#bsd x reader

⊹ ꒰🩹꒱ ˖ in the bedroom i be screamin' but outside i keep it quiet — dazai x fem!reader

cw: sfw at first then nsfw, two headcanons? (kinda?) before the scene, smut, fingering & oral, multiple orgasms (2)

a/n: heya nonnieee, totally get that feeling u r not the only one hehe (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵), & off topic but not rlly i loved the name, ut was just the perfect one, anyway here u go & enjoy! ♡

⊹ ࣪ ˖ dividers by: @/designlikenonsense!

♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୨ 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ୧ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡

the contrast is his favorite game. out in the agency or on the streets, you’re the picture of unbothered elegance—dry responses, lazy shrugs, a half lidded gaze that says you’ve seen it all, and zero reaction when he drapes himself over your desk at the agency.

most people assume you’re just another detached genius who tolerates him. only dazai knows it’s an act. he finds it endlessly entertaining that the same person who shrugs off his antics all day folds so completely for him at night. in bed, the switch is instant and clean. the second the door closes and clothes start coming off, that cool indifference melts, and you let him take control without hesitation

♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୧ 𝓼𝓬𝓮𝓷𝓮 ୨ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡

you were leaning over your desk in the agency office, hands on the table, eyes half lidded like none of it mattered. dazai had been hovering near you for the better part of an hour, tossing paperclips into a mug and missing most of them on purpose, he had been watching you for a while—you could feel it. the weight of those dark eyes tracing the line of your spine through your shirt. the others had filtered out already. only the two of you left under the fluorescent lights, when dazai’s voice drifted over from somewhere behind you, soft and lazy. the kind of tone that always meant trouble.

“hard at work as always,” he murmured, stepping closer until the warmth of him pressed lightly against your back. his fingers brushed the curve of your waist, just barely, a feather touch that made your skin prickle even as your face stayed carefully blank. “such dedication. it almost makes me feel guilty for slacking off.”

you didn’t look up. your pen kept moving across the page in neat, even strokes. “if you felt guilty you’d actually help instead of hovering,” you said, voice flat, almost bored. the nonchalance sat easy on you, the same mask you wore every day around the others. it wasn’t entirely a lie. you were just… like that. quiet, unreadable, the kind of person who answered teasing with deadpan silence or a single raised eyebrow.

dazai chuckled under his breath, the sound warm against the shell of your ear. he leaned in further, lips nearly brushing the sensitive spot just below it. “hovering is helping. i’m providing very attractive scenery.” his hand slid down your arm, fingers circling your wrist for a moment before drifting away again. “besides, you look far too serious. someone should remind you how pretty you are when you frown like that.”

you turned a page. didn’t react. the heat of him was right there, the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the paper and ink of the office, but your expression never shifted. “go bother atsushi. or kunikida. anyone else.”

he hummed, amused, and finally stepped back. the loss of his warmth left a strange hollow feeling along your spine that you refused to acknowledge. for the rest of the afternoon he kept finding excuses to pass by your desk. a file left just out of reach so you’d have to stretch. a quiet comment about how the afternoon light caught in your hair. each time you answered with the same dry, unimpressed tone, never giving him the satisfaction of a real reaction. it was a game the two of you had perfected over months. he pushed. you stayed still. only the two of you knew how thin that stillness really was.

the walk home was the same as always. streetlights flickered on one by one. you talked about nothing important—an old case, a book he’d abandoned halfway through, the way the river looked at dusk. you talked in short, flat sentences when you answered at all. he never pushed. just kept talking, voice easy, like he already knew what waited once the door closed behind you.

the bedroom door clicked shut behind you both. the lock turned. and something in the air shifted the second the outside world was sealed away.

dazai’s coat hit the floor. your bag followed a moment later. you barely had time to set your own coat down before his hands were on your waist, turning you, pulling you in until your chest pressed flush against his. the mask cracked the instant his mouth found the side of your throat.

“there you are,” he breathed against your skin, voice lower now, warmer. “i missed this version of you all day.”

a soft sound slipped out of you before you could stop it. your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, clinging. the careful distance you kept at the office dissolved like it had never existed. you tilted your head, giving him more room, already melting into the touch.

