#bsd dazai osamu x reader

[kitasgloves]

— ♬ NSFW

How about Incubus! DAZAI OSAMU who feeds on the erotic dreams of humans. He would enter a mortal's dream and feed on the sexual energy emitting from their erotic dreams. During the modern age, there were plentiful choices for Dazai to feed on now wet dreams are becoming common among humans. Mostly, he hasn't encountered any complications during his night feeding until he sets his sights on you.

Initially, you seemed like any typical adult human that he can suck sexual energy from during your slumber. You were unsuspecting and an easy target in the incubus' eyes. However, when Dazai sneaks into your bedroom at midnight and spawns inside your dream, he is dumbfounded. Your dream was lackluster and plotless. It made no sense. He huffed, where's the wet dream? What the hell is he going to feed on here?

The following night he makes another attempt, but you had a dreamless sleep, meaning Dazai was stuck in a dark void with nothing to eat. He could just move on and find another human to feed on but he refuses since he finds your lack of wet dreams fascinating. So, Dazai sets on a conquest to find out why.

You raised a brow at the new guy at work. He has a tall stature brown hair and eyes. Everyone at work was charmed by his natural good looks. Yet you can't help but find the man eerie. You could've sworn you could feel him staring at you unblinkingly in the corner of your eye. And how he subtly makes advances at you like touching your arm or leaning his body close to yours when he tries to talk with you. He was horrible at his job and your boss had to appoint you to help him whip into shape.

Dazai couldn't understand why you were frustrated with him. He wasn't sensing any drop of lust from you when he was flirting with you, unlike the rest of your co-workers. While it was easy for him to cast bedroom eyes and send a sensual smirk toward them, you seem indifferent to it all. It seemed like you were immune to anything sexual that it was absurd!

"Ugh, no. You have to fix your text and margin. Make sure there's an appropriate space between the paragraphs..."

You were teaching him how to do a stupid report, Dazai couldn't care less until you leaned forward and placed your hand on top of his as you guided him with the mouse. Your other hand begins to re-type all his grammatical errors while scolding him for writing unprofessional sentences. An incubus' senses are superior to a human's so Dazai can sense all of you. The smell of your skin, the sound of your steady heartbeat, and the touch of your hand on top of his. His eyes trailed down to your lips, all that was missing was the taste of you.

"Did you get all of that? I need a report done by the end of the day"

You told him as you pulled away, he almost whined at the loss of contact. Somehow, the incubus decided to obey you by doing the stupid report. You were pleasantly surprised at how he did well with the report that you had to give him a smile and a lollipop from your desk as a reward.

"You did well, Dazai! Keep it up"

How unusual. Dazai's face felt unnaturally flushed at your encouragement. He decides he likes to see your smile more. He tries to do well with work and gets acquainted with you as friends. The incubus has forgotten his original plan to conjure sexual dreams from you. Dazai seems distracted when you smile and laugh at him. He finds himself craving for your innocent affection. You were so naive and free-spirited that he can't help but want it all for himself.

He does try to woo you like a normal human. He left flowers at your desk, gifted you chocolates during lunch, and he even surprised you with an adorable cat plush toy. Eventually, his hunger catches up to him and he's suddenly reminded of his origin. Dazai temporarily feeds on other humans but somehow he never feels satisfied. Their dreams aren't erotic enough. He needed your sexual dreams. Frustrated, he decided if you can't give him any wet dreams to feast on, he's just gonna force them out of you.

After all, you're merely a human. Humans are weak to the call of the flesh. If he has to fuck the dream version of you so he could eat, he will. Dazai has become desperate at this point. What he wasn't expecting though, as he waited outside of your bedroom door, was the overwhelming smell of lust. It was so sudden that it sent the incubus to his knees. Dazai clutches his chest as his legs wobble. The scent of lust coming from inside your bedroom was overpowering him and it made him drool. Fuck, that smells delectable. He needs a taste of that right now.

When he quietly opens your bedroom door and peeks inside, Dazai's breath comes to a screeching halt. He felt the sweat covering him from all over as he watched your half-naked figure with wide and unblinking eyes. You were sprawled out on your bed with your fingers inside of you, vigorously pumping them in and out while your arousal coated your fingers and stained your bedsheets. Dazai gulped as he watched with greedy eyes. Your hair was all over the place, and your chest heaved out while you let out breathy moans. Fuck, there was no way the incubus wasn't turned on by all of this.

All of that insatiable lust came from you.

Your eyes were shut with your eyebrows knitted, he found it both hot and adorable when you tried to rip an orgasm out of yourself. Dazai examined both your face and your fingers making nasty sounds by fucking your cunt. You were probably ready to sleep, with the way your pajamas were pulled down to your ankles. And no panties too? The drool reaches down Dazai's chin.

Who are you lusting after?

The question made the incubus involuntarily envious. Who pathetic and lucky human have you found attractive? Was his human form not hot enough for you? Dazai snaps out of his thoughts when he hears a high-pitched moan from you. He can tell you're approaching your release. Fuck, he wished he was there to help you. He'll fuck his fingers deep and steal orgasm after orgasm from you. Or he'll use his mouth to eat you out and fuck his tongue deep inside of you. Or he'll ram his cock deep into your cunt and paint your walls with his seed. There are so many possibilities that it makes the incubus delirious.

Your whimpering was getting louder as your back arched like a cat. The scent of lust emitting from you wasn't like anything Dazai had encountered before and it made him lightheaded. Suddenly, you let out a choked sob and throw your head back while your release takes full control of you. Goddamn, you looked beautiful. Your eyes were rolled to the back of your skull, and your body was spasming, and you were screaming.

"Dazai! Oh fuck!—Hngh, Dazai..."

Your orgasm slowly passes and the incubus is motionless. His jaw drops to the floor. He heard that right, didn't he? You called out his name while you came? The revelation sends him into a frenzy as a devilish grin decorates his face. How lucky he was you were lusting after him. At that moment, Dazai realizes that your wet dreams won't be enough for his appetite, he wants the real thing. He wants to bend you in half and pound you senseless. He wants to hear you scream his name until the heavens rumble. He needs to consume you.

You were catching your breath when you heard your bedroom door creak open.

edit: here's part 2 lol

[pearlpost]

minute moments ⸻ d. osamu

! now @sinkofskin

abstract : in which dazai osamu hates a lot of things, but with you, he tucks them close to his heart. warnings : - statistics : 0.6k words | standalone

The sky is dark over Yokohama tonight, all shadowed blue and the faintest flecks of stars. Dazai reaches for you, slips a hand over the curve of your waist and tucks his nose into your neck. You smell of blood and smoke and rain. All the things he does not particularly like.

But Dazai likes your laugh. Especially when you laugh because of him. The staccato of it is a tender, melancholy thing, he feels it more than he hears it, at the moment, the sound vibrating soft in your throat. He nuzzles deeper into you.

"Hi," you murmur, lace a gentle hand into his hair. The touch makes his cheeks warm, makes him raise his head to catch a glimpse of you. The knife-sharp bright of your eyes, your pretty smile, the way your hands are all delicate veins and soft skin as they settle so carefully over the dip of his neck.

He buries back into you, breathes you in like a drowning man.

He is drowning, sometimes, it is almost all he knows.

Sometimes, he drowns a little less when he can touch you, like this.

Feels less like being pulled under when all he can smell and taste and hear is you you you and Dazai thinks he can sink into your bones, ball himself so small and so tight that he fits into the spaces of your ribcage.

He wishes you would, sometimes. Wishes you would break all his bones and fold him up, tuck him away entirely for yourself.

You sigh at his silence, smooth a thumb over his temple. The touch precedes a kiss, a faint, lingering note of warmth that blooms beneath his skin and coils down into his chest, thorns into his heart. He gasps, something almost raw in the sound, and tilts his head towards you for more.

You laugh again, quieter, more sad this time. Indulge him, the next kiss barely grazing the curve of his eye, your half-smile ghosting his lashes. He thinks of how sorrow rims your eyes too often and presses you tighter against him, holds you there until he is sure that, even after you are long gone, the imprint of you can be found on his bones.

I love you he wants to tell you. Wants to say those words so badly they hurt to keep on his tongue, sears into the back of his throat like acid.

I love you.

Stay with me.

Please.

He hopes you know. Prays to gods he has no belief in that you always know the words he cannot say, always know that he is entirely for you, even if you never want him back. Even if you never get the chance to hear the words from his lips.

He raises his head. Looks at you and aches when you look back, all broken-star beauty and that pretty smile. The night shadows you, draws you back out into something little more than a dream, your edges softened between the hours of dusk and dawn. You are wispy like this, all faded and yet too much for him.

"Hi," he whispers back. You smile at him, soft and sweet and all the things he hates unless it is in you, from you. He knows you know, feels the ache of it burn through him and hates himself a little less, here against your skin.

He does not mind all these things he hates, if he gets you with them.

I love you.

minute moments. © pearlpost, 2024 — written for komorebi by @shibaraki.

[star-centric]

Yarrow (Everlasting Love) || Dazai

MEANING: “Yarrow is a beautiful flower that shares twin meanings of healing and love. In modern times, the flower has become associated with love, since it has been used in weddings and even hung over matrimonial beds, in hopes of fostering true love for seven years after marriage.”

A/N: It’s been a while since I written anything let alone Dazai (please forgive me, I’ve been really sad lately lol). Reader is gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

“Dance with me.”

Dazai reached his hand out to you, his smile being too gentle for the mischievous one that you’re used to. The music shifted from the jovial tone to something more soft and romantic, as some of the couples started to make their way to the floor.

“Right now?” It was lame, but you were caught off guard at how eager he was.

“I don’t see a better time than now.” He laughed, already pulling you from your seat. He felt warm as he cupped your hand, falling into the mix of the crowd. He pulled you into a slow sway, matching the rhythm of the tune. You were nervous, but it was the good kind of nervous that left you feeling giddy as the butterflies piled in your stomach.

You laid your hands around neck while his were locked around your waist, slender fingers tapping at your sides to get your attention. “You’re zoning out again.”

“Sorry- I’m trying to make sure I don’t step on your feet.” You chuckled. You weren’t as smooth as him, like he was with his words and actions.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Dazai took his opportunity to spin you, his palm landing on the small of your back. He brought you in close, chestnut eyes flickering from your own to your lips. “You look absolutely divine.”

You saw the growing look in his eyes and tapped his shoulder, “Be on your best behavior- your coworkers are watching.”

Dazai hummed, “Seeing someone as beautiful as you, they’ll understand.”

He didn’t give you time to respond as he dipped you, smirking at your shocked look. You shouldn’t have been surprised- you’ve known him for years. Back when he was lost in the Port Mafia, back when he believed he never had a chance in becoming a human. When he believed he never had a chance at being loved- but you proved him wrong.

