Dazai's little Mischief

it's a pleasure to have you here, my belladonna ✨✨

[mafiastrays]

-hiiiiiii😺 I am 22, you can call me mafiastrays.

-(gender neutral/any pronouns)

- I live to read and breath bsd content

- I am not a writer 😔, so there might not be a lot of my own posts. But will surely reblog the shits i like 👍.

- and English is not my first language, like you couldn't tell😅

[mafiastrays]

Hey guys, for the past week, I have been thinking about this old fanfic I read, of Nikolai from bsd. Like where he wears a ghost face mask💀. And he leaves behind a trail of notes hidden inside his different clothing for y/n to find, with a vib inside her. Where y/n runs around to collect the clues to find him. And reaches at an old building in the end, where she finds him wearing a ghost face mask. It was something like that.

But I can't find it anywhere, it was soo good and well written. But it was so long ago, that I don't remember the name of the creator and fic.😭😭 Can someone help me to find it, idk if the creator still exists or not.

[suodelic]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[mafiastrays]

One of my favourite and unhinged bsd writings. Whyyyy does it fit sooo welllll. 😭😭

[mafiastrays]

BSD characters distracting you, while you are on a important phone call

Hey, it's been fun posting after a long time. Well, I have done a similar one in the past, "Distracting BSD characters while they are on an important phone call", so this time it is the opposite, round two, where the characters turn the tables and distract you? This could be like a part 2, reverse version of the original post.

🍷 Chuuya Nakahara — Sweet-Talk Assassin

You’re pacing slowly while talking on the phone with a friend, sounding calm and collected.

“Yeah, I’ll send the file tonight. It just needs a few more edits and—”

Warm hands suddenly land on your shoulders.

You stiffen.

Chuuya Nakahara has appeared behind you like a red-haired problem. His thumbs press into the tension at the base of your neck, slowly kneading.

Helpful.

Too helpful.

He leans closer, voice dropping to a smug whisper near your ear.

Chuuya: “You sounded so confident a minute ago.”

Your grip tightens on the phone.

Chuuya (quiet, teasing): “Don’t mind me. Just admiring how good you sound when you’re trying not to melt.”

He blows lightly against your ear.

Your brain short-circuits.

You (into phone): “Y-yeah, I’ll have it done tonight—no, I’m fine—just… cold air—!”

Chuuya’s quiet laugh vibrates right behind your shoulder.

🩹 Dazai Osamu — Sabotage in Silk Gloves

You’re typing rapidly on your laptop while talking to a colleague on speaker.

The report is almost finished. Just a few more lines.

Then your keyboard stops working.

Because someone has sat on the desk.

You look up.

Dazai Osamu tilts his head, studying your face like a curious cat.

His fingers slip under your chin, lifting it slightly.

Dazai (innocent tone): “You make the cutest face when you’re concentrating.”

Your eye twitches.

Dazai: “Do you always furrow your brows like that? It makes me want to kiss the stress away.”

His thumb brushes your cheek.

You immediately smack him with the nearest tool.

You: “Back. Off.”

He grins like you just confirmed his hypothesis.

Dazai: “Too late. You started the war.”

🐯 Atsushi Nakajima — Shy but Effective

You’re fixing a small drone while explaining something to a friend over the phone.

“…and then if I recalibrate the stabilizer—”

Atsushi Nakajima quietly sits beside you.

He watches for a moment.

Then, carefully, he places his hand over yours.

Warm. Gentle.

You stop talking mid-sentence.

His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles.

Atsushi (soft): “You take care of everyone.”

A small pause.

Atsushi: “Let me return the favor.”

The drone part slips out of your fingers.

You mute the call immediately.

You: “Atsushi… that was dangerously smooth.”

He turns bright red.

Atsushi: “I practiced…”

🍭 Ranpo Edogawa — Devil in Candy Wrappers

You’re presenting an idea to someone over a video call.

Behind you, Ranpo Edogawa wanders in, clearly bored.

He grabs a lollipop from your drawer.

Then crouches beside your chair.

Before you can react, his head rests comfortably on your lap.

Your brain freezes.

His finger lazily traces shapes on your knee.

Ranpo (murmuring): “Try not to lose your place, genius.”

You stare at the screen in horror.

You: “…As I was saying, the system utilizes—”

The person on the call squints.

“Are you alright? You look… distracted.”

Ranpo grins without even opening his eyes.

☕ Oda Sakunosuke — Calm Sabotage

You’re sitting on the couch while discussing something important on the phone.

Sakunosuke Oda sits beside you quietly with a cup of coffee.

You assume he’s just listening.

Until his socked foot slowly brushes along your calf.

Your voice stutters.

The movement continues, deliberate and slow.

Then he reaches over and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

He goes back to drinking his coffee like nothing happened.

Oda (quietly): “Your focus is impressive.”

You stare into the middle distance.

You: “I will end you when this call is over.”

He takes another sip.

Oda: “Promises.”

🎪 Nikolai Gogol — Maximum Chaos

You’re giving a very serious explanation over your headset.

Mid-sentence—

POOF.

