#Dazai osamu x oc

[carlarosenakilah]

This took very long but-

Here's to @notarkanoria for solving that little message thingy I challenged people to solve on @cupheadocscasino <33

[nouveauxamoris]

fighting for her life trying to defend her attraction to dazai osamu

RBS APPRECIATED!

[candyeager]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃

— osamu dazai x fem!oc

MASTERLIST + PROLOGUE

synopsis. in the quiet torment of ino hayakawa's unraveling mind, the only solace from the power that consumes her with each breath is found in the touch of Osamu Dazai. yet, he is the one man she can never fully trust, even as his presence holds the key to her fragile existence.

warnings. graphic violence, murder, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, explicit sexual content, mentions of r*pe and blood. tags. dazai x fem!oc, enemies to lovers, angst with happy ending, trauma, tragedy, heavy pining/yearning, suggestive, oc is a mind reader.

prologue chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five

comment to be added to the taglist!

MAIN CHARACTERS

Ino Hayakawa, 21 - Chorus of the Unheard

Osamu Dazai, 22 - No Longer Human

Hayakawa Ino stumbled into the alley, her body trembling, vision swimming. Every inch of her felt like it was breaking apart, blood trailing in crimson drops behind her. It wouldn't take long for someone to find her—maybe the cops, maybe something worse—but she didn't care. She didn't feel anything but the weight of her rage and exhaustion crashing over her like a tidal wave.

What the hell was she doing?

Her mind screamed, the same way it had when she plunged the knife again and again into the body of that man—that monster. But the truth gnawed at her. She was the monster now. The memory of his lifeless, mutilated body flashed before her eyes, and nausea bubbled in her chest. She couldn't tell if it was the pain or the shame that made her want to collapse.

She kept walking. The street was too loud, too full of voices, even though no one said a word. She could hear every single thought of the people around her—safe, cozy in their homes, worrying about their families, their jobs, their futures. Meanwhile, she was dying. Alone. Unheard.

Like always.

Her head spun with the voices, louder, faster, blending together until it felt like her brain might explode. She pressed her hands to her ears as if that would help, her bloodied fingers trembling.

"Shut up. Shut up... I don't care what any of you are thinking." Her voice was barely a whisper, raw with desperation. "Just shut up!"

But the voices only grew louder, tearing at her, suffocating her in their relentless flood of thoughts, anxieties, desires. She stumbled, her knees giving out beneath her, and she crashed onto the ground. Cold pavement scraped her skin, but she barely registered it. She was slipping, her energy draining, her blood pooling beneath her.

This is it, isn't it?

She felt the weight of her guilt more than the pain. What had she become? A killer. A murderer. And for what? To silence one twisted soul? To stop hearing the disgusting thoughts of that man only to drown in the noise of a hundred others? It was useless. She was useless.

Her thoughts turned to Hidan. What had he thought in those last moments? Did he hate her as the blood bloomed from his chest? Did he see her as a traitor? She clenched her fists weakly. She wished—God, she wished—he didn't hate her. That he didn't die thinking she was a monster too.

A sound. The crunch of a footstep.

Ino's heart raced. Someone was there, standing beside her, but—no thoughts? There was nothing. Not a single voice. Her mind was still flooded with the noise of the residents in the surrounding houses, but this person? Nothing.

Who—

The figure knelt in front of her, and she could make out the muted details of his appearance through her hazy vision: dark brown shoes, beige pants, a sand-colored coat. A bandaged hand reached out toward her face, and she flinched slightly, expecting a final blow. But instead, his bare palm pressed gently against her forehead.

The touch was warm—so warm.

And then... silence.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, the world was quiet. The endless chorus of voices—the thoughts of others that had plagued her since she was a child���were gone. Vanished. Only her own thoughts remained, and even those were muted, distant.

So quiet...

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced—no more thoughts pounding in her skull, no more cries for help, no more endless noise. Just... peace. Pure, overwhelming peace. She could finally breathe. Her lips trembled into a weak smile as her eyelids grew heavy.

This is heaven, she thought. But... no, I'm going to hell, aren't I?

Yet, for just a moment, she allowed herself to believe it. That she was in heaven. That everything was over. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the world dissolved into darkness.

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[strwcherri]

"Tattoos hurt, don't they?"

Just a random prompt I had in mind! :) It was inspired by this Yakuza tattoo fanart of Dazai and Chuuya, if I can find it again, I'll link it!

