a/n: this is my opinion, you dont have to agree with me
꒰ osamu dazai ꒱
green flags
makes life fun: even boring errands become dates. grocery shopping? he’s racing you down aisles. laundry day? he’s wearing your sweater and acting dramatic about “domestic bliss.” life with him never feels dull
soft with you in private: outside, he’s teasing, clever, hard to read. alone? he’s clingy, sleepy, affectionate, head in your lap, arms around your waist, mumbling that you’re warm and he’s staying there forever
he understands darkness: if you struggle mentally or emotionally, he’s not easily scared off by ugly feelings, grief, or messy thoughts. he understands heavy things better than most
loves deeply once committed: if he genuinely chooses you, it’s intense. loyal in a way that runs frighteningly deep
ridiculously attentive: he notices everything, when your smile looks forced, when you’re quieter than usual, when you mention liking something once in passing and suddenly it’s in his hands a week later
red flags
push-pull behavior: gets close → feels vulnerable → pulls away → comes back clingier than before. emotional whiplash
hard to reassure: even if he loves you, part of him may quietly wonder why. that insecurity can make him sabotage good things
keeps secrets: He’d convince himself he’s “protecting you” by hiding things, when really it creates distance and trust issues
emotionally evasive: the biggest one. he’ll joke instead of being vulnerable. he can love you deeply and still struggle to honestly say what he feels
manipulative tendencies: dazai is smart, too smart. if unhealthy, he could test you, push boundaries, or steer situations without you realizing
꒰ chuuya nakahara ꒱
green flags
extremely loyal: once he loves you, he’s all in. he’s the kind of boyfriend who stays, through hard days, ugly crying, bad moods, and every messy part of life
protective (but not careless): he takes your safety seriously. walks you home, keeps an eye on your surroundings, checks that you got home safe, and is already handling problems before you even realize there’s one
communicates: chuuya is more likely to say what bothers him, what he wants, and where you stand. he can be hotheaded, but you usually won’t have to guess how he feels
spoils you: nice dinners, thoughtful gifts, quality wine, expensive perfume/cologne because “you deserve good things,” and he absolutely remembers your favorite everything
passionate love: he loves loudly, fierce affection, intense kisses, protective arms around your waist, staring at you like you hung the moon
red flags
terrible temper: not necessarily directed at you, but his anger can be explosive. arguments could get heated fast
work comes with danger: being with him means living with risk. violence, enemies, and a dangerous lifestyle would always be part of the relationship
can be possessive: not necessarily controlling, but definitely a “who is that?” eyebrow raise type. if unhealthy, jealousy could become an issue
stubborn: once he digs his heels in, good luck moving him. apologies may come late, even when he knows he’s wrong
high standards: for himself and sometimes others. he can be harsh, blunt, and accidentally intimidating when frustrated
꒰ ranpo edogawa ꒱
green flags
knows you better than you know yourself: ranpo picks up on tiny things, the shift in your voice, the look on your face, habits you don’t even realize you have. you can’t really hide when something’s wrong, because he’ll know immediately
makes you feel chosen: he can be playful and bratty with everyone, but when he loves someone, there’s a very clear “this is my person” energy. you’d feel special in a very genuine way
loyal to the core: once you’re important to him, he keeps you close. he values his people deeply and doesn’t let go easily
makes life feel lighter: a relationship with him would have lots of laughter, teasing, little competitions, inside jokes, and random adventures that somehow become core memories
surprisingly protective: not always physically intimidating, but he’d absolutely use his mind to keep you safe, solve problems, and make sure no one gets one over on you
red flags
can be insensitive: ranpo’s honesty can sting. he may say the brutal truth without realizing how sharp it sounds
spoiled tendencies: he likes being babied a little, snacks, praise, attention, getting his way. cute… until he’s being dramatic because you didn’t indulge him
hard to surprise: planning cute secrets or dramatic reveals? difficult. he’ll probably figure it out before you finish setting it up
low patience for nonsense: if he thinks someone is wasting your time or hurting you, he can become blunt, sharp, and merciless very quickly
emotionally lazy at times: because he understands things quickly, he may assume he already “gets it” and skip the deeper emotional conversation you actually need
꒰ ryunosuke akutagawa ꒱
green flags
quiet devotion: akutagawa isn’t flashy with affection, but when he loves, it’s intense and unwavering. he’s the type to stand silently beside you through everything, his version of “I’m here” is powerful
deeply protective: if someone hurts you, insults you, or threatens you in any way, he takes it personally. you’d never doubt that he has your back
pays attention to what matters: he may seem detached, but he remembers details about you, your routines, preferences, things that make you comfortable, and quietly adjusts around them
soft side only for you: the colder he is with the world, the sweeter those rare moments become, a hand lingering on yours, quietly checking if you’re warm enough, awkward but sincere affection
would treasure your praise: your approval would mean everything to him. genuine compliments stick with him more than he’d admit, and he’d work hard to be someone worthy of them
red flags
emotionally closed off: getting him to openly talk about feelings would be difficult. he tends to bury vulnerability under silence, distance, or intensity
obsessive tendencies: when akutagawa fixates, he fixates. in an unhealthy relationship, that intensity could become possessiveness or unhealthy dependence
low self-worth: a big one. he often measures himself harshly. that can create insecurity, jealousy, or self-sabotaging behavior in love
can be harsh: he may say things bluntly or coldly, especially when upset, without realizing how deeply it lands
difficulty receiving love: even if you love him deeply, part of him may struggle to believe he deserves it
꒰ doppo kunikida ꒱
green flags
dependable to a fault: if kunikida says he’ll do something, he does it. you’d never have to question whether he’ll show up for you, emotionally, physically, practically, he’s there
takes relationships seriously: he’s not casual about love. if he commits, it’s because he sees long-term potential. he’d approach being your boyfriend with genuine care and intention
responsible king: bills paid, plans made, emergencies handled, future discussed. he’s the kind of partner who makes life feel stable rather than chaotic
encourages your goals: he’d respect ambition and want to help you succeed. the type to remember your deadlines, help you prepare, and quietly brag about your accomplishments
would make an excellent husband: realistically? strong husband material. stable, loyal, hardworking, and deeply committed
red flags
workaholic tendencies: he may prioritize responsibilities so heavily that romance gets pushed aside
truggles with flexibility: spontaneous chaos? sudden plan changes? he may internally combust
stress carries over: when overwhelmed, he can become tense, sharp, or emotionally unavailable until he regains control
may accidentally parent you: gentle reminders can turn into lectures if he’s not careful: sleep schedule, finances, diet, organization… very “concerned husband with clipboard” energy
꒰ atsushi nakajima ꒱
green flags
genuinely kind: atsushi has a soft heart. he cares deeply, loves sincerely, and treats people with warmth that feels safe to be around
very attentive to your feelings: he’d notice when you’re upset and immediately want to help, asking if you’re okay, bringing comfort items, staying with you until you feel better
affectionate in a sweet way: hand-holding, shy forehead kisses, hugging you a little too long, looking at you with that quiet “i really like you”softness
supportive partner: he’d be your biggest cheerleader. your wins feel like his wins, and he’d constantly remind you how proud he is of you
would cherish little things: notes from you? saved. random gifts? treasured forever. photos together? his favorite thing. he’d value every small sign of love
red flags
low self-esteem: a big one. atsushi may struggle to believe he deserves love, which can lead to insecurity, overthinking, or unintentionally pulling away
needs reassurance:he may quietly wonder if you’re upset with him, if you still love him, or if he’s “enough”
can be emotionally overwhelmed: he feels things deeply. stress, guilt, fear, or conflict may hit him hard
conflict avoidance: he may bottle up problems because he doesn’t want to upset you, which can create hidden tension
꒰ fukuzawa yukichi ꒱
green flags
extremely reliable: if he says something, it happens. no guessing, no uncertainty, just consistency and trust
emotionally mature: he handles conflict calmly, doesn’t escalate unnecessarily, and prefers understanding over drama
calm, stable presence: fukuzawa is the definition of emotional steadiness. being with him feels grounding, like things won’t fall apart just because life gets messy
protective in a quiet, powerful way: he doesn’t need to be loud about it. If you’re in danger or discomfort, he’s already intervening. you’d feel safe just standing next to him
respects your independence: he wouldn’t smother you. instead, he supports you becoming your own person while still being right there when you need him
red flags
emotionally reserved: he’s not very expressive with feelings. you may sometimes wish he said more, showed more, or verbalized love more openly
work and duty come first: his responsibilities often take priority. that can lead to distance or limited time together
can feel distant unintentionally: even when he cares deeply, his calm nature might come across as emotional detachment
hard to read sometimes: you might have to learn his quieter ways of showing love instead of hearing it directly
꒰ fyodor dostoevsky ꒱
green flags
Intelligent and perceptive: fyodor is extremely sharp. he reads situations and people with unsettling accuracy. he would rarely misunderstand you, because he studies people deeply
calm under pressure: he doesn’t panic or act impulsively. in tense situations, he stays composed, which can feel strangely reassuring
deep convictions: when he believes in something, he commits fully. there’s a sense of purpose and certainty in him
unshaken presence: he carries himself like nothing truly rattles him. that steadiness can feel grounding in moments of chaos
articulate and thoughtful speaker: he expresses himself in a very deliberate, poetic way. conversations with him would feel intense, philosophical, and mentally stimulating
red flags
extremely manipulative: fyodor is not someone who simply “plays mind games” he specializes in psychological control. in a relationship, this is a major danger: influence, persuasion, and emotional steering would not be used gently
lack of emotional safety: you would constantly question whether his actions are genuine or part of a larger plan. that uncertainty is emotionally exhausting
secretive and opaque: he hides his true intentions very well. even closeness doesn’t guarantee transparency
moral extremism: his beliefs are rigid and intense. if your values don’t align, he is unlikely to compromise
control over connection: he tends to position himself as someone who understands reality better than others, which can create a power imbalance in relationships
꒰ nikolai gogol ꒱
green flags
never boring, ever: life with nikolai would be unpredictable, exciting, and full of chaos in a strangely fun way. every day feels like something unexpected could happen
surprisingly attentive beneath the chaos: he acts unserious, but he notices more than he lets on. he’d pick up on your moods, habits, and vulnerabilities quickly
affection would be theatrical but sincere: grand gestures, dramatic confessions, random gifts, appearing out of nowhere just to see your reaction, chaotic, but memorable
makes you laugh: he’s bizarre, funny, and weirdly charming. even frustrating moments could become stories you laugh about later
could love intensely: if he chose someone, it would probably be wholehearted, consuming, and impossible to ignore
red flags
wildly unstable: the biggest one. his unpredictability isn’t just quirky, it can be dangerous, impulsive, and emotionally exhausting
unclear motives: you may never fully know whether he’s joking, testing you, being honest, or performing
poor emotional consistency: one moment affectionate, the next detached, strange, or doing something completely unhinged
boundary issues: he’s the type to ignore normal limits because he finds reactions interesting
꒰ sigma ꒱
green flags
genuinely gentle and kind: sigma is one of the softest presences in the series. he treats people with care, patience, and a calm sincerity that feels safe to be around.
hardworking and responsible: even with uncertainty in his life, he strives to build something stable. he puts effort into making things work.
emotionally honest when safe: once he trusts someone, he tends to be open about his feelings and fears rather than hiding them completely.
warm presence: he brings a calm, almost soothing energy. being around him can feel like a break from chaos.
