Synopsis: You do the jacked and kind trend with Logan.
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Hey guys sorry for my absence I fell sick with the flu and was suffering immensely…..I’m back now but I will probably get supper busy soon so I’ll start to post once a week rather than a few times like before ❤️ thank you so much for all of your love and kind attention! Please to all the other people who have requested things for tangerine and Bungo stray dogs I am working on ALL of them! Please keep requesting.
“Who’s jacked and kind….” When the audio from Sabrina Carpenter’s song broke the silence in you and Logan room for the first time, your boyfriend didn’t pay too much attention to it, peacefully reading his book as he held his cigar in his mouth, the lazy smoke twirling from the burning tip wrapping around Logan’s head. The second time he barely registered it as well. He was too focused on the intriguing plot hidden in between his pages. The 10th time the little snippet of the song sounded, however, Logan could not help but shoot you a glance. You were curled under the bedsheets, facing him as your hand gripped your phone tightly, the light of the videos you were watching dancing across your face. As he observed you, the same few words kept repeating over and over again, the sound finally starting to irk him.
Logan sat his book down on the nightstand, as he slipped the cigar out of his mouth, deciding to hold it between his fingers. “Princess,” he asked, tapping the excess ash in the ashtray precariously balanced on his thigh. The silver dust peppered the once pristine surface, looking like the stars that flecked the night sky. You looked up at him, finally pausing the sound that was jackhammering on Logan’s nerves. “Why have you been playing the same thing over, and over, and over, again? I mean I get liking a song but just 3 seconds of it? A little bit excessive, bub.” He grunted, massaging his temples with his cigar-carrying hand, not minding the ash that delicately sprinkled on his flannel.
You looked down sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck. “Sorry, Logan. It’s this popular trend and I’m kind of obsessed with it.” You explained.
When Logan heard the word trend, his mind shot back to that long April afternoon when he had made the mistake of asking you what TikTok was, as the students in the X mansion seemed to be obsessed with it. You had excitedly sat him down, and explained everything to him for hours, specifically what certain words meant in the specific context of this application. Your eyes sparkled when you talked, and when you had suggested he should download it, Logan had simply barked out a laugh, before looking at you with a smirk. You had sighed, knowing you had lost the battle even before its tentative start.
“Trend,” Logan whispered to himself, remembering you had explained to him that it meant a certain type of video was in fashion for an indefinite amount of time.
“Yes, trend,” you echoed back.
“What’s this one about?” Logan asked, setting the ashtray with the cigar in it on his bed side table. He turned to look at you, wanting to give you his complete attention.
“Well, it’s a song from a singer. She basically says she wants a man who’s jacked and kind.” You explained. Excitement coloring your movements, making you sit up as your hands danced all over of the place, narrating a story with so much detail your boyfriend could almost see it. Logan could do nothing but admire you, his love-drunk heart hanging from your lips as if it were his life-saving medication. You barely noticed, continuing with your explanation. “The trend consists in a woman mouthing the words and right as the audio says ‘jacked and kind,’ the boyfriend, who is standing behind her, will pick her up and place her on his shoulder.” You said, grinning widely. “It’s just so cute and romantic to see the girls sitting so prettily on the men’s shoulder, while he looks so smug he could lift her up. It’s just,” you sighed dreamily. “So perfect.”
You hastily unlocked your phone, turning the screen towards him. “Look at it!” You said, as you shoved it in his face.
Logan observed the various couples do the trend for a few seconds, blinking for a few seconds to adjust to the bright and sudden avalanche of images and sounds. He then lifted his gaze to you. “I don’t see the excitement you see in it, but sure.” He shrugged, going back to take his cigar.
You cuddled back down on the bed, going back to swipe, sighing again, this time with a tinge of sadness. “God, I wish I could do this trend.” You murmured, speaking your thoughts aloud.
“Yeah. Sure sucks to be single.” Logan joked, looking at you with mirth in his gaze.
“That’s not what I meant!” You said, hitting his thigh. “I don’t want to tire you out.”
Logan turned to stare at you, his cigar barely hanging from his lips. “What, you think I’m that weak?” He said, his voice, even if possessing a lilt of a joke, betraying some sort of self consciousness.
You hastily inched closer to him. “No, no. I don’t think you’re weak, Logan. I’m just afraid I’d be too heavy.” You admitted, gesturing to yourself.
“[Y/N], I have a skeleton made of adamantium. You will never be too heavy.” Logan said. He noticed the evident skepticism tricking in your eyes, as sedimented as concrete. “No that’s it.” He said, sliding off the bed. “Get off.”
You stared at him in confusion. Logan looked back at you, raising his eyebrow. You hurriedly got off, standing in front of him, still confused. “What…are you doing?” You asked, as Logan took off his flannel, remaining in just his wife beater. Your eyes, entranced by his bulging, delicious-looking bicep, only managed to reluctantly trail to Logan when he started speaking.
“We’re doing this trend, princess.” Logan said. He leaned down, grabbing your phone and unlocking it. “Here,” he handed it to you. “Set up that TikTok thing or whatever so we can do this. I’ll show you. You’ll win this fucking trend.” He grunted, a twinkle of ambition evident in his confidence stance.
You clasped your phone in your hand, a smile gracing your lips. Pure joy twirled in your eyes, and Logan could have sworn he fell in love with you all over again just because you looked so happy. You threw yourself in Logan’s arms, melting in his embrace. Without even thinking, your boyfriend hugged you back. “Thank you. You always know how to make me feel better.” You spoke into his chest, your voice muffled.
“It’s what I’m here for, bub.” He said, caressing your head before he loosened his embrace. “Now, come on. Let’s do this.” You squealed happily, setting up your phone.
“I pick you up when the song says ‘jacked’, right?” Logan asked.
You nodded. “I’ll jump a bit before that so you can pick me up.”
“Don’t jump.”
“What? How will you manage to put me on your shoulder?”
“Trust me, princess. Don’t jump.” You eyed Logan wearily, but he simply grinned back at you. Unconvinced, you pressed the button, starting the timer.
You ran back to his side, waiting. The second Sabrina Carpenter’s voice filled the air, you mouthed along the lyrics. Right before she airily sung jacked, you had to restrain yourself from jumping, as you anxiously wondered if Logan could pull it off. His warm hands wrapped around your waist, and your heart dipped: either you would get the biggest confidence boost or your self esteem would be utterly destroyed.
Logan started lifting you up. You tried to keep a poker face, fearing you would tumble back to the ground and completely shatter. But nothing like that happened, and Logan picked you up easily, setting you on his shoulder, his bulging muscles making your seat comfortable, and not a tight fit at all. Almost in shock, you finished mouthing the words, while Logan smirked at the camera. The second the video stopped recording, you looked down at your boyfriend in disbelief, finding him to be looking up at you. “Told you. You didn’t even have to jump.”
“Logan, oh my god. You lifted me liked I weighed nothing.” You gasped.
“Because you don’t for me.” Logan said, feeling his chest thump with pride when he saw the rose-red blush dusting your cheeks.
You coughed, not meeting his warm eyes. “H-hey, I’m still up here!” You cried, your words tripping over each other as you clumsily tried to move the topic of conversation to something also.
“Lemme fix that.” Logan said, his voice the note of mischief lurking in his voice.
When Logan’s grasp tightened around your waist you would have thought he would gently set you on the ground. His other hand went to hold your knees instead, and you gracefully slipped from his shoulder into his arms, being carried liked the bride Logan hoped one day you would be. You blinked, looking at him in disbelief. “Logan…what -”
You were shushed by a kiss. He pressed you close to his body, your arms loosening from around his neck and threading through his hair. Your other hand slid down his bicep, squeezing it, digging your nails inside his skin. Logan didn’t quiet the loud moan that erupted from his lips. You whimpered, opening your mouth to let him slip his tongue inside.
You pulled back, shuddering, your voice silky with desire. “If we keep going, you’ll be fucking me standing up soon.” You joked, leaning against his shoulder.
Logan looked at you, raising his eyebrows teasingly. “I’m not….completely….against the idea.” He murmured. His warm hand sliding from underneath your knee to your thigh, squeezing it.
You whimpered, throwing your head back. “I’m not complaining either.”
“Great. Afternoon activity secured.” Logan smirked. You laughed, nuzzling against your boyfriend’s very, very sexy neck.
Needless to say, the ‘jacked and kind’ trend had led you to discover a new position that soon became one of your favorites.
Could u do a scenario based around that one tiktok prank of wearing a towel in front of your s/o then pretending u open it in front of the camera while ur filming a tiktok ? with logan pls ?
Heyyyy! Of course! Someone else also requested this in the comments!!! Please request a thousand more things!!
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Pranking Logan By Pretending to Flash the Camera.
Pairing: Fem!Mutant Reader x Logan Howlett
Synopsis: You decide to prank your boyfriend by pretending to flash the camera.
You lunged towards Logan, avoiding his punch. You pushed yourself with your super speed as you twirled behind him, trying to surprise him. Your boyfriend, however, knew you too well, expecting your move and throwing out an arm to stop you. Logan knocked the breath from your stomach, slowing you down enough for him to grab your waist and slam you against the tatami mats in the training room. You grunted as Logan hovered over you, holding you still with his right arm on your shoulder. “Got you, princess.” He grinned proudly, the drops of sweat gliding down his skin, disappearing in the neckline of his wife beater.
You closed your eyes: You were truly spent, having been sparring with him for the past hour. Exhaustion was pulling you closer towards the comfortable tatami mats, calling you to accept the defeat. But the glint of smugness present in Logan's face irked you, pushing you to collect the little droplets of strength that stagnated in your limbs. You, gently, twisted Logan's wrist, making him lose his only support. He fell to the floor, moving his arm to catch you, but he was too slow, his hand closing around the air where you had been a few seconds before. You landed your hands on Logan's hips, turning him around and pushing him down on the ground. He grunted, flinching in pain when you jumped on his lap. “I…got you!” You said, collapsing into his chest. Logan welcomed you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.
"You sure did, princess." He complimented, sliding his hand down your body and giving a slight squeeze to your ass. You only managed to roll your eyes back at him teasingly, too spent to react. You guys laid together in silence for a few moments, just listening to your heartbeats slowly turn from erratic to frantic, as you calmed down, uncaring, or rather almost enjoying, the feel of your sweat mingling together.
“We should go shower, baby." Logan said, gently placing you on the tatami next to him. You had been with him so long it didn't even surprise you with what ease he picked you up, even after such an intense training session.
“We really should. I think I could fill up the pool with the amount of sweat I currently have on my body.”
“That is a horrifying image.” Logan chuckled, as he grabbed your outstretched hand and pulled you up from the ground.
“I'm so tired!" You yawned, rubbing your eyes. "How do you manage to predict my moves every single time." You asked, feeling the comfortable weight of Logan's arm slung around your shoulder.
"You're easy to predict." He said simply, shrugging his shoulders. You slapped his chest, and Logan pretended to grimace in pain. "Kidding, love. I just know you." You smiled as you pressed the button to open the doors of the male changing room. Theoretically, you should be going to the female one next door, but it was 2 in the morning: you knew no one would be there, and you wanted to be with your boyfriend. Logan thought the same thing, not even bothering to comment on the situation.
As you walked inside, you grabbed your phone from Logan's duffel bag. "Imma go pee real quick." You said, heading to the bathroom. Logan grunted in response.
You skipped to the bathroom, quickly doing your business. You washed your hands, deciding to doom scroll for a few seconds on TikTok. Just as you were about to lock your phone, a couple prank video stopped your thumb from hitting the lock button. You watched as a woman opened her towel, showing the viewers how she was wearing short clothes underneath her towel, making it seem she was naked underneath. She then waltzed in front of her unsuspecting boyfriend, pretending to dance and then opened her towel towards the camera, leading the boyfriend to think she was flashing the camera. He reacted quickly, jumping in front of her, and flailing his arms.
You glanced at your outfit, and quickly assessed you could pull off the prank just fine. Did you have any reason to do this? Absolutely not, but it was fun, and you loved messing around with your grumpy little Wolverine. You grabbed a folded towel from the shelves, thanking Professor X for always providing them. You unzipped your workout jacket, remaining in your tube top, thankful you had decided to wear it for the day. You glanced down towards your leggings and shorts combo, slipping both off, only putting the shorts back on. You grabbed the towel resting on the counter, wrapping it around you. You smiled: you really looked as if you were wearing nothing underneath.
You hastily tightened the towel, scrunching up your discarded pieces of clothing in your hands to render them a confused clump of black fabric, not letting Logan realize you were still wearing a few things. You walked out, throwing the clothes on the bench, right next to Logan who was pulling off his shirt. You almost drooled, shaking your head to remain focused.
“Logan?” You called tentatively, already placing the phone on the bench in front of you. “Before we shower wanna do a TikTok trend with me?” You asked, twirling your fingers.
Logan looked at you, wife-beater still in hand, his trademark raised eyebrow adorning his face. “I’m not so sure…I’m not as up to date with these things as you are. I am 200 years old after all.”
“I know you don’t feel exactly comfortable, and that’s why I don’t ask you often.” You said, looking at him with your puppy dog eyes.
He threw his head back, knowing exactly what you were doing. “The things I do for you.” He slapped his thighs, standing up in all his shirtless glory. “Fine, doll. Do your worst. Tell me what I have to do.” You squealed happily.
“Okay so, we just have to dance to this song about loving your partner.” Logan smiled tenderly. “And then right before the beat drops you kiss me.” You said, knowing the lie was shitty but heavily, oh so heavily, relying on Logan’s absolute ignorance on social media.
“Dancing,” he grunted. “Me?” He pointed his finger at himself.
You patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry baby, just move your hips like you would have a few decades ago.” You said, as you pressed the 10 second count down, pulling Logan by the arm to be in frame.
“I didn’t dance a few decades ago.” He grunted, standing next to you. The countdown reached one, and the music started blasting. You danced happily, watching Logan who stiffly tried to dance as well. He was basically just hoping from foot to foot, but that was okay: he was trying. The beat drop started to approach, and Logan slowed down his hopping to approach you. The anticipation in your fingers made them shake slightly as you wrapped them around the top of your towel dress, getting ready. You were thrumming with energy, excitedly eyeing Logan.
The minute the beat dropped, and Logan had been expecting you to turn to face him, you yelled “SURPRISE!” and yanked open your towel, standing slightly in front of Logan to delay his inevitable discovery a little longer.
Logan moved so quickly you only realized what was happening because your eyes had been trained by years and years of combat. His eyes widened, almost popping out of his sockets, before the man hastily wrapped both arms around your waist, trying to reach for the most important parts. His right hand landed on your crotch, splayed as much as he could, while his left hand wrapped and your chest; Logan cupped your left breast with his large hand, relying on the bulge of his bicep to cover the other one. Simultaneously to this, Logan utilized his inhumane strength to turn you around as if you were a piece of paper, giving his back to the camera just as the TikTok sound ended and the phone stopped recording.
“[Y/N], what the fuck?!” He said, looking down at you. “What, why are you laughing?” He barked, still holding onto you as tightly as he could. Your feet barely grazed the ground.
“Baby! Logan, you can stop squeezing my tits as if your life depended on it! I’m dressed,” you snorted, gesturing down to your apparent state of not undress. Logan looked down so fast you swore you heard his neck crack. The minute he saw the clothes enveloping your body, he let go of you. You landed on the ground, the towel sliding off your body, laying limply on the floor.
Logan dropped down on the bench, exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “If I weren’t basically immortal, I would have died. Right here!” He snarled, no real vehemence behind his tone. “I was just trying to do what you told me and then bam, I think you’re showing the world everything.” He slumped against the wall, rolling his eyes. “Fuck me.”
You grabbed your phone, still laughing, while simultaneously trying to reassure him. “Oh, Logan, please. I know this is only for your eyes only. It was a prank! Come on, don’t make that sad kitty face,” you said, squeezing his hand as you tried to stop another burst of laughter. Logan didn’t say anything, pretending to be mad at you. He turned his head away from you, but you saw the ghost of a smile dance on his lips, even if he was trying to repress it. You decided to try a different approach.
“I think I loved doing this. You know why?” You asked, starting to play with the hair on his chest. Logan just melted against you, even though he was trying to pretend to be mad. “Because I got proof, once again, that my boyfriend loves me to the moon and back. And…I also have the proof that you are so undefeated in battle because you have great reflexes.” You said. This seemed to fully derail Logan from his original plan of fake anger.
“Really?” He mused, raising his eyesbrows at you. You nodded, pulling out the phone and showing him the video.
“Look, look how fucking fast you pulled me away, and look, I have to put the video in 0.75 speed to even remotely understand what is happening.” You said, pointing out at the screen. You looked up, seeing Logan to now have a smug grin on his lips.
“I’m not so bad after all.” He chirped. You smiled up at him, nodding in full agreement. “Now,” he said, his face suddenly changing to serious. “Wanna actually strip, and head in the shower? We could have some fun.” He grinned, taking your phone and throwing it in his duffle back.
You licked your lips, hastily rushing to the shower room, leaving a trail of clothes behind you. Logan laughed loudly, something that didn’t happen off, slowly standing up, unbuckling his belt as he also made his way to the shower room.
Synopsis: You decide to prank logan with the TikTok prank: you pretend to get ready to give him a blowjob, and right when you have convinced him, you pretend you had been wanting a shoulder massage all along.
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Hey guys! Hope you like this! I have a few more TikTok pranks, and if you guys are interested I could write a few little scenarios like this one with Logan.
The other TikTok pranks include:
1. Pretending to be wearing nothing underneath your towel and suddenly opening it while recording a TikTok.
2. Asking him to multitask, by cutting something while telling the story of how you met.
3. Walking on him naked while he’s working.
4. The jacked and kind trend
Let me know if you want anymore with these scenarios, both for Logan or for other characters I write for.
You had been assigned to overview a physics exam in the afternoon. Currently sitting on the hard, plastic chair that dug into your ass, you looked at the rows and rows of teenagers. Some were writing non stop, while others gripped their hair in desperation. You tried to get comfortable, shifting your hips on the seat, almost cursing out loud when you only managed to somehow make the chair more uncomfortable. You huffed, crossing your arms and trying to distract yourself from the stuffiness of the room.
You leaned back against the chair, crossing your legs. The frantic scratching of the pens on paper soon became a distant sound to your distracted ears as you started thinking about your boyfriend, Logan, who was currently training with a bunch of students just a few floors down. You missed him, even if you had been snoring happily in his arms just that morning.
You sighed, touching his dog tags which were currently resting around your neck. As you played with them, stewing in the mixture of the students’ adrenaline pervading the air and your personal boredom, your mind conjured up a plan, your mouth splitting in a mischievous grin. Your for you page on TikTok had been recently flooded by various girlfriends pranking their boyfriend by pretending to get ready to give them a blow job, tying their hair up while sitting in between their boyfriend’s legs, only to turn around and demand a shoulder massage. Your excitement rose as your plan consolidated in your mind, further spurned by the absolute hatred Logan felt for TikTok, preventing him from downloading it. He would not know what hit him.
