#atsushi is so clueless

[t4tsoukoku]

something about souheki being in a established relationship and atsushi being completely oblivious to this is so funny to me,, just thinking about atsushi going to dazais apartment because he needs something and then ranpos just. there. sitting on the couch as if this isnt really strange because atsushi didnt even realize they were friends !! dazai and ranpo soon catch on and they make a bet on when atsushi will realize (ranpo wins because of course he does)

[ssaraexposs]

If there's something weird And it don't look good Who you gonna call?

GHOSTBUSTERS!

[karmicpunishment]

you can't convince me kyouka and atsushi don't have the most insanely convoluted systems or ways for things

like they let these two traumatized orphans with wildly limited real world experience (to varying degrees) live alone together, theres no way they knew how to do most necessary 'adulting' things and neither of them probably feel like they can ask for help (even if the ada members would 100% try to help)

they definitely made systems to do things that make sense to only them but hey if it gets the job done...

its also such a "learn as we go" thing

like kyouka learning you can't just put all the clothes into one wash (esp when you have a ton of white shirts and bright red kimonos) (atsushi goes to work with pink buttons up for a week)

or them both learning how to food shop and budget for it and plan out healthy meals

im just imagining them trying to figure out how to make annual doctors appointments lol

[bsdawgz]

THIS IS THE BEST THING IVE EVER READ

Bungou Stray Dogs characters responding to you answering their question with, "Don't worry about it, Kitten."? 😆

You always have the best asks. 😂

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakahara Chuuya, Nakajima Atsushi, Edogawa Ranpo, Fukuzawa Yukichi

Contents: gn!reader

Dazai Osamu

Dazai has to stop his lazy chatter or his whining for a second to try and parse whether he heard that correctly. He lifts his head from where it's slumped on a cushion, the rest of his gangly body splayed out on the couch. He mentally replays the last few seconds and yeah, you said what he thought you said.

A slow, sly grin creeps its way across his face as he sits up, eyeing you where you're making coffee in the kitchen. His brown eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief. He's not used to his own brand of flirting being directed back at him and he's delighted.

Long arms wrap around your waist from behind, and the point of his chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

"If I'm your kitten, shouldn't you be petting me and hand-feeding me crab?" he wheedles.

You scoff, lifting a hand to ruffle his warm brown waves. He gives a pretty good impression of a purr, at least until you flick his nose, retorting, "Don't make me get the spray bottle."

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor doesn't react immediately.

His question was likely not something related to his plans or any major operations, or you wouldn't have answered him so flippantly. Perhaps it was a casual enquiry as to your day, or just asking what you were doing.

He leans slowly back in his chair and turns to look at you, his eyes glinting violet-red in the dim light of his screens.

A soft huff of amusement cuts through the quiet hum of electronics. His gaze takes you in from head to toe.

"You do like your little games, don't you, myshka? Just remember, that if I am the cat, you are the mouse."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You'd better be his s/o if you're going to pull this, because he has killed people for less.

When your words register, Akutagawa's eyes widen, white showing all around the grey. A blotchy flush appears on his pallid cheeks.

"What did you just say to me?" he asks, venomous.

If there is anyone else who was close enough to hear it, they are probably dead. Akutagawa's black coat ripples, Rashoumon stirring in response to his anger and embarrassment.

Akutagawa slaps a tendril of Rashoumon over your mouth.

"...never say that again, fool."

He stalks off in a huff.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya has a moment of BSOD, where he's not sure what he just heard. His head whips toward you so fast that his hat almost flies off. His eyebrows crash down into a scowl, while heat creeps up his neck and turns his ears crimson.

"Oi, what'd ya just call me?"

"What's wrong, kitten?" you repeat.

He sputters, annoyed and flustered and not entirely sure how he should react to that. Chuuya, being Chuuya, he aggressively adjusts his hat and straightens his shoulders, as if he can shrug off what you just said.

"I ain't no damn kitten."

Don't try and attach a bell to his choker.

Nakajima Atsushi

Completely clueless.

He just stops what he's doing, the earnest, cheerful look on his face melting into one of blank confusion.

"Um, did you just call me...?"

He's too embarrassed to say the word out loud, his cheeks pink.

"Call you what, kitten?"

You're enjoying this far more than you should, you sadist.

Atsushi swallows, looking around to make sure no one else hears you call him such an embarrassing nickname. He'd never live it down.

"Uh, is this because of the tiger thing?"

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo is leaning back in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk, a lollipop lodged firmly in his mouth. He's a little bored because there are no fun cases to solve, but he has candy, and you're nearby, so things aren't too bad, as far as he's concerned.

He doesn't even bat an eyelid when you address him as "kitten". He's halfway toward being a cat already.

Taking the lollipop from his mouth and waving it through the air, he declares, "Meow."

You should also get him a pair of cat ears. He'll wear them without a trace of shame.

"Hey, if I'm your kitten does that make you my Discord daddy?"

Fukuzawa Yukichi

I doubt anyone has ever had the balls to say something like that to Fukuzawa before, so first I must congratulate you on your cojones (metaphorical or otherwise).

He turns toward you, his stern face expressionless. After a moment, one of his eyebrows quirks up.

"Not in public, dear," he intones.

You're left spluttering, the tables so neatly turned on you. Never underestimate Fukuzawa.

[ghostlynightpanda]

Silent Acts - Part 3

synopsis: After sharing another kiss with Ranpo, the two of you begin navigating your feelings through quiet acts of care—until Ranpo, confident in logic but clueless about emotional nuance, decides that two shared kisses automatically make you a couple.

content/warnings: Ranpo Edogawa x reader, fluff, -2.295 words

Part 1 Part 2

It was a day like every other.

Dazai was eyeing a variety of poisons laid out on his desk, apparently contemplating which one to try in pursuit of his latest suicide attempt—though, of course, single suicide wasn’t his dream. After all, there was no pretty woman to take them with him.

Kenji was negotiating with a spider he’d named Haruto, trying to convince it to vacate the windowsill. Kunikida was already shouting, confiscating the poisons and attempting to shoo the spider away.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, unnoticed unless you were looking, was you.

Still quiet. Still calm. Still the one behind the curtain pulling everything into working order.

But something had changed.

You placed Yosano’s iced coffee beside her monitor—no fanfare, no comment. She didn’t look up, but she nudged it half an inch closer with a small hum of approval.

Kunikida’s updated, color-coded schedule was already in his folder. Atsushi’s usual corner desk had been cleared without him noticing. Even the blinds had been adjusted so the late morning sun wouldn't glare on Junichiro’s monitor.

But when you reached Ranpo’s desk, you didn’t hesitate this time.

He was sprawled as always—legs kicked up, head tilted back, sunglasses slightly askew. He looked asleep. He wasn’t.

You set a fresh pack of strawberry candies next to his elbow, the same brand he liked, plus a second—one he hadn’t tried before.

Ranpo didn’t move.

But you turned just slightly as you walked away, pausing in your step. “The new one’s sour,” you said softly, barely above the surrounding noise. “Figured you’d be curious.”

That was all. No eye contact. No awkward pause. Just a sentence. A single, unnecessary explanation.

Ranpo opened one eye, his head turning lazily toward you as you retreated to your desk.

And then, he smiled. A real one.

No smug twist, no teasing tilt—just a soft, rare curve of his lips that no one else caught.

You didn’t see it.

But somehow, you felt it.

Later, he wandered past your desk for no reason at all, slid a case file into your inbox with two sticky notes attached. One had the mission details.

The other read: Y/N is obviously the best at decoding boring reports. Definitely not because I’m too lazy. 🍓

You read it twice. The second time, your lips twitched.

Not quite a smile.

But close.

And this time, you didn’t hide it. You didn’t have to.

Because Ranpo was already watching you from across the room, one arm lazily draped over the back of the couch, eyes half-lidded behind his glasses. When he caught the flicker of movement on your face, his grin deepened.

He said nothing. Didn’t tease. Didn’t make it a performance like he normally would.

But the next day, a small packet of your favorite tea appeared on your desk, along with a snack you hadn’t realized he even knew you liked.

No note. No dramatic presentation.

Just there. Quietly placed. Like he had noticed something, and this was his reply.

This became the new rhythm between you: quiet exchanges, subtle gestures, small things with weight only the two of you seemed to recognize.

You began sitting closer during meetings—close enough that his coat would occasionally brush your arm when he leaned back too far. He didn’t pull away. Neither did you.

You’d offer him candies from his own stash when he pretended not to notice he was out, and he��d tilt his head, mock-offended.

“I see how it is,” he’d say, lips twitching. “Stealing my candy and my heart.”

You wouldn’t answer. But you didn’t look away either.

Once, during a long day at the Agency, you found him asleep at his desk, glasses askew, a file still half-open under his arm. Without thinking, you gently removed his glasses, folded them, and set them aside. You draped your scarf—clean, soft, scentless—over his shoulders before returning to your own work.

When he woke up, he didn’t mention it.

But he wore that scarf the entire next day.

A few days later, you were home. You had just finished reorganizing your bookshelf by genre and then author and then spine color, the kind of detail work that steadied your thoughts.

You didn’t expect the knock. It wasn’t loud. Just two quick raps, then one softer.

You opened the door without hesitation.

Ranpo stood there, coat slightly askew, glasses perched messily in his hair like he’d pushed them up and forgotten. In his hands, he held a small paper bag, slightly crumpled at the edges.

He looked at you for half a second and smiled like he’d already solved the entire conversation you hadn’t started.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he said simply.

You blinked. “For what?”

“Our date,” he said, like it was obvious. “That’s what couples do, right?”

You stared at him, trying to process the statement. “We’re… dating?”

Ranpo tilted his head. “You kissed me, didn’t you? And I kissed you before that. Feels like a pretty straightforward conclusion.”

“That doesn’t automatically—” you paused, confused. “Is that how it works?”

He shrugged. “Sure, I think so. Now come on. You don’t need to change or anything. You already look nice.”

You looked down at your plain clothes. Then back at him.

“I didn’t know we were going anywhere.”

“That’s okay,” he said, offering you the bag. “I brought snacks. We’ll go somewhere quiet. You’ll like it.”

You didn’t move at first.

But then, slowly, carefully, you took the bag from his hand. Inside was a strawberry bun. And your favorite flavor of tea—still warm, sealed in a thermos.

You looked up. “I’m still figuring this out,” you admitted, voice low. “I don’t know if I’m doing it right.”

Ranpo reached up, gently tapping your forehead with two fingers. “You’re doing better than most,” he said. “Just come with me.”

You stepped out of the doorway, pulling the door shut behind you.

For the first time, you didn’t feel like you needed a reason to follow.

And for the first time, he didn’t walk ahead. 

He walked beside you.

Ranpo didn’t say where he was taking you. He just walked, one hand tucked in his coat pocket, the other swinging freely like he didn’t have a care in the world. The bag of snacks you carried rustled softly in your hands.

You didn’t ask questions. You weren’t sure what to ask.

But you didn’t mind the silence.

He led you through side streets and narrow alleys, past shuttered shops and faintly glowing lamplight, until you reached a narrow, rusted staircase at the side of an old building.

He pointed upward, grinning. “Trust me.”

You hesitated only a second before following him.

The rooftop wasn’t anything special. The concrete was cracked in places, the metal railings a little bent. But the view—wide, soft, and touched by the golden spill of city lights—was almost beautiful.

There was a blanket already laid out on the ground. Probably snuck up here by Ranpo earlier in the day. Next to it, a small lantern flickered weakly, clearly battery-powered and clearly dying. He sat down cross-legged with a dramatic sigh and gestured for you to join him.

“You… prepared this?” you asked, slowly lowering yourself beside him.

Ranpo puffed out his chest. “Of course. I’m a genius, remember? I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

You opened the paper bag again and handed him a red bean bun.

He traded you for a juice box he’d pulled from his coat.

The two of you sat there, sharing snacks and the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward anymore. Not heavy, not expectant—just quiet, steady company.

You glanced sideways after a while. “Why a rooftop?”

Ranpo tilted his head. “Because it’s high enough to feel important, but low enough not to scare you off.”

You frowned slightly. “You think I scare easy?”

“No,” he said. “But I think sometimes… the world does.”

You looked down at your hands. At the way they didn’t tremble anymore. “Maybe.”

He reached over, plucking a crumb from your sleeve, and popped it into his mouth with all the grace of someone who absolutely didn’t care how weird that looked.

You stared.

He winked. “Romantic, right?”

You didn’t answer, but your shoulder bumped into his just slightly.

And you didn’t pull away.

