Dazai Is So Clingy. He's Always Up In Your Personal Space, Leaving You No Room To Breathe – He's Got

ANNE DONT MIND ME PLS you write so good and reading these drabbles made me want to request one of my own !!

imagine professor!dazai giving u an extra lesson after class 🤭 it's 12 from the list btw <3

CHIYO MY DEAR♡ i'm so happy you requested this one. hope you like it. I made Dazai a literature professor👀♡

12 — Professor!char giving you an extra lesson after class

ღೀ๋࣭ ⭑𝒄𝒘: lowkey unethical, sex toys, semi-public space, creampie

"Keep reading, bella, you're halfway there."

Your professor's voice carried a hint of mockery as he soothed your thigh with a hand, pushing the silicone toy deeper inside you. You winced at the sensation, shooting Dazai a desperate glance over your shoulder.

Osamu Dazai was the new literature professor at your college– some prodigy kid who finished his PHD by the age of 25 and whose novels sold like hot cakes and now everyone was singing him praise. Frankly, you weren't too impressed by his accomplishments, but he was the only professor in the whole faculty who actually encouraged you to write something different, out of the norm; so you did anything to stay on his good side.

Even if it meant helping him around the office and fucking him from time to time. Not that you'd complain, Dazai was incredibly good looking and knew how to please a woman.

So naturally, when your professor asked you to come to his office after class you expected a quick fuck, as usual.

But the smug bastard had you bent over his desk with your panties lowered mid-thigh and a vibrator shoved up your pussy, making you read the assignments your colleagues turned in while he made snide comments on the side.

"Was that supposed to be a metaphor? 'The mist of the summer evening' what's that supposed to mean? God, I swear these texts are getting worse and worse..."

"Ngh– 'samu please" you whined, shifting your hips "Can't we just do this later?" The ache between your legs was almost unbearable, you needed him inside you, not that stupid toy.

"Sorry, bella, I have to grade this paper by 6. The kid's coming to discuss it" he mused, watching your walls clench around the toy with keen eyes. God, your pussy was divine– his pants were tightening just by looking at you.

Reaching a hand towards you, Dazai touched your folds, gathering your slick and smearing it all over the inner part of your thighs. "My, my, you're dripping, dear. Better hurry up and finish reading if you want me to fuck you properly" His deft digits found your bundle of nerves and gave it teasing flicks.

Your mind was starting to get foggy, the sentences melting into a jumble of letters as you struggled to read the last paragraph out loud. It was painfully embarrassing, the way your body jolted up as he drew slow circles on your clit with his thumb, how desperate you were to have him inside you. All the while, Dazai was toying with you, playing with your pussy like it was his favourite toy.

The second you were done with your paper you let it fall on the desk next to you. "Done, I'm done." you huffed out, looking over your shoulder to see Dazai's teasing smile.

"Good job, bella. I think it's worth at least 60 points. I mean, it's a progress from the last assignment he turned in. What do you think?"

I think you should stop messing around and fuck me already– you wanted to say back but all that came out of your mouth was a breathy yes, sir. i'd say so too.

The man got up from his chair and slowly ran a hand through your hair. You could hear him unbuckle his belt and lower the zipper of his suit pants, your hips swaying in anticipation. "You're such a pretty girl" he hummed, removing the toy from your pussy with a wet pop and alligning himself at your entrance "And obedient too. I think you deserve a reward ah shiit—"

A broken whine slipped from his lips as he slammed himself inside you, the grip he had on your hips growing fiercer. Fuck, your cunt was basically sucking him in. You were so damn perfect he swore he could spend all day fucking you and it wouldn't be enough.

Your moans filled the tiny office, the smell of your arousal lingering in the air, fueling the man's need. His hips snapped against yours, the tip of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each thrust. "Y-you're so tight bella think 'm gonna– fuck i'm gonna cum soon"

"Me too me too 'samu" you mewled as the tight knot in the pit of your stomach snapped and you came around his cock, soaking it in your juices.

It wasn't a surprise you came so fast, he'd been edging you for hours and you were so sensitive. Even now as your walls pulsed around him, Dazai's fingers found your puffy clit and your body jolted up. "W-wait 'samu you can't I just–"

"Want you to cum again with me, donna. Can you do that for me?" he huffed out and your pussy fluttered at the sound of his breathy, whiny moans, pressure building up in your core again.

When the two of you reached your high again, his hips halted flush against yours, his milky cum shooting deep inside you. The man's breath was ragged and he hissed when he slightly pulled out, watching the sticky substance form a ring at the base of his cock as it dribbled out of your hole.

Something sparked inside him at that moment and he quickly flipped you over, caging you between his arms as he leaned over your frame. Droplets of sweat clung to the tips of his hair as he pressed his forehead against yours "Can we do it again?"

"But Dazai we just–" you wanted to protest but he cut you off with a deep thrust, making you choke out a moan.

"Don't care bella you don't understand what you do to me I can't get enough of you" he sighed, slowly, almost lovingly, rocking his hips against yours, his lips ghosting over your cheeks, jaw and down the expanse of your neck, making you shudder. You'd lie if you said that his confession didn't stir something inside you too.

Before you could answer, a knock on the door snapped both of you out of the intimate moment you were sharing. "Um... professor? You said I could come by at 6 so we can discuss my paper"

ᡣ𐭩 SOMETIMES ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU (LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: realizing you have no idea when dazai's birthday is, you and chuuya embark on a massive quest to figure it out. and you do—but you also find out something far more worrying in the process, making you question if you ever really knew dazai osamu. the issue? you have no way of bringing it up to him. but you'll have to worry about that later anyway. first things first: you have to plan a birthday that dazai will never forget. {sfw, 14.8k}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: AHHHHHHHH HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY BOYYYYYYYY im so proud of how this fic came out genuinely its my favorite thing ive written to date. i hope you guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (warnings: fem!reader, mostly fluff with some angst sprinkled in at the beginning and end)

“Hey, do you know when Dazai’s birthday is?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, do you ever stop thinking about him?”

Your jaw drops as Chuuya lets out the loud complaint, head snapping to the side to focus on where he’s sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor near headquarters, cheek pressed against the headrest, glaring at you as the artist continues to work on the right half of his upper back, finishing up the last section of the art spanning across his entire back. It’s his biggest one yet, you can hardly see an inch of unmarked skin—bright reds of camellia flowers and different types of animals and objects centered around the skull of a ram decorate his back. It’s beautiful, you have to acknowledge that, you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a stunning tattoo before and Chuuya is beyond pleased with how it’s turning out considering how he’s constantly pulling off his shirt to look at it in a mirror whenever he gets the chance.

To honor the Flags, he’d told you when he dragged you along for the first session. You didn’t know most of them—you’d worked with Lippmann a few times considering his job within the Mafia, and you’d met with Iceman to give him the rundown on targets that needed to be handled when Mori would send him to you in Kyoto, but that was about the extent of your interaction with them. Chuuya’d been closer to them—he didn’t like to talk about them at first, but he’s gradually been more and more open with it.

You think it’s because he’s afraid of forgetting them.

“You’re an asshole,” you snap after getting over the shock of his rude comment, turning your head away to look out the window.

Dazai evades the two of you whenever Chuuya has one of his sessions scheduled. You think it’s kind of funny, honestly; you know he does it because he hates pain and he knows that if he joins you guys, Chuuya will somehow goad him into getting a tattoo with a dare or a challenge that he won’t be able to back down from. So, instead, he makes excuses for missions that you both know damn well he doesn’t have.

“No, I don’t know,” he finally says irritably. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

You give him an appalled look. “He’s your friend, and your partner. What do you mean you don’t know?”

“That bastard is not my friend,” Chuuya instantly hisses, but you can’t help but notice that he suddenly looks troubled by the realization that he doesn’t know Dazai’s birthday.

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes, knowing damn well that it’s a blatant lie. “That’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Is not,” Chuuya spits.

“Is too.” 

Chuuya would have kept going with the back and forth, but he’s given a sharp look by the tattoo artist working on his shoulder and he settles down, but not before shooting you one last withering look.

“I bet he knows your birthday,” you add after a few moments of silence, just to trigger Chuuya again.

It works.

He lets out a noise more befitting of an animal, head snapping back to the side to look at you. “He definitely does n-” He cuts himself off before he can even finish the sentence, glaring at you. “That’s because that freak knows everything somehow.”

You only give him an easy shrug. “Just saying, it’s a bit…” You give him a twisted expression, nose wrinkled and lips pressed together rather than saying the word out loud, and Chuuya looks murderous. 

“It’s a bit what?” Chuuya demands. “You don’t know his birthday either.”

“I’m not his partner,” you counter to hide the fact that you are very bothered over not knowing his birthday.

“No, you’re just his girlfriend,” Chuuya says snidely.