Your boredom now turned to pure excitement, your knee bouncing up and down. The minute your supervision time was up, Scott to switching with you, you sprung up and darted down the hallway, the light of the setting sun painting long windows in your path.
You hastily ran to your bedroom, shutting the door when you realized it was empty. He wasn’t in the training room, the lights shut off. You glanced in the kitchen, finding it empty as well. You stopped in the entrance, utterly confused.
“Whatcha looking for, bub?” You turned around, seeing Logan lazily sitting on the couch in the common room, remote in hand.
“Logan!” You squealed, smiling, running up to him. “Where you here the whole time?”
“Yeah. I think I watched you pass in front of the door a good five times.” He pointed to the doorway with the remote. “What got your panties in a twist?” He joked, gently reaching out for your hand.
You grinned, your early mischievousness seeping back into your eyes. You had wanted to record this on your phone, but you quickly eyed the security camera staring at you with its black eye on the wall; that would do. “You. I was looking for you.” You whispered, placing your hand on his chin.
“Me?” Logan asked. You nodded, letting your hand glide down his neck, down his chest, stopping on his belt buckle. You glanced up at him, biting your lip. Logan raised his eyebrow, a confused smile dancing on his face. Teasingly slow you spread his legs, falling down to your knees, until you were level with his crotch. The confusion on his boyfriend quickly evaporated, arousal flashing in his brown eyes. He glanced towards the door. “[Y/N], baby, here?” He asked, disbelief coloring his voice. You nodded, not trusting your voice, terrified you’d burst out laughing at his hopeful expression.
Logan licked his lips, excitement and nervousness bubbling in his chest as his eyes frantically jumped back and forth between you and the open door. A part of him wanted this, slightly reveling in the risk, and the other utterly loathing the idea of anyone seeing you like that. His erratic train of thought derailed when he saw you collect your hair into a hasty ponytail, your stray hairs caressing your face beautifully.
The moment he saw that, all of his doubts and nervousness evaporated. “Oh, fuck it.” He grunted, as he got comfortable against the leather couch, spreading his legs further. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but thank fuck.” He added, as he slyly placed both hands behind his head, looking at you through his hooded eyes.
You closed your eyes, exhaling loudly as you tried to not laugh. As you stuffed your laughter deep down into your stomach, you squeezed his thigh, a small part of you feeling bad for fooling him. You opened your eyes, trying to give him your best bedroom eyes, while your mouth quivered with silent laughter. You reached for his belt buckle, toying with it. Logan closed his eyes, leaning his head back. You chose that exact moment to strike.
You turned around, showing him your back. “You’re too sweet, baby. Thank you for offering to massage me. My shoulders are killing me. If you could really get in there, baby?” You asked, your voice sickeningly sweet as you waited for his reaction, eyeing him through the mirror hung on the wall. You watched as Logan’s eyes fluttered open, looking down at your back with dazed confusion.
“What? Massage?” He croaked, furrowing his brows. He knew he hadn’t imagined things: you clearly had been about to give him the blowjob of his life… how did it suddenly turn into a massage for you.
“My shoulders have ached ever since I trained with Storm a few days ago,” you whined, shrugging them. Logan blinked in confusion a few times, the arousal disappearing from his gut with every passing second. He stared down at you for a few moments, starting to move very slowly, getting whiplash from the sudden change, and feeling his ecstasy sink as fast as a rock in a river. His warm hands descended on your shoulders, as he slowly started to massage your non existent knots.
As you glanced up at him, and noticed his crestfallen expression, even as he diligently massaged you, you lost it. Your repressed laughter burst of you. You laughed so loudly you saw Logan flinch with his super hearing. He looked at you, his hands freezing. “What? Did I do it wrong?” He grunted, irked.
You turned around, slapping his thigh as the laughter kept pouring out of you. The minute you looked at him, seeing the confusion even more evident on his face only spurred you to laugh even louder, leaning heavily against his legs to not collapse on the ground. When you couldn’t breathe anymore, and your stomach hurt, you wiped the tears from your eyes, collapsing on the sofa next to him.
“I’m glad I amuse you so, bub.” Logan grunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Could I know what I did to entertain you so?”
You turned to look at him, clasping his jaw. “Let me kiss this frown away.” You leaned in, pressing a few pecks on his lips. You pulled back, seeing Logan was still eyeing you with suspicion. “I’m sorry, baby! It was a prank! I saw it on TikTok,” you explained, squeezing his thigh.
Logan stared at you in utter disbelief, his mouth hanging open. “Are you shitting me princess?” He croaked. You only managed to giggle sheepishly. “Am…am I supposed to laugh right now?” He deadpanned. “I got tricked into thinking I would get a blowjob for a TikTok prank…” Logan shook his head, scoffing in utter shock.
A snort escaped your lips. “Logan, I’m sorry! I didn’t know it would make you so sad! I promise, I’ll make it up to you!” You said, pouting at him.
“No luck, baby. Pouts only work for good girls. And you’ve been a bad one,” he said, grinning at you. “Well, baby, as much as I’d love to say here and be led on, I have another training class with my students.” Logan said, standing up.
You suddenly felt very very guilty about having lead him on during his short break: before he could get too far you grabbed him by his belt, yanking him back on the couch. You knew Logan could very well resist, but he let himself be pulled back, landing right next to you. You leaned in, slipping your hand underneath his shirt and caressing his happy trail. “Come to the bathroom closest to the training room after you’re done with your lesson. I’ll be waiting for you.” You pressed a kiss to his neck. “On my knees.”
Logan eyed you, a grin spreading on his lips. “Better be the truth this time, princess,” he grunted, sensually squeezing your thigh, before he stood up, readjusting his pants and heading to the training room. You laughed at the sudden jump in his step.
Right before he disappeared in the hall, Logan turned to wink at you. You blew him a kiss. The hour could not past fast enough.
Would you guys like a part two? I could make a part two if you guys want….let me know how it is and please request a thousand more things I am eagerly awaiting your requests!!! (I am also working on the ones I already got!) I didn’t spell check this….
Pairing: Logan Howlett (Wolverine) x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: Logan goes into a rut earlier than he expected.
Logan had woken up that morning significantly earlier than he usually did. You were still sleeping peacefully next to him, entangled in the sheets you had stolen from him during the night. Logan didn’t mind too much, being always warm. But that morning, he felt even hotter than usual. He slid his hand against his bare chest, feeling it to be slick with sweat. He closed his eyes, massaging his temples, before he shook his morning drowsiness and confusion away, deciding he would not be able to sleep any longer. He walked to the bathroom, deciding to take a cold shower even if it was the heart of winter.
He wasn’t too mad about the early start, Charles having drowned him in a very extensive list of things to do, not counting the lessons he had to begrudgingly teach that afternoon. Logan stepped outside of the bathroom, fully clothed and ready for the day, even if he still felt a little drowsy. He chalked it up to having eaten too heavily the night before, maybe the digestion worsening his sleep.
He checked himself in the mirror, making sure he looked decent. He started heading towards the door of your room. Right before he left, he glanced at you, making sure you were still in deep sleep. Logan’s eyes froze on your figure: your sleeping shorts had slid up your body, revealing your thighs, and your braless tits hidden underneath the shirt you had stolen from him begged him to jump back into bed with you. He exhaled loudly. Logan gripped the door so tightly he thought his claws would come out. He needed to go work. He shook his head, cursing Charles as he shut the door behind him.
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Logan had been running around the X mansion fulfilling various tasks, not noticing as the day slowly, and sluggishly slid forward. The gloominess of the morning left its place to the timid rays of the winter sun, that caressed his back as he finished fixing a broken kitchen cabinet. A multitude of students had already waltzed inside the kitchen, still half asleep. They had uttered a sleepy ‘good morning’, before they grabbed a little food. Logan grunted in response, too focused on the darn kitchen cabinet. The flow of students had significantly slower when he had managed to finally fix it.
Logan slammed down the screwdriver. “Fucking finally.” He closed and opened the cabinet a few times, smiling proudly when the cabinet door did not decide to dramatically clatter to the ground rather choosing to finally stay in place.
“What are you celebrating, baby?”
Your voice startled him, but he quickly turned around, a type of smile reserved for you only gracing his lips. “(Y/N).” You grinned back at him. “I managed to fix this darn cabinet door that someone, managed to detach in the dead of night.”
Your eyes glinted. “You have a gut feeling about who did it?”
“Definitely.” Logan replied, walking around the counter to hold your waist. “I woke up super early this morning.” He added. You pulled back from his chest, worry dancing in your eyes. “No nothing serious, bub, I just think I ate a dinner that was too heavy.”
Your eyes relaxed, pushing up on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. You were about to pull back when Logan suddenly deepened the kiss, darting his tongue in your mouth. You leaned back into the kiss, letting yourself be pulled by Logan’s large, warm hands on your waist. The man grunted into the kiss, his body starting to tingle on fire, desire coursing through your veins. The way he was pulling you close seemed desperate, as if he needed you to breathe.
You gasped in shock when his hands slid onto your waist and pressed you against his crotch, feeling his already erected cock. “Already hard?” You whispered, looking down at the evident bulge in his pants. Logan pushed you against the counter, caging you against it. His chest heaved frantically.
“No idea, darling. You’re making me go crazy today.” He whispered, before he dove back into the kiss. You fully lost yourself in it, knowing the kitchen was pretty much deserted at this point in time. He pressed into the kiss, his tongue caressing your mouth, desire making his chest burn incandescently. Your eyes fluttered shut, letting your hands roam on his large back, his scent making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
You were about to suggest moving it to the bedroom when Logan suddenly pulled back, pressing his crotch tightly against yours and caging you tightly against his chest. You glanced up at him, worried something happened when you noticed his legs were quivering. A moan erupted from his lips, and his hips thrusted against yours. “(Y/N), oh my god!” He grunted. You didn’t know what was happening till you felt wetness from Logan’s crotch, seeping into your leggings, as his head was thrown back, and he panted loudly.
“Did…Logan did you cum?” You asked, startled: he usually lasted more than a few rounds. His endurance was crazy. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, lust blowing his pupils wide. He slowly looked at you, disbelief clearly evident on his face. You tentatively bucked your hips, watching as he shivered.
“I think…” Logan swallowed, reaching his hand to feel his crotch. “My rut might be coming early.” He closed his eyes, cursing himself: the sweat, the ever present arousal, the shitty sleep…it was all there. Your eyes widened, shooting down to the clear stain on his light blue pants, and the evident bulge that was already growing again.
“Fuck, today is not the day for that.” You cursed.
“What, why?” Logan asked, grunting when he felt the head of his cock press against the seam of his jeans. Why did he decide to go commando today of all days.
“I have that overnight field trip with my students! I can’t bail last minute.” You cried, your eyes widening. Logan’s face contorted into a grimace of pain, a curse rolling out of his mouth, as he realized this day would suck. A lot. He would have to spend the day locked in your room, rutting against your panties to try and feel any sort of momentary solace. But he knew you could not desert your students just like that. Even if he acted all gruff and scary, he knew what caring for students meant, and he would not rip their favorite teacher away from them, especially during a field trip that was only supposed to be joyful.
He caressed your cheeks. “It’s gonna be alright, baby. I’ll figure it out.” He lied through his teeth, already feeling his skin starting to burn and itch with almost irresistible lust.
You glared back at him. “No, it’s not fine and we both know it. You know what, I’ll come back tonight. I won’t stay overnight. How does that sound, baby? Huh?” You asked, pulling against his shirt to try and get him to concentrate through the daze of lust that was already taking over.
Logan nodded, his head spinning. “Yeah, that would be great, love.” He whispered. You moved against him, trying to reach your phone to check the time, your knee gliding against his bulge. “Fuck!” Logan croaked, throwing his head back.
You locked your phone, glancing up at him. “Logan, baby, I still have 10 minutes. What can I do?” You asked, caressing his chest.
Before he replied, Logan gently grabbed your arm, dragging the both of you inside the supply closet, and locking the door behind you.
Safely inside, Logan closed his eyes, trying to look past his primal instincts, and deem what would be the best course of action. Objectively, fucking you would keep him satisfied the longest, but there wasn’t time in 10 minutes. He discarded his rationality, fully relying on his animal instincts, knowing what they desired in the moment would keep him satisfied the most. “This…might be weird, baby, but I just need to rut against you, please.” His voice was heavy with need.
“Baby, I’m here. I’m here for everything.” You reassured him, spreading your legs, letting Logan position his crotch right in between, were he needed to be. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you still as he started to thrust against you. His face soon contorting in a grimace of pleasure, even a drop of drool sliding down the side of his mouth.
Your hands raked Logan’s back underneath his shirt, letting him feel your skin on his. His beautiful eyes slid open, his gaze landing on your tits, that bounced delicately with every trust. “Your tits, babygirl…need to see them.” Logan whispered in your ear. You pressed an open mouthed kiss to his neck before you unzipped your jacket, revealing your light tank top underneath: you were going out with your students to a nature park, you needed to be sporty.
You reached for your neckline, feeling Logan’s hand wrap around yours to yank your tits out faster. When they were right in front of his eyes, Logan mewled loudly, leaning down to kiss you fervently as his hips started to jackhammer faster.
Somehow, even in the daze of his lust, Logan had managed to perfectly align his tip with your clit, making you see stars. Your moans quickly started mingling with his. His large hands reached your left thigh, hoisting it up to wrap around his waist. “Right - nghh - there! Logan!” You cried, hearing your boyfriend’s quiet pants fill your ears.
“Gonna make me cum in my pants again. God, you turn me into a horny teenager.” He murmured, his rhythm slowing down for a second before it started picking up again.
Your phone buzzed, showing you the time. “Logan…I need to go soon!” You whimpered, threading your hands through his hair.
“I’m close.” He reassured you, his lidded eyes landing on your jiggling tits. They dragged a broken moan out of his lips. Logan was only ever this loud when he was experiencing his rut. “Are you?” You nodded quickly.
The knot in your stomach had been tightening for a while, and reacted the second it was called to attention. You wrapped your arms tightly around Logan, pressing him against you, practically shoving his face in between your breasts. “Logan!” You cried, throwing your head back, as the thigh he was holding quivered in his hand, orgasming powerfully.
The sudden surge of the smell of your arousal made Logan go crazy, sighing against your tits before he pulled back. He stopped for a second, even if he was close. You watched him, dazed, still descending from your high. Through your tired eyes and panting chest, you watched as Logan hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans pulling out his cock. He quickly placed his leaking cock in between your legs, and you had the reflex to shut your thighs to allow him a little more pleasure.
“Fuck. I could fuck you for hours!” He whispered, starting to move his hips as quickly as he could. You leaned forward, licking a strip up his neck, landing on a spot you knew sent him crazy and gently nibbling on it. Logan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, the sensation of your leggings against his sensitive tip, and your delicate teeth against his neck finally pushing him to the edge.
The orgasm was so powerful he didn’t even have time to warn you. His hips just sped up, his voice ripped away from the pleasure. He didn’t even manage to utter your name, just gripping your waist with his fingers. His mouth snapped open when he felt his orgasm reach him. Logan’s claws sprung out of his hands, puncturing two bags of rice that were placed on the shelves you were pressed against. Just as the rice started tumbling to the ground, Logan cummed, distinctly hearing his cum splatter on the floor.
Your boyfriend slumped against you, his claws retracting, his thighs shivering. You caressed his back, pressing soft kisses against his neck. “You did so well, baby.” You cooed, moving your hands to massage his head. Logan nodded, spent.
Your phone buzzed again, your students asking where you were. You cursed, hastily pulling your shirt back up and zipping your jacket. You clasped Logan’s jawline, forcing him to look at you through his post-orgasm daze. “I’m going to come back as soon as I can. Love you so much, baby.” You whispered, pressing your forehead against him.
Logan’s hands ran down to your waist, dragging you into a kiss. Your bodies melted together, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and yanking him closer. Not even a piece of paper could have fit through you. You pulled back, eyeing the string of saliva connecting you. “If we keep going like this, a bigger pool of cum will be on the floor.” You whispered, starting to head towards the door.
Logan grinned, lazily passing his hand through his hair. “Go, have fun. I’ll clean up here. I’ll be waiting for you tonight.” His eyes glinted with an erotic promise. You grinned, blowing a flying kiss. Logan watched the door close behind you, pulling his jeans back up and hastily disinfecting the floor.
He walked outside, quickly going to inform Charles he would be off today before he headed back to the room. He could still feel his buzzing desire for you deep inside his skin, but he felt somewhat satisfied as he threw his shirt on the floor, letting himself fall on the bed. Logan moved on his side, trying to get some sleep to get a break from his lust, but as he adjusted himself on the mattress, his eyes landed on the dirty panties you had accidentally forgotten on the ground. Your scent reached his sensitive nose, drugging him immediately.
Logan glanced down towards his crotch. He was hard again. “Fuck!” He yelled, falling back down on the bed, exasperated. It would be a long, long, day.
i got ANOTHER IDEA ! !! !! what about the last request but flipped. the men just being utterly WHIPPED for reader and just being clingy and loving in their own respective ways; except maybe instead of fedya you could do poe or chuuya? fdmnsmasksdjfkshfks. i LOVE you and ur writing so MUCH thank you for feeding me
YES OFC I LOVE THESE SM!!! I'm so sorry I died and come back just now… but better late than ever, right? I’m not really proud of this but I hope you enjoy! Please request anything else, specifically you, Cherie-soup darling!!! I adore your requests!!!
BSD Men being Clingy
In this post: ✨Chuuya✨, ✨Akutagawa✨ and ✨Dazai✨
Pairing: Fem!reader x BSDMen
Synopsis: BSD Men being clingy with their girlfriends
Dazai
This man…he is the king of clinginess. He is constantly touching you. Some body part of his is perpetually in contact with you. He physically cannot get enough of you. Could it also be because he is terrified of losing you? Possibly. But he will never admit to it. Dazai hides behind his carefree attitude, so engrained in his behaviour that it takes months, if we’re being optimistic, probably years for him to admit that the constant skin contact reassures his traumatised heart. Whether he has had the courage to tell you or not, you're insightful enough to realise the true meaning hidden behind the way his hand constantly seems to call your name when you're far away. You don't mind, almost craving it as much as he does. Everyone in the agency knows that if they need you or Dazai, they just need to find one of you because the other is probably walking besides them. Dazai's hands permanently being around your waist, and yours being perpetually on his back.
