mqdilen

[mqdilen]

ᡣ𐭩 I'LL TAKE A QUIET LIFE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did—you swear you really didn't. but when a certain someone decides to provoke you when you're trying to do the right thing… well. things take a turn for the worse. all you wanted was to peacefully borrow dazai for his birthday, whisking him away for a one-week getaway from the city and work, but you know how dazai is, and you couldn't risk any of his coworkers letting something slip. so, now, instead of a nice peaceful surprise and maintaining relations with the agency, you've had to resort to kidnapping. again. you'll make the most of it anyway.

(word count: 13.2k, fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, dazai-typical suicide mentions, past suicide attempts referenced, oral (male receiving), a bit of face fucking, unprotected sex, a little overstimulation, minor implied ptsd episode/grieving (reader))

AUTHOR'S NOTES: HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYY TO THE CUTEST BOY IN THE WHOLEEE WORLD WAHHHHHHH take a cute little post-canon fic for the big day<33 i am so proud of how this fic came out. before you read, i do want you guys to take note that there's a bit of a time jump—i have this fic set around 5-6 months after the ada-pm swap fic. i have a lot to say about this fic so maybeee come back up here at the end to read this because there are some spoilers for it ... this is ur last warning ....... ANYWAY, so as you all know (even though you have no faith in me) pmreader universe DOES have a happy ending. to get to that happy ending, the biggest hurdle that needs to be crossed is what was addressed in one of the more recent pmreader fics (i think i've seen this love before): dazai struggles to find a reason to live. i can't really see him marrying pmreader when he still feels so hopeless about himself/living, for HER sake more than his mind you, because he knows he's very fickle with life and doesn't want to marry her and then leave her behind. so i do think that this is a necessary step to the happy ending: dazai needs to acknowledge that he does see himself having a future with her & their relationship gives him a reason to wake up in the morning. now, this of course doesn't take away from his depression—i dont want any of you to misunderstand and i dont think you will, but i just want to make it clear that him acknowledging this doesn't take away from his depression. it's something that i headcanon dazai struggles with his whole life, but i think this is a necessary step to the happy ending. also on another note, pmreader !!! i hope her whole thing doesn't feel like it comes out of the blue. once they get together again at age 22, i hc that the first few months of their relationship are so chaotic that neither of them can fully come to terms with their situation, and once she does, she really does begin to doubt things. because of course she loves him, and she wants him to feel like he's fulfilled odasaku's last request so he can feel better about himself, but she starts to feel like her presence in his life might be holding him back. so those lingering doubts + her doing something that reminds her of a past she can't remember puts her in a rlly vulnerable space. AND I THINK I CONVEYED IT WELL, but i just like explaining. ANYWAY if you guys got this far, i love you, thank u for entertaining my rambly thoughts

Dazai is over three hours late to work, but in his defense, it’s his birthday, and not even Kunikida is cruel enough to scold Dazai on his birthday. Still, he very much expects dirty looks from the man, and maybe a few loud comments about his terrible work ethic, but that’s just Kunikida. If he wasn’t giving Dazai dirty looks and making loud comments, Dazai would be concerned.

Which is why when he steps into the office at half past twelve and is met with dead silence, Dazai knows something is wrong. He shuts the door quietly behind him and looks around warily, trying to figure out what’s going on. There’s no sign of forced entry or any fighting—there’s an untouched stack of papers in the waiting area that he assumes are from a new client, and a hot coffee still steaming next to it. 

It’s all so unassuming, it’s what he expects coming into work, but it’s too quiet. He can’t hear Naomi bothering Tanizaki, he can’t hear Yosano complaining about the stick up Kunikida’s ass or Kunikida promptly scolding her for her language, he can’t hear Kyouka, Kenji, and Atsushi chatting away whenever Kunikida is pulled away by something. There’s no furious typing from the clerks as they fix all of the mistakes in the reports being filed, and there’s no sighing when they think they finish, only to realize that there’s another report, likely one of Dazai’s, waiting for them to edit.

It’s too quiet, and that’s how Dazai knows something is seriously wrong.

When he steps into the office, he almost expects nobody to be there—maybe they were all called out to some emergency mission, and Dazai is going to have to race to catch up with them. 

What he doesn’t expect is finding his coworkers all sitting stiffly and silently in their seats, and a heavy Port Mafia presence all over the room. Hirotsu is leaning against the far back wall, a cigarette dangling between his lips, Gin is hanging over Haruno, carelessly playing with one of her knives, and Tachihara is trying to convince Atsushi to play a game of cards with him as if Akutagawa isn’t looming right behind him. 

If it were just the Black Lizards, Dazai thinks that they’d probably fight back, but naturally, the red-headed slug is here too, leaning up against the wall with Hirotsu, arms crossed and a bored expression on his face. Dazai’s eyes narrow when Chuuya gives him a smirk that’s far too smug, but the insult on his lips dies when his eyes land on the last person in the room.

You’re sitting on top of his desk, a pretty smile on your lips and a glitter in your eyes that promises no good. You look beautiful, and Dazai’s chest feels all warm and fuzzy—he hasn’t seen you in a few weeks now because you’ve been abroad dealing with pressure from some foreign organizations, and he didn’t think you’d be back for his birthday. He’s so enamored by the sight of you that he almost doesn’t catch the glint of metal on your lap or the way Kunikida is sitting tense at his desk next to where you’re lounging.

“Hey,” you say easily, like there isn’t a gun in your lap pointed at his coworker, safety off, finger firm on the trigger, ready to pull it at a moment’s notice. “Happy birthday.”

“What-” Dazai starts to say, baffled, but flinches when he feels something prick his neck, head snapping to the side to focus on a vaguely familiar figure now standing at his side—your new subordinate, Dazai can’t remember his name. 

Whatever he injected Dazai with works fast, because he’s instantly dizzy, his gaze blurring, and his head all woozy. Just as his knees start to give out, he feels the kid grab under his arms to make sure he doesn’t hit the ground, and he hears you say proudly: “This is a kidnapping.”

---------

In your defense, you really did try to talk things out peacefully with the Armed Detective Agency before resorting to this. 

You weren’t planning on kidnapping Dazai, but you knew he probably didn’t call out of work, and the last thing you needed was to be scolded by Mori for causing any more tension between the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia if they realized that you were the reason Dazai didn’t show up to work. 

Things have been rocky on both sides since the failed transfer—the Agency because the Port Mafia dared to take one of their own, and the Port Mafia because the Agency reneged on their deal and took their member back—but you can’t afford for things to be rocky when things are still incredibly unstable. So instead of just picking up Dazai and leaving for a few days and possibly pissing off the Agency for not giving them any forewarning, you decided to do the right thing and tell them before disappearing with one of their detectives.

Except the President of the Agency isn’t in town. So, you were stuck dealing with that bullheaded blonde who clearly still holds a grudge over the incident with Pushkin and he decided to act on his grudge by making your life as difficult as possible. 

All too smugly, he refused to give Dazai leave for the week because they have an emergency case that needs all hands on deck, and when you offered up Klaus to replace him, much to the boy’s abject horror, he refused. Then you offered up Klaus and Akutagawa, and he still refused. You even proposed giving them Chuuya for the week, and that wasn’t enough, so that’s when you realized he was just being difficult to be petty.

And you doubt the man actually would’ve forced Dazai to miss out on time with you on his birthday, Dazai is his friend and he’s not that much of an asshole. He probably would've okay'd it as soon as Dazai showed up to the office, but he was clearly just trying to be a pain in your ass. And well, you didn’t take that kindly, obviously, so all thoughts of preserving the fragile peace went out the window as you quite promptly demanded all hands on deck for a possible conflict because you were not going to let Kunikida Doppo keep that smug expression on his face for a second longer.

Was Chuuya happy about it? No, you could tell when he gave you a side eye after he showed up, but you knew he wasn’t going to sit by and let the Agency get one over you. So, he was content to stand there as a looming threat, because you were pretty sure that the Black Lizards weren’t going to be enough to scare the Agency into backing down, but the threat of Nakahara Chuuya splattering one of their own against the wall so that there was nothing left for their doctor to revive was more than enough to keep them down.

The Black Lizards and Akutagawa didn’t have the authority to question your orders, and Klaus was more than willing to spill blood at any given moment, so the only thing you have left to worry about is Mori, and you’ll deal with that once you get back from your getaway with Dazai. If Chuuya’s feeling nice, he’ll probably handle it for you, but you don’t think he’s pleased with how you offered him up like a bargaining chip to the Agency.

Your lips curve up into a smile when Klaus tosses Dazai over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Was drugging him unnecessary? Probably, but you didn’t want to deal with his smug ass making comments about the lengths you go to so that you can steal him away for the week the whole way up to the house you and Chuuya bought on the coastline of Hokkaido. It wasn’t just for Dazai—it was your own pride on the line too, it was the principle.

As you motion for Klaus to bring Dazai out to the car, you rise to your feet and look down at Kunikida. You place your gun under his chin to tilt his head up so that he’s looking up at you; he swallows thickly as he glances down at where your finger is still resting on the trigger, throat bobbing before he glowers at you. You give him a too-sweet smile.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” you say, very pleased with yourself. You look back at Chuuya, signalling him to come with you as you put your gun away and start to make your way out of the Agency. You lift your hand in a lazy wave before saying, “I’ll bring him back in a few days.” 

It’s only when the door to the Agency shuts behind you that he finally speaks to you, hands shoved in his pockets as he says dryly, “Mori specifically told us not to antagonize the Agency over the next few weeks.”

“The Agency antagonized me,” you reply airily. “It would’ve been a terrible look for us if we let them walk all over us and come out unscathed. There are already too many rumors circulating in the East about us being weak after the Guild Incident, and now, Dostoevsky, the failed transfer, and the Clocktower—preserving our reputation is more important than relations with the Agency.”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “You can twist anything to fit your narrative, can't you? If you weren’t an executive, you’d make a great lawyer.”

You raise your eyebrows, unfazed. “It’s not twisting if it’s the truth.”

He scoffs, muttering something under his breath before shaking his head as he holds the door to the cafe open for you. “Right. Next time you decide to ‘preserve our reputation’ through a diplomatic disaster, at least give me a damn warning first.”

“There’s no fun in that,” you say with an easy smile. “Will you deal with Mori while I’m gone?” 

“You’re shameless,” Chuuya tells you flatly. “No, I’m not dealing with Mori. You just tried to pawn me off to the Agency like a fucking mule. You can deal with him.”

“Please.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, pushing your lip out in a pout that has him rolling his eyes. You scowl and then offer, “I’ll take over your mission in Sapporo when I get back.”

“Deal,” Chuuya agrees immediately, reaching out to open the car door for you. You slide inside, and he shuts the door behind you; you immediately roll the window down. He gives you a sharp smile, resting his arms on the car door and leaning in. “I would’ve dealt with him either way.”

“I know because you’re a sucker,” you reply, raising your eyebrows and giving him an equally sharp smile. “I just thought I’d be nice and offer you something in return.”

Chuuya clicks his tongue sharply as he leans back. He stands up straight and gives you a side eye. “Bitch,” he mutters, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “Enjoy your week with that bastard, you’re gonna be in for hell with Mori once you get back.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” you say dryly, turning to the side as Klaus opens the door to toss Dazai into the car. Literally. “Jesus, Klaus, be a bit more careful with him.”

“No.” Klaus says and then sneers down at Dazai before slamming the door shut behind him.

You shake your head and adjust Dazai into a more comfortable position. He should be out for at least two or three hours—you aren’t quite sure, he’s always had a freaky metabolism, but you don’t know if it’s gotten faster or slower in the four years he was gone. You rest his head in your lap, brushing his hair out of his face. You’ve missed him a lot; you’ve barely been able to see him at all the past few weeks because you’ve been so busy, and your chest aches just at the sight of him in your lap. You turn your gaze back up to the window to find Chuuya staring at you in disgust. Klaus is there too, scowling.

“What is your problem with him?” you ask the boy, giving him a weird look. “You’ve hardly even met him before now.”

“I don’t like him,” Klaus replies, raising his chin.

You stare at him in disbelief, but Klaus only huffs and stalks off, likely to cause chaos elsewhere. Chuuya snorts in amusement, trying to muffle a laugh as he turns his face away. You roll your eyes and fling your hand up dismissively. Klaus has always had something up his ass about Dazai, you never understood why. You’ve learned better than to question what runs through that boy’s head.

“You should get going,” Chuuya says, stepping back from the window. “The jet’s waiting for you.”

“Right,” you agree, stretching your arms and then resting your hand on Dazai’s forehead, fingers carding absently through his hair. “Thanks, Chuuya.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replies dryly, turning his back to the car to walk over to where he’d parked his motorcycle. He lifts his hand up in a lazy wave. “See you next week.”

“See you next week.”

---------

Dazai wakes up to the whole world shaking. His heart rate spikes as he shoots up, disoriented and confused. His hand flies to his head, blinking hard to try to clear his blurry vision. He doesn’t even really remember what happened. He remembers waking up late for work and feeling smug because Kunikida couldn’t scold him because it’s his birthday, and he remembers…

Oh.

You.

Dazai glances around, trying to figure out where the hell he is. He’s laying on a white couch in a small room… or, this isn’t a room, is it? There’s a window next to him. Dazai squints at the sudden bright light that blinds him, but he shifts closer to the window so he can look out of it.

He is in the air.

Dazai blanches when he realizes that he’s in a plane. It must be close to landing because the ground is much closer than he expected. He doesn’t recognize the area—there doesn’t seem to be any big cities nearby, only forests and the ocean, so he’s not really sure where you’re bringing him.

He pushes himself out of his seat, stumbling a bit before he catches himself. Whatever you injected him with was strong, but at least now he has something he can whine and complain about. Maybe he’ll be able to convince you to make him the sweet buns you tried baking a few times back when you two were teenagers. You never liked the way they came out, but Dazai had been obsessed with them and was thoroughly upset when you refused to make them every time he asked. 

He salivates a bit at the thought and decides to get a head start on his guilt tripping, making his way over to where you’re sitting. A smile unconsciously pulls at his lips when he sees you sitting a few seats away. Your back is facing him, but he can see you’re focused on your computer, typing furiously with earbuds plugged in your ears. He stumbles once more before kneeling on the seat behind yours, draping himself lazily over the back of it to rest his chin on the top of your head.

His lips part to make a complaint when he pauses, gaze focusing on what exactly it is that you’re doing on your laptop.

Are you on a… video call?

Dazai stares at the screen blankly, recognizing the several faces staring right back at him. Leo Tolstoy looks unbearably amused when he sees Dazai in the frame of the camera, hiding a smile with his hand. An older man who Dazai realizes is Carlo Goldoni raises his eyebrows, lips twitching. Mishima Yukio casually rubs at his lips, pretending he’s not smiling. There are three others, two men and a woman who Dazai doesn’t recognize—they must be new allies of the Port Mafia.

Well, Dazai thinks awkwardly, staring at the screen as he realizes that he just interrupted a meeting between you and several mob bosses. He doesn’t bother moving now, they’ve already seen him, and you don’t seem bothered, considering you don’t immediately shove his face out of view of the camera.

“I’ll contact you all when I’m available again to speak next week,” you say after a moment. “Thank you for meeting.”

You exit the call without waiting for them to answer, taking out the earbuds from your ears. Dazai lifts his chin when he feels you turning your head to look up at him. He gives you a sheepish smile. 

“Did I interrupt?” he asks quietly. 

“No,” you reply. “We’re almost here anyway.”

Dazai shuffles around to sit across from you, resting his arms on the table and his head on top of them. He looks up at you, eyes still a bit droopy from whatever you drugged him with. Your lips curl up into a soft smile, and warmth spreads through Dazai’s chest at the sight of it. His cheeks heat up, so he hides them in his arms and peeks up at you. The smile on your lips becomes a bit fonder, you place your arms on the table, mimicking him, and then rest your head down like he did, peeking up at him the same way as he is at you.

It’s a simple action. A nothing action, really. You’re just mimicking him. Teasing him for being flustered. He doesn’t know why his chest suddenly feels like it's about to cave in. He doesn’t know why he suddenly wants to cry. He doesn’t know why he’s so suddenly and violently reminded of how much he loves you. 

Maybe it’s just because he’s missed you these past few weeks.

“Happy birthday,” you whisper. 

A lump that’s shaped suspiciously like his heart forms in his throat as he looks up at you. He hides his smile behind his arms and says quietly, “You kidnapped me.” Then adds belatedly, “Again.”

“I did,” you agree, eyes glittering with amusement. “It’s a bit of a tradition now, don’t you think?”

“Where are we going?” he asks curiously, hand creeping forward to try to grab yours. He pokes your arm twice; you raise your eyebrows before realizing what he wants and putting your hand in his. Dazai’s fingers slide to your wrist to press against your pulse, feeling the familiar, even thrums and matching his own heartrate to to them.

“To a foreign countryside so I can kill you and dump your body,” you say without pause.

Dazai snorts, lifting your hand to his lips so he can kiss your palm, lashes fluttering shut when your fingers brush over his cheekbone. He says dreamily, “A woman after my own heart.” 

“You’re such a freak,” you say fondly.

“Your freak,” he corrects with a flirty smile before setting your joined hands back down on the table. “I can’t believe you kidnapped me again. And drugged me. I still feel a bit woozy, y���know? How are you going to make it up to me?” 

“A one week escape from work isn’t enough?” you ask dryly.

“Nope,” he agrees, popping the ‘p’. “How about you make me those sweet buns you used to make this week? I haven’t had them in ages, I miss them.”

You squint at him, leaning back in your seat but leaving your hand in his. “Maritozzi?” you ask, and Dazai faintly recognizes the name from back then, so he nods. “What flavor?” 

Dazai pauses and then asks, “Strawberry? Or lemon?” 

“Both?” you offer.

His eyes widen slightly. He didn’t expect you to give in so quickly. Back when you guys were teenagers, he’d whine and ask you to make them and it would turn into a six hour argument of him insisting that he deserves them and you refusing him. 

“That was easier than I expected,” he admits sheepishly. 

“It’s your birthday,” you say like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Again, Dazai’s heart flutters, and he squeezes your hand gently. “The first one we’ve celebrated together in four years. We can stop to get the ingredients on the way to the house.”

The house. Where is it that you’re taking him? Dazai’s mind bounces around with potential answers—far enough that you had to take him on a plane, but not so far that he’s just woken up and its already begun its descent. Dazai has a quick metabolism and a high tolerance for most drugs. You know this and probably would’ve accounted for it, but there’s a large margin of error. You don’t know if his metabolism has gotten quicker or slower over the years apart, and you don’t know if his tolerance has weakened, so you probably didn’t want to risk pushing the dosage anymore than you would’ve four years ago.

Which probably puts the time at… four hours after you injected him? Which would make sense from the position of the sun in the sky. Probably took forty minutes from injection to take off between getting him here and getting everything settled. So a three hour flight? About? Where would that leave you guys? Seoul? No, it couldn’t be—there were no cities anywhere in sight. One of the northern islands then?

“You didn’t answer my question,” he whines. “Where are we going?” 

You hesitate for a moment like you don’t want to tell him, but he pouts and widens his eyes in the way that always makes you give in. You roll your eyes at him exagerratedly, and he gives you a sweet smile in response.

“A property up in Hokkaido,” you finally say. Dazai is smug, realizing his deductions were right, until you continue speaking. “It’s near a small village. Pretty. Me and Chuuya scoped it out and bought it a couple of months ago just to have.”

What. Dazai stares at you blankly, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, unsure why he suddenly closed off. He narrows his eyes at you, willing away the bitterness that suddenly swells in his chest. It’s sharp and sour, and he definitely doesn’t like it, but when he tries to push it away, it only intensifies. 

“You bought property with Chuuya,” he asks flatly. “You’re taking me to a property that you bought with the slug.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop that,” you say immediately. “I’m taking you to a property that I scoped out because I wanted to bring you here. Chuuya jumped on and offered to pay for half because he wanted a place to escape to outside the city.”

Dazai squints at you, and you raise your eyebrows challengingly. He immediately huffs and looks away, stomach lurching when the plane begins the final part of the descent to the ground. He decides to change the subject instead of pressing, maybe he’ll whine about it some more later.

“So,” he says slowly, voice dropping just enough to catch your attention from the way you tilt your head to the side. “You’ve kidnapped me away from the Agency… to bring me to a house in the middle of nowhere… and decided not to tell me about it until now…”

You hum in response, eyes narrowing, and Dazai leans closer over the table separating the two of you, lips curling up into a lecherous smirk that has you rolling your eyes. You already know what’s coming, but you must let him have his fun on his birthday.

“And we’ll be there for… how long again?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, seemingly intent on staring out the window. “A week.”