Your face heats up. “I am not his girlfriend, Chuuya,” you scowl. “Shut up.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chuuya replies sarcastically, giving the tattoo artist an apologetic look when he gives the ginger another sharp warning with his eyes. “If Dazai wanted us to know his birthday, he would have told us. Y’know how secretive he gets over his personal life—he’d be shouting it off every rooftop if it was something he wanted us to do something about.”

You’re not quite as convinced.

At first glance, Dazai doesn’t shut up—he finds any and every reason to hear himself speak, whether it be random facts about crabs or ranking methods of suicide from least to most painful. Because of his tendency to run his mouth, most people don’t realize just how secretive he is about his personal life. You’ve realized that he probably uses it as a tactic to evade questions, because when people do poke and prod about his personal life, he becomes avoidant, expertly redirecting the conversation to something less personal by subtly changing the subject or pissing off whoever (Chuuya) is talking to him. You always catch it—conversation manipulation is your thing, you’ve finely honed your skills in guiding discussion to your discretion, it’s a skill that comes in handy at the negotiation table and in politics. You know he knows that you catch it too, always watching you carefully to ensure that you don’t call any attention to what he’s doing.

You don’t, of course, you’re not going to put him on the spot like that, but you don’t understand it. Well, you can to an extent—if you had random people prodding at your personal life, you’d also evade the topic. But you and Chuuya aren’t random people. You’re his friends, and you can’t for the life of you understand why he won’t open up to the two of you a little.

Every time you bring up the subject of him to him, he starts acting strange and cagey, like he knows that his evasion tactics won’t work with you and he wants to say something, but simply can’t get the words out. Maybe it’s his mistaken belief that he doesn’t deserve all of the things other people take for granted: comfort, friends, happiness. But still, you can’t imagine that Dazai doesn’t crave the experience of a normal birthday—well, as normal as things can get for teenage mafiosos—because you know that Dazai at his core simply wants to be a normal teenager.

As to why Dazai would rather deny himself happiness than to let you and Chuuya closer than arm's length? The answer alludes you even you.

When Chuuya grimaces, letting out a heavy breath and averting his gaze, you think that he’s come to the same conclusion as you.

“I assume since you’re bringing it up, you have some sort of plan?” Chuuya sighs, tired.

You smile.

“Naturally.”

You think Chuuya might kill you after this.

You can’t help but snort to yourself as you kneel on the floor next to Mori’s desk, rifling through his drawers to find the key to his file cabinet. Chuuya is somewhere downstairs trying to keep the man distracted with a fake medical condition while you try to find Dazai’s file in his office. You can hear him in the ear piece you’re wearing, flustered and stuttering over his words. You can almost picture how red his face is. 

Chuuya isn’t a bad liar, usually—in fact, he can act his ass off on missions—but lying to the Boss is an entirely different story. You think that you probably should have been the one to keep Mori distracted, but you worried that if Mori got up here and Chuuya was still searching, he wouldn’t be able to play it off. So, this was the lesser of two evils. 

Mori is getting increasingly more irritated as Chuuya keeps miswording the symptoms and backtracking, then blaming it on how ‘his head just hurts so bad, he can’t think.’ You’re sure he’s starting to suspect something—or more likely, the man probably figured it out right away—but you also know he’s too hyper-paranoid about losing his strongest ability user to dismiss Chuuya’s blatant lies for what they are.

You let out a victorious puff of air when your hand encloses around the key you’d been searching for, immediately shuffling over to the file cabinet, unlocking it as quickly as you can to shuffle through them, trying to find Dazai’s.

Mori has too many files, you think to yourself frustrated, eyes scanning as fast as you can as you flip through them, trying to spot the one you need, becoming increasingly more frantic when you hear Mori and Chuuya enter the elevator, not sure if they’re coming up to his office or if Mori’s dragging Chuuya down to one of the lower floor infirmaries.

Fuck, you think, finally flipping through to the D’s and letting out a frustrated groan when his file isn’t even there. You go through it again, more carefully this time, and nearly tug out your hair when you realize that either Mori misplaced Dazai’s file or there isn’t one. But you can’t imagine either of those options being true.

Getting increasingly more anxious as the seconds pass, and knowing that Chuuya actually will kill you if he embarrassed himself like this for nothing, you start rifling through the other letters in a panic. From the A’s all the way to the Z’s, it’s only on your second scan through that you pause, spotting a thick, unnamed file in the T section.

You stare at it for a moment, brows furrowed, a gut feeling twisting inside you as you try to pull out the file. It’s a struggle—the file is thick and the drawer is stuffed, but when you finally get it out and flip it open, your eyes widen when Dazai’s face stares back at you in the top left corner of the first paper in the file. He’s younger in the picture—no older than thirteen or fourteen—both eyes uncovered, black and void of life.

You let out a shaky breath, heart racing as your eyes scan dismissively over any information that’s not his birthday, because you know damn well Dazai will not take kindly to yours and Chuuya’s snooping and you want to mitigate the damage, only to halt when your gaze catches on blacked out information right above the date.

His name?

You pause, eyes focusing momentarily as you try to understand what you’re reading.

NAME:  ████████████████ 

ALIAS: Dazai Osamu

What?

You don’t know how long you stare at the file, lips parted and a torrent of emotions clawing at your chest. Mainly confusion, but also something else—tighter, more unwelcome. You don’t even have time to try to figure out what you’re looking at because at once, the remote in your pocket is buzzing, the last signal from Chuuya that Mori is on the floor of his office.

You let out a string of curses, putting the file back where you found it, locking the cabinet and putting the key back before darting to the other side of the desk. You mask the confusion and nerves rattling your mind and body with an irritated expression just as the door opens.

“… ggest that you take some time to rest, Chuuya-kun. Physically, there is nothing wrong with you.”

You look over your shoulder, eyes meeting Mori’s as you frown deeply. “You’re late,” you say. “I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes.”

“Ah, apologies, I’m afraid young Chuuya-kun has spent the past twenty minutes following me around with nonexistent health issues,” Mori replies with a thin smile, purple eyes carding over you before he looks around his office curiously, as if he knows you’d been up to something but doesn’t know what. Chuuya cringes next to him and gives you a withering look, he opens his mouth to protest but Mori is speaking again before he can get anything out. “What did you want to discuss?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on the situation in Vladivostok,” you say, eyes following Mori, waiting for him to sit down so you can. You watch as he glances around his desk, as if trying to figure out what you’d been doing before he showed up. You almost smile when his eyes narrow after coming empty handed. “I think it would be in our best interest…” 

As you sit down across from Mori, you slip your hands behind your back, giving Chuuya a thumbs up, letting him know that his humiliation was not in vain.

Step one, complete. June 19th.

“I will never fucking forgive you for that,” Chuuya hisses when the two of you finally leave Mori’s office. “Never. That was humiliating.”

You snort. “It was pretty bad.”

“Fuck you,” Chuuya snaps. His face is still on fire, has been for the past twenty minutes as you explained your plan for the new organization rising to power in eastern Russia. “Well? When is his birthday?”

You cringe and Chuuya is instantly glowering at you. “Don’t even tell me you didn’t find it. You gave me the thumbs up. I’ll-”

“No, I got it,” you say dismissively. 

That’s not what you’re cringing over—you’re cringing for two reasons: 1) his birthday is less than five days away and you have no idea how the two of you are going to figure something out before then, and 2) the reminder of Dazai’s file, its misplaced location and the blacked out information where his name should have been, the alias labeling what you thought was his real name.

Your lips part to bring it up to Chuuya, but you hesitate because you don’t know if you should. The last thing you want to do is upset Dazai because you let something out that he didn't want anyone to know.

“Well?” Chuuya demands. “What is it?”

“June 19th,” you say, watching as Chuuya blanches. “Yeah, I know.”

“What the fuck are we supposed to do in four days?” Chuuya hisses, grabbing your shoulder and forcing you to look at him. “I don’t even know what that bastard would want.”

You’re just as lost, grimacing as you rub the back of your neck. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Dazai never really… wants for anything.”

You stare ahead listlessly, leaning against the elevator wall as the two of you head down to the first floor. Dazai likes playing video games, but he gets bored of them quickly. His room is stacked with games he’s played once and then tossed to the side. He likes crab, but you’re not going to get him canned crab for his birthday. He likes suicide, and you’re pretty sure a new edition of that wretched book of his came out, but you also don’t want to get him that for, well, obvious reasons.

“Maybe we can get him a pet crab?” Chuuya frowns.

“He’ll kill it,” you dismiss, “and then he’ll spend months whining over it. And blaming us.”

“Fair enough.”

The elevator door slides open as the two of you reach the bottom floor, and you watch as the subordinates meandering about incline their heads toward the two of you as you pass by. You only absently wave them off, mind racing as you try to figure out what to do for Dazai’s birthday. Crab, suicide, video games—what else could Dazai possibly like?

