good boys that you just can’t help riding till they cry ♡ moaning, writhing and mewling under you as you drop your weight on him, the loud slapping of skin resounding in the room along with his voice and your amused chuckles. He’s cummed so many times he doesn’t know what’s going on anymore, delirious and spit bubbling from his mouth, rolled eyes, all he can pick up is the sparks of pleasure going up his body. His dick is a angry dark pink, your tight hole milking him so much he’s about to go dry. But it’s not any time soon. Because no matter how overstimulated, how much he cries, he is definitely not done anytime soon, the amount of cum he just spurt out is proof of that.
🐇- armin, chuuya, dazai, atsushi, ranpo, poe, angel devil, choso, gojo, grim/casper (adwd), jinshi, izuku (adult), tomioka, rengoku, MAYBE MAYBEEEE katsuki (adult and after fighting to convince him), amajiki, kaneki, reigen, kurapika, shinichiro, link (tloz), sebastian (stardew)
authors note: hi guys! Thank u for 300 followers and I’m sorry for not writing for so long. if u guys have other character suggestions please let me know! I don’t think these characters are solely subs but are willing to sub, I will write again soon! Also this isn’t edited I will edit any grammar mistakes soon :)
special thanks to my friend for helping me choose the characters 🫶
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: pulling them close by their tie ♡
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: female terms used, (doll, bella, belladonna.)
# wc, 0.9k
𑣲 chuuya nakahara,
you wanted to try something new to chuuya.
pulling him close to you by his bolo tie that he’s always got on for atleast 12 hours of the day.
it’s perfect to hook your finger under and pull him close to kiss him.
you’d considered pulling him by his choker, that he’s also wearing almost all day long. but you’d likely choke him if you tried that.
so tie it is.
‘chuuyyaaa,’ you groaned. you were in his office with him, waiting for him to finish these last pieces of paperwork so you could go home together.
‘ ‘m almost done, doll. gimmie 30 minutes ‘nd then we can go home, ‘kay?’ you huffed, sinking into the leather couch even further.
the only light in the room came from a small desklamp on the table he was working at. it was already dark outside since he always works late hours, and this time you insisted on waiting until he was done, even if your complaints were endless.
there was nothing else to do besides staring a hole in the ceiling above, but then you got reminded of the genius idea you had earlier today.
you stood up from your lazed position on the couch, straightend yourself. and padded over to chuuya’s desk. where he’s currently aggressively scribbling away at the paper, trying to get it done as fast as possible.
he didn’t notice you walking towards him, which was exactly what you needed.
he only noticed when you’d come to stand next to him. ‘what’s wrong, doll?’ he asked you. face showing concern ‘cause he thinks something might’ve happened.
you turned his chair around so he was facing you.
you bent yourself over slightly, hooked a finger under the cloth of his tie. and pulled him towards you with the help of his bolotie.
‘[name]—!’ he didn’t have even a second to react before you caught his mouth with your own, kissing him deeply.
his eyes were wide open, pupils blown.
you pulled away with a grin, index finger still hooked on his tie.
chuuya was baffled to say the least. he didn’t even have the slightest idea of what you were up to, he didn’t even see it coming.
‘can we go home now, babe?’ you asked him in a pouty tone, your hand smoothing over his tie.
he still needed to finish the paperwork, there were still too many pages left— but he could care less about them right now.
‘yes, ma’am.’
𑣲 osamu dazai,
dazai is quite famous for being an annoying and persistent man.
yes you love him with all your heart, but boy does he get on your nerves sometimes.
he can’t function if you’re not in a 5 feet radius of him, he’s literally on your ass 24/7.
and additionally, his hands need to be on you whenever possible, a hand on the small of your back, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind when you’re sorting through paperwork, or simply him holding your hand, without permission. but if you tell him no he’ll whine like a baby, and that’s alot more irritating than him holding your hand when you’re clearly busy.
you also are unable to catch him off guard with anything since his attention is always focused on you.
he watches your every change of expression, even if it’s minor. he can read you like the back of his hand.
your face needs to be as straight as possible, not even a very small flicker of your expression can change. you can barely twitch your eyebrow, or he’ll notice what your upto.
right now you’re sitting at your desk, furiously scribbling away at the never ending stack of paperwork placed beside you.
dazai was also sitting at his desk, simply staring at the paperwork infront of him. for one moment his attention wasn’t fixated on you.
‘dazai, can you come here for a second?’ you asked from across the room, making the brown haired male look up from his desk.
‘ofcourse, belladonna!’ he practically jumped off of his chair and made his way over to you.
