How would they react at first if they realized they like you?
✧ OSAMU DAZAI
Most likely, Dazai would act as if he’s joking. He’d be brutally straightforward, not letting you breathe too much in the agency office or finding any excuse to irritate you.
“I’ve heard our most beautiful colleague even has time for my documents too, isn’t that right, bella?”
Even if your heart sometimes beats faster when he compliments you or when he stares at you with that hollow yet intense gaze, Dazai still manages to annoy you far too often.
“You heard wrong.”
Snatching your mission report out of your hands, he made you flare up, rising from your chair to grab it back unsuccessfully.
“Or…I can help you draw your conclusions faster, bella! Trade for trade.”
His smirk grated on your nerves even more. You muttered, “I hate you.” though malice laced it.
Your eyes widened as he gripped your waist, your documents held above your reach while his gaze pinned you down, looking straight at you from above.
“Aww, I truly don’t wish to upset my favorite colleague.”
And yet, no matter how much Dazai jokes, avoids seriousness, or dodges his own feelings, if your life were ever in danger (even if sacrificing you would perfectly serve his strategy) he would never hesitate to save you. Excusing himself with the idea that he’ll surely come up with another plan, though deep down he knows he can’t admit yet that you’re far more important to him than you should be.
✧ CHUUYA NAKAHARA
Chuuya couldn’t stand you from the very moment you entered the Port Mafia at the same time you refused to put up with his arrogance, always firing back whenever he provoked you.
Chuuya barely managed to keep his irritation in check, to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Mori assigned the two of you on the same mission.
“I don’t contest your skills at organizing us, but do I really have to be teamed up with her?”
You answered with the same subtle tone, yet throwing provocation in his face.
“Afraid you’re too weak to keep up?”
And still, Chuuya was utterly stunned when he saw you in action. How resilient, how strong you were. His eyes widened in admiration. Catching him staring, you couldn’t resist teasing, even if his gaze made your own heart hammer.
“Like what you see, foxy boy?”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes in annoyance, even if a betraying flush crept up his cheeks.
But his hidden emotions would only come out when fear overwhelmed him. When your life was truly at risk, he would break completely. Confessing everything in a shaken, frantic voice.
“Don’t you fucking dare die, [Name]! Don’t you—Shit! I can’t lose you. I-I really—“
Your lips twitched faintly as your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging you down.
“I know, Chuuya. I know. Me too.”
✧ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY
He would never say it outright. For him, acknowledging interest in someone is a colossal weakness, especially in someone working at his side. He would blame it on admiring your intellect, on your obedience, on nearly accepting that he actually trusts you.
Instead, his methods are far from moral.
“You know you’re the best one along my partners, right, [Name]?”
He tilted your chin up, smirking down at you, his eyes attempting to hypnotize you and nearly succeeding.
You smiled back, gaze dropping to his lips before returning to his eyes with that addictive, dangerous look.
“How can I help you this time, Fyodor?”
And still, he would not treat you as he does everyone else. Avoiding (logically, strategically — as he calls it) using you as a mere sacrifice.
✧ RANPO EDOGAWA
Ranpo was utterly confused at first. Why weren’t his deductions working? Why did his heart pound inhumanly fast whenever you stood too close? Why did his body warm up when you praised him for his insights, but not when anyone else did?
It took him a long time to realize he actually liked you, and once he did, the best solution was to confess. And yet… without you, he doubted he would’ve survived it alone.
One day, after a mission, Ranpo came to you, catching you off guard.
“Hey, Ranpo. Are you okay?”
“Why do you always care how I am or what I do?”
You blinked. Once. Twice. You couldn’t tell if his tone was harsh or curious.
“Ranpo?”
His hands twitched, and when his eyes slowly opened, soft in a way you had never seen, you froze.
“Tell me why. Because I’m going insane thinking I’m the only one seeing you in a way I shouldn’t. It makes no sense.”
When you kissed him, Ranpo forgot all the months of headaches this had caused him, melting completely into your touch.
✧ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA
For Akutagawa, realizing he had feelings for you would be unbearable. Disgusted with himself, he’d rather lash out at you like a child whenever you were too “naive” for your own good.