red flags
identity insecurity: a major one. sigma struggles with questions about who he is, which can lead to emotional instability or dependence on reassurance
fear of abandonment: he deeply wants connection, but that also makes him sensitive to distance or perceived rejection
easily overwhelmed: stress, conflict, or emotional intensity can hit him hard, making it difficult for him to cope in high-pressure situations
can become clingy when anxious: not in a controlling way, more in a “please don’t leave me” emotional reliance way
꒰ saigiku jouno ꒱
green flags
strangely attentive when he chooses to be: he may act chaotic, but when he focuses on you, he remembers details and picks up on things other people miss entirely
protective under the teasing: his playful, taunting personality hides a strong protective instinct. if someone genuinely threatens you, he doesn’t hesitate
honest in his own blunt way: he doesn’t sugarcoat things. what he says is what he means, which can make things weirdly clear even if it stings
exciting, never predictable: life with him would never be boring. there’s always an edge of surprise, banter, or chaos in the air
strong sense of justice (in his own way): he believes in his role and convictions strongly, which can translate into loyalty once you’re “in his circle
red flags
control through perception: because of his sensory abilities, he often “knows too much,” which can feel invasive or unsettling
blunt cruelty disguised as jokes: he may say things that hit hard and frame them as teasing, even when they hurt
trust issues (on both sides): he’s not easy to read emotionally, and he doesn’t make himself emotionally safe or predictable
hard to emotionally pin down: even if he cares, it may feel inconsistent or hidden behind sarcasm and games
꒰ tetcho suehiro ꒱
green flags
incredibly loyal once he chooses you: tetcho is the type who commits fully. if you’re his person, he’ll stand by you without hesitation, no matter how difficult things get
honest and straightforward: he doesn’t play mind games. what he thinks is what he says, and what he says is what he means. relationships with him would be refreshingly direct
strong sense of justice and fairness: he genuinely believes in doing what’s right. you’d never have to question his moral intentions or worry about hidden agendas
protective in a calm, steady way: not overly emotional, but reliable. if you’re in danger, he acts immediately and efficiently
hardworking and disciplined: he puts effort into everything he does, including relationships. he would actively try to be someone dependable for you
red flags
emotionally rigid: tetcho isn’t very expressive. he may struggle to verbalize affection or emotional needs, which can make things feel distant at times
very black-and-white thinking: his strong sense of right and wrong can make compromise difficult in emotionally complex situations
work-focused lifestyle: as a hunting dogs member, duty and missions often come first, which can create emotional or physical distance
low emotional awareness at times: he may not always understand subtle emotional cues, especially if you need comfort in a softer, indirect way
꒰ junichiro tanizaki ꒱
green flags
genuinely gentle and sweet: junichiro has a soft personality in everyday life. he’s caring, easygoing, and usually just wants the people he loves to be comfortable and happy
very supportive partner: he’d encourage you, agree with your ideas, and go along with things you enjoy just to see you smile. he’s not competitive in love, he’s cooperative
emotionally affectionate (when relaxed): in calm moments, he can be warm, playful, and physically affectionate in a cozy, low-pressure way
loyal to his close circle: he doesn’t easily abandon people he trusts. if you’re in his inner world, he’s not quick to let go
adaptable and easygoing: he’s flexible in relationships and not overly strict or demanding. he tends to “go with the flow” to avoid conflict
red flags
avoids conflict at all costs: he would rather ignore issues than confront them, which can lead to unresolved tension building up over time
emotionally inconsistent under stress: when things get serious, he may shut down or retreat instead of communicating clearly
can be overly passive: decision-making might fall on you, which can feel unbalanced in the long run
may hide discomfort: he’s the type to say “it’s fine” even when it isn’t, just to keep things peaceful
꒰ michizo tachihara ꒱
green flags
loyal when it truly counts: once tachihara commits to someone emotionally, he’s surprisingly steadfast. he’s not the type to abandon people he genuinely cares about
protective instinct kicks in fast: he’s quick to step in if someone threatens or disrespects you. not always polished about it, but very effective
emotionally direct (when he opens up): he’s not overly cryptic. when he decides to be honest, he says things plainly instead of playing mind games
playful and easygoing side: he can be fun, teasing, and relaxed in a relationship when things are safe and stable
red flags
double-life stress (big one): his undercover situation means secrecy, lies by necessity, and emotional compartmentalization. that creates distance in relationships
trust issues (both sides): because of his lifestyle, full honesty isn’t always possible, which can make emotional security complicated
emotional inconsistency: he may switch between casual, intense, and distant depending on his situation
risk-heavy life: danger, missions, and constant tension are part of his world, stability is never guaranteed
osamuslvt ─ 2026 ꕥ
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a/n: hey nonnie, u didn't mention which characters u wanted so i went ahead and chose two of my faves & the ones i usually do, this is also my first time writing two characters in one post & I loved writing it (˶❛⩊❛˵) , enjoy! ♡𐙚ּ
‧˚꒰🍷꒱༘‧— chuuya ♡
he adjusts things for you without thinking. it's a habit of his. your collar, your hair, your jewelry. it’s quick and automatic—his eyes are not on even yours while he does it, just on the thing he's busy with—which makes it feel absentminded, casual, even. if you point it out, he just smirks like “it was bothering me, not you."
chuuya kisses in his sleep. when you're sleeping together, if you move in his arms for whatever reason—bad dream, or just turning in his arms—he'll just pull you closer, unconsciously pressing a few light, barely-there kisses to whatever part of your body that's close to his lips—your hair, mostly—before he goes still again, exhaling through his nose. he's absolutely not aware of it.
he kisses your forehead and temple a lot. mostly forehead. you're grumpy? forehead kiss. happy? forehead kiss. sleepy in his arms? forehead kiss. he’s the type to kiss your forehead mid-conversation and keep talking like it didn’t happen. it calms you down, that comforting, grounding press of his lips on your skin that lingers for longer than it should—like a reminder to pause and breathe for a moment. it's more intimate. kisses on your temple are more casual and done in passing—when you're at your desk working, when you're drying your hair by the mirror, when he's passing by you to get to the door and leave—he'll just come up, press a quick kiss on your temple and go back to whatever he was doing. he doesn't even think about it. it's like second nature to him.
motorcycle ride nights. sometimes when you feel down, or when your thoughts are too noisy, he'll take you for a ride no matter how late it is. he doesn't say much, just a "lets go", as he puts his overcoat on you, because sometimes you're too tired to get ready. the ride is mostly silent, and it feels comforting. your arms wrap around his waist, palms spread around his chest as you rest your forehead against his back as wind plays with both of your hair, his hand occasionally leaving the handlebar to squeeze your thigh. you always feel ligher afterwards.
if he sees you overworked? you're getting gravity-manipulated right into bed. of course, he's not that strict right away (?), he'll come up, reminding you about one or two times (which now feel like warnings), and if you don't listen? he'll literally use his ability on you and suddenly you're in the air kicking and wiggling around—he'll stand there with an unimpressed look on his face just staring at you rambling and complaining. "yeah yeah, bed. now." and you're (gently) placed onto your bed. he'll bring you some water, meds if you need it—before he tucks you in for a nap, dimming the lights around—and taking care of whatever work you have, so you'll be able to sleep for a few hours in peace—without worrying about anything besides your rest.
if you’re sitting next to him, his thigh presses against yours. always. even if there’s space. he just… closes the gap without thinking.
he spins you when he sees you happy. just sweeping you off your feet, spinning you once or twice—grinning while you sequel into his neck, slapped his shoulder lightly. he loves that sudden laughter bubbling out—as if you can't hold it in, and he likes it that way, when the joy is just too big to keep inside.
‧˚꒰ 🩹 ꒱༘‧— dazai ♡
he has this habit of leaning his entire weight on you out of nowhere. like you’re standing, minding your business, and suddenly you have a dazai draped over you like a dying fish. he'll refuse to move even if you complain, he's all over you—chin on your shoulders, his lanky, long ass arms loose around your waist, fingers fondling whatever piece of clothing you're wearing while he whines into your neck until you sigh and hold him back. only then he quiets down and actually goes still.
you love pillow-talks with him. and so does he. he loves how sleepy you get, how your words drag and fade at the end, how you play with the bandages around his neck, your thumb brushing his nape in little circles—his own voice also drops and his eyelids go heavy. his movements are slower, way more gentle than usual. he'll brush your hair out of your face while you talk, responding with faint little hums while his fingers trace over your arm. (he looks half asleep, but he tries so hard to stay awake, cause he loves seeing you this way) you'll both usually fall asleep mid-kiss—barely a peck at that—or mid-talk, trying to keeps talking until your words are all slurring together and are incoherent.
if he wakes up before you in the mornings or any time of the day—he gets… weirdly still. he’ll just watch you, eyes softer than ever, brushing hair out of your face in the gentlest way imaginable. he's careful not to wake you up but also not—but the SECOND you wake up he’s back to being insufferable. (this is also mentioned in the oddly spend relationship thingies post for dazai lol—tbh that post itself is all sfw & mostly fluff so read that one if u want extra)
playing with his hair. it's so ridiculously fluffy it's not fair. he's well aware and uses it as an excuse to lay his head on your lap or your chest. he lives for how your fingers card through the brown locks, twirling a strand around, curling it with your finger before brushing it out—and if you scratch/massage his head too? he's literally in heaven thanking the divine. if it goes on for too long he'll literally purr. worst case scenario he might (definitely) fall asleep on you. he also loves when you kiss the top of his head. if you stop even briefly, he'll immediately let out a small, muffled whine—silently wanting you to continue.
he watches you when you’re not looking mofe than you think. not in a creepy way—more like he’s studying something he does understand, but refuses to look away from anyway. you'll catch him with a teeny tiny smile on his lips while he's watching you do mundane stuff—reading, drinking something with crumbs on the corner of your lip, staring out a window—doesn't matter what. he's watching either way.
he's the thief of kisses. happens when you least expect, just him leaning down and pressing a small kiss on your lips, just keeping his lips on your for a brief moment before pulling back with a chuckle right before you can reach for more. but he cannot resist that pretty pout—or being apart for too long—looks like he's got some stealing to do.
he remembers everything about you but pretends he doesn’t. (we all know he's terrifyingly observant in general) your favorite snack? “oh, was it this one?” (it is, every time). your schedule? he just “happens” to show up to whatever you're doing. he’ll never admit he’s memorized his lover down to patterns.
synopsis: after receiving a nice outfit from the boss, dazai simply needs to remind you who you belong to.
introduction: baby, i can't hurt you, sure. but i'm the jealous type.
i love writing jealous dazai, so this was definitely fun to just write raunchy smut between you and your executive boyfriend because he hates the thought of losing you.
contents: ~9k words; nsfw; pm member fem, afab!reader; 22+ pm executive!dazai; jealous!dazai; established relationship; smut: public bathroom sex, briefly caught, oral/rim job (f receiving), fingering, multiple female orgasms, lots of cervix hitting/kissing, in front of a mirror, lots of dirty talk, unprotected, "dumbification" - just very desperate, messy fucking. pet names: princess; baby; whore; slut; dumb; stupid; pervert; remarks on how dumb you are when he fucks you.
a/n i'll proofread this better tomorrow lol. i just wanted to get it posted.
“Oh, don’t you look lovely,” that soft croon whispers in your ear as you are putting on a fairly overdone and gaudy necklace, not something you’d necessarily pick out on your own, and your hands freeze. Your eyes meet deep, dark brown ones in the mirror, and a ghost of a smirk is on his lips when he sees the sudden tension in your shoulders. “Not like you to wear something this classy.” Dazai’s hands come up to assist in clasping the necklace on, not without placing a lingering kiss to your bare shoulder.
“Well, it is supposed to be an important gala. Mori made such a huge fuss about it, I thought I’d put in the effort,” you force a light smile, still only looking at him via the mirror, then your fingers not so elegantly fumble around on your vanity for your makeup. His gaze scans you, observes, notices every little twitch in your features and muscle under your skin, his fingertips carefully tracing down your spine, completely exposed from the open back of the dress. The sparkling sheen catches in the light with your movements, and that makes him suspicious. A small shudder escapes from his touch, glancing at him again but wearing a shy, coy smile. “What is it?”
“Just can’t take my eyes off of you,” he murmurs, line of sight dragging from your reflection to your chest, hardly covered by the material, a deep V scooping down to your torso, then the twinkling of thousands of little gems and stones distracts him once more. Those consuming voids travel up the side of your neck to your earrings, matching the jewelry resting on your collarbone, and his eyes narrow, quickly correcting them before offering a semblance of a smile. “You are going to be the most expensive thing at this gala.” His lips press gentle kisses along the side of your face and to your ear, calloused, bandaged hands sliding down your arms to lace his fingers with yours, distracting you from getting ready, and there isn’t really a need for cosmetic blush with how furiously red he is making you.
“Osamu, I need to finish getting ready,” you breathe when his mouth finds your neck, but you don’t really do a whole lot of anything to stop him, fingers trailing up to tangle in his tresses. He hums, vibrating into your skin, before reluctantly pulling away, then placing more kisses on your knuckles as he sets you free.
“Forgive me, I’m not used to seeing you look so enchanting,” his eyes, usually detached, are dilating the more he stares at your reflection, bouncing from it to how much of your body is showing, then remembers how strangely you acted when he stepped in to check on you. His gaze travels down to your feet, semi-covered by the length of your dress, and he thinks he notices a heel. His brow gradually lifts, hands stuffing in his pockets, before slowly turning on his heel to the kitchen.