‘you miss me already? i know i’m irresistible~’ he teased with a shit eating smirk on his face.
he stood infront of you, hands in the pockets of his beige trenchcoat.
he was about to open his mouth to probably tell you something stupid, but then you tugged him towards you by his bolo tie and crashed your lips onto his.
the suddenness of it all nearly made him fall ontop of you, but he steadied himself by quickly getting his hands out his pockets and one hand gripped the edge of your desk, and the other grabbing a tight hold of your shoulder.
you pulled away from the kiss with a grin, finger still hooked on the fabric of his bolotie, your other hand resting on his chest.
‘my, my belladonna. didn’t know you had that in ya.’ dazai breathed, slightly out of breath from the intensity of the short, yet deep kiss.
you smiled to yourself. you successfully caught the osamu dazai off guard with a simple pull of his tie and a kiss.
you turned back to your paperwork like nothing happened, with dazai still standing over you with his hand on your shoulder.
‘shall we continue in the storage—,’ ‘no.’ you put a finger over his lips to stop him from finishing that sentence.
‘yes, ma’am.’
god he loves being pulled by his tie like that, he’ll definitely make you do it again. maybe with a leash, like a dog.
𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this is kind of sloppy i apologize 🥹
based on this thought.
🏷️: @peanut-butter-pancakez, @thatonemangapanelfrombeast, @vampviia, comment to be added to my taglist!
AUTHORS NOTE: giggling wtf is this. take this while i work on other requests :D
— DAZAI OSAMU๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST IM A RANDOM GIRL—"
immediately you jump in your boyfriend's arms, dazai's arms quickly pushing you back. he tripped over his own two feet trying to keep you from kissing him—screaming and throwing hands to keep you back.
"NO! NO—IM GAY!😰 STAY AWAY!!"
you couldn't help but cackle at his reaction, getting back on your feet.
you keep fighting him back grabbing at his arms to try and pry them away from his body—suddenly he pushed you back enough you fell over on your back; laughing as he just ran away.
— CHUUYA NAKAHARA๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST IM A RANDOM GIRL!!"
"WHAT THE FUCK—"
catches you on instinct, only needing a split second to realize what you said until he dropped you.
you laugh and grab his ankle as he yells, tumbling down to the ground after you.
"NO! IM A TAKEN MAN—TAKEN!"
you and him fight, using all his might to keep you from pinning him down.
eventually he uses his ability on you🙌🏻😭 next thing you know your floating just above him—a cheeky smile on your face as you got a good look at him.
hat flown off his head, messy hair, and wrinkled dress shirt.
— ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST IM A RANDOM GIRL—"
he screams. just screams in your face as you fall to the ground laughing; he holds your arms as you laugh at his feet.
it took him a moment to understand what you were doing and then when he came to realization—
you immediately went back at it again, trying to kiss your boyfriend who used all his might to keep you from getting close to his face.
"NO!! IHIHI HAVE A GIRLFRIEND—SHES SO PRETTY AND—AAH!😰"
eventually pins you on your stomach as he is sitting beside you, a leg keeping you from getting up and keeping your wrists behind you back; all while you're a giggling mess.
he has a goofy smile on his face as he lets you up.
— AKUTAGAWA RYŪNOSUKE๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST I—"
you don't even have two seconds before your arms are wrapped around in black and red tentacles; pinning you to the closest wall.
your boyfriend looks at you with a deadpan reaction—"are you five?" is all he would ask.
you eventually explained what you were trying to do, and you just wanted to see his reaction. as much as you should have just let this be the reaction he gave you—he agreed.
take two. saying the iconic line; you graze his shoulder blade before you at once again wrapped around his rashomon, flipped over and laid on your back in front of you. you blinked once, then twice—"ok aku, you can let me go."
silence.
"aku?..im done with my prank, you can—"
"RYŪNOKUKE AKUTAGAWA— YOU CANT LEAVE ME HERE—"
more silence.
— KUNIKIDA DOPPO๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST IM A RANDOM GIRL—"
literally almost falls out of his office chair when you suddenly jump on him.
glasses half off his face as you lay down on his lap and smile happily up at him.
he questions the fuck out of you; "what do you think you're doing??!"
you quickly bring him up to date—and he's just staring at you. blinks once...then twice—immediately tried to get you off of him as you try to kiss him.
he is holding you back, grabbing your arms as you laugh up a storm—saying how this inappropriate behavior in the workplace, trying to scold while keeping you back at the same time.
"Y/N—THIS IS ENTIRELY INAPPROPRIATE BEHAVIOR—OH NO, YOU DONT—"
i find it funny how he scolds you whilst playing along with you at the same time.
at the end of it, clears his throat—fixes his dress shirt and glasses and tells you to get back to work.
hey, he passed the test at least.