“you were so cruel to me,” he murmured, his voice just a bit whiny while his lips trailed slow kisses up to the hinge of your jaw. “acting like you didn’t want me near you. making me wait.” his hands slid under the hem of your shirt, palms warm against bare skin now, mapping the curve of your waist like he was reminding himself of every soft place. “tell me you missed me too.”

“i did,” you whispered, the words coming out gentle, a little breathless already. “i always do. even when you’re being impossible.” your voice stayed soft, the way it only ever sounded when it was just the two of you. no sharp edges, just open and wanting.

he carried you toward the bed without ever taking his mouth off you. the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you sank down, pulling him with you. dazai followed easily, settling between your thighs, weight braced on his forearms so he could look at you properly. his eyes were darker now, the playful glint replaced by something hungrier and far more focused.

you reached up, fingers tracing the line of his cheekbone, then sliding into his hair. “please,” you murmured, already tilting your hips up against him. “don’t make me wait anymore.”

he kissed you then. slow at first, deep, the kind of kiss that felt like sinking. your mouth opened under his without hesitation, a quiet moan vibrating between you when his tongue brushed yours. the sound was soft, almost shy, but it kept coming every time he deepened the kiss and rolled his hips down just enough to let you feel how hard he already was. one hand sliding down to the button of your pants. he popped it open, zipper following, and you lifted your hips so he could strip the rest away. underwear went with them. when you were bare he stayed on his knees a moment longer, palms smoothing up your thighs, spreading them wider.

“look at you,” he said, almost to himself. “all that indifference and you’re already this wet for me.”

you felt the heat rise in your face but didn’t look away. he leaned in and kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, moving higher with deliberate patience until his mouth finally settled over you. the first slow lick made your fingers tighten in the sheets. he took his time, tongue flat and thorough, learning every small shift of your hips, every quiet breath that turned into a soft, needy sound. when he sealed his lips around your clit and sucked gently you gasped, thighs trembling around his head.

he didn’t rush. just kept lapping and suckling, steady and focused, one hand holding your hip down when you tried to rock up too hard. the other slid two fingers into you, pumping just right against that swollen bump inside, and the combination pulled a longer, sweeter sound from your throat. you were already close, body wound tight from the long day of pretending you didn’t need this. he felt it and slowed, drawing it out until you were shaking, soft pleas falling from your lips without shame.

“please,” you whispered, voice small.

he chuckled against you and pressed his fingers deeper, tongue working in tight circles until the pleasure broke clean and sharp. you came on his tongue with your head tipped back, mouth open, thighs locked around him while he worked you through it, your walls fluttering around his fingers in soft pulses, wet and warm while he licked you through the aftershocks until you were twitching and oversensitive.

only then did he rise, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, eyes dark and fond. he shrugged the coat the rest of the way off, then the shirt, bandages still neat around his arms and neck. you watched him undress the rest of the way, quiet and open, legs still spread for him. when he climbed onto the bed you reached for him immediately, arms looping around his neck, pulling him down into another slow kiss that tasted of you this time.

he settled between your thighs, the hard length of him sliding against your wetness. you rolled your hips, seeking, and he groaned softly into your mouth. one hand braced beside your head. the other guided himself to your entrance. he pushed in slow, watching your face the whole time, letting you feel every inch until he was buried deep.

you exhaled against his lips, soft and quiet. “missed this.”

“i know,” he said, and started to move. slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged against every sensitive spot inside your gummy walls. each thrust pulled a soft, continuous stream of whimpers from your lips. quiet moans, broken little words, praise that tumbled out without filter.

“yes… just like that. slower… mm, right there...”

he moaned low in his chest and buried his face against your throat pressing wet and sloppy kisses on your hot skin, when you started to tighten around him again picked up a slightly firmer rhythm, one hand sliding under the back of your thigh to hook it higer. every thrust was measured and intimate, letting you feel the full length of him sliding in and out as your nails traced light patterns down his back. “you’re so good like this bella,” he murmured. “so sweet for me. no more pretending.. yeah?”

you nodded, breath hitching, and he felt the second climax building in the way your pussy fluttered around him. he reached between you, two fingers pulling up your mound so you felt him slip even deeper, making your thighs shake. your walls started pulsing around him in tight, repetitive little waves, and he groaned, hips stuttering for a second before he forced himself to keep the pace.