“Are you fucking serious? Why did you come here? What if something happened and I wasn’t there?”
But the moment he raised his voice, he hated himself even more, especially if your expression showed the slightest hint of hurt. Frozen a second too long, he never apologized (not at first), choosing instead to storm off, guilt gnawing inside.
Yet, after a mission, when you came to clean and bandage his wounds with fierce determination, his chest throbbed violently. Your gentle hands touched his face, far too softly for someone like him.
“Why are you doing this? I only saved you because you were in my way.” His voice was low, yet not angry.
Your gaze met his as you murmured against his face, focusing again on his bruises.
“Every time?”
Your ironic jab irritated him, but he froze again when you leaned too close to grab another set of bandages.
“Because I trust you, Akutagawa. And because you’re stronger than you think. Scream all you want, but I know you have a good heart, Ryuu.”
His muscles tightened, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability. Overwhelmed, he couldn’t even move. All he managed was a weak scoff, hiding his gaze. Still, your smile start forming when you caught the blush on his cheeks.
✧ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA
Atsushi would be flustered beyond belief, confusing you endlessly at first.
If you hugged him too affectionately, he’d stammer an excuse and flee somewhere else.
If you were too sweet with him, praising him, he’d flush crimson and hide his face as quickly as possible.
But if there were even a hint of danger for you, he would be the very first at your side to protect you.
It would be impossible not to notice in the end—most likely kissing him after a heroic act, catching him completely off guard.
“[Name], what—“ You leaned into him, brushing your lips against his before resting your forehead on his. “Y-you like me too?”
You smiled, nodding and that was all it took for him to cup your cheeks and press his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss.
✧ DOPPO KUNIKIDA
Doppo would deny his feelings outright, embarrassed to even clear his throat or tug at his tie as though he couldn’t breathe—only whenever you teased him about how responsible he was.
You leaned your head beside his chair, watching him so closely he nearly spilled his coffee. Smiling with your eyes shut, you spoke.
“You’re so serious sometimes, Doppo! Can I help you relax a little?”
“I-I… Nevermind. No! No need…”
You chuckled as he exhaled loudly, teasing him before planting a kiss on his cheek.
“A real embodiment of a husband, did you know that?”
He would be shocked and flustered the entire day. Still, it would be the serious push he needed to finally invite you out properly with every minute and place meticulously planned.
✧ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA
You wouldn’t realize it at first. Even though you’ve known him your whole life, if Fukuzawa ever noticed his feelings drifting beyond platonic, his instinct would be to create distance.
Until you intervened.
“Even if you’re the President of the Agency, that doesn’t mean you can boss me around however you want, Fukuzawa!”
He sighed, rising from his desk and walking toward you. His hands folded beneath the green yukata under his black haori.
“It’s necessary to separate these matters. Our personal lives shouldn’t affect our work.”
“Oh, so you’d rather push me aside? What does that have to do with what’s between us and our personal lives?”
For a fleeting second, you caught Fukuzawa’s eyes widen.
“It’s not that I’m pushing you aside, [Name]. It’s simply—“
“You’ve developed feelings for me, haven’t you, Fukuzawa?”
He was not a man who lied. So he chose silence. Only action. He raised his hands slowly, his knuckles brushing your cheek gently. Devotion glimmered in his eyes, tangled with restraint.
✧ SAKUNOSUKE ODA
Oda was a serious man, respecting anyone who respected him, kind whenever he could be. And yet, when he realized his behavior toward you was different, he didn’t hesitate to speak—awkward as he was. For him, communication was the best solution.
After a long day, he waited for you, one hand hidden behind his back, ready to offer you a flower regardless of your answer. Apologizing or celebrating together.
“Oda?”
He swallowed, hesitant but steady
“If I’ve got the wrong impression, or if this makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. No pressure. I just want to confess that…I like you…and that I’d like to know you better.”
His thoughtful sincerity filled your heart more than you ever expected.
✧ ANGO SAKAGUCHI
Difficult. He was torn between avoiding the whole ordeal (such a headache) and admitting that he was helplessly drawn to you.
Still, one hint from you was enough to tip the scale.
