#Dazai | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

with-my-calamitous-love · 3 days ago

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drawing hearts in the byline

osamu d. x reader

in a rare moment of “weakness” for him, dazai shows you whats underneath his bandages. angst/comfort, slight nsfw (implied)

this is one of those ones i needed to write, and i’m so glad i did. heres to all the comfort i’ve found on this app 🤍

song: tolerate it

broad shoulders and lean arms hold you in place on his mattress, touch firm but not mean. he’s seeing you for you, all of you, long, slender fingers unbuttoning and unlacing whatever they can find. his brown eyes stare, chocolate swirled admiration, as he finds more and more of you to expose.

its not his first time, nor is it yours, but dazai has that sort of magic about him. the kind of enchanting bliss that makes nightly, mundane rituals between couples far past their honeymoon’s feel like its their first time meeting. the kind of magic you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love that should be celebrated.

lips ghost over your face, nose nuzzling in with yours, a tender, almost child-like sweetness only dazai manages. you both know that even if you don’t have sex, you still want to feel skin against skin while you sleep. its a need for any touch-starved light sleeper.

the way your eyes ghost over the white fabric, mummifying him and what lies underneath, isn’t lost on him. he’s far too observant to miss a gaze like that, let alone your gaze.

but instead, he smiles, tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his. “looking at something, gorgeous?”

you wonder if that signature suave, that flintiness is a mask so fit, he either can’t go anywhere without it, or doesn’t realize he’s wearing it. either way, your hands intertwine with his, your thumb brushing over his bandaged knuckles.

“i just wonder why you always have these on, ‘samu. thats all.”

ah, the inevitable.

he hopes you don’t notice the slight fade that hits his smile, though he knows you will. years of barbed wire he threw blankets over, hoping it wouldn’t take up too much space or time. that he wasn’t taking up too much space.

he lifts his wrist, tracing over the lines of gauze. for a moment, he thinks, gears turning in his head, analyzing. he’s so used to holding his cards so close to his chest, most don’t realize he’s even hiding any. there are dangers with revealing himself, with making any moves un-calculated.

he short circuits when he feels your body shift closer to him, realizing that he is still in bed with you, and still needs to give you an answer. but he isn’t sure what to say- theres only one reason a man like him is always wearing bandages.

so why is he struggling to tell you the obvious?

“its not a pleasant story.” he settles on, eyes growing reminiscent. “its not even just one story.”

you bite your inner lip, looking for the words to say. some people don’t want to be comforted. some have a longing to simply disappear, and disappear is simply a soft word for that harsh reality.

his tendencies are so often treated as nuisances, you wonder if he ever had anyone that truly stopped and tried to understand.

“i just wanna know why.” you say, taking his hand. “i mean, i think i know. a little. but i wanna hear it from you.”

he’s embarrassed by how quickly that stinging feeling in his eyes arises.

“let me spare you from it.” his lips ghost a smile, fingers intertwined with yours. he isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve you- someone who sits and waits for him like a kid, using your best colors for his portrait, sitting with him in bed with zero traces of judgement or disdain. its funny how different we view ourselves and how others see us.

“don’t do that.” you’re stern, making sure he sees you. “i wanna be here for you. i want you to know that.”

he’s supposed so much older, wiser. and yet, he finds himself crumbling at just a few words.

his breath is shaky as he exhales. the only other person in his life who ever understood him died in his arms. he doesn’t want to wait to lose the second. he doesn’t want to lose you. for once in his life, he has something that may be worth living for.

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.*

the bandages unravel like skin from bones. they’re not tight by any means, but he had gotten so used to wearing them, he wonders if the heater is off or if its just the air finding bare skin.

its his skin. he knows more than anyone what mars it by now. but seeing that look of horror cross your eyes, taking in the lines and burns, makes his stomach churn.

for once, he doesn’t have a witty comeback or a smart reply. he just lets you take it in. tolerate it.

he knows you’ll cry, but it still hurts when you do. those tears shouldn’t be falling from your eyes, his pain his alone. it had been that way for many years.

he anticipates shock, and tears, and sufferance. what he doesn’t expect is to feel your lips kissing down his wrist, actively seeking out those scars.