Your journey together wasn’t easy by any means, but it became worth it when he began to slowly let down his guard, you finally chipping away at his layers. He never fully opened up to you with everything, but you weren’t expecting him to. There were still some things shrouded in his past that you don’t know, but you’re ready to ready to listen if he ever decided to tell you.

You remember when Dazai confessed to you, when he first shared his love. He told you that showed him the gentle side of humanity that he thought didn’t existed. He knew that you were genuine but also foolish- yet he couldn’t get enough of you just as you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Maybe it’s time we get some fresh air…”

“Osamu, we can’t just leave our guests.” You gently scolded.

“Why not? Everybody had you to themselves all day,” he leaned in closer, blowing on your ear. “Don’t I have a right to be selfish?”

Delicious shivers went down your spine as you tried to fight your smile. “You’ll have tonight and the rest of our lives to do that.”

The rings decorating your fingers were simple proof of that.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: Dazai wakes up with a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

WARNINGS: none!!! :D

COMMENTS: i was. watching wan and he woke up form being asleep on the couch and i was like "omg dazai what if you get cold" so here are my brain worms deep sigh

Dazai wakes up to a blanket tucked around his shoulders again.

It’s hardly uncommon for him to fall asleep on the agency’s couch, snoozing the day away and Kunikida looms over him and hollers in his ears. It’s not the ideal napping place, but it's better than being stuck in a barrel for hours or actually having to work alongside his ever-so-diligent coworker.

Sighing softly, he props himself up on his elbows and lets out a yawn. Strangely enough, Kunikida is nowhere to be seen—and by the muffled noise of keyboard typing, he assumes he’s at his desk.

The blanket falls off of his shoulders.

Dazai’s gaze flickers down to the soft, fuzzy fabric. It's decorated with little cat faces, their pink tongues poking out from their mouths. Dazai pinches the fabric between his fingers and rubs his thumb over the corner.

There was not a blanket on him when he fell asleep on the couch. There’s no way it was Kunikida who tucked him in so kindly, although it’s quite funny to imagine.

“Kunikida, I have the documents you asked for.”

Dazai perks up at the sound of that voice, a wide smile spreading across his lips. Scrambling off the couch, he almost falls flat on his face when the blanket snags his ankle but manages to skid out into the main walkway without breaking his nose.

“Belladonna!” he cries, flinging himself across the office and into your embrace.

You catch him with a soft “oof,” laughing melodically at his antics. Kunikida is yelling something to the effect of “do not throw yourself at your coworkers,” but you’re stroking the back of his head and cradling him against you so sweetly he can’t bear to listen to him right now.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask, a teasing lint in your voice.

“Alas, I was too busy thinking about you. I didn’t sleep a wink.” he pouts, swooning in your arms, “You’re much too radiant for me!”

“You’re such a liar! You were sleeping like—” you stop, rethinking your word choice and Dazai is almost certain you were about to say “the dead.”

So you saw him. How interesting indeed. Perhaps you were the one that tucked him in so kindly. He does prefer that outcome if he’s being honest with himself. It’s impossible for anyone else to treat him the way you do, with such patience and grace.

“Say...does that mean you saw me?” he leans in, so close that his eyelashes flutter against your cheek, “You watched me? That’s awfully scandalous, Belladonna.”

Your gaze darts away and he knows he’s got you, even if no signs of embarrassment show on your face. You’ve developed something of a tolerance for his flirtatious antics, and while it's fun to have somewhat of a challenge, he does miss your sputtering disbelieving face.

“Don’t—! Just sleep out here then!” you huff, the space between your brows creasing with unexpected worry, “Your...your neck was at a bad angle too, retsing on that headrest. I’m worried that couch is going to give you a cramp one of these days.”

Dazai’s teasing smile falters at the genuine concern. Is that why his sleep has been more comfortable? Was that why a soft pillow had shown up on that very couch? You’re not meeting his gaze anymore, so you surely must know he’s figured it out, right? If he wasn’t sure of it before, he definitely is now.

“Is that why you brought me a blanket too?” he says, and when you suck in a soft breath he knows he's got you.

“...It’s winter. You might get cold.” you mumble, but you’re not looking at him anymore and his face splits into a wide grin.

That’s so sweet.

“Aww, you do care about me!” he coos, batting his lashes as he slides up to you.

“Go do your work, Dazai!” you fumble with your words as you turn away, quickly walking away from him and back to your desk.

He wonders what brought about the sudden shyness. He wonders why your concern was so easily overtaken by his flirtations. He wonders why you can’t stop your gaze from flickering to him throughout the workday, even though he’s being just as disruptive as usual.

And deep down, he knows why.

[eroslove88]

Candy Gram

Warning: Yandere themes, kidnapping, coercion, gaslighting, and noncon (technically)

Pairing: Yan. Dazai x Semi-Yan. Reader

Note: In honor of Valentine's Day AND that I left an anonymous candy gift for my crush in our Chinese class (I think he like it but he thought that a guy sent it because of the note... my handwriting was bad and I was awkward) It's kind of bad, but I haven't written in a while.

It was strange you always thought, if they had the masterlist for every kid's schedule why did you have to find their 2nd period? None the less here you were, walking your friend to her 4th so you can follow him to his 2nd. It wasn't that hard honestly, the halls were crowded and he didn't see you- not like he even knew who you were, but you swore he was staring at you while talking to his friend. Caused to pretend to pick something off the floor, but anyways with 3 minutes left to spare before class started, Dazai entered his 2nd, "Personal Finance" you mumbled retreating to your stats class.

The whole day you were filled with this feeling of happiness- but also impending doom. It could all go wrong! You might write something creepy- OR AWKWARD. During your free period you marched to the booth and bought him chocolates, and you wrote something... awkward... "To Dazai- I've seen you around and I think you have really nice hair, and I apologize if this sounds creepy! Happy Valentine's Day!"

The last you expected was for him to come into your final class of the day to talk to his friends about the gram, "Shit..." you mumbled hearing his curious voice, "Possibly a guy" he guessed moving to the side to let you pass by him, but his eyes never left you, and you felt that. Neither him not his friends were in this class, what was he doing here? You leaned forward to talk to your friend as you heard their conversation, "Don't be an idiot." Chuuya responds snatching the paper, "The handwriting, it's bad, but unless the guy"bends that way" no dude would write you a compliment." The earth could have swallowed you whole in that moment.

On your way out of school your friend had called you, but your phone had died due to your charger being broken. You tried rushing out of campus, but you were in such a rush you ran into someone, "I'm so sorry!" you practically shouted as the lean man you just ran into dropped his container of cookies, "There's no need to worry about it hun, I know you didn't mean in." A blush sneaks onto your face as you make eye contact with him, "Uh, yeah, I'm sorry" you whisper bending down quickly to help pick up the cookies. "Such a kind lady" he says with a chuckle before grabbing your chin with his free hand, "Tell me," he leans in, "Do you think my hair looks nicer up close, or from afar, like what you're used to?" he whispers. You practically want to gulp before calming your nerves, "So... You-"

"Know? Yeah, like I wasn't going to notice you sneaking around campus just to see me." he tilts his head up before helping you up, "I'm sorry!" you say with panic in your voice, "I'm-I'm not normally like this" you hand him the container with broken cookies. He chuckles shoving it into his bag, "I like this. It makes me feel better about myself" he slowly closes the gap and grabs you by the waist before continuing to walk, and you get the hint and follow suit. "D-Dazai, where are we going?" he doesn't respond.

You regret it now, following him back to your dorm. Your wrist were bound by his neckties to the corners of the bed, he started unbuttoning his shirt, "You're quite lucky" he says staring at your nervous self, "Dazai, I'm having second thoughts-"

"You're lucky I return your feelings," his knees are at both sides of your body as he grips your face to look at his, "I'm going to make you feel so good, and remember you like me so I'm just doing you the favor of skipping that awkward stage." You squirmed a bit, and you bite your lip shaking your head slightly, "I love you but-" his lips quickly latch around yours, his kiss is sloppy; a lot of saliva and it's desperate. He pulls away for air "So, you'll let me do this?" he asks between gasps, his face is soft and almost sad.

"I can't..." you begin to trail off. "But I can." he kisses your cheeks before getting up and begins to unbuckle his belt, and you look away embarrassed. "Don't be scared baby, you can look" and you do, you take a peek; his body is covered in scars, healing bruises, new injuries, and, "wow-..." you say before getting flustered, "I didn't... didn't think it'd be that..." he chuckles, "big?" you nod tears threatening to leave your eyes as he lifts your legs up.

"Dazai! No-wait-" he rolls his eyes, "Don't you love me? Please, for me." Using the slick from your already wet cunt his begins to slowly push in, you don't even get to respond. You gasp at the piercing, but slow feeling of his cock entering your tight hole. Your head is thrown back with a cry, "No-no-no- please please, Osamu-" he groans his hands traveling to your hips for a firmer hold, "Just like that baby, beg" he moans leaving your pussy just to quickly enter again, you yell at the pain. He's practically pounding into you huffing loudly, and your sobbing, there's no pleasure in it. He's trying to reach his own orgasm. He leans forward his thrusts getting shallow as he bites your neck, sucking on it. You're squirming and crying at the feeling of his saliva and his veiny dick, and it's all so overwhelming. "O-Osamu!" you yell, his hard teeth Pierce your skin, his cock twitches and he whines against your skin. He cums in side, you sniffle a bit before he pulls out.

"See," he's breathing shallowly, "That-that wasn't so bad" he removes the condom before getting dressed again. "Osa-" you can't even finish your sentence before you're crying again. "Oh baby~" he coos. His fingers are tracing up your thighs, "Un-unti-" he shushes you, "Not yet..." he begins to kiss your body; starting from thighs, to stomach, clavicle, neck, and face. Dazai doesn't kiss your lips he just stares at your red trembling lips before chuckling and laying on your nude body. You begin to stutter something out until he grabs a random clean pair of his underwear from his drawer beside the bed and shoving it into your mouth, "Don't ruin this, it's much nicer when you're quiet." His hands hug your torso, but his entire body is practically pinning you down with his legs also hooking around your limbs, "Happy Valentine's Day, Hun."

[sahisan]

— bsd twitter links / visuals ! part... multiple !

featuring . dazai, mykola, kunikida, akutagawa, yosano + bonus (separate).

notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! this part includes multiple chars because my inbox has quite a few reqs of visuals with different chars so instead of spamming them i decided to make them into one single post. i couldn't help myself with the bonus sorry chat...

— dazai.

handjob while he plays video games.

picking up his pace ! make sure to keep up <3

he can be pretty rough when he's not lazy wants to be.

↑ some more.

choking you while fingering you. ughh i need.

llllloves using toys on you. he's so mean about it too.

on the agency's couch...

absolutely undeniably dazai coded.