— RANPO EDOGAWA๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑
"THINK FAST, IM A—"
he steps to the side as you collide with the carpet beside him—face first.
he munches on his candy he held in his hand—watching you groan in pain and turn on your back.
"telling the world's greatest detective to "think fast" is one of the dumbest things i've heard you say.." he'll you as he kneels down, booping your nose with his finger.
you grab at his hand, pouting at him. "you want me to pretend you're a random girl—this is what you find entertaining? ...ok, ill entertain you—up, up." he taps your cheek as you both stand from the floor.
you stand a good bit away from each, not waiting for him to get ready you run at him again—only for him to spit the hard candy in his mouth to your face, thankfully hitting your forehead and you once again collapsed to the ground.
patting your head with a cheeky grin, he stands up and leaves you in your puddle of shame.
notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! this part includes multiple chars because my inbox has quite a few reqs of visuals with different chars so instead of spamming them i decided to make them into one single post. i couldn't help myself with the bonus sorry chat...
— dazai.
handjob while he plays video games.
picking up his pace ! make sure to keep up <3
he can be pretty rough when he's not lazy wants to be.
↑ some more.
choking you while fingering you. ughh i need.
llllloves using toys on you. he's so mean about it too.
on the agency's couch...
absolutely undeniably dazai coded.
— mykola.
he loves it messy. or making you a mess, you choose.
changing positions every minute cause he wants to try literally everything.
surely he can go deeper. and faster.
anywhere? anywhere.
loves dressing you up.
↑ and himself as well.
— kunikida.
loves having you give him a titjob.
sucking him off.
he is absolutely folding when you hug him during sex.
slow n deep.
he finally fucks you on his desk.
he's already trembling once in your arms.
— akutagawa.
please give him a handjob. he'll fold.
tries to keep his mouth occupied because he's not sure where to put it.
hugging him while riding him.
he's so gentle like you're porcelain.
this. just kiss him and cockwarm him and he's gone.
his everyday routine.
cuddly on the side <3
does not have a breeding kink however loves just filling you up.
morning.
— yosano.
riding her in reverse cowgirl.
sucking her strap while she holds your hair back for you <3
overstimming you with a vibrator.
↑ and making you wear her skirt while at it.
quickie in the agency's restroom when you're needy.
riding her.
fingering you n choking you.
sucking on her tits when she comes home after a tiring day.
+ bonus !
— chuuya.
after aftercare.
↑ some more.
you're both needy at work so he takes you to the pm headquarters' restroom to take care of it.
slapping your ass & rewarding you after.
this w him is justtt.
he decides to take the initiative.
part 1 for — dazai / chuuya / fyodor.
(ignore) requests that were for these characters utc !
• Dazai doesn't just cuddle. He tries to merge souls with you. He will drape every single limb over you until you are pinned to the sofa
• He won't stay silent. He’ll whisper dramatic nonsense into your ear or hum a little tune, feeling the vibration of your laugh against his chest
• His fingers are never still. He will mindlessly twist strands of your hair around his fingers, occasionally tugging gently to get your attention
• Every few minutes, he’ll tilt your chin up just to make sure you’re still looking at him. He has a deep-seated fear of people disappearing when he isn't looking
• He’ll bury his face in the crook of your neck and just inhale. He says you smell like home (or something equally cheesy that makes you roll your eyes)
• This man has chronically cold feet. He will slide them under your legs to warm them up, ignoring your indignant shrieks
• Once he’s comfortable, you aren't allowed to leave. If you try to get up for water, he’ll pout and whine like the world is ending until you sit back down
CHUUYA NAKAHARA
• Chuuya is like a human space heater. Being near him feels like sitting by a fireplace. He’s all intense body heat
• He doesn't do "loose" cuddles. He holds you like someone might try to steal you at any second—one arm locked firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against him
• Chuuya isn't big on flowery words, so he shows affection through physical nuzzling. He’ll press his forehead against yours or rub his nose against your temple
• He usually keeps the gloves on out of habit, but if it’s a particularly long session, he’ll peel them off. Feeling his bare hands as he strokes your arm is a top-tier experience
• Sometimes he’ll act like you’re bothering him at first ("Tch, I’ve got work to do..."), but within seconds, he’s melted into the cushions with a long, contented sigh
• If you fall asleep, he’ll wrap his coat around you and stay awake just to watch the door. He’s the ultimate bodyguard-boyfriend
RYŪNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA
• Akutagawa will never show affection in public. But behind closed doors? He is surprisingly needy (only if he trusts you so it probably took you like 2 years or something. there's absolutely no way you get him to open up fast, he's way too traumatized). He approaches cuddling with the same intensity he approaches combat
