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lovedazai · 3 days

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WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just can’t help himself.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of ‘good girl’, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.c…mdni !!

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i know i’ve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!

dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when he’s stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohama’s underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.

if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazai’s blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you weren’t quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didー fighting.

there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.

he tries to act surprised when you’re both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didn’t have. he didn’t really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafia’s “hideouts”, ensuring they’d show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.

his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, he’d get a peek beneath it.

“are you sure you don’t have somewhere else to be right now?” you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.

“my, my,” he whispers against the curve of your ear. “looks like we’ve been caught.”

“what do we have here? a little girl…” one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. “…and her guard dog?”

of course, he’d never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didn’t stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachー just in case.

his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you don’t let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.

one of the other men comes from the side, but you’re still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazai’s eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.

there’s only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazai’s eyes narrow, and the man’s glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until he’s pinned beneath you.

you’re quick to get up, and when you’re far enough away for dazai’s comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.

the only thing heavier than dazai’s presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where he’s still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, they’re red and glowing, and locked onto you.

he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.

he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesn’t already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.

“dazai,” you try to warn, but it isn’t very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. “we’re still…we’re here. in a dirty warehouse.”

“what’s wrong? there’s no one else around. you made sure of that, didn’t you?” he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. “did you already forget? when their bloodstains haven’t even set into your clothes yet? i didn’t know you could be so cold.”

he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when you’re already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.

“you know what i was thinking while i was watching you?” he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. “‘i wonder how it’d feel for her to choke me like that…to wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeeze’.”

the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazai’s body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.

your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.

“my good girl,” he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. “my sweet, perfect girl.”

“mhm,” you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazai’s firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. “yours.”

you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. it’s so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.

he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but it’s just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.

“the way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,” he whispers. “would you do that to me?”

“no,” you’re breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. “i don’tー i’d never hurt you.”

“but i’d let you,” he rasps. “you could do whatever you want to me.”

he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasn’t close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.

“fuck,” your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. “osamu.”

his grip on you tightens, and he whines; it’s just barely audible, and you would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.

your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you can’t help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.

his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.

everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to “cummingー”, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.

he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.

your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.

“i can’t believe we did that here,” you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.

“you loved it,” he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “you love me〜”

he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.

he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.

“can’t you leave some open?”

your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.

“i’ll call a car to get us,” he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. “i’ll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!”

you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.

“you know,” he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. “you still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.”

he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmー i’m okay. he sees one of the mafia’s black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadー i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#dazai x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bsd x reader #dazai smut #bsd smut #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #ʚ shhh ɞ

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hellaarknight · 2 days

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„You're doing so fucking good for me, pretty. Mhhpp... keep going, ahh just like that. What a beautiful sight you are sweetheart. Don't give me those eyes, you're stunning like this, with your face fucked up by my cock. Don't you worry pretty... I'm going to return the favor ten times more. Ahh... Gosh, you're going to make me cum if you continue moaning like this around my dick” CHUUYA, Gojo, Kakashi, Dazai, Geto, Tomoe (he'd be so cocky about it too), Tachihara, Tetcho, Nanami

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livelaughlovesubs · 2 days

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I think despite how well he plays himself off all the time, Dazai still has depressive episodes sometimes when he's alone. Imagine coming home early and catching him in such a vulnerable state. Fuck him nice and sweet- show him how much you love him despite everything -🦀

Yk what, this will be the second part of that maid dazai fic. And I’ll make it sweet enough that you get a stomachache. Also- @amo-bsd

Part one!

Dom!reader x sub!dazai - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (can be read as a dick), teasing, praise kink, marking - hickeys, handjob, dacryphilia, role play, lingerie

“You want me to defile you?” A low voice so hypnotising it send shivers down his spine echoed through the room. His gaze showed absolut devotion, legs spread on the couch just the way you wanted. “…yes, please.” The brunette gasped, his left hand helping you hold his skirt up while his right one reached behind him. The way his chest heaved with each breath, lips trembling whenever he had to part them, made you go crazy about him. With a single tug, he opened the tie of his apron, making space for you. You rubbed his entrance again, gently tapping it. That was all it took to make him squirm and shut his eyes due to ecstasy. “Uh-uhHhm..!” Dazai whined through gritted teeth, the blush that was spreading across his cheeks intensified. His puffy hole kept clenching whenever you touched him, and loosening up once your digits leave.

“Look at how sensitive you are,” You commented while leaning closer towards him, face now inches away from his. “Ha-haah.. if you know then stop teasing me.” He tried to stand his ground, noticing you brought the end of his dress near him. Afterwards you uttered a single command, “Bite onto this.” Normally he would have talked back and made a scene, though for now he decided to be obedient. This surprised you a little, yet it wasn’t a bad feeling. Guess your dear lover can be good at times? Carefully, he bit the fabric, after a little while it was soaked with his saliva already. “Good boy.” You cooed when you saw this cute scene, kissing his forehead while your weaker hand slipped to his waist.

His brows were furrowed, eyes half lidded as he watched your demonstrations. Fingers leaving his bottom and now teasing his tip. A milky, sticky liquid stuck to the latex glove. The more you rubbed over his soaked panties, the darker the spot got. Now you were smirking sweetly, whispering playfully “you are getting so wet for me.” After you finished your sentence, you could swear more precum spurt out of his slit. Did that comment embarrass him? His tender and slim body trembled ever so slightly, eyes sparkling and begging you to do more. “How adorable.” You added, before licking his earlobe.

The boy jerked, hands clutching the dress to hold it up higher. Then he closed his eyes, clenching them tightly enough for a single tear to run down his cheek. Mind racing and heart pounding while your hand kept playing with his dick. “Hmm..hngh..” soft whimpers left him, and his eyes became watery, more tears were about to spill. Slowly you changed from his ear to his neck, kissing and sucking on multiple spots. Leaving a trail of marks behind. Only a few minutes later the red spots build, proof of your claim over him. The beautiful hickeys you left behind encouraged you to go further, the hand on his waist now slipped to his thighs. You rubbed his tip a little longer, until your fingers were coated with his precum entirely, then you moved on to his entrance again.

Soft and sweet moan filled the room, all muffled through a thin fabric. Your fingertips tapped his entrance again, the white fluid now stuck to his rim too. He gasped, watching you play with his body as you pleased. Then you said, “you are doing so well for me, my love,” while staring at him with loving eyes. Dazai didn’t know what to do in that situation, so he averted his gaze. You smirked at the sudden shyness from the male, before sticked a finger inside him. “Mhmm! Nghh.” He wines, eyes widening as he let out some more lewd noises. In the meantime you worked him open, a second finger followed soon. “So good for me, my pretty boy.” At the sound of that compliment, he dick twitched inside his panties. Why were your words so addicting? They were so sweet, it made him feel weird and warm. As if he was a small, weak and precious thing that deserved any of this. Though one question lingered in the back of his mind, was he truly deserving of this?

His tears finally spilled, hands quivering while pleasure coursed through him. Suddenly you raised his leg and brought it over your shoulder, grinning the entire time as you did that. The black laced thigh highs he wore were beyond attractive, enough to make you feel butterflies. “Y/n.. nHhh, mh- please..” he managed to breath out through gritted teeth. You just kept smiling while you rubbed your fingers against his soft and warm insides, admiring how beautiful he looked right now. “Ahh! Oh-ohhh..it feels good.” The brunette groaned and stopped biting the dress, but his hands were still holding it up. Instead of punishing him, you just let it be, you loved hearing him talk anyway.

Wet and lewd squelching sounds left whenever you trusted your fingers inside him, followed by a fierce jerk from the male. He’d arch his back and whine about wanting more. “So cute, I love you my dear.” You chuckled, before you took your fingers out. Sticky strings were connecting the glove to his insides. “Really adorable..” this time you muttered under your breath, staring at his vulnerable state with focused eyes. His lips shook, eyes half lidded, brows furrowed while a deep crimson blush spread across his features. Not to mention how perverted this position was. It exposed all of his shameful parts, as well as his most sensitive spots.

The way his thrust his hips indicated how he wanted more, a disappointed whine left him, a plead for more of this bliss he was feeling. His entrance clenched shut immediately, and the sticky liquid dripped down his tender skin. “You look so beautiful right now.” You praised him, and it made his dick twitch. Then you lined your own one up with his hole after finishing preparing everything, and pressed the tip against him. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?” Even though you whispered that into his ear, he couldn’t register most of your words. His eyes were glued to your length, anticipation filling him as he thought about taking you. Lips pressed shut and gaze eagerly waiting for you to fill him up. You also noticed how his rim kept loosening and clenching, as if his body was begging for you.

With a swift motion, you started putting it in. Only the tip alone was enough to make him into a mess, eyes rolling back as a storm of moans escaped his throat. “Ahh!! Ngh hmMM! Oh- y/N~moreee.. hahh, ple-please..!!” Dazai spout, spitting one nonsense after another. His tongue rolled out while you carefully bottomed out inside him. He tried his best to resist the urge to cum right there right now, especially after feeling it hit against his innermost parts. There was no helping it, it was just so deep inside him! You hugged him again, causing his leg to be raised to his chest. A dumbfounded look was on the boy’s face, and so you explained. “Lay back and enjoy this, alright?”

And you bet he did. When you started moving, all he could think about was you. He couldn’t move an inch while your member continued going in and out of him, so gently and slow, but hard enough to make him see stars. Each time you hit it against his sweet spot he’d cry out, panting and whimpering in delight. “Ah.. ah, uhhh, ahh, y/n- master..!” even now he is still calling you that, but you didn’t mind. After all, he was your good boy, your one and only love, your adorable pet. You kissed his lips, all while pounding inside him with a steady rhythm. Why was this so stimulating? Was what dazai thought. You weren’t being really fast or excessively rough, so why did it feel so damn good?

His heart felt like exploding whenever you calling him by some cute pet names, or even his own name. Sensations strong enough to wipe any thoughts off his mind kept gushing inside him, coursing through his veins and taking him to paradise. When you broke the kiss, he didn’t even notice how he chased after your lips. Still sobbing and crying while begging you for more, wanting to feel more of your touch, more of your voice, more of you. It was warm, it felt really hot inside him. There was no way to describe this other than lust, it must be because you are so skilled..! That’s why whenever you call him cute names he feels himself edging closer to the edge, that’s why your touch always ignites a fire within him, that’s why he always feels so happy when with you.

“Ahh.. I love you, y/nn..” he called out to you again, smiling sweetly while being held in your arms. “I really do..”

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED

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deadpandom · 3 days

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𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

꧁❧𝐀/𝐍: i know this lazy man would definitely be a pillow princess Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)☙꧂

꧁❧𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mommy kink, Sub!Dazai, sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pegging, squirting ☙꧂

Dazai whines impatiently as he tries to fuck himself on your silicone cock,large hands groping your breasts as he squirms, desperately trying to get some pressure on his prostate.

"Cmonnn," He moans out. "I can't do it by myself, Mama.

You roll your eyes playfully and buck up into him. He gasps out as he arches his back,obviously not expecting that direct thrust into his prostate. Dazai leans forward to brace himself on your chest,hips sloppily grinding down on your cock,desperatly chasing that feeling.

He groans in frustration,looking down at you with a scowl on his face. You smile innocently up at him before grabbing his hips and beginning to fuck up into him at a brutal pace. Dazai mouth falls open as the force of your thrusts bounces him on your lap.

"Yesss just like that, mama." He hisses out as he throws his head back,hand drifting to his cock while he chases his orgasm. You slap his hand away and slow down considerably, Dazai whines in anguish as he writhes on your lap.

"Stop fucking teasing," Dazai growls out "Fuck me mama- mommy please?"

A knot of heat gathers in your lower stomach at his words before you flip the two of so he's on his back and your staring down at his flushed face. Dazai stares up at you while a smirk slowly spreads on his face.

"I knew you couldn't say no to me." He says proudly.

You silence him quickly with a well aimed thrust,hips pistoning in and out of his tight hole. Dazai cries out something unintelligible as his hands grasp at the sheets underneath him.

"You really can't do anything without me helping you can you Dazai?" You croon out as you thrust into his trembling body,hips rolling to target the sweet spot inside him.

"M'sorry," Dazai gasps out "sorry mommy."

Poor thing doesn't even look like he knows what he's sorry for,his eyes rolled back,face flushed a gorgeous red. You smile down at him and cup his face in your free hand gently.

"Don't be sorry baby,be a good pillow princess and cum on my cock." You say gently as Dazai nods his head,his legs spreading wider as you fuck him fast and hard. He cries out when your hand wraps around his swollen cock,gently stroking it as you grind into his prostate.

"Need to cum mommy," Dazai moans as he fucks up into your hand "so close,need it mama."

You speed up your hand on his cock and kiss his forehead tenderly. He mewls loudly as long ropes of cum spurt from his cock,his balls drawing up while he cums hard. You let go of his twitching cock but keep thrusting into him.

