#bungo stray dogs writer

[angrychuu-huahuas]

Being (fanfiction) writer be like:

[pleucas]

nostalgic, for nothing [BEAST]

finally able to post the work i did for @skkangstzine! leftover sales are going on until October 10th, which you can find details for here <3

[chuunai]

husband dazai ! who demands a kiss for everything imaginable. a morning kiss, a goodbye kiss, a night kiss and kiss just because your lonely lips needed his. your lips, cheeks, shoulders and every inch of skin never went a day without feeling a gentle peck there. his favorite spot is your back. if he steals your lipstick, he’s able to leave so many marks as a manifestation of his undying love.

husband dazai ! who has a shrine of you at his desk in the Agency. polaroid photos litter his desk, pinned with thumbtacks as memories of dates and holidays are there to remind him why he bothers working—for you. his favorite is the two of you cuddling in your futon, the sheets tangled and the sunlight peeking in through the curtains. it’s so domestic and beautiful and his heart fills with warmth at the sight of it.

husband dazai ! who prefers stay-in movie night dates. while he sets up the illegally pirated movie, you make buttery popcorn that he knows he’ll devour later on. while the film goes on, you’ll be perched in his lap with his hands either absentmindedly playing with your tummy or thighs. naturally, he makes comments about every part of the movie. it’s just part of his irresistible charm though.

husband dazai ! who feels those shards of doubt and insecurities during the darkest nights. thoughts plague his mind of you finally realizing that he’s a horrible person and that you’ll leave him. that you’ll crush the heart he gave to you so brutally and tragically in a way that he’ll never be able to recover from. on the following days, he’s more distant and quiet. his outer persona he uses for the show of the gleeful and lazy ‘dazai osamu’ is stripped away to reveal what he really is. a man vying for a genuine bond and guarantee that he won’t ever be alone again.

husband dazai ! who is eventually soothed by your presence and actions. those small promises you moan out when he makes love to you in a fit of desperate need and desire. his usual loud almost exaggerated moans and groans are silenced to whiny sounds that your neck muffles. the red lines your nails dig into his back make a heart in his mind, and the kisses are just as careful yet deliberate. he just wants love. your love. all of it. no matter how selfish, he only wants it for himself.

husband dazai ! who reminds himself everyday of how lucky he was to meet you. had he not, what would he have become? he doesn’t know. he couldn��t see him living another life without you in it. when you eventually leave his side, he’ll leave too with the help of a rope and razor.

Tags:

@sinfulthoughtsposts, @briars-castle, @twst-om-lover

[tinkerleaf]

Protective Men

warnings: cursing, a little violence, creeps

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I can see Dazai as the type to carefully watch as the client you've been working with leans a little too close to you. He may be across the room but he still follows the man's every move. You wave off a few subtly flirtatious remarks and glance over at Dazai. When he sees the man 'accidentally' brush a hand on your back, he's had enough, leaving his chair and strolling over to the two of you.

"You need any help, sweetheart?"

Your client is less than pleased with his presence, "We're fine, thank you."

"You're flirting with them, aren't you?" His voice is calm and low, but his tone has a clear edge of warning.

The man scoffs, "As if that's any of your business."

"They're a little busy with your case right now. You should be focused on that."

"I don't think I was hurting anything."

"That's not the point. They're working. They don't need you to distract them." Dazai replies, still calm but firm. "Atsushi! Come take this case!"

The silver-haired boy comes in, a look of concern on his face. "What's going on?"

"Nothing" Dazai replies with a smirk, "This fellow has a case for you."

Atsushi nods and takes over while Dazai takes you by the arm and leads you out of the office. "I didn't like that at all."

"I can see that," you smile as you two walk into the cafe. "But now I've lost a case..."

"You didn't need it. I've seen his file. You're more suited for missions than simple tasks. It's good practice for Atsushi." He sips his coffee. "Besides, he was too comfortable with you, and I don't like random people getting too close to you."

✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

I imagine Chuuya biting his tongue to keep himself from telling off the man whose eyes were all over your figure. The Port Mafia had all kinds of weirdos come in and out, but this one in particular must not have known who he was dealing with.