“beautiful,” he says, his free hand moving to your waist, almost instinctively. “what are you doing?”

“i love you.” you cut him off. “you don’t have to hide this from me. i’m sorry.”

he almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of your apology. why would you apologize for something he hid? he can’t figure it out, but he doesn’t try too, either.

its all foreign to him- kisses, love, acceptance. a vessel he taught himself to hate, to seek out death, you embraced and nurtured. he doesn’t have many words for that.

you finally work your way up to his face, forehead resting against his. dazai pulls you onto his lap, kissing you deep and slow, wanting to feel it until his lungs scratch for air. even after he gives out, needing to breathe, his face stays mere centimetres away from yours.

and that need isn’t one sided, either. your arms wrap around his neck, his bare neck, arms finding their place despite the many slits and scars. your heart is beating his name in morse code, the space between yours and dazai’s lips your temple, your mural, even your sky.

he lets out a humourless laugh, coffee eyes staring into yours. “is it tolerable?”

your quick to shake your head, shutting him up with another kiss. “i’m not tolerating it. not when i still love you. i’m not some god damn martyr.”

he blinks away a single tear, lips curving into a smile- a genuine one.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you too.”

“well, now that we’re both undressed.”

“REALLY, ‘samu?”

he laughs, pushing you onto the bed, keeping you up the entire night. if you can celebrate him, he’ll learn to tolerate himself. maybe a little.

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evangelin3 · 3 days ago

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oh to be in love😓

foggy days . . . | chuuya + dazai

chuuya x gn!reader + dazai x gn!reader (seperate scenarios!)

"...god loves you, but not enough to save you. so good luck taking care of yourself." (sun bleached flies / ethel cain)

↑ you don’t have to take care of yourself alone. people come into your life and you enter those of others' so that everyone helps take care of each other. to be human is to love more than god can. more than god ever intended. - ness <3

3.2k words

notes: my og title was super long for this work so i’ve split it up into three parts each with their own song lyrics bc i’m in my yearning era. hopefully everything makes sense :> there is no longer any continuity between the formats of any of my posts and idrc. a little suggestive in chuuya's, a little bit of tongue action, once again i'm a whore for manga-chuuya so don't be offput by his eyes being described as brown LMAO. lots and lots of comfort, basically scenarios of chuuya/dazai + you on a foggy day,,, enjoy <3

thank you to @osamucide for helping me w/ dazai's choice of song <3 this ones for u <3 smooching u <3 ily <3 my life is dedicated to u <3 what a coincidence the lyrics you associated him linked directly back to the ending line i wrote for his scenario before i had even asked you for suggestions <3 we're just soulmates like that <3 mwah <3

. . . kisses on the tip of your nose (chuuya)

“hey, do you wanna see the west with me? ‘cause love’s out there and i can’t let it be." "...love’s never meant that much to me, but i’ll come with you if you’re sure it’s what you need.” (thoroughfare / ethel cain)

on foggy days, chuuya finds you on a bench underneath the warm flood of light from a lamp post above. air is transparent; it has no color, the phenomenon behind fog is simply that the air has become denser, increasing its visibility while lowering the sight lines of others. yet the humid air eagerly reflects and intensifies any color that shines through it, which allows for the sight in front of him now: like a flickering candle in the middle of a dark room, the throw of the single beacon of light on what must be yokohama’s foggiest day frames and spills atop the crown of your head, making you look more angelic than you already always do. if he had a camera on him, maybe he’d try to take a picture, assuming that the fog wouldn't harbor the clarity of the lens.

you think he looks cute, standing there lost in his own thoughts for a moment, hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat lined with that prickly, stiff, woolen fabric no one like but, regardless, cannot complain about because it keeps them warm. he’s finally abandoned his normal attire for something that's still classy, of course, but more appropriate for the weather.

a scarf is tied around his neck, the way you taught him to so that he wouldn't complain about how itchy or tight it felt, and he’s buried the lower half of his face deep inside the warm fabric, trying to keep his nose from freezing off.

you want to hold his face between your hands, nuzzle the tip of your nose against him, kiss the tip of his nose, then maybe the bridge of it, then the space between his brows, then over each of his eyes, then his cheeks, and then finally, his warm, warm lips.

but you'll do that after he stops scowling at you, shoulders hunched up to try and shield his ears from the nipping cold as best as he can.

he's also, of course, wearing that hat of his. you almost tell him to go back inside in case the moisture of the humid air affects the worn leather it's made of.

but he's braved the cold and stepped out of the house to find you, and you know it's useless to try to suggest the idea to him unless you're following him back in.

