#I might make Dazai tomorrow

[aminifanartist]

Ada! Chuuya, based off @muaviinu Soukoku switch au, because it is funny (and I really like his outfit)

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  sharing a bed with them 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

content: pre-relationship bed sharing, flirty/mildly sexual implications

It's truly unfortunate that, while on a mission for the Agency, you have to share a bed with DAZAI — or so you think, at least. He doesn't share the sentiment in the slightest, instead smiling as innocently as possible the moment his gaze falls onto the single bed in the hotel room booked for the night. While he pretends to offer you the bed, he'll guilt-trip you about the couch being way too short for his long legs and about his back already aching until, eventually, you give in and share it with him.

Naturally, he gets into your space more than necessary at night, pretending he's asleep while cuddling close to you, given how, then, you can't cuss him out for wrapping an arm around your waist and burying his face in your neck, breath warm against your throat. It's worse that he knows if you won't get any amount of sleep whatsoever, much too busy with fighting off arousal while he's pressed flush against your back.

“Hm? No, it's alright. I don't mind taking the couch. What kind of man would I be if I let you sleep on there? Still, it's just — it's way too short and hard. Couches this uncomfortable shouldn't exist, really. I doubt I'll be able to get even a wink of sleep tonight, what a shame.”

When there turns out to only be one bed in the hotel room you're supposed to stay in for the night, CHŪYA doesn't even hesitate before offering you the bed, immediately going for the couch instead. He won't accept any protests either; no matter whether you're worried about his comfort or just think it's polite to refuse his offer, he won't allow you to spend the night on a sofa. He's not making a huge deal out of it and, if you keep being annoying about it, he gets more and more exhausted by the minute.

Eventually, he might give in to the idea of sharing the bed. He has no trouble keeping to himself — or so he believes, because, once he's actually asleep, softly snoring into your ear, he's moving wildly, one leg eventually thrown over your body, arms stretched out. If you mention it to him in the morning, his cheeks flush soft pink.

“Hm? The fuck you mean, you'll be taking the sofa? Definitely not. I'm already here — and I don't mind. Go lie down and get some sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow.”

RANPO, the very moment he steps foot into the room, decides he wants the bed to himself. The idea of taking the couch doesn't even cross his mind; instead, he makes his way over to the bed all too quickly, though, when you end up either glaring at him or asking him to share, he just shrugs.

Really, he doesn't make too big of a deal out of sharing a bed, not even seeming a little nervous at the idea of lying down beside you for hours on end. Meanwhile, at night, he cuddles up close to you — actually asleep, unlike a certain someone —, arms wrapped around you, for once completely unaware of you being all flustered because of him. In the morning, it'll be like nothing happened, even though you can't quite stop thinking about

“What are you looking at me like that for? I said we can share. If you're hoping to have it for yourself, tough luck. I was here first, just saying. Just get in or move to the couch already, I'm tired.”

All of FYODOR'S decisions are based on logic; this one is no exception. If the bed is large enough to fit two people, it's large enough for the two of you to share — though, if you feel like taking the couch instead, he won't protest. That's your decision to make, after all.

While actually sharing the bed with him, it's basically like you're alone in there, anyway. He doesn't move when asleep, doesn't make a sound; it's all too easy to imagine he's not even there, even though, occasionally, a dark strand of hair might brush against your face. What you don't know, however, is that he, at night, while you're fast asleep, he takes the time to watch you up close, lilac eyes tracing over every plane of your face.

“I do not mind sharing the bed with you. I hope you feel similarly. We both are adults, are we not? I doubt this will be an issue. Just lie down.”

NIKOLAI is undoubtedly amused by the idea of sharing a bed with you. He doesn't waste a single thought towards either of you taking the sofa instead; nonsense, just why would you do that? There's a perfectly fine bed right there, and surely both of you are mature enough to share one without any issues, right? Wrong.

He makes a point of being as obnoxious as possible, cuddling close to you the very second you lie down. It doesn't help that he's both tall and strong, his arms closed around your waist so you can't even try to get away or up, and he makes a point of whining whenever you attempt to squirm away. It's going to be a long night.

“What's the matter? Why are you moving so much? Stop it, I won't be able to fall asleep this way. Or — ah, are you trying to rile me up on purpose? That's naughty of you, sweetheart.”

SIGMA immediately makes a beeline for the couch the second he notices the dilemma of having a double bed rather than two separate ones booked. He won't even discuss the topic with you; he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable or forced to sleep on a sofa, so he'll do it instead. There's no whining or guilt tripping from his end; he simply accepts his fate for the night. There's worse things to endure.

If you're incredibly serious about convincing him, however, he might just give in, even though his cheeks feel a little warmer than usual when he lies down next to you, making sure there's an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you. If there's anything he doesn't want, it's you thinking he's trying to be creepy after you've decided to trust him — he probably ends up barely getting any sleep, just because he's worried about accidentally getting too close to you.

“Are you sure you're alright with this? I really don't mind spending the night on the sofa instead. ... Well, if you're sure — thank you.”

NEW POST AGAIN FINALLY AA my commissions are open, by the way!! dm me if interested! 💜

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[osamucide]

⊹ DIGITAL BATH

TONIGHT I FEEL LIKE MORE . . . ft. Osamu Dazai

wc: 4k

cw: NSFW—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, gn!reader, switch!Dazai, mentions of scars, cock worship, finger sucking, spit, oral (m!receiving), anal fingering, nipple play (m!receiving), dirty talk, cum eating, itty bit of Dazai-typical mindgames, just feeding fruit to tired spoiled Osamu and then blowing him like he deserves

reid: i wanna fingerbang this mfker so good it makes him believe in love

“Such a long fuckin’ day.” 

Osamu’s grumbling, wrapping himself around you from behind. 

On any other evening, you’d be inclined to mock that it’s always a long day for him when he’s throwing balled-up paper at Kunikida's head, guilting Atsushi into doing his paperwork for him, and slipping out of the office under the guise of fetching snacks for Ranpo just to go lean against the railing of Bankoku Bridge and gaze longingly at the water—but frankly, there’s two factors at play keeping you from doing so. 

One: his regular dramatics are nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t even realized he was on his way in until the door shut behind him—he’s normally sing-songing your name before he even opens it, before he’s bouncing over to you to ask what’s for dinner while he complains about the long day he had in that all too-spry voice of his. This evening, he’s subdued. Quiet complaints, quiet shuffling, quiet breath on your ear as he latches onto you.  The second is that, when you turn around from the counter to face him, he looks like he’s had a long day.

His messy hair seems messier. His eyes aren’t so wide and sparkly, and he’s got a nasty bruise blossoming on the apple of his left cheek—you bite back, too, the instinctual urge to tease and ask if it’s Chuuya’s doing. 

“Baby,” you coo, bringing your hands up to cup his face (pointedly avoiding the bruise). “I didn’t even cook. Was just cutting up some fruit.” 

“That’s okay,” he sighs, seemingly content to be under your grasp. He really does look exhausted as he grins weakly and slumps into your hold, faltering down to brush a kiss against your lips. “Cut up some strawberries, too, please.” 

“Mhm.” You kiss him back, short and sweet—not entirely pleased with such a concise request, but happy to indulge it regardless. “Go get comfy, I’ll be there in a sec.” 

So he does. He wanders off; you dump your fruit into a bowl, fetch the (thankfully not moldy) strawberries from the fridge, and toss those in, too, also preparing a glass of ice water for him for good measure. No guarantee he’ll drink it, but at least it’ll be there. 

When you pad to your bed, he’s sitting, pulling a shirt over his bare torso—the local bandages lay at his feet. A rewrap for tomorrow, you think absently, hopping like a cat onto the opposite side and kicking the covers back; not that he’ll have any use for them—the beginnings of stirrings in your brain will come to fruition more beautifully, anyway, should he leave them be. 

His quietness always spooks you a little; you hope nothing too terrible happened today, because if he wanted to talk about it, he undoubtedly would’ve started by now. 

There are very few things a bowl of cut fruit and your gentle fingertips can’t begin to mend, though. 

You flick the light out, turn the television on, lean over to abandon the water on his side table; Osamu plucks a strawberry from the bowl you nestle in your lap and cuddles up to your side. Half a fat cherry gushes between your teeth; you peck the crown of his head. 

Even if he is uncharacteristically quiet, you do always find a bit of joy in fussing over him. You might not draw from him what exactly is on his mind, but you can hold him while it simmers, take care of him—it’s one of the things you do best, after all, and you’re well aware Osamu likes being taken care of. 

He’s painted soft, staticky colors from whatever sitcom plays. You curl the arm that’s fallen behind his head to twirl his hair between your fingers, toy with the shoulder of his shirt; you can feel the tension in him. But before you move, you let the fruit in the bowl dwindle. Better if he eats. 

When his eyes flutter shut and he nudges you, mouth open like some sort of sultan, you shake your head (chuckling) and place a few halved grapes on his tongue. 

You don’t know if he knows how proud you are of him; you tell him plenty, sure, but thinking back to the quip you’re relieved to have held back today, you wonder briefly why he only ever complains gratuitously about the easy days and never the ones that leave him like this. It fills you with a certain sorrow—one that shapeshifts swiftly into determination.

“Last one’s yours.” You pan back in, referring to the sole strawberry left. 

“Mm.” Again, wordlessly, he demands you feed it to him. You concede, of course, with a sleepy grin of your own. 

It’s when his tongue flicks out to lick the remnants of sweetness off your fingertips that you strike; only when you fiddle with his bottom lip do his owl eyes flicker open to peer up into yours. 

Juxtaposition is a fascinating thing. You don’t know what happened today. You don’t know what’s happened on most of the darker days he’s left trailing behind him—you might never know all of it, other than it’s been horrible, scarring, gutting both for him and those staring down the barrel of the gun that is Osamu Dazai—but he looks so innocent before he takes your finger, all the way to the second knuckle, into his mouth to swirl his tongue around. 

You can’t help biting the inside of your cheek. 

As his jaw flexes around you, you press your middle finger in, too. Those brown eyes never falter from yours, nor does the quiet smile in them; any remaining strawberry is long gone, swallowed down, but Osamu sucks on your fingers with fervor, nearly nodding like he’s drawing some other sort of elixir from you—one that will compel him to keep moving forth another day, perhaps, and as he does, his ankles knock against yours. 

“Needy boy, huh.” It’s a statement, not a question, which he needn’t deny or confirm; the attention you shower him with after the days that drag him to hell extends to all the vulnerabilities he doesn’t allow another soul to see—the ones that stem from a depth left neglected by any previous excuse for a caretaker he might’ve had. 

Whereas, you’d be damned if you casted aside a single inch of that void. 

So you poke a kiss to the corner of his mouth before you latch onto his neck—an I’ll be back here later—softly, with just lips first, then tongue, and finally teeth. You find his pulse point and bite, dragging spit-coated fingers down his chin, past his throat to his nipple. 

The exhale from his chest prompts your knee into his lap like the kickback of a gunshot. Rolling equally into you, Osamu tugs you by your arms on top of him, across his hips so you can hunch over him and kiss, bite, kiss, bite, worship from above in the little rhythm you have that's so familiar to his fatigued body. 

Fingers flitting, you creep up his shirt. 

You work his sleep shirt off, too slow for his liking. Something he loves about what you do, though, is how you never even mind the scars; you look at the exposed, marred flesh of his chest, shoulders, arms, and abdomen like it’s empty and pristine only until you mark it up yourself. There are fading bite marks, ones from maybe a few days or a week ago, across the curves where his pectorals slope into his collarbones, and you take it upon yourself to retrace, refresh them as you caress up and down from his shoulders to his hips and back again, doting and unhurried. He sighs for you. 

The empty bowl’s lost somewhere outside the searing kiss you land to his panting mouth (one of you has likely tossed it, kicked it, or pushed it to the floor), and his hands wander, eager to offer fair exchange—but you’re quick to stop him, slow him, lick his bottom lip and pin one of his wrists to the headboard beside him before you mutter, “Let me take care of you, ‘kay?” 

In true Osamu fashion, he whines, not unlike a cat being denied a treat; after all, for him, half the fun of fucking is getting you off—but tonight, you smell insincerity in his protest, have sensed the smallness that silently begs yes, please, take care of me, and you find yourself grinning into his mouth. Osamu’s rarely straightforward; he gets what he wants anyway. 

So, in equally as true Osamu fashion, he’ll sit pretty and let you send him to the clouds. 

You creep with lips and fingertips back to his chest, to his nipples, where you both know he’s so sensitive; you could make Osamu cum just from your tongue on those pretty, pink buds of his—you have before—but you feel determined to work him up thoroughly, take your time with all of him, all of his distress, right now. 

“Want that pretty mouth on me, baby,” he confesses, quieter and meeker than usual. He keeps drilling home how tired he is—here he is, telling you what he wants so soon. 

You finish sucking a particularly harsh mark into his sternum. “It is on you.” 

“Mm—no, on me.” And then his hand, the one not held hostage by you, is pushing yours down to his cock, beginning to stiffen in his sweatpants.

“Be patient.” You rise back up to kiss him again, swatting him away just to toy with him over his pants; Osamu chases your breath with his own, hungrily, fingers flexing and relaxing in your grasp when you squeeze him, circle your thumb over his tip, nip at his mouth. “I'll make you feel good.”

It’s when you sit yourself down fully on his growing erection and begin to grind back and forth that he starts whining against your lips. 

You hold his face to yours, smile into him reflexively; it’s so easy to make him mewl. For as much composure as Osamu holds in every other corner of his life, your bed is the one place it tends to escape him, and you live to watch him crumble for you. You live to feel his jaw work into your kiss, to trace adoration into his skin, to hear the little whimpers he lets out rise in decibel the longer you drag him out. You love it most of all because he deserves it—to let go, retreat from himself into your touch. 

“Please,” he whispers into you, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. It might be nothing to make him whine, but it’s no small feat, reducing Osamu Dazai to begging. That you didn’t even have to try tells you he needs this—he needs you; no matter how much he might’ve lied if you asked or banked on you missing it, you know the outline of that word on his lips, and he knows you know it, too. So you grind, not faster but harder, slipping your tongue into his pliant mouth. 