You slipped inside the elevator, walking as quietly as your heels would permit, shooting nervous glances at the couch inside the break room. From the hallway you could spot Dazai's long legs slung over the edge, and his chest peacefully rising and falling as he slept. A negotiation attempt with the Port Mafia had been called due to a recent mission, and Dazai, being the resident expert, was sent with Fukuzawa to the meeting. No matter how much Dazai smiled and joked as per usual, the minute he stepped inside the office you could tell he was exhausted. He would never admit to it, but it was draining going back to the world he once belonged to, back to his nightmarish past. It was traumitizing for him, and forced Dazai to face a version of himself he had tried to get rid of. But the past is persistent and seemingly clung onto the straps of his long coat, reaching into his mind. Every single time Dazai had to deal with the Port Mafia he never sleeps through the night, either staying up with a glass of rum or lying in bed just for your sake but never closing his eyes for a second. Being his partner, you know this better than anyone; when you had looked over and spotted your boyfriend sleeping, for what seemed to be the first time in forever, you tried to leave as quietly as you could when Kunikida had asked you to go get some coffees for the rest of the agency.
You watched the doors of the elevator slide shut, a small triumphant smile dancing on your lips. Before you could yell victory, a familiar, slender hand slipped through the minuscule gap left in between the closing metal doors. The sensor activated, the doors springing back, revealing a sleepy Dazai rubbing his eyes. You sighed in defeat, your head hitting the back of the elevator as your boyfriend slinked inside. He came to stand next to you, his familiar cologne caressing your cheeks.
“Where’re you going?” Dazai asked, his words slurred with the lilt of sleep.
“Coffee. You need to go back to bed.” You replied. “Come on, go.” You placed both of your hands on his shoulder, trying to shove him towards the door. Surprisingly, your tall, lanky boyfriend didn’t even budge when you threw your whole weight against him. You huffed, your face red. Dazai gazed down at you, a glint in his eyes as he grinned.
“I’m not that easy to get rid of, Bella Donna,” he cooed, the sleepiness now gone from his features, the pain from the day grazing the surface of his eyes.
You gave up, leaning against his chest. “I don’t want to get rid of you: I want for you to sleep.” You whined, looking at him with exasperation marring your lips. “I was so quiet. I basically floated over the ground! How did you even hear me?”
Dazai didn’t respond for a second, letting his fingertips glide down your cheek, before following the curve of your neck. “Because, my love,” he leaned down towards you, your lips millimeters apart. “As the sunflowers follow the sun, I follow mine wherever she goes.” His lips pressed against yours, tasting your vanilla lip gloss, the one he adored the most. Your eyes fluttered shut, leaning into the kiss, pulling back only to press your forehead against his.
Dazai straitened his back, smirking down at you. You lifted on your tiptoes, reaching his ear. Dazai’s hand wrapped around your waist, holding you steadily against him. “No matter how much you sweet talk me, I’m forcing you to nap with me when we get back home.” You whispered, pulling back to wink at him.
Dazai sighed, raising his arms. “Can’t say a man didn’t try.”
The smile that lit your face gave Dazai enough energy to last through the day, the warmth from your love making him eventually fall asleep in your lap back home, no nightmares haunting his mind for once.
Chuuya
Chuuya is extremely clingy, but he does it in a more subtle way than Dazai. His eyes will always follow you in a room filled with people, never letting you go. Whenever you’re standing next to him, he will subtly hold you. Chuuya doesn’t let himself be too clingy: being in the Port Mafia he never wants to attract too much attention to you, and mark you as a potential target. He knows that he would be able to rescue you, but he doesn’t even want to risk it. Plus, he has a reputation to maintain as the cruel mafia boss, or at least what’s left of his reputation after Dazai spent most of his free time back in day the spreading rumours about him (Chuuya never slept in unicorn pjs, thank you very much). But Chuuya needs you to be next to him, always. When he and you are alone, in private, he will always be draped over you, in some way or another. He wants to do everything with you. You’re going grocery shopping and it’s his one day off? He’s putting his shoes on as we speak. Anything he does with you for him is special, and could never be boring, because you are everything to him. You’re the air he needs to survive, and he will make sure you know that.
“Babydoll, I’m home!” Chuuya called, closing the door behind him with a kick of his leg. He hung his hat on the wall, running a hand through his hair.
“Welcome home! I’m in the shower!” Your distant voice echoed back to him, bouncing in the house. Just the sound of your voice made Chuuya’s heart flutter.
“I’m gonna make myself some food!” Chuuya called back, taking off his vest and draping it on the back of a kitchen chair. He immediately started looking through your cupboards, craving some chocolate chip cookies with milk. He’d seen Mori’s ability, Elise, dunk a chocolate chip cookie in a glass filled with milk during a meeting today, and it hadn’t gotten out of his head. Quickly locating the ingredients, he held them all in his arms, before he leisurely made his way to the bathroom.
Chuuya waltzed in, finding you standing in the shower, shaving your leg. You looked up at him, blinking in surprise. Chuuya, unfazed, sat on the toilet, biting into the cookie. “Hey darling,” he waved, swallowing.
“What are you doing?” You asked tentatively, holding the unmoving razor against your leg.
Chuuya lazily grinned at you, taking a swig of his milk as if it were whiskey. “Spending time with the woman I love.”
“By sitting on the toilet while I’m in the shower?”
“Of course. I don’t see anything weird about this: you’re here, therefore I am here.”
You laughed out loud, the absurdity of the situation swirling joyfully in your chest. You looked at Chuuya with a gleaming smile dancing on your lips, hastily throwing down the razor and jumping out of the shower to envelop Chuuya in a hug. “Only you could be this imperfectly awesome.” You whispered in his ear. Chuuya coughed loudly, trying to hide the blush that dusted his face by burying his face in your hair.
He was about to declare his never ending love for you sensually, hoping to take advantage of your nakedness to have a little fun, when he felt the cookie in his hand be nibbled at subtly. He pulled away from the hug, watching as you grinned at him, half of his cookie dangling from your mouth. “All of this was a ploy to steal my cookies?” He yelled in mock horror.
You played along, cackling like a witch. “Of course!”
He glanced at you for a moment, finding breathtaking beauty in every square millimeter of your face. Chuuya slid his hand along your arm, gently holding your face in place. “Truthfully, my dear, you could steal all of my cookies without asking me and I’d still love you to death.” He whispered, before leaning down to press a kiss against your lips. You closed your eyes, melting into the embrace that was forever your home.
Akutagawa
Oh boy… Akutagawa being clingy is something else. It doesn’t start immediately; at the beginning of your relationship, Akutagawa is less than clingy. You are the one that initiates all type of physical contact, and your traumatized, awkward, little man responds as smoothly as a block of ice would dance on the dance floor. He moves slowly, but your encouraging smile helps him loosen up. It does take a long, long while, however, for him to initiate physical contact himself. Deep down, even if Akutagawa doesn’t want to admit it to himself, he is so, so, so clingy. He needs it, he craves it. He desires it so much it makes his skin crawl. His clinginess starts manifesting in an almost stalker-like way. He stands quietly in the corner of the room you’re also in, or he watches you from the dark hallway. You have been scared by him more than once, but you slowly start to get used to it, understanding that he needs a little push, even talking to him even if he stands in a corner. The warmth in your voices soothes him, and soon Akutagawa is confident enough to stroll up to you and hug you whenever he wishes. When he realizes he can do whatever he wishes, he almost never gets enough of it. He’s never as comfortable as you are, but he does get better. He does not like PDA, so it does take an eternity for him to even hold your hand in public, but he does starts to hug you in his office, only after he has made sure to lock the door of course. But, it’s still progress, and you can’t be happier to know your beloved boyfriend is slowly getting used to the idea that he has the right to be loved.
You were laid on the couch, watching a movie on your tv. It was your and Akutagawa’s day off, and he was currently fixing a wonky shelf in your entrance. You had offered to help him but he had gently pushed you towards the living room, before he had turned to inspect the wall. The noises from the hallway had stopped echoing in the apartment quite a few minutes ago, however, letting you question what your mafioso boyfriend was currently doing.
You glanced towards the hallway, ready to call him, when you noticed him standing in the doorway, looking at you. You flinched in surprise, and then smiled at him. You were about to call him, but you then recognized the stare of absolute, ardent, concentration that was encapsulated in his eyes: he was trying to imitate skin contact. Slowly, trying to pretend you hadn’t noticed anything you turned back to look at the movie. His creepy behavior wasn’t exactly new, letting you acquire a little bit of experience. You knew that if you had called out to him, he would have sprinted away like a startled deer. You had to wait for him to make his approach at his own pace.
And so, you did.
Over the span of thirty minutes, Akutagawa had slowly inched towards the couch, stiffly sitting on the opposite end from you. You pretended to not notice, grabbing your phone to swipe on instagram. You spent a little more than five minutes on there, quickly throwing your phone to the side when boredom had filled your mind. In that short amount of time, Akutagawa had slid along the couch to sit next to you. You froze, staying still. You could feel his knee grazing yours, your heart fluttering in anticipation.
You were expecting him to slowly reach for your hand, and then intertwine his fingers with yours, and, for a moment, you believed you were right when you felt his hand glide along yours. Your brows furrowed in confusion when he went past your hand and reached your waist. You gasped in surprise when his other hand landed on your thigh and he swiftly picked you up and placed you snuggly on his lap, wrapping his arms around you and smashing you against his chest. You blinked in surprise for a second, before melting into his hug. “Hey, Aku,” you whispered, trying not to squeal in delight: he had initiated physical contact, and in such an extreme way that he had never reached before! You could scream with joy, but you quickly tried to push down the geyser of delight pressing against your lip, choosing to nuzzle against him instead.
“Hey,” he murmured back, kissing your neck.
You two said nothing more after that, just simmering in each other’s warmth. Akutagawa’s locked limbs started to loosen over time, and your reassuring scent started to lull him to sleep. And for once, he didn’t resist it, letting Morpheus pull him in his embrace, confident he was safe, and that you were safe, lying in his arms. Nothing would hurt either of you. Before he was fully lulled into sleep, a small smile graced his lips, knowing he had never been this happy.
Guys!!! I am alive and back!!! I am currently working on all your requests! I’m sorry for disappearing!!! I’m back …(until I inevitably disappear again.) But for now I’m here!! 🥹🥹
How about BSD men when you're sick with a cold? (Totally not cause i have one rn lmaoo) I love your work btw <3
Thank you sm! And ofc! Hope you like this!!! (same, I was sick this whole week 😞😞 hope you get better soon)
(This is part 1. Part 2 with the rest of the members will come shortly!!!! I decided to slip it so at least one half of it was out…I think I might start doing this in the future to be able to post more frequently! Btw, I have seen all your requests and currently working on them!!!! Please keep requesting! I love every single one of them!)
BSD Men When Reader Is Sick With a Cold (P.1)
In this post: 🌹 Doppo Kunikida, Atsushi Nakajima, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Edogawa Rampo, 🌹
Pairing: Fem!reader/BSDMen
Synopsis; How would the BSD Men act when you have a cold.
Yukichi Fukuzawa
Fukuzawa, being the president of the Armed Detective Agency is a responsible person. The minute he notices you’re feeling sick, he takes care of you so well, he almost rivals Yosano. He makes sure that you take all your medications, constantly checking your temperature, and will not make you lift a single finger. You are his sick princess; you stay in bed and do absolutely nothing. If you ask for anything, he would rush to get it for you. With Fukuzawa’s love and great, responsible care, you overcame your cold very quickly.
“Where is (Y/N)?” His voice cut through the thick fog in your mind, sounding distant and echoing loudly. You winced, peeking open your eyes. Reality felt dreamlike; you saw Fukuzawa walk towards you, the view of your boyfriend slanted, as you were lying on the surface of the table in the conference room. You had hoped to refresh the burning hellfire that crackled in your mind, but with no avail.
“My dear,” Fukuzawa sighed, sitting down next to you. “You should go home.” He chided, pressing a large hand to your forehead. Your elevated temperature made his usually calm face grow worried. “You’re burning…you’re going home.”
You tried to protest, feebly gripping his arm to hold him back, but the worried glance Fukuzawa threw at you, seeing you pale, burning, nothing could convince him to make you stay at work.
You closed your eyes, your illness draining you far too much to remain awake. Every sound echoed in your ears, hurting your already weakened head.
When you blinked your eyes open, you found yourself in your apartment, and only vaguely remembered Atsushi bringing you home. Fukuzawa would have done so himself if he didn’t have a crucial meeting with a politician he could not avoid.
You dragged yourself to bed, too tired to change, only falling in your futon. Morpheus immediately pulled you under, dragging you to the depths of a dreamless sleep.
You opened your eyes suddenly, feeling a presence next to you even through your agitate sleep. Your eyes had to concentrate more than usual to focus on reality, ironing what was blurry, before you noticed the presence was Fukuzawa.
“Shh…I’m here, my love,” he whispered in your ear, adjusting the covers around you to make sure you weren’t exposed to any cold air. You immediately calmed down, snuggling against his chest. “Take this before you sleep,” Fukuzawa whispered, slipping two pills inside your mouth. You swallowed, knowing they were probably medication to reduce your fever.
You conked out right after, vaguely remembering finding it difficult to fall into deep sleep. You only found peace when Fukuzawa wrapped you in his arms, caressing your head.
You woke up the next morning to an empty bed. You sat up, pressing a hand to your forehead. You sighed in relief when you realized your temperature had gone down, but you still felt under the weather, your eyes burning, and your throat itchy. You glanced at Fukuzawa’s empty spot, wondering where he could have gone.
Almost sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend walked inside your room, carrying a mug of delicious warm milk with honey. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He cooed, seeing you sniffle sadly, clearly not happy you were sick. “I made this for you.” He handed the mug to you, making sure you didn’t burn yourself holding it.
“Yukichi, I don’t like being sick.” You whined, leaning against his side when he sat down next to you.
“I know, darling, but you have to rest to get better. And not stoically push through it like you were doing yesterday.” He chided softly, urging you to drink milk. You pouted, knowing he was right.
You couldn’t help but feel sadness crawl on your face, when you realized you wouldn’t be able to spend your few days off having fun with your partner, who you already saw too little of.
Fukuzawa realized, and to try and bring back the sparkle of happiness on your face, even amid a sore threat and runny nose, he leaned down to press a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Would you wish to watch a movie?”
As he had hoped, a smile brightened your face, and you almost jumped up in joy, Fukuzawa’s hand blocking you from doing so, afraid you would topple over sick. “Can we watch a romcom?”
“Whatever you desire, my love.”
The two of you cuddled in bed, using your laptop to watch your favorite romcom. You could have not been happier, snuggling underneath the covers with your perfect boyfriend, and Fukuzawa also enjoyed spending some time with you, peppering a series of kisses on your face every time the characters kissed on scene.
Edogawa Ranpo
Ranpo is…interesting when you are sick. It’s one of the few times he shuts down, and does not know what to do, or how to react. For once, the genius detective feels lost. When he realizes you’re sick, his first reaction is disgust, and worry that you could infect him, and then he freezes when he realizes you, his beloved (Y/N), is sick. Panic infects his body, and he just..crashes. It takes a few seconds for his heart to calm down, and to regain the composure on his face. All of his panic runs behind his face, only visible through his emerald green eyes to whomever knows him very well. The moment he has calmed down, he takes control, even if the fear of messing up and making you even sicker haunts his mind. Ranpo cures you slightly chaotically, forgetting to give you medicine and then remembering late at night, but he tries his best, and succeeds in making you feel better, inevitably being exhausted by the time you are no longer sick. Now it’s your turn to take care of him.
“Where is (Y/N)?” Ranpo asked, sulking at his deck, his lips wrapped around a vanilla lollipop as his green eyes scanned the office, noticing your absence.
“She took a day off.” Kunikida replied, not lifting his gaze from his computer.
“She didn’t tell you?” Dazai asked as he spun around in his chair, accidentally kicking Kunikida’s leg and then rolling away when his partner got mad.
Ranpo shook his head, sucking on his lollipop pensively. “Nope…I wonder why,” he thought aloud. You were his girlfriend, and always told him everything. He didn’t know why you didn’t tell him today that you wouldn’t be going. He knew you knew he preferred when you were in the office, brightening his day by just caressing his hand when you walked by, busy working.
When you were not there, Ranpo usually took the day off with you, doing whatever you had needed to be doing. For a second, Ranpo’s rapid mind jumped to the unrealistic thought that you might be cheating on him, but he quickly threw the idea away, not even considering it.
But the lack of knowledge irked Ranpo, and he didn’t feel like rummaging through his pocket to find his glasses to use Ultra Deduction. Instead, Ranpo tapped on his phone for a few minutes, calling your number.
The wait felt excruciatingly long, and he only focused onto the rhythmic beeping, completely ignoring Kunikida choking Dazai.
“Hello?” You answered, your voice strangely nasally and lower than usual.
“(Y/N)!” Ranpo called sadly, pouting. “Why did you not tell me you were taking a day off? I could come over and cuddle in bed with you,” he whined, throwing the finished lollipop in the bin.
You sighed: you had hoped you could escape telling your adorable boyfriend that you were sick. He always panicked, and exhausted himself while he took care of you, and you didn’t feel like draining his energies for a menial cold. But of course, nothing ever went the way you had intended it to, still feeling a little smugness lift your lips into a smile: Ranpo had noticed your absence almost immediately.
“I’m sick,” you explained. Almost to provide you with ironclad evidence, your throat started itching uncomfortable, and you coughed for a few seconds.
When your words registered in Ranpo’s head, he froze. His eyes went unfocused, and his phone almost slid out of his grasp. An avalanche of thoughts flooded his mind, the most common theme, fear and worry. Extreme fear for you, and worry because he didn’t know how to care for you; both feelings battled in his chest, a conflicting tsunami that only rendered his green eyes duller.
“Ranpo?” You asked, your voice rough after your coughing fit, but the silence on the other end of the line scared you more.
“I’m coming over.” Was the curt reply you got.
“Wait, what? Ranpo, no you’ll get sick — and he hung up.” You sighed, placing the phone back next to you, and waiting for Ranpo to barge in through your door.
It took a good thirty minutes, but your prediction came true. Opening with his copy of the key, Ranpo flew in, his arms decorated by various bags filled with medicines. “I’m here!” He gasped, his chest heaving.
“Ranpo, did you run?!” You croaked, trying to get out of bed and hold Rampo before he inevitably collapsed.
“No, of course not.” He replied, blatantly lying. He gently pushed you back down on the bed, climbing in after you. He emptied out all bags in the center of the bed, and you widened your eyes in shock at the medium sized pile that formed on your duvet.
“Oh my god…that’s enough medicine for a lifetime,” you whispered. You did, however, feel very loved, as you watched Ranpo rummage through the pile, trying to find a specific packet. This man, who hated exercise, had run around multiple pharmacies to try and find one that would make you feel better. Your heart melted into your chest, almost making your tired eyes teary. You gently clasped his hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.
Ranpo barely noticed, digging frantically. “Here it is!” He exclaimed victoriously shoving a small, blue box into your hands. “This is the best one for sore throats, apparently.” He said, a proud smile loitering on his face.
You opened it, downing the pills with some water. “Thank you, Ranpo,”
“Am I the best boyfriend or what?”