"Ah! Ahh, too much. " Dazai whines out as you grind into his overstimulated hole. His eyes are wide as he jerks and shakes his head,shaky gasps falling from his bitten pink lips.

"Take it baby,lie down and take it." You purr out while you watch,with sadistic fascination, his cock slowly getting hard again. Dazai shudders violently,registering the look in your eye,he throws an arm over his eyes with a shaky moan.

You pull the arm away from his face with a quiet "nuh uh" and you lace you fingers with his. Quickly adjusting your grip on his bony hip,you grind into his prostate slowly. Dazai's eyes screw shut as he digs his heels into the bed,you smile gently down at him as you bring him to the edge again slowly.

"Feels so good mommy," Dazai mumbles as he stretches slightly,his back arching while you reach out for his neglected cock. He whimpers out a plea when you grab it,you reach towards the bed side desk with a sudden idea.

Dazai's eyes are closed in lazy bliss before a tight,squishy something envelopes his sensitive cock. His eyes snap open as a startled moan fills the air along with the sqeulching of the fleshlight going up and down his cock.

Dazai is practicaly panting as he tries to fuck up into the flashlight and also push the dick deeper into his prostate. His eyes are hazy as he stares down at the fleshlight gripping his cock,you smile in absolute delight at the sight in front of you.

"Faster mommy," Dazai groans, tears beading on his lashes "Milk my cock,please? It hurts s'bad."

That's all you need to hear because you immediately begin to fuck into him eagerly,your hand squeezing and stroking the fleshlight on his dick. His body jerks while you abuse his cute cock,his face scrunched up as he topples over the edge.

Dazai fucks into the fleshlight desperately,his cock twitching as he fills it,his abs tensing as his body abruptly hurtles towards another orgasm.

"Still- still cumming!" His balls draw up,desperately trying to produce more semen to fill the fleshlight. Dazai is sobbing and writhing, his cock getting more and more sensitive. You lift the fleshlight up so it covers only the flushed the head of his cock.

You squeeze the the fleshlight a couple times on the the tip to tease him but you watch in surprise as Dazai's entire body jerks,his long limbs flail a little before his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You tilt your head and keep moving the fleshlight solely over the head of his cock. Dazai jerks again and babbles about how weird it feels before he stills and his cock jerks.

Dazai let's out a low moan that travels into a high whine as he squirts out a clear liquid,his jaw clenches while he fucks the soaked fleshlight. You watch on with a slack jaw, watching him arch and writhe on the bed before going limp.

You lift the fleshlight of his cock and lay a soft kiss on it,stifling a giggle as his hips jerk weakly. You climb up his body and wipe his sweaty hair away from his forehead. Dazai cracks an eye open and smiles slightly,you just can't help but smile back.

"My cute pillow princess," you kiss his hand mockingly as Dazai scoffs.

#dom reader #dom!fem!reader #dom!reader #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #sub character #sub dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai

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syo0x · 2 days

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Hi! I hope you're doing well :)

Could I was wondering if you could write a gn!reader who is sick and refused to take their meds. So PM Dazai and Fyodor who are already fed up and annoyed with the whining about feeling sick, take the pills and water into their own mouth and kiss the reader to make them take their pills. And afterwards saying something to make the reader swallow.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

•BSD men with a stubborn sick s/o

•Characters: Fyodor, Dazai, + Chuuya

━━━━━━━━━━━━ Fyodor ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Everything felt dizzy... as you lay down the couch while you wait for Fyodor to come back. You don't know when you felt so heavy, as you heard the door unlocked and saw Fyodor.

"Welcome, baaack.." You said while he saw you completely looked sick.

Fyodor's expression falls the moment he notices the state you're in. He approaches you, careful not to disturb you too much. He looks worried. "My, my dear, you don't look well." His voice contains a slight note of concern. This is... not something Fyodor is accustomed to. "Are you alright?"

"I dunnnoo.." You said as Fyodor kneels next to you. His hands rest on your forehead to check on your temperature.

"Oh, dear. You must've caught a cold." He then looked at you sighing... he was worried about how you got cold.

"I shall return with the necessary items in merely a second." Fyodor walks off and comes back carrying medications, drink. He sits next to you on the couch and gently places you in his lap. "Now, now... I know this tastes not to your liking, but you must drink it. It'll alleviate your symptoms to a certain extent."

You kept your mouth closed, refusing to drink the medicine.. you hate the way you have to drink some bitter medicine. As you looked away and not daring to even look at what Fyodor was holding.

"Im not gonna drink that.." You said being stubborn after seeing the medicine colour just makes you feel sick.

"Be a dear and make it easier for both of us. I don't want to resort to more drastic methods. Drink it." His tone has grown colder again, a note of annoyance evident.

There were still no signs that you're going to take of you taking the medicine.

"I don't waaaant to..." You said... Fyodor sighs.. and have enough with your protest.. but he can't help to adore your vulnerable state and being stubborn. He loves the view he's viewing right now, but he has no choice but to do it.

As you feel Fyodor's hand on the back of your head, and he tilts you upward. He kisses you on the lips, sliding the cold liquid into your mouth. His tongue forces the medicine down, and just like that, he holds your mouth closed until he's sure you have swallowed everything.

You can taste the bitter aftertaste running down your throat as Fyodor pulls away. You were speechless as he still looked at you with a serious expression of him as you were so stubborn.

A blush spread on your cheek as you kept quiet on what just happened... as he smiled mischievously.

"Now.. close your eyes and rest.. you don't want me to make me use other methods for you to obey, right?" He then kissed your forehead and made sure you're comfortable. It's pretty rare to see this side of Fyodor.. as your eyelids slowly get heavy and make you fall asleep.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ PM Dazai ━━━━━━━━━━━━

"Belllaa~" Dazai won't stop cudding with you as how much you've been saying you're sick and still snuggle up to you.

"We can't cuddle right know..." You said.. slowly nudging him as you felt bad.. you wanna cuddle with him too but you don't want him to get sick.

Dazai continues leaning forward until only their noses are touching, he whispers in a voice that is barely audible. ".. How about we just spend time together until you get better..?"

Dazai's hand remains gently pressed against your cheek, his thumb occasionally gently rubbing against your skin. Dazai leans back as he continues speaking

Dazai keeps smiling and continues whispering, "... Because there'll be no shortage of opportunities to do more than just caring for you."

Dazai's hand remains gently pressed against your cheek as he leans closer once again and speaks with a soft and comforting voice. "You're mine after all.." He said, smiling at you.

You felt more dizzy as you can't really much tell what's Dazai was saying he noticed that you were starting to feel dizzy. His hand remains gently pressed against your cheek, but he leans back. His voice becomes softer, and he grabs some medicine.

He tried to be as convincing as possible as he spoke. He knows you're going to be stubborn when you have to drink medicine.

"Come on, just drink it up. It won't taste very nice, but it'll get your cold control faster so you feel better...then we cuddle you know..?"

He said as he looks at you pleading.. You didn't fall for it as you kept refusing.

"No.. im not going to drink that..!" You said and avoiding his gaze.

Dazai chuckles softly as he speaks, his tone becoming more seductive and comforting as he was slightly annoyed.. how can he cuddle you if you kept going like this..? he then leans closer towards you

"... You're really too stubborn at times, you know that? Fine.. let's do this on easy way.."

Dazai's hand firmly held your chin as it forces your jaw open just wide enough so he can pour the medicine into your mouth. Dazai keeps a firm grip of your chin the entire time so you can't spit it out.

Dazai chuckles as he feels your tongue trying to push the medicine back out of your mouth. Dazai then seals your lips with his, forcefully preventing you from pushing the medicine back out. Dazai's other hand holds you in the tight grip as he forces you to swallow the medicine.

You were surprised as you tried to push him away refusing to swallow it Dazai doesn't give you any breathing space to refuse the medicine as he keeps holding your mouth sealed shut with his. His hand keeps on firmly gripping your chin as you try to move your head away from his. He keeps trying to make you swallow the medicine.

Dazai eventually manages to make you swallow the medicine in its entirety because of how hard he pressed his lips against yours. The medicine is gradually flowing down your throat and into your stomach.

Dazai pulls away smirking as he gave you a kiss again as you clearly start to struggle to breath and a blush spread across your face. Dazai kept repeating the same loop and immediately throw a pillow at him to stopped Dazai.

"Im not done kissing you yet..!" He said.. with the look of lust on his eyes as he took a note of you blushing a smirk can be seen on his face. "Oh..?~ You liked it after all.." He said teasingly.

He then snuggled up to you feeling relief you've taken your medicine.. "Now we can cuddle now..~" You still felt flustered and felt so defeated by his kiss.. Maybe next time you'll drink your medicine with your own will.

━━━━━━━━━━━━ Chuuya ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Chuuya came home tired.. seeing your state making him so annoyed.. he just wanted to cuddle with and sleep already and now.. he's not able to.

As he takes note of your fever. Despite that, he still wants to comfort you for a bit, even if he is going to end up getting sick.

“I know… but I can’t let you lie here alone like this.”

He sighs as he pulls you into a hug, knowing very well that there’s likely a chance he might fall ill, too. But he is willing to risk it if you could be made more comfortable, even if it’s just for a bit.

"Chuuya don't be stubborn..." He then let of you pouting as he spoke.. “Damnit, Doll… you made sure to take your medicine right?”

You then looked away, avoiding his gaze.. "Well.. uhm.." Chuuya’s eyes narrow as he raises an eyebrow when you mention you haven’t taken your meds yet. “You didn’t take your medicine..” He looks at you with a disappointed look as he sets you out of his arms and sits up in bed. “Why didn’t you take your medicine..?”

"It taste bad and im going to be fine..!" You said protesting.

“So? You still have to take them…” He grumbles as he stands up and walks to the bathroom, grabbing some medicine and a glass of water from the drawer under the sink. He walks back to you and places the water and medicine on your lips. “Just open wide…”

You covered youself with blanket and moving away from him. "I don't waaannnaaa"

Chuuya scowled at how stubborn you’re being, but he’s already made up his mind and knows he won’t stop until you take them. “I know you don’t want to, but you need to.” He tells you sternly as he holds the tablet to your mouth and waits for you to swallow. “Come on, Doll. You know I’m not kidding around.”

As much as Chuuya had felt a bit exasperated with you, he still couldn’t help but to find you adorable. Your stubbornness was always one of things he adored about you. Even when you pouted and hid away your mouth.

But once he placed the pill on your tongue, he didn’t hesitate on kissing you to get you to swallow it.

Chuuya continued to apply soft kisses on your mouth as he waited for you to swallow the medicine. Once he heard you've finally swallow it, he broke the kiss and pulled back slightly. "Alright... you took it?" He murmured as he looked at you for an answer.

You cough a little and felt embarrassed as you hid yourself with a pillow. “That wasn’t so bad, Doll, you’re fine.” He told you as he gently removed the pillow from your face. He also brought a hand up to brush back your hair, as if it was a natural reflex to do so.

“Just relax, there’s no use in being so embarrassed…” He rubbed the back of your head gently and kissed your forehead to comfort you. “It’s not like I haven’t kissed you before anyways. You don’t need to turn all red for me…” He teases and smugly about.

Well he's right.. but it was unexpected... as you lay your head to his chest and wrapped his arms around you to make you sleep comfortably.

"Rest well, Doll.." He then kissed your cheeks adoring you. The medicine wasn't taste so bad when Chuuya makes you drink it.. you wondered why...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #dazai x reader

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luvfy0dor · 2 days

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“Rise and Shine, Sweetheart ♡⁠˖” BSD x GN!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

╰┈➤ Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoevsky

warnings; probably a little ooc

description; morning routines with select BSD men

A/n; I'm tired of these hoes omfg but anyways req break cause I think I've done 2 in a row now ^^ 3 more to go! Some of them are kinda harder to write out, but I'll give it my best, even if in the end I have to put them into short headcannons.

Dazai Osamu ★

Dazais morning routine consists of clinging onto your arm, trying to coax you back into a couple more blissful minutes in bed before you go off to work while he makes his decision on whether he's gonna go at all. Needless to say, you're the first one up, but he usually follows soon after, going to the bathroom to shower some mornings and emerging with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist while he rewraps his bandages. Sometimes he even asks for your help if you don't seem like you're running short on time, and he loves it when you assist him. He'll usually sit on the bed while you stand between his knees with the roll of cloth being passed back and forth between your left and right hands until you cover his arm. When he doesn't have you help him re-mumify himself, he'll find something for you to do for him. If he chooses to wear a tie, you're the one tying it. He likes when you hold his coat out for him to put on just so he can shrug it on and turn around to kiss you. His hand goes to cusp your cheek familiarly as he hums against your lips and lets his eyes flutter shut.

“Have a good day, y/n! I'll see you tonight, yeah? Don't take too long getting home, I was thinking we could do takeout and movie night! Maybe this time we'll even pay attention to the screen instead of each other the whole time, hehe.”