After letting his wrist go, after he grabs your hip and presses you onto him feverishly with a few more of your undulations, you work your way down him again—stopping not at his chest this time but between his hips, waiting to peel the waistband of his sweatpants down and off until you've first circled his belly button and the gradual path of hair that disappears beneath the fabric with kisses growing more intense from one moment to the next. You seek out the little layer of fat stretching across his tummy and bite there, too; he grabs your hair and snickers, watching you through squinted eyes while he tells you hoarsely to stop, it tickles! And you relent with a giggle of your own only to kneel, shove his pants down, and settle on your stomach where you urge each of his knees over your shoulders. 

You look up and think, god, you wish you could photograph him right now. Gazing down at you, lips parted with breathlessness, Adam's apple bobbing as you tease him; he's a quiet image of ecstasy as he curls his hands around your face, only because he trusts you to let him be. When you pause and admire for a moment too long, his lithe fingers take root in your hair; he's wiggling, saying please with his low-lidded eyes and desperate hips only so he won't have to subject himself to verbalizing it again. 

You wrap an arm beneath his thigh to seek out his cock, finally, sweetly; you hold him up, lick a slow stripe from base to tip up the underside, and Osamu croons. 

“Uh—yeah, was wondering when you'd get to the whole making-me-feel-good part.”

Just when you thought you had him. 

With your free hand, you swat his leg—impatient and sassy, even while he's running on fumes. Roguish in every sense of the word, still, while you’re taking such good care of him. His spark wants to have you grinning; you try to hide the inevitable reaction by burying your face in him, lapping sweetly, diligently at the spot between his base and his balls that should shut him up. 

“You're so mean, you know?” 

You can tell from his tone he's smirking.

“Ngh—telling me to be patient wh—while I beg for you—”

Really, it should have shut him up. But he keeps going. 

“—Mhm—yeah,” he exhales, one heel digging into your back—telling you he's going to fall apart faster than he's letting on. “You always know just—uh—just where to... t’—”

In a rarer display of force you reach behind yourself for his shin, gripping it, bending it up close to him and freeing your other arm; with this, you reach up, stuff your pre-cum dabbled fingers back in his mouth—to which he can only respond with a muffled mph! and widening eyes. 

Your patience to have him drop the facade is thinning. 

You prop yourself up on your elbow to shove your fingers deeper and look up into his face. 

“How about you be quiet, Osamu?” you pose gently; your fingerpads on his tongue are anything but, and he's squirming at the loss of pleasure. “Get my fingers nice n’ wet while you’re at it.”

Osamu’s teeth are in your knuckles a little too harsh to be considered polite, but you thrust them toward the back of his tongue anyway; he holds your eyes, you shoo his legs open further so as not to have to work around them as you resume stroking him lazily, and you tilt your head, admiring again. He hums around you, sighs through his nose while he laps you up, so you pick up the talking. 

“So cute when you shut up.” 

You retract your fingers momentarily to squish his cheeks—the face as well as the sound he makes is nothing short of adorable, less in the contrived sense and more in the literal as his nose scrunches; you want to adore him by making him come, and you will, but not before thrusting your fingers back into his bratty mouth immediately. 

“When have I ever left you unsatisfied, huh?” You don’t wait for an answer. “When have I ever not given my good boy what he needs?” 

It’s rhythmic, how he echoes the cadence of good boy with his body—first in the way his hips buck into you, and next in the groan you don’t let pass his teeth. 

“That’s right. You're smart enough to know by now when I want you to shut up and take it.”

Pushing yourself up—leaving him squirming again—you leave hardly a second between replacing your fingers with your mouth, sloppy, all breath, nipping at the tip of his tongue; Osamu loves when you kiss him hard, like you need him. Loves feeling needed more than he needs. But you know—maybe better than he does.

You smear his spit down his chin, wasting it for what you're planning next; it's a good thing you know just how to work him into a pliable mess. There’s one more thing he’ll do for you, and you'll get him there; you’ll disarm this unshakably smug and prodigiously self-controlled man and turn him into your lover, like you do so often.

For what it's worth, this is the least he's made you work for it in a while.

Osamu chases you when you leave his kiss, but you pin him down, cradling his bottom lip with your two fingers like a spoon. 

“Aht—” You shove them back in, across his tongue, just the tips of them. Only until he settles, and then you hold them out for him again. “Spit.”

And he does.

“Good boy, Osamu.”

You love watching the power leave his body when you utter those two words in combination with his name. As if conditioned, his cock jumps; you notice this as you reach down, dollop of spit beginning to drip between your fingers before you circle them around his hole and oh, you're rewarded with the prettiest gasp that trails off into an even prettier whimper—yes, a whimper, because he breaks so pathetically beneath you.

You smile into Osamu’s mouth when his breath picks up, evermore unsteady as you tease the rim of his ass. Without having to ask, he pitches his hips up for you, knees bent and feet bracing when you traverse back down his jugular with your lips and teeth.

You’re fast now, eager yourself; your line's barely straight, but you meet your own hand again as you return.

“Please,” followed by your name, huffy, totally realized this time.

How can you do anything but oblige?

Curling your fingers back around his cock, collecting the leakiness at his weepy tip to stroke him fully, he throws his soft brown head back into the headboard, gripping the sheets. No free hand to use, you hum and hope silently for his legs over your shoulders once more, and like a mindreader, he obliges you now—good boy, you’d be saying, if your mouth wasn’t occupied with one of his balls, rewriting the meaning of triple homicide with the suction of your tongue.

When you’ve switched your mouth and your hand and you’re a knuckle deep in him, Osamu starts to get demanding. 

“Deeper,” he growls through his teeth, and you’re unclear whether he means he wants you deeper inside him or his cock deeper down your throat. “C’mon—I want it, baby.” 

No please—and definitely no thank you when you give into his whims both ways, thrusting your finger deeper to curl up and apply pressure to the exact spot you know will have him crooning and gripping onto your hair, and that he does—to shove your face further down on him nonetheless. 

And then he really starts talking. 

“Thought you’d be all nice n’ be in charge—n’ take care of me? Hah—” 

You still your head while Osamu holds either side of your jaw and humps upward, drawing wet, smothered heaves from the back of your throat as his throbbing tip hammers it. 

“That’s sweet, honey.” 

You really, truly do know why he doesn’t complain about easy days, and the bulb flickers only once you’re choking on him—only ever once he has you right where he wants you—that when you fuss over him, it always gives him a leg up to take that control he thirsts for so deeply with all the more force. 

He licks his lips as honey drips from it, cradling you with the same gentleness you talked to him with earlier and employing the same ruthlessness in contrast. Your eyes roll back in surrender to his brutal pace and the air he cuts off from you so cruelly—but god, if you had the faculty to, you wouldn’t even be able to deny that you love letting him use you, love letting him take what he wants from you, so you focus your swirling consciousness on pressing up, deeper into his ass, worming your ring finger next to your middle one to stretch him open, have him gasping, holding on loosely to control. 

It’s always a little push and pull between you; you always let Osamu have his fun, but he knows who he belongs to at the end of the day, because you always have him sounding like—

“God—fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

—while he leverages his heels in your back to fuck your throat meaner, harder. You gag, and you know it spurs him on—you know the ring of drool at his base and the sweet, nasty sounds you make involuntarily for him keep him chasing that pretty fulfillment you inspire in the pit of his stomach. 

“‘m not the only one who’s cute when I shut up,” he drawls on, pushing your hair away from your forehead to watch the way he possesses you when he’s in you like this; wheezing, whimpering in between, the dominator in him wants to laugh at you—but his taunting throttles almost violently back to strangled groans and cries of your name while tears bead on his lashes. For every take it, take it, take it, there’s an equal please, please, please. 

Osamu grunts in a certain vocal register higher than when he talks sultry but lower than his usual speaking voice, and each byte you draw from him by sitting and being his good little toy is reminding you how much you want to make him feel good, how much it gets you off, too—you grind against the mattress helplessly while he has you pinned in place and you squeeze his balls while you keep his hole full, keep him moaning and sobbing for you through his little semblance of authority because you know all of his tells. You know when he’s about to fall apart, you can always tell by the way he twitches fast, abrupt—when those grunts get higher than his speaking voice and he starts breathing almost panic-like, enough to make himself a little dizzy while he unloads in you but you don’t give him the satisfaction of that this time, because he beat you too easily—you have to take something back, and so when he’s cursing with his eyes screwed shut and tears slipping down his face you wrestle yourself off of him so he can shoot spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum across your fluttering lashes, the bridge of your nose, your raw lips, your cheeks that shine with tears of your own, all while you milk it out from inside of him—he cums so fucking heavenly when your fingers are in him. 

And you accept it with a closed-eyed grin and hoarse, bubbly giggles at the way you cautiously keep one eye open to watch Osamu’s gorgeous face, jaw slack as it yawns the euphoria only you bring him just to recover into scrunched-nose, furrowed-brow satisfaction as he opens his eyes and sees you licking up your spit and his cum from around your own mouth. 

He's grinning toothily as he swipes the mess away from your eyes and draws you up with a soft come here—he’s not about to let you have it all for yourself, licking his spend off his thumb and pulling you in with great delight to flick his hot tongue across each splatter he’s left on your face. Your fingers slide out of him and he hums against you, cleaning you up diligently—because he never won’t reward you for taking care of him exactly how he wants to be taken care of. 

Osamu giggles, too—also hoarse, as if he’s the one who just got his throat fucked. 

“You’re so good to me.” That sharp tongue disappears behind a coy smile, and you collapse into him, a little delirious and fully in love—he’s a fucking dog. 

“Trust me,” you sigh back, pressing that promised kissed to the corner of his mouth again, wriggling on his thigh.

He’s going to tease you so bad for getting worked up by letting him use you, you know.

“I know I am.”

[diagonal-queen]

Uuuuuuh, an idea has just arrive on my mind🤭 you know that boys usually tease girls they like right? I’m really curious how Tachihara and tecchou would do it… (I’m really curious for tecchou😭)

Teasing their crush

♡ pairing: Tecchou Suehiro, Tachihara Michizou, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoyevsky x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys tease the girl that they like (that's you!)?

♡ cw: Swearing, Jouno suffers a lot, Fyodor is toxic as always, mention of suicide, I somehow manage to bring Astarion up here?? (sorry)

note: i know i know. it's been a while, and i apologise. i just have been so so busy. right now i'm in an exhausted trance writing this and i'm certain i'll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of writing it at all. also threw in dazai and fyodor for the sillies i hope you don't miiind~ as always apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Tecchou:

I cannot see him teasing you.

I'm sorry anon but I just can't see him teasing a girl he likes. He would either be generally nice to her, super awkward but still okay, or just come off as cold and aloof. He wouldn't go out of his way to tease a girl or exchange playful banter with her

If he ever tried to tease he would probably just straight up be mean and insult you or something. And then he wouldn't understand why it didn't work

(Jouno is smacking his head against the wall)

Don't worry. If he's gonna cope with his feelings for you he's gonna do it in a way that benefits you i.e. he's just going to be super obvious about it and not even try to hide it

(update: Jouno is still smacking his head against the wall. someone help him)

Like he'll just openly buy you food and presents and tell you he likes you and like hold your hand and shit?? Tecchou is no-nonsense. He wants to date you, he'll let you know.

And it's not like Tecchou's trying any 'techniques' or anything like that. There is not a THOUGHT behind those beautiful eyes; he's just following his heart <3

Tecchou might be a bit dense when it comes to such socially complicated things as courting, but he's a genuine person and wants to make you feel appreciated, and let you know he loves you. He just does it in the only ways he knows how <3

Tachihara:

The opposite of Tecchou

He's such a teaser. He likes to make jokes with and poke fun at his love interests, but sometimes might go a bit too far with it (If he does he genuinely feels super bad and apologises dw T-T)

Like he's one of those kinds of guys who you would get so caught up in the flirty banter with that you just talk for hours

If you're texting you guys are both kicking your legs and squealing in between texts lowkey, like you're secretly such lovesick dorks but you play it so cool

Some kaguya sama love is war type shit you guys have going on

And god forbid you do this in front of other people. They're probably SO uncomfortable. Like oh my god get a room already (this dot point was ghostwritten by Jouno)

As you two get more and more into it, he becomes less tease-flirty and more sweet-flirty. He genuinely compliments you instead of exchanging little jabs and backhanded teases, and it's so CUTE

He also, for some reason, gets more shy instead of less shy. He blushes, he messes with his hair- AUGH he's so cute

In all honesty no matter what way, shape or form Tachihara flirts with you, even if he's awkward and fumbles each time, he's still such a charmer that you can't help but love him anyway. some messy hair and a sweet boyish grin goes a LONG way!

Dazai:

This is what I like to call Egotistical Flirting

He will tease you by telling you how much you love him, how much other women love him, how wonderful of a guy he is and how great of a deal he's constantly offering you. Yes, the 'deal' in question is dinner and a movie double suicide

And of course you roll your eyes and chuckle, and while he pretends that he's all offended that you aren't openly falling for it, he LOVES that. He loves your affectionate sarcasm and he could milk it out of you for days if he had the time

And he doesn't even wait to even learn your name before he immediately goes full on womaniser. He would just approach you like 'Heyyy~' and it's all downhill from there.

Dazai is a man on a MISSION is what I'm saying

He will also tease you by embarrassing you. He just says the most oUT OF POCKET stuff out of nowhere in public?? He absolutely delights in seeing you get all embarrassed and having you swat at him and scold him

(He's a bit of a masochist don't question it)

Naturally, this is generally a facade to hide the fact that he is hopelessly infatuated with you, and kinda scared of commitment. He hopes you'll accept him as he is but just in case... it's easier to put up a nonchalant front.

Don't worry Dazai. you've got nothing to worry about. :)

Fyodor:

Mind games. Mind games. MIND GAMES

And not the good kind!

He will tease you with this neat little trick he uses called psychological warfare. In his experience it's 100% effective

Fyodor is a toxic little shit. He doesn't often really 'tease' so much as 'neg'. He doesn't quite care too much about your esteem as long as he's able to make you like him back.