• Sometimes, he’ll use his ability to bring a corner of his coat over the two of you like an extra blanket. It’s weirdly soft when it’s not trying to slice people
• He's extremely shy. He’ll hide his face in your shoulder or chest so you can’t see the bright red blush creeping up to his ears
• He’s inexperienced with intimacy, warmth, cuddling, kissing, and any type of affection in general, so he’ll constantly glance at you with wide, uncertain eyes to see if he’s doing it right
• Instead of holding your hand, he might just tightly grip the hem of your shirt. It’s his way of making sure you stay close
• Once he finds a comfortable spot, he becomes a statue. He’s terrified that if he moves, the moment will end
RANPO EDOGAWA
• Ranpo doesn't cuddle you, you cuddle him. He will immediately flop his head into your lap and demand that you pet his hair while he eats snacks
• Be warned—there will be snack crumbs. He’ll try to feed you half-melted chocolate or ramune candy while you’re trying to be all romantic and stuff
• He’ll brag about his latest case, but his voice gets softer and sleepier the more you scratch his scalp
• He needs constant physical contact to feel grounded. He’ll also take his hat off and put it on your head
• He talks A LOT. He’ll tell you about how everyone else at the Agency is annoying him until he eventually runs out of steam and falls asleep mid-sentence
• He is a notorious blanket hog. He’ll roll himself into a burrito, and you’ll have to fight your way into the cocoon with him
• He gets a very smug look on his face when you initiate the cuddle. He knew you were going to do it (he’s the best detective EVER, after all)
MICHIZŌ TACHIHARA
• He starts off "cool," just leaning his shoulder against yours while you watch TV, but give him ten minutes and he’s practically in your lap
• He’s a nervous cuddler. He’ll fiddle with the hem of his jacket until you take his hand to calm him down
• He might squeeze you a little too hard, then panic and apologize
• He has a natural instinct to rub your back. His hands are strong, and he’s actually really good at finding the knots in your shoulders
• He likes the "legs intertwined, facing each other" position. He likes to look at you, even if it makes him blush so hard his nose bandage almost pops off
• He claims that if you ever tell the Black Lizards or anyone else that he’s a softie, he’ll kill you (that's obviously not true, he’s a goner for you)
• He likes to put one arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so your head rests on his chest. He likes hearing his own heart racing because of you
• He’ll wait until he thinks you’re not paying attention to press a quick, rough kiss to the top of your head
Rich boyfriends! who spoil you rotten. That gorgeous ruby necklace that you glanced at for a mere second, now adorned around your neck. Nothing is too rare or expensive for him to gift it to you. You could ask him for the moon and he’d do everything in his power to procure it for you.
Rich boyfriends! who keep your collections ever growing. Every newest drop or release of your favorite interests can be found on your bed within a few hours. Whether it’s jewelry, collectibles, or clothes you can expect him to grab at least one of each from the shop just to surprise his lovely s/o. You’ll never ask how he gets a hold of them before anyone else can but you know he has his ways of getting what he wants.
Rich boyfriends! who treat you to the finest of restaurants every chance he gets, and when you want to stay in he’ll have his personal chef come in and cook you your favorite meal. He’s so whipped for you that he will make sure everything is cooked to absolute perfection for his baby.
Rich boyfriends! who make you try on everything that you bought. That new dress you bought? Do a little twirl around for him. Show him how breathtaking you look in that lingerie set of yours. He can’t promise you that it will still be in one piece after he’s done with you; but hey he can’t always buy you another one right?
── THE CLOSEST TO HEAVEN I'LL EVER BE ノ HOW THEY KISS YOU (PT. 1) ‧₊˚ ⋅
✦ . . . three men. three different kinds of devotion. and the quiet, intimate moments where possessiveness, tenderness, and love blur into something consuming.
content. f!reader. sfw, minor injuries, kissing, suggestive themes, implied/referenced violence, needles, discussions of religion, established relationships. 3.9k+ words.
⤷ features osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, and fyodor dostoevsky.
would you like to see more content? fill out the taglist!
✦ — 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈
The plush leather of the chair warmed like an old ceramic pot left in the sun, cradling your tired body as it soaked up the light. Your feet braced against an adjoining stool as your diligent hands stitched a nasty tear on Dazai’s coat sleeve, ripped in a violent, early-morning raid in one of the harbor warehouses. You’d already been tempted to fix it, but Kunikida’s persistent complaints forced your hand—though the dedicated man hadn’t intended for you to do it, it would be obvious come Monday morning that the coat’s wearer had no hand in its sudden repair.
Speak of the devil and he will appear, standing at the entrance of your living room, tapping his foot with the impatience of a child.