"what're ya doing out here in this weather?" he's not scolding you or upset with you, just utterly confused. he steps closer, removing his gloved hands from his pockets to pick up your bare hands that you had resting in your lap, holding them between his warm ones. "shit, i can feel how cold you are through my gloves, doll. you okay?" even if he happened to be irked by something you did, he could never stay mad at you for very long before he was overwhelmed with how much he loved you. now his eyes are warm and soft, focused on your own, brows laced with concern and the scowl gone from his face.

this is where you kiss him all over his face.

and that's exactly what you do, humming a small "yes" to his question before escaping the grip of his hands, locking your arms around his neck and using all the strength you have to pull him on top of the bench you're on.

it's harder than you expect, although maybe that's on you for thinking it'd be easy. he's an executive of the port mafia and most certainly their strongest; no matter how much he typically lets his guard down around you, it's only natural that he tenses up at your sudden attack.

but it's an attack of kisses, to his surprise, and he exclaims as he comes toppling onto you, your back hitting the spindly worn wood of the bench below you. his legs are tangled with your own, and he's placed his arms on either side of you on the bench to support himself, but you don't let him move another inch away from you, running your hands (warming by the second thanks to all the heat your stealing from him) up his neck to caress the side of his cheeks, pulling him close.

whatever he's been chiding you about now dies in his throat when you pull him close. when only your noses touch, and you look into his pretty brown eyes with those flecks of amber and blue, the prettiest eyes you've ever seen, his breath is warm against your lips, his own curling into smile as he huffs. "don't tease me now, sweetheart," whatever consequence he was going to threaten you with falls silent again when you ignore the jeer, shifting his face down slightly so that the tip of his nose meets your lips, and then you're kissing him all over, small murmurs of "i love you"s whispered between every other kiss. his eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks warming by the second despite your freezing hands, unable to keep himself from getting flushed from your overwhelming amount of love he swears he’ll never get used to.

he’ll always get worked up just from the sight of you, overcome with his uncontrollable amount of desire to kiss you and hold you in his arms, and he’ll never be able to stop his eyes from always tearing up the slightest bit along with the stir of his heart in his chest every time you tell him you love him. he'll never get used to your love, he swears, but he doesn't want to.

when you finally place your lips to his, he hums in pleasant surprise, pressing against your lips with just as much fevor, shifting one of his arms to rest himself on his forearm so that he can run his fingers through your hair.

the fog and cold weather pricking your skin through your layers of clothes fade away when you feel his tongue swipe against your lips, asking to be let in. and when you part your lips and his warmth pulls you inexplicably closer, you don't think even the coldest of temperatures could freeze you to death.

not when you're with him, virtually and inexplicably the sun of your life. melting away any ice in your heart and mind with the warmth that comes from the brightest star that's always giving to others; all in the form of the single man who's in your arms right now.

the slight push of his knee against your legs, nudging them farther apart as he finally parts from you, leaving your mouth empty once again, your chest heaving while he takes to trailing burning kisses down your neck, acting completely unaffected, has you running your hands through his strawberry blonde hair, tugging him ever so gently up so that your faces are mere inches apart again.

"chuuya, we're in public," you rasp, and it seems it's your turn to scold him.

"are we now?" he's only grinning at you, fingers grazing the side of your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face. "should've thought about that before ya kissed me like that, then. since we’re 'in public.'" he mocks your words and you can't exactly argue back. you’re racking your head for a comeback but he doesn't give you the time to reply before going on, "there's not even anyone around. that's why you came out here anyway, is it not?"

he knows you too well, and all you can do is give a small smile back, bringing a hand up to caress the side of his face. he leans into your touch letting your warming hands mold to the shape of his heated cheek.