Nikolai Gogol appears upside-down across your couch.

He is wearing your oversized hoodie.

And apparently nothing else visible.

He locks eyes with you.

Then slowly twirls his rat tail around a finger.

And silently mouths:

“Pull me.”

You choke on your own words.

You (into mic): “S-sorry. Minor technical issues.”

Nikolai beams proudly.

Nikolai: “Karma~!”

🪶 Fyodor Dostoyevsky — Silent but Deadly

You’re live-streaming some code debugging while explaining your process.

The room feels… colder.

You realize someone is standing behind you.

Slowly, Fyodor Dostoyevsky leans down, breath ghosting across your ear.

His fingers brush lightly down your spine.

Fyodor (soft, almost amused): “Let us test your composure.”

You jolt upright.

Your chair tips over.

The stream disconnects.

You spin around.

You: “YOU’RE A DEMON.”

Fyodor calmly straightens his sleeves.

Fyodor: “Balance must be maintained.”

Here is the link to "Distracting BSD characters while they are on an important phone call", which is kind of like part 1 of this fic.

[mafiastrays]

BSD character's taste in bed/roleplay/towards general sex and bedroom staff is

These are totally my headcanons, and what i think BSD characters are like in bed. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. No offence to anyone's different ideas on these characters. keeping this PG but still suggestive enough to paint the picture — here’s how I think the Bungou Stray Dogs characters would behave behind closed doors, in terms of roleplay taste, bedroom energy, and general intimacy style.

1. Dazai Osamu

Role in Bed: Switch, leaning dom. Loves taking control, but will play sub if it’s for fun or part of a mind game.

Style: Playful, teasing, unpredictable. Likes turning intimacy into a mix of comedy and tension so you never know what’s coming next (pun fully intended).

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Loves scenarios — doctor/patient, detective/suspect, "oops we’re trapped somewhere." Might use handcuffs only to make you squirm with anticipation.

Energy: He can be slow and sensual when in the mood, but he thrives on chaos — think flirty interruptions, whispering in your ear to see your reaction, and pushing your buttons.

Quote: "Oh? Already flushed? We’ve barely even started~"

2. Chuuya Nakahara

Role in Bed: Dom, but respectful — he thrives on giving and receiving enthusiasm.

Style: Passionate, intense, likes closeness. Wants to feel your hands in his hair and your breath on his neck. He’s not all about control — more about making sure both of you are completely lost in the moment.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Light BDSM, dominance play, power struggles. Likes pinning you or being pinned if you can overpower him (which is rare, but turns him on).

Energy: A "complete beast" when things heat up, but also surprisingly romantic — candlelight and slow jazz aren’t off the table.

Quote: "You’re not walking away from me until I’m done with you."

3. Atsushi Nakajima (age 19)

Role in Bed: Sub-leaning switch. Wants to please, but with the right partner, he can be surprisingly assertive.

Style: Sweet, caring, and shy at first — needs reassurance. Once comfortable, he’s more adventurous.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Light teasing, praise, and scenarios that let him feel more confident (hero saving damsel, bodyguard, etc.).

Energy: Mostly slow and sensual, but can surprise you when adrenaline kicks in. He loves deep eye contact because it reassures him.

Quote: "I… want to try it your way this time."

4. Akutagawa Ryunosuke

Role in Bed: Dom, but can switch in very specific situations.

Style: Intense, controlled, and almost predatory — he takes things seriously and doesn’t like messing around mid-moment.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Power control, authority-based scenarios, maybe some binding. Likes having the upper hand but secretly enjoys it if you can turn the tables.

Energy: He’s not romantic per se, but he’s deeply attentive — wants to see the effect he has on you.

Quote: "Don’t tell me to slow down — you started this."

5. Ranpo Edogawa

Role in Bed: Switch with brat tendencies. Loves to test boundaries.

Style: Playful, cocky, likes to keep things lighthearted, but gets surprisingly intense if his partner pushes the right buttons.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Loves roleplay — thief/detective, rival masterminds, “you owe me a favor” scenarios.

Energy: Can go slow and sensual or fast and competitive, depending on the mood. Enjoys seeing how flustered he can make you.

Quote: "Looks like I’ve solved the case — you’re mine."

6. Edgar Allan Poe

Role in Bed: Sub-leaning switch, thrives in more romantic setups.

Style: Slow, poetic, and emotional. He turns intimacy into an art form. Likes to make everything beautiful and meaningful.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Historical/fantasy scenarios, dramatic romance, possibly light blindfolds (trust-based).

Energy: All about slow build-up — soft touches, whispered words, and long gazes.

Quote: "Your beauty could bring nations to their knees… and me as well."

7. Nikolai Gogol

Role in Bed: Pure chaotic switch — the unpredictable wildcard.

Style: Flirty, teasing, and fast-paced one second, then slow and unsettlingly intense the next. He treats intimacy like an elaborate game.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Anything theatrical — masks, costumes, playful threats. Enjoys being tied up as much as tying you up.

Energy: Always high-energy, a mix of thrill-seeking and dramatic flair.

