mqdilen

[mqdilen]

‧°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･☁️ daydreaming about...

𐙚 𐔌 mdni ⋮ stalker / yandere themes ⋮ heavy dub-con 𐦯 .ᐟ.ᐟ

stalker!dazai, who disappears more frequently during work at the ada, not because he’s slacking but because he wants to know more about you. he learns your habits both inside and outside the agency, like how you organize your desk, which cafés you stop by after work or during lunch, which routes you take home, and which streets you avoid.

stalker!dazai, who observes you every day and takes note of your cute little habits, how you pick your lip when you’re nervous, or how you always wait outside the shower until it reaches the right temperature.

stalker!dazai, who takes photos of you when you think you’re alone, like when you’re brushing your hair, when you change your clothes, or while you sleep. he keeps them hidden, of course—at least for now.

stalker!dazai, who sneaks into your apartment when you’re out. his fingers glide across the hangers in your closet, humming softly while he steals one of your fresh shirts. he cuddles in his sleep with it so that your scent clings to him all night. it’s soothing to him.

stalker!dazai, who not only steals your shirts but your used panties, collecting them. lacy pairs, cotton, even the ones you think are unflattering—he doesn’t care. he buries his nose in them late at night and wraps them around his dick while he jerks off, murmuring your name while he pretends it’s you he’s fucking. he especially loves the ones you’ve just worn, but acquiring them is sooo risky.

stalker!dazai, who loves laying down in your bed when you’ve just left, your sheets still warm and your scent still clinging to your pillow. sometimes, he ruts against the mattress just enough so a bit of precum stains it. the idea of you sleeping in the traces of him makes him feel so giddy and overwhelmed with desire.

stalker!dazai, who also likes using your stuff, like your cherry-flavored chapstick, your favorite perfume, or the lotion you use. sometimes, when he notices you’re almost out of one thing, he leaves a small package in front of your door and rings the doorbell, excitement rushing through him when he sees the surprise and happiness on your face. he disguises it as freebies the stores send out.

stalker!dazai, who slips into your apartment at night like it’s his second home. he doesn’t need to hush—he knows you’re a heavy sleeper, knows exactly when your breathing evens out. he lets himself into your room, relishing in the quiet intimacy, the vulnerability of you curled up under the blankets, completely unaware of his presence.

stalker!dazai, who before he even touches you, more often than not, just listens. the rise and fall of your chest, the tiny sighs you make in your sleep. he traces the shape of your face occasionally, brushing a loose strand of hair away. sometimes, he even rests his head on your chest, letting your heartbeat lull him, convinced it’s proof that you already belong to him.

stalker!dazai, who crawls into bed beside you, pulling you flush against him. your body molds into his, warm and pliant, and he buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent with shaky sighs. sometimes he just stays there, hard and aching, grinding against your ass slowly until he cums in his own clothes. on bolder nights, he lets his hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, brushing your hardened nipples. he moves slowly, reverent almost, savouring every inch of skin. he presses kisses along your jaw and neck, whispering “so perfect for me” even though you can’t hear.

stalker!dazai, who eventually decides that just holding you isn’t enough anymore. he pushes your panties aside, fingers trembling as he finally slides into you, slowly, gentle, careful not to wake you or hurt you. he moans into your shoulder to muffle the sound, your slick warmth making him dizzy. it feels right, like he’s finally where he belongs.

stalker!dazai, who always finishes inside, addicted to the way your unconscious body clenches around him, as if even your sleeping self knows to keep him close. when he pulls out, he watches his cum drip out of your pussy. in the morning, you wake up confused, wondering why your inner thighs feel so sticky, but you brush it off, thinking you must have had a fun dream.

stalker!dazai, who loves kissing you and marking you. you’re his, so why shouldn’t he let others know that you belong to him? besides, he adores the little cute sounds you make in your sleep, or how you whimper when he bites a bit too hard into your skin. he litters you with hickeys, sometimes where only he will know, like right under your jaw, high on your inner thigh, or at the curve of your hip where your underwear covers it perfectly. other times, he leaves them plain in sight, on your throat or near your collarbone, so you’ll wake up wondering, admiring, and tracing the bruise with your fingertips in the mirror, unsure of what happened or if you’ve hurt yourself somehow.

stalker!dazai, who grows more bold once he has memorized everything about you, how long you shower, and where the best hiding spots in your apartment are. he uses that to his advantage and wanders around in your apartment, simply listening to you humming under the shower or watching you while you change or cook, imagining you’re doing it all for him and him alone.

stalker!dazai, who finally starts leaving anonymous notes and polaroids of you sleeping or showering in your bag, on your bed, or on your desk at work. “you looked beautiful today.” or “you taste divine.” he enjoys you growing more paranoid and thinking twice about whether you locked the door or not. it makes everything just that much more intense.

stalker!dazai, who watches you get shakier each day, dreading going to work or falling asleep. your fingers linger over every new photo or note like you can’t believe they exist. he notices you jumping at shadows and growing restless in your sleep, having nightmares. instead of worried, he is thrilled, because the idea that you’re always thinking of him (or rather of a potential murderer) feeds his obsession.

stalker!dazai, who is ecstatic when you come to him one evening, feeling unsafe in your own apartment. trembling, you spill everything as tears well up in your eyes and you bury your face in his chest. he just hopes you won’t notice how fast his heart is beating right now and the small smile tugging at his lips. everything was going just like he planned.

stalker!dazai, who strokes your hair, cooing soft assurances. “how awful, bella… don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.” his voice is warm, soothing, laced with feigned concern. you cling tighter, soaking in the reassurance and warmth he offers, whispering, “...can i stay with you tonight?” and of course, he agrees, because what else would he say when you’re so prettily crying and clinging to him like this?

stalker!dazai, who when you finally relax against him and are almost asleep, dips his head low, lips brushing your temple, whispering almost too soft for you to hear “mine...” so you’re not sure if you imagined it.

stalker!dazai, who makes sure to keep you dependent on him and lures you further into his carefully crafted net of safety, because who else can you trust? who else can protect you? until one day, you won’t just be seeking comfort—but you’ll be trapped exactly where he wants you.

note.: i’m pretty sure some of ya all are gonna enjoy this (unless you’re not a freak as me) but yeah– just wanted to give you guys something before you starve and an update: i’m still working on some requests, an event, AND the kinktober fics so that’s why i’m not posting as much (not like i ever did lmao) i’m looking forward to october! ♡ ALSO, thanks so much for over 200 followers!! i’m definitely gonna do a 300 follower special! :)