“cum for me,” he whispered against your mouth. “let me feel it.. fuck.."

you did. the orgasm rolled through you in a long, deep wave, stronger than the first. your back arched off the bed, a soft cry catching in your throat as your cunt clenched hard around him, milking him in rhythmic squeezes. slick squished out around where you were joined, warm and overwhelming, smearing against your lower tummy and his pelvis—making your toes curl and your fingers dig into his shoulders. he kept thrusting through it, shallower and sloppier, drawing the pulses out with wet squelches until you were trembling and gasping, oversensitive and still clinging to him.

only when the last aftershock had faded did he let himself go. he buried himself deep one last time and came with a low, rough sound against your neck, hips jerking as he spilled inside you in thick ropes. you felt the warmth of it, how his cock pulsed with each spurt, and it made another little whine slip out of you. he stayed inside, breathing hard, one hand stroking your hair back from your damp forehead while the other held your hip, keeping you close.

when he finally slipped free a slow trickle of his cum followed, and he watched it for a second, eyes dark and hazy, before settling onto his side and pulling you with him. you curled in without hesitation, leg hooked over his, face pressed to the bandages on his collarbone. his fingers traced slow patterns down your spine, still a little shaky from how hard he’d finished.

“better?” he asked, voice quiet.

you nodded against him before you kissed his cheek, voice soft and a little sleepy. “mhm.. y'feel amazing.. yeah..”

he pressed a kiss to the top of your head and held you tighter. the nonchalant act was gone for the night, left somewhere between the office and the front door. here, with the lights off and his heartbeat steady under your cheek, you didn’t need it.

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

--

Can I request some headcanons for odasaku with a reader who can’t bear any spice in their/her food (it would be a silly contrast since Oda likes spicy curry lmao), but loves sweet food, specifically something like pudding?

Tysm!! Please take your time🩷🩷

sweetest tooth !

note. i hope u enjoy anon !! this was a little sloppy im not too sure how many hcs to write i hope i didn’t write too many or too little. i am so sorry for how late this is but i hope u enjoy (╥ ᴗ ╥) !

ྀིಎ ͈ everyone who knows this man knows how much he loves spicy curry, so him having a s/o who can barely handle spice in theirs is just so funny to people!

ྀིಎ ͈ however, oda doesn’t really find it funny— not that funny at least— not because he thinks it’s mean, but because he knows everyone has a different spice tolerance!

ྀིಎ he has a little note on his fridge with the names of every sweet you like and which stores you like them from and which stores to avoid buying them from.

ྀིಎ ͈ his grocery list used to be much shorter than what it is now, you don’t even live with him yet but you’re always at his place, so he buys foods you like and foods he think you’d like.

ྀིಎ whenever he’s cooking, he always makes sure to cook for you first, especially if he’s craving something spicy, you’ll always be his first priority so obviously he cooks for you first! he’s very careful about cooking for you and takes it very serious!

ྀིಎ ͈ sometimes he’ll come over to your place and eat some of your pudding, he denies it obviously, but you’re literally looking at him with an empty pudding cup in his hand! (dont worry he’ll buy you more.)

/Note/ gender neutral reader, no warnings, mostly fluff, maybe a slightly softer Aku? But I wholeheartedly believe that if you manage to tame this man, he would be surprisingly soft with those he cares about! I mean, we see how he obviously cares for his sister, even if it’s in a quiet Aku-like way. Idc, Ellie is admin on this server. *evil laughter*

Our emotionally stunted, sickly, Victorian goth-esque, wet cat of a man… where do I begin?

It was a long, most likely, confusing road for our dear Akutagawa to even realize he had such feelings for another person. He is wholly unfamiliar with any sort of romantic territory. At first, he was taken aback and a little disturbed. Though contrary to what some others believe, I don’t think he would hate these new feelings. I like to think he would be more morbidly curious than anything. Akutagawa is generally an apathetic person and would definitely be caught off guard for a while.