You think the only other thing is-

Oh. Oh. You have an idea.

A smile spreads across your face. “Chuuya,” you say, relieved, “I have the best idea-”

“There you guys are,” Dazai’s familiar voice rings from the right, and immediately, Chuuya gives you a sharp, panicked look and you shut your mouth, stiffening. “I was…”

Dazai trails off, and you briefly shut your eyes, because wow, that was entirely unsubtle. Dazai’s smile is more strained now and the shine in his dark eye fades, the palpable excitement withers away in a matter of seconds.

Fuck.

“I see,” Dazai says, voice cool and withdrawn. “You guys are busy. It wasn’t important anyway.”

“Dazai,” you call after him, taking a few steps, but the boy has already whirled around, stalking off the way he came. He ignores your call of his name. “Shit.”

“He totally took that the wrong way,” Chuuya says, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“How astute, Chuuya,” you say dryly, chest tight as Dazai disappears around the corner.

“You know, for someone who brags about not needing anyone, he’s pretty fucking sensitive,” Chuuya notes.

“Don’t be a fucking asshole, Chuuya,” you snap at him, but the redhead only shrugs carelessly in response.

“It’s the truth. Anyway, what was your idea?” 

Even with the weight of Dazai clearly being upset heavy on your chest, the reminder of your idea for his birthday still causes a sly smile to spread across your lips.

“You’re gonna love this.”

Not only was Dazai upset, but he was upset enough that he hasn’t come back to your apartment in three and a half days. You figure he must be back at his shipping container, or maybe staying with those other friends of his, but you feel lonely without him. It’s weird not coming back to your apartment to find him lounging on your couch eating your favorite snacks; it’s different when he has missions and can’t be here, right now? He’s choosing to not be here, and that makes you feel gross and uncomfortable.

You feel bad, and no matter how many times Chuuya tells you to look on the bright side—that you guys can plan his birthday without him constantly hovering, figuring out what the two of you are doing—it just makes you feel worse. 

You’re sitting in your apartment waiting for Chuuya when the elevator bings, signaling someone coming up to your apartment—and considering there’s only two people who the front desk let up without your explicit permission, and one of them is still dealing with issues at one of the ports, which flooded from all of the rain the past few days, there’s only one person who it can be.

Your eyes widen as your head snaps up, looking to the elevator as the doors slide open, revealing Dazai fumbling with something in his jacket as he steps out. He doesn’t even notice you until you rise to your feet, and when he does, he’s instantly guarded. 

“You’re supposed to be on a mission,” he accuses, voice low.

You’re a bit hurt that Dazai only showed up to your apartment because he thought you wouldn’t be here but you mask it with a tilt of your head and a curious expression.

“I am on a mission,” you say, and it’s not a lie—the mission is finalizing the plans for Dazai’s birthday, step two starts in four hours and you need to confirm things with Chuuya before it begins. What awful timing, you realize mournfully, because you do want to smooth things out with Dazai but right now you can’t afford to. “It’s one I can do at home.”

Dazai makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat, gaze focusing on the folders laid out in front of you. Closed, luckily, you’d been skimming through one but you got bored while waiting for Chuuya and decided to scroll on your phone.

“I only came to pick up my other jacket,” Dazai finally says, voice still cold and distant—you hate it.

Your eyes track down to Dazai’s coat, noticing the blood that’s dripping from it onto your wood floor.

You cringe, but then extend an olive branch by asking, “Want me to throw it in the wash?”

Dazai hesitates, a reluctant expression crossing his face but he nods, slipping it off his shoulders and padding over to you slowly, handing it to you carefully so as to not get the blood on your couch. Your fingers brush his as he does and your throat spasms a bit.

Dazai draws back quickly, but then he looks down at the files in front of you, and then back to you and asks, “… Want help with that?”

Shit.

This is Dazai’s olive branch, and you have to reject it. Because then he’ll realize this is no mission, and all of the plans for his birthday will go to waste.

“Nah,” you say easily. “It’s fine. It’s quick, where were you heading out to?”

Dazai looks a little put out by your rejection, but he doesn’t look too bothered, so he probably took your lie as truth.

“Bar Lupin.”

You roll your eyes.

Dazai gives you a dirty look.

“I don’t know why you get so jealous about them,” Dazai says pettily, obviously trying to get a retaliatory dig in for whatever wound he thinks he received the other day. Your eye twitches at the accusation. “I knew Odasaku before you.”

You pause at that.

Does Oda know Dazai’s real name? You’re hit with a wave of vicious jealousy, and faced once again with the back and forth you’ve been dealing with the past three days—do you really know Dazai? He’s always hid a lot from you, you knew that, but to realize that you only know him by an alias… You don’t understand it—is it by choice? Does he just no longer want to associate with that name? If that’s the case, then you don’t even want to ask and make him uncomfortable. 

But what if it’s not? What if Dazai Osamu is just a fake persona he’s built to hide his real self? You doubt he’s a spy, Mori would obviously know but… if it was Mori that forced him to take on a new name and identity? If he wants to let people in but can’t? You remember all of the times when you ask him things and he stares at you as if he wants to answer but doesn’t know how.

“You shouldn’t think too much, your small brain will implode.”

“Fuck you.”

Drawn from your thoughts, you glare at Dazai, who only gives you a simpering smile in return, eye regaining that little bit of shine it’d lost when he ran into you and Chuuya that day. Then he hesitates again and you raise your eyebrows.

“I’ll call things off with Odasaku and Ango? … You picked out that movie last week, we never watched it. We can watch it after you finish up?” His voice is quiet, uncertain and you feel like a cunt, because you have no way of saying no without being a cunt. 

You’d already told him that the mission wouldn’t take long, so you can’t use that as an excuse. You think maybe you should just call off tonight with Chuuya, meet at his apartment later on to try to get things for dawn, when everything is to take place. It would be risky, you don’t know if you can pull off such an elaborate scheme with such little preparation and Dazai, of all people, as the target, but you think you’d rather risk that then say no to him right now. 

Your lips part to agree, mind already racing trying to figure out how to get all the folders out of here before his nosy ass can peak at one of them, but you’re interrupted by your elevator binging. Again.

Oh, fuck.

Dazai stills as his gaze cuts backward, eye sharp as the elevator doors slide open and reveal an irritated Chuuya, soaked up to the waist and covered in mud.

“Fucking hell,” Chuuya seethes. “I’m never helping out at the ports again. They’re fucking incompetent, I-”

Chuuya pauses when he sees Dazai. Dazai doesn’t budge. For a split second, not a single one of you dares to move. You can see the quick cogs within Dazai’s mind turning as he pieces together an answer—why you didn’t accept his help, why you took so long to respond. Dread piles in your stomach as you try to figure out what to say only to come up empty-handed. For someone known for a quick tongue and sharp brain, you always somehow find them failing you when faced with conflict with Dazai. 

Finally, Dazai breaks the silence with a cool smile and a mirthful look in his eye, glancing back at you.

“That’s why you wanted me out of here. Okay.” He leaves no room for questions, doesn’t even bother to go into his bedroom to grab his other jacket before stalking forward and entering the elevator Chuuya just came out of, not even acknowledging his partner before smacking the button to the first floor.

“Dazai!” you call after him, taking a few steps toward the elevator but he only turns his chin as the doors slide shut. You shout after him angrily, “And you say I’m the jealous one!” but you doubt he even heard it.

“That bastard has the worst fucking timing ever,” Chuuya says as soon as he’s gone, unperturbed.

You give Chuuya a withering look, wanting to curl up on your couch and die. So you do that. The weight on your chest that had only just finally started to relieve itself from you returns with a vengeance, and you suddenly feel like you want to cry, unsure of how everything has gone so wrong the past few days when you just want to do something nice for him. You tuck your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around them, placing your chin on top of them.

“Relax,” Chuuya says, tossing himself onto the couch next to you; you don’t even have it in you to be annoyed by the water and mud, shoulders slumping as he tosses an arm around you and lets you lean into him. “It’ll be fine. Blockhead won’t even know what hit him tomorrow. C’mon, let’s get this finished so we’re ready to go.”

“… You want us to… kidnap the Demon Prodigy?”

Your subordinates stare, expressions pale and aghast as they share looks with one another. You stand resolute, head held high, and Chuuya raises his eyebrows next to you. Your eye twitches at the moniker that follows Dazai everywhere.

“That’s what we said, yes,” you say, frowning. “Was I unclear?”

“No, hime-” You roll your eyes at yet another one of Mori’s ghastly titles.

He must find it quite amusing, pleased with himself every time he watches you turn green with disgust when he insists on using the term. Even worse, it seems he’s somehow managed to coax your subordinates into using the shitty moniker too. The old man must really enjoy pissing you off, he’s certainly very skilled at it. 

Your lip curls up in irritation when your subordinate continues.