Dazai entered the private room, a giant traditional painting hanging on the wall behind the woman. She did not move, and a veil left only her mouth visible. Her fingers were delicate like a that of a pianist, her back straight and her eye contact made with the wall. He sat down, his back facing her.

“You’re the tattooist?”

“Are you the prodigy?” She replied, a faint smile on her face as cleaned her knife. The pale complexion of the cloth was irritated with the splotches of red from a previous client. She glanced at him, though unclear through the opaque veil.

“I don’t like questions,” He said. “But I’ll take it that you are the Port Mafia’s new tattooist.” He revealed his back. It had a few scars, merely sketches on the surface. He lay down, looking ahead to the open window, his chin resting on the edge of the futon. The moon glided through the seas of the sky, aggressively resting it’s eyes on him.

“The moon is bright today,” Lotte commented, looking at the open wound on her palm, pulling the skin to separate the scabbing. The skin was puffy, a gently feverish red surrounding the cut.

He was silent, looking at her hand. “Is that so.”

She nodded. “The moon shines the brightest on the coldest nights.” She examined the blade, her smile soft. “How sweet the moon is, to try and mimic the sun’s warmth.”

Dazai looked at her once again, the brown hue of his eyes now tainted with the night. She barely moved; he could only tell by the hushed shifts of her clothes against the knee pillow. Her skin was dark, like water under the sunset. She had no presence, she was careful not to exist in a manner that would let her be seen easily. At the same time, she was as prominent as the last ember on the tip of a candle.

“Can I have your hand?” She asked.

He offered it in an uncaring manner. Even after she had made a small cut on his fingertip, he did not flinch. She rested the knife on a new white cloth, the old one miserably curdled in the bin, sagged.

“My apologies, but it makes the process easier if I use my skill,” Lotte said, a glow emitting from their open wounds. She had not summoned it verbally, and the only glow emitting around her came from the moonlight.

She took to the tattoo, working in silence. As she did, the scent of chrysanthemums became more pungent. She hesitated, before lifting the pen. She lay it down, withdrawing from him.

“Your skill must be effective for this.”

“I suppose so.”

She then looked at his face, which was barely contorted with a look of pain. He scoffed. He had barely changed, his presence eerie whilst charismatic. There was only the presence of a ghost, as if he wasn’t truly there, only his body holding him hostage in his pain.

“You should’ve realized my ability nullified yours, most of your clients talk about the ungodly scent of earth during the process. I didn’t smell anything.”

Lotte glanced at him, tilting her head to the side carefully, the veil slanting alongside her actions. She cleaned the knife with one clean swipe, casting aside the used cloth into the black bin, disappearing amongst similar cloths with similar blotches.

“Silent suffering is a sin. Take it as punishment.”

________

[kriswantstowrite]

⚜️ Oh women!~ (Featuring a Handful of Simping Non-binaries)

• Chapter 1: As The Snakes Dance Around One Another

• Teen and Up Audiences, NB/NB, Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs) x Original Character

• Summary:

Haru has gone by their whole life acting like an edgy bad kid to survive high school, but with college life beginning, can they finally let their guard down? Alternatively, Dazai Osamu and Haru Nakamura, vengeful non-binary lesbians, swear to take revenge on the each other by sleeping with the most women anyone in their college ever has. Things escalate quickly after that.

• This work has been cross-posted on AO3 under the username KrisWantsToWrite.

[A black and white picture of a hallway leading to an exit, being lot by three lamps.]

What is horror?

Many might say it's the feeling that makes your heart pump faster. And Haru's heart was definitely beating faster, looking at the sight in front of them.

This corner of the school was always poorly lit, never-will-be-fixed broken lamps casting mysterious shadows on the benches right under them.

And someone, sitting on said benches was looking directly at them, like a snake looking back from inside a cave, deciding the best time to leap forward for a lethal sting.

Their eyes looked almost red, looked almost bloody, and that smirk…

Haru's hair was standing up, their heart like a drum, their mouth dry.

Yet they didn't feel horrified in the slightest.

Oh, no, they just felt that this sudden stranger was just really rather…

Attractive.

They both kept the eye contact, the smirk of the stranger non-fading. Was that an invitation to approach, or the weaving of a web? Before Haru could think, they were drawn to the confident aura of the stranger, like a moth drawn to the flame, an angel to a demon, a dandelion to the fire.