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

i could literally cry sm rn

like- do you have a friend you were once super close with, like i’m talking years of friendship, possibly even dated (bonus points if it was for over a year), and then suddenly you just kinda grow apart, and at some point you reach out, and you talk to that person, asking if they even wanna be your friend anymore (or stay in touch in general), and they say yes, but not in a way that comes off as: “i’m only saying yes so you’ll leave me alone” but in a genuine kinda way, and then you try your best to talk again on like discord, or on the phone, but in bigger groups because being alone is still kinda awkward, but you’re clearly disliked by a few ppl in that group, and over time they have grown close with that specific friend, so you’re just kinda there, acting very awkward, feeling very uncomfortable, letting them bash you, and your friend literally says nothing, or maybe even participates sometimes, and you just feel so crushed, and your lungs feel so small, like no air can get in or out, and you just wanna cry, but you stay a little longer until that stupid round of the game you’re playing is over, and you stay respectful and say you’re goodbye’s, and then you tell that specific friend how you feel and you even apologize to them, and tell them it’s not their fault that the others are so mean, but you also wished they would have had your back, or maybe just apologized FOR ONCE on their behalf, but you get literally nothing and are left on read whenever a discussion gets complicated?

yeah

like wtf is wrong with u that you’re being like this, and yet, at the same time act so sweet, but only in private? and wtf is wrong with u that you throw away YEARS of friendship, just bcs u got some “cooler” friends, who are literally the worst?

i should probably let that friendship go, but how can i when i put sm effort into that, even though they rarely reciprocated that effort, but i know that they CAN, and i know that they have a sweet side, like i’ve met the sweet side so many times, AND YET STILL you choose to be such a jerk

like idk why it hurts so much but it just does, and i hate myself for even feeling empathy for that person when all they do is walk over me like i’m trash... like they DIDN’T spend almost six years of their life with me EVERY. fucking. day.

[mqdilen]

i’m going to shift all of my reblogs to my sideblog (@mqdiilen) and will continue to reblog stuff there to keep this acc (my primary acc) more organized! :) feel free to go check it out. there will probably be more shitposts as well in the near future. ALSO, i will change my color palette. after that i’m gonna post more fics soon, i promise!

edit.: not me ignoring my own poll and choosing a different color palette entirely– sorry guys, but thanks to all of u who took the time to vote!

[mqdilen]

okayy, soo, these are the color palettes i made and thought of using for my tumblr layout! i kind of like all of them, so i’ll let you decide which one you like best. you can also vote for my current layout OR you can vote for me to go back to my roots (last color palette) :) ✨ (the palettes are in order and should be read from left to right.)

[mqdilen]

thinking about changing my layout colors... i’ll probably do a poll tomorrow with a few color palettes i really like (i hate changing my layout but none of my layout colors feel right yet ughh)

[mqdilen]

deception

you seem to like me—or at least the timid and shy me.

is it because you find peace in the uncomfortable silence, or because you fear my words might be close to defiance?

you seem to like me—or at least my tiny waist and pouty lips.

is it because you find those attributes arousing, or because you like how small i look when you're towering?

you seem to like me—or at least the inability to speak up in me.

is it because the idea of defending me makes you feel smug, or because you know i won't scream when you pull and tug?

you seem to like me—or at least the fact that I'm dependent on you.

is it because you adore my clinginess, or because i worship the ground you're walking on like you're kingliness?

you seem to like me—or at least that's what i used to thought.

but what if you didn't like what makes me me, but rather what you could use to torment me endlessly?

note.: *quietly gets up the courage to shyly posts one of my poems* i’m just gonna put this here h a h a

[mqdilen]

i killed over five mosquitoes within the last 20h... it may not seem much, but the amount of times these little and annoying creatures have bitten me is INSANE. IT’S ITCHING EVERYWHERE, I SWEAR! dbie8s8e

and the sounds they make? this annoying yet subtle ‘bzzzz’... bro i can’t... i hate this.

[mqdilen]

‧°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･☁️ daydreaming about...

gentleman!chuuya, who loves to carry you bridle-style. “quit worrying about your weight, you’re light as hell to me.”

gentleman!chuuya, who spoils you rotten—not just because he can, but because he loves the smile on your face when he gets you gifts.

gentleman!chuuya, who slows his pace when walking with you because he wants to prolong every second he gets with you.

gentleman!chuuya, who insists on carrying your bags, no matter how light they are.

gentleman!chuuya, who checks in with a short text when he’s away on a mission, just to ask if you’ve eaten.

gentleman!chuuya, who pulls out your chair at every dinner but rests his hand possessively on your thigh the moment you sit.

gentleman!chuuya, who loves when you wear heels even if it makes you taller than him.

gentleman!chuuya, who always holds the door open for you and feels a little smug when you thank him.

gentleman!chuuya, who tips your chin up with his gloved fingers to steal a kiss.

gentleman!chuuya, who feels your steady, soothing breath against him as you sleep on his chest, almost too afraid to move and risk waking you. he just wants to match your rhythm to feel connected, to feel human.

gentleman!chuuya, who absentmindedly plays with your fingers when you’re holding hands.

gentleman!chuuya, who rests his palm on the small of your back in crowded places, keeping you close and making sure you’re safe.

gentleman!chuuya, who keeps a photo of you inside a small stitched pocket in his hat, with slightly worn edges from being taken out too often—he just misses you so much when he’s gone for longer.

gentleman!chuuya, who offers you his hand when stepping off curbs or out of cars, like it’s second nature.

gentleman!chuuya, who always pours your glass of wine before his own.

gentleman!chuuya, who takes care of every little detail when planning a night out, so you only have to enjoy yourself.

gentleman!chuuya, who carries a hair tie and chapstick in his pocket because you tend to forget yours.

gentleman!chuuya, who learns the small telltale signs of your mood and adjusts his tone, his pace, and even his touch to match exactly what you need in that moment.

gentleman!chuuya, who kisses you slow, deep, and unhurried—like he has all night to make you melt against him.

gentleman!chuuya, who takes his time undressing you and brushes his knuckles over your bare spine just to hear your breath hitch.

gentleman!chuuya, who pauses mid-kiss just to look at you with that soft, almost shy smile before whispering, “beautiful... and all mine.”

gentleman!chuuya, who draws out every touch until your whole body is buzzing, because he likes and knows exactly how to leave you breathless.

note.: my head is full of thoughts like these lately. not that i’m complaining tho. ᯓ★ dazai version here

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

‧°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･☁️ daydreaming about...

gentleman!dazai, who tucks strands of your hair behind your ear when he’s talking to you.

gentleman!dazai, who leans down so you can whisper in his ear.

gentleman!dazai who loves draping his coat over your shoulders and insists you wear it—not just because you’re cold, but because “it looks better on you.” (he loves seeing you in his clothes.)

gentleman!dazai, who loves to kiss that soft spot under your ear after whispering something only meant for you to hear.

gentleman!dazai, who always opens doors for you with a little bow, as if you’re royalty.

gentleman!dazai, who notices when you’re overwhelmed and quietly guides you out of the room with a hand on your lower back and a whispered “let’s take a breath, shall we?”

gentleman!dazai, who makes tea for you just how you like it, even if it’s overly sweet or weirdly specific.

gentleman!dazai, who dances with you in the kitchen, on the street, anywhere, when no one’s looking.