“It’s just-what if-”

“You will not be punished for targeting an executive,” you say dismissively. “I’ll make sure of that.”

“We fear that the Demon Prodigy will… draw his gun when threatened,” the man continues, grimacing as if trying to choose his words carefully. You don’t recognize him—you think you should probably get to know your subordinates better, you’ve left most dealings with them to your partner, Itou… who you also have to get in contact with for this plan to work. You wince, realizing you still have much more to do within the next few hours. “How should we proceed if he does?” 

“Dazai probably will.” You stress his name, giving the man a withering look. To his credit, he winces and looks away. “But he will also be drunk, and slower, taken off guard, so you will… Well, I suppose you wouldn’t have the advantage over even a drunk and surprised Dazai, but there are more of you, so there’s that.”

“Way to inspire confidence,” Chuuya mutters dryly.

You shrug, “I’m not going to delude them before sending them out. They should be prepared to take a bullet or two. Hopefully nonlethal—you have bullet proof vests.”

“You’re fucked up,” Chuuya snorts, before turning his attention to the dozen or so gathered subordinates. “There will be minimal risk, and remember, nobody is to know about this. Nobody. Not even the other executives, or the Boss.”

“Especially not the Boss,” you add. “For the next day and a half, you’re relieved of duties. Go back to your families, or get shit-faced drunk, but don’t come back to headquarters. Under any circumstances. Clear?” 

The men exchange looks with one another, uncertain. “And if he draws his gun?” the man prods again. 

You share a look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye. “He’s not to be injured,” you finally say, voice firm, not leaving any room for doubt. “Under any circumstances. Inject him with this, you’ll be fine.”

You pull from your pocket a sedative that you’d pocketed from Mori’s office before, dangling it in front of them, waiting for one of them to reach out and take it. When they do, you lean back on your heels and look at them.

“This has to be successful,” you tell them, finally starting to feel the pinpricks of anxiety run through your chest the closer it gets to go-time. Dazai is so mad at you right now, and if this fails, it’ll make things ten times worse. Failure isn’t an option—it never is, but especially not now. “I won’t accept anything less.”

“Yes ma’am,” one of your subordinates murmurs and the rest echo, half of them look as if they’re marching off to their death and you absently make yourself a note to give them a big bonus this month. “Can we at least know why we’re kidnapping the De-Executive Dazai?” 

You smile. 

“It’s his birthday gift.”

Dazai is in a bad mood.

Oda watches curiously as the boy downs his seventh (eighth?) drink, wondering if he should tell him to slow down. From the corner of his eye, he sees Ango cringing, lips parted as if to speak but then reconsidering as he shakes his head and takes a sip of his own alcohol, looking thoroughly concerned. Dazai hasn’t said a word since he showed up two hours ago in a foul mood, and every time Oda opens his mouth to ask, Ango gives him the sharpest look and Oda instantly shuts his mouth.

“I think the slug is dating-” Dazai finally speaks, voice rough, right hand clenched around his glass of whiskey. It’s as if he can’t even bring himself to say the words and Oda’s eyes narrow as he studies him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “I think the slug is dating… her.”

Her. He must mean you. You’re pretty much the only ‘her’ that Dazai ever refers to—goes on about you nonstop whenever he gets a few drinks in him.

“That’s nice,” Oda says without thinking, until he sees the horrified look cast his way by Ango. “That’s awful.”

“It is awful,” Dazai agrees with a hiss. “It’s awful. I hate it. It’s disgusting.”

Oh, Oda realizes, a bit more amused, grateful that Dazai is too busy glaring into his drink to see the smile that curls to the corner of his lips. Oda had suspected that Dazai has a crush on you just from the way he talks about you—going from long winded rants of how agonizing you are to live with (as if he doesn’t actively choose to live with you) to wistful recounts admiring your missions (although those quickly shift into rants, as if Dazai catches himself yearning and has to make up for it by acting like it never happened). 

Oda and Ango realized that Dazai was obsessed with you months ago—back before the Dragon’s Head Conflict even ended, not long after you showed up, actually, when he first started talking about you. Oda assumed that it was a kiddie crush that he’d grow out of, but here he is a year later, just as infatuated—if not more so.

Cute.

“What-” Ango begins only for his voice to waver, glaring at Oda when he sees the smile on the man’s lips. He sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose before retrying. “What makes you think they’re dating?” 

“The other day I went looking for them and I found them together, and I was gonna ask them to go to the arcade with me, but as soon as they saw me, they got all stiff and uncomfortable like they didn’t want me there.” 

Dazai almost sounds hurt by it—words strung out a bit long, lips curved down. It’s not often that Oda gets to see him act like the sixteen (seventeen now? Oda realizes he doesn’t even know the boy’s age and makes a note to ask) year old that he is, and while it’s unfortunate that this one is stemmed by him feeling rejected by his friends, he also can’t help but smile at it. Which Ango catches from the appalled look that the other man gives him.

Oda smothers the smile again instantly.

“That doesn’t mean that they’re dating,” Ango begins, trying to be reasonable, but is cut off when Dazai tosses him a sharp glare.

“And then,” Dazai continues, “I went home before because I thought she was going to be on a mission, but she was there working on it, and I offered to help her with it so she could finish faster, but she said no. And I didn’t think anything of it, but then I said I was going to reschedule with you guys for another day so we could watch a movie, and she didn’t respond at first, and I thought that was weird, and then guess what? The slug showed up. She was blowing me off to hang out with him.”

Wow, Oda thinks to himself. That’s a lot to break down. 

Home. Oda is careful this time to not let his lips quirk up into a smile but it’s impossible to hide the fond look in his eyes as he looks down at a sulking Dazai, who has slumped over the bar top, absently playing with the spherical ice in his drink. Oda has never heard Dazai refer to anything as home before. His shipping container had always just been the shipping container, and up until, well, today, your apartment had always just been your apartment. Ango catches the wording too from the way his eyes widen a bit.

And then on top of that, Dazai? Offering to help someone with work? Oda thinks there’s a better chance of fire raining from the sky. Oda is realizing that this really is more than a kiddie crush—not that Dazai would probably ever acknowledge that. Oda wonders if he should help him get there. 

“That doesn’t mean they’re dating,” Oda finally says, taking a sip of his drink and ignoring the way Ango gives him a side eye, focusing instead on how Dazai turns his head to the side to look at Oda. If Oda didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy is pouting. “They might be planning something for you, don’t want you around for it. You had that mission recently, didn’t you? The one everyone said would fail?”

Oda realizes, a bit too late, that if that is the case, he just ruined the surprise and silently apologies for it. But Dazai doesn’t seem to take him seriously anyway, rolling his eye as he returns to bouncing the ice in the glass.

“Yeah, right,” he says dryly. “No one does anything like that for me.”

Oda purses his lips, not responding, and Ango sighs as he looks away. Oda tries to figure out what to say, testing some words on his tongue but they all feel wrong.

Finally, he chooses to just be blunt. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

The noise Ango lets out is all but a whimper, he buries his face in his hands as if to disappear. Dazai’s gaze cuts to the side, head turning slowly as he focuses on Oda.

“What?”

Oda thinks maybe he should stop talking, but he doesn’t, naturally. “Y’know—you could just tell her how you feel,” Oda repeats, seeing the way Ango is shaking his head frantically but he continues anyway. “Telling her would save you from doing this once a week.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Dazai says icily, taking a tone that he rarely uses with Oda as he pushes himself off of the barstool and turns to leave. “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m heading out for the night.”

Dazai doesn’t wait for either one of them to say goodbye as he all but storms out of the bar. Oda sighs, taking a sip of his own drink.

“That could have gone better.”

Ango slaps the back of his head hard.

“I can’t stand you sometimes.”

“Alright, it’s time.”

You watch the live CCTV cameras from the sleek black car you and Chuuya are huddled in. Your partner, Itou, sits in the front seat, rubbing his temples as he spares you guys a short look. You raise your eyebrows at him but he only shakes his head.

“I don’t know what goes through your head sometimes,” he tells you, tired. “I want no part in this beyond this right here.”

“You’re no fun,” you say, squinting at him, “and we still need you to get the footage from the headquarters.”

Itou sighs so heavily that you think he might be trying to expel his lungs from his body. He glares at you from the corner of his eye. “Nothing beyond that. You’re insane for this. You’re going to get us all thrown in the torture chambers.”

“Relax, don’t be so serious. It makes you ugly. You’ll be fine,” you complain, focusing back down on Chuuya’s laptop, straightening as Dazai finally comes into view on the screen. 

You and Chuuya exchange an excited look with one another, a smile twitching onto your lips as you wait for the scene to unfold. You pointedly ignore the noise Itou makes when he notices how thrilled the two of you are at the prospect of kidnapping Dazai—but Itou doesn’t get it, he doesn’t know Dazai. Dazai will love this, and he’ll love it even more when you get your hands on the footage of Mori’s and Kouyou’s reactions to the kidnapping.