Chuuya Nakahara ★

Most mornings, Chuuya wakes up first. Sometimes he'll step onto the balcony to smoke a cigarette before you wake up from the disappearance of his warmth and watch the sunrise. It reminds him of you. When he's done with his cigarette, he'll come back inside and either scooch back onto the bed or lean over you to kiss your forehead and wake you up. He'll shake your shoulder gently and call out your name with his messy ginger hair pointing in all different directions. He'll smile down at you when your eyes peek open and place a kiss on your lips, greeting you and rubbing your arm lovingly. Other mornings, ones on the rare occasion that he had off, he would snooze in bed with you for as long as possible. You'd both cook something for breakfast, far from just grabbing a banana or pop tart like you would before work. Afterwards, he'd head to the shower, which you're always welcome to join, and afterwards brush his teeth and hair.

“Hey...time to wake up, y/n. I'm not comin' in here to get ya again, so you gotta get up the first time. No, no five more minutes- I gotta leave soon, so get up before I gotta leave without a goodbye kiss cuz you're still snoozing.”

Fyodor Dostoevsky ★

Fyodor is often up before you are, whether he slept last night or not you don't know, but you certainly don't mind when moments after you open your eyes he's gotten you some tea or coffee. He's great to be woken up by, because he's making sure you're up. He'll come back into the bedroom every two minutes if he needs to, calling out your name from the doorway and warning you that you're going to be late. While you're getting up and ready, he busies himself with reading and peering out the window at the sunrise. When you're finished, he'll kiss you goodbye at the door, his cold hand lingering on your waist as you turn to open the door. After you're gone, he dresses himself in his worn in white button down and pants, topping his outfit off with his boots, cape, and ushanka. He'll look around at the photos hanging on the wall of the two of you and smile to himself, swinging the door opening and leaving as well.

"Ah, good morning Myshka. I see you're finally awake, it only took me waking you up 6 times. I've brought you tea, but you've got to drink it quickly or else you'll hardly have time to get ready for yourself."

A/n; I cry a lot but I am so productive!!! It's an art!! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

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asimpforyagami · 2 days

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🇨 🇴 🇴 🇰 🇮 🇪 🇸 !

BSD MEN REACT TO YOU BAKING COOKIES FOR THEM AFTER A BAD DAY.

↷ A/N ─ we hit 5k+ notes !! im so happy :D there's gonna be an event which im gonna talk about at the end of this. enjoy and please leave likes and reblogs :)

★ FT. ─ dazai , chuuya , ranpo , akutagawa

!! TAGS ─ fluff, pure fluff, hurt/comfort, angst

"i know you had a bad day, so i made you cookies"

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ.

It wasn't abnormal for someone like you to see Dazai cry. Nevertheless, it'd make him feel embarrassed, even pathetic for showing his emotions to you in such a way. And somewhere in his mind, he could see the faint looks of pity on your face every time he broke down, eyes glossy as he'd remember his old days at the Port Mafia with his perfect little friend group.

He was Osamu Dazai. He had experienced pain, loss, a few fleeting moments of joy, and so much. He had been through a lot. He did not need anyone's sympathy - even yours.

This day was, hence, nothing out of the ordinary. Dazai had trudged back home with heavy steps, dismissing your questions about his whereabouts and remarks about how drenched he got in the rain.

He had gone straight into the bathroom and locked himself in. It didn't matter how many years had passed since Oda's death. It would always feel like yesterday to him, so close yet so far away. It would always rip his heart out how if he had been there just a few moments earlier, he could never have had to watch his only friend die.

He sank to his knees near the wash basin and cried.

---

There was a knock on the door. Dazai scrambled to his feet to open it. He was in the bedroom after another breakdown, locked away.

"Dazai?" he heard your soft voice from outside the door. His heart warmed up a little and he opened the door.

"I know you had a bad day," you said, holding out a plate of freshly baked cookies, "so I baked you cookies."

Dazai looked down at the plate for a moment, then looked back up at you. He felt numb. He felt disoriented. Slowly, he reached out to break one cookie with his fingers and ate it.

"This... this is amazing," he said quietly, tears blurring his vision, threatening to break him down once more.

"It's not much. They're only chocolate chip," you waved a hand off. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah," he replied in a breathy voice. "Yeah, I do."

His ruined day had been perfected by a mere batch of cookies. As you urged him to have more, he finally smiled.

How could someone be so kind?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ.

Chuuya was no stranger to drinking and passing out on his couch only to be woken up by you late at night so that he could come to the bed and sleep comfortably there. He felt pathetic for using wine and alcohol as a means of coping with loneliness, especially after Dazai left the Port Mafia.

"Chuuya?" you whispered softly in his ear.

He stirred in his sleep, one hand hanging off the couch while empty bottles crowded on the floor.

"Chuuya."

His eyelids fluttered open, and with a groan, he shifted on the couch, his hand instinctively reaching for the bottle that lay within arm's reach.

But before he could grasp it, you gripped his hand gently.

"No," you said firmly.

He paused to look at you before rubbing his eyes with his other hand and sitting up.

"I baked you cookies," you murmured, sitting on the couch beside him.

It was only then that Chuuya noticed his favourite cookies decorating a plate that sat on the table in front of him. You leaned forward to grab two cookies, shoving one in your mouth and the other in his.

With his mouth stuffed with a cookie, he couldn't help but stare at you as the events of the entire day crashed onto him all at once. A tear slipped from his eye - of joy, admiration or sadness, he did not know. But as he stared lovingly at the way you playfully scolded him for not including you in the drinking session, your voice muffled from the food, there was only one thought that crossed his mind.

How could he ever be stupid enough to believe that he was lonely when he had you?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

ʀᴀɴᴘᴏ.

Ranpo was not the type to cry in front of people. With his child-like confidence, very few people had ever actually seen him in a vulnerable state.

So it was distressing when he realized you saw right through his fake smile. He felt like an idiot for not predicting that you would get to know about how upset he was after the President scolded him.

He lay on his bed. Even thinking was too tiring for him right now. His hair was all over his face, his head pressed against his pillow. There was a knock on the door, and he spoke in a quiet voice, "Come in."

You entered with a plate of cookies. They were shaped like little stars, each with a different flavour and colour. You set the plate next to the nightstand and gave him a soft smile.

"I know you had a bad day, so I baked you cookies."

"You... you did?" he whispered, his voice cracking as he slowly sat upright to look at you in the eyes.

"I tried. I don't know how they taste. I wanted you to be the first one to take a bite."

He nodded and you sat down on the floor, looking up at him and putting a cookie in his mouth gently. Ranpo opened his mouth and felt the savoury taste of your baking.

"I like it," he hummed.

"Really? Do you want me to make some more for you tomorrow?"

"You will?" his face brightened up genuinely. "I love you!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

ᴀᴋᴜᴛᴀɢᴀᴡᴀ.

Akutagawa was one to hide emotions from everyone. He did not like to let others think of him as human, but rather as a creature to be feared, and someone to be proud of to Dazai.

Since the night Dazai had been abducted and Akutagawa had interrogated him, the latter had been quiet. He was never to talk too much or overshare, but it could be sensed that something had hurt him deeply.

"Ryuu?" you said softly sitting down next to him.

"No," he looked away, shunning you out before you even got the chance to speak.

"I know you had a bad day," you smiled softly, "so I baked you cookies."

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye before his heart melted. You had the most beautiful look on your face, two hands supporting a plate of cookies. He had never told you what his favourite ones were, frankly he couldn't decide. Sweet things just weren't for him.

But these ones, the ones that you made just for him? These were his favourites. The ones you had made that showed how much you understood him.

At that point, he realized he did not have to change himself to gain the approval he desired in the past. He had already won in life the moment he met you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

🇹 🇭 🇦 🇳 🇰 🇾 🇴 🇺 🇫 🇴 🇷 5 🇰 🇳 🇴 🇹 🇪 🇸 !

HERE IS THE PROMPT LIST FOR THE EVENT.

WE DID IT AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHSHRFEEKFHKNFAKN

THE WAY I SCREAMED ILYYY TYSM FOR THIS IM SO HAPPY :D

so OBVIOUSLY there should be an event 🤭 because as I've said multiple times i love spoiling yall

again, the prompt list for the event is here. all you have to do is ask for a scenario + character and i'll write it out :)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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demon-kumo · 2 days

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𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐞𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥

➤ 𝐂𝐡𝐮𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➤ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

➤ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

➤ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢'𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡-𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

➤ 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀

No one loves wine as much as CHUUYA. Hell he has a cabinet at home full of it, you were never one to drink though. Yet the minute he stepped into the home the scent of expensive wine reached his nose.

Working in the mafia had never been easy, whether you were a simple office worker or the boss, everyone went home late. Chuuya was no exception, as an executive he stayed longer than most. So the sweet pop in his bones allowed a satisfied smile to come to his face as he stood from the chair.

Finally, time to head home.

The click of the door allowed the corridor to open and sighed at the cool air hitting his face on the hot Yokohama night. His shoes hit the floor with a clumsy clack before it hit him. The strong scent of wine.

Perfect features, in your words "rivaling the gods", scrunched up as he walked through the penthouse and was met with an unfamiliar sight.

You. Hunched over the marble counter with a familiar red bottle in front of you. Soft cheeks hued red alongside your adorable ears, with a dazed look in your eye. Chuuya knew this sight, it had been on his own visage multiple times.

It seems the roles have been reversed.

Blazen blue hues softened considerably on instinct at the mere sight of you as he waltzed over. Placing a hand on your shoulder you looked up with glassy eyes and met the eyes of your lover.

"Hey (Y/n), you good?"

A drunk giggle escaped your lips, "Of course," you waved your hand, "I am perfectly fine, can't you tell?" you said as you were about to take another sip only for your husband to grab the glass.

"Alright love, I think you've had enough." He chuckled, finding your drunken state endearing and amusing. He had never seen you drunk before, you were normally the responsible drinker. It wasn't often that you drank wine.

The smile dropped from his face when you gasped like an overzealous Karen, hand to your chest as you looked at him with mouth agape.

"Sssirr, you may be handsome and k-kind enough to care about some stranger buuuuut don't call me that!" You slurred your demand as you pointed at him.

Chuuya tilted his head, "Call you what?"

"You know exact-ly what I mean you scoundrel! You can't call a w-woman you just met lllovveee,"

Chuuya raised his brows in surprise, "Huh?"

You squinted your eyes at him with a pout, "You heard meee right, I will have you know I am married!" You slouched in your chair.

Chuuya deadpanned, "L-(Y/n), I am the man you are married to."

You scoff a drunk scoff, "Y-you dare lie to me, I know my husband when I see him. And," You pointed at him for the nth time that night, "you look nothing like him."

You look through your blur and see the hazy figure of blue and orange covered in black and red clothes. Yep, 100% not your husband. "Myyy husband is ten times the mannnn you will ever beeee. He would never lie to meeee.... plusss he is-sh the most handsome man I have ever met."

Chuuya flushed bright red at your words but chuckled as he picked you up bridal style, just like he did the day he married you, and smiled at you. The same loving way he always did.

"Well then, that man is extremely lucky to have you. He also loves you more than anything, probably... no he would definitely burn the world for you."

➤ 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

Being passed out from beer and liquor was a familiar scene to OSAMU. Within the years of hiding from the mafia and laying low, passed out in bars. But to find his spouse in one, now that was a new one.

"(Y/n), sweetie, I think you should stop," Dazai suggested as he watched you call the bartender for another shot. You already were way past wasted.

It wasn't often Dazai was seen with a worried expression but this was one of the moments. He was worried his darling wife would pass out soon and wake up with the largest migraine when waking up.

"Wwwwhatttt, no!" You childishly rejected it as you waved your hand dismissively. "I cannnn handle itttt."

"Sweetie, if you drink any more you will pass out." Dazai sighed, is this how you feel when you deal with him drunk.

He placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you up, placing his credit card at the bar, and paying for your drinks. Surprisingly he actually had the money to pay for the amount of shots, for her, he will always pay.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you to bed."

"mhm, nnnooo!"

You push yourself away from the man, stuttering away as you look at him with an exasperated look. Dazai gave you a worried smile, "What do you mean-"

"I tollld you no!" You shook your head, "I have a husband! I am a married w--woman!" You said with a small hiccup as you held onto the counter with your knees bent.

Thank the lords that this bar is empty, Dazai thought to himself as he let out a small laugh. "Sweetheart, I am that husband."

"Nope!" You shook your head, "I know my husband, he would never look like you. You're hideous, my man is the... picture of... beauty!"

You slid to the floor on your knees as your cheeks reached an even more red state while Dazai chuckled though if you looked close enough you could see a small blush.

"Oh is he now?"

"Y-yes, I would never betray himmm, what kind of woman... would I beee, if I went to bed.... with another man!"