“You certainly are.”
Ranpo’s smile grew, and his cheeks darkened by a few shades: receiving praise from you was on the same level as receiving praise from the president from him. “Now, they said sleep helps as well, so we should sleep.” Ranpo declared, hurriedly placing all the medications on your bed side table, before dragging himself underneath the covers, and snuggling against you.
You laid your head on his chest, already feeling your throat become less irritated, letting you exhale peacefully. Ranpo fell asleep before you, his rhythmic breathing becoming your lullaby. As felt your eyes go droopy, and your mind quiet down, resembling a calm mountain spring, you could not help but think that you truly had gotten the best boyfriend in the world.
That claim was instantly withdrawn when you were shaken awake at 3 in the morning by a sleep-drunk Ranpo, who suddenly remembered you had to take another medicine in while talking that one. You sighed, but after all, it meant Ranpo truly loved you, and that was more than enough for you.
Doppo Kunikida
Kunikida is a man of rules, and ideals, and he tries to follow his life bound by his self-imposed rules. He has a specific page on his notebook dedicated to the procedure to follow when he, or you, go down with a cold. But his ideals, and rules get thrown down the drain when you actually have a cold. Like Ranpo, Kunikida freezes, but not because he does not know what to do, but because he wants to do everything in his power to make you feel better. Seeing you sick, and coughing makes his heart ache, and is what pushes him out of his brief moment of panic. Kunikida writes down your symptoms in his notebook, and goes out on a hunt to find the best medication. He will then take care of you lovingly, but also strictly, not letting you get out of bed, or miss some medications because you say you feel better. A small part of him will also be blaming himself for allowing you to get sick, even if he can’t protect you from everything. Kunikida will, however, always remain by your side, not caring of the perpetual danger of falling ill as well: he can’t leave you alone when you’re sick. You’ll be wrapped in his arms at all times, and that is one of the best aspects of being taken care of by Kunikida.
Kunikida was typing on his computer, filling a report that, initially, had been Dazai’s. He noticed movement from the corner of his eyes, noticing you slumping in the chair next to his.
“Kunikida,” you called, gently tapping on his desk to get his attention.
“Yes, darling?” He asked, still typing on his computer.
“Do I feel a little warm to you?”
Kunikida looked up from his computer immediately after hearing your words. He instantly stood up, walking towards you. Your health always took priority on his work.
You did look paler, and more tired, Kunikida thought, as he pressed his hands on your forehead. “You’re a little warm,” he sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Unfortunately, I cannot go home with you right now.” Kunikida said, hurriedly looking through his notebook, snapping it closed in anger.
You waved your hand. “Don’t worry, Kuni, I’ll just go home by myself.” You tried standing up, but Kunikida gently pushed you back down on the chair.
“I can’t let you go home alone. You’ll stay here, and I’ll take care of you while I work.” Kunikida declared, picking you up in his arms.
“Darling, I don’t feel that sick…and taking care of me while you work will just exhaust you more than you already are!” You tried protesting, as your boyfriend gently laid you down on the couch in the Armed Detective Agency office.
“Taking care of you will never exhaust me.” Kunikida grumbled, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He took his jacket draped on the back of his chair and covered you with it, returning to his desk to continue working.
Throughout the day, Kunikida walked over to your half conscious, half sleeping form on the couch, taking your temperature, and bringing you cups of water to drink. Kunikida also gave you various medicines that he had quickly popped out to buy on his break.
Various times you caught him glancing at you with worry, feeling that he was not doing enough to take care of you. You also saw him intensely research which medication to give you, also going as far as calling Yosano (it was her day off) to ask her what she thought would be the best course of action.
Lying on the couch, slipping in out of sleep, you felt enveloped by the warmth of your boyfriend’s love, who took care of you efficiently even while he was working.
You slowly woke a few hours later, noticing that the bright sunlight had been replaced by the lukewarm colors of the sunset, and the agency was empty, only Kunikida remaining, sitting at his desk. His hair shone like golden strands in the light, and his grey eyes resembled pieces of melted starlight.
You pushed yourself up, noticing your fever had gone. Your throat was still itchy, and your nose still clogged, but you felt better, overall. You slipped Kunikida’s jacket on, walking quietly towards him. You leaned over his shoulder, caressing his cheek, your two shadows intertwined on the floor.
Kunikida turned to glance at you, surprised. “Do you feel better, sweetheart?” He asked, turning to face you, immediately pressing his hand to your forehead to check your temperature.
You leaned into his touch, nodding happily. “All thanks to you, my perfect doctor,” you cooed, sliding down in his lap. Kunikida turned a fiery red, looking away.
“(Y/N), this is highly inappropriate!” He squeaked, although his hands tentatively went to wrap around your waist.
“Oh, come on: no one else is here. It’s not like we’re fucking in public.” You joked, panicking when you heard Kunikida choke on his spit. You laughed, gently slapping him on his broad back. “Ah, what should I do with you?” You asked, peppering kisses on his jaw.
“Kiss me properly,” Kunikida said quietly, seemingly having abandoned the war cry of propriety.
You laid your head on his shoulder, admiring his sharp features that were only accentuated by the dying sunlight that slid through the large windows. “I can’t, Kuni, I’ll get you sick.”
Kunikida looked at you in silence for a second, also admiring your face, his eyes zoning in on your lips. You saw the internal struggle reflected clearly on his eyes, a dueling waltz between his love for you and his ideals.
“Oh to hell,” he croaked, before diving down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, even going as far as to slide his tongue inside your mouth.
Your eyes widened in shock, but you quickly responded, threading your hands through his hair. Kunikida slowly pulled back after a few minutes, both of you panting for hair and grasping onto each other. Kunikida turned even redder when he noticed a small string of saliva glittering between the two of you. He pressed his forehead against yours: “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Oh! How cute!” Dazai called suddenly, waltzing into the room.
Kunikida never fainted so fast before in his life.
Atsushi Nakajima
Atsushi would know what to do, probably having to take care of his fellow orphans. But he will do everything with an underlining panic he will try to hide for your sake, but that you will inevitably notice because he’s soaking in sweat, even if it’s winter. It’s because he worries so much; anxiety crawls inside his body, and he almost dies on the spot. But once you reassure him that it’s just a common cold, his heart will stop running a marathon and he will calm down. Atsushi takes care of you with love, as well as diligence, sleeping lightly to make sure you’re sleeping well. He’ll make you take warm baths, helping you get out and in, and will cook you whatever you want.
When Atsushi had waltzed into your shared apartment, excited to take you out on a date, his heart had dropped to his stomach when he saw you bundled up in your futon, trembling.
“A-Atsushi!” You called, your voice nasally. You opened your arms, looking like a scarecrow draped in duvets and covers.
“What happened?” Your sweet jinko boyfriend asked, worry evident in his furrowed brows as he knelt next to you, tucking the covers back around your body to make sure no draft would touch your skin.
“Got a cold from my last mission,” you mumbled, sniffling. “Walking around the countryside drenched in cold, mountain water was not a smart idea.”
“You did what?!” Atsushi stared at you, even more worried because you had walked around for god knows how long shivering in the icy air. You smiled sheepishly. Atsushi sighed, exasperated, pressing one of his hands to your forehead, relieved that you seemed to have only a slight fever. But your shivers were worrying his already panic-stricken heart.
“I’ll make you some soup.” He started getting up, but you grabbed his loose tail and tugged back onto the futon.
“No…warm me up! You’re always so warm!” You whined.
“I’ll do that after I make you the soup, okay, love?” Atsushi asked, gently persuading you to let go of his belt.
You pouted, reluctantly letting go. Your face suddenly brightened. “What if you order pizza!”
“No! That’s not what you need right now!” Atsushi called from the kitchen, scolding you gently. You sighed, dropping back into the covers.
Your caring boyfriend soon walked out of the kitchen, holding a steaming bowl in his hands, his eyes fixated on the quivering soup that danced threateningly close to the edge, teasing to suddenly overflow.
Atsushi placed it down in front of, a sigh of relief rushing out of his lips. You giggled, eyeing the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead out of concentration. You reached down to grab the spoon. You blinked, and the spoon was gone, now tightly held in Atushi’s grasp.
“Absolutely not. I’m feeding you.” He said, deciding to ignore your questioningly raised eyebrow. “And I’m not exaggerating.”
You decided to stay quiet, and simply enjoy the care your boyfriend was enveloping you in, relishing in the joy of being loved. You obediently swallowed down the warm and delicious soup, noticing how it smoothed out the irritation in your throat. “It’s delicious, ‘Sushi,” You said, in between spoonfuls.
Atushi’s cheeks turned red, and he grinned shyly, playing around with the remaining soup in the bowl. “I’m a good cook, aren’t I?” You threw your arms around him, nuzzling your nose against his.
“The best cook.” Atsushi beamed back at you, kissing the tip of your nose as he put the bowl down.
Lazily, you trailed your hand down his chest, feeling his solid muscles underneath. An idea suddenly came to you, and a lazy grin spread on your lips. “Baby, I’m cold.” You whined.Your hand, who had momentarily stopped on his stomach, restarted its journey, slowing sliding down to to his crotch.
Atsushi, who had been resting his head against yours, pulled back to look at you, worry evident in his eyes. “You’re cold…— (Y/N), WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” He gasped in surprise when he felt your warm hand on his dick, his breath getting stuck in his throat.
“Thanking the cook for the delicious dish!”
“A-Absolutely not! You’re sick! No!” He stammered, his eyes wide and panicked, his hand immediately clasping yours and gently pushing you back down in the bed, tucking the covers around you, restricting your movements: Atsushi knew he couldn’t resist you for long, and needed to prevent your hands to linger on his body before he got a hard-on.
“Atsushi! What the fuck?!”
“You need to rest. Doing what you wanted to do is not resting.” Atsushi stumbled and tripped over his words, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. You huffed, rolling your eyes. Atsushi glanced at you, playing with his fingers. “If you’re better tomorrow then maybe…” He quietly trailed off, defeated by the small pout that lingered on your face. You immediately perked up, smirking at him. “B-but only if you feel better!”
“I’ll sleep right away and get all the rest in the world so I feel better immediately!” You giggled, lying comfortably down in bed.
Atsushi sighed, a small smile on his lips, knowing that his heart truly belonged to you. He quickly slipped underneath the covers, holding you in his arms to suppress the shivers that had suddenly returned. You soon fell asleep, and Atsushi stayed awake a few more minutes, making sure you weren’t uncomfortable, before letting himself be pulled to sleep. But not too deep of a slumber: he had to make sure you, his treasure, his princess slept fine throughout the night. He was ready to sacrifice his sleep for that.
how about the same three (dazai aku and fedya) but with a reader that runs super cold ?? i love this idea for no reason because dazai would tease, akutagawa would just be funny because haha sickly victorian children, and fedya has fuckign anemia so ofc he's cold 24/7 as well. ur writing style is also delectable i would like to eat it tysm
(me when i read ur things)
OMG I LOVE THIS! (Bro thank you sm i seriously feel like my writing style is shit but I love you…and please never fend off)
to the anon requested the bsd men and cold fic it is underway, I currently have written half of it…the ones with all BSD men take longer to write 😞😞
off I go to writing this ✨✨
BSD Men With a Reader That Runs Cold
In this post: 💃 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky💃
Pairing: Fem!reader/BSDMen
Synopsis: BSDMen and a gf that runs cold.
Osamu Dazai
Dazai is a man that burns with joy and passion in his everyday life. Consequently, his body temperature almost always runs high. And as the saying goes, opposites attract: you’re almost always cold, and Dazai, the man of your life, seems to have fire licking his skin constantly. He eagerly appoints himself to be your personal furnace, wrapping you in his arms when you shiver, and lending you his coat without you even having to utter a word. But his gestures come with a small price. Your boyfriend always teases you, his cat-like eyes smiling fondly as you glare at him, bundled in a mountain of covers and still needing his body heat. Dazai’s favorite joke is to propose sex as a way to warm you up. No matter how much he teases, however, he will always be ready to rescue you from the freezing cold that claws at your skin, enjoying the time he gets to spend holding you close to his heart.
You walked through the streets of Yokohama, shivering like you were experiencing your own magnitude level 5 earthquake. You were bundled up in a large coat, a scarf and gloves, even a small hat adoring your adorable face, and yet, you were still shivering so hard your teeth chattered.
Your boyfriend, Dazai, was walking leisurely in front of you, wearing only his usual trench coat, seemingly unaffected by the cold that held you tightly in its claws.
“D-Dazai!” You called, feeling as if you couldn’t take another step without shattering into a myriad of tiny ice shards.
“Yes, my belladonna?”
“M’ cold…”
Dazai sauntered over to you, leaning down to peck your nose. “Such a rare occasion, isn’t it, Bella?” He cooed mockingly, caressing your lips with his thumb.
You swatted his hand away, whining. “Stop teasing. I need solutions, not problems.”
“Okay, I have a great solution.” Dazai declared, looking in your eyes very seriously. You nodded, listening, blowing some warm air on your freezing hands, which still felt on the verge or falling off, even with your gloves on. Dazai’s hands took yours in his, warming them up with his own personal heat. “We go back there, and I fuck you so good — ”
“DAZAI!” You shouted, afraid someone could hear you. You rapidly checked around the both of you, terrified that a little kid might have been lurking in a corner. Returning to look at your boyfriend, you found him doubled over, laughing.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” He said, a hint of laugh still dancing in his tone. “Come here,” he said, opening his trench coat. You slid inside, instantly feeling warmer. Dazai closed the coat around you, holding you tightly against him, feeling a little proud when you stopped shivering. “When we get home, l’ll make you some warm tea.” He promised, already seeing your apartment complex in the near distance.
“And then we cuddle on the couch.” You said, starting feel your ears again.
“And then we make out on the couch, yes.”
“DAZAI!”
Your joyful boyfriend started laughing, and you soon joined, your laughter intertwining into a beautiful melody, as you two walked home. Throughout the walk home, Dazai made sure you were completely covered by his coat, a perfect bundle of warmth. He promised himself he would always be there to hug you till you weren’t shivering anymore.
Ryonosuke Akutagawa
Akutagawa was a normal person, who never felt too hot or too cold. When you burst into his life, all joy and laughter, he had to get used to you, and all your wonderfully eccentric behavior. But the one thing he struggled most with, was your abnormally low body temperature. Whenever you told him you were cold, he would stare at the various layers of clothes you were wearing, as well as the winter coat you had thrown over your shoulders. Akutagawa just…couldn’t understand you. He didn’t try to be mean or anything, his mind just couldn’t make sense of it. Akutagawa soon realized that his body heat helped the perennial cold that seemingly nestled, like a frozen rose, in your heart. Whenever you would be shivering at night, Akutagawa would tentatively wrap you in his arms, and warm you with his body heat. He would crank the heat up in your apartment, despite your protests about the price (he had enough money to spend). Soon, you feeling cold became another quirky aspect of your relationship, and also gave Akutagawa the opportunity to always keep you in his arms without explicitly voicing his desire to do so, which suited your touch-starved boyfriend perfectly fine.
You were at the Port Mafia’s annual Christmas Party: an event that lasted all night long, in one of the many ballrooms owned by the criminal organization. The floors were made of polished wood, and the ceilings were decorated with wonderful paintings, and delicate flowers engraved in the dark wooden beams that supported the high ceilings. The moonlight filtered in through the mosaic windows, coloring the partygoers in different shades.
You were sitting at a table, a glass of glittering champagne in your hand. You were wearing a black slip dress Akutagawa had gifted you. It adorned your body perfectly, a slit exposing your right leg. You looked gorgeous, and Akutagawa stared at you for a good 5 minutes without being able to say anything when you had come out of the bathroom, finding you the epitome of beauty.
The night had been fun: you had successfully dragged Akutagawa to waltz with you, holding you close. You could feel Akutagawa’s heart beat against your chest, a small smile twinkling on his lips. The moment had abruptly ended when Mori had called Akutagawa to raise a toast to the Port Mafia with the rest of the high executives.
You, being a low-level Port Mafia member, had given him a kiss to send him off, and had gone back to sit at your designated table. All the dancing had made you sweat, and now the droplets were cooling on your skin, making you already colder than you always were. You had decided to sip on your champagne to warm yourself up, but your exposed arms were not helping. You had started shivering, setting the flute back down on the table, and wrapping your arms around yourself to try and create a little heat.
“Are you feeling cold, (Y/N)?” Akutagawa asked, dragging a chair to join you. You nodded, sheepishly. Akutagawa glanced at you for a few seconds, his eyes zeroing on your shivering shoulders. He exhaled, not believing he was about to do this.
Slowly, Akutagawa removed his coat, an item of clothing that was seemingly fused to his body: he rarely took it off, and only in the comfort of your home, where he knew the both of you were safe from any danger.
You watched him in utter disbelief as he draped it around your shoulders: it was the greatest act of trust Akutagawa could ever commit towards you.
Seemingly not having moved you to tears enough, he scooted closer with his chair, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tightly against him, trying to transfer some body heat.
Akutagawa was known for not liking any form of PDA. You knew. He knew. The whole Port Mafia knew, which explained the shocked glance Chuuya threw your way.
But honestly, you didn’t care, and nuzzled your face in Akutagawa’s chest, glimmering tears sliding down your cheeks and ruining your makeup: Akutagawa always found proclaiming his love to you to be extremely difficult, but clumsily, through his actions, he always found a way to tell you how much you meant to him.
Your boyfriend felt your shoulders shake, and mistook you to be still freezing. He held you even closer, until he noticed the wetness on his chest, harshly pulling you away from him to check on you. “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” His panicked tone made you laugh through the tears.
“You’re just perfect, you know.” You whispered, bringing his hands to your mouth, leaving a red lipstick mark on his knuckles. “I couldn’t have gotten luckier.”
Now it was Akutagawa’s turn to feel his heart melt, his eyes suddenly watering. He coughed, looking away, trying to maintain his cold persona.
“Akutagawa, it’s our song!” You squealed, suddenly hearing the melody play. “Let’s go dance!” You excitedly grabbed his hand, almost dragging him to the middle of the dance floor, his coat still around your shoulders.
Akutagawa almost protested, but the smile that was engraved in your eyes the minute you started swaying in his arms was a force too strong for him to resist. You two ended the night in each others arms, singing the song’s romantic lyrics to one another, the mosaic windows coloring each part of your faces with a different color.
Fyodor Dostoevsky
Listen, Fyodor is anemic, he’s always cold. Russia’s harsh winters must have infected his body, because this evil mastermind is always shivering. And when the two of you got together, and you told him you were a person that generally ran cold, Fyodor smiled, saying he was the same. The two of you share the same struggles on a daily basis, and try to rely on one another for warmth, but with little to no results. The heat in your apartment is always cranked so high that Nikolai directly comes in shorts whenever has to come over. Whenever you two sleep, you have at least 5 covers and huddle in each other’s arms. Whenever you whine that you’re cold, Fyodor does hug you, but you both know it won’t be enough, so he throws a cover on both of you, and only then can you two start to warm up. A warm tea, or a warm milk, are mandatory every night, and you have a multitude of hot water bottles stashed in the kitchen. You use one almost every night. Still, even if Fyodor knows that hugging you won’t change much, he secretly adores sleeping with you in his arms, because the love that you so clearly feel for him is enough to warms his heart.