Quote: "Oh, darling, you don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into~"

8. Sigma

Role in Bed: Sub, but willing to try switching if his partner wants.

Style: Soft, careful, and shy — needs to feel safe and guided at first. Once comfortable, he’s surprisingly passionate.

Kinks & Roleplay Vibes: Praise, reassurance, “first time” scenarios, romantic settings. Blindfolds intrigue him but make him nervous.

Energy: Mostly gentle and emotional, but he can get caught up in the heat of the moment.

Quote: "I… trust you. Just tell me what to do."

[mafiastrays]

BSD characters with a scary past and personality ask y/n, is she scared of them

As we all know how some of the bsd character have an image and reputation of being cruel. they are tall and strong, and some of them work for an organization with a reputation of not messing with them. Ahhh this is so tender 💙 I love this dynamic — the feared, untouchable ones hearing the one thing they don’t expect: that they make someone feel safe.

Chuuya

You were sprawled in his apartment, quiet except for the faint hum of city life outside. Chuuya leaned against the counter, arms crossed, hat tipped low. His voice was hesitant, edged with a vulnerability he rarely let slip. “You ever think about it? I work for the Mafia. People hear my name and flinch. You… being alone here with me — doesn’t that scare you?”

You met his gaze with absolute certainty. “No. You make me feel protected, Chuuya. Safer than anyone else ever has.”

His jaw clenched, his ears turning red. He looked away, biting back a smile that betrayed how hard your words hit. After a beat, he muttered gruffly, “...You got no idea what that does to me, doll.” Then he crossed the room and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dazai

It was late. The dim glow of streetlamps painted his face in half-shadows as he walked you home. He chuckled idly, hands stuffed in his pockets. “You know… people call me a monster. The kind of man you should never be caught alone with in the dark.” His voice softened, almost testing. “Are you not scared right now?”

You glanced at him, smile warm. “No. You make me feel safe, Dazai. Like nothing could touch me when you’re around.”

For once, he stopped in his tracks. His smirk faltered, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, slowly, the smallest genuine smile tugged at his lips — softer, quieter than any of his masks. He tilted his head, voice a whisper. “…Safe, huh? Guess I’ll have to keep proving you right, belladonna.”

Jouno

The night was quiet except for your footsteps echoing alongside his. Jouno’s head tilted slightly, his blindfold catching the moonlight. His tone was smooth, but there was a weight beneath it. “You know I’ve done things most people can’t stomach. People fear me without even seeing my face. Aren’t you afraid, right now, walking alone with me?”

You smiled softly, brushing your hand against his sleeve. “Not at all. You make me feel safe, Jouno. I know you’d never let anything hurt me.”

For a moment, he went utterly still. His sharp hearing picked up the truth in your heartbeat — steady, calm, not lying. Something warm unfurled in his chest, unfamiliar and disarming. His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “…You’re either fearless or you trust me too much. Either way… I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

Tecchou

You were walking beside him after a long day, the moon high above. Tecchou looked down at you suddenly, his brows furrowed, as if something had been gnawing at him. “People tell me I look intimidating. Dangerous. Do you ever feel scared, being with me like this?”

You shook your head without hesitation. “No. I feel safe when I’m with you, Tecchou. Like I don’t have to worry about anything.”

His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth curved into the most earnest smile. He nodded firmly, determination lighting his gaze. “Good. Then I’ll make sure you always feel that way.” His large hand brushed yours, tentative but steady — a quiet promise.

Fukuzawa

The room was hushed, his tea cooling between his hands. He rarely spoke of his past, but tonight his voice was low, heavy. “Once, long ago, people feared me. Even now, there are those who remember and stay away. To be alone with me… it should unsettle you.”

You reached across the table, gently covering his hand with yours. “You don’t unsettle me, Fukuzawa-san. You make me feel safe. Always.”

His breath stilled. Slowly, his sharp gaze softened, the hardened lines of his face easing. He inclined his head slightly, the faintest of smiles touching his lips. “…That is more comforting than you know. Thank you.”

[mafiastrays]

BSD character food habits and vibes

-break them down by food habits and vibes. What each character's restaurant habits, ordering style, and food delivery vs. dine-out vs. home-cooked preferences?

( I wrote this for fun, thought this might be a fun idea. Featuring almost all the popular characters. I still have no idea how people make their posts look pretty. )

🥡 Dazai Osamu – The Gremlin Gourmet

Restaurant Type: Anything that lets him flirt with the waitress or cause trouble.

Order Style: Orders the weirdest thing on the menu just to see what happens. Might ask for pufferfish guts sushi at a curry house.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Never cooks. Ever. Might starve if food delivery services vanished.

Fave Order: Whatever you’re paying for. Loves sweets, especially if it means stealing from your dessert.

🥖 Chuuya Nakahara – The Fine-Dining Snob (but secretly loves greasy ramen)

Restaurant Type: Classy brasseries, wine-and-dine places, or cozy European-style cafés.

Order Style: Starter, main, dessert and wine pairing.