Awww, that is so sweet, even if the man who is currently trying to take you to bed is your actual husband.

All of a sudden, tears fall down your face, large fat puppy tears as broken sobs. Dazai's shifted to shock as he quickly bent to the ground and placed his hand on your shoulder.

"Hey! What's wrong?"

"*Sob* It's just.... thinking 'bout Samu.... *hick* He is always sad." Dazai's eyes widened as he remained silent when you started to rant. "He never shows it... *sniff* but he thinks so poorly *hick* of himself... but he won't tell me how he feels.... he thinks he is unworthy of *hiccup* h-happiness... or me... I'm a terrible wife... I can't even talk to him about that *sobbing*..."

You cried on his shoulder, tears staining his sandy coat but he didn't care. He looked down at you with an expression he rarely ever wore in front of someone. No one could really describe it, looked like a visage of self-loathing and pity. Was this how you really felt.

He brushed a hand to your head, who had now fallen asleep on his shoulder, mouth slightly agape. You looked like a sleepy child in an adult body. He placed a soft kiss on your head.

" Sweetheart, I know you can't hear me so it doesn't count but, you are right I don't think I am worthy of you. You are the best thing that has happened to me, which is why I am trying my hardest to make you happy."

#bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #soukoku #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd fluff #demon kumo #romance #dazai osamu

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fyorina · 10 hours

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ᡣ𐭩 I, CARRION

FEATURING: beast dazai osamu

SUMMARY: the day of the event has arrived and dazai is second guessing everything, but it's too late for him to back out now.{wordcount: 12k; fem!reader; romance & tragedy}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART FOUR wow guys we're really getting into the meat of the fic now. HAHAH this is the chapter i had to split into two parts, initially it was going to be one big one but then it would've been a whopping 23k words and that's a bit much even for me. i didn't want to cross the 20k realm HAHAHH. anyway, this chapter really was a pleasure to write, the second scene was my favorite but the ending was SOOOO close to usurping it

GENERAL WARNINGS: again, i'll just leave this warning on every chapter - dazai struggles a lot with disassociation/derealization & losing himself in the pages of the book. as always please let me know if i forgot any warnings

SEE: UNREAL UNEARTH SERIES MASTERLIST READ: BADLANDS SIDE A

“Gin-chan, I’m so nervous.”

You pace around Dazai’s penthouse anxiously, twisting your fingers in front of your body. The event is taking place tomorrow night. You still don’t have an outfit for it—Dazai told you not to worry about it, you’re still worrying about it because what does that even mean? You don’t know what to expect from the event, and Gin is evasive when you ask her about what will happen, just keeps telling you that it’ll be fine as long as you stay with Dazai.

“There’s no reason to be nervous,” Gin says, as she always does, still tapping away at her laptop. Glasses hang off the bridge of her nose and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. You feel a bit ashamed about constantly going on about your nerves when you know damn well she, Dazai and all of the other executives of his company have been working nonstop the past few days trying to finish preparations. “Dazai-san will be with you the whole time, and if he has to talk business, someone will sit with you until he can get back so you’re not feeling awkward.”

Somehow, you think that might be even more awkward because you doubt a random person is going to want to babysit you while Dazai is busy, but you don’t voice your thoughts, instead just withering as you circle the large room for the sixth time in the past five minutes.

You’ve hardly seen Dazai all week. You don’t really mind, you know he’s swamped with work and you’ve been keeping yourself busy going out cafe hopping and shopping. Gin comes with you when she can, but it’s usually Nakajima Atsushi or Tachihara Michizo that joins you—Gin had introduced you to the two security guards a week ago when she’d been too busy to come with you to a cafe downtown. You don’t mind the company but you can’t help but wonder why Dazai is so insistent that someone comes with you.

Well. You can’t help but wonder about a lot of things, really. You’re pretty certain that Dazai is still hiding something major from you. You don’t know a lot about business, and you especially don’t know anything about his business, but something isn’t right. You’re not stupid and everyone is not as slick as they think themselves to be, you see how tense and anxious people get when you mention him to them, more so than the average worker would be at the mere mention of their boss, and everyone in the entire damn building is armed, even though they clearly try to hide it whenever you’re in the area.

You and your friends have joked about the uber wealthy before, and how no one above a certain tax bracket obtains their wealth without some sort of blood money; you’re about 99% sure that’s what’s taking place here too, and it would certainly explain all of the secrecy. More so than trade secrets at least, you feel a bit dumb for that to have even been an explanation in your mind. You just don’t know the specifics. You don’t know if you want to know the specifics, you think you’d prefer to remain ignorant because 1) you definitely don’t want to have any sort of culpability, not when you’re on path to graduate school and hopefully a very prestigious job with the government, and 2) … you don’t want to face the reality of what that would mean.

You like Dazai. More than like him. You’ve been slowly coming to terms with the fact that you really, truly care for him, and if you end up learning the… specifics of his job, then you’re going to be forced into making a decision you don’t want to make: preserving your future and morals or risking them for him. And you’re not going to sit around and claim to be some upstanding, virtuous person. You’re not. But you are ambitious, and you’ve had your mind set on your future since you learned how to pick up a pen and write. You’ve worked your entire life to get where you are now, slaved your way through a prestigious undergraduate school in Japan and spent months preparing for the entrance exams for graduate school, only to what? Throw it all away for some man?

God, you almost feel sick. Distantly, you wonder how awful of a person you must be for the threat to your future success to be the main reason why you’re questioning yourself, and not the fact that it’s very likely that Dazai and his conglomerate have some sort of business with Japan’s underground, maybe even direct dealings with the mafia itself.

You pause from where you’re pacing around the room, eyes widening a bit as another realization hits you. You had thought it was odd that Dazai and Gin and all of the executives of the conglomerate have been so stressed and anxious over an event that they’re not even hosting, but what if… Your throat spasms a bit as you swallow, wondering if Dazai is about to bring you not to an event hosted by their rival, but to an event hosted by the mafia. You don’t think he would put you in danger like that, you don’t want to think he would put you in danger like that and you wonder if you’re just sending yourself down a spiral of unnecessary paranoia.

But it doesn’t make sense. Dazai is enamored by you, and you don’t think you’re being conceited by saying that because he has made it abundantly clear. There’s no way he would ever put you in danger like that. Not unless… you feel a bit green remembering his reaction to you saying that you’d go out on your own and stay with your friend the weekend of the event. You could feel the anxiety radiating off of him for a split second before he asked you to come with him. You also remember how he always makes sure someone is with you when you go out, and god, you swear you’re not a conspiracy theorist but nothing is making sense when you look at it through your rose-tinted lenses but looking at it through these lenses. The lenses of a man who is obviously smitten with you, and who might have dealings with the mafia—of course he wouldn’t want you to go out on your own because he’d be scared that you might be targeted as a means to get to him.

Oh, you feel dizzy. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Are you okay?” Gin is looking up at you, brows furrowed in concern. “You look a little sick.”

“I’m fine,” you say, but the words sound pathetic even to your own ears and you know Gin doesn’t believe you from the way she tilts her head to the side to study you.

Luckily, you’re saved by the bell. Literally.

Your head snaps to the side as the elevator dings, and ordinarily, you would be ecstatic because who else would be coming up to the penthouse besides Dazai and while you’ve certainly missed him over the past week with how busy he’s been, you’re not sure if you’re ready to see him right now with the way your thoughts have just spiraled, because you think you might blurt something out that you can’t take back.

But, for better or for worse, it is not Dazai that enters the penthouse.

“Good morning, ladies,” a familiar voice croons as the elevator doors slide open. Your eyes light up as you whip around, eyes falling upon a face you haven’t seen in almost two weeks. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Albatross!” you say, excited, a smile splitting your face, because yes, even knowing about the possible affiliation with the mafia, you’re still excited to see the blonde—he’s never been anything but sweet to you, and he’s really the only one besides Gin and Chuuya who doesn’t treat you weirdly because of your relationship with Dazai.

“D’aw, look at it, Lippmann, told you the doll would still remember me,” Albatross grins, dark glasses hanging on the bridge of his nose as he tosses you a wink and then looks back toward the elevator.

Your gaze follows his, and your eyes fall upon a vaguely familiar person stepping out of the elevator and into the penthouse, carrying a few boxes. Pale hair cut into a bob, a pretty, androgynous face, dressed to the nines in a light purple waistcoat and matching pants—where have you seen him before? Wait-

“You’re-!” you begin, eyes wide and lips parting in shock.

“Walter Lippmann,” the man greets you with a kind smile and soft eyes, you feel a bit flustered, you can hardly meet his gaze. “Everybody just calls me Lippmann though.”

You try to speak, but you’re a bit starstruck—the last thing you’d expected was for a movie star to step into the penthouse. You’re looking between Albatross and Gin and then hesitantly back at Lippmann as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Albatross cackles. “Looks like she’s gotta crush, Lippmann. Better not let the boss find out, he’ll get jealous.”

“Albatross,” you complain, hands flying to cover your hot face. “Not true, I’m just surprised. Am I allowed to be surprised?”

“Yeah, sure, doll, that’s it,” Albatross says, clearly not believing you at all as he throws himself onto the couch next to Gin, looking up at you. “The boss asked us to pick up a dress for you. Go try it on, I’m going to raid his liquor cabinet while you do—if he asks, you better take the blame.”

You see Gin roll her eyes. “You will not raid his liquor cabinet, Albatross,” she says firmly, but the man only winks at her.

You turn your attention back to Lippmann, who’s carrying the dress in a garment bag, a shoe box tucked under his other arm. He gives you a small smile and then motions for you to follow him; you’re still starstruck as you follow him into Dazai’s bedroom, pointedly ignoring the way Albatross snickers.

You watch as Lippmann hangs the garment bag up on the closet, placing the shoebox down on the bed. He turns toward you after and says, “Try it on and make sure it fits properly. And make sure you like it.”

You nod, lips parting to speak but no words leave your lips. You look up at the garment bag, down to the shoes, and back to Lippmann and then you ask, “How do you… how do you know Dazai?”

Lippmann gives you another gentle smile, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. You notice, a bit curiously, that he seems to take a moment before he speaks, as if choosing his words carefully.

“I knew Dazai’s father,” he says after a few seconds. “I work with the Mori Corporation sometimes regarding press and political matters. Like a spokesperson when Dazai is unable to.”

Hm, you think to yourself before nodding, a movie star as a spokesperson for a corporation, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?

Your brows furrow slightly as you try to fit the new knowledge in with all of the rest you’ve put together over the past few weeks but it’s just another jagged puzzle piece that’s not fitting in anywhere.

“I’m a huge fan of your movies,” you finally tell him, rubbing the back of your neck as you toss him a sheepish smile. “Like, no joke, almost cried when you had your discussion panel for The Good Society three months ago because it was two days before my entrance exam to grad school so I couldn’t go.”

Lippman laughs, pale cheeks flushing as he looks down at the ground before back up at you. “Honestly, you didn’t miss out. The whole panel was a mess, and the AC broke twenty minutes before, so it was ridiculously hot.”

You don’t really know what to say to that, cursing the fact that you are 1) still half dazed on top of 2) already being naturally awkward, but Walter Lippmann is Walter Lippmann, so of course he knows just what to say and do.

He nods to the dress that he hung up on the closet. “Try it on and then give us a show,” he says, winking at you before he makes his way out of Dazai’s bedroom back into the other room with Albatross and Gin.

You sigh when you’re alone again, tilting your head up to look at the ceiling for a moment, wondering what your life has become before you make your way over to the dress. You unzip the garment bag, curious to see what Dazai had picked for you, and your eyes shoot open when you see the red gown within the bag. Smooth and silky, off-the-shoulder, it’s probably the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon; you feel like you shouldn’t even touch it, much less put it on.

But Lippmann and Albatross and Gin are out there waiting, you can hear them talking through the door, so you force yourself to gingerly pull it off of the hanger, careful to not be too rough with the material. It doesn’t take you too long to get your clothes off and the dress on, but when you do, you can hardly bring yourself to move away from the mirror.

You look beautiful. You do. The dress is a perfect fit, it compliments your skin, it compliments your hair. You look beautiful, but you feel like a fraud, like a clown in a ball gown, hoping that the beauty of the dress would draw attention from the fact that it’s not meant for someone like you.

You don’t know how long you stand there, staring at your reflection. Too long, evidently, because you hear a sharp knock at the door and Lippman’s concerned voice asking if you’ve gotten the dress on.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’m dressed.”

You hear the door to Dazai’s bedroom creak open but you don’t turn to look.

“I think this costs more than my student loans,” you breathe out, staring at yourself in the mirror. You smooth your hands over the silky material, eyes catching the way it clings to you perfectly. “God, where the hell did he get something like this? It’s like it was made for me.”

“Probably was,” Lippmann says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe, lips quirked up into a half smile as he tosses you another wink. “Perks of dating one of the richest men in Japan.”