And so, the demon speaks first.

"You take hints very well, don't you?" says The Stranger in an intrigued tone, their left hand's long nails tapping gently on their chin one after another.

Their right hand had short nails, however, so no worries there.

That could mean two things: Either they played a stringed instrument with their left hand, or they were a sadist.

Chills went down Haru's back. And despite it, Haru answered in a clear voice: "I’m known to be quite observant~."

"A-h~ Is that so?~~ " Haru could swear that sound can qualify as a moan, and…You see, it was flattering, but not as attractive as the dominant aura.

The stranger seems to have noticed that, because they sit upright, letting their back lean on the bench with an in-control expression.

"Do you want drugs, or are you a little whore?" Haru raises a brow, matching their expression with the stranger’s.

“Is there an option for both?~" The stranger stands up, keeping the eye contact.

Haru is hesitant, unknowing if their actions could be taken back, and yet, lets a smirk burn on their lips. The thrill filling their senses, a sense of courage taking them higher, and Haru lets themselves be taken for once, for another temporary of genuine pride and as their heart pounds, they take a step back, an invite.

The stranger walks around them like a snake crawls around its prey, and it's almost a dance when Haru struts back, the movements calm and beckoning, until their back is against the cold surface of the wall. The stranger follows, the moth and the flame now replaced.

They place one arm next to Haru’s head and Haru looks in the stranger’s brown eyes, so similar to pools of wasted, melted dark chocolate. So devoid of light, tempting Haru to kiss them and see if they can sparkle for mere seconds, even if it's by a fundamentally meaningless lust.

Haru leans their head closer to the stranger’s, knowing well it's out of line, but they have reached the point of too tempting to return. So all they do is whisper: "Isn't it kind of rude? You don't even know my name~." This isn't something an edgy bad kid would ask, not something Haru should say, not in that tone. But they foolishly hope, hope that maybe college is going to be different from High School.

"Oh, but I do~."

"Huh~," Haru says as they tilt their head, closing their eyes.

But whatever they were waiting for, never arrives.

They open their eyes to the smirk of the stranger, tease glinting in the brown eyes, along with something else Haru couldn't quite place.

“What…?” Haru’s brain still foggy, they whisper. Then, they suddenly stand higher, regaining the control they had so foolishly, willingly let go of. “Too afraid to lose your virginity?”

The stranger chuckles. "I doubt that would be as fun as watching your blue-balled expression…Sorry~."

The stranger steps back.

Haru fists their hands, wishing they had a good roasting comment to respond with, but their mind can only go blank, with only dull, white rage, and the heavy gray of disappointment remaining.

“You’ll be even more sorry when I end your fucking life.”

The stranger hums, as if considering it. "That's tempting…but maybe another day." They smile. "See you later~."

“I hope fucking not.”

“Neither of us is that lucky, Nakamura san.”

[suicidecoffee]

Now

Suicidecoffee (dazai Osamu x machado de Assis)

And +scott Pilgrim

Well why i shipp they?

Basicly they can understand each other(both suffer so much)

And both accept make one lover's suicide

and there is also something about them in real life that I had to research yes i made research

[r3stingangel]

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

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

It pisses me tf off

[shrimpkini]

A commission I just finished for Haze on insta. Drawing lupin was fun!

[strawberrygirll13]

I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I’d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

[ishzuprincess]

I drew this to get through my art block lol, tysm @littlexchara for the suggestion ✨💖

I really needed it lol

[shiroganeryo]

Happy Father's Day with the Bungo Dads! 💞

Now we've come full circle as we celebrate the fathers today 😊 For the moms, please check out the Mother's Day post ❤️

Profiles/credits: Fumiya Nakahara, Yūko Tsushima + Sadako & Torao Kunikida are my OCS~ Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi and Kunikida belong to Asagiri and Harukawa!

[nouveauxamoris]

stupid fucking baby i’d be fucked up too if i looked like that

RBS APPRECIATED!

[candyeager]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐔𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃

— osamu dazai x fem!oc

CHAPTER TWO

short synopsis. in which the only solace from the power slowly unraveling her mind is found in the touch of Osamu Dazai, the one man she can never trust. warnings. graphic violence, murder, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, explicit sexual content, mentions of r*pe and blood. tags. dazai x fem!oc, enemies to lovers, angst with happy ending, trauma, tragedy, heavy pining/yearning, suggestive, oc is a mind reader.

masterlist / next chapter

Ino moved through Hidan's office with deliberate steps, her mind still clouded from the meeting with Chuuya. She lowered herself onto the leather couch, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in her bones. The pills she had taken earlier had barely taken the edge off her hallucinations, and she had no intention of letting Hidan know how bad it had gotten. If he knew, she'd become a liability in his eyes—something she couldn't afford.