Time passed without either of you marking it. The tea cooled in its thermos. The lantern’s light dimmed to a soft orange hum. The rooftop felt farther from the rest of the world than it probably was.

“I’ve never really… done this,” you said after a while, your voice quieter than before.

“This?” Ranpo echoed, mouth full of the last bun.

“This,” you repeated. “Dates. Talking like this. Letting someone… stay.”

He didn’t interrupt. Just looked at you, unusually patient.

“I keep thinking I’m going to mess it up. That you’ll expect something I don’t know how to give. Or that I’ll say something wrong and you’ll realize I’m not worth the effort.”

Ranpo leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the stars barely visible through the city haze. “You know what the best part about being a genius is?”

You looked at him, waiting.

“I already figured out all the ways you might mess up,” he said, eyes glinting, “and I still showed up anyway.”

You blinked at him. “…That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Exactly,” he said, grinning now. “That’s what feelings are like. Messy, ridiculous, and mostly irrational. You’re not broken because you don’t get it right the first time. You’re just honest.”

A pause.

“And,” he added, glancing sideways, “we kissed. Twice. So you’re stuck with me now.”

You huffed, barely a sound, but your lips curved.

Not quite a full smile. But real.

Ranpo stretched out beside you, lying down completely now, his coat pillowing the back of his head. He looked up at the sky, then over at you. “You’re doing fine, Y/N.”

And for once, when you heard it…

You believed him.

The next morning, the city felt unusually light beneath your feet.

Maybe it was the cool spring air, or the sunlight that filtered through the clouds just right. Or maybe—though you wouldn’t admit it aloud—it had something to do with the hand intertwined with yours.

Ranpo walked beside you, humming aimlessly, swinging your joined hands gently between you like it was the most natural thing in the world. He didn’t seem to care who saw. You weren’t sure if you did, either.

You hadn’t talked about what it meant. You hadn’t set definitions. But neither of you needed to.

Not when it felt like this.

As you turned the corner toward the Agency building, a familiar figure leaned casually against the wall just outside, a cup of vending machine coffee in one hand and a curious glint in his eye.

Dazai’s gaze landed immediately on your joined hands. His brows arched, the corners of his mouth already twitching upward.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “What’s this? A romantic stroll? Are my eyes deceiving me, or is our stoic little Y/N willingly holding hands with someone in public?”

You didn’t stop walking.

“Excuse me,” you said simply, brushing past him with practiced grace and stepping into the building. No hesitation. No need to elaborate.

Small talk still wasn’t your thing.

Ranpo, on the other hand, lingered behind, entirely unfazed.

“Yep,” he said, tugging his hat up with one hand while the other still swung slightly at his side. “That’s what couples do, right?”

Dazai blinked. “Wait, wait—couples? As in, you’re dating now?”

Ranpo looked at him like he’d just asked if the sky was still blue. “Yeah.”

Dazai squinted, confused. “When did that happen? Did you confess? Ask her out?”

Ranpo shrugged. “Nope.”

“…Nope?”

“We kissed,” he said simply. “Twice.”

Dazai stared.

Ranpo continued, completely at ease. “Then I took her on a date yesterday. She didn’t say no. We held hands. I brought snacks. That’s dating.”

Dazai took a slow sip of his coffee. “Ranpo… you can’t just decide you're dating someone because you kissed them twice.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Dazai said, now rubbing his temple with one hand, “there’s usually a conversation. A confession. You ask if they want to date you. There’s mutual acknowledgment.”

“But I already know she does,” Ranpo said, clearly puzzled as to why this was confusing. “I’m not dumb. I kissed her because I like her. She kissed me back. That means she likes me too. What else is there to ask?”

Dazai opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Ranpo tilted his head. “I don’t kiss just anyone, you know.”

“Ranpo…”

He looked thoughtful. “She doesn’t talk much, but I notice things. I don’t need her to spell it out. And she knows how I feel. Why would I need to say it if I already made it clear?”

Dazai looked genuinely exhausted. “You don’t think asking might be a good idea? Just in case?”

Ranpo frowned. “But that’d be redundant. I already solved it.”

For a long moment, Dazai stared at him like he was trying to decide whether to keep arguing or just roll himself into the nearest trash can and give up.

Eventually, he sighed, tossing the empty coffee cup into the nearby bin.

“You’re lucky she’s just as weird as you.”

Ranpo smiled smugly. “Yep.”

With a long groan, Dazai turned and walked away, muttering something about hopeless cases and how deductive geniuses were the worst kind—brilliant at solving mysteries, completely useless at understanding basic human interactions.

Ranpo didn’t follow immediately.

He just looked up at the Agency door where you’d disappeared moments ago—quiet, unreadable.

Then, with a hum, he stepped inside.

Still smiling.

Still certain.

[lupin-et-rose]

BSD Brainrot (Pt. 2)

Just an outpouring of horny thoughts on main. (Again).

BSD boys x F!Reader — NSFW

Part 2 - Atsushi & Akutagawa (separately)

Warnings: Cursing, frequent sexual references, completely subjective headcanons

A/N: BSD gods, forgive me, for I have sinned. (Again).

Why is WAN the only group gif I can find for this filth-?! It is Ungodly~!

Minors DNI - 18+ only

Atsushi

Gods help me, I would not feel a damn thing sexually for this sweet cinnamon roll if not for fucking Tumblr-—

Can I just say I hate how this gif gave me *ideas*-?

Okay it first and foremost, this boy is probably the closest to Poe-levels of sub that you'll find on the ADA team.

Like, sure, he grows into his confidence and could eventually top/dom you, but more likely than not, it will be by your request.

And even then, the most likely scenario is that he's a service top all the way—and so hopelessly clueless about how this stuff works.

He grew up in what seems to be a very rigid and conservative orphanage, so chances are their sex-ed was minimal at best.

Because of that, at least for the first little while, you're gonna have to be his teacher.

Showing him where everything is, helping him find what feels good for you and for him.

But let me tell you—this boy learns. And not only that, this boy Remembers—

You show him something once, and Istg

Just imagine this boy: the first time you even suggest anything spicy, his entire face goes bright red. Like hands-in-his-lap, eyes-on-the-floor, stuttering apologies red.

“I-I mean… if you want to—I would! I just—I don’t know if I’d be any good at—”

You kiss him. Gently. He trembles.

And then he asks you questions. So many questions.

“Does this feel good?”

“Am I hurting you?”

“Do you want it slower?”

“Should I use more pressure?”

(He gets so adorably flustered if you moan without warning.)

His tiger form makes things… interesting. Once he’s comfortable enough, you start experimenting with that transformation—and he’s mortified at first.

But when you praise the strength in his arms? The heat of his skin? The way those claws barely scratch as he grips your thighs?

He whimpers.

“I’m not too much like this? You still want me?”

He’s the kind of partner who says, in all earnestness:

“I want to make you feel good. Please let me try. Tell me what to do.”

And when you do? He listens.

You guide his hands between your legs, teach him how to use his mouth, where to suck, how long to stay—and he watches your face the entire time like it’s the only thing that matters.

He’s embarrassingly sensitive. Whisper in his ear? Gone. Stroke your fingers down his chest while straddling him? Gone. Suck on his neck and call him “good boy”?

Absolutely wrecked.

Breathless, gasping, half-hiding under your touch and still trying to make you come first.

That tiger arm, though? Very dexterous. Very strong.

He holds you down with it once—accidentally—and the way you moaned makes something awaken in him.

“Did you like that?” he asks, wide-eyed and slightly dazed.

You smile. “Do it again, Atsushi.”

And he does. With a look on his face like he can’t believe what he’s getting away with.

The more confident he becomes, the more dangerous he gets.

He still asks before trying new things—but his voice gets lower. His hands steadier.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers, slowly sinking to his knees. “Let me take care of you. Please.”

The first time you two went all the way?

Atsushi was nervous. Not because he doesn’t want to—he definitely wants to—but because he cares so much it physically hurts. You kiss him once, and his hands are already shaking.

You have to guide him through everything. Kisses, touches, undressing—each piece of clothing taken off gets a gasp like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You’re so—beautiful,” he breathes. “I don’t even know where to look—”

He keeps checking in. Constantly.

“Does this feel good? Is that okay? Am I doing this right?”

You have to literally hold his face and say, “Atsushi, you’re doing perfectly.”

He lets out this soft, shuddering breath like you just lifted a hundred-pound weight off his chest.

The first time he makes you moan? His brain short circuits. He stops mid-movement like—

“Wait. That—was that because of me?”

You nod. He blushes so hard it spreads down his neck.

Then he gets this determined look and says;

“Okay. I want to hear that again.”

When he’s finally inside you, he has to pause. Not because he doesn’t want to keep going—but because the sheer intimacy of it nearly undoes him.

He buries his face in your neck, whimpering, “This is real. You really want me.”

You wrap your arms around him, kiss his ear, and whisper, “I do. All of you.”

He’s not perfect—but he’s so attentive. So eager. So in love with the way you respond to him.

And when he finally comes, it’s with this shocked little cry, his entire body trembling, arms wrapped tight around you like he’s afraid to let go.

—Another special thing about that first time, was what a Koala that boy turned into after the fact.

He doesn’t even roll off of you right away. He just stays there, trembling slightly, forehead pressed against your shoulder, arms around your waist like he’s fused to you.

You run your fingers through his hair. His breathing slows.

And then, quietly—almost like he doesn’t want to say it—he whispers:

“…Did I do okay?”

You reassure him. You kiss his temple. You tell him how good he made you feel, how gentle he was, how deeply you love him.

And that’s when the dam breaks.

He clutches you tighter, lets out this choked little exhale, and you realize—he was holding it together for you.

Trying to be brave. Trying to impress you.

Now that it’s over, he lets himself feel it all.

He becomes physically incapable of letting you go. If you try to shift, or get up for water, or grab the blanket?

“No—stay. Just a little longer—please—”

His limbs wrap around you like vines. He tucks his face into your chest, eyes fluttering closed, voice muffled in your skin:

“I’ve never felt this safe before. Not ever.”

And if you pet him? Run your nails gently down his back, kiss his shoulder, hum something soft—

He purrs.

Actual tiger purring.

He’s too blissed out to even be embarrassed about it.

Later, when he’s a little more coherent, he gets weirdly formal about it.

“I, uh… I would like to do that again. Whenever you want. Or if you don’t want to again, that’s okay, too—I just… um… thank you.”

He bows his head. He bows.

You gently tilt his chin up and kiss him stupid again.

And when he sleeps? Oh, he clings. One arm under your waist, the other across your stomach. A leg thrown over yours. His whole body curved around you like you’re the only thing tethering him to the Earth.

You whisper his name. He doesn’t even open his eyes—just hums and squeezes you closer.

“Don’t let go,” he murmurs. “Even if I fall asleep. Stay with me.”

And you do.

Because now he’s yours—and he knows it.

Oh, but when the Tiger in him likes you too? Things get even better—

You notice it first during those soft, quiet moments after sex—when he’s warm and boneless against you, breath slow, cheek pressed to your shoulder, arms looped around your waist.

The purring starts up again—deep and resonant, like a lullaby from somewhere under his ribs.

But then you feel it.

The soft brush of something warm, furry, and alive curling around your calf.

You look down.

His tail. Poofed into being. Slowly wrapping around your ankle, then your thigh, and then the both of you like ivy.

He doesn’t even seem to realize it’s happening at first.

Until you stroke it and whisper, “Getting comfy, tiger?”

He jerks up, yelps, turns scarlet.

“S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—heh—I didn’t know it was doing that—!”

Oh, when the tiger in him likes you…Not just lusts after you. Not just obeys you. It likes you—enough to claim you, cling to you, curl around you like it wants to keep you forever.

A nd when you play with his hair? Or nuzzle him on the train? Or rub your thumb over the spot where his tail joins his spine?

That tail tightens. The purring deepens.

And Atsushi just melts against you with this soft, desperate little sigh.

“Feels…really nice. Don’t stop.”

But when someone interrupts? That’s when things get interesting.

Someone brushing too close to you in public. A stranger leaning in to ask a question. An agent standing just a bit too close while you’re on a case.

You feel it before you hear it: a low, warning growl, deep in his chest.

It surprises everyone—especially Atsushi.

He stares at them wide-eyed. Then at you.

“I—I didn’t mean to growl—I’m so sorry—are you okay?! I wasn’t trying to scare anyone I swear I—!”

You’re okay. More than okay. In fact… You lean in close. Brush your lips against his ear and whisper,

“Do that again in private.”

And just like that, his knees go weak.