gentleman!dazai, who gifts you annotated books with hidden notes or little riddles in them.

gentleman!dazai, who always lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk no matter what, even if it means switching places three times on a single stroll.

gentleman!dazai, who always listens. really listens. doesn’t interrupt. doesn’t forget. remembers the names of the people in your life you mentioned once, offhandedly.

gentleman!dazai, who reads poetry to you out loud, dramatic voices and all. even in bed. even at two a.m.

gentleman!dazai, who touches your face so gently when you’re half-asleep, brushing his thumb along your cheek like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

gentleman!dazai, who hums softly when he brushes your hair.

gentleman!dazai, who always knows when you need space, or when you need him to hold you just a little tighter.

gentleman!dazai, who loves hugging you from behind and pressing kisses against your pulse points—especially the ones on your wrists.

gentleman!dazai, who appreciates literally everything about you and treats you like you’re something sacred. he could stare at you forever with pure adoration in his eyes.

gentleman!dazai, who never rushes anything.

gentleman!dazai, who undresses you with his hands, yes, but with his eyes first.

gentleman!dazai, who talks you through it with that same velvety voice, steady and soothing, like he enjoys every breathless little sound you make. “that’s it... just like that, i’ve got you.”

gentleman!dazai, who teases without touching—hovering fingers just above where you want him, until you’re the one whispering “please.” he isn’t above making you beg, but only because he wants you to mean it.

gentleman!dazai, who takes his time like he’s got forever, and wants to spend all of it on you.

note.: thought i’d give you guys something to chew on while i work on the kinktober fanfics and the yosano request! (i actually have so many more thoughts for other characters as well.) ᯓ★ chuuya version here

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

i just watched kpop demon hunters (i know i’m late) and i literally loved every second of it! i do wish we could have heard another song from rumi when she was changing the lyrics of takedown, because what she was singing alone in her room sounded soo good! overall, i feel like it also could have been a bit longer to let jinu’s and rumi’s feelings grow, and to explore more of everyone’s feelings in general, but i feel like that’a just me (i’m a sucker for long and detailed movies). PERHAPS there will be a part 2 (which i really hope for) maybe with a new group considering gwi-ma isn’t really defeated, they just made a new honmoon but yeah. 10/10, would watch again! and i probably will with my friends lmao. they’ve been talking non-stop about it.

[mqdilen]

AHHH you guys, we just hit 100 followers and i just wanted to say how incredibly thankful i am for all the support and love i’ve gotten so far!

i know 100 followers may seem small to some people, but i started this blog with the intention of simply sharing what i love: writing. any kind of writing, ranging from poetry to fanfiction.

and i’m so glad so many people enjoy my writing and that i can inspire some of you, but most importantly, that i can make so many of you feel an emotion that leads you to want to see more of me, or generally just liking and reblogging my works!

anyway, i don’t wanna yap too much, but thank you again! <3 p.s. a new yosano fic is on the way since i got another request for her

[mqdilen]

kinktober ‘25 masterlist ֶָ֢ᐟ

ft.: 9teen characters from bungou stray dogs

⤿ incl.: dazai, kunikida, ranpo, yosano, atsushi, chuuya, akutagawa, kouyou, mori, tachihara, piano man, albatross, verlaine, sigma, fyodor, nikolai, poe, ango, oda.

note.: i decided to get started on kinktober early since i’m a slow writer. i put the prompts together myself (i didn’t follow a specific list), but feel free to use them if you’d like—no credits needed.

also, this is my first time participating in kinktober and writing for characters i’ve never written before, so apologies in advance if there’s room for improvement.

that being said, all works are porn and written with afab! or gn! reader. please read the tags carefully before proceeding to read a fic in case there is a kink you feel uncomfortable with.

WORKS WILL BE POSTED WHEN OCTOBER BEGINS ֶָ֢ᐟ THIS IS JUST AN OVERVIEW FOR NOW.

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

DAY ONE.: cockwarming / begging / cockbuldge ‪‪❤︎‬ ꒰ ranpo x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWO.: somnophilia / creampie / dub-con ❤︎‬ ꒰ yan!dazai x afab!reader ꒱

DAY THREE.: threesome / double penetration / shower sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ dazai x afab!reader x chuuya ꒱

DAY FOUR.: lingerie / lap dance / club sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ chuuya x gn!reader ꒱

DAY FIVE.: teasing / scratching / nipple play ❤︎‬ ꒰ ghost!dazai x afab!reader ꒱

DAY SIX.: recording & taking pictures / stockings / finger sucking ❤︎‬ ꒰ kunikida x gn!reader ꒱

DAY SEVEN.: mutual masturbation / cum licking / messy sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ verlaine x afab!reader ꒱

DAY EIGHT.: vouyeurism / adultery / outdoor sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ atsushi x afab!reader x akutagawa ꒱

DAY NINE.: exhibitionism / biting / blood play ❤︎‬ ꒰ vamp!dazai x gn!reader ꒱

DAY TEN.: sex pollen / hair pulling / rough sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ tachihara x gn!reader ꒱

DAY ELEVEN.: scissoring / squirting / mommy kink ❤︎‬ ꒰ yosano x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWELVE.: body worship / praise kink / mirror sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ dazai x afab!reader ꒱

DAY 3TEEN.: face fucking / tit fucking / kneeling ❤︎‬ ꒰ ranpo x afab!reader ꒱

DAY 4TEEN.: overstimulation / handcuffed / ignored safeword ❤︎‬ ꒰ nikolai x gn!reader ꒱

DAY 5TEEN.: a/o/b verse / breeding kink / hickeys ❤︎‬ ꒰ atsushi x afab!reader ꒱

DAY 6TEEN.: intoxication / riding / car sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ chuuya x afab!reader ꒱

DAY 7TEEN.: dacryphilia / degradation / corruption ❤︎‬ ꒰ fyodor x afab!reader ꒱

DAY 8TEEN.: wet dream / quiet sex / aftercare ❤︎‬ ꒰ dazai x afab!reader ꒱ ̗̀➛ might include traces of dub-con

DAY 9TEEN.: pegging / pet play / collaring ❤︎‬ ꒰ kouyou x gn!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY.: tentacles / suspension / gagging ❤︎‬ ꒰ monster! akutagawa x afab!reader ꒱ ̗̀➛ might include traces of non-con

DAY TWENT-YONE.: scent kink / service kink / face sitting ❤︎‬ ꒰ sigma x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-TWO.: shame kink / coming untouched / dry humping ❤︎‬ ꒰ beast!dazai x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-THREE.: oral sex / spit play / semi-public ❤︎‬ ꒰ poe x gn!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-FOUR.: choking / hate sex / wall sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ chuuya x gn!reader ꒱ ̗̀➛ might include traces of dub-con