You let out a noise caught between a whimper and a laugh, suddenly feeling very, very out of place.

Lippmann clearly catches your sudden change in attitude and his brows furrow. “Do you not like it?” he asks curiously. “There’s plenty of time for him to send for something else.”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, voice catching. Although you’re unsure how twenty-hour hours constitutes ‘plenty of time’, but you digress. “It’s perfect. It is.”

“What’s the issue then?”

“I just…” you trail off, eyes lingering in the mirror. “I feel silly, I guess. How obvious is it that I’ve never worn anything like this before?”

“Silly?” Lippmann asks, amused, peeling off the doorframe to make his way over to you. You swallow thickly as he straightens your posture and then uses two fingers to make you raise your chin. “You look stunning. Like a woman who belongs on the arm of the most influential man in Japan… Like a woman who doesn’t need to be on the arm of any man.”

Your face feels a bit hot as you let out a puff of laughter. “Now you’re exaggerating.”

“I certainly am not,” Lippmann says firmly, taking a step back. “You’re only getting in your head. From what Chuuya has told me about you, you’re more than suited to outwit and outclass anyone in attendance at that event.”

Your face feels hotter now, smiling as you roll your eyes. “Flatterer,” you say, but you feel a bit better, chest lighter as your gaze turns back to look at the mirror. “... Do you-”

A sharp whistle from the door draws your attention from Lippmann; there’s a lecherous smile on Albatross’s face as he leans against the frame and looks at you, glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. “Damn, if you weren’t the boss’s girl…”

Gin slaps him hard on the back of his head, glaring at him before turning a small smile to you. “You look beautiful,” she says softly. “He’ll be speechless when he sees you tomorrow.”

Your throat feels tight as your lashes flutter, a smile on your lips as you look down at the ground. Even though the concerns of your realizations from before still weigh heavily in the back of your mind, you can’t help but feel a bit giddy at the thought of seeing Dazai tomorrow.

The giddiness is long gone.

You still haven’t gotten dressed.

You’re sitting at the edge of Dazai’s bed in your bra and panties, staring at the wall with your knees pulled to your chest. Your dress is hanging on the closet on the far side of the room, heels sitting on the floor beneath it. You’ve done your makeup and you put your earrings on already—pretty, dangly diamonds that are the most expensive thing you own, the last thing your brother gifted you before he cut you off entirely. You need to be getting dressed, Dazai will be up here any second to pick you up to leave for the event, but you just can’t bring yourself to put the dress on, anxiety eating away at you.

It’s not even because of the realization you’d come to yesterday, it’s because you think you’re about to make a fool out of yourself. Even if you’re wrong about the theory that you might be heading into an event hosted by the mafia and their associates, you’re still heading into an event that’s going to be attended by people who are much wealthier than you, and you already feel out of place and you’re not even there.

The dress is beautiful, but you think you’ll look like a clown in it, everyone will know that you’re not from the same sector of life as them with a single glance. Lippmann’s words from yesterday are in one ear out the other now that you’re closer to the actual time of the event.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even hear the bing of the elevator arriving at the penthouse, and you don’t notice Dazai until he pushes open the cracked door to step into the bedroom. And you feel like you should be embarrassed sitting half naked on his bed, rather than being dressed and waiting for him, but you can’t muster it, eyes dragging up from the wall to land on his concerned expression.

And he’s a sight, you think. He’s so handsome. Absently, you think he might be more handsome than the last time you saw him but you think that’s a bit ridiculous because he hasn’t changed at all. He’s wearing the same long black coat and burgundy scarf, but the sleek, dark suit he wears beneath it is different, more expensive than all of the others that he’s donned the past few months you’ve known him.

His lips are turned downward as he approaches you, placing a blue box down on his dresser, dark eye soft with concern, and you also can’t help but notice that he still wears the bandages around the upper left side of his face, covering his eye. You want to know what’s beneath them desperately, but you can’t bring yourself to ask, hoping that he’ll show you on his own terms.

He stands in front of you, and you rest your chin on your knees as you stare forward, staring at his abdomen instead of looking up at his face. But he doesn’t let your gaze linger there, bringing his right hand to cup your cheek so he can gently lift your face upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. You can feel the rough edges of his bandages scraping against your skin, and you instinctively lean into his touch. You try to remind yourself of all of the realizations you’d come to yesterday, tell yourself to not be as at ease with him, at least have some semblance of your guard up, but you fail.

“What’s wrong?” he asks you softly, letting you lean into his touch as he brings his other hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Are you okay?”

And you feel selfish, you realize, as you try to figure out what to tell him. You can’t even fathom the amount of money he spent on your dress and the shoes, and here you are being a baby because you’re self conscious. You don’t even want to reply to him, so you try to turn your face away but he doesn’t let you.

“Tell me,” he says quietly. “I’ll fix it, whatever it is.”

“It’s silly,” you finally breathe out, averting your gaze to the ground as you let your eyes flutter shut, turning your face in his hand to kiss his palm before leaning back into it. “I’m being a baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not silly if it has you upset,” Dazai tells you, and he kneels down in front of you to catch your gaze again and briefly, you think it’s absurd that you have such a powerful man at your whims like this, kneeling before you, willing to do anything to make sure that you’re content and happy. It makes your throat swell a bit, those inferior feelings rising back to your chest with a vengeance, because what the hell did you do to deserve this? There’s nothing special about you. “Tell me what’s wrong, let me help.”

“I just don’t understand.”

Oh my god, your voice cracks, you can feel your eyes go a bit misty, and instantly, Dazai’s concerned gaze is narrowing, as if trying to calculate what exactly is the source of your distress so he can remove it, and it only makes you want to cry more because what did you do to deserve all of this?

If you’re right about all of the assumptions you made the other day, and Dazai is bringing you to this event even though by all means he should not because there’s likely going to be a lot of shady business occurring that could incriminate him and all of the other people at this event, then why? Why would he risk that just for a girl he met a few months ago? You can’t fathom it.

God, you know better than anyone the effects imposter syndrome can have on a person in school, but the last thing you expected was to be dealing with it in love too.

Love, the word makes your stomach churn because you do love him, you realize, as he stares up at you desperately trying to figure out what’s wrong so he can fix it. And how scary is that, considering only twenty-four hours ago you came to the realization that he’s very likely involved in the underground, in some way or another, and you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d have to choose between your future and a man. But he’s not just a man, he’s a man that you love in spite of everything you’ve put together.

A tear spills over your cheek and Dazai’s gaze becomes alarmed as he instantly wipes it away with his thumb before caressing your cheek gently.

“What don’t you understand?” he presses quietly. “Talk to me.”

Where do you fucking start?

You want to cry even more but you force yourself not to, you can’t afford to let your makeup get anymore messed up than it already is. Instead you sniffle a bit and try to blink away the tears.

“This,” you finally say, and your voice cracks again, you take a wet breath. Dazai’s lips part a bit, as if he wants to speak but he’s not sure what to say, brows furrowing. “There’s nothing special about me, Dazai, and I don’t understand why you’ve gone to the lengths that you have for me. Meeting me at that club every Friday as if you’re not always swamped with work, indulging me whenever I want to do things. You gave me a place to stay after only knowing me for a few weeks, gave up your own room, your own bed, so I could be comfortable while you slept at your desk. You’ve made sure people are always with me so I never get bored or lonely. You’ve given me literally everything I could possibly ask for and I’ve just been freeloading off of you for two and a half weeks now. Now, I’m going to go with you to this event and end up embarrassing you because I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb compared to everyone else there. They’ll know I don’t belong there and I just-”

You cut yourself off, and you want to avert your gaze from Dazai’s but you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you watch as something akin to amusement flashes through his eye. He takes one of your hands into his and brings it up to his lips, eye sliding shut for a moment as he kisses your knuckles. You let out a shaky puff of air as his lips linger for a moment before he looks up at you again through his lashes.

“Let me help you get dressed,” he murmurs, and you look down at the ground now as you nod, letting him help you to your feet and lead you over to where the dress is hanging up on the closet door.

He pulls it off the hanger and guides you into it, pulling it up and adjusting it so that it covers you properly. He steps behind you, and you realize that he also has you standing in front of the floor length mirror set up on his closet door. You sniffle a bit again as you look at yourself in the mirror.

Your makeup looks a bit smudged beneath your eye from the tears gathering at your lash line, but somehow, you still look beautiful. You think it’s only because of the dress, the way it clings to your body so nicely and brightens all of your features. You take in another shuddered gulp of air when you feel Dazai begin to zip up the back of your dress slowly, each brush of his fingers against your skin lights your nerves on fire, and once he finally has it zipped to the top, he kisses the nape of your neck, hands falling to your hips to caress them gently. Your eyes flutter shut as you lean back against him, his comforting hold settling your turbulent emotions.

“I met you at the club every Friday because you were the only relief I had from reality,” he finally says, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he holds you. “I indulged your requests because I was indulging in you myself. Every moment I spent with you, I allowed myself to be Dazai Osamu, the person, and not the… Not what I’ve had to become to keep this organization running.”

Your breath catches, lips parting at his words but no sound escapes them. He kisses the nape of your neck one last time before he moves to stand in front of you, kneeling down again as he grabs one of your heels and undos the buckle. You watch with bated breath as he lifts your left foot from the ground to kiss your ankle before sliding the heel on, deft fingers fasting the clasp.

“I gave you a place to stay because I was selfish and I wanted you around more,” he sighs, resting his forehead against your knee now as he lingers there for a moment before moving on to repeat the process with your other foot, kissing your ankle and slipping the heel on. He continues, “Likewise, I have kept you surrounded by people because I have been desperately afraid that you’re going to get bored and want to leave because work leaves me little time to be around. Unfortunately, I’m not the generous person you’re making me out to be, I’m horribly self-serving and greedy, especially when it comes to you.”

He looks up at you now from where he’s kneeling in front of you, gaze searching your face. You want to reach out and cup his cheek, so you do, and immediately, he’s turning his face to kiss your palm just as you’d done to him before letting his eye slide shut as he leans into your touch, as if basking in it.

“I would give you anything you want,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze shut as he holds your palm against his face. “Anything. And if it was something outside of my reach, I would make it in my reach. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, no lengths I wouldn’t go to and no lines I wouldn’t cross.”

You think your lungs might be burning, you don’t think you can breathe as you stare down at him, heart thudding in your swelling chest, tears building in your eyes again but this time not out of insecurity. Dazai finally rises to his feet after placing one last kiss upon your knuckles, and he doesn’t say anything as he makes his way over to the dresser where he’d placed the blue box.

You don’t move, watching as he opens it and pulls something out before making his way back over to you, standing behind you. He looks at you through the mirror as he lifts his hands to place a glittering diamond necklace upon your collarbone. You can’t breathe again, you realize, it’s cool against your skin and you think it might be the most expensive thing you’ve ever laid your eyes upon, dozens upon dozens of white diamonds shimmering in the mirror in front of you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire as his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he clasps it onto you.

“You are beautiful,” he says, voice so raw that you almost shiver at the intensity of it. His fingers brush your hips as if he’s afraid to touch you. “You are beautiful, and intelligent, and everything I have ever wanted. You deserve so much more than me, more than you’ll ever be able to understand, and I’m sorry that I’m not a good enough man to do what’s right and let you go. The last thing you should ever be doubting is this.”

His eye slides shut again as he lets out a soft puff of air, the warmth fans across the back of your neck and you think you could spend forever in this moment with him, wishing that you could freeze time.

“You said that you thought it was fate that brought us together,” he finally finishes, voice quiet as he references what you told him the first time you met. “Don’t ever doubt your place with me. Wherever I am, you belong, whether it’s a club, or an apartment, or an event.”

“I thought you hate the idea of fate,” you say, voice a bit choked as you try to force the tears back again.

“I do,” he affirms, “but if fate brought us together, then far be it from me to deny the one thing in this world that has ever made me happy.”

You love him.

You feel sick to your stomach—be it from butterflies or the implications of the realization. The words threaten to burst from your lips but you swallow them, instead, another tear trails down your face and he sees it through the mirror, lifting his hand to wipe it away before leaning a bit over your shoulder to press his lips to your jaw.

“I’m ruining my makeup,” you rasp, letting out another shaky breath.

He smiles against your skin.

“You’ll be beautiful still,” he murmurs before pulling back, admiring you for a moment before he asks: “Are you ready to go?”

You nod. “Yeah,” you say, a bit breathless. “I’m ready.”

“Everyone is staring at us.”

You’re not wrong, exactly. As soon as the two of you had entered the room, all attention was sent your way, and though the music was loud enough to drown out most chatter (intentional, of course, so unsavory ears can’t overhear even more unsavory dealings), Dazai couldn’t help but notice the hush that spread through the room at the sight of you. The boss of the Port Mafia with a date on his arm was certainly a sight to behold to all of the rest of the occupants of the event hall,.