You’ve got your subordinates disguised impeccably as members of a low-rung gang that’s been trying to make moves into the northern wards of Yokohama. You had a meeting with them a few days ago to determine whether they’d be worth absorbing or if Mori should just send Dazai and Chuuya to deal with them. You decided on the latter, and the two of them are supposed to go in and exterminate them next weekend.

You figured they would be the perfect cover to pose as Dazai’s “kidnappers.” They’ve been aggressive and violent in Port Mafia territory, making increasingly larger steps into the Naka Ward. You were honestly curious to see how far they’ll try to go, but you doubt Mori will let it get any farther than he has already anyway, so you thought you might as well get some use out of them to stage a realistic-looking kidnapping.

You think Mori will probably assume this was intentional at first when he gets the report. He’ll call you and Chuuya, the two of you will act bitter and angry as if you’re not on speaking terms with Dazai currently—which, you suppose it’s for the best that he stormed away from the two of you that day in headquarters, because it’ll make it seem legit—you’ll hang up and tell him that you’re busy for the night, tell him not to bother you again. 

When Mori realizes that neither you or Chuuya know what’s going on, he’ll start to get suspicious. He’ll seek out the tapes and see Dazai drunk and lost in thought wandering home, see the way he genuinely struggles against his “captors” before being knocked out—none of the casual arrogance he usually has when getting himself captured by the enemy—and then? Then, you don’t know how Mori will react. You assume that he’ll call you and Chuuya again, get the two of you on it, but by that point, your phones will be off.

You’re giddy as you, again, focus back on the screen, watching as Dazai meanders down the street. His movements are slow and unsteady, and your giddiness fades when you see the downcast expression on his face. It’s hard to tell from the footage, but he’s clearly bothered about something. You wonder if he’s that pissed about what happened earlier, or if something else happened with his other friends—he’s usually at Bar Lupin for at least another two hours.

“Okay,” Chuuya says into his earpiece. “Begin stage one of the operation.”

“He looks kind of upset, doesn’t he?” you murmur when Chuuya takes his fingers off the button on the earpiece.

Chuuya rolls his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

You ignore the curious, knowing look that Itou gives you through the rearview mirror and instead tunnel your vision onto the laptop screen… although you find you don’t really want to look at that either. You grimace as your subordinates finally make their move—and it’s testament to how lost in his own thoughts he is because Dazai hardly notices what’s happening until they’re on him.

He goes for his gun instantly, but your subordinate—Kirishima, you learned his name was—is quick to disarm him, knocking the gun out of his hands and reaching for his arm. Dazai is still swift on his feet, nimble even with a dubious amount of alcohol in him. He’s able to worm out of Kirishima’s grip, darting backward. The expression on his face is lethal, gaze cold as he tries to assess his situation, and you watch as the realization that he might be in trouble finally hits.

Just as Kirishima is about to motion for two of the others to go for him again. Dazai slips his phone out of his pocket and dials a number.

“Fuck!” Chuuya spits. “If he calls the Boss-”

But Dazai evidently did not call the Boss, which would have been the smartest decision on his part considering Mori would have gotten one of Verlaine’s special ops units to him within a max of three minutes, because after a second, your phone starts ringing.

Oh.

You stare at it, heart lodged in your throat, unsure of what to do.

“Shit,” Chuuya says, just as caught off guard. “I didn’t think he’d call you. You can’t pick up.”

You shoot Chuuya an accusatory look. “I have to pick up,” you hiss. “He called me when he actually thought he was in trouble. I can’t just ignore him, that’s fucked up.”

“We staged the kidnapping, it’s already fucked up,” Chuuya snaps right back, “and he can read your ass like a book. If you pick up, that bastard will figure out it’s us.”

“Chuuya,” you bristle, ready to ignore him and reach for your phone but he’s quicker than you, arm darting forward to grab your phone before throwing it out the window. You stare at him horrified, “Chuuya!”

You think you might throw up when you watch Dazai take one last glance at his phone before an unreadable expression crosses his face. He elbows one of them hard in the gut to get away, but Kirishima is on him with the sedative before he can make a run for it. Dazai grimaces when he feels the pinprick in his neck, and you finally look away when he slumps over onto the ground.

“Don’t start feeling bad now,” Chuuya says, glaring at you. “What did you think would happen?” 

“I don’t feel bad,” you lie, and when Chuuya gives you a doubtful look, you sigh and say, “He just looked so…”

Human. 

He looked surprised, uncertain—it’s rare for Dazai Osamu to be caught off guard by anything. You think in the year or so that you’ve known him, you’ve only ever seen him genuinely thrown off like this once, and it was when the Colonel’s operation against the Bishop’s Staff went haywire during the Dragon’s Head Conflict and you got caught in the crossfire, captured by the enemy.

You’ve always been of the belief that Dazai is one of the most human people you’ve ever met. You’ve fought people over it, you’ve fought him over it. The issue is that he’s also ridiculously intelligent, likes to portray himself as inhuman, be it to intimidate his subordinates or enemies or to fulfill whatever fucked up image he has of himself, you don’t know, but he’s good at it. It’s only when he’s put into situations like this, where he’s got no shot of keeping up his mask, surprised and trying to push away the rising panic when he realizes that there’s no way to think, talk or fight his way out of a situation, that you really see his humanity. It’s stark compared to his usual demeanor, almost palpable.

You sit there simmering in your own thoughts until Kirishima knocks hard on the window to the car. Dazai looks small in his arms—he’s tall, but thin and lanky because he doesn’t eat properly no matter how much Chuuya belittles him for it and you try to get him to eat. His frame is small, and it’s especially apparent without his coat to create the illusion of a larger stature, when his face is lax, visible eye slid shut as he lays limp and unconscious in his arms.

You push open the door and Kirishima bends down to shuffle Dazai into the car with you. His body slumps against you, head falling onto your shoulder and you push your lip out a bit as you reach up to brush his hair out of his face.

“The sedatives?” Chuuya asks, leaning around you to focus on Kirishima.

Kirishima lifts the empty syringe, glancing at Chuuya before focusing on you. “Are we free to go, hime?”

You scowl at the nickname but you nod, more focused on shifting Dazai into a comfortable position. “Go get drunk or go to your families, I don’t care. Don’t come back to headquarters ‘til Monday, but be there early, we’ve got a mission.”

“Yes ma’am,” Kirishima replies, inclining his head to you before shutting the car door and leaving.

As soon as the door shuts, you sigh and let Dazai’s body fall over, head resting in your lap. He looks so completely at peace that you almost forget that it’s because he’s been drugged. He never sleeps well, even now that he’s staying at your place—you hear him wandering around at night, restless, and the few nights he does sleep, he seems to be plagued with nightmares. You rest your hand on his hair and absently brush your fingers through his damp locks before turning to look at Chuuya, who’s watching you with an expression nothing short of judgmental.

“What?” you demand.

“Nothing.” Chuuya rolls his eyes. “How long do you think the sedative will last?” 

“It’s a pretty high dosage,” you say with a frown, looking down at Dazai. “But Dazai’s got some mutant metabolism. Remember when he walked off a whole ass horse tranquilizer during Dragon’s Head. I give it like four hours max.”

“We need to get moving then,” Chuuya sighs, and you nod.

You lean over the center console and give Itou a sweet smile, careful to not jostle Dazai around too much.

“I’ll drive you there, but then I’m gone,” Itou sighs, giving you one last warning look before he puts the car in drive. “Don’t involve me in this any further.”

“Thank you, Itou,” you coo, sharing one last look with Chuuya before letting out a sigh and turning your attention back down to Dazai, gaze lingering and a soft smile on your face.

Chuuya makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat.

You ignore it.

The beach house the two of you have usurped for the weekend is nicer than you could’ve imagined. You don’t know how Itou found it for the two of you, maybe a friend of his—you’ve found that he has friends everywhere, it’s been quite handy for when you have to deal with politics—or maybe he killed someone for it, you really can’t be sure with him. It’s a neat little place south of Higashikoiso, a little over an hour out of Yokohama—the house is near a cliff overlooking the sea, with an easy path down toward the beach.

There are only three bedrooms though, which is unfortunate considering you and Chuuya plan to coerce Dazai’s other friends into showing up. You might not be the fondest of them for petty reasons, but you think Dazai would like that, so you’ll bite your tongue and suffer through it. Either way, three or four people are going to have to share rooms depending on the set up and you’re fully intent on not being one of them; you already have your argument that you’re the only girl in the house and you think it will be solid enough, unless Dazai decides to be stubborn. 

“This is kind of fucked up,” you note while setting the scene.

Dazai is still unconscious, it’s only been an hour and a half so you should have some time before he wakes up, but you want to get this done as quickly as possible, because you don’t want him to wake up while you and Chuuya are halfway finished to setting up the room to make it look like a ransom scene.