DAY TWENTY-FIVE.: glove kink / ruined orgasm / sensory play ❤︎‬ ꒰ piano man x gn!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-SIX.: spanking / punishment / anal sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ chuuya x gn!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-SEVEN.: edging / voice kink / dirty talk ❤︎‬ ꒰ dazai x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-EIGHT.: age gap / size kink / slow sex ❤︎‬ ꒰ oda x afab!reader ꒱

DAY TWENTY-NINE.: shibari / sensory deprivation / wax play ❤︎‬ ꒰ ango x gn!reader ꒱

DAY THIRTY.: gun play / non-con / forced orgasm ❤︎‬ ꒰ yan!albatross x afab!reader ꒱

DAY THIRTY-ONE.: cnc / knife play / power imbalance ❤︎‬ ꒰ mori x afab!reader ꒱

BONUS ONE.: public sex / teasing / humiliation ❤︎‬ ꒰ chuuya x afab!reader ꒱

BONUS TWO.: foreplay / food play / handjob ❤︎‬ ꒰ atsushi x afab!reader ꒱

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

note.: there is a possibility that i might change a few things (though unlikely) and that i won’t be done until october, since i’m starting college soon, but i’ll try my best! worst case scenario, a few fics will be posted in november.

also, please be aware that everything written is purely fictional and that i would never condone some of the kinks like non-con or dub-con in real life. if you know someone who’s experiencing similar (sexual) abuse, don’t be afraid to help that person.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

i am so mad right now

i wrote my own kinktober prompts for this year and which characters i wanna write for (blah blah blah, all stuff concerning the near future) and google docs did not save them? or deleted them bcs of explicit content (i’ve only heard of this happening, so i don’t know if this is true)

either way, this is so annoying ESPECIALLY bcs i was awake until like 4 am bcs i had so many good ideas

and now they’re just all gone AGHH b9ee9hw,,,

[mqdilen]

i saw ultraviolence reference on ur profile and i knew i had to follow back

AHH omg 😭 i love this

no but like, ldr is my number one artist on spotify like every year so i just had to incorporate her lyrics somewhere in my blog

love your art btw, i’ve been seeing it EVERYWHERE on my fyp (i’ll get to your writing soon too bcs some of your things in your mlist sound really interesting bdieh8e)

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: you and dazai commit a double suicide after expressing your explicit wish to die (this takes place during the edo period of japan (1603 - 1868) and is a no ability au)

pairing.: dazai osamu x afab!reader (gn!reader if you squint)

cw.: !tw! successful double suicide, self-harm, implied self-harm (of the reader), arranged marriage, suggestive content, tragedy, hurt / comfort, angst (?) (i mean, is it angst if the suicide is mutual?)

word count.: 5.5k (approximate reading time: 22 minutes)

read on ao3

the mist still clings to the stalks of millet when you put down the weeding blade. your back aches in that familiar, dull sort of way. it’s not quite pain, not quite tiredness—just the quiet ache of being alive, and needed by no one but the soil.

your sleeves are stained with green and your hair clings to your temple in damp, stubborn wisps. the rooster has crowed twice. that means dazai might have stirred. possibly even stood up, and most likely stumbled toward the sake jar.

you kick the mud from your sandals at the door frame, stepping quietly into the house with a breath that hopes, foolishly, for silence and emptiness.

but there he is. cross-legged beside the low table, the cup in his hand already half-emptied. the scent of rice liquor hovers in the air like incense.

you look at him with disappointment, shaking your head lightly even though you expected no less from your husband. just as you’re about to part your lips to scold him as usual, dazai begins to speak, cutting you off.

“i’m already preparing for work.” he says, as if the words themselves might stir the gods into believing it. “do not complain so early in the morning. such fretting will bring wrinkles upon your brow.”

you do not answer at once.

the kettle still needs boiling and the chickens have not yet been fed. you click your tongue. your hands, calloused and cracked, reach for the firewood.

“what work?” you say, your voice low and serene, like the water just before it begins to boil. “surely the task offered to you has passed to another. half the day is lost already.”

dazai only sighs in reply, swirling the liquid inside the cup. his gaze is averted. he doesn’t look at you—he never does when you’re right.

the cup makes a hollow sound as he sets it down on the table. it echoes too loud in the otherwise quiet house, like a bell tolling for the living. you crouch by the hearth and start a fire, the wood catching flame slowly, lazily, like him.

outside, a cicada cries—late, confused, out of season. the fields answer with another crow of the rooster.

“are you going to feed the chickens, or must i do that too?” you speak without looking at him, a small frown adorning your features.

a ghost of a smile passes his lips, despite the weariness carved in your face. to trouble you is the only thing that makes his miserable life somewhat bearable.

at last, you turn to him, unwilling though your gaze is. you roll your eyes as he yawns and stretches languidly, his bandages shifting under the dark fabric of his kimono. as expected, the task falls upon you once again.

“well, if you do not fancy that task, then see to the vegetables instead.”

you step outside to pour the chicken feed. the light has shifted while you were inside; the sun now has that golden-pale edge that’s starting to burn off the mist. from here, the uji river shimmers in the distance. you can even smell it: loamy, verdant, briny.

oh, how you love that smell.

the chickens crowd around your ankles. such hungry things. needy. at least they give something back. you check the nest for eggs and find nine. an unlucky number. perhaps more will come before dusk.

you return inside only to find dazai bleeding in the kitchen, clumsily trying to still the flow. your brows knit once more, tighter now, as you take in the sight.

“ah, welcome back. it seems the kitchen and i remain poor companions.” he says with a hint of feigned amusement, his eyes holding a glint of that familiar tiredness that plagues you as well.

you step closer to him, pressing a fresh cloth against his palm in a gentle manner. dazai simply looks at you, affection swirling in his gaze despite the circumstances. he wishes to know if you still care for him, despite his sorrowful existence as a husband.

perhaps that stirring urge, mingled with the faint sense of guilt he feels, spurred him to such actions. you remain silent as you bandage the wound with a ripped part of your clothes.

“how noble of you, belladonna, to ruin your robe for a wretch like me. i should feel honored, should i not?”

“it will do for now. but see it tended before the day ends.” you say, your voice laced with displeasure.

you know he is prone to hurting himself, especially after indulging in a drink. it’s plain to see. or perhaps, such clarity is yours alone. you see the signs in him, as you know them in yourself.

a soft sigh escapes your lips, and your eyes fall onto the work surface, noticing the tiny droplets of blood that landed on it. fortunately, he didn’t bleed on the vegetables. while you wouldn’t mind visiting the river again to wash them, the path is long, and your legs already feel heavy.

you check on dazai once more, not out of love, but out of habit.

he, of course, takes note, feeling the knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly at the tender gesture, yet he knows it is simply the remnant of your lingering empathy for him. he quietly makes his way over to you, swaying a bit from the sake.

“so, tell me, what delectable dish have you planned for us today? i do hope there will be some of those succulent crabs i adore.”

he wraps his arms loosely around your waist, peering over your shoulder at the chopped vegetables. his breath carries the scent of alcohol you’re so dearly acquainted with. you do not lean into it, as his closeness is unwelcome.