“Fyodor, I’m still cold,” you whimpered, trying to huddle in his arms. The two of you had been cuddling in bed for thirty minutes, bundled underneath an avalanche of covers and duvets, each of you holding a warm water bottle. Fyodor was feeling…okay. Not warm, exactly but not as freezing as you were. You must have been tired: you usually felt colder when you were tired. Fyodor tried his best to rub his arms against yours, but to no avail.
“I can tell, myshka…you’re shivering,” he cooed, trying to tuck the covers around you. But nothing seemed to be working that night. Fyodor leaned back, trying to figure something out, his already fast mind moving at inhumane speed. “What if I draw us a warm bath?” He asked, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand.
Your eyes shot open, a glimmer of hope in your smile. “Yes…please,” you scooted out of his embrace, watching as your boyfriend braved the cold, sliding out of the sheets. You instantly felt colder, now that he was gone. You hugged his hot water battle as well, watching as his tall form slid inside the bathroom. You heard the water running. The harsh sound of water on marble soon changing to water sloshing on water.
You waited impatiently, jumping out of the bed when you heard his sweet voice calling you. You ran to the bathroom, trying to avoid the cold’s claws that reached for you. You almost threw yourself in the bathroom, closing the door behind you to not let the heat from the heater make its escape.
Fyodor looked at you lovingly, helping you slide your clothes off. You didn’t wait for Fyodor, almost throwing yourself inside the large bathtub. You instantly felt the cold hidden in your limbs wither and die, finally feeling at peace. The water sloshed around you as Fyodor joined you in the tub, his pale skin almost taking a pearl-like shade in the dim lights.
You happily swam towards him, falling into his arms. Fyodor welcomed you with a small smile, glad to see your cheeks flushed with heat for once. “We should do this more often,” you thought out loud, playing with your boyfriend’s hands.
“Noted, milaya.” He purred, feeling a drowsy sense of relaxation spreading throughout his body. “This sure is peaceful,” he murmured, sinking further in the bathtub, eyeing your naked body underneath the trembling surface of the water.
“Stop,” you laughed, noticing his gaze, swimming away from him and flicking some water in his face with your foot. Fyodor moved uncharacteristically face, grabbing your ankle and tugging you toward him, and pressing a kiss to your soft skin. You giggled shyly, hiding underneath the water.
Fyodor dunked his head underneath the water, meeting your eyes. You smiled at him, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you against him. He pulled both of you out of the water, watching as it cascade down both of your bodies. You laughed merrily; Fyodor laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes and humming quietly. You caressed his head, diving back in the water when you felt a sudden chill caress your spine.
You kissed Fyodor lazily, watching with half-lidded eyes as he opened the tap to let more scalding water fill the tub around you.
You two cuddled in the warm water for hours, sometimes kissing, sometimes just laying in each others arms.
You were falling in and out of consciousness, and barely noticed Fyodor lifting you out of the now lukewarm water, drying you and slipping your pjs on you. He then carried you to bed, tucking the both of you in, carefully. You snuggled against his chest, and peacefully fell asleep, finally warm, Fyodor’s hand held tightly in yours.
heyo !! could i get dazai, akutagawa, and fyodor with a reader who is super clingy and just overall loves them? like all over them just constantly hugging them and sitting in their lap and squishing their cheeks. just the couples being lovesick 👀👀👀 tysm !
That’s so cute omggggg!!! Here it is!!! I think this might have been slightly less fluffy than what you had wanted, but I hope it’s still okay…. please feel free to request as much as you want, and don’t hesitate to be specific so I don’t fuck anything up 🥹
(I seriously need to try and write more lighthearted stuff. I feel like everything I write is so SERIOUS)
BSD Men With a Super Clingy S/O
In this post: 🍪 Osamu Dazai, Ryonosuke Akutagawa, Fyodor Dostoyevsky 🍪
Synopsis: How would BSD Men react to a super clingy S/O
Ryonosuke Akutagawa
Akutagawa never truly understood why you wanted to be so close to him. The first few times you had grabbed his hand or thrown your arms around him in a hug, it’s as if you had hugged a frozen fish. He didn’t know where to put his hands and you had had to tell him it was okay to hug you back. And after time and time again that you threw yourself in his arms, the cold mafioso started responding quicker, wrapping his arms around you, but he still couldn’t truly believe that you wanted to always be touching him, in some way or another, because you truly loved him. He feared he did it not deserve your happy smiles and warmth. But with your ever-present clinginess, Akutagawa slowly accepted the fact that he was loved.
You huffed, bored, throwing your phone away from you. It bounced on the couch pillows, almost tipping over the edge. You barely even looked at it, your eyes now glued to your boyfriend, Akutagawa, who was sitting next to you, focusing on a book. His light eyes concentrated on the story unfolding in front of him, his mind miles away. Akutagawa was immersed in his novel, that he didn’t notice you crawling towards him, a small smile on your lips.
You slowly laid your head on his thigh, inhaling his sweet and familiar scent that had meant home for you. Akutagawa noticed, but didn’t seem to mind, tentatively placing a hand on your head. You stayed still for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers getting lost in your hair.
You soon started craving more physical contact, as you always did, and gave yourself a gentle push forward, now having your torso lie in his lap. Akutagawa only moved his book to the side to glance at you for a second, before he returned to his story: he was used to you being weird.
Once again, you stayed on his lap for some time, counting how many pages Akutagawa flipped. And then, suddenly, you threw yourself up, sitting in his lap and throwing your arms around his shoulders, pressing an avalanche of kisses on his neck.
Akutagawa’s froze, initially, unsure of how to react. His eyes stuck to yours, the silence pressing around you. “What are you doing, (Y/N)?” He asked, staring down at you, his voice harsh. He was somewhat used to you being attached to his hip permanently, always needing to feel his skin on yours, but he still needed some time to adjust. His hands were rigid, frozen, away from your body. You grabbed his stiff arms and wrapped them around your waist.
“I’m cuddling you, what does it look like I’m doing?” You asked, peeking up at him through your lashes. Akutagawa stayed still for a few more interminable seconds, gazing at your loved-filled eyes, before he finally relaxed into your embrace, throwing the book aside. His hug was, initially, tentative, and slowly became stronger, to the point where he was holding you as if his life depended on it.
Akutagawa’s hugs were always like this, and you adored it: it was if he slowly let himself go to the idea of being loved. Yes, you were naturally a clingy person, but you also did it to help Akutagawa’s bruised heart feel all the love he deserved. Maybe the universe, to make up for all the affections he hadn’t received, had sent you and your warm hugs to him. As Akutagawa pressed you tighter against his chest, he could not help the small smile that appeared on his lips.
Osamu Dazai
Dazai was as clingy as you were, sometimes even more than you. He constantly searched for you, holding your hand, or wrapping his arms around you when you two were lying in bed. Anytime he could, he would lift you by the hips and place you snugly in his lap, and keep you there, like a warm koala, as he worked, or well, pretended to work. Whenever you initiated anything, which was almost always, he responded happily: you hugged him first, he hugged you harder. Dazai didn’t want to admit that constantly having to touch you was not only fueled by the disproportionate love he had for you, but also the constant fear that you could be ripped away from him at any moment. Dazai mind also plagued him with the knowledge that you were too good for him; having you constantly search for him, as if he were your oxygen, reassured him more than he would ever admit.
You tried finishing the report you had to hand in by the end of the day, but your mind was just too clouded, and writing a sentence felt like navigating through fog without any guidance. Your eyes kept anxiously sliding down to the clock on your desk: Dazai was coming back from a week-long mission, and you yearned for him. You needed to feel his warmth envelope him in a soul-crushing hug, you needed to feel his cologne, you needed him.
Kunikida, who had been walking past one of the large windows in the ADA office, glanced outside. He turned to look at your hope-filled eyes, and he nodded, a small smile on his usually stoic face.
You stood up so fast your chair toppled over, but you didn’t mind, sprinting down the hallway, almost jumping down the stairs instead of taking the elevator. You threw the front door open, finding Dazai standing there, in all his glory. His warm, brown eyes were tired, and had lost their usual sparkle. But when he saw you, a small smile danced on the corners of his lips. Dazai opened his arms, whispering, “Hello, belladonna.”
You threw yourself in his arms, hiding your face in his neck. “Dazai!” You cried. You felt his bandaged arm fall delicately around your shoulders, pressing you against him. The minute Dazai smelled your sweet perfume, he felt at peace; he knew he was home. The calm he felt when you were squishing him against you in a hug was only proof of what he already knew: you were his North Star, the reason of his existence, the moonlight in his dark life.
Dazai’s head rested against yours, and you could swear was shivering in your arms.
The minute Kunikida called him, leaning from the window, Dazai’s cheerful smile returned with strength, and his tiredness evaporated, his eyes no longer tired, his vulnerability covered by his perpetual joy. He pulled away from you, going to stand underneath the window to chat with his partner, but you knew what he was truly hiding and didn’t let his hand go.
For the rest of the day, you stood next to Dazai, holding his hand or his arm, and when no one was around, you wrapped your boyfriend into hugs, pressing him closer to your heart.
Dazai was used to having some part of his body always be in contact with yours, but today, more than ever, he was thankful that you were clingy, becasue he needed your gentleness and your warmth to not collapse on the ground and start shivering from all the darkness that he hid inside his heart.
After all, your clinginess was his salvation.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Fyodor, before meeting you, had never tolerated anyone barging into his personal space. If anyone suddenly touched him, he would make them pay the price of the disrespect tenfold (Nikolai could personally testify to that). But the minute you and your angelic smiles had stepped into his life, he suddenly had to get used to you constantly touching him, for one reason or the other. His personal space was no longer his, it was yours, and, with a small thump in his heart, he realized he didn’t really mind anymore. His cold body craved your warmth, and, of course, he would never, admit how much he adored your hugs, or the way you constantly needed him for such trivial things. Slowly, your ever constant need to be pressed against him has warmed his heart
Fyodor was sitting in front his computers, the blue light shining on his breathtaking eyes. He was concentrated, his fingers flying on the keyboard. You were observing him from the door, having cracked it open. You were debating whether or not he would mind if you waltzed in and started talking to him.
“Myshka, you’re letting a draft in. Either come in, or come out.” Fyodor’s sharp voice resonated in the room. You flinched: you had been almost positive he hadn’t noticed you, but who were you kidding? This is Fyodor Dostoyevsky you were talking about.
You sighed, slipping in and shutting the door behind you. “Sorry, Fedya.”
“No grave damage was made, my dear. What brings you here?” Fyodor asked, still typing on his keyboard.
“You.” You replied, sauntering over to him, knowing that if he had given you the chance to slip inside, and was engaging in conversation with you, he was okay with getting disturbed. You draped yourself over his shoulder, your face next to his. You kissed his cheek a few times.
“Me?” Fyodor asked, finally turning to look at you, his monitors forgotten for once. “Do you mean my body? If you are aroused, my dear, I fear I can only please you for a short while — ”
“No, not like that!” You chuckled. You gently spun his chair around, making him fully face you. “I just want to be with you!” You said, falling into his arms. Fyodor, who was used to catching you as you threw yourself dramatically in his arms, had already been ready. You giggled like child, looking up at your cold, evil mastermind boyfriend who no longer seemed to react to your behavior. You extend your hands, placing them on his cheeks.
Fyodor furrowed his brows, gazing down at you inquisitively. Before he could ask what you were up to, you smushed his cheeks together, laughing so brightly Fyodor was sure he had fallen even more in love with you, even if he only admitted it to himself with a pinch of annoyance.
No one could have had the honor to smush his cheeks and walk away alive and unharmed, but this was you, his (Y/N), and so he only looked down at you, raising an eyebrow sarcastically. “You look like a chipmunk!” You giggled, moving his cheeks around.
“‘M gld I’muse you drling.” Fyodor spoke, his words pressed together as his cheeks were. The joy that lit your eyes at the simple, childish joke, made Fyodor’s own heart tremble with happiness.
You removed your hands from his cheeks. “Had your Fyodor quota filled, milaya?” Fyodor asked.
“No. I’ll never have my fill.” You smiled at him, pulling yourself up, aided by your boyfriend’s cold hands, to settle comfortably on his lap, and wrap your arms around his neck, deciding to stay there a while, closing your eyes to relax.
Fyodor pressed a kiss to your forehead before he returned to his work, a hand slipped inside your shirt, tracing lines on your back.
Fyodor didn’t know when his personal space had become your space as well, but he couldn’t be happier that it had.
Ryunosuke Akutagawa having to kiss you to keep his cover.
Pairing: Fem!Reader/Ryunosuke Akutagawa
Synopsis: The two of you need to pretend to be married for a mission, and when your cover was almost blown, Akutagawa could do nothing but press you to a wall and kiss you.
(Initially, this had been supposed to be for multiple characters but I got carried away…lmao… let me know if I should do other BSD men with this trope, and if yes, which ones)
Warning: NSFW
You and Akutagawa sat in silence in the sleek limousine, the thump of the wheels on the road the only noise. You picked at your expensive dress, making sure the, excessively long, slit in your skirt did not reveal anything you did not want to reveal. As you adjusted the black fabric, your eyes could not help but catch the fake wedding ring that sat on your finger. Well, fake as in you weren’t married, not fake diamonds. The glittering diamonds that resembled shards of heaven were very, very real.
Akutagawa was sitting next to you, trying to press himself against the side door to touch your body as little as possible. His elegant suit had made you stare when you saw him before stepping into the car: he almost never wore anything like that. He was wearing a similar wedding ring around his finger.
You two had been chosen last minute to pretend to be a married couple to sneak into the house of a rival boss to gather some information. The party he was hosting for his daughter’s engagement was the perfect excuse. Usually, other people would be chosen, and with more preparation, but a mishap had occurred suddenly and you had been thrown headfirst in the mission. You were reading the paper with your backstory while getting ready, memorizing that you two had met during an economics course at the Yokohama university and all the surrounding unnecessary details, just in case anyone asked.
The car rolled to a stop, and Akutagawa slid you a look, before stiffly taking your hand in his and placing it on his arm. “Let’s go, (Y/N).” He murmured, opening the door. You two stepped out, immediately feeling the gaze of the rest of the party-goers around you.
Nervously, you leaned against Akutagawa as you walked up the stairs. The eyes of the other couples walking alongside you did not help your already unstable feet in the heels. You almost tripped on the red fabric that had been delicately placed on the marble steps, but Akutagawa stabilized you by placing a warm hand on your waist.
You stepped inside the ballroom, and quietly gasped in shock: the room was breathtaking, carved windows with encrusted gold decorations, painted ceilings and mosaics on the ground. “It’s gorgeous,” you whispered, and Akutagawa nodded silently by your side.
You threw him a glance, elbowing him in the gut discreetly. He frowned at you. “You need to look more in love with me, Akutagawa and not stand there as if you were forced to be here.” You whispered, speaking through gritted teeth while a smile adorned your lips. The man next to you nodded, trying to subtly lean into you, pretending to search for your body warmth.
Truth be told, he was actually wanted to do so, holding himself back because he feared he would accidentally reveal something to himself he had tried to keep hidden: his heart thumped a little louder when you were around.
“Let’s get some champagne,” He murmured, starting to lead you to table. Right before you managed to secure to glasses for the both of you, a couple bumped into you, pushing you in Akutagawa’s unsuspecting arms. He froze, before he remembered he was supposed to be married to you. The couple had also clearly wanted to grab some champagne.
“Oh dear! I apologize!” The man said.
“Oh, no worries!” You reassured, grabbing two flutes and handing one to Akutagawa, almost propelling yourself out of his arms.
The man’s wife had been looking at your hand as it delicately held the expensive flutes, immediately grabbing it to observe the ring. “Oh, darling! This is a gorgeous ring!” She said, inspecting it.
“Oh, thank you.” You blushed, looking at Akutagawa with a shade of red on your cheeks.
“I chose one that matched her eyes,” Akutagawa spoke, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him. Your heart fluttered, and the couple could not help but swoon at the two of you.
You four talked for a few more minutes; well, you talked to the couple and Akutagawa simply stood next to you, nodding or echoing your words.
You then went your separate ways, and you and Akutagawa knew you needed to find the information. The two of you quickly slid to a more secluded area, knowing from the blue prints of the building that the owner’s office was directly above you, and you just needed to climb the stairs unseen.
“Let’s do this,” Akutagawa said, heading towards the stairs after you two had waited for a few minutes, making sure no distant echoes of steps reached you. You followed, the tapestry on the steps muffling the sound of your heels.
As the two of you were exactly halfway up the stairs, you heard movement coming from the office, and some shadows peeked from underneath the illuminated door, projecting eerie shadows on the wall behind you.
Akutagawa, who had been in front of you, noticed first. “Back! Back!” He hissed, and you spun around, starting to run down the stairs. But the staircase was so long that the door opened before you guys could reach all the way down. You only heard the creek of the wood, neither you or the people could see one another, since the staircase curved to the left. But you and Akutagawa had nowhere to hide.
You two shared a terrified gaze, knowing what to do: pushed by Mori, the two of you had agreed on various ways to escape uncomfortable situations such as these, and one of them, as cliché as it sounded, was to pretend to make out. Akutagawa had argued initially, and had only agreed when Mori had uttered his name quietly, the weight of his control hidden behind the single word.
You pressed yourself against the wall, letting the spaghetti straps of your dress slide down your shoulders. Akutagawa loosened his bow tie, and unbuttoned a few of the first buttons of his shirt, clearly hating every minute. You gulped as his pale skin shone in the moonlight. He then approached you, yanking your leg out from the slit, gripping your thigh with his fingers. You flinched, suppressing the real moan that threatened to escape your mouth.
“Sorry,” he whispered in your ear, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss initially had been just a peck, but both of you knew you needed to be more convincing if you wanted it to be true.
Akutagawa pulled back, before diving in with all his passion, secretly letting go of all the feelings he had been hiding for quite some time. The kiss turned heated, and soon, the hand that hadn’t been resting on your thigh, moved to your jaw, holding you in place as he dared to slide his tongue into yours. Your lipstick was smudged everywhere, and the whimpers that tumbled from your lips soon became real.
The two barely noticed the steps that had been approaching you, only breaking away from your kiss when someone cleared their throat next to you. You two broke apart, a string of saliva connecting your lips. It almost looked like crystal in the moonlight.
Your chest was heaving, pressing against Akutagawa’s with every shaky breath. Your fake husband’s eyes were wide, and your lipstick had smeared all over his face. Your unfocused gaze slowly zoned on the men that had “caught you”, and you almost felt your heart rumble out of your chest when you tumble out of your chest: it was the owner of the building, the one you had to steal information from, and a few of his most trusted men.