— mykola.

he loves it messy. or making you a mess, you choose.

changing positions every minute cause he wants to try literally everything.

surely he can go deeper. and faster.

anywhere? anywhere.

loves dressing you up.

↑ and himself as well.

— kunikida.

loves having you give him a titjob.

sucking him off.

he is absolutely folding when you hug him during sex.

slow n deep.

he finally fucks you on his desk.

he's already trembling once in your arms.

— akutagawa.

please give him a handjob. he'll fold.

tries to keep his mouth occupied because he's not sure where to put it.

hugging him while riding him.

he's so gentle like you're porcelain.

this. just kiss him and cockwarm him and he's gone.

his everyday routine.

cuddly on the side <3

does not have a breeding kink however loves just filling you up.

morning.

— yosano.

riding her in reverse cowgirl.

sucking her strap while she holds your hair back for you <3

overstimming you with a vibrator.

↑ and making you wear her skirt while at it.

quickie in the agency's restroom when you're needy.

riding her.

fingering you n choking you.

sucking on her tits when she comes home after a tiring day.

+ bonus !

— chuuya.

after aftercare.

↑ some more.

you're both needy at work so he takes you to the pm headquarters' restroom to take care of it.

slapping your ass & rewarding you after.

this w him is justtt.

he decides to take the initiative.

part 1 for ��� dazai / chuuya / fyodor.

(ignore) requests that were for these characters utc !

[miiyas]

boyfriends who hold your hair back while you wash the clay mask off you face, slowly check off the mental list of the things you do during your monthly ‘skin care to the max.’ you’re exfoliating, washing, drying, smearing on a clay mask, washing again, and guasha-ing, a special thing you do once a month. it’s a long, tedious event, but it’s a reward you grant yourself when the time was right.

but despite the long process, your boyfriend, your oh-so loving boyfriend, holds your hair back and tucks in loose and stray strands of hair behind your ear as you splash water on your face, gently washing off whatever is on your face. by the first twenty minutes, he can feel the balls of his feet grow sore, shifting his weight from one leg to the other as he asks if you’re done yet, only to see you turn your head with loose debris on your chin, cheeks, eyes, and forehead. he gives out a chuckle before letting out a ‘nevermind.’

but he isn’t done after the sink, no, he’s there holding all your lotions, toners, guasha, even a bottle of water, sitting hunched over on a chair as he watches you gently work with your face. there’s a soft look in his eyes that never fails to remain as he passes you things before you even ask, placing things back down after you hand items back to you, tidying up before you can even realize.

by the time you’re done with everything, you come to consciousness with the jolts of pain on your heels and how your back gives out ever so slightly. but not to worry because despite it being a little past the time he’s supposed to be in bed, he’ll carry you and tuck you under the covers, even if it’s a quick seven steps away. a gentle kiss would be placed on the corners of your lips as he crawls into bed, laying beside you with arms wrapping around your waist. his nose tucks between the gap of your neck, inhaling your scent before placing a feather light kiss, eyes fluttering shut and lips still pressed onto your skin, a gentle, content smile tugging the corners of his cheeks.

SATORU GOJO, ryomen sukuna, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO, KENTO NANAMI, toji fushiguro, SUGURU GETO (jjk), CHUUYA NAKAHARA, ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA, osamu dazai, fyodor dostoevsky (bsd), TOBIO KAGEYAMA, miya twins, TETSURO KUROO, HAJIME IWAIZUMI, rintaro suna, (haikyuu), + ur favs !!

[osachiyo]

" LEMME HIT YOU WITH THAT DUMB DICK ! "

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — dazai, chuuya, jouno (+ tecchou), oda, sigma x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — [n]sfw content, somnophilia, these are random scenarios ok don't come at me, degradation, humiliation, doggystyle, rough, getting caught, pussy slapping, s.ex at work, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, piv, unprotected s.ex (be careful babes), praise, creampie + etc • this was originally supposed to be their fav places to fuck but i had to scrap that bc i lost motivation :') anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! not proofread soz babes

ps. reblog to show your favorite writers support, they're greatly appreciated ! <3

⁰¹ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 — fucking you in a storage room of the agency

This man is a sex fiend, so of course he would love to fuck you literally anywhere anytime. Though he can't lie, being balls deep in your juicy little cunt at work — risking both of your dignities and possibly your jobs has him harder than a fucking rock.

"Osamu— what if we g-get caugh— mmh-!" you let out a muffled moan as dazai delivered a particularly harsh thrust into your cunt, effectively shutting you up. "Relaaaax, sweet thing — almost no one c-comes here — fuck, you're so damn tight," Dazai panted into your ear, hot breath making a chill run down your spine — back arching even further against his chest.

"God, you're so good f'me — so warm 'n right, fuck!" each word was rushed, dripping with lust — the desperation in his voice made you wanna look at his pretty face, pussy clenching just from imagining how good he'd look with his hair disheveled — his usual doe eyes narrowed and a deep blush covering his skin, sweat dripping down his forehead and making his hair stick to his forehead —

Your train of thought got cut off abruptly when Dazai slapped his hand over your mouth, before his hushed voice reached your ears, "shh, stay still f'me, sweetheart."

You were about to question it when you heard the president's voice from just behind the door. The door of the room you were currently getting your back blown out in.

"Yes, I keep hearing strange noises from this one room in particular," you heard fukuzawa's muffled voice — the thought of your boss catching you in the act made your pussy flutter around Dazai’s length, making the brunette grunt in response.

"Are you trying to get us caught, darl'?" Dazai hissed into your ear — oops, you unintentionally clenched down again upon hearing the keys jingle from the other side of the door. Luckily Dazai was ready for it this time, and managed to bite down on your shoulder before he could get a sound out.

"W-what do we do, 'samu? He’s gonna come in!" you whisper-yelled, panic settling in your bones when you saw the doorknob rattle — but before he could unlock the door fully, you heard the high pitched voice of another worker, "president! an important client has come to personally see you."

"Hm, alright. looks like i'll have to tell someone else to take a look in this room later. Let’s go,"

You let out a breath of relief once the footsteps faded away, leaving you both in complete silence until dazai decided to speak up —

"You clenched reaaal hard when he was about to open the door — don't tell me you actually wanted us to get caught, did you, naughty girl?"

⁰² 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 — having you suck him off in his office

Chuuya's job as an executive of the mafia is stressful, to say the least. Not to mention some of the idiotic workers not doing their job right never fails to make his blood pressure go especially high — his anger issues doesn't help his case at all. But what does help is his sweet sweet girlfriend giving him some... 'under the table service' at work.

Chuuya's fist slammed against the hardwood desk, a loud 'thwack!' echoing in the room,

"What the fuck were you thinking?!" he sneered at the poor man in front of him — who couldn't help but flinch at seeing his boss so angry at him failing to complete a simple report.

Truth be told, Chuuya wasn’t really that mad at the worker, for the report at least — he was just.. super on edge from you deep-throating his cock under the goddamn table. He struggled to think properly, and the poor worker interrupting his private moment with you really ticked him off. Can you really blame him though?

How could he think straight with your skilled tongue swirling around his glossy tip so sinfully — fucking tease. Oh and the way you peered up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes glazed with a dreamy haze.

It all made his head spin like crazy.

“-ir, I can re-do it if you would like me to..” Chuuya’s train of thought unfortunate got cut off short, blue eyes snapping back to the man before him — right, the report.

“A-ahem — alright. Have it finished by 6 pm.”

Chuuya hated the way his voice cracked, fingernails digging into the palms of his hands as he tried not to moan out loud when you fully took him nose deep in that right, sweet little throat— shamelessly rutting your hips into his crazy expensive slacks, rubbing your juices all over the smooth, polished material.

You felt Chuuya’s fingers entangle themselves in your hair immediately after hearing the ‘click’ of the door shutting — the guy must’ve finally left.

You couldn’t help but gasp as you were pulled up from the cold, hard floor — and being shoved onto the desk instead.

You felt your pussy throb in your lacy panties as Chuuya spread your legs open — two fingers pressing and prodding at your cunt before sliding the flimsy material to the side,

“Now, let’s get into the real fun, shall we darl’?”

⁰³ ����𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐎 — teaching tecchou how to eat you out properly

Jouno was a good friend. Even though he might've had a tendency to be a little harsh and.. sadistic at times, he wasn't a bad person. I mean, he had to be atleast a decent person for teaching his inexperienced co-worker how to eat pussy — specifically, his own girlfriend's.

"No, not like that you fucking idiot —" Jouno grumbled, pulling Tecchou's head off of your cunt as he blinked in confusion like a lost puppy, sticky strings of your arousal still attached to his lips. "What do you mean? She's clearly enjoying it.."

"I mean that you can do better. You do want to make her feel fuckin' amazing, don't you?" Jouno raised a questioning brow. "Well, of cour—" "Then start acting like it."

A gasp left your honeyed lips when Tecchou's face was pushed back against your cunt — hot tongue working with even more fervor as he ate you out like he had been starving for days.

"Oh fuck — feels so g-good, sai," you whimpered out — head thrown back and your tongue threatening to loll out from the sheer pleasure the man between your legs was giving you. "Yeah, baby? Feels good when Tecchou eats that sweet cunt out reaaaaal good, huh?" Jouno's tone was condescending — his lips curled up into a cocky smirk.

“Y’smell so sweet - taste so sweet -” Tecchou's voice was low and dripping with need — your pussy throbbed from just how desperate he sounded.

"A-ah shit - can feel you throbbin' on my tongue, princess —" he groaned, tongue flattening against your clit as he shook his head side to side.

You babbled out Jouno’s name like a prayer — all while the man between your legs worshipped your cunt like it was his god, pink tongue repeatedly flicking your clit, making you see stars as your hole stretched around two of his slim fingers.

“Please — wanna c-cum s’ba- mmh!- ,” you let out a strangled noise as a harsh slap landed on your soaked pussy, clit throbbing as you threw your head back once more. “Fuckin’ slut, so damn eager to cum on another man’s tongue in front of your boyfriend, hmm?”

“Don’t — ah fuck, squeezin’ so tight ‘round my fingers, baby - don’t be so mean, Jouno,” Tecchou threw a side glare to the man next to him, which only earned a shrug from said man, “quit talking and enjoy the meal, dumbass. She’s close.”

And enjoy the meal he did — lapping up every single drop of your sweet juices so enthusiastically you’d think that he hadn’t eaten in days.

⁰⁴ 𝐎𝐃𝐀 — morning sex with him

Mornings with your husband, Oda Sakunosuke, were sweet, blissful and filled with love. Sometimes he'd surprise you with breakfast in bed, it's the least he can do considering everything that you do for him, is what he says. But sometimes — you crave him instead of the delicious food.