Hidan stood behind his desk, watching her with that calculating gaze of his, as if trying to read her without the ability she possessed. His smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, though his words were tinged with disappointment.

"This is unlike you, Ino," he said, leaning against the desk. "You never fail. But then again... the Port Mafia is no small feat, either."

Ino kept her expression neutral, but inside, frustration bubbled. If it weren't for her symptoms, the blurring vision, and the ever-present noise in her head, she knew she could've come up with a strategy that would've had Chuuya at her fingertips. She was certain of it. But now, sitting in front of Hidan, she had to keep her composure.

"They aren't," she replied softly, her voice even. She glanced down, pretending to adjust the cuffs of her jacket as a distraction from the way the room was spinning. "But we still have time."

Hidan tilted his head, as if examining her more closely. "Your secretary mentioned you've been having headaches and nausea. Did you see the doctor?"

"It's nothing serious," Ino answered quickly, too quickly. "Just a little anemia. Skipped a few meals, that's all."

Hidan's brow twitched, and she could hear the fleeting thought slip through his mind.

'Thank God you're not pregnant.'

Ino almost snorted at the absurdity of it, but she kept herself in check, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the laughter. If only Hidan knew how far from the truth he was.

He sighed, walking around the desk to stand in front of her. "Love, you're not a child anymore. You need to take better care of yourself."

Ino's lips tightened at the word "love." He had called her that for as long as she could remember, a nickname she had despised since she was a child. There was nothing endearing about it now, nothing but a reminder of how he viewed her—something precious yet controllable, a tool to be sharpened and used.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, her voice barely hiding the edge. She glanced away from him, her fingers curling into her palm as she felt the familiar strain of holding back her thoughts.

Trying to regain control of the conversation, Ino shifted. "I think it would be wise to slow down with the expansion. Other organizations are watching us closely after what happened in Tokyo. If we push too hard, we'll end up in the crosshairs of the government."

Hidan hummed, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. "That's a fair point. I suppose I got a bit too excited after our victory."

His thoughts slipped through again, unguarded and raw.

'There's no time to waste, though. I've got so much left to do... and I'm not getting any younger.'

Ino closed her eyes at the sound of his frustration, forcing herself to block out any rising sympathy. She wasn't going to start feeling sorry for him now. Hidan had long since lost any right to her pity.

"What went wrong, anyway?" Hidan asked, snapping her back to the present. "When you met the executive?"

Ino opened her eyes, her mind replaying the tense meeting with Chuuya. "I think it has something to do with the tension between the Port Mafia and the Armed Detective Agency. They're not on good terms."

Hidan snorted, his expression twisting into a sneer. "Of course they're not. Ability users never play nice with one another. Bunch of greedy clowns, the lot of them."

Ino remained silent, knowing better than to disagree with him on this point. Hidan had always been envious of those with abilities, and though he was a master with firearms, it never seemed to be enough for him. The bitterness had long since hardened in his chest.

He glanced at her, his eyes softening, though his words remained calculated. "But you... you were always different. The moment I found you, I knew you were a diamond in the rough. My second."

Ino stiffened at his praise, but before she could respond, a knock echoed through the office door. Her senses immediately sharpened as she caught the stray thoughts of the guards waiting outside.

'The experiment's gone wrong again! What the hell are they even doing to those people?!'

Suspicion coiled tight in her gut.

One of the guards entered, saluting quickly. "President! All test subjects have been eliminated, sir!"

Hidan clicked his tongue in irritation. "Again? Those damn scientists can't get anything right."

Without sparing Ino another glance, he marched toward the door, his presence as commanding as ever. "Good talk, Ino. Prepare a new strategy to get the Port Mafia to sign that contract. Win over Nakahara. Do whatever it takes."

Ino simply nodded. "I'm on it, sir."

As Hidan left the office, the weight of his words hung in the air, but Ino couldn't focus on them. Five test subjects, all eliminated. What kind of experiment was Hidan running now? Her unease deepened as her thoughts turned darker.

What the hell is he up to this time?

