing his arm so you were kissing him. all wet and messy just like you like it. “why do you care about my sex life?”

you look down at him, his eyes trying to find answers in yours. “because…i don’t know anything about it.”

“so?”

you frown. “do you not wanna know about my sex life?”

satoru smirks. “i already know this is your first time. you have nice tits and a tight pussy. you like it when i bite your nipples. you also get turned on when i spit—“

“stop,” you cover his mouth, face so hot. “w-well, why do you get to know everything?”

“because you’re my best friend.” he smiles, leaning up, hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you to his lips. you whine, kissing him deeply as you press your hand to his chest. why is your best friend so skilled?

“I want to know everything about you, too,” you mutter. “i wanna know why you watch porn. why you don’t talk about sex? I’m not stupid—“

“I’ve only had sex a few times. barely,” he groans. “I stopped because it’s not fun. and it’s your fault.”

“what!!” you jump back.

“every time i realize the girls don’t have hair like yours, or boobs like yours…I get turned off…happy?”

your stomach is flipping as you look at your best friend. his face is red and his eyes are darting everywhere else.

“say something,”

“don’t ever say that with a straight face. you’re so fucking weird.” you’re burying your face in your hands. “that’s not even a real answer.”

“whatever,” he squeezes your waist. “you’re just jealous I’m more skilled than you.”

“what? you came just as fast as i did the first round.” you glare at him.

satoru licks his teeth leaning back on his palms, his head cocked to the side. it was almost a crime how hot he looked right now. “at least I didnt squirt all over my friends carpet.”

your face bursts to flames as you slap his chest. “what the fuck!” you’re so embarrassed, moving to get off him, but he only holds you down.

“I’m kidding! It’s a joke—“

“it’s not funny,” you squirm in his grip. why is he so strong?!

“I like that your pussy gushed for me,” he kisses your hot cheek. “it’s hot. I definitely hit the jackpot.” his lips kiss your neck repeatedly, as you heart beats a little faster.

the reality of what just happened was a process. your mind not even fully realizing what you’d just done even as after you took turns showering, or when satoru tossed your clothes in the washing machine, or when you laid on his bed as he brushed his teeth, or when he crawled behind you, pressing himself into your back.

“we should probably talk some more in the morning.” his low voice sent shivers down your spine as you hum. “just tell me now if you’re happy your first was with me.”

your heart thumps a little louder, almost afraid he can hear. you can feel his chest rising and falling against your back, his hold around your waist loosening when you don’t respond.

“i am…”

his body relaxes.

“good.”

tomorrow was a mystery and you didn’t know if the pit in your stomach was guilt or fear. guilt that you don’t know if you just used your best friend for sex, or fear that you might actually have a different kind of feeling for someone you’ve known your whole life.

a/n: sorry i fell off the face of the earth, im kinda tryna to figure stuff out. i wrote this in Aug/sept but just wrapped it up now so i hope u guys enjoy <3 and happy holidays!!

ᡣ𐭩 SOMETIMES ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU (LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: realizing you have no idea when dazai's birthday is, you and chuuya embark on a massive quest to figure it out. and you do—but you also find out something far more worrying in the process, making you question if you ever really knew dazai osamu. the issue? you have no way of bringing it up to him. but you'll have to worry about that later anyway. first things first: you have to plan a birthday that dazai will never forget. {sfw, 14.8k}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: AHHHHHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOYYYYYYYY im so proud of how this fic came out genuinely its my favorite thing ive written to date. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (warnings: fem!reader, mostly fluff with some angst sprinkled in at the beginning and end)

“Hey, do you know when Dazai’s birthday is?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever stop thinking about him?”

Your jaw drops as Chuuya lets out the loud complaint, head snapping to the side to focus on where he’s sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor near headquarters, cheek pressed against the headrest, glaring at you as the artist continues to work on the right half of his upper back, finishing up the last section of the art spanning across his entire back. It’s his biggest one yet, you can hardly see an inch of unmarked skin—bright reds of camellia flowers and different types of animals and objects centered around the skull of a ram decorate his back. It’s beautiful, you have to acknowledge that, you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a stunning tattoo before and Chuuya is beyond pleased with how it’s turning out considering how he’s constantly pulling off his shirt to look at it in a mirror whenever he gets the chance.

To honor the Flags, he’d told you when he dragged you along for the first session. You didn’t know most of them—you’d worked with Lippmann a few times considering his job within the Mafia, and you’d met with Iceman to give him the rundown on targets that needed to be handled when Mori would send him to you in Kyoto, but that was about the extent of your interaction with them. Chuuya’d been closer to them—he didn’t like to talk about them at first, but he’s gradually been more and more open with it.

You think it’s because he’s afraid of forgetting them.

“You’re an asshole,” you snap after getting over the shock of his rude comment, turning your head away to look out the window.

Dazai evades the two of you whenever Chuuya has one of his sessions scheduled. You think it’s kind of funny, honestly; you know he does it because he hates pain and he knows that if he joins you guys, Chuuya will somehow goad him into getting a tattoo with a dare or a challenge that he won’t be able to back down from. So, instead, he makes excuses for missions that you both know damn well he doesn’t have.

“No, I don’t know,” he finally says irritably. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

You give him an appalled look. “He’s your friend, and your partner. What do you mean you don’t know?”

“That bastard is not my friend,” Chuuya instantly hisses, but you can’t help but notice that he suddenly looks troubled by the realization that he doesn’t know Dazai’s birthday.

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes, knowing damn well that it’s a blatant lie. “That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Is not,” Chuuya spits.

“Is too.” 

Chuuya would have kept going with the back and forth, but he’s given a sharp look by the tattoo artist working on his shoulder and he settles down, but not before shooting you one last withering look.

“I bet he knows your birthday,” you add after a few moments of silence, just to trigger Chuuya again.

It works.

He lets out a noise more befitting of an animal, head snapping back to the side to look at you. “He definitely does n-” He cuts himself off before he can even finish the sentence, glaring at you. “That’s because that freak knows everything somehow.”

You only give him an easy shrug. “Just saying, it’s a bit…” You give him a twisted expression, nose wrinkled and lips pressed together rather than saying the word out loud, and Chuuya looks murderous. 

“It’s a bit what?” Chuuya demands. “You don’t know his birthday either.”

“I’m not his partner,” you counter to hide the fact that you are very bothered over not knowing his birthday.

“No, you’re just his girlfriend,” Chuuya says snidely.

Your face heats up. “I am not his girlfriend, Chuuya,” you scowl. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chuuya replies sarcastically, giving the tattoo artist an apologetic look when he gives the ginger another sharp warning with his eyes. “If Dazai wanted us to know his birthday, he would have told us. Y’know how secretive he gets over his personal life—he’d be shouting it off every rooftop if it was something he wanted us to do something about.”

You’re not quite as convinced.

At first glance, Dazai doesn’t shut up—he finds any and every reason to hear himself speak, whether it be random facts about crabs or ranking methods of suicide from least to most painful. Because of his tendency to run his mouth, most people don’t realize just how secretive he is about his personal life. You’ve realized that he probably uses it as a tactic to evade questions, because when people do poke and prod about his personal life, he becomes avoidant, expertly redirecting the conversation to something less personal by subtly changing the subject or pissing off whoever (Chuuya) is talking to him. You always catch it—conversation manipulation is your thing, you’ve finely honed your skills in guiding discussion to your discretion, it’s a skill that comes in handy at the negotiation table and in politics. You know he knows that you catch it too, always watching you carefully to ensure that you don’t call any attention to what he’s doing.

You don’t, of course, you’re not going to put him on the spot like that, but you don’t understand it. Well, you can to an extent—if you had random people prodding at your personal life, you’d also evade the topic. But you and Chuuya aren’t random people. You’re his friends, and you can’t for the life of you understand why he won’t open up to the two of you a little.

Every time you bring up the subject of him to him, he starts acting strange and cagey, like he knows that his evasion tactics won’t work with you and he wants to say something, but simply can’t get the words out. Maybe it’s his mistaken belief that he doesn’t deserve all of the things other people take for granted: comfort, friends, happiness. But still, you can’t imagine that Dazai doesn’t crave the experience of a normal birthday—well, as normal as things can get for teenage mafiosos—because you know that Dazai at his core simply wants to be a normal teenager.

As to why Dazai would rather deny himself happiness than to let you and Chuuya closer than arm's length? The answer alludes you even you.

When Chuuya grimaces, letting out a heavy breath and averting his gaze, you think that he’s come to the same conclusion as you.

“I assume since you’re bringing it up, you have some sort of plan?” Chuuya sighs, tired.

You smile.

“Naturally.”

You think Chuuya might kill you after this.

You can’t help but snort to yourself as you kneel on the floor next to Mori’s desk, rifling through his drawers to find the key to his file cabinet. Chuuya is somewhere downstairs trying to keep the man distracted with a fake medical condition while you try to find Dazai’s file in his office. You can hear him in the ear piece you’re wearing, flustered and stuttering over his words. You can almost picture how red his face is. 

Chuuya isn’t a bad liar, usually—in fact, he can act his ass off on missions—but lying to the Boss is an entirely different story. You think that you probably should have been the one to keep Mori distracted, but you worried that if Mori got up here and Chuuya was still searching, he wouldn’t be able to play it off. So, this was the lesser of two evils. 

Mori is getting increasingly more irritated as Chuuya keeps miswording the symptoms and backtracking, then blaming it on how ‘his head just hurts so bad, he can’t think.’ You’re sure he’s starting to suspect something—or more likely, the man probably figured it out right away—but you also know he’s too hyper-paranoid about losing his strongest ability user to dismiss Chuuya’s blatant lies for what they are.

You let out a victorious puff of air when your hand encloses around the key you’d been searching for, immediately shuffling over to the file cabinet, unlocking it as quickly as you can to shuffle through them, trying to find Dazai’s.

Mori has too many files, you think to yourself frustrated, eyes scanning as fast as you can as you flip through them, trying to spot the one you need, becoming increasingly more frantic when you hear Mori and Chuuya enter the elevator, not sure if they’re coming up to his office or if Mori’s dragging Chuuya down to one of the lower floor infirmaries.

Fuck, you think, finally flipping through to the D’s and letting out a frustrated groan when his file isn’t even there. You go through it again, more carefully this time, and nearly tug out your hair when you realize that either Mori misplaced Dazai’s file or there isn’t one. But you can’t imagine either of those options being true.

Getting increasingly more anxious as the seconds pass, and knowing that Chuuya actually will kill you if he embarrassed himself like this for nothing, you start rifling through the other letters in a panic. From the A’s all the way to the Z’s, it’s only on your second scan through that you pause, spotting a thick, unnamed file in the T section.

You stare at it for a moment, brows furrowed, a gut feeling twisting inside you as you try to pull out the file. It’s a struggle—the file is thick and the drawer is stuffed, but when you finally get it out and flip it open, your eyes widen when Dazai’s face stares back at you in the top left corner of the first paper in the file. He’s younger in the picture—no older than thirteen or fourteen—both eyes uncovered, black and void of life.

You let out a shaky breath, heart racing as your eyes scan dismissively over any information that’s not his birthday, because you know damn well Dazai will not take kindly to yours and Chuuya’s snooping and you want to mitigate the damage, only to halt when your gaze catches on blacked out information right above the date.

His name?

You pause, eyes focusing momentarily as you try to understand what you’re reading.

NAME:  ████████████████ 

ALIAS: Dazai Osamu

What?

You don’t know how long you stare at the file, lips parted and a torrent of emotions clawing at your chest. Mainly confusion, but also something else—tighter, more unwelcome. You don’t even have time to try to figure out what you’re looking at because at once, the remote in your pocket is buzzing, the last signal from Chuuya that Mori is on the floor of his office.

You let out a string of curses, putting the file back where you found it, locking the cabinet and putting the key back before darting to the other side of the desk. You mask the confusion and nerves rattling your mind and body with an irritated expression just as the door opens.

“… ggest that you take some time to rest, Chuuya-kun. Physically, there is nothing wrong with you.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes meeting Mori’s as you frown deeply. “You’re late,” you say. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes.”

“Ah, apologies, I’m afraid young Chuuya-kun has spent the past twenty minutes following me around with nonexistent health issues,” Mori replies with a thin smile, purple eyes carding over you before he looks around his office curiously, as if he knows you’d been up to something but doesn’t know what. Chuuya cringes next to him and gives you a withering look, he opens his mouth to protest but Mori is speaking again before he can get anything out. “What did you want to discuss?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the situation in Vladivostok,” you say, eyes following Mori, waiting for him to sit down so you can. You watch as he glances around his desk, as if trying to figure out what you’d been doing before he showed up. You almost smile when his eyes narrow after coming empty handed. “I think it would be in our best interest…” 

As you sit down across from Mori, you slip your hands behind your back, giving Chuuya a thumbs up, letting him know that his humiliation was not in vain.

Step one, complete. June 19th.

“I will never fucking forgive you for that,” Chuuya hisses when the two of you finally leave Mori’s office. “Never. That was humiliating.”

You snort. “It was pretty bad.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya snaps. His face is still on fire, has been for the past twenty minutes as you explained your plan for the new organization rising to power in eastern Russia. “Well? When is his birthday?”

You cringe and Chuuya is instantly glowering at you. “Don’t even tell me you didn’t find it. You gave me the thumbs up. I’ll-”

“No, I got it,” you say dismissively. 

That’s not what you’re cringing over—you’re cringing for two reasons: 1) his birthday is less than five days away and you have no idea how the two of you are going to figure something out before then, and 2) the reminder of Dazai’s file, its misplaced location and the blacked out information where his name should have been, the alias labeling what you thought was his real name.

Your lips part to bring it up to Chuuya, but you hesitate because you don’t know if you should. The last thing you want to do is upset Dazai because you let something out that he didn't want anyone to know.

“Well?” Chuuya demands. “What is it?”

“June 19th,” you say, watching as Chuuya blanches. “Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do in four days?” Chuuya hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to look at him. “I don’t even know what that bastard would want.”

You’re just as lost, grimacing as you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Dazai never really… wants for anything.”

You stare ahead listlessly, leaning against the elevator wall as the two of you head down to the first floor. Dazai likes playing video games, but he gets bored of them quickly. His room is stacked with games he’s played once and then tossed to the side. He likes crab, but you’re not going to get him canned crab for his birthday. He likes suicide, and you’re pretty sure a new edition of that wretched book of his came out, but you also don’t want to get him that for, well, obvious reasons.

“Maybe we can get him a pet crab?” Chuuya frowns.

“He’ll kill it,” you dismiss, “and then he’ll spend months whining over it. And blaming us.”

“Fair enough.”

The elevator door slides open as the two of you reach the bottom floor, and you watch as the subordinates meandering about incline their heads toward the two of you as you pass by. You only absently wave them off, mind racing as you try to figure out what to do for Dazai’s birthday. Crab, suicide, video games—what else could Dazai possibly like?

You think the only other thing is-

Oh. Oh. You have an idea.

A smile spreads across your face. “Chuuya,” you say, relieved, “I have the best idea-”

“There you guys are,” Dazai’s familiar voice rings from the right, and immediately, Chuuya gives you a sharp, panicked look and you shut your mouth, stiffening. “I was…”

Dazai trails off, and you briefly shut your eyes, because wow, that was entirely unsubtle. Dazai’s smile is more strained now and the shine in his dark eye fades, the palpable excitement withers away in a matter of seconds.

Fuck.

“I see,” Dazai says, voice cool and withdrawn. “You guys are busy. It wasn’t important anyway.”

“Dazai,” you call after him, taking a few steps, but the boy has already whirled around, stalking off the way he came. He ignores your call of his name. “Shit.”

“He totally took that the wrong way,” Chuuya says, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“How astute, Chuuya,” you say dryly, chest tight as Dazai disappears around the corner.

“You know, for someone who brags about not needing anyone, he’s pretty fucking sensitive,” Chuuya notes.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Chuuya,” you snap at him, but the redhead only shrugs carelessly in response.

“It’s the truth. Anyway, what was your idea?” 

Even with the weight of Dazai clearly being upset heavy on your chest, the reminder of your idea for his birthday still causes a sly smile to spread across your lips.

“You’re gonna love this.”