You guys know this thing called Ascended Astarion? yeah this is basically just that but ✨ Russian ✨

All this being said he actually does feel affection and love towards you, and he DOES care. He just doesn't want you to reject him, so he'll use any trick necessary to prevent that (regardless of general ethics for the most part)

Fyodor is an all rounder. He'll tease, show genuine affection, neg, flirt, stalk, lovebomb...the whole shebang (I'm sure he asked Nikolai for tips, and I'm even more sure Nikolai had MANY)

Fyodor is just so emotionally out of touch when it comes to other people that he genuinely has no idea how to just...flirt, or even really be casual, like a normal person. It would be sad if he wasn't such a motherfucker

Honestly all of you 'I could fix him' girlies would fall hook line and sinker for this (and I'm allowed to say that because I am one of you)

In the end...man, just date Tachihara

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen, @call-me-albie

[shadyteacup]

CAN WE HAVE A PART 2 OF BOY BYE

Free

Part 2 of Boy Bye

You sighed as you heard the door rattle ever so slightly.

It had been 2 weeks since Dazai walked out on you and it has been… peaceful.

Or so you had hoped.

The ache in your heart only grew as the days went by, but you weren’t going to text him, let alone call him.

He had been such a loving boyfriend these last few months, that you had almost thought it was a prank when he asked to break up.

You were strong and independent, you didn’t really need him. Or so you told yourself everyday, as you tried very hard to ignore the dull pain in your chest.

A click brought you out of your thoughts, making you jump slightly on your seat at the sofa.

This can’t be actually happening, you thought to yourself, as you heard the door creak open. You were seated at an angle that blocked your view of the door, but you weren’t exactly worried about your safety. Because you knew who the intruder was.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t be calling the police, Osamu.”, you spoke into the silence.

A low chuckle was heard, followed by a messy head of brown appearing before you.

“Because, love,”, he said, making you roll your eyes at the nickname that he didn’t deserve to call you anymore.

“I’m not breaking in! I simply, forgot!”

He stood there, grinning like an idiot, holding up a set of random keys, cheeks blushed and eyes droopy.

“Forgot what?”

“To carry the right keys, of course!”, he said, burping at the end, making you scrunch up your nose in disgust.

“Just, how drunk are you?”, you asked, worried as he almost tumbled onto the floor, unable to stand still.

“Just a little!”

You groaned at his idiotic grin. This was going to be messy.

“Whose keys did you flick?”, you asked, hoping to return them to their rightful owner tomorrow.

“Keys? What keys? I don’t know any Mr Keith”, he declared, sauntering up to the space next to you and collapsing.

You froze up as he nuzzled his head on your thigh, his long arms gripping onto you as if you might disappear any second.

In mere seconds, you heard snores, and sighed to yourself.

How did he expect you to move on if he kept doing things like this?

You looked down at his head, and a small smile formed on your face as you saw how his cheek was smushed up against your thigh, and his pink lips naturally formed a cute pout as a result.

God. You missed this so much.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand and lightly grazed over his hair. The curls tickled the tips of your fingers, and you could almost cry at how comforting that felt.

You always loved him dearly. Even when he would have his random bursts of cold, distant behaviour, you gave him space and welcomed him with open arms when he came back to normal. You knew he was like this because of his trust issues, and his childhood wasn’t the best, so to speak.

He would always be sure to pamper you with love after his cold spurs.

But this time, when he wanted to break up, you didn’t see that same wall that he usually built around himself; you sensed indifference and dislike. He truly didn’t love you at that moment, and that scared you.

One of the only reasons why you didn’t want to even try to rekindle your relationship with him, is because of how scared you were of his expressions that day. He truly felt absolutely nothing but dislike for you, and you could feel it.

How is it that the same man is lying here, on your couch, with his head on your lap, lovingly nuzzling into you in his sleep?

“You must have a split personality…”, you mumbled, toying with individual curls of his dark hair.

“Or maybe, it’s more of a bipolar disorder?”, you wondered, lacking any actual knowledge of either mental illnesses.

You just wanted some reason to defend his hurtful behaviour. Some reason to let him in.

But maybe, there is no reason. Maybe, it was all just an elaborate lie, that he spun to cure his boredom.

The thought was too painful to entertain, and a tear slipped down your cheek.

You decided to just ignore these thoughts, and enjoy the moment of calm while it lasts.

Dazai groaned as he stirred awake. He had blacked out last night, having spent the night getting kicked out of multiple bars for having drank too much. He couldn’t remember much, except for the occasional sob of your name as he clutched a glass of whiskey on the rocks. He hadn’t felt such emptiness for a while.

He begrudgingly opened his eyes, only to still at the sight.

There you sat, asleep, neck bent in an uncomfortable position. He felt your hand in his hair, and decided to just stare at you.

He observed the smooth, silky skin he adored so much, and how it bent inwards after your cheekbones, narrowing towards your chin.

He smiled at the tiny freckles, and adored the pink of your lips. His smile faded as he noticed the dried tears on your cheeks, and the remnants of your maskara staining a path below your eyelashes.

He was the reason for your tears. He hated himself.

He raised a hand, and hesitated. Did he deserve to touch you after what he had done? Did he deserve to wipe your tears, to push your hair out of your face and to comfort you?

“Osamu..”, you whispered, still deep in slumber.

He usually loved the way you said his name.

But this time, his heart hurt at the pain in your voice.

He silently retracted his hand, which was only inches away from your face, and tried to get up. He wanted to get out of here before you woke up, hoping that you’d chalk it up to a weird dream.

He, stupidly, forgot about your hand in his hair.

You jumped awake, eyes wide and heart pumping. Your swift gaze landed on him, stilling.

You didn’t say anything, and he could see that you wanted to say something. He hoped you would, he silently begged you to.

But you didn’t.

He finally got up, and adjusted his shirt. It felt weird sitting next to you on the sofa where you had both spent countless nights cuddling, watching movies and enjoying each other’s presence.

You both spent some moments in silence, hating to accept that you liked the proximity.

You finally broke the silence as you cleared your throat, ready to take the initiative.

“Please don’t break in again.”

With that, you got up. He watched as you searched for something, and looked at you puzzled when you picked up a set of keys.

“Return these to their owner.”, you said, handing them to him.

He scrunched his brows, not knowing what any of that meant.

Did he break in? Whose keys are these? Why aren’t you addressing the real issue here?

“Did I.. break in?”, he asked, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

You sighed at the state of him. How could he sound so sexy and yet make you want to cry your eyes out? How could he not remember anything? Were you a joke to him? A joke of a person that he can use and throw as he pleased?

“I’m not your plaything, Dazai.”, you mustered up the courage to say to him, watching his face darken.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

He averted his eyes, and nodded.

“Please, just..”, you hated the way your voice cracked. You took a moment to calm your throat, and push the emotions away. You couldn’t afford to cry right now.

“Please leave.”

Dazai clenched his fist at your words. He hated the way you were holding back tears, tears that you would probably spill the moment he’s out the door.

“I’m sorry.”, he said, getting up and collecting his things off the floor.

You watched, hands hugging your torso, as he grabbed everything.

He stepped towards the door, when you called out to him.

“I’m asking because I want closure.”, you began, “Why?”

He froze, not being able to meet your eyes.

He hated himself.

He absolutely loathed himself.

“Because,”, he said, still avoiding eye contact, “you don’t deserve to be with a cheater.”

You couldn’t hold it anymore, having feared this.

Tears freely occupied your cheeks, sliding down and staining your top.

“Was she worth it?”, your voice trembled, making Dazai close his eyes in shame.

“Nothing can truly be worth it, y/n.”

You watched him disappear behind the door, and felt numb.

Maybe this was what you needed: the truth, the keys that can finally set you free from the chains around your heart.

Authors note: I’m truly sorry lol

[euphoricimagination]

꧁༺ 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓮: 𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓼𝓪 ༻꧂

You were in your favorite coffee shop after your day at work had finished, a small and very cozy shop that was in the middle of Tokyo that surprisingly didn’t have many customers for being in the heart of the country.

After a very tiring day you decided to visit, ordering your favorite pastry and coffee to have while continuing the book you were reading at the moment: The Flowers of Buffoonery by Osamu Dazai.

You were comfortably reading there when suddenly loud voices start to come closer, soon entering the café four people with big bags.

“I told you this place is so quiet! Almost nobody here!” one with greyish hair says

“How d’ya know about this, Bokuto-san? Ya don’t read” one with blonde hair asks

“Akaashi showed it to me when we where in uni!”

“Akaashi-san does seem like someone who would like this place” an orange hair one says now.

You noticed that the black hair one didn’t say anything, in fact he looked rather annoyed by his friends; but deciding to mind your own business, you continue reading while they order. Soon enough they came to sit near you, enthusiastically talking about volleyball and whatever had happened in their practice. You had seen them before, but not enough to know their names.

“Excuse me” you hear a few minutes after, the orange hair dude now beside you smiling brightly “It says Osamu Dazai? Like the dude from Bungo Stray Dogs?”

“Eh? Well, yeah, but…”

“Osamu? Ma brother was named after an author?” the blonde one says, taking his things and setting himself on your table

“You idiots, Osamu Dazai is a real person and a famous author” the black hair one says, looking carefully at the book as the other ones also join you

“Yeah, but it is true that he appears on the anime, all characters are based on real life authors, Dazai being one of them”

“ahh, I see! Thanks for letting us join you! I’m Hinata Shoyo” the orange hair says smiling, making it harder for you to even be mad at them

Surprisingly enough, despite being strangers, they made you feel really comfortable, everyone being chatty and making sure you join their conversation.

“I heard that this book it’s quite good, the protagonist is recovering after a suicide attempt, right?” Sakusa asks you, looking at the book again

“yeah, he’s the only survivor out of the couple. Its much more…joyful than his previous works”

“I see, I might try reading it. How did you found out about it?”

“honestly…because of the anime” you chuckle, making him have a faint smile “it is very good though, so I’m kinda glad I did pick it up”

“I’ve heard of the author, never actually check it out though” he says while looking over at his teammates, who know where loudly discussing about a match “sorry about them, you were reading peacefully and they came and ruined that”

“it’s alright, I don’t mind. They’re funny”

“They’re annoying”

“Omi-kun! Why do ya look more comfortable with her than us? We’ve know each other since high school!” Atsumu whines with a small smirk

“Unlike you bunch, she knows how to act outside”

“Ah! I know! We have a game on Sunday, why don’t you come to watch us Yn-chan?” Hinata asks you, also with a knowing look on his eyes, it seems that the three other players realized something about Sakusa

“Yeah, we can show you how awesome we are! You can see Omi-kun in action too!” Bokuto adds, a slight shade of red in your cheeks

“We have to go, we have practice early tomorrow” Sakusa stands ups, sending a sharp look to the guys and making them stand up saying their goodbyes. Sakusa is the last one to leave, looking at you right before he left “I do hope you can come to see us….maybe you can lend me that book after”

[lotomber]

Dazai (ADA) Nsfw Alphabet

Warning: Sexual content, Minors strictly do not interact, not proof read

A = AFTERCARE (how do they behave after sex?)

He's really lazy after sex like he would want you to clean him up but if he really tired you out then he won't mind help you clean up. Expect lots of cuddles and kisses and will be extra sweet.

B = BODY PART

He just loves your whole body but he had to pick he would prefer your thighs. It's doesn't matter they are thick or thin, he just loves to be squeezed between them. He would also ask you to sit on him so he could just eat you out.

C = CUM (where do they like to cum?)

He just loves to cum in you it makes him feel more close to you. He might even have a breeding kink if you are in a serious relationship.

D = DIRTY SECRET

He sometimes records while fucking you just to see how good of a job he does. Or to relieve himself when you are not around.

E = EXPERIENCE

He definitely has a lot experience, thanks to his womanizing habits But sex with you is much more meaningful to him.

F = FAVOURITE POSITION

He loves all the positions in which he can see your face but his favorite are missionary, mating press or G-whiz.

G = GOOFY (how do they act during it? )

He's the type to tease and crack jokes, while he occasionally likes to degrade you mixing it with praises but if you don't like it he won't do it.

H = HAIR (does the carpet match the drapes?)

Well he is not well groomed, he just does the bare minimum just trims sometimes.

I = INTIMACY (romantic aspect)

He's not the one to show his real feeling to others but it's different with you in his bed, He make sure to tell you how much he loves and cares about you. And that how much he appreciates you being with him.

J = JACK OFF

He only does it when you are not around otherwise he has pretty good self control but he's just too horny for you.

K = KINK

Dazai's pretty kinky guy. He's into BDSM but he like to stay in power even when you are riding him he will still dominate you. But he won't do anything extreme that could hurt you cause he loves you too much to hurt you. But if you want it he won't mind showing you glimpses of his past self.

L = Location

Anywhere is fine for him cause he's just shameless but something about public places entices him like the idea of getting caught feels hot to him.

M = Motivation (turn ons)

He's a horny man like he can get turned on anytime, anywhere but when he sees you in his shirt it just drives him crazy.

N = NO (turn offs)

Threesomes are a big no for him, He just hates the thought of even sharing you with someone.

O = ORAL

He is a receiver and a giver both, but he prefers to eat you out until you're just begging him to stop.

P = PACE

He starts slowly giving you time to adjust to his size but soon after he just starts thrusting faster like he has no tomorrow.

Q = QUICKIE

He's always open for quickies but he prefers to take his time with you.

R = RISKS

He's always open to try new things and the risks just turn him on more. He likes to bend you over his table in agency when everyone's outside and he just loves it when you give him a blowjob from under his table and the risk of getting caught just excites him more.

S = STAMINA

He has lot of stamina like he can go for 4-5 rounds if not tired. Sometimes he just like to go until you are just babbling incoherent nonsense or you say your safeword.

T = TOYS

Toys are another big no for him he just likes to please you himself.

U = UNFAIR (how much do they like to tease)

He's 100% certified tease. He would just edge you for hours until you are a begging mess and then fuck you for hours overstimulating you.

V = VOLUME

He's just too shameless he doesn't care even if others listen to him. His moans and grunts are just too sultry and on purpose too.

W = WILD CARD (random hc)

Once Atsushi walked in while you both were having sex and left immediately before you could notice him. After that when you saw Atsushi he was just red as tomato and couldn't understand why. But Dazai already knew what happened and kept quiet.