Something to note: you aren’t exactly the “dazzling” type. Your streetwear consists primarily of casual, comfortable, and practical clothes, while your mafia attire is nothing short of dull. Heels don’t necessarily work well for you, preferring flats or other business-like shoes that keep you low to the ground; skirts that are only ever an inch above the knee but you ensure it is flowing enough to be manageable to walk around in; and your dress pants are the most unflattering pairs you can find. You like glitter – who doesn’t, but you don’t particularly reach for it when shopping, and your makeup typically consists of neutrals, a smoky eye if you’re feeling like putting in the extra effort. Of course you’re not plain, far from it, you just do not know how to dress yourself; it can be embarrassing, especially when your boyfriend is the one constantly stunting on you in public and neither of you seem to have a mutual understanding of what to wear for the occasion.
This was not lost on Mori either, mentioning a few times to Dazai about how while you are in uniform, it is more or less unassuming. He has always been a stickler for dress code and presentability. Which brings you to tonight’s gala that he was against having you show up in something that wouldn’t be appropriate to represent his organization. The gesture was relieving after calling you into his office without much other notice, but strange all the same when you peeked in the bag and saw the contents.
“Mr. Mori, sir, this is incredibly generous of you–” You had stammered, but he smoothly cut you off with a toss of his leg over the other.
“I know, dear,” he smiled, that one when he knew he had gotten what he wanted but didn’t need to show it. “I am very generous. I would hate for you to stick out like a sore thumb.” You took another look into the bag, skeptical, glancing up at him with that written across your features, and he tilted his head. “Plus, you have a stunning figure underneath all that drab clothing, don’t you think you should show it off?” The comment made a shiver run up your spine and a grimace you had to hide, offering a polite smile in return.
“Thank you, but I’m not sure how Dazai will take me wearing something he hadn’t bought for me,” you told him, hands folding in front of you, awkwardly shifting in your spot.
“Then Dazai should have jumped the gun to get you something more appropriate for such an important gala,” he maintained his faux politeness, but the bite was there, underlying in his words, and you knew you’d have to try to keep this a secret as much as you could.
Dazai stands in the kitchen near his liquor cabinet, a crystal glass filled with his second glass of whiskey, staring out of the window as he takes smaller sips this time, remembering how absolutely gorgeous you looked, but everything was off. You would have mentioned going shopping, and you definitely would have asked him to go with you to pick an outfit for this evening. That dress has never once been in your closet, and you don’t own a pair of heels at all. The jewelry is too over the top for your tastes, and you were tense, as if on edge, walking on eggshells around him – you two haven’t fought, but he briefly wonders if he had done or said something wrong. However, you didn’t push him away, so that couldn’t be it either. His fingers lightly grip the rim of his glass, eyes narrowing again at the setting sun and pink clouds while he thinks, trying to avoid the possibility someone else has gotten everything for you.
“Osa!” You call out to him, hand leaning on the wall as the other grips the skirt, and you’re panicking some at the top of the stairs while your knees shake in the heels you tried practicing walking around in but never seemed to grasp. His head snaps in your direction, abandoning his theories for the time being to reach you, his brows furrowing when he sees you just standing there. You give him a pitiful look, glancing down then back to meet his mildly concerned gaze. “I… I need help with the stairs.” You mumble. He stares at you for a moment too long, bouncing around different parts of your done-up face, and he doesn’t believe the person in front of him is his girlfriend. “Do I look bad?” You fret, clinging to the wall so you don’t topple over.
“No, no, of course not,” he clears his throat, having to force his daze away, and offers his hand to you. “C’mon, my long-lost princess, we have a ball to get to.” He jokes, uncharacteristically patient as he helps get you down the stairs one step at a time.
He sat beside you on the car ride, close enough his cologne was beginning to rub off of him to mix with your perfume, his large hand gripping your thigh – also exposed from the slit running down to the floor, periodically squeezing it as he continued with his thoughts. He seemed lost in them, unaware he was subconsciously riding his palm up further than it should, and you had to continuously, subtly, push it back down closer to your knee.
The moment you two had left the car, his hands and arms were all over you, latching your sides together, making pointed stops to leave kisses on your cheeks, behind your ear, on your neck, and the corner of your mouth. The affection was nice, but you knew the behavior and actions too well, and you had to pretend you didn’t notice. When he spoke to people, he wore that beautifully practiced smile, introducing you, arm securely around your waist, hand tight to your hip, and he never once let you out of his sight.
Dazai has you tucked away in a corner with him, holding you close so his whispers only reach your ears, the things he’s saying making you giggle and blush, both of you holding a glass each of the expensive champagne, and he is softly begging you to leave a kiss on his neck with such a bold color on your lips. “We can’t do that here.” You giggle again, playfully pushing him away when his head ducks down to start peppering kisses on your neck instead.
“Yes, we can, my darling princess,” he coerces, a small grin forming at the sound of your laughter and quickened heartbeat, the only thing that seems to soften his caged-off black heart anymore these days. “I’m doing it right now.” He pulls you closer, hoping whatever idiot thought they could put you in this behind his back is watching you have an amazing time with him, your actual boyfriend.
“Look at you two,” a grating, irritating voice wanders into Dazai’s ears, his happiness fleeting, and he rolls his eyes. Your smile drops only enough to appear polite, trying to place enough distance between your bodies to be professional, but his arms have minds of their own to keep you pressed into him, glued, almost crawling into your skin.
“Mori! Always a pleasure to see you,” Dazai greets, standing up straight and giving his boss enough respect to face him. Mori stands before you two, wearing one of his best suits with his mafia robes, hands behind his back, and Elise off not too far away, entertaining herself. The two exchange smirks, similar to a handshake in the ring, and Mori nods.
“Don’t you look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he compliments, ignoring Dazai completely, and nails dig into your side that makes you bite back a reaction.
“Thank you, Mr. Mori, that means a lot coming from you,” you bow some, staying close to Dazai, who keeps his other hand stuffed in his pants pocket, a fist formed, and biting on his back teeth.
“I did a wonderful job putting that together for you, don’t you agree, Dazai?” He immediately throws out his cards, and Dazai’s impression freezes with widened eyes and a tight smile. Your entire composure slips, hardly keeping a normal grip on your glass, and your feet are starting to hurt. “I think red suits her quite nicely.” He eggs on, stepping forward to drape the end of his scarf along your shoulder, pretending to admire how it looks on you, and that sends you into an internal spiral of what could that possibly mean? Your boyfriend is stuck, the only movements being his nails trying to claw at the fabric of your dress, and you’re beyond uncomfortable. “You do clean up so beautifully, dear, you should look into speaking with Kouyou about expanding your wardrobe for more flattering pieces. Oh, you could even ask Nakahara, he’s incredibly stylish.” The sound of his colleague’s name snaps Dazai out of his raging daze, coming back to reality, and lets out the perfect laugh to brush off everything he’s said while silently telling him he’s crossed a line.
“Now you’re just saying things, Mori,” he carefully steps between the two of you, one hand behind his back to clutch yours, and you peek over his shoulder at your boss, attempting not to come off as nervous as you are. He merely tilts his head, wearing that wretched smile, and smooths out his scarf. “You bought my girlfriend all of this?” He asks, voice pitched, question rhetorical.
“But of course, it seemed no one else was going to bother doing so,” Mori counters, gesturing toward you. “I have brought it to your attention on numerous occasions that maybe you needed to speak with her regarding her attire, and nothing changed. I took matters into my own hands, as this is an important event.” He speaks fluidly, convincingly, and you gently squeeze Dazai’s fingers.
“It’s okay, Osamu, he’s right–”
“I see nothing wrong with her appearance,” Dazai tells him, matter-of-fact. “She dresses professionally, she’s more than punctual, her work is top-tier, and there aren’t ever any complaints.” He lets out another chuckle, his eyes once alight with relaxation and admiration from the two of you huddled to the side alone, now shifting into a silent danger, daring to throw a responsive punch to the initial blows he has received. “It seems you have nothing on her aside from your attire. If you ask me, boss, that seems trivial compared to the other matters you need to concern yourself with. She is mine, as you know, therefore my responsibility.” You stand there in silence, listening, and you hadn’t heard him say things like that before, wondering where this is coming from. He’s possessive, sure, but he never made you feel as though he was the one that had control over your life and decisions – at least outside of work.
“Well, as we all know, you are terrible at handling your responsibilities,” Mori fires back, a slight laugh of his own, and that comment does set Dazai off, hiding it well as he always does. You notice his feet shifting, and you have to carefully draw him back some, reminding him under your breath that ‘he is our boss’. “While I usually have no issue handing things you can’t finish to others, I’m more than happy to take care of her if you’re so incapable. I mean, I seem to already have this evening.” He loves getting under his top executive’s bandages to tear at his skin, knowing nothing gets to him quite like the threat of going near you – even the simple implication is enough to drive him insane, but he doesn’t normally dare saying anything in your presence. Alas, Mori’s in the mood to start trouble, and Dazai’s an easy target since he’s aware there’s only so much he will do in retaliation, what with growing up and out of childish shenanigans.
“Mori,” Dazai laughs, a warning, eyes wild, and the grip on your hand is numbing. “Don’t you think she’s a little too old for you?” It takes an embarrassingly long time for both you and Mori to register what he just said, your brow arching while eyes trail up the side of his face, a semi-deranged smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and Mori shares a raise of his eyebrow.
“I believe you mean ‘too young’?” He corrects, and Dazai stares at him with that strange impression, head slowly tilting, eyes flickering elsewhere before holding contact with his boss again.
“No,” with that, as if on cue, Elise comes running through, laughing with one of the other children that were forced to come because his parents couldn’t find a babysitter, and you have to cover your mouth to prevent giving away the laughter you’re about to burst into. Mori’s eyes follow after her, keeping an eye that she doesn’t cause any trouble, before rolling them with a heavy sigh.
“If that’s the best you can come up with, then I’m not worried,” his hand lazily tosses up in a form of a wave as he turns to go, no longer entertained by pissing off Dazai, hitting the limit he could achieve for the day. Your throat clears, sucking in your lips as you free yourself from his death grip.
“You’re not getting out of this one so easily,” he murmurs, turning now to face you, and your eyes widen with innocence as you look up at him. His features have fallen down to immense agitation, arms folding, and fingers come up to tuck some loose hair behind your ear. You don’t say anything. “You kept this a secret from me. You aren’t allowed to keep secrets from me.”
“Osamu, he’s right, though!” You gently argue, gesturing to yourself. “I would have never been able to pick something like this on my own! I would have looked drab, and–and boxy. I look glamorous, and sparkly! I actually match you for once.” You’re pleading your case, justifying why you didn’t say anything about this to him, but he is clearly not having any of it. His eyes narrow down at you, jaw setting, and a shadow seems to cast over his features.
“You could have asked me to help you,” he points out. “Not Mori.”
“In my defense, it was the same day he announced the event,” you lower your voice more, catching that a few people are slowing their steps to eavesdrop. “That was why he took me into his office alone. He was giving this to me.”
“You shouldn’t have accepted it. You know accepting anything from Mori is signing a piece of yourself away, eternally locked into fulfilling your end of the favor he gave you.”
“I tried declining it!” You hiss, stepping closer so you don’t risk raising your voice.
“Not hard enough!” He reaches down to lift then drop your dress, enough time to show off your shoes, then vaguely gestures to the obviously expensive necklace, then your earrings, and even circles back to your extravagant makeup to match. “How dare you accept anything like this from someone that isn’t me!” He sounds hurt, but his expression tells you differently, rage and something else hidden away in those voids, and you scoff.
“It’s Mori,” your hand pushes at his chest as you begin walking away from him – not well, mind you. “That’s gross!” Your nose scrunches before leaning down to take your heels off and storm in the direction of the women’s room. He watches after you, honestly just pissed off by the entire interaction and fiasco, kicking himself more at feeling like this when you do look so incredible and instead of enjoying it, he’s fighting with you.
You huff as you stand in front of the mirror, carefully touching your makeup in different places, unbelievable that this is how the night is going. You’re more infuriated with Mori for making such a big show of the whole ordeal – however, you shouldn’t be surprised since it’s Mori, knowing his relationship with Dazai is a constant tug of war that your boyfriend repeatedly keeps trying to walk away from but the boss knows the right words to force him into picking the rope back up. This is no different, it would seem, and now you’re wishing you had fought harder against taking the outfit.