“Ah, young love.” He called, bringing his cigar to your lips. “Unfortunately, I regret to inform you that this area is restricted to authorized personal only.”
You tried speaking, but your words kept freezing in your throat. Akutagawa took the lead. “I am deeply sorry…I lost control. We’re…newlyweds,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically loud.
You leaned against the wall, barely registering what happened, only smelling and remembering Akutagawa pressed against you. You hazily watched as Akutagawa talked to the men, seemingly excusing himself. You closed your eyes, dazed, opening them to find only Akutagawa there, standing in front of you.
“Where..where did they go?” You asked, your voice shaky.
“I told them we would leave right away, simply needing to readjust our clothes.” He grumbled. “This is our chance.”
You nodded, trying to push yourself off the wall, but Akutagawa’s hand on your wrist stopped you. “Wait here. I’m going to make this quick. I’ll come back. And we’re talking.” He said, his dark eyes staring into your soul.
You tried protesting but your whispers were tears in a rainfall, and Akutagawa scampered up the stairs, and you slowly flopped down to the ground. Your eyes widened when you closed your legs: no, it couldn’t be…
You quickly eyed your surroundings, seeing only shadows hiding in the forgotten corners. You rapidly shoved your fingers underneath your skirt and between your legs, slipping one finger inside you. You slapped a hand on your mouth, half in shock, and half to cover the moan that was about to pour out of your swollen lips. Akutagawa had kissed you for just a few minutes, and had managed to make you soaking wet.
You leaned your head against the wall, angrily wondering why you had had to get a crush on the most cold-hearted person in the port mafia.
•
Akutagawa appeared next to you suddenly, his face half in the shadows, rendering his eyes even more shrouded in mystery. Without talking, he grabbed your hand, starting to walk hastily towards the exit. You knew he had probably snapped pictures of whatever you guys needed, and had slipped out of there as quickly as his feet could carry him, leaving behind only his cologne as a testament of his presence.
The two of you walked down the steps you had used to get in, and once again, your stiletto got caught in red fabric. Akutagawa seemed to know that it would happen, and already had his hand firmly pressed on your hip.
The two of you glided down the Yokohama alleyways, resembling living fragments of memories that littered all Yokohama. The minute you stepped into Port Mafia territory, the darkness around you felt much safer, more welcoming, and the two of you slowed down your steps, slightly more relaxed.
“Did you get everything—”
Before you could finish, Akutagawa had pressed you against the wall in a forgotten alley, his eyes so dark they resembled a moonless night. He was unusually close, his breath caressing your lips with fragility.
“What did that kiss mean to you?” Akutagawa croaked.
“What?” Your words were unsure, unclear, begging anything or anyone to help you understand what was happening.
“What. Did. That. Kiss. Mean. To. You. (Y/N).” He asked again, his voice sharper, and his eyes slightly darker.
And suddenly, you understood everything, as if the moon had sent a star to whisper a hint in your ear. You could feel Akutagawa’s heart beating, his chest pressed so close to yours. His eyes weren’t dark becasue of anger, but because of fear. He was scared. Scared that you did not feel his same way.
You reached up a hand to graze his cheek, and Akutagawa flinched, already imagining that you were about to let him down kindly. You were far too perfect for him, after all. But his downward spiral was interrupted by your soft voice, a melody he would recognize even in hell itself.
“Everything, Akutagawa. It meant everything.”
You waited, staring deep into his eyes, feeling the pressure of the darkness surround you. You inhaled sharply when you saw Akutagawa’s eyes lighten, before he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. He timidly pressed against your body, delicately, almost afraid to hurt you. He pulled back to see your reaction, and when he saw you lick your lips, hoping to taste any drops he had left behind, his whole restraint crumbled to the ground.
Akutagawa passionately pressed himself against you, his lips crashing down on yours with fervor. Your two bodies were so close you could feel everything. Akutagawa almost went crazy when he felt your breasts against his chest. Your arms clasped his shoulders, trying to hold him even closer. Your lungs were burning, but you didn’t care, threading your hands in his locks, whimpering in pleasure when he rolled his hips against you.
“(Y/N)…if, if we continue I won’t be able to stop,” he whispered in your ear, his hands gliding down to your waist.
You shook your head as quickly as you could, your perfect hairstyle slowly giving in to the emotions of the night. “I don’t want you to stop.”
That’s all that Akutagawa needed to hear. Without wasting a minute, he yanked down your spaghetti straps, uncovering your breasts to his eyes. His hands reached to grope them, while his lips attacked your neck, sucking a hickey on it, claiming you as his. Your spread legs had made the slit in your dress expose your soaking core, and Akutagawa used that to his advantage, pressing his hips against you.
Both of you reeled in pleasure when his hard dick pressed against your sopping heat. You gripped his shoulder, while he held your hips, the two of you stopped kissing for a second, starting to dry hump each other. Akutagawa lifted your thigh, wrapping it around his waist, making his clothed tip rub against your already swollen clit.
You whimpered his own name in his ears, and he had to still your hips to prevent from cumming on the spot.
“(Y/N), I need to fuck you, right now.” Akutagawa slurred, his words mixing together from his lust.
“Please! Please do it!” You begged, trying to spread your legs even further, but the fabric of your dress stopped you. Akutagawa, noticing your struggle, used Rashomon to rip your dress further from the slit. You gasped, impossibly feeling even more aroused. “Akutagawa! That dress was expensive!”
“I’ll buy you ten more.” He grunted, caressing your thighs. He moaned your name when he realized you had soaked through your panties. He yanked your frilly underwear from you, and stuffing them in his pocket. He blew on his fingers to warm them, before shoving one, and then the other inside you, grunting at your tightness.
“Oh my god, you’re so wet.” Akutagawa almost whimpered, but he managed to control his tone. You threw your head back, when he touched your g-spot, falling forward against his shoulder. Akutagawa fingered you for a few minutes, making sure you were stretched out for him, giving one simple lick to your nipple as a shy tease. He had not meant to make you orgasm, but when you gripped his shoulder tightly, almost screaming his name, he realized what had happened. Your fucked out gaze went directly to his dick, making him leak precum.
After you had come down, Akutagawa did not weight to unbuckle his belt, appreciating your helping hands. You glanced down at his cock when he freed it, feeling yourself gush in anticipation at how gorgeous it looked, red tip and all. Akutagawa gripped his base, aligning himself with your entrance. He looked up at you, making sure everything was fine. His white hair almost glittered in the moonlight, and you could not help but feel your heart beat excitedly as you nodded affirmatively, telling him everything was fine.
With your reassuring gaze warming his chest, Akutagawa pressed his tip inside you. Both of you grunted, and Akutagawa had to stop himself before he blew his load straight away.
You pressed your lips to his, reassuring you everything was okay. Both of you kissed for a few minutes, Akutagawa scratching your scalp with his fingers, moaning into your mouth as he slowly slipped inside.
Akutagawa pulled away from your addicting kisses when he finally bottomed out, pressing his hands against the wall, leaning heavily against you. “(Y/N),” he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to your earlobe. He seemed to be calling out for you, needing you to reassure him that you were there, you were real. He was so afraid that this was a cruel joke of life, a dream he would inevitably wake from.
You clasped his back, caressing his quivering skin. “I’m here.” You croaked into his mouth, nibbling his lower lip.
Akutagawa started moving his hips, hiding his face in your neck. His hands blindly clasped your legs around his waist, using Rashomon to carry your weight. His tip managed to reach much deeper into you, and your moans loudly shattered the silence of the alley. If there was anyone scuttling in the alleys next to yours, they definitely knew what was happening.
Akutagawa started repeating your name incoherently, jackhammering his hips into yours. He hit your g-spot at every trust. His eyes were mesmerized by your bouncing tits, flicking the hardened nipple with his thumbs.
“Akutagawa!” You mewled.
Akutagawa went faster, gripping your hips so tightly he left bruises. He wrapped his arms around you, tightly pressing your chests together, the feeling of his dress shirt rubbing against your nipples being exactly what you needed to topple over the edge. You pressed a bruising kiss to his lips, kissing him so passionately you almost forgot your name.
Akutagawa caressed your mouth with his tongue, closing his eyes in blinding pleasure when you gushed around his cock as you climaxed, a cascade of your juices running down your thighs. His thrusts started to turn sloppy, and with one final thrust, sheathing himself as far he could, Akutagawa moaned your name as if it were a prayer, painting your walls white with ropes of cum.
The two of you stayed still for a few seconds, panting against one another, in a silent embrace that was worth a thousand words. Akutagawa’s hands caressed your arms, while you peppered as many kisses as there were stars in the universe on his flushed neck. Slowly, he slipped out of you, stuffing his cock back inside his pants. You winced, feeling his cum start to drip out. Not caring about his expensive shirt, Akutagawa used his sleeve to clean you up, quiet praises tumbling from his mouth.
His hands also slid your spaghetti straps back in place, eyeing the now torn slit that revealed everything he wanted to keep hidden about you. Akutagawa shrugged off his coat, tying it around your waist. Rashomon slowly let go of you, making sure your legs were safely on the ground before slithering back into oblivion.
“Akutagawa!” You called, feeling your weak legs start to stumble and your body starting to fall. Your partner came to the rescue, wrapping his arms around your waist. He was suddenly shy, and awkward, afraid that maybe he had revealed his heart to you too soon.
“Akutagawa, you’re truly the only person I would have wanted to experience this with.” Your words flew to his heart, erasing any doubt that could have sprouted, and you were almost certain you saw Akutagawa smile.
He couldn’t offer the same profound words, years of pain and betrayal blocking them before they even reached his lips, but Akutagawa offered you the closest thing he could to a love confession: “My house is nearby…would you like to come over?” His voice got quiet towards the end, and he hid his face in your hair.
“I’d love to,” You smiled back at him, and Akutagawa knew, that from that moment on, he would no longer be alone. When he intertwined your two hands together, he could not help but gaze at your fake wedding rings, hoping that, one day, they might become real.
In this post: ✨Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Doppo Kunikida, Atsushi Nakajima, Yukichi Fukuzawa, Edogawa Ranpo, Fyodor Dostoyevsky✨
Synopsis; Various scenarios where the BSD men have to carry you in their arms.
Guys should I double space or single space my paragraphs? Let me know…Bro this turned out to be a BEAST! Please requests are open!! Request for bsd or any other character!
Edogawa Ranpo
You had been walking home with your boyfriend, strolling peacefully as the dying sun elongated your shadows on the empty pavement. Your hand rested in Ranpo’s right hand, his left hand holding a lollipop he was happily licking.
Your eyes were staring at your feet, but your mind was elsewhere, thinking back to day you had spent in the office, more precisely Kenji’s small cousins coming to visit him from the countryside. The very unplanned visit had obviously caused chaos in the already disorganized life the Armed Detective Agency lived (Kunikida had almost died on the spot), but soon everyone started having fun. One precise moment had remained etched to your brain, recalling memories of your childhood you yourself had forgotten: Dazai carrying the little children on his back, twirling them around as they laughed.
The last time you had been carried in someone’s arms was so long ago the memory was fuzzy, and almost non-existent in your brain. Slowly, you wondered if your genius boyfriend would maybe comply to your very childish wish. The words bubbled in your chest, quickly pressing against your lips. You tried to calm down your beating heart, slightly embarrassed, but before you could even utter the first syllable, Ranpo turned to look at you, his eyes glittering in the sunset.
“I’ll do it just because it’s you.”
“H-how did you know what I wanted to ask?” Your boyfriend’s mind never ceased to amaze you.
“I was watching you today at the agency, and I immediately knew what you were thinking when you looked at Dazai.” Your cheeks became an even darker shade of red, and you nibbled on your lip, feeling embarrassment running all over your body.
Ranpo cleared his throat, and you glanced back at him, finding him kneeling in front of you, his lollipop hanging lazily from his lips. Your heart skipped a beat, and a happy giggle flew out of your mouth before you climbed on your boyfriend’s back. He quickly adjusted his hands to hold you more comfortably. “Hold on tight.” He called to you, before standing up.
You gasped, throwing your arms around his neck, and nuzzling your lips against his neck. “Ah, (Y/N)! That tickles!” He whined, making you laugh even more.
Ranpo started walking again, heading towards your home. You were on cloud nine, happily expressing your joy by kissing every inch of Ranpo’s skin that you could reach. “I love you, I love you!” You kept repeating, an idiotic smile practically glued to your lips.
“The things I do for you!” He exclaimed, faking annoyance, even through his heart beamed with joy, knowing he was the one who had made you smile so brightly you were rivaling the sun.
Ryunosuke Akutagawa
You had been lying down on the couch in Akutagwa’s office for the past hour, patiently waiting for him to finish working on some paperwork that had to be absolutely handed in by the end of the day. You had first come in as you two had planned to walk home, but your boyfriend had quickly explained the situation. Working in the same organization, you understood, and simply pressed a kiss to his pale skin before settling down comfortably, and waiting for him to be done.
As time sluggishly went on, the cozy warmth in Akutagwa’s office and his delicate cologne that permeated everything around you, slowly started to make you drowsy. The constant scratching of his pen against the paper did not help either, and you were soon slipping in and out of consciousness.
Akutagawa finished the last report he had to write, exhaling quietly, a little bit of tension easing from his shoulders. He slipped the lid on his pen, ordering the pages on his desk, knowing his assistant would deliver them as soon as you two would leave. Akutagawa stood up, stretching his back. “(Y/N), I’m done, let’s go…” His words trailed off when he turned to face you, finding you to be adorably sleeping on his couch.
The sight almost melted his heart, before he sadly realized he had to wake you up, even though he knew you had had trouble sleeping last night. He sincerely did not want to wake you up, desiring you to get the sleep you so needed. Akutagawa brainstormed for a few moments, thinking how to solve the issue, before an idea stepped forward: quietly, and delicately, Akutagawa commended Rashomon to slither towards you, picking you up with the most care in the world to not wake you. The dark coils carried you to your boyfriend’s back, placing you vertically against him, so your chest was pressing against his back. The black tendrils wrapped around your torso, safely locking you to Alutagwa’s back, making you become an almost human backpack. Your boyfriend reached to place your limp arms around his neck, and commanded Rashomon to hold your legs against him, so they wouldn’t accidentally drag on the floor and hurt you. And finally, one more coil gently supported your neck, your cheek now pressing against Akutagawa’s shoulder.
He made sure that you were soundly asleep before he walked out of the office, non caring of the other Port Mafia members who glanced at you two, clearly confused. The only unfazed one seemed to be Chuuya, but what could surprise him after years of living with Dazai?
The whole way home, Akutagawa made sure you were always sound asleep and comfortable, timidly holding your hand when he was sure he was very very very far away from the Port Mafia headquarters. When you two were in the elevator in your apartment complex, Akutagawa looked at you through the reflection, feeling his heart flutter when he realized you had started drooling in your sleep. You were truly the most beautiful women in the world.
He quietly shut the door of your apartment. Akutagawa gently laid you down on your bed, making sure you weren’t about to fall off the edge of the bed, before he finally allowed Rashomon to retreat. Just as he turned around to go grab his phone, he felt your warm hand on his wrist. He turned around, seeing you sleepily look at him, your eyes caked in sleep and barely remembered dreams.
“Come lay in bed?” You asked sluggishly.
Akutagawa could not resist. He quickly climbed bed next to you, welcoming you in his embrace, watching as you used his chest as a pillow. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, suddenly wincing. Before Akutagawa could ask what was wrong, you mumbled, “There’s a wet spot on your back,”
Akutagawa could not help the small smile on his face, kissing your forehead. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” You complied, quickly slipping back into slumber, and Akutagawa soon followed, closing his eyes.
Osamu Dazai
You had spent the whole day walking around Yokohama with Dazai, holding his hand tightly, eating whatever your hearts desired. Your last wish for the day was to go on the Ferris wheel, offering a night view of the twinkling city, making it resemble a field of fallen stars.
The both of you were at the very top of the Ferris Wheel; you were admiring the view, and Dazai had his head resting on your shoulder, observing the view of the city as well. His dark curls tickled your shoulders. “Did you have fun today, belladonna?” Dazai asked quietly, not wanting to destroy the magic of the moment.
“I had the best time of the my life. The only thing that put a blemish on today’s perfection was this skirt.” You pointed to the short skirt you had decided to wear that today.
Dazai glanced down after hearing your words, perplexedly staring at the article of clothing he had quite enjoyed on you: the skirt was beautiful on you, accentuating your gorgeous body. “Why was it a bad choice?” He asked, playing with the hem of it.
“Well, not the skirt in itself, but I usually wear some biker shorts underneath, because my thighs rub against each other and it hurts like a bitch! And I forgot them today!” You quickly hitched it up to show Dazai the reddened skin between your thighs. “And today’s heat did not help. Every step is an agony.” You admitted, hastily shoving your skirt down when you realized the ride was coming to an end.
Dazai chivalrously helped you out of the Ferris wheel, holding onto your arm. He noticed how you subtly tried to waddle instead of walking, not wanting your thighs to brush together again. “Bella, seeing you in such a dramatic situation makes your poor boyfriend’s heart bleed!” He dramatically stated, over exaggerating every word.
You chuckled. “I, your valiant boyfriend will sacrifice my knees for you.” He called, quickly kneeling in front of you.
“Are you sure, Dazai? I don’t want to hurt you…”
“My dear, you could never hurt me.” Dazai smiled at you, looking over his shoulder. You blushed, finally deciding that you could not walk anymore, and you gratefully climbed on his back, pressing a kiss to his head and whispering a soft, “Thank you.”
Dazai adjusted his hands to hold you comfortably and started walking home. “Am I not a gentleman, (Y/N)?” Dazai asked, turning to look at you and wiggle his eyebrows.
“Well, I am not so sure.” You laughed.
“Oh! You doubt my honor? For what reason, my lady?” Dazai whined.
“Well, I don’t think a gentleman would use this opportunity to touch my ass.” Dazai’s hands had been initially supporting your thighs, but his elegant fingers had soon slid further back, deciding to hold your butt, and you were sure that had not been just to carry you better.
Dazai tsked loudly. “T’is simply the fare to pay for this unique transport system.” You laughed, letting your head rest against his broad shoulders.
The rest of the walk home was peacefully, the two of you talking about random subjects. When you got home, Dazai gently rested you on the bed. “Do you want me to apply cream on the irritated skin?” He asked, starting to unbutton his shirt.
“Yes, please.”
Dazai quickly grabbed some Aloe Vera gel from the bathroom, coming back to the bedroom. You had removed your skirt, and were now lying in bed in just one of Dazai’s old shirts and your underwear.
Dazai knelt in front of your legs, quickly and efficiently applying the cream to all the irritated areas. After finishing, you pressed a kiss to his lips to thank him.