“How long is this gonna take?”
“It’s only been ten minutes.” You didn’t even bother to look up, preoccupied with piercing the needle through a particularly tough patch of fabric. “And this is your coat. I could just not fix it at all.”
“Then I’d be practically naked!”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dazai’s eyes slitted like an ill-tempered cat, the distance between you unable to muffle the amusement in your tone. He was certain you were smiling, a crescent-shape drawn across your lips as you perched in the chair, pleased with yourself.
“Such a cruel woman!” he cried, hobbling like a midday drunkard across the room. “Can’t you have pity on a poor man’s heart?”
He tumbled into the chair, the motion accidentally forcing the needle into the tip of your thumb. Hissing, you snatched your hand, eyeing the bead of blood that blossomed from your fingertip. Your frown only deepened as a drop glided down your finger, claiming a piece of coat fabric for itself.
“Great. Now I’ve got blood on it.”
“It’ll come out.”
Your glare dried out any words that tried to come out of his mouth, flopping your unfinished handiwork down onto your lap.
“I’m the one who’ll have to clean it.”
“We certainly can’t have that, can we?” Your pissed-off face only egged on his shit-eating grin. “How will you be able to manage with such an injury?”
Uncareful hands rustled your shirt like they were attempting to placate a stray animal, the same uncareful man prancing off toward your bathroom.
“This is your fault, you know!”
He either didn’t hear you or completely ignored you—only he would know, but you could guess—the cliff-edge of a tune on his lips as he rummaged through your bathroom cabinet in the dark. Not that he needed to turn on the light to find it, hands meeting the cool plastic of a medical kit before he’d even finished the first verse. He returned, and you were in the same state he left you in, unamused and wilted.
He almost felt bad. Okay—he did feel bad. For you getting hurt, that is.
Not for messing with you. Much. It wasn’t his fault! You were so absolutely darling when enraged.
“Excuse me,” he sang, plopping onto the stool with the kit in his lap, nudging your feet with his hip as he reached for your hand. “Alright. Let me see it.”
It remained firmly held in your other. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble, you know. It’s just a prick.”
“No, no, no.” Despite his teasing, he was careful not to irritate you or your wound further, easing the hand into his lap. “You just sit there and relax. Doctor’s orders.”
That determined look on his face made it clear there was no arguing with him, so you didn’t. Submitting with a huff, you allowed your hand to be examined, now careful fingers tracing up the ridge of your thumb. Still, you couldn’t help your suspicion.
“Why do I feel like this was all just an elaborate scheme to make me pay attention to you?”
“They didn’t call me the demon prodigy for nothing.”
You swallowed the retort in your throat, suddenly exhausted by the idea of an endless back-and-forth. Your firm mask of anger did not take long to crumble to your feet, eyes fluttering as the sun tempted them to close. It had been an overwhelming day, and Dazai was more than happy to provide a momentary respite, nimble fingers massaging the tense muscles of your palm as you unwound.
He popped the kit open, reaching for one of the small bandages, only to halt at the sight of one of his wraps. If he was going to take care of you, why not draw it out for as long as he possibly could? He was sure you wouldn’t mind.
Unwinding a section of the wrap, he slowly spindled it around your thumb, careful not to wind it too tight. Your hand was so warm—unbearably so. Like you’d soaked up the sun itself. It would’ve been no surprise to him if you were its reincarnation, though he’d wonder what he had ever done to deserve sunshine in his hands.
The faint rhythm of a rickety fan guided his fingers, encasing your palm in the protective fabric. His thumb brushed past an old scar from a year he couldn’t name, and he made sure to document it in his mind with the reverence of a scholar.
“Uh, don’t you think this is a bit overboard?”
You were right, he knew, but he refused to answer, pressing his lips to the bandaged tip of your thumb. “Is there a problem with me wanting to take care of my beautiful girlfriend?”
A small noise from your lips—maybe in disbelief, maybe in something far more remarkable—shattered the remains of his soft intentions, his heated mouth drawing a line between the constellation of beauty marks on your hand. Scars, freckles, moles—anything he could see.
The medical kit landed with a thunk as he snatched you by the waist, dragging you onto his lap as he journeyed from wrist to arm. You flushed underneath his touch, taut like a spring pulled back on the verge of release.
“What is going on with you?” Your breath hitched, head craning back as he nipped at the sensitive patch of skin found in the juncture of your neck.
“What?” he asked, unrelenting. “Is something wrong?”
You didn’t know how to reply. Found yourself not wanting to, biting back a noise as he marked delicate, binding kisses up the curve of your neck.
“Truth is—” His breath prickled your skin. “I’d wrap you up entirely if it meant keeping you all to myself. I’m greedy like that.”