“This is definitely fucked up,” you correct, but you’re smiling as you finish up typing the ropes around Dazai’s wrists, sitting him up in a rickety wooden chair.

You and Chuuya had dragged him down to the basement—Itou had luckily had some interrogation tools in the trunk of his car, and was not inclined to ask any questions when you asked for them, passing them over to you with the most concerned expression you’d ever seen on the nineteen-year-old’s face.

The basement looks like any average torture chamber—stone walls, damp and dingy, so it’s easy for you and Chuuya to transform it into an acceptable backdrop for your picture. You adjust Dazai in the seat again, fingers ghosting over his neck from where his head is falling forward, hoping he’s not too uncomfortable.

“This is your idea,” Chuuya shoots back, tilting his head to the side with a frown as he examines the scene. “He’s not roughed up enough. We’ve gotta do something, did you bring makeup with you?”

“No,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck before an idea pops in your head.

You slink over to Chuuya and grab the knife that he carries at his side, ignoring the perturbed look on his face as he instantly takes a step away. Making your way back over to Dazai, you grimace as you cut the palm of your hand, smearing some blood on Dazai’s face and shirt to make it seem as if he’s been roughed up. You readjust the ropes, tighten them a little more and make sure some of your blood drips down onto the floor above where Dazai’s face is hanging before you take a step back to admire your handiwork before turning to your accomplice.

“... Do you have the burner phone?” you ask Chuuya, wrapping your hand with cloth, figuring you’ll just bandage it up later. 

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Take the picture,” you tell him, stepping out of the way to hover over his shoulder, watching as Chuuya squints his eyes and tries to angle it properly so Dazai looks as in bad shape as possible. 

When he’s finally satisfied, he looks to you. Your lips curve up, “I’ll read off the number of that friend of his, you type it in. This’ll get them here for sure.”

As you do that, Chuuya starts snickering, clearly as entertained by this whole situation as you are. “You’re fucking psychotic for this, y’know?” he says, typing out the message to be attached with the image before pressing send and tossing the phone away.

“You helped me,” you accuse, but you're grinning, giddy again as you grab a towel to wipe the blood off of Dazai, pulling off the ropes and forcing Chuuya to help him back to the couch where he can be comfortable.

“Yeah, but it was your idea, you crazy bitch,” Chuuya tells you again with another snort. “What do we do now?”

“Wait.”

Everything happens at once.

Sakaguchi Ango and Oda Sakunosuke get to the beach house much sooner than you thought they would, and Dazai starts stirring an hour earlier than you expected—mutant metabolism, you think again. Luckily, it all happens at around the same time, so you get to see all of their reactions at once.

Neither Sakaguchi nor Oda have made a move into the house, probably trying to figure out the best course of action. Dazai still hasn’t woken up, curled up on the couch while you and Chuuya play cards at the table in front of him, sitting cross-legged on the floor. You’re winning, of course, and Chuuya is becoming increasingly more frustrated from the way he keeps slamming his cards down onto the coffee table.

“They’re about to come in,” Chuuya says, giving you a withering look as tosses his cards across the table—another losing hand. You give him a smug smile and Chuuya bares his teeth at you. “Come here.”

You sigh as you shuffle over around the table so that he can put his hand on your shoulder, ready to activate the Tainted Sorrow in case Sakaguchi and Oda come in guns blazing. On the couch, Dazai starts to shift, a low groan escaping his lips, and your eyes draw back to him, focusing on his face and the way his brows are furrowed and his lips are turned down.

“Here they are,” Chuuya hums, lips quirking up into a sharp smile. “Ready?”

“Yup,” you agree, popping the ‘p’ as you lean back on your hands and stare at the door. “How long do you think it’ll take them to actually open the door?”

“I give it five more seconds,” Chuuya snorts, and you shiver when you feel the familiar sensation of the Tainted Sorrow spreading across your body, an impenetrable barrier to protect you from whatever may come your way.

Just as Chuuya predicts, five seconds later, the front door is kicked open. You frown, hoping that they didn’t break it off of the hinges, because you don't want to hear Itou bitching about it later on. Oda Sakunosuke comes in first, gun steady and finger on the trigger, but the man is cautious and tilts his head to the side when his eyes fall upon you and Chuuya.

“What is it?” Sakaguchi asks from behind the other man, taking a step into the beach house to follow Oda’s gaze to you and Chuuya. “I-what?”

“Sakaguchi,” you say, lifting your hand to wag your fingers; maybe you’re a bit petty when you don’t acknowledge Oda. “Long time no see. I was grateful for your help when dealing with Nishiki and his cronies.”

“I, ah, hime-” You sigh at the moniker, eyes fluttering shut. “What is… going on? We got a picture and a…”

Sakaguchi trails off when he sees Dazai stirring on the couch, and you turn your attention toward him. You watch as he finally lifts his arm to rub his eyes, sluggish and slow. After a split second passes, you notice him stiffen, as if remembering what happened, and his eyes shoot open, cold and sharp.

You smile. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you coo. “Took you long enough.”

The icy mask slips away into genuine confusion, his brows furrow and his lips part. Next to you, Chuuya snorts, “Now, that’s a fucking sight. I almost want to take a picture.”

“What…” Dazai begins, then notices Oda and Sakaguchi still standing near the front door, blinking a few times. “What is going on?”

You’re sure that must’ve been the most painful question for Dazai Osamu to ask—admitting he has no idea what’s happening. Chuuya snickers and Dazai shoots him a contemptuous look, diluted by the fact that he still looks half out of it from the sedative.

“Yes,” Sakaguchi asks dryly, “what is going on?”

You smile proudly and then say, “We kidnapped you. Seemed pretty realistic, didn’t it? Bet you didn’t see that coming.”

Dazai blinks, you can see him trying to force his brain to start moving faster so he can put together the puzzle pieces you’ve handed him. His gaze calculating and lips tight. “You… set up the kidnapping?”

Oda then says: “See. I told you they were planning something.”

“Planning a kidnapping,” Sakaguchi sighs, tired. “Did you guess that too, Oda?”

“Well, no.”

Hardly listening to Oda and Sakaguchi’s bickering in the background, you keep your attention on Dazai, who’s watching you with an unreadable expression on his face. You waver for a second, wondering if he’s mad at the two of you—you’d figured it could be an issue, that he might be put off by being kept in the dark about this. He really does hate not knowing things. 

“Why?” Dazai asks quietly, and you note how Oda and Sakaguchi share a look with one another before quieting down, waiting for your response.

“I’m glad you asked!” you say brightly. “It’s your birthday present!” 

You relish in the way the room goes quiet. Dazai’s dark eye widens, taken off guard for the second time in a matter of a few minutes. You’re even more gleeful when you see how Oda’s expression shifts into one of surprise, how Sakaguchi draws back, stunned. At least your fears of Oda and Sakaguchi knowing more about Dazai than you go unfounded.

“Yeah, shitty Dazai, say thank you,” Chuuya goads, a smug smile on his lips.

Dazai doesn’t respond, staring at the two of you with yet another indecipherable look, an odd shine to his dark eye. You feel a bit exposed under his stare, wondering what he could be thinking.

“How did you know?” Dazai finally asks, and oh, you realize that’s not the question he’s asking. Dazai knows that there’s only one way the two of you figured out his birthday—his file in Mori’s office. What he wants to know is which of you got hands on it.

“It was a grand plot,” you say, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you look up at him. “Chuuya kept Mori distracted while I ransacked his office looking for your file… part of your gift is going to be the recording of Chuuya trying to distract him. It was quite funny.”

“Hah?!” Chuuya demands, whirling on you. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You ignore Chuuya, keeping your gaze trained on Dazai instead, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Is he angry at you? Upset? It’s impossible to tell from the heavy gaze he has laid on you, thousands of conflicting emotions swirling behind the black of his eye. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, chewing the inside of your cheek as you wait—god, only one person evokes this type of nervousness in you and you swear he enjoys it.

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally lights up, flinging his arms out to his side, a wide, borderline facetious smile painting his face as he says, “So, I get an entire day to order you guys around to do my bidding.”

“Hey!” Chuuya shouts, equally incensed by Dazai’s words as he is by yours, head snapping to look at him. “That’s not the fucking gift, bastard.”

“What’s the plan then?” Oda asks curiously, and then adds, “... I’m glad you brought us here… as unconventional as the method may have been.”

You notice Dazai gives Oda and then you a curious look, but before he can ask, Chuuya is leaping to his feet, talking quickly as he waves his hands around, making subtle digs to get a rise out of Dazai, but Dazai is more focused on you.