"it is," you murmur, feeling the need to explain yourself as if he doesn't already know you. but you keep talking anyway, and he doesn't stop you. he likes hearing you talk. "i just recently started to like this weather, around the same time i met you. i like how this weather makes everyone disappear. i like how I can't even see two feet in front of me, i think it's beautiful in its own way— like i’m stepping into the unknown, but i'm not scared. and maybe that’s because i know you’ll find me in it no matter what. you’ll be with me, and i’ll be with you. i like being with you. the only reason i left this morning was just to enjoy the silence... but i'm ready to go back in."

his face is nestled back into the crook of your neck, placing light butterfly kisses over your pulsating temple ever so often as he listens to you speak, feels the rumble of your voice through your throat with how closely he's pressed to your skin.

"we can stay out here, i don't mind. i like that it makes everyone go away, too. everyone but you. i like coming out here to find only you; the only one i want to see, anyway," he whispers back, letting his lips place a longer, more firm kiss than before on your neck, sending shivers down your skin. "wherever you want to go, baby. like you said, i'll always be right behind you. no matter how heavy the fog, i swear i’ll find you."

♡

. . . and muddied knees. (dazai)

“...don’t wait too long. i don’t want you to get tired of me. am i just that damn hard to love?” (golden age / ethel cain)

sleeping with dazai is always an experience.

every night, you both cuddle under the same futon and yet his hands and feet are ungodly freezing. he whines and blames it on poor blood circulation (but not because of his bandages! they aren't that tight, he made sure to add the first night you shared a blanket and fell asleep in each other's arms) leaving the responsibility to fall into your hands–or, more realistically—you’re the lucky one whose been chosen to be his personal heater, cold hands sneaking up your shirt to rest on your navel, his long legs coming to tangle with yours.

usually, he warms up after getting to hold you so closely, and that's why waking up to a cold spot beside you is all the more shocking.

a little bit of light is spilling in from the nearby curtain of his dorm and you're willing yourself to slip out from underneath the warmth of the futon, in search of something–someone more important than the heat. you shiver as you look outside, trying to assess what time it is.

the sky is a light hazy gray, there's no sun in sight, and the trees and ground are darker than usual, soaking wet with the drizzle of rain that had pattered down on the roof above the two of you last night as you fell asleep.

there had been two beating hearts underneath that futon when you closed your eyes.

but when you opened them, you could only hear the pulse of your own life in your ears. and after a little bit of tip-toeing around his small dorm, you were fairly sure it seemed that he wasn't hiding anywhere in the dorm, either.

slipping on the nearest pair of shoes you can find, wrapping one of dazai's heavier jackets tightly around you, you brace the nipping cold as you open the door of his dorm, peeking your head out.

he’s not out taking in the view of the ground below him, leaning dangerously far over that old, worn, metal railing of the dorm’s building as you sometimes find him doing, so you start your usual trail of places you're bound to find him. it's not surprising that he's wandered off alone, lost in his thoughts. in fact, it's at least a weekly occurrence and by this point maybe anyone else would have gotten used to his sudden disappearances, knowing he was bound to show up back on the doorstep at some point, but you cann't help chasing out after him. you don’t want him to be alone, you don’t want there to be a time that comes where he never returns, and maybe it’s all because you weren’t there with him when he needed you.

you’re his partner; the one he wraps his arms around when he finally, after an entire day being the strong one, relaxes and just becomes osamu again. your osamu. you're the one osamu lets undress him sometimes, let's kiss over his skin, and help him wrap his bandages if he needs. if they exist, you're fairly certain osamu's your soulmate. and if they don't exist, he's surely the closest he can be to one. and maybe he doesn’t see you the same way back, but how could you not go out looking for your soulmate, the one you love, every time he wanders off alone? is always being by your boyfriend's side not what it means to love him? how could your heart not be eating away at you, knowing how far apart your other half, crying out to you to find him?

there’s no need to justify why you’re wandering through the humid mist of the early morning. if dazai asked why you always came after him, you’re not sure you could say all of that to his face. all you could probably say is, “because i love you.” and that’s what it all really boils down to in the end, isn't it? doesn't everything you do for him stem from a place of insatiable love? one that you’re not sure he’s always ready to accept, but one you are always willing to give him more of whenever his mind allows himself to let you love him as you want to. fully.