Hii, I was wondering if you could write something of Dazai and femenine reader in a ballerina AU, like some headcanons and a drabble or something, it could be SFW or NSFW

I love your writings and enjoy a lot reading it

(*≧ω≦*)

꒰🩹🩰꒱ a swan among stray dogs—dazai x ballerina!reader 🪽

cw: sfw & nsfw at the ends, suggestive, fluff

a/n: hi angel, ty smm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i loved this idea, & how coincidental bc my fyp has been all ab ballet these says, enjoy! ♡ ︎

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you are the kind of ballerina who looks almost unreal on stage. graceful and precise, every movement intentional. the audience sees the perfection, but dazai notices the tiny things nobody else does because he's observant—the details about your technique, your moves, your body—his eyes miss nothing.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he's always there for yout performances, even on the days you think he's busy, you look at the crowd, or the empty studio, and suddenly he's there, quiet, sometimes lying on the chairs with his legd stretched over two extra ones if you're alone. he'll properly ditch work & come there, which is not something he's not used to, but at least now he has a justifiable reason for it. sometimes you'll catch him smiling with a sprinklev of pride sparkling in his soft eyes. afterwards he'll always pull you close, press a gentle kiss to your forehead and mummer quiet praises into your hair. a brief moment before he pulls back and comes wih you to help get ready to go home.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he finds ballet fascinating. because it’s such a contradiction, something that looks effortless but requires years of discipline. he might tease or whine about you practicing a move a thousned times to perfect it, but under it it's always quiet admiration.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ dazai loves watching rehearsals more than actual performances sometimes. not because he prefers you making mistakes, but because rehearsals are where you’re the most you. no makeup, no spotlight, no pretending.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he’s obsessed with the way your body moves when you’re not performing. the unconscious grace in the way you stretch in the morning, the line of your back when you reach for something on a high shelf. he’ll come up behind you, rest his chin on your shoulder, and just stay there, hands loosely around your waist.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you’re both night owls. sometimes after a late show you’ll end up on the fire escape of your apartment with leftover takeout, his sleeves rolled up, you still in tights under a big coat. he'll lean his head against your shoulder and murmur something about how “the audience has no idea how much pain it takes to look that weightless, my belladonna.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he steals your softest rehearsal hoodies. you’ll come home and find him half asleep on the couch in one of them, sleeves past his hands, looking unfairly soft for someone who spends half his time being deliberately difficult.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ after long training sessions your calves lock up. he doesn’t ask. he just sits on the edge of the bed, pulls your leg into his lap, and carefully work the tension out of your feet and calves with slow, methodical pressure, just the quiet and the occasional low “breathe.” it often turns into something slower and warmer once the worst of the ache is gone.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ there’s a particular thing he does with your pointe shoes that lives rent free in your head—after a performance, when you’re both alone in the dressing room, he’ll kneel and carefully unlace them for you. the way his fingers work the ribbons, the quiet focus on his face, the way he presses a kiss to the inside of your ankle once they’re off. it’s never rushed, it’s reverent.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he has a thing for the marks practice leaves on you—bruises on your hips from partnering, the faint red lines from elastic, the way your muscles feel under his hands after a hard day. he’ll mouth on them later, hot and wet and deliberate, like he’s claiming the evidence of how hard you work.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he knows exactly how your body feels when it’s still warm and slightly trembling from class—yhe residual heat in your thighs, the way your core is already engaged. he doesn’t rush. he peels your tights down slowly, kisses the red marks that's left, then settles between your legs like he has all all the time in the world, sometimes tracing the line of your adductors with his tongue until your thighs shake.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he likes fucking you from behind while you’re still half in your practice clothes—leotard pushed down to your waist, pointe shoes still on. (properly unrealistic but-) the soft clack of the shoes against the floor when he thrusts and you stumble just a bit is a thing that makes his grip tightens every time it happens.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he likes the leftover ballet in you even when you’re naked—the smooth arch of your back and the roll of your hips, the way your feet point without thinking while a leg is up his shoulder, hair still in a messy bun while he’s inside you. he’ll tug the bun free halfway through just to feel your hair spill over his hands. he likes the contrast of your strength and how soft you still are under his hands. the solid muscle in your thighs and calves next to the way your waist yields when he pulls you closer.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you fall asleep on him a lot. on the train, on the sofa, sometimes mid conversation. he stays still longer than anyone would expect from him, one hand resting lightly on your thigh or the back of your neck, reading or staring tenderly at your sleeping face, eyes soft and gentle.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ the contrast between them is a huge part of your dynamic—dazai is the chaotic, unpredictable, one, and you are precision, control, and years of repetition, plus the graceful one in your relationship, in your own way. and somehow, you balance each other out.