You push yourself to your own feet, trying to ignore Dazai’s lidded stare and focus on what Chuuya is saying but it’s hard, especially when you see Dazai standing from the corner of your eye. He’s still a bit unsteady, movement slow and sluggish, and you’re sure that’s the excuse he has for when he meanders a few steps over to you, dropping his chin on your shoulder. You don’t dare to turn your face to the side to look at him, his lips brush your ear as he murmurs:

“Talk later?”

“... ‘course.”

Luckily, later doesn’t come for a long while. Chuuya was insistent on going out to the beach—you think he was more eager to see Dazai wear the ugly Hawaiian shirt that the two of you had brought along for him more than anything else, but he quickly found interest in the large waves coming in from the sea, running back to the beach house to seek out the boards that you’d found in the basement.

Dazai doesn’t go in the water, but you think he’s having a good time considering there’s a shine in his eyes that’s rarely there. Right now, he’s sitting in the sand in front of Oda and Sakaguchi; the former listening to Dazai ramble on about whatever he’s talking about, the latter tapping away on his computer and occasionally nodding along.

You spend most of your time watching Chuuya cheat at surfing, using his ability to keep him on top of the surfboard as he seeks out the biggest waves. You’re standing in the water yourself, no further than knee-deep because you don’t want to get your clothes and hair wet. You’re kind of annoyed that Dazai’s been spending all of his time with Oda and Sakaguchi when you and Chuuya were the ones who did all of the work, and again, you can’t help but wonder if he might be mad at you. He didn’t seem to be on the walk down to the beach but you can honestly never know with him.

You drag your gaze from where Chuuya is hooting and hollering as he catches another big wave, rolling your eyes when you see the red emanating around his feet and the surfboard, so you can look back at Dazai. He’s stopped talking, listening to whatever Oda is saying instead as he stares at you with a contemplative expression. You feel distinctly seen beneath his stare, lost as to what he might be thinking. He doesn’t even notice that you caught him looking, or if he does, he doesn’t care.

You shake your head when you hear Chuuya coming toward you again, turning your attention back onto him.

“Did you see that one?” Chuuya demands, exhilarated, board tucked under his arm as he brushes his hair out of his face. “Did you?”

“I did,” you say dryly. “It would’ve been much more impressive if you hadn’t been cheating with the Tainted Sorrow.”

Chuuya looks scorned. “I don’t see you getting out there to try,” he scowls, lifting his chin. “You’re more preoccupied with staring longingly at shitty Dazai.”

Your face heats up, you kick the water at him and make sure it gets in his face. “I am not,” you hiss. “Don’t be annoying, Chuuya.”

“I give it another ten seconds before you look back at him again,” Chuuya croons, a wide smile on his face that you have half a mind to slap right off.

To make it worse, you do feel an itch to look back at him now. Your eye twitches as you force yourself to keep looking forward at Chuuya just to make a point, but an odd feeling starts to stir in your gut when you see the way Chuuya’s gaze keeps darting behind you, looking increasingly more pleased with himself.

Finally, you give him an accusatory look before turning your head over your shoulder sharply to where Dazai had been with Oda and Sakaguchi only to find-

That he’s not there?

You hardly have enough time to register what you’re looking at before you see a rush of movement from the corner of your eye.

No-

All you hear is Chuuya’s wild laughter and the sound of the ocean waves reverberating through your skull as Dazai tackles you back into the water hard. The water cushions your fall as your back finally hits the sand. You lift your hand to press your palm against Dazai’s face, pushing him away from you, lungs burning and decidedly soaked as you push yourself out of the water, gasping for air.

“Dazai!” you shout, throwing yourself at him with every intent to throttle him. 

Dazai tries to dodge, but is too busy wheezing over laughter to actually do so. He lets out a dramatic cry when you wrap your arms around his shoulders and successfully knock him into the water face down. He flails dramatically, arms and legs kicking as you hold him down beneath the water.

When you finally drag him back up above the surface, he inhales a lungful of air before giving you an indignant look. “You can’t do that,” Dazai shouts, pointing at you. “It’s my birthday.”

“I’ll do it again,” you shout right back, hair sticking in your eyes and clothes clinging to your skin from the seawater. “I wanted to go into town after this.”

Dazai looks just as messy—the cheap Hawaiian shirt you and Chuuya had got him is drenched, and the colors are bleeding into his bandages, making the previously pristine whites become a colorful swirl of oranges, blues and pinks. He looks like a shitty attempt at a watercolor painting. The bandages around his eye look especially uncomfortable from the way his visible eye keeps twitching and immediately your anger fizzles away into amusement.

You share a look with Chuuya that Dazai instantly catches, looking suspicious and alarmed.

“Chuuya, go get the camera.”

Dazai doesn’t even wait for another word. He instantly turns on his heel to bolt back to the beach house, but you’re chasing after him in an instant.

“Chuuya, go!” you yell again as you lunge forward, fingers curling around Dazai’s ankles to make him faceplant back into the water.

You scramble forward to straddle his waist to keep him in place but he worms out of your hold, trying to make another break for it but fails because you’re still clinging to his leg, dragging him back down with you. Distantly, you think you should’ve gone for the camera while Chuuya kept Dazai in place.

“Chuuya’s right,” you spit out. The two of you are out of the water now, you can feel the sand in your shirt and grating against your skin as you roll around with him trying to keep him still. “You really are like a slimy, slippery fish.”

“You can’t do this,” Dazai screeches. “It’s my birthday. It’s my birthday!”

“I got it!” Chuuya shouts from over by the chairs, racing back over to the two of you. 

“Took you long enough,” you yell right back at him, realizing that you’re going to have to sacrifice your own dignity to get Dazai in this picture, otherwise he’s going to try to run away again. 

Chuuya can hardly hold the camera straight through his snorting, and you’re sure you probably look equally as embarrassing as Dazai. There’s sand on your face, in your mouth, in your hair, in places where sand definitely shouldn’t be, but at least you don’t look like a kaleidoscope. Dazai lets out a pitiful noise when he realizes there’s no escape, trapped between your arms. He tries to hide his face in your neck, probably for plausible deniability that it’s an imposter trying to make him look bad, rather than it actually being him himself.

“Say cheese, mackerel,” Chuuya mocks.

“Fuck you,” Dazai complains.

But you can feel the smile twitching on his lips against your skin.

Oda and Sakaguchi set up a fire later that night. 

Well, by Oda and Sakaguchi, you mean Oda while Sakaguchi sat there and played dictator, telling him how to make a campfire that Oda clearly already knew how to make from the way he seemed to be hardly listening to the man.

Dazai and Chuuya are off trying to figure out how to use sparklers, which you think is a bad idea. You think the two are more likely to set each other on fire than actually use them properly, which is why you’re staying far away, tapping away on your phone near the campfire, relaxing under the sea breeze.

Itou: everything going ok?

You almost roll your eyes before responding with.

You: Yes. Why?

Itou: just curious :p

You: Could’ve stayed if you were curious. We offered.

Itou: yeah, maybe if u wanted to find me dead in a ditch. ur boy hates my guts.

You’re grateful that no one is around to see how you let out an embarrassed puff of air at how Itou refers to Dazai, instantly clicking out of his messages to see what other messages you have. Before you can, you feel a presence hovering above you and look up, raising your eyebrows.

Oda Sakunosuke stands next to you, studying you curiously, and you look to the side and then back toward him, unsure of what he wants.

“Yes?” you ask slowly. Sakaguchi is still sitting closer to the house, scowling as he bats away bugs.

“This is nice. What you did for Dazai,” Oda says simply. “I haven’t seen him this happy in… well, ever.”

A bit embarrassed, you shrug. “It’s whatever,” you say awkwardly. “Just happy it all worked out.”

“I don’t think Dazai’s ever had someone do something like this for him before,” Oda admits. He’s not looking at you anymore, fond gaze trained behind you to where you can hear Dazai and Chuuya arguing about how to use the sparklers. “He never told Ango or I his birthday… or anything personal about himself, really. I’m grateful that you brought us along.”

You wish you could sink into the ground and die, knowing that if it was up to you, you never would have invited either of them but forced yourself to for Dazai’s sake. Again, you shrug, and say, “Was for Dazai. Thought he would like it.”

“Well, I’m grateful anyway,” Oda says dismissively, looking back down at you. “You should stop by the curry place where I take Dazai every once and a while. The kids I brought in stay there, Sakura is the only girl, I’m sure she’d like having another girl around to talk to.”

You blanch. “I don’t-uh-I don’t know if that would be the best idea, I’m not exactly… a good influence for kids.”

Oda shrugs. “Maybe not conventionally, but you’re tough. Work ten times as hard as any of the others in the upper ranks of the Mafia to keep your position. It’s impressive. If Sakura was even half as strong as you are when she grows up, I’d be proud of her.”

Your lips part to speak but no words leave them. You think, maybe, that this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged this. Your position has never been as secure as anyone else’s—you think maybe that it’s part of the reason why Mori is so insistent on people using that stupid fucking title, as much as you hate it.