“My pretty girl,” Oda smiled sleepily, moving some of your hair out of your face to admire your effortless beauty — blissfully unaware to how his deep morning voice made your heart flutter in your chest, and your pussy throb with need.

You grinned back, scooting closer into his arms as you gazed into his deep brown eyes, “pretty enough to fuck?”

Oda raised a questioning eyebrow, full lips curling into a grin, "oh? that's the game we're playing, love?" Strong arms wrapped around your bare figure, the marks of last night still fresh on your skin — a reminder to how he fucked you dumb on his cock only a few hours prior.

You felt your face burn from the memories of last night rushing back into you — god, you two were insatiable - you're sure Oda fucked you in every single position in the book, and it did nothing but make you crave him more.

"Still with me, darling?" he lightly tapped your cheek, snapping you back to the present. You nodded, a gasp falling from your lips as big, calloused hands found themselves groping at your tits, pinching at your cute nipples as he pressed open mouthed kisses on your neck — his stubble tickling the sensitive skin there.

"O-oda—"

"shhh, baby — lemme do all the work, yeah?"

And that's how you ended up with your face pressed into the pillows — silken bedsheets tangled around your bodies as Oda fucked his fat girth into your sopping cunt nice 'n deep.

A large hand was pressing your back into the meanest arch ever — strong hips slamming against the fat of your plush ass with each deep thrust, thick mushroom tip prodding at your g-spot - making you bleat out your husband's name pitifully. Oda only pushed your head deeper into the soft pillows — clearly too lost in the feeling of your velvety walls clenching around him.

He watched his cock slipped in and out of your pussy so easily — your slick covering his balls down to his thighs. Oda groaned deeply in his throat as he watched a creamy ring form around the base of his cock — your cunt sucking him in so eagerly that he almost thought it hurt for you to let him go.

You let out a particularly loud moan as Oda's cock hit that one spot in you — you could only bite down on the pillow as your eyes shut closed, pussy slobbering shamelessly all over his length.

"Oh? Did you like— argh! - t-that spot, sweet girl?"

⁰⁵ 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐌𝐀 — fucking you in your sleep

Sigma was a busy man — with running the sky casino and being part of the decay of angels didn't leave too much alone time with just him and you — especially for some.. intimacy. You knew he needed to relieve himself someway — all that workload while being pent up as fuck certainly wasn't good for him. Plus, you have been craving him as well.. so you came up with an easy solution.

The door to your shared bedroom clicked open — your beloved boyfriend, Sigma, letting himself in as his eyes racked over the entire room, searching for anything out of the ordinary — you did tell him that you had a surprise for him, after all.

Upon finding nothing, he stalked over to the bed, confusion lacing his features as he glanced over at your sleeping form. Slender hands slowly slipped the soft blanket off of you and oh —

It all clicked suddenly.

The lavender coloured lace suited your complexion so perfectly, the expensive material hugging your features like it was made for you. Sigma gulped, eyes fixating on the way your tits were practically spilling out of the flimsy fabric — your stiff nipples very much visible to his hungry gaze.

It wasn't long before he had his face buried between your plush thighs — Sigma was so desperate, not even bothering to take the lingerie off your body. Besides, why would he when you just looked way too good in it?

He was practically eating you out through the thin lace — nose bumping against your clothed clit as his tongue tried to push deeper into your cunt. You had him in a chokehold — but he couldn't care less.

Sigma's slim hips were rutting into the expensive sheets — precum leaking from his sensitive tip as he tried his best not to cum untouched just from tasting your sweet pussy, but fuck, you were making it so hard for him.

He felt his cock throb in his pants when you started letting out soft moans and sighs in your sleep — or were you even asleep anymore? He didn't know and neither did he care — mind too focused on making you cum on his pretty face.

"ohh s-shit — best surprise - sluurrp - e-ever—" he whined into your cunt, spitting directly into your sticky hole before slurping it all back up.

Safe to say, he definitely enjoyed your little surprise.

© 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 ─ do not copy/translate/repost and/or recommend any of my works on different platfroms under any circumstances. reblogs greatly appreciated !

[todayweather]

Bungou Stray....cats?~

[kitasgloves]

Zero idea if its been asked already but can you do a Dazai x innocent golden retriever gf, i just know that man has the biggest corruption kink

alright folks we're back at it again!

— ♬ NSFW

As I have stated previously in a drabble, I'd like to think DAZAI OSAMU can get sweetly sadistic with an innocent/golden retriever type of gf. He views your purity and naivety as a sweet little treat for him to feast on and devour. You have the most sparkling personality that rivals the sun. And Dazai is greedy, he likes to keep sucking in your warm innocence until you run dry.

He adores your enthusiasm and free thinking. You're like a breath of fresh air with the way you smile and cling to him. Dazai's ego inflates when you praise him for how clever and knowledgeable he is about various things. Sometimes, he'd treat you like a little kid and talk to you like you're a toddler, cooing about how you're too naive for the world.

This bitch would tease the fuck out of you. He likes to make you pout and hear you whine. He'd make fun of every little thing about you. Your massive height difference, the way you snort when you laugh, and every silly habit you have, he'd pick on it all. Dazai can get obsessive with tracking all your likes and dislikes. He probably keeps a little notebook with lists like your favorite flavors, most hated dating spots, the books you found interesting, the brands of your underwear, etc. This mf keeps track of everything and keeps receipts so it's impossible to keep a secret from him.

Speaking of secrets, Dazai knows every told and untold secret about you. He loves to get into your personal space. He wants to know what makes you laugh until you cry, what makes you blow a fuse, what makes you blush like a strawberry, and especially what makes you cry in pleasure. The brunette would gaslight himself into thinking he's not that cruel. No, he's a sweet and loving boyfriend who adores his bright girlfriend! Yep, he just wants to corrupt your innocence, it's not that cruel, right?

"Hghh—Oh—Osamu—"

"Stay still for me"

He whispers against your ear. Dazai leans back to admire your naked and sweaty figure on the bed, your hands gripping the sheets, your legs spread apart, and his limber fingers fucking deep into you. He chuckles as he watches you turn away with a flushed face as he fingerfucks your wet cunt. The squelching sound of his fingers curling in and out of your pussy filled the room. The way you were so reactive with every movement of his fingers made his pants tight.

"Look at you, sucking in my fingers like a greedy little whore"

"...I'm not—ah!"

You go crossed-eyed when he brushes against that special spot inside of you again. Dazai pulls his fingers out to hear you whimper. He's been at it for an hour now, fingerfucking you only to pull away when he can feel you coming close. Tears have been already rolling down your cheeks with how much you plead for him to make you cum already. Dazai smiles darkly as he goes to caress your breasts before delivering a sharp slap on your cunt.

You flinch and shuddered in pleasure when that delicious stinging sensation stimulates your clit. He slaps your pussy a couple of times until it turns puffy.

"Osamu, please!"

"Please what? Come on, use your words, honey"

"Please make me cum already!"

"Hmm, I don't know. Do you deserve it?"

A cruel smile spreads on your boyfriend's lips as more tears begin escaping your glassy eyes. You looked so precious and pathetic begging for him to make you cum that he almost loses his restraint. His hand goes to grab your jaw before sneering down at you.

"Does a slut like you deserve to cum?"

You sobbed and nodded frantically. He clicks his tongue.

"Answer me properly"

"Yes! Please, I'll be good!"

Fortunately, Dazai grants you mercy as he slips his fingers back inside of you again. You throw your head back and moan when he starts to rapidly finger you. Your vision goes blurry as you struggled to catch your breath with how deep and fast his skilled fingers was fucking you. The brunette watched you with unblinking eyes as he felt your juices trailing from his fingers down to his wrists. The way you clenched around his fingers as your moans went up into an octave signaled an overwhelming orgasm from you.

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Osamu—"

Dazai watched breathlessly as your release crashed down on you with you gushing around his fingers. He holds his breath as you squirt immensely during your orgasm. He tries to bring out more by rubbing your clit which makes you overstimulated as your eyes rolled back. The moment you regain your vision and catch your breath, you realize that you have stained the sheets and your boyfriend is staring at you hungrily.

The next thing you knew, Dazai was hastily slipping off his pants and aligning his cock with your wet entrance. You try to push him back, telling him you're too tired for another round but he dismisses you by shoving his cock inside your cunt. Dazai's eyes almost rolled back with how tight and wet you felt. Immediately, he grabs your hips and sets a brutal pace.

"Hah—sl-slow down! Shit, I can't—"

"Shut the fuck up and take my cock like the pathetic slut you are"

He grins devilishly when you are unable to reply with how your jaw is slack and how drool is seeping down your lips. Dazai keeps aiming his cock deep until it bruises your cervix, every thrust violently rips out the oxygen from your lungs. You looked perfectly fucked out. His sweet innocent girlfriend is fucked dumb by his cock. Your hair was tangled, your cheeks were flushed, and your eyes were glassy.

Your boyfriend keeps pounding into you, mindlessly reveling in his pleasure as he used you like a fucking sex toy. Eventually, you begin to clench around him again but he decides to slow down his pace. You stare at him wide-eyed before your lip begins to wobble.

"Aww, were you going to cum again?"

Dazai teases. You hiccuped as you started to sob.

"You have to make me cum first, slut"

The brunette switches the position with him lying down and you on top of him. He was ordering you to bounce on his dick and make him cum. Eager to please him and reach your release, your steadied your thighs and began bouncing on his cock.

"Hah! Fuck, you look like you're made to bounce on my cock"

He muses. Dazai watched as your ass slapped against his thighs. The tip of his dick kept kissing the deepest part within you. He watched with wicked amusement as your thighs began to shake with every bounce as your hands desperately clawed on his stomach. You began to grow tired as you abruptly stopped making him click his tongue.

"What a pathetic cockslut. Do I have to do everything myself, hm?"

"Please, Osamu, I can't—"

Suddenly, Dazai thrusts his hips upwards making you squeal and throw your head back. His hands fiercely grab your wrists as he continues to thrust upward into you. He laughs at how absolutely cockdrunk you were letting him use you. Sooner, Dazai's thrusts began to go sloppy as he gritted his teeth.

"Shit, gonna cum! You better take all of it like the cumslut you are"

With every moment the tip of Dazai's cock abuses your cervix, it brings you close to your peak. His grip on your wrists tightened and with a couple of hard thrusts, his seed spills inside of you. Your orgasm followed next as your eyes rolled back and your thighs quivered. You collapsed on top of Dazai as you tried to catch your breath. The exhaustion consumes you though as you fluttered your eyes shut.

"Looks like my cute little slut got tired"

Dazai brushes your hair back and pulls his cock out, he could see his excess cum dribbling out of your cunt as his eyes glimmered in delight. All he could think about as he watched you sleep was more ways to make you cry and beg for him to make you cum again.