Not only was Dazai upset, but he was upset enough that he hasn’t come back to your apartment in three and a half days. You figure he must be back at his shipping container, or maybe staying with those other friends of his, but you feel lonely without him. It’s weird not coming back to your apartment to find him lounging on your couch eating your favorite snacks; it’s different when he has missions and can’t be here, right now? He’s choosing to not be here, and that makes you feel gross and uncomfortable.

You feel bad, and no matter how many times Chuuya tells you to look on the bright side—that you guys can plan his birthday without him constantly hovering, figuring out what the two of you are doing—it just makes you feel worse. 

You’re sitting in your apartment waiting for Chuuya when the elevator bings, signaling someone coming up to your apartment—and considering there’s only two people who the front desk let up without your explicit permission, and one of them is still dealing with issues at one of the ports, which flooded from all of the rain the past few days, there’s only one person who it can be.

Your eyes widen as your head snaps up, looking to the elevator as the doors slide open, revealing Dazai fumbling with something in his jacket as he steps out. He doesn’t even notice you until you rise to your feet, and when he does, he’s instantly guarded. 

“You’re supposed to be on a mission,” he accuses, voice low.

You’re a bit hurt that Dazai only showed up to your apartment because he thought you wouldn’t be here but you mask it with a tilt of your head and a curious expression.

“I am on a mission,” you say, and it’s not a lie—the mission is finalizing the plans for Dazai’s birthday, step two starts in four hours and you need to confirm things with Chuuya before it begins. What awful timing, you realize mournfully, because you do want to smooth things out with Dazai but right now you can’t afford to. “It’s one I can do at home.”

Dazai makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, gaze focusing on the folders laid out in front of you. Closed, luckily, you’d been skimming through one but you got bored while waiting for Chuuya and decided to scroll on your phone.

“I only came to pick up my other jacket,” Dazai finally says, voice still cold and distant—you hate it.

Your eyes track down to Dazai’s coat, noticing the blood that’s dripping from it onto your wood floor.

You cringe, but then extend an olive branch by asking, “Want me to throw it in the wash?”

Dazai hesitates, a reluctant expression crossing his face but he nods, slipping it off his shoulders and padding over to you slowly, handing it to you carefully so as to not get the blood on your couch. Your fingers brush his as he does and your throat spasms a bit.

Dazai draws back quickly, but then he looks down at the files in front of you, and then back to you and asks, “… Want help with that?”

Shit.

This is Dazai’s olive branch, and you have to reject it. Because then he’ll realize this is no mission, and all of the plans for his birthday will go to waste.

“Nah,” you say easily. “It’s fine. It’s quick, where were you heading out to?”

Dazai looks a little put out by your rejection, but he doesn’t look too bothered, so he probably took your lie as truth.

“Bar Lupin.”

You roll your eyes.

Dazai gives you a dirty look.

“I don’t know why you get so jealous about them,” Dazai says pettily, obviously trying to get a retaliatory dig in for whatever wound he thinks he received the other day. Your eye twitches at the accusation. “I knew Odasaku before you.”

You pause at that.

Does Oda know Dazai’s real name? You’re hit with a wave of vicious jealousy, and faced once again with the back and forth you’ve been dealing with the past three days—do you really know Dazai? He’s always hid a lot from you, you knew that, but to realize that you only know him by an alias… You don’t understand it—is it by choice? Does he just no longer want to associate with that name? If that’s the case, then you don’t even want to ask and make him uncomfortable. 

But what if it’s not? What if Dazai Osamu is just a fake persona he’s built to hide his real self? You doubt he’s a spy, Mori would obviously know but… if it was Mori that forced him to take on a new name and identity? If he wants to let people in but can’t? You remember all of the times when you ask him things and he stares at you as if he wants to answer but doesn’t know how.

“You shouldn’t think too much, your small brain will implode.”

“Fuck you.”

Drawn from your thoughts, you glare at Dazai, who only gives you a simpering smile in return, eye regaining that little bit of shine it’d lost when he ran into you and Chuuya that day. Then he hesitates again and you raise your eyebrows.

“I’ll call things off with Odasaku and Ango? … You picked out that movie last week, we never watched it. We can watch it after you finish up?” His voice is quiet, uncertain and you feel like a cunt, because you have no way of saying no without being a cunt. 

You’d already told him that the mission wouldn’t take long, so you can’t use that as an excuse. You think maybe you should just call off tonight with Chuuya, meet at his apartment later on to try to get things for dawn, when everything is to take place. It would be risky, you don’t know if you can pull off such an elaborate scheme with such little preparation and Dazai, of all people, as the target, but you think you’d rather risk that then say no to him right now. 

Your lips part to agree, mind already racing trying to figure out how to get all the folders out of here before his nosy ass can peak at one of them, but you’re interrupted by your elevator binging. Again.

Oh, fuck.

Dazai stills as his gaze cuts backward, eye sharp as the elevator doors slide open and reveal an irritated Chuuya, soaked up to the waist and covered in mud.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya seethes. “I’m never helping out at the ports again. They’re fucking incompetent, I-”

Chuuya pauses when he sees Dazai. Dazai doesn’t budge. For a split second, not a single one of you dares to move. You can see the quick cogs within Dazai’s mind turning as he pieces together an answer—why you didn’t accept his help, why you took so long to respond. Dread piles in your stomach as you try to figure out what to say only to come up empty-handed. For someone known for a quick tongue and sharp brain, you always somehow find them failing you when faced with conflict with Dazai. 

Finally, Dazai breaks the silence with a cool smile and a mirthful look in his eye, glancing back at you.

“That’s why you wanted me out of here. Okay.” He leaves no room for questions, doesn’t even bother to go into his bedroom to grab his other jacket before stalking forward and entering the elevator Chuuya just came out of, not even acknowledging his partner before smacking the button to the first floor.

“Dazai!” you call after him, taking a few steps toward the elevator but he only turns his chin as the doors slide shut. You shout after him angrily, “And you say I’m the jealous one!” but you doubt he even heard it.

“That bastard has the worst fucking timing ever,” Chuuya says as soon as he’s gone, unperturbed.

You give Chuuya a withering look, wanting to curl up on your couch and die. So you do that. The weight on your chest that had only just finally started to relieve itself from you returns with a vengeance, and you suddenly feel like you want to cry, unsure of how everything has gone so wrong the past few days when you just want to do something nice for him. You tuck your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, placing your chin on top of them.

“Relax,” Chuuya says, tossing himself onto the couch next to you; you don’t even have it in you to be annoyed by the water and mud, shoulders slumping as he tosses an arm around you and lets you lean into him. “It’ll be fine. Blockhead won’t even know what hit him tomorrow. C’mon, let’s get this finished so we’re ready to go.”

“… You want us to… kidnap the Demon Prodigy?”

Your subordinates stare, expressions pale and aghast as they share looks with one another. You stand resolute, head held high, and Chuuya raises his eyebrows next to you. Your eye twitches at the moniker that follows Dazai everywhere.

“That’s what we said, yes,” you say, frowning. “Was I unclear?”

“No, hime-” You roll your eyes at yet another one of Mori’s ghastly titles.

He must find it quite amusing, pleased with himself every time he watches you turn green with disgust when he insists on using the term. Even worse, it seems he’s somehow managed to coax your subordinates into using the shitty moniker too. The old man must really enjoy pissing you off, he’s certainly very skilled at it. 

Your lip curls up in irritation when your subordinate continues.

“It’s just-what if-”

“You will not be punished for targeting an executive,” you say dismissively. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“We fear that the Demon Prodigy will… draw his gun when threatened,” the man continues, grimacing as if trying to choose his words carefully. You don’t recognize him—you think you should probably get to know your subordinates better, you’ve left most dealings with them to your partner, Itou… who you also have to get in contact with for this plan to work. You wince, realizing you still have much more to do within the next few hours. “How should we proceed if he does?” 

“Dazai probably will.” You stress his name, giving the man a withering look. To his credit, he winces and looks away. “But he will also be drunk, and slower, taken off guard, so you will… Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have the advantage over even a drunk and surprised Dazai, but there are more of you, so there’s that.”

“Way to inspire confidence,” Chuuya mutters dryly.

You shrug, “I’m not going to delude them before sending them out. They should be prepared to take a bullet or two. Hopefully nonlethal—you have bullet proof vests.”

“You’re fucked up,” Chuuya snorts, before turning his attention to the dozen or so gathered subordinates. “There will be minimal risk, and remember, nobody is to know about this. Nobody. Not even the other executives, or the Boss.”

“Especially not the Boss,” you add. “For the next day and a half, you’re relieved of duties. Go back to your families, or get shit-faced drunk, but don’t come back to headquarters. Under any circumstances. Clear?” 

The men exchange looks with one another, uncertain. “And if he draws his gun?” the man prods again. 

You share a look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye. “He’s not to be injured,” you finally say, voice firm, not leaving any room for doubt. “Under any circumstances. Inject him with this, you’ll be fine.”

You pull from your pocket a sedative that you’d pocketed from Mori’s office before, dangling it in front of them, waiting for one of them to reach out and take it. When they do, you lean back on your heels and look at them.

“This has to be successful,” you tell them, finally starting to feel the pinpricks of anxiety run through your chest the closer it gets to go-time. Dazai is so mad at you right now, and if this fails, it’ll make things ten times worse. Failure isn’t an option—it never is, but especially not now. “I won’t accept anything less.”

“Yes ma’am,” one of your subordinates murmurs and the rest echo, half of them look as if they’re marching off to their death and you absently make yourself a note to give them a big bonus this month. “Can we at least know why we’re kidnapping the De-Executive Dazai?” 

You smile. 

“It’s his birthday gift.”

Dazai is in a bad mood.

Oda watches curiously as the boy downs his seventh (eighth?) drink, wondering if he should tell him to slow down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ango cringing, lips parted as if to speak but then reconsidering as he shakes his head and takes a sip of his own alcohol, looking thoroughly concerned. Dazai hasn’t said a word since he showed up two hours ago in a foul mood, and every time Oda opens his mouth to ask, Ango gives him the sharpest look and Oda instantly shuts his mouth.

“I think the slug is dating-” Dazai finally speaks, voice rough, right hand clenched around his glass of whiskey. It’s as if he can’t even bring himself to say the words and Oda’s eyes narrow as he studies him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “I think the slug is dating… her.”

Her. He must mean you. You’re pretty much the only ‘her’ that Dazai ever refers to—goes on about you nonstop whenever he gets a few drinks in him.

“That’s nice,” Oda says without thinking, until he sees the horrified look cast his way by Ango. “That’s awful.”

“It is awful,” Dazai agrees with a hiss. “It’s awful. I hate it. It’s disgusting.”

Oh, Oda realizes, a bit more amused, grateful that Dazai is too busy glaring into his drink to see the smile that curls to the corner of his lips. Oda had suspected that Dazai has a crush on you just from the way he talks about you—going from long winded rants of how agonizing you are to live with (as if he doesn’t actively choose to live with you) to wistful recounts admiring your missions (although those quickly shift into rants, as if Dazai catches himself yearning and has to make up for it by acting like it never happened). 

Oda and Ango realized that Dazai was obsessed with you months ago—back before the Dragon’s Head Conflict even ended, not long after you showed up, actually, when he first started talking about you. Oda assumed that it was a kiddie crush that he’d grow out of, but here he is a year later, just as infatuated—if not more so.

Cute.

“What-” Ango begins only for his voice to waver, glaring at Oda when he sees the smile on the man’s lips. He sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose before retrying. “What makes you think they’re dating?” 

“The other day I went looking for them and I found them together, and I was gonna ask them to go to the arcade with me, but as soon as they saw me, they got all stiff and uncomfortable like they didn’t want me there.” 

Dazai almost sounds hurt by it—words strung out a bit long, lips curved down. It’s not often that Oda gets to see him act like the sixteen (seventeen now? Oda realizes he doesn’t even know the boy’s age and makes a note to ask) year old that he is, and while it’s unfortunate that this one is stemmed by him feeling rejected by his friends, he also can’t help but smile at it. Which Ango catches from the appalled look that the other man gives him.

Oda smothers the smile again instantly.

“That doesn’t mean that they’re dating,” Ango begins, trying to be reasonable, but is cut off when Dazai tosses him a sharp glare.

“And then,” Dazai continues, “I went home before because I thought she was going to be on a mission, but she was there working on it, and I offered to help her with it so she could finish faster, but she said no. And I didn’t think anything of it, but then I said I was going to reschedule with you guys for another day so we could watch a movie, and she didn’t respond at first, and I thought that was weird, and then guess what? The slug showed up. She was blowing me off to hang out with him.”

Wow, Oda thinks to himself. That’s a lot to break down. 

Home. Oda is careful this time to not let his lips quirk up into a smile but it’s impossible to hide the fond look in his eyes as he looks down at a sulking Dazai, who has slumped over the bar top, absently playing with the spherical ice in his drink. Oda has never heard Dazai refer to anything as home before. His shipping container had always just been the shipping container, and up until, well, today, your apartment had always just been your apartment. Ango catches the wording too from the way his eyes widen a bit.

And then on top of that, Dazai? Offering to help someone with work? Oda thinks there’s a better chance of fire raining from the sky. Oda is realizing that this really is more than a kiddie crush—not that Dazai would probably ever acknowledge that. Oda wonders if he should help him get there. 

“That doesn’t mean they’re dating,” Oda finally says, taking a sip of his drink and ignoring the way Ango gives him a side eye, focusing instead on how Dazai turns his head to the side to look at Oda. If Oda didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy is pouting. “They might be planning something for you, don’t want you around for it. You had that mission recently, didn’t you? The one everyone said would fail?”

Oda realizes, a bit too late, that if that is the case, he just ruined the surprise and silently apologies for it. But Dazai doesn’t seem to take him seriously anyway, rolling his eye as he returns to bouncing the ice in the glass.

“Yeah, right,” he says dryly. “No one does anything like that for me.”

Oda purses his lips, not responding, and Ango sighs as he looks away. Oda tries to figure out what to say, testing some words on his tongue but they all feel wrong.

Finally, he chooses to just be blunt. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

The noise Ango lets out is all but a whimper, he buries his face in his hands as if to disappear. Dazai’s gaze cuts to the side, head turning slowly as he focuses on Oda.

“What?”

Oda thinks maybe he should stop talking, but he doesn’t, naturally. “Y’know—you could just tell her how you feel,” Oda repeats, seeing the way Ango is shaking his head frantically but he continues anyway. “Telling her would save you from doing this once a week.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dazai says icily, taking a tone that he rarely uses with Oda as he pushes himself off of the barstool and turns to leave. “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m heading out for the night.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for either one of them to say goodbye as he all but storms out of the bar. Oda sighs, taking a sip of his own drink.

“That could have gone better.”

Ango slaps the back of his head hard.

“I can’t stand you sometimes.”

“Alright, it’s time.”

You watch the live CCTV cameras from the sleek black car you and Chuuya are huddled in. Your partner, Itou, sits in the front seat, rubbing his temples as he spares you guys a short look. You raise your eyebrows at him but he only shakes his head.

“I don’t know what goes through your head sometimes,” he tells you, tired. “I want no part in this beyond this right here.”

“You’re no fun,” you say, squinting at him, “and we still need you to get the footage from the headquarters.”

Itou sighs so heavily that you think he might be trying to expel his lungs from his body. He glares at you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing beyond that. You’re insane for this. You’re going to get us all thrown in the torture chambers.”

“Relax, don’t be so serious. It makes you ugly. You’ll be fine,” you complain, focusing back down on Chuuya’s laptop, straightening as Dazai finally comes into view on the screen. 

You and Chuuya exchange an excited look with one another, a smile twitching onto your lips as you wait for the scene to unfold. You pointedly ignore the noise Itou makes when he notices how thrilled the two of you are at the prospect of kidnapping Dazai—but Itou doesn’t get it, he doesn’t know Dazai. Dazai will love this, and he’ll love it even more when you get your hands on the footage of Mori’s and Kouyou’s reactions to the kidnapping.

You’ve got your subordinates disguised impeccably as members of a low-rung gang that’s been trying to make moves into the northern wards of Yokohama. You had a meeting with them a few days ago to determine whether they’d be worth absorbing or if Mori should just send Dazai and Chuuya to deal with them. You decided on the latter, and the two of them are supposed to go in and exterminate them next weekend.