Food Snobbery Level: 10/10, until he’s drunk and ordering takoyaki from a food truck.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Prefers eating out, but can cook shockingly well. He’s got knife skills and taste.

Fave Order: Steak, pasta, seafood—anything rich and elegant.

🍱 Atsushi Nakajima – The Budget Sweetheart

Restaurant Type: Family diners or simple Japanese teishoku restaurants.

Order Style: One set meal. Tries not to overspend.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Prefers home-cooked meals but isn’t great at it. Accepts leftovers like a golden retriever.

Fave Order: Chicken katsu with rice and miso soup. Occasionally gets soft serve as a treat.

🥗 Kunikida Doppo – Meal Prep Overlord

Restaurant Type: "Wholesome dining" spots with calorie counts on the menu.

Order Style: Tracks macros. Won’t touch the dessert menu unless guilt-tripped.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Meal preps at home. You’d have to drag him outside to eat.

Fave Order: Grilled fish, brown rice, miso soup. Anything that aligns with “The Ideal Nutrition Plan™.”

🍔 Ranpo Edogawa – Sugar Gremlin Supreme

Restaurant Type: Cafés and fast food joints.

Order Style: 3 cakes, 2 sodas, and a side of fries.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Uber Eats god #1. Cannot cook. Thinks boiling water is “advanced.”

Fave Order: Strawberry parfaits, pancakes, doughnuts. Probably thinks salad is a myth.

🧁 Yosano Akiko – Secretly Elegant But Practical

Restaurant Type: Trendy places with well-curated menus.

Order Style: Main course and wine. If dessert looks pretty, she’ll go for it.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Enjoys dining out, but can cook well. Keeps her kitchen like an operating room—immaculate.

Fave Order: Lamb chops, risotto, or miso-marinated black cod.

🥦 Kenji Miyazawa – Countryside Simple

Restaurant Type: Anywhere with big portions.

Order Style: “Can I have seconds?”

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Prefers home-cooked food. Will happily cook for others too.

Fave Order: Rice, pickles, meat, vegetables—he’s not picky but he is a vacuum. Loves beef bowls.

🫖 Fukuzawa Yukichi – Stoic Traditionalist

Restaurant Type: Quiet, refined, traditional kaiseki or soba shops.

Order Style: Simple, seasonal, elegant.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Dines out rarely. Enjoys a proper tea and meal. Can cook but doesn’t bother often.

Fave Order: Cold soba with mountain vegetables and green tea.

📖 Edgar Allan Poe – The Anxious Café Lurker

Restaurant Type: Quiet, book-filled cafés with a back corner to hide in.

Order Style: Takes 15 minutes to decide, then whispers his order so quietly the staff has to lean in four times. Too anxious to speak clearly, ends up with the wrong drink. Never corrects them

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Avoid eating out unless you are there. Orders delivery like it’s a covert mission, asks them to leave it at the door, and then runs out to grab it like a raccoon when they leave.

Fave Order: Black coffee (which he does not like, but thinks he’s supposed to), tea, buttered croissants and maybe a ham sandwich (but only if someone reminds him to eat).

Bonus: If a place has a cat, he becomes a regular.

🫧 Sigma – Emotionally Exhausted Pastry Guy

Restaurant Type: Hotel restaurants and high-end dining due to his work, but secretly craves fast food.

Order Style: Formal in public, reading the menu like it’s a business deal—but behind closed doors, he’s devouring fries with existential guilt.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Always orders food; doesn’t know how to cook beyond boiling water.

Fave Order: Truffle pasta when dining out. Cheeseburger and strawberry milkshake when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s shy about it, but has a massive sweet tooth.

🎪 Nikolai Gogol – Chaos Eating in Human Form

Restaurant Type: Will crash any restaurant for the drama. Michelin star or street vendor? Doesn’t matter. He’ll appear. Type of person who visits bizarre-themed cafés, maid cafés, etc.

Order Style: “What’s your most unhinged dish?” Orders something just to juggle it. Might try to eat dessert first… with chopsticks.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Cannot cook. Should not be near a stove. If he delivers food, it’s usually stolen.

Fave Order: Piroshki, Rainbow crepes, 3-layer burgers, suspiciously glowing jelly.

Bonus: Once pulled a disappearing act mid-meal and returned with someone else’s food “because it looked better.

🧔‍♂️ Oda Sakunosuke – The Calm Cook

Restaurant Type: Prefers small, cozy family-run restaurants with good miso soup and no loud music.

Order Style: Simple, deliberate, always polite. Takes his time. Orders what he can finish. Doesn’t waste.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Excellent cook. Prefers home meals. Cooks for kids, for OC, for anyone. Probably the best cook on this list.

Fave Order: Nikujaga (meat & potatoes), Curry Rice, Grilled mackerel, miso soup. Occasional coffee shop for novels and solitude.

☦️ Fyodor Dostoyevsky – Famine Chic

Restaurant Type: Only eats out when absolutely necessary. Chooses obscure cafés with barely any customers and a priest at the counter.