“Hey, (Y/N),”
“Yes?”
“Since you can’t close your leg until the cream has dried, can I eat you out?”
“Dazai!” You screamed, throwing a pillow at him. Your boyfriend ducked just in time.
“Hey! It’s not my fault! You’re lying there with your legs spread so enticingly!”
You threw all the pillows you had on the bed at Dazai’s head, and yet, somehow, he managed to have his way, keeping your legs spread way long after the cream had dried.
Doppo Kunikida
The day had been spent with the rest of the Armed Detective Agency at the beach, splashing in the water, running around and chasing each other in the water. You had built a sandcastle with Atushsi and Kyouka, sun-bathed with Dazai, and had taken strolls along the shoreline with your boyfriend, Kunikida.
You were currently helping Kenji and Rampo make another sandcastle, while Kunikida held a book in his hand, sitting in the shade. He wasn’t reading the book, too focused on watching you laugh and giggle, the story in front of him long forgotten. The sun was slowly descending, disappearing behind the thin line of the horizon.
Slowly, every member of the Agency had retreated to their rooms, and now only the four of you remained, wanting to enjoy every moment left in the dying day.
Kunikida glanced down at his watch, stretching his neck, and thinking maybe it was time to head home, leaving the day at the beach to became a memory. “(Y/N)!” He called, waving his arm to catch your attention. You turned around, smiling. Kunikida gestured to his watch, and you threw a thumbs up in his direction, quickly waving goodbye to Kenji and Rampo, before sauntering over to your boyfriend. You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, before you started helping him pack your towels and the various books the two of you had brought to the beach.
Holding one bag each, you started the walk back to the hotel, feeling the warmth of the cement underneath your flip-flops. “Today was so fun!” You squealed, sliding your hand in Kunikida’s.
“It sure was.” He answered back, threading your fingers together.
“I think my favorite part was when Dazai managed to convince the president to lie down in the sand and then made him a mermaid tail with the sand!” You giggled, also recalling Kunikida’s exasperated expression when he had caught Rampo trying to eat a snack that had fallen in the sand.
Kunikida chuckled. “It was a fun day today. We should take more holidays together.” He thought, already starting to meticulously plan the next one in his head.
You nodded, a sudden wave of exhaustion scaling your back and implanting its fangs in your head. Kunikida started mentioning other destinations that would be fun to visit, but your throat suddenly felt parched and your head boiling. You didn’t hear his words, the world starting to melt into confusing figures around you. Suddenly, the ground seemed to have been yanked away from you.
You managed to whimper Kunikida’s name before your legs gave up and you tumbled to the ground. Kunikida turned around, his smile evaporating when he realized your eyes had rolled to the back of your head and you were fainting. The bag he was carrying toppled to the ground and he dove to catch you, holding you in his arms.
“(Y/N)? What’s wrong?” He asked, fear gripping his insides.
“Don’t worry, Kunikida. I think it’s just heatstroke. I did run around underneath the blazing sun for most of the day.” You chuckled dryly, trying to not worry your perpetually panicking boyfriend.
Your words did little to help Kunikida, who started digging through the bag closest to him, trying to find a water bottle he knew was there, his mind already flooding with self-deprecating thoughts because he had not thought about making sure you wouldn’t catch heatstroke.
Knowing your boyfriend, you could read his thoughts reflected in his gorgeous eyes, and gently squeezed his hand. Kunikida turned to look at you, water bottle in hand. “My darling over-thinker, it’s fine. This is not your fault.”
Kunikda gulped, nodding curtly, before opening the bottle and helping you drink half of it, pouring the rest on your head to help you cool down.
You waited a few more moments, resting in Kunikida’s lap before nodding. “Okay, I’m fine. Let’s keep going.” You tried to stand up, but before you had even managed to place one foot perpendicular to the ground, Kunikida had wrapped one arm around your back, and the other underneath your knees, lifting you up in his arms. You gasped, holding onto his neck.
“Kunikida! What are you doing?” You asked, as you watched him start walking.
“I am not making you walk when you are in these conditions.” He said, not wanting you to get even more tired. Seeing you collapse had already made him lose thirty years of his life; he didn’t need a repeat.
“But Kunikida, darling, I’m fine! I’m not that sick! And I’m too heavy for you!” You rambled, trying to get down. Your wiggling only made Kunikida hold onto you more tightly. The moment you uttered the last sentence, Kunikida stared at you, clearly waiting for you to take back what you had just said.
You pouted, realizing you could not win this fight. You rested your head on his shoulder, letting him take care of you.
The minute you got back to the hotel, Kunikida laid you down on the bed, raiding the mini fridge for ice, and gently placing it on your wrists and ankles. Only when you were lying in bed, slowly gaining back the sparkle in your eyes did Kunikida feel his heart stop beating a thousand times a minute, and let himself collapse on the bed.
Let’s just say, for the rest of the holiday, you were basically dragged back into the shade by Kunikida every 30 minutes.
Yukichi Fukuzawa
The evening was finally over; you had spent the whole night at a charity event held by the most powerful people in all of Yokohama. Your boyfriend, being Fukuzawa, the president of the Armed Detective Agency, had to attend, and to make his evening a little bit more bearable, he had asked you to accompany him.
The night had been relatively fun, talking to various people and enjoying some expensive champagne. The only tense moment was when the two of you had stumbled on Mori, who for some reason, was there as well. Luckily, no fight erupted between the two men; they curtly nodded at one another and then moved on with their own affairs.
The best part of the evening, for you, had been when they had played some slow, romantic music, and invented everyone to dance with their partners. You had enjoyed swaying in Fukuzawa’s arms, getting lost in his eyes. But you were paying the price now, your feet aching at every step in your stiletto heels. Every step feeling like shards of glass stabbed your already aching skin.
You and Fukuzawa were heading home, but every step was torture, a grimace carving itself in your face. “My dear, what is wrong?” Fukuzawa asked, his deep voice momentarily distracting you from the pain.
You glanced at him, your heart fluttering when your eyes caught his handsome face glimmering in the moonlight. You nodded down to your feet, lifting your dress’ skirt slightly to reveal your two personal torture machines. “My heels: they’re killing me.”
“Would you like to take them off?” Fukuzawa asked, glancing down at your black heels. He had never worn any type of heeled-shoe, but could imagine what they felt like.
“I wish, but I can’t walk home barefoot.”
“I’ll carry you.”
“What? No, Yukichi, I can’t let you carry me! Our house is far.”
“(Y/N), every step you have been taking these last few minutes makes you visibly wince in pain. I cannot let the woman I love suffer so.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest, and couldn’t help but thank whichever divinity had gifted you this man. Using his shoulder for your balance, you slipped off your high heels, immediately becoming way shorter. You grimaced in pain when you noticed the shoes had managed to create various blisters on your feet. Your right foot had been more unlucky, raw skin visible in the silver light, and even a few trickles of blood.
Fukuzawa gently kneeled down in front of you, inspecting your feet. You saw concern paint his eyes, and his lips pressed a soft kiss to both your ankles. “You should have told me sooner,” he scolded gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You nodded shyly, knowing he was right. You bent down to retrieve your heels, holding them with the tip of your fingers.
As soon as you straightened your back, you suddenly felt Fukuzawa’s warm hands hold you, before you were hoisted into his arms, suddenly finding yourself to be almost kissing your boyfriend’s lips. You blinked, using your free hand to grasp his shoulder. “I thought you would carry me on your back,” you admitted, not complaining that Fukuzawa had decided to carry you in his arms instead. You could feel his warm, and solid chest against your body, making you feel safe and cared for.
“I already get to see you so little, I would like to spend the rest of the night with your beautiful face in my line of sight.” Fukuzawa said, glancing at you warmly. You leaned forward, pressing a fervent kiss to his lips, knowing that Fukuzawa wasn’t always the biggest fan of PDA. But this one time, your silver-haired partner, kissed you back, mirroring your passion, the moon’s inconsistent light shielding you from any unwanted attention.
You pulled back from the kiss, leaning against his shoulders, getting lulled by his rhythmic breath.
When the two of you got home, Fukuzawa immediately tended to your feet, disinfecting the wounds, and wrapping them with bandages, before the two of you cuddled underneath the blankets to fall asleep.
The next day, Fukuzawa seemed to hover around your desk more than usual, making sure you could walk without problem and did not need to be carried. You told him not to worry.
At the end of the day, Kunikida looked outside the window of the Armed Detective Agency, and quickly looked away, seeing his president pressing a soft kiss to your lips before whisking you into his arms.
Nakahara Chuuya
Chuuya downed the remaining champagne in his glass, chuckling alongside with Koyo. The Port Mafia Christmas party was in full swing around the two of them. The buffet had been adequately raided, and Chuuya noticed quite a few people drunkenly wobbling around. Higuchi was heavily leaning on Akutagawa in the left corner of the room. He knew that you were somewhere around the room, having fun with your friends. Chuuya had only spent a few moments with you, pressing a kiss to your hand before leaving you: being an executive, he terrified the rest of your friends who were of a greatly inferior in rank. To let them enjoy their evening, he had stepped aside.
Koyo poured some more champagne in his glass, the melted, golden liquid sloshing around the delicate glass. “This champagne is real good,” Chuuya chirped happily, suddenly feeling a tap on his sleeve and turning around. Tachihara was standing in front of him, arms crossed around his chest.
“(Y/N) needs you.” He pointed his finger behind him, gesturing to your current location. “She’s shit-faced drunk and is just calling your name.” After having done his job, Tachihara walked away, joining Akutagawa.
Chuuya sighed, setting down his glass. The remaining champagne called to him, but he had to go. “Sorry, Koyo. Boyfriend duty calls.” He waved goodbye to his companion, start to head in between the crowd to find you.
As soon as people noticed that it was Chuuya, one of the most powerful executives, they quickly moved away, letting him through. But alcohol had rendered their reaction time significantly lower, and Chuuya still struggled.
“If we get attacked now, we’re fucked.” He grunted, after he had managed to push past a huddle of people who had formed a dance line and had somehow managed to run into itself, creating chaos. Chuuya adjusted his hat, scanning the purple couches that had been set around the room for the party: you had been there, the last time he saw you.
Your twinkling, beautiful laugh reached his ears over the cacophony in the room, like a siren song luring him. He followed the sound he loved so much, and finally reached you. You and your friends were sitting where he had left you. Your table was littered with empty bottles of various alcoholics, some of them open, and languidly dripping on the tabletop. Most of your friends were snoring, passed out, but a few them resisted stoically, dancing, or more wobbling clumsily, to the music. You were sitting on the couch, your cheeks red with alcohol, your hair beautifully disheveled, and singing along to the song with slurred words.
Chuuya stepped closer to you, gently placing his hand on yours. “Princess, I heard you were looking for me.” You turned around, hearing your boyfriend’s voice.
“Chuuya!” You called, your happy voice almost reaching a supersonic level. Without warning, you hooked your finger in his belt, dragging him down to the couch with you. Chuuya had only the time to blink before you climbed in his lap, straddling him. “I missed…*hic*…I missed you!” You giggled, poking his cheek continuously.
“How much have you had to drink, sweetheart?” Chuuya asked, adjusting your skirt so nothing would be revealed to anyone in the room around you.
“I don’t know!” You smiled lopsidedly at him, suddenly feeling sleepy now that your boyfriend was here. You almost fell backwards, Chuuya bringing you back against him in time.
“Okay. That’s it. We’re going home.” Chuuya decided, knowing that tomorrow’s hangover would shatter all plans he had to go ice skating with you.
You were so tired, and the room was spinning so rapidly around you that you nodded, wanting to go home. But you still had one more playful spark inside your chest. “But you have to carry me!” You whined, gripping your boyfriend tightly.
Chuuya caressed your clothed back, sighing. You were adorably cute when you were drunk. The feared port mafia executive was putty in your hands, and he adored every moment of it. Using his ability, Chuuya made you lighter in his arms, starting to walk with you clung onto him like a drunk, but beautiful koala. You giggled happily, inhaling your boyfriend’s musky cologne, and feeling lulled to sleep by his rhythmic walking. Your fingers traced heart shapes on his vest, humming a nonsensical song you were making up on the spot.
The sleepy silence of the deserted street was suddenly broken by a loud laugh that escaped you, scaring Chuuya. “What’s so funny, doll?” He asked, his heartbeat slowly calming down.
“I just realized that I love you to the moon and back!” You singsonged, smushing Chuuya’s cheeks together. Your boyfriend stared back at you, nothing but love glimmering in his eyes.
“I wuv y’too.” He managed to mumble through his squished cheeks, his heart almost on fire with joy. A gorgeous smile decorated your face, and you looked as gorgeous as an antique painting, before you suddenly collapsed against his chest, snoring loudly.
“Doll? What? You can’t just declare your love for me and then start sleeping!” Chuuya called, trying to shake your arm. But you had said what you needed to say, and was now happily in dreamland, sleeping peacefully in your boyfriend’s arms.
Chuuya realized waking you was impossible, and decided to press a kiss to your forehead, instead. He pulled you closer in his arms, enjoying the stroll through the moonlit Yokohama with his drunk koala safely in his arms.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
You had been lying in bed for a few days now. Your throat ached, as if someone had sandpapered it, and your nose had become red from all the tissues you had used. Your body temperature was acting weird, swinging from absolute boiling to absolute freezing. Right now you were freezing, gripping the duvet around you with your trembling fingers.
Your boyfriend, Fyodor, had been staying away from you to avoid getting sick, his anemia not providing a strong enough shield for him to be there. He did come in the room a few times, wearing a mask, but bringing you food and water, and caressing your forehead.
Your teeth were chattering from how cold you felt, and with a sudden whine, you realized that the heater had accidentally gone off in your room, rendering it even more freezing. You tried to convince yourself that you could get out of bed and walk the few steps to the heater. With an inhumane effort you, you dragged yourself up to a sitting position, immediately falling into a brutal couching fit.
When you opened your watery eyes, you noticed Fyodor was sitting on the edge of the bed. You immediately covered your mouth. “Fyodor, what are you doing here?” You asked, your voice broken.
“I could hear you coughing from the other room, milaya.” He called, a cold finger caressing your cheek. You averted your gaze, feeling embarrassed that you were being a burden to your permanently busy boyfriend.
Fyodor quickly read what you were thinking in your body gestures, and decided that actions would cure your scared heart more than his words. He slowly approached you, lifting a chin and pressing a kiss to your nose. Your already flushed cheeks became even redder. Fyodor then slowly cradled you into his arms, feeling your quivers shake his body as well. He grabbed the duvet, and threw it over your body, making sure you were safely encapsulated in its warmth, before picking you up.
“No, Fyodor, I don’t want to tire you out and then make you sick,” You protested meekly, weakly trying to push yourself away from his body.
“You’re freezing, milaya.” Fyodor stated, pulling you closer to himself. He expertly avoided your question, not wanting to admit that hearing you sick, and alone, in the other room had slowly destroyed his heart. The shards had slowly blossomed into the realization that he would not mind getting sick, if he could just hold you against himself while working. But he would never admit it.
You were too weak to try and convince him, happily giving up and allowing yourself to rest in your lover’s embrace as he sat back down in his office chairs, returning to work. You adjusted yourself, trying to get comfortable, accidentally uncovering your feet. Fyodor immediately tucked you back in, not wanting you to feel an inch of the cold air on your skin.
It wasn’t rare that you slept in Fyodor’s arms while he worked, his scent lulling you into a deep slumber. Your blocked nose was preventing you from smelling anything, and you shifted around his lap helplessly.
Fyodor blocked your movements. You stared up at him, slightly afraid that he would kick you out for disturbing him. Instead, Fyodor gently pulled you against himself, making sure you were comfortable, but starting to hum a quiet, Russian lullaby.
You instantly calmed down, your eyelids becoming heavier. Your body felt at peace, the shivers no longer wrecking your body. Right before sleep dragged you under the surface, you slipped your hand in Fyodor’s and pulled it close to your chest. You snuggled against his chest, starting to snore adorably.
Fyodor could not help but gaze lovingly at you, singing the Russian lullaby till he was sure you wouldn’t wake. And only then, did he lean down and kiss your lips, murmuring a quiet, “I love you,” to your ear.
Nakajima Atsushi
Your weretiger boyfriend had thrown himself down the Armed Detective Agnecy stairs when Kunikida had told him you were coming back from a mission and had severely twisted your ankle. He was now anxiously pacing in front of the building, waiting for you.
When your taxi stopped in front of him, Atsushi almost ripped the car door off, worry sinking its claws in him. You smiled weakly at him, clearly very much in pain. “Hey darling,” you called, trying to calm Atsushi down, because he was clearly on the verge of a mental breakdown: his eyes were wide, his chest heaving, and he immediately ducked down to wrap you in his strong arms, irrationally fearing you might die from a twisted ankle.
You held him close to you, whispering that you were fine, and nothing was going to happen to you. When Atsushi’s heartbeat had steadied enough for him to not crumble on the ground crying, you pulled away from him, anchoring your left hand to the car door to slowly, and carefully slip out.
You put one foot down on the ground before Atsushi intervened. He would not let you walk on your foot, for no reason at all. He leaned down, and easily picked you up in his arms, his fingers digging into your skin, as if he were afraid you would slip out of his hold and hurt yourself even more.
As Atsushi carried you, you dragged your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp to further relax the panic that was tainting his gaze. The ironclad grip he had on you slowly loosened once he was in the elevator. “My knight in shining armor,” you giggled, caressing his chin.
“My love, please, please be careful from now on,” He whispered, looking at you with eyes that almost made you start crying. You nodded, pressing your forehead against his. And in the moment of peace, neither of you noticed the elevator door opening, signaling you had arrived to your destination.
You did, however, hear Kunikida shouting his head off because Dazai had accidentally poured coffee on his notebook. You and Atsushi giggled quietly, sharing one more chaste kiss before entering the chaos that was your office.
Hii :) if you still do requests could you do a one shot where Tangerine teaches the reader something, like fighting for example. And they realize there’s tension between them? Thank you so much!💗
Ofc! Thank you sm for requesting something! I presume you meant sexual tension…so I added some smut…? Hope that’s okay!! Boi, this turned out to be super long. Please, request as much as you’d like!
Dog Shit Fighting
Pairing: Fem!Reader X Tangerine
Synopsis: Heated moments ensue after you both train together.
Warnings: NSFW
You hissed in pain, the deep slash on your leg leaking warm blood. You gently placed your hand on it, feeling the ripped fabric of your tights under your fingertips. “Fuck me,” you groaned, the pain blinding, making you dizzy. You leaned against the wall, sliding on the floor. The bodies of the men you had just killed littered the room.
You sighed, barely focusing on them. You’d slowly started getting used to killing; the sounds of their now lifeless bodies collapsing to the floor. The light trickling away from their eyes. It didn’t slash your heart as much as it used to when you had started a two months ago.