[pearlpost]

wip ⸻ d. osamu

! now @sinkofskin

abstract : something about dazai overdrinking and the aftermath. couldn't remember how i wanted it to go so this is scrapped. warnings : substances [ alcohol ] statistics : 0.9k words | discontinued

It is a mess as always, his apartment. Wooden slats buried beneath a pile of crinkled takeout wrappers, bottles of liquor, now very much empty, strewn around. Glass glitters in a tiny warning as you step carefully over them, your heels settling in quiet against the flooring, what little of it is visible anyways. You follow the blood trail to the bedroom. It is even worse in here; closed curtains that swallow it whole and Dazai is a familiar lump on twisted sheets, half-dragged on the ground.

Your exhale is a hollow breath of your lungs.

You move to the windows, hesitate for only a heartbeat before drawing them open. Sunlight, pale and watery as the thin droplets of whiskey on his lips, drifts in, swallows the darkness. Dust motes flicker in the stream of soft light, gentle as the flutter of a moth's wings.

Dazai's groan is a shot down to your stomach. Your heart climbs up into your throat.

He whispers your name, voice hoarse, hands shifting over the bed before he's reaching out an arm in your general direction. You let out another quiet sigh, stepping towards him.

Dazai smiles weakly up at you, fingers flexing. You stare down at his hand; long joints and delicate bones, skin rough and calloused and bloodstained from where he has gripped the bottle too hard. Glass glitters here, too, little pieces of stars embedded in the flesh of his open palm.

His smile falls when you do not take his hand.

"Get up," you say quietly, simply. The words, plain as they are, are not a request. And Dazai knows better than to argue. He shuffles for a few moments before pulling himself out. He tries to, anyways, instead ending up in a heap of limbs and bedsheets on the floor. Another hoarse groan, you let out another sigh.

Your heart, what little is left of it anyways, breaks a little more when his lower lip quivers, his eyes darting away from yours, unable to look you in the eyes.

You kneel down before him, reaching out carefully. Your fingers find the curves of his cheeks, his jaw, your touch as tender as though you were approaching some feral, wounded animal. A sound chokes in Dazai's throat, almost a whimper. You swipe a thumb along the line of his eye, catch the tear that has dried there. His skin is hot to the touch, and you wonder if he is flushed with fever or whiskey.

It is hard to tell with Dazai.

"Get up, Dazai," you repeat, softer this time. Less a demand, more a plea, almost. You rub his cheek softly, watch the skin flare bright red beneath your cold fingers. You straighten up, letting go of him as you do. "You need a shower."

He stares up at you with wide eyes, before smirking. His teeth glint beneath the curve of his lip. "Join me?"

You stare at him blankly. "Get up first."

Dazai grumbles, incoherent, playful but the circles that bruise his cheek give him away. His knuckles are white where they clutch at the edge of the bed. He pulls himself up, and your arm comes around his waist before he falls back down again. Dazai moans, you question if it is some twisted sort of pleasure or pain, and nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin deep as he can.

His lips form a word in quiet, a word that you do not want to hear, searing over your skin, the weight of his lips far too familiar.

"Come on." You don't respond to the whispered declaration, the apology leaves a bitter taste in the back of your mouth and you think you'd rather swallow down that cheap liquer Dazai seems to have taken a liking to. You hold him close, trudging through the mess of the room to the bathroom. You dump him ceremoniously in the shower, clothes and all as you push your own coat off, leave it in an expensive heap of carmine on the kitchen counter. Your sleeves are rolled up, gold glinting inches above the crescent-shaped scar that cuts into your upper right forearm, the skin there a darker bronze over blue-green veins. Dazai's gaze catches there, and so does his breath.

He hates that scar. Hates anything that he didn't cause.

His bathroom is bare, you expected no less. You pick out the soap you'd brought along, some off-brand that you would never have taken hadn't it been for such short notice. Dazai scowls.

"I want your soap," he mumbles, petulant. You give him a look and he slumps back in the tub. You think of a kicked puppy and your heart lurches once again.

You keep quiet, though. All the words you want to say linger like burned ash beneath your tongue.

You step into the tub with him, adjusting the controls. "Strip."

Dazai shuffles behind you, and you hear the clink of his clothes hitting the porcelain, zippers dragging and buttons popping as he shuffles and snaps them in annoyance. Then there's the quiet whisper of rough paper, and you know he's removing his bandages.

You know better than to look.

You pass him the shower head then, the water warm. You stare at the controls, steam rising up around you.

wip ( dazai ) © pearlpost, 2024.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAYBE I JUST WANNA BE YOURS

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not get jealous. he especially doesn't get jealous over someone he's not even dating. because he's not dating you. he doesn't want to date you... right?

(wordcount: 5k; fem!reader, nsfw, lots of smut LOL idk what got into me this is the first fic ive written with more smut than plot in ages. but anyway: jealous!dazai, fingering, oral (f->m), semi-public/public sex. whiplash from dazai's thoughts (as always). unedited.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihi. SO this actually wasn't going to be connected to anything, but i decided like mid-fic that i wanted to make it a continuation to the adareader universe ive been considering building. i was too lazy to go check for inconsistencies, so if there's any dihfausihdfsudf just ignore them LOL. when i eventually make the masterlist for it and officially connect them all, ill go thru and double check for them. first i need to write them something with actual substance and not just horny posting LOLLLL.

Dazai is not a jealous man.

He’s not.

In fact, he’s the most un-jealous person in the whole world. He has no reason to be jealous, especially over you. He’s not dating you. Dazai never asked you to be his girlfriend, and that was intentional because Dazai doesn’t want a girlfriend. More specifically, he doesn’t want to be someone’s boyfriend. You’re just a friend—a friend that he sometimes fucks and occasionally seeks out to spend time with. He doesn’t want someone relying on him in a way a girlfriend would, and he certainly doesn’t want to rely on someone in the way a boyfriend would, because he doesn’t want the rug pulled out from under him when it inevitably goes to shit. 

The thought is suffocating, it makes his skin crawl.

Almost as much as the realization that the cop the two of you are assigned to be coordinating with is clearly head over heels enamored by you. Dazai scowls from where he’s standing a few steps behind you, watching as you go over the details of the file that the man brought to you—Dazai didn’t care to learn his name. And yes, Dazai means you because when the officer came over with the file, he didn’t even acknowledge Dazai’s existence and walked right over to you.

He still hasn’t acknowledged Dazai’s presence, staring at you with an adoring expression as you read through the file. Dazai thinks if this were some sort of cartoon, the officer would quite literally have hearts in his eyes—it’s disgusting, Dazai can hardly stand to watch it.

“Dazai,” you finally say, voice a soft hum. He likes the way you say his name—it rolls off your tongue prettily, and it makes his chest oddly warm. He’s not used to people saying his name with such softness; he’s used to anger, irritation, fear, but never this. He’s wondered how his given name would sound, he’s spent many nights imagining it, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his cock, but he hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask you to call him by it. That’s a step too close to actual intimacy and he’s not willing to take it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, and Dazai realizes you must have said something after you said his name, but he didn’t catch it because he was too absorbed in the way you said his name to notice.

“Come here,” you say again, nodding your head for him to drag himself out of the corner he’s sulking in to come to you. He feels a bit too gleeful watching the way the officer’s expression shifts in surprise as he turns to look at Dazai, finally noticing him.

Dazai pushes himself off of the wall to take a few steps closer to you, and he may or may not stand a bit too close on purpose just to see the other man frown. He stands behind you, chest brushing your back as he looks over your shoulder to scan through the file you’ve been reading. It takes him twice as long as it usually does because he didn’t realize that being in such close proximity to you would make him as dizzy as it did, and he’s too stubborn to back off now. 

Your hair smells like vanilla, and Dazai can smell the faint scent of your favorite perfume dabbed on your neck, worn off throughout the long day. His attention strays from the file to you, tracing the smooth curve of your neck, dipping down to your collarbone and swallowing when he realizes that the top three buttons of your dress shirt are undone, the stuffiness of the tiny room and the lack of air conditioning causing small, visible beads of sweat to form on your skin. His breath catches as his gaze lowers just a bit more and-

You turn to look at him and his gaze snaps up before it can drop to dangerous territories, and Dazai catches the amused look in your eyes—you know exactly what he was looking at. Instead of having some shame, because Dazai has no shame, he shifts just an inch closer to you, one of his hands resting on your hip. He watches the way your lashes flutter the same way they always do when you’re trying to pretend you’re not affected by his touch, and his lips curl up into a small smirk.

“What do you think?” you ask after a second. 

To your credit, your voice isn’t as strained as he expected, so Dazai ups it a notch, fingers sliding from where they’re caressing your hip to trail across your inner thigh. All out of sight from the officer on your left, but Dazai can tell he’s aware that something is going on from the way his enamored expression starts shifting into a more awkward one.

Dazai gives him a smug, sardonic smile before saying, “I think our friend over here should go get us the CCTV tapes—that’ll be much more useful to us then a bunch of reports.”

The other man’s face shifts in confusion, brows furrowing and lips curving down, but before he can say no, you speak up and agree, “That would be great.”

Dazai rolls his eyes when it makes the man straighten and nod, “I’ll get it right away.”

Before he steps out of the room, Dazai tosses another look over his shoulder, this one colder than it is smug, and he says maybe a bit too snidely, “Don’t come back until you have them.”

The officer doesn’t reply as he leaves the room, and as soon as the door clicks shut, Dazai is pulling away from you to walk over to it. He locks it quickly and then turns to face you, tilting his head to the side as his gaze roves over your body. You’re leaning back against the table, eyebrows raised, and Dazai doesn’t stop himself this time when his gaze lowers to the swell of your breasts just barely made visible by your partially unbuttoned shirt.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, motioning for you to come over to him.

You don’t budge. Instead, you raise your eyebrows and say dryly, “There are cameras in here, Dazai.”

He pointedly looks up to the two corners of the room that they’re in and then back down to where he’s standing, silently telling you that this is a blind spot. After a moment’s hesitation, you push yourself off the table and make your way over to him. Dazai tilts his head back against the wall, looking down at you through his lashes as you come to stand directly in front of him. He pretends that his throat doesn’t bob when he feels your fingers slip into his belt loops.

“What’s gotten into you?” you ask, but your eyes are glittering so he knows you know exactly what the problem is—and to think he thought you weren’t cruel, you might just be the worst type of cruel there is, hiding it behind pretty smiles and sweet words. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous because that cop has a crush.”

“I don’t get jealous,” Dazai replies with a simpering smile, lifting one hand to cradle your cheek, breath catching as your eyes flutter shut, pressing your face into his hand. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Dazai thinks that you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen—he’s thought it since the day he met you, but he thinks it especially now when you’re leaning into his touch like it isn’t poisonous, like his hands aren’t stained with blood and his soul isn’t black and rotten. You deserve better than him, and that’s another reason why he refuses to take that next step: he knows one day you’ll realize it too. You’ll realize that you’ve fallen for a mask, that the man you care about doesn’t actually exist, it’s a thing that can barely call itself human pretending to be him.