“Can you blame them? You look beautiful,” he says, voice laced with a teasing edge that is certainly not matched in his expression. Dazai knew people would be looking at you if he brought you here. Still, he wants to gouge their eyes out.

His arm tightens around you as he tucks you into his side, cold gaze sweeping across the massive event hall. At least two hundred people are attending Nabokov’s event—an even mixture of pharmaceutical tycoons, technology barons, politicians and mafiosos.

At first glance, he recognizes four different mafias in attendance.

Mishima Yukio of the Sun and Steel stands by one of his associates, the president of Mitsubishi Chemical Group; the man’s dark eyes card over Dazai with lazy interest, before his head tilts to the side as he studies you.

Dazai thinks that the Sun and Steel might be the Port Mafia’s only allies in attendance, and even then, allies might be taking it too far. The extent of Dazai’s dealing with Mishima was a general agreement to not encroach the Sun and Steel’s monopoly over the narcotics industry—which Dazai never intended on doing anyway because the industry is far more trouble than it's worth—and an unspoken promise to protect Japan’s underground from foreign mafias.

Dazai wonders if that unspoken promise still holds or if the Russians have cut a deal with him.

Nabokov’s Pale Flame, obviously, is in attendance, along with the remnants of Leo Tolstoy’s Three Deaths. Tolstoy himself is sitting at the bar, a glass of whiskey in hand as he leans back on the stool, gaze focused on you. Nabokov is off to the left, making his way across the room to greet Dazai, a curious expression on his face. Dazai recognizes Cao Xueqin of the Red Chamber sitting near Kitazawa Michihiro of Fuji Electric, one of the Port Mafia’s closest associates; and Dazai thinks that might be a bit foreboding, both because of the presence of the Chinese and the company he’s keeping.

Dostoevsky’s House of the Dead is nowhere to be seen, but Dazai knows that they’re here. Somewhere. He just has to find him—and he will.

More eyes are on you than him, and although that was to be expected, Dazai can’t fight the doubt that suddenly swirls in his chest, wondering if he’d made the right decision. If you hadn’t been on people’s radar already, you definitely are now, and the thought makes him a bit sick to his stomach. He tries to console himself with the fact that this was the lesser of two evils—the mere chance of you being on the radar of any of the mafias in this room, no matter how slim it might be, was not something he could gamble with. There was no way he could let you go out alone and unprotected. People like them, people like him, would jump on the chance to take advantage of the weakness and he couldn’t let that happen.

But is this really any better?

He’s thrown you into a pit of snakes, and you’re ignorant to all of the threats around you. His gaze drifts back down to you, catching the way your brows are knit together slightly, the way your lips are pressed in a thin line. There’s an indecipherable look in your eyes as your gaze shifts over the room, and Dazai wonders if you know more than you’re letting on. That’s another scary thought, but he can at least find comfort in it for now because it’ll have you keeping your guard up around these people. He’ll just have to deal with the consequences later.

He dips his head down to your ear, speaking quietly before Nabokov finally reaches him: “Just follow my lead, you’ll be fine.”

The look you shoot at him is nothing short of withering, and Dazai can’t help the smile that curves at the corners of his lips as he lifts his head back up to subtly brush his lips against your temple. He catches sight of movement from the corner of his eye and any softness that might’ve been visible in his expression washes away instantly.

“Dazai,” Nabokov greets, beady eyes flickering between you and Dazai, partially curious about you and partially nervous about Dazai. Dazai tilts his head to the side, becoming increasingly more unamused the longer Nabokov’s gaze lingers on you. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to apologize for not being able to attend our planned meeting a few months ago.”

“So I heard.” Dazai’s voice is short and distant, more focused on the feeling of you tucked into his side than the conversation at hand. He has to force himself to keep his gaze steady on Nabokov, wanting to look down at you, but he contents himself with letting his hand slide down to your hip, rubbing absent circles against the silky material of your dress.

Nabokov fumbles over Dazai’s clipped response, a bead of sweat gathering at the corner of his forehead. He wishes he could peer into your head and see what you’re thinking, about him, about this, about everything. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get through the night without you realizing who he is, what he is, and that thought scares him because he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to explain it to you, so he could at least try to paint himself in a better light. Although, he’s not sure what sort of light would make anything about him look better.

“Who is this?” Nabokov finally asks, turning his attention toward you. Dazai doesn’t like the way he looks at you, eyes raking over you like you’re a piece of meat.

“My partner.” To Dazai’s credit, his voice is much smoother than the turbulent emotions in his chest would suggest. “Where is your wife, Nabokov?”

Nabokov doesn’t even respond to the question, laughing loudly. “Never thought I’d see the day you found yourself a lover, Dazai,” he chuckles and then holds his hand out to you. “Vladimir Nabokov.”

You shift a bit to take his hand, but Dazai is faster, lithe fingers wrapping around Nabokov’s wrist in an agonizingly tight grip. Nabokov winces, Dazai’s face is cold as he stares down at the man.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” he warns, keeping his voice low.

Vladimir Nabokov. Invitation to a Beheading. An ability that grants its user to draw a target into an interdimensional space through physical touch—Dazai isn’t sure what the space entails because no one has ever left it alive.

Nabokov tries to laugh it off, weaker this time as he takes his hand back and shakes out his wrist. “My, Dazai, possessive, aren’t you?”

“Very,” Dazai agrees idly. “Be sure to remember that.”

Nabokov gives him another wavering smile, and Dazai can’t help but wonder how Dostoevsky could have possibly thought anyone would believe the man could head the tripartite alliance of the Pale Flame, Three Deaths, and the House of the Dead. Anyone with half of a brain would know that Dostoevsky is behind their union. Maybe that’s what he wanted, Dazai notes absently as he watches Nabokov’s gaze flicker to the upper left corner of the room. Dazai follows it to where a camera is positioned, encompassing most of the event hall.

The smile on his lips is nearly as chilly as the air-conditioned room around him.

There you are.

Dazai’s gaze cuts back to Kouyou, who’s standing a few feet behind you and Dazai with Chuuya, Ace and Piano Man. The woman inclines her head in recognition of his silent order as she fans her face lightly, taking a step away to make a call to Hirotsu, who should be stationed around the building with the rest of the Black Lizards by now, prepared to move in at the first sign of danger.

Nabokov looks as if he’s going to speak again, which inclines Dazai to believe that he’s seeking something out in particular for Dostoevsky, and from the way he keeps glancing at you, Dazai assumes it has to do with you. So as the man's lips waver, eyes darting as he tries to formulate another conversation opener, Dazai speaks before he can get the words out.

“If you don’t mind,” he says, voice cold and clipped as he all but dismisses Nabokov, who flushes a bit, nodding and apologizing before stepping away.

Dazai realizes that he probably has not prepped you enough for this event, but in his defense, he’s been swamped with his own preparations and how is he supposed to prepare you when he can’t even fully explain all of the dangers? But now, it’s making him anxious, because at some point tonight he’s going to have to step away from you to meet with Nabokov in one of the backrooms, likely with Tolstoy, Cao, and Mishima. Dazai’s executives will have to be there with him, and Tachihara is supposed to slip from the shadows to join you while you wait for his return, but there’s likely going to be at least a good two to three minutes where you’ll be alone until Tachihara can get to you. That’s assuming he doesn’t get caught up on the way over.

He needs to talk to you, at least warn you about the ability users attending the event so you don’t accidentally stumble into a potentially lethal situation without him around.

If he goes to the bar, Tolstoy will take advantage to try to sweep you into a conversation, picking up right where Nabokov left off. If he goes off to the left side of the room, Cao will make his way over to interrupt. If he goes off to the right side of the room, Mishima is there. The only place… Dazai inhales as his gaze focuses on the massive dance floor of the event hall, dozens of couples are spinning around already, and it will be loud enough there for the music to drown out his conversation with you from unwelcome listeners.

He turns his attention to you, holding his palm up and tucking one arm behind his back as he asks lightly, “May I have this dance?”

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, seemingly hyper aware of all of the hungry, curious glances of the other attendants directed your way, but he’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes glitter beneath the chandelier’s lights, and the way your dress clings to your body, and the way a soft smile tugs at your lips. He thinks that even if you hadn’t entered the event on his arm, all of the room’s attention would be on you still, because you’re beautiful, and captivating, and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll ever understand how he managed to pull you in one lifetime, much less all of them.

You place your hand in his and Dazai guides you across the floor, intent on finding the perfect space. It’s hardly obvious the way that the other people on the dance floor would inch away as the two of you passed by, intent on staying out of Dazai’s way and letting him have whatever space he wants, but you pick up on it, he thinks, seeing the curious look in your eyes as your gaze sweeps around the people around you. He bites back a sigh, because he’s sure that you’re tallying everything up in your head trying to put it all together, and once you get that final puzzle piece, everything will be over.

His chest sinks at the thought of losing you, but he forces it away. He has to focus on the situation at hand because even a single slip up could be fatal—not only for him, but for you too. As soon as he reaches a suitable spot on the dance floor, he tugs you a bit closer to him, hands sliding down to your waist. Your own arms instantly come up to loop around his neck as you look up at him through your lashes and Dazai suddenly feels breathless, vision tunneling and heartbeat stuttering at the way you look at him.

God, how is he supposed to focus with you around? He can hardly concentrate on anything but you. He’s flying too close to the sun. Has been since the moment he met you. Drawing you into his life and keeping you there, now bringing you here, so many gambles, too many gambles… the heat is scorching, and it’s only a matter of time before his wings burn. If he was smart, he’d let you go so that you don’t burn with him, but his fingers only bite deeper into your waist at the thought.

The music is slow, and the two of you sway in tune to it. The other couples give a wide berth, some casting wary looks at Dazai, ones that he’s sure you’re catching. He doesn’t know where to start, or how to start; what does he tell you that doesn’t condemn him? Luckily, he doesn’t have to start the conversation because you do, for better or for worse.

“Was that man the rival that Gin mentioned?” you ask curiously, and Dazai can’t help but notice there’s a strange look in your eyes as you ask it, one that he can’t place.

He hesitates, but then says, “No. He wasn’t. I haven’t seen him yet.”

You hum lightly, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck in a way that makes him shiver. But his eyes narrow when he realizes that you don’t look the slightest bit surprised by his answer.

“You knew that already,” he accuses lightly, and he forces himself to swallow the lump that suddenly forms in his throat because if you figured that out on your own already, what else have you figured out? God, he knew this was risky, you’ve always been ridiculously perceptive—he just needs to get through tonight without you putting everything together, then he’ll be fine.

“I suspected it,” you finally affirm his accusation, gaze searching his face. “He was nervous talking to you. If he was your rival, I’d expect him to be a bit more… assured. And he kept looking up toward a camera, like he knew someone was watching that he’d have to answer to.”

Oh, you did pick up on a lot more than he expected. He doesn’t think that the smile he gives you quite meets his eyes, if the way your brows furrow have anything to say about it, but he distracts you by bringing his hand up from your waist to cup your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he murmurs, “That’s my girl, always so smart.”

Your lashes flutter as you avert your gaze, a tell tale sign of you being flustered. His lips quirk up into a more genuine smile, hand dropping back down to your waist. He can do this, he tells himself, he just has to be careful, tell you enough to make sure your guard is up and you know to at least some extent that the people in this room aren’t to be trusted.

“There are a lot of ability users in here,” he finally warns, careful to keep his voice low even with the music covering his words. “Do your best to keep your distance from people. I’ll stay with you as much as I can, but I’m going to get pulled away sooner or later. Chuuya or Piano Man will stay with you when they can, and if they’re pulled away, Tachihara is going to come down to stay with you.”

“... That’s why you didn’t let him shake my hand,” you say, realization flashing through your eyes, another puzzle piece fitting behind your eyes and Dazai has to be careful because it’s only a matter of time before you’re given that final piece and everything comes together. “What’s his ability?”

“... Nothing good,” he answers after a few moments of silence, but you’re not content with that, brows furrowing. He sighs. “No confirmation on it, we only know it’s lethal. Many are in here.”

Your eyes widen and then you look a bit skeptical. “And you think they would use it here? In public?” you ask slowly.

To Dazai’s horror, it is not skepticism tainting your tone, but rather, you’re fishing for information, trying to put more pieces together, and he doesn’t have much choice but to give you answers because he can’t risk you setting your guard down even for a second.

He chooses his words carefully. “... There is little they wouldn’t do to get ahead in our business.”

“Hm,” is all you say in response, something akin to understanding flashing through your eyes and Dazai dreads to know what his answer has just told you. He feels distinctly like he’s playing chess against an opponent he did not anticipate and he’s at a disadvantage because the opponent is you. He can feel your shoulders slump suddenly, an unfamiliar expression crossing over your face; you look tired, as if you’d aged twenty years in a matter of seconds. “What did you get me involved with, Dazai?”