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

--

elle or ellie. 20s. ace. she/her. caffeine fiend.

this is a little blog I started to post thoughts, analysis, and headcanons I have for Bungo Stray Dogs! Bsd has been a manga that I’ve held close to my heart and I more than encourage you to ask or submit your own thoughts about the franchise! I love talking about it ;)

there will likely be nsfw content on here so minors shoo! go away!

quick facts about me! my favorite characters are Akutagawa, Nikolai, and Ranpo!

I’m an artist and I really enjoy drawing anime/manga characters (feel free to check out my TikToks @n3v3rmor327 and @eleonora.is.tired)

I’m really into shipping and other fandom culture

I’m a cancer! Go my little crabs! Asks/Request are open! more info on my ask page -> X

ft. Jouno & Tetchou

g/n reader who loves to make Tetchou and Jouno look pretty

a/n: this was requested, but I lost the ask </3 also, I need more official art of them, I can’t find some I particularly like. Also, I don’t remember them very well. Maybe I should reread bsd… it’s been like more than 5 years since I first read it…

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ content [fluff]: g/n reader, putting makeup on Jouno (yay!)

[🐾] When you first asked him to put eyeliner on him, he just brushed you off in his usual way.

After much persistence, he finally gave in and let you put eyeliner on him.

[🐾] He honestly wondered why he was surrounded by so many eccentric people, you included.

Nonetheless, when you started putting eyeliner on him, he accepted the fact that there was no backpedaling now.

[🐾] He turned out pretty, the red eyeliner suited him perfectly. (So perfectly I thought that he had red eyeliner in his og design for some reason btw)

He even got compliments from his peers!!

[🐾] Jouno eventually accepted you messing around with him, putting skincare on him, massaging some hair oil into his scalp.

Just be careful with scented stuff, his nose is sensitive, after all.

[🐾] In the end, Jouno likes the compliments he ends up getting (and he also probably really likes the princess treatment).

[🐾] Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think he doesn’t take care of himself well, but with you constantly pampering him, he looks much nicer. Glowing skin, perfectly symmetrical eyeliner, shiny and soft hair…

[🐾] If you actually want to mess with him, maybe sneaking in a cute hair clip or two sounds good.

Good as in, a good way to sign a death sentence. Haha.

[🐾] You can also swap his earring! There’s a lot of cute option to choose from <333

[🐾] In the end, Jouno always lets you make him look pretty

[🐾] He likes it when you braid the longer parts of his hair, but in his face he has the same stoic face as usual.

[🐾] Please draw cute marks that resemble the ones he already has under his eye😭😭😭😭🙏 ueeeeueeeee im begging pls

[🐾] If Tetchou sees you’re having trouble opening up a package for a product you’re planning to use on him, he’ll slash it open for you. And don’t worry, the product will be intact (even if the package tells another story)….

[🐾] I feel that as long as you offer him yokan with soy sauce (or maybe put an ant colony in front of him for him to watch) he’ll be happy enough to let you give him a makeover.

[🐾] Do you think he would look good with eyeshadow……

[🐾] Maybe propose a yapping session about a personal gym for him (it’s written in the guidebook that he wants one</3)

[🐾] He’d probably be very sweet to spend time with.

so,.,could i req either hcs or a drabble (wtv you feel like writing atm) with sub!chuuya,,gulp