Dazai whistles, leaning back in his seat again. His eyes rove over you—it's been a hot minute since the two of you have been able to do anything intimate. He hasn’t even seen you in a few weeks. And before that, most days, you’re either too exhausted or he’s too in his own head about things to get in the mood. But this… Seven days. No work. No people interrupting. No reason to spiral in his own head. His lips unconsciously pull into another small smile, teeth scraping his tongue as his gaze lingers on the top few buttons of your dress shirt—they’re undone, just low enough for him to see a hint of…

You clear your throat. Dazai’s gaze snaps back up to your face. He gives you an innocent smile that makes you roll your eyes at him again. 

“Pervert,” you accuse.

“Yeah,” Dazai breaths out, voice a bit raspy as he lifts your hand back to his lips. He kisses your knuckles and then the inside of your wrist, gaze flickering back up to your eyes. “I’m going to take advantage of this week.”

The corner of your mouth twitches like you’re fighting off a smile. “Oh, I counted on it.”

Dazai lets go of your wrist when the plane lands. He watches you tuck your hand back into your lap, pulling your phone out to shoot a text to someone before sliding it back into your pocket. His eyes stay on you as the plane rolls to a stop, watching the way the sunlight dances across your cheekbones. You look beautiful—always do—but you’ll look more beautiful tonight when he has you underneath him.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you tell him flatly as you rise to your feet. Dazai follows after you, standing too close, and when he leans down to ghost his lips to your neck, you swat at his head, but he immediately dodges and then drapes himself over your shoulders obnoxiously. “Osamu.”

Dazai lets his full body weight rest on you. You stumble forward, trying to walk toward the exit of the plane, but fail miserably because you’re dragging his dead weight with you. His lips curl up into a smile when he hears your frustrated groan, arms tightening around you.

“Get off of me, you freak,” you complain. “Walk on your own.”

“But I’m still so woozy,” he sighs dramatically. “You drugged me, take accountability and carry me to the car before I pass out and hit my head and die on my birthday. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

He pouts against your skin, nipping your neck for a second before resting his forehead in the crook of it, right next to the small mark he just left. Vision obscured, he misses the way you motion for the pilot, who had come out to lower the steps to the ground, to grab him until he feels two hands around his waist lifting him off the ground. Dazai yelps and flails, trying to figure out what exactly just happened, and blanches when he realizes he’s being held princess style by a grown man.

“Watanabe-san, please make sure Osamu makes it down the steps safely. We wouldn’t want him to pass out and hit his head and die on his birthday, would we?” you say with a sweet smile.

“Of course not, hime,” the man replies gruffly. 

Mortified, Dazai tries to worm out of the man’s arms, but his grip is too tight. He looks at you, betrayed, but you’re only fighting giggles as you make your way over to the car waiting on the tarmac, leaving him in the arms of this man.

By the time he makes it to the sleek black car waiting for the two of you, Dazai’s face is flaming red. The moment he’s placed on the ground, he throws himself into the car and turns his back to you. You laugh and climb in after him, pressing your lips to his shoulder.

“I hate you,” he whines. 

“I love you too.”

---------

Dazai naps once the two of you get to the house, so you focus on getting everything together to make the maritozzi in the morning. You don’t really like making it—the pastries make you upset. Or, well, it’s not the pastries that make you upset, but the fact that every time you make them, you get this strange, aching feeling in your chest—a sense of deja vu so strong that it nearly brings you to your knees.

Your hands always remember what to do, even when your mind doesn’t. You knead the dough with a practiced ease that doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You know exactly how much flour to dust on the board, how warm the milk should be, how to press your thumb into the dough to check if it’s ready. 

It’s muscle memory, maybe.

You sigh as you rest your hands on the kitchen counter. You plan to start baking in the morning, but you already feel that… odd feeling spreading through you, both sharp and tender at the same time. A homesickness for a place you can’t name. Grief for people you don’t remember.  It happens every time: a flicker of something just out of reach. A child’s gleeful laugh, a pair of warm hands guiding yours, a whispered promise that isn’t kept.

You lay your head in your arms for a moment, eyes sliding shut. You can never get the maritozzi right, regardless of how hard you try. You don’t know what you’re doing wrong, or even what’s wrong with them at all, but you know it’s not right. You hate making them. Each time, you can’t help the hope that swells in your chest that maybe this time will be different. Maybe you’ll get it right. 

Each time you’re disappointed. 

And yet, here you are again trying.

The things you do for love.

You feel a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind, hands slipping beneath your shirt. Dazai drapes himself over your back, pinning you to the counter. He sighs softly as he kisses the nape of your neck and your shoulder before burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you whisper softly, a smile pulling on your lips as you lift a hand to rest it on the top of his head. You feel his heartbeat thrumming against your back, and his fingers tracing absent patterns on your stomach. “You were tired.”

“You’ve been away for a few weeks,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your neck. You feel him yawn before nuzzling his face against your skin, eyes sliding shut. “I wasn’t sleeping well.”

“My apologies,” you say with faux remorse. “How dare I go away for work and mess up your sleeping schedule.”

He hums in agreement. “A crime worthy of capital punishment, honestly,” he says, and you feel him smile softly, kissing your neck again. You let out a breathy sigh and instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him more room. “I had to sleep without my favorite pillow. You know, the soft, warm, breathing one that makes cute little noises when I kiss her neck.”

“Oh, shut up,” you scowl, but the expression quickly fades when you feel him trailing slow kisses up your neck, deliberately lingering just below your ear.

“How are you ever going to make it up to me?” he whispers playfully before he nips your skin. 

You ignore his noise of complaint when you shift in his arms so that you can face him, resting your hands on his hips as you look up at him through your lashes. You give him a sweet smile before saying, “I can think of a few ways.”

“Oh yeah,” Dazai drawls, lips curling up into a lazy smirk as his fingers slip beneath the hem of your shirt again. “Is this the part where you beg for forgiveness?”

“Oh?” you hum, leaning in to ghost your lips against his jaw, kissing slowly to his ear as you murmur, “You want me to beg?”

He lets out a soft groan when you nip his skin. “I want you to convince me you’re sorry for leaving me to suffer all alone,” he corrects, breathing a little heavier when you start to kiss down the column of his throat. His voice catches over his words as you slide down the sweatpants he changed into and lower yourself to your knees in front of him. “Oh, fuck.”

“You poor thing,” you say softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his hip bone. “All alone for weeks. I bet you were just aching without me.”

“I—” His voice breaks into a groan as your mouth trails lower down the line of his ‘v’, lashes fluttering as he rests his hands back onto the counter and glances up at the ceiling before looking back down at you. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darker than you’ve ever seen them before. “You have no idea.”

“I think I have an idea,” you say more to yourself than to him, a teasing smile playing at your lips as you finally lift your hand to stroke his leaky cock. His hips jerk instinctively, he twitches in your hand like he’s already on the verge of finishing, and you lift your gaze. His chest is heaving, pink lips swollen and parted, head tilted back as he looks up at the ceiling again, desperately trying to gain control of himself.

God, you love him. You’ve loved him for years, since you were sixteen, even if you only started acknowledging the depths of your feelings for him when you were eighteen. He was always so flighty and unpredictable, you never expected one day he’d be yours the way he is now. You’ll never let him go now. You’ve missed him these past few weeks apart much more than you realized. 

“I would do terrible things for you, Osamu,” you tell him softly, running your thumb over his tip just so you can hear the way he keens. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” he pants. You’re not even sure if he fully hears what you say, already lost in the haze of pleasure, and you don’t really care. “Please.”

You don’t look away from him for a second as you take his tip into your mouth, flattening your tongue against his slit to lap up all of the precum that had beaded there. He lets out a ragged groan, but you can’t see his face, so you lift your hand to grab one of his and tug to get his attention.

His head falls forward, bangs falling in his eyes as he looks down at you. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he breathes heavily, gaze entirely unfocused as need quickly fogs and dismantles the cogs of his quick brain. Having gotten what you wanted, you try to slip your hand free to hold his hips again, but his grip on your hand tightens, refusing to let go.

You hum softly, entwining your fingers with his instead as you slowly take him deeper into your mouth. His eyes half-roll back when his tip hits the back of your throat and your tongue presses against the vein on the underside of his cock. He almost lets his head fall back again, but your grip on his hand keeps him grounded to you. Even as fucked out as he is with his cock deep down your throat and your nails tracing patterns on his inner thighs, he manages to keep his gaze mostly locked to yours.

“I—haaah, fuck—you feel s’good,” he slurs, free hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. He lets you set the pace, and you pick a slow and steady one that you know kills him. You want to see how long he can last before he snaps. “I—so many nights…”

His sentences are garbled and mostly unintelligible. It makes you happy—you’re glad he lets his brain shut off when he’s with you like this. He used to try so hard to maintain control that you could tell it was stressing him out when he was supposed to be feeling good, but he doesn’t bother with the pretenses anymore, letting everything crumble away the moment he has you in bed with him. Or, in this case, in the middle of the kitchen. 

You can’t respond, so you resign to letting out a soft hum of acknowledgment; the vibrations make him whimper, cock twitching in your mouth as he gnaws on his bottom lip, desperately trying not to cum so quickly. You can feel his thighs tense beneath your touch as holds himself back from fucking your face.

Your gaze traces his face, catching sight of the red flush of his cheeks, his wet lips, the way his expression is all twisted—he’s so pretty, so you decide to have a bit of mercy on him. 

Plus, it is still his birthday after all.

You lift your hand to tap his hip twice, signaling to him that he can take control if he wants, and the effect is immediate. His eyes snap open fully, glassy and wild with need, and then he moves. 

His grip on your hand tightens just a bit, and the hand on the back of your head slips down to cup your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your lips, tracing how they’re stretched around his cock. He rocks his hips forward once—slowly, like he’s testing the waters, worried that you might change your mind, but you stay still and pliant, looking up at him through your lashes imploringly.

“Fuck,” he breathes out again. “Love you. So good to me. Always been so good to me.”

He thrusts again, this time deeper, more sure of himself, and you relax your throat for him, letting him set the rhythm. It's not rough or frantic—not yet—just a slow, needy grind of someone who’s waited for this too long. His hand slides back to cup the back of your head as he starts to pick up the pace; you gag a little on his cock, eyes tearing up, but you squeeze his hand encouragingly, telling him silently to continue. To give you more. 

He does.

He rolls his hips forward sharply, cock thrusting deeper, harder, and you take it, eyes fluttering shut for just a second as your throat stretches around him. His thighs tremble under your hands, breath ragged as he fucks your throat. The noises in the kitchen—his low groans, the way you’re choking on his cock, each wet, sloppy thrust into your mouth—it makes your head all foggy, heat pooling in your lower stomach. 

His free hand comes back to your jaw, thumb swiping at the drool spilling from the corner of your mouth before he squeezes your cheeks gently to feel his cock sliding in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, your throat burns, and still, you stay there, tears spilling freely down your cheeks, because he’s close. You can feel it. His thigh tenses under your palm, his fingers tighten around yours, his rhythm stutters and takes a more erratic turn, and his voice breaks on your name, groans shifting into pitched moans.

“Haah,” he gasps, hips jerking. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, please, please, baby, I—I’m gonna—”

Your nose is flush to his pubic hair as he cums deep down your throat—his cum tastes so familiar, too salty, after all of these years, he still hasn’t taken your advice of a better diet. Hazily, you remind yourself to scold him about it later, but right now, you’re too focused on trying not to choke over him, swallowing the copious amounts of cum he spilled into your mouth as he trembles above you violently, still feeling the aftershocks of the intense orgasm.

When he finally pulls out, he drops to his knees in front of you, hands cupping your cheeks as he leans in, kissing you deeply. He kisses you like he’s trying to devour you—claim you, even, like he hasn’t already, like you haven’t been his since the moment the two of you met. His breath is uneven, chest heaving, and there’s a flicker of something wild in his eyes as he pulls back to look at you, eyes roving over you. His eyes slide shut again as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’re everything,” he whispers, hands sliding down to your sides as he ghosts his lips against yours. “God, you’re everything. You have no idea what you do to me.” 

You lift your hands to cup his cheeks, pressing your lips to his again. You toy with the tips of his hair as your lips slide messily against his, letting out a soft moan when his hand slides to the small of your back, pulling your body flush to his. His hands dip lower, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your cotton shorts, and you smile against his lips. 

“I’m not fucking you on the kitchen floor,” you say, leaning back slightly. He chases your lips to kiss you again, a hazy smile on his lips as he gives you a half-lidded look.

“It would be hot though,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before letting out a low groan against your skin, dragging his lips from your jaw to your ear. You let out a shaky breath when his fingers slide down to your panties, pressing his finger down on your clit through thin silk and moaning again. “Have you face down, nails clawing against the tile, pinned between me and the floor—nowhere to go, can only take it.”

“Jesus, Osamu,” you say shakily, eyes sliding shut as his fingers curl into your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss down your neck, kisses wet and lingering as he sucks at your skin. He traces slow circles around your clit, and your grip on his shoulders tightens as you try to ground yourself. “Not the kitchen floor.”

“Such a bore,” he complains. “Ruining my fun. It’s still my birthday, y’know?”

Before you can retort, Dazai’s hands drop to your thighs, and you yelp as he rises to his feet, bringing you with him. Sometimes you forget how strong Dazai is—it’s easy when he constantly acts like he’s helpless and drowns himself in long jackets and loose clothes. He used to be able to go blow-for-blow with Chuuya in combat, and although you know damn well he hasn’t kept up his training, you can feel the lean muscles of his biceps beneath his sweatshirt.

Your grip tightens on them; he’s still mouthing at your neck as he carries you into the back bedroom. You whisper softly, “You are so…”

When you don’t finish, Dazai nips your neck playfully and finishes, “Handsome? Charming? The image of your deepest, darkest desires?” 

Usually, you would roll your eyes at him, but this time, you gasp, “Yeah. Yeah, you are.”

He nudges the door open with his foot before kicking it shut. He sets you down gently on the bed, pushing you back until your back is flat and hovering above you to steal another kiss. This one is slow and lazy as he settles above you on his elbows, tongue running along your bottom lip, and fingers dragging over your ribs reverently. You think you could kiss him forever and never get sick of it.

When he finally pulls back, it’s only by an inch, his eyes are half-lidded, and his breath is warm against your lips as he looks down at you. 

“Still with me?” he murmurs, thumb circling your hip bone.

“Always,” you answer quietly.

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, lifting his hand from your hip so he can cup the side of your face. You lean into his touch, lashes fluttering shut momentarily as you bask in the familiar warmth of his skin. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You give him a hazy smile as you look back up at him. “For what?” you ask, voice teasing, but Dazai’s smile only softens even more. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, and you nip at it playfully.

“Everything.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to question him, leaning down to press his lips to yours again. This kiss is chaster than the last, like he just wants to savor in the taste of you rather than outright devour you. His thumb traces soft circles over your cheek, and his other hand slides down your body to your thigh, hiking your leg over his waist so he can slot his hips between your legs.

He kisses you and holds you so gently that you forget to breathe until your lungs start burning. When you push at his shoulder to get some air, he immediately leans down to keep kissing your neck, sliding your shirt up, and tapping you to beckon you to lift your shoulders so he can pull it off. 

Once he has it off and flings it to the side, he leans back to let his eyes roam your body. His pupils are blown wide, and his fingers are a bit shaky; he slides them down your body, tracing your figure like he’s worshiping it. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “Divine. The kind of beauty that drives saints to sin and kings to kneel. You make the stars look dim, and the heavens seem dull. I still can’t believe you’re mine. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do for you.”

“My god, Dazai,” you laugh, face heating up at his words. “A bit over the top with the poetry tonight, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly,” he says, voice low and serious as his gaze lifts back to your face. He repeats softly, “No, not nearly.”

Your throat swells as you look up at him, and he runs his knuckles across your cheek before trailing his fingers down your face. His thumb presses heavily against your bottom lip, and you give him a kittish smile before taking it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit as you look up at him through your lashes.

His breath catches, and you hum around his finger when he presses down slightly on your tongue, rolling your hips up to grind against his clothed cock. He murmurs, voice strained, “You drive me insane.”

“Oh yeah?” you press, voice breathy. “Prove it?” 

He kisses slowly to your collarbone, making sure to leave marks on his way down. “Gladly,” he rasps, swiping his tongue along your collarbone before biting over the bone lightly. 

“You’re going to leave so many marks,” you complain, breath hitching when he slowly rocks his hips against yours. He’s already hard again; you can feel him through the thin material of your panties, and you want him desperately. Your walls clench around nothing, and the heat pooling in your stomach has your thighs trembling. “Shit, Osamu, will you just—”

“Good thing I have you to myself all week,” he croons, a smug smirk on his lips as he kisses down your chest to the swell of your breasts. He lets out a shaky puff of air as he pulls back just a bit to get an eyeful of your tits before his lips wrap around your nipple. He moans against you as he rolls it between his teeth, lifting his free hand to grope your other breast. Your back arches up as you press yourself into his touch, a keen escaping your lips. “Gonna mark you up all over, you won’t even have to hide them.”

“Please,” you gasp, head falling back against the pillows. “Please, Osamu, I—”

You choke over your words when you feel him slide your panties down your legs. He pulls his lips off your nipple with a pop before trailing wet kisses back up your chest until his face is hovering above yours. His thumb slips from your mouth so that he can pinch your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look him in the eye.

“Please, what?” he hums insufferably. “C’mon, baby, use your words.”

“You’re so—” You start to reply irritably, only to whimper when he rolls his hips again.

“So what?” he presses, giving you a cocky smile as he taps your cheek twice to get your attention again. “What am I? You’re so cute, I’ve barely done anything, and you’re already so close to finishing.”

“I hate you. I—haaaah, shit—” you moan, but your lashes flutter shut as Dazai slides his fingers between your wet folds. “Osamu—”

He lets out a ragged breath, hot against your skin. “Shit, baby, you’re drenched,” he groans. “All this just from letting me fuck your face? Fuck, I love you. Tell me what you need. Tell me. I want to hear you say it. It’s my birthday.”

“Fuck me,” you gasp, lifting trembling hands to cup his cheeks. “Please, fuck me, Osamu.”

“God, I love hearing you beg,” he breathes out, nipping at your jaw before his lips drag hot and slow up to your ear. “Love seeing you all worked up for me. Only I get to see you like this, yeah?”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, and you exhale shakily, shivering under his touch. He laughs softly, infuriatingly pleased with himself, and you can’t even hit him with a snide comment like you usually would, because your whole body shudders when you feel his cock slide between your folds.

“You don’t even know how good you look right now,” he goes on, voice low and smooth as he traces his fingers down your body again. 

The noise you let out is embarrassing, something caught between a whine and a gasp of his name when he presses the tip of his cock to your entrance. Your hips jerk up, desperate for him to sink inside you again, but he holds your hips down. It’s been weeks since the two of you have done anything together, and your body is falling apart just at the idea of having him deep inside you again. 

“Please,” you whisper again, voice coming out more of a whine than anything else. “Osamu, it’s been so long, I—”

Dazai doesn’t let you finish your sentence. The words are knocked from your lungs when he snaps his hips forward, thrusting deep inside you. Your hands slide underneath his sweatshirt, nails raking down his back as you writhe beneath him. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at you, and you’re pleased to realize he’s just as much of a mess as you. His lips are pink and swollen, his face is flushed, hair matted to his forehead, and dark eyes unfocused. He looks beautiful.

You love him. You’ve always loved him, but it hits you so suddenly that it makes your chest ache. You surge upwards to press your lips against his, and Dazai moans into your mouth, rocking his hips against yours suddenly as he presses you back down into the mattress, tongues sliding together messily. Each thrust is deep and even, less like he’s trying to chase release and more like he’s just savoring in the feeling of being with you like this again. 

“Osamu,” you beg, and you don’t really know what you’re begging for, but your lashes suddenly feel wet, and he’s lifting one hand to wipe tears you didn’t realize were falling over your cheeks. “Osamu, I—”

Your words break into a moan when Dazai thrusts just a little harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go white at the edges. Dazai ghosts his lips against yours, laughing breathlessly. 

“Aw, baby, you missed me, didn’t you?” His voice is teasing as he brushes kisses across your face, deceptively gentle when compared to the way he’s fucking the air right out of your lungs with every thrust. “I missed you too, we’ve both been so busy lately… Didn’t even know if you’d have time today with everything going on.”

Even with your brain fogged with pleasure, you can hear the brief waver of insecurity in his tone. You lift your hands up to cup his cheeks between your hands, forcing him to look you in the eye.

“Always have time for you,” you tell him softly. “Especially today.”