You figured they would be the perfect cover to pose as Dazai’s “kidnappers.” They’ve been aggressive and violent in Port Mafia territory, making increasingly larger steps into the Naka Ward. You were honestly curious to see how far they’ll try to go, but you doubt Mori will let it get any farther than he has already anyway, so you thought you might as well get some use out of them to stage a realistic-looking kidnapping.

You think Mori will probably assume this was intentional at first when he gets the report. He’ll call you and Chuuya, the two of you will act bitter and angry as if you’re not on speaking terms with Dazai currently—which, you suppose it’s for the best that he stormed away from the two of you that day in headquarters, because it’ll make it seem legit—you’ll hang up and tell him that you’re busy for the night, tell him not to bother you again. 

When Mori realizes that neither you or Chuuya know what’s going on, he’ll start to get suspicious. He’ll seek out the tapes and see Dazai drunk and lost in thought wandering home, see the way he genuinely struggles against his “captors” before being knocked out—none of the casual arrogance he usually has when getting himself captured by the enemy—and then? Then, you don’t know how Mori will react. You assume that he’ll call you and Chuuya again, get the two of you on it, but by that point, your phones will be off.

You’re giddy as you, again, focus back on the screen, watching as Dazai meanders down the street. His movements are slow and unsteady, and your giddiness fades when you see the downcast expression on his face. It’s hard to tell from the footage, but he’s clearly bothered about something. You wonder if he’s that pissed about what happened earlier, or if something else happened with his other friends—he’s usually at Bar Lupin for at least another two hours.

“Okay,” Chuuya says into his earpiece. “Begin stage one of the operation.”

“He looks kind of upset, doesn’t he?” you murmur when Chuuya takes his fingers off the button on the earpiece.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

You ignore the curious, knowing look that Itou gives you through the rearview mirror and instead tunnel your vision onto the laptop screen… although you find you don’t really want to look at that either. You grimace as your subordinates finally make their move—and it’s testament to how lost in his own thoughts he is because Dazai hardly notices what’s happening until they’re on him.

He goes for his gun instantly, but your subordinate—Kirishima, you learned his name was—is quick to disarm him, knocking the gun out of his hands and reaching for his arm. Dazai is still swift on his feet, nimble even with a dubious amount of alcohol in him. He’s able to worm out of Kirishima’s grip, darting backward. The expression on his face is lethal, gaze cold as he tries to assess his situation, and you watch as the realization that he might be in trouble finally hits.

Just as Kirishima is about to motion for two of the others to go for him again. Dazai slips his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Fuck!” Chuuya spits. “If he calls the Boss-”

But Dazai evidently did not call the Boss, which would have been the smartest decision on his part considering Mori would have gotten one of Verlaine’s special ops units to him within a max of three minutes, because after a second, your phone starts ringing.

Oh.

You stare at it, heart lodged in your throat, unsure of what to do.

“Shit,” Chuuya says, just as caught off guard. “I didn’t think he’d call you. You can’t pick up.”

You shoot Chuuya an accusatory look. “I have to pick up,” you hiss. “He called me when he actually thought he was in trouble. I can’t just ignore him, that’s fucked up.”

“We staged the kidnapping, it’s already fucked up,” Chuuya snaps right back, “and he can read your ass like a book. If you pick up, that bastard will figure out it’s us.”

“Chuuya,” you bristle, ready to ignore him and reach for your phone but he’s quicker than you, arm darting forward to grab your phone before throwing it out the window. You stare at him horrified, “Chuuya!”

You think you might throw up when you watch Dazai take one last glance at his phone before an unreadable expression crosses his face. He elbows one of them hard in the gut to get away, but Kirishima is on him with the sedative before he can make a run for it. Dazai grimaces when he feels the pinprick in his neck, and you finally look away when he slumps over onto the ground.

“Don’t start feeling bad now,” Chuuya says, glaring at you. “What did you think would happen?” 

“I don’t feel bad,” you lie, and when Chuuya gives you a doubtful look, you sigh and say, “He just looked so…”

Human. 

He looked surprised, uncertain—it’s rare for Dazai Osamu to be caught off guard by anything. You think in the year or so that you’ve known him, you’ve only ever seen him genuinely thrown off like this once, and it was when the Colonel’s operation against the Bishop’s Staff went haywire during the Dragon’s Head Conflict and you got caught in the crossfire, captured by the enemy.

You’ve always been of the belief that Dazai is one of the most human people you’ve ever met. You’ve fought people over it, you’ve fought him over it. The issue is that he’s also ridiculously intelligent, likes to portray himself as inhuman, be it to intimidate his subordinates or enemies or to fulfill whatever fucked up image he has of himself, you don’t know, but he’s good at it. It’s only when he’s put into situations like this, where he’s got no shot of keeping up his mask, surprised and trying to push away the rising panic when he realizes that there’s no way to think, talk or fight his way out of a situation, that you really see his humanity. It’s stark compared to his usual demeanor, almost palpable.

You sit there simmering in your own thoughts until Kirishima knocks hard on the window to the car. Dazai looks small in his arms—he’s tall, but thin and lanky because he doesn’t eat properly no matter how much Chuuya belittles him for it and you try to get him to eat. His frame is small, and it’s especially apparent without his coat to create the illusion of a larger stature, when his face is lax, visible eye slid shut as he lays limp and unconscious in his arms.

You push open the door and Kirishima bends down to shuffle Dazai into the car with you. His body slumps against you, head falling onto your shoulder and you push your lip out a bit as you reach up to brush his hair out of his face.

“The sedatives?” Chuuya asks, leaning around you to focus on Kirishima.

Kirishima lifts the empty syringe, glancing at Chuuya before focusing on you. “Are we free to go, hime?”

You scowl at the nickname but you nod, more focused on shifting Dazai into a comfortable position. “Go get drunk or go to your families, I don’t care. Don’t come back to headquarters ‘til Monday, but be there early, we’ve got a mission.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kirishima replies, inclining his head to you before shutting the car door and leaving.

As soon as the door shuts, you sigh and let Dazai’s body fall over, head resting in your lap. He looks so completely at peace that you almost forget that it’s because he’s been drugged. He never sleeps well, even now that he’s staying at your place—you hear him wandering around at night, restless, and the few nights he does sleep, he seems to be plagued with nightmares. You rest your hand on his hair and absently brush your fingers through his damp locks before turning to look at Chuuya, who’s watching you with an expression nothing short of judgmental.

“What?” you demand.

“Nothing.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “How long do you think the sedative will last?” 

“It’s a pretty high dosage,” you say with a frown, looking down at Dazai. “But Dazai’s got some mutant metabolism. Remember when he walked off a whole ass horse tranquilizer during Dragon’s Head. I give it like four hours max.”

“We need to get moving then,” Chuuya sighs, and you nod.

You lean over the center console and give Itou a sweet smile, careful to not jostle Dazai around too much.

“I’ll drive you there, but then I’m gone,” Itou sighs, giving you one last warning look before he puts the car in drive. “Don’t involve me in this any further.”

“Thank you, Itou,” you coo, sharing one last look with Chuuya before letting out a sigh and turning your attention back down to Dazai, gaze lingering and a soft smile on your face.

Chuuya makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat.

You ignore it.

The beach house the two of you have usurped for the weekend is nicer than you could’ve imagined. You don’t know how Itou found it for the two of you, maybe a friend of his—you’ve found that he has friends everywhere, it’s been quite handy for when you have to deal with politics—or maybe he killed someone for it, you really can’t be sure with him. It’s a neat little place south of Higashikoiso, a little over an hour out of Yokohama—the house is near a cliff overlooking the sea, with an easy path down toward the beach.

There are only three bedrooms though, which is unfortunate considering you and Chuuya plan to coerce Dazai’s other friends into showing up. You might not be the fondest of them for petty reasons, but you think Dazai would like that, so you’ll bite your tongue and suffer through it. Either way, three or four people are going to have to share rooms depending on the set up and you’re fully intent on not being one of them; you already have your argument that you’re the only girl in the house and you think it will be solid enough, unless Dazai decides to be stubborn. 

“This is kind of fucked up,” you note while setting the scene.

Dazai is still unconscious, it’s only been an hour and a half so you should have some time before he wakes up, but you want to get this done as quickly as possible, because you don’t want him to wake up while you and Chuuya are halfway finished to setting up the room to make it look like a ransom scene.

“This is definitely fucked up,” you correct, but you’re smiling as you finish up typing the ropes around Dazai’s wrists, sitting him up in a rickety wooden chair.

You and Chuuya had dragged him down to the basement—Itou had luckily had some interrogation tools in the trunk of his car, and was not inclined to ask any questions when you asked for them, passing them over to you with the most concerned expression you’d ever seen on the nineteen-year-old’s face.

The basement looks like any average torture chamber—stone walls, damp and dingy, so it’s easy for you and Chuuya to transform it into an acceptable backdrop for your picture. You adjust Dazai in the seat again, fingers ghosting over his neck from where his head is falling forward, hoping he’s not too uncomfortable.

“This is your idea,” Chuuya shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a frown as he examines the scene. “He’s not roughed up enough. We’ve gotta do something, did you bring makeup with you?”

“No,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck before an idea pops in your head.

You slink over to Chuuya and grab the knife that he carries at his side, ignoring the perturbed look on his face as he instantly takes a step away. Making your way back over to Dazai, you grimace as you cut the palm of your hand, smearing some blood on Dazai’s face and shirt to make it seem as if he’s been roughed up. You readjust the ropes, tighten them a little more and make sure some of your blood drips down onto the floor above where Dazai’s face is hanging before you take a step back to admire your handiwork before turning to your accomplice.

“... Do you have the burner phone?” you ask Chuuya, wrapping your hand with cloth, figuring you’ll just bandage it up later. 

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Take the picture,” you tell him, stepping out of the way to hover over his shoulder, watching as Chuuya squints his eyes and tries to angle it properly so Dazai looks as in bad shape as possible. 

When he’s finally satisfied, he looks to you. Your lips curve up, “I’ll read off the number of that friend of his, you type it in. This’ll get them here for sure.”

As you do that, Chuuya starts snickering, clearly as entertained by this whole situation as you are. “You’re fucking psychotic for this, y’know?” he says, typing out the message to be attached with the image before pressing send and tossing the phone away.

“You helped me,” you accuse, but you're grinning, giddy again as you grab a towel to wipe the blood off of Dazai, pulling off the ropes and forcing Chuuya to help him back to the couch where he can be comfortable.

“Yeah, but it was your idea, you crazy bitch,” Chuuya tells you again with another snort. “What do we do now?”

“Wait.”

Everything happens at once.

Sakaguchi Ango and Oda Sakunosuke get to the beach house much sooner than you thought they would, and Dazai starts stirring an hour earlier than you expected—mutant metabolism, you think again. Luckily, it all happens at around the same time, so you get to see all of their reactions at once.

Neither Sakaguchi nor Oda have made a move into the house, probably trying to figure out the best course of action. Dazai still hasn’t woken up, curled up on the couch while you and Chuuya play cards at the table in front of him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. You’re winning, of course, and Chuuya is becoming increasingly more frustrated from the way he keeps slamming his cards down onto the coffee table.

“They’re about to come in,” Chuuya says, giving you a withering look as tosses his cards across the table—another losing hand. You give him a smug smile and Chuuya bares his teeth at you. “Come here.”

You sigh as you shuffle over around the table so that he can put his hand on your shoulder, ready to activate the Tainted Sorrow in case Sakaguchi and Oda come in guns blazing. On the couch, Dazai starts to shift, a low groan escaping his lips, and your eyes draw back to him, focusing on his face and the way his brows are furrowed and his lips are turned down.

“Here they are,” Chuuya hums, lips quirking up into a sharp smile. “Ready?”

“Yup,” you agree, popping the ‘p’ as you lean back on your hands and stare at the door. “How long do you think it’ll take them to actually open the door?”

“I give it five more seconds,” Chuuya snorts, and you shiver when you feel the familiar sensation of the Tainted Sorrow spreading across your body, an impenetrable barrier to protect you from whatever may come your way.

Just as Chuuya predicts, five seconds later, the front door is kicked open. You frown, hoping that they didn’t break it off of the hinges, because you don't want to hear Itou bitching about it later on. Oda Sakunosuke comes in first, gun steady and finger on the trigger, but the man is cautious and tilts his head to the side when his eyes fall upon you and Chuuya.

“What is it?” Sakaguchi asks from behind the other man, taking a step into the beach house to follow Oda’s gaze to you and Chuuya. “I-what?”

“Sakaguchi,” you say, lifting your hand to wag your fingers; maybe you’re a bit petty when you don’t acknowledge Oda. “Long time no see. I was grateful for your help when dealing with Nishiki and his cronies.”

“I, ah, hime-” You sigh at the moniker, eyes fluttering shut. “What is… going on? We got a picture and a…”

Sakaguchi trails off when he sees Dazai stirring on the couch, and you turn your attention toward him. You watch as he finally lifts his arm to rub his eyes, sluggish and slow. After a split second passes, you notice him stiffen, as if remembering what happened, and his eyes shoot open, cold and sharp.

You smile. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you coo. “Took you long enough.”

The icy mask slips away into genuine confusion, his brows furrow and his lips part. Next to you, Chuuya snorts, “Now, that’s a fucking sight. I almost want to take a picture.”

“What…” Dazai begins, then notices Oda and Sakaguchi still standing near the front door, blinking a few times. “What is going on?”

You’re sure that must’ve been the most painful question for Dazai Osamu to ask—admitting he has no idea what’s happening. Chuuya snickers and Dazai shoots him a contemptuous look, diluted by the fact that he still looks half out of it from the sedative.

“Yes,” Sakaguchi asks dryly, “what is going on?”

You smile proudly and then say, “We kidnapped you. Seemed pretty realistic, didn’t it? Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

Dazai blinks, you can see him trying to force his brain to start moving faster so he can put together the puzzle pieces you’ve handed him. His gaze calculating and lips tight. “You… set up the kidnapping?”

Oda then says: “See. I told you they were planning something.”

“Planning a kidnapping,” Sakaguchi sighs, tired. “Did you guess that too, Oda?”

“Well, no.”

Hardly listening to Oda and Sakaguchi’s bickering in the background, you keep your attention on Dazai, who’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You waver for a second, wondering if he’s mad at the two of you—you’d figured it could be an issue, that he might be put off by being kept in the dark about this. He really does hate not knowing things. 

“Why?” Dazai asks quietly, and you note how Oda and Sakaguchi share a look with one another before quieting down, waiting for your response.

“I’m glad you asked!” you say brightly. “It’s your birthday present!” 

You relish in the way the room goes quiet. Dazai’s dark eye widens, taken off guard for the second time in a matter of a few minutes. You’re even more gleeful when you see how Oda’s expression shifts into one of surprise, how Sakaguchi draws back, stunned. At least your fears of Oda and Sakaguchi knowing more about Dazai than you go unfounded.

“Yeah, shitty Dazai, say thank you,” Chuuya goads, a smug smile on his lips.

Dazai doesn’t respond, staring at the two of you with yet another indecipherable look, an odd shine to his dark eye. You feel a bit exposed under his stare, wondering what he could be thinking.

“How did you know?” Dazai finally asks, and oh, you realize that’s not the question he’s asking. Dazai knows that there’s only one way the two of you figured out his birthday—his file in Mori’s office. What he wants to know is which of you got hands on it.

“It was a grand plot,” you say, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you look up at him. “Chuuya kept Mori distracted while I ransacked his office looking for your file… part of your gift is going to be the recording of Chuuya trying to distract him. It was quite funny.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya demands, whirling on you. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You ignore Chuuya, keeping your gaze trained on Dazai instead, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Is he angry at you? Upset? It’s impossible to tell from the heavy gaze he has laid on you, thousands of conflicting emotions swirling behind the black of his eye. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, chewing the inside of your cheek as you wait—god, only one person evokes this type of nervousness in you and you swear he enjoys it.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally lights up, flinging his arms out to his side, a wide, borderline facetious smile painting his face as he says, “So, I get an entire day to order you guys around to do my bidding.”

“Hey!” Chuuya shouts, equally incensed by Dazai’s words as he is by yours, head snapping to look at him. “That’s not the fucking gift, bastard.”