•••

The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, but to Ino, it felt like the entrance to a pit of despair. She hated coming down here. The air was always thicker, weighed down with suffering that clung to the walls like damp rot. Even in the bases in Tokyo and Saitama, she had avoided the underground levels, the places where screams were silent but ever-present in the minds of the prisoners. Places where people were tortured for information, their souls slowly shattered beneath the weight of cruelty. But here, in this hellish underground of Yokohama, the atmosphere felt even more oppressive.

As Ino stepped into the hallway, the sterile silence was quickly replaced by the chorus of agony she knew too well. Thoughts, raw and distorted, invaded her mind, each one louder than the last.

'Please, someone save me...'

'I'll do anything, just make it stop!'

"I don't feel my legs... did they take them?"

'God, please—just kill me already...'

She clenched her fists at her sides, feeling the burn of their desperation. It was a scream that never ended, even though no sound reached her ears. Ino's pulse quickened as her heart pounded against her ribs. Each step she took seemed heavier, the ground beneath her trembling—not literally, but in her mind. It always felt like the earth itself was about to give way, dragging her into the abyss of torment she was forced to witness.

Her vision blurred for a second, and she had to steady herself, bracing her hand against the cold metal wall. Get a grip, she told herself, pushing down the rising panic that clawed at her chest. She had come here for a reason. She couldn't fall apart now.

As she rounded the corner, the sight that met her made her stomach churn. Cages—lined up like animal pens—filled the room, each one holding human beings stripped down to nothing but their underwear, their bodies frail and gaunt, their skin stretched tight over bone. Their eyes were hollow, their cheeks sunken in. Some of them, too weak to move, lay on the filthy floors, while others reached out toward her, hands trembling, eyes filled with a flicker of hope. A flicker that would be extinguished as soon as they realized she wasn't there to save them.

Their thoughts crashed into her all at once, a tidal wave of suffering.

'Help me, I can't take it anymore!'

"There's no skin left to tear... I can't feel pain anymore."

'I'll be good, I swear! Just let me die!'

"Please... no more needles. No more experiments... I'll do anything."

'What did I do? Why is this happening to me?'

'I'm starving—God, please, anything, just a scrap of food!'

The force of it all was suffocating. Ino's legs felt like they were about to give out, her breath catching in her throat as the voices screamed louder and louder inside her head. The pleas, the prayers, the broken promises—it was too much. Her vision swam, and the cages seemed to warp, twisting in her sight like the walls were closing in on her.

Her body tensed as a new wave of thoughts hit her, more erratic and chaotic than the last. For a moment, she couldn't tell where her mind ended and theirs began. The confusion gripped her, and she staggered back a step, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

Stay focused, she reminded herself, biting down on the inside of her cheek until she tasted copper. Pain, even the smallest bit, was enough to ground her in the chaos. Her breath came out shaky, but she took another step forward. She couldn't lose herself here. Not now. Not in front of them.

Another scream echoed in her mind, a tortured wail that made her flinch.

'Help me...please...'

Ino closed her eyes for a second, her jaw tightening. She couldn't afford to be weak. These people... they were already beyond saving. Whatever Hidan was doing, it had already torn these souls apart. And if she didn't hold it together, if she didn't pull herself out of this storm of suffering, she would fall with them.

Her eyes snapped open, hardening as she scanned the room. She needed to move fast—before her mind broke under the weight of it all. Before the screams pulled her under.

•••

Ino stormed into Hidan's office, her breath ragged, pulse thundering in her ears. Her hands trembled as she pointed the gun at his head, barely steady. Tears streaked her cheeks, hot and unbidden, the result of the overwhelming chaos of thoughts she couldn't shut out—their pain, their desperation. She hadn't even realized she was crying until now.

Hidan looked up from his desk, his face a picture of surprise. "Ino... why are you crying? What is it, love?" His tone was soft, almost concerned, but Ino knew better. His endearment, the casual way he wielded that sickening nickname, made her stomach churn.

"Stop calling me that!" she shouted, her voice breaking. Her chest heaved with every breath, the weight of everything pressing down on her.

"Those people—those people you're experimenting on. What the hell are you doing to them?"

Hidan leaned back, crossing his arms. "I don't understand. What are you talking about?" His voice dripped with false innocence, but his eyes were cold.