If it happens in the field—some sleazeball with a smirk and wandering eyes—you see the tiger come out in his posture, his growl, the way his tail lashes behind him.

He’s not even aware of it. But you are.

And when the bastard backs off, and the threat is handled, and Atsushi returns to you flushed and flustered and full of apologies—

You grab him by the collar and pull him into the nearest dark corner.

“You growled. For me.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

You lick your lips. “Do it again.”

And before he can process what’s happening, you’ve got your hands under his jacket, lips on his neck, thighs parted as you drag him into the kind of kiss that makes his tail go rigid and his claws dig into your hips.

(Gently. Just enough to scratch. Just enough to feel.)

Later—after breathless gasps and soft apologies and trembling fingers—you whisper,

“The tiger in you really likes me, huh?”

And he hides his face in your shoulder, voice muffled and low:

“Yeah. I think… we both do.”

Then we hit the turning point. Once Atsushi had gathered enough confidence to hold his own—HO~BOY!

It starts with teasing. Your teasing.

You cup his face mid-makeout, whisper something like, “Still so red… You’re always blushing like you’ve never touched me before.”

You grin. You expect him to fluster.

But instead, though still blushing, something flickers in his eyes. Something almost like a challenge—like determination. He blinks at you, slowly. Tilts his head.

And says, “That’s cute coming from the person who starts shaking when I put my tongue right…”

His hand slides down between your thighs. You gasp. His lips twitch. The first flicker of a satisfied smile.

Or maybe you poke fun at how territorial he gets—“Purring when I scratch your ears, growling when someone looks at me, kneading my ass like it’s your favorite pillow…”

And he just shrugs, trying to be unbothered. Though your words - and the ones about to leave his mouth - make his ears burn.

“Well,” he murmurs, slipping a clawed finger beneath your waistband, “you’re mine. It’s only fair I treat you like it.”

That’s the thing: he remembers everything. Every soft spot. Every stuttered gasp. Every weak-kneed moan you gave him when he was learning.

And now? He’s got his claws in just the right places.

He presses you down into the mattress with that half-shifted tiger weight, mouth hot on your skin, breath panting in your ear:

“You taught me so well, love. Let me show you what I’ve learned.”

He kneads your thighs like a cat—claws just grazing, enough to leave tingling trails. He kisses your belly while whispering,

“Still think I’m too shy?”

And then his tail wraps around your ankle and pulls—gently but firmly—spreading your legs for him as he sinks down between them with a growl.

You swear the floor tilts. You try to sass back—“Oh, so you think you’re in charge now?”—but your voice cracks when he bites your inner thigh and mumbles,

“Only when you want me to be.”

Then he slides his tongue exactly where you need it, curls his clawed hand under your hip, and devours you like he’s starving.

His eyes glow faintly when he’s half-shifted. His fangs flash. His tongue—God, his tongue. You swear he’s figured out the exact pattern of pressure, temperature, and sound that makes you break.

“You’re so loud for me now,” he murmurs, pupils narrowed to slits. “Where’s all that teasing gone?”

And he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

When you come apart under him—shaking, crying his name, breathless and spent—he smirks. Pushes your hair back. Kisses your forehead.

Then purrs, “Do I still need the training wheels now, love?”

And even as you lie there twitching, legs numb and brain short-circuited, he’s still going.

Trailing his claws down your sides. Mouthing at your neck. Whispering,

“One more, just to be sure. You’ll remember this, won’t you?”

He’s still your soft boy. Still cuddly. Still blushes sometimes.

But now? Now he knows he can wreck you.

And sometimes, when you least expect it, you’ll catch that tiger smile—the one that says, I could break you again if I wanted. And maybe I will.

***

Akutagawa

(Istg, all the BSD boys in a randomiser & this is what came up after Atsushi. You can’t make this shit up.)

God help us all. You don’t just “sleep” with Akutagawa. You undo him. He doesn’t know how to be touched, how to ask, how to receive anything that isn’t harsh or violent or tactical. The idea that pleasure could be given—softly, gently—is so alien to him, he treats it like a reconnaissance mission.

In the beginning, everything is Rashomon.

You could be on your back, breath hitching, legs shaking, and it’s still the inky-black tendrils of his ability holding your wrists in place, tracing down your thighs like he’s mapping pressure points.

He doesn’t move his face. Doesn’t emote. His eyes flick over your body like a surgeon measuring every twitch and whimper.

His voice is low, command-heavy.

“Breathe. Again.”

“Hold still.”

“Don’t close your eyes. I want to see you come undone.”

He never lets you touch him back. Rashomon always intercepts. Not because he doesn’t want you to—he just doesn’t know how to take softness.

To him, your moans are data. The arch of your back is intel. He’s learning you like a battlefield—and fucking hell, it’s hot in the most emotionally constipated way imaginable.

And then—you touch his hair.

It’s nothing. Barely more than a brush, your fingers slipping into the dark strands at the nape of his neck while he’s above you, concentrating, scowling.

He freezes.

Like someone pulled a trigger on a trap he didn’t realize was rigged to his spine. His breath stutters. His hand (yes, an actual hand) trembles.

You murmur something small—something soft. Maybe a “Good boy,” maybe just, “You’re doing so well.”

And he vanishes. Stiffens. Retreats. Tosses some curt excuse about a mission or Dazai or the weather before slamming a door behind him and leaving you gasping and confused.

The next time you see him? He won’t meet your eyes. His hands stay gloved. He speaks in half-sentences, as though afraid you might kiss him in broad daylight and collapse the last defenses he’s spent years building.

Until you do kiss him.

Take him by the cravat. Pull him in. Press your mouth to his with love, not hunger.

That’s when he blue-screens.

Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t react—until, seconds later, his fingers are trembling around your waist and he’s kissing you back like you’re the first breath he’s ever drawn of clean air.

And from that moment on? All bets are off.

He becomes ravenous. Like the floodgates have opened and now he’s starving—for your body, for your touch, for the sounds you make when he presses you to his desk and hisses in your ear:

“Louder. I need to hear you.”

(Oh yeah—Akutagawa’s got an auralism kink that hits like a freight train. Your cries, your moans, your gasps when he licks you with terrifying precision? He’s rock hard from sound alone.)

He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize your lungs. Bites your shoulder to muffle his own groans.

His hands, once so hesitant, now trail reverently down your body—calloused fingers brushing your inner thighs like they might burn him if he grips too tightly.

And the first time you whimper his name? His knees almost give out.

He fucks like a man making up for lost time—sloppy, intense, possessive but never cruel. And when he cums, it’s with this raw, shaking groan, like the pleasure is tearing him apart.

Afterward, he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He stays close. Hovers. Eyes you like you might disappear.

“You’re not… hurt, are you?”

You guide his head to your chest. Whisper, “I’m perfect.”

And he lays there like he might actually believe you.

The sheer insanity of how needy he becomes once he starts craving your touch.

It sneaks up on him. At first, it was tolerable. You’d kiss his cheek. Brush your fingers through his hair. Hold his hand under the table like it was no big deal. He thought he could handle it.

He cannot handle it.

Now he finds himself seeking it. Reaching out for your hand in quiet moments. Standing just a bit closer when you walk side by side. Letting his shoulder bump yours on the train even though he’s never let anyone stand that close before.

(And the second you rest your head on his shoulder? He stops breathing entirely.)

If you so much as sigh his name during a kiss? He’s on you. No thoughts. No restraint. Just gloved hands sliding under your clothes, lips on your neck, muttering, “Say it again.”

And God help you if you brush your fingers over the back of his neck—the spot right where his spine meets the edge of his hairline. He shudders. Every time. Like you just hit the kill switch on his self-control.

You start to do it on purpose.

He starts to lean into it like a cat.

At night, in private, he becomes downright clingy. You’ll wake up to find him half on top of you, one arm wrapped around your waist, his face tucked against your shoulder like he’s trying to disappear into your skin.

If you try to get up? His voice is groggy, rough:

“…Stay. A little longer.”

He doesn’t ask for affection. Not directly.

But he’ll nudge your hand toward his hair. Tilt his head to the side like a silent plea. Sit beside you and very, very quietly whisper,

“Touch me.”

And when you do? He sighs. Actually sighs. Like he’s finally breathing again.

Sex becomes less about dominance and more about being close. About skin. Contact. Hands on your hips, on your chest, on your face.

His kisses go from rough to hungry—as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth.

He starts to memorize you too. The exact angle your head tips when you’re about to lean in and kiss him. The way your breath catches when his fingers graze the inside of your thigh.

And when he starts craving it?

He’ll take you by the hand, bring you into the shadows of a back hallway, and whisper:

“I need you. Now.”

Rashomon still helps. Still flares out and restrains you sometimes. But it’s no longer about control. It’s about keeping you close. Holding you where he can touch you, kiss you, feel you.

You’ve become the one thing in his life he can’t stand to be without.

The First Time You Give Him Aftercare…You expected to have to ask him to slow down. To breathe. To lie down after.

What you didn’t expect was how quiet he gets.

Not cold. Not distant. Just… still. Tension thick under the surface. A storm not yet spent.

He always checks on you first.

Pulls his gloves back on. Helps you redress in stiff, silent motions.

“Are you… hurt?” he asks, eyes flicking over your skin like it’s a damage report.

You tell him you’re okay. Kiss his cheek. Whisper, “Now let me take care of you.”

He stares at you like you just spoke a language he doesn’t know.

“…I don’t need it,” he mutters.

You cup his face, run your thumb along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

“I didn’t ask if you needed it. I’m doing it because I want to.”

You get him a warm towel. Gently clean the marks left on his skin—nail crescents on his hips, love bites blooming at his collar. He watches every motion, frozen, like he’s afraid to breathe.

He can’t make eye contact. Not until you tuck him against your chest, fingers combing through his hair, and whisper something so small and sweet it nearly breaks him:

“You don’t always have to be strong with me.”

And that’s when he shakes. Just barely. Not quite crying. But trembling.

You kiss his hair. Rub circles into his back. Stroke the muscles in his arm until his fingers unclench.

And slowly—slowly—he begins to relax into you.

His breath evens. His body stops bracing.

You whisper, “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

He murmurs, barely audible: “…Thank you.”

Aftercare for you is harder for him to grasp. He tries—but it’s clumsy at first.

He offers you water with trembling hands. Wipes your brow with the stiff grace of a man who’s read about tenderness but never felt it.

But he learns.

You show him how to hold you without urgency. How to be present with you, not just for you.

And when you kiss him afterward—slow, unhurried, gentle—he exhales like a man who’s just learned the word love in a language only your touch can translate.

The second time he lets you care for him, he doesn’t flinch when you pull him into your lap.

The third time, he asks—quietly.

“Will you hold me again?”

By the fourth time?

He’s the one guiding you to bed after. Curling around you protectively. Whispering,

“You were perfect.”

It’s still awkward. Still a little stiff. But it’s his way of saying:

I’m yours. You showed me how to rest. And now I’ll never stop wanting to rest with you.

Outside the bedroom, He doesn’t get jealous. He gets… observant. Watchful.

Someone talks to you for a little too long? Leans too close? That gloved hand is suddenly placed—casually, perfectly—at the small of your back.

His fingers curl, just slightly.

“Are you done?” he asks the third party without looking at them.

(You swear the air temperature drops ten degrees.)

You wear something a little more revealing than usual on a mission. Nothing scandalous. Just enough to draw a few lingering glances.

He says nothing.

But you feel Rashomon wrap lightly around your wrist while you’re walking beside him.

A soft tug.

A silent reminder: Mine.

You reel back laughing at something Tachihara says.

Akutagawa doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t raise his voice.

He just steps closer behind you, mouth near your ear, voice low as sin:

“Tell me—does he make you gasp for air like I do when I have my mouth between your thighs?”

You choke. Tachihara smirks at both of you, shooting a smarmy wink your way before he backs off. Akutagawa’s still glaring.

In bed, it’s different. Hotter. Worse.

You think you’re in charge for a second—riding him, grinding slow, teasing him with praise.

Then his voice drops:

“You want to play coy, now? After the way you screamed for me last night?”

And suddenly Rashomon is bracing your hips down, grinding you into him at his pace, until you’re gasping and cursing and his name is the only thing in your mouth.

He doesn’t like being separated on missions. Even if it’s strategic. Even if it’s necessary.

“You’re better at recon,” you argue.

He shrugs. “You’re better at staying alive when I’m nearby.”

If someone else touches you, even innocently—a teammate brushing your arm, a hand on your back in a crowd—he notices.

You always know because he touches you back in the exact same spot ten minutes later.

Slow. Deliberate.