“What’s the plan then?” Oda asks curiously, and then adds, “... I’m glad you brought us here… as unconventional as the method may have been.”

You notice Dazai gives Oda and then you a curious look, but before he can ask, Chuuya is leaping to his feet, talking quickly as he waves his hands around, making subtle digs to get a rise out of Dazai, but Dazai is more focused on you.

You push yourself to your own feet, trying to ignore Dazai’s lidded stare and focus on what Chuuya is saying but it’s hard, especially when you see Dazai standing from the corner of your eye. He’s still a bit unsteady, movement slow and sluggish, and you’re sure that’s the excuse he has for when he meanders a few steps over to you, dropping his chin on your shoulder. You don’t dare to turn your face to the side to look at him, his lips brush your ear as he murmurs:

“Talk later?”

“... ‘course.”

Luckily, later doesn’t come for a long while. Chuuya was insistent on going out to the beach—you think he was more eager to see Dazai wear the ugly Hawaiian shirt that the two of you had brought along for him more than anything else, but he quickly found interest in the large waves coming in from the sea, running back to the beach house to seek out the boards that you’d found in the basement.

Dazai doesn’t go in the water, but you think he’s having a good time considering there’s a shine in his eyes that’s rarely there. Right now, he’s sitting in the sand in front of Oda and Sakaguchi; the former listening to Dazai ramble on about whatever he’s talking about, the latter tapping away on his computer and occasionally nodding along.

You spend most of your time watching Chuuya cheat at surfing, using his ability to keep him on top of the surfboard as he seeks out the biggest waves. You’re standing in the water yourself, no further than knee-deep because you don’t want to get your clothes and hair wet. You’re kind of annoyed that Dazai’s been spending all of his time with Oda and Sakaguchi when you and Chuuya were the ones who did all of the work, and again, you can’t help but wonder if he might be mad at you. He didn’t seem to be on the walk down to the beach but you can honestly never know with him.

You drag your gaze from where Chuuya is hooting and hollering as he catches another big wave, rolling your eyes when you see the red emanating around his feet and the surfboard, so you can look back at Dazai. He’s stopped talking, listening to whatever Oda is saying instead as he stares at you with a contemplative expression. You feel distinctly seen beneath his stare, lost as to what he might be thinking. He doesn’t even notice that you caught him looking, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

You shake your head when you hear Chuuya coming toward you again, turning your attention back onto him.

“Did you see that one?” Chuuya demands, exhilarated, board tucked under his arm as he brushes his hair out of his face. “Did you?”

“I did,” you say dryly. “It would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t been cheating with the Tainted Sorrow.”

Chuuya looks scorned. “I don’t see you getting out there to try,” he scowls, lifting his chin. “You’re more preoccupied with staring longingly at shitty Dazai.”

Your face heats up, you kick the water at him and make sure it gets in his face. “I am not,” you hiss. “Don’t be annoying, Chuuya.”

“I give it another ten seconds before you look back at him again,” Chuuya croons, a wide smile on his face that you have half a mind to slap right off.

To make it worse, you do feel an itch to look back at him now. Your eye twitches as you force yourself to keep looking forward at Chuuya just to make a point, but an odd feeling starts to stir in your gut when you see the way Chuuya’s gaze keeps darting behind you, looking increasingly more pleased with himself.

Finally, you give him an accusatory look before turning your head over your shoulder sharply to where Dazai had been with Oda and Sakaguchi only to find-

That he’s not there?

You hardly have enough time to register what you’re looking at before you see a rush of movement from the corner of your eye.

No-

All you hear is Chuuya’s wild laughter and the sound of the ocean waves reverberating through your skull as Dazai tackles you back into the water hard. The water cushions your fall as your back finally hits the sand. You lift your hand to press your palm against Dazai’s face, pushing him away from you, lungs burning and decidedly soaked as you push yourself out of the water, gasping for air.

“Dazai!” you shout, throwing yourself at him with every intent to throttle him. 

Dazai tries to dodge, but is too busy wheezing over laughter to actually do so. He lets out a dramatic cry when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and successfully knock him into the water face down. He flails dramatically, arms and legs kicking as you hold him down beneath the water.

When you finally drag him back up above the surface, he inhales a lungful of air before giving you an indignant look. “You can’t do that,” Dazai shouts, pointing at you. “It’s my birthday.”

“I’ll do it again,” you shout right back, hair sticking in your eyes and clothes clinging to your skin from the seawater. “I wanted to go into town after this.”

Dazai looks just as messy—the cheap Hawaiian shirt you and Chuuya had got him is drenched, and the colors are bleeding into his bandages, making the previously pristine whites become a colorful swirl of oranges, blues and pinks. He looks like a shitty attempt at a watercolor painting. The bandages around his eye look especially uncomfortable from the way his visible eye keeps twitching and immediately your anger fizzles away into amusement.

You share a look with Chuuya that Dazai instantly catches, looking suspicious and alarmed.

“Chuuya, go get the camera.”

Dazai doesn’t even wait for another word. He instantly turns on his heel to bolt back to the beach house, but you’re chasing after him in an instant.

“Chuuya, go!” you yell again as you lunge forward, fingers curling around Dazai’s ankles to make him faceplant back into the water.

You scramble forward to straddle his waist to keep him in place but he worms out of your hold, trying to make another break for it but fails because you’re still clinging to his leg, dragging him back down with you. Distantly, you think you should’ve gone for the camera while Chuuya kept Dazai in place.

“Chuuya’s right,” you spit out. The two of you are out of the water now, you can feel the sand in your shirt and grating against your skin as you roll around with him trying to keep him still. “You really are like a slimy, slippery fish.”

“You can’t do this,” Dazai screeches. “It’s my birthday. It’s my birthday!”

“I got it!” Chuuya shouts from over by the chairs, racing back over to the two of you. 

“Took you long enough,” you yell right back at him, realizing that you’re going to have to sacrifice your own dignity to get Dazai in this picture, otherwise he’s going to try to run away again. 

Chuuya can hardly hold the camera straight through his snorting, and you’re sure you probably look equally as embarrassing as Dazai. There’s sand on your face, in your mouth, in your hair, in places where sand definitely shouldn’t be, but at least you don’t look like a kaleidoscope. Dazai lets out a pitiful noise when he realizes there’s no escape, trapped between your arms. He tries to hide his face in your neck, probably for plausible deniability that it’s an imposter trying to make him look bad, rather than it actually being him himself.

“Say cheese, mackerel,” Chuuya mocks.

“Fuck you,” Dazai complains.

But you can feel the smile twitching on his lips against your skin.

Oda and Sakaguchi set up a fire later that night. 

Well, by Oda and Sakaguchi, you mean Oda while Sakaguchi sat there and played dictator, telling him how to make a campfire that Oda clearly already knew how to make from the way he seemed to be hardly listening to the man.

Dazai and Chuuya are off trying to figure out how to use sparklers, which you think is a bad idea. You think the two are more likely to set each other on fire than actually use them properly, which is why you’re staying far away, tapping away on your phone near the campfire, relaxing under the sea breeze.

Itou: everything going ok?

You almost roll your eyes before responding with.

You: Yes. Why?

Itou: just curious :p

You: Could’ve stayed if you were curious. We offered.

Itou: yeah, maybe if u wanted to find me dead in a ditch. ur boy hates my guts.

You’re grateful that no one is around to see how you let out an embarrassed puff of air at how Itou refers to Dazai, instantly clicking out of his messages to see what other messages you have. Before you can, you feel a presence hovering above you and look up, raising your eyebrows.

Oda Sakunosuke stands next to you, studying you curiously, and you look to the side and then back toward him, unsure of what he wants.

“Yes?” you ask slowly. Sakaguchi is still sitting closer to the house, scowling as he bats away bugs.

“This is nice. What you did for Dazai,” Oda says simply. “I haven’t seen him this happy in… well, ever.”

A bit embarrassed, you shrug. “It’s whatever,” you say awkwardly. “Just happy it all worked out.”

“I don’t think Dazai’s ever had someone do something like this for him before,” Oda admits. He’s not looking at you anymore, fond gaze trained behind you to where you can hear Dazai and Chuuya arguing about how to use the sparklers. “He never told Ango or I his birthday… or anything personal about himself, really. I’m grateful that you brought us along.”

You wish you could sink into the ground and die, knowing that if it was up to you, you never would have invited either of them but forced yourself to for Dazai’s sake. Again, you shrug, and say, “Was for Dazai. Thought he would like it.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyway,” Oda says dismissively, looking back down at you. “You should stop by the curry place where I take Dazai every once and a while. The kids I brought in stay there, Sakura is the only girl, I’m sure she’d like having another girl around to talk to.”

You blanch. “I don’t-uh-I don’t know if that would be the best idea, I’m not exactly… a good influence for kids.”

Oda shrugs. “Maybe not conventionally, but you’re tough. Work ten times as hard as any of the others in the upper ranks of the Mafia to keep your position. It’s impressive. If Sakura was even half as strong as you are when she grows up, I’d be proud of her.”

Your lips part to speak but no words leave them. You think, maybe, that this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged this. Your position has never been as secure as anyone else’s—you think maybe that it’s part of the reason why Mori is so insistent on people using that stupid fucking title, as much as you hate it.

Your own subordinates respect you, the rest of the upper echelon who know of your contributions do, but everyone else? Hierarchy is absolute and the Boss’s orders are paramount, but when subordinates see a chance to push themselves higher up the ladder, it’s like sharks with blood in the water. Without a powerful ability like Chuuya’s, or a mind and presence like Dazai’s, as a girl, you’re on the lowest rung, the first one they’re circling to try to get ahead.

You prevent gang wars, keep the government off the Mafia’s ass, but that’s all behind the scenes—none of the lower ranked mafiosos see any of that. They see Dazai and Chuuya bringing down entire organizations overnight. Ace bringing in billions of yen. Kouyou’s perfect record of assassinations. Hirotsu leading the Black Lizards. Akutagawa and his ability. All they ever seen in you is-

All they see in you is a seventeen-year-old girl who happens to be favored by the Boss.

Although you don’t necessarily care for Oda’s presence, even if only for petty reasons, you do appreciate his words. Your shoulders slump and you want to reply, say thank you at the very least, but nothing comes out. You think he notices, and being the infuriatingly kind person he is, he gives you an out. Oda Sakunosuke pats your head like you’re a dog. You give him a side-eye and cringe away from his hand, but he’s unperturbed. 

“I’m glad he has you,” Oda tells you, before wandering back over to Ango, leaving you there flustered and caught off guard.

Your gaze draws back to where Dazai has finally got his sparkler working, and for a second, you’re entranced. You can hardly drag your eyes from the bright gleam and soft smile on Dazai’s lips as he eyes follow the bright pink and gold sparks flying around as he waves the sparkler around in front of him. It’s childish, almost, innocent in a way that Dazai Osamu never gets to act.

You have to force yourself to look away from him, turning your attention back to your phone to go back to what you were doing before Oda interrupted you.

Several texts from Kouyou and Mori demanding you to pick up your phone, one concerned one from Hirotsu—you’ll have to apologize to him later—and several from an unknown number that you don’t recognize. Akutagawa? Dazai’s subordinate? You’re going to have to have a serious talk with your subordinates later about giving out your number. You click back to your message thread with Itou, pointedly ignoring the last message as you type.

You: How the hell did Akutagawa Ryuunosuke get my number?

Itou: pretty sure he threatened a couple of our subordinates, wounded one of them. i have to deal with it tomorrow. have dazai train his dog before letting him wander around unleashed.

You roll your eyes and then tilt your head back to shout over your shoulder, “Dazai, train your fucking subordinates properly.”

The bickering from where Dazai and Chuuya were arguing behind you halts, and you hear the two of them approach you.

“What happened?” Chuuya asks curiously, peeking over your shoulder at your phone. You promptly close it before he can catch sight of the other message that Itou had sent about Dazai.

Dazai comes to hover next to you, waiting for you to explain, and you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “Akutagawa injured one of my men and threatened others trying to get my number when he heard you were missing. Get him under control.”

Dazai’s visible eye twitches. “Untrained mutt,” he spits out. “I’ll deal with him.”

You share a short look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye, wondering if you’d just condemned Akutagawa to Dazai’s violent wrath, but you’re distracted when your phone buzzes again.

Itou: check ur email.

You straighten in your seat, immediately flicking out of your messages app to your email to find one from Itou with a video file attached.

“No way,” you breathe out, excited, not having expected Itou to get his hands on it so quickly. You turn to look at Dazai, a wide smile on your face; you miss the way the irritation on his instantly fades, visible eye widening and lips parting at the sight of your smile. You also miss, in your excitement, Chuuya’s grunt of disgust. “Dazai, you wanna see your real present?”

Curious, Dazai peers over your shoulder to see the email you got. “What is that?” 

“Watch and see,” you croon, clicking on the video to show the surveillance tape from headquarters.

Instantly, Dazai seems to realize what it is, eye lighting up. “No way,” he says, half sitting on top of you in your beach chair, ignoring your irritated hiss.

“Get your bony ass off of me, Dazai,” you snap at him, but Dazai ignores you, settling down as he snatches your phone to watch the video. 

Chuuya joins him, crowding in on your other side to lean over his shoulder to watch the video. Rolling your eyes, and unable to see the video on your phone, you instead lean back into the chair and watch their reactions to it instead.

Chuuya looks amused, a sharp grin on his face as his eyes remain pinned on the video, and Dazai looks delighted, he cackles and shifts to lean forward, making you grimace when he ends up digging more into your thigh to push himself up.

“Look at his face,” Dazai screeches. “He really thinks it was real. Ane-san looks like she’s going to have an aneurysm.”

Chuuya looks back at you, smiling but there’s a hesitant look in his eyes. “We’re going to be in so much trouble when we get back,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Yeah, you agree silently, more focused on the bright shine in Dazai’s eyes and the wide, genuine smile on his lips. He’s so giddy that he’s almost vibrating in your lap, and when he finally looks back at you, he looks at you as if you’ve given him the world. Worth it, though.

Despite ardently arguing why you should be the one who doesn’t have to share a room and succeeding—forcing Oda and Sakaguchi (who didn’t seem to mind) and Chuuya and Dazai (much to their distress) to share a room instead—you find that you can’t sleep at night anyway. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to wander out of the house, making your way to the path leading up to the clifftop—everyone called an early night, the excitement of the day, and the lack of sleep, leaving everyone exhausted before the clock hit nine-thirty.

The seabreeze is cool against your skin, the moonlight’s illumination the only guide you have as you make your way up to the cliff’s edge. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your sweats as you drag your feet against the dirt path.

You don’t notice someone sitting up there at the edge until they turn their head to the side to look at you, startled by your arrival.

“Dazai,” you say quietly, standing there awkwardly for a moment. You haven’t spoken to him alone yet, you’d meant to earlier but then Chuuya got his hands on wine before bed and that plan went out the window.

Dazai sighs whimsically when he catches sight of you. “So, hime forces me to share a room with the slug only to not even use her own room. She’s so greedy,” he whines, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, making your way over to sit with him, legs dangling off the edge, swinging absently. Your thigh is pressed against the side of his, feet occasionally bumping into one another, when you rest your hands against the ground to lean back on them, your thumb brushes his. “You wanted to talk.”

Dazai lets out an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, and you watch as his gaze turns down to his lap, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s pretty beneath the glow of the moonlight, peaceful in a way you hardly ever see him. His expression is free of the numerous masks he wears to protect himself, eyes dark but warm and full of various emotions as he chooses his words carefully.

“Hime read my file,” Dazai finally says, voice soft, almost hesitant. You catch the way his jaw tightens and untightens, the corner of his lips tightening and quivering; a subtle tell to his nerves, one that most people wouldn’t catch, but you do.

“I did,” you agree. Your own heart races in your chest as you wait for his reaction; you don’t think that he’s angry, you think you’d be able to tell if he were angry by now, but you can’t help the anxiety plaguing you.

“So, you saw,” Dazai hums, but there’s a bit of a wobble to his tone. He pointedly doesn’t look at you now, staring ahead out toward the sky and distant sea. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No. I figure you’ll tell me if you want. If not, it’s okay.”

It’s decidedly not okay, but you don’t want to pressure Dazai into telling you. You want Dazai to open up to you, but you don’t want to force him to, so you force yourself to be content with the fact that he’s at least acknowledging this, instead of pretending it didn’t happen.