When you get up to leave, the man grabs you by your wrist. "Where ya goin'?"

Chuuya instantly stands and swiftly places a knife up to his throat. The man lets you go, holding his hands above his head. "Keep your fucking hands off of them."

"I wasn't gonna do anythi-"

Chuuya interrupts him by knocking him out. The man has an important role for now in the mafia, so he couldn't kill him yet.

"Come on." You follow him back to his office. He shuts the door behind him and sits at his desk. "Look at me."

You sit down across from him.

"If anything happens like that again with anybody here, you let me know first, understand?"

You nod.

"That shit pisses me off more than anything, especially when it comes to you."

[crazy-together-reddie]

lots of new important information in the new chapter and i think the most important thing we’ve learned is that dazai rolls around the floor when he’s worrying and he’s done this since he was a teenager

[raccoonwxrks]

How I feel after making a comic about mother feelings while having zero of them:

[scarletgray]

writers i have a proposition for you

[t4tskkyaoi]

EMERGENCY C🍓MMS ‼️

(little repost from twitter)

Please leave a note/reblog so I can reach more people!!

I really hate to do this but I've been trying to save money to cover medical expenses.

I have suffered severe medical neglect and I recently received a wake-up call that I need to see several doctors for several different things, as well as psychotherapy which I lost access to due to lack of funding.

My health has been significantly declining to a worrisome level. As for therapy, I'm in severe need of it due to the obvious fact that not only am I unmedicated for things I DO need to be medicated for (which has been previously discussed with my previous therapist), but I am also a system. I'm not stable enough to be out of therapy, I really do need it.

I will take commissions for just about anything, it doesn't really need to be writing. I'll take commissions for analyses of anything or even art (despite not being the best at it) - I'm just kind of desperate at the moment.

Examples of my writing can be found on my AO3 below:

but also on my twitter under this thread! :

My analyses can be found on my twitter as well, under this thread:

And finally here are the (few) examples of my art! I know it isn't my strong suit, so prices for it will be significantly lower despite the amount of time it takes me:

I am also open to writing poems for 1-2€ each. Here's a few examples of it, in case anyone finds themself interested! (I enjoy doing character-themed poetry a lot. First poem draws inspiration from BEAST!Chuuya):

Thank you for your time. <3

[melluvsuu]

“ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐑 . ”

character : dazai osamu

context : you’re an agent going undercover, you encounter port mafia executive dazai. he finds you interesting. yeah..

authors note : you should listen to the diner by Billie ellish to get the vibe to it.

warning : stalker briefly mentioned, stalker!dazai, can be interpreted romantically or whatever, shout out to my bbg @riiwrites 😼☝🏽, murder and blood mentioned too, gender not mentioned, literally we rock with they/them 💋‼️.. uhm I think that’s all gays yeah..

,, 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓. 𝜚

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐒, the last remnants of daylight clinging stubbornly to the horizon. It was a view [name] had come to appreciate, standing on the balcony of the modest clinic where [name] built their cover. As a doctor specialising in human behaviour, their role was simple enough—listen, observe, and blend in. Standing there in viewing the people going about their days, [name] ran their fingers along the balcony’s iron railing, feeling the coolness of the metal beneath their skin. In this quiet neighbourhood, [name] was simply known as Dr. [name]—a doctor who listened to the woes of the weary, a person who could help people understand the storms in their minds. In some ways, [name] had taken to the role more naturally than they expected. It wasn’t far from what I had trained for, after all. But beneath that calm exterior, my real purpose was far more pressing.

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the papers on my desk inside the small office. I stepped back inside, closing the door behind me as I glanced at the scattered reports and profiles I’d been reviewing. Every interaction I had here was a potential lead—every patient, every conversation was a thread that might lead me to the missing documents. I was hunting for the whispers in the crowd, the signs that something was about to crack.

I sat down and opened one of the files again. A name stared back at me—Takeda Masaru, a local journalist with a reputation for being nosey. He had been in to see me twice, under the guise of seeking help for stress and insomnia. But I knew better. Knocking me out of my train of thought, my smartwatch started vibrating. It was morse code.