Ino's grip tightened on the gun, her finger trembling against the trigger. "Don't play dumb with me! I know what you're hiding beneath this building. I saw them. I heard their thoughts. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

For a moment, something dark and twisted flickered behind Hidan's eyes. The corner of his mouth lifted into a familiar, eerie smile. That smile had always unnerved her. It was the look of a man who reveled in cruelty.

'Oh, that.'

His thoughts whispered in her mind, almost taunting. Ino shuddered. The unease creeping up her spine morphed into disgust, but she shoved it aside, her patience at its breaking point.

"How many more, Hidan? How many more people need to die to satisfy your blood thirst?" Her voice was raw, choking on the anger she'd bottled up for years. She felt the full weight of it now, threatening to consume her.

"Is that why you came to Yokohama? Is that what all of this is about? Human experimenting? Why? Murder and drug running not enough for you?"

Hidan sighed, brushing a hand through his silver hair, as if her outburst was merely an inconvenience. "You're thinking too small, Ino. It's about power, about influence. Assassinations and drugs are just tools, stepping stones. You're too naive to grasp the bigger picture."

His eyes narrowed. "Great people—they have vision. They see beyond the limitations of average minds. That's what sets us apart. You may be able to read minds, but you've always lacked the creativity to do anything truly great with it. That's why you've never been more than second to me."

"To hell with that!" Ino's voice cracked. "That's just crazy talk! You promised me—you fucking promised you wouldn't cross that line, but you did. You fucking crossed it, Hidan!"

Hidan flinched, ever so slightly, at her use of vulgar words. It was subtle, but she caught it—the first crack in his calm façade.

Ino's hands shook with fury, her heart slamming against her ribcage. She'd never felt such raw, unfiltered hatred, and it terrified her. She could feel it so deeply, so viscerally, it was almost tangible—years of betrayal and lies all culminating to this moment. She raised the gun higher, her arm steady this time, anger drowing out the fear.

"I'm done helping you," she said, her voice colder now, quieter, but filled with finality.

Hidan's lips curled into a sneer, his tone mocking. "Are you really?"

He took a step forward, a twisted smile still plastered on his face. "You're not going to shoot me. You can't. I raised you, Ino. I fed you. I named you. I gave you everything. And I know you to well." His voice grew softer, patronizing. "You don't have the guts to pull that trigger. You've never had it in you to get your hands dirty. Besides, I'm the closest thing you have to a father—"

Bang.

The shot rang out, deafening in the quiet room. Ino barely registered the recoil of the gun in her hand. Hidan staggered, eyes wide with shock, his hand flying to the bullet wound in his chest. For the first time, she saw fear in his eyes. He tried to speak, but blood spilled from his mouth instead, staining his once-immaculate suit.

Ino's heart raced, her breath shaky. She stared at him, barely processing what she had just done. His thoughts—silent. Finally, mercifully, silent.

Hidan collapsed to the floor, his body lifeless, his blood pooling beneath him.

Ino lowered the gun slowly, her arms heavy, her breath ragged. She stood there for a moment, staring down at the man who had raised her, controlled her, and ultimately, broken her.

But she wasn't broken anymore.

"I'm done," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Hidan didn't answer.

© CANDYEAGER. do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my works in any other platforms.

[strwcherri]

 Quitting.

____________

Lotte sat on the bed, Dazai sitting up. He leaned on the bed frame, grabbing the whiskey from the bedside table. The sunset bled on the sheets, pure of any stain. The stubs of a cigarette fell and sizzled onto it. The bedsheet had now learnt impurity, the ashes making the delicate fabric curdle.

The glass clinked as it was solemnly lain on the table, the glass distorting the ugly brown.

 “There’s something funny about me, “ He began, tilting his head back as he looked at Lotte. Her thin dress strap fell off her shoulder as she patiently waited for him to finish, her cigarette amber at the tip.

 “I don’t actually like whiskey. “

She stared at him blankly, no distinct change in her face. “Then why do you drink it?”

 He sighed and looked to the window.

 “Isn’t better to taste something than nothing?“

 “No,“ She puffed out, “You'll lose your sense of taste with meaningless drinks.”

“Then why do you smoke?“  He leaned his cheek on his hand, watching the sun turn her dark eyes a luminated shade of orange, a pit in the middle.

 “Because I feel less stressed.”

They looked at each other for a moment. A lock from the hairs of time had fallen, chopped with the scissors of misery.

She took the glass and squashed the cigarette into it, letting it hiss until it burnt out.