“no. crab has grown costly. it is beyond us now.”

a flicker of disappointment crosses dazai’s face at the mentioning of the prices, but it’s quickly replaced by a look of mild amusement at your unimpressed tone. he chuckles softly, the sound a bit slurred from the sake.

“is that so? well, i suppose even a man of my refined tastes must learn to adapt my palate to the times,” he muses, taking note of your tenseness but thinking little of it.

“still, i trust your hand in the kitchen. i am certain whatever you prepare will be palatable. after all, even plain roots taste fine when you season them.”

he presses a soft kiss against the spot right under your ear, tightening his grip somewhat. you let him linger, not because it stirs you—but because moving feels like too much. what difference would it make, anyway?

for a moment, you endure the closeness, letting it pass without protest. then, almost absently, you chide him for his indolence

“well, if you worked as often as you drank, we might afford your precious crabs. i tire of leaning on my father’s purse.”

dazai’s eyes narrow slightly at your words and his expression falters before it’s concealed by a languid smile again. he leans in closer, his bandaged hand brushing against your side as he reaches for a piece of vegetable.

“my dear, you wound me with such talk,” he says, his voice dripping with mock hurt. he raises the vegetable to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “surely you know that genius often goes hand in hand with… eccentricity. a man of my talents cannot be shackled by the drudgery of daily labor.”

his free hand comes to rest on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze as he mumbles, “besides, is it not better to have a husband who indulges in the finer things in life and in the company of his beautiful wife, rather than one who labors himself into an early grave?”

“right… forgive my unwarranted rudeness toward my ever-so-loving husband. i forget just how much not of a sake-drenched fool he is,” you mutter, offering him a feigned smile as you chop the vegetables, your motions now a touch more forceful.

you lower your head slightly, weariness clinging to you like a second skin from the day’s labor. it shows not only in your calloused hands, but in the quiet toll his unending idleness takes.

dazai senses the tension in your body and the weight of exhaustion in your stance. his smile wavers for a moment, a flicker akin to guilt, or perhaps understanding, passing through his eyes. yet, as swiftly as it came, it fades, his usual languorous expression returning.

“now, now, my dear, there’s no need for such sharp words,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder, eyes fixed upon the graceful dance of your knife.

your form stiffens ever so slightly beneath his closeness, the task of cutting now subtly hindered. however, you remain silent, a thought you have had for a while now suddenly passing through your mind.

“why do you not become a writer? you could work from home—inconsistently, i might add—and you already speak in riddles half the time. why not put it on paper?” you propose, almost innocently. it’s not the kind of work you would choose yourself, since it pays meagerly, but at least it’s something. “i am sure there is someone out there who will appreciate your morbid thoughts”

now dazai’s body tenses. his grip tightens briefly at your hip before easing again. the air in the room grows heavy, stirring the faint memory of the suffocation you once felt when you tried to drown yourself. for the first time in your marriage, you may have struck a nerve.

“i’d rather not become a writer,” he says, simply. you slow your movements, wondering whether you should say something—anything. “that dream should not belong to a soul as tarnished as mine,” he adds, his voice unusually soft as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck.

once again, he speaks in enigmas you cannot fully grasp, but they feed the quiet curiosity you harbor for this man. dazai inhales your scent, the familiarity of it a soothing balm against the ache left behind by an old friend.

he draws you a bit closer until his chest presses fully against your back, his mind fuzzy from the sake. you furrow your brows, putting down the knife as your body grows somewhat tense. “osamu, i cannot work like this.”

his name sounds so beautiful rolling off your tongue. it stirs something in him—a sudden urge to pull you closer—but he holds back, not wishing to drive you further away. he knows how proximity unsettles you, how closeness makes you feel caged. still, he quietly hopes that one day, you might come to welcome his touch.

“then stop working,” dazai says, his lips grazing your skin. “no one is forcing you to. you have free will, my dear. you should indulge in that a bit more often.”

you frown at his words, a reluctant yet oddly comfortable shiver tracing your spine at the warmth of his lips. “and idle about like you? i think not. the chickens would die of starvation and the fields would fall to ruin.”

you tilt your head away, no longer wishing to feel him against you. the subtle rejection stings more than he cares to admit. his grip loosens, allowing you the space to move.

you turn to face him. not quite pulling away—but just enough to make the distance felt. your eyes linger on him, your frown deepens, and the weight in your chest grows heavier.

“the chickens do not have to starve,” he speaks calmly, a resigned smile on his lips.

you raise one of your brows at his words, confused. “what do you mean?”

“we could sell them. or release them, if you’d prefer something more gentle,” he says with a soft chuckle. his voice carries something distant. you still don’t understand.

dazai takes a step closer and cradles one of your cheeks, his touch almost hesitant.

“we could be free,” he murmurs, “if that’s what you want. free from the expectations that bind us to a life no mind like ours can thrive in. i thought you might want that, too. you never seemed content here.”

his thumb caresses the tender skin right under your eye and you lean into his hand without meaning to. you avert your gaze, his words taking root somewhere deep. it’s true. you’ve never quite felt that you belong here.

in fact, you never feel that you belong anywhere. you don’t belong to this house, nor to the land, nor even to yourself at times. perhaps the only place meant for you is the wind, your bones returning to the soil, buried beneath a withered plum tree.

the thought does not seem so bad, no?

it’s not like you care much for this life. then again, maybe you do. it’s hard to know. you don’t know yourself that well sometimes. but you do know one thing: ever since the weight in your chest made itself known, you ask yourself the same old question.

what is the meaning of life? specifically your life. what purpose, if any, do you serve? what purpose do you want to serve?

after all, it’s not as if anyone needs you. at least, it doesn’t feel like anyone needs you in order to keep living.

dazai surely doesn’t. least of all, you. but you don’t need him either. you don’t need anyone. all you need—or rather, all you want—is for your heart to grow still.

in the end, what is the purpose of anything, if everything is merely a fleeting indulgence meant to make the wait for death more bearable? to make the fact that you will die—no matter what—feel less sharp, less present, as though distractions could ever dull the certainty of it?

you simply don’t see the point in anything. and you’re certain dazai feels the same. yet still, he keeps searching for a reason not to.

you both live with intent. but would it truly be so terrible if your lives unraveled into nothingness?

ah… what a selfish thought. and yet, it returns to you like the falling of dusk.

“tell me, my dear, what can i do to ease the burden that weighs so heavily upon you?” dazai asks, pulling you out of your thoughts after your silence stretches on for too long.

you look at him, a small frown gracing your face. “there is nothing you can do. the burden i carry has clung to me since early childhood. nothing has ever truly ceased the dull ache.” you mumble, placing your hand above his one on your cheek.