You take a step back, your heels on the counter, and allow yourself to take a once over of your appearance: much to your dismay, you do look the best you ever have. It’s unnerving to think about how the boss knew this would accentuate your silhouette, but he did pick the right thing to stick you in. You’re not used to this much exposed skin, the neckline nonexistent, no backing, and if you move the wrong way to the right, everyone will see the color of your underwear from how high the slight runs. The necklace, while huge and tacky, is quite sparkling, dazzling under every light in the building, making you the most eye-catching person here. The only thing you didn’t bother doing was your hair, deciding to leave it down, and that was your way of showing you’re still you – underneath all this glamour forced upon you, your undone tresses is the signature of your inability to properly do anything with yourself as far as styling is concerned. It just… ended up still looking exceptionally well with the rest of the outfit.
You sigh, a hand coming up to hold your head, eyes closed as a migraine is coming on strong, and the sound of the door opening then closing fills the room. Previously, you were alone, but this place is packed, someone was bound to roam their way in here eventually. I probably need to go back out there anyhow.
Fingertips lightly trail up your thigh, making you jump, swiftly knabbing the knife you have tucked away, and whirling around to hold it to whoever dared touching you’s throat. A soft chuckle comes out, too low to be a woman, too recognizable to be a stranger, and your murderous eyes trail up to meet Dazai’s. His lips are tugged up in his signature smirk, hands up in surrender, and cocks his head.
“Well prepared, even when you look like a princess,” he playfully taunts, and your eyes roll, arm dropping and stuffing your knife back in its hidden holster.
“What in the world are you doing in here?” You turn around, facing the mirror once more to grab your shoes, when you’re suddenly pressed up against the counter. Hands rest on either side of the surface, slipping between your arms, and his nose gingerly nudges under your ear; you watch him in the reflection, and it’s written all over his features that this once previously inconvenient “ordeal” bothers him greatly. It isn’t just his usual, permanent melancholy, he genuinely looks heartbroken.
“You truly look so stunning,” he murmurs, fingers dropping down to lightly drag up your skin once more, and your leg shifts to stick out from the slit more. “I just wish I had gotten it for you.” Those wandering fingertips trail up to your inner thigh, barely stopping where it connects to your pelvis, before grasping some of it to squeeze.
“Osamu, anyone could walk in at any second,” you breathe, but just as before, you don’t stop him. If anything, you encourage it. Your fingers slide up into the back of his hair when his lips leave behind sweet kisses down the side of your neck, kneading into the flesh of your thigh, occasionally pulling at it, and he hums.
“I hear there was a rumor spreading that this particular women’s restroom is out of order,” he tells you, his other hand snaking to your back, finding the zipper he had helped you pull up before, now slowly falling down. “It should buy us enough time.” He then nips at the crook of your neck, a small gasp pulling from your lips, and he’s already working to slip the material from your shoulder.
“I-I’m not sure…” You trail off when his reflection disappears, only the top of his head visible, sitting on his knees behind you as he helps the dress fall to the floor, pooling at your feet, and he groans at the sight. You peek down at him, his hands grabbing absolute handfuls of your ass to separate your cheeks, the string of your panties visible then hiding as he moves them, and you only watch his face – his eyes.
“These are my favorite pair on you,” he whispers, finger sliding under the laced string then pulling it up, making the cottoned-front slip between your lips, catching on your clit from how tight the fit is now. You grip the ledge, nails useless digging at the polished marble, and bite down on your bottom lip to stay quiet. “Get them wet for me.” He rasps, and you waste no time to start moving your hips back and forth on the material, hushed pants and whispered moans coming from you at the friction, and you’re already feeling overstimulated with the painful ache of want overwhelming you. His hungry eyes watch you, soft encouragement here and there following: ‘just like that’, ‘look how soaked they are already’, ‘gonna keep these on me all night’, and ‘that’s my good girl’. Every last sweet, filthy thing filling your ears and fueling your movements, the desperation making them stutter while you lose rhythm, feeling the cloth stick your pussy the more you grind into them.
His hand comes up in front of your hips, placing the palm on your abdomen to stop you, then pushes your wrecked panties to the side, guiding your back to arch and part your legs, your needy cunt right in his face when you’re positioned the way he wants. “Watch yourself in the mirror. See how you come undone from me eating this perfect cunt.” He commands, large hands coming back to spread you apart, waiting no longer for a response as he buries his face in, tongue eagerly lapping at your swelling clit and dripping hole. You try to listen to him, looking in the mirror, but your eyes are already rolling back into your head, panting, and knees trembling. You can hardly hold yourself up, and he is only getting started.
The tip of his tongue caresses and fondles your clit with thoughtful precision, dragging the hood back and forth over the bud, the rest of his tongue flat up against your folds and hole. His fingers are digging deep into the plush of your ass, gripping tight to keep you spread open, his own eyes fluttering shut at the taste of you, starting to moan with you, the thought of this very moment filling his mind the moment you put that stupid dress on. Your hips start moving again, grinding down on his tongue, the perfect angle to do so, and your head drops forward at the feeling. He moans louder, a resounding smack! reverberating in the room as his palm roughly spanks on your ass, and that makes your moans and groans turn needy, trying to find the right rhythm, but he continuously slaps your ass as you do, and you’re getting dizzy.
His hands come up to grasp at your hips, stilling them, just so he can slowly drag his tongue from your clit to your hole, thumbs positioning down to open it more so he can thrust the tip of it in, darting in and out, your fingers raking back into his hair to grip tight. You attempt gazing in the mirror once more, and you’re simply met with your cheeks deeply flushed, lips parted while you pant, and lids hooded from the pleasure. You can barely make yourself out in the haze, and his fat tongue on back to kitten-licking at your sensitive pussy, teasing it every so often to prod it in, circle around the opening, spit on it, and lap it all back up. He groans when you tug at his hair, walls clenching on nothing, a long whine coming out when he goes back to paying extra attention to your clit, rapidly brushing back and forth on it, knowing you’re getting close already.
He wants to fluster you more, say dirty, filthy things to you as you’re a mess hanging over the counter in a public bathroom, but you taste so good, and your thighs are shaking in his hold, and you’re whining and panting his name while holding onto his hair to keep his face forcefully buried in his favorite place to be, and he wants to have your orgasm gushing straight down on his tongue from him to happily swallow. His expert tongue doesn’t relent, going from acting like a human vibrator to dragging narrow circles around your clit, and your cheek is pressed down on the cool surface because you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up anymore. “Gonna come.” You warn, quick, nails clawing at his scalp, and he doesn’t hear you. His overactive muscle does what it pleases, assaulting your clit, tip dragging it back and forth in an attentive caress, making circles with the slightest pressure, then back to flicking with immense speed, then the fattest part of his tongue does its best to rub on the spot above your hole, and you’re going insane. “Osamu…!” Your whine falls down into a loud moan, unable to contain yourself, the pit in your abdomen releasing, the thread you were hanging onto snapping, and you can’t believe this is happening here.
He knows. He hears the change in your voice, the death grip on his hair, the way your hips try jerking away with him, the aftershocks coursing through your body. His hands slide up to your sides to hold firmly, forcing them still, pressing your cunt down flat on his tongue, moaning with you when not only is your orgasm coating his tongue, but so is a small string of squirt dribbling down his chin. He couldn’t be any more satisfied right now with how loud you’re being, all because of him, the only one to convince you to let him eat your pussy in public, letting you start shutting down to do whatever he wants with you.
“Good girl,” he breathes, pulling away some air, the lower half of his face coated in spit, your arousal, and your come. He doesn’t give you a chance to catch your own breath before you feel his slender fingers force their way into your cunt, knuckle deep already, and the pads of his fingertips on your sensitive, swollen G-spot. Your hips jump, only making him laugh softly at you, pressing down on it to make you squeak. “Sensitive, princess? It was only one orgasm, surely you can handle another one.” He tells you, warning that won’t be the only one you’re getting, and he hums at the sight of your asshole in front of him. His fingers caress at it, moving just his fingertips to pet that spot, your lips parting, and cross-eyed gaze staring at the wall. “I wonder how much you’d like my tongue here.” He whispers in a dangerous croon, the pad of his thumb now gently circling around the unused hole, and you merely let out a weak ‘ah!’ in response. Your mind is too muddled from his talented fingers as they pay close attention to your G-spot to care about anything else he could possibly do to you.
“Tell me if you want my tongue here,” he murmurs, knowing you’re already far away from here. His fingers dip impossibly deeper, curling and uncurling, your limp arm dropping to your side as your legs shake underneath both you and him, and he lets out a slight chuckle. “Stupid pervert.” He mutters, despite the fact he’s the one thinking of doing it. “Wanting me to rim you in public with my fingers in your needy cunt. What next? Want someone to walk in and see?” Realistically, he’d shoot whoever would walk in and see you like that, but with how tight your pussy just got at those words, he knows he’s right.
“Please,” you whimper out, pitched high, feet shuffling on the floor to spread you out more for him. He smiles to himself, dark, knowing you will say ‘yes’ and ‘pretty please’ to anything at this point, even if it’s something you two haven’t ever done before. His thumb gently pets your hole one last time before removing it, his other fingers never stopping their ministrations, taking a moment for his blown-out eyes to watch his knuckles flex around your opening, admiring how well your tight cunt takes whatever he shoves in it.
“Alright, baby, only because you asked me to so nicely,” he coos, making it sound like it was all your idea – something he’s infuriatingly good at – then presses a few wet kisses to your cheek. Two fingers slide up to keep you open, ogling it for a few long seconds, the anticipation getting to you, your brain melting to nothing when he stops moving his fingers to just press down firmly on your swollen spot, and you’re about to fall to your knees. His tongue, your second favorite part of him, drags a long, fat, wet stripe up your asshole, the feeling so foreign it makes a pitched, questioning sound emit from you. “You like it, pretty girl.” He decides for you before going back to doing it again, his fingers moving once more inside you to fondle every inch of your pussy, and you don’t know what to make of this situation – but it all feels too amazing to care.
His mind is starting to go blank on himself, caught up in the situation: you’re bent over the sink, making such cute noises while his fingers fuck your insides and his tongue fondles your asshole, wearing only the lace thong panties he bought for you, his favorite pair, and he is so high up on cloud nine he is willing to allow Mori walking in to see him making such a slut of you. This is taking away the sting of his raging jealousy, the way you’re hand comes behind you on its own to hold one of your cheeks apart for him so he has easier access to keep tongue fucking your hole, and to let his long fingers reach deeper in your soaked cunt. He spits a large glob on it, watching it try to open and close, and he’s losing himself. “Look at this. Every slutty hole you have is mine and opening up just for me to taste.” He laughs, burying his face back in and everything he did to your clit is back on that tight ring of muscle: the tip of his tongue circles around it, then laps at it, stopping long enough to spit more on it, saliva dripping down on the back of his hands and fingers to push into your pussy as he starts thrusting in, and fondling your barely opened hole that isn’t sure if it wants him in there or not.
“Oh god,” you lament, his heavy petting combined with his fingers thrusting, and his tongue nonstop on your asshole, a second orgasm is rising, pulse pounding in your ears and clit throbbing between your legs. “O-Osamu, please!” You beg, but you don’t know what you’re begging for. He is lapping at both of your dripping holes now like a desperate dog, losing focus with his fingers that are mindlessly pumping in and out of you, walls clenching on those overworked digits.
“Touch yourself,” he pants, words stumbling out in between tasting as much of you as he can. “Touch yourself while I tongue fuck your ass.” Another harsh slap! rings out on your reddened flesh, muttering under his breath ‘stupid, perfect whore’ before occupying his mouth once more. Your fingers obediently slide down between your legs, rubbing your clit with your middle finger, and your whole body is buzzing. Eyes roll back, lashes fluttering as you try to keep them open, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep your mouth closed, wanting to prevent being loud again, and his fingers are back to pressing down on your G-spot so his tongue can focus on frantically rimming your hole. He starts whimpering with you, the strain of his hard-on confined in his dress pants, too close to his body, and he wants to feel every hole of yours wrapping around his cock.
You can’t even warn him that you’re coming, thighs trembling and trying to close on him, asshole constricting and relaxing against his flat muscle, cunt fluttering around his fingers, and a low groan erupting deep within your chest as your finger continues stroking your clit. A shock of electricity is shot up your spine, and this may be the best release you’ve ever had. Teeth release your cheek, mouth falling open, attempting to breathe, and he hasn’t stopped. He groans quietly, mouth withdrawing so his thumb can circle the messy rim, and his fingers gradually slow, noticing your shaking limbs and stilled movements. “That’s my good girl.” He praises, carefully slipping his slick fingers out, then pops them in his mouth to lick clean – a low hum following at the taste he can’t ever get enough of. “Poor thing, worn out already?” He teases, hand running up and down the base of your spine, two fingers separating your lips to watch your cunt pulse. He whispers to himself, but you faintly hear a ‘so pretty’.