Like he’s rewriting it.

And if you stray too far during a joint op? Oh, he’ll find you. He always does.

Silent as a shadow, he appears at your side, eyes sharp.

“Don’t stray far again,” he murmurs.

You try to play it off—“I was only across the street.”

His hand slides to your waist. Pulls you in close.

“I mean it.”

He doesn’t say “mine”—he acts it.

In the weight of his stare when someone else makes you laugh.

In the curve of Rashomon around your ankle beneath the table.

In the way he whispers your name in your ear when you’re close to coming—

“Only I get to see you like this.”

And when you finally whisper back, “I’m yours”?

The look in his eyes isn’t just possessive. It’s worshipful.

Like he knows he doesn’t deserve you.

And like he’ll destroy anyone who thinks they could.

[theholypeanut]

♪ I Think He Knows ♪

Content: GOM + Kagami + Takao having a tall gf (headcanon) fem!reader, just fluff, tiny suggestive

Notes: “Tall”, but realistically (I know wild for knb) so let’s say approx 5’9 (175 cm)

Kuroko

- Kuroko is so used to everyone being taller than him, that he wouldn’t really feel that out of place while having a tall girlfriend

- You are the only person allowed to stroke his hair, but only in private - you’d never allow anyone to see it

- Kuroko always cares about your comfort and even if he is not much into pda, you hold hands very often

- He love to kiss your forehead when you sit

- He can be both a big or a small spoon, whatever you need

Kise

- Kise absolutely adores that you are tall, but not taller than him

- You can get model gigs with him and he asks you to that often because he is just obsessed with showing you to people

- You can still comfortably wear heels with him

- Kise loves hugging you from behind

- H U G E pda fan, you are never safe in public, holding hands, stolen kisses, constant forehead kisses because “your forehead is just so close to my lips it’s asking for it”

- will literally hiss seeing guys checking you out

Aomine

- He was actually quite bummed at the beginning that you are not tiny, because he cannot make fun of you 24/7

- But who cares about height there are other measurements that are more important (I’m not pointing fingers)

- You are still smaller than him so he can put his hand on your hair and just destroy any hairstyle you have and laugh at you

- The king of putting his hand around you waist

- Randomly nibbles your neck and starts teasing (usually it ends up spicy)

- Mr “I’ll whisper dirty stuff to your ear in public and watch you get red”

- Puts his chin on your head All. The. Time.

- Tries to make you play basketball with him because “tbh you are still higher than Akashi and Kuroko so maybe there’s some potential” (he’d never say that next to Akashi obv)

Midorima

- Midorima is so clueless and extra tall, that he wouldn’t even notice that you are reasonably tall for a girl until someone points it out. Or until you stand next to Takao

- He has absolutely no opinion about it whatsoever because he just don’t think it’s an important factor in a relationship

- However he gets red like a tomato if you’d hug him from behind and put your face on his shoulder

- Or if you stand on your tiptoes and give him a forehead kiss. He is g o n e

- That’s the day he decided he loves that you are tall

- Gets annoyed when someone comments that you could be a model. Tells you that you absolutely shouldn’t start a model career, and didn’t want to elaborate why (because he was afraid you’d start attracting a bigger crowd and leave him bc he is an insecure Bebe inside fight me)

Murasakibara

- Tall? You? You look like a Smurf to him

- Who is this gnome standing next to him? Yes that’s you

- I mean, again, Murasakibara do not find you really tall. However seeing how small are girls at school, Atsushi fast realised that this is as good as it gets

- Atsushi constantly puts his head on yours

- If any guy tries to flirt with you and approaches you, he gets jealous quickly and shows up out of nowhere and holds you by the waist to show dominance (and with his height… works like a charm)

- Murasakibara is a big baby and pouts if any guy is complimenting how tall you are

- Also for very long he would call you “tiny” and everyone had the idea that you must be very small, and gets surprised when they meet you (“well for me she is tiny”)

- He is constantly kissing the crown of your head

- The biggest softie, honestly for him being taller than an average person makes you just… average to him, and that’s honestly perfect

- Not that big on pda but will always hold you close, hold your hand, waist, just to show everyone that you are taken

Akashi

- Being taller than Akashi… oh boy, well

- Obviously you didn’t expect to fall for a guy who is shorter than you, but obviously Akashi has a huge personality and it doesn’t really matter

- You are almost the same height and it has a lot of perks: for example it’s so easy to get a quick kiss without a lot of effort

- Akashi loves to kiss your neck

- No one dares comment about lack of height difference

- Akashi actually encourages you to wear heels if you like them, because he has enough confidence to not get insecure about this kind of stuff, which you appreciate a lot

- Also all of his clothes fits you like a glove, which is a huge perk especially with the fancy expensive stuff you can wear as your own

- You sometimes kabedon him as a surprise when you are alone

- It never ends up well for you (but spicy edition)

Kagami

- Kagami just like Midorima has one braincell and he wouldn’t even notice that you are tall until someone says it out loud

- One day he saw you standing next to Kuroko and he yelled “oh you are taller than Kuroko? You should play basketball”

- One braincell golden retriever

- Just like Aomine he tries to persuade you to play basketball with him (basketball ball for brain I swear)

- He has this reflex to grab your waist and pull you closer whenever there is a crowd

- Loves it when you lay down on his shoulder and fall asleep when you watch a movie

- Loves it when you snuggle your nose in his collarbone, he gets so red

- He is not big on pda but when no one is looking he would sneak a tiny cheek kiss (he actually loves tiny kisses, as well as steamy make out sessions)

- If someone says you look like a model he would get hyped up

Takao

- Takao is a cheeky boy, he would for sure be the one flirting with you till you fall for him

- He fell first he fell harder and he would do everything to convince you to date him even when he is slightly shorter than you

- When he succeeded he couldn’t believe it and he feels like he is the happiest guy on the planet

- The Greenest Flag in here, he treats you like a queen

- Flexes about you constantly, how beautiful and amazing his gf is

- He loves it when you wear heels, and he would for fun pout and ask for forehead kisses like a baby

- HE would kabedon you for fun to make you blush

- Loves hugging you from behind and kissing your nape

- Also he would playfully bite your shoulder or whisper dirty thing to your earlobe just to make you blush out of nowhere

- Honestly just marry him already or I will

[knockyasocksoff2022]

(in my opinion) Akutagawa: Jinko, let's fuck Atsushi: !? Akutagawa: *totally not red as a tomato, raising shaky fists* Let's fucking go!

If Akutagawa hypothetically comes back and all the doa conflict gets eventually solved... Are him and Atsushi, like, still onboard with the six-months-later battle? Because I can totally see Akutagawa trying to act like he still wants to kill Atsushi because that's just how much of a dense dumbass he is, and Atsushi being unable to take it like

Akutagawa: Tomorrow at dawn you'll finally meet your fate, Jinko. I hope you say your last prayers tonight.

Atsushi, completely clueless: ???????

Akutagawa: You shall not have forgotten about our promise??? Our long awaited fight??? The moment our fates will be put on the line and who survives will be decided once and for all??!

Atsushi: Are you being serious right now? You still want to do that after you sacrificed yourself to save my life???

Akutagawa:

Akutagawa: That's irrelevant

[portablechargertmblr]

Types of characters on election day

Cause we rly need something nice after watching that shitshow

An absolute mess. Crying every time they think about it, literally takes a day off from school/work cause they can FEEL the stress making them sick. Needs constant mental health checks and cuddles. Tub of ice cream on the couch and fav romcom is a MUST in the household. Izuku Midoriya, Meguru Bachira, Hinata Shoyo, Yuta Okkotsu, Historia Reiss, Suguru Geto, Armin Arlert, Atsushi Nakajima

Starts a whole internet war I'm talking Azaelia Banks twitter beef, they get straight to business. Has a dual-monitor layout so they can read through their feeds faster. Locked TF in and literally nothing can pry them from their gaming chair. Somehow gets banned on Pinterest after telling a MAGA board user to k*ll themselves? Is gonna need water refills and ice after all the aggressive jamming on the keyboard their fingers will endure. A good neck massage from sitting all day wouldn't hurt, if you stick around long enough that is. Eren Jaeger, Isagi Yoichi, Toge Inumaki, Hisoka Morrow, Asta, Katsuki Bakugo, Conner Kent, Raichi Jingo, Kenma Kozume, Tomura Shigaraki

Huh? There's an election? Literally the most clueless ones ever. If you try to explain they will try their best to understand why you care so much, but ultimately can live their day unburdened (lucky bitches). Will definitely try and take your mind off of it if you seem worried. They probably think Joe Biden is still running. Seishirou Nagi, Connie Springer, Yuji Itadori, Denki Kaminari, Choso, Toji Fushiguro, Rin Itoshi, Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Ran for president as a joke, doesn't understand why everyone hates them now Satoru Gojo, Tooru Oikawa

That's all for now your girl is TIRED hope this helps cheer anyone up cause sheesh.. These results r not it

[octagava]

ahhhh thanks for entertaining my yapping and adding your insights onto them. i really like your takes and explanations on them. it hits things that i never thought about. feel free to disregard this one because it feels a little less coherent. related to dazai being one of atsushi's motivators, it kind of hit me that dazai is one of the first people atsushi saved. maybe this is a misinterpretation of their first meeting, but, turning off the comedic lens, it's actually an insane scenario. a starving, societally clueless orphan musters all his strength to swim and hulk an unconscious person back to shore. the inherent and somewhat foolish compassion of such an act to still give when you basically have nothing left comically is lost on atsushi despite performing such an action because he's so embedded in his self-hatred and lack of confidence. it's honestly made even better by the fact that dazai has ability nullification powers, so he cannot passively rely on the tiger's strength (although i am unsure if he was able to do that prior). he is actively burning what remaining energy he should be using to find food or shelter to save someone he believed needed help. i think this action is what immediately takes dazai to atsushi to which dazai repays by providing him a support system to navigate his new reality and the weight of trust and faith that atsushi wants to uphold. it's a little sad though, due to atsushi's lack of confidence, that he kind of seems to believe dazai made an arbitrary decision to save him rather than him being deserving of such care, and maybe that plays into atsushi's view of dazai as a savior. it probably doesn't help that dazai both does and doesn't want to be understood. but, maybe the silver lining about it is that it plays into why he tries to understand dazai and, subsequentially, recognizes how flawed and maybe 'human' he is. like how atsushi helps validate dazai's capacity to care and be "good," dazai validates helps atsushi validate his own self-worth and belief in his own actions.

No, no, this is actually so coherent! And I'm really glad that you're sharing it. I'm always super happy to respond and talk about those two (or, to be fair, any BSD characters, since I love talking about how I and others interpret them as a whole or in relationships, whether platonic, romantic, or something totally different).

And yeah, if you actually step back from the comedic lens and look at what’s really happening in that first meeting, it’s genuinely wild. Atsushi’s just been kicked out of the orphanage, he’s on the brink of starvation, and yet he can’t let Dazai drown. Though, it’s worth pointing out that Atsushi wanted to leave him there at first, and when he does save him, his initial thoughts are about robbing him. Plus, let’s not forget that Atsushi is offended when Dazai casually admits he has no money.

I think it’s important to highlight those parts because they get overlooked a lot. People tend to remember that Atsushi saved Dazai and interpret it as this purely selfless act, but it’s more complicated than that. Sure, you could argue there’s some kindness there, but a lot of his actions in that moment come from his deep-seated self-worth issues. Atsushi’s been conditioned to believe that his value is tied to what he can do for others, that he’s less than worthless if he doesn’t contribute or help in some way. And I’ve said this before, but to me, Atsushi isn’t naturally kind as a personality trait—he’s kind by virtue. That kindness was beaten into him over time (at least, that’s how I interpret it).

Still, even at his lowest, Atsushi can’t completely suppress that unfiltered compassion. It’s just part of who he is, whether he recognizes it or not. Dazai ends up being the first person Atsushi saves, yet their first meeting is often overlooked by the fandom. But there are some key details that need to be addressed if we’re talking a bit canon-wise.

The fact is, Dazai knew from the start who Atsushi was. The meeting between the two was orchestrated. He admitted that to Hirotsu—that he recruited Atsushi specifically to complement Akutagawa's ability. He doesn’t really go into detail about their first meeting, but Kunikida does mention that Dazai suddenly jumped into the river, which, knowing him for as long as we did, it’s very easy to tell that he did it on purpose.

And that’s where the meeting actually gets even more fascinating. Dazai orchestrated the encounter, knowing full well who Atsushi was and the potential he had. This adds a layer of manipulation to the scene, but not in a malicious way. It does show how much Dazai is calculative and manipulative from the get-go. He was always playing the long game.