“I can’t,” Dazai says. 

His throat bobs beneath his bandages, dark eye uncertain as he stares down to the turbulent sea. You think a storm must be coming, the waves have become rocky, whitecaps staining the horizon, crashing into the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Dazai shifts, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“By choice?” you ask after a few moments. “Or is someone—” Mori “—forcing you to?”

“... Both,” Dazai responds after a few moments. “I…”

Dazai doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say, voice wavering. After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, he continues.

“I don’t have good memories associated with that name,” Dazai finally says, and you don’t dare to speak, hardly even dare to breathe because you don’t want to ruin whatever spurred this decision of his to crack himself open to you, afraid that if you make the wrong move, he’ll withdraw again. “... Sometimes, I miss it though.”

“That’s normal, I think,” you tell him after a moment, looking to the side to focus on him, watching the way his eyes lower at your words. “You have… better ones as… Osamu?” 

It’s your first time referring to Dazai by his first name, and from the way he inhales sharply, he recognizes it as well. There’s something distinctly vulnerable in his expression as he turns his face to you.

“I have you,” Dazai says quietly, and it’s so instant that it catches you off guard, lips parting. As if catching his own lapse in control, he blinks and then rushes to add, “And Odasaku. Ango. The slug.”

You smile a bit to yourself. “Yeah,” you agree. “You do.”

Dazai looks as if he wants to say something, his lips are parted and his gaze is uncertain. You give him a questioning look, wondering what could possibly be running through his head right now, but then he speaks.

“Shuji,” he says so softly that you barely hear him. “My name was Shuji.”

Your eyes shoot open at the admission, Dazai’s goes just as wide, as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. You open your mouth to say something but Dazai doesn’t even give you the chance to.

“You can’t use it ever, okay?” he says, voice tinged with a type of panic you’ve never heard in the boy before, dark eye filled with desperation. “Never. Not when we’re with people. Not when we’re alone. Not ever. You can’t.”

You don’t think Dazai has ever begged anyone for anything in his life, but he’s begging you now… a part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s for his sake, or yours.

“Can I say it once? Right now?” you ask quietly, swallowing thickly.

Dazai looks unsure and hesitant, but he finally nods. “Then you have to forget it, okay? You can’t ever let anybody know it. Nobody can ever know it. And nobody can know that you know, okay? No one, especially Mori.”

You don’t really like the sound of that, your gut tugging uncomfortably at the stress on Mori’s name, but you don’t want to press anymore than you have, so you agree.

With the winds howling around the cliffs to drown out your voice, and only Dazai and the stars to bear witness, you shift to face him. You reach up to cup Dazai’s cheek, fingers brushing against the bandages on the right side of his face, watching as he inhales sharply at your sudden touch. Before you can lose your nerve, you lean in to ghost your lips against his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, Shuji,” you whisper softly, pulling back to sit next to him. Your face is on fire, and Dazai doesn’t react beyond a shaky breath and his fists tightening in his lap.

Finally, instead of responding, he reaches out to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Your smile is soft, and you can feel Dazai’s fingers trembling, body uncharacteristically lax as he rests next to you.

Your free hand brushes a stray rock at your side and you turn to look at it curiously, noting the jagged edge and then getting an idea. Dazai frowns when you pull your hand from his and shift away, giving you a questioning look, but then you shift to your knees, grabbing the rock and etching your first initial into the flat rock that the two of you are sitting on. Dazai watches you carefully and when you hold it out to him, he hesitates before taking it from you.

He doesn’t do anything for a second, staring down at your initial with the jagged edge of the rock resting against the ground next to it. Finally, he takes in a steady breath before carving a ‘+ S’ right next to yours. You chew on the inside of your cheek and your eyes are a bit misty as your hand falls to trace the letters.

After a few moments, you let out another breath and settle down next to him again, a bit closer than you were before, thigh pressed firmly against his and shoulders brushing. You reach for his hand again, intertwining your fingers with his, looking up to the vast sky above.

Your lips part to speak, but the words catch in your throat, fingers tightening around his for the sparest second. He gives you a curious look and you don’t dare to look at him as you finally force the words from your lips.

“The moon… it’s pretty beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” you say quietly, throat tight as you stare up at the sky, the glittering stars and the full moon glowing above. 

You can feel Dazai’s gaze on you as he responds. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I think if I died tonight… I would die happy.”

Three years later on the early morning of June 19th, Dazai Osamu sits on the cliff’s edge in the same spot he did with you all of those years before, watching the sun break over the horizon. His fingers trace over the two engraved letters next to him, and not for the first time in the past two years he’s spent underground, he yearns. 

He yearns for you so bad that it makes his chest hurt, his stomach turns in on itself; he yearns so desperately that it’s hard for him to breathe without you, the thought of you weighing so heavily on his mind that he thinks the pressure of it might kill him. As he’s gotten closer to finally being able to leave the underground and join the Armed Detective Agency, he finds that he thinks more and more of you.

He wonders what you’re doing—if you’re thinking of him, if you hate him, if you’ve forgotten all about him. He can almost imagine you sitting here with him, shoulders brushing, thigh pressed to his, fingers intertwined.  He doesn’t know how long he’s spent sitting in that spot, fantasizing that you were there with him, longing for days with you and Chuuya and Odasaku and Ango that are long gone.

Before his thoughts can spiral any further, his phone rings—only one person would be calling him right about now, so he lets it get to the final ring before picking up.

“Fukuzawa-san is ready for you,” Ango says as soon as Dazai picks up the phone, waiting no time for pleasantries.. “Make your way over to the Armed Detective Agency when you can… Happy birthday, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, hanging up the phone and letting out a soft breath. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and his eyes linger on the engraved initials, worn with time but still clearly visible, for only a few seconds longer. He pushes himself up to his feet and walks back down toward the beach house with the thoughts of you still clouding his head.

Yeah, Dazai thinks a bit dryly, chest heavy and aching as he looks back at where the two of you once sat three years ago. Happy birthday.

fun facts!

the inspiration for this fic came from the summer vacation bungo mayoi cards with dazai, oda and ango LOLLLL

the inspiration for the "dazai osamu not being dazai's real name" comes from the fact that irl!dazai was a pen name—his real name was tsushima shuji.

i'm gonna drop some pm!reader universe lore here too. in the pm!reader universe, i decided to go with the popular theory that dazai was the previous boss's son/grandson, which is why his word held so much weight when he vouched for mori. when everything calmed down after the death of the previous boss and after most of the old regime of loyalists had been disposed of, mori had shuji change his name to dazai osamu, to shred any connection he might have had to the previously reigning mafia family, just in case more loyalists popped up. in the present pm!reader universe (from 16-22), only kouyou and hirotsu know who dazai really is.

Ranpo/reader + Dazai Osamu ➛ getting caught

content: nsfw, teasing, semi-public sex in a storage room, degradation ("slut", "bitch", etc), vaginal sex, finger sucking, thigh grinding | reblogs & comments appreciated!

~2,6k words | ao3 link | kinktober masterlist

There was something unnatural, something outright demonic about how terribly insatiable Ranpo was.

Often, this proved to be an advantage to you — you certainly weren't complaining whenever he spent hours between your thighs, eating you out with a tongue so clever it should have been illegal, or when he kept on fucking you even after having come already, not intent on stopping until you were sobbing out his name in desperate pleas.

Right now, however, you really wished he had some more decency, because humping you in the storage room when you both should have been working was awfully risky; too risky for your tastes.

“Ranpo—, we really should get back to work. Please.” Your voice sounded breathless, and you squirmed as the edge of the shelf dug uncomfortably into the soft skin underneath your shoulder blade. “Someone's going to wonder where we disappeared to.”

“So?” Ranpo's smirk was cheeky. “Let them wonder. You don't seriously believe Kunikida is going to suspect that we're making out in here.”

“Well, no, but—” You interrupted yourself with a tiny whimper as Ranpo once more rolled his hips against yours; your eyes fell closed on instinct, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. “Please.”

“See? You just invalidated your own concerns. He's not going to look for us. Just focus on me.”

“But someone else might”, you protested weakly, your eyebrows knitted together into a frown. The thought of Yosano or even Fukuzawa finding you both in such a compromising position wasn't a pleasant one. Or, even worse—

Ranpo merely clicked his tongue at you, mirth sparkling in his eyes as he raised a shoulder in a shrug. “You'll just have to stay quiet then.” He leaned forward, lips right next to your ear, voice low; “You can do that, right? Wouldn't want anyone to hear you mewling the way you usually do on my dick, right?”

Heat rose to your cheeks at those words and you narrowed your eyes in disdain, glaring at Ranpo. “I don't mewl.”

“Sure you do.” As if to prove you wrong, his leg suddenly pushed between your thighs, spreading them, and ground down against your crotch, a smirk causing the corners of his lips to twitch upwards when your breath caught in your throat.

A choked out moan left your mouth almost on cue, your legs trying to close again on instinct — in vain, of course.

Another jerk of his leg had you whimpering, his thigh all but rubbing insistently against your cunt, and even though layers of clothing were still hindering you from skin on skin contact, the sensation was intense enough to cause you to throw your head back with a high-pitched whine.

Even worse; your arousal was drenching your panties already, and, God, how were you supposed to keep on working while wearing these once Ranpo decided he was done?

“See? You're mewling like a bitch in heat, and I barely even touched you yet.”

Sometimes you forgot just what a sharp tongue Ranpo had.

The words were crude enough to make you try and hide your face in his neck, dark hair brushing against your forehead, and Ranpo snickered.

“What, are you embarrassed? I'm just stating the facts. I bet you'll be even louder once I actually get to fuck you.”

“Ranpo”, you whined, shaking your head against his shoulder, “We can't, seriously, imagine if someone walks in on us.”

Even though that was what you were saying, desperately trying to cling to the voice of reason, you were unable to stop yourself from grinding down against his thigh as arousal coiled in your abdomen, hot and heavy and terribly persistent.

Your clit was throbbing with need, and with each roll of your hips against his leg, you gasped, faint and high-pitched noises clawing their way out of your throat.

When you took your actions into consideration, your words really weren't convincing.

It seemed Ranpo thought the same.

“Hey, I'm not keeping you from leaving.” His smirk was sleazy, green eyes half-lidded as he pulled away just far enough to get a proper look at you. “If you think it's too risky, better get back to work before anyone notices you're missing, doll. I'll just get myself off.”

You whined in response. “You're unnecessarily cruel.”

“And you're indecisive. That's worse.” With those words, Ranpo pulled his leg back to push down his trousers, carelessly letting them pool around his knees as he grabbed his dick in one hand, a tiny moan falling from his lips. “So? What will it be? Brave enough to take some risks?”

It was getting increasingly difficult to still focus on what he was saying, you noted in the back of your mind. Instead, your attention was all but drawn to the way his cock twitched in his own palm when he rubbed over the flushed head of it, smearing thin precum around, and you were unable to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs together with sudden need.

“Ranpo”, you said, his name lingering between you, thick and tension-filled, and you honestly had no idea what you had been planning to say.

Eventually, as Ranpo raised an eyebrow in anticipation, you managed to choke a plea out, though you weren't sure what exactly you were asking for.

For more or for less, or for him to finally stop jerking himself off, because the sight was seriously driving you mad; the urge to sink down to your knees and suck him off was overwhelming, and yet your cunt was all but dripping with arousal, your own wetness sticking to your inner thighs.

You seriously didn't think you'd be able to handle it if he were to tease you right now.

There were going to be numerous opportunities to let him fuck your mouth in the future. Preferably when you weren't in semi-public.

“Made a decision?” Ranpo eventually quipped, still working himself, and the way he was all but thrusting into his own fist, yet sounded entirely unaffected, made you clench around nothing.

God.

You hesitated for just a moment, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth and watching with some satisfaction as Ranpo's gaze dropped down to your mouth. “Fuck me”, you said, then adding; “Please, just be quick about it.”

Ranpo smirked, wide and all teeth. “With pleasure, darling.”

A second later, you were being turned around, your cheek pushed against the shelf. Despite the position being anything but comfortable, you didn't protest when he flipped your skirt up, greedy hands going straight for your thighs, kneading soft skin through the thin fabric of your tights, only for them to rip a few moments later under his nails.

Your breathing stuttered in your chest as your legs were spread wide apart, your panties pushed down, and the fat head of Ranpo's dick nudged against your cunt. “You're absolutely terrible. I hope you'll get me a new pair.”

“You look prettier without them anyway.” Ranpo merely shrugged, unbothered, and just as you were about to say that this didn't get rid of the actual problem, it being the terribly obvious hole right over your crotch, he pushed into you with one smooth thrust.

The sudden stretch caused you to gasp, your back arching as you scrambled for purchase, finding nothing but a few old documents and the shelf's edge to hold onto.

“You could've at least prepared me.” Your voice was trembling. Luckily, Ranpo at least gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before he pulled out of you, only to thrust back in, his narrow hips slapping against your plush ass.

“Thought you wanted me to be quick about it.” His smirk was audible in his voice. “Besides, you're wet enough to take me either way.”

You weren't able to do much more than whimper in response. At a particularly sharp thrust, your knees buckled underneath your own weight and a high-pitched cry, terrifyingly loud, left your mouth.

Ranpo whistled. “Seems like you really want to be caught”, he commented, the teasing tone to his voice mean; one hand of his rested on your hip as his pace increased, his thrusts deep enough to make you moan again and again, even as you shook your head almost feverishly.

“No? Are you sure? If you wouldn't want that, you'd at least try to keep quiet, but I don't see you biting down on your lip or even just holding your hand in front of your mouth.”

The words earned another whimper from you; this time, you felt oddly caught, like you had been trying to draw attention to you on purpose, though that couldn't have been farther away from the truth.

“I bet you'd just love it if someone were to see you like this, spread open on my dick. Our lovely secretary, always ready to help us detectives out, even if it's just by spreading her pretty legs.” A quiet laugh as you clenched instinctively around him; a reaction based on humiliation not guilt, you were sure. “See? I knew it.”

You were panting by now, your eyelids drooping and whole body shaking. It was terribly obvious that Ranpo's grip on your hip was the only thing still keeping you standing as he ground his hips against yours with slow and deep thrusts that had you tightening, wet walls pulsing.

Your mewls turned more needy the closer you got, impatience obvious in your whiny tone, and just as you were sure you were about to come did Ranpo stop moving at once.

An unhappy noise left your mouth, but before you were able to complain, two lithe fingers pushed past your lips, effectively gagging you.

Moments later, you finally realised why Ranpo had stopped his merciless pace — there were steps, light and irregular, approaching the exact storage room you were currently hiding in.

There was no lock on the door.

You tensed, clenching around Ranpo's dick without meaning to; the action earned you a barely stifled grunt.

“Guess your kink about getting caught is going to become reality”, he said, his raspy voice right next to your ear. “Hope it's not the President.”

Just as you were about to tell him to shut up, the steadily growing louder noise of dress shoes against tiles stopped.

Then, sunlight from outside flooded your sight and your breath caught in your throat as someone stepped into the tiny room, immediately closing the door again.

Your eyes widened as they met dark brown ones.

“My, my; now would you look at that?” Dazai's teasing tone made your blood run cold; ice water coursing through your veins as the terrifying reality of the situation sunk in. “Someone's avoiding work, it seems. How terribly naughty of you both.”

Ranpo scoffed. “And what are you doing in here? Definitely not working, it appears.”

God, he was still inside of you, his dick hard and hot and so close to nudging against your g-spot, and yet his voice sounded entirely unaffected.

That shouldn't have been quite this hot.

“Ah, you caught me. Clever as always, Ranpo.” Dazai's smile was cheeky. “I'm hiding from Kunikida. I'm sure he'll cave and do my paperwork if I'm not around.”

“Seems we both need this room then.”

“Yes, it seems so.”

Suddenly, Ranpo thrust into you, his hips slapping against your plush ass, and you all but keened at the sudden stimulation.

A mere second later, however, you found yourself to be nothing but terrified.

“Ranpo”, you choked out, horrified and with wide eyes, though you clenched around his dick on pure instinct; “God, Ranpo, stop, we can't—”

Your face was tingling with heat and embarrassment, and your sudden humiliation only worsened when he didn't stop; instead, he picked up his previous rhythm again, slow deep thrusts that had you whimpering and whining.