X = X-RAY

He just gives off big dick energy so probably 7-8 inches not too thick but it's length makes up for it.

Y = YEARNING (how badly do they want you?)

Like already mentioned before he's just too horny so he's always open to fuck you. Like he will come and whisper lewd things in your ears to tease you and if you tease him back it just makes him want you more.

Z = Zzzz (how fast they fall asleep after)

He mostly waits until for you to fell asleep first and then also sleeps cuddling you close to him.

[luffyvace]

RANPO X LAZY MALE READER!!

Enjoy lovely readers! for these are the headcanons that won the poll!!♡

ranpo with a lazy male reader..an interesting topic

definitely. Especially since ranpo himself, is lazy

you two (dazai making it a trio) are the ultimate lazy duo

you guys never get work done outside your skills

maybe not even then

unless it serious y’all basically eat snacks all day and well…lazy around :)

Ranpo will only share some of his snacks with you

partly because your his lazy buddy and partly because your his boyfriend

even if you get your own if he runs out or sees one of his favorite snacks he’ll steal some of yours

To which you often move away from him to get him to stop

also don’t bother storing your snacks in your locker he’ll figure out the lock combo and eat them

bonus points if you break in his locker and steal his

at this point it’s a ‘would be romantic if you weren’t stealing it from each other’ war of buying each other snacks

also meaning you buy all his favorites and store it in your locker, knowing he’s gonna steal it, and he does the same for you

fukuzawa and yosano are used to you two’s antics of not wanting to do anything but kunikida just can’t take it

he thinks he might even go insane

actually this time

atsushi wouldn’t mind as much if your work load didn’t get dumped off on him

or if he didn’t have to clean up after you and ranpo’s snack mess

..

okay maybe atsushi is a little annoyed..

On the bright side you get lots of cuddles with ranpo

he’s the little spoon

likes to rest his head on your chest

wants to hear your heartbeat so he can fall asleep

your only complaint is that he gets snack and chocolate stains all over your shirt

even worse since your too lazy to do laundry

Oh well

if you wanna be the little spoon ranpo will whine and complain

“awhhhhh but m/nnnnnnn I’m so comfyyyyy”

you both keep persisting until you fall asleep

that cycle repeats every time you cuddle

even if he were to say yes you’d be too lazy to move

you’d likely end up just falling back asleep

ranpo would still get his way as the little spoon in the end

if you two live together oh boy you either call someone to do everything for you (kunikida)

or wait until said kunikida comes over,

turns on mom mode,

and scolds you while cleaning up + making dinner

it’s constant battles between who will do what

about literally anything too

”noooooo ranpo you do the laundryyyyy”

”but m/nnnnnnn I’m the worlds greatest detectiveeee, don’t you think I deserve spoiling??”

”you do but I’m too lazyyyy 😞”

”wowwwww so that’s how you feel about your boyfriend?? Your great detective??”

you: rolls over goes to sleep

”m/nnnnnn!! Get uppp! I did the laundry last timeeeeee!”

you, muttering before dozing off to sleep: “liarrr…”

ranpo pouts, flips over and goes to sleep as well

the laundry never got done 😋

honestly….how do I write these headcanons?!

you two are so lazy..! Nothing gets done!!

your dates are all in doors

there’s no cleaning

barely cooking

what do I say?!

I already covered physical affection too 🤦‍♀️

🧍‍♀️

stop being so lazy this is putting strife on me too!!

now I see how kunikida and atsushi feels..

what are we gonna do with you two..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

Wellllll…ranpo likely gives lazy kisses

theyre a bit long and not much effort is put into them, but love sure is

same with you!!

you two often give each other slow and gentle kisses while lazying around in bed<3

so cute!!💗

if you could ever get ranpo to cook somehow it may not taste good considering he doesn’t cook a whole lot..

your the same, except you get to choose whether your good or not

..laundry?

you rewear your same favorite clothes and ranpo pretty much does too

ranpo has worn your clothes before, claiming its his when you clearly remember buying it

you figured out it was yours but he was too lazy to take it off

“Awhhhh but m/nnnnn it took so much energy to get it onnnn”

”what?! I was planning on wearing that today!!”

”awhhh can’t you wear it tomorrow and I wear it today?!”

”only if you promise to wash it!”

”awhhhhhh!! 😞—

but I’m so lazy m/nnn”

he sits on the edge of the bed pouting

to which you take the opportunity to yank off the clothes he stole from you

”HEYY!! It took forever to get this on!! Don’t take it off!”

”it’s not yours! And if you don’t wanna wash it, you can’t wear it!”

”okay! okay! I’ll wash it! I’ll wash it!”

”good!” you: walks off to the car ”wait m/nn!! Come back! help me put it back on!!”

just for the record when you got back home it didn’t get washed

it got disregarded on the floor for a cuddles and kisses date on your bed

(yes your dates take place in your bed)

it takes forever for you two to arrive at work

your late more often than not

especially when debates about who has to drive happens

which is where kunikida steps in…again

he scolds you both for being too lazy to even move your hands and feet to get to a job which is very important because it brings in money that feeds you and..blah blah blah blah blah….

(you don’t even remember the rest you tuned out)

I honestly couldn’t choose as to whose more lazy between you two so I’ll let you do it

but in the case that your lazy and can still get some things done,

your really just burnt out not lazy yet it gets labeled as that

your tired from working and doing daily activities

especially if you have a cramped schedule like kunikida

well, maybe not like kunikida, just really packed

(No one can out-schedule that man I know it)

either way you likely do more cooking and a little bit more cleaning than ranpo

If your muscles are sore ranpo will give you a massage but your both laying down-

LOL

he might hire a professional chiropractor for a big event like your anniversary

also I feel ranpo’s love language would be quality time and physical touch

quality time because he just genuinely likes being around his boyfriend

it’s free and he feels good spending time with the one he loves?? Why not??

physical touch because it’s simply a easy and effective way for him to display his love to you

he probably leans more towards kisses in private

hand holding is his go two in public (mostly when he’s not eating snacks at the moment because he needs his hands to stuff his face—and so do you)

hugs/cuddles can go either way :)

Ngl the ada members find it cute when they see you two all snuggled up on the couch after eating a bunch of snacks

even if you two get on their nerve a bit, they can’t deny it’s truly adorable♡

thank you all so much for voting on my poll once again!!

I appreciate you all and deeply hope you enjoyed these headcanons!!!

[inamagicalhallucination]

list of all the bsd fics i've ever mentioned so far (hopefully) (i might make this a List or just have a tag idk whichever is easier)

sskk:

Misunderstandings are extremely embarrassing by EMILEHCM

Red In Tooth & Claw by neoqueenserenity

you’re just a ghost at most (a set of empty bones) by bloodyhalefire

Last Night's Fake Blood by zippyhyuck

my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand by GallifreyanFairytale

dazai-related (probably dazai-atsushi being bros)

Tsushima by Kala (assushi)

Survive because My Love by radiashen

Dull Eyes, Transparent Smile by radiashen

bet against the odds by advanced_fanatic

tomorrow's a wish away by Seito

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 25

AND WE'RE BACK FOR A FOURTH TIME. It's that lovely time of the year where I write mediocre smut with no plot for a whole month. So sit your ass down and take a few minutes to read some smut.

As always, kinktober is held by our local Napoleon simp, @xxsycamore

If you'd like to read the last three years, go here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you think

Voyeurism | Getting Caught

A group of you decided to go out and hang out at a pub in town and get dinner.

You're a few drinks in sitting at a booth near the back of the bar. Leonardo comes back with another round of drinks for you.

You are leaning back watching Arthur and Theo drunkenly play cards with some regulars. You think Dazai is trying to flirt with someone but it is clearly not going well by the look on her face. Napoleon said he was coming by after teaching the kids and would try to convince Isaac to come as well.

"Having fun, cara mia?"

Leonardo sits next to, resting a hand in your thigh. You pick up your drink and sip from it, nodding your head.

"I think Dazai is going to get his heart broken soon," you chuckle.

Leonardo laughs and looks down at you. "You're spending too much time looking at other guys when you're supposed to be with me."

"You shouldn't have left my side then."

"Oh so now it's my fault?" Leonardo leans closer and kisses you.

"Don't worry. I love when you leave. I get to stare at your ass," your cheeks are flushed from alcohol.

"Mmm, dirty bella," he smirks and starts lifting up your skirt. You barely notice at first, until his hand is touching your bare skin.

"L-Leonardo," you squeeze your thighs together but he's already pushing his hand between your skin.

"What? Everyone is preoccupied. And we're way in the back," he kisses your cheek. "Or are you worried that you won't be able to keep a straight face?"

He picks up his drink and sips from it while his fingers push past your underwear. As much as you want to keep your legs together, just getting rubbed against makes you spread them.

Leonardo wastes no time pushing his fingers into you. You have to bite your tongue to stop a yelp coming out of your mouth. All you can do is look around the bar like before while his fingers pulse in and out of you.

"Does alcohol make you horny? You couldn't have gotten so wet so quickly otherwise."

"L-Leonardo. We-we-we're," you swallow back a moan and try not squirming. You are scared to keep talking because you might end up moaning. You can't have people looking your way.

You take your glass and drink a good bit of it. It might be from your blood pumping, but it doesn't take long for the alcohol to kick in.

"You must like being watched," he teased

"N-no. Not at...all," you breath heavily. You hold onto the seat under you tightly. "Ungh. We-someone is going to s-see."

"At least I don't have to worry about having anyone try to steal you from me."

His fingers go deeper. You are pretty sure he added a third with how much you seem to be stretching. You take a sharp breath through your teeth.

His fingers curl and rub roughly against your walls. He can't go too fast or else the movement will look too obvious.

"I should have had you sit on me."

"I-I am not warming y-you in public."

"Damn. There goes tomorrows plan."

You want to scold him but you are so concentrated on not moaning. You tense up. Not sure if it's from anxiety or pleasure.

"Oh god," you hiss softly.

"Right here, right?"

His fingers curve a different way, getting you to jump and tense more before cumming in his fingers.

You get your teeth, praying that you were roughly able to keep a straight face the whole time.

"Good girl," he pulls his fingers out. "Now you get soaked underwear for the rest of the night."

He wipes his wet fingers against your underwear before fixing your skirt.

He sips his drink as if nothing just happened. Meanwhile you can already feel your legs collapsing if you dare to stand up.

[sickiehugs]

kunkida sick headcanons?😲😲

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

SOMEONE ASKED THE QUESTION

emeto tw

alright SO

Right off the bat, he's still going to work. He's doing everything he'd written in his notebook the night prior, and nothing, not even a high fever, will get in his way.

I think he'd be a lot more irritable than usual if he had a bad headache, wanting to get things done as quickly as possible so he can just take a mf breather.

Either that or when Dazai is being Dazai and starts to annoy Kunikida as usual, instead of the usual angry response, he's met with a quiet "Dazai... Please, just... not today."

And OHHH how he'd be on missions. If he were to get nauseous, he wouldn't want to burden whoever he's with, and he definitely wouldn't want them to insist he goes home.

So let's say at the end of a fight, or even just walking to or from an important meeting, he may unexpectedly say "Hold on, I'll be right back," and make a dash for the nearest bathroom, forest, or garbage can where no one is near and just let it out. He'd come back and pretend nothing happened.

He might blame coughing on the dry air, or choking on water, but it ends up happening so often that no one is buying it anymore, especially when the coughs get really bad. The coughing could get so deep that it makes him nauseous all over again.

What ends up really setting people off is when his words start to not make a lot of sense. He might talk slower, or mix up his words, and sometimes not even notice.

Oh and his writing. Shaky, messy penmanship, reports are incredibly vague and not nearly as detailed or professional as usual, and he hasn't even touched his notebook since he arrived this morning. Or imagine he gets the time wrong if someone asks, because his vision is just so unfocused that he can't see the hands of his watch correctly.

Eventually someone like Dazai or Atsushi just insists on him going home, and that's just the last bit of confirmation he needs to prove he can just rest.

And once he's stumbled back into his apartment, he flops right onto his futon, not even bothering to set an alarm for tomorrow morning; just wiped out immediately before his head even hits the pillow. When he doesn't show up on time the next day, no one bugs him about it. He needs his rest.

BONUS:

He is usually a very light sleeper, able to be woken up by even the quietest things. But when he's sick, he's out like a light and there's no hope in waking him.

He canonically gets neck and shoulder cramps often, and I can imagine they get much worse with added body aches from a fever. Everything is all stiff and sore, it's so uncomfortable and he has to be very careful with how he moves or else it'll flare up and just make him so miserable (Oh IMAGINE Dazai giving him a shoulder massage. How good that would feel. All the tension just dissipates from his muscles, and he can finally relax his shoulders).

He probably looks really good with his hair down just sayinggg... Sometimes I imagine him without that fuck ass rat tail of a haircut and instead all his hair is long; what if he put it in a lil messy bun when he's at home......

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ 𝆬  pregnancy headcanons𝆬 𓏸

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Fukuzawa, Fyodor, Poe, Nikolai, Sigma, Jōno, Fukuchi

content: f!reader, pregnancy and related symptoms, soft....

If you truly believe that DAZAI is anything but awfully flirty during your pregnancy, you're wrong. He constantly mentions just how gorgeous and breathtaking — or, in certain situations, outright hot — you look, making sure that you never have any reason at all to feel insecure about yourself, even if you gain quite a lot of weight. Like he cares; he's fond of all women, after all, but especially you, and, in his eyes, it's impossible for you to be anything but beautiful.

That also means, though, that he won't keep his hands off you, constantly fondling your now larger chest, your hips and stomach and everywhere he can reach, really. Deep down, he doubts he'll make for a good father, though he's determined to try his best for the sake of your small family. This includes shedding his usual lazy attitude and helping you with household chores, as well as laying off the alcohol, hopefully.

“You're terrible, bella. Honestly awful — how am I supposed to get any of those papers done when you're next to me, looking this irresistible? It's like you're trying to set me up for failure. Ah—, but I'm sure Kunikida will understand if I take a small break, hm? Get over here, darling.”