He met his destination at the curve of your jaw, darting his heated touch from the crinkle of your eyes to the wrinkle of your brow, ending at the corner of your lips to sit on the tempting edge of an actual kiss.
He pulled back, and despite the smirk on his face, the softness of his eyes had you melting.
“You okay, pretty girl?”
The heat left you dazed, replying with a simple, “Mhm.”
He hummed, caramel eyes flickering from your own to your lips. You were truly the most breathtaking creature to ever exist—you could feign indifference all you liked, but the best part of his day would always be watching you unravel the moment he had you in his arms. How could he not fall in love with such simple beauty?
“You'll have to forgive me, then.” His touch, despite his words, was gentle as he whispered against you. “I’m a weak man.”
You grabbed at his collar as your lips collided, sighs spilling into the kiss as your last drop of restraint dissolved. The coat bunched between you joined the kit on the floor, his hand circling your hip, chest pressed flush against his own. Could you feel his heart beat from this close? He certainly could feel yours.
“God—” he breathed. “Can’t believe you’re all mine. So beautiful.”
You laughed against his lips, eyes shining like he’d brought you back from the dead.
“You know this isn’t gonna get you out of cleaning, right?”
He snorted, knowing nothing could be more perfect than the realization that you had both been positively made for one another.
✦ — 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀
It had been a long day for the Port Mafia executive.
Not because of missions or paperwork—he would’ve preferred either to the assortment of mundane duties he’d been forced to attend. Fights were supposed to be fun. Exhilarating, even—at least that’s how he saw it. A clash of power and will, pushed to the brink to see which would win. He’d always admired foes that met him with that understanding.
Which is why he wasn’t too pleased by the string of cowards lined up for him to capture.
The latest had been a group that had attempted to breach one of the mafia’s largest depots. He had been looking forward to it for days, only to be met with disappointment as its members turned tail and ran the second they spotted him.
They were dumb enough to mess with the mafia, but not enough to even try to fight him?
What a serious buzzkill.
His shoulder creaked as he rolled them, like an old metal pipe, the elevator to the mafia’s private garage thankfully opening without delay. He wished for nothing more than to return home. Malaise crept in the shadows of his footsteps, halting with him as he spotted someone in the distance, messing with the top box of his motorcycle. His feet found flight like a second wind, rushing toward them.
“Hey!” His hands itched to tear them a new one—verbally or physically, he hadn’t decided yet—only for the wind to hit back at him as he met the familiar eyes of the woman he was dying to see. “Babe? What the hell are you doing here?”
You smiled, barely bothering to register how suspicious you looked as you closed the lid of the box, inching your way towards him.
“Hey, hun. How was your day?”
His eyes narrowed, flickering between you and whatever you were hiding.
“Fine. What’s going on?”
You were planning something—those eyes couldn’t hide mischief for long. He struggled to maintain a stoic facade as his annoying heart thrummed beneath his chest. You always managed to do that—he loathed it. One look, and he felt like a teenager all over again.
“I actually wanted to ask—can you drive us somewhere?”
His hard stare weathered. “I mean, of course I can. Where do you need to go?”
“It’s a surprise!”
And just like that, the stare returned. Chuuya had rarely experienced a nice surprise. They’d either been terrible on their own or followed by something worse, like the reaper kept a debt he couldn’t estimate. Even the word surprise left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Doll,” he sighed. “You know how I feel about surprises.”
“I know, I know,” you replied, confidence waning. “It’s a nice one, though, I swear. Very laid-back.”
He knew you had good intentions—he really did. His mind feared the pattern outlined in his footsteps, but he knew, truthfully, he couldn’t say no to you. Chuuya Nakahara was a man who’d rather experience a brief moment of happiness over a lifetime of wondering what-if.
He was a whipped man. If anyone else saw him like this, they’d never believe he was a member of the mafia, much less an executive.
With a browbeaten look, he surrendered. “Alright.”
It took some time to reach your destination, the bike a speeding bullet as it weaved through noisy, rush-hour traffic, escaping into the outer stretches of the city. He’d rarely been in the countryside, completely disoriented as the road shifted from concrete to rock, forced to rely on your directions alone as the path took multiple winding turns. You finally stopped, sat within an unremarkable patch of trees.
“Okay, I’m lost,” Chuuya said, removing the helmet you’d insisted he wear. “Where the hell are we?”
“You’ll see,” you sang, hopping off the bike and removing your own gear before snatching his hand as he dismounted. “Follow me.”
The trees were thick and dense, so he hadn’t expected the intense block of light that pierced through the leaves, forcing him to squint as he blocked it with his other hand. His eyes adjusted, he blinked, and the sight before him stole his breath.