“a dull ache, you say? how dreadfully melancholic,” he muses, his voice taking on a softer edge, tinged with genuine curiosity. “and here i thought my own proclivities toward existential ennui were uniquely mine. it seems we may have more in common than i initially believed, my love.”

he lowers his hand from your cheek and his gaze drifts to the window, watching the sunlight filter through the paper screens. “perhaps that is why fate saw fit to bind our lives together.”

his words cause the pain in your chest to suddenly feel much sharper and you exhale shakily, your lips trembling as your eyes glisten with unshed tears.

you don’t like being this vulnerable in front of him. it makes you feel bare. but right now, even fixing your expression seems like too much of a hassle. you’d rather let the tears flow.

noticing your state, dazai pauses, realizing that perhaps he has tread too heavily on delicate ground. he frowns, struggling to find any words that might comfort you. instead, he remains silent and wraps his arms around you, offering you a warm embrace.

you instinctively bury your face in his chest, a choked sob escaping your lips as you reluctantly hold on to him.

“i hate feeling this way. i-i just want to die…” you whisper, painfully soft, between sobs, your breathing uneven and shallow.

dazai’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly at your muttered words, a flicker of concern and understanding passing through him. perhaps even a hint of relief, knowing you feel the same as he does.

“how about a double suicide, then?” he asks, the words striking a chord deep within you.

his expression softens by a degree, and for a moment, he merely regards you in silence, his emotions somewhat scattered.

he did not wish for your death—at least, not at first. even now, the thought of losing you weighs heavy in his chest. but seeing you like this, so full of unspoken anguish and with your will to hold on slipping away, the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

and let’s not forget that he, too, harbors the wish to die. so what better solution is there than a double suicide? that way, he need not endure this wretched life any longer, nor wake up one morning only to find your body cold beside him.

after all, a life without you would only worsen his suffering. you’re his anchor in the midst of all, keeping him tethered to this hell of an earth. you’re the sole reason he’s even lived until now. without you, everything would once again lose its meaning. so, in his mind, he is doing you both a favor, should you choose to accept.

“a double suicide?” you echo his question with a hint of pensive bemusement, your vision blurred by tears still streaming down your cheeks.

of course, the thought has crossed your mind before. though such acts are seldom spoken of, and often bring disgrace upon one’s family, they are not as rare as people would like to believe.

the fire you lit a few moments ago crackles softly behind you, the scent of smoke rising into the air. dazai’s hands still rest lightly against your back, waiting. and waiting. waiting with a patience he rarely shows.

a part of you—a very small part, a sliver of self still clinging to the light within the darkness that surrounds you both—wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all. but the rest of you, the worn-out, weary, and exhausted part, only exhales.

“a double suicide.” you murmur again, as if trying the words on your tongue. they don’t taste bitter. they don’t taste like anything at all. but they bring you a kind of peace you never expected.

at last, you laugh, as if the sound might dispel the thought.

“no,” you say, though your voice wavers like the rising smoke. “not yet. there is still something i wish to do.”

you brush the remnants of your tears away with the back of your hand, yet remain near him, close enough to feel the warmth still left in his skin. he glances down at you—curious, though faintly puzzled.

he does not press. instead, he lets the silence hang between you to see if the thought will speak itself aloud.

“and what, pray tell, might that be?”

you don’t answer his question. not with words.

instead you reach up, slow yet deliberate, as though afraid you might startle him. you cup his cheek, letting your fingers rest just under his jaw. his skin is warm and impossibly soft—unexpected for a man like him. dazai stills beneath your touch, the faintest intake of a breath catching between you.

“i want to know,” you say, barely louder than the wind outside. “what it’s like to be close to you. truly.”

his gaze flickers. something unreadable settles in his eyes, and for a long, breathless moment, he says nothing. you almost pull back as hesitation overcomes you. but then his hand comes up—not to stop you, but to hover near your wrist.

“you’re serious?” he asks, his voice hoarse and filled with a trace of doubt.

you nod.

your thumb brushes the line of his jaw, and slowly, hesitantly, you lean in and kiss him.

it’s not perfect. there’s awkwardness in the first press of lips, as though he doesn’t quite know how to receive you. his mouth stays still, unsure, almost questioning, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, his hands find your waist, drawing you closer as he reluctantly returns your kiss. gentle at first—then, gradually, with more certainty.

this isn’t your first kiss. of course it isn’t. but it is the first one you’ve initiated not to fool your family or friends into believing you’re sickly-sweet in love, but out of pure need and want.

the truth is, you and dazai have never had sex. it was a boundary you set at the beginning of your arranged marriage—one he respected without question. you were utterly grateful for that. most men wouldn’t have even let you voice your wishes, much less honored them.

you’ve both been lying to the world. to your families, your friends—everyone. pretending he had fulfilled his marital duties, pretending that everything between you was as expected. eventually, you always knew there would come a time when you’d be expected to have sex; to preserve the bloodline, to keep up appearances, to stop the whispers.

you and dazai had always imagined that moment would feel cold. dutiful. something done for the sake of obligation, not desire. neither of you ever expected it to feel so soft, so warm, so startlingly right. beautiful, even.

there is no grand declaration, no desperation. just the unspoken understanding that you want to be near him—not because the world has told you to, not because obligation demands it, but because, before the end, you want to know what it feels like to be with him. to be one with him.

— — —

later, the fire burns low. only a few embers remain, glowing weakly, unobtrusive, and offering little to no warmth. yet, your skin feels like it’s on fire. you lie beside him, bare, your head resting against his shoulder. his arm is draped loosely around you, and the bandages he always wears are unraveling, barely clinging to him now.

in the dim light, you catch a glimpse of his scars. a sense of melancholy settles over you—slow and aching. without a word, you lift your hand and begin tracing the lines along his arm, the one holding you close. he neither flinches nor speaks.

you have always assumed he is ashamed of them. why else hide them beneath layers of cloth? perhaps he is. but right now, he makes no move to stop you. he even seems... at ease. maybe because he knows it won’t matter, not at the end of this very day.

“i didn’t believe it would feel like this… love, i mean,” you murmur, your gaze turned toward the ceiling while listening to the quiet crackle of the fading fire. dazai chuckles, low and uncertain. not mockery, but something softer. something that he doesn’t quite want to name or acknowledge.

you shift, nestling your head beneath his chin and feel the faintest press of lips against your hair. his heartbeat is steady, anchoring you. you could fall asleep like this and wake with him tomorrow, feel the sun on your face and air still in your lungs. and yet… part of you would rather never wake again.

it’s tiring, having your heart constantly contradict itself.

“are you certain about this?” dazai suddenly asks, disturbing the serenity of the moment. perhaps he intends to plant a final seed of doubt. but dazai is not the kind of man to falter simply because he’s found tenderness. it would not unravel his resolve.