You sighed, closing your eyes, and resting your head against the dingy wall behind you, the grime sticking to your hair. “God, just a few months ago I was a law abiding person,” you thought, glancing down at your blood stained hands.
“Yeah…and perhaps it would have been better for you to remain a law-abiding person,” a voice chuckled on your left.
You turned around, grasping the gun in your hand, but quickly relaxed when you saw your crime partner, Tangerine, standing in the doorway, leaning against the wall, not a drop of blood on his immaculate suit. “Ha ha ha, so funny.” You dead-panned, waving him over. He arched an eye-brow, not moving a single step towards you. You rolled your eyes, hatred for the impossibly attractive man whom you had to deal with on a daily basis filling your chest. “I’m wounded; I can’t walk.”
Tangerine’s face darkened for a second, before he leisurely stepped over towards you, elegantly avoiding the bleeding corpses. You gripped the wall, slowly easing yourself to stand up, wincing in pain. You stretched out your arm, expecting him to loop it around his shoulders and be used as a crutch. Instead, Tangerine crouched down in front of you. “Hop on, luv.”
“Asshole. You’re enjoying this,” you hissed, slowly climbing on his back. You slipped your gun in the holster strapped to your hip. With your now empty hands, you wrapped them around Tangerine’s broad shoulders, trying to ignore his twitching muscles. You gasped as Tangerine straightened, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, hissing as the wound pulsated. Tangerine’s warm hands slipped behind him to hold your thighs and support your weight. You closed your eyes, his warm hands so close to your core sending electric waves down your spine.
To distract yourself, you cleared your throat, starting to speak. “So, how do you manage to never get any blood on your clothes?” You asked, comparing the state of your bloodied clothes to his.
“Because I know how to fight, darling. I thought that you’d start to learn how to do it by observing my perfect technique, but still get hurt every time.” Tangerine mumbled, turning his head to glance at you. You huffed, embarrassed, hiding your face with your hands.
“Shut up. You get hurt too.”
“Not as much as you, princess.”
“Stop it.”
“I’ll teach you. I’m the best fucking l teacher there is out there.”
“Yeah, as if.”
•
•
•
A few days later, your wound bandaged and healed, you were standing in the middle of you and Tangerine’s hotel room, the furniture pushed to the side. Tangerine was standing in front of you, jacket laid on his bed, and the first few buttons of his shirt opened. You were directly opposite him, wearing a loose shirt and some leggings, stretching your arms and rolling your shoulders.
“I didn’t think you’d actually teach me how to fight,” you said, running a hand through your hair.
Tangerine looked at you, a small smile peeking under his mustache, holding a toy knife in his hand. “I don’t plan on burying your dead body just fucking yet.”
You chose to ignore the last part, your heart skipping a beat. “Alright, so how are we doing this?” You asked, shifting your weight from foot to foot, unsure.
Tangerine threw the knife in the air, grabbing it without even looking. “Attack me, love.” You didn’t need to be told twice, lunging towards him, your own toy knife in hand. You tried jabbing him in the side, but Tangerine effortlessly dodged it, quickly grabbing your waist and holding you against him, your back flush to his chest, his toy knife now gently pressed against your neck.
You blinked, enveloped by his cologne. “Dead.” His warm voice caressed your ear. You closed your eyes, tempted to wonder in the labyrinth of your fantasy, feeling the outline of his body pressed against you. With difficulty, you pushed yourself away, shattering the dream painting your lashes.
You turned around, frustration boiling under your skin. “Again.” Tangerine ordered, his tone become more serious.
You didn’t attack immediately this time, pausing for a second, before darting towards the right. As soon as you noticed Tangerine sidestepping away from you, you jumped towards him, a glimmer of satisfaction flickering in your heart as you witness his supposed expression. But as soon as the flame of hope breathed to life, it was quickly extinguished when Tangerine spun away from you, stepping behind you.
Tangerine blindly threw his arm around you, once again dragging you against him. “Dead again, love. You’re real shit at this, (Y/N).” His smug voice taunted. You were about to start cursing at him, when you realized Tangerine’s hand was resting against your breast.
Your cheeks flushed red in an instant, the waves of heat shooting down between your legs. Your voice momentarily stopped working, and you had to swallow a few times before you could feel your vocal cords’ tight knot loosen. “Might wanna…um…move your hand, Tangerine.” You croaked.
There was a brief moment of silence before the realization hit the man standing behind you. “Oh, fuck me.” His hand flew away from your tit, smacking against his thigh. You quietly slid away from his arms, the strong urge to rub your thighs together clogging your mind.
Tangerine cleared his throat, a small flush dusting his cheeks. “Alright, we’ve established your absolutely shit at combat. Let me teach you the basics.” You nodded, dazed. “First, the places to stab.” Tangerine gripped his knife. “Of course, you know there’s eyes, heart, stomach, liver, so on. All that basic shit. But now I’m going to teach you a few things. Come here.”
You stepped closer to him, unsure of what he wanted to do. “Okay, let’s pretend a fucker’s chocking you.” As Tangerine spoke, he maneuvered you to stand with your back to him, wrapping an arm around your neck.
“Kinky.”
Tangerine rolled his eyes. “How do you get out?”
“Um…kick in the nuts.”
“Not bad, but most men know that’s their weak spot so they keep their hips away.” Tangerine shook his head. “Try jabbing your elbow repeatedly in their stomach.” You followed his tip, miming the act. Tangerine’s arm slithered away from your neck, pretending to be hurt. “Now, take your knife and stab from downwards to upwards, try to avoid the rib cage, go under it.”
You clasped the knife tighter, once again pretending to do it, visualizing the blood gushing on you, the adrenaline pumping in your veins. Tangerine clapped his hands slowly. “Great! Now you’re a bit better than absolute dog shit at fighting.”
“So now my fighting is at cat shit level?” You joked, tossing your toy knife in the air. Tangerine laughed. The sound was so sincere it knocked the breath out of you. It had been a while since he laughed so genuinely, the pressure of the previous job sucking all the happiness from both you, leaving you grey and unhappy. His happiness radiated from him as if he was the sun god himself, your heart melting, making you drop your knife on the floor.
You scrambled to pick it up, snapping out of your daze. As you kneeled down to grab it, you found yourself to be staring at Tangerine’s crotch. Your mouth dried the moment you noticed a significant bulge hiding behind his dress pants. You quickly stood up, pretending not have seen anything, biting your lip, as everything started becoming more noticeable to your sensitive skin, especially the seam of your leggings pressing against your crotch.
“Now, let’s try something else. What if I pick you up?” Tangerine asked, lunging towards you, wrapping his warm hands around your waist. You snapped out of your lust induced daze, quickly struggling against him, planting both feet on the ground. Tangerine started using more strength, holding you against him to destabilize you. Your ass pressed against his crotch, his bulge becoming even more evident.
Your body soon became warm again, and you could feel the perfect outline of his bulge against the thin fabric of your leggings. A soft, breathy moan ripping out of your lips. Tangerine stopped moving, his arms loosely around your waist. You froze, unsure if Tangerine had heard you. Your senses became aware of everything, mainly focusing on your shallow breath.
Tangerine’s warm hands glided down your waist, gripping your hips. Slowly, unsure, tentative, Tangerine moved his hips against you. You whimpered again. “Oh fuck, (Y/N).” Tangerine groaned. “Tell me stop,” he grunted in your ear.
You shook your head, placing your hands on his, encouraging him. “No…keep going.” You bucked against him, throwing your head back to rest against Tangerine’s broad shoulders.
“Fucking finally.” His words were breathless, his warm hands quickly spinning you around so you were face to face with him. Without a second of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck, lifting your leg. Tangerine quickly took the hint, holding your thigh, squeezing it, pressing you against himself.
You whimpered, grabbing his loosened tie and yanking him against your lips, a passionate kiss with clashing teeth and dripping saliva. His hands threaded threw your hair. Using him to balance your weight, you started grinding against him, pulling away from the kiss to press your already swollen lips against his shoulder, muting your sounds.
You gasped, feeling Tangerine’s hands hold your waist tightly, lifting you effortlessly in the air, walking briskly to the bed that had been pushed against the wall. He let you drop on it, bouncing on the expensive mattress. You quickly spread your legs, letting him hover above you.
Your eyes locked with Tangerine’s limpid blue eyes. Your heart skipped a beat, and heat suddenly burst on your cheeks. Tangerine sensed it, smiling warmly at you. “Hey, doll.” He whispered, caressing your cheek. The cold of his many rings clashing against the warmth of your heated cheeks.
“Hey,” you whispered back, suddenly timid, the weight of your near future actions suddenly drenching you in cold, wet panic. Your heart beat so fast, Tangerine could probably hear it. You averted your eyes, afraid of the beauty of his eyes.
“What’s wrong, darlin’? We can stop at any minute if you don’t feel like it,” Tangerine murmured, massaging your hips to ease the tension.
“No. No I…I don’t want to stop. I’m just…afraid, I guess. I…I don’t want this to just be a meaningless fuck.” You admitted, vocalizing the fears that had nestled deep in your heart in the span of a few seconds.
Tangerine’s face quickly changed, the difference almost as striking as sunrises and sunsets. His eyes rapidly searched for yours, holding your chin in place delicately with his fingers, almost as if he was touching a goddess. “This was never meant to be a meaningless fuck, (Y/N). Yes, I’ve dreamt of fucking you, but those dreams walked hand in hand with wishes of holding you while you slept, hiding you in my arms when life becomes too harsh.” Your eyes filled with tears, a watery smile painted on your trembling lips. “I think, the first moment I saw you, you had already taken control of my heart with a simple giggle.”
Your heart suddenly overloaded with light, the darkness of your fears melting away. You leaned towards him, clasping his lips in a kiss, the mood suddenly changing. Tangerine sighed happily in your mouth, wrapping his arms around your neck and gently laying you down on the mattress.
Your legs spread open, as Tangerine gently accomodate himself in between them, expertly pressing his knee in your crotch. Your arms hugged his shoulders, pushing him an against your heaving chest. Your lips locked together, and you barely registered Tangerine’s long fingers reaching down between your legs and hastily unbuckling his belt. His pants tumbled over the edge of the bed, nestling between the dust bunnies underneath it.
His warm hands returned back to your waist, gripping you as if his life depended on it. His lips slowly slid down to your damp neck, leaving a series of hickeys behind.
“Tan…Tan..” You moaned, trying to buck your hips to hint you wanted your pants off. Your partner, smart as he was, instantly received the message, yanking your thin leggings down your legs. His fingers slipped in your panties, grinning wickedly when he felt how wet you were.
“My god…all of this for me? You spoil me, darlin’.” Your cheeks dusted with embarrassment, but you soon forget your shame, Tangerine’s fingers slowly slipped inside you, making you touch the plains of heaven with the tip of your finger.
Your partner soon managed to find the sweet, spongy spot inside you, making your back arch away from the rumpled sheets and further into his chest. Although the pleasure was incandescent, you couldn’t wait anymore. You gently grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.
Your other hand slid inside his curls, gripping them, and slowly leading Tangerine back against your mouth. Pressed against his lips, you breathlessly pushed out, “Tangerine, I can’t…ngh…I can’t wait any longer. Fuck me. Right now.”
The demand raced straight to his dick, and Tangerine didn’t even have the control to take off his shirt before he slowly slid inside you.
The sensation was indescribable: both of your bodies were drowning in pleasure, stars twinkling in the corners of your vision. Tangerine would never admit it, but he almost blew his load immediately, your pussy becoming his new favorite sin. It took a few beautifully aching moments for his long length to bottom out, but when it did, you swore you could feel his heartbeat where your two chests connected.
“Can…can I move?” Tangerine’s voice was breathy, beautiful, caressing your ears like a loving memory. You nodded, gulping down yet another strangled moan. He bucked his hips experimentally, and both of your bodies curled in pleasure.
Tangerine started moving his hips, picking up pace every minute, and soon, the sound of the trashy soap opera the room next door had been watching was soon drowned by your grunts of pleasure. Your hands gripped Tangerine’s shoulders for dear life, and you thanked that he had kept his shirt on, or else his back would be littered with red, passionate scratches.
“Oh…oh my god, Tan! Right there!” You gasped, right after Tangerine had thrown your left leg over his shoulder, managing to find your sweet spot for the second time that night. You clenched tightly around him, Tangerine throwing his hair back in absolute bliss.
“You’re so…fucking…tight!” He groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust. He suddenly dropped back down, hovering above you, his left hand clutching the headboard while the right was on your hip. You didn’t mind, already feeling your orgasm in the pit of your stomach, like the shoreline receding before an incoming tsunami.
Tangerine pressed his lips against yours in a kiss that could be described as sloppy, passionate, heavy with all the lost kisses you had burned to give one other, and all the sleepless nights you had yearned for each other. His mustache gently scraping your upper lip was the only promise that you hadn’t died and had reached heaven.
You pulled back, noticing the string of saliva connecting your swollen lips. “I— I’m almost there.” You whimpered. To help you reach your climax, Tangerine placed his calloused thumb on your swollen clit. And truthfully, that’s all you needed.
Your orgasm crashed on you, making you almost scream in pleasure, holding Tangerine closely against you, wanting to feel all the whimpers of pleasure that cascaded from your lips. The vice-like grip you had around his cock soon dragged Tangerine over the edge. With one final trust, he emptied himself inside you, instinctively wrapping his arms around you, and crushing you into a hug, where he nuzzled his face in your neck, whispering your name back to you.
You both slowly came down, panting loudly, all your energies spent. As the sweat cooled down on your glowing skin, Tangerine could only caress your back, trying to convey feelings he was too tired to express.
After a few minutes of hugging each other in silence, Tangerine pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling the sudden loss of warmth. Your lover quickly fixed the problem by yanking the covers from underneath you, and covering your naked bodies, before engulfing you in another hug, peppering your face with kisses. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” You admitted quietly, pressing a soft kiss on his earlobe.
Your blissed out state had already taken you by the hand, and was leading you into Morpheus’ arms, but heard Tangerine chuckle quietly: “And to think that none of this wouldn’t have happened if you were not completely horrible at fighting.” You barked out a laugh.
“Hey, now if we train, and you accidentally touch my breast, you won’t have to act all embarrassed,” you murmured sleepily, your words slushing together. Tangerine’s deep, throaty laugh, and his deep, rich scent were the only things you recalled before you slipped into the most peaceful sleep you ever had, excited about the wonderful days that awaited the blossoming of your new relationship.
Synopsis: You successfully manage to drag Tangerine into a bath after a long and strenuous job.
Requested by: I lost the username…I’m so sorry!!!!
Warning: Nothing.
(So sorry this is maybe too short and very bad, but I just wanted to post something to show you guys I’m alive and currently working on all your requests!!! Please send many many more! I love writing all of them!)
You were cooking in the kitchen, making a plate of carbonara for yourself. Tangerine’s necklace was heavy in between your breasts. He always left it with you when he went on jobs.
The bacon sizzled in the pan, making you come back from your memories. You took one out of the pan, dropping it in your mouth. The juicy flavor covered your tongue, even if scorching.
As you hummed along to the song playing on your phone, the door squeaked open. Instantly, the music was too loud and the sizzling of the bacon hurt your ears. Fear slithered down your spine, freezing you.
Dry and heavy steps started trudging towards you. Silently, your hand shaking, you grabbed the knife on the counter, stepping quietly towards the wall of the kitchen. You gripped the knife just like Tangerine had taught you to do, ready to stab the intruder that had come in your home.
The steps were getting closer to the kitchen. Your hands started trembling even more, and you clasped the knife tightly to not drop it.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shape flickering closer. Without waiting, you twirled away from the wall, ready to attack the man.
“Darling?” Called a familiar voice.
Slowly, you opened your scrunched up eyes. In front of you, Tangerine stood in all his bloodied and exhausted glory. His clothes were covered in blood, and the bags underneath his eyes were bigger than when he had left. Your trembling knife was pressed against his throat. The knife tumbled from your hand, falling at your feet.
“Tangerine?” You stuttered, fear still clawing your jaw shut. The man didn’t reply, but wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, hiding his tired face in your neck. You didn’t hesitate to embrace him. You didn’t care that the blood, his or someone’s else, was soaking into your white shirt.
He stayed silent for a second before you heard his tire voice croak out, “Missed you, love.”
“I missed you too,” you whisper back, holding him tightly against your chest. You inhaled his perfume, letting your hands tangle in his curls. “Come on, we have to get you in the bath.” You gently grabbed his hand, supporting his fatigued body and carrying him towards the bathroom. Tangerine followed limply, his feet dragging on the floor.
You reached the bathroom, heaving and panting, delicately sitting Tangerine down on the toilet seat. His eyes were glazed and his head hung low. You spun towards the bathtub, flicking the tap open and turning it to choose hot water, which soon started pouring into the bath. Grabbing one of the bath bombs you kept tidily on the side, you dropped it in the water, watching as it dissolved, turning the water a sunset pink, the room now smelling like roses.
As the water gurgled, filling the bathtub, you knelt down in front of Tangerine. “Darling, I’m going to start undressing you.” You whispered calmly, not wanting to trigger his fight or flight responses: it had happened once when he was in this state and it had not been pretty. Tangerine didn’t seem to see you, but your words must have gotten through to him, his head nodding slightly.
You started unbuttoning his vest, slowly peeling it off his sweat-covered body, gently folding it. Then came the button-up shirt that was splotched with blood — a gruesome painting. You reached his pants, unbuckling his belt. You tugged them down with the boxers, helping him to stand so he could safely get into the bathtub.
Tangerine let himself be moved, as if he were a puppet, once loved and now forgotten. He sunk down into the water, leaning heavily against the side of the tub, eyes pointed to the ceiling, lost in memories of the mission you were sure were going to haunt his already tormented dreams.
You quietly started washing the encrusted blood off his face, body and hair, humming a quiet lullaby to soothe his tired mind. After a while that Tangerine had been soaking, listening to your quiet voice and feeling your warm touch on his skin, he seemed to snap out of his daze, slowly blinking awake. “Hey, Tan.” You welcomed him back, watching as he seemed to come back alive, warmth flushing his cheeks.
Tangerine looked at you as if he were seeing you for the first time, his eyes starting to glimmer with tears when his heart realized he was safe. Immediately, you were pulled into his arms, and into the water, simply embracing him as tightly as he needed. “God, I thought that…for a minute, during the mission, I wouldn’t make it back.” He croaked in your ear, pressing a kiss to your lips, his tears falling onto your lips, running down to nestle on his necklace.
You shivered at just the thought, pressing him closer. “You’re here now. You’re here. Safe.” You said, gently rocking Tangerine in your arms, hoping to reassure him.
You stayed, embraced, in the cooling water for hours. When you later tried to move, Tangerine simply held you closer, pressing soft kisses against your neck. You sighed, getting comfortable, knowing it was going to be a long night. But you were ready to be there as long as Tangerine needed you, and Tangerine loved you till the end of the world and back: you two were going to be together for all eternity.