 “I'm quitting today.“ 

He fell silent, watching the soggy cigarette butt fold in the cup.

 “I'm sure healthy lungs will look cute on you. “

____

[kriswantstowrite]

⚜️ Coffee

• Summary: In a world where soulmates are bound by dreams and green tattoos glowing when they touch, Dazai's touch can bring anything but love.

• General Audience, F/NB, Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs) x Original Character

• This work has been cross-posted on AO3 under the username KrisWantsToWrite.

[ID: Picture of a steaming cup of coffee. There are coffee beans around it.]

The coffee is bitter.

It goes round and round, as if it were blood, hair, tears, and sinks, down, right down the eye of the void. The pipes gulp like hungry beasts, Dazai doesn’t back away from the staring match.

Dazai knows if just the right buttons are pressed at the right time, the coffee machine stops working until Kunikida puts in the time and effort to fix it. Kunikida will not have that time till 8 am tomorrow, and if Dazai is lucky and annoying enough, till 10 pm, Thursday.

Dazai presses just the right buttons at the right time, indifferent when the coffee machine screams in agony, and starts to lose consciousness.

Dazai drinks another sip from the coffee in the white, fleshless mug. It’s bitter.

The coffee goes down the sink again.

“Ugh, this weather is awful…”

Hung and out of breath, yet the bell still manages to chirp at the arrival of spring. So similar to Dazai, only much luckier.

Haru walks five steps. Dazai counts all five, waits for the sixth.

Their umbrella cries and shakes just at the mere sight of Dazai.

“Hello to you too, Haru san~."

Haru’s eyes widen, the skin on their neck wrinkling with the sudden turn. How easily breakable…Dazai would cry, but the competition is already lost to the spring’s clouds.

“Dazai!” Their eyes sparkle in their Haru-kun kind of way, and they rush to sit next to Dazai. Cushion flowers grow where Haru sits, and cushion flowers die where Dazai does.

“My man, what’s up?” Haru bumps Dazai’s shoulder with a gentle fist, and Dazai keeps from becoming a spring cloud, a shivering wind, a flash of lightning.

How does one glue broken eggshells back together?

Dazai stretches fleshy strings, gifts them pearls, the kind you’d only see in a toothpaste commercial.

“Just minding my own business, drinking my own coffee~ Speaking of coffee,” Dazai slides an untouched cup of espresso and milk toward the other end of the table, “The coffee machine back at the office is very unfortunately broken. So why not be my guest here?~”

“Such a gentleman~” Dazai doesn’t let the prize-winning smile waver in the slightest, making sure the unholy scream stays only internal. “So, how are you doing?”

Dazai tuts. “I should be asking Haru kun that! You’re 10 minutes later than usual!”

Haru’s face goes pale. “You’ve been possessed by Kunikida kun…”

Dazai laughs. It’s ugly and rough and disgusting and Haru somehow doesn’t cover their ears, even though Dazai’s own ears plead to be carved right off.

“Haru kun usually likes the rainy weather. Did you have another blue-balling dream, Haru kun?”

Haru squeaks, rushing to cover Dazai’s mouth with their hands. Green begs to curl, to glow. No Longer Human has never cared for the plea of the innocent. “Don’t call it that! That’s embarrassing…” They let their hands fall, and the green’s corpse follows.

Haru sighs.

“Does your soul mate do that to you too?”

“Do what? Blue-balling?”

Haru squeaks again. “N-No! You know what I mean!”

“Hm…Nope~. My soul mate is pretty clingy actually, I keep having to ditch them…"

“Eh!! But that’s really mean!!” Haru pouts, heartbeats may as well be rocks, the world is already underwater anyway. Putting a delicate chin on the table, they sigh again. “She never talks to me in our dreams…She really hates me, doesn’t she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?” Dazai’s hand scratches at short brown hair, hoping that if it starts bleeding, that would make it look longer.

“I…I just felt it, you know how dreams are.”

“Well, if she hated you, wouldn’t you feel that too?”

Haru’s quieter. They don’t notice Dazai’s quieter, too.

Haru contemplates Dazai’s words, eyes inspecting the green markings that crawl up from under their sleeve, only to go round and round their index finger. It’s a shame. They’ll never curl. They’ll never glow. Dazai’s touch can only ever bring ashes.