You say it so softly that Dazai barely hears it himself, and he knows. He knows that you’ve figured something out, he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t want to know what. He wants to evade it as long as possible, because the moment he has to have this conversation with you, he knows he’ll lose you. He can’t think about that now, it’ll throw him off and this is the last place he can allow himself to be thrown off.

Instead, his grip on your waist tightens again, gaze averting down toward the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. The words weigh heavy on his tongue, not just an apology for tonight but an apology for accepting your offer for a drink two months ago, knowing he wouldn’t be strong enough to let it be a single night of indulgence; an apology for seeking you out again afterward, knowing that he would be sentencing you to death.

He feels sick.

What is he doing?

Why are you here?

What has he done?

“Dazai.”

You say his name but Dazai hardly hears you. God, he can feel it happening, where his fingers are pressed against your body, the skin suddenly goes cold and stiff, his surroundings are blurring, the people fading into the background. This isn’t the place. Nabokov. Tolstoy. Mishima. Cao. He can’t lose himself, not now, but his grip on reality is starting to waver, the pages pile around him.

“Dazai.”

What has he done?

Everything he’s planned for, seven years of careful calculations and planning gone down the drain. How does he even fix this? Can he fix this? His mind races, but he’s not even sure he’s thinking coherent thoughts, trying to ground himself to the present because he needs to stay here, he can figure out how to fix it later, when you’re not in danger but-

His vision swims. Not now. He can see it—he can see you. Still on the ground. Sometimes there’s blood, so much that he can hardly recognize you (but he can, of course, he can always recognize you, even when your body is littered with more gaping wounds than not). Sometimes it looks like you’re sleeping, so much so that Dazai kneels next to you, begging you to wake up (he knows in his heart that it’s futile. he can’t stop himself from trying). His head spins, he loses track of where he is and then-

“Osamu.”

His breath catches, gaze zeroing in on you. You. Alive. Your brows are furrowed in concern, searching his face to try to draw him back to reality. He thinks his grip on your waist must be painful but he can’t bring himself to loosen it at all. He stares at you, still desperately trying to keep himself grounded because although you’ve brought him back mostly, the corners of the pages still linger in the edge of his vision, threatening to consume him again.

“You can’t leave me,” you tell him quietly. “You brought me here. I need you here with me. Don’t go off somewhere I can’t follow.”

Oh.

He lets out a breath, slow and maybe a bit more shaky than he would’ve liked, but he tries to focus on the situation at hand. He loosens his grip on your waist, rubbing a gentle circle over your hip in an apology.

His gaze drifts around the room, Nabokov is in deep conversation with Cao, hardly paying attention to anything going on, but Cao’s sharp, dark eyes are pointed over Nabokov’s shoulder, scanning the dance floor. He’s looking for someone—not Dazai, which is a bit worrying, and he becomes all the more attentive to everyone in the vicinity, trying to make sure none of the Red Chamber’s assassins made it through the security. If any organization would be able to pull it off, it would be them.

Once he’s decided the coast is clear, he turns his gaze back to the bar. Tolstoy is looking at him—blue eyes sharp, blonde hair hanging in them, a curious expression on his face as he sips at his drink and watches as Dazai dances with you. As soon as Tolstoy notices Dazai has caught him, his lips curl up into a smirk and he raises his drink. Dazai’s expression is cold as he looks away, seeking out Mishima only to find the man nowhere to be found.

Hm.

Chuuya and Kouyou are entertaining idle conversation with two executives of the Sun and Steel, both keeping a sharp eye on where you and Dazai sway on the dance floor. Piano Man is entertaining several politicians, doing a good job at ensuring that none of the other foreign executives get any chance to get their ears. Ace, Dazai notes, is in deep conversation in the shadows with one of the executives of the Three Deaths.

Interesting.

He finally draws his attention back to you, a small smile on his lips as he recalls what you’d said to drag him from his spiral.

Osamu,

“You called me Osamu,” he murmurs, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he focuses on that instead, trying to ease himself back into reality. Technically, he’s heard you say his given name before. Well. Not technically. It was never you and it was never him, rather it was vague memories of other yous and other hims, but it was nothing in comparison to hearing you actually say it.

You look embarrassed, averting your gaze. “I didn’t know how to get your attention, I’m s-”

“Say it again,” he whispers, lifting his hand back up to your chin to tilt your face back up, forcing you to look at him. His eyes search yours, watching the way you can hardly hold his gaze. You look hesitant, so he continues with, “Please.”

“... Osamu,” you say again, breathless, and god, Dazai wishes the two of you were anywhere but here. He wants to press you back against his bed, run his lips up and down your body, map out all of your curves with his hand. He wants to watch you come undone on his tongue and on his fingers—he wants you, he wants you more than anything else in the world. Every time he’s tried to take the next step with you the past few weeks, he either got interrupted by work or he ended up getting cold feet, nervous about making a mistake.

Before his thoughts can spiral even more, the music picks up to a faster paced waltz. Your eyes widen, watching as all of the other couples shift into the respective dance. You look up at him, a bit panicked, clearly not sure what to do, and his lips curl up in amusement, beckoning you to lace your fingers with his to take the stance the other couples were taking.

“I don’t know this da-” you begin, voice hushed.

“Just follow my lead,” he repeats the same words he spoke to you when they entered the hall. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

You exhale, studying his face for a moment before sighing and mimicking the stance the other women took with their partners. He can feel your fingers wavering against his as he interlocks your fingers and he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand soothingly.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he tells you, just as the music finally picks up for the dance to start.

He thinks you’re worried for nothing. You moved smoothly in line with him and in tune with the music, gliding across the dance floor as if you’ve danced with him hundreds of times before, your body so in sync with his that the two of you put all of the other couples to shame. Not that any of them matter, of course, you’re all that Dazai can focus on. Your eyes never leave his, not even for the sparest of moments, and Dazai feels like he’s caught in a trance, lost in your eyes and the feeling of your body so close to his, hyper aware of the way your your hand rests on his shoulder and the way your fingers are wrapped tight around his.

God, there’s something so otherworldly about you. Doesn’t know if it’s heavenly or supernatural, if you’re his angel sent to lead him to salvation or his very own siren singing a sweet melody to lead him to ruin. Doesn’t think he cares either way—salvation, damnation, none of it matters as long as he has you.

“Not so bad, hm?” he murmurs, sweeping you out into a spin before pulling you back to him, closer this time. He can feel your chest brush his and he prays you can’t feel the way he’s lost control of his heart, painfully cognizant of the erratic thumping. His hand slides from your hip to the small of your back, holding you close to him. He could stay in this moment forever, surroundings drowning out; all he can see is you, all that matters is you.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “Not so bad.”

His lips part to respond but he’s interrupted when he sees movement from the corner of his eye, freezing.

“Dazai.”

Dazai stiffens as a familiar voice speaks from behind him, shifting to stand partially in front of you as his gaze cuts to the side to see Mishima’s familiar figure standing a few feet away. Turning to face him, he asks, “Do you need something?”

“I’d like to speak to you before we meet with Tolstoy, Nabokov and Cao.”

Mishima’s voice leaves no room for argument, dark eyes absent of any emotion as he waits for Dazai to follow him. Dazai’s jaw tightens, eyes drifting back to you as he tries to figure out what to do. He can’t leave you here, not with Cao’s hawk-like gaze trained on the dancefloor and Tolstoy waiting for the opportunity to make a move. But he does need to talk to Mishima, have some idea of where he stands with the Sun and Steel before facing all of the foreigners.

“May I have this dance?”

Dazai hadn’t even heard Chuuya approach, turning to the side to watch as he holds a hand out toward you expectantly, quick to step in to take Dazai’s place so that you’re not alone. You shoot Dazai a concerned glance, brows furrowing a bit, before you place your hand in Chuuya’s.

Chuuya leads you back onto the dance floor, Dazai’s gaze lingers for a few moments, a bitter feeling spreads through his chest because that should be him, and it’s wholly unfair that he has to deal with all of this unsavory business when he should be spending time with you.

He should just kill them all here and be done with it.

The words ring through his head, echoing, tempting. He inhales and forces himself to look away as you loop your arms around Chuuya’s shoulders, swaying in tune to the slow song playing. He turns his attention back to Mishima, voice cool and expression void of emotion:

“Speak.”

Dancing with Nakahara Chuuya is awkward. Awkward is even being generous. It’s not like he’s a bad dancer—in fact, it’s clear that he’s a very good one. He’s smooth on his feet as he spins you around the dance floor, but he’s so stiff. He’s careful to keep space between the two of you, hands never dipping lower than your sides, lips pressed together. He hardly even looks at you, his attention is more on where Dazai had stepped to the side to speak with the dark-haired man who’d interrupted the two of you, but you’re grateful for it, because it’s giving you a chance to gather your thoughts.

You think Dazai might’ve inadvertently confirmed your suspicions from yesterday. You don’t know who these people are, but there’s no way any ordinary business event would be dangerous enough for Dazai to genuinely worry that someone might kill you in a room crowded with two hundred people. A part of you wonders if it’s just different for ability users, that they’re not scared of committing crimes in public because they have an ability that prevents them from getting caught, but you know you’re just trying to make excuses at this point.

Your gaze drifts back over to the older, light-haired man with dark eyes who’d approached you and Dazai when you walked in. He’s off to the side talking with a Chinese man dressed in a red suit—your gaze lingers, trying to piece together the puzzle in your head desperately, but all of the edges are jagged and confusing, you can’t seem to figure out where they each fit with each other.

You’d thought maybe that Dazai and his business was somehow affiliated with the mafia, because no one with the amount of money and success that he has gets it cleanly, but now you can’t help but hesitate, reconsidering your original theory. Vladimir Nabokov had been scared of Dazai. And it’s not like you haven’t noticed the effect that Dazai has on people. Whenever you’re around people with him, they get tense and on edge, but it’s different seeing the effect he has on someone who doesn’t even work for him, a foreigner supposed to be one of Dazai’s associates if you understood what he meant about not showing up to a meeting.

Who are you, Dazai?

You don’t even know if you want to know. You love Dazai. You do. You knew it earlier in the night. You know it now. It’s something you can no longer hide or deny. You remember the concerned look on his face when he saw how upset you were. You can feel the way his lips brushed the nape of your neck as he explained why he kept meeting you at the club, the way he kissed your ankles as he knelt in front of you and told you how he was selfish for keeping you around, how he kissed your palm and leaned into your touch as he promised you anything you want. God, you love him, you don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he does; no one has ever spoken to you the way he does.

You love him, and it scares you because you’re realizing you still don’t know anything about him, not really, and you’re also realizing that there’s a high chance he’s been lying to you about what he does. It scares you even more that your first instinct isn’t to run. Because you should run. This should make you run. He brought you to an event with people so dangerous that he’s afraid they might try to hurt you, or worse, but you don’t want to run, because you’d be running from him and you don’t want to run from him.

Could you sacrifice everything for him though?

Fuck your morals—everything you’ve worked for, all of the years slaving away to put yourself on the path to success. You’ve told yourself your entire life that it would be all you would focus on, that it would all be worth it in the end. You convinced yourself that maybe if you proved yourself enough, your brother would return to your life; he’d be proud of you and he’d come back to you. You know he’s still out there somewhere, you get letters with no return address every month—the only thing in the envelope is a check with a dubious amount of money, but it’s in his hand writing, so you know it’s him.

A part of you wants to cry, frustration clawing at your chest: the future you’ve worked so hard for, or love? The question you’ve dreaded since your epiphany yesterday is finally thrown right in front of your face, and you need an answer. The two are mutually exclusive—you will not be able to pursue the career you want with Dazai Osamu, not in the way you want at least. And you don’t want to do all of this work to just end up being another shady politician.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Your gaze snaps up to Chuuya, who’s suddenly looking at you, and you don’t really know how to respond.

I’m pretty sure you guys are part of the fucking Mafia and you’re all hiding it from me, but also I don’t want to know if you are because that’s going to force me to make a decision that I don’t want to make so I’d rather live in ignorance.

“My thoughts are only worth a penny?” You deflect with a grin instead, hoping it meets your eyes.

It doesn’t, evidently, because Chuuya’s eyes narrow a bit, and then he tilts his head to the side and hits you with a more direct: “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried,” you finally say, not entirely lying but also not telling the truth.

“About?” Chuuya presses and you sigh, exhaling a bit.

“He mentioned that there were dangerous people here,” you tell him quietly. “I’m just nervous for when you guys go to your meeting… I’m guessing it’s going to be soon.”

Chuuya’s brows furrow and you can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes before he speaks again. “You’ll be fine,” he tells you. “We have people all over the event hall, and Tachihara is going to sit with you until you Dazai can get back. Dazai shouldn’t have worried you with all of this. He shouldn’t have even-”

He cuts himself off, jaw tightening, but you know what he’s going to say: he shouldn’t have even brought you here.