Dazai’s throat bobs at your words, and instead of responding, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. The room is filled with the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin, breathless moans, and his cock driving in and out of your cunt. You gasp his name, hips bucking up to meet his, both of you now chasing release. 

You’re so close that it hurts, abdomen coiled tight and thighs so tense that they’re shaking around his waist. When he slips his hand between you to rub tight circles on your clit, you finally fall apart. His name spills from your lips and your vision whitens at the edges, you let out a ragged sob that he swallows with a kiss as he fucks you through your high, gasping your name like a prayer over and over again. He’s close, too—you can feel it in the way his rhythm falters and how his breath hitches over every chant of your name.

Your walls spasm around him as he chases your high, pleasure shifting into overstimulation as he uses your body for himself now. You hiccup over a sob as your whole body squirms beneath him, but he holds you down, fucking you so hard that your body jolts further up the bed with each thrust. Your vision darkens at the edges a bit, your head feels woozy, and it’s when you really feel the pinpricks of numbness spreading from your fingertips up to your arms, that he finally finishes, burying himself deep inside you as he cums with a low, broken moan of your name. 

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just breathing hard against your shoulder, body trembling above yours. He finally lifts his head, and with a lazy, sated grin, he says, “What a birthday gift.”

You roll your eyes at him, but the smile that curls at your lips is fond.

“I love you,” you whisper, reaching up to caress his face, thumb running along his cheekbone. “Happy birthday.”

“I love you,” he replies softly, eyes sliding shut as he kisses your palm. “Thank you.”

---------

You wake up early the next morning to make the maritozzi for Dazai. He’s still fast asleep in bed next to you by the time you wake up, tangled in the sheets and curled into your warmth. Slipping out of bed without waking him is no easy feat—he’s always clingy in the mornings, even more so when he’s exhausted. You know he hasn’t been sleeping well these past few weeks you’ve been away, and the last thing you want is to disturb the rare peace he’s found.

So, for a while, you stay. You hum softly under your breath, fingers trailing gently through his hair in slow, soothing strokes. It takes nearly half an hour before his grip on you slackens enough for you to ease out of his arms and tiptoe into the kitchen.

You’ve been up for a few hours now. Dazai is still sleeping, surprisingly; you underestimated just how tired he was. Usually, you can slip out of bed, but he’ll come wandering in, looking for you within the hour. His sleep rarely lasts when you’re not in bed with him. 

The pastries are almost done now; though, you just took them out to cool, and you've put together a little basket for when they’re done. You think maybe you’ll drag him outside to eat. He needs to get some sun; all he’s been doing the past few months is rotting away in your apartment or his. 

You hum softly to yourself as you grab a blanket out of the closet, folding it before placing it next to the basket. You need to clean still, too, but—

You jump slightly when you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Dazai’s familiar weight settles on your back as he leans on you, burying his face in the crook of your neck to kiss your skin gently before resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Cheater,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “Making my favorite, so I can’t be mad at you for sneaking out of bed. So unfair.”

You smile to yourself, looking to the side so you can see him. He still looks sleepy—his eyes are drooping shut and his breathing is heavy, but the bags beneath his eyes are lighter, if only a little. You lift up your hand so you can cup the side of his face before leaning in to press your lips against his cheek.

“Good morning,” you say quietly. “You slept for a while.”

His eyes slide shut when your lips brush his skin. “Come back to bed,” he whispers. “Lay with me a little longer.”

“I need to finish cleaning,” you tell him, ignoring the way he pushes his bottom lip out dramatically; he looks stupid pouting so hard with his eyes closed. Your chest bubbles with warmth. “It’ll be annoying to clean the cream after it hardens in the bowl.”

His eyes fly open at that, gaze suddenly sharp as he scans the counter. He lights up when he sees the two bowls on the counter in front of you, giving you imploring eyes and a sweet smile. You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re such a child,” you insult fondly, but you do reach forward to scoop up some of the leftover cream onto your finger, lifting it to his lips. Dazai immediately wraps his lips around the digit, sucking the thick cream right off your finger and moaning obnoxiously. 

“Strawberry,” he says approvingly after he pulls his lips off your finger with a loud pop. He gives you a sharp smile before saying, “You taste better though. My favorite type of c—”

“Stop,” you interrupt before he can finish the sentence. He pouts again, but then presses a slow kiss to the back of your neck. You sigh, leaning into his touch despite yourself, and he hums softly as he rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, resting his forehead on the top of your head. You rest your hand over one of his, eye sliding shut and then admit, “I’ve missed you a lot.”

“It’s been a long three weeks,” he agrees softly. “I wish Mori would start sending someone else to handle business abroad.”

“I wish you could come with me,” you say with a frown. “The only time you’ve ever left the country, you were thrown in prison. There’s so many places I want to bring you.”

“You don’t know that,” he says petulantly. “I could’ve left during the two years I was underground.”

“Did you?”

“... No.”

“Do you like arguing for the sake of arguing?” you ask dryly, but you find yourself smiling fondly. 

“Where do you want to take me?” he asks instead of answering the question, arms tightening around you. “Hmm? Tell me.”

Your lips part to list off all of your favorite travel destinations. Paris, the City of Love—Dazai would be horrendously obnoxious there with you, but he would love it, so it would probably be one of the first places you brought him. The Yucatán Peninsula too, you think, and maybe Egypt—he had a whole phase back when the two of you were teenagers where he would spend hours a day researching ancient civilizations, watching people explore old ruins with a pout and complaining incessantly about being stuck in Yokohama. You want to bring him to Zhuhai one day to show him the Chimelong Ocean Kingdom, but Qu Yuan and Cao Xueqin have been fighting for territory there for almost two years now so it won’t be any time soon.

But you don’t say anything, because your gaze draws back to the mess of bowls on the counter and then to where the maritozzi are cooling. More than anything, you want to bring him to a home that no longer exists. A home you don’t even remember. You don’t know why you’ve been yearning so badly for it lately; you went years without thinking of your past before you met Mori, not even once had it crossed your mind in that time, but over the last few months, it's crossed your mind frequently. You swear that you can feel familiar arms wrapping around you, a laugh that makes your chest ache that you can’t quite place; you find yourself looking up at the stars, and you can almost hear whispers of a voice you should know laying next to you, telling you all the stories of the constellations.

Dazai seems to recognize something is wrong, because he lifts his hand to your chin to tilt your face up and to the side so that your gaze lands on his. He frowns slightly, running his thumb over your skin before he says, “Dance with me?” 

“Dance?” you ask, trying to laugh but it comes out too forced. Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return before he spins you around to face him, one hand resting on your waist while the other reaches for yours, entwining his fingers with yours as he starts spinning to a song only he can hear, dragging you along with him as he dances the two of you around the island in the kitchen. “You’re so cheesy.”

“I prefer romantic,” he disagrees as he spins you beneath his arm, dipping you down slightly and holding you there for a moment so he can lean in and place an obnoxiously loud kiss right on your nose. “Isn’t this romantic?” 

You laugh again, and this one is more genuine as you look up at him. His dark eyes are a warm golden color beneath the morning light, sickeningly soft as he looks down at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. Your throat suddenly feels too tight, and his lips curl up into a soft smile as he places another kiss on your face, this time on your lips.

He lifts you from the dip, and you slip your hand from his so you can hook both of your arms loosely around his neck. His hands settle on your hips as the two of you continue to sway slowly to an imaginary song. 

“Why don’t you like baking them?” he asks quietly. It’s a question you know he’s been dying to know the answer to for years; you’re surprised it took him this long to ask.

Your gaze lowers. “I think… my mother was the one who taught me how to bake them,” you say softly. “I can never get them right. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Dazai doesn’t say anything right away. His hold on you tightens just the slightest bit as he rests his forehead against yours. Your lips press together and your eyes sting with sudden tears. You think about how your hands move automatically through the steps, how your heart always sinks when they come out just a little too dense or the cream doesn’t taste quite right. It’s like there’s a version of the pastry that lives in your memory—light, sweet, perfect—and no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to recreate it. 

Like it belonged to another life. Another version of you. One that was pure, sweet, gentle, and this one doesn’t deserve it.

This version of you has seen too much, done too much. You carry too many shadows in your heart and have too much blood under your fingernails. You were softer then—before the Great War, before Mori, before the Port Mafia.  Every time you make them, you’re reminded that you’ll never be that girl again. The one that exists now… you don’t even know if she can be considered human by most people. The pastries don’t come out right because they’re not meant to. You no longer know how to make something so sweet. You don’t deserve something so gentle.

You suddenly understand why you’ve been thinking so much of your past.

Your gaze flickers up to Dazai as he lifts his hands to cradle your face between his hands. His thumb brushes beneath your eye, catching the tear before it can fall. He gives you a small, sad smile before he asks quietly, “This isn’t about the pastries, is it?”

You try to look away but he doesn’t let you. Your voice is barely a rasp as you say, “They’re not right. They don’t—”

I’m not right. I don’t know if I deserve this.

“They’re yours,” he murmurs, cutting you off before you can finish what you’re about to say. He leans in to press his lips against your temple. “They’re perfect to me.”

You’re you. You’re perfect to me.

“It’s not what I want to give you,” you insist. Your voice cracks, much to your horror. You turn your face into his shoulder, not wanting him to see the tears that threaten to spill. “I feel like I’m holding you back, Osamu. That you’ll never be able separate yourself from your past as long as you’re with me, and you’ll never believe in your own goodness when you come home to me every night. I don’t want to be the reason you can never accept that you’ve fulfilled Oda’s last request.”

Dazai��s smile is unbearably soft as he gently pulls your face from his shoulder and forces you to look at him again. His gaze darts up to the basket you started putting together on the table and he asks quietly, “Did you want to eat breakfast outside?” 

You nod, swallowing thickly.

“C’mon,” he nudges you. “Let’s finish getting it all together and go eat. We can talk out there.”

---------

Dazai has never had a reason to live.

The first time he tried to kill himself, he was eleven. It was when his grandfather had started pitting his siblings and cousins against each other, and Dazai first started questioning why he was even alive. He had no ambition for power like his siblings, he had no passion for any hobbies like his mother, and he had no friends, not even his own family liked him. His mother found him slumped over in the bathroom and rushed him to the hospital—she made him swear to never do something like this again. He agreed, but his promise to her died when she did when he was fourteen. 

The second time he tried to kill himself, he was fourteen. His mother got caught trying to smuggle Dazai and his siblings out of his grandfather’s estate. Two of his siblings had already been killed by his cousins, and she was desperate to not lose anymore of her children. She got caught trying to escape with them, and his grandfather ordered his father to kill her. Dazai jumped from the rooftop that very night—that’s how he ended up in Mori’s clutches. 

He’s not sure how many times he tried to die from fourteen to fifteen. More than he can count, and they got progressively more violent and desperate over time. When he met Chuuya and then Odasaku, he found his first friends—although at the time, he’d never been able to fully bring himself to believe that they viewed him that way. Dazai slowed down on his attempts after meeting them; he didn’t fully stop, he just became more… passive with it. Attempts to blow himself up shifted into recklessness during missions; instead of drinking various poisons, he would drink copious amounts of alcohol until his skin was gray and clammy and the room started spinning. 

And then, he met you. 

And then, he met you.

Dazai’s lips curl up into a soft smile as he watches you set up all the stuff you’d prepared for breakfast. He keeps trying to sneak one of the maritozzi buns, but you catch him every time, slapping his hand away and giving him an accusing look. You’re still upset, but you’re a bit calmer now as you focus on something else.

You drove him mad. You drive him mad. You didn’t flinch at his barbed humor or the way he suddenly and irrationally tried to push you away after worming his way into your life. You never gave up when he deflected conversation with a smile or silence. You didn’t recoil from the mess that he was; you just acknowledged it like it was something as simple as the weather, accepting it, him, into your life so easily. You saw through the cocky facade and self-destruction, and you stayed anyway.

It terrified him. He couldn’t fathom it for years—you didn’t lecture him over his self-destructive tendencies, and you never pulled the whole ‘please, stop for me’ shit that he hated so much. You just sat with him. On the nights when his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and he couldn’t remember how many bottles he’d emptied, you were there. You didn’t touch him unless he asked, didn’t talk unless he initiated it, and over time, Dazai found himself relying on you in a way that scared him. 

After meeting you, for the first time in maybe his whole life, he started to want things again—small, stupid things, but things nonetheless. He wanted a morning that didn’t start with a hangover so he could wake up early and have coffee with you before you left for your meetings. He wanted to come back from a mission in one piece so he could watch a movie with you before laying down. He wanted to be able to sit beside you and not feel like a grenade with the pin halfway out, ready to take you out with him. Dazai has never believed that he deserved you, and a part of him almost wants to laugh when he realizes that you feel the same about him. 

He thinks back to the conversation he had with you a few months ago when you came back from Rome early to be with him, and he feels so silly.

“What are you thinking?” you ask quietly as you set the basket to the side, finally looking up at him, but only briefly. 

“Do you remember the conversation we had a few months ago? When you came back early from Rome?” 

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai wiggles across the blanket so that he can sit beside you. He nudges your shoulder with his, beckoning you to look at him again. You turn your head to the side, gaze focusing on him. 

“Yeah,” you answer after a moment. “Of course.”

“It’s us,” he whispers. “It’s always been us.”

You look at him, tilting your head to the side. You press your lips together tightly, an expression on your face like you understand what he’s saying, but you think maybe you’re misunderstanding and don’t want to get your hopes up. You set the napkins in your hands down, and Dazai continues, voice low.

“I didn’t understand it then,” he admits quietly. “I think maybe I haven’t understood it until right now, but it’s us. My reason to live—it’s you and me, has been for years. Since we were sixteen. I—”

“Osamu,” you start to say, and your voice wavers. You want to believe him, but you’re scared of being disappointed, like maybe he’s just saying this in the spur of the moment to make you feel better.

He shifts to sit on his knees, grabbing your hands and pulling them into his lap, squeezing them tightly. He can feel your fingers shaking ever so slightly. 

“It’s true,” he insists. “Being with you… it gives me something to look forward to every day. You make me want things I didn’t think I could want. You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling.”

He lifts one of your hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then your palm. His voice is shaking a bit now, but he continues. “You make me want to live. Not just survive. Not just keep breathing because I haven't figured out how to stop. Live. Really live. I want a future with you, I want—”

Dazai’s voice breaks, his grip tightens on your hand. Your eyes are wet with tears, and your lips are trembling, and Dazai loves you. He loves you so much that it makes him sick sometimes.

“I want to marry you,” he rasps. “I want to wake up every morning your husband. I want you to be my wife.”

He watches as you inhale deeply. He can feel your nails digging into his hands and it stings, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t realize just how much he means the words until he says them. And he realizes, a bit belatedly, that he doesn’t have a ring and this isn’t the proposal you deserve, but there’s so much hope in your eyes that he can’t take it back now.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Osamu,” you whisper. “Please, don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.” He lets go of your hands to cup your cheeks. He lets out a broken laugh, blinking hard. “I’ve never been more certain of anything. You’re the only thing in my life that’s ever made sense. I want to live, and I want to live with you. As your husband. And I—I don’t have a ring. I didn’t plan this, I didn’t, uh, I didn’t think I was capable of ever asking anyone—of ever wanting this.”

He leans in to press his forehead to yours. He can taste the mint on your breath, and he can’t help himself from stealing a kiss, a brief brush of his lips against yours that makes his chest ache. 

“But I want it with you. I want to be yours in every way a person can belong to someone. And I want you to be mine,” he says softly, hands sliding down from your face to cradle your neck instead. “This—it isn’t me asking, okay? I want to get a ring, I want to do it right, make it special, but I want you to know, because there is no world where you’re ever holding me back. You’re what keeps me going, so whatever silly thoughts you have going on in that pretty head of yours, they need to stop, okay?”

You take in a ragged breath and lean forward, pressing your face into the crook of his neck, and Dazai pulls you into his lap, holding you close, one hand wrapped rightly around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. He kisses the top of your head and lets out a long breath, a weight lifting from his chest. Your body fits against his like it always has, like you’re made to be here, curled in his arms with the early afternoon light painting you in gold. He shuts his eyes and buries his face in your hair, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he finally murmurs, pressing his lips to your temple in a lingering kiss. “I don’t even fully understand it, but I know that I want you. I need you. You don’t have to change for me; you don’t have to be someone else for my sake. You as you are—it’s enough. You’re enough. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted; it doesn’t matter that you’re still with the Mafia and I’m with the Agency. None of that matters to me. What Odasaku asked of me… you being in my life doesn’t change anything. He’d never have wanted me to chase after his last request if it meant coming at the cost of you. Do you even know how many years he spent trying to get me to pull my head out of my ass and make a move on you? I think he was more relieved than either of us were when we finally got together.”

You let out a watery laugh, or maybe it’s a sob, Dazai can’t really tell, but he holds you a bit tighter, savoring in the feeling of having you in his arms. He thinks he could stay here forever if given the chance. Live a quiet life away from everything, just you, him and the rest of your lives together.

Maybe one day.

“I love you,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his throat before settling against him. The tension in your shoulders slowly dissipates, and you let out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.”

He kisses the top of your head again. “Don’t apologize,” he says. “I love you too.”

The two of you bask in each others arms, relaxing beneath the early afternoon sun. He toys with your hair absently, running soothing circles on your upper back. After a few moments, he glances back on the maritozzi you’d pulled out of the basket.

“... Can I have one now?” he asks, giving you an imploring look when you pull back to give him a deadpan one. “Please. It’s literally been five years, do you know how much self control I’ve had the past hour?” 

Your lips curl up into a fond smile. “Fine.”

Dazai’s hand snatches out immediately before you can change your mind, shovelling the sweet bun into his mouth all at once. Your eyes shoot open in shock.

“Jesus Christ, Osamu,” you say, scrambling for a water bottle when he chokes over it. “What is wrong with you? My god, could you eat it normally?”

His eyes sting with tears, but he manages to give you a thumbs-up between coughs and wheezes. “So worth it,” he gasps, mouth-half-full, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk.

You hand him the water, watching with a mixture of horror and amusement as he gulps it down. You shake your head when he finally manages to swallow, muttering, “You’re insane.”

Dazai leans back with a dramatic groan, collapsing onto the blanket like he’s completed a Herculean task. He reaches out for your hand, entwining your fingers again and tugging you to lay on top of him. 

“So perfect,” he sighs dreamily, voice still a bit hoarse. He winks at you and gives you a flirty smile and then coos, “Just like the baker.”

“You’re so corny,” you complain, but you’re smiling when you look away from him.

“I’m so yours,” he corrects teasingly, kissing your knuckles.

Your smile softens. 

“You are,” you agree quietly, “and I’m yours.”

Yeah, Dazai thinks, an adoring expression on his face as you lean in to brush some of the cream at the corner of his mouth away with your thumb. Yeah, this is definitely all he ever needs.

[mqdilen]

“Everyone dies, Chuuya.” “I don’t.” “Say it again.” “I don’t.” Dazai lifted his head, “Is that a promise?” “Or a threat. Take it as you will.”

[Read on ao3]

[mqdilen]

this deserves better, actually.