he's not near the bridge he's often teetering off the edge of and sometimes falling into. he's not found on the boardwalks of yokohama either. the shore is especially ghostly today, absent of any people, and the heavy fog that lays over the rippling blue water doesn't help with the eerie atmosphere.

but you find him at the third spot, which on a day like this, you felt was where you would find him from the start, anyway.

you climb up the concrete steps quietly, seeing that familiar head of tousled brown hair leaning against a headstone. the engraving of a name that's been etched into it, the grooves aged and soiled with time, faces towards you.

you bow, placing your hands together and paying your respects as always to osamu's friend. the one you’ve never met, but by this point perhaps know just as well as osamu with all the stories he's fondly spoken of, lulling you to sleep on countless nights. after a moment of silence, you pass by the gravestone to join osamu on the dewy grass.

"[y/n]," he says your name, lolling his head against the curve of the top of the gravestone to look towards you.

his eyes are bright and wide, and you almost go as far to say he seems especially energetic today, but you know that no amount of light in his eyes can promise that he's doing well.

your eyes flick down to his hands, bandages just barely peeking out of the beige coat he's wearing, and you kneel next to him, not minding the way the soil sinks against your knees when you do, slightly leaning over him as you take his hands into your own.

"are you not cold? it's freezing out here and you're not even wearing an extra jacket. i should have brought a scarf or something—" you're half speaking to yourself, half speaking to him, and he only continues to watch you as if in admiration of something, which you come to understand with his next words.

"don't you ever get tired of warming me up? do you get tired of having to come find me? are you tried of getting your hands dirty because of me?" his words are gentle, still spoken lightly as if he’s simply telling you about the exciting day he’s had, not asking you questions that have you pausing for a second. in this moment, his tone only speaks volumes to you about how much of his true feelings he's hiding, but none of that works on you anymore.

"no, osamu," you look up at him from where you've been focused on his hands, clamped between your own as you try your best to give him everything you have, willing the warmth of your hands to transfer to him. it's not exactly how science works, but you'd bare the cold for him, freeze your very hands off and give him all of your warmth down to your beating heart if it meant he was warm and well taken care of.

"i'm never tired of you, or anything you do. i'll never get tired of you. i'm happy i get to warm up your hands every night. i'm happy i'm the one that gets to do that and wander around looking for you. you make me so happy, osamu, i don't care about these clothes, or how dirty i get, as long as i get to be by your side. as long as i get to be the one to hold your hands tonight." the curved smile he greeted you with is slowly dropping by the second, but that doesn't mean your words are upsetting him. it's the opposite; his facade is slowly peeling away. "do you see, osamu? you make me so happy. i'll dress warmly and take care of myself just to make sure that i'm always able to warm your hands because i love you. all i hope is that i can make you happy, too."

one of his hands, now slightly warmer, reaches up to slide against the side of your face, brushing the upper ridges of your cheekbone with a thumb. "you do make me happy, angel. sometimes i just have to get out, like my love for you is too much. i don't deserve so much happiness, so i have to return to places that once depressed me in order to force everything to settle down. i don't want to overwhelm you with how i feel, whether that be an emotion good or bad."

"don't hold yourself back or water yourself down for me, osamu. i want to love you through the good and the bad. i want to be there for all of it. i want to warm you up every night, not just on the ones where you feel deserving of it. you're always deserving of love, in my eyes. i don't want just the good parts of you, i want all of you. and if you still have to wander out and return to old places, then i'll come along with you, if you'll let me. i'll keep you warm wherever you go. i love you."

he lets out a breath that sounds like he's been holding it in for hours before he's smiling softly. it's genuine this time when his lips turn upward while he's pulling you onto his lap, your muddied knees straddling his own. "i love you, pretty. i'll do my best to keep you warm, too. with happiness, love, and whatever else you need. i hope you never get tired of me. because i will surely never tire of you."

♡

#chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader fluff #dazai #dazai fluff #dazai osamu x reader #this is so fucking cute #comfort

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