‘GOOD EVENING AGENT [NAME], IT'S NICE TO YOU ALIVE AND WELL.WE HAVE NEW INTEL. THERE'S BEEN SIGHTING AT THE LOADING. THE DOCUMENTS SHOULD BE THERE. IT SHOULD BE A DARK RED CARGO BOX WITH THE NAME ‘MELLUVS ART AND WRITING SUPPLIES’ . QUICKLY GET THERE BEFORE ANYBODY INTERVENES. BEST OF LUCK TO YOU.’

I quickly changed my clothing still keeping my pants and shoes and swapping my glasses with sunglasses, my shirt with a business shirt. Taking my coat off the rack I jumped off of the railing onto the pavement. The cold air hitting my face, I felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. The peaceful exterior I’d adopted as a doctor was peeling away, revealing the true purpose behind the mask.

I arrived at the loading dock slipping past guards. While remaining on my toes, looking around, finding the maroon cargo box, picking the lock, catching it before it could fall can make noise. Opening the door and sorting through papers. I found the papers of the document, putting the papers in my doctors folder, I turned to step out just to be greeted with…

"Are you lost?" a voice rang out behind them.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards the stranger with a simple smile.

“I said, are you lost? Dr. [name].” He repeated.

Standing in the shadow of a weathered chimney was a young man, barely older than them, with an unsettlingly casual grin. His black hair fell messily over his eyes, his posture loose and unthreatening, but I knew better than to trust appearances. There was something sharp beneath that smile.

“Ah. No I’m not..”

"Dazai Osamu," the man introduced himself, stepping closer without a care in the world. "What a coincidence, meeting you here."

"Coincidence?" [name]’s voice was flat, unamused. "I don’t believe in coincidences."

Dazai’s grin widened. "Smart. I don’t either."

This wasn’t good. My mission had suddenly become complicated—this was Dazai, a notorious figure in the Port Mafia, rumoured to be both brilliant and dangerous. Getting caught up with him was exactly what their agency warned them about. But retreating now would be even worse. They couldn't afford to show any weakness.

"You’re in my way," I stated plainly, their eyes locked onto him. Dazai’s expression flickered briefly with interest.

"Am I?" he mused, not moving an inch. Instead, his eyes gleamed with curiosity. "I wonder what someone like you is doing up here. You don’t seem like the usual riffraff the mafia deals with. You're different."

I said nothing. They were trained to maintain a poker face, but they could feel Dazai’s gaze piercing through them, searching for cracks.

After a tense silence, I decided it was better to end this encounter quickly. "I have no business with you. Walk away."

Dazai’s grin softened into something almost playful. "I could say the same. But I don’t feel like walking away just yet. You intrigue me."

Before you could respond, a shout echoed from the alley below—footsteps, too many of them. The mission wasn’t over yet. With a sharp glance at Dazai, [name] moved quickly, shoving him out the way with the documents I hand, disappearing into the shadows of the cargo port.

𓎢𓎟𓎟𓎟 . ♡ . 𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎢

The mission was complete, the documents recovered, and the city’s fragile calm preserved. Days passed, and YN pushed the encounter with Dazai to the back of their mind. They believed they had left him behind in that port, a fleeting figure from a fleeting night.

But they were wrong.

It began with small sightings—first at a diner near one of their agency’s hideouts, a quaint place where [name] often went to clear their mind. They walked in for a quiet moment, only to find Dazai, seated by the window, sipping his coffee as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His eyes met theirs, and that familiar grin spread across his face.

The next time, it was at their ‘job’. [name] worked as a hired security operative for a private military company, and the sight of Dazai loitering near the building was more than unsettling. He didn’t approach them, but his presence was a constant reminder that he was watching.

The evening air felt heavy as [name] returned home from a long shift, exhaustion pulling at their every step. They hadn’t noticed the lingering presence outside, the demon in the shadows, waiting. The lock clicked into place behind them as they shut the door, and for a moment, they stood still, listening. No footsteps followed. The silence was almost comforting.