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs (contains !spoilers! concering the beast manga + stage play)

synopsis.: chuuya visits dazai in the hospital after going on a rampage, and the two of them talk

pairing.: [beast au soukoku] port mafia leader chuuya nakahara x dazai osamu

cw.: overall sfw, toxic relationship, hurt / no comfort, angst-ish, dubcon-ish, reversed roles (chuuya kinda acts like dazai and dazai kinda acts like chuuya)

genre.: one-shot, no second part

word count.: 2.7k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: so this kind of took longer than i expected, and i was severely struggling in the beginning. but anyway, i still hope you enjoy the fic! also, please mind the tags! + this fic is heavily inspired by a twitter post from @Atarayo33 and i simply turned their idea / drawing into a longer fanfiction due to a tiktok. so credits and much kudos to them! (link to the post)

☪︎

dazai’s eyes fluttered open as he finally regained consciousness, his expression seeming bleak but at the same time devoid of any emotion. it was his usual expression. the one he gave to everyone who passed him on the street or watched him while he waited for his coffee he ordered in that small café nearby. just an ordinary expression. nothing special that would ever captivate anyone if it weren’t for the charm he held.

dazai had yet to figure out where he was, and as if to make it even more difficult to pinpoint his current location, his vision is rather blurry, and one of his eyes is obscured by a somewhat rough material that he presumes to be his bandages. although his bandages didn’t bother him too much. he’s used to them by now, after all. what bothered him more was the fact that all his memories were somehow a big mess.

yet, he clearly remembered jumping off the port mafia building, in fact, he remembered everything that involved that jump. from atsushi’s strident voice ringing in his ears, to the thrilling sensation of the adrenaline surging through his veins, to his insides feeling like they’re climbing up his torso. a wisp of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he dwelled in the memories and stared ahead, seeing nothing yet but a strong beam of light.

the bright light seemed heavenly to him, but it also had something unusual about it. it hurt him, making his eyes water. dazai’s mind began to wander, his once visible smile now tinged with a faint despondency. disappointment settled in, casting a melancholic shadow over his thoughts as he expected a more serene scene after his death. then again, no one ever said heaven was a fun or prepossessing experience, did they? heaven... what a stupid thing to believe in. and how stupid of him to actually think that the blackest of blood, port mafia blood, could ever belong to a place like that. perhaps that was why, as if he were standing too close to a flame, the light burned his eyes, completely absorbing the darkness in them. after all, everyone knew that he was and will never go to heaven, but to hell. his own personal hell. the universe he created.

dazai blinked, able to make out some of the things in his room now, like a white ceiling and a large window, the sun facing him as it slowly disappeared behind the horizon. a sense of dread settled over him as he realized that it wasn’t the sunlight alone that sent a rush of agony through his body, or the thought of being in hell, but rather the fact that he was indeed still alive. his body ached and the comforting warmth he once felt from the hospital bed swiftly gave way to an icy chill that pierced through his very soul—much more fitting to an individual like him.

dazai raised his trembling hand as he meticulously counted each of his fingers, desperately wanting to confirm that he wasn’t alive and that this was just an overly realistic dream. he had once heard that dreams were full of anomalies such as having an extra finger, so the possibility that his head was just playing a trick on him was an option that had to be considered; that gave him hope. however, the pain coursing through his body and the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with the undertones of artificial fragrance were enough of a hint for dazai to know that his suicide attempt had failed again—as usual.

he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, wondering how he managed to keep surviving. he thought this would be the one. the one and only universe where he could die in peace, knowing that he is still alive. but it seemed that this universe was just as cruel to him, forcing him to live with the burden of knowing that the only person he ever considered a friend despised him.

the faint sound of footsteps approaching his hospital bed could be heard, pulling dazai out of his thoughts. he couldn’t determine to whom they belonged. something about the footsteps felt amiss. they didn’t belong to atsushi, as dazai initially suspected, given his desperate plea not to take that fateful leap. nor were they the menacing strides of akutagawa, who probably harbored a somewhat deep desire for revenge after the torment inflicted upon his sister.

he sat up, slowly, as his neck brace would not allow him to move properly. his eyes widened slightly as he distinguished the head of a familiar person peeking out from behind a bouquet of flowers—red roses to be exact. the rich, smoky yet soothing scent that trailed behind the small figure, drowning out the antiseptic one, made dazai feel slightly light-headed. “chuuya…” dazai whispered absent-mindedly, his voice barely audible. “i see you’ve finally woken up.” a tender smile adorned chuuya’s lips as he carefully set the roses aside only to stare at them for a moment.

dazai’s throat tightened as he took in chuuya’s appearance, noticing the black coat he supposedly inherited after his ‘death’. “chuuya... why- how am i still alive?” dazai inquired, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. he seemed puzzled. the ginger eventually lifted his head up, gazing at him with a hint of affection in his eyes. “what do you mean? you’re alive because i saved you, silly.” dazai’s eyes sank slightly and he looked away for a split second, feeling conflicted. was it so sinful to wish to die? was there really no universe where he was allowed to die? chuuya, on the other hand, seemed amused, his smile never faltering. “what, did you really think i wouldn’t find out that you were trying to kill yourself all along? did you really think you could fool me? your partner?” he drew out the last syllable, emphasizing it as a dark shadow fell across his face, rendering him somewhat colder.

dazai’s lips parted slightly as he felt oddly compelled to answer him, yet the words seemed to die on his tongue and he remained silent instead. eventually, he lowered his head and stared at his trembling hands, as if he could find a pleasing answer in them. chuuya’s smile seemed to waver a little upon dazai’s reaction.

at some point, he took a step closer and clasped his hands behind his back. “i also cleaned up the mess you left behind. you know... i killed them. all of them. i killed again and again and again and again…” he said with a faint tremor in his voice, tightening the grip on his hands. dazai’s body tensed and his eyes widened in disbelief. he knew quite well to what extent chuuya’s abilities reached, what he was capable of and what not. yet, an inexplicable sense of unease slithered up dazai’s spine, causing a slight shudder within him. “i killed your friend, too,” chuuya added in a mellow tone, gawking at his expression. “w-what?” dazai’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked at chuuya as if he didn’t understand a single of the words he uttered. though chuuya only tilted his head, a grin still plastered across his lips as he observed dazai.

dazai’s heartbeat gradually picked up its pace as he repeated the words in his head, refusing to believe them. his head was spinning and his mind was flooded with memories of oda and him together. they were beautiful moments, each of them unique in its own way. he recalled oda eating curry, his favorite food, or playing with sakura, one of the orphans he took care of. he remembered their first meeting, how he treated his wounds after yet another failed suicide attempt. though at that time, he was glad he didn’t die. after all, oda had become one of his closest friends; his only friend. but those memories felt misplaced in this universe, just like dazai himself.

eventually, he found his composure and exhaled shakily as he felt the mattress sink in. chuuya was now sitting beside him, his smile seeming more sinister than anything else at the moment. “you’re lying. i made sure that all connections to us were cut, so he has absolutely nothing to do with me. we’re not even friends!” chuuya’s eye twitched slightly as he listened to dazai’s words, knowing that he was blatantly lying to him. “oh, really?” his expression shifted a little as he gently took dazai’s hand before squeezing it, slowly applying more pressure. it didn’t take long before dazai winced in pain and slapped his hand away. however, chuuya hardly felt anything considering that dazai had little to no strength at the moment. then again, dazai knew that chuuya wouldn’t hurt him seriously. after all, he had picked up on the signs quite quickly.

“don’t touch me.” dazai raised his voice, glaring at the redhead who was drawing closer to his face. a hint of disgust swept over him as he could practically feel chuuya’s breath fanning across his cold skin. eventually, dazai twisted his head away and sank deeper into the pillow, trying to escape chuuya’s intense gaze. chuuya had other plans, however, as he cautiously brought one of his hands closer to dazai’s face, gently caressing his cheek before tilting his head back. dazai’s body stiffened at the ghostly touch and he stared into chuuya’s eyes, which seem to convey an unusual degree of fondness. something he has rarely expressed for anything ever since their first encounter.

at some point, dazai turned his face away again and tried to slap him across the face. but chuuya grabbed his hand at the right moment and instead intertwined his fingers with dazai’s, pushing him further into the mattress as he leaned over him, his hands on either side of his head as he pinned him down. dazai’s teeth grinded together, his throat constricting with a heavy gulp as the gravity of the situation became painfully clear. somehow the weight of his actions, leaving his partner - betraying him even—like everyone else did in the past, beared down on him. it seemed as if none of the two of them would ever be granted a happy ending. not even when they are together.

“why did you do it?” dazai snapped, causing chuuya to blink a few times, catching him off guard for the briefest of moments. “ah, i’m glad you asked. i’ll tell you. to put it simply... i was jealous. jealous that you would care about someone who hates you so much. who can’t even look at you properly without being repulsed. it’s a shame, truly. i just wish you would look at me the same way you look at him... but now that he and all the others are gone, i won’t have to worry about that.” a crooked smile graced chuuya’s lips as he averted his eyes in embarrassment and pulled away, a faint blush ormenanting his usually pale cheeks.

dazai lowered his head, clenching his jaw as his fingernails dug into his skin, drawing some blood. he had never been good at tempering his emotions whenever oda is mentioned. “did you really kill odasaku just for that?” dazai murmured, his voice sounding colder than usual. “oh, that’s such a nice nickname. do i have one too?” chuuya dodged the question, unimpressed by dazai’s frustration. he expected it. tears welled up in dazai’s eyes as he scraped the bandages from his face, breathing heavily. “you’re lying! you’re just messing with me! he’s still alive! he has to be!.. you... i will kill you, chuuya! you had no right to take him from me! to take him from the only universe where he is alive–” chuuya listened carefully to dazai’s words, his expression oddly hard to read as he conveyed no emotion whatsoever. a barely audible sigh escaped his lips before dazai’s fit of rage was momentarily silenced as chuuya grabbed his chin and kissed him. dazai’s eyes widened in shock and he seemed stunned for once in his life.

chuuya’s lips were awfully soft, sending dazai into a delirious frenzy as he was distracted by the sweet taste. the corners of chuuya’s mouth curved into a faint smirk, and he seemed pleased with dazai’s reaction as he closed his eyes. eventually, he tightened his grip on dazai’s chin to hold him in place and deepened the kiss. dazai’s shock lingered, yet he couldn’t ignore the suffocating warmth welling up in his chest or the quickening of his heartbeat. still, he could never forgive chuuya for what he’s done, which is why he tried so hard to break away from the sudden kiss. in the end, he managed to wriggle his hands free and tried futility to push him away, accidentally knocking over his iv bag and ripping out the tubes that were connected to his veins. with a sharp and unpleasant sting, the needle forcefully exited his skin and he writhed in pain, his lips parting ever so slightly. the expected scream, however, is abruptly stifled as chuuya’s tongue sensually slided into dazai’s mouth, eliciting a low moan from him. chuuya’s grin widened at the sound of dazai’s voice, while dazai’s cheeks seemed to flare.

with his mind barely functioning, he clinged to chuuya, his eyes slowly falling shut. a single tear traced its path down his cheek as a profound sense of self-disgust washed over him. though he found solace in chuuya’s touch, oda’s face haunted every corner of dazai’s thoughts, leaving him no room to fully enjoy the sensation chuuya was giving him. not that he would allow himself to actually crave another human being’s warmth anyway. dazai was far too stubborn for that. no matter how much he longed for someone to finally fill the heart-shaped void in his chest, he knew that no one would be naive enough to actually try and navigate through the darkness that engulfed him, especially now that the only person who had ever been capable of soothing some of his agony was dead. and chuuya certainly wouldn't replace the last bit of him left in his heart.

chuuya didn’t seem to be thinking straight anymore as he put more force into the kiss and grew more and more desperate. to him, this was all he ever wanted. in a moment of weakness, he bit dazai’s lower lip, breaking the delicate skin. it darkened rather quickly, leaving behind a visible bruise and a smear of crimson at the corner of dazai’s mouth. chuuya pulled back after needing to catch his own breath for a moment. he held up dazai’s chin, seemingly engrossed in the way his tears mingled with the small amount of blood, while dazai barely reacted to the stinging sensation the salty wetness caused. “oh, how beautiful. you really are the best…” chuuya cooed, his voice dripping with affection as he admired how gorgeous dazai looked. his dazai. a wide smile adorned chuuya’s lips as his pupils dilated at the pure sight of him.

dazai on the other hand was left speechless. he didn’t know what to say, nor what to feel, or what to look at. he was completely overwhelmed and all he wanted to do was scream. scream at the world for being so full of injustice, scream at himself for being so useless, scream until his burning throat dulled all the other painful sensations, and scream until he had no oxygen left in his lungs. his eyes darted across chuuya’s face, unable to settle on a single place as he tried to drown out his terribly tranquillizing voice. everything felt so wrong, so surreal. his heart was throbbing with an indescribable amount of pain, and he felt like he'd grow manic if he had to look at chuuya any second longer. while he was once dazai’s sole reason not to end his miserable life, he is now the only reason why he doesn’t want to wake up ever again.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

━━━━ST. LOVE IS A CITY AWAY

IN WHICH━━ Unsatisfied and miserable with the world, you were about to end your life until an enticing offer by a man in black presents itself before you who promises to kill you himself under a few conditions: help him heal.

CONTENT WARNING━━headcanons, angst, dazai osamu and the dark era spoilers, suicide attempt, identity/existential crisis, violence, manipulation, implied abuse(sa)/trauma, unhealthy trauma bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms, religious imagery, one-sided love(?), unhealthy relationships, shared healing/recovery. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

AUTHOR'S NORE━━ unlink many other fics i wrote in the past, this one is a lot more personal to me as a whole since it explores as to how i feel with certain ideas and represents some of my own trauma, so it's 100% self-indulgent. anyway happy bday dazai!

WORD COUNT━━

This, you want to believe implicitly: a man's choice to birth was never an option to begin with.

All throughout this life has been a waste in those tired eyes of yours. A public art piece gone wrong in the weirdest way possible to date; because to put it frankly you never even knew what were the reason of birth or life.

Perhaps it's an accident. Your dear old mother can't afford to abort or—simply—don't have the guts to end an innocent child of no conscious will a life. Their life. Your life.

It was nothing.

Compared to the ruthless bleeded bites of Port Mafia.

Spared none for mercy, the unfortunate. Otherwise the entire globe will be under this particular rule of pitifulness cold and reluctant, obligatory. A rebellious, independent TV hosting showed faces labeled as the referred criminal masterminds nonetheless the risks place in karma's hands, the leaders and members of 'The Black Lizards' whom recently involved themselves a set list of massacred men extort in cash, apparently.

No source or witnesses... Neither survivor. And eyes warning of a man in black, Dazai Osamu, described as the most dangerous acclaimed according to police officials attempting their hardest work into looking for him, a massive national search even beyond Kanto Region.

"We won't allow the government control our voices. Never submit to their peculiar methods!"

Not like anyone's taken it to heart.

Sure, there've been signs and remains to their work and influence... It's been the minor like vandalism. This is where it gotten yourself to believe: another try at peace and unity failed. By silent judges and retorts.

Because to death brings forth more life. More life, to beget life.

'Life,' which someone like you putting little as to zero value at the idea, should never have the nerves to say it out loud with pride.

Perhaps it was a disease, plagued others to no pace or wait without a cure must've pushed a level to provide a kid, her child bear fruit inside the womb, and even it gave the newborn a name for its own to keep as long as it lives—thrives.

Except, here's an issue to that possibility; If it were love, and let's continue to be optimistic here—why won't it be—why were you brought into the world without it?

Without... Feeling it once, per se.

You lived with it. At first... Didn't allowed the thing bickering to no rest inside your heart and head for a moment's loss for long.

Although, people sing and talk about it like a wondrous experience must someone always go through. And so, believed everyone went through so-called relationships and intense emotions driven by desires and impulses destructive.

Destructive in a good way, you trust.

When other people probe to reveal their most honest colors beneath love's influence—a raw sense of beauty and belonging.

A raw sense of vulnerability.

Entrust directly without fear or concern over whatever other reason, into the hands and embrace comforting of another called 'beloved' and a significant other,

That was love.

How your friends told you—

How your family told you—

How anyone else deemed sane and normal told you many times before albeit the lack of interest beginning to shine through those almost monotone eyes.

What's the point if you can't be bothered to find out?

You recall faintly like a boat sunk reverie or distant dream that somehow, someday... You'll be able to find it in someone, or something, anything as you'd like to see love at the items. Because, like it or not, there'll be 'love' in even especially the tiniest things.

Love will be strong, or will be weak and short-term. As you so perceive it, akin to now the gentle caresses of soft spoken winds that hit the cheeks and nuzzles sweet into the curls of your hair. Your eyes fit to the moon.

"A love... Always discovered by anyone under conditions. It's just that here, in reckless old Yokohama City, it's little bit more harder."

That was all to it. Unless the blues and empty howls of breeze leave and enters in the love romanticism that life was 'supposed' to have,

Right now. Yokohama is a loveless monumental marble of chaos.

The days and nights shared ridiculed into the misty air. The longer, and more so than that, had you raise your hand and wrist to the exposed space to bleed. Paint a gruel expression helpless to the newfound touch amidst violence, violence, on top of violence. Somberness, gentle and admittedly delicate, drips cool after the drawn faces—though all of this 'somberness' in the air feels right. The fear burning high the sky's limit thanks to the notorious looking threat of Port Mafia. Headed after? News reporting scandalous affair after the first when the increase of criminal activity spikes through the roof.

Not that you worry for your head. "A turn-off myth." You remark, if it were the case, maybe you would've already been dead from the start of the sudden so-called productivity boost, as you put it. The concurrent events... Well, it would've been a worser fate caught entangled without escape, you climb the railings.

"I hate it here. I have to do everything myself... Learn have to do everything myself."

In reality have you all been a standalone solo play. Praise of love despite not ever being the lover type, a keeper... Born no regards of what the kid residing inside felt.

Come to think of it, you smile, it's inhumane to end being like this. Have you always fitted to conform and wanting what's the betterment, being just like him or being just like her. Know this: uniqueness is a change and disorderly conduct against societies; that's why we are art.

Never the pieces, the single made pieces. A magnum opus soon to never fully dissect complete, not once.

You tried too hard to look into it through glass panes but told off not to, instead 'accept' who you are,

"That's the thing! I never were able to! I can't find an exit to my own paradox."

And it was sad to realize. Sad to realize all by yourself, standing alone on the bars with the moving ocean currents before you.

"If I were murdered, I might've been able to. Able to... finally, become my own ruler of my emotions, my self sensitive heart."

"May I have the honors to?"

Your breathing falls short upon surprise.

The loose control of your heel turns to fall flat front into the deep waters until the stranger starts pulling you in his embrace, enters the comfort and alien contact of safety last seen or went through when you were a toddler, a young child. A contact, now broken with a twist of fingers inside you and crude laughs once strokes with yours in playtime. You weren't having fun, she comments, you were no fun to her in the end. Come to reflect—she maybe didn't mean it so vital and evil. It's your own sensibility, overstimulated by her own hands, satisfactory and flirty all ways around. The stranger's eyes even wide at the sight of your initial fear.

But it wasn't coming from him, he recognized.

"Are you fine? My bad, I didn't intend to catch you off guard doing something busy. I can you've been, or were, been very very busy." He pokes your forehead playfully.

Too playfully for your liking,

Accompanied with the brunet's small smile. Or make endeavor to. Brush aside considerably the baby bangs hiding away the prolonged touches he's starting to seem prominent into pushing. "You practically seemed dead inside when I found you crying by the lake."

Instinctively fast had those hands reach your face and cheeks, eyelids and nose to feel tears, yet what greets you was sweat.

You were shocked in itself thanks the unpredictable action to believe this man. A man in jet black, a half-assed smile bare the strongest effort trying to least maintain, or keep it held genuine. All for you? You wonder, only for him to start talking again.

"Sorry. Maybe you've always had been dead in a certain way I'm not too familiar with. And so you know... I've always tried to die too. Right here, the same water surface, I attempted to drown but my throat couldn't keep up with the flowing tension and chokes it all out in me. It so happens that I ended up on a shore near a cheap beach house..."

He carried an air of calm the way he chooses his words careful in his vocab, notice the jab of his adam's apple, stuttering lips, tightening throat and neck head to chest bypass the cover of his bandages. Knowing this, it pokes at your open wounds harsh, huh? You... you didn't like that. "Who are you? Why were you being a bystander, and..."

"...Ah, jackpot. I look familiar?"

The man, who was holding you now loosely and rather sounding melodramatic, asks with delicate manners.

It felt as if it should've been just a off-hand friendly comment to his looks and would've run with that. Cause, frankly, beneath this darkness and some streetlights and the moon hung above, it's... legible, the bare minimum.

He covers his left eye with the kissing palm of his own hand and finishes the job done a cherry on top that is half closing his right eye. "Rings a bell? Hm? No?"

"Dazai Osamu," You remark. Kicking off his begrudged hands off your falling body and stood back tall on the andesite ground. "You're actually an existing man... A dangerous unit of Port Mafia. Which, which means..."

"Do you believe in rumors?" He sighs. Feign guilt and throw in his wrists in front of you mock arrest and quit. "I can't call myself one of them anyway, dear. Let's leave at that."

"Why would you leave it at that?!" Kindly, with logic, you yelled back furious at Dazai's type of reasoning. "You saved my life without caution or fear what else could maybe happen only to be then promising to end it? I've... I've heard what you muttered, y'know."

He scowls at the shuddered fear—which in hindsight would be typical and expected to be frightened with his format and air of professionalism muddled deep mix with crushed remains and spoiled carcass. Animal or human, both be same.

Same to be crucial against disease, refers to loving. Species of such heartless cur, can hardly be called human at all.

It's what you feel, he knows it,

He can see it those eyes—

Desperate. Animalistic, and yet close to being another case of fragile human vulnerability. Perhaps he's lying to himself one more time. Honestly trying, scrape any sense of bewilderment but fruit upon his eyes were his depictions true.

"...What does it matter? You don't seem like the type to still have a will to live after all." He comments. Issuing you back to your own settled ground, finally, letting you go. "Neither do you." You say in return, "Not a single with a high regard over life saves a person on the spot."