However, the brilliance of that scene lies in how genuine it feels on both ends, despite Dazai’s manipulation. Atsushi, barely clinging to life himself, chooses to save Dazai even though it’s the furthest thing from rational. Yes, Atsushi hesitates. Yes, his initial thoughts are about leaving or even robbing the unconscious man. But he still takes action. That act isn’t purely selfless; Atsushi has been conditioned to believe that his worth is tied to what he can do for others, making self-sacrificial choices almost second nature to him. It’s a survival mechanism born from years of abuse at the orphanage.

But despite the meeting between the two being totally orchestrated by Dazai pulling the strings, one shouldn’t just interpret it as completely devoid of sincerity. Dazai, as a character, is himself a contradiction. He’s a master manipulator, but he also deeply cares for the people he chooses to "invest" in (admit it or not). And, of course, Atsushi became one of those people.

For Atsushi, the encounter is unsettling. He doesn’t see himself as someone who deserves salvation or a second chance (he himself wanted to live out of spite in episode 1, with how he was talking about "showing them" that he can survive—of course, talking about the orphanage). When Dazai brings him into the ADA, Atsushi interprets it not as an acknowledgment of his worth but as a random act of charity. This feeds into Atsushi’s view of Dazai as a savior figure—someone who plucked him out of despair for reasons Atsushi can’t truly understand. Their dynamic is heartbreaking because Atsushi genuinely doesn’t believe he’s worthy of that care.

On Dazai’s end, there’s an interesting tension in how he interacts with Atsushi. While he’s quick to assign Atsushi missions and responsibilities, he also tends to avoid directly confronting Atsushi’s insecurities. Instead, he uses humor, teasing, and indirect guidance to nudge Atsushi toward growth. He doesn’t, however, see Atsushi as a tool to balance Akutagawa (as he does come to genuinely care for the other), but also as someone who could become a force for good. Dazai’s own issues and self-worth—his belief in his "inherent evil"—sometimes prevent him from expressing those thoughts openly, as it’s hard for him to be vulnerable (though he manages it every once in a while).

What’s fascinating is how this relationship challenges them both. Atsushi’s reverence for Dazai forces him to grapple with Dazai’s flaws and contradictions, which ultimately helps Atsushi see Dazai as a person rather than a pedestal. Meanwhile, Atsushi’s unwavering determination and raw compassion act as a quiet reminder to Dazai that goodness isn’t an abstract ideal, but something you choose again and again, no matter how messy or imperfect the process may be. (For what is kindness as a trait, if it is not practiced?)

I think I went a bit outside of what you were asking of me, but the thought kind of spiraled, haha... Also a little note that I also wanted to include but didn't know how. When it comes to Dazai and him wanting to be understood but also not. It's like Dazai walks into a room and leaves it open but before anyone can open it, he already build a brick wall between the room and the door, giving you clear message of "I don't want you" but also hoping, begging and craving for you to chip away at the wall, to break in.

[tsuunara]

   " lets crash course learn twice choreography ! "

SPECIAL GUESTS : chuuya nakahara , osamu dazai , atsushi nakajima !

 ABOUT ORDER : forcing teaching bsd men twice choreography! how into it are they? do they hate it or enjoy it ?

 CONTENTS :  might be ooc !! , profanity in chuuya's part , dazai shenanigans , kunikida appears in dazai's part !! , poor atsushi is struggling to keep up :( , kyouka appears in atsushi's part !! .

 SERVER'S NOTES : stan twice!!! this was a warm up to prepare for my soon chuuya angst fic... sorry for the wait :( btw here is the playlist of all the songs for each character! i'll make a pt 2 with nikolai and fyodor . :) this was super fun to write lol

   chuuya nakahara ! The Feels

chuuya has seen you practice the choreography a couple of times . he doesn't really mind when the music blasts and just lets it slide because he loves you so much ! chuuya doesn't know much about kpop but he's heard a couple in your playlists , and hears you play the same ones over and over again ... not like he doesn't mind though . despite it not being his actual music taste, he secretly enjoys listening to it sometimes and it's his guilty pleasure . when he sees you dancing all silly , he can't help but smile in awe . he thinks it's so funny and cute seeing you put your all into it !!

" YOU HAVE STOLEN MY HEART OH YEAHH NEVER GONNA LET IT GO OH OH NO NEVER IT LET IT GO OH OH OH- "

" well uh shit... am i interrupting something here ? "

" lightning straight to my heart oh yeaAAAH WHAT THE FUCK CHUUYA- "

oh, but when you encourage him to dance with you ? who is he to say no with that stupid smile of yours ? no matter how silly it is , he WILL do it .

" ...so uh- "

" ...crash course twice choreography . "

" ...what ? "

" you know what , chuu ? you're in perfect timing . you should really join me !! come on , i'll teach you twice choreography ! "

" huh ?? woah woAH WOAH- WAIT HOLD ON NOW- "

although he is a bit hesitant , he always gives in . and with no regrets after whatsoever !!! he's a very quick learner too with lots of flexibility !

" one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight ! one , two , three and four , five and six and seven , eight ! good ! just make sure to bend your knees a bit more... and then... stretch them ! "

" uhuh, okay... like this ? my god- this dance is kinda hard... how'd ya even manage this ? "

" not to worry , chuu ! just like that !! YOU DID IT !! "

"holy fucking shit . I DID IT . "

overall , 9/10 is super into it . always exaggerates his moves but at least it shows he's having fun !! bonus points for being a new little distraction he can do at work ! has definitely had a couple of his colleagues walk in on him . whoopsies !

" you have stolen my heart oh yeah... never let it go oh oh no , never gonna let it go , oh , oh , oh... "

" uh... sir ? the... documents... "

" lightning straight to my heart oh yeaa- GOD WHAT THE FUCK ?! oh . it's you . the documents ? yeah yeah , uh... go put them... over there . "

" ......sir- "

" no . if it's about that , then i don't want to hear it . "

   osamu dazai ! FANCY

dazai's favorite pastime ? learning twice choreography . and what better ? with you !! he's had his ass dragged into your little dance classes sooo many times... (not like he's complaining though !) he knows somewhat about kpop , he likes listening to it with you (and for shits and giggles . ) also loves to see you dance to the songs yourself !! always tries to copy you so much so he ends up distracting you because it's funny , causing you to mess up the entire choreography :( when he hears the music play , that's when he knows it's time to crash course learn twice choreography !

" ...'samu ! "

" yes lovely ? "

" do you know what time it is ? "

" hmm..... four-thirty . "

" stupid , not the actual time ! c'moooonnnn you knowww thissss... "

" well color me clueless . "

" 'samu.... "

" i'm kidding! hmm... oh , don't tell... it's that time , isn't it ?! "

" you're so right... IT'S TIME TO CRASH COURSE LEARN TWICE CHOREOGRAPHY ! "

a little slower learning the choreography (because mf can't take it seriously sometimes) , but once he gets the hang of it you bet fucker WILL be hitting those moves whenever has the chance .

" it seems another job well done to us for solving the mystery , bella ! oh , OH , OHH !! i feel a song coming ... LET'S HIT IT , [name] !!! ohhh yes GET IT !! "

of course being dazai, you can't have a dance lesson with a little chaos in between ! but that's what makes it even more fun !

" one, two, three and four... no 'samu, that's not how do it ! "

" hehehe. fancyyyy youuu ooh-ooh-ooh- "

" DAZAI THE TABLE-?! "

" ouchieeee.... !!! bellaaaa~ help me out hereeeee... my hips huuurrrrrt !!!! "

" oh my god... "

overrall , 9/10 very chaotic but totally fun experience ! he enjoys it far too much for his own liking . he does a few freestyle moves of his own to " jazz up " the dance takes your dance lessons to HEART . period . kunikida always scolds him at work :P

" OI DAZAI . this isn't some dance class . get back to work !! "

" whaaaat ? sorry kunikida~ i can't hear you right now over the music !! my dearest [name] just taught me how to dance ! and i feel so POWERFUL !! OHH , keep quiet now !! THIS IS MY FAVORITE PART !! "

" DAZAI- "

   atsushi nakajima ! TT

atsushi is a very interesting case when it comes to learning choreography... he tries his best though ! i feel like atsushi is very open to different kinds of music , so kpop is no different to him and enjoys listening to it ! super fascinated by how you managed to learn the dances . always slides in compliments after you finish with a little clap !! atsushi NEVER thinks about learning the choreography himself . he just likes listening to the music . but who is he to say no to you ?

" atsu !! "

" [name] !! what's the matter ? did something happen ? "

" atsushi . you know the one thing that you're missing right now ? it's that you NEED to crash course learn twice choreography with me . there's no backing out now !! "

" wha- ??? wait- HUH ???? "

poor boy is unfortunately a slow learner when it comes to dancing... but he's trying !!! his moves are a bit stiff , but just a little more practice and instructing will do !!!

" it's easy ! one , two , three , four , five , six , seven, eight ! can you try that for me ? "

" umm... one... two... three... four and five and six and seven eight... ?! did i do it ? "

" close !! there's room for improvement , though ! you're doing great though ! for your first time and the easiest twice choreography to learn ! "

" EASIEST ?!? aaahhhh... this is so hard , [name] ..... can we take a break ? "

practices whenever he can . you've seen and walked in on him practicing in front of the mirror and he's always gets soo embarrassed , but slowly he's starting to get the hang of it and you're so proud of him !!!

" one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight... "

" well , someone's been doing their homework ! "

" [name] ?! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM- "

overrall , 7/10 . he's proud to know he's finally learned how to perform twice choreography ! (even if the process was literal hell) obviously still struggles sometimes , but very silly and cute when he does it ! kyouka has walked in on him a few times... but she doesn't seem to mind !

" one , two , three , four...- "

" ...why are you dancing ? "

" YEAOW- oh... it's just you , kyouka... practicing this dance [name] taught me ! ah , where was i again...? one , two , three , four , five , six , seven , eight... "

" i didn't know they could dance . maybe i'll ask them about it later... "

   reblogs appreciated ! ♡

[lavender-bundle-blithe]

BSD but Atsushi really IS the agency cat. ( . . . ) Basically he's an actual cat-

When Dazai drifted down the river, he startled a stray cat who looked oddly comfortable in the water compared to most cats, swimming right past him, doing a double take, and instantly swam away from a presumably drifting dead body. Poor thing got the ever loving daylights out of when Dazai, indeed, was alive, and scurried away just before either he or Kunikida could catch it.

After almost running around the entire neighborhood and into the night, they managed to cat the cat in a warehouse, not with cat food or treats, but... tea on rice. The two stare at the cat who was being currently held up by Kunikida.

"Maybe we should call him Chazuke, hm~?" "We aren't naming the cat, we aren't going to get attached to the cat, they're just gonna be "the cat-"" "Hmmm, or would something moon-related work?" "DAZAI-!"

No one had cat allergies, more on the fact that they are major cat lovers, but having such a lovable animal in their office felt like a risk they weren't going to take; with all the various strangers walking in and out their door, sudden attacks from the Port Mafia, the reasons could go on!

So, they held off on taking care of the cat. The only ones that seemed to like him were Kenji who offered the cat vegetables from his arm...

"Here you go, little guy! Is this milk suitable?" "Oh! How about Milk!" "WE ARE STILL NOT NAMING THE CAT-!"

The Tanizaki siblings...

"Huh, seems quite the timid one..." "Awww, such a cute thing!" "Have we figured out what kind of cat it is?" "Well, Kunikida-san said to not get attached, so we haven't really figured out anything about this cat."

Haruno especially...

"Hello there, little one. Hmm, you seem to be younger than Mii-chan... At least more than a year old." "You can really tell, Haruno?" "Several signs, yes. And... they seem to be an Egyptian Mau. A majestic thing you would grow up to be, huh? " "TIGE—" "WE. ARE. NOT. NAMING. IT. TIGER!"

And secretly but unsurprisingly, the President.

"..." "Meorw?" *Takes out a sardine-*

They continued to hold off on taking the cat, calling all sorts of nearby shelters if they have enough room for it. But hearing how they're already filled to brim, if not are being overcrowded, their soft hearts didn't want this cat to be in such an overcrowded area, as timid as it is.

But slowly but surely, they figured out all their little quirks and each having a nickname for him.