“i am.” you answer without hesitation, a content smile gracing your lips as your eyes flutter shut.

he doesn’t press further.

you lie beside each other until the fire dies out entirely, leaving only ash and fading warmth.

the moonlight slips through the cracks of paper screens, casting a pale, silvery sheen upon your skin. it makes you look so ethereal in dazai’s eyes that he almost forgets how vile this world has been to you both.

a shame, he thinks. a cruel shame that someone as lovely as you had to meet him—a man already rotting from the inside, only good for ruining you. but maybe… maybe you were already ruined long before he came into your life. how would he know?

perhaps this is a grand mistake and he shouldn’t have encouraged you to kill yourself along with him.

a flicker of guilt crosses dazai, and he holds you a bit tighter, his fingers combing through your hair aimlessly—gently, as though this has always been his purpose. and maybe it has been. but it is far too late to take it up now.

“the uji river is a fine place to die.” the words slip from your mouth, sounding light and distant, though the meaning beneath them rings clear as temple bells.

“mm. it is,” he simply says, hoping to prolong this rare and tender moment, one woven with warmth, love, and fragile vulnerability.

“we should probably go now.” you rise with care as you glance down at him, the smile you offer him laced with gratitude. dazai doesn’t understand what he’s done to deserve it. helping you die? how absurd. he should be punished for taking you down this path with him.

“we should,” he echoes, sitting upright and reaching for his discarded kimono. he wraps it loosely around himself, as you do the same.

the walk to the river is longer than he expects. he finds himself thinking about all the times he made you walk this path alone to fetch water or rinse blood from his clothes. a small frown tugs briefly at his mouth, but it vanishes as soon as he sees the reflection of the moon and stars dancing across the surface of the river. it’s a breathtaking sight.

his gaze eventually drifts to you, taking in the tranquility etched into your face, mirroring the calm flow of the river. you offer him the rope with a faint smile, yet all he can think about is how he should have held your hand on the way here instead.

how regretful.

he accepts the rope, his fingertips gently brushing against your palm. you begin searching the riverbank for a stone heavy enough to keep you sinking to the ground. dazai simply watches for a moment, his grip tightening around the rope in his hand.

“wait,” he says, stepping toward you. he takes your rope and wordlessly begins binding it to his own. the knot he ties is firm, secure, and too practiced. it seems he perfected it a while ago—a remnant of darker days and failed attempts.

“what was that for?” you ask, raising one of your eyebrows in subtle confusion. dazai only offers you a small smile, pulling you closer before wrapping the joined rope around your waists. not too tight, but also not too loose enough for either of you to slip free.

“wouldn’t want the world to think we were anything but lovers, right?” he teases, but in truth, he only did it so he could hold you close once you’re both underwater.

after all, there’s something oddly poetic about being beside you as your lungs fill with water—being the last thing you see before you die. perhaps, too, to offer you a final moment of comfort.

eventually, you both find a stone large enough to keep you anchored. together, you carefully roll it to the river’s edge, where dazai kneels and ties the rope securely around it.

you step into the water first. the immediate cold sting sends a shiver down your spine, and you can already feel your feet growing numb. the pain is sharp but not unpleasant—almost refreshing.

“are you sure you don’t want to write a letter to someone—anyone?” he asks, reaching to hold both your hands as his eyes search yours. you shake your head, a peaceful expression softening your face.

“no. it’s better this way.” you pause for a moment, breathing in the crisp air. “anything i’d write… it would just confuse them or hurt them more. and it would mean i wanted to be remembered, which i don’t.”

“i see,” dazai murmurs, then turns to gaze upon his reflection in the water one last time. he does not know why or what he hopes to find. all he beholds is a face unworthy of life. death ought to have claimed him long ago.

“if i were granted one last selfish wish,” he says, turning to face you again. “i’d hope we meet again. in the afterlife. or perhaps a kinder era.”

your smile deepens at his words, and you squeeze his hands reassuringly, a few tears welling in your eyes. you’re not sure why you begin to cry—whether it is joy, sorrow, relief, or regret. but whatever emotion stirs within you in this moment, one thing feels certain: this was always how your story was meant to end.

dazai regards you in silence, gently brushing away a tear with his thumb as he cups your cheek. you lean into his touch, quietly hoping it feels just as warm beneath the water.

“close your eyes,” he says, his own filled with endless affection for you. you oblige, though a touch of reluctance lingers, and let your focus drift to the sounds of the night instead.

he draws you closer, until you are chest to chest, his hands gliding sensually along your sides. all the while, he inches the stone nearer to the river’s edge—quietly, carefully. unbeknownst to you, all it needs now is the slightest push to take you both into the depths of the unknown.

his lips find your temple, pressing a featherlight kiss against it. they trail slowly, achingly so, down the curve of your face until they reach your ear. he whispers something, too soft to catch. but before you can ask him to repeat it, he gives the stone one final push, and together, you are pulled into the river.

a sudden splash disturbs the stillness of the night, echoing briefly—then, all returns to silence.

the moment your body breaks the surface of the river, the water greets you like a blade. it is not merely cold—it sears, merciless and breath-stealing. your lungs betray you with a sudden gasp, and with it, a mouthful of water slips in.

you stop yourself from gasping again as panic flares, instead tightening your grip on dazai with what little feeling and adrenaline your body still holds.

the river is dark and foggy, and you can barely make out dazai’s silhouette. the descent to the riverbed stretches on and on, impossibly long, as though time itself has slowed to a crawl.

your grip on him falters as numbness begins to claim your limbs. you had thought yourself prepared, ready for the cold, for the stillness, for the panic stirring inside of you. but nothing could have readied you for how loud your body fights against surrender.

the rational part of your mind gnaws at you, furious. it screams at you to slip free, swim to the surface and breathe. you hadn’t thought you’d falter—not like this, not when it mattered the most.

and even though you do, you somehow force yourself to stay calm, to close your eyes and just… feel.

your heartbeat pulses, a faint thrum against your ribs. the pressure in your ears grows sharp, more amplified, and a distant ringing begins the deeper you sink. it is torturous.

dazai’s arms loosen around you, but the rope he tied holds fast, and you feel the faintest comfort of the weight of him pressed beside you. you found the idea foolish at first. now, you’re glad he tied you both together. surely, the end would have felt far crueler without him near you.

eventually, you don’t feel yourself sinking anymore. the cold no longer bites. it embraces.

hypothermia drapes itself over you like a burial shroud, stealing sensation, thought, and the last remnants of fear. a strange calm overcomes you, and the pain quiets.

it feels surreal, yet oddly peaceful. the ringing in your ears fades, and your heartbeat begins to slow. it almost feels like you’re floating. you wonder if dazai feels the same strange bliss that’s overtaken you.

eventually, your body gives in. you cannot hold your breath any longer. water floods your lungs, and a burning sensation erupts in your throat and chest—your consciousness slowly slipping.

suddenly, you remember the first time you met dazai. it’s a vivid, yet fleeting sensation. a trivial memory. why this? why now? you don’t know. you wonder what his mind offers him in this moment. perhaps a family long abandoned? a friend buried by grief? you?

how would you know?

how could you ask?

how—when both of you are slowly dying?

the pain eventually vanishes. you would never admit it, but despite the initial dislike for him you expressed at the beginning of your marriage, you’ve grown to love him. you would have liked if he thought of you in his last final moments.

you don’t blame the universe for pairing you with someone equally broken as yourself. after all, he is the reason you were able to end this miserable excuse of a life, in which you were doomed to find nothing but pain from the beginning.

note.: this was somewhat self-indulgent if you couldn’t tell. also, i had to search so many synonyms and create so many awkward sentences just to maintain some semblance of historical accuracy, and let me tell you, this was so exhausting... (still, i’d consider this one of my best written pieces so far) anyway, hope you enjoyed!