Haru raises their delicate chin, the fragile bones of their back cracking. They lend their head to Dazai’s shoulder. “I’ll take your word for that. And you know what? You get to be my best man whenever we get married.” Haru bumps Dazai’s other shoulder with a smile and this time, Dazai doesn’t feel anything.

“Sure~” Dazai takes a big gulp of coffee.

It’s still deathly bitter.

[prttykittes]

ෆ Past!Cheaters Dazai, Chuuya, Random girls X GN! reader[you/your]

Synopsis: The jokes on them{you have sex with girls and you were in a secret relationship with them.} In my cheater bsd :3.and you send a video of you and the girl to him `3`

CW. NSFW, past cheating, secret relationship(?), paybacks(?), sex filming, sex tape, public sex in a park(Dazai), reader has a cock(could be read as a strap that the female took), Dazai jerks off to the tape and Chuuya says fuck it and jerks off as well., masturbation(the boys)

A/N :: Giggling, kicking my feet knowing that some people probably wanted me to write where the boys regret it :3 — written by a minor

[MASTERLIST] — (⁠ノ⁠^⁠_⁠^⁠)⁠ノ works in link!

DAZAI — You waiting in a park, sitting on a bench. You wiped away the "tears" you had. Your phone kept ringing, it was annoying. All of it came for Dazai, even if you were sad it was pathetic how he called you after having sex. You tapping your fingers against your lap, waiting until she came back to you. You finally got a call, you lift your phone up to your ear. "Where are you, again..?" A feminine voice says, she sounds really confusion. "At the park" you say and after some time she walks towards you, she has a bag that she is holding. Her hair is messy and there's bite marks on her neck, her legs were slightly trembling, you could see left over white sticky stuff on her inner legs. "Hah...It's so nice to see you again!" She says, excitedly. Her hand waving and she smiles and sits next to you. "Here, like you asked for~!" She brings out a vibrator, yous Ike and take it off of her. Looking around and leading her towards a lonely spot, she goes out your phone and angles it. She still has smile on her face, she takes off her clothes and lays down on the grass. "1.2.3.4.5" you say and press start, your on-top of her and you pull it out. Your dick/strap hitting her pussy, she was already wet. You push it in and begin thrusting in and out of her sloppy cunt. You push out the cum left by Dazai, it spills on the grass. Coating the small patch of green to white, she moans and her legs wrap around your waist. She was still sensitive, you grab the phone and bring it closer to her pussy. Showing the camera your dick/strap appearing and disappearing out of her, you go faster and her pussy clenches harder against you. You rub at her pussy and you can feel her twitching against you, she arches her back and she squirts. Her liquid getting all over the camera. You end it and grab some wipes from her bag, cleaning her body up. You send the video to Dazai, you can bet that he is jerking off to it. His hand rubbing up and down, stroking it. His pre-cum leaking and his pleasure coming out of his dick. Oh well, it doesn't matter.

CHUUYA — You were waiting in her apartment, swinging her extra key that she gave you on your finger. You power off your phone and wait for her, you can hear loud heels clinking against the stone floor. You smile and kick your feet waiting for her. The keys jingling outside the door, she seems to be rushing. She opens the door and she is breathless, her chest going up and down fast. Her eyes widen at the sight of you, her mouth is open. She closes the door and takes off her shoes as she runs into your arms. You smile and kiss her forehead and you grab your phone recording. She sits down and she looks up at you. "We don't have any lube" you say, she smiles and opens her mouth. She gestures for you to put your dick/strap in her mouth, using her saliva and drool for lube. She gets on her knees and begins sucking, she makes a happy him sound. You can see her hand reaching down to her clit, she rubs it while she sucks you off. Her pretty lips against your dick/strap, you pull away and it's covered in her saliva. She turns away and rests her arms on the couch. Her butt sticking out while she waits for you, you smile and push in her. The saliva and her wetness makes wet sounds, you go faster. She moans and grabs the couch tightly, she bites her lower lip. You put the phone on the couch, recording your dick/strap inside of her cunt. You can see some juices dripping on the phone so you go faster, her legs tremble and shake. You pull out and ram inside of her, her mouth is open and she squirts. You can see her transparent liquid wetting the couch, your glad that you have a screen protector. You gently lead her in the couch, you smile and kiss her cheek. You send the video to him. He's probably seeing it and he's shocked but he's stop horny and he decides to jerk off. His pre-cum leaking out, his hands going up and down frantically. Chasing after his climax, biting his lip as he cums all over his lower stomach and on his legs.

:3