ALSO UR NEW THEME IS SO GORGEOUS

⊹ ꒰🍷꒱ ˖ he looks best under you — chuuya x fem!reader

cw: nsfw, sub!chuu, creempie, facesitting, body worship, hj, overstimulating, edging, finger sucking, hair pulling and just me glazing on chuuya, which im not sorry about

a/n: y'all better love on this post or I'll appear in ur dreams bc i was halfway through this and my connection bugged and tumblr didn't save it so i had to start over, also was listening to the song at the end while writing this — anyway THANK U SM LOVEE, enjoy! ♡

middle picture credits to: saburayo33 on twitter ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⊹ ࣪ ˖ chuuya isn’t a pure sub. he could flip you and take control in a second if he wanted. but with you? his sweet girl who looks at him like he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen? he gives in. he chooses to let you top him. he lies back and lets his pretty girl do whatever she wants to him, because it feels fucking good to be wanted like that.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ sometimes he just wants to be touched. spend forever kissing him, suck marks into his neck and collarbones, run your hands over every inch of that lean, strong body that was sculpted to be worshipped. he'll lay there and takes it—sighing with every kiss, skin heating up under your lilps—hard and leaking the whole time.

<𝟑 .ᐟ the visuals—he looks unreal when he’s under you. that sharp face flushed, red hair messy against the pillows, his bangs damp on his forehead, lips parted and glossy—red and swollen from how much he bites it. his blue eyes are half lidded and shiny, his stomach flexes with every bounce you give him, his chest rising hard and fast. the man is already pretty, but when he’s soft and letting you take the lead he becomes devastating. you’ll catch yourself just staring at him mid ride sometimes, completely gone, and he’ll smirk up at you—it's softer on his lips—even while he’s breathing hard.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he lives for being used. not in a degrading/pathetic way—never. more like “i’m yours, do whatever the fuck you want with me”. you can sit on his face until your thighs shake and he's out of breath—and he’ll just whimper into you, pulling you down on his face just to lap you up with that tongue of his—when you finally let him he just licks his slick lips and says, voice wrecked, “again.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ creempies hit different when you’re on top. he loves watching you take what you want from him and then stay seated so he can feel himself pulsing and filling you up, seeing himself drip out of you and leak from your thighs onto his.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he loves when you’re sweet and a little bossy at the same time. soft “be good for me” or “stay still, baby” while you rise him him makes him melt and get harder at the same time. the contrast of your honey voice and the way you’re using his body is pure catnip.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he’s extremely sensitive to praise. calling him pretty, telling him how good he feels, how beautiful he looks under you, how much you love using him… it wrecks him in the best way. His ears go pink and he gets quieter, more focused on every sensation.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ edging him becomes a game you both enjoy. you’ll get him right to the brink—his abs tense, his breathing hard—then slow down or stop completely. he’ll stare up at you with puppy eyes blown pupils, voice rough, “fucking tease…” before you lick the sweat off his cheek and tell him to wait his turn. whivh he'll listen.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ the first orgasm after edging is always messy and intense. when you finally let him go after a long edge, it hits him hard—thick, heavy, and so much of it that it spills out around you or coats your hand and stomach. he’ll sigh out your name and and stare at the mess like he’s still not used to how much his body gives you.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ overstimulating him after that first release is pure evil (he loves it). he’s hypersensitive, his cock overstimulated, his tip red and swollen, but you keep moving—slow rolls of your hips, or gentle strokes of your hand, soft kisses on his neck while he’ll try to squirm, breath hitching, but he never pushes you off.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ he can handle a lot of overstim before he actually needs a break. even when he’s sensitive and oversensitive, he’ll still spread his legs for you and let you keep going, only occasionally grunting a whiny- “fuck, doll… give me a second..", yet his lip is between his teeth, plumped up and puffy.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ getting him to the point of shooting blanks. it takes serious dedication. multiple edged orgasms, long rounds, keeping him hard as a rock, and sensitive until his body has nothing left to give. by the end he’s a beautiful mess—little broken sounds every time you touch him. when he finally “cums” dry, his whole body locks up and he makes the prettiest, most wrecked noise you’ve ever heard from him.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ pull 👏🏻on👏🏻his👏🏻 hair 👏🏻. fist a hand in those soft strands and tilt his head back while you’re stroking or fucking him and he melts. give a sharp tug and the sweet pain mixing with even sweeter pleasure will make his eyes flutter and his mouth fall open in a silent gasp.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ finger sucking. shove two fingers past his lips while you’re on top of him and he takes them like he’s starving. he sucks hard, tongue curling around them, spit dripping down your knuckles and onto his chin. the wet, soft slurping sounds he makes are enough to make you clench around him—which makes him moan into your fingers. he keeps eye contact the whole time, his eyes dazed and gentle, looking completely wrecked and still somehow cocky about how good he’s being for you. when you pull your fingers out, a string of spit connects them to his swollen lips and he just smirks, which you drag down his throat.