They kicked off their shoes, fingers absently unbuttoning their dress shirt, craving nothing more than the solace of the couch. As they sank into it, something caught their eye—an envelope, placed conspicuously on the coffee table. A surge of unease rippled through their tired mind, heart beginning to race as they reached for the envelope, fingers brushing the edge of the paper with caution. Slowly, they opened it, their eyes scanning the contents.

‘THIS IS A REALLY NICE PLACE YOU’VE GOT HERE! MIND IF I MOVE IN? I HOPE YOU’RE READING THIS SILLY NOTE! I MIGHT’VE STOLEN SOME DOCUMENTS AND IMPORTANT FILES FROM YOUR OFFICE, SORRY, AGENT [NAME]~!’

A low groan of frustration escaped their lips as they crumpled the note and tossed it into the garbage. [name] rubbed their temples, too drained to deal with the antics of a certain mafioso tonight. Just as they tried to let the tension slip away, they caught sight of something—someone—standing on the balcony.

Their heart skipped a beat, and instinctively, they reached for their gun, gripping it tightly as they cautiously approached the window. They slid it open with precision, never taking their eyes off the figure leaning against the railing. "You’re persistent," [name] said, gun ready but posture steady.

The man on the balcony didn’t seem fazed by the weapon. Dazai Osamu smiled as if this were all part of a game. "And you’re elusive," he countered, voice light and carefree. But there was something beneath that tone, something deeper, lurking behind the casual amusement in his gaze. "I like people who don’t give themselves away so easily."

[name] sighed, lowering the gun but keeping it in hand. Arms crossed, they met his eyes with thinly veiled exasperation. "What do you want, Dazai?"

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering the question, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I’ve been trying to figure that out. You’re… interesting. And I’m rarely interested in anyone."

"Flattering," [name] muttered, voice laced with sarcasm as their patience wore thin. "But I’ve got work to do."

Dazai’s expression shifted, his grin softening, but his presence growing more intense as he stepped closer. "I know," he said quietly. "That’s what makes this so fun. You, with your little secrets and dangerous missions… I can’t help but want to unravel it all."

"You can’t follow me forever," [name] warned, voice quieter now, each word a warning laced with resolve.

Dazai’s smile softened further, almost genuine. "Maybe not," he agreed, his voice low, "but I can follow you for a little while longer.”

“Get the hell out of my apartment,” [name] snapped, their voice sharp as they levelled the gun at Dazai. The cold metal clicked audibly as they cocked it, a clear threat in the air. They pointed toward the door, eyes hard and unyielding. “Do it now, or I'll shoot you.”

Dazai’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it widened, his eyes gleaming with that same unsettling amusement, as if the threat didn’t faze him in the slightest. He raised his hands in mock surrender, but his body remained relaxed, nonchalant, as though he were in complete control of the situation.

“Shoot me?” he mused, voice light but laced with something darker. “Now, now, Agent [name] that seems a bit extreme, doesn’t it?”

“You think I’m joking?” [name] growled, finger hovering dangerously over the trigger.

Dazai took a step closer, completely unbothered by the barrel pointed at him. His voice dropped to a near whisper, his eyes locking with theirs. “No, I don’t. That’s what makes this so exciting.”

There was a tension in the room now, thick and palpable. [name] held their ground, but Dazai’s calmness, his lack of fear—it was disarming. He was playing a game they weren’t sure they could win.

“Get out.” [name] demanded, not lowering the gun but sensing this encounter was only going to spiral deeper.

Dazai’s smile softened just a touch, his tone almost genuine. “Nope~!”

“You’re testing my patience,” [name] warned, heart pounding but steady, still aiming squarely at his chest.

“Good,” Dazai murmured, stepping back toward the balcony door. “I like it when people have limits. It gives me something to push.”

With a final glance, he gave them a playful wink. “Until next time, Agent.” Then, as quickly and casually as he had appeared, Dazai slipped out, leaving the tension in the room behind him like a lingering shadow.