Order Style: Drinks black coffee like it’s penance. Orders food with that villainous soft-spoken tone. Eats slowly. Never finishes the full plate.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Has people for that. If alone, subsists on bread, wine, and intellect. Doesn’t eat very much. Lives off black coffee and mysterious tiny snacks.

Fave Order: Something poetic and bitter, like espresso with no sugar, or black bread. Claims he doesn’t like sweets. (Honestly, I have no idea).

⚔️ Akutagawa Ryunosuke – Starved Intensity

Restaurant Type: Would starve before walking into a fast food place. Only eats at places with quiet booths and no other people.

Order Style: Doesn’t know how to order. Stares at the menu for two minutes, then says “this.” Eats like it’s war.

Delivery vs. Dine-Out vs. Cook: Doesn’t know how to cook. Eats to survive. Takes whatever Gin makes. Hates being seen eating in public.

Fave Order: Plain rice, soup, grilled meat. Minimal seasoning. Boy cannot even handle paprika.

[mafiastrays]

Aw new post is very nice 💕 I think you write fyodor well. I wish he had it in his previous posts too

thank you so much! 🥰.I actually did kind of have fun writing Fyodor this time, so who knows—I might write a few more for him in the future. That said, as you can probably tell, I’m not super consistent with uploads 😅 and things are a little hectic for me right now, so updates might be a mix of other stuff too.

Really appreciate the support though—it means a lot 💖

[mafiastrays]

Distracting BSD characters while they are on a important phone call

-they’re on the phone. you’re a menace. balance is restored.

🧡Chuuya Nakahara

He’s on a serious Port Mafia call, posture rigid, voice clipped—until your fingers graze up his thigh under the table. He stiffens, falters mid-sentence. You give him a slow, knowing grin and tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, your touch lingering.

Chuuya (into phone, voice cracking slightly):

“T-The shipment will arrive by midnight—yes, dammit, I’m listening!”

You lean closer and blow him a kiss, watching the tips of his ears turn red.

Chuuya (muttering after the call):

“You’re gonna get me killed one of these days, you minx.”

🤎Dazai Osamu

He’s lounging, phone lazily perched between his shoulder and ear, smirking like he’s in control of the situation. Until you walk by and deliberately pick something imaginary off his head, brushing your fingers through his hair—slowly, deliberately, just enough to distract.

Dazai (into phone, stammering just once):

“Mmm… what do you mean a mole in the—uh… right, no, I’m completely focused~”

You give him a wink and saunter past like you’ve done nothing wrong.

Dazai (hanging up):

“Now, was that sabotage or flirting? Because either way… I’m impressed.”

🩵Atsushi Nakajima

Poor boy is mid-report to Kunikida. You slip a hand onto his knee under the table, and he nearly jumps. You lean in and whisper, “You look so serious when you're working,” then press a soft kiss to the side of his head just as the call connects.

Atsushi (panicking):

“T-This is Atsushi, reporting in, um—Mission status is—uh—!”

Kunikida (on the other end):

“Why does it sound like you’re being mauled by affection?!”

💛Kunikida Doppo

He’s trying to maintain his sacred schedule. Trying. But then you brush your fingers down the side of his jaw, "fixing" his collar like it ever needed fixing. You give him a sultry little smirk just as he answers the phone.

Kunikida (stoic, then wavering):

“Yes. I’ve reviewed the data… I—no, I am not… distracted.”

Kunikida (after hanging up. sternly, adjusting his tie with a sigh):

“You exist solely to test my patience, don’t you?”

You:

“And you love it.”

💚Ranpo Edogawa

He’s pretending not to care. Call from Fukuzawa? Whatever. But when you straddle the back of his chair and absentmindedly twirl a lock of his hair around your finger while he's mid-sentence?

Ranpo (casual, but voice cracking slightly):

“Yeah, I figured out the culprit three minutes ago—mm, hey, stop that, I’m on the—! …Yeah, boss, nothing’s wrong.”

You lean down and whisper, “You sure you’re the great detective when I can read you like this?”

Ranpo (grinning):

“You're lucky I like you more than candy.”

❤️Oda Sakunosuke

He’s calm. Quiet. Speaking in low, gravelly tones on the phone while staring out the window with that thoughtful gaze.

You, however, decide now is the perfect time to slide off your shoes and slowly—slowly—run your foot up his leg.

You don’t break eye contact.

Oda pauses mid-sentence. He looks down, then back up at you. You arch a brow, innocent as ever.

Oda (on the phone, strained but composed):

“Yes. I’ve gathered the information on the targets. No delays expected—”

Your foot reaches his thigh.

Oda:

“—except maybe one.”

He hangs up, sets the phone aside, and looks at you like you’re both a problem and the solution.

Oda (quietly):

“...You like playing with fire.”

You (smirking):

“And you’re terrible at pretending not to burn.”

💜Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You’re trying every subtle move in your book—brushing your fingers over his knuckles, tucking a hair behind his ear so slowly it borders on scandalous, even tracing a finger down his spine while he’s mid-call, voice smooth as sin.

Fyodor (completely unfazed):

“Yes. Proceed with phase two. No, she’s not a distraction. She thinks she is.”