After a few glasses of whisky, you convinced the bookworm to join you on the dance floor.
At first, he preferred to just watch you, leaning against the bar. But then, under his breath, Ango murmured, “Fuck it.” When you crooked your finger at him with that dangerous smile, he surprised you — his lips pressing onto yours, cupping your cheeks right there in the middle of the dance floor.
✧ SIGMA
Sigma would panic at first, afraid to ruin what he had with you, yet guilt gnawed at him for keeping such a secret.
His voice sabotaged him.
“I need to confess something.”
“What’s happening, Sigma?”
Your worried look only deepened his guilt. His head lowered.
“I’m so sorry…I hope you don’t think I’m a horrible person, or that I had any ulterior motives. You’re such an incredible person… and I’ve…developed feelings for you. I know it’s inappropriate—“
“Sigma…” Your shocked voice made him lift his gaze. “I wouldn’t have thought… And… I—I feel the same way.”
Now it was his turn to be shocked.
“You do?”
You nodded. Silence stretched between you, until both of you smiled, meeting halfway in a slow, gentle kiss.
cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)
reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!
“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”
The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.
“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”
You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.
“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”
“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”
But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.
There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.
It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.
“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”
His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”
“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”
He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹
⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!
“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”
That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.
And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.
“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.
His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”
So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.
And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.
“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”
“Osamu!”
But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.
“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”
He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.
Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.
“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.
“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”
When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹
⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!
"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.
"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.
"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.
He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.
Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.
He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.
"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."
He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.
You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.
"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹
⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!
You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.
Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.
He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.
But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.
"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"
He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.
He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.
You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.
"Unh—ugh..."
You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.
Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.
"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."
You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹
⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!
"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"
"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"
Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.
"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"
But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.
"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"
His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.
"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."
And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.
And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.
"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."
And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.
"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹
⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!
You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."
The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.
"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."
He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.
"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."
"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.
You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.
"Fuckin' slut—"
When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.
"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."
But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.
You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.
"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."
His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹
⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!
"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."
You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.
You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."
"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.
"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"
"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.
You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."
"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.
He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.
"I mean, unless..."
Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.
“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“
His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.
“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹
⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!
The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.
He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.
I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.
You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.
There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.
Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.
He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.
"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"
You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.
An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.
"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹
⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!
You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.
When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?
Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?
"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."
You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.
"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹
⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!
"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.
He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.
But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.
"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.
"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.
He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.
He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.
"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."
"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.
Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"
You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.
"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹
⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!
“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."
"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."
You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."
"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.
"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."
But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.
"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."
"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."
The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.
"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”
"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.
"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.
"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹
When people see you two in public, they can never guess that you are together. They prefer to keep things private and your friend always joke around asking you how you can date such a distant person. But they don't see them in the privacy of your home, without the pressure of all the people around. Then, they're always around you, always a hand on you when they listen to your rambling, giving you kisses and taking care of you.
The wind bites at your cheeks as you pull your borrowed jacket tighter. Dazai had insisted you take it after you shivered for the third time on the patrol.
“You look… adorable,” he murmurs, hands tucked in his own pockets, eyes hidden under his hat.
“Adorable?” you snort, adjusting the oversized sleeves that swallow your hands.
“Yeah,” he says, stepping closer. “Like someone I need to keep warm.”
You glance at him, heart skipping, and he smirks. “Don’t get used to this,” he says, but his voice softens. “I like seeing you like this.”
Even with the wind whipping around you, and the chill in the streets, the jacket feels warmer than ever—because it’s Dazai’s.
CHUUYA NAKAHARA જ⁀➴
You hadn’t meant to grab Chuuya’s coat, but it’s cold tonight, and the sleeves reach past your fingers. He notices immediately, a frown flickering across his face.
“You’re wearing my coat?” His tone is accusatory, but there’s a softness in his eyes.
“Cold,” you shrug, zipping it up.
Chuuya exhales, walking closer. “Tch. Can’t argue with that.” He drapes his scarf over his neck, eyes lingering on you.
“You look… good in it,” he admits quietly. “Even if it’s huge on you.”