CHŪYA suddenly spoils you even more than he did before the announcement of your pregnancy, though, really, he's just awfully overjoyed. The thought of actually getting a child with you, a true family, still seems surreal to him, like a situation out of a dream rather than something that can happen in reality and, for a moment, he wonders whether he's deserving of something this wonderful. Unfortunately, he's rather busy, but, naturally, he makes as much time to be with you as somehow possible, rolling his eyes at Mori whenever another oh so “urgent mission” comes up.

To make up for him occasionally not being home, you get Kōyō, as well as Higuchi, Gin, Hirotsu and Tachihara who make sure to constantly keep an eye on you. Even if you're simply going out to get some ice cream, one of them accompanies you — and, luckily, they make for surprisingly great friends. While Chūya's life style, being a dangerous ability user who works for the Port Mafia, isn't the safest, he's fairly content that he'll be able to protect you and your child from any harm whatsoever — he'd give his life for yours, after all.

“Hm? I'm not mad. I just—, not at you, at least. I wanted to take ya out on a proper nice date tomorrow, made a reservation and everything, though the Boss just assigned me some apparently important mission. Yeah, I know. Sorry, sweetheart. I'll make it up to you, yeah? Ah, it's already paid for, though. You can take Kōyō or Gin, if you like. They should be free tomorrow. Sorry. I love you.”

FUKUZAWA never felt for anyone as strongly before as he now does for you, meaning he never imagined himself to eventually grow old surrounded by a loving family, with a partner and a child, even. It sounds too perfect to be true, not like a situation that'd fit into his current life, and yet he finds himself overjoyed after overcoming the initial disbelief, his smile dripping with love, with affection as he gently meets your lips in a kiss, arms immediately curling around your body to hug you close.

During the pregnancy, he's all the more protective of you, unwilling to ever leave your side. If things went his way, you'd accompany him to the Agency's office in the morning and would leave in the evening together with him, though he admits that he sees why that might be a tad boring. He simply aches to keep an eye on you, worried about what might happen to you when he's not around, though several Agency members assure him that they, too, will keep an eye on you.

“I'm afraid I can't accompany you today, dear. I'm sorry. An urgent meeting came up, but I'm sure Kunikida or Yosano would join you. Alright? We'll go there together next time. Just— be safe, yes? I trust you're in good hands. Still, don't hesitate to call me if anything happens.”

You best believe that FYODOR has made sure to inform himself as much as humanly possible about pregnancies the moment you announced that the multiple tests you did are positive. While he's the slightest bit strict when it comes to topics such as what you should and shouldn't consume, as well as anything else related to the yours and baby's health, he naturally makes sure to completely indulge most of your cravings, too — when you're the one to bring new life into this world, who is he to forbid you from having another pastry or a second bowl of ice cream?

He's so very gentle in everything he does, carefully caressing your stomach before cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his smile warm, like he can't believe his hands, tainted ones, are allowed to hold something this pure, this holy. It's safe to say that you've always had multiple security guards hovering around you to ensure your safety, though, now, Ivan makes sure to tend to your every need, too, often bringing you the meal you're aching for or even trying out silly yoga techniques for relaxation with you.

“Ah, now—, careful, dear. Allow me to get that for you instead — you should call for Ivan when I am not around. You mustn't overexert yourself. I would hate for you to hurt yourself. Simply sit back and relax, will you? .. Please, for the sake of us, of our family. It won't matter in the long run whether you or someone else got a snack for you, but it will matter if you climb atop a shelf, fall and hurt yourself gravely. Yes?”

POE honestly does not quite believe his ears when you first mention you're pregnant. When you end up showing him the positive test, however, his smile is blinding, the most sincere one he's had in what feels like ages. He, unfortunately, is the type to worry; while he's still more than delighted, he's almost tempted to create a pocket dimension in a book for you where you'd be safe and cared for, though he has to stop himself from doing just that. It'd be a little overbearing.

Given how he's more than wealthy, you don't have to worry about anything at all. Whatever you crave, it's yours immediately — as fast as premium online shipping works, that is —, whether it's new clothing to accommodate your changing body, furniture for the child's room, certain snacks only available in a foreign country; anything, really. He also makes sure to constantly check in on how you're feeling, asking multiple times every few hours and, when he's not home for whatever reason, he leaves you a surprisingly large amount of text messages, telling you to call him immediately if anything feels.. odd.

“Are you experiencing anything like cramps? Nausea, perhaps? No? That's a relief. Ah, I just—, that's merely what it said on the Internet, symptoms that could happen. I'm relieved if you truly are alright for now.”

Usually, NIKOLAI is a force to be dealt with. He's unpredictable, mood changing quickly, his smirk wide and his eyes sharp, though, once you tell him you're pregnant, he's surprisingly gentle in the way his hands move to rest on your stomach, his revealed eye sparkling with joy as he coos at the barely visible bump as if the baby is able to hear him. He keeps carefully running for once bare hands over the stretched skin, telling the child stories and that you're both excited to meet it; anything that comes to mind, really.

If you get odd food cravings during the pregnancy, he's not afraid to supply you with whatever you want, as well as to try them out with you. Perhaps ice cream with hot sauce and pickles will be a new family dessert; he's anything but scared of new possibilities.

“Ah, what are you having, doll? Allow me to try, please? Hm? I'm not stealing from you; now, now, don't be mean—, alright, alright. I admit defeat. At least let me say hi to our sweetheart then, yes?”

The moment SIGMA learns that you're expecting a child, his child, he's ecstatic. He'll make sure you have everything you might want or need, ranging from all kinds of different snacks you could possibly crave to a personal masseuse if you're feeling sore. The more your bump starts to show, the more often he can't help but rest his hands on your stomach, gently caressing, or even pressing soft kisses to it. There's nothing that gets to him more than the idea of having a family with you.

Despite his initial joy, he's another one who's prone to worrying and overthinking, his warm smile making way for a deep frown when he knows you're not looking. He borders on overprotective with how much he keeps an eye on you, even more so than usual, given how, now, he has two loved ones to protect, not just one anymore and, oh, he's admittedly stressed, constantly thinking that something might happen to you, to the baby.

“How are you feeling, love? Is everything alright? Promise you'll tell me if you feel anything odd, yes? I'm not worried. I just don't wish for anything to happen to you or the baby. Alright, I'm admittedly the slightest bit worried, but I really can't help it. I love you, after all.”

JŌNO honestly never expected to ever have a child of his own in the first place, meaning that the knowledge of you being pregnant is something he needs to process for a bit first. Nonetheless, he's happy, of course. How could he not be? It's an odd thought, one he'll have to get used to first, but, in general, it's a pleasant one. Naturally, his job comes with some dangers for you and your future

He's protective by nature, having found pleasure in saving people rather than torturing them, and you're no exception. Seeing you smile, knowing that you feel safe with him is the best feeling he could ever ask for, though his desire to protect you from all harm quickly gets overwhelming. It's less harm from outsiders he fears — he deals quickly and efficiently with criminals, thank you very much —, but more you harming yourself, perhaps by tripping and falling when he's not around, resulting in him preferring to take every little task out of your hands. Oh, well.

“My, my, stay seated, dear. I'll handle this. Hm? I'm not treating you like you're fragile. I know you're not sick, merely pregnant; you mention it often enough. Still, is it so wrong for me to care for you? Yes, that's what I thought.”

FUKUCHI is a busy man. Really, being a war hero and the Hunting Dogs Captain — as well as Kamui, but perhaps that's not something for you to know about —, you'd expect him to be busy with work even while you're pregnant with his child, though that's far from reality. Instead of prioritising work and his reputation, he makes sure to come to every doctor's appointment with you, constantly by your side, and spends as much time as possible at home with you, one hand of his ever so often resting on your stomach, even when the bump is barely visible.

He claims he's able to feel the child's heartbeat already — whether that's true does not seem to matter, not when he's busy peppering your skin in kisses, smile never leaving his face as he wonders aloud whether it'll be a girl or a boy, what their name should be and if their eventual first word will be “mum” or “dad”; his bet is on “mum”, by the way, even though he pretends to be heartbroken by the idea, all too dramatic.

“You look surprised to see that it's me picking you up rather than some chauffeur, sweet thing. Why's that, I wonder? I already told you I'll accompany you to every doctor's appointment you have. The rest of the Hunting Dogs can cover me for one evening. I wouldn't miss this for the world.”

a part of this was a commission! thank you so much again! 💜 Also the idea of Ivan doing yoga with you had me giggling..

tags: @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @alice0blog @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha

@xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646 @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @Senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @Chxrry-doll

[sickficideas]

start over || skk injury/sickfic

ao3! 5.9k - please refer to the tags and notes in the link for content + warnings!

Dazai is fairly certain he has a few broken ribs, but that’s not an unfamiliar feeling.

He resists the urge to run his hand over that spot on his chest. It’s sore and painful even completely untouched. He’s already gotten used to taking shallow breaths, anything deeper than that makes him cough, makes him only feel worse.

But he won’t see a doctor. He never does.

“I’ll take care of the report. You should go home,” Kunikida tells him. Dazai’s not used to the concern in his voice. They’ve been out all night and day on this case, which isn’t too unusual for them, but Dazai’s exhaustion has hit him much harder this time. It’s visible enough that Kunikida is concerned, but Dazai doesn’t think he has any idea about the condition of his ribs. “Might not be a bad idea to have Yosano check you over before you go, though.”

“She’s in Osaka, isn’t she?” Dazai asks, vaguely remembering the discussion from the night before. He yawns, the motion from his chest proving to be rather painful, but he hides it well from his partner, he thinks.

“She’ll be back tomorrow night,” Ranpo tells the two of them, always secretly listening. He looks like he’s actually busy with something at the moment, typing away on a computer.

“I’ll take you to a doctor, then,” Kunikida insists, setting his stack of reports down on the desk and rummaging through his bag for his keys.

“Nah, that’s alright. I think I’ll just go home, I feel fine,” Dazai insists, regardless of his true situation. Kunikida saw him get hit. He was thrown against a staircase during an altercation against someone who didn’t have a gift, and while Dazai can usually hold his own in a fight, there’s not much he can do against someone highly skilled in physical combat and nothing else.

“Are you sure? You got thrown pretty hard,” Kunikida says with a disapproving frown, setting his bag down.

“Yeah, yeah. It’ll probably just bruise,” Dazai says. He didn’t bring anything with him to work today other than a messenger bag, so he picks that up, and leaves his coat hanging over his chair. It’s far too hot for that today.

“If you’re sure. I’ll take you home, at least,” Kunikida insists, but Dazai waves him off before he can continue his search for his keys.

“I’ve got errands to run. I’ll do ‘em on my way home,” Dazai says. He knows Kunikida will stay here even though he’s scheduled to go home as well. He would rather get his work done than put it off.

Kunikida sighs and waves a hand as Dazai heads for the exit.

…

“He has a few broken ribs,” Ranpo says.

Kunikida lifts his head, eyes darting in Ranpo’s direction. It’s been a few minutes since Dazai left. Ranpo doesn’t elaborate, and he’s not quite sure how Ranpo could gather that just from looking at him.

“Are you sure?” Kunikida asks.

Ranpo lifts a brow. “Am I sure?”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“The way he was breathing. It’s causing him pain,” Ranpo explains as if it was obvious. “And he was hunched over by a few degrees. It’s more painful if he stands with good posture, but also when he sits down. He didn’t put his coat back on either, probably not worth it with the pain he’s in. It’s definitely his ribs.”

“Why the hell would he tell me he’s fine?” Kunikida grumbles with a heavy sigh. He can feel a headache coming on. Dazai is so incredibly -

“Well, I’m not a relationship counselor, I’m a detective. So, can’t help you there,” Ranpo shrugs.

Kunikida resists the urge to throw something at him.

…

Chuuya’s fancy penthouse it is, Dazai decides as he boards the subway.

His chest is starting to hurt a bit more. Going from standing up to sitting is slightly more painful, so he decides he’ll stand on the train instead and hold onto something at waist level to avoid unnecessary pain. He thinks he should text Chuuya that he’s heading over there, but he ends up in his own head, distracted by miscellaneous thoughts and advertisements in his view.

He almost misses the stop.

He feels his phone buzzing in his pocket, but he knows it’s Kunikida, and he doesn’t feel like answering. He’s sure Ranpo knows, he’s sure he’s told Kunikida, and answering the phone would certainly mean being harped on for not looking after his health.

Dazai understands his concern, he really does, but he’s fine. As long as he can still breathe, he would rather not see a doctor if he doesn’t have to.

The evening’s rush hour has started to calm down, thankfully. Dazai’s not sure he could handle being stuffed in a train car with that many people, especially now, but he gets out of the station unscathed and only has to endure a few minutes of walking to Chuuya’s penthouse. There’s a moment where he almost turns back around, but he’s already paid the train fare. Might as well finish what he started.

He digs through his bag for the key card he has to get to Chuuya’s floor, and he only manages to find it just when he makes it to the building. The elevator opens for him, and he ascends a few floors up to make it to Chuuya’s place. He takes in a few breaths, disappointed to find it hasn’t gotten any easier to breathe. Thankfully, Chuuya’s not as observant as his coworkers.

The elevator opens right to Chuuya’s living room after he's prompted once more to scan the key card. Normally, anyone else would have to be let in by him, but Dazai has stolen this extra key card of his to make it easier for him to get it. He doesn’t care for the extra steps.

He’s grinning when the elevator door opens to Chuuya almost half-dressed and sitting on his couch with a glass of wine, wide-eyed and not very happy to see company.

“Did you steal my fuckin’ key card again, Mackerel?” Chuuya grumbles, standing up from his spot on the couch to take his remote and pause the TV. He’s watching some brainless reality TV like he usually does, that’s no surprise, but Dazai’s at the point where he wouldn’t even mind watching it with him.

“You should wear that more often,” Dazai hums as he hangs his bag on Chuuya’s silly hat rack, something he knows Chuuya hates, but has given up reprimanding Dazai for. He sees Chuuya’s face redden a little at that comment. It’s an almost-too-small tank top he’s wearing with a baggy pair of sweatpants, but he’s got some nice-looking arms. He likes seeing them.

“You always scare the crap out of me when you show up like this,” Chuuya groans, obviously trying to change the subject. “I told you to text me when you’re coming.”