Dazai would use the cat as an excuse to hold off on work, having bought cat toys despite Kunikida's arguments, calling them "Chazuke." Kenji would continue to bring a small bottle of fresh milk from his cows and an array of vegetables to see which ones they like the most, calling them "Milk" as one of Dazai's previous name suggestions. The Tanizaki siblings were the ones that made a small temporary area in the office for the cat, buying it it's necessary items and called them "Tiger." Haruno, on the other hand, would bring the cat back to her apartment for nights, seeing as none of the agents and detectives had the room for them. There, she introduces the cat whom she oddly named "Byakko" to Mii-chan, and all but took several photos on her phone of the older calico cat grooming the smaller.

Unfortunately, that domestic feeling all but vanished when the cat wandered too far into dangerous territory; their work.

The cat had unknowingly followed the Tanizaki siblings who ran into Akutagawa, the Port Mafia's Rabid Dog, after the woman that came to their office was revealed to be Higuchi, Akutagawa's subordinate and also a part of the mafia. The cat, clueless, hissed and yowled while standing in front of the siblings, yellow eyes glaring at the two mafiosi. The sight rendered Higuchi stiffling back a coo while Akutagawa just... stared in utter confusion. (And it didn't help that he was also a cat person at heart).

In the end, they were saved by Dazai regardless, but the cat seemed to glare daggers at anyone that wore black. And Dazai all but laughs at that, remarking...

"For such a timid and small cat, you were a pretty brave one , hmm? Going right up to those two and showing your mighty fangs!"

They were, of course, worried about their agents, but more to the cat who seemed to have gone quiet, not at all looking up at the sound of them shaking their toys or the clink of their refilled bowl of food. They just sat, curled up in their cat bed, back turned towards them.

Then suddenly, they vanished.

The agency, of course, went out looking for the cat, but nothing came up. For some, a relief. Maybe they had wandered off and found a better place to live. A safer place to live. But at the same time, the absence made itself loudly known, even though it was silent. The absence on the cat bed, the absence on their desks, the window sills, everywhere in the office.

"Alright, admit it." "Admit what?" "That you guys actually like that cat."

Until, all of a sudden, as Yosano dealt with Kajii on the train, she catches sight of the familiar girl in a red kimono down they walked past in the shopping district sitting at the banks of the water, a small wet ball of fur curled up tightly in her arms.

"Chazuke!" "Milk!" "Tiger!" "Byakko!" "...Did you—" "Yeah, we need to figure out a name for him now-"

Unfortunately that has to wait because even more chaos rolls into Yokohama. But besides the back-to-back fiascos between the Guild and the mysterious fog incident, were they able to breath easily, giving them ample time to have their feline friend comfortable.

Although, it was odd. The cat was seemingly the subject the Guild were after, and they had also vanished during the fog incident but was apparently there in the end fight.

"No cat should be that close to the battle. Where was he before all that happened?" "Who knows. And besides the point, no one was there in the fog besides us. Is it possible for a cat to be stuck in the fog with us?" "Are you saying the cat has an Ability???"

It was a stretch, for sure. A cat to have an Ability? If that were to be true, their knowledge of Abilities have either been wrong or how they appear has changed. Innocently but could be heard as jokingly, Kenji was the one that said something along the lines about the cat actually being human and has an entirely different Ability but got stuck as a cut. It's happened before, people having transformative Abilities.

It was supposed to be a joke, they all knew, but all of a sudden Ranpo shoots up, eyes wide.

"That's why!" "The cat stumped you?!" "Dazai, touch it!" "If you say so-"

The moment Dazai put his hand on the cat's head, a bright flash appeared and everyone stared in shock to see a young man that looked to either be in his late teens or early adulthood sitting on the ground, wearing ragged clothes, asymmetrically cut platinum blonde hair with a single stripe of white, and sheepish ametrine yellow-purple eyes.

They stared at the individual all until Dazai pulled his hand back, reverting them back to being a cat. It goes back and forth until the person, seemingly tired of the sudden shifting, grabbed Dazai's wrist when he placed it back on their head again, face entirely red to his ears.

"P-Please stop doing that." "Not unless you tell us your name~" "...Nakajima Atsushi..."

(A/N: cat cat cat cat- but besides the point, this went a completely random direction than it was supposed to be. It was just something of Atsushi being the office cat, whether or not they knew he was human or not. But then I thought about Dead Apple, blah blah blah, this has been in my drafts for a while- ANYWAYS HOPED YOU LIKED THIS RANDOM BIT-)

[youroriginalsublimecupcakestuff]

Warning it's full on rambling and maybe many mistake too :

I though that in fanfiction and in canon even in work like beast kyouka and atsushi are always together, it's an inevitability best friend or siblings no matter what , no matter the universe power or no power even with differents backstory they will always find a way to each others.

But i did my research and from what i found irl kyouka and atsushi never met , i don't even think that they have a connection which link them together unlike akutagawa and kyouka which while i think that they never met , akutagawa read kyouka work and was inspired by or admired kyouka ( i read that akutagawa worked hard in order to have Kyoka’s complete works published.)

( but maybe they did have a connection i just never found it ( same for nakajima atsushi and akutagawa ryuunosuke by the way i searched if they have a connection even if it's small but i never found it ( except that nakajima atsushi was nominated for the akutagawa prize in 1942. ( And i just found from bsd-bibliophile that akutagawa ryuunosuke and nakajima atsushi we're compared ( in one of they post they have an extract from the Afterword of The Moon Over the Mountain and Other Stories we're they're compared).

( I didn't found that either for fukuzawa and ranpo or yosano and ranpo ( and i can be wrong for what i say about akutagawa and kyouka i found that they never meet but in others hand i also found a picture of akutagawa ryuunosuke and izumi kyouka together).

And by connection i mean even something like one of them read the others work or admired the others, it don't even mean that they have to have met each others even once, i was just curious one two author who seemingly have no connection ( from what i know, i don't read japanese and never went to japan so maybe i just missed it and they're a connection) are so much linked together in bsd ( it's also why i rambled about akutagawa and kyouka connection it's because i can understand kyouka and akutagawa connection in bsd but i'm clueless for atsushi and kyouka) .

Maybe they're just no need, they're relationship is cool anyway but it make me think that they're so much possibility for angst, i plan to write it better later this post is just rambling :

For exemple What if chuuya is hit by an ability unlike irl all the characters live in the same time but they have the same relationship that irl, he call kouyou ane-san and she doesn't know him or dazai oda is somehow hit by an ability oda is alive but who is kazuo dan and why does he act like they're close also why don't he find any information about the armed detective agency and the port mafia, tanizaki jun'ichiro or akutagawa ryuunosuke come to a world we're gin or Naomi doesn't exist or mori ougai is swapped with author mori he can't feel elise and he don't understand why they're no hostility in yosano behavior toward him ( plus the whiplash when he find that he have children).

But my initial idea was atsushi is hit by an ability , his lung hurt, he find that he can empathise with akutagawa about that which he try not to think about, the first things that he did was search for the ada but it's like it never existed, he also feel empty, he can't use his ability, but what hurt him was when he finally found kyouka she act like she never met him, they're not any sign of recognition in her eyes .

He though that it was a joke at first even if it wasn't like her to play prank like that but then he saw her with ozaki kouyou following her and he though that it understand what happened that the other woman was fooling them all when she appeared like she let kyouka go and that it was her fault why kyouka acted like he was a stranger.

So he confronted her but what happened hurt him to his very core he have never seen kyouka look at him with so much hostility, she was acting like she needed to protect ozaki from him like he was crazy, they're was none of the usual warmth that kyouka have towards him.

So he ran , he searched the others too but when he found them, it was weird everything that wrong, he have never seen a picture of oda sakukonosuke but he remember the name from when he was with dazai san when he visited his grave, he also remember the quiet and rare moment when dazai san would mention him but here he was alive with sakaguchi ango from the special ability division and a man that he never met but was obviously close to the others three especially to dazai san, but what shocked him the more was the expression that he saw dazai san make, he never once have looked like that with them.

So he gave up talking to his mentor and went to ranpo he must know what to do, ranpo san know everything or so he though because this ranpo san looked at him weirdly when he talked about him as being a detective, like kyouka chan he looked at him like he was mad, so he tried to mention the others in the ada to get his help but he didn't even seem to reconnize the name of the president and yosano sensei.

So he ran again even if his lung we're killing him, he went to find yosano sensei to find her laughing with the port mafia boss, he don't know their relationship but from what the others say when he noticed that she was never in the office when he was here it's that yosano sensei doesn't like him and it have something to do with her past so seeing them laughing together was wrong, the blond girl that was always with the port mafia boss wasn't here too.

So he went the others way again, kunikida san was the least diffents to him but it was obvious that he didn't reconnize him, so he left, he saw tanizaki without naomi so when he asked him he was shocked again when he learned that they're no Naomi in this world, his personallity was so differents too everything here was weird, so he ran again and later saw akutagawa and tanizaki acting friendly debating about litterature, he was also shocked to see dazai san intensely watch akutagawa but hearing dazai call akutagawa , akutagawa sempai was his last straw.

Before coming back he talked with akutagawa and even he was differents, everything was wrong.

When he came back he avoided everyone to their surprise and they reassured him that everything was fine, he hugged kyouka and kunikida san and even was weirdly understanding to akutagawa which making look like he was losing it when he talked about his lung.

[aghost-writer]

Between Pages

Chapter 6

This is a Yandere Bungo Stray Dogs x Female Reader Fic!

MDNI!!

Kunikida assigned Atsushi to accompany Ranpo on a murder case, a task that left Atsushi with mixed feelings. Despite the praise heaped upon Ranpo for his uncanny ability to solve the most baffling mysteries, Atsushi was still a bit skeptical. After all, Ranpo seemed oddly clueless about even the most basic tasks. His suspicions only deepened when, on their way to the crime scene, Ranpo sheepishly admitted he didn’t know how to take the train. 

“Seriously? You’ve never taken a train?” Atsushi asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Ranpo shrugged, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Not really my style, you know? But I guess I could learn.”

Despite his reservations, Atsushi found himself helping Ranpo navigate the station, guiding him through the ticketing process and the hustle and bustle of the platforms. Watching Ranpo fumble with the train schedule and look around in confusion, Atsushi couldn’t help but feel a mix of confusion and awe. This was the master detective, yet he was utterly clueless when it came to something as mundane as public transportation.

As they finally boarded the train, Ranpo leaned back against the seat, a satisfied smile on his face. “See? Easy-peasy!” he declared, as if conquering the train ride was a significant achievement. Atsushi just shook his head, half-amused and half-concerned about what lay ahead.

When they arrived at the crime scene, Ranpo took Y/N’s hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She walked beside him in silence, her calming presence a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. As they approached the police blockade, however, Ranpo’s carefree attitude shifted dramatically.

Officer Minoura, a stern-looking man with a hawkish demeanor, stepped forward, arms crossed. “You’re late, Agents. And who is this?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing suspiciously as they landed on Y/N. “Where’s Yasui?”

“I’m Minoura,” he continued before they could answer. “I took over from Yasui. This case has been reassigned to our division, so we no longer need you or your agency.”

Ranpo, unfazed, waved his hand dismissively. “That’s ridiculous. Every difficult case should be overseen by a master detective like me,” he declared, his tone dripping with confidence.

Minoura scoffed, his gaze hardening. “We won’t need private investigators on this because the victim was a cop who worked for me.”

Atsushi blinked, the weight of the situation beginning to sink in. “The victim’s…a lady?” 

“Yes, sir,” Minoura replied, his voice laced with cold professionalism. “Her body was found floating in the river this morning. She was shot three times in the chest. We don’t know where or when she was killed, and we haven’t found the bullets.”

Ranpo’s eyes gleamed with interest as he leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Any suspects?”

“Not yet. As far as anyone at the office knew, she wasn’t in a relationship, so we doubt it was a jealous lover.”

“Very interesting,” Ranpo replied smoothly. “So does that mean you don’t have any leads?”

Minoura clenched his fists in frustration. “That’s all the more reason why we can’t let some amateur private eye handle this.”

Just then, a nearby officer called out, “Hey! Looks like the nets caught something!”

Everyone turned to see what was happening. “They put out nets?” Atsushi asked, his brow furrowing.

Minoura nodded, his expression grim. “Yeah, the net’s strung across the water. Standard practice to dredge evidence from the river.”

“Look over there! It’s a man!” another officer shouted.

Atsushi gasped, his heart sinking as he recognized the figure floating in the river, entangled in the net. “Hello, Atsushi,” called out Dazai, his trademark smirk in place as he shook the water from his hair. “This is quite the strange coincidence. Don’t tell me you tried to drown again, Osamu…”

Dazai’s playful demeanor only intensified. “Don’t be silly. Committing suicide alone? That’s so passé these days. I’ve made a decision that if I’m going to end everything, I’ll do it with a beautiful woman! Ah, double suicide! What a sweet ring it has.”