"If I let you fall there and then," Dazai spoke up. "It would've been homicide. That's not so clean for my record. And it's pretty funny for me... You're just one person."

So he isn't bluffing. You studied his tense brows and facial shape beginning to deform into something a lot more... Real, let's put it. But you're a stranger? Why would it matter especially for ex-mafia, had that rebellious news cited to be one of the most cruel and emotionless among assets,

"See... I'll tell you a few more things. They've yet to realize my defection. I guess it's until 3 hours am I called a traitor and unable to participate in more crimes or scandals." Dazai, trying out his hardest at the moment to explain, spared none the details and slides up a cheap knife. "I want to die, but not alone, nor now." You clear your throat at the motion of his eyes, playful.

"Let me get this straight then... You came here to kill yourself; one more attempt after few failed ones... Found me, talking about someone murdering me, and will taken the pleasure of doing so until 3 hours or so are up?"

"Because of 3 hours is how you left the Port Mafia?"

What happens if you chose nothing, however? This isn't your story. This isn't your conflict to get strangled into with the brunet and yet he's already pulling you into his world after you broke down,

Gently, with considered affections, like...

Fondness.

Why fondness?

Dazai claps mock grin "Correct, correct, and correct," He smiles. Pounce nice on your poor self-crushed back on the flat sidewalks and open area by him. "Enough about me; let me hear you talk. I'm quite liking your personality and your presence." Dazai says. "I really like it a lot."

"Funny that you tell me that." You say. Feign relaxation in your voice but at least tried to be more straightforward and or clear with what you meant. "I don't feel the same."

You have to know more. Right? No shot a guy like him ensures a statement as broad as this one: him killing you later, and...

Well, why would he? Obligation?

He realizes that he doesn't have to... He must be. Even if, Dazai just smiles at your predicament. A horrible thing to be tangled up with, next to a mafioso who's strangely acting the kindest man to date you've met. Emphasis on might here... "Is there any reason not to? You're asking for it." He probes your skin. Affectionate. Glaring a spot for your outlandish attention to his eyes yet again. They're... How to put it? Full of life. "It's a want; I can tell. Is it not? Or are you seriously changing your head the millisecond the offer presents itself to your face raw, no other strings attached?"

But you do want to die—that's what Dazai isn't getting anymore. Asking a sentimental-like question, holding your cheeks, the air tensing akin to the enraptured pulse of an aching heart longing for desire and a lover. St. Valentine failing his work, cursing at the patron. Almost at cue, you melted.

"...I was wondering if... You're doing this to strive a purpose." You clarified, finally, out of breath from his stolen glances not-so subtle and... Weirdly, lovely.

He nods, a shameless 'yeah' to those words before starting to explain further. "Why? Cause... You know? Some close friend of mine—he's a good man. As every good man does... He tells his other friend—me—a not-so good man... To be better." Dazai sighs.

"You're not acting any better."

"There's an effort little by little," Nonetheless how ridiculous that simply sound.

"...Like, love. Let's talk about love. Is it anything and everything you hoped for?"

"Or do the feeling haunt you?"

What is Dazai even trying to get on with that?

"To me, it's more or less a meaningless thing to set aside boundaries and independence of oneself. Do you get me? Like I never get anyone else who described it as an infinite source of bliss, and..." That was your answer. Dazai hushed you to silence in a mere gentle request as to such... When he soothes you to take a breath.

"...Ironically, yes. As much as it urges me to deny it... I... Can't help but agree to all of your points. Where society shuns you down? Tell me about it. It's almost precise to word how you explain your emotions... As if it were mine."

It's hilarious.

To think, some stranger would feel all the right and same spots as you? This very occurrence? Tailor-made by the heavens seen as temptious when even the Devil on the throne—if he is real or not, cannot reach you.

It's funny! So, very funny.

The type of joke that'll twist your stomach into unrecognizable pain so unfamiliar that it churns out warmth and sweet prime akin to... Safety. The same reason as to why logical questions require often rational reasons at times.

And the same type of joke that leaves a man wearing a knowing smile of its meaning, even if unrevealed yet to the world.

Especially when it doesn't make sense.

"Your emotions aren't anything new." You say bluntly without a recoil of thought laced to those words. "I mean, of course, they could share a striking similarity with mine too. So... I'm not exactly so surprised. Maybe half."

Is what you didn't mean to say. With a sudden spark to his eyes, like a pause in moment, a longing for. Dazai shares a smile. "...Whaaat? You've gotten an idea towards us potentially being halves of whole?"

"That wasn't what I said—"

"But it could interpret as such. Be careful with the tongue, darling."

Dazai stands on top of the railings with the smooth night winds grazing his soft cheeks and face to play to those stray baby hairs let loose.

"I guess we both a thing or two in common." Dazai admits.

"...Here's something really funny. How about you and I, leave Yokohama for good? There's a train in about, approximately, an hour from now. What do you say about abandoning our names to a grave here too?"

The act of disappearance. Embedded with consent, where no detective could've bother looking if it was done by choice.

You're not actually doing this, are you?

Head out to the big city Tokyo and act as if you're no different from the locals...

...Who would even guessed that you ran off from not long from Yokohama anyway? It's horrendously stupid to do so.

More so in this ever changing world of thinking outside boxes. Well, some just never left. And walked back in.

Either way, what's not to love about Tokyo?

Dazai might as well show you.

post script: i'm glad that i was able to heal from a lot of things akin to what's implied in this post but one thing will always remain the same and stick with me—knowing that despite all the wrongs in the world, at least the love was there. one way or another, a different form from others unlike mine. ~ from South Korea with love, 수빈

[mqdilen]

CHOKE ME BITE ME!!

cw ; sub!dazai, fem!reader, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (stay safe), slight degradation(she calls him a freak and a slut), not proofread

a/n ; no I didn't write this to distract from wicked games idk what ur talking abt.

Dazai hates pain. At least that's what he tells everyone, but you knew otherwise. Well, if the way he was writhing with your hand around his throat had anything to do with it.

“mmfph! Baby I– hngh– need more– c’mon, please-” he begged, bucking his hips up into your sweet cunt, desperate for more friction that you refused to offer. You clicked your tongue, applying more pressure to his throat, cutting off his oxygen.

“You're a freak, Osamu– getting off to this?” You questioned, emphasizing your point by wrapping your other hand around his pretty neck. His cock twitched against your cervix at the action, tossing his head back with a choked moan. “Yes– please– haah– I need more, please move–”

You'd be lying if you said that having a man like Dazai plead beneath you didn't flip a switch. A satisfied hum bubbled in the back of your throat as you raised your hips enough to his tip before slamming down on him.

“Aargh! Fuck! Don't– don't stop, please-” He cried, his jaw clenching from pleasure. You wish you had your phone to take a picture, he looked breathtaking. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, hair matted to his forehead, and your lipstick smeared all over his lips. Maybe another time.

“Don't you– fuck– dare cum ‘til I say so, y'damn slut.” You breathed, chasing your release as the coil in your tummy tightened. His hands were holding onto your hips for dear life, there will definitely be marks there tomorrow. You could feel his Adam's apple bob beneath your fingers, a reminder of your previous actions.

Dazai whined for another minute or so, his rambles coming to an end. He was trying not to give away the fact his orgasm was creeping up on him. You could have laughed if he wasn't rearranging your guts right now. However, he still needed too–

“Please, lemme cum– needa– fuuuck– cum inside you, baby–” How could you resist when he asked so nicely? You swallowed thickly as you grew closer to the edge, giving him a brief nod before sinking your teeth into his pale shoulder and grasping his neck tighter than before.

He planted his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you to meet your hips, tearing a moan from your throat. His length slid against your gooey walls, hitting your sweet spots with easy precision. "'samu–! 'm gonna cum– fuck!"

"F-fuck, feels s'good– y'er pussy– haah– feels s'good, so tight, shit!" He cried out, your back arching as his thumb found your clit and drew tight circles on the bud. Your back arched, a broken moan slipping past your lips. "C'mon, cum with me– hnngh– please-"

He always ended up getting his way. It wasn't even a minute later that he was filling your cunt with his hot load, his own orgasm triggering your own. "Osamu– haah fuck!" Your hands finally freed his throat and your jaw fell slack as you reached your release.

Black spots clouded your vision for a moment before you fell limp on his chest, panting heavily as the afterglow settled. His breathing could be heard over your own, a telltale of his need for oxygen. You glanced up at him, his cheeks red and eyes closed as he caught his breath.

"'samu, I didn't–" "No, you didn't go overboard, 'donna." He cut you off, his voice a bit hoarse from your precious endeavors. Those pretty brown eyes of his fluttered open, meeting yours with a soft yet rare look. "I promise."

You took the reassurance with a smile, however, you were suddenly flipped over by Dazai, a hungry look in his eyes. "Now, let's see how much power you have with me on top this time."

[mqdilen]

Half Measures ~

After an accidental and messy reunion with Dazai after two years, you - like you suspected - ended up with your clothes off. But when your tryst had an unexpected imaginary cameo by a friend of yours, you realised some things really never do change - and Dazai and Chuuya's competitiveness really does transcend time and space.

NSFW CONTENT - Dazai my little content warning 𖹭 alcohol mentions, reader n dazai n chuuya grew up together in pm, pm!reader - ada!dazai, droplets of angst, fluffy, cockwarming, f!reader riding, reader had chuuya-sex-tm during the years they weren't together, basically Dazai is competitive and gets off on reader talking about chuuya-sex-tm while they fuck :3 It's sweet really, I promise you. My pussy wrote this while I was sleeping. She kinda a good writer fr. 5.2k~

a/n ~ while I wrote this from my own hyperfixated horny brain, it's come to my attention that this fic is actually very similar to this one written by @/osarina. This was completely unintentional, but if you came across mine first and happen to want a longer exploration of this sort of theme then go read that one after~ it's a super fun idea.

Perhaps if you and Dazai Osamu had a slogan, it would be no half measures. It was the same two years ago, and the same now. While he loved to weave his webs, leaving those none the wiser to find out later that he had a grand plan all along, there, ultimately, was nothing subtle about it.

Your impromptu reunion was no exception. The man had left to become a 'good guy' as it were, two years ago. Even the thought had you huffing breaths of joyless laughter when it crossed your mind as you brushed your teeth. Not because he had no good in him, oh no, he had tonnes of good. Shit covered gold is still gold, right? You'd always seen the gold, always cherished it, reminded him of it when he forgot. That's what you gave to the boys as you grew up in the mafia, dealing with shit storms of violence all day. You were their safe space, their reminder that no matter what they did, were ordered to do, they still had that gold inside. You seemed to find it effortlessly.

Did it mean you weren't mad, though? Mad at Dazai fucking Osamu of all people for being able to weazel out of the mafia at the behest of a dead friend and have a happy good guy life? No it fucking didn't. You were mad, pissed, angry and...heartbroken. but not because he didn't deserve it. Just because...that life wasn't with you.

Now all of this was discussed in no uncertain words, raised voices and snarks and huffs and tears, the last few hours, after you bumped into eachother underneath one of Yokohama's bridges. You didn't think Dazai bumped into anyone. But he seemed genuinely shocked to see you. Your filled out body, your beautiful face that made his heart ache uncomfortably in his ribcage, that scar he knew definitely hadn't been there before. His safe space, the only one that saw all the good, nourished it. The only thing he had never wanted to run from. You, that he left behind in the darkness.

They were a mess, these hours, because of course they were. Words weren't enough to express both your feelings, even if either of you were good with expressing them. But you managed. You had to. Because you never thought you'd see him again, before this.

So that's how you ended up in your apartment. He hadn't seen it, yet. Hadn't met your cat, either, who - despite hating strangers - hopped into his lap happily the moment he sat and curled up as if he belonged there.

Over lumpy throats, tight chests, and a two year old bottle of whiskey, more talking was done. And now you were in his lap.

I think you probably see where this is going, right? No half measures, always some grand finale. The point is, Dazai didn't plan any of this. But you, both of you, even before, even growing up, were never subtle. Always intense and a beautiful gorgeous mess of chaos.

So as you replaced the cat in his lap, clothes strewn across the sofa beside you, his cock nestled deep inside you after a round like it belonged there - like it never fucking left - you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Even as the hurt feelings lingered. They would, for a while, you knew. He knew. But it didn't change the way you felt about eachother.

Dazai's head was spinning as he came down from your combined high. He could barely focus, fingers still trailing idly over your bare back, tracing patterns mindlessly onto your skin. He hadn't thought he'd see you again either. Not like this. Not anywhere but from an aching distance with you none the wiser.

He just needed you close, needed to keep feeling you, and not let go. He whispered, that hum of a tone you knew used to be reserved for you, soft, gentle.

“You’re...still amazing.”

You chuckled breathlessly as the words reached your ears, planting a soft wet kiss on his neck just above his bandages. Your heart felt warm. Tired, but warm.

"You thought I'd have lost my edge? I've only grown up, Dazai~" you murmured, fond, teasing gently.

He let out a soft scoff, and his eyes closed, enjoying the feeling your lips and breath against his skin.

He shook his head as you spoke, dark hair falling into his eyes a little. “Of course not..” he breathed softly. “You've not lost your sharpness, either.”

It was one of the reasons you just worked. It was as though you spoke in another language, a communication of smartass snark and wit that left others confused and bewildered when they tried with futility to keep up.

He closed his eyes as he spoke again, as close to reverent as the man could get. "I don't think I realised how much I missed your body until now."

The words made you clench a little around him, involuntarily, your walls tightening in a brief squeeze as you were reminded of your position. You let out a soft huff of pleased amusement, fond and sleepy sated.

"Mmh~ Others didnt quite match up?" You weren't sure why you asked, in fact you kinda wished you hadn't when it plopped out your mouth. But there was that lingering anxiety curled up in your chest that would take a while to ease. Thinking about him being with other people while he was gone made your insides writhe uncomfortably, albeit reluctantly, even if his cock was comfy inside you.

He felt the slight clench and let out a soft noise of pleasure, his mouth moving to your neck, trailing kisses on your skin. Each one a tiny message of affection. Of course there were other people. But no one like you. No one ever matched you.

He spoke against your neck, his voice soft and tired. “You know they didn’t.”

Your fingers tightened on his shoulders a little as he trailed a kiss moistened path down your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to focus on the sensation rather than the thoughts.

Perhaps each kiss was a small apology, for all the pain he'd caused as a result of his actions, his inability to bring you with him, and his incapability to handle contact with you the last two years knowing he'd break if he had.

"It didn't mean anything."

"I know."

Your own language again. Speaking in half complete sentences, picking it up as if he'd never left. You used to find it funny how others used to look at you, seemingly reading each others mind quick fire.

You did know. Your heart still didn't like it, though.

He hummed against your neck, the vibrations gently lulling. He knew you knew. His own heart was conflicted too. Filling the you-shaped void was never successful, of course, even if the physical act itself was somewhat pleasurable.

After a gentle teasing comment about you feeling the same inside, and you wiggling a little on his lap in response, his hands came to hold your waist tighter to keep you still - his dick stirring inside you with the subtle overstimulation.

After a moment, he paused, those brown eyes glinting in the dim light with a subtle hint of mischief and curiosity. "And...what about you?"

You knew what he was asking. Frankly, it was a conversation you'd rather avoid, but you'd been the one to bring it up because you were a dumbass, apparently. You always seemed to lose a few braincells when it came to him. He had too many to count.

You felt a blush creep up your neck a little, no clothes to hide behind, and huffed a bit indignant.

"A...bit. not as much as you, almost certainly," you said with a small chuckle. He always was a bit of a slut.

He chuckled at your blushing, ever finding your flusterment amusing, and his hand slid slowly along your hip. His gaze lingered on your body, taking you in. Re-memorising you. The achingly familiar, yet subtly new, curves and marks.

"You're not going to say who was in your bed while I was away?"

"What, you want a hit list?"

You asked the question rather dryly, raising an eyebrow with amused scepticism. It was a joke...mostly.

He barked out a laugh, and rolled his pretty eyes. You always were a smartass, and he loved that about you.

He gave you a small tap on your hip, and answered dryly, his tone mock-offended. "Yes. Is there a problem with that?"

"A little, sure," you chuckled. "I don't wish to be the cause of death for those who might suffer your wrath~"

His fingers dug lightly into your hips, and he bit back a moan at the way you were moving.

"Oh, come now...you're underestimating my self control," he teased. "You forget, I'm a model citizen."

"Oh yes, how could I forget. You're the good guy now, and I'm the one in the mafia~" the last word was emphasised with a spooky lilt.

He smirked, ever charmed by your sarcasm.

"Exactly. So you shouldn't doubt me, mafia princess~"

It earned him a grumpy huff and narrowed eyes, which was rather undercut by the fact you were cockwarming him while chatting idly.

After a few moments, him nuzzling and running his nose up your neck, he paused and raised an eyebrow at you slowly with a playful curious smirk. "And...a list, is it?"

You blushed again a bit, tucked into his neck, and let out another indignant huff. You really wished you'd kept your damn mouth shut.

"No...not really," you admitted. There weren't many people. It was rather who...

"Come now, you can tell meee~"

Dazai's tone was playful, amused. But he was genuinely curious, he did want to know. You'd said there were others. Who were they? Were they a one night stand or was it a repeat thing? The idea of anyone else touching you made his chest ache a bit, though he was fully aware he didn't have much of a right to it. It was understandable, you were eachothers person.

Another thing about Dazai, he didn't often let things go, especially with you. Realistically, you did not want to have this conversation with him still nestled deep inside your pussy. But this was you two. Stupid and messy and ridiculous.

You sighed, deeply, and looked up at him through your eyelashes, heart doing quick thumps in your chest.

-

"Chuuya."

-

He couldn't say he was surprised. You three had been inseparable in the mafia, and Chuuya - while being a grumpy old chibi about literally everything else - had a soft streak for you a mile wide. But it didn't mean his heart was totally happy with it.

His eyes found yours again. "Chuuya, huh?"

Time to explain.

Your eyes searched his for his feelings, fingers drawing soft and idle patterns on his collarbone.

"Well... When you left we were both pretty shaken, fucked up. We only had eachother, y'know?" You paused for a minute, gaze tracing his face. "His wine might have had something to do with it~"

He was trying hard to keep his expression and his voice steady, his fingers tightening on your skin. The thought of you in bed with Chuuya, touching you, kissing you, having you was making him more than a little possessive.

Still, he couldn't deny that it made sense, that at the time when they were both so in pain, it was only natural that they'd seek comfort in each other.

He gave a soft scoff, his voice still somewhat even. "The drunken hatrack, I must question your taste~"

Your ability to read him was still sharp, despite the subtle rust on the edges from the time apart.

"Don't...be sad about it," you said, softly, lifting a finger to trace down his nose gently. "We all grew up together, explored together, yknow. It was...likely, I guess."

"I'm not sad. I'm just... not thrilled."

He felt a shiver go through him as your finger traced down his nose. The feeling was so familiar, so familiar it hurt. And it was exactly that. They'd grown up together, they'd explored their bodies and the world together. It made sense that they would be together in that time. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"I know." You said. Soft, reassuring. And a touch guilty, despite it not being a fault or misstep.

"But...he's not the one inside me now, is he?~"

Had you forgotten he was still nestled deep inside your walls while you talked? He almost had, comfortable. But your comment, the discussion, that subtle intoxicating tease to your tone amongst the gentleness saved for him...it made his cock twitch with renewed interest. Your words had inadvertently triggered, awakened, something you knew all too well.

His eyes gleamed in the muted light, and he gave you a devilish smirk. "I'm more interesting than Chuuya, anyways."

He gripped your waist tighter, his eyes darkening in the dim lighting. His fingers trailed up your stomach achingly feather light, and came up to your chest, tracing lazy circles. His touch was more possessive than he intended. Not that he cared.

"I bet I feel better too~"

You made a soft sound of pleasure mixed with exasperation, and rolled your eyes, shooting him an unimpressed look that said 'seriously?' The comment was hot, and so damn him. This guy, honestly. Always the same.

"You're so..." You chuckled. "Ridiculous."

But you hadn't caught on yet, had you. The danger you were walking into? The way his cock started to stir more than before, filling itself slowly as it stayed nestled deep inside you. His smirk grew cockier, cheekier, and he nipped at your neck.

"Ridiculously charming, you mean~"

His fingers wrapped around your waist, tighter. He pulled you down a little further onto himself, sighing a pretty breath through his lips as you felt even tighter around him.

He looked up at you through his eyelashes, his tone turned teasing again. "Don't deny it. I bet Chuuya couldn't make you feel this good."