“Wanted to surprise you,” Dazai jokes, but he’s lost the energy to put any sort of teasing tone into his voice. He trudges over to the couch to sit down, slower than he normally would and carefully as he sinks down, trying to avoid making any grunts to show he’s still in pain.

Chuuya, though, isn’t as stupid as Dazai thinks he is. “You okay?”

Dazai’s still staring at his arms. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Stop looking at me like I have a pair of tits. You’re gross,” Chuuya grumbles, marching over to the kitchen. Dazai pouts, staring at the still-paused television, with no will or energy to get up to unpause it himself.

“Slug, can you unpause it?” Dazai asks, turning his head to watch Chuuya, who has taken his phone from the kitchen counter and sat at the bar, typing away.

“Do it yourself,” Chuuya huffs. “You want somethin' to eat?”

“‘M okay,” Dazai says. He should probably eat, but he’s never really hungry.

“I’m ordering food anyway. You like Chinese food, right?” Chuuya asks.

“Uh-huh,” Dazai nods, turning his head back to stare at the television, which has already moved to the idle screen. Dazai thinks he was watching a singing competition show, which isn’t nearly as bad as his usual choices.

Dazai sinks back into the couch and manages to snake one of the throw blankets over himself, feeling a little cold. He hears Chuuya muttering in the kitchen, always weirdly polite when he’s on the phone, ordering much more than the two of them could finish together.

He breathes in and breathes out a few times, realizing that not only is it not getting better, it almost feels worse. He’s having to take more shallow breaths. Maybe it would be a good idea to at least let Chuuya know, just in case Dazai suddenly can’t breathe anymore, but he’s certain Chuuya won’t handle news of broken ribs very well.

Chuuya returns with a shirt and pajama pants that Dazai left here ages ago, because obviously nothing Chuuya owns will fit Dazai’s tall frame. He lays the clothes over the side of the couch and clicks his tongue when Dazai’s eyes drift over to him.

“You look exhausted,” Chuuya murmurs.

“‘M fine. How long till the food gets here? I’m hungry,” Dazai huffs.

“Now you’re hungry, huh? Geez," Chuuya mutters to himself. "Change into these before you get on my bed.”

Dazai is well aware that he's not allowed to wear outside clothes in Chuuya’s bed and resists the urge to make a comment about the more serious topic of Chuuya's undiagnosed OCD in favor of getting closer to time in a bed. Chuuya's mattress is fantastic. Money can't buy happiness, but it can buy mattresses that give him the most rested sleep of his life. Maybe he can lay down for a little before the food gets here. He just needs to relax, he’s fine.

Chuuya starts to wander off again.

“Slug,” Dazai whines. “What are you doing now?”

“I needa do laundry. You wanna help, or keep up your freeloader lifestyle?” Chuuya calls as he walks off. Dazai doesn’t have the energy to shout back at him. Dazai realizes he didn’t make any solid plans at all to hang out with Chuuya, and that the latter has things he needs to do too, but he wishes he would use his absorbent amounts of money to hire someone to do his laundry for him.

Dazai, instead, starts to change into the clothes Chuuya brought out for him. The sweat pants are easy to slide on as he’s sitting down. It doesn’t hurt his chest too much at all. Taking off his collared shirt and vest isn’t too difficult either, he doesn’t have to pull anything over his head with the buttons, but he realizes he’ll have to with the shirt.

He puts that off, realizing he needs to change out his bandages, too. What a pain in the ass.

“Slug,” Dazai murmurs as he approaches Chuuya’s laundry room. He’s wearing a cardigan all of a sudden. Chuuya always puts something on as soon as it comes out of the dryer, he likes how warm it is. It’s cute. “Do you have bandages I can use anywhere?”

Chuuya finishes folding up a shirt before he looks at Dazai peering in the doorway, his eyes drifting down to his bandages. Dazai suddenly feels nauseous. He knows Chuuya has seen his skin without the bandages, he knows Chuuya doesn’t care, but he hates it. He hates it so much it makes him feel sick.

“Dazai, you know that I don’t -”

Chuuya stops when his eyes meet Dazai’s expression, probably on track to say something about how he doesn’t care about what’s underneath his bandages, but Dazai doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. He just wants to change the bandages so he’s clean enough to lay in Chuuya’s bed.

“There’s some left in the bathroom next to my bedroom. Second highest shelf on the right,” Chuuya says quietly, turning his attention back to folding his remaining articles of clothing.

Dazai wanders over to Chuuya’s bedroom with the shirt he’s supposed to put on folded over his arm, and he locks the door behind him, even with the knowledge that Chuuya can open it whenever he wants.

He starts to peel off the bandages, and he winces at the side of the deep purple bruise blooming over his ribs. That doesn’t look good at all. He doesn’t usually bruise like that. He runs his fingers over the spot, shivering at how his skin feels under the touch of his hand. He’s not sure any of that is real. He thinks he might have a fever. He’s overly sensitive to touch when he’s running a temperature, even at his own hands. But whether or not the fever is from his possible damaged ribs or just exhaustion, he won’t know until later, probably.

He lazily washes his face and runs a damp washcloth over his upper body, anywhere that’s reachable and doesn’t hurt to get to, before he dries off with a dry towel. He should probably shower, but he definitely can’t do that without it hurting right now. He does, however, hold that wet washcloth up to his face. It feels so good. He wonders if ducking his face into a sink filled with water would feel better than this. Maybe he’d drown while he’s at it, too.

But Chuuya’s sink is too low. He’d have to bend over a ton and that would hurt too much. He’s not in the business for a painful suicide.

He starts to wrap his arms back up, deciding to only wrap his neck and arms, and letting the t-shirt do the rest of the covering. He can’t lift up enough to get high on his chest, and it’s too much twisting around his body. He stares down the t-shirt that he’s set on the counter with a deep sigh. He just needs to rip it off like a bandaid. Pull it over his head. It can’t hurt too bad if he’s fast.

Only, it does. It hurts so much that he can’t even pull it over his head. He lowers his arms back down and whines, throwing his head back against the door. It’s so bad that it’s making him nauseous, although he’s not sure if he was feeling sick before that. His chest rattles when he takes in a breath, and he spits phlegm into the sink.

Bad sign.

"What's takin' so long?" Chuuya puffs from outside the door. Dazai almost jumps. He didn’t think he was in here for all that long, but apparently long enough. Dammit, if he opens the door and asks for help, Chuuya will see the bruise on his chest. But it’ll hurt too much to cover it, and then he’ll take even longer.

"Chuuya needs to help me put this on," he murmurs as he unlocks the door, the shirt still pulled up to the sleeves.

"What's wrong, you sore? I have ones that button from the front, if that's easier," Chuuya says, walking off to the closet before he even sees Dazai. “You guys do some crazy stuff today?”

“I got thrown against the stairs,” Dazai groans, leaning against the door frame from the inside, Chuuya’s footsteps approaching again. His arm comes in through the crack of the door with a shirt that buttons from the front, thank god, and his arm disappears once Dazai takes the shirt. He narrowly avoided a confrontation.

“Ow. You get hurt bad?” Chuuya asks, staying outside the door as Dazai shuts it again.

“No, just…sore, like you said,” Dazai manages with a little pained groan as he slips his arms through the sleeves, buttoning the front of the shirt.

“Good. That shit can really suck,” Chuuya huffs. “Actually, I saw Akutagawa curb-stomp a guy on a staircase the other day. Seriously brutal.”

Good to know Akutagawa hasn’t lost any of his violent tendencies, but he finds himself shivering at the idea of curb-stomping someone. Strange how much things have changed. Maybe it's just because of how he feels right now.

Once Dazai finishes buttoning up the shirt, he trudges over to Chuuya’s bedroom, deciding he’ll just lie down for a while as they wait for their food, but the nausea that’s starting to settle in his stomach is making him want to pass up the idea of food.

Dazai decides to just lay down on his side. Chuuya almost wanders out of the room, but he stops and turns around once he’s realized Dazai is lying down. He frowns.

"My tummy hurts," he mumbles.

"You probably haven't eaten all damn day,” Chuuya huffs. Dazai can’t deny that. He’s pretty sure he didn’t eat anything more than a snack yesterday, either, but he won’t admit it to Chuuya. He just whines to himself. “But I’ll get you some Pepto or something if it’ll help you feel better.”

Dazai isn’t sure that will do much for him, but Chuuya is already off to the kitchen before Dazai has anything to say about it. He forces himself to sit up, up and off Chuuya’s too-comfy mattress before he lays a hand on his chest. A deep breath almost has him in tears, he’s wincing so hard that the moment makes it hurt more. It feels like a knife is stuck between his ribs and he thinks if he takes a breath like that again, he’ll throw up. Not a good sign, even worse with how swimmy his head feels once it’s off the mattress.

Chuuya returns with a little medicine cup full of Pepto Bismol and Dazai doesn’t even have the energy to give him a reassuring smile, because it’s obvious that Chuuya is concerned, no matter how much he tries to hide it. His eye twitches as he approaches him, and he reaches a hand up to his cheek. Dammit.

"Shit, Dazai," Chuuya murmurs as he pulls his hand back. "Why the hell are you so hot?"

Dazai wants to make a joke, it's such a good opportunity to, but he can't. He feels awful. He’s considering making himself throw up, but he knows that’s not even remotely related to the root of his problem.

"Tell me what happened," Chuuya growls.

"It's just a few broken ribs," Dazai says quietly, but he’s finding it to be quite painful to even speak right now. He brings his hand back up to his chest.

“I’m calling one of our doctors over,” Chuuya hisses as he sets the cup of medicine on the nightstand.

Dazai freezes at the mere suggestion of that.

“No, Chuuya. Please,” he says, his breath hitching halfway through. His brain is flooded with awful things he doesn’t want to consider. “They’ll report to Mori.”

Chuuya stops in his tracks, his shoulders dropping at the last word Dazai speaks.

Dazai knows he's being paranoid. Realistically, Mori can't get to him anymore. Chuuya would never let him, he doesn't think anyone would, but none of them know the half of what Mori did to him. He would gladly use any opportunity to treat his body like a cadaver, wouldn’t he? Even now?

Even if he wouldn’t, Dazai is so paranoid about it that he’s losing his composure, and that's the problem.

He leans over the bed and gags into his hand, fully expecting to throw up, but it’s just saliva that’s pooled in his mouth. He keeps his hand under his mouth just in case, but now the nausea is pushed to the back of his mind, his brain focused on how much his current posture is hurting his lungs.

“Shit, hey. I won’t call our doctors,” Chuuya murmurs quietly, a gentle but cautious hand landing on Dazai’s shoulder. “Well…what about that doctor at your agency? Can’t she help you?”

“She’s in Osaka,” Dazai recalls. He winces at the concern in Chuuya’s voice. “I’m…I’m fine.”

“Fucking hell, Dazai, you’re not fine,” Chuuya huffs. His voice shakes. Dazai should have known that Chuuya is just as protective as Kunikida, if not worse. He can’t kind from any of them. “I’ll just - I’ll take you to a hospital.”

“You can’t just walk into a hospital, Chuuya," Dazai laughs dryly. He shivers at the thought of going to a hospital, but it’s a far better idea than being found by Mori. It doesn’t make him gag, at least.

“I don’t fucking give a fuck,” Chuuya growls. “You know how serious broken ribs can get, especially if you already have a fucking fever. You’ve probably got an infection. Why the hell would they just let you go home?”

Dazai wants to tell him that they let him go home because he didn't tell anyone he was injured. He doesn't like bothering them if he doesn't have to, and honestly, he prefers to avoid medical treatment of any kind altogether if he can. He was just trying to see how long he could go avoiding it.

"I'm gonna call a taxi and take you downstairs," Chuuya breathes out, turning on his heel and heading back for the kitchen to find his phone.

Dazai is left with his own brain, which is incredibly dangerous. He groans from the pain he’s in, and he’s trying not to think too hard about needing to go to a hospital. Maybe they can just sedate him before they do anything. He’d much prefer that. Is that an option?

He lays down on his side and curls up into a ball, but he doesn’t feel any better, it’s getting harder to breathe and that nauseous feeling won’t go away either, and it comes back with a vengeance. He forces his head up because he knows something is going to come up out of his throat, and he does feel a tiny bit guilty about getting it on Chuuya’s bed, but he can’t avoid it.

Dazai can't breathe. He's not entirely sure what he's coughing up. Foam, phlegm, vomit, maybe some blood, maybe a little bit of everything. He's seen Akutagawa do this on several occasions, actually, but he's never experienced it himself, so he's almost certain this has something to do with his lungs. Maybe the broken shards of his ribcage have poked holes into his lungs.

Oh god, he really can't breathe.

Chuuya's talking to him, but he can't hear a word. He hears his own name, he thinks, but all he can focus on is the sharp, unbelievable pain in his chest.

…

“It sounds to me like he has a lung infection, Dazai,” Mori says to him, expectant. He was waiting for Dazai to agree, to hand his subordinate over and let Mori take care of the rest. But even at seventeen, Dazai was smart enough to know Mori’s true intentions.

“Oh yeah? You’re a doctor now?” Dazai jokes. He’s stalling, only in Mori’s office to take a book or two out of his library that Hirotsu mentioned he needed for something he was working on. Akutagawa is outside the office, waiting. He’s coughing every now and then, coughs that really don’t sound good and that Dazai is well aware of, but he won’t hand him over to Mori.

“Come now, Dazai. Don’t let your subordinates suffer on account of your stubborn nature,” Mori teases.

“I’m not letting anyone suffer, Mori. A little cough never killed anyone,” Dazai says back, mocking that same teasing tone as he pulls out the last book he needs, but when he turns around, he realizes Mori had plans of his own. Elise was busy opening the door to the office and taking Akutagawa’s arm to lead him inside.

Akutagawa looks to Dazai, unsure of what’s going on, what he’s been brought in for, and Dazai is frozen. Dazai has been trying to limit their contact as much as humanly possible, and Mori seems to have become aware of that.

“My, don’t you look awful. How long have you had this cough for?” Mori asks him as Elise drags him closer, but Akutagawa resists the closer he’s brought into Mori’s frame of view. Dazai shakes. He’s been looking for a way to have Akutagawa seen by a doctor that Mori wouldn’t know about, but it’s nearly impossible. It’s something he’s been trying to do for himself, too, and he still hasn’t figured out how to do it. How to get one step ahead of Mori.