You blush under his gaze. The oversized sleeves brush your hands as you move, and Chuuya can’t help but hold your shoulder lightly. “Don’t catch a cold, alright?” he murmurs, and you know he means more than just the chill.
RANPO EDOGAWA જ⁀➴
The jacket is far too big for you, sleeves sliding over your hands as you tug it tighter against the cold Yokohama air. Ranpo watches, head tilted, his trademark smug grin in place.
“You know,” he says, adjusting his hat, “you look very… competent. Even in that oversized coat.”
“Competent?” you echo, glancing down at yourself.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning casually against the wall. “You’re ready for a night patrol… and you look adorable doing it.”
You feel heat rise to your cheeks as he smirks knowingly. “Ranpo…”
“I said competent,” he teases, stepping closer. “But if you insist on blushing like that, I might have to… keep you warm myself.”
The wind swirls around you, but somehow, wrapped in his jacket—and his gaze—you feel perfectly safe.
RYUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA જ⁀➴
The sleeves swallow your hands, the collar brushing your cheeks, and for a moment, you almost forget the cold.
Akutagawa stands silently beside you, hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the streets. Then he notices the jacket.
“You’re wearing it,” he states flatly, though there’s a faint edge of something… softer, hidden in his voice.
“Yes,” you murmur. “It’s cold.”
He steps closer, hands brushing yours as he adjusts the collar so it fits snugly. “…Don’t get sick,” he says, voice low, almost shy.
Your heart skips. “I won’t,” you whisper.
For once, the usual tension in his shoulders eases. Standing together, the jacket between you, the cold seems irrelevant. He might never admit it outright—but this gesture, his concern… it’s all the warmth you need tonight.
DOPPO KUNIKIDA જ⁀➴
You try to walk fast to keep warm, but the oversized coat Kunikida lent you drags slightly behind your stride.
“Slow down,” he chides, adjusting the zipper. “You’ll catch a cold. And then we’d have paperwork.”
“I’m fine,” you reply, tugging at the sleeves.
“Don’t argue,” he says, stepping closer. He tilts your chin up with a careful hand. “You’re not fine if you’re shivering.”
You catch his eye, feeling the firmness behind his words. “Thank you,” you murmur.
Kunikida nods, stepping back slightly. “Just… stay warm. That’s an order, and I don’t tolerate excuses.”
Wrapped in his coat, you can’t help but feel how much he truly cares—organized, strict, but utterly yours tonight.
ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA જ⁀➴
The night air is sharper than usual, and the borrowed coat swallows you completely. Atsushi notices immediately, frowning softly.
“You look… small in that,” he says, but his voice is gentle.
“It’s big,” you admit, zipping it up fully.
“I thought it might keep you warm,” he says, stepping closer. “Yokohama nights are cold. I don’t want you getting sick.”
You glance at him, heart fluttering. “Thanks…”
He smiles softly, fingers brushing your arm as he adjusts the jacket so it fits better around your shoulders. “I just… want you to be safe,” he murmurs, and you realize the jacket isn’t the only thing keeping you warm tonight.
FUKUZAWA YUKICHI જ⁀➴
The borrowed coat feels surprisingly heavy, but the warmth is welcome against the chill of the evening. Fukuzawa watches you adjust it, expression calm but eyes attentive.
“You’re wearing my coat,” he observes, voice quiet.
“Yes,” you murmur, trying to zip it fully.
He steps closer, hands briefly brushing the fabric to smooth it over your shoulders. “It suits you,” he says. “Better than I expected.”
You blink. “Really?”
“Really,” he replies, tone steady. “Keep it on. Don’t catch a cold on my watch.”
Standing beside him, chest to chest just slightly, the wind seems insignificant. The coat is warm, yes—but the quiet attention, the unspoken concern in his voice, is warmer still.
FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY જ⁀➴
The coat hangs loosely around you, sleeves too long and fabric soft against your fingers. Fyodor tilts his head, a faint smile curving his lips.
“You borrowed it,” he states simply.
“Yes,” you answer. “It’s cold.”
“Indeed,” he murmurs, stepping closer. His hands hover for a moment before lightly adjusting the collar so it sits more comfortably around your neck. “…You mustn’t catch a cold. That would be… inconvenient.”