You let out a soft sound of pleasured surprise as he shifted you deeper, fingers gripping a little tighter onto his shoulders. You were sensitive, having had sex and then cockwarmed him for like 20 minutes already. But it felt so good all the same.

"Dazai, I don't really want to discuss the details of sex with Chuuya while I'm sitting on your dick," you said, as if that wasn't rather obvious.

He let out a soft sultry chuckle, and his hands wandered more, firmer, his touch soft and yet so possessive and greedy. You could hear and feel his breath shake slightly as he breathed you in. He felt needy for your body, for your attention. And this was only making it worse. Or better~

He leaned in and nipped gently at your neck again, his voice a low, teasing tone. "Oh? Why not? Scared I'll out-perform him?"

You whined quietly, hoping this wasn't what you thought it was. You knew that look, those eyes, that voice.

"Are you seriously getting competitive with Chuuya when he's not even here?" You asked, in a little breath, feeling his now much harder cock poke your insides almost playfully as it twitched. It was so him, so them. They just had to one up eachother even if one of them was balls deep inside you and the other had no idea.

He gave you a soft bite, chuckling against your skin. He always loved it when he riled you up a bit, when you got all flustered. And he was getting excited...

His hand slipped under your thigh, fingers tracing along your skin. He rolled his hips languidly upwards and pulled you closer against him deliciously. "I'm just curious, don't get all annoyed~"

He paused. He was deliberately provoking you, poking gently, he just couldn't help himself. He let out a another sigh, a bit of neediness, and his voice was playful - but also serious. "I want to know everything about what you did with him."

That's what gave it away.

Your hand in his hair paused it's idle patterns briefly as the few braincells you had left untouched by the lustful haze rubbed together to realise what was happening.

You pulled back just a little to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown out a bit, brown honeyed pools half lidded and a little hazy with affection but also this conflicted lustful glint, not dissimilar to when you used to see him get a little sadistic.

"Dazai..."

His expression turned just the tiniest bit sheepish, his cheeks lightly dusted with a hint of pink, but his eyes still held that playful glint. He knew what you would say, what you'd ask, what this was. He leaned in again, nuzzling against your neck.

"Maybe~"

You felt the tips of his long fingers trace over the bumps of your spine, down from your nape gorgeously slowly over each one. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't help but feel territorial, jealous, thinking of Chuuya. You and Chuuya. And well...he'd always been a little masochistic. "What of it?~ he murmured, giving you a small bite on your shoulder to gently rile you.

You let out a whine at his bite. His words and that beautiful soft melodic tone seeped into you and curled deep in your tummy around where his cock still stuck now achingly hard inside you. He and Chuuya, all three of you, always had tonnes of sexual tension. Among other types. So it wasn't so far off that he could be a bit aroused by this...that you could be a bit aroused by this...

"mph, you're weird," you breathed in a sigh into his neck, your warm breath running over his bare and bandaged skin as you closed your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

He could feel you squirming in his lap, and a soft moan escaped his lips. Dazai's fingers gripped your waist, holding you still. He leaned against you, his body moving to grind his hips up into yours.

His voice was a bit breathless, but there was a smirk to his words. "You already knew that. You always liked it, anyway~"

He couldn't help but be a cocky little bastard, even now. He was feeling playful and way too turned on, and he wanted to tease you a little bit. He knew he was being a bit much, but it was fun.

His fingers retraced their steps and cupped the back of your neck, his teeth lightly nipped at your jaw, and hummed. "It's hot, thinking of you with him."

A soft moan from your lips. A shuddered sigh. A lift and gentle roll of your hips so his cock peeked out just a little to shift back in through your folds achingly slowly. His words were unravelling any reservations you had about this weird mental cuck chair he had himself in. Replaced with arousal curling in your gut and making your skin hot where he touched it.

"mmh, you think so?" You hummed, face turning and burying in his hair. It was ridiculous. A messy heart-aching reunion after two years, hours later ending up like this. But it was so you.

"even if you're jealous?"

As your hips rolled he let out a breathy groan, and he tightened his grip on you. This was crazy. You made him crazy, and the way your body felt against his after so fucking long was making him a bit desperate.

"That's what makes it fun.~"

He could feel you slipping, starting to play along with it. He adored that about you. You'd always put up with and indulged in his little kinks and fetishes as no one else would. You went along with him in just about every aspect of life. It just spurred him on. That's his girl.

"It gets you going too, doesn't it?" He murmured, his lips brushing against your own in a parted smirk. He ran his nose up the side of yours, teasingly. "Thinking about Chuuya touching you..."

A shaky pretty sigh escaped your parted lips, brushing hot against his - eyes fluttering closed. Your mind, at his words, unwillingly but conveniently provided flashbacks of the nights you'd ended up pressed against the wall, red hair tangled in your fingers, leather gloved hands hungrily running over your body as if they couldn't get enough.

"Mph...a little," you mumbled. "He was kinda good, y'know~" A rather gross understatement. Another roll of your hips, languid, achingly slow, cock sliding out just a few inches to press steadily back in. You could play along. Tentatively. Seeing that he was enjoying it.

He felt something tighten in his chest at your words, like something was clutching at his heart a bit, but he was still enjoying himself. He wanted to know the details, wanted to know everything, see it through your eyes.

His fingers dug into your hip, keeping you moving, his own hips starting to respond. He thrusted upwards into you a little harder, his tip kissing your cervix pulling pretty breathy noises from his mouth. He moved his head to your neck again, his favourite place, his nose nuzzling the skin. A soft hum, tone huskier, lower. "Good, huh?"

"Sometimes it was kinda lazy," you murmured into his ear. You could tell he was struggling to muster enough focus to talk, one of the only times Dazai was rendered more speechless. So you did the talking, working with him as he rocked you up and down, your clit touching and sticking gently to his pelvis with each descent. You wanted to give him some more ammo. You didn't mind talking if he was getting worked up, after all.

You bit into his neck softly, leaving a little wet stripe over the sting as your hands drifted over his chest. "But sometimes it was like...pissed off, stressy, aggressive. Y-you know how he gets...if something pissed him off during the day~"

Dazai moaned again as you bit him. Despite the softness of your quickening movements, the languidness, his head was spinning with need. He nudged his nose bridge into your jaw, breath brushing across the skin on your throat. "Oh I know~" He pulled you closer, your breasts against his chest, pressed closer, closer, closer. "A little rough sometimes, too, huh? That sounds like him."

He couldn't help it, the idea sent thrills up his spine. This heady mix of slightly possessive jealous teasing arousal combined with the feeling of you again, a feeling he had missed for fucking years, was driving him a little insane. He wouldn't apologise. He knew you wouldn't ask him to. "mmph...you like rough."

You moaned in response, eyes fluttering closed once more as your hand slipped into his hair, steadying yourself in his sensual rolling that was just as perfect as it was overstimulatory.

"S-sometimes. Ngh - I did more, then. I was pissed that you we-re gone and, pissed a-at mori for making me do your fucking jobs. We got our anger out l-like a-ah that."

His chest ached with guilt, but also with this weird possessive need. He loved you, and he was glad you had someone.

His fingers dug into your thighs as he fucked up into you with a bit more speed, more force. His eyes heavily lidded with lust watched your breasts bounce prettily, your kiss plumped lips apart and panting softly.

"Did he leave any marks?"

You whined as he leaned forward and started kissing along your neck and collarbone with renewed hunger, as if he was determined to leave some along with the ghosts of those Chuuya had potentially left. He didn't care how pathetic he sounded, he needed to know. He was letting this side out, this small masochistic possessive side that wasn't present very often. And he was nothing if not competitive.

"Fu-ahh," your eyebrows drew in at the centre as he shifted his angle ever so slightly to hit deeper, each push of him through your spongey walls making you huff and moan. It was hard to keep talking at this point. But you did your best. "Ngh-he...he liked leaving hickeys on the...nginside of my thighs."

He cursed through a moan into your neck, his mind instantly going to Chuuya leaving those marks there, spreading your legs and trailing his tongue over the flesh. He hated it, needed it. He nipped hard on your neck, as if in response, outdoing him.

He thrusted up harder into you, still sensual rolls but harder, more needy, more hungry. With each one his arms and hands now cradling you, holding you like you were precious and gorgeous pulling you down onto his weeping cock that was nearing its fucking limit. He wanted you shaking and breathless when he was done.

"I bet you looked pretty, all marked up for him."

You whimpered into his mouth. A mess. You were both overstimulated, whiney, breathy messes. But this was you. Never in moderation, never a half measure. Some things never change.

He was close. You could feel it. Hear it in those gorgeous fucking sounds coming from his lips, higher pitched, breathy, into your neck as he rested his forehead there. His long cock twitched over and over, your walls automatically responding by squeezing gently, trying to coax out his high.

He loved your cute little sounds. His brain was mush. "Mmph...f-fuck. You're so-ah-good~". Seeing the ever composed Dazai come undone and needy for you was always unreal. He had one final question, murmured strained and raspy into your skin.

"Did...ngh- did he come inside?"

The mixture of the question, being with him again after all this time, the Chuuya bullshit, and his fingers finding themselves between you, rubbing gorgeous circles on your sensitive nub, had you crashing over the edge and falling into bliss. You whined and buried your face in his shoulder, his arms snaking further around you as he kept the now stuttering pace as you rode out your high, leaking, squeezing his cock. "y-eah...yeah ngh."

That was all he needed. With a broken throaty whimper he felt a hot rush of ecstasy, and release, starting to fill you, spilling into you as he couldn't maintain the rolls of his hips anymore. Your arms came around, still coming down yourself, essentially cradling him as he worked through his orgasm, feeling your tummy warm up with him spilling inside you.

His body was shaking a little, just clinging to you, head buried in your neck with panting breaths slowing with the time and as both your orgasms receded like the tide. His weary and pleased, overstimulated, cock gave a few last gentle spurts as it nestled and softened once more comfortable inside your walls.

He always had been a bit of a mess after sex. You could only take it as a compliment. It made your heart swell with affection wildly, even as the reality of what you both just did came down over you both like a light rain shower.

"Did we..."

"Yeah...yeah, we did." He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him at your question, kissing your neck lazily as his head began to clear and the clouds revealed how ridiculous that was.

He was a little embarrassed, but also didn't care all that much. He rested his cheek on your shoulder as he looked up at you with a sleepy sort of grin. "That might have been a bit much."

You could have burst out laughing, but you managed just a sleepy exasperated chuckle, shaking your head as your hand came to run through your hair. "Yeah, no shit."

He laughed softly, his hand tracing down your spine lazily. He gave you a cocky grin, his expression lazy and satisfied.

"You're going to be feeling that for a bit, I think~"

He sounded rather pleased. Of course. Though he'd probably be sore as well. He pulled you closer, settling you into him as he leaned back against the sofa.

"Suppose I should have gone easier on you~"

That earned him an amused huff across his chest as you settled comfortably against him. You would need to get off soon, deal with the inevitable mess between your thighs. but for a moment you just...wanted to be close to him. seemed like he needed the same.

"I never thought you could... get off on thinking about me with Chuuya." You said, eyes lifting to his with an amused look of curiosity.

He let out a short amused scoff. "I wasn't exactly planning on it."

Dazai didn't really have the energy to try to defend his actions. Though he might not have anyway even if he did. You always did accept him for his quirks, like he did with yours albeit you having less. Safe space, even for this.

A dramatic wistful sigh left his lips. "Chuuya truly brings out the worst in me~"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. He really was ridiculous. Though your expression was filled with rather too much affection to be healthy. You'd had a good time, even if it was freaky.

"We are not telling him about this."

"Definitely not."

The thought was a rather horrifying one. For Dazai at least. The man would never hear the end of it if Chuuya found out that he'd essentially cucked himself in his mind with an imaginary version of him as he fucked you. Even if it was for competitive one-uppery. No thanks.

He let out a soft tired sigh, nuzzling into your cheek affectionately. "Our little secret."

He pulled away a little, eyes lifting to yours with that mischievous glint. "You know... If you ever mention this, I'll be forced to silence you with aggressive and enthusiastic methods. You likely wont enjoy it~"

You huffed, lifting an eyebrow. Two could play that game.

"I suppose I'll have to hold it over your head as blackmail material just in case you get any cute ideas about abandoning me again."

He chuckled at the idea, and his hand drifted up higher, lightly trailing over your ribs. A smirk played at his lips, his tone soft and lightly playful. "As if you could ever get even with me."

Though his expression sobered, then, eyes following his hand almost thoughtfully as it travelled over your beauty he knew so well. "I'm not going anywhere. Not anymore."

At the shift in tone, your heart did a gentle flutter, eyes softening along with it. Though before you could let the emotions linger, maybe say something soft and loving back, he smirked a little.

"Besides...can't go off somewhere and let the chibi have you can I?

Your mouth dropped open in an exaggerated display of offence, and you huffed. Honestly.

"You're such a dick."

"I know~"

"You can't meet me again after abandoning me for two years and then make a joke about you only staying with me to beat Chuuya."

"Why not? You like me when I'm a dick~"

Legend has it people can still hear you bickering around Yokohama at all times of day. You were a chaotic gorgeous ridiculous mess. And you never did anything in half measures.

Thankyou for joining me for...whatever this was >:3 ~ reblogs and interactions are always cherished deep within my soul !! 𖹭

[mqdilen]

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copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐟𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: you play dumb so dazai explains things to you while you get turned on by it (hot mansplaining, basically)

pairing.: dazai osamu x gn!reader

cw.: !nsfw!, no established relationship, oral sex (dazai ⇢ receiving), vulgar language

genre.: one-shot, no second part

word count.: 1.7k (approximate reading time: six minutes)

note.: AGHHH happy birthday to my sweet angel. (i love dazai more than i love myself) it’s been so long since i’ve posted something, but please, bear with me. i’ve been very busy lately! this one is pretty tame ngl and it is slightly different to my usual writing style, but i just wanted to write something lighthearted, since this stuff comes easier. also, to the anon that requested a yosano fanfic where she’s obsessed with reader’s breast, i haven’t forgotten about you, i promise. (i’m actually so hyped to write this, i just need a good opening.) following updates on my profile!

☪︎

ah, yes, the armed detective agency.

a place full of peculiar minds and dangerous talents, wrapped in coats of good intentions. no one who knows this organization would dare say that it is incompetent or that its detectives are stupid. eccentric, though? oh, definitely.

yet their most innocent member wouldn’t be considered unintelligent either. each and every one of them, including you, has something that characterizes them: a keen intuition like no other, to a greater or lesser extent.

naturally, among your coworkers, there are people whose minds surpass average intelligence, and osamu dazai is one of them. even though it is sometimes hard for you to associate mental agility with dazai—due to his constant childish behavior and his obsession with hiding his true personality under a mask of laziness—you can’t deny that he is terrifyingly smart.

and he is smooth at switching his attitude in just a second, too—going from whining to becoming the strategist able to anticipate the resolution of a series of catastrophic events and how to avoid them. it is intoxicating to see when his smile drops to reveal the seriousness and sharpness he pretends not to possess.

at the same time... well, you also can’t deny that you have a bit of a weakness for men who can blow your mind with nothing but their brain. and dazai, with that quiet, terrifying brilliance of his, has made you think about kneeling between his legs while he maps out some impossibly complex plan more times than you’d like to admit.

still, if there is anything hotter than listening to him explain something, it is listening to him explain it to you. the way his voice lowers just a little, how he leans casually against the nearest surface as he patiently walks you through the answer… it always makes you sigh.

it amuses dazai, really. how someone like you, so sharp, so self-sufficient, still gravitates toward him. he’d caught it early on. the way your breathing changes when he stands too close. the look of adoration in your eyes when he does something you deem clever. the way your pupils dilate when his voice drops to explain something. he sees it all. he always does.

he just pretends not to.

but today? today, he feels indulgent. so when you ask him to explain something fairly simple while everyone else is out for lunch, he doesn’t object.

“here,” he says, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan your cheek, his palm braced on the desk beside you. he immediately notices how you squeeze your thighs together.

“you need to write that the hostage-taker panicked after his ability triggered unintentionally. add that he didn’t understand the full extent of its effect…”

it wasn’t hard for dazai to realise what you were doing, feigning ignorance on a task you have done thousands of times before. a small smile momentarily crosses his lips, thinking of all the times you looked for an excuse to ask him things.

once again, no one is a fool in the armed detective agency, and you are no exception to the rule—usually being a quick thinker. but you don’t even bother to hide the fact that the report is about a case you resolved two days ago. flawlessly, in fact. it is almost as if you want him to notice. or perhaps... you really aren’t all that smart after all.

your head tilts ever so slightly, as if absorbing the information. but your mind is somewhere else. you glance up at him in confusion, your body tense like it is anticipating something.

dazai smirks quietly to himself. you aren’t fooling anyone. not him, least of all. he has seen this game before, and you are playing it beautifully.

playing dumb? just for the excuse to hear his voice this close?

tsk. naughty.

he lets the silence stretch, watching you chew the inside of your cheek and furrow your brows unconvincingly. then, slowly, dazai shifts. his fingers brush your chin, angling your face toward him with surprising tenderness.

“my, my,” he murmurs, his voice low, silken. “you’re not usually this clumsy. and this isn’t your first report, is it?”

you blink up at him, wide-eyed, guilty in the way only someone caught red-handed can be.

he chuckles softly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “so… you’re doing this on purpose, huh?”

his tone drops an octave—no longer teasing, not quite threatening, but laced with something else. lust, perhaps?

and just like that, your body betrays you before you even have the chance to stop it. another subtle squeeze of your thighs. a shift in your posture. your composure fractures, and dazai, ever the observer, drinks it all in like fine wine.

before you can respond, he has you standing, pressed up against the edge of your desk with such fluid grace you barely register how you got there. he presses his body against yours, the bulge in his pants noticeable. perhaps he, too, has a weakness for clueless and clumsy pretty little things like you.

“who would’ve thought?” he muses, lips ghosting over your cheek. “our always so independent, so composed newest addition… pretending to be helpless just for a sliver of attention.”

dazai reaches past you, lifting the half-finished report between two fingers. his eyes skim the page like it is some kind of performance. he already knows what it says. he probably knew it before you even typed it out.

“you wanna play dumb, huh?” he says, finally looking at you. his gaze is sharp, piercing. like he can read every secret you try to hide. “then i’ll gladly treat you like you’re dumb.”

“kneel.”

it isn’t an order shouted out loud. it is spoken low, languid, with the cool authority of someone who already knows they’ll be obeyed. he doesn’t force you. he doesn’t need to. it is all there in his voice, in his posture, in the very way he smiles down at you like a man who’s just checkmated someone three moves ago.

“let’s see if that mouth of yours is good for something other than pretending.”

your heart is beating faster in response to his words, and if it weren’t for dazai standing so close—close enough for you to feel him, smell him—you could swear this would be another one of your dreams. but it’s not. so you waste no time lowering yourself to your knees in front of him.

he watches you carefully, breath catching as your fingers work at the buckle of his belt. at least you know how to open this damn thing. otherwise, he might have started doubting if you really are pretending.

his cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. the tip is flushed, and he’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum. you drag your lips over the length of him, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss to the vein running underneath before wrapping your mouth around the tip.

dazai bites down on his bottom lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and bury himself deep in your throat. instead, he swallows the groan that’s about to escape his lips, reaching out to thread his fingers through your hair slowly, almost gently.

“what a pretty sight you are…” he breathes out, voice wavering ever so slightly. “need an explanation for that too? or should i show you instead?” his grip tightens just a bit as he guides your head forward, working his cock deeper past your lips.

your throat tightens around him, and you let out a sound that’s something between a choked moan and a whine. somehow, the way he speaks to you—gentle, but with that quiet condescension—makes you grow so much more desperate. your fingers dig into the bandages around his hips as you take him fully into your mouth, your lips flush to his pelvis.

he lets out something soft and shaky himself, head falling forward as he watches your throat struggle to adjust to him. his grip loosens, and he strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him. your lashes flutter as you meet his gaze, eyes wide and glassy with tears that roll steadily over your cheeks.

beautiful, he thinks hazily. but even dazai knows this is dangerous ground. if anyone were to see or hear you, you'd never hear the end of it.

he jerks forward suddenly, hips pushing in deeper. he hears you gag around him, more tears spilling as you let out a choked sob. his hand drops, and he caresses your cheek in apology, clumsily wiping away some of your tears.

the sight of you on your knees for him—tear-streaked, lips swollen and wet, jaw aching as you take him down your throat—is almost enough to send him spiraling over the edge. almost. eventually, you begin to move, each time taking him deeper. the wet sounds echo off the walls, making the moment feel that much more intense.

dazai is hardly able to muffle the moan that slips past his lips as the tight knot in his abdomen snaps. black dots blur his vision, and his eyes flutter shut momentarily as he takes a light step back. it’s almost too much for him. his whole body tenses as he cums down your throat, watching intently as you struggle to swallow everything.

it takes a minute for dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. by the time he does, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. his hazy gaze focuses on your face once more. your lips are wet and swollen, and your eyes are still glassy. he wipes away the remaining tears before leaning in close again.