[name] stood still, their gun still raised, breaths coming in heavy. The sense of danger hadn’t left—it was only a matter of time before he returned.

additional author notes : ending kinda sucked ass again smh..

word count: 1k

reposts are welcome but do not steal my work!

[nuhahani]

And here I am, a lesbian, writing smut for fictional men.

[theinsomniacindian]

I will never get tired of the "If they're going to die, it's going to be by my hand" dynamic

[judasgot-it]

Early Sunsets Over Yokohama

Early Sunsets Over Monroeville - My Chemical Romance

What Once Was - Her's

Part 1

Scenario: He found you.

1.2 k words

Dazai was terrified for once in his life.

The comforting thought of death was something that he had used to protect himself - he could imagine everyone in his life dying because he knew that when they did, he didn't want to cry.

It helped when he had lost people in other ways. He had lost them through breakups, drifting apart...

They were all natural.

So he would imagine that they would die in horrific and disgusting ways, far too vile to speak of. He would kill them in his head in order to protect himself.

But he didn't know where to start if he had ever lost you.

You were the only exception to this rule.

Dazai tried so many times to imagine your death - to kill you in his head, to destroy your image, to distance himself. Just to gain some control over his own self.

It never worked. He would lose himself if you died.

He was living for you, and he couldn't even tell it to you.

The one person who knew everything.

If he couldn't find you, protect you, and know you were alive - he wouldn't survive. His heart might not make it past that heartbreak.

But he forced himself to push that human fear, to find you and know that you were alive.

The ADA wanted you alive as well.

It had been days of searching, after the disaster of what had happened at the airport.

Maybe it was weeks. It was impossible to know the time anymore, as he hadn't moved the calendar from the last date you had marked down.

Your life seemed to have ended since he had been arrested. The day he had proposed to you.

That was when you stopped marking down the dates so meticulously, and instead filled your shared apartment with work and caffeine.

Up until the day of the event, you had been working tirelessly. And then you had disappeared - leaving behind an unfinished bottle of whiskey, a spoiled convenience store bento box, and a letter of encouragement from Kenji.

As much as you tried, it seemed Dazai had rubbed off too much on you. He wanted to laugh at the thought.

Dazai didn't sleep unless his body shut down. The man couldn't even walk, but all he did was force his weak body to think and listen to reports and read documents from all over Japan.

You both had become the same when the other was absent - although Dazai found that instead of one bottle of whiskey, it was three. And you had never bothered to touch the suspicious pills he kept.

He was running on those more than food. Dazai couldn't ever finish his meals before they went stale or bad, so he stuck with a single can of food a day, or half of whatever he was forced to eat in the office.

Life was bleakest in that period - however long it was.

Maybe a month? The weather had changed very little, but time felt like it had passed for an eternity.

He would end up finding you in a small abandoned bus station, like a pawn that was thrown across the board. A very random place to end up, in his opinion.

There was nothing valuable there.

It was impossible to understand how you ended up there - no buses even went there, and the walk to that station was nearly impossible.

But actually thinking about the logistics of your reappearance was something Dazai wanted to not care about for once in his life. Even if you were looking at him, terrified that you weren't the same person as before.

No one understood how it happened. Not even you.

You were suffering from severe memory loss, but it might have been a good thing - you had shown up in that spot with injuries and severe fatigue. It was possible you had crawled your way to that spot, but it didn't seem like you had left a trail there for very long.

The ADA wanted to know what had happened - day and night they would question you, driving through the same points to figure out where you had been, and what could have been done to you.

But Dazai didn't care. He didn't think.

You were here.

All he would do is hold you in his arms, ever since he saw you - dirty from trekking in the mud of the wet woods, and smelling from the days without showering, and he would simply kiss you with abandon.

You tasted terrible, with fuzzy teeth and oily hair. And he fucking loved it.

It was you. All you, here, in that moment, with him.

Since then, he only ever saw you.

In your shared apartment, Dazai couldn't bring himself to ask you:

'What happened?'

All he would do is swaddle you in blankets and hold you in his lap. His arms would wrap around your sides and he would cradle you between his thighs, as if trying to trap you in a cacoon made entirely of his limbs.