Your hand freezes.

He smirks—just faintly—and his eyes flick toward you with that dangerous gleam.

Fyodor (without looking at you):

“You’ll need to try harder.”

You lean close and whisper, “Game on, Rasputin.”

🤍Nikolai Gogol

He’s mid-conversation with someone who clearly doesn’t want to be on the phone with him. One leg over the armrest, twirling his hair like a lunatic—standard Nikolai behavior.

You creep up behind him and give his long rat tail braid a sudden, sharp yank.

He gasps.

Nikolai (on the phone, voice faltering):

“Ah—! I mean, yes, continue! Continue with the plan—mmnh—don’t stop!”

There’s a beat of confused silence from the other end.

Caller:

“…Are you being tortured right now?”

You’re doubled over laughing. He turns to you, flushed and wide-eyed—then breaks into a chaotic grin.

Nikolai:

“You minx! Do it again.”

🩷Sigma

He’s taking a rare high-pressure call, fingers tapping the table in anxious rhythm.

You slide beside him, tuck a strand of his silver hair behind his ear, letting your finger brush just a bit too long on his cheek. He turns slightly pink, but tries his hardest to maintain composure.

Then you blow him a kiss.

He chokes.

Sigma (panicking):

“S-Sorry—uh—one moment please—!”

He mutes the call and glares at you.

Sigma:

“Why are you like this?”

You:

“To test your limits.”

💙Poe

He’s mid-ramble to Ranpo on the phone when you stroll by, pluck a speck of dust off his shoulder like it’s a secret love confession, and kiss the air in front of him.

Poe (startled):

“Y-Yes, Ranpo-kun, I’ve deduced that—um—there’s a very significant—presence—”

He fumbles and nearly drops the phone. Karl squeaks in protest on his shoulder.

Ranpo (through the phone, dry):

“You’re so easy it’s painful, Poe.”

[mafiastrays]

Why don't you write fyodor? 😭

Yes, I totally get how you feel😭, and Fyodor is objectively hot. Like, I totally get the appeal. The man is dangerously elegant, smart, manipulative... yeah, he checks a lot of boxes.

But—I just don’t feel that deep, sexual attraction to him. Not in the same way I do with other characters.

It’s not that I dislike him, not at all. He’s actually a brilliant character. I just haven’t felt that creative pull toward him yet🥲—the kind that makes me want to dive deep into writing for him. Maybe it’s because he’s such a composed, calculating type that it’s harder for me to connect with him in a more personal or romantic way.

That said—I’m open to the idea! I’m not against writing Fyodor in the future. I just haven’t found the right spark or setting for him yet. but i will try to write about him in the future, i promise.

[mafiastrays]

Physical features BSD characters are secretly (or not-so-secretly) drawn to in a partner

even if they pretend it's not a thing.Whether it's eyes, curves, collarbones, or hands—

Osamu Dazai

Weak for: Hands & neck.

He likes to watch someone’s fingers while they work—especially if they’re delicate or skilled.

Nape of the neck when hair’s tied up? Danger zone. “You really shouldn’t expose your neck like that around me…”

Chuuya Nakahara

Weak for: Waist, thighs, and collarbones.

If you wear something that shows off your waist-to-hip line, he's doomed.

Collarbone peeking from an oversized shirt? He’s staring. “No, I’m not distracted—I’m just... admiring the architecture.”

Atsushi Nakajima

Weak for: Eyes and smile.

A kind, genuine smile makes him short-circuit.

Big, expressive eyes? He’s melting. Bonus if you tilt your head while smiling. “I-I wasn’t staring! I just… your eyes are really nice.”

Doppo Kunikida

Weak for: Back and posture.

Good posture and elegant movement catches his eye immediately.

A glimpse of back when someone stretches or works with grace? Dangerous. “You should sit properly—…Wait, where was I in my schedule again?”

Ranpo Edogawa

Weak for: Lips and cheeks.

Especially if you're expressive—biting your lip while thinking, puffing your cheeks, sticking out your tongue playfully? He notices. “You keep making that face. You think it’s cute, huh? …It is.”

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Weak for: Hair and neck.

Windblown hair or someone brushing it behind their ear? Captivated.

And pale necks? Yes. Very yes. “Tch. Your hair’s messy... but don’t change it.”

Tetchou Suehiro

Weak for: Shoulders and arms.

Strong shoulders, whether muscled or simply confident posture, draw his attention.

If you roll up your sleeves? He’s watching. “You look strong today. I like it.”

Jouno Saigiku

Weak for: Scent and skin texture.

He can’t see, so he fixates on how you smell and how your skin feels under his touch.

Soft hands or the faint smell of something familiar = mental chaos. “You smell like warm metal and vanilla… curious combination.”

Kenji Miyazawa

Weak for: Boobs & feet (affectionate).

He tries not to, but he notices softness. He blushes around exposed cleavage or bare feet in the summer. “You should cover up a bit more… not that I mind or anything!”

Sigma

Weak for: Hands and eyelashes.