Atsushi sighed, shaking his head. “I see.”

But Dazai’s attention shifted as he noticed Y/N standing silently beside Ranpo. His eyes narrowed, and in a fluid motion, he reached out to take her free hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “Excuse me, Ranpo,” he said, a glint of mischief in his gaze. “Mind if I borrow her?”

Ranpo’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened, making it clear he wasn’t about to let go. “Don’t be silly,” he replied, meeting Dazai’s gaze with an almost defiant calm. “I’m not a two-bit detective. I don’t need an assistant.”

Dazai chuckled, his tone playfully challenging. “Oh? Then I suppose you don’t mind if I step in?” 

Y/N’s gaze flickered between the two of them, still silent but acutely aware of the tension simmering in the air. Ranpo’s fingers remained wrapped firmly around her hand, while Dazai held her other hand in a soft yet steady grip.

“Anyway,” Ranpo continued, turning back to Minoura with a dismissive air, “I’ll handle the case from here.”

Minoura’s expression hardened further. “I’m tired of all your jabber. You can’t crack hard cases just with deduction. Cases are solved through investigation: interviewing persons of interest and closely analyzing the crime scene.”

Ranpo smirked, an eyebrow raised. “Uh-huh? You’ve got a pretty thick skull. Great detectives don’t do ‘investigations.’ My ability, Ultra-Deduction, can instantly identify the killer.”

Minoura raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Really? Then let’s have a look at it.”

Ranpo adjusted his glasses, shooting Atsushi a quick nod. “Watch closely, Atsushi. This is the ability that keeps the Agency going.”

As soon as Ranpo donned his glasses, his entire demeanor shifted, an intensity replacing his earlier nonchalance. “The killer,” he declared with a sharp edge to his voice, “is you.”

Gasps erupted from the officers, Minoura included. “What?!”

Ranpo pointed directly at Sergeant Sugimoto, whose face drained of color. “You’re the killer. You murdered her.”

Sugimoto’s expression turned incredulous. “Ridiculous! I’m not a killer!”

Ranpo’s smile was chillingly calm, a predator locking onto its prey. “Then hand me your gun. Let’s see if it’s missing three bullets.”

Sugimoto’s silence spoke volumes. His fingers twitched, his breathing quickening as he began to back away, but Atsushi and Dazai stepped in to block his escape route. “Running won’t help,” Ranpo said, his voice low and unyielding. “I already know the murder took place early yesterday morning at the abandoned shipyard upstream. We’ll find your footprints there, along with the bloodstains you tried and failed to erase.”

Sugimoto’s gaze darted around, searching for an exit, but there was none. Defeated, he sagged, the fight draining from him like water through a sieve.

With the case effectively solved, Dazai released Y/N’s hand, but not without a lingering glance that spoke of possessiveness. He turned to Ranpo, his expression thoughtful. “Not bad, Ranpo.”

Ranpo, still holding Y/N’s hand tightly, met Dazai’s gaze with a triumphant smile. “What did you expect from a master detective?”

As the tension began to ease, a new undercurrent of competition emerged between the two men, both of them vying for Y/N's attention. Each seemed to harbor a desire to protect her while simultaneously displaying their prowess in front of her. Dazai’s smirk had a hint of possessiveness, while Ranpo’s confidence was almost palpable.

Y/N watched them both, sensing the change in atmosphere. They were becoming more than just rivals in investigation; they were turning into something much more intense, fueled by a growing obsession with her presence. The realization sent a shiver down her spine, but at the same time, it thrilled her. She was at the center of their world, a fact that made her feel both powerful and vulnerable.

As the officers began to disperse, Y/N found herself caught between the two detectives, each of whom had their own ways of demonstrating their newfound yandere tendencies. Ranpo, with his casual confidence and unwavering dedication to the case, made her feel secure. Dazai, with his charismatic charm and unpredictable nature, drew her in like a moth to a flame.

In that moment, Y/N realized that the story she had stumbled into was far more intricate and dangerous than she had anticipated. The stakes were high, but she couldn’t deny the excitement that coursed through her veins. She was no longer just an observer; she was a vital part of the plot, and whatever happened next, she would face it head-on with both Ranpo and Dazai at her side.

The air in the interrogation room was heavy with a tense quiet, clinging to every corner and filling every breath. Sugimoto sat hunched over the table, his fingers wound tightly together, bloodless. He looked as though the weight of the world bore down on him. Minoura’s eyes narrowed, anger simmering beneath his professional composure, but he held back, staying silent.

Ranpo, however, was calm and detached, leaning back with an almost casual air. He hadn’t once let go of Y/N’s hand, his fingers laced firmly with hers, as though he needed to remind her of his presence. Every now and then, his grip would tighten slightly—a subtle reminder of his unyielding resolve. Dazai stood beside her, his hand resting lightly on her shoulder, occasionally tightening around her free hand in silent reassurance. He glanced between Ranpo and Sugimoto, analyzing and missing nothing.

Finally, Sugimoto spoke, his voice cracked and trembling, thick with guilt and regret. “It was never my plan… I never wanted to…” He swallowed, his voice breaking. “Yamagiwa… she thought she was following leads in a small-time corruption case. But she found something far worse—something involving a powerful, connected politician who had everything to lose.”

Ranpo’s gaze sharpened, though he remained silent, allowing Sugimoto to continue.

“He had a mole on the force—someone to destroy any evidence that came close to him,” Sugimoto said, eyes downcast. “I was that mole. I wanted to become a police officer more than anything, but I’d failed the entrance exam three times. I was desperate, broken. And he found me.” He took a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “He used his influence to make me a cop, but the price was reporting to him, following his orders. I… I didn’t have a choice.”

Minoura’s face twisted with contempt, but he allowed the confession to continue. Y/N felt her own anger stirring, though she kept her expression steady, grounded by the reassurance of both Ranpo and Dazai’s hands anchoring her.

Sugimoto’s voice grew firmer, tinged with desperation. “When I realized Yamagiwa was getting too close, I tried to warn her. I didn’t want her to get hurt. But she wouldn’t listen. She was relentless, determined. She wouldn’t back down, even when I told her he’d have her killed if she didn’t drop it.”

A memory flickered across his face, and his voice softened. “She looked me in the eyes and said, ‘Then I’ll just have to take him seriously, too.’ She didn’t care about the risk; she was brave, so brave…” He trailed off, his gaze distant.

Ranpo’s voice cut through the silence, startling Sugimoto back to the present. “And yet, you did nothing to stop it. In fact, you took it upon yourself to try and take that evidence from her.” His voice was cold, detached, as if he were examining a specimen. He never released Y/N’s hand, his thumb tracing small, calming circles.

Sugimoto winced, gaze dropping to his hands. “I thought… I thought I could protect her. I tried to get her to hand over the evidence, but she wouldn’t. I even threatened to kill myself if she didn’t give it to me.” His voice was bitter, laced with self-loathing. “She didn’t believe me. She called my bluff. And then… I don’t even know how it happened. I tried to pull the gun from her, to take it away before she could use it on herself or me, but…” His voice broke. “The gun went off.”

A heavy silence fell, thick and suffocating. Sugimoto’s shoulders shook, and for a moment, he looked utterly broken. “I didn’t mean to… I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

Ranpo’s gaze remained cold. “But you did,” he said bluntly. “And when you realized what you’d done, you called him. You called the man who’d made you his puppet. And he told you to clean up the mess, didn’t he?”

Sugimoto’s face paled, eyes widening as Ranpo continued, relentless. “He told you to make it look like a Mafia hit. To fire two more bullets into her chest, to cover up the initial shot. And then, you set her adrift in the river, hoping the water would carry away your sins along with her body.” Ranpo’s voice was steady, unwavering, yet there was a strange gentleness in his tone, as if he understood Sugimoto’s despair but had no room for pity.

Sugimoto’s face contorted, a tear sliding down his cheek. “I’m sorry… so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ranpo leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “Those were her last words, weren’t they?” His voice was soft, almost compassionate. “She looked at you, and she said, ‘I’m sorry.’”

Sugimoto choked, a strangled sob escaping him. He nodded, unable to speak, his face twisted in agony as he relived that moment over and over.

Minoura finally spoke, his tone laced with disgust and a hint of pity. “And now you have to live with that,” he said quietly. “Your loyalty cost her life, Sugimoto. But maybe… maybe you can help make things right.”

Sugimoto lifted his head, his eyes hollow, defeated. “The evidence she gathered… it’s in my desk drawer. Everything she found.”

Minoura’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained cold. “Thank you,” he said, begrudging but sincere. He turned to Ranpo, his pride struggling to accept the truth. “I… I was wrong to doubt your abilities. If we ever have another case like this… I’ll come to you first.”

Ranpo smiled, satisfaction flickering across his face. “Oh, you’ll need my Ultra-Deduction sooner than you think,” he replied with a smirk, casting a sidelong glance at Minoura. “I might even give you a discount.”

Minoura managed a faint nod, avoiding looking too relieved. The tension had eased, but the room still felt heavy with Sugimoto’s confession.

As they left the station, Ranpo’s grip on Y/N’s hand didn’t loosen, his fingers intertwined with hers as if he needed the contact. Dazai, still holding her other hand, broke the silence with a light, almost playful tone. “You know, Ranpo, if you’re that reluctant to let her go, we might just have to take turns.”

Ranpo didn’t respond, but his grip on Y/N’s hand tightened, his smug smile an answer in itself. Y/N could only shake her head, caught between two men whose rivalry seemed endless—both, for reasons known and unknown, unable to let her go.

Chuuya stepped quietly through the threshold of the small, sparsely decorated studio apartment, taking in the surroundings with a keen eye. Breaking in had been effortless—almost embarrassingly so. The lock on the door hadn’t put up much of a fight; he’d simply jimmied it open in seconds, slipping into her personal space as though he’d been invited. A faint smirk played at his lips, a sense of smug satisfaction filling him. If she thought she could hide from him, she was mistaken. Chuuya Nakahara didn’t play games—he won them.

The apartment was almost disappointingly ordinary. A neatly made bed took up one corner of the room, a modest desk stood against the wall with a stack of papers and a laptop, and the kitchenette was tidy and minimalistic. There was a palpable lack of character in the space—no decorations, no personal photos, no sentimental objects scattered around. It was all painfully nondescript. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but somehow he’d thought he’d learn more about her by stepping into her home.

He moved cautiously through the apartment, letting his sharp eyes scan every inch of it for any sign of… well, anything. His gaze lingered on the desk for a moment before he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over the papers. Grocery lists, work schedules, mundane reminders—nothing that pointed to him or even hinted at a personal life beyond routine. He frowned, flipping through them with a growing sense of frustration.

With a sigh, he tried the laptop, pressing a key to wake the screen. A password prompt glowed back at him, which he closed immediately, a smirk pulling at his lips. Smart girl.She wasn’t going to make this easy. He closed the laptop and moved on.

The bookshelf drew his attention next, and he approached it, scanning the titles with a faint glimmer of interest. Classics, poetry, and a few mystery novels. He pulled out a well-worn copy of a novel and flipped through it absently, as though expecting a hidden message or a slip of paper to fall out. The pages were well-loved, some dog-eared to mark favorite passages, but there was nothing of substance.

“What are you hiding, huh?” he muttered under his breath, slipping the book back into place. The frustration was beginning to bubble up in him now. She’d walked into his life as if she knew him, had left him with more questions than answers, and now there wasn’t a single hint of anything personal to tie her to. It was like she’d meticulously erased herself from her own life.

He shifted his attention to the dresser. In the top drawer, neatly folded clothes greeted him: plain T-shirts, a couple of blouses, all washed and unremarkable. As he shifted through them, he felt a strange tension. Why was he even here, hoping to find something so intimate that it would reveal her secrets to him? He pushed a couple of shirts aside, his fingertips brushing something soft and delicate—underwear, folded neatly at the back.

A flush of heat crawled up the back of his neck, and he froze, his hand hovering over the pile. For a second, his mind told him to shut the drawer, to step back, to respect whatever boundaries he hadn’t already crossed. But a rush of impulse took over, and his fingers pinched a lacey pair, pulling it from the drawer. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, his pulse thundering in his ears. The sheer absurdity of what he was doing struck him, yet he didn’t stop himself.