He wonders if you know. He wonders if you know that something is wrong with him—he thinks that you must have some inkling after the bout of paranoia he had a few weeks ago when he was at your apartment, but he doubts you know the extent of it. He doubts you know that thoughts running through his head whenever that officer looked at you were anything but just casual jealousy; that every time he leaned in closer to you, Dazai’s fingers twitched in the direction of the gun given to him by the Agency that he’s only supposed to use in emergencies. 

Old habits die hard, Dazai has always been quite trigger happy. They never should’ve put a gun in his general vicinity.

 He leans down to ghost his lips below your ear, savoring in the way he feels you take in a sharp breath. His fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head back just enough to kiss the spot beneath your jaw that makes you writhe, and just as he expects, you let out a breathy moan against his ear that makes his head dizzy, your hands darting up to cling at the sleeves of his jacket.

“Dazai,” you gasp as he kisses down your neck. He hums in response, his free hand resting on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Are you sure…”

“I’m sure,” he says, and then adds smugly, “When am I ever wrong?”

He doesn’t have to see your face to know that you’re probably rolling your eyes at him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to make a witty remark about the first time the two of you met. His grip tightens on your waist as he flips you around so that your back is to his chest.

His hands immediately work to unbutton your slacks, lips finding their way back to your neck to pepper kisses up and down your skin as he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest. He lets out a low groan against your skin when he slides his hand into your pants and feels just how damp your panties are.

“This better be for me,” he mutters more to himself than to you, nipping at the skin of your neck. His voice is a bit more rough now as he asks you, “Lace?”

He lifts his face from your neck to look at you. Your eyes are half lidded as the pads of his fingers trace the cloth of your panties, head lolled back against his shoulder, breath ragged and lips parted, but there’s something teasing in your gaze as it flickers up to meet his.

“The ones you like,” you breathe out, and Dazai swallows thickly. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come over after this.” 

“Shit,” he whispers, putting pressure right over where your clit is hidden, watching the way your thighs tremble. “Look at you, only I make you feel this good, yeah?”

“Don’t tease.” The whine that clings to your words makes Dazai’s head spin. He can already feel his cock straining against his pants and tries to ease some of the friction by pressing you back into him, rolling his hips against your ass. “Dazai-”

“Shhhh,” Dazai soothes with a grin, kissing up your neck to your ear when he hears the distress in your tone. “I’ve got you.” 

With practiced ease, he slides his fingers beneath your panties, middle finger dipping between your folds. He inhales sharply, immediately losing his grin when he feels how wet you are.

“This better be for me,” he repeats, a bit more seriously this time as he slides his finger between your folds, putting pressure on your entrance but not quite pushing in. “Hm?”

He waits for a response, relishing in the way your whole body trembles against him. He doesn’t even know if you know what he asked, you already seem so fucked out—lips wet and parted as you breathe in and out shakily, lashes fluttering and chest heaving.

“Tell me,” he presses, his free hand sliding up your body, untucking your shirt so he can slip his hand beneath it to feel your skin.

“‘course it’s for you, Dazai,” you say after a few seconds of confusion, like you were trying to remember what he asked. “What kind of question is that?” 

Dazai doesn’t respond to that, letting out a pleased hum as he kisses your jaw again. He also doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, quickly plunging his middle finger deep inside of you. The sudden intrusion has your hand flying to your mouth to muffle the cry that escapes your lips—he almost wants to pull your hand away, but decides against it because he doesn’t want anyone else hearing you like this.

You try to rock your hips to get him moving, but Dazai’s hand flattens against your stomach, holding you still against him.

“Dazai-” you gasp his name again, this time your voice is more pitched, caught between a whine and a complaint.

“Patience,” he coos, but his voice is strained and his breath is heavier as your tight walls hug his finger, imagining that it’s his cock instead. He drags his finger out until only the tip remains inside of you. He teases your entrance again, tracing a gentle circle but not pushing back in. “Bet you could already take two fingers for me, yeah?”

“What if he comes back?” you suddenly ask panic flying through your eyes as if you’ve only just remembered where you are. Dazai is distinctly displeased by the thought of another man crossing your mind while his fingers are inside of you. “Dazai, what if-”

“He won’t,” Dazai answers you, making his displeasure known as he nips your neck. 

“How do you-”

“The corner that the disappearance took place on—it’s a blind spot for the CCTV cameras,” he answers before you can finish. Dazai knows this because he killed a target in that exact same spot two and a half years ago. “He’ll be gone for a while. He won’t want to come back empty handed to you.” 

Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to question him anymore, sliding his middle and ring fingers inside of you and watching as your jaw falls slack. To make up for the displeasure he felt at you bringing up that irritating cop, he fucks you hard with his fingers—you barely have time to bite the palm of your hand before his fingers are stretching your walls.

He thinks he might be pushing his luck—he doesn’t know if the cameras in the corners of the room pick up sound, and if they do, he doesn’t know how well they pick it up. Even if you’re doing your very best at muffling your moans, there’s no hiding the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt—it’s wet and filthy, and it has Dazai’s head dizzy. 

His eyes drag up from where his fingers are plunging in and out of you back up to your face. Your pretty eyes are almost fully rolled back as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge and your lashes are wet. One particularly rough snap of his wrist has your hand falling limp from your mouth to your side and your lips parting in a moan that Dazai doesn’t dare allow anyone else to hear. Quickly, his free hand darts up to grab your jaw hard, turning your face toward him so he can press his lips to yours messily, swallowing the keening moan before you can let it out. 

He kisses you deeply, tongue tracing the inside of your mouth gently in contrast to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. You try to kiss him back, but you can hardly even breathe with how deep his fingers fuck into you. He knows you're close—he can feel it in the way your whole body is trembling, and how your pussy flutters around his fingers, so he picks up the pace, just as desperate to bring you over the edge as you are to get there.

He’s the only one that can make you feel like this. He’s the only one that can make your body shudder and writhe, he’s the only one that can make your eyes roll back in pleasure, he’s the only one and he needs to prove it.

“C’mon, baby,” he pleads against your lips. The pet name that spills from his lips is not the teasing bella he likes to hit you with like he intended—it comes out strained, breathy, just as desperate as he feels. The lack of control scares him a bit, but he’s too out of it for it to take hold. “C’mon, once on my fingers, then as many times as you want on my cock when we get home, alright?”

He doesn’t know what you’re trying to say, the noise that spills from your lips, muffled against his mouth, is a moan, caught between his name and a please and something else he can’t make out. Distantly, he thinks that the bandages on his forearm must be ruined, he can feel your slickness dripping down his hand to his wrist and he can hear the lewd sounds of his fingers pushing in and out of you. He doesn’t care—in fact, the thought only makes his lower abdomen tighter. 

“I’m gonna-” you gasp, the only word she can make out and Dazai grins.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, scissoring his fingers inside of you and rubbing his index finger over your clit, and you’re gone. 

Dazai groans when he feels you moan his name against his lips, hand dropping from your face to your waist to hold you upright as your knees buckle. You cum hard on his fingers, hips stuttering and stilling, and he can feel tears spilling over your cheeks. His cock is painfully hard now and he wants nothing more than to unbuckle his pants and replace his fingers with it, but he thinks that would be pushing his luck—he’s never had any semblance of control once his cock is inside you and he needs to keep an ear out for footsteps approaching the conference room. 

He rides out your high, pace slowing as he continues to fuck his fingers into your sensitive cunt, wiping your tears with his free hand once you’ve steadied yourself. You tremble, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and Dazai only removes his fingers when you claw at his wrist for him to stop.

His fingers are dripping with your cum, and though Dazai is aching for a taste himself, he instead lifts them to your lips. You’re still trying to get ahold of yourself, leaning back against his chest and breathing heavily, but you instinctually part your lips for him. His breath catches when you take both of his fingers into your mouth, lashes fluttering shut and tongue swirling around his digits as you taste yourself off of him.

“Fuck,” he groans, hand dropping down to rub the heel of his hand against his cock, desperately trying to alleviate the pressure. He has no idea how he’s going to hide this before the officer gets back and…

His thoughts trail off when you finally push off of him, your legs are still trembling, and your eyes are still a little hazy, but your gaze drops from his face to his rapidly rising and falling chest down to where he’s rubbing his cock through his pants. And then, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he repeats, voice breathy this time and pupils blown wide as he watches your fingers work at the buckle of his belt.

Dazai almost wishes that the officer would come back soon, just so he could walk in on you with a faceful of Dazai’s cock. But if that happens, all of Ango’s work will go out the window because there’s no way he’s letting someone see you like this and walk out alive. 

Dazai’s cock twitches as soon as you free it from its confines. He’s already leaking an embarrassing amount of precum, and his tip is flushed red, but you waste no time before ghosting your lips across his length, suckling gently at the vein running along the underside of his cock before wrapping your lips around his tip.

Dazai chews at his lower lip, thighs tensing as he resists the urge to thrust his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat. Instead, his throat spasms as he swallows, reaching out to cradle the back of your head gently, carding his fingers through your hair soothingly.

“Lookit you,” he breathes out, voice wavering as he swallows another low groan. His fingers tighten in your hair just a bit, but he doesn’t push your face down on his cock, head falling back against the door as you work his cock further down your throat. His breath is ragged and heavy as your tight muscles spasm around him, desperately trying to adjust to the intrusion, and he can feel your nails digging into the bandages wrapped around his hips. “That’s my girl.”

Another loss of control that should probably concern him, but you’re quick to take his mind off of it with the way he can feel you let out a whine around him, nails digging a little bit deeper into skin as you take him fully into your mouth, lips flush to his pelvis and nose buried in his pubic hair.

His head falls forward as he pants, watching your throat struggle to adjust to him. He strokes your hair gently, silently beckoning you to look up at him because he worries that if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll let out a pornographic moan, one that will be impossible to deny if anyone over hears.

Your lashes flutter as you look up at him, eyes wide and glassy with fat tears that roll steadily over your cheeks. 

Beautiful, he thinks hazily, and his—all his. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else gets to imagine you like this—you’re his. 

He chokes over air, free hand coming up to cover his mouth and hips jerking forward. He feels you gag around him and his hand drops to caress your cheek in apology, trying to wipe away your tears, but it’s clumsy and frantic—the sight of you on your knees for him, tears streaming down you face as you take him down your throat, is enough to send him spiraling over the edge.

His vision spots with black dots, the taut cord in his abdomen tightens and then snaps. He’s hardly able to muffle the moan that spills from his lips as his eyes knock back and his head falls against the metal of the door. His whole body tenses and spasms as he cums down your throat, he gasps for air, thumb still stroking your cheek as you struggle to swallow all of his cum.