He stares at how people hold things—coffee cups, pens, gloves. If you have long lashes and blink slowly while talking to him? RIP. “Stop looking at me like that, I’ll overheat…”

Nikolai Gogol

Weak for: Legs and back.

Anyone in shorts, tights, or skirts is on thin ice. Long legs or toned thighs? Game over.

The curve of someone bending forward, unaware? He’s already behind you, floating upside down. “Nice legs. Want a portal to Paris?”

Oda Sakunosuke

Weak for: Eyes and hands.

Someone who holds a book gently, or has calm, kind hands? He’s already planning a life together.

Deep, thoughtful eyes? He’ll stare a little longer than necessary. “You… have very thoughtful hands.”

Edgar Allan Poe

Weak for: Hair and wrists.

He finds stray strands of hair falling into someone’s face... very poetic.

Wrists exposed under slightly loose sleeves? Yeah. He’s ruined. “If I wrote about your hands, would that be weird?”

[mafiastrays]

Types of kisses BSD male characters enjoy giving and receiving

—because you know each of them has their own flavor, intensity, and emotional chaos in this department. Think: where, how, and why they kiss the way they do. 😏💋

Osamu Dazai

Gives: Playful and teasing kisses—corners of the mouth, the tip of your nose, trailing down your jaw, just to see you flustered.

Receives: Neck kisses. It shuts him up like nothing else. Kissing along his jaw or biting the space below his ear? Instant puddle.

“Careful now… keep that up and I’ll never leave.”

Chuuya Nakahara

Gives: Passionate, grounding kisses. Both hands on your face, pulling you in like you’re the only thing tethering him to earth.

Receives: Forehead kisses or slow kisses to his collarbone. He pretends they’re no big deal but they melt him completely.

“Come here. I need to feel you’re real.”

Atsushi Nakajima

Gives: Soft, hesitant kisses. Like he’s asking permission even when he doesn’t need to. Very gentle.

Receives: Cheek kisses. It makes him so warm and fuzzy inside he might burst.

“I-I… I like when you do that. The cheek thing. Do it again?”

Doppo Kunikida

Gives: Firm, controlled kisses. Like he’s making a promise, even if he’s awkward at first. Can be incredibly tender when he lets go.

Receives: Hand kisses. They make him freeze for a second, then look away with pink ears.

“You’re being very distracting. Please continue.”

Ranpo Edogawa

Gives: Quick, smug kisses. Often out of nowhere—on the temple, lips, or cheek. He wants to catch you off guard.

Receives: Kisses to his crown or jaw. They surprise him and make him go unusually quiet.

“Hmm? What was that for? …Not that I’m complaining.”

Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Gives: Desperate, shaky kisses. Like he’s not sure he deserves you, but needs you anyway. Clings.

Receives: Kisses to his scars, hands, or lips. It softens all his sharp edges.

“…You really don’t care, do you? About what I am.”

Tetchou Suehiro

Gives: Firm but innocent kisses. He holds your face gently like a knight kneeling for his queen.

Receives: Kisses on the nose or between the brows. It startles him, but he likes the odd sweetness.

“Strange… but comforting. Please do it again.”

Jouno Saigiku

Gives: Sensory-heavy kisses. His lips trail along skin slowly, listening to every breath and heartbeat.

Receives: Kisses to his jaw or fingers. Especially when they’re slow and intentional. He feels it all.

“Your heartbeat spikes when I kiss you like this. How charming.”

Kenji Miyazawa

Gives: Warm and excited kisses. He kisses like it’s the best part of his whole day—because it is.

Receives: Kisses to his temples or chin. He’ll giggle and ask for more.

“Hey, hey, one more! I like it when you kiss me there!”

Sigma

Gives: Tentative, yearning kisses. Like he wants to make it last, unsure if it’ll be taken away.

Receives: Kisses to the temple or shoulder. It calms him. Feels like safety.

“When you do that… I feel like I belong somewhere.”

Nikolai Gogol

Gives: Ridiculously dramatic kisses. Lifts you into the air, twirls, and dips you like a ballroom dancer.

Receives: Sneak kisses. Like a peck to the lips mid-sentence or a kiss on the wrist—makes him blush like mad.

“Scandalous! Do it again. For science.”

Oda Sakunosuke

Gives: Slow, literary kisses. He kisses like he’s writing a novel with his lips—every moment deliberate and meaningful.

Receives: Kisses to the lips, softly, or to the side of the neck. He sighs into it.

“This feels like something I’d read in a good book.”

Edgar Allan Poe

Gives: Shy, overthinking kisses. He blushes the whole time but pours all his emotion into it.

Receives: Hand and cheek kisses. They stun him, especially if unexpected.

“I… may need a moment. You’re rather powerful, aren’t you?”

[symphonyofsilence]

We don't know much about Dazai's life before Mori found him (just that the sheep had offered Dazai to join them and he declined)

But in "Dazai, Chuuya, age fifteen" there might be some clues:

He talks as if he previously hasn't been a part of the underground society. Like he's lived in the surface world.