“Why should I?” You were able to all but feel Ranpo's lips curl into a smirk against your throat. “You're enjoying yourself quite a lot. I don't see a reason to stop, darl.”

A choked out noise left your lips. “But Dazai—”

“Saying another man's name while it's Ranpo fucking you?” Dazai suddenly quipped, his eyes alight with amusement. “That's rather impolite, bella. I'm just saying, but I'd be quite upset if I were him.”

As if to prove a point, two of Ranpo's fingers, still wet with your saliva, squeezed your pebbled nipple, meanly enough to make you shriek.

Tears welled up in your eyes, embarrassment blooming hot and heavy in your chest. “Ranpo, but he's—”

Dazai smirked, wide and feral. “Please, don't stop on my account.”

Ranpo huffed out a laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “See? He doesn't mind”, he said, and that was that.

Moments later, he reached down with one hand, lithe fingers circling around your throbbing clit, and you whimpered as your knees buckled, your head spinning. Your chest was heaving with each sharp inhale you took, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of your blouse, and you briefly wondered that you were still able to stand with how weak you felt.

At once, you noticed the wet clicking noise distinct in the room, not quite matching the rhythm of Ranpo's movements. It took you a while to figure out that it came out of Dazai's direction.

You regretted looking up the moment your eyes met his.

Dazai had sat down on the edge of a cupboard, leaning back leisurely, and one hand of his was steadily jerking his own dick off, his thumb swiping over the fat head of his cock. Precum dribbled down the girth of it while he held your gaze, entirely unashamed; smug, if anything.

The sight tore an unexpected moan from you, your walls pulsing around Ranpo's dick, and Dazai's smile widened.

“Someone's naughty”, he cooed, voice all but dripping with mirth as he tilted his head to the side, the motion oddly feline. A cat that had already caught the canary. “Do you enjoy watching me get myself off? My, that's so lewd, love.”

You merely whimpered in response while pointedly turning your head away again — or at least trying to do so. The second you hid your face in the crook of your elbow, Ranpo's hand fisted in your hair, grabbing a good chunk of it to keep you from doing so, and the sudden blur of pain and pleasure pushed you over the edge.

You came with a high-pitched moan, and it didn't take much more than a few thrusts until Ranpo spilled inside of you, liquid warmth filling you up as a whine left his mouth.

"You look terribly adorable like this, darling”, Dazai crooned, his tone patronising, and you pressed your lips together tightly to avoid making any humiliating noises as Ranpo pulled out, your loose cunt immediately clenching around nothing.

Not that the situation was able to get even worse.

Dazai eventually reached his own orgasm with an undoubtedly exaggerated moan, though you weren't about to call him out for the deliberate way his head fell back, exposing his throat, as he thrust into his hand; not when the picture was one for the Gods.

Eventually, when your breathing had calmed down, you huffed, your eyes narrowed. Despite the way you glared at them both, you doubted you looked all that intimidating right now. Ranpo's cum was still dripping down your thigh. “I'm starting to think you both planned this.” Your voice trembled.

Dazai glanced at you. “And why would we do that?”

“Like I know.” The second you took a step forward, planning to leave the storage closet quickly and rush to the bathroom, your legs gave out. It was only thanks to Ranpo's sudden grip on your hip that you didn't fall, and before you knew it, he pushed you down onto Dazai's lap, green eyes sparkling with amusement. “But I know you did.”

“You're being paranoid, bella.” His grin told you you were being anything but. Not that you got any opportunity to respond; moments later, long fingers pushed into your mouth, sticky with cum. “Be good and clean that up for me, will you?”

➛ tags: @beandaifuku @what-the-stories-have-foretold @lafxox @alpaca-lad @elizaboba @mrsdostoevsky @poptartkingsworld @imchiiii @empresspug @lwqfhp @slvdsjjk @lqurelhell @shinchilo @06charlie06 @69doing @onlinewhisper14 @one4rin @hugs-for-drugs-bro @kasperlive @elebeleb @lauritt @akxtagawaxryxn0sxke @fyodorscumsock @brookesensei @caboline @ashthemadwriter @aku-ryu @owosamu @silverquackson @rakasworld @titamaow @cookieshinigami @beesbeesbees @fiveangrybees @dazaistiddy @pitynoir @random-names-stuff @honie-bunny @angelsrunes @peachy123 @walkingwasteofbandages @deepsweetsbasement @strawberrynamedtobi @cl-0-vr @reihimbo @itssara-chan @gnfwol @nobutyes0 @josie-jovan @leviamere

➛ if you comment i will kiss you on the mouth

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father and son

bonding time

❱ ִֶָ⋆ http:˚ nie ♡ presents! ˚ˑؘ  ·˚

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 BAD INFLUENCE, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME ; an osamu dazai fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . nope, sorry, no part two will be there.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; fem!reader, troublemaker!dazai, richboy!dazai, nsfw, public sex, getting caught, dazai has a choking kink, food play, dry humping, going in rough, begging, dazai is a tease, needy!reader, needy!dazai, desperate!dazai, desperate!reader and that's all i remember.

there aren't 'two kinds' of people in the world to be frank. sure, the ideal includes having two different personalities which are a contrast to each other but those were the foundation upon which many branches were created from.

the 'good' and 'evil' are just the original trunks through which many branches sprouted -- all different in some way and similar in other ways.

the leaves of the branches stick together and that is what's normally referred to as a 'clique'.

dazai knows you and him are different people but he can't help but return the smile you offer him as he waves dismissively at the professor who is screaming at him for entering the class after fifteen minutes since it's start.

the brunette thinks the professor should be glad that he even decided to attend it and the reason why he did so is simple really, the teacher is in great luck to have you in his class because by now it was a known fact in the very back to the very front of dazai's brain that wherever you are, he will be too for even getting as much as a glance at you once is enough for him to be content for the entire day.

"sir is screaming at you." you point out in amusement, eyes trained to stay on the man who is now shooting daggers at dazai through his eyes but does the latter really care?

no, he doesn't. what he does care about and feels grateful for is the unexpected friendship --- no, rather it's an acquaintance type of relationship that you two share for the only time you two talk is in this specific class or sometimes outdoors as well if you two end up bumping into each other -- that he found himself developing with you.

"he can't make his wife scream so he does it instead." dazai joked to make you smile like he always does as soon as he enters the class, he likes to think you sit with him at the last bench in the last row is due to his ability of making these boring lectures fun by his side comments.

you snicker quietly as you shift to make space for him and he smiles at you, plopping down on the space next to you but making sure to be as close to you as possible.

"thanks sugar," he muttered to thank you for saving him a seat. this is why you like sitting next to him. to be as close as possible while making it look like it's natural, it's necessary.

dazai had this habit of placing his arm on the back of the chair and you had a habit of discreetly leaning on it a few minutes later after you make sure he is paying attention to the on going lecture. he then proceeds to rub his thumb on the space between your two shoulder blades and that would be the routine. well it used to be.

dazai's eyes glances downwards and even if this isn't his first time seeing you in a skirt, this is his first time seeing you in thigh high socks. the way the socks bring out the essence of your thighs out more has him gulping.

dazai is a man of power and of great patience but he is a human after all and humans are weak infront of their desires.

so he really shouldn't be blamed when he continued to cast his eyes downwards to observe in every detail of your thighs through your ridden up skirt. he gulps once as he is almost tempted to run his hand over your thigh but stops himself when he feels the professor looking at him.

straightening up immediately, the troublemaker smirks at the professor with a raised eyebrow as if asking him the reason of making dazai his centre of attention. said teacher sighed before shaking his head as he muttered something under his breath, probably curses at dazai.

"dude, what did you do to him? he seems to hate you with a passion." dazai tilts his head to look at you who mumbled, a amused smile playing at your lips as you stare up at him before cocking your eyebrows up.

"guess he can't stand seeing someone as good looking as me, hm sugar?" dazai grinned at you cockily and you felt your heart beat escalating, you hum as you glance at the professor to see his back turned towards the class as he looked at a stack of papers on his desk. you took the chance, looking at dazai and eyeing him before you cross one leg over the other as you know really well how the action would make your skirt ride up.

hook up culture isn't something you are fond of but one night with this man is all you ask for, like a virgin maiden had you opened your arms to the sky as you prayed to the entity above before taking this very big step.

you felt your heart beat a particular thrust which made even you acknowledge its beat when you make dazai's eyes trail down to ogle at your exposed midthighs and those thigh high socks which makes your thigh look oh so grabby.

the notorious man found himself leaning in closer towards you just a bit as he smirked charmingly and raised his hand to drum his fingers against your temple.

"or maybe that old bastard is scared of something else which he knows i am capable of doing." he whispered. you were about to turn your head to stare at the front again had it not been for his other hand which immediately your jaw to hold you in place.

"capable of doing what?" you whisper out as you realized you had no choice but to stare at him, dazai smirked as he winked.

"let's play a game? if you win, i'll tell what i'm talking about to you." he offered and the maiden always found herself tempted by the devil, you nod.

"good girl sugar. this class is boring anyway." he brings your hand towards his cheek and leans on it and you playfully scoff, giving your professor a scared glance to see him not noticing what you two are up to, you look at dazai,

"oh hush now, not everyone is a genius like you dude. some of us actually gotta study like hell." you playfully poke his cheek.

dazai shrugs as he chuckled before leaning down to get something from his bag, you curiously peek at what's in his hand and seeing you do so, dazai decided to help you by opening his palm and you raised your eyebrows in curiosity and wonder when you noticed a pack of gummies in his hand. you look up at him, face painted in amusement and confusion and oh, how did he stop himself from leaning in and kissing your lips right now? even he isn't aware but he has always been a man of great self control and pretence.

dazai only grins to cover up the urge to bite his lip and thoughts which are urging him to push you on your knees right now and have you take him, even the thought itself makes him poke his inner cheek with his tongue while he tears the packet open and picks up one of the gummies between his index finger and thumb before he extended his hand to push it past your soft glossed lips as he lets the pad of his index finger linger a little on your upper lip to feel it's softness before he pulls his hand back to himself and smiled innocently as if he isn't imagining choking you on his dick.

he side glanced at the front of the class to make sure no preying eyes are being entertained, leaning near your ear to breath out and let his hot breath collide with the shell of your ear, dazai feels ecstatic to see you try to cross your legs discreetly. "is it good?"

the words sound lewd to you as you repeat the three words but imagine yourself in a completely different scenario, the tricks played on you by your inciting fervor for the male sitting next to you. you gulp before nodding.

dazai slumps down on his seat as he placed his arm around your shoulder to bring you a bit closer to him, his hands gripping your forearm and he whispered,

"say whatever you want to but isn't this class just a little too boring?" he whispered near your ear, a smirk on his face and if possible, said smirk only became more cocky when you nodded immediately as if not even aware of your own actions.

the gummy swirled in your mouth and you could feel it's flavor bursting into your tongue but all you could focus on was the desk infront of you as you realised that if you tried to move a bit, you could be against dazai's body. his words are a blur but his voice is prominent as always.

teasing, seductive and hot.

"why don't we play a game? i'll give you your answers if you win and i'll have a source of entertainment in this boring class, okay? see, this is a win win situation for the both of us." dazai shrugged, feigning innocence but when you nodded, he couldn't help but smirk devilishly.

devilishly in the sense that when you turned your head to look at him and you saw him staring down at you, the smirk on his face made you shiver as it made you realize how powerless you are against him and his intellect.

"the one to give up first loses." is all he said, didn't bother to explain the rules as he thought it would be better to show you how the game is played. because something about the fact of having you trust him without knowing what he has in store for you is addicting and pleasurable. to have you trust him blindly makes him feel giddy.

dazai picked a gummy from the packet and after a glance to the front to make sure no one is looking as you two are still in a classroom, he places the gummy on his collarbone before grinning at you.

"eat it." he mumbled. you widened your eyes for how is this man sane when he is asking to play this game which could be seen as nothing but sexual in a classroom full of students? doesn't matter if you two are situated at the very back of the class and the taller students sitting infront are towering and hiding you two barely.

"you must be joking." you muttered but all dazai did was shake his head, a cocky grin on his face.

"i can assure you that i am really not joking right now. what, you scared?" dazai teased and if possible, the cockiness dripping from his grin only increased as he looked down at you from his position.

you scoffed as you raised your eyebrows at him, you quickly looked at the front to make sure no one is looking before you leaned towards his neck. dazai snickered, the way you anxiously made sure no one would look behind was too adorable for his heart to not squeeze in fondness. he hooked his finger under his collar before pulling on it to make his collarbone and skin more visible and available for you.

you gulped as you leaned near the gummy and parted your lips which came in contact with his skin and dazai shuddered at the feeling. even though the touch was barely felt, it still has an effect on dazai who closed his eyes when he felt your lips press against his skin more as you gently bit on the gummy, leaning back with the gummy between your teeth had given you the opportunity to look at the way dazai's chest slightly heaved up and down and the furrow of his eyebrows.

as he opened his eyes and tilted his head with a smirk, you ate the gummy while taking another one from the packet and looking down your body as you tried to think of a spot which would get him just as flustered as you but then you pause, sparing a glance at the man who continued to watch you contemplate with a mocking pout on his face and you wonder, is it possible to make the dazai osamu flustured?

with a defeated sigh, you place the gummy on top of your thigh high in such a way that half of the gummy laid on your bare thigh skin and the other half on your sock.

you did not, even in your dreams, ever expect the man who could walk and have the trail of footsteps he left be crystallized and worshipped, to bite his bottom lip while a slight and and faint blush leaves its stamp on his cheeks.

"if you keep on staring, the lecture will be over soon." you taunt but in a playful fashion due to not being able to sit still under his intense and trance like gaze and dazai knew his actions and their effects on you.

"what a tease." he muttered as he extended his hand to pinch your thigh while leaning down leisurely and as his tongue passed his lips to swipe the gummy off your thigh, his hand slipped between your thighs to grab a handful of your flesh and squeeze it -- all just to elicit a very faint whimper from you which would reach only his ears.

"you really shouldn't be the one to utter that." you mumble, clearing your throat as you pull the gummy from his lips and twisted it between your fingers before you toss it in your mouth, covering your mouth with the back of your palm as you looked at the front just in time as the professor looked back and he, upon seeing dazai stare at you while biting his lip as he tried to restrain a smile from spreading onto his lips, shook his head.

it's not like he can actually correct the behavior of the brunette who comes from a family under whose feet money and people alike falls.

money speaks volumes to the public more than education ever did after all.

"what are you so scared for?" dazai began as he proped his elbow on the desk and leaned on it, staring at you with an obnoxiously attractive and smug grin but when you do not look nor speak to him in fear of getting caught by the professor, dazai puffs his cheeks a bit before he picks another gummy from the packet.

he shoved the packet into his pocket before he leaned forwards, a grin comparable to a mischievous child on his face as he drops the gummy between your breasts and he leans in to immediately scoop it between his teeth as well as moving his hand to grip your thigh again.

the reaction elicited was one dazai would remember and smile over for days for how could he not when you jumped slightly in your seat when you felt the gummy dropping on your chest and immediately feeling his breath on your skin, the way you looked down at the back of his head with widened eyes when you felt him lick a strip towards the gummy, you felt your legs clenching had it not been for the hand of his which is holding your one thigh and not letting it squeeze against the other -- for dazai needed to know what his limitations laid.

but what he did not know is there are no limitations you hold when it comes to dazai for how could you when your free leg crossed over the one dazai was holding so that he has no choice but to sit for the entirety of the lecture with his hand between your legs.

dazai raised his slender fingers to hook around and pull down on your top, he nibbled the top of your breast where the gummy laid before picking it up between his teeth and as he sat straight, the cocky smirk he showed wasn't meant for you but for the professor who was discreetly looking at you two and curling his fingers into fists, what a bad influence you are dazai.

"don't try to ignore me, you are breaking my heart and making me loose faith in romance." dazai scoffed playfully, faux sadness on the pout he displayed and you looked at him with the same playfulness he carried as you mockingly pouted too.

"why aren't you dead yet?" you teased and watched as the man let out a small and breathy whine, taking advantage of this playful and comfortable mood between you two to get even closer, laying his head on your shoulder and tilting his head to brush his lips against your neck which made you shudder.