“Damn.”
The hills of Yokohama quietly offered the best view he had ever seen, capturing the skyscrapers and the setting sun in a single scene. None of the hustle and bustle of city life could be heard from here, muted by the wind as it mixed with the flustering leaves and grass around it.
“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” His eyes strayed from the city, breath ceasing entirely as it became restrained in the tranquil image of your face. “I thought you’d like it.”
There was a time, when you first started seeing each other, when he questioned if you could be any more beautiful. He thought it impossible, but it seemed his past self was a fool. Here, you were in your element, face cradled by a warm sun, the sky a frame around the canvas of your figure.
You were fucking ethereal.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” you said, dipping back behind the trees.
He was a weak man; he knew—had to be, if just your absence alone put such a monumental strain on his heart.
You returned, carrying what he assumed to be the items you’d not-so-sneakily placed in the top box.
“We have this—” In one hand, you raised a bottle of one of his favorite Bordeaux wines. “To ourselves for the next few hours. I’ve got a ride scheduled and everything, just in case we indulge ourselves a bit too much.”
He scoffed, too charmed by the proud look on your face.
“How’d ya manage that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Flopping onto the ground, you set the basket from your other hand down, prying it open to dish out an impressive number of finger foods. You almost forgot he was even there, stomach growling as you snatched a pastry from its container. It was only halfway through a bite that you’d realized he hadn’t joined you in the grass yet, eyes darting between him and the dessert, patting the space next to you since your mouth was occupied.
He tried not to crumble at the sight of sugar smudged across your lips.
“Sweetheart,” he said, settling on the ground at your side. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”
Your hand swiped across your lip, only managing to wipe a small portion of the mess, brow furrowed in the most endearing act of concentration he had ever witnessed. If he fell over now, dead from the sight, he would be okay with that.
You blinked, looking at him expectantly. “Did I get it?”
He allowed himself to drink everything in for a moment longer, a thought rolling around in his head. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, only working to smear the mess further.
“Oh! Thank—”
His restraint snapped, diving in for a bite. Jam mixed with the taste of your lips in an exquisite blend, satiating a vacancy he once thought could never be filled—one that had burned since the day he gained consciousness. He drove you into the soft grass, hands moving with their own goal, stealing the noise from your throat as he took in each tempered breath like it was his last meal.
“What did I possibly do to earn you?” he groaned, fingers varnishing your lashes as watercolor eyes blessed him once more.
He sank back in, shivering at the way you breathed his name.
“I thank the gods you’re mine every morning.” The words escaped his throat like a man in prayer as he parted your lips with his tongue. “Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting to have this.”
Your hands cupped his face, and he knew he was forever changed by the unrivaled fondness of your eyes, looking at him the same way he looked at you.
“You deserve it. Even when you don’t think so. Especially then.”
He let the air circle around you both as passion waned into contemplation. You knew trouble when you saw it, especially when it circled the blues of his eyes, reflecting a trouble not yet justified by the alcohol forgotten at your feet.
“We’ve got a couple hours to kill, right?” One of those traitorous hands toyed with the trim of your shirt. “I think I’d like to taste something else.”
✦ — 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘
Tears poured from the sky in a symphony of thunder and lightning, crackling against the earth without care for rhythm or melody. Pious men claimed it to be God, maddened at the ill-deeds of a forgotten, immortal son. The son—a demon—knew it was just a reminder. That there will always be two sides to a coin, whether that be sun and rain, good and evil. He was simply there to ensure balance between both.
The damp, underground labyrinth that served as Fyodor’s temporary hideout did little to soothe his stiffened joints. It was not the best place for someone of his fragile constitution, but he’d lived in far worse conditions with far worse company.
Not that his subordinates counted as such.
They nodded or waved as he passed, and whether it was from respect or fear, he didn’t care; many slipped by as their work concluded for the evening. None of them would serve any use if they didn’t receive rest, after all. He didn’t need them sharp. He needed them capable. This brought a thought to his mind, stopping a man before he slinked by.
“Where is she this evening?”
It didn’t matter whether he said a name or not—anyone with a brain could decipher who the Demon referred to.
“She’s in your office, boss,” the man replied, trying to hide his nerves to no avail.
“My office?” Fyodor raised a brow before waving the man off with a nod. “No matter. Thank you.”
The familiar path to his office echoed as people cleared from the halls, his footsteps racketing against an unforgiving metal that announced his presence. A rumble returned the unspoken greeting in kind, the clicking of keys crescendoing from the illuminated figure inside.
He squinted as he crossed the threshold, eyes adjusting to the bright screens in front of him.