“turns out you’re not as dumb as i thought,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “maybe i should explain things to you more often, hm?”

a faint smirk curls his mouth as he steps back, gaze sweeping over you like he’s still memorizing the moment. and right on cue, kunikida walks back into the office, punctual to the second as usual.

it shouldn’t surprise you. of course dazai kept track of the time. of course he knew. but somehow, that only makes it hotter.

it’s only when you’re fully upright that you realize just how wet you are and how worked up he’s left you.

how cruel of him, really… for not indulging your needs in return, even though you did such an amazing job.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

happy pride month ya all! 🏳️‍🌈 i hope everyone is doing well. also, thank you guys so much for the love and support i got in the last few weeks. i’m really thankful for each and one of you!

as mentioned on my profil, i’m still somewhat busy due to with my a-levels, but as soon as i’m done i will get back to writing asap. i’m feeling really motivated and i do miss writing, so i’m really excited and relieved once my a-levels are done.

anyway, have a great pride month and (if you’re gonna be there) a great time at the dokomi! i’ll be there too this year. ^^

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞—𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: bungou stray dogs characters reacting to seeing you in lingerie

ft.: dazai, chuuya, yosano, ranpo, atsushi & fyodor x afab!reader

cw.: !nsfw!, established relationship, vaginal sex, fingering, light bondage, oral sex, pet names, vulgar language

word count.: 2.6k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: wrote this instead of learning for my a-levels and i really just wanted to practice my character deception and smut writing (?) anyway, hope you enjoy!

☪︎

dazai.:

dazai doesn’t particularly care whether you’re wearing lingerie or not. don’t get him wrong—he appreciates the fine black lace and the way it frames your tits so nicely, making you look absolutely delectable. and the fact that you’ve taken the time, wondering if he would like it, makes his heart swell. but you could just as well be wearing knee-high socks and one of his shirts, and he’d still consider it lingerie.

that said, it is dazai we’re talking about, so expect a lot of teasing—either direct or laced with much innuendo. he absolutely notices the small things too—like the ribbon detailing, or if the lace has any patterns on it—really just letting the sight sink in. something about the sheerness of it all, about seeing you but not seeing everything, just arouses him. it feels scandalous. enticing.

---

dazai smirks the moment you start to undress, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks you over. “my, my, belladonna. look at you, all dressed up so prettily for me,” he coos, slowly tracing the lace with his fingers, admiring the delicate fabric. he’s careful not to tear it. “you know, since you go to the trouble of wearing these, you might as well put on a show for me,” he says, and it doesn’t take long before you’re rubbing your clit through your panties, a noticeable stain already soaking the fabric.

desperate little moans escape your lips while he watches you, condescending but oh-so-sweet words falling from his mouth. “come on, bella. you can do better than that. right now, you’re not really deserving of my cock.” he says, seemingly having no regard for the current state you’re in and how much you want to feel him inside of you.

he fists his own cock right in front of you for a little extra motivation, the tip already leaking pre-cum and practically begging for your warm, slick cunt, almost making you drool at how ethereal he looks. every lazy stroke of his hand makes you whimper, the need between your legs growing unbearable. only when you’re soaking wet, your movements slower and more urgent, does he finally let you ride his aching cock—his eyes leaving your bouncing tits only to drink in your fucked-out expression. “tired already, love? aah, just a bit longer… your expression looks so beautiful right now.”

chuuya.:

chuuya likes you going out of your way to surprise him, especially with such a nice setting—your bedroom dim, jazz playing low, wine already poured. however, he never would have thought you’d surprise him with lingerie. not that he’s complaining, though. in fact, he loves seeing you like this, seeing the thigh stockings squeezing your plump flesh just right. he loves that you chose a bolder color too! although it wouldn’t really matter since anything looks gorgeous on you, but the red really has his focus. it’s striking, fiery, and impossible to ignore—just like you. and it’s such a nice contrast against your skin.

if he had known you were going to buy lingerie for him, he definitely would have kept you company, maybe made you try different sets on too, and perhaps have you suck him off in the dressing room.

---

as you slowly undress in front of chuuya, revealing your red lingerie, he’s momentarily stunned before letting out an amused huff. “appreciate the sight, doll,” he says, taking his sweet time admiring the stitching, drawn to the way the lace hugs your curves.

he orders you to take a spin, slowly, stopping once your ass is in view. he runs a gloved hand along the curve, snapping the fabric of the lace against your skin teasingly before spanking you once. you let out a whine at the slightly painful sensation before he traces soothing circles around the pink mark. his hand then slides between your thighs, one finger gliding along your clothed slit. he admires the way your body reacts to his touch before his hand reaches the curve of your ass again. this time, he delivers another slap—harder than the last, but still bearable.

despite his earlier reverence and the restraint he was showing, his patience eventually snaps, and he pushes you face-first against the window, tearing the fabric with ease. in his mind, you could always buy a new one, and he’ll gladly lend you the money for it if it means he gets to see you like this more often. he rubs his dick against your ass leisurely, drawing out little moans from you before he thrusts it into your already drenched cunt. “damn, you’re so fucking hot, darling. gonna fill you up good tonight. god—you have no idea how pretty you look right now.”

yosano.:

yosano had never seen you in any form of special lingerie besides the usual matching bra and panties you wear daily, perhaps sometimes decorated with a bit of lace. so it comes as a surprise when she sees you walking out of the bathroom in a delicate ivory lace set instead of a towel, especially when you said you’d only take a shower.

she’s confused for a second but definitely appreciates the sight, particularly since the set you chose looks somewhat vintage—much to her delight and in line with her sense of style. yet, there’s a subtle hint of disappointment in her, that you chose to reveal yourself in such a tempting outfit only now. then again, she could have taken the lead as well, considering how much she likes to tease you, especially when it involves such sensuality.

---

yosano hums in approval, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “well, look at you. i didn’t know you had such refined taste.” she steps closer, fingers grazing the hem of the lace, inspecting its quality. the floral details catch her attention, and she traces the pattern with a velvety touch before slowly beginning to strip the top off of you. as much as she enjoys seeing the creamy lace on you, she’d much rather see you without it, caressing your smooth skin with her bare hands.

“don’t worry. i think these might come in handy later,” she says in a suggestive manner, clearly hinting at something. and that something isn’t far off as she continues to strip you, planting feathery kisses along your soft skin. you enjoy the attention she’s giving you, feeling your cheeks grow warmer as her kisses become more demanding. eventually, she uses the lingerie to lightly tie your hands to the bed frame, your expression earning an amused chuckle from her.

she continues to plant kisses down your neck to your breasts, sucking on one of your nipples while teasing your clit with a deft touch. a soft moan escapes your lips as your body tenses up at the sensation, and you rub yourself against her, wanting her to touch you more. your gaze grows pleading as you look up at her, and she teases your entrance before pushing two fingers inside of you. you arch your back ever so slightly, craving her to push deeper. “tsk, tsk, tsk, what an impatient little thing you are,” she says before removing her hand, enjoying seeing you struggle, unable to feel her touch no matter how much you want to or how much you beg. “aw, don’t give me that look, dear. if you’re being good, then i’ll continue.”

ranpo.:

ranpo loves attention—your attention especially. he’s shameless about it too, always acting like he deserves to be pampered, spoiled, adored. even when he’s not trying to be sexy, somehow he still is—lying around lazily, smirking at you like he knows exactly what he does to you. he’s a brat sometimes, but that only makes it even better when you finally get to catch him off guard. though, that’s hard, considering he’s able to deduce what you’re planning from a mile away.

still, you try anyway, hoping he’ll miss just this one small detail that makes everything click into place. however, it seems you failed today’s attempt at surprising him. when you enter the bedroom in a sheer, soft pink lingerie set—the color reminding him of one of his favorite candies, which was probably intentional—he looks nowhere near surprised. or is he?

---

ranpo blinks up at you from where he’s sprawled out on the bed, having already suspected you were up to something since you took too long to change and he heard the shuffle of clothes. however, he didn’t expect this—so he’s definitely surprised, if only for a second. he’s blushing slightly before clearing his throat, trying to mask his flustered state. “oh? what’s this? a gift? for me?” he purrs, stretching like a cat as he sits up straight.

you roll your eyes playfully, noticing the faint blush on his cheeks and teasing him about it. upon hearing all your embarrassing words, he grows pouty, crossing his arms and looking away—though only slightly. a tinge of guilt gnaws at you as you crawl onto the bed with him, earning a chuckle when you try to comfort him, but he only acted out so you’d come closer without him needing to get up. you played right into his hands. “look at you... all sweet and concerned just for me,” he hums, brushing a finger along the curve of your breast as he admires the neat stitching of your top. “hope you don’t mind if i skip unwrapping you—i’m a little impatient tonight.”

before you can even tease him back, ranpo mouths hungrily along your throat, his fingers already slipping beneath the lace, shameless and greedy. your breath hitches as he suddenly clings to you, and you return the favor, kissing him with just as much desire. however, ranpo doesn’t hold out long, so he’s out of breath pretty soon, which means he makes you do all the work. of course, that includes you sucking him off with your tits out, too lazy to do anything himself despite the effort you put into wearing this just for him. but you oblige his wishes, knowing that what comes after will be even sweeter. “don’t worry, i’ll reward you after you finish, sweetheart.”

atsushi.:

atsushi isn’t used to being the center of attention, especially not the kind you give him. it doesn’t matter how many times you compliment him, how many lingering looks you throw his way—he’s still easily flustered. but deep down, he craves it, craves being wanted. he just can’t get over the fact that someone as beautiful as you actually likes him, wants him. it’s deeply rooted inside his mind from years of abuse at the orphanage that he’s not worthy of such love. though you slowly get him accustomed to it, step by step.

today is another step, where you want to show just how much you appreciate him with a little gift. he looks confused and nervous when he shows up, probably wondering if he missed your anniversary or something after you texted him to come over, saying you have a surprise for him. and when he sees you waiting for him in a white lace set, his heart races and his cheeks turn red. turns out, atsushi is utterly weak for white lingerie. the color feels so delicate, pure, and almost bridal, and the symbolism absolutely scrambles his brain—even if you didn’t intend it to be.

---

“you… what are you–!” he stammers, his eyes darting everywhere but you. it’s only when you tell him to look at you that he slowly drags his gaze back, seemingly a bit embarrassed. you take a few steps closer, allowing him to better notice the gorgeous yet simple set. it’s not too much, but not too little, and he appreciates that.

he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer, his breath hitching slightly. “you’re absolutely breathtaking. of course, y-you’re always breathtaking, but you know… this really suits you. i mean, everything you wear suits you but–” you shut him up with a kiss, asking if he likes what he sees with a teasing smile on your lips. he looks at you, a bit flustered, before sighing to regain his composure, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “shut up,” he says sarcastically, nipping at your neck before picking you up and laying you down on the bed. you giggle at the sudden movement, and he climbs on top of you, seeming a tad more confident than before.

“just so you know, it’s totally your fault if these get ruined,” he teases lightly before kissing down your chest, trailing lower until he reaches your pussy. he pushes the fabric aside and drags a slow, teasing stripe through your folds with his tongue. his hands grip your thighs, holding you firmly in place as his tongue circles and flicks, drawing desperate moans from you. when you’re gasping for air, he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his voice low and sincere. “you’re so beautiful, just like this,” he murmurs before diving back in, making your world spin with every lap of his tongue.

fyodor.:

fyodor and you don’t have sex very often, but when you do, it’s always a pleasure in itself. however, lately, you start feeling bored with the same old routine, craving something new. the timing just wasn’t right until now, and my god, do you look absolutely stunning in that white lingerie set. so pure, so innocent, and so angelic. he just loves seeing you in that color. it stirs something inside of him, like he’s defiling something sacred.

he just can't stop thinking about how beautiful you look... and how satisfying it will be to ruin you, to corrupt you. and the fact you did all of this out of your own will, just to please him, gives him such a power trip. it shows your devotion and submission to him, all the while feeding into his superiority complex, making him think you offer yourself to him—which, essentially, you do.

---

fyodor freezes in the doorway the moment he sees you—bathed in soft, warm light, delicate white lace hugging your body like a second skin. for a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe, his eyes drinking you in with a kind of reverence. a small smile tugs at his lips, deceptively gentle, as he steps closer. “how sweet of you,” he murmurs, voice velvety, a finger coming up to trace the curve of your bare shoulder. “dressing yourself up just for me… like a lamb to the slaughter.” before you can even respond, his hand tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze—the soft white lace suddenly feeling far too fragile for the things he has in mind.

you chuckle faintly, enjoying the way he undresses you with his eyes alone. fyodor toys with the lace, sliding the delicate fabric up your thighs while dragging his fingertips along your skin so lightly it makes you shiver. he hums thoughtfully, pretending to admire you as if he has all the time in the world, even as he feels you growing impatient. his hands peel away the layers of fabric, piece by piece, with agonizing slowness, making you desperate for him to finally touch you. “you dressed so prettily, myshka,” he says, his voice dripping with false sweetness, “and you expect me to ruin you so quickly?” his lips brush over your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. he loves having this much control over you…

when you’re finally bare for him, he doesn’t waste a second, pressing you down against the bed and slipping between your thighs almost ferally. his fingers dig into your hips as he pushes into you, slow but deep, dragging a broken moan from your lips. the stretch burns just right, and he savors the way you clutch at him, needy and trembling beneath his weight. “so perfect,” he breathes against your throat, rolling his hips harder, deeper, like he’s trying to carve the feeling of him into you.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: you and dazai make love on a lazy day

pairing.: dazai osamu x afab!reader

cw.: !nsfw! established relationship, soft dom dazai, oral sex (reader ⇢ recieving), vaginal sex, mentions of suicide, domestic fluff (sorta), mild aftercare (sorta), kind of vulgar language

genre.: one-shot, no second part

word count.: 2.6k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: i lovelovelove gentle dazai.

☪︎

it is one of those slow, languid summer afternoons where time bleeds into itself, thick and viscous, dragging on with a saccharine lethargy. the air is warm, cloying in its embrace as you lie beside him, your presence unobtrusive yet insistent. dazai barely acknowledges you, his attention idly flickering over the pages of ‘the complete suicide manual’, a book he knows by heart and shouldn’t be picking up anymore. but as he once said, a good book is always good, no matter how many times you've read it.

dazai makes no effort to stop you as your fingers ghost over the back of his hand, tracing over his bones and sinew with delicate curiosity. he never quite understood how something so mundane could have you so engrossed, but he is content to let you do as you please. perhaps he simply lacks the energy to refuse you, or perhaps—though he’d never admit it—he likes the attention.

you tug lightly at his fingers, slowly yet deliberately caressing the ridges of his knuckles and skimming over the faint scars on the back of his hand with featherlight tenderness.

there is something almost amusing about the way you are so utterly absorbed in him, your quiet murmurs and soft sighs, full of subtle wonder, filling the stillness between you. it reminds him of a puppy—the way you react to even the smallest of his movements, eyes wide, voice tender, as if he is something worth marveling at. it is almost absurd. those same hands you adore so much have done unspeakable things—hands he uses to caress your flushed cheeks and ruffle your hair. hands that had once participated in horrid acts—from picking locks to breaking necks with cold precision, to pulling triggers without hesitation.

and yet, you find yourself indulging in those same hands, holding them as if they have never known cruelty, as if they are simply hands, warm beneath your touch, incapable of ever ruining something.

eventually, you bring his hand closer to your mouth, your lips brushing briefly but deliberately against each of his knuckles. gently, you turn his hand over, kissing the pulse point on his inner wrist as your fingertips trail up and down his arm. dazai’s attention suddenly sharpens as he stares at the display of affection he silently deems himself unworthy of. “your hands are so pretty,” you murmur against his skin.

a low chuckle can be heard, your words sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. he likes how you say ‘pretty’, as if it’s something to be cherished rather than ridiculed. dazai has gotten so used to the sound of shallowness—something he is partly to blame for, considering his silver tongue and the way he uses his body for information—that hearing the genuine affection in your tone always leaves him momentarily undone. he disguises it well, though.

“pretty?” he repeats, amused and slightly surprised by your sentiment. he sets his book aside, laying it somewhere on his futon as his now free hand plays with a lock of your hair. “you’re such a sweet-talker, aren’t you?”

you lean closer to him until you’re on top of him, straddling his thighs. dazai’s body adjusts naturally, his thin mattress doing little to cushion the feel of the wooden floor. your fingers intertwine with his as you gaze down at him with an innocent expression, just barely masking your own desire.

dazai watches you intently, his eyes roaming over your features with a mix of fascination and something akin to reverence. “aren’t you the bold one today?” he says, a hint of playfulness in his tone. a soft smile graces your lips as you get closer to his face, kissing both sides of his cheeks, his forehead, his chin and finally his lips. “i just want to make sure you know how much i love you,” you say, letting the silence stretch as you watch for the slightest shift in his expression.

a deep sigh escapes him as you pepper his face with gentle kisses, each one feeling better than the last. he closes his eyes, savoring the sensation of your lips against his skin, silently hoping you’ll prolong this for as long as possible. when you simply stare at him, he lifts a hand to your face, cupping your cheek to pull you closer. his lips brush against yours, filling you both with a need neither of you voices—yet both of you know, feel, is there.

“oh, i know. don’t you worry your pretty little head over it. actually, you couldn’t make it clearer,” dazai whispers somewhat sensually, his confidence masking the small sense of relief your words bring. a mingled breath escapes the two of you before you gently kiss him, his lips instinctively parting, allowing you to deepen the kiss.

slowly, you shift your position, letting your body press fully against his as your hands slide up his arms, down his torso, and beneath his striped shirt. he doesn’t stop you, doesn’t pull away, but quietly takes what you offer him, acutely aware of how his body stirs under your touch. his fingers tremble slightly as they trail down your spine, pausing at your waist—a touch that feels more like a question than an answer.

at some point, your lips move to his jaw, planting soft kisses along the way to his neck. he tilts his head to give you better access to it, the sensation of your tongue on his skin making him shift slightly beneath you, a subtle hardness pressing against you as he draws you close. “i want you, osamu…” you whisper breathlessly against his throat as you leisurely unbutton his shirt, bottom to top. your words hang in the air between you as he stares at the ceiling, the phrase echoing in his mind with a depth and sincerity he hadn't anticipated.

he exhales shakily, surrendering to the moment. however, the slight flush of his cheeks and the heavy rise and fall of his breath tell you everything, and more, that you need to know to keep going. you trail your lips down his chest, ignoring the rough texture of the loose bandages wrapped around him. as the intensity of the moment deepens, you feel dazai’s hands grip your waist tighter. there’s no force in his movements, just a firm tenderness as he guides you onto your back.

he hovers above you for a brief moment, his eyes flicking down to meet yours, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. without breaking eye contact, his hands wander up your sides, fingers brushing against your skin with a palpable, unspoken longing. you can feel your face grow warmer at the touch, though a tinge of disappointment lingers from when he stopped you. goosebumps form on your skin as his hot breath fans across your face.

“comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, but there’s something undeniably gentle in the way he asks. you nod, surprised but not exactly complaining about the shift in position. “are you ever going to let me top you?” you ask playfully, matching his tone while you cradle his hair, pulling his face closer to yours. “perhaps someday. but not today. tonight is about you, so let me make you feel good, belladonna.” he presses his lips against yours, one of his hands moving up your shoulder. you chuckle faintly into the kiss at the nickname, the soft fabric of his loose shirt brushing against your skin, making you feel ticklish.

his hand travels along your collarbone, tracing it before cupping your breast, his thumb gently stroking your already hardened nipple through your shirt. the kiss deepens, and dazai thrusts his tongue inside of your mouth. you let him, your hands wandering from the top of his head down to his shoulders, sliding off his shirt. he does the same, the kiss momentarily broken as he helps you pull your shirt off over your head. his hand then finds the clasp of your bra, his dexterous fingers eager to take it off as well.

he pulls away a little to get a better look at your naked form, specifically your breasts. “so pretty,” dazai hums, his words drifting over to you like music as you take the moment to look at his lean chest as well. a few scars are peeking out from the few bandages covering him. you reach out to touch them, stopping midway through, though, as dazai’s hands glide down your ribcage, all the way down to your shorts. he tugs lightly on them, silently asking you for permission. you arch your back ever so slightly, allowing dazai to slide them off your thighs along with your panties.

his hand rides up the inside of your thigh, resting dangerously close to your core as he leans into your neck, kissing it. he bites it too, leaving a visible mark on your skin while he soothingly licks the spot with his tongue. a soft moan escapes your lips as you focus on his hot tongue against your skin.

he trails wet kisses down your throat and sternum, pausing just before he reaches your lower abdomen. “so lovely, bella,” he praises you in hushed tones, tracing a finger over your core and watching you twitch at the featherlight touch. he smiles at the reaction. no matter how many times he’s done this, it still makes you blush and still feels just as exhilarating as the first time. “hold nice and still for me, now.” you nod, bottom lip between your teeth as dazai plunges in without hesitation.

heat rushes through you, tingling shocks sparking with every flick of his tongue. his hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your plump flesh as all you can see is his wavy hair between your legs, his mouth working your clit with infuriating precision.