Your brain has turned itself off now, a bit of drool streaking out of the corner of your mouth and down your cheek, staring blankly at the plaster painted an ugly shade of purple, and your bones are limp. Dazai stands back to his feet, hands already undoing his belt to toss on the floor, and his fingers snap at you. “Up.” He demands, and without thinking – because you can’t anymore – your quaking arms shakily lift you upright, a pool of your spit left behind, and you gaze at him in the mirror: his cheeks are stained maroon, lips still glistening, and his hands are making way for your body. He flips you around before helping set you on the counter, legs instinctively wrapping at his hips, and you can feel his cock bulging in his boxers as it presses to your messy clit. He rests his palm on your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone, lustful and distant gaze lingering on your painted lips. “I never got my kiss I asked for.” He taps on the side of his neck, the section where his skin stops and bandages start, his preferred place to be kissed. You blindly oblige, all ten fingers clawing up into the back of his head, bringing him close to you can leave him a perfect , bright red kiss mark with what little bit is left of your lipstick.
He sighs, content, wrapping one arm around your waist while the other hand works to shove his boxers down so he dick can spring free. “I love when you turn stupid.” He whispers with the same cadence as someone admitting they have a crush on you. “So obedient and agreeable. You like doing everything I say.” He goes on, fingers gripping a chunk of your hair at the roots to rip you off of him and carefully jerk your head back so you can look at him. “Isn’t that right, princess?” You barely nod, a soft ‘mhm’ with it, and he presses his forehead to yours. He slowly strokes himself, the head brushing on your clit as he does, and you shiver.
“Love only you, ‘Samu,” you manage, holding onto him for dear life, and that small phrase, the reassurance, makes those hollow voids soften.
“And I love only you, baby,” he pecks your lips, the response rare, and it makes your heart do backflips. “You’re mine. Don’t ever forget that.” He gently holds your jaw, forcing you to look in his eyes, and you nod fervently.
“Only yours,” you echo, meaning it with your whole heart, not wanting anyone else, gazing up with big innocent eyes.
“Good,” he kisses your nose, lining his cock to your awaiting cunt, and pulls you closer. “Now, what does my princess want?” You whimper some, wiggling your hips down in hopes of getting the tip at least to slip in, but he doesn’t let it, tone more firm. “Words. What do you want?”
“Cock,” you choke, embarrassed. He leans a bit closer, to ensure he can properly hear you. “I want your cock.” You specify, hands dropping down to his broad shoulders, trying to push off his jacket, he doesn’t let you.
“Such a good girl,” he praises, finally giving you what you want, the head having little resistance as it pushes in, stretching you more than his fingers ever could. His unbuttoned jacket drapes over your side, the fabric brushing on your thigh as he leans on the counter, hovering over your body, then painfully slowly starts pushing more of his length in. He forces you to hold eye contact with him while he does this, watching you struggle to even keep them open, your beautifully soaked pussy inviting, drooling over his dick, practically begging him to fill you to the hilt. “I know, you never get used to it, do you, baby?” Fingers brush your hair away, tucking it behind your ear, and you shake your head, lower lip trembling from his hips finally stopping – meaning he’s balls deep already, and you’re full. You’re so out of it you don’t comprehend that he basically just bragged that his cock is too big for you to handle – you’ll remember later and get onto him for his arrogance, when it’s already said and done with the proof in your sore body.
His hips pull back, thrusting in hard, another slow drag out, then thrusting back in with the same force, his throat visible as his swallows, holding back his own moans since there’s nothing there to muffle them, and he just watches your face as he moves. Your nails are uselessly clawing and clinging to his jacket, legs locked around his waist, and your body jerks backward with each harsh thrust he strikes into you. “That’s it, take my cock. Only my good little slut can handle it.” He encourages, eyes scanning your face, seeing yours rolling back some again, and this is his form of heaven: your pussy wrapped deliciously around his raw dick, tight and sensitive from multiple orgasms, still dripping for more, and unable to utter a single word while you cling to him. “I know, I know, you love it just like this.” His voice is mildly hoarse, and it just adds to the ambiance of being in the public bathroom, getting drilled by your overly jealous boyfriend with the risk of someone walking in at any second, and his voice is drifting in and out of your muddied mind telling you how good you are and how much you love everything he’s doing to you. Your cunt tightens, and he just smirks, your tell that you’re responsive.
His thrusts continue that pace, painfully slow and beautifully harsh, the head taking turns deciding to hit your already bullied G-spot or your cervix, each one a euphoric agony that makes your head fall back. The pressure sits in your abdomen, no build up, but not letting down either, the sensation enough to keep you on the edge for hours if he wanted to torment you for so long, and he would if he had the determination. The slow pull allows you to feel every ridge and vein on his throbbing cock, wanting to hold onto it and keep him there inside you forever, the tip hot from how long he went without giving himself any type of relief while he generously attended to your aching holes.
His head drops to bury into your neck, parted lips meshed to your skin, hot breath hitting on your pulse as he pants, his lids dropping as he revels in the pleasure, the realization he needs you hitting him in this very moment. The thought of you wearing clothes another man picked out and bought for you vexes him more than he would ever care to admit, your mutual boss of all people worming his way in between you two not making it any better – Dazai doesn’t necessarily believe Mori likes you or anything, but he does believe that rat bastard will do whatever it takes to get under his skin, and the easiest way is through you.
“Love you, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked at the irrational thought of losing you. “Love my girl so much, my slutty princess. My gorgeous girl.” He chants, telling you repeatedly, over and over again that he loves you, punctuated with his thrusts, the head ignoring that spot completely and trying to push its way through your cervix. “All mine, all mine, all mine.” You try, you try so hard to respond, to let him know you hear him, but the pressure from hitting your cervix like this is sending you into overdrive.
“‘Samu…” Is all you can get out before your hips move on their own, meeting his as another deep, hard hit to your insides electrifies your bloodstream. They roll, pushing down further on him, but there isn’t anything left to go inside you, earning a soft groan from him.
“Yeah, that’s my girl, so greedy,” he lifts his head and grips the wall to stabilize himself, other arm helping lift your lower half from the counter, and you’re suddenly bouncing down on his cock, one hand on the counter as the other hooks around his neck. “Fuck, yeah, yeah, show me how much you want me.” He grits, head falling back as your thighs smack against his when you rock back and forth along with long, thick cock, wanting every last inch filling your pulsing pussy, not entirely sure how you’re doing this in the first place – good dick makes you do the craziest things.
His hips meet yours, every time you roll your hips down, his shoot up to make sure you feel him deep in your stomach, and you do. His cock moves easily in and out of you, this being the best he has felt, and the sounds turn him on further. “Your whore cunt is the wettest it’s ever been.” He remarks, hand coming down between your bodies to land a quick smack! over your clit, and you let out a small, satisfied yelp that makes your hips intensify, bouncing down harder on his dick that makes his hips thrust harder into your cervix. “It’s ‘cause you’re a dumb pervert, getting off to me fuckin’ you in public.” You nod in agreement, no idea what he said, and he laughs at you in between panting and moaning, his nails trying to puncture into the skin of your back when he quickly goes back to hold your hips up so you can keep fucking him out of desperation. “You’re fucked stupid already, you don’t even know what I said to you.” He laughs again, seeing in your eyes he’s right, the only thing coming from your mouth is just ‘ah, ah, ah’ and different variations of his name.
His ears perk up though at the faint, quiet sound of the door pushing open, and he drops his arm some to ensure his jacket covers your body, and is grateful a wall is separating your face and whoever is walking in. However, he doesn’t stop you, and you don't hear anything as you continue grinding down on his cock, pressed firmly to his pelvis to rock back and forth so the tip can hit both your G-spot and cervix, causing the most lewd moans and cries fall from your lips.
Dazai’s head whips in the direction to see a random party goer, lightly panting behind his arm, but she freezes when she sees only him and your legs, hearing you but not seeing you, and she doesn’t know what to do – definitely not stay, but her feet are planted to the ground. “Take a video or get out.” He growls, eyes violent at her trying to interrupt, and she can’t help her eyes flickering to try to see who is going insane on his dick. “Get out!” He finally spits out, and the octave of his voice makes the stranger bolt right out the door, even more grateful you’re so lost in your own pleasure to not notice what happened because he’d simply die if you stopped.
“Wanna come,” you whine, getting tired, but you’re chasing after that third orgasm as if it’s life or death, needing it so badly from him, you can’t bring yourself to slow down. He gently hushes you, lowering you back to rest on the counter, and presses his hand into your abdomen.
“I’ll take care of you, princess, just like I always do,” he reassures, applying pressure to your flesh to keep you pinned, and you nod feverishly, hands grasping at his forearms, preparing yourself. He repositions himself, angling his cock up, and glances down at you, silently asking if you’re ready, and you nod once, all the permission he needs. Suddenly, his dick is pistoning into you to a point you’re seeing stars; he hits your G-spot with each thrust, never missing, never stopping, the moans leaving your moan deep and low, straight from your chest, back arching in the uncomfortable position you’re in, his hand not letting you go anywhere while he continues rapidly fucking into you, and his groans mix in with yours to fill the room. Passersby can faintly hear from outside the door if they walk by, curiosity piquing but no one daring to walk in since a different rumor spread that the top executive of the Port Mafia is currently getting absolutely nailed in that very bathroom. People are nosy, wanting to check if it’s his famous girlfriend or someone else entirely since the one who started the gossip chain didn’t get a good look at the girl’s face.
“Wanna come!” You whine, legs kicking at his hips, and he merely hushes you again, thumb reaching down to rub frantic circles into your clit, the sweat he had been previously ignoring dripping down the side of his face and on his forehead, strands of hair sticking to his skin, and he’s so tired but doesn’t want this to end. The build up in the pit of your stomach is excruciating, the tortuous wait for your next release getting to you, making you impatient and tears filling your eyes, nearing sobbing from the way his cock drives into your cunt, the sweat shared between your bodies, and the need to feel him all the time getting to you.
“You can come, baby, go ahead,” he gives permission, his balls tightening as a white-hot flame casts over his skin, the need to chase his own orgasm so great, his hips can’t stop to force his aching dick in and out of you, making sure to not lose his rhythm and speed, thumb working its best to add on, to make you finish faster, and the sound of your moans getting louder and quicker is music to his ears. The tension he felt on his palm from your stomach is relaxing, chest heaving and seeing those gorgeous tears drop from your eyes are enough to let him know you’re starting to come. “Good girl, that’s it, come all over my cock so I can fuck my load into you.” His other hand comes up to grip your neck, pressing into your pressure points, and pins your head down on the marble, and you’re gone. A soundless cry makes your mouth drop, legs shaking violently at his sides, and hips jerk and move around from his thumb, but he doesn’t relent until your cunt loosens its hold on him, and he doesn’t have to focus on anything other than himself.
His hand remains wrapped around your throat, other gripping at the fat on your thigh, erratic thrusts of his hips smacking into you, watching your face as you just let it all happen. “You’re so pretty when you’re fucked dumb.” He breathes, brow twitching when his cock down, it jumping in your cunt, and you can’t even say anything in return. “Even prettier when you’re my little come slut. C’mon, beg for it.” His hand slides up to lightly smack your cheek, bringing you mildly back to Earth, and you blink a few times.
“Come…” You rasp, not sure what you’re supposed to be asking, drunk from the feeling of his dick still inside you, hoping it doesn’t leave, loving that it’s back at attempting to prod into your cervix. “Want… Want come.” He’ll take it, considering you do look so pretty with that fucked out look behind your hazing eyes, and has to tell himself he’s allowed to finish now.
“I’ll give it to you, princess. Give my girl all of my come,” he lands a few more harsh thrusts into you, trying to shove as much of himself as he can, then stills, slit of the tip kissing your opening, and shoots string after string of his load, it coating every bit of your walls and his shaft, a relieved moan falling past his lips, wishing he had more to fill you with. His hand fumbles around in his pants pockets, loosely hanging off his hips, until it finds his phone; while you try catching your breath and he keeps another hand on you, he gradually pulls his dick out, covered in a mix from you both, and makes sure to grab the perfect angle for a picture. His load starts dripping out of your cunt around him and onto the counter, making him take another picture, smirking to himself as he starts typing up a message. You lay there, staring at the ceiling, unaware of your surroundings, and don’t remember what day it is while he does this, and he stows it away when he’s done so he can start helping get you cleaned up. Showering you with kisses and affection, reassuring you that no one saw you, and insisting on holding your heels – and that you two were heading home as soon as you could walk on your own.