You laugh softly. “Inconvenient for you?”
He regards you thoughtfully. “…For both of us,” he admits. The coat isn’t the only thing shielding you tonight—the care behind it is subtle, precise, and entirely Fyodor.
NIKOLAI GOGOL જ⁀➴
The sleeves are almost comically long, but Nikolai doesn’t seem to mind. He grins, hands on his hips.
“You look like a little hero in my coat,” he teases, tilting his head.
“I feel like a walking marshmallow,” you reply, pulling the oversized sleeves down.
“Nonsense! Marshmallows are soft and sweet,” he says, leaning closer. “Just like my favorite person.”
Your heart skips. He adjusts the coat around your shoulders dramatically, as if preparing for a theatrical photo. “There. Perfect! Now you are protected… by me!”
And standing in the middle of the cold Yokohama street, you realize you’re warmed far more by him than by the coat.
SIGMA જ⁀➴
The borrowed coat is stiff in the shoulders but comfortable against the cold. Sigma’s eyes soften as he notices how it drapes over you.
“You shouldn’t be shivering,” he says quietly.
“I’m fine,” you murmur.
He steps closer, sliding a hand to adjust the collar over your shoulders. “You’re not fine if you’re cold,” he insists, voice gentle but firm. “…And I prefer you warm.”
You glance up at him, heart fluttering. The coat may cover you, but his attention, his care, feels like armor. Against the night, the wind, and everything else, you feel safe—because he is here.
SAIGIKU JOUNO જ⁀➴
The jacket swallows your hands, but you smile anyway. Jouno frowns, obviously worried.
“You shouldn’t be out here shivering,” he says, stepping closer.
“I’m okay,” you reply, tugging at the sleeves.
He adjusts the coat around your shoulders, fingers lingering slightly. “No. You’re not okay if you’re cold. My coat… and I are staying with you.”
The warmth from his hands is enough to make the chill disappear, and you realize that even the oversized coat couldn’t keep you warmer than his presence does.
TETCHO SUEHIRO જ⁀➴
The borrowed coat hangs heavily over your frame, but Tetchou doesn’t comment—just watches. Until he notices you shivering slightly.
“You’re wearing my coat,” he says quietly.
“Yes,” you murmur, zipping it up.
He steps closer, adjusting the collar with a practiced, gentle touch. “…Don’t get sick. You know I can’t let you do that.”
You look up at him. “I’ll be fine.”
“…Good.” His hand lingers on your shoulder, grounding you. “Just… stay warm. That’s all I ask.”
Even in the cold Yokohama night, standing beside him in his coat, you feel protected, cherished, and… exactly where you belong.
lover boys who are down bad for you, worshipping the ground you walk on like you are some goddess. if someone asks how did they pull you they wouldn't know what to say.
"i don't even know man.."
he patiently waits for you to finish trying on all the dresses that caught your attention in the mall. carrying your bags hell he even knows how to wear your purse without making it look weird on him.
switches shoes with you when your feet starts to hurt from all that walking, offering to carry you on his back. when you get home you always give him a kiss on the cheek as a thank you gift.
"why are you looking at me like that?"
you often ask him that question, he says he likes watching you do your things. he does, but that's not the real reason. he loves the way your eyelashes look when they are curled, the way you pout your lips when you think so hard about something, how your eyebrows are furrowed when you get upset at something.
he buys you small things or expensive things because he thought you would like it. huh? so what if it's nearly the rent of your apartment? as long as his girlfriend likes it he has no regrets.
he flexes you when he notices people are googling at you, showing them that no one can have his pretty girl. only he can.
he just loves his pretty girlfriend so much and he is not afraid to show it
kimetsu no yaiba: RENGOKU, tanjiro, zenitsu, giyuu, GENYA, gyomei
Pairings: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Edgar Allen Poe, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Sigma, and Bram Stoker x Gn! reader
Warnings: Cursing, pet names, age gap between Bram and reader (because he's a centuries-old vampire)
Summary: Boyfriend texts with BSD boys
A/N: Please send in SMAU requests, I'm running out of ideas! Also, what do we think of the new theme? I'm working on changing every one of my fics to match