His mannerism in general, even as a 15 years old is so refined. And the manner of his speech is different from the 15 y/o kids who are from the underground society like Chuuya and Shirase.

And the characters are heavily inspired by the real life authors that they're named after. Dazai already has so many things in common with the real Dazai Osamu. And the real Dazai Osamu was from a noble family.

So I think it's likely that Dazai was from an upper class family and ran away.

And... I think it's not completely unlikely that he might have changed his name.

in BSD, when a character is inspired by and named after an author who has a pen name, their real names are addressed. Like Mori Ougai being called Rintarou by Elise, or Fukuchi Ouchi being called Gen'ichiro by Fukuzawa or Dazai calling Oda Sasunosuke Odasaku, or 'Nakahara' being revealed to be the last name of the doctor who worked on the Arahabaki project and thus being Chuuya's "father" and so his last name being Chuuya's last name, while it's revealed that Chuuya might have an actual family out there, we don't know much about them but his father has the same occupation as the real Nakahara Chuuya's father; he's a retired army doctor who has established his own clinic. And the real Nakahara Chuuya was at first 'Kashimura Chuuya' before his father was adopted by his mother's family shortly after Chuuya's birth and his name was changed to Nakahara. Now maybe BSD's Nakahara Chuuya's real father's last name is Kashimura and thus before the age of 7 and merging with Arahabaki, Nakahara Chuuya might have been Kashimura Chuuya.

What I was getting at was that... maybe BSD's Dazai Osamu's real name is Tsushima Shūji (like his namesake, the real author) but he changed it after he ran away from his rich family and joined the underground. (But this theory might not work because Ranpo's namesake, the real author used a pen name too but Ranpo Edogawa seems to be the real name of BSD's Ranpo.)

[mafiastrays]

OMG, i love this

[mafiastrays]

I DON'T CARE if he is human or not. Look at him, look at him and tell me he isn't the most kindest soul out there. He would literally sacrifice his life for his friends, even if they betrayed him. He is Loyal, Kind , Emotional.

He is the 😭🥹 most perfect human to me. Fuck arahabaki or whatever shit is in him.

[mafiastrays]

hey guys,

So... do you think Chuuya has ever kissed someone? (He's 22 in the current timeline—most people probably know that 😁). From everything I’ve learned about his character (yes, I’ve read the main manga, Fifteen, Stormbringer, and of course, watched the anime 🙃), I can only really imagine two scenarios where he might have lost his first kiss.

Scenario One: Dazai (3% chance—but never say never 😜)

This would’ve happened specifically when they were both around 15, during their pre-executive Port Mafia days. Back then, they were sent on countless missions together—partly to compete and see who would become an executive first. “Teenagers,” you know?

And honestly, I refuse to believe Dazai hadn’t kissed someone by that age—fight me on it. He’s exactly the kind of teenage menace who would use that as ammo to tease Chuuya constantly. I can totally picture him saying things like:

“You’ve never kissed anyone, have you, Chuuya? No wonder—must be hard when your height can’t even reach their lips.”

He’d lean in—way too close—implying he’s just trying to show Chuuya what kissing looks like, or what it feels like to have someone close. Chuuya, naturally, would explode every time.

But one day, maybe Dazai went too far. Maybe he was drunk. Maybe the stars aligned. He kissed Chuuya—just a brief moment of chaos—and immediately received a knuckle sandwich for his trouble. Chuuya stormed off fuming, muttering death threats, while Dazai wheezed with laughter, probably yelling, “Worth it!”

Scenario Two: A Girl from the Sheep (60% chance)

Now, this one is far more plausible.

Back when Chuuya was with the Sheep, he was one of the 13 board members—and the most powerful among them, being the only ability user. His role was to protect the group, especially their territory. Naturally, that meant a lot of the girls admired him. Not only was he strong, but he had that classic “brooding but noble” energy—dangerous for teenage hearts.

And teenage crushes? Wild.

I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the girls—maybe even that pink-haired one from the anime —kissed him out of the blue one day. Maybe he wasn’t paying attention, maybe she got caught up in the moment and just did it. His reaction?

Something along the lines of:

“Shit—what the hell!?”

And then—red-faced—he’d bolt. Flustered, shocked, and yelling something like “Don’t you dare do that again!” as he vanished.

Classic Chuuya.

Final Thoughts: Chuuya’s Relationship with Romance

Beyond these two possibilities, I honestly don’t think Chuuya would ever go out of his way to kiss someone first—let alone initiate sex.

He doesn’t go to girls’ bars or any of those "Japanese salaryman pleasure thingies" (I forgot what they’re called 😅, oh soap lands). He doesn’t hang out with the kind of people who do, either.

Why? Well:

He’s a busy man.

He’s awkward around women.

And let’s be real—he’s a little insecure about his height (our short king 🥺).

So yeah, I imagine he just... JOs in his bedroom or office at night. Quietly. Privately. Maybe with the blinds closed and his hat still on.

Unlike Dazai—that flirty bitch.

[mafiastrays]

How can he change his expression so quickly, from this 🫥 to this 😁. No wonder mori couldn't get a read on him.