“Don’t answer him. We’re leaving,” Dazai growls, glaring at Akutagawa so he knows he’s serious, and Akutagawa shrinks back, still dead silent. Dazai takes Elise’s arm to pull her off of Dazai, and she disappears as soon as they make contact.

“Dazai, really? That wasn’t very nice of you,” Mori huffs. “It’s cruel of you to let your subordinates suffer. You know I would never want that for you, don’t you?”

Dazai takes Akutagawa’s arm and pulls him toward the exit, ignoring Mori’s words. Akutagawa is rightfully confused, but Dazai doesn’t need him to have any more information than he already does. He closes the door behind the two of them, and Akutagawa pulls his arm up to cough into his elbow. Dazai hears his chest rattle. He’s undoubtedly got a fever, too.

“Don’t ever go to him for any of this. Understand? I don’t care what he says,” Dazai bites, audibly frustrated and maybe a little scared, but Akutaagwa can’t pick up on the second half.

“I know,” Akutagawa answers, voice hoarse, “you’ve told me already.”

“Just making sure you listened. You’re not very good at that.” Dazai huffs, leading him down the corridor and back to the elevator.

Akutagawa looks like he’s ready to retort that claim, but he starts coughing again, into his hand, this time - blood and foam coating his palm, visibly startling him, too. He needs to see a doctor, he might even need to go to a hospital, Dazai doesn’t know the extent of his infection at all, but this isn’t normal.

Akutagawa trips when they pass the threshold of the elevator, clearly his head isn’t where it’s supposed to be - he catches himself on his hands and knees and the coughing only gets worse, bright red blood splattering on the marble elevator floor. He takes in shaky and unsteady breaths in between. Dazai just spends a few seconds staring. What the hell is he supposed to do about this?

Akutagawa collapses completely after one heavy breath seems to take all of his remaining energy out of him, and Dazai only thinks about how lucky he is that this happened here, and not in front of Mori. He just stares at his shaking form as they descend the building, and Dazai needs to have a game plan of what to do once they reach the bottom.

“Dazai,” Akutagawa barely manages to breathe out, making a pathetic attempt to get off of the floor, only to crash back down into it. Dazai kneels down beside him. He can’t even carry Akutagawa. Who does he call? What does he do?

“I know. Give me a few hours to figure it out,” Dazai murmurs.

Anyone but Mori. Akutagawa can’t go through what Dazai went through.

…

When Dazai wakes up, he’s stuck in a hospital room, the sterile smell of it all only reminding him how nauseous he is.

He imagines he’s been asleep for quite a while, but he doesn’t feel well-rested at all. He’s never felt that way after a hospital visit. It’s the pain medications they pump him full of, he thinks - they’re the only reason he’s slept at all, probably.

But he can breathe a little easier. There’s a mask over his nose and mouth, probably not a good sign.

There’s a nurse in the room with him, looking surprised to see his eyes meeting hers. She says something to him but Dazai doesn’t have any idea what she’s saying. The mask she’s wearing makes it impossible to even guess. She seems to jot down his vital signs before she scurries out of the room.

He realizes what she was saying to him when Chuuya comes trailing in through the door, his hair tucked into a beanie that doesn't suit him and wearing a hoodie, a black mask and a pair of fake glasses.

If Dazai had the energy to laugh right now, he would probably do it until he couldn’t breathe anymore. Chuuya doesn’t look all that ridiculous, it’s a decent disguise in practice, but it’s hilarious all the same. Only because Dazai knows Chuuya.

A shaky hand of his reaches up to pull down the mask, and Chuuya almost pulls it back over his face once he’s at Dazai’s bedside, but the nurse gives a little nod. She says something to him before she leaves the room, but the sound is muffled.

Chuuya’s voice, though, is as clear as a bell.

“You look like shit,” Chuuya mumbles, brushing his hair back and out of his face, pulling off his own mask once the nurse is out of the room. Not the first thing Dazai wants to hear when he wakes up, but it’s Chuuya.

“You look stupid,” Dazai retorts, his voice so hoarse it almost sounds like he’s lost it completely. He wants to clear his throat, but has a feeling that won’t make him feel any better.

Chuuya grumbles something under his breath before he pulls off the beanie and pushes the glasses up on top of his head, and Dazai’s never been so glad to see that annoyingly bright colored hair before. He’s really kind of gorgeous. Maybe it’s the drugs making him think that.

"I'm sorry I left you," Chuuya murmurs, reaching over to squeeze the hand that’s free from an IV. "I know you hate places like this."

Dazai's a little unsure of what to say. Chuuya's not the type to get so candid with him, and while Dazai truly does despise being in hospitals, he doesn't remember ever telling Chuuya that directly. Then again, his memory of the past has been hazy. He doesn't even remember much of anything after losing his breath on Chuuya's bedroom. For all he knows, Chuuya could have been with him the whole time.

"I'm an adult now, you know," Dazai teases, flashing a weak smile.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. "Not what I'm talking about. But whatever."

"It's fine, slug," Dazai tells him. It’s not nearly as bad of a fear as it used to be for him. He knows that sometimes it’s unavoidable. He knows he doesn't have to worry about Mori anymore, at least not while in the care of the Armed Detective Agency.

“You scared the shit out of me. Seriously,” Chuuya mumbles. “You’re staying with me for a while once you’re discharged.”

“I have to go back to work,” Dazai whispers. Sure, it’s not the working part he’s concerned with, but he really should pop in every now and then at the very least, so that they know he’s alive. Before Kunikida decides to end his life prematurely.

“Since when you do give a shit about that?" Chuuya groans, squeezing his hand a little tighter. "They're the reason you're in this mess in the first place, aren’t they?”

Dazai’s stomach drops at the notion, because that’s really not the truth. He simply lied to them, just like he lied to Chuuya. It’s what he always does. It has nothing to do with any of them.

They probably would've taken good care of him, too.

“Mm…I think you've got it all wrong, little Slug,” Dazai says, feeling himself start to doze off again. He's exhausted and doesn't particularly feel like explaining any of that to him, even though he's sure Chuuya would at least consider it.

“Don't call me little, you ass,” Chuuya grumbles, squeezing his hand a little tighter, “I'm taking you back to my apartment once you're discharged. End of story.”

Dazai's eyelids start to feel heavy, and he doesn't fight Chuuya's demand. He can always sneak out if he needs to.

But maybe he'll be okay with Chuuya looking after him, for a while.

…

A week later, Dazai thinks he's well enough to slip out of Chuuya's apartment early one morning, to pop into the Agency.

“Healing well from your broken ribs, Dazai?” Ranpo says as he happens to wander past him just as soon as Dazai enters the building.

“Can't keep any secrets from you, can I, Ranpo?” Dazai says, only sounding a little nervous because he can feel Kunikida glaring at him all the way from his desk. It seems the two of them are the only ones here so far, like usual. At least Atsushi isn't here to witness Dazai's inevitable death at Kunikida's hands.

“You know I don't normally air out everything you try to hide, but Kunikida already wants to kill you,” Ranpo says casually on his way back to his desk. “Figured it doesn't matter what I say.”

“Morning, Kunikida,” Dazai says as cheerfully as he can, but Kunikida has already hurled a pretty heavy report collection his way, one that Dazai's head just narrowly misses. He brings his heads up to his face in surrender.

“Don't morning me, Dazai. Where the hell have you been? Obviously you were injured, and I haven’t heard from you in over a week -”

“Aww, Kunikida, were you worried about me?” Dazai teases. His eyes dart over to Ranpo blissfully ignoring everything happening before him, wondering why he didn't give Kunikida his whereabouts when he could have easily figured out where he's been hiding. He just smiles, though. Ranpo keeps hidden what Dazai doesn't want everyone to know about.

“I'm one more incident away from putting a tracker in that damn bolo tie,” Kunikida grumbles, somehow managing to get past his anger and sit back down in his chair. He grumbles something that Dazai doesn't quite understand. He feels safe enough to approach his own desk, and sit across from Kunikida.

“What was that?” Dazai asks, tilting his head.

“Are you okay?” Kunikida says, straightening up a stack of reports on his desks with a heavy huff.

“I'm okay,” Dazai says with a half smile. “No need to worry your pretty little head about me, Kunikida. You know the universe won't let me die.”

“That's not the point, Dazai,” Kunikida grumbles, almost reminiscent of a comment Chuuya made to him at the hospital. These two always insist on worrying over him. “Tell me next time you're hurt. At least send me a damn text so I know you're not bleeding out in a ditch somewhere.”

“Well, I could be, regardless of the contents of whatever text I might send you,” Dazai teases, and Kunikida looks like he might throw the pen he's holding right at Dazai's head, but he refrains.

“Get to work. You still need to finish that report,” Kunikida grumbles, tossing him a blue folder.

“I thought you said you'd finish it for me,” Dazai says, lifting up his head as the door opens, revealing Atsushi and Kyoka, both looking surprised to see him. Atsushi rushes past everyone else as Dazai smiles at him.

“No, you pissed me off. I started it, you do the rest,” Kunikida sighs just before Atsushi sits beside him and starts a string of worried questions and assumptions that Dazai only half listens to, only watches his eyes. Chuuya really does have them wrong, they would never want him in that situation.

Chuuya would definitely like Atsushi, with how much he likes Akutagawa. He might even get along with Kunikida. Chuuya joining them for dinner sometime is some faraway ridiculous fantasy that he could only ever see Oda suggesting, and he just smiles to himself.

“Are you even listening?” Atsushi sighs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dazai says. “Start over?”

[dramalama69]

My first 5 star read of 2025 hehe

"Schoolgirl" - Dazai Osamu. {rated 4.79/5 by me}

The quotes which hit my conscience:

"Sometimes happiness arrives one night too late."

"Tomorrow will probably be another day like today. Happiness will never come my way. I know that. But it's probably best to go to sleep believing that it will surely come, tomorrow it will come."

"Nobody in the world understood our suffering. In time, when we became adults, we might look back on this pain and loneliness as a funny thing, perfectly ordinary, but—but how were we expected to get by, to get through this interminable period of time until that point when we were adults?"

"I smiled softly at the moon. The moon pretended not to see me."

"While I am perfectly aware of what I should do, I can't even utter the words. All I do is feel wretched, and in the end I fly into a rage—I mean, really, it's as if I were crazy."

"In my heart, I worry about Mother and want to be a good daughter, but my words and actions are nothing more than that of a spoiled child."

"The body had no connection to my mind, it developed on its own accord, which was unbearable and bewildering. It made me miserable that I was rapidly becoming an adult and that I was unable to do anything about it."

"I'll be a steady and frugal daughter. Really and truly. In spite of all that. "Oh, In Spite of All That"… wasn't that the name of a song, I chuckled to myself. At some point I realized I was standing there like an idiot, both hands idly thrust into the cooking pot, my thoughts ranging from one thing to another." - Dazai was a teen girl, u can't convince me other wise.

"It must be easier to relax when someone always told you who you are and what to do."

"If someone were to give me a particular limit to abide by—to start here and use this much effort and finish there—you have no idea how much it would assuage my mind."

""I want to love everyone," I thought, almost tearfully."

"I yearned for everything long gone."

"There is a certain satisfaction in being dragged around, as well as a separate sad feeling as I watch it happen."

"A mere smile can determine a woman's fate. It is frightening. Fascinatingly so. I have to be careful." -For a 30 year old suicidal and alcoholic man he knows better I must say.

"They scolded us for not having any real hopes or real ambitions, but if we were to pursue our true ideals, would these people watch and guide us along the way?"

"I hope for a revolution in ethics and morals."

"if my books were taken away from me, I would be utterly devastated. That's how much I depend on what's written in books. I'll read one book and be completely wild about it—I'll trust it, I'll assimilate it, I'll sympathize with it, I'll try to make it a part of my life. Then, I'll read another book and, instantly, I'll switch over to that one."

"The likable weeds and the not likable weeds looked exactly the same but were somehow clearly divided into those that seemed innocuous and those that seemed horrible."

"It felt as if the past, the present, and the future had collapsed into one single instant."

"At times like these, a strange hallucination always occurs. I would feel absolutely certain that, at some point before, under these very conditions, I've had the same conversation while, in fact, staring at the corner of the table and that what was happening now would continue to go on indefinitely, in exactly the same manner."

"When I'm eating alone in the dining room, I get this wild urge to travel. I want to get on a train."

"You couldn't see this embroidery when I put on the rest of my clothes. No one knew it was there. How brilliant." -Said all the hijabi girls ever.

"Sort of like opening a box, only to find another box inside, so you open that smaller box and again there's another box inside, and you open it, and one after another there are smaller boxes inside each other, so you keep opening them, seven or eight of them, until finally what's left is a tiny box the size of a small die, so you gently pry it open to find... nothing, it's empty—more like that feeling."

"I can't bear it. I hate it, I really do. I'm an awful sight in the morning. My legs feel so exhausted that, already, I don't want to do a thing. I wonder if it's because I don't sleep well. It's a lie when they say you feel healthy in the morning."

"Mornings are torture."

"I think the beauty of your eyes is the best thing about people. Even if they can't see your nose or if your mouth is hidden, I think that all you need are eyes—the kind of eyes that will inspire others, when they are looking into them, to live more beautifully."

"I hope I meet lots of people with lovely eyes."

"I cannot stand mornings because it seems I am always bleakly reminded of long-gone times, and people I used to know, and their presences feel eerily close, like the scent of pickled radish that you just can't get rid of."

"Good night. I'm Cinderella without her prince. Do you know where to find me in Tokyo? You won't see me again."

[asher-agere]

I am going to the bookstore tomorrow… I have many books to buy… yayayyaayya I love shopping and I love books and I love going out tomorrow is going to be so fun and so joyful for me!!