You clung to him, hugging him tight, head resting on his chest, and you were ready to fall asleep there, burying your face in more so you could inhale his cologne, and he kissed the top of your head, letting you hold onto him until you were set to go.
“Did you mean it?” You mumbled.
“Mean what?”
“That you love me,” he paused, wondering why you would ask that, but in your defense, he doesn’t say it often – if ever at all.
“Yes, I mean it when I say I love you,” he kissed your forehead, and wondered if he needed to be even more soft than he has been with you. Or at least tell you more than once every blue moon that he does, in fact, love you.
Tw: implied self harm, mention of suicide, scars, mention of abuse, mention of wanting to kill the reader.
I might write write more of these for some other characters if I get inspired but for now I just wrote my favorite characters. Also here are the translations for Nikolai and Fyodors parts голуб (dove) and дорогая (darling) mind you I don't speak anything other then English so these might not be fully correct.
Dazai Osamu
The moment you really knew Dazai trusted you was when he let you see him with out his bandages, it was such a simple thing, at least to most people it was but with Dazai he wears them like a shield one that hides his ugly past from people and covers up things he'd rather not mention. Dazai knows his skin isn't a very pretty sight, what lied under those bandages wasn't some porcelain skin that he'd rather not show, no it was a matted mess of scars. He really did trust you he trusted you so much he let you see under the shield he keeps between him and other people, he let you run your fingers over his jagged skin, he let you kiss he's wrist that's were littered with scars from the abuse he endured and himself. His skin really was a testament to the abuse he endured and how much he truly wanted to die, it was the ugly real side of it that he always played off with others with laughter or being loud but in the quiet of the little apartment you shared you could see how much all those attempts really effected him all the pain that was left on his skin and that's part of the reason he let you see it, part of the reason he let his walls down for you because to him you deserve to see even the ugliest parts of him the parts the spoke of his pain, the parts he couldn't just play off with a joke or a laugh, he let you see the ugly parts the cold truth of who he was and the things he's done in this life because to him you were the only thing that made this world worth living in, you were who he went to bed to every evening and who made him want to get up in the morning, even if it was just to stare at you sleeping.
I gently unwrapped Dazai's bandages as he sat crisscross on the futon we shared at night, he grabbed my wrist before I could reveal the first part of his skin, he spoke gently. "Are you sure you really want to see" "Yes Osamu I want to see, I love every part of you no matter what" He took a second before letting go of my wrist as he sighed, I finally got them off enough to seeing the first pick of skin, the flesh under the bandages was covered in scars, they seemed to litter every part of his skin. I removed the rest of his bandages slowly before gently running my fingers over a large scar on his shoulder. "I know their ugly" I looked at Dazai when he spoke those words I'd never seen him look so worried about someone's opinion, I cupped his face "their not ugly, they could never be ugly because their apart of you and I love every thing about you even if you dont" He looked at me like he never expected such kindness in his life, like he thought he didn't deserve it. "You're perfect Osamu inside and out" I moved my hand from his face going back to looking over his scars, my heart ached at the thought of all the pain he went through in his life, he cupped my face, tilting my head up so I was looking at his face and not his chest. "I don't deserve you Belladonna" I put my hand on top of his leaning into it, I looked at him before gently placing a kiss on his scarred wrist. "Yes you do Osamu"
Nakahara Chuuya
The moments Chuuya shows how much he trusts you are quite, there things you wouldn't even notice at first, a simply ungloved hand in yours, a story about a family he knows you'll never get to meet, even something as simple as letting you know what's happening at his job there all such simple things, things that to any other person were normal something you'd tell anyone not something you hold close to your chest and protect but that's the thing Chuuya wasn't normal and those quiet moments with you were he got to acted like he was meant the world to him. He loved sharing stories about the people he holds dear with you he knows you'll never get to meet them but they mean so much to him that he wants you to know about them, he trusted you enough to see the fragile part of him that misses them. He loves running his hands over your skin he loves to feel his hands touch against you when he doesn't have gloves on, he loves the fact that when he's with you and you alone just the two of you in your home that he doesn't feel a need to wear them, he doesn't need them to ground him when his with you, he never feels like he's losing himself when his with you. He enjoyed getting to just set down with you after a long day at work and just tell you about all the things that irritated him as he gently ran his fingers over your skin, it was a mindless action that brought Chuuya more peace then he'd ever be able to describe because with Chuuya his trust wasn't some loud declaration, it wasn't something most people would think really spoke to his trust of you like the fact he let's you use his credit card as much as you want, no it was quiet it was the softest parts of himself, it was so quiet and gentle that you couldn't even tell when he started trusting you so much because Chuuya's trust wasn't in the big things it was in the little things he didn't let people see.
I was on the couch with Chuuya he was setting up while I was laying down with my head in his lap, his fingers were gently running up and down one of my arms the gentle warmth of his skin getting left where ever they touched, our home was quiet for the most part the only sound breaking that quiet was Chuuya talking about his day, he was ranting about something one of his subordinates did and despite his irritated tone his hands were light as a feather against me, he was always so gentle with me it was unexpected from a mafia executive but somehow in these moments it suited him so well, I hummed along letting him know I was still listening, I loved moments like this and I knew Chuuya did to moments where it was just us, moments when Chuuya just shared his life with me, it could be anything it didn't even have to be important just knowing Chuuya was willing to let his walls down with me was enough. I noticed he stopped talking, I opened my eyes looking up at him from my spot on his lap. "Is something wrong?" He smiled at me bringing his hand that wasn't stroking my arm up to my face, he gently ran one of his knuckles over my cheek. "Just admiring you" I smiled at him "Well can you keep taking while you do it? I like hearing about your day" His smile seemed to get brighter at my words, he loved having someone to share his life with, someone he trusted enough to tell ever aspect of it to. "Of course doll, anything for you"
Nikolai Gogol
How you know Nikolai trust you is odd to say the least, it isn't something normal and it wasn't sharing his views on the world and life no he'd do what with anyone if the let him talk long enough, no how you know Nikolai trust you is when he fully admitted to considering killing you. It was such a crazy thing for him to admit to anyone let alone someone he was dating but to Nikolai it really just showed how much he liked you because in Nikolai's mind all the trust and love he feels for you is a cage, a cage that he wonders if he could get out of if you were died, it was crazy something no one should think of, especially someone who self proclaimed himself sane, but maybe you also didn't have the right to consider yourself sane because you stayed even when the man you loved described different ways he thought of killing you like it was a hobby of his to come up with them. Still for all he talked about it he never laid a hand on you, never once had he actually gone through with it because even if Nikolai despised the cage his love and trust for you put him in, he had a feeling he'd hate the cage grief put him in more, so as much as he fantasized about killing you, about getting freedom from all that he feels for you, he doesn't because he knows that the pain it would cause him would be worse, he knows he couldn't go through with it no matter how much he wished to, he knows that especially well the nights he watches you sleep his fingers gently running over your neck as he thinks about how easy it would be to choke the life out of you, how easy it would be to be free of you and the feels you held him down with, but then his heart would clench at the mere thought of it so instead of choking the life out of you or snapping your neck with his bare hands he left little kisses on your neck enjoy how you looked in your sleep, because as much as Nikolai hated being in a cage he hated the idea of trading one cage for another just as much, guilt and grief would be just as much of a cage as he's love and trust for you were so he decided to stick to the cage he was already in because in this one he got to have his little dove trapped with him, but if the day ever came where you try to leave the cage, where you try to leave him, he would except the fact that the cage of grief would be his new home.
I was sleeping perfectly, well that was till I started to feel someone's fingers run over my neck, when I woke up from the feeling even in my sleepy state I could tell it was Nikolai, not only only because he's done this before but also because I recognized the gentle way he ran his fingers over my skin it was so soft the kind of softness that reminded me of a cat getting ready to pounce on a bird. Nikolai hummed quietly into the darkness of the room, I recognized the melody but I didn't know the words to it because it was a Ukrainian lullaby and whenever Nikolai singed it it was always in Ukrainian, he started quietly singing the lullaby as he ran his fingers over my neck, as the end of the song neared his hand gently wrapped around my throat, he didn't tighten it but he did start rubbed my neck with his thumb. When the song came to any end he spoke quietly "I could snap your throat голуб" I stayed still as he just sits in the quiet after saying that, he suddenly leaned down when he did he moved his hand that was covering most of my neck so he could started littering it in kisses. He muttered against my skin "I'm not going to kill you голуб no matter how much I want to" He kissed my jaw before lightly nibbling on my skin "I'd miss you too much" I knew he knew I was awake when he leaned into my ear whispering "you know that right голуб? You know I'd rather be stuck in this cage with you then in one all alone right голуб" He dragged out his last words clearly taunting me, I muttered into the darkness "I know Nikolai" I could hear his crazy little giggle next to my ear before he went back to covering my skin in kisses.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Fyodor wasn't one for trust, he lived his life with cold calculation not things as fragile as trust, trust could be swayed, it could be used against him and those weren't things Fyodor like, no Fyodor lived his life with facts and a purpose, he keep everything to himself only sharing as much as was necessary to get people to do what he wants, he was the only person he could trust so he kept all his plans to himself, that was until he meet you. Fyodor told you everything, he knew it was dumb, he knew it gave him a vulnerability one that people could exploit but he enjoyed when you asked questions about his plans, when you nodded along to a plan to complicated for you to actually understand. He knew that doing this could ruin all his plans, that by telling you everything he was putting faith in the very thing he knew could be so easy broken trust, he knew you could one day just decide that his plan was two cruel, that he really was the demon everyone saw him as, you could decide to take all the information he gave you and give it to anyone, you could ruin his plan in an instant if you choose to, he knew that but still he told you everything you were the one person he didn't make a back up plan for if he was betrayed you because he knew you wouldn't, he trusted you so much so that he was willing to leave the ability to ruin everything he's worked for in your hands. Fyodor loved the quite moments when he could just set with you having you lay against his chest as he tells you his plans, telling you about what he's dedicated his life to like it was a bedtime story that he told just for you, he loved watching you drift off to sleep as he talked, he loved sharing something so important to him with you because he knew you'd never betray him, Fyodor believes in two things, the cold hard truths of the world that reveal the sin he thinks needs to be cleansed and you.
We were laying on our bed my head was against Fyodor's chest as he talked about his latest plan and all the back up ones he came up with for if current scenarios happened, I was only haft listening because haft the time it just went over my head but when little bits stuck out to me that sounded interesting I did ask and Fyodor always happily answered. His hand rubbed my back gently, he spoke softly "Are you listening дорогая?" I him nodding against his chest "I'm listening" that was slightly a lie but haft listening counted, Fyodor just looked at me for a bit before saying "if I'm boring you дорогая with all this planing I can talk about something else" I looked up at him "no no keep talking about your plans I like to hear about what matters to you" He smiled before going back to speaking, I tried to stay awake while he talked but his voice was just so soothing, I slowly drifted off to sleep as he talked, he smiled down at me softly saying "Sleep well дорогая"
Edogawa Ranpo
You know Ranpo trusts you when he actually listens to your opinions, he actually takes the time to hear out what you think and when he disagrees he doesn't just call you a moron he actually takes the time to explain to you where your train of thought went wrong and how he came to his conclusion, Ranpo usually didn't take the effort to explain stuff that were so obvious to him but really wasn't to other people, but with you he actually wanted to explain it because you always looked so impressed in him and if there was one thing Ranpo loved it was praise especially if it came from someone who's opinion he actually valued. Ranpo loved hearing your theories on things even if they were wrong, because Ranpo loved seeing how your brain works, he wants to know everything about you especially how you think. He constantly asked your opinion, honestly he asked it so much people are suppressed you aren't sick of it, whether it be something he doesn't need help with like a case or something he really does like directions and his absolute favorite thing to ask about sweets, he loved getting your opinion on sweets whether it be which sweets you like more or which ones you think he'd like the most, when ever you recommend any type of sweet he made a point to try it because he respected your opinion a lot and if you thought he'd like it then his sure he would.
