𝗲𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹 [bsd x reader oneshots]

DAZAI | THE NEIGHBORS MIGHT THINK [✶]

[CONTENT]

This oneshot contains not-safe for work content, semi-public sex, dacryphilia, alcohol consumption, fingering, teasing, mutual praise, hickeys, along with a female reader. This is oneshot has not been beta-read. Beware grammar errors.

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Snowflakes wore from overlapping clouds, drizzling down onto those that wandered the darkening streets, only aided by flickering street lamps as they made their way between parties and dinners. For many, it was the last day of the work season until the upcoming year, which had to be celebrated with a round of drinks and laughter between co-workers.

The members of the Armed Detective Agency were no different. While they were on call throughout the festive season, most gifted criminals tended to take the period to rest and refresh themselves. But in celebration of their brief break, the ADA decided to partake in a couple of typical organization shenanigans—specifically booze and screaming.

Yosano was slurring the lyrics of a popular love song, her voice hoarse with the spicy whiskey, leaning against a rigged Kunikida, who screamed at the over-affectionate siblings canoodling in the corner. Kyoka was sitting atop a desk, drinking her non-alcoholic juice while dealing cards in a game with Atsushi and Kenji, who were squinting at the lengthy rule sheet about the game. Ranpo attempted to explain it but quickly gave up as it went over their heads. Fukuzawa was at the center of it all, drinking a simple sake while enjoying the buzzing life of his agency.

But instead of engaging with your other co-workers, you were trapped in a corner, entangled in the arms of the agency's resident suicidal maniac. He was hot despite the frost growing outside. His breath against your skin made the hair on your neck stand up, his nimble fingers trailing dangerously near the hem of your shirt.

You muffled a gasp as he pressed his lips against the start of your spine—he was acting as sloppish as a drunk, but his glass remained filled. It seemed he was intoxicated by something much more sensual this winter evening.

"Dazai," you scolded in a whisper, hands squeezing his own to prevent them from traveling further.

"Shh, belladonna," he whined, resting his chin against your shoulder as he stared up with a pouted lip. "You're being too loud. We'll get caught."

"We wouldn't get caught if you would stop."

He raised a brow. "Do you want me to stop?"

You froze as his fingers drew circles into the sensitive dips of your waist, knowing the shot of sweet liqueur in your system wasn't the cause for the warmth pooling between your legs. His large hands cupped your hips as you ceased resistance to his advances, melting into his saccharine kisses with little shame.

"Hmm," he hummed, his teeth teasing your skin. His eyes narrowed with the mischievousness of a cat as you squeezed his fingers in a tremoring grip. The whispers of a whimper swallowed you down.

The detective interrupted your sensual cuddling as he stood up. You stared from below with a tilted frown, only for him to hush you with a smirk as he dragged you into the storage room.

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"You don't wanna get caught, do ya', bella?" the brunette mumbled in your ear, his thumb circling your clit as his long fingers thrusted into your pussy. You whimpered against him, caged with his arms, hoisting your legs from behind as he toyed with your body.

"Sweet girl," he hummed, his sweetened breath catching against your ear. "You're squeezing my fingers, love. You like that idea, don'tcha?"

You whimpered as he deliberated with deepened strokes, open mouth moving across the expanse of your naked shoulder, trailing blazing kisses across your skin as he reveled in your reactions.