“I don’t know what he’s thinking,” Chuuya says quietly, and you think he might be talking more to himself than anything else now, but you listen anyway. “He’s always been hard to read but this is…”

He stops speaking out loud, as if he’s realized that you’re there again, and instead he shakes his head. “You’ll be fine. Back at the headquarters before you know it.”

You aren’t so sure.

Your gaze drifts to the side as you watch Nabokov and the Chinese man make their way over to Dazai and the man he’s talking to. The blonde at the bar that Dazai kept looking at also stands up, drink in his hand as walks in the same direction.

Chuuya spits out a curse under his breath and gives you an apologetic look. Your heart sinks and your throat feels a bit tight—he doesn’t abandon you right away though, pressing his hand to the middle of your back as he guides you across the dancefloor to the bar, all the while keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the other side of the room.

He pulls the barstool out for you, eyes still trained on where Dazai is standing with Kouyou, two men that work for him you haven’t met yet, and the four men you assume are business associates of his. Dazai is looking at you, an indecipherable expression on his face. You’re looking at him, suddenly anxious at the thought of being left alone, a bad feeling sweeping over you.

“Tachihara will be over here soon,” Chuuya finally says to you, tearing his gaze from his coworkers to look back down at you. He flags down the bartender to order a drink for you. “You’ll be fine. Knowing Dazai, the meeting won’t last long anyway.”

Your shoulders only slump a bit as you nod, thanking the bartender quietly for your drink as he hurries to bring it back to you, taking a sip of it. Chuuya doesn’t say much else—once you’re settled in your seat and have your drink, he squeezes your shoulder before making his way back over to the intimidating group of people standing on the opposite side of the room.

Your gaze meets Dazai’s conflicted one one last time before he’s forced to turn away and disappears down a side hall deeper into the building. You sigh as you twirl your drink around, the clear liquid sloshing dangerously close to the brim of your glass as your eyes twist around the event hall, seeking out Tachihara, or Atsushi, or anyone that works with Dazai because you’re feeling distinctly vulnerable alone. You find none of them. You can feel eyes on you—most you’re sure are harmless curiosity, wanting to know who exactly came in on the arm of Dazai Osamu, but you know some aren’t nearly as harmless, you can feel the hungry stares of vicious opportunists directed at your back and you don’t feel comfortable sitting alone.

You don’t even get five minutes to yourself.

“Is this seat taken?”

You’re startled by the unfamiliar voice, head snapping to the side. Your gaze focuses on a pretty man with soft features, shoulder-length black hair and gentle purple eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no words leave them, caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. He looks harmless enough, but there’s something about him that has you on edge—something simmering beneath the surface of his deceptive eyes that you can’t quite place but you know you don’t like.

“I mean no harm,” he says smoothly, lips curving up into an amiable smile. “I’m an old friend of Dazai’s. I only want to talk.”

An old friend. You don’t buy it, but you don’t want to risk antagonizing him, Dazai’s warning about the many lethal ability users prowling the event ringing through your head. You just hope that Tachihara shows up sooner rather than later as you finally shake your head.

“It’s not taken,” you say quietly, motioning to the stool as you take another generous sip of your drink.

The dark-haired man smiles at you as he takes a seat at the bar next to you, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the lighting of the chandelier. Instantly, you feel like you’ve made a mistake, a chill running down your spine as your eyes meet purple ones that are not quite so gentle anymore. Sharp and shrewd instead. Calculating. Dangerous.

“Fyodor Dostoevsky. A pleasure, truly.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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blixssily · 3 days

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"i love you, it's ruining my life."

| being bailed out by your ex is sure to bring back lingering feelings, no?

| dazai osamu x reader

˓ ꒱ notes and disclaimers: pm!reader and ada!dazai. dazai is reader's ex lover from the port mafia. gn reader. reader and dazai are both in their 20s. incorrect jail description. not proof read, apologies for any grammatical mistakes! might be incredibly ooc and might contain wrong information about the port mafia, apologies for both.

˓ ꒱ authors notes: in light of taylor swift's new album coming out, i'm trying my hand at writing for dazai!! i'm bad at writing angst so please bare with me. :(

the cold metal confinements are tight around wrists, the officers must've cuffed you a tiny bit too tightly you think. the blank grey walls of your prison are as uninspiring as your thoughts, you can't even find it in yourself to even try to escape from jail. to the majority of the members in the Port Mafia, crime was almost always a guarantee during missions. treading the lines of the law was a common thing, most missions included breaking those precious regulations. it was almost like the law had just become mere suggestions, guidance that you could choose to follow or not.

and sadly for you, the hands of the law had finally caught up with you this time, confining you into a bland concrete box. you were currently sitting on the bed that came with every little cell. not even sitting on it was comfortable, much less laying down on it. despite how uncomfortable the bed was, it would be quiet a pathetic sight for a Port Mafia executive to be sitting on the floor and just staring at the wall so you decided against it.

normally whenever you were unlucky enough to have been caught by the law, someone from the Port Mafia would bail you out, namely Mori or maybe some other executive. you weren't too surprised when an officer informed you that you had been bailed out, preparing your usual apology and to listen through a few lectures from whoever bailed you out on to be more careful during missions.

you're escorted out of your little concrete box, you wonder if the officer is going to remove the hand cuffs around your wrists. you follow the officer down the prison hallway, thankful to not be sitting on that god awful bed that you could've sworn was just a rock with a blanket draped over it. you're expecting to be met with a very displeased boss, preparing your apology for your clumsiness in being caught when.. you don't see him at all. in fact, you see someone you thought you'd never see again.

he looks.. different. he's grown taller, you're sure of it. he's been ridden of his usual black trench coat you always saw him in, his right eye and cheek no longer being covered by the fabric of gauze. instead, he's wearing a tan trench coat now, a bolo tie replacing his usual tie when he was in the Port Mafia. his hair messy and curly, not that it was ever neat, god no. you stare at the absence of bandages around his right eye and cheek, revealing his complete face and you can't help but mentally kick yourself for staring a little longer than necessary.

and suddenly, you become hyper aware of the sinking feeling in your stomach. it makes you sick to look at him, sick that your brain subconsciously forces you to relive your shared memories together. you avert your gaze down to the grey grounds of the prison lobby, unable to meet his gaze without glaring bitterly at him. your ex had apparently bailed you out of jail. your ex boyfriend from years ago when you both were in the Port Mafia. a cocky little smirk adorned his features, maybe he hasn't changed that much in some ways.

you find it in yourself to look up at him, emotions brewing behind your eyes. anger, confusion.. mostly anger, and yet you find it in your heart to feel relief at that fact that he's alright. that's he's not harmed. he had up and left without a word, not even a goodbye to you. you worried for him days on end, calling and texting but to no avail which ended up in you just calling it a breakup, calling him your ex boyfriend. despite the relief, it's minuscule in terms of your anger towards the man you once loved. you glare at him, glare at his stupid cocky smirk and how he seems like he doesn't even care about the history between you two. it's like nothing ever happened between the both of you.

"you're the one who bailed me out? what is this, some sick game you've decided to play?" you scoff at him, there was no way he just.. decided to bail out a Port Mafia executive out of the goodness of his heart, no.. no no no. that couldn't be true. "shame, not even a thank you?" you roll your eyes at his feigned sigh of disappointment. an officer releases your wrists from the metal confinements, red mark were already formed on your wrist. you bring your hands to your wrists, trying to soothe your irritated skin from how tight the hand cuffs were. you don't realise the look in his eyes, the slight change in his expression when he noticed the marks on your wrists. he doesn't like seeing you hurt, he absolutely hates seeing you in pain even if it's a mere scratch or.. in this situation, marks from a police officer's hand cuffs.

"come on now, the least you could do is thank me." he says with another cocky smile, you wish you could just slap it off his face but something tells you that he wouldn't exactly be ecstatic with you slapping his face in a police station.

"what do you want?" you snapped, not in any mood to be dealing with his teasing words accompanied by his usual shit-eating grin. he couldn't have bailed you out for fun, or for some sentimental reason. he wanted something, there was also a price when it came to him. "ah, how harsh! you're breaking my heart here.." the asshole has the gull to even jokingly suggest something like that.

"nothing much, really. just thought i'd help out an old friend." he hums, and you don't know if his words only spark a new flame of anger inside of you or if it wrenches your heart. the fact that he would consider you an "old friend", when you were his literal partner when you both were teenagers.

"an old friend? be a man you asshole, own up to who you broke up with." he doesn't answer, as expected. you're not sure whether you'd even prefer a response from him or just silence.

"let's talk, hm? maybe somewhere else?" he suggests after some time, calmly putting his hands into the pockets of his tan coat. you notice the slight change in expression in his face, you've spent years trying to practically decode this man and it only added to his amusement when you both were teenagers. now, you're thankful you took the time to observe him. you don't know exactly what he wants to talk about but, you know it's something serious.

"fine." you begrudgingly agree to him, sighing as you notice him leaving without another word and you know that's your queue to follow him. you don't know what you were expecting from the bandaged man, but he leads you to a little café. you raise an eyebrow at him when you two reach the front door, not exactly expecting him to take you to a cute little café that sells pastries and drinks. he meets your suspicions gaze with an innocent smile, urging you to step inside before him. what a gentleman. you step inside the humble establishment, greeted with a friendly smile by the cashier before settling into a seat near the back. he sits opposite you, it's almost as if he's treating this like you're his friend and you both are just going for lunch.

"so? you never answered my question." you reminded him, crossing your arms as you lean back on the plush backing of the seats. "what do you want, dazai." it hurts him the way you say his name, his surname. you never did that when you both were together, he liked being addressed as 'osamu' or 'samu' by you, it feels like salt being rubbed into the wound when you call him by his surname.

"oh? i'm deciding whether to get the latte or..." he trails off, noticing the most unamused expression ever on your face. he chuckles at the sight, shaking his head. "i'm only joking." he hums, stopping his little act at looking at the menu on the table. "i.. wanted to see how you were doing, is all." he shrugs, not really having a good explanation for bringing you to this cafe or hell, even bailing you out of jail. "i mean no harm by doing any of this, truly." he adds on before you get to question him, knowing what you were just about to ask him.

did he really mean that? that he wanted to just.. talk? you don't know what you should reply with, as a Port Mafia executive you should've killed him by now for being a traitor, but as his ex.. you're not sure what to feel. truthfully, sure you were pissed off at him for leaving without a word but you just couldn't find it in yourself to hate the man.

"fine, one hour."

"oh come on, two?" he pouts childishly, a sight you hadn't seen for awhile.

"one hour and a half. make it quick." you relent once again, it seemed like he still had the ability to make you soften up to him.

and so with that, you two proceed to awkwardly choose out your drinks for the time being while at the café and try your hands at small talk. it was.. incredibly awkward between the both of you, undoubtedly it was a little weird to even talk about work since well.. him being a Detective at the ADA and with you being a Port Mafia executive, what was there to talk about? it's weird to be so stiff with someone you used to be so comfortable with, you used to be able to talk about anything when you were younger but now it's just.. not the same.

while you two were talking, your phone screen lit up. some message from another Port Mafia member came up, said something about it being urgent. "i.. have to go, it's important." you looked up from your phone to face him, rolling your eyes at the tiny little pout that graced his lips. "a shame, maybe next time?" he suggests, hoping to have another time to talk with you again. you get the feel he misses you dearly.

"maybe." you shrug, standing up from your seat. you slid a napkin over to him, pointing to the corner of your mouth to signal to him that he had something on his. he mutters a small 'thank you', a tiny bit embarrassed that he might indeed have something on the corner of his mouth. as you leave, he uses his phone to check his appearance and.. there wasn't anything there? he thinks it might just be a silly little prank on your end to tease him after so long, he mindlessly flips the napkin in his hands as he puts his phone down.

in the corner of his eye, he noticed some.. writing on the napkin. your... number? you had changed your phone number some time after he left and now, you had given him your current one! it meant that you at least weren't that mad at him after so long, and that you at least wanted to stay in contact with him.

he decides to text you, just in case you decide to change your mind in the mean time of your separation.

your phone lights up as you made your way down the street.

[unknown number, 3:46 p.m ➜ you] "same place, friday?"

#bsd x reader #bsd dazai #dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #bsd dazai x reader

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yoruuuuuuu12345 · 3 days

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— series 1: friends pt2

synopsis: pre established relationship messages with these characters… again.

consists of: denji, dazai, chuuya, gojo, aki, megumi

note: i have no fucking idea how to make a master list so deal with this…

these are supposed to be quick fun msgs for ur favs but i might possibly turn it into a storyline for each char if that makes sense. So just enjoy these snippets😇

#jjk x reader #dazai x reader #jjk smau #bsd x reader #jjk #chuuya x reader #megumi x reader #aki x reader #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man #csm smau #gojo x reader #bsd smau #bsd #smau

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negativ3o · 1 day

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i tried to draw dazai in a style kinda closer to the anime (not sure if I achieved this)

my beautiful dazai that I drew when sleep deprived today ❤️❤️