It takes a minute for Dazai to regain some semblance of control over himself. By the time he has, you’re standing on shaky legs and tucking his sensitive cock back into his pants. His hazy gaze focuses on your face—your lips are wet and swollen, your eyes are still glassy, and this time Dazai doesn’t have an excuse as he lifts his hands to cradle your face and says quietly, “Mine.”

Your smile is teasing. “‘I don’t get jealous,’” you mock lightly, leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as his hand slinks around your body to your back, pulling your body flush to his as he deepens the kiss, sinking into the familiar feeling of your lips sliding against his. 

“I don’t have reason to be jealous,” Dazai murmurs, this time with a different meaning. He pulls back slightly so he can button your pants back up and tuck your dress shirt back into them, making sure you look presentable before the officer gets back.

Instead of teasing him again, your smile softens and you affirm, “You don’t,” and Dazai’s throat tightens. 

The thought of being in an actual relationship has always been suffocating to Dazai. Imagining having to spend the rest of his life with one person, having someone rely on him when his will to live is fickle at best and nonexistent at worst, becoming dependent on someone who could leave him on a moment’s notice… It makes his stomach churn with disgust, his chest tight with anxiety.

But when that faceless someone turns into you, Dazai realizes that the thought of a relationship is not quite as unappealing as it’s always been to him. Does it still make him skittish? Sure, but does it outweigh the green hue that colors his vision whenever someone looks at you and thinks you’re not his? Does it outweigh the bolt of fear he feels whenever he sees someone display interest in you, wondering if maybe you’ll get sick of his flighty behavior and give them a chance?

Absolutely not.

Dazai hears footsteps approaching the door he’s leaning on, and quickly unlocks it, motioning for you to stand back by the conference table. When the officer opens the door, the two of you are standing there casually like you never moved.

The officer gives you an apologetic smile that makes Dazai’s eyes twitch. “It doesn’t seem like there’s any CCTV footage from the area.”

Before you can respond, Dazai smiles tightly and says, “Wow, and it took almost twenty minutes for you to realize that—no wonder the police keep coming to us for help.”

You elbow Dazai, but he’s unrepentant, giving you a sweet smile before turning a cooler one back onto the officer. “If you don’t mind, we can finish the rest back at our office tomorrow now that we have the files. We have a date to get to.”

He doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re raising your eyebrows at him, but he keeps his gaze trained on the officer, finding sick satisfaction in the way the man’s eyes dart between the two of you, a dawning expression crossing his face.

“A… date?” 

“A date,” Dazai confirms, picking up the file and motioning for you to leave. He pointedly ignores the amused expression on your face as you make your way out of the room, walking past the officer who dumbly steps out of the way. “Thanks for the help… or, well, lack thereof.”

It’s only when the door slams shut behind the two of you, do you finally echo, “… A date?”

Hesitantly, Dazai confirms, “A date?”

When you don’t immediately respond, Dazai’s smile starts to freeze, considering that maybe you don’t want to date him and he read all of this wrong. You want to keep things casual, no strings attached. But after a few agonizing moments, you hook your arm around his and lean into him.

“Where are you taking me then, hm?”

“… It’s a surprise,” he replied.

A surprise for both of you, because Dazai hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. 

A tenseness that he hadn’t even realized was in his shoulders dissipates when you laugh and press your lips to his upper arm before resting your head against it. 

“Alright,” you agree, although he’s pretty sure you know damn well this is all spur of the moment. “Let’s go then.”

Though Dazai tries to rifle through all of the options of places you like to go, when the two of you step outside, all coherent thought washes right out of the window when you turn to look up at him, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow over your face.

“What is it?” you ask when he freezes in his tracks to admire you. “Dazai?”

For just a split second, Dazai can imagine it. He can imagine a life with you, and there’s no sign of any of the suffocation or discomfort he usually feels when he thinks of long term commitment too hard. He imagines waking up to you in the morning and falling asleep to you at night, he imagines spending his days laid up in bed with you sharing kisses and sweet nothings and he imagines dragging you around the city to show you off to anyone and everyone. His thoughts start to spiral out of control, and he’s glancing down at your ring finger, wondering-

“Dazai?”

Dazai’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt, and he swallows thickly when a more realistic image comes to mind—the expression on your face when you find out about his past, the disgust, the fear, the realization that he’s just not who he made himself out to be, that he’s been lying to you since day one.

“Nothing,” he says after a moment, voice a little raspy, so he shakes his head, giving you a disarming smile and clearing his throat. “You’re just so stunning that it leaves me at a loss for words, sweet bella.”

You don’t seem to buy it, but you don’t press, arm tightening around his as you make your way back over to your car.

As soon as you look away, his expression shifts into a more downcast one as his gaze tracks back over to you. It’s only a matter of time, he remembers. His past will catch up with him sooner rather than later, and no matter what you may insist about the past being in the past, he knows everything will change when you finally realize what all he’s been hiding from you.

… but maybe there’s not too much harm in indulging while he still can. He just has to keep reminding himself that he can’t get too attached.

“You should let me drive,” Dazai says sweetly. “So I can drive us to the place and keep it a surprise for you.”

You laugh in his face. “As if.”

You usher him over to the passenger seat before making your way back over to the driver’s side, and Dazai finds a genuine smile unconsciously curling at the corners of his lips. One that quickly falls when his fingers wrap around the handle of the car door.

He thinks, maybe, it might be far too late to stop himself from getting attached.

[nakaira]

nsfw.

undoing his tie blindly and clumsily while sitting on his lap and grinding against his bulge, moaning and trembling —

— because making out with dazai is always so arousing. he is leaning against the headboard of the bed, has you on his lap with one hand on the small of your back to guide you into circles on top of his clothed bulge. as he sucks your lip, kissing you with so much passion, using his other hand to force your mouth open and spitting in it.

— because making out with chuuya is so messy and rough. he is comfortably leaning against the headpost of the bed, you are on his lap and his hands are on your bare ass, helping you bounce on his clothed member. he is pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, squishing your cheeks with his gloved hand to make your lips pout and then kissing and licking at them.

[moomuzan]

' IS IT CASUAL NOW?

dazai osamu chuuya nakahara ranpo edogawa

sum. needy! lover boys—your relationship is not labeled, not defined by any means, but, god, they need you like air.

notes. suggestive ⤸ bottom dazai, top chuu fluff ⤸ painfully unaware ranpo

“It’s pathetic how much you’re trying to cling to control,” voice low, your fingers hover over the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when you keep crawling back to me every goddamn time.”

Your gaze slices through the unsheathed bravado, zeroing in on the way Dazai’s breath hitches, that fleeting crack in his confident mask—enough to send a shiver of triumph through you. Shifting in his lap, you hold him in place, and momentarily, his eyes flash, a tell that would go unnoticed by anyone else, but you catch it. He’s slipping, unraveling under the weight of your presence, and you haven’t even begun to dig in.

One by one, you undo his buttons, savoring the deliberate slowness, relishing the burn of discomfort that begins to cling to the air around you. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles pale, but you know—oh, you know—that this facade of restraint is nothing but a thin veil stretched too tightly over something far more volatile. You’re pushing him, probing the limits of his composure, searching for the breaking point where he shatters into something unrecognizable.

“You know I’m right,” your lips brush his ear, warm breath hitching in the space between you. His eyes flutter shut, a futile attempt to block out the heat pooling in his stomach, the magnetic pull he can’t escape. Yet, the evidence is there; muscles tighten beneath your touch, every feather-light caress igniting something primal within him. He wants this, wants you—each moment a descent into madness and desire.

With tantalizing slowness, your hands drift down his chest, fingers grazing the taut skin of his abdomen. Dazai shudders in response, a sharp intake of breath escaping his parted lips as he remains ensnared. Doing so, he allows you to peel away the layers of his defenses, one agonizing inch at a time. And, heavens, he needs you to.

When silence reigns, you dig your fingers into the flesh of his waist. It sends a jolt of heat through him, and rather than recoiling, he leans into it, breath hitching and back arching, desperate. Every inch of him seems to scream for more, yet you hold him there—caught in a tormenting limbo between fierce control and reckless surrender. He wouldn’t fight it. Couldn’t.

Pathetic.

The shirt falls open, and you take a moment to truly see him. Rapid breaths dance in concert with the frantic rhythm of his heart, skin flushed with a heady mix of frustration and something darker, deeper. You pull him closer, inch by inch, and he is letting you. Naturally.

With him, it’s always been the same. Out there, he’s a viper, a reaper, the ice-cold mafia executive everyone fears. But with you? He’s nothing but a mess, ready to get wrecked by the same power he held over others. He never stays long, never talks much—too consumed by his unapologetic needs.

But he always returns.

“You hate this,” you say, voice a whisper but charged with a devastating clarity. “You hate that you need this. That you need me.”

Dazai’s jaw clenches, a silent protest etched on his face before his dark eyes lock onto yours—searching, undone, half-lidded. “You sure do talk a lot.”

Yet, despite his foolishness, the truth, raw and wounding, is this: Dazai does hate it. But not in the way he wants you to believe. He hates that he can’t stop wanting this, wanting you, wanting the sweet release of surrender. He aches for it in a way he can’t express, in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel. Years of cold stone walls, the need for control, and yet they suffocate him, a noose tightening around his throat, while the thought of letting go shatters him anew.

You lean in closer then, tracing the edge of his belted waistband, the final barrier between you and the truth beneath. He doesn’t stop you. No fight left, only an acquiescence that settles heavy in the air. What resides here is undefined, a feral dance of power and submission, untamed and dangerous.

After unbuckling his belt, your eyes never leaving his, your fingers slip beneath his pants. Dazai gasps as he feels your fingers brush against his sensitive skin, the touch tentative yet purposeful, igniting a storm within him. He’s lost, and he knows it—his grip on those carefully crafted emotions fading like whispers in a tempest. You’re unraveling him, thread by thread, and he can do nothing but surrender, over and over again.

“Your body’s betraying your wicked mind, dear,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “Stop holding onto your selfish dreams.”

In response to your words and tightening grip, his hips lift subtly to meet your hand, the soundly inhale that escapes like a confession, the way his chest trembles with each shallow breath. It’s instinctive, a primal response that overrides the sharp precision of his mind, leaving nothing but raw need in its wake. He doesn’t just crave this—he starves for it, the hunger etched into the taut lines of his frame, his skin burning beneath your fingertips like kindling ready to ignite. Every nerve is alight, every inch of him unraveling under your deliberate torment, each brush of your hand pulling him deeper into a haze of helpless desire.