"if sir catches us and if i get in trouble, i will make sure you pay for it." your warning is nothing but a joke and he knows it but even if it wasn't, it wouldn't have been much of a problem for he knows what words to use to make you go all shy and giggly.

"you won't get in trouble sugar. i'll make sure of it. but it's amusing how you are scared of sir catching us rather than focusing on the fact that a guy is extremely close to you to do whatever he wants to." dazai breathed out and watches how after his breath hitting your skin makes it a tourist destination for goosebumps.

in response, you squeeze his hand (still sandwiched between your thigh he is gripping and the back of the other one) hardly but it only makes him hum as he parted his lips to let his tongue out and moisten his plush, bottom lip.

"not afraid?" dazai whispers. you shake your head as your eyes fall on him and you smile.

"you don't give me a reason to be." you whisper out as it felt right to be quiet in such a vulnerable moment shared and when you looked into his eyes, how were you supposed to look away from this man who makes everything so breathtakingly beautiful whenever he is doing it?

"good, let's keep it that way." dazai mumbled yet his eyes fell on your lips and you knew he shared the same thoughts, desperation and feelings with you. you knew you aren't the only one feeling suffocated from not being able to just lean forwards and capture his lips in a kiss.

dazai's lithe fingers slipped into his pockets and into the gummy packet from which he picked one and raised it towards your lips, your eyes shakily followed as you tried not to make your unstable respiration visible but when has something ever been hidden from the man who is the master of hiding?

your lips part as dazai gently pushed half of the gummy into your mouth and when you tried to look to the front to make sure if anyone had turned to look at you two, you found your movements restricted by the man whose hand came to grab your jaw while the other (still sandwiched between your thighs) squeezed your thigh.

you let out a confused hum and to hear more noises leaving the temple of your mouth for dazai to worship is his wish as a human bounded by his desires, to have the maiden kiss his feet after he fulfills her wish is his desire as the devil, lulling you into him. so why won't he do what he did when his hand which was grabbing your jaw pulled you forwards and he tilted his head a bit to take the other half of the gummy between his teeth.

his hand immediately left your jaw to grab both of your hands and place it on his crotch, pushing them down onto it and letting you feel as his cock hardens a bit under your palms. the intensity of the situation making your eyes close shut.

a breathy whimper leaves your lips and it makes dazai hiss as he presses your palms harder onto his crotch and as a result, you squeeze his hand tighter between your thighs in an attempt to cross your legs and not feel how his actions are affecting your cunt and hormones.

"dazai osamu." the name called in a very cold and strict tone is what made you to immediately pull back. much to dazai's displeasure as he made sure to keep your hands still above his crotch and with a bored gaze, turned to look at the professor.

"yes sir, how may i help you?" his voice is overcoated with sugar and sickening honey as he blinks innocently yet the grin on his face just makes it clear how 'innocent' he actually is. dazai stares into the professor's eyes, not shying away from making direct eye contact.

you, on the other hand, gulp when you notice most of the class turning their heads to look back at you and you just hope they don't find this position weird or suspect anything as dazai refuses to leave your hands, instead, he guides your hands to squeeze his dick and your breath almost hitched at the small and barely audible whine he let out. does money make one so brave or does he truly have, like he claimed, a trick up his sleeve which makes him one step superior to the professor?

you try to appear normal and not flustured but how can you when the constant movements of the man's hand makes your own to squeeze down on his cock and the way his thighs jerk or he lets out short intake of breaths meant to show how much pleasure he is gaining from all this is constantly reaching you, so, how can you appear normal?

"please do stay back after class and let's have a small tea party." the professor speaks sarcastically and his words weren't meant for you, you knew yet still your ears burned in shame when the class snickered or straight up giggled but so did dazai.

dazai giggled sweetly, pretending to be flattered and shy as he replied back, "my my, is this a date between us two sir?"

you look down to try to muffle the snicker that was to leave your lips at the humorous words of the man and the sight of you being affected by his words like he hoped to, made dazai's heart fuzzy and and his cocky smile to widen.

so it really isn't much of a surprise when dazai is seen happily making his way to the professor's office, behind said authority figure, but what is surprising is you walking alongside dazai. you aren't in trouble and your professor made that much clear when he told you he had a departmental meeting to attend and wouldn't trust dazai in his office alone. as a fairly well performing student and sometimes making small talks and jokes with the professor, he thought you will make a good choice (also considering that you are one of the few people the troublemaker seems to get along with) to be the one to supervise over dazai and said troublemaker was overly ecstatic too with the professor's choice.

however, you weren't. not even in the slightest to be asked to stay back after lectures and you made it known to the joyful troublemaker next to you by walking with slumped shoulders and furrowed eyebrows which said troublemaker found adorable.

but he couldn't have you sulking, can he?

so dazai takes a step closer to you and at the same time wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, your eyes widening in surprise; flattered, and it made his heart flutter when you let out an almost inaudible gasp as you feel his fingers teasingly lift the hem of your skirt, dazai almost giggled but to stop himself from doing so and risking the professor looking back at you two, he tilted his head down to nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck and then he smiled, in your shade.

"you don't look pleased. am i that displeasing for you to look so bothered?" his words were provocation and he knew you didn't know of so and this is why he continued on with this act when you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him ; you shook your head as you felt panick begin from your toes and raise towards your lower abdomen, you looked down at his hand on the side of your thigh as it played with the hem of your skirt and when the panick reached till your chest, you grabbed his hand and clasped it tightly as you looked at him, eyes wild in panick.

panick of loosing this tension created and of things going back to the way they were because you really can not tolerate going back to being casual deskmates after playing such a dangerous game which had desire and self control as its two rules.

dazai felt the ends of his lips curl up into a satisfied grin when he stared right into your eyes and watched you bringing his hand towards your mouth -- towards your lips specifically and he practically leaned on his toes when he felt the faintest touch of your lips on his hand before you pulled his hand more near and bit the skin of the backside of his palm.

dazai, in return, bit his lip as he looked away with a smile and when you freed his hand from your grip, he looked down at the pink skin and teeth mark left by you and smirked.

he leaned his head on your shoulder again and this is when you mumbled , "someone was being all cocky and saying they wouldn't let me get in trouble. what happened to that?"

dazai snickered quietly at the teasing tone and hummed, tilting his head up to slightly lick your jaw before he whispered against it, "isn't trouble worth it if it's with me?"

when you do not reply but only look at him with a cocked eyebrow, dazai puffed out his cheeks yet again to let his displeasure be known as now he sulked, yet unlike him, you didn't try to make any efforts in making him feel better.

"i hope you don't hold me asking you to stay here after lectures against me --" your professor began and you immediately separated from dazai, nodding at the man and the way you took a step forwards to listen to your professor better had dazai poking his inner cheek with his tongue, not liking it at all.

for when the devil sees one fearing his own kind more than him, he feels humiliated, challenged.

dazai osamu never liked feeling second to someone else but he stays put and doesn't do anything except glare at your back and if only you could turn your head to look at the ferocious glare he has, maybe you would drop on your knees right there and then and maybe he knew it too and this is why he continued to glare at you yet a cocky smirk slowly crept to his lips like a snake slithering towards its unsuspecting prey.

"i will be back in thirty minutes or before, please keep an eye on that troublemaker and i'll make sure to give you extra credit for this." your professor promised and who were you to refuse?

the maiden found shelter in the priest and his vows yet a shelter is different from a home.

a home.

dazai.

no one else.

. . . is it understood?

maybe it was your naivety to not notice or find anything wrong with dazai's unusual quietness as you two entered the professor's office.

or maybe you knew it damn well and still decided to go for it because the maiden grew greedy and wanted more, to make a deal with the devil.

dazai's sharp eyes followed when you sat on the leather chair next to him and he watched your eyes scanning over the office before you hummed, impressed.

yet he also watched the stack of papers on the professor's desk which caught your attention and how you immediately approached it while saying something along the lines of, "these must be the class test papers. do you want to see your paper too?"

"not really, go ahead." dazai muttered lowly and he felt his finger twitch when you only hummed. is his voice not seductive? why are you being so nonchalant?

did you ever wonder why the devil approached the pure maiden? maybe it is the devil that got seduced and not the other way around and maybe this is why the devil wanted to make a deal with the maiden so he could keep her all for himself.

you leaned down a bit on the desk as you searched for your paper among the many others and found it after a great deal of effort being used and this made you a bit tired to have to go through all the different papers to find your's and then arrange them back in the pile. you looked down at your paper with a slight excitement mixed with a slight anxiety but when your eyes fell on your mark, you raised your eyebrows in awe.

not bad. most of your answers were correct but they weren't what you were interested in, you were more interested in seeing the ones you got wrong and so to make yourself more comfortable, you leaned on the desk.

dazai gritted his teeth and looked away when he saw your breasts being squished between the glossed wooden table and your body and slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes trailed to your lower body to see your skirt riding up (due to leaning and practically laying on the table).

dazai stared long enough to make out the colour of your panties and if he stared a bit more, he could make out the outline of your cunt and he did. for if he hadn't, then he wouldn't have seen the wet patch on it and gotten the courage to do what he did next.

dazai knew it was too weird for you to not have any effect because of his flirting but now that it is clear you were only putting on an act of nonchalance to hide your obvious reaction to him, he felt his deflating ego rising from the bottom to take lead of him again.

like an eagle, he stood up from the chair he was sitting on to approach you and made his presence very obvious to you. your breath refused to leave your windpipe when you could easily make out dazai's crotch pressing against your ass, his legs on your's and when he leaned down, you could feel his chest against your waist.

your hands holding your quiz paper shook slightly and he smirked upon seeing so as he raised one hand to run it down your back.

"show it to me, sugar." dazai muttered lowly against your ear and lord, oh lord, the gravel tone he spoke in made you want to beg him to take you at the very moment but self restraint is a humorous thing and it won't let you submit till it broke in half.

you do not reply but lick your lips which suddenly got really dry, shakily raising your hands to let him have a clear view of your paper and you looked down, staring at the desk you are inappropriately laying on.

"next page," dazai ordered when the first page showed no incorrect answers and when you failed to listen to him, he gently pinched the back of your thigh which made you to slightly jerk forwards at the unexpected action yet what followed it was his crotch being pressed against your ass.

you whimpered at the touch as the more he pressed his crotch against you, the more you felt the wet patch of your panties rubbing against your wet folds.

"hey, i asked you to do something so why won't you? wasn't i clear?" he hissed down next to your ear and you wondered why is he so worked up?

but how would you know when your forehead is pressed against the desk and your forehead is all sweaty? how would you know how his eyes didn't even glance up to see you pathetically trying to turn the page with shaky fingers and failing.

"what are you even gonna do after seeing it? you don't look even a bit interested in it." you try to speak but your voice comes out as a whine which makes dazai close his eyes. he hummed, moving his hips back before he pushed his crotch against you again to elicit the sound from you one more time. he felt as if didn't hear it right, didn't savour it right the first time.

"what are you --" you mumble when he humped against you again but soon found yourself missing the touch and rhythmic thrust when he stopped and the way his hard on cock could be felt between your ass cheeks.

"-- no, please don't stop." you begged softly and with such fragility that it was evident how your arousal and attraction towards the man behind you is playing with your mind. but when the man only snickered, refusing to move and fulfill your wishes, you took matters into your own hands and pushed your ass against his crotch.

as he hissed, you were made very aware of the hard and clothed dick pushing your skirt and panties between your folds and it made you let out another needy whine

you hide your face against your arms, forehead pressed on the desk after dazai grabbed the paper from your hands and carelessly tossed it on the stack of other papers ; he humped against you again and released a deep breathy sigh.

"ah . . . fuck, fuck, fuck." dazai cursed lowly under his breath as each curse was accompanied by a thrust which left him breathless, his throat felt dry while your legs felt hot and so did your core. you had to spread your legs for him but you didn't find the energy to do so and neither did dazai who has no greater urge then to rip your skirt off but all he could do at the hands of the one who now has him in captivity, is to let out whimpers and curses as he pathetically dry humped against you.

why he felt at such a loss of energy could be explained with great simplicity, really. he felt so because he is in a great state of euphoria, more then what his body and heart could handle and so he feels overwhelmed.

"please, please let me -- ahh, please? fuck, gotta fuck you. need to feel your preety pussy sucking me in, please let me sugar. please." needily he whined as he leaned down even more to bury his face against your neck and whisper against it. his pleas were answered with you grinding against him as short breaths, gasps and whines were all that left the castle of your mouth and through your lips.

though he isn't dazai if he doesn't turn the odds to his favors soon.

"let me fuck you? gotta fuck you. maybe then you'll realise what you did wrong." he rapsed but as if it's a secret between you both, you and dazai knew he wasn't referring to the quiz paper but to something else which was revealed with his next action.

and it seemed like he wanted a verbal answer for your nod had no effect on him and didn't push him to go through with his next course of actions.

dazai's lithe fingers found access under your skirt and he ran the back of his index finger along the plush of your ass while he whispered, "why don't you cling to me instead of that old professor sugar?"

his voice was between a whine and a growl and it only made you to grip the edge of the table at the tone he spoke in only made you aware of your own needy state.

"come on, you know i'm better than he could ever be, right?" dazai whined against your neck and to get a response from you other than the short breaths you let out, he nibbled at your skin while at the same time, in perfect coordination, his hands moved towards the waistband of your panties as he pulled it and stopped, eyes looking down at the table you are squished on with wrath,

"gonna fuck you on this table yeah? old hag needs to know he isn't better than me," dazai tilted his head up towards your ear as he whispered out, "and definitely not a better choice for you." he licked your earshell.

the movement of his crotch rutting against your ass stopped as he moved a bit back only to smile arrogantly when you whined out loud, hooking your ankle around his in a pathetic and quick attempt to stop him from taking a step back.

"please . . ." you opened your eyes and leaned up to look back at him, sweat drops forming on your forehead and lips almost swollen from how hard you were biting down on it, ". . . fuck me. put your hands all over me dammit!" you whined, irritated at the lose of touch.

"yeah? why should i?" dazai raised his eyebrows as he stared down at you for a few seconds before he crumbled, his arrogance being bullied around by his arousal and he found himself leaning forwards to grab your breast, squeezing it harshly as a demand for a response.

". . . please, please? fuck, please, i just need to -- you can't do this to me after riling me up so much . . . hah, seriously? fuck. stop looking at me like that." you mumbled because your arousal froze when you stared at his brown pupils, the ones bearing many secrets and plans, many fortunes and tragedies and how on earth can even lust bow down to admire someone's beauty?

the way his hair sticked to his sweaty forehead and he stared at you with an obnoxiously arrogant smirk yet the pink dust spreading onto his cheeks gave it away how he, with an overbearing beauty, is affected by his hormones and feelings and emotions and lust and why aren't you playing along with him so he could just fuck you?

no. he don't want to just fuck you. when the one who never had anything handed to him with love finds someone he wants to invest his love in, no matter in which shape or form it is in, he won't be satisfied with normality.

he will torture you and himself till he gets what he wants.

for who do you think he is? isn't he the one who walks so even the demi-gods and goddesses can admire and feel envious for feeling threatened and admiration for a mere mortal whose ecstacy comes from being in situations where his heart accelerates and he is hanging on the thin line between life and death.

"why should i when this is how you look at me during lectues?" dazai breathed out and his raspy tone could ascend you to the deepest pits of pleasure and then push you to the cliff of greed and desperation for more. dazai who still has your breast between his fingers, squeezed it as he glared down at you, "always looking at me so prettily and giving that old hag more of a chance to pick on me --"

he leaned a bit towards you as he extended his other hand to twirl your hair strand, "-- do you do it on purpose? knowing i won't focus on shit?" dazai muttered lowly, voice seductive and smooth like honey flowing through a honey comb and luring a man towards its, hiding its danger behind its tempting look.

"that's not my problem." you scoff yet the arrogance laying in your eyes at the sudden fact is not something he will let go so easily.

dazai pulled on your hair to pull you closer before he peppered small kisses along the curve of your jaw, you felt his lips extremely close to your own but before you could feel even the lightest touch of his lips on your own -- he moved back.