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

copyright © mqdilen 2025 all rights reserved.

[mqdilen]

⭒ .๋ ࣭ ⊹ ˖ 「𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞.」

fandom.: bungou stray dogs

synopsis.: yosano is obsessed with your breasts

pairing.: akiko yosano x afab!reader

cw.: !nsfw! established relationship, soft dom yosano, fingering, pet names, (light) orgasm denial, nipple sucking, kind of vulgar language

word count.: 1k (approximate reading time: four minutes)

og req here

yosano’s smile grows the moment she sees you step out of your shared bedroom, struggling to clasp the necklace around your neck. she doesn’t move to help you. not yet. her gaze drifts, lingering on your lips, then lower, pausing with clear appreciation.

your breasts look delectable in that crimson dress.

“my, my,” she says with a playful lilt. “it’s good you didn’t wear that on our first date. i wouldn’t have been able to keep my eyes off you.”

with a small smile, you throw her a playful pose—exaggerated and unserious, though the way your dress hugs your figure makes her question your intentions. the deep v-neck of your dress plunges dramatically to your midriff, framing your chest just right. yosano raises an eyebrow but steps closer, amused.

“now you’re really teasing me, aren’t you, sweet?”

her hands find your hips with practiced ease, pulling you in. they slide up slowly, caressing your waist, fingers grazing the edges of your ribs. a small shiver runs through you.

“we’re already late, you know,” you remind her softly, arms wrapping around her neck.

yosano hums. “what’s going to change in a few more minutes?” her tone is light, but the intensity in her gaze is noticeable. “we’ll just say we were late for fashionable reasons. i’m sure the others will understand once they see you. i mean, look at you,” she brushes her lips against the shell of your ear. “you’re stunning.”

a warm flush spreads across your cheeks, and you press your lips to hers in response, your breath catching as her mouth welcomes you. the kiss is deep but restrained, careful not to smudge your lipstick, though you feel her desire through every soft movement of her lips.

your tongues meet, brushing against each other in a slow and deliberate manner. not a clash, but more of a glide; it’s slick, warm, and impossibly intimate, yet still feeling desperate. her hands stay on your waist, grounding you in the moment as you melt into her. then one hand drifts higher.

fingertips slip along the edge of your dress’s neckline, dipping just beneath the plunge, but never fully past the fabric. a gasp slips past your lips as she finds your breast, her touch light but palpable, thumb circling your perk nipple through the thin material. the dress does little to dull the heat beneath her irresistible touch.

you tighten your grip around her neck, deepening the kiss for a moment before pulling away to catch your breath, lips slightly parted. your breaths mingle but yosano doesn’t stop.

her lips trail along your jaw, slow and reverent, before finding the tender space beneath your ear. she kisses you there, then lower, where your pulse becomes palpable beneath her mouth.

“i really don’t think we have time for this,” you whisper, breathlessly, but your voice lacks conviction.

she doesn’t answer. instead, she gently presses you back until your spine meets the bedroom door. the mild impact rocks your chest forward, enough to make your breasts bounce, caught by the tension of your dress. yosano chuckles low at the sight.

“that’s a view,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb again over your nipple, her gaze filled with desire. you let your head fall back, lips parting in a quiet whimper. and that’s when her other hand slides down, fingers gliding beneath the blessed slit of your dress and over the bare skin of your inner thigh. her hand stills.

“oh?” she breathes, tone rich with amusement. “what’s this, hm? no underwear?”

you glance down, your voice stammering slightly, “well, you could see the outline of it through the dress...”

yosano’s smile deepens, slow and sweetly wicked. “mm, i see. well, not that i’m complaining.” her fingers roll your clit in slow circles, coaxing out more suppressed moans as your body arches toward her.

your hands begin to wander aimlessly wanting to offer her some kind of pleasure in return for the overwhelming kind she’s giving you. still, you’re not sure your touch could ever compare to hers. but the fact that you’re trying is enough of a comfort—at least to you.

yosano’s hand finally slips past the plunge of your dress. she cups your breast gently, but firmly, squeezing with purpose. then, she pushes the fabric of your dress aside, exposing the plum flesh while her mouth trails kisses impossibly lower.

her lips find your perk nipple eventually, and she begins to suck on it. her tongue swirls over the tender bud, coating it with her saliva as she occasionally bites down on it, drawing a sharp gasp from you. your eyes roll back, and your knees begin to tremble as you feel your impending orgasm grows closer.

she can feel the way your muscles tense up and chuckles lowly against your skin, her mouth leaving your nipple with a wet parting sound. she pulls her hand away from your clit, her fingers slick with your cum.

the sudden loss of friction leaves you reeling, and you whine in disappointment as your orgasm slips away. “why’d you stop?” you ask, panting, and with a small pout. yosano doesn’t answer right away. instead, she raises her hand, fingers glistening, and offers them to you with a look that says everything.

you blush a little at the implied gesture, but reluctantly part your lips and take her fingers into your mouth, cleaning them slowly, as you taste yourself on her skin.

“now, now,” she murmurs, watching you closely. “we wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty dress, would we?” you swirl your tongue around her fingers the same way she did to your nipple, the corner of her mouth lifting. “such a good girl.”

your blush deepens at her words, and yosano eventually pulls her fingers from your mouth before leaning in for a kiss, wanting to get a taste of you. this time, she doesn’t care if she smudges your lipstick.

“it’s cruel to spoil one and neglect the other… i’ll make it fair later,” she whispers sensually against your ear while fixing your dress, giving you a teasing smile as her hand grazes the breast she didn’t get to. “sound good?”

you nod, still a little breathless, already hoping the two of you can slip away early. because the sticky heat between your thighs definitely isn’t going to fade on its own.

↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST

note.: my bbygirl needs more pretty icons... anyway, i’m not really happy how this turned out, but i really wanna work on my other drafts sooo– i hope you guys enjoy it! (i’m just a silly little perfectionist h a h a...)

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[mqdilen]

Hi! Could you do a yosano x f!reader where she's obsessed with reader's tits,, like, wheneaver they cuddle she's always resting her head on them, or when they have sex her favourite thing is sucking on them and watching them bounce... <3

here you go, love! i’m so sorry this took me so long and it’s so short too ;; i still hope you like it. i kinda forgot about the fluff, but oh well.. i’ll write some fluff for her and other characters soon! :)