Not once did you ask him a question:

'How was prison? How was defeating Fyodor?'

It was as if all of that didn't exist to either of you anymore.

There was no war between the two of you. No abilities, no missing time - the calendar wasn't missing any X's and it didn't have a distinct lack of your handwriting across it.

Everything was the same. The air smelt like alcohol and mold; dirty hair and mud. But it smelt like home.

Dazai could smell you underneath everything, and he could still taste you despite the whiskey on his breath. Everything was familiar, despite the changes.

Even if you lost your face, he was sure he was going to remember what you looked like - the way you were looking up at him was something that had been burned into his mind, something that chased him in his dreams.

There was a small feeling Dazai had, where he wanted to lock you in this room and never let you go. To handcuff your wrist to his, and keep you by his side so he could never let you go.

The best he could do was pull you closer, feeling your ribs contract against his hold as you struggled to breathe in his hold, giggling as if he were being playful.

He would let you think that. Your hands were pulling at his greasy hair, and he played along - hiding his face in your neck so you didn't know that if he let go right now, he just might have to eat you so you never left him again.

Fyodor almost won.

"Dazai, are you alright?" You were pulled at the back of his hair by the handful, your knuckles the first thing to touch his scalp in weeks. God, he needed a shower.

Simply sighing, he brushed his nose against the back of your neck, kissing your spine and smiling as your breath stuttered. You were like a virgin underneath him, even when you were both a disgusting mess like this.

"Just thinking about how much I wanna marry you." If he could, he would wear your skin and die in his grave like that - there would be no other way to be closer.

But the ring on your finger was close enough. He thought a lot about that when you were gone. He knew you did too.

"We should do it soon."

"It?"

Your hand pulled harder, making Dazai wince a little. Of course, you were going to be mean about it.

"Get married, asshole." There's an ending to that - 'because we almost lost each other.' But neither of you were brave enough to talk about it now.

Maybe not ever. This already was a big statement.

There wasn't much of a conversation to be had about it. Not now, at least.

Dazai was sure he was going crazy a little bit, trying to choke you in his arms while still running on nothing but the takeout he had in the car - a meal he only ate half of, given he shared it with you.

His skin was disgusting, and the apartment was disgusting. For once, the dirt he usually surrounded himself with was bothering him.

Maybe he needed to be better for you now.

Before he realized it, he was staring at his dark ceiling, illuminated only by his small box TV and your face looking right above him. The lighting was a little scary - making you look more like a creature from a horror film than the angel he knew.

But your matted hair and tired eyes weren't exactly giving an 'angelic glow' either.

"We should sleep"

Dazai only hummed along, his hands feeling your curves and pulling you down towards him, trying to absorb your skin onto his - if he was a little more mental, he would have skinned you and eaten every part of you now.

Never let you get away from him.

But as your hands and body shifted around, trying to make his skinny frame more comfortable, he could feel the ring he gave you catching on his ratty old pajamas. It was going to have to be close enough, he supposed.

For the people who wanted a pt. 2 -> @aquaberrydolphin @skelkitty @queen-of-fanfic, this was so off the tracks but like we yolo this shit

[chuunai]

Dazai kisses you with the reverence of a worshipper. He’s eternally grateful that such a filthy, lowly demon such as himself received the affections of such an angel. His morning and nighty rituals begin and end with the same event—kisses all over your holy body, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. They’re chaste and fleeting in the beginning, afraid to defile and corrupt you. But oh, he craves to hear the delicacies of your gentle hums and moans when he gets too messy later on and leaves a pretty mark. He knows mere mortals shouldn’t get too close to goddesses, but he can’t help but follow icarus’s steps and hope to touch the sun, you.

Chuuya kisses you like a man drunk in love. Your lips replace the bottle he used to seek comfort so often from, and the taste of red wine could never hold a candle to the taste of you. And not unlike the glasses full of alcohol, he finds himself asking for just one more kiss. They’re bold and clear to the point that he has given himself to you. He’ll proudly kiss the ground you walk on with the same energy he kisses you. He’s lost so many people in his life, and the one thing he wants is to keep you and your kisses all to himself. The finest wine deserves a knowledgeable man who won’t break the bottle.