“nnh…”

dazai can’t see your face from where he is, but the way you sigh and the way your whimpers slip past your lips is more than enough to get him off. at this point, he wishes he had taken his pants off first, his cock now straining almost painfully against the fabric.

you squirm beneath him, fingers tangled in his hair like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth, your head feeling airy and light, breath hitching as he brings you gradually closer. “fuck! don’t stop, ‘samu…” you plead, your voice trembling as you tug lightly on his hair to keep yourself grounded.

dazai huffs in amusement at your needy, desperate tone, earning another punctuated cry from you as he pushes his tongue inside you, bringing you to the edge. he laps at the juices flowing from you, riding out your high with his mouth, drinking in every sound you make. he nips playfully at your inner thigh before pulling back, lips slick and eyes heavy-lidded. he wipes his damp mouth with the back of his hand, and you can’t help but feel strangely turned on by the sight.

dazai is quick with pushing down his pants, giving you no time to recover as he presses himself against you, listening to your heavy breathing. “that needy, love?” you say, which he doesn’t deny, a small smirk of your own tugging at your lips.

“please, bella. need to feel you…” he breathes against your neck, trying to persuade you with sloppy kisses that make you giggle slightly. you continue to listen to him beg ever so prettily, your name spoken in broken and desperate fragments. how could you ever deny such a request, especially after he made you feel so good like he said he would? it’s simple; you can’t. so you nod, still too out of breath to give him a verbal response.

dazai wastes no time positioning himself, entering you in one smooth thrust that makes you gasp at the sudden feeling of being so full. he gives you a moment to adjust to his size before rocking his hips forward, filling you inch by inch, his cock sliding deeper into your cunt. “so good… you feel so good, darling,” he praises once again, a breathy moan escaping his lips.

he moves eventually, keeping his thrusts slow and gentle, yet precise, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time. your mind grows hazy as he ruts shamelessly against you, pressing his body even closer. you wrap your arms around dazai, sinking your nails into his skin and scoring thin, red marks down his back—the little stings of pain serving as a deliciously contrasting sensation to your walls pulsating against his length.

after all, dazai doesn’t mind a little pain—he even finds something strangely soothing in it. it keeps him grounded, a quiet reminder that this moment is real. that the feelings he holds for you—deep, consuming, yet unexpectedly tender—aren’t just something he conjured to fill a hollow part of himself. and that, somehow, you feel the same.

he lets out another moan, this one sounding even prettier than the last as he works you up again. though he keeps his pace steady and subdued, not wanting to overstimulate you too much. your mouth finds his again as you kiss him, whimpering against his lips at a particularly hard thrust.

“fuck…” you whisper as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. usually, dazai would have tilted your face back with a snarky comment—being the talker he is—but today, he feels like he shouldn’t do anything, only making sure you feel comfortable and satisfied.

dazai slides a hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and giving it a sharp pinch that pulls a squeal from your lips. he rolls it slowly between his thumb and forefinger, and your core clenches around him, like your body refuses to let him go. your nails sink a little deeper into his skin, making him sigh as he feels how close you are getting. his pace quickens, the sound of your bodies meeting echoing through the room, blending with your unrestrained moans and broken pleas.

“fuck, osamu…” you murmur, voice strained with the effort of trying to speak and containing your noises at the same time. “keep it just like that… feels so good… please…” your speech sounds almost slurred, and though your pleas aren’t as pretty as dazai’s, he loves it all the same.

he holds out for you just a tad longer, the intensity of his own moans gradually increasing with yours as he comes undone, your body shuddering beneath his. your mouth falls open, and your vision blurs for a second as you come right along with him.

dazai collapses on top of you, panting heavily, staying buried inside of you for a moment longer, savoring the intimacy of the moment. your eyes are glassy with pleasure, half-lidded as you take a moment to regain your bearings. your body is slick with sweat as dazai’s chest on top of you presses you against the mattress—the weight, however, feeling comfortable.

you close your eyes for a moment, absentmindedly stroking his hair as you listen to his breathing steady.

“i love you,” you whisper softly, and he hums in acknowledgment before pressing a lazy kiss against your shoulder.

“i love you too, belladonna,” he says just loud enough for you to hear, his voice sounding a little rougher than it tends to. “let's stay like this for a while longer… please.”

a faint chuckle escapes your lips as you keep your hand tangled in his brown locks, sensing his quiet need for a brief moment of comfort.

“of course.”

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

BSD MASTERLIST

𐙚 dazai osamu

i. a poem written on skin.

ii. feign a little ignorance for me.

𐙚 nakahara chuuya

i. wip

𐙚 various

i. seeing you in lingerie—veiled beauty.

𐙚 soukoku

i. this universe was supposed to be different.

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs (contains !spoilers! concering the beast manga + stage play)

synopsis.: chuuya visits dazai in the hospital after going on a rampage, and the two of them talk

pairing.: [beast au soukoku] port mafia leader chuuya nakahara x dazai osamu

cw.: overall sfw, toxic relationship, hurt / no comfort, angst-ish, dubcon-ish, reversed roles (chuuya kinda acts like dazai and dazai kinda acts like chuuya)

genre.: one-shot, no second part

word count.: 2.7k (approximate reading time; nine minutes)

note.: so this kind of took longer than i expected, and i was severely struggling in the beginning. but anyway, i still hope you enjoy the fic! also, please mind the tags! + this fic is heavily inspired by a twitter post from @Atarayo33 and i simply turned their idea / drawing into a longer fanfiction due to a tiktok. so credits and much kudos to them! (link to the post)

☪︎

dazai’s eyes fluttered open as he finally regained consciousness, his expression seeming bleak but at the same time devoid of any emotion. it was his usual expression. the one he gave to everyone who passed him on the street or watched him while he waited for his coffee he ordered in that small café nearby. just an ordinary expression. nothing special that would ever captivate anyone if it weren’t for the charm he held.

dazai had yet to figure out where he was, and as if to make it even more difficult to pinpoint his current location, his vision is rather blurry, and one of his eyes is obscured by a somewhat rough material that he presumes to be his bandages. although his bandages didn’t bother him too much. he’s used to them by now, after all. what bothered him more was the fact that all his memories were somehow a big mess.

yet, he clearly remembered jumping off the port mafia building, in fact, he remembered everything that involved that jump. from atsushi’s strident voice ringing in his ears, to the thrilling sensation of the adrenaline surging through his veins, to his insides feeling like they’re climbing up his torso. a wisp of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he dwelled in the memories and stared ahead, seeing nothing yet but a strong beam of light.

the bright light seemed heavenly to him, but it also had something unusual about it. it hurt him, making his eyes water. dazai’s mind began to wander, his once visible smile now tinged with a faint despondency. disappointment settled in, casting a melancholic shadow over his thoughts as he expected a more serene scene after his death. then again, no one ever said heaven was a fun or prepossessing experience, did they? heaven... what a stupid thing to believe in. and how stupid of him to actually think that the blackest of blood, port mafia blood, could ever belong to a place like that. perhaps that was why, as if he were standing too close to a flame, the light burned his eyes, completely absorbing the darkness in them. after all, everyone knew that he was and will never go to heaven, but to hell. his own personal hell. the universe he created.

dazai blinked, able to make out some of the things in his room now, like a white ceiling and a large window, the sun facing him as it slowly disappeared behind the horizon. a sense of dread settled over him as he realized that it wasn’t the sunlight alone that sent a rush of agony through his body, or the thought of being in hell, but rather the fact that he was indeed still alive. his body ached and the comforting warmth he once felt from the hospital bed swiftly gave way to an icy chill that pierced through his very soul—much more fitting to an individual like him.

dazai raised his trembling hand as he meticulously counted each of his fingers, desperately wanting to confirm that he wasn’t alive and that this was just an overly realistic dream. he had once heard that dreams were full of anomalies such as having an extra finger, so the possibility that his head was just playing a trick on him was an option that had to be considered; that gave him hope. however, the pain coursing through his body and the pungent smell of alcohol mixed with the undertones of artificial fragrance were enough of a hint for dazai to know that his suicide attempt had failed again—as usual.

he clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, wondering how he managed to keep surviving. he thought this would be the one. the one and only universe where he could die in peace, knowing that he is still alive. but it seemed that this universe was just as cruel to him, forcing him to live with the burden of knowing that the only person he ever considered a friend despised him.

the faint sound of footsteps approaching his hospital bed could be heard, pulling dazai out of his thoughts. he couldn’t determine to whom they belonged. something about the footsteps felt amiss. they didn’t belong to atsushi, as dazai initially suspected, given his desperate plea not to take that fateful leap. nor were they the menacing strides of akutagawa, who probably harbored a somewhat deep desire for revenge after the torment inflicted upon his sister.

he sat up, slowly, as his neck brace would not allow him to move properly. his eyes widened slightly as he distinguished the head of a familiar person peeking out from behind a bouquet of flowers—red roses to be exact. the rich, smoky yet soothing scent that trailed behind the small figure, drowning out the antiseptic one, made dazai feel slightly light-headed. “chuuya…” dazai whispered absent-mindedly, his voice barely audible. “i see you’ve finally woken up.” a tender smile adorned chuuya’s lips as he carefully set the roses aside only to stare at them for a moment.

dazai’s throat tightened as he took in chuuya’s appearance, noticing the black coat he supposedly inherited after his ‘death’. “chuuya... why- how am i still alive?” dazai inquired, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. he seemed puzzled. the ginger eventually lifted his head up, gazing at him with a hint of affection in his eyes. “what do you mean? you’re alive because i saved you, silly.” dazai’s eyes sank slightly and he looked away for a split second, feeling conflicted. was it so sinful to wish to die? was there really no universe where he was allowed to die? chuuya, on the other hand, seemed amused, his smile never faltering. “what, did you really think i wouldn’t find out that you were trying to kill yourself all along? did you really think you could fool me? your partner?” he drew out the last syllable, emphasizing it as a dark shadow fell across his face, rendering him somewhat colder.

dazai’s lips parted slightly as he felt oddly compelled to answer him, yet the words seemed to die on his tongue and he remained silent instead. eventually, he lowered his head and stared at his trembling hands, as if he could find a pleasing answer in them. chuuya’s smile seemed to waver a little upon dazai’s reaction.

at some point, he took a step closer and clasped his hands behind his back. “i also cleaned up the mess you left behind. you know... i killed them. all of them. i killed again and again and again and again…” he said with a faint tremor in his voice, tightening the grip on his hands. dazai’s body tensed and his eyes widened in disbelief. he knew quite well to what extent chuuya’s abilities reached, what he was capable of and what not. yet, an inexplicable sense of unease slithered up dazai’s spine, causing a slight shudder within him. “i killed your friend, too,” chuuya added in a mellow tone, gawking at his expression. “w-what?” dazai’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked at chuuya as if he didn’t understand a single of the words he uttered. though chuuya only tilted his head, a grin still plastered across his lips as he observed dazai.

dazai’s heartbeat gradually picked up its pace as he repeated the words in his head, refusing to believe them. his head was spinning and his mind was flooded with memories of oda and him together. they were beautiful moments, each of them unique in its own way. he recalled oda eating curry, his favorite food, or playing with sakura, one of the orphans he took care of. he remembered their first meeting, how he treated his wounds after yet another failed suicide attempt. though at that time, he was glad he didn’t die. after all, oda had become one of his closest friends; his only friend. but those memories felt misplaced in this universe, just like dazai himself.

eventually, he found his composure and exhaled shakily as he felt the mattress sink in. chuuya was now sitting beside him, his smile seeming more sinister than anything else at the moment. “you’re lying. i made sure that all connections to us were cut, so he has absolutely nothing to do with me. we’re not even friends!” chuuya’s eye twitched slightly as he listened to dazai’s words, knowing that he was blatantly lying to him. “oh, really?” his expression shifted a little as he gently took dazai’s hand before squeezing it, slowly applying more pressure. it didn’t take long before dazai winced in pain and slapped his hand away. however, chuuya hardly felt anything considering that dazai had little to no strength at the moment. then again, dazai knew that chuuya wouldn’t hurt him seriously. after all, he had picked up on the signs quite quickly.

“don’t touch me.” dazai raised his voice, glaring at the redhead who was drawing closer to his face. a hint of disgust swept over him as he could practically feel chuuya’s breath fanning across his cold skin. eventually, dazai twisted his head away and sank deeper into the pillow, trying to escape chuuya’s intense gaze. chuuya had other plans, however, as he cautiously brought one of his hands closer to dazai’s face, gently caressing his cheek before tilting his head back. dazai’s body stiffened at the ghostly touch and he stared into chuuya’s eyes, which seem to convey an unusual degree of fondness. something he has rarely expressed for anything ever since their first encounter.

at some point, dazai turned his face away again and tried to slap him across the face. but chuuya grabbed his hand at the right moment and instead intertwined his fingers with dazai’s, pushing him further into the mattress as he leaned over him, his hands on either side of his head as he pinned him down. dazai’s teeth grinded together, his throat constricting with a heavy gulp as the gravity of the situation became painfully clear. somehow the weight of his actions, leaving his partner - betraying him even—like everyone else did in the past, beared down on him. it seemed as if none of the two of them would ever be granted a happy ending. not even when they are together.

“why did you do it?” dazai snapped, causing chuuya to blink a few times, catching him off guard for the briefest of moments. “ah, i’m glad you asked. i’ll tell you. to put it simply... i was jealous. jealous that you would care about someone who hates you so much. who can’t even look at you properly without being repulsed. it’s a shame, truly. i just wish you would look at me the same way you look at him... but now that he and all the others are gone, i won’t have to worry about that.” a crooked smile graced chuuya’s lips as he averted his eyes in embarrassment and pulled away, a faint blush ormenanting his usually pale cheeks.

dazai lowered his head, clenching his jaw as his fingernails dug into his skin, drawing some blood. he had never been good at tempering his emotions whenever oda is mentioned. “did you really kill odasaku just for that?” dazai murmured, his voice sounding colder than usual. “oh, that’s such a nice nickname. do i have one too?” chuuya dodged the question, unimpressed by dazai’s frustration. he expected it. tears welled up in dazai’s eyes as he scraped the bandages from his face, breathing heavily. “you’re lying! you’re just messing with me! he’s still alive! he has to be!.. you... i will kill you, chuuya! you had no right to take him from me! to take him from the only universe where he is alive–” chuuya listened carefully to dazai’s words, his expression oddly hard to read as he conveyed no emotion whatsoever. a barely audible sigh escaped his lips before dazai’s fit of rage was momentarily silenced as chuuya grabbed his chin and kissed him. dazai’s eyes widened in shock and he seemed stunned for once in his life.

chuuya’s lips were awfully soft, sending dazai into a delirious frenzy as he was distracted by the sweet taste. the corners of chuuya’s mouth curved into a faint smirk, and he seemed pleased with dazai’s reaction as he closed his eyes. eventually, he tightened his grip on dazai’s chin to hold him in place and deepened the kiss. dazai’s shock lingered, yet he couldn’t ignore the suffocating warmth welling up in his chest or the quickening of his heartbeat. still, he could never forgive chuuya for what he’s done, which is why he tried so hard to break away from the sudden kiss. in the end, he managed to wriggle his hands free and tried futility to push him away, accidentally knocking over his iv bag and ripping out the tubes that were connected to his veins. with a sharp and unpleasant sting, the needle forcefully exited his skin and he writhed in pain, his lips parting ever so slightly. the expected scream, however, is abruptly stifled as chuuya’s tongue sensually slided into dazai’s mouth, eliciting a low moan from him. chuuya’s grin widened at the sound of dazai’s voice, while dazai’s cheeks seemed to flare.

with his mind barely functioning, he clinged to chuuya, his eyes slowly falling shut. a single tear traced its path down his cheek as a profound sense of self-disgust washed over him. though he found solace in chuuya’s touch, oda’s face haunted every corner of dazai’s thoughts, leaving him no room to fully enjoy the sensation chuuya was giving him. not that he would allow himself to actually crave another human being’s warmth anyway. dazai was far too stubborn for that. no matter how much he longed for someone to finally fill the heart-shaped void in his chest, he knew that no one would be naive enough to actually try and navigate through the darkness that engulfed him, especially now that the only person who had ever been capable of soothing some of his agony was dead. and chuuya certainly wouldn't replace the last bit of him left in his heart.

chuuya didn’t seem to be thinking straight anymore as he put more force into the kiss and grew more and more desperate. to him, this was all he ever wanted. in a moment of weakness, he bit dazai’s lower lip, breaking the delicate skin. it darkened rather quickly, leaving behind a visible bruise and a smear of crimson at the corner of dazai’s mouth. chuuya pulled back after needing to catch his own breath for a moment. he held up dazai’s chin, seemingly engrossed in the way his tears mingled with the small amount of blood, while dazai barely reacted to the stinging sensation the salty wetness caused. “oh, how beautiful. you really are the best…” chuuya cooed, his voice dripping with affection as he admired how gorgeous dazai looked. his dazai. a wide smile adorned chuuya’s lips as his pupils dilated at the pure sight of him.

dazai on the other hand was left speechless. he didn’t know what to say, nor what to feel, or what to look at. he was completely overwhelmed and all he wanted to do was scream. scream at the world for being so full of injustice, scream at himself for being so useless, scream until his burning throat dulled all the other painful sensations, and scream until he had no oxygen left in his lungs. his eyes darted across chuuya’s face, unable to settle on a single place as he tried to drown out his terribly tranquillizing voice. everything felt so wrong, so surreal. his heart was throbbing with an indescribable amount of pain, and he felt like he'd grow manic if he had to look at chuuya any second longer. while he was once dazai’s sole reason not to end his miserable life, he is now the only reason why he doesn’t want to wake up ever again.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

this is the nonnie list. please send me an unused emoji or emoji combo (max.: three) to my inbox to become an anon. i will keep track of all nonnies here.

don’t know what an anon / nonnie is? — nonnie / anon are both short forms for the word 'anonymous'. if you don’t want to be identified, but you still want me to know that you’re a certain person who communicates with me often, then becoming an anon is probably you’re best solution. at the same time, it allows me to tell someone apart and cause less misunderstandings while communicating anonymously in my inbox.

anon list.:

note.: if you replied but you’re not on the list yet feel free to lmk in any way!

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[mqdilen]

this is the taglist. please react by replying with anything under this post and you will be shortly added to the list.

don’t know what a taglist is? — a taglist is like turning on the notifications on tumblr. you will get tagged when i post something. however, i will only tag you under any related content on my blog that consists of finished works, excluding brainrots, drabbles, thirsts, or other minor content.

currently tagging.:

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[mqdilen]

these are the rules. please take a minute to read them carefully to familiarize yourself with my blog and avoid getting blocked.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ BEFORE YOU FOLLOW.:

my blog is bsd centered. it is not spoiler free, but spoilers will be tagged. i write in lowercase and i have a very inconsistent posting schedule, so please refrain from rushing me to post. i have a life and tumblr is not my number one priority.

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ WRITING.:

i’ll take requests and commissions occasionally as long as they stimulate my mind, and my req / coms are open. suggestions, thirsts, and brainrots are always welcome.

i write for fem!readers (afab / she.her pronounces) and character x character mostly (multishipping is my guilty pleasure...) however, if i feel like it, i may write for gn!readers and male!readers (amab / he.him pronounces)

if you send in a specific request with a particular kink or character trait you want included, i may ignore your request because i don’t feel comfortable writing it. some examples would be: piss / scat kink, vomit kink, foot fetish, etc.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ INTERACTIONS.:

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copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

MAIN MASTERLIST

this is the main masterlist. please keep in mind that some of my works may contain spoilers or dark content. 

⤿ bungou stray dogs. currently contains.: four works

⤿ jujutsu kaisen. currently contains.: zero works

⤿ my hero academia. currently contains.: zero works

⤿ genshin impact. currently contains.: zero works

⤿ the coffin of andy and leyley. currently contains.: zero works

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.