He falters further, a low, guttural sound slipping past his lips as his head tilts back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. His body answers you without hesitation, chasing every flicker of heat, every promise of release. The tension he carried like armor moments ago melts into something molten, spilling into the cracks of his carefully constructed facade. There’s poetry in his surrender, the way his body bows to you as if your touch were both a command and a sanctuary. He is undone, not just by touch but by the cruel truth in your gaze—the knowledge that you hold all the power he swore never to relinquish.

And still, he aches for it, again and again, day by day, for you, for the ruin you carve into him with every devastating touch.

The room throbs with heat, heavy with the remnants of desire and tension. The sheets cling to your damp skin, barely draping over the curve of your hip, yet even that scant barrier feels unbearable to him. Chuuya’s arm tightens around your waist, his hand sprawled possessively across your stomach, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His lips—swollen and red from what just transpired—trail soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each lingering touch a silent claim that mirrors the grip of his fingers.

His mind flickers back, replaying moments etched into the haze of passion. The way his hands roamed over your body, desperate to map every inch of you. His gloves abandoned long ago, he’d let his bare hands glide over the smooth expanse of your back, tracing the delicate dips and curves of your form. Rough yet reverent, his touch had left a trail of yearning in its wake. Even now, the memory only sharpens his hunger.

Desire courses through him, a need far from sated. He has touched, kissed, claimed—but it isn’t enough. It never is. Every soft sound you make, every shiver beneath his fingertips, only deepens the craving that burns within him. He wants more. He needs more.

When you shift, muscles tensing as if preparing to rise, his grip tightens instinctively.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his gravelly voice sending a tremor down your spine.

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder. His crimson hair is a wild mess, damp strands clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, smolder darkly, heavy-lidded and brimming with something raw and unfiltered. In this moment, he looks utterly wrecked—and yet entirely unyielding.

“Chuuya, I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” he interrupts, his tone low, dangerous. His hand slides lower, brushing against your hip, igniting a pulse of heat beneath your skin. “Stay.”

The other hand presses against your stomach, grounding you, pulling you closer. His lips graze your shoulder, trailing down to the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone, plunging you into a sea of sensation.

“This isn’t—” you begin, but your words falter as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin, followed by the warm glide of his tongue.

“I know exactly what this is.” Voice thick with desperate urgency, he adds “And I don’t care. You’re not leaving.”

Your breath hitches as his lips find the pulse in your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t relent, kisses turning into nips, his teeth grazing your skin like he’s intent on branding you, ensuring you’ll remember this.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, unconvincing beneath the weight of his touch.

A low chuckle rumbles against your skin, his lips curling into a smirk. “Doesn’t it?” he drawls, his hand sliding up to trace the edge of your ribs. “Then why are you still here?”

Your silence betrays you. His hand moves, brushing the sheet aside entirely, tracing lazy patterns over your bare skin.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, brushing the shell of your ear. “Trying so hard to deny it, but your body’s honest, doll.”

His words melt the last threads of your resolve, the mockery within them tinged with a need he can’t voice.

“Stay,” he repeats, his breath hot and insistent. “Stay with me. Tonight.”

And as his arms wind tighter around you, pulling you flush against him, his silent promise is undeniable: tonight, you’re not going anywhere.

Ranpo exists in his own untouchable world, one of brilliance and ease, where the weight of actions doesn’t hold meaning, and consequences are but distant whispers. He’s blissfully unaware of the intoxicating effect he has on those around him—on you, specifically. Why would he question it? He doesn’t notice how your breath catches like a startled songbird when his hand brushes against yours, nor how his mere proximity unravels you, thread by delicate thread. To him, it’s all so simple, so natural. You’re here, by his side, and that’s where he believes you belong. He doesn’t need to ponder why that feel so profoundly right.

He sits far too close on the couch, the soft press of his thigh against yours sending ripples of awareness through you—an illicit thrill, though you both know it isn’t intentional. He doesn’t spare a thought for the way the air between you has vanished, charged with unspoken promises. His attention, as fleeting as moonlight, flits lazily over the file in his lap, fingers flipping pages he’s not truly reading, his mind adrift in its own vibrant sea. The golden glow of the lamp bathes his face, casting light over the unruly strands of his dark hair and highlighting the serene expression he wears like a crown.

You’re acutely aware of him, of the faint scent of sweets that clings to him, of the steady rhythm of his breathing, of every casual move he makes as if they’re notes in a symphony composed just for you. And then, without even lifting his gaze from the file, he takes your hand in his, his grip light yet possessive, as though it belongs there—as if the universe conspired to create a perfect fit between you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs absently, as if you’d moved at all. The deep, velvet softness of his voice rolls over you like a warm tide, pulling you under its spell, and before you can muster a response, his lips kiss your knuckles, warm and fleeting. His touch is tender, unthinking, like a gentle breeze brushing over your skin, yet it sears into your consciousness, igniting you from within. Your chest tightens, heat swirling in your cheeks, but he remains blissfully ignorant of the way you stiffen under the weight of his gaze. To him, it’s nothing—just a moment of thoughtless affection. He shifts slightly, leaning closer into your space, the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours. His presence is consuming, enveloping you like a silken cloak—so achingly casual that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Ranpo pulls back just enough to allow the air to shimmer between you, eyes still glued to the paper, his thumb now tracing lazy circles along the back of your hand. The touch sends delightful shivers racing down your spine, but he doesn’t even glance up. And then, as if curious about the very fabric of your connectedness, he brings your hand to his lips again. This kiss lingers a heartbeat longer, soft and steady, his breath fanning across your skin, igniting butterflies in your stomach that flutter wildly.

“You’re warm,” he remarks offhandedly, his voice low and almost hypnotic, like the languid murmur of a summer breeze. “Maybe a little too warm.” Finally, he turns to you, and his green eyes twinkle with light amusement, a mischievous edge that makes your heart leap. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

The words are nonchalant, drifting carelessly through the air, yet they strike you like lightning, leaving you flustered and helpless against the enchanting spell he’s unknowingly woven around you. He tilts his head slightly, studying you in that whimsical way of his, completely unaware of the way your resolve crumbles beneath his gaze.

Your cheeks burn as you nervously look away, praying he won’t see the vivid flush spreading across your skin. But he remains blissfully oblivious—of course, he doesn’t notice. He’s still holding your hand, still tracing slow, teasing patterns across your skin, still sitting far too close. He doesn’t realize the storm he’s ignited within you, fierce and unrelenting.

And yet, there’s a softness in the way he stays there, in the gentle cadence of his thumb moving in circles against your palm, in the way he breathes so steadily beside you, each rise and fall a hushed promise. He’s unaware, yes, but there’s an unmistakable thread of intention woven into his presence, buried deep within his unconscious mind.

You glance at him, trying to calm the tumult rage within your chest, but his face is turned back to the file, completely at ease in his world. He doesn’t see the chaos he’s left in his wake, doesn’t comprehend how every touch, every lingering kiss to your hand feels like a revelation, a realization of all the unspoken wishes you yearn to voice. But maybe, just maybe, some part of him knows—some deep, unspoken part of him that draws him close to you, closer than he’s ever been to anyone else.

And so, you let him stay, the warmth of his thigh pressed against yours, his hand loosely holding yours like it’s the most familiar thing in the world. Because for now, this quiet, undefined intimacy is enough. For now, he is more than enough.

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a/n: HELLO i am alive, no further comments. idek why i wrote this. and it’s probably highly ooc i‘m sorry (i am not, i need bottom dazai biblically) also, i couldn’t bring myself to make ranpo‘s part suggestive ㅤ:,) yikes but it’s, at least, cute. in a way ?

[r3stingangel]

You wanna know what I hate? People who don't tag properly, whether it be on AO3, Tumblr, ECT. Tags exist for a fucking reason.

A great example of not tagging properly is a fic I found that was marked "Dazai/reader" so it must be an x reader, right? WRONG! It was a Dazai x AN OC. AN OC WITH A WHOLE ASS NAME.

It pisses me tf off

[with-my-calamitous-love]

more gentleman thoughts, nsfw version 🫧 please read responsibly. f! reader ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

gentleman! dazai, who always knows the right words to say that’ll turn you on. whose long, slender fingers reach all the right spots in you, one by own inserting them until he has you stuffed. who gets you cumming from his fingers alone, but doesn’t stop there, hooking your leg over his shoulder and slipping his cock all the way in with no resistance. who can be sweet and slow or rough and fast- just tell him what you want, and he’ll give it to you. “good job, belladonna. already so wet, hm? i’ll make you feel so good.”

gentleman! chuuya, who gives you the most satisfying love life known to man. who, minimum, makes you cum 2 or 3 times before he fucks you. who sets the mood- candles, roses, and if you’d like, handcuffs, blindfolds, chokers… who absolutely defiles all of that beauty the second he feels you wrapped around him, pounding you hard and fast, getting off to the sounds of your pleas. who makes you cum from his length alone, making you dizzy with pleasure while he bends you over the counter. “comme ça, chérie? you feel so good. you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

gentleman! ranpo, who drags out your orgasms. who wants to make you feel everything. who’ll kiss your pretty pussy through your panties first, watching how your arousal stains the fabric. who’ll slowly peel it away, making sure you feel his warm breath on you before finally putting his mouth on you. who wont move his head from between your thighs until your gushing, singing his name. who makes sure you cry out that he’s the best, that only he can make you feel this good. “you like that, sweetheart? hm? oh, i know i’m the best at it. here, let me prove it.”

gentleman! atsushi, who at first may not be the most experienced, but who learns how to get you screaming and moaning for him. who doesn’t fuck, only making love and making your pussy pulse with pleasure. who solely focuses on you, eating you out, for hours, softly kissing and sucking at your breasts, before finally slipping his cock into you. who thrusts rough and passionate, growling into your ear with an animalistic side thats expected of a tiger. who groans as you scratch his back, getting you into a mating press while he takes you. “c’mon, baby. just one more, please? you feel so good.” he’s said ‘one more time’ 3 times already.

gentleman! akutagawa, who blurs the lines between a gentleman and a pure, asshole. who wraps his hand around your throat, lightly applying pressure while he thrusts in and out of you. who gets you lightheaded, kissing your collarbone and placing a playful smack to your thigh while he fucks you. who makes you earn his praise, cumming around his cock before he even thinks about saying something nice. who leaves bruises, and tends to them after. “if you didn’t want me to spank you, why did you moan and ask for more? hm?l

gentleman! odasaku, who is perhaps the sweetest lover you have ever known. who honestly feels bad about ruining you, but can’t resist the way your makeup runs down your cheeks while he thrusts in and out. who runs his hands through your hair, tugging at it occasionally to pull your head back, leaving kisses and hickeys on your throat. who often books nice hotel rooms, but (much like chuuya) can make your apartment just as romantic. who is the king of aftercare, getting you anything you need, running you a bath, and reading to you while you fall asleep. “ah, so good, love. i’ll make you cum, i’ll take care of you. trust me?”