Fyodor kisses you with the delicate touch of an artist. Every imprint of his lips on your skin is carefully arranged in an ethereal collage of devotion and intimacy. There’s no overdoing it or under-doing it, it’s the perfect amount. His words are always coated in sugary lies and webbed subsidiary secrets, and he opts to express his love through affectionate gestures such as a mere kiss. Being a man of God, naturally he strays away from anything too provocative and heated. Except sometimes in the dead of night, he thinks of Eve and the apple. He shouldn’t have you, no, but he can’t resist forever.

Sigma kisses you like he’ll lose you. The three years he has known this world has only taught him pain, anguish and anxiety. He’s so inexperienced, and he’s afraid that inexperience will frustrate you to the point of leaving him. There’s a bit of everything in a kiss with him, some tongue (he read about it online on a WikiHow article of how to kiss), the shaky hand on your cheek and hip and so much idolization. You lead most of the kisses by proxy, and he lets you. It’s okay if you use him like a toy. He’ll gladly be used as long as you don’t leave.

Nikolai kisses you with all the wild passion he can muster. The lipstick he wears smears across your skin, painting your Cupid’s bow red. Mutters of ‘pretty thing’ and ‘fucking delicious’ leave him with each deepening kiss. It’s a pity he’s thought about setting you free from this world during such a moment. Your heart bleeding around the knife, wails and whimpers of pain muffled by his lips while he guides you through the end of life. The last remnant of the chains holding him down would be gone if your kisses weren’t so hammering onto his soul. Every peck and smooch only solidifies his connection to you and this universe.

Tags: @twst-om-lover, @briars-castle, @little-miss-chaoss, @sinfulthoughtsposts @starrs20

[opulent-valkyrie]

PM chuuya x ADA reader

The rain poured down in relentless sheets, turning Yokohama’s streets into rivers of reflected neon light. You tugged your coat tighter around yourself, a smirk playing on your lips as you strolled through the alleyways, not particularly in a rush to get anywhere. The mission was done—another successful day for the Armed Detective Agency. Now, it was just a matter of heading back and teasing Kunikida about something irrelevant to pass the time.

But as you turned the corner, something stopped you in your tracks.

A familiar figure stood beneath the dim glow of a streetlamp, red hair slicked from the rain, blue eyes sharp as ever despite the years that had passed. Chuuya Nakahara. His presence was undeniable, as powerful and commanding as it had always been. Even after all this time, your heart still gave a slight, irritating flutter upon seeing him.

“Well, well,” you drawled, leaning casually against the wall, trying to ignore the twist in your gut. “If it isn’t my favorite mafia executive. I didn’t expect to run into you tonight. Though, it’s not like you ever did have the best timing.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed, and that familiar fire lit up behind them. “Still full of yourself, huh? Some things never change.” His voice was as biting as you remembered, but there was something else there, too—something deeper, a weight behind the words. You knew it, because you felt it, too.

Years had passed since the two of you had been something—something fierce, complicated, and all-consuming. You’d broken up in the middle of a mission gone wrong, tempers flaring, words exchanged that you couldn’t take back. And since then, you’d both gone your separate ways—him to the Port Mafia, you to the Agency. Polar opposites now, as if it had always been meant to end this way.

You shrugged, that lazy grin never leaving your face. “I could say the same about you. Still looking like you want to punch a hole through the world.”

Chuuya’s lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile before he buried it beneath his usual scowl. “What do you want, Y/N? Or are you just here to get in my way again?”

You pretended to think, tapping your chin. “Getting in your way was always one of my favorite pastimes. Old habits die hard.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and you knew you were pushing him—just like always. But that was how it had been with the two of you. You poked, he snapped, and somehow, it had worked until it didn’t.

"Is that why you left?" Chuuya's voice was quieter now, his gaze searching yours. The question hung between you, years of unsaid things suddenly at the forefront. He wasn’t asking about the mission, and you both knew it.