Me and Ranpo were walking back from one of his jobs, even with all the jobs I've went on with him I still couldn't believe how smart he was it always impressed me "you really amazing Ranpo" he smiled at me, Ranpo always did enjoy getting praised "I know" I chuckled not surprised about that answer from Ranpo "how about we get sweets to celebrate a good well done?" Ranpo looked at me smiling brighter. "Of course let's get sweets, what type of sweet do you think we should get?" It had become normal that when ever we got sweets together Ranpo would always ask me to pick I wasn't sure why he did it but it always made me happy seeing him enjoy something I recommend "There's this new bakery I went to the other day it was pretty good, how about we go see what they have?" He nodded "that sounds great! Lead the way" I started leading us to the bakery, even if I didn't realize the reason Ranpo always got me to choose was because he respected my opinion I still enjoyed showing him new places.
╰› warnings ♯ fem reader, might be ooc, cursing, established relationships, use of petnames, suicide semantics at dazai's part, creepy undertones for nikolai, possessive behavior for nikolai, character-accurate toxicity (esp for fyodor and nikolai yo), phone monitoring for fyodor's part, no actual infidelity happened ⋆˚࿔
Pulling the “guess who I saw on Tinder” prank on these bsd characters !! Based on this wonderful → req
August Twenty-Ninth, 1957.
Ten months, two weeks, and four days to the Red Camellia murder.
link -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/53021338
My first movie poster art caused a lot of confusion over the content of the fic, so here's one chock-full of easter eggs and a little more time-period appropriate. Not an actors AU, but a 50s noir and 70s buddy-cop AU with a dash of supernatural time-travel fuckery.
He was kinda surprised. He didn't expect 𝘺𝘰𝘶 out of all people to have something like this.
It was late at night. You had fallen asleep cuddling with him on your bed. He was staying for the night.
He got nosy. He wanted to find your secrets. Anything that could tell him more about you.
Before he decided to stop, his eyes landed on your nightstand.
He looked inside your closet first; nothing too interesting besides a few photos of you when you were a kid. He thought they were cute. He stuffed a few into his coat pocket.
Bingo.
Lots of people hide things in their nighstands. He figured he would find at least a diary of some sort.
He gently opens it, careful not to make any sudden sounds. He notices a small bag.
He picks it up. The bag was silky with a string holding the opening together.
He pulls it out and holds it in his hand, his eyes widening.
Not thinking much about it, he undos the string. Opening it and reaching inside to pull out whatever it is that's in there. It's smooth. It must be made out of silicone; he thinks to himself.
Holy shit.
He chuckles to himself in surprise. He doesn't mind that you have one no, but he didn't think you had one, It never crossed his mind.
His thumb presses the button. Making the toy buzz to life. Although it's on the lowest setting, it's still an intense vibration.
He goes through the different modes. Thinking to himself how you look using it.
After he's done. He looks over at you, chuckling again.
"I'm definitely going to ask about this later."
𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒖𝒚𝒂
You were laying on your bed scrolling on your phone when you hear the front door open.
He comes into the bedroom, tired from work. You get up and hug him. He smiles and wraps his arms around your waist.
"You're home early"
He chuckles "yeah, boss let me go home earlier than usual."
He kisses your forehead and walks to the dresser to get a change of clothes while you lay back down on the bed.
His head turns to look at you but he notices something on your nightstand.
"What is that?"
You look up from your phone in confusion, you follow his gaze and you freeze.
Shit. You forgot to put that away.
"Its- it's nothing!" You say nervously. But the blush on your face says otherwise.
He cocks his eyebrow and walks up to the nightstand.
He picks it up.
You yelp and scramble off the bed, reaching for it, but he holds it away from you.
"Doll, is this a..?"
"Give me that!" You continue to reach for it, your face flushed in embarrassment.
His face is red too. This was something he did not expect to see first thing when he came home.
"Yknow.. You didn't have to hide it from me. It's- it's okay." He mumbles out.
He hands it back to you. And you snatch it and shove it back into your nightstand.
The two of you stand in silence. But despite Chuuyas flushed face, he smirks.
"You should let me use that on you someday. It'd be interesting yeah?" He chuckles.
𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒑𝒐
He already knows you have one, but he wants to see it for himself.
So when you show him your bedroom, he walks right in, Looking around. he See's your nightstand. He smirks.
He walks up to it.
"Ranpo what are you-"
"It's in here right?"
You freeze. "W-what?"
"Your toy."
You go silent. His smirk widens. Your face says it all. He reaches for the handle and opens it. Pulling the toy out.
"H-hey! Put that back!" You scramble over to him.
He turns it on. The sound of it's buzzing fills the room.
"How curious. I wonder how many times I can make you come from-"
"Ranpo!" Your face flushes. You take it from his hand and shove it back into the nightstand.
𝑲𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒂
He shouldn't have looked through your stuff in the first place. He knew better. But his curiosity got to him.
It was normal at first, finding random things of yours, your collections, and pictures. Pretty much everything that you'd expect would be in someone's room.
"I can't believe I'm doing this. I should stop."
He stands in the middle of your room, arms crossed. His eyes fall onto your nightstand.
A bit more snooping wouldn't hurt.
He opens the drawer and sees a small bag. His eyebrow cocks as he takes it out, opening it.
He reaches inside and feels the texture.
"What is this..?"
He pulls it out, looks at it, and drops it onto the floor.
"What the-! Why does she have this?!" He yells. His face turning pink.
He quickly grabs it and stuffs it back into the bag before shoving it into the nightstand and shutting the drawer.
He stands back and adjusts his glasses.
".. I'm gonna pretend I never saw that."
𝑨𝒕𝒔𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊
"Hey Atsushi?"
The two of you are laying on your bed together.
"Yeah? What is it?"
You put your phone face down on the bed.
"Can you hand me my charger? My phones almost dead. It's in the nightstand."
He smiles "yeah sure."
He leans over your bed and opens the top drawer. Looking for your charger.
Noticing something pink, he cocks his eyebrow. After moving some things around, He sees it.
He doesn't notice what it is at first so he picks it up.
"What is this?" He thinks to himself. He then presses the button on it.
You freeze.
You know that sound. How could you not.
"Um.. Atsushi? What are you holding?"
He looks back at you and holds it up.
"This. What is it?"
Oh no.
How are you going to explain to him?
"Atsushi.. Put that back."
He notices the change of tone in your voice and puts it back into the drawer.
"The charger is in the second one."
He nods and opens it, grabbing it and handing it to you.
You take it, not looking at him to hide your pink face. But he notices.
"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?"
You giggle "no no of course not. It's just.. That thing- it- it's a-"
He catches it. His face instantly heats up as his arms flail.
"Oh my God Im so sorry! I didn't know- shit I'm so sorry-"
You giggle "it's okay! I should've told you what drawer it was in. It's not your fault."
..
"So uhm.. how does it work?"
𝑭𝒚𝒐𝒅𝒐𝒓
Fyodor is a very intelligent person, but with you, theres definitely some things he doesn't know about you. He knows you have secrets. Everyone has secrets.
But he wants to know all of them.
He spent the next couple of hours looking through your place. He had snuck in while you were gone at work. Although he didn't really find anything besides your collections and pictures.
Thats until he walks into your room.
There it is. Sitting proudly on top of your nightstand.
It surprises him a little, but nonetheless, he walks up to it.
The button flashes as it sits on the charger. It's been recently used. Perhaps before you left.
He takes it off the charger and inspects it, it's warm. Which confirms his suspicion.
"How very amusing." He says to himself, going through the different modes.
His thumb presses the button, making it buzz to life. He chuckles as the vibrations go through his hand.
Although.. He doesn't hear when you come into the room.
"Fyodor..?"
𝑵𝒊𝒌𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒊
"Nikolai!"
He runs into your room with a wide smile on his face. He's always been curious about your room.
He immediately starts going through your stuff. Your body tense. You don't want him to find your..
He quickly opens your drawer and pulls it out. Your heart drops.
"Oh? Whats this?"
You run up to him to try and grab it, but he giggles and backs away from you, keeping you from getting taking it from him.
"Put that back!" You yell, face pink.
He turns it on.
"HA! it works! I'm definitely going to have some fun with this." He smirks at you. Making your face flush more.
𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂
You were in the kitchen, making some food for yourself and Sigma. He was sitting at the table, talking with you.
"Hey can you do me a favor?" You turn to him.
He perks up, smiling softly.
"Yeah sure. What is it?"
"Can you go into my room and grab my phone? It should be on my nightstand."
He nods and stands up. Walking out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your bedroom.
He pushes the door open softly, quickly finding your nightstand. He walks up to it. But he notices something next to your phone.
He stares at it for a few moments, trying to figure out what that thing is, before it clicks.
His face flushes and he quickly leaves the room with your phone. Heading back to the kitchen to give it to you, pretending as if he never even saw it.
𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂
"Well? What do you think?"
He walks in and looks around your bedroom, standing beside your bed.
"It's nice." He says simply.
You sit on the bed and talk to him about your room, the stories about your belongings, and about your collections.
His eyes wander the room, looking at your stuff till it lands on your nightstand.
You follow his gaze, confused at first, till you see it. You forgot to put it away last night. You curse to yourself and scramble to it, quickly shoving it into your nightstand.
The two of you sit in awkward silence for a few moments before he eventually speaks up.
"What was that?"
Your face flushes. "Uhm- it's.. It's a- yknow.. Toy.."
He stares at you blankly.
"I see."
..
"Ill pretend I never saw that." He says with a faint blush on his face. Trying to cover it with a cough.
𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚
────୨ৎ────
I apologize if the grammar isn't the best and that its short, I wanna be more consistent with posting so this was kinda rushed. But I hope it was enjoyable!
AAAAAA for your anniversary event how we feeling security!reader manhandling and using Poe in exchange for letting him into a venue for free? Perhaps for a rockstar!Ranpo concert 🙏
Dom!Security!Gn!reader x sub!poe
Warning: virgin Poe, semi-public, rough sex (can be read as having a dick/using strap), spit as lube, sub-space (fucked stupid), dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, begging, finger sucking, reader is strong enough to manhandle Poe
Word count: 3.3k
Nini!rant: AHHH MELZOOO HI
This can’t be happening right now— no, nononono…! The ticket, it was still there a minute ago! Now it’s suddenly gone…? Someone must have stolen it while he wasn’t paying attention, or he simply lost it? Why did this have to happen to him…!? He’s been standing in line for the ticket booth for hours, just to get into the concert of his favourite rockstar. Now finally at the entrance to the actual show, he lost that precious piece of paper, and was stopped by the security guards.
“W-wait, I really bought it! I swear! I still had it in my pocket a second ago…!” Poe pleaded, flipping the entire contents of his bag in and out in hopes of finding the ticket. This wasn’t just some random concert, no, it was one where ranpo’s band was participating! He’s one of their most loyal fan, having supported them since their debut and never missing a single concert, he couldn’t let his streak end like this!
He was panicking so much now, dropping everything to the ground while tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. His voice trembled as he babbled on and on, holding back the other guests in the queue. “Hey you, stop hindering the others. Stand to the side, come back once you have a ticket.” One of the guards— your colleague —groaned. Already fed up with this situation.
You sighed at the pathetic sight. He truly didn’t seem like the type to lie. Besides, judging by all the limited edition merch he got, he’s also definitely not short of money to use for a measly ticket. So either he was just some poor, unfortunate soul or the world’s best actor.
“I’ll take care of that one, cover for me for a bit, yes?” You turned to the others, already bending down to give a helping hand to the pitiful guy still picking up his fallen stuff among this busy crowd. It didn’t help that everyone was too excited to really notice him, you worried he might get trampled on at this rate. It didn’t take long for you to grab him and pull him out of that group of fanatic fans.
Afterwards, you brought him somewhere quiet, hoping to talk some sense into him and have him calm down. You clicking your tongue as you scoffed, “look, I do believe you. But I can’t do anything about it, okay? Those are the rules. Maybe you should try and buy another one.” What you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly start sobbing, his voice cracking with each hiccup, “t-the booth’s are already closed! The tickets are all hic s-sold out!” Fat tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, soaking through his bangs, making them stick to his face.
“I… I’ve ne-never missed one of their concerts before…” Poe cried out, wiping at his eyes with his sleeves, “I can’t miss this..! Please, isn’t there som other way…? I-I can give you money…” Woa, now he’s trying to buy his way out of this? When you signed up to escort this guy out of the venue, you weren’t expecting such a hardcore fan. While the extra bucks would have been quite nice, you’ve got a pretty strict superior who always makes sure no bribes are accepted. Says it’s for the ‘safety of the celebrities’. Not that you can argue with that.