Chuuya stood there for a moment, the underwear held loosely in his hand, almost as if it were a fragile secret she’d unintentionally shared with him. There was no reason to take it—no logic to this—but he found himself folding the lace into his pocket anyway, as if it would somehow give him a piece of her he could hold onto, even if it made no sense.

“Guess I’m not as rational as I thought,” he murmured, almost to himself, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Closing the drawer, he cast another look around the room, searching for anything that might lead him to answers about who she really was. Why did she know him? Why did she approach him? And why did she insist on keeping her life such a blank slate? He needed something—anything—that might offer a glimpse behind the carefully controlled surface.

He turned toward the window, noting a small hairpin left sitting on the sill. It was simple, with a tiny pearl at the end. He picked it up, turning it over between his fingers, feeling the weight of it. It was so delicate and small, easily overlooked, just like she seemed to be. He pocketed the hairpin, too, a memento of sorts, something to remind him that she was real and not just a figment of his curiosity.

Chuuya took another slow look around the apartment, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the room one final time. There was something profoundly unsettling about the emptiness of her space. No photographs, no handwritten notes, nothing to show she’d even lived here, aside from the few basic necessities. It was almost as though she’d intentionally erased herself from her own life.

Frustrated, he glanced at her bed, catching sight of a small journal tucked beneath the pillow. Finally—a potential lead. He crossed the room in two swift strides, his hand reaching under the pillow to pull it out. The journal was plain, with no name or distinguishing marks, just a well-used notebook. He thumbed through it, only to find it filled with fragments—scribbled notes, poetry lines, and a few scrawled observations. None of them mentioned him by name, but he could sense her voice through them. The words seemed like pieces of a puzzle, hints of a person who guarded herself with an unusual intensity.

With a frustrated sigh, he closed the journal and slid it back under the pillow. It told him something, perhaps, but not enough. She was guarded, careful—someone who was hiding, but from what or whom? And why did he care so much?

He found himself at the door, feeling both empty-handed and more driven than ever. She’d pulled him into her world, and yet left him standing at the edge with no way in. A challenge, perhaps. Or maybe that was all she’d meant for him to have—a single, brief encounter, a fleeting mystery.

Pulling his coat a little tighter around him, he glanced once more at the room, noting the few subtle traces of her he’d found. The lace in his pocket felt oddly significant, almost like a secret only he knew. And the hairpin, too—small, delicate, a reminder that she was more than the enigma she’d projected.

With a final sigh, he closed the door softly behind him and slipped out into the night, his mind spinning with questions that he wasn’t sure he’d ever find answers to.

Y/N walked alongside Dazai and Atsushi as they headed back to the agency, the weight of Dazai’s hand wrapped around hers a constant, comforting presence. Dazai had grabbed her hand earlier without so much as a word, his grip firm yet gentle, and he showed no signs of letting go. She could still feel the warmth of his skin against hers, grounding her amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling in her mind.

Ranpo had already gone on ahead after ensuring she was safe, calling over his shoulder with his usual confidence that he’d see her at the agency soon. She was already starting to miss his presence and his comforting energy, but Dazai’s touch somehow reassured her. Though, from the looks of things, Ranpo hadn’t been thrilled about Dazai’s hold on her. She could almost imagine the irritated look in his eyes.

Beside her, Atsushi’s awe-filled voice broke her thoughts. “What Ranpo did back there was amazing. I had no idea he’d figure everything out so quickly,” he said, his voice filled with admiration. “His Ultra-Deduction ability is truly incredible.”

Dazai gave a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling. “Yes, but I might’ve figured out half of it too,” he teased, his tone light but carrying an edge that made Y/N glance up at him curiously.

Atsushi blinked, surprised. “Half of what?”

“The case we just finished,” Dazai replied smoothly, shrugging with an air of nonchalance. “I know pretty much how Ranpo figured it all out.”

Atsushi furrowed his brows. “Well… maybe, but he said his ability lets him solve cases instantly…”

“Oh, that’s right.” Dazai’s smile widened, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “I keep forgetting you don’t know the truth about him yet, Atsushi.” He paused for dramatic effect, glancing sideways at Atsushi before continuing, “You see, the truth is… Ranpo doesn’t actually have an ability.”

Atsushi’s eyes widened, his expression one of complete shock. “Wait… what?!”

Dazai’s grip on Y/N’s hand tightened ever so slightly, as if sharing a private joke with her. He tilted his head toward Atsushi, still wearing that enigmatic smile. “Ranpo’s a rare breed. Despite what he says, he’s an un-gifted member of the Armed Detective Agency.”

“But…” Atsushi struggled to process the revelation, glancing from Dazai to Y/N, almost as if seeking confirmation.

Y/N offered him an encouraging nod. She’d read all about Ranpo’s extraordinary powers of deduction and his insistence on calling it an ability, despite it being pure intellect. Seeing that knowledge play out before her, watching the shock ripple across Atsushi’s face—it made the moment feel even more surreal.

Dazai continued, his tone thoughtful. “Ranpo actually believes he’s using an ability. But the truth is, he’s just that brilliant. His mind works in ways the rest of us can hardly imagine. And here’s a little secret…” He leaned closer to Atsushi, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a closely guarded secret. “I even tested it out today.”

“You… tested it?” Atsushi asked, blinking.

“While he was ‘using’ his Ultra-Deduction, I was secretly pinching his hair behind him,” Dazai said with a mischievous grin. “As you know, my ability neutralizes anyone’s powers if I touch them. But Ranpo’s deduction didn’t waver one bit.”

Atsushi’s jaw practically dropped. “So… it really isn’t an ability?”

Dazai nodded. “Ranpo’s deductions are entirely his own. Pure intellect, no supernatural boost. That’s what makes him so remarkable. Even though he’s childish at times, he’s a man the rest of us respect deeply because of what he can accomplish.”

Y/N couldn’t help but feel a swell of admiration for Ranpo. The way he saw and deduced so many details that others might miss—it was almost like a superpower in its own right. She gave Dazai’s hand a squeeze, feeling her heart skip as he returned the gesture, as if silently acknowledging her thoughts.

“So then, how did he figure out that Sugimoto was the one who committed the murder?” Atsushi asked, still clearly amazed. “And the details of how he did it?”

Dazai smirked, leading them down another street. “Well, I pieced it together myself, so I’d say it’s more about paying attention to the details. Take Sugimoto’s comments, for instance: he mentioned the shots he’d fired to make it look like a Mafia hit. But no one would assume multiple shots unless they knew the victim had been killed by the first. So, it was obvious that Sugimoto knew more than he should.”

Atsushi listened intently, nodding as he processed the explanation.

“And then there was the condition of the body,” Dazai continued. “Ranpo figured out it had only been in the river for a short time, maybe a day at most. The fact that the victim was dressed hastily, without makeup, also told him the time of the murder—early morning. It all added up.”

Atsushi’s awe grew as Dazai unraveled each layer of Ranpo’s deductions. “But there were other details, too… like how he knew what her final words were,” Atsushi murmured, almost to himself.

Dazai chuckled, a rare, soft laugh. “Ah, that was easy. You see, she had an expensive wristwatch—an import she wouldn’t normally afford on her salary. Sugimoto had the same brand, only the men’s version. She trusted him enough to meet without makeup, wearing matching watches. She loved him, and he loved her too… enough to follow his orders, even though it went against his instincts.” He sighed, his expression shifting slightly, almost as if he were seeing something far off.

Y/N looked up at him, catching a glimpse of the man beneath his usual carefree mask. This was Dazai in his truest form—deeply perceptive, able to understand the darker sides of human nature. It was moments like this that made her realize how layered he truly was, and her heart thudded a bit faster.

Atsushi looked away, slightly shaken but impressed. “So, it was pure deduction… nothing supernatural at all. And yet, Ranpo’s managed to solve so many cases like this.”

Dazai nodded, his gaze turning back to Y/N. “The city’s safer because of his work, his mind. Not everyone can comprehend that kind of brilliance, Atsushi. We’re lucky to have him.”

Before she could stop herself, Y/N whispered, “He truly is a great man.” She meant every word, admiring Ranpo’s gift for what it was: an ability that came solely from his intellect and intuition. But as she spoke, she could feel Dazai’s hand tighten around hers again, his gaze sharper, holding something more—something possessive.

They continued in silence for a while before Dazai chuckled softly. “Well, all’s well that ends well for us, don’t you think?” he murmured, his eyes flicking to Y/N’s.

She felt a sudden flush, glancing down at their joined hands. Despite the light-hearted tone, there was an undeniable intensity between them, a tension lingering that neither dared break.

[sliky-pixels]

I have shown you the sims but I never explained who they are or my idea behind them. Partially because I didn’t think anyone would care and partially because it’s hard to find the words.

But alas,

Here is what I’m calling my Question Series:

Hayes Mackenzie

As I have mentioned before, this sim was my first experimentation in to female clothes on the masculine frame. I am very proud of the way they came out.

Hayes Mckenzie has been out for a while, just not like this. They're not sure what it was. Finally having enough money to get their own place, finally starting to be known as the resident queer fisherman in Brindelton Bay, or if the need to hide just finally dissipated. But Hayes is ready for the world to see them as they truly are. Regardless of what the people of Brindelton Bay might think or say about them.

Question: What happens when you are finally ready to connect with the world?

Felicity Woodson (everyone’s fav *including me)

Felicity to me is one of the best sims I’ve ever made. They are simple, but bright, and (i feel) not what everyone (straight) thinks a nb looks like. I literally feel like I struck gold with them.

Felicity Woodson has just moved out of her mom’s house. While they still live in Windenburg, they don’t plan on staying long. Not that the friends they’ve had since high school would know, but they have always dreamed of leaving Windenburg behind. They find it all exhausting. The drugs, the drinking, the appearances, the partying everyday and twice on the weekends. But the longer they stay, the harder it is to avoid it all.

Question: How do you carve out a world for yourself? How do you escape where you are?

Atsushi Hidaka

If I’m honest this is the cutest male sims I have made in a while. He took forever to make for that reason. I think with men especially I just click whatever and take it, but wanting to show this character's past/present through his clothes I found it a bit of a challenge.

Atsushi Hidaka has been down on his luck. He's been on his own for awhile, trying to make do with basically nothing. Then by pure chance? luck? fate? he was able to buy a home in Willow Creek for really cheap. Maybe he just met the right person at the right time. Maybe the Gods felt like all his hard work had to pay off at some point. Maybe this is just too good to be true and something is bound to put him on the street again. He doesn't know and he isn't sure if he will figure it out.

Question: When you finally have stability, what do you want next?

Deborah Devi & Karlee Cortez

When I made these two I was thinking fem on fem crimes. I believe I was reading Moby Dyke and Krista, the author, had written something abotu how not a lot of fems date other fems. Then I was thinking what does it really mean to be fem.

Deborah Devi and Karlee Cortez have been friends since their first year at Brichester University. They have been there for each other through it all. Deborah's mom ignoring her after she got her lip pierced. Karlee failing her history class twice. Deb changing her major halfway through and then doubling up on classes to still graduate at the same time. Then after all that, Karlee having to stay an extra semester to finish. Finally, both of them are on the same clueless page with only themselves and each other to figure it out. So many feelings rise up and none of them have anywhere in particular to go.

Question: Will they or won't they? What's right and what's wrong?

Carly Naskar & Denise Naskar

This idea was already living inside me as this is the life I lived from 2023-2024. I wanted to make it clear that her mom deeply influences her. So I tried to make things more modest for her and have just little moments of her popping through. The nose ring, the long red nails, the tattoo. All her just easily digestible.

Carly Naskar did not think she would still be living in her mom's house at 22. She isn't sure where she should be, but it can't be with her mom. Denise Naskar sees the exact path that Carly is on and only wishes to guide here down it smoothly and carefully. She doesn't want Carly to make the same mistakes she did. Carly cherishes her mom. She respects her and longs to be the woman she is. She doesn't know what the cost of all that is yet.

Question: What happens when the pressure from your mom is too much? Who do you become?

[frankenjoly]

More thoughts about Atsushi and religious guilt when it comes to sex bcs I'm consumed by this concept

It all comes down to him being raised with only basic knowledge and the whole "it's a sin" bullshit so even when he learns things along the way he gets to his sexual awakening 1) all full of guilt and 2) kinda clueless

(I MEAN. Apart from me sprinkling acespec hcs on all my faves + the fact that it's not even that strange to have it at 18 or up I doubt someone who grew up like he did and mostly had surviving in mind till "recently" would think of sex before having other stuff covered dunno)

Sooo basically I think overcoming the guilt and learning to enjoy and indulge is: very tasty (yeah I went to a catholic school how can you tell)