For once, your smile faltered, and you exhaled softly. “You know why I left, Chuuya.”

Silence stretched between you, thick with the weight of everything you hadn’t said to each other in years. The rain continued to fall, but neither of you moved. You could feel the tension, the unresolved history that lingered in every glance, every word exchanged.

Chuuya finally broke the silence, his voice gruff but softer than before. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’ve both moved on. We’re on opposite sides now.”

You nodded slowly, that familiar smirk returning as you met his gaze. “Yeah. But you still think about it, don’t you?”

Chuuya didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes told you everything.

[tinkerleaf]

Drunken Ballads

This one is so funny to me. Don't judge me for the song choice, I've been blasting it for days. Synopsis: reader gets tipsy, dazai and chuuya to the rescue Genre: comedy? Words: 675 Pairing: dazai/reader/chuuya Warnings: cursing, a little suggestive, alcohol

The Armed Detective Agency didn’t allow you to drink too often, and there was a reason for that. There’s a story that the office tells the newbies before they get carried away, just to keep them from acting out the way you did one special night.

After a particularly hard mission, you felt you needed a little something to relieve the tension you felt. You decided to go to a nice bar that offered cute little cocktails because you deserved it. It had been a rough week for you, and nothing hits the spot better than getting drunk.

At the time, you had only meant to get a little buzzed. Unfortunately, you were wasted.

Something that this bar was known for was its large stage for karaoke and other forms of live music. There was a dancefloor in front of it, and behind that stood a plethora of couches and tables. Lots of people were there, it was quite popular.

This was the first time you had ever been to this club, and you failed to consider who owned it. Some of the Port Mafia members were scattered throughout the place, but you wouldn’t have realized it anyway due to your condition.

A certain redhead placed himself in a black leather chair at the opposite end of the room. He didn’t know you were there yet, but it wouldn’t be long before he did. He sipped on the last bit of his wine, and before calling someone to fill his glass, he choked. He almost dropped it when he saw you on the stage, singing “…Baby One More Time” (specifically the Tenacious D version).

“No fucking way…” He couldn’t lie, you were doing great, but you were certainly drunk out of your mind.

“Hey boss, isn’t that-”

“Nope.” He lied. He knew this would be awful for your image if people realized who you worked for.

The mafioso didn’t respond, other than to roll his eyes.

Halfway through your little “performance”, Chuuya reluctantly dialed a number he hadn’t rung in a while.

There wasn’t an answer. Instead, he finds Dazai walking up to him with a smug look on his face. “They sure know how to put on a show, huh?”

“The crowd’s loving it.” He glances over to his former partner, “Apparently so are you.”

“Oh, shut up. I’m just waiting for them to fall off the stage.”

“You didn’t have to call me by the way. I already knew about their after-work plans, but I had no idea it would be this entertaining.”

When you finally made eye contact with the two, you knew you were in trouble. You quickly stumbled down the side stairs and attempted to escape without them noticing. This was an awful plan, however. Your current state was equivalent to a fawn, wobbling to keep balance.

A strong arm pulled you close. “Where do you think you’re going like that?” Chuuya asked. “You can barely walk!” His cologne was intoxicating.

“You’re so handsome…” You slurred quietly.

“Damn, they really are wasted,” Dazai retorted, earning a scoff from the other man. He moved some of your hair from your face, “Guess it’s time you come back with me, sweetheart.”

You smiled, “You both can take me home.” Dazai laughed, while Chuuya’s eyes widened.

“Get them out of here. Make sure they get home safe.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the night was a blur. All you could remember was Dazai taking you back to your apartment and then waking up in your bed the next morning. He left a note on your nightstand, along with a glass of water and some painkillers.

Upon walking into the office later, you had a serious migraine. You couldn’t afford to stay home, however, due to the massive amount of paperwork you had to fill out from the last case.

Sitting at your desk, Dazai had quite a smirk on his face. “How you feelin’?”

You held your palm at him. “I don’t want to hear it from you right now.”

[mothonthewall]

Doctor! Doctor!

Happy Valentine's Day