“Sorry, but I can’t accept your money.” You replied, crossing your arms. “Look, you gotta get it together. This isn’t the end of the world now, is it?” Obviously you had good intentions, but for some reason his weeping only got stronger as he mumbled something along the lines of ‘it is’. He was curling together and shaking now, looking just like a scared animal. What a dramatic person. Well, this wasn’t your business anymore, he’ll have to figure out what to do by himself. With that being said, you began getting back to your post, “Good luck then, stay safe.”
That’s when something tugged at your sleeves, and once you glanced back, you were inches apart from that same young man, now clinging to you with desperate eyes. Tears were still streaking down his cheeks, his dark eyes peeking out from his loose hair strands. An embarrassed yet somewhat determined gaze lingered in those pupils, and only now have you noticed— he’s quite the looker, wasn’t he?
“Please… I-I’m begging you. Please allow me into the concert, I’d do a-anything you want…!” This was quite the predicament now, he was simply too pathetic to ignore. Though he really shouldn’t say such things. Like honestly? There are so many ways to interpret that, if he were to encounter the wrong people, he’d get himself in quite the sticky situation. Did he trust you because you are a security guard or is he that naive? “Are you sure? Anything? Even if I were to tell you to strip right now?” You teased, trying to teach him a lesson to make him snap back to reality.
Yet this didn’t go as planned, and the still shaking boy gripped his coat tightly, a spark of hope reigniting in him as he asked, “…will you really let me in if I do that..?” He wasn’t seriously considering this, was he? Before you could lecture him or whatever, he was already stripping off his jacket with shaky hands, a fierce blush on his cheeks. “I-i can do it, so… please get me in.” Now that’s a turn of events you couldnt have prepared yourself for. Someone willing to sell their body for a concert? Just what kind of stupid situation did you get yourself into..?
You couldn’t help but giggle at the absurdity, chuckling, “haha! You are nuts. Don’t forget you agreed to it.” Since it had come to this, shall you simply... go along with his demands? Sure, this can still be considered taking ‘bribes’, though it’ll be much harder to prove than material bribes. Besides, you did pity him, no? This will be the only time you abuse your power, just this once, no one will have to know. Not to mention he wants it too, he begged for it first!
“Fine, let’s do it like this then. I’ll get you into that concert in return for some fun, and you don’t tell a soul about it.” In the end, you still gave in to your base desires. You took a few steps towards the male, causing him to mirror your moves to keep the distance, at least until his back hit something hard. Even then you didn’t stop closing in, cornering him. His hands were fumbling with the hem of his shirt now, face heating up as he began to understand the implications of the word ‘fun’.
“You get what I’m asking for, right, pretty boy? You can still back out, of course. I’ll let you decide.” That was what you said, though he had already made up his mind. While he didn’t understand what you saw in an average guy like him, this was a chance…! The concert was going to start in less than an hour, he couldn’t afford to be picky now. “I’ll do it… just, p-please, be quick… the show will start soon and… and I’ll need time to get inside.”
Makes sense, the place where you two were was pretty far from the entrance, it’s dead empty now that most people are inside already. Besides, it’d be suspicious if you left your position for too long, even if your colleagues are nice enough to cover for you. With all that cleared now, you trapped him between your arms and pinned him to the wall, a satisfied smirk as you hummed, “fine, we’ll go for a few quickies then. Don’t tell me to slow down later.”
No matter how innocent he appeared to be, he knew what kind of exchange you were expecting from him. He knew the moment you told him to undress. Despite being fully aware of what he got himself into, he was still surprised when you suddenly picked him up and basically molded him into position. Your hands were on his lower back and ass, holding him up, resulting in his shoulder blades being pressed into the cold surface while his crotch was flush against your pelvis.
His legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, in fear that you might drop him, and his arms did the same just with your neck. Due to how inconvenient the position was, he was forced to curve and bend, enough for him to have a perfect view on what’s going on between his spread legs. This felt… weird. He has never been manhandled, not to mention in such a manner. Was he actually getting excited at the thought? To think he’d be so light and easy to handle despite his height…!
While Poe was busy contemplating over rather insignificant details, you were working on the rest of his clothing. His belt, trousers and underwear to be specific. You didn’t care much about his shirt. Once you managed to get him out of those confines, you couldn’t help but tease, “someone’s eager here, was this your real goal actually? To get laid?” Anyone would assume that after seeing his leaking cock springing out proudly, already flushed an angry red when it slammed against his lower belly.
“N-no…! I-I wasn’t… I—” before he could finish his sentence, you already pressed your fingers against his lips, ordering him to suck on them. And he was so obedient! Parting his mouth and taking your digits inside as commanded, licking and coating them with his saliva. “You listen well, surprisingly.” You teased, pressing down on his tongue, causing him to whine and gag ever so slightly.
As soon as you deemed your fingers lubed up enough, you took them out and began rubbing them against his rim instead. Spreading the makeshift lube around evenly, taking your sweet time with the penetration. To think you scored someone as tempting as him by chance… his looks could rival the star of today’s show. You cooed at him condescendingly when his breath hitched and muscles tensed up, “oh~? Is this your first time doing it back here? You’re in for a ride then, pretty boy.”
Poe knew those weren’t just empty words, you meant it. And while the thought of it did scare him… he didn’t seem to mind it that much after all? Surely it’s because he’s getting something in return, this was just a deal, a transaction! That’s just how important ranpo’s concert is to him! Surely! Definitely…!
He didn’t have to wait long until the first knuckle breached him. The feeling was weird and foreign, yet didn’t hurt nearly as much as he feared, only a small ‘hnngh~’ slipped from his bitten-raw lips. You eased one finger inside, then two, before slowly moving them apart and stretching him out. Since this was his first time being entered, you tried to take it slow. Focusing sorely on loosening him up while not making it too unbearable.
His grip around your neck tightened, and his breathing became heavy as if he just ran a marathon. At this rate, he was going to leave marks. Seeing how tense he still was, he won’t be softening his grip any time soon, so you hummed, “relax a little, or you might miss your precious concert. I can barely move.” He tried his best to do as told, but let’s be honest… there was barely a change.
Nevertheless, you somehow managed to prepare him properly and decided he was ready for the main course. That judgement was made mostly due to the pleads of the boy to watch out for the time and him claiming you could move on to the next step. You did as requested and were currently lining the head of your cock up to his entrance, trying to ease it inside him as painless as possible, starting off slowly. It didn’t take long until the glans popped inside, then another minute until half of your shaft got swallowed by his awfully eager hole.
“What a slut, you are basically sucking me in.” You taunted, giving his weeping dick a light slap which made him gasp out loud, precum spilling everywhere. He immediately went back to biting his bottom lip in hopes of stifling any shameful noises that threatened to escape.
Considering this was his first time, he was doing pretty good. But this wasn’t fast enough for you, and so you gave him a little heads up, “you are too tight, this is taking too long, I’ll go a bit rougher.” The poor thing couldn’t even process that information or measure what ‘a little rougher’ could be, before the first sparks of ecstasy began coursing up his spine.
Because you began rolling your hips against his already, pulling out an inch and slamming more inside, using this tactic to ‘gently’ bottom out inside him, the pressure forging his insides to accommodate you. As if the persistent rubs against his wet and squishy walls itself wasn’t enough already, you just had to hit his prostate head on, sending even more electricity straight to his already overworked brain. “Ah-AhHNnng~♥︎♡!! N-nooo..! T-that place fe-feels wee~eeeird~ mHmffgg~♡♥︎♡”
Would you look at that, it took no time at all to turn this guy into a moaning, trembling mess. His whimpers are quite cute too. You wondered how his voice would sound like once you got serious. “You are so damn loud. Enjoying this? You aren’t even worried that others might hear, are you?” Your words rang in his ears, and he answered quite delayed, “I-i do…! If… if others heard— if ranpo..! Ah-hNghh I won’t be able to s-show my face~ hic ♡♥︎”
If anyone did catch you two, you could basically wave this job goodbye. Even so that was the least of your concerns right now. It only took a few more thrusts until you finally fit your entire length inside his tight passage, his ass hitting your upper thighs with each snap of your hips. Since he managed to take all of it, that means he has gotten quite used to the stretch already… so the obvious conclusion would be to go faster from here on out, no?
Needless to say, you began rutting into the boy, ramming his back against the rough wall. “Ah..!! W-wait, i d-don’t think I’m… ahNghh~ ready!! Oh- MhHmm~ t-too good, too fast ♥︎♡♡” It was enough to knock the air out of his lungs, making him whimper and cry out in pleasure as his skin reddened where it kept slapping against yours. The filthy sounds emerging from your bodies and his uselessly loud mouth were luckily muffled by the buzz of the crowd, and his cock leaked even more pre at the thought of doing this in such a public space.
Just look at him! He was making a horrible lot of mess everywhere, leaking down his own shaft and perineum, all the way to his rosy rim. Both of your hands were on his hips now as you slammed deep inside him, manhandling him as if he was nothing but your personal fleshlight. In return his toes curled and pupils rolled to the back of his head, even if it was hard to make out from behind his wet bangs. You were hitting all those places he never knew could feel so good…! He never wanted it to stop ♡
His skin was drenched in a thin layer of sweat, drool running down his chin, the shirt a crumpled up rag over his drumming heartbeat. He was leaking evidence of your debauchery onto the ground, and yet he didn’t care— the only thing occupying his mind was you and the things you do to him. It was as if he made a deal with the devil, succumbing to such sinful, base desires. Yet he couldnt help it, wouldn’t stop begging you for more.
Poe was crying out in ecstasy, especially since he was new to such extrem pleasures. It was mind-blowing, he felt his strength slipping from his limbs, starting with his fingers. His grip was slipping by itself, his consciousness blanking out from time to time. Ah, now he was kind of getting worried about you dropping him… that won’t happen, right? Because he for sure couldn’t hold on to you any longer.
With each thrust of yours, hitting that sweet spot inside him that made him moan like some slut, he could feel his voice leaking out involuntarily and his sex slapping his lower abdomen, creating sticky little strings that connected everything below his navel in a lewd spider web. He clung to you, or at least tried to, still whining and groaning so shamelessly. In truth he was embarrassed, but he couldn’t hold them back. Please forgive him for making such naughty sounds in public…?
“T-there…! Keep doing t-that, oh please…! Mhmm… ha-ngh~♥︎ I c-can’t…!” Turns out Poe was quite the debauched whore, huh? Drooling and squeaking when your cock drives into that special spot, hitting the front wall until he could swear his belly bulged. How ecstatic this was… truly an amazing feeling ♥︎— no! He has to get it together…!But, heavens, he couldn’t put it into words how amazing this felt, how he loved the burn of the stretch and the tingles blooming across his nerves.
“aNHgnMnn~ ♥︎♡ there, s-so good ♡ hNggh—NnhHngg t-too much ah, ah- Ahn~ c-cumming~!!!♥︎♡♡” Judging by how overwhelmed he was, it didn’t take long until he came for the first time, untouched even. Ropes of white semen shot out of his neglected dick, splattering his own stomach. Some even reached his sternum, pooling atop his torso like some erotic artwork. His cries stilled for a few seconds, his mouth was wide apart in a silent scream, until a drawn-out cry left the depths of his throat. Carrying all the pent-up emotions and pleasure he used to hold on to.
But you didn’t stop moving since you weren’t satisfied yet and kept the ruthless pace going. You did mention it’d be more than just one round, didn’t you? As a result, the already sensitive and overwhelmed thing came pretty quickly again, his cries a high-pitched disaster as fat, overstimulated tears trailed down his face. His pathetic cock twitching in delight and torture, the pain blurring into pleasure as he gasped and shuddered, “n-no!! No no noooo ♡♡♡ nghhNn~ it’s t-too much, so full, so mHmmfgg, gunna cum again, h-help me ♥︎”
And once more did he spill his seed and coated both your bodies in his own sticky essence, uncaring that it was currently dripping down his inner thighs and dirtying your shoe, leaving a slick trail. His body yielded, losing all tension and resistance as he slumped into your arms, eyes glassy and unfocused. Both of you must be reeking of sweat and lust, yet neither care enough.
Some distant tones were reaching your ears, signalising the impending start of the show. Though you pretended not to hear, since what happened until now was just the beginning. The thirty minutes were far from enough to satisfy you, and surely he won’t be able to attend looking fucked-stupid like this, right? So it would be fine to go for some more rounds instead?
By the end of it, Poe forgot how often he climaxed. Let’s just say it was enough to render his brain mushy and useless, every thought vaporising as all he could do was twitch and gasp for ‘more’ or ‘stop’. The concert utterly forgotten as he was rendered nothing but a whore for your cock ♡