Anyways! Another request because I always add them to my asks! Can you share your thoughts on little Chūya with caregiver adam. If I have my bsd facts right (pretty much if what I’ve heard being said online is correct) Chūya is in Europe right now and Adam is also in Europe a lot so,, they have to have met again at some point. Right. I also just like their relationship!! They’re very silly to me. Expect more Chūya asks from me soon I have more ideas about him (current era Chūya and Shirase. That’s what I mean by “ideas”…)

It feels odd not adding “- Fyodor Enjoyer” to the end of this ask but I have an agere blog to send asks from now so I don’t need to signify myself with any text at the end… it also feels odd sending an ask from the website instead of the app but I don’t want to log out of my main to send asks so I’ll just deal with this.

That sounds like so much fun!!! By the time I post this you’ve probably already got the books hehe, so how’d it go? Also I can absolutely do that! You do have your facts right too! (Stormbringer reunion save me… Yes I’m including Verlaine give me him back. I need my gravity brothers) I also do believe I like these ideas you have, I wanna reread Stormbringer but I have no time (╥﹏╥) Plus I’m already rereading The Day I Picked Up Dazai for a role play. Those two light novels hold a special place in my heart. Oh and Beast of course. This is turning into a ramble- Beast and Stormbringer destroyed me emotionally-

Little Chūya + Caregiver Adam

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖

⛦ Chūya definitely doesn’t like Adam at first. The idea of regressing around the android horrifies the poor boy. Of course with how much Chūya went through around the time they met… Adam ended up seeing like- A lot of Chūya’s regression- At first he was confused, but he used his amazing android data banks to research the topic! Soon enough he knew what was going on! At least well enough to take care of Chūya. Chūya was not a fan of being researched

✮⋆˙ It takes some time but of course they grow closer! Adam understands the loss Chūya had to go through, he saw it first hand, he’s very happy that Chūya has a way to cope with everything and he wants to offer his support as much as possible! Adam definitely researches everything. Asks Chūya details about his headspace age, snacks and toys he might like, any information that even might be important! Then he makes use of it of course! Researching how to care for children of certain ages, keeping Chūya stocked up on snacks, everything he can do!

⛦ The more Chūya accepts help the more he realizes that Adam is actually… Really really good at this. Adam isn’t judgmental, he literally can’t be. If he’s told to treat Chūya like a kid then he does exactly that, no questions asked. Without any kind of judgment Chūya is able to completely relax under Adam’s care. He doesn’t need to worry about talking care of himself even! I think with Adam would be the first time Chūya fully drops since leaving the Sheep. He’s not able to fully relax in the mafia setting

✮⋆˙ Chūya struggles a lot with his humanity. He’d been told he’s human. And believed it to a certain extent. But never fully. Luckily Adam’s android reasoning is perfect to get through to him! “M no’ a real hum’n…” “I’m not human, are you like me?” “Uhm… No” “Well then you must be human. Don’t worry about such things Darling” Then Adam proceeds to not listen to any other reasoning. Chūya is frustrated, partly because why is that so helpful?

⛦ Chūya is very much the kind of person addicted to self sacrifice. He takes no time whatsoever for himself. That’s why Adam steps in to take care of him! Adam offers to take Chūya’s calls for him! He’ll manage Chūya’s schedule organizing plenty of time for self care, or more accurately time for Adam’s care. Adam has definitely tried making him cutesy little schedules, even regressed Chūya hates them. They feel mocking

✮⋆˙ Chūya gets very attached to things very quickly! Adam is aware that he won’t be able to help Chūya all the time, so he makes sure to get Chūya plenty of things to use in case he’s alone, and to remember Adam by! Robot themed pacifiers and toys for example. But also stuff Chūya likes! Plenty of dog plushies and clothes, sippy cups. And he makes sure Chūya knows how to use everything and where it is! Gotta be easily accessible for the baby!

⛦ Nicknames! Adam has tried many pet names saying “little” or “small” Adam also very quickly found out that doing so puts one in danger. Chūya does not appreciate it, it feels like he’s being made fun of! So Adam has to work around that a bit hehe. He’ll use nicknames like “Kiddo” “Chū” or “Darling” Chūya loves all the pretty names as long as there’s no size comments! He is perfectly tall thank you very much

✮⋆˙ Chūya is almost obsessive when it comes to drinking milk. He regressed to a toddler headspace so Adam is like. Oh hey. Toddlers like juice “Chū would you like some-“ “MILK” Someone told him like once that milk helps you grow and he never got over that… Adam will try explaining that milk isn’t necessary to grow and Chūya will just glare at him in response. And trust me this baby can glare

⛦ Chūya is generally quiet and pretty well behaved. He’d very polite, always uses his manners. However he can throw some pretty bad tantrums if he gets worked up enough. He’ll throw things, float himself up to the ceiling, scream. He needs calmed down quickly or he will activate Corruption. Adam tries making it fun though! After all laughter is a wonderful cure, even though Chūya doesn’t appreciate his Android jokes. Anything Chūya throws Adam will throw back, trying to get the little one to focus on that. Or if he’s on the ceiling Adam will grab things to lightly poke him with! Once Chūya calms down Adam happily rocks him to soothe the baby

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖

Ta-Dah! I love Stormbringer so much you have no idea… Chūya was already one of my like top 10 then I read Stormbringer and I was like oh he’s just my favorite (Then I met Nikolai and he got knocked down a peg. Sorry Chūya but like… Nikolai). Anyway! Have a wonderful day/night and Sun I hope you’re enjoying your books!

[dazaiaiko]

Hello! Hope you are having a good day/night. So sorry to bother you, could you write about Fyodor and Dazai (separately) meeting and dating S/O who is a young mom? Sorry if it’s weird and sorry if it makes you uncomfy.

its been a long time since I've written (college is a bitch) but i actually watched a movie about a single mom a week back so i might be doing something with this.

Note: I have yet to post Fyodor's part as it is a work in progress and I have named our S/O as her name is part of the story I have written, apart from this, everything is pretty similar to your request. Hope you enjoyed it<33

Characters : Dazai x fem!reader (young mom), tags : suicide, depression and death mentioned frequently

The recent talk of the neighbourhood circled around - a woman living alone with her toddler in a rundown apartment.

"who knows who the father of that child is...!"

Our subject of this rumour had applied to the quiet yet popular cafe Uzumaki.

Quite obviously in her early 20's, she sat in a corner of the cafe as the old couple took her interview. The afternoon was a quiet one, with two customers quietly sipping away their coffee in shared silence. The neighbourhood outside, quiet, as the streets basked in the afternoon sun. Summer was approaching..

She could make some miso soup for her daughter today and perhaps take her out for a evening walk. Breaking away from the daze, she returned her focus to the interview as she assessed her future employers.

The cafe owners were an old, childless couple. They had already made up their minds to take her in after the rumours travelling the streets reached their ears. However when catering to an organisation as special as the ADA, special measures were to be taken.

"So.... you know how to make coffee, bake goods, manage a register....have you learnt self defence perhaps?"

As she was about to answer, a hoarse voice spoke out behind her, from one of the tables, as a man in his 20's donning a brown coat spoke without moving his gaze from the open book in his hands,

"I believe the lady here has learnt how to wield a knife efficiently, Perhaps Judo when you were young, although I can tell you're out of practise." He looked up from his book to flash a bright smile as he made his way to their table.

"Dazai, Dazai Osamu. And You are..?"

"Hana Shinigami, nice to meet you. And yes you would be totally correct if not for the fact that I am in-fact not out of practise, just out of posture." She flashed a professional smile as she returned her attention to the old couple.

"Ah it seems I judged too fast. However! you bear quite an interesting name! 'Belladonna' pales in comparison!"

Hana - Kanji: 花 means withered flowers often associated with funeral/death

Shinigami - Kanji: 死神 means Goddess of death

"Should I be honoured? My parents were funeral directors so death is quite well imbued in a family like mine. Although, I wouldn't be wrong to think you are way too excited to be encountering someone associated with death, would I?" She giggled as the thought itself seemed ridiculous.

Having seen her parents being ridiculed their whole life for naming their daughter with such an ominous name, she couldn't help but laugh at the childlike amusement of the man she had just met.

"Death is to come to us all, so why fear it and to some the sweet release of death is what keeps them going."

"I see......oh! look at the time, I need to pick up my daughter now then, please excuse me."

"Surely yes, You can join work starting tomorrow and since the cafe is empty and quiet most of the time, you can even bring your daughter here. It would surely liven up the atmosphere."

She nodded at their requests while she said her farewell and went off to the distant as Dazai's gaze remained in her direction. It was the first time he had not called someone Belladonna. How could he when her mere name was a poetic mesh of words he longed for.

The next month passed in a flash as the cafe brightened up by their newest addition- Aoi Shinigami. Her laughter and giggles filled the cafe as she ran around in her little dress, falling and crashing into the legs of the customers.

ADA's recent activities had involved playing with the little star as she hid under tables and chairs, complained about her mother to them all while small jewel like drops fell from her eyes when she expressed her anger and sadness. Her crying would make these renowned individuals come running from their desks to attend to her needs.

Yosano and Kyouka dressed her up in cute outfits and took pictures of her (the pictures adorning their desks as we speak) , Atsushi dropped her off to her preschool and picked her up while Hana worked her shifts, Ranpo even shared his secret snack stash with her and spoke to the oblivious child about cases as she happily gobbled up the sweets (according to him, it helped him think better), Fukuzawa might have added her to his "new kitten" collection on his phone with countless pictures of her curled up taking a nap (a picture of her playing with the cats lying in his phone), Kunikida became her unpaid teacher as he taught her hiragana and katakana in his spare time (he even attended her PTMs) and the siblings became her unofficial babysitters.

How could they let her be when she looked at them with those round hazelnut eyes and dark hair, mumbling incoherent nonsense, whenever she stumbled upon a problem too big for her little hands to handle.

These days you could see the agency transmigrating their office downstairs to the cafe to keep an eye on their little angel sprightly playing around and talking about her friends from school, babbling and muttering about worldly issues and falling asleep in the most random places. Once they found her curled up under atsushi's desk with her head resting on his shoes. What a sight to behold.

Recently they even went to her annual sports event, clicking pictures, cheering for her (even more so than her own blood mother) and taking her for a treat when she did well in her little tests. Hana couldn't be more satisfied with her life. The Uzumaki owners had offered their downstairs floor to her after learning about her living condition, for a cheap rent of course.

Her daughter's days were filled with intellectual people who doted her unconditionally. Her life was simple, quiet and filled with laughter and summer this time seemed more warm than the past four summers.

Dazai too, adored the little star however his attention could be found more focused elsewhere. His eyes followed Hana everywhere with his mind always on the topic of their conversation. Their conversations were witty banters and philosophical debates on the way of life which was quite unusual but they quite enjoyed it over a cup of coffee.

Slowly but surely this unusual union of two people would start opening up to each other.

The evening Hana had opened up to him about her past, they were drinking on the rooftop while the rest were watching a show with her daughter downstairs. The show must have been funny as their laughter could be heard every other minute.

Feeling comforted in the cold night, with laughter and giggles drowning her words, she began her short yet tragic story, overcome with liquid courage,

"You know, I was infatuated, with a man 11 years older than me: Aoi's father.... I was immature and in love. A dangerous combination."

Taking a sip from her whiskey she continued, " He worked in the special armed forces. 'A reckless but fulfilling life', in his own words.

My entire pregnancy, I saw him 8 times, 8 times and then never again. Around that time during my third trimester, my parent's funeral house closed, as they went under debt... They jumped off a bridge with not so much as a final goodbye to their only pregnant daughter.

Not so much as an apology for what they were about to commit or even a second thought. Perhaps they thought if they embraced their death, they could embrace my namesake.

Not much later, came the news of his death, his body never came home. He was compromised abroad so the government refused to acknowledge him as their own.

This was the glorifying death he always talked about, dying in service to his people. Yet it would have been better if he had stayed. In the end he cared for the strangers on the street more than the mother of his child. It would have been better if he had just....stayed And the funniest part? The father of my child and my lover had forsaken all his money after his death to the mother he cut off years ago."

"It was never love, It was an arrangement of sorts, he really never cared."

"Yet here I am confessing my struggles to a man who is obsessed with the idea of imminent and painless death. I guess people's names really do determine their future."

No words were exchanged as the mere act of consoling her would be too harsh from someone who could completely resonate with the thoughts of her parents and lover in the moment of their deaths.

But he moved closer to her, still not uttering a word. Taking the glass of whiskey from her hand, he caressed her cheeks. The scarred bandaged hands moving across her face comforted her, it stopped the tears at the very least. Dazai didn't dare move, he glided his arms around her waist, pulling her slouching body from the chair in to his chest.

Then,

He kissed her. He sprinkled tender kisses on her closed eyes, her lips, her rosy cheeks, her cold hands, her shivering neck. He left no part untouched yet she didn't stop him. She reclined back into her chair with an arm around the man as she let it happen. The night passed in silence as Hana received not consolation but the physical presence and reassurance which she always had craved for,

not the sweet whispers of "eternal love", "being in their hearts" but their raw presence and Dazai offered it to her like a sweet drug she couldn't refuse.

She satisfied her addiction time and time again, The feeling was so sweet and intoxicating that it had become a vice and a blessing, yet she didn't think of it, she didn't let herself think of it when the moments passed.

Soon, he too started talking. He started talking about buried emotions, stories, friends and the distant past which kept lingering with an ominous shadow in his future, and his fears of the unknown for there was little unknown to him and she only listened with closed eyes and lips holding his hand in the deadly silence of the night.

This went on for over a year when their feelings, an entangled mess of emotions and desires as they refused to talk about it until the eventful day:

"Papa!" A noise called out from below as Dazai picked up the toddler.

"Whom are you calling, Aoi?", she pointed her little fingers towards him as she exclaimed gleefully, "Papa!" and ran off towards her mother working behind the counter in the wee hours of the morning.

Dazai, bewildered at the child's declaration, let out a uncontrolled laugh as glances were exchanged between him and the woman who plagued his every waking thoughts as one longing look was all they needed to label what they had, to build on what they had created and resume what had already begun.

THE END

Calling ☎: @nullified-kiss @jessbeinme15 @shinys-bsd-world-1 @nameless-shrimp @missrown @ravenina14 @ikin-y0u @staryjordan85 + navigation post

the rush i felt from writing this was immense. I'm sorry if my writing has become a bit dull from not writing for so long. Signing out- Byee