“Welcome back.”
The smooth timbre of your voice was a balm to the cold, like a false, warm summer heat; the perfect antithesis to the storm outside.
“Good evening, my dear,” he replied, stripping himself of his hat and coat before settling them onto a nearby rack. You didn’t stop typing, another hand leading the mouse across the screen as it expertly sorted through multiple operations.
He waited, and then struck.
“I’m quite surprised to see you out of your normal hiding spot. Is your office not to your standards anymore? I’m certain I can find a solution to whatever it is you’re lacking.”
The mouse stilled. Caught in the trap.
“You’ve got more screens than I do.”
The statement was weak. At best.
“It’s helped me get more work done.”
He hummed, a smirk etched into the wintery paleness of his cheeks. “Is that right?”
You’d never admit you were here solely because you missed him—you both knew that well. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t relish the thrill, stringing you through a maze of his own design, enthralled at the possibility that he would one day hear the truth from your lips.
“The mission went well, I assume?” you asked, changing the subject. “I know it was supposed to start raining. Hope you didn’t get caught up in it.”
“It was barely a drizzle when I arrived. The mission itself went just according to plan.” He trapsed across the room, equally too stubborn to admit he had longed to see your face after a week’s absence. “All thanks to you, of course.”
Mellow eyes met his against the vibrant light.
Your shoulders rested, a smile perched on your lips. “What a flatterer you are, lyubimyy.”
It took more willpower than he’d ever, ever admit to another living creature to suppress the quiver that ruptured from the vacant cavity in his chest.
But it was the sight of you that almost destroyed him entirely, swaddled up in his spare coat, legs tucked to your chest as you huddled beneath the makeshift blanket. The gap between the coat and your body exposed the indecent slip you wore underneath. He would’ve commented on the lack of proper attire, around your subordinates specifically, if the mere sight hadn’t utterly entranced him.
What a cruel strike to the heart was the sight, seeing you tucked away and content in the small world he’d crafted. Safe from the storm outside. That was his purpose, too, he supposed. To keep balance meant to protect the sacred. And if the divine took mortal form, would it not be you?
But he was still a demon, wickedness in his blood. A tempting thought came to mind.
“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” he mused. “You look quite cold yourself.”
You shifted from content to confused, eyes flickering down to the coat.
“I guess a little bit.”
You yelped as frigid hands hoisted you from the seat. Fyodor planted himself down, taking his rightful place, before spreading you across his lap as if it were yours. He drank in your wide eyes and parted lips, stealing your warmth as his fingers glided across the underside of your jaw.
“Oh, dear,” he said, voice a mockery of concern. “You still look cold.”
Your eyes scrambled, looking anywhere but him. “I-I’m fine.”
But, like a shepherd, he guided you back.
“Don’t lie to me.” You knew you were doomed, ensnared by the squall of his stare. “You never have been able to. It’s alright.”
It released you for a moment, turning downward, but the breath you took was another trap.
“I know just the way to warm you up.”
He pressed his lips to yours—gentle, at first. Like someone knocking at a door, waiting to be let in. But it wasn’t long before the door was barged down, rendering your mind useless in a tremor of curses and sighs, uncaring as he methodically pried you apart. He wanted everything you gave. The warmth of your body burned, and he played your spine like a taut string, trembling beneath an expert touch before calloused fingers smoothed at the nape of your neck.
Still cold, it seemed. That wouldn’t do.
Your arms snaked around his neck like vines of ivy, and part of him—the man that remained despite the years that weathered away at him—wondered what it would feel like if they squeezed tighter.
“Fedya,” you pleaded, and he knew you were both damned.
You didn’t know what you wanted. Only knew that he’d be the only person you ever wanted to give it to you.
“Shh, milaya.” His hand returned, firm against your back, pressing you closer as his other hand plucked at the thin fabric pooled atop your thighs. “I’m not finished yet.”
Your breath surged as his touch sparked earthquakes across your skin, chest heaving, arms shaking. You couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eyes, tucking your face into the exposed skin of his neck as you attempted to calm the pounding drum of your heart.
“Are you warm now?”
If you didn’t love him so unbearably much, you’d have punched him at the first chime of that insufferable, cocky tone. You took another moment, strategically, an eye of the storm, before grabbing his face. You searched for something amongst those deep, ocean-like eyes, widened ever-so-slightly, pushing him down once you found what you were looking for.
“Not yet.”
part one of bungo stray dogs has finally concluded! how was the chapter? this was queued prior to its drop, so i can only imagine (in horror) the events of the current update.
i also had a funny realization while making this piece. it's been over a year since i've written anything for fyodor. feels like i've returned home after a long journey away. hope you enjoyed!