"then you being a needy mess isn't my problem as well." he squeezed your breast again before leaving it but before he could pull his hand back to himself, you grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand towards your breasts again. he could feel your legs shaking as you looked at him with a slight frown, desperate to do anything to please him so he could do so in return. this chance won't be coming again and so it should not be wasted at all.

dazai's hand grabbed the flesh of your breast, continuing to squeeze it and with each squeeze, the next one got prominently rougher and harder while he stared into your eyes. something about the sweatbeads on your forehead, bottom lip being sucked in as you pursed your lips and bit them and the especially tempting,  pure and desperate flashing in your eyes had his breath increasing greatly.

and a few and very dragged out seconds, dazai lets out a shaky and frustrated breath before his hands left your breast and hair strand to grab the curve of your body and turned you around so you were once again facing the table. dazai leaned forwards to hide his face against your neck while one of his hands left their initial position to slither down towards under your skirt to your ass.

"you are being such a brat. why are you being a brat? can't you just be good for me sugar? let me fuck you like a good girl?" he whined out and as his frustrations grew by the way he seemed to torture only himself by teasing you, dazai gently bit your neck and you hissed out at the sudden action but with each second passing, the intensity and force in his bites increased till he was biting you hard enough to leave his teeth marks.

you shuddered a bit when you felt his index finger drag down your ass till it reached the waistband of your panties, his cold fingers provided an oddly addicting sensation but it soon disappeared when he pulled your panties down and let them pool by your ankle. and he impatiently grinned against you again, this time, however, the only thing separating his clothed cock from your bare ass is your skirt.

his sneaky hands found a path between his quick and continuous humping to pull your skirt up to your waist. he stared down at your ass with a hungry stare and he would've loved to go on his knees and just have a taste had it not been you fueling his sexual frustration and neediness with the way your whimpers and soft whines only accelerates his frustration further and his frustration pours the spotlight on the growing arousal he needs to get relieved of now or else he won't be able to feel the same pleasure he could feel at this moment if he tried to pleasure himself later, he knew.

"fuck, be a good girl already sugar so I can just fuck you already." dazai whined loudly, pulling down at the sleeve of your top to move his lips against your shoulder to plant a soft kiss before he parted his lips to let his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting it hard. you yelped.

was this not your breaking point with the way his teeth teased you and brought you pain yet the humping against your naked ass brought you pleasure? the heat from his body behind your's and the slight shake of his body with each whine and whimper he released only made you break further. and you did.

your head was buried between your arms on the desk as you loudly begged, "please please please -- ah, i need you, I want you, please!" you raised your voice in sexual frustration.

the man behind you who played a dangerous game by playing with your and his lust finally felt satisfied and hence why he was quick to unbuckle his belt with the flick of his hand down the buckle of the belt.

you raised your head and looked over your shoulder, licking your lips as you began to rub your thigh together and watched him pull his belt out and as much as dazai enjoyed watching the fat of your ass move with your leg movements, he could not let you pleasure yourself -- not when he is there.

he raised his knee to push it between your thighs and to stop your movements and you pouted again, as you stared at him but he had no mercy as he took his belt and leaned forwards to wrap it around your stomach and pull it along your back, tying it and gripping the leftover part in his palm.

you saw him pull down his zipper with haste before he pulled his jeans and boxers down to his knees. he used the belt he tied around your waist and stomach as a controlled of sorts, jerking it to tell you to look forwards and he leaned in, placing his hand on the edge of the desk and next to your hips.

with the other hand, he grabbed his cock and stroked and pumped it thrice (you knew cause your eyes refused to leave him and devour in the sight of him), he guided the tip wet with precum towards your inner thigh and rubbed it against it twice.

"'i'm sorry! sorry! sorry! please dazai, don't be like that. fuck me! fuck me!" you whined out loud and dazai snickered at the way you were so fucked up by his teasing that you didn't even realize you were apologizing to please him when the situation isn't even asking for it. he could feel his cock twitch at your willingness to please and flatter him.

"yeah? you are? not gonna be a brat now, are we?" dazai taunted but at the moment even his taunts are so sexy to hear so you comply, nodding.

"yeah, i'll be good. promise, dazai! for real!" you whine again as you feel him increase the pace of rubbing his tip against your inner thigh. dazai hummed as he spreaded your cheek with one hand and grabbed his cock again, pushing it against your inner labia to collect some of your juices to guarantee a smooth entrance for him and mostly you.

"yeah? but sugar don't you realize where we are right now? what if sir walks in?" dazai smirked as he raised his eyes to stare at you staring at him with wide eyes and a pout as you shook your head quickly, arching your back and trying to push your ass against his crotch but he stopped you by pulling at the belt again.

"we will be quick! trust me, please? i will go mad if you don't touch me right now." your whines, the more he heard, the more he desired to hear more.

dazai fauxed hesitance as he looked at you with faux uncertainty but you knew of the act he is putting on immediately as his actions heavily contrasted his words ; he slowly pushed only the tip of his dick inside your hole.

"i mean i'm up for it sugar but what if we get caught? you'll get in trouble too." he teased, mocked your patience even when he saw how transparent his lack of care for getting himself or you in trouble is, he has the sources to get out of trouble anyway so why would he be afraid?

he warned but then why is the danger himself lurking closer to your breasts before slithering upwards towards your neck as if poison spreading through your veins?

but then again has temptation and lust ever been less dangerous than actual poison? one who kills you physically or one who messes with you mentally and emotionally and then physically?.

temptation has always been the devil's strong weapon, his pride and his charm.

"but didn't --" oh the man whose fingertips spreads temptation and adulterous thoughts into your head, why would you not even let the girl infront of you, bending for you, to complete her sentence?

rudely thrusting into you to break a moan out of your vocal chord is what he did and hiding your face in your arms is what you did.

"were you saying something sugar?" dazai smirked, you know he did cause it was evident with the edge of arrogance in his words but you took advantage of not being able to look at his face to speak up or else you would've surely stuttered and stumbled on your own words.

"for someone claiming they won't let me get in trouble, you are awfully going back on your own words a lot of tim -- dazai!" you yelp out his name but surely you'll wonder later if your words weren't what dazai seemed as interesting for he intrupted you everytime with a thrust.

but this one had you screaming out his name ; bare and skin to skin, warmth and wetness, clamping down and penetrating were all simulations you two felt at once.

"yeah? welllll," he dragged on, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue before he jerked the belt and pushed on your back to make it into a perfect arch and began thrusting at a rapid pace after dragging out his teasing for too long and he rasped out in between, "guess i gotta keep my word. can't go back on them now, right sugar?"

dazai asked but when he didn't get any reply other then filthy moans from you, he tutted in what seemed like faux disappointment though its hard to hear his voice over your pleasure filled one.

his hand went down to graze and grab your knee before he pushed it up on the desk, leaning his head near your neck again to whimper against it while pounding into you.

his cock penetrated in and out of your walls before but this new position had given him an opening to graze the tip against the one spot which made your b shiver upon it being disturbed but once you didn't feel the head of his cock grazing against the spot as he pulled back (before thrusting in again just two seconds later), you found yourself missing it and so, you tried to meet his thrusts ; you moved your hips back at the same time as he thrusted forwards. a breathy moan left you as you digged your nails on your elbows (due to having your arms folded on top of the desk).

"fine, if you won't answer me then make sure to scream my name out as loud as you can." he muttered in between whimpers and whines, he could feel sweat drops dripping down his back and forehead, the way your walls sucked his dick in as if promising to not settle for anything other then drowning it. this is what lead to his quick thrusts as he wanted to feel the feeling again and soon.

the desk began to move with each movement and if only you were conscious and rational enough to worry about the stack of quiz papers falling down, you would've raised your head to look at it and would also be curious to look back and that's when you could've seen the hand holding onto the belt around your waist and how tightly he was holding the ends. hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

your eyes barely stay open as you feel dazai tug you closer using the belt around your waist and you probably heard him take a step forwards as well but you aren't sure when his hand reached down towards your core to push against your inner thigh, making you spread your legs a bit more.

your eyes close and you rely on your other senses as your hardened nipples find pleasure in the friction created by your clothed breasts moving against the desk with every thrust dazai makes.

over your own pleasure filled voice, it is hard to hear anything else but due to the close proximity and dazai's lips moving against your skin, you felt and somewhat barely heard his whimpers and unstable intakes of breaths.

the hand on your inner thigh slithered upwards when he felt his balls tightening and your walls clamping around him even tighter to the point the man felt his knees growing weak.

dazai let out a shuddering breath as he leaned his chest against your back, squeezing you against him and the desk as his fingers traced around your wet outer labia.

"dazai!" a scream ripped through your throat when you felt it clearly ; the way his cock hitted your g-spot. your scream made him caress your outer labia using a bit of force, your back arched and dazai's lips peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder, pulling down on your top sleeve using his teeth to continue marking your shoulder with his bite marks.

dazai's eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him tighter with each hard thrust to your g-spot and he stopped pushing and tracing your outer labia. he raised his hand and head to look at the glossy coating on his fingers and with a smirk, he brought his finger near his lips before smearing your juice all over his lips and licking it.

a high pitched moan left his lips as he tilted his head back at the way he is teasing himself. closing his eyes to hear the erotic sound of his dick slamming in and out of your wet cunt, his balls hitting against your ass with each slam and your moans and whines -- this all pushed him over the edge more but he wasn't satisfied with this much and wanted more so, dazai traced his hand along his chest before raising it towards his neck and slightly choking himself.

he raised his head to look at your fucked out stare and still arched back, a very faint red blush began to spread on his cheeks as his eyes narrowed. curling his toes and digging his nails in the base of his shoes to obtain any kind of stability, he began to move even faster and you chocked on your moans.

"can't really let you cum here sugar. you'll ruin the professor's desk." dazai smirked and relished when your breath hitched and you shook your head, loudly begging.

"no! please no! don't be so mean to me dazai!"

"but i am only being considerate of our professor sugar." dazai snickered and you had to bite down on your lip before you parted them to speak out again,

"w-what a mean guy! you don't even kiss me but say all kinds of romantic things! you go around teasing me but when i try to do the same, you act like a fucking virgin. i make you loose focus in class? yeah as if --" you stop to moan as he licked a spot on your neck before sucking on it,

"-- what about you and your sneaky touches? always teasing me! making me so worked up and hot. and now when you are finally fucking me, you deny me of my orgasm!" you squeal when dazai pulled hard on the belt and all the while, his thrusts never once lost their velocity.

"you wanna kiss me sugar? i am a mean guy tho." dazai teased and squeezed his neck a little harder, moaning lowly at the pleasure surging through his body.

"yeah." you moan out as you decide you can't reply with a witty remark as you feel the knot of pleasure being pulled in two directions ; one by dazai's dick and the other by the rubbing of your squeezed breasts against the desk.

"soon. yeah? gonna kiss you really soon and really good." dazai uttered a promise and once again dropped his face against your neck, abandoning the belt to wrap both of his arms around your waist and under your stomach to lift your ass up a bit for even more easy access as he panted.

one thrust to your g-spot had sparkles flying inside your entire body. your knot of pleasure was reaching its limit as he pulled at it even more.

the other thrust made him gasp as your walls squeezed down hard onto him.

the third thrust made the desk to inch forward, rocking it and along with it you felt the friction hitting your hardened yet clothed nipple and it spreaded a very raw ounce of pleasure behind your chest and towards your back, making it arch.

the knot grew weaker and weaker and was barely holding on.

the last thrust was followed by him whimpering out your name and your knees went weak, you would've fallen on your knees if it weren't for him holding you up.

the knot broke and cum flowed down his dick making it hard for him to thrust in and out without his dick slipping out and so he stopped to allow you both to catch your breaths.

". . . can i kiss you now?" dazai slowly mumbled when he felt you calming down from your high and a hiss left your lips when he pulled his still hard dick out of your hole.

you chuckle breathlessly, "lord, you are unbelievable."

yet you still try to support yourself on your arms before realizing dazai still has his arms wrapped around you and so he lifted you before turning you around.

your back hits the desk, cum dripping down your thigh yet your focus is on his still hard dick even when dazai cupped your jaw in his palm and raised it to capture your lips in his, your eyes immediately shut close yet your hands travel down to grab his dick, stroking it once using your index finger as if to feel it.

this had dazai gasp against your lips. you wrap your hands around his dick before beginning to pump it and dazai shows his appreciation to your action by moving his hips as well, thrusting into your hands.

you part your lips when you feel him part his but you are taken by a pleasant surprise when instead of letting his tongue explore your mouth, he tilts his head in such an angle that he can nibble on the side of your bottom lip as well as move his lips below your bottom lip.

your grip on his cock tightened when you sense his thrusts become faster yet you still remain unaware of how dazai's eyes are opened and boring holes into the ones of the one on the door who is flabbergasted, shocked ; the professor.

dazai winked at the professor before tilting his head up to capture your lips in a kiss again, mouth parting open and shamelessly moaning into your mouth when your last pump made his cum to shoot out and stain your hands with it.

dazai's arms wrap around your waist again, close to your waist as he makes sure your skirt is covering your bare ass before reaching towards your cunt to swipe some of it on the pad of his index finger and pulling his hand up to show it to the professor.

you feel dazai's lip attack your upper lip, kissing and sucking it before kissing you again, saliva mixing with your's and a filthy wet sound being produced which he is sure the professor heard.

you pull back from the kiss, panting as dazai used his other hand to push your head against his shoulder, mouthing the words with a mocking and cocky smirk to the man whose presence you are unaware of,

"tissues," he mouthed and when the professor began to glare at him again, about to shout, dazai looked down at you again before leaning in to kiss you again.

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

bakugo never meant to get this distracted. seriously. it wasn’t his fault.

it was yours.

because every damn time you sat in front of him, every time you rested your chin on your palm, every time you furrowed your brows while scribbling something in your notebook—he got stuck. like, full-on, brain-short-circuiting, totally-useless kind of stuck.

he should be paying attention. should be listening to aizawa’s lecture. should be taking notes instead of memorizing the way the sunlight caught in your hair or how your lips pursed when you were thinking.

but no. instead, he was sitting here, burning every little detail of you into his brain like some lovesick idiot. the curve of your nose, the way your fingers absentmindedly twirled your pen, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when it fell into your face.

he was so screwed.

“bakugo.”

his whole body stiffened. aizawa was staring at him, unimpressed.

“what?” he snapped, maybe a little too defensive.

“i asked you a question.” aizawa sighed. “maybe if you stopped zoning out, you’d know the answer.”

a few people chuckled, and bakugo’s face heated up—not because he was embarrassed, but because you turned your head just a little, just enough to glance at him.

for half a second, your eyes met his.

and fuck, that half-second nearly killed him.

then you turned back around, totally unaware of how wrecked he was, how his heart was still beating too damn fast, how his hand was gripping his pencil like it owed him money.

this was getting ridiculous.

dazai is so clingy. he's always up in your personal space, leaving you no room to breathe – he's got a hand around your shoulder or maybe your waist, he's laying his head on your lap, he's fidgeting with your fingers and he's playing with your hair. he's all over you at all times but—

it gets so much worse when he's sleepy.

suddenly, he is no longer human, but a koala instead. he's glued to your side with not even an inch between your bodies, his limbs curling around you as if he's going to slip and fall onto the ground and turn into a sad, wet puddle of goo if he were to let go of you.

he's hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you're washing the dishes; he's mumbling something, whining and begging for you to baby him. he's got no shame, this is who he is. he wants you to hold him and coddle him, to play with his hair and coo at him. it's ridiculous really.

but who are you to refuse him?

you know he doesn't sleep well on his own, so now when he's clearly showing you how comfortable he is with you, how safe he feels, it's impossible to say no. his behaviour couldn't be any further from being annoying – you will not brush him off nor will you downplay his needs. if he wants to be pampered like some royalty, like the prince that he is, then that's exactly what you'll do.

you don't try to pry him off of you, you do the opposite instead – you pull him even closer and revel in the faint sigh that slips from his lips. he won't say thank you, you know he won't, but the way he melts into your body as you hold him is more than enough.

and when he finally dozes off on top of you with your one hand in his hair and the other drawing hearts into his shoulder blade, your chest swells with pride. the little snores are like music to your ears, his steady breath tickling your skin as he finds solace in your loving embrace. his slowed heartbeat is starting to lull you to sleep aswell but you won't even try to resist the pull of the dream, your heavy eyelids falling shut as you press one final kiss of the night to your lover's forehead.