(there was this ⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ art i saw on a fic once.. that reminds me of chuuya sm..)

♡.ᐟ his body language—chuuya's hands always roam. that's just the norm doesn't matter if he's the top or not. groping your tits, clawing at your hips, one hand sliding up to your waist as if holding on for dear life. when you ride him slowly, he can't keep his eyes open—his head lolls back, lashes fluttering, throat arched so prettily as he moans into the room, his adams apple working around every swallow and sound. pull him ib for wet, sloppy kisses between moans, kiss him through his high and his brain will shut off. his hand runs up and down your arm and the small of your back, his body arching into yours, chasing more and more of you—groaning right into your lips so you can taste his voice.

<𝟑 .ᐟ chuuya nakahara—not a quiet man in bed. he's not the type to grit his teeth and hold it in. he's expressive—slurred, breathy, filthy, raw. he's a groaner and a moaner. his voice is naturally low and velvety, so every groan, every grunt comes out deep and rough, rolling into a sound more sinful—like it's ripped straight out of his chest. there's aways words mixed with moans. always. the first few thrusts, his moans are deep, gravelly, muttered curses against your throat-

"god, doll... slow down, 'm- shit-" as you keep moving, they get slurred, breathier. he lets his voice spill unfiltered, drawn out moans that melt into curses:

"fuucuk—baby, feels too good... fuckin' killin' me..."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ the more pussy drunk he gets, the lazier his tone. his moans stretch into half whined ones that turn into these punched out exhales—his hips twitch up just enough to keep himself buried deep because he'd rather die that have your pussy off his cock. you feel him melt under you, heavy hands sliding from your waist to your ass to your thighs, squeezing but not guiding—just holding on, voice breaking as he tilts his head back and just takes it.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ when he's close, his moans pitch up a little—not high exactly, but this raw, desperate edge, like he can't hold it together anymore.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ dirty talk—he physically can't shut up btw. when he feels good that mouth works. and it's filthy, raw need.

"you love seein' me like this, huh? fuckin' me slow—ha—like you own me..." "goddamn sweetheart, you're squeezin' me so fuckin' tight—mhmm-" "y'gonna make me lose my mind... fuck, 'm yours, y'hear me? yours..."

⊹ ࣪ ˖ aftercare with him like this is extra intimate. you'll pull him down onto your chest, with him still inside you or with his soft cock against your thigh, and just hold him while he comes down. you'll stroke his hair, kiss the top of his head, and murmur low praise about how good he was, how pretty he looked under you, how much you loves having him like this—your sweet voice in his ears and his head on your tits and a good sleep after is all he needs.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ you can never "fully" top him. when you're on top, and he's moaning like that, when his hips start meeting yours, fucking you from below until you're both babbling into each other's mouths, and when his hands are all over you craving for more—you're the one getting undone.

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

--

Hi hello! I would like to formally announce that yes pt 2 of the high school AU is in the works. Ik I had the poll set up for a week but it seems like an overwhelming majority want some kind of continuation so I figured might as well start both 😶

In fact I've completed the first draft of Dazai's route today and would like to share a tiny snippet with you all 👀

Now I will say, these continuations are going to be a lot more romance-forward than the first part, but I still tried to preserve some of the comedy before things got serious.

Also, the Dazai part kind of ran away from me 😭 it turned out a lot longer than I originally intended and took a much more vulnerable turn than I planned for but I'm honestly really happy with how it ended up.

My stories have a tendency of writing themselves and this is just where these two wanted to take me 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, it'll still be a few days before I can post them since I haven't started Chuuya's route yet, but I hope the wait will be worth it since these two idiots started occupying my brain 24/7 >.<