Your own subordinates respect you, the rest of the upper echelon who know of your contributions do, but everyone else? Hierarchy is absolute and the Boss’s orders are paramount, but when subordinates see a chance to push themselves higher up the ladder, it’s like sharks with blood in the water. Without a powerful ability like Chuuya’s, or a mind and presence like Dazai’s, as a girl, you’re on the lowest rung, the first one they’re circling to try to get ahead.

You prevent gang wars, keep the government off the Mafia’s ass, but that’s all behind the scenes—none of the lower ranked mafiosos see any of that. They see Dazai and Chuuya bringing down entire organizations overnight. Ace bringing in billions of yen. Kouyou’s perfect record of assassinations. Hirotsu leading the Black Lizards. Akutagawa and his ability. All they ever seen in you is-

All they see in you is a seventeen-year-old girl who happens to be favored by the Boss.

Although you don’t necessarily care for Oda’s presence, even if only for petty reasons, you do appreciate his words. Your shoulders slump and you want to reply, say thank you at the very least, but nothing comes out. You think he notices, and being the infuriatingly kind person he is, he gives you an out. Oda Sakunosuke pats your head like you’re a dog. You give him a side-eye and cringe away from his hand, but he’s unperturbed. 

“I’m glad he has you,” Oda tells you, before wandering back over to Ango, leaving you there flustered and caught off guard.

Your gaze draws back to where Dazai has finally got his sparkler working, and for a second, you’re entranced. You can hardly drag your eyes from the bright gleam and soft smile on Dazai’s lips as he eyes follow the bright pink and gold sparks flying around as he waves the sparkler around in front of him. It’s childish, almost, innocent in a way that Dazai Osamu never gets to act.

You have to force yourself to look away from him, turning your attention back to your phone to go back to what you were doing before Oda interrupted you.

Several texts from Kouyou and Mori demanding you to pick up your phone, one concerned one from Hirotsu—you’ll have to apologize to him later—and several from an unknown number that you don’t recognize. Akutagawa? Dazai’s subordinate? You’re going to have to have a serious talk with your subordinates later about giving out your number. You click back to your message thread with Itou, pointedly ignoring the last message as you type.

You: How the hell did Akutagawa Ryuunosuke get my number?

Itou: pretty sure he threatened a couple of our subordinates, wounded one of them. i have to deal with it tomorrow. have dazai train his dog before letting him wander around unleashed.

You roll your eyes and then tilt your head back to shout over your shoulder, “Dazai, train your fucking subordinates properly.”

The bickering from where Dazai and Chuuya were arguing behind you halts, and you hear the two of them approach you.

“What happened?” Chuuya asks curiously, peeking over your shoulder at your phone. You promptly close it before he can catch sight of the other message that Itou had sent about Dazai.

Dazai comes to hover next to you, waiting for you to explain, and you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “Akutagawa injured one of my men and threatened others trying to get my number when he heard you were missing. Get him under control.”

Dazai’s visible eye twitches. “Untrained mutt,” he spits out. “I’ll deal with him.”

You share a short look with Chuuya from the corner of your eye, wondering if you’d just condemned Akutagawa to Dazai’s violent wrath, but you’re distracted when your phone buzzes again.

Itou: check ur email.

You straighten in your seat, immediately flicking out of your messages app to your email to find one from Itou with a video file attached.

“No way,” you breathe out, excited, not having expected Itou to get his hands on it so quickly. You turn to look at Dazai, a wide smile on your face; you miss the way the irritation on his instantly fades, visible eye widening and lips parting at the sight of your smile. You also miss, in your excitement, Chuuya’s grunt of disgust. “Dazai, you wanna see your real present?”

Curious, Dazai peers over your shoulder to see the email you got. “What is that?” 

“Watch and see,” you croon, clicking on the video to show the surveillance tape from headquarters.

Instantly, Dazai seems to realize what it is, eye lighting up. “No way,” he says, half sitting on top of you in your beach chair, ignoring your irritated hiss.

“Get your bony ass off of me, Dazai,” you snap at him, but Dazai ignores you, settling down as he snatches your phone to watch the video. 

Chuuya joins him, crowding in on your other side to lean over his shoulder to watch the video. Rolling your eyes, and unable to see the video on your phone, you instead lean back into the chair and watch their reactions to it instead.

Chuuya looks amused, a sharp grin on his face as his eyes remain pinned on the video, and Dazai looks delighted, he cackles and shifts to lean forward, making you grimace when he ends up digging more into your thigh to push himself up.

“Look at his face,” Dazai screeches. “He really thinks it was real. Ane-san looks like she’s going to have an aneurysm.”

Chuuya looks back at you, smiling but there’s a hesitant look in his eyes. “We’re going to be in so much trouble when we get back,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

Yeah, you agree silently, more focused on the bright shine in Dazai’s eyes and the wide, genuine smile on his lips. He’s so giddy that he’s almost vibrating in your lap, and when he finally looks back at you, he looks at you as if you’ve given him the world. Worth it, though.

Despite ardently arguing why you should be the one who doesn’t have to share a room and succeeding—forcing Oda and Sakaguchi (who didn’t seem to mind) and Chuuya and Dazai (much to their distress) to share a room instead—you find that you can’t sleep at night anyway. 

It’s almost midnight when you finally decide to wander out of the house, making your way to the path leading up to the clifftop—everyone called an early night, the excitement of the day, and the lack of sleep, leaving everyone exhausted before the clock hit nine-thirty.

The seabreeze is cool against your skin, the moonlight’s illumination the only guide you have as you make your way up to the cliff’s edge. Your hands are stuffed in the pockets of your sweats as you drag your feet against the dirt path.

You don’t notice someone sitting up there at the edge until they turn their head to the side to look at you, startled by your arrival.

“Dazai,” you say quietly, standing there awkwardly for a moment. You haven’t spoken to him alone yet, you’d meant to earlier but then Chuuya got his hands on wine before bed and that plan went out the window.

Dazai sighs whimsically when he catches sight of you. “So, hime forces me to share a room with the slug only to not even use her own room. She’s so greedy,” he whines, lashes fluttering as he looks up at you.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, making your way over to sit with him, legs dangling off the edge, swinging absently. Your thigh is pressed against the side of his, feet occasionally bumping into one another, when you rest your hands against the ground to lean back on them, your thumb brushes his. “You wanted to talk.”

Dazai lets out an unintelligible noise in the back of his throat, and you watch as his gaze turns down to his lap, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s pretty beneath the glow of the moonlight, peaceful in a way you hardly ever see him. His expression is free of the numerous masks he wears to protect himself, eyes dark but warm and full of various emotions as he chooses his words carefully.

“Hime read my file,” Dazai finally says, voice soft, almost hesitant. You catch the way his jaw tightens and untightens, the corner of his lips tightening and quivering; a subtle tell to his nerves, one that most people wouldn’t catch, but you do.

“I did,” you agree. Your own heart races in your chest as you wait for his reaction; you don’t think that he’s angry, you think you’d be able to tell if he were angry by now, but you can’t help the anxiety plaguing you.

“So, you saw,” Dazai hums, but there’s a bit of a wobble to his tone. He pointedly doesn’t look at you now, staring ahead out toward the sky and distant sea. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

“No. I figure you’ll tell me if you want. If not, it’s okay.”

It’s decidedly not okay, but you don’t want to pressure Dazai into telling you. You want Dazai to open up to you, but you don’t want to force him to, so you force yourself to be content with the fact that he’s at least acknowledging this, instead of pretending it didn’t happen.

“I can’t,” Dazai says. 

His throat bobs beneath his bandages, dark eye uncertain as he stares down to the turbulent sea. You think a storm must be coming, the waves have become rocky, whitecaps staining the horizon, crashing into the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cliff. Dazai shifts, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

“By choice?” you ask after a few moments. “Or is someone—” Mori “—forcing you to?”

“... Both,” Dazai responds after a few moments. “I…”

Dazai doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say, voice wavering. After a few minutes of silence between the two of you, he continues.

“I don’t have good memories associated with that name,” Dazai finally says, and you don’t dare to speak, hardly even dare to breathe because you don’t want to ruin whatever spurred this decision of his to crack himself open to you, afraid that if you make the wrong move, he’ll withdraw again. “... Sometimes, I miss it though.”

“That’s normal, I think,” you tell him after a moment, looking to the side to focus on him, watching the way his eyes lower at your words. “You have… better ones as… Osamu?” 

It’s your first time referring to Dazai by his first name, and from the way he inhales sharply, he recognizes it as well. There’s something distinctly vulnerable in his expression as he turns his face to you.

“I have you,” Dazai says quietly, and it’s so instant that it catches you off guard, lips parting. As if catching his own lapse in control, he blinks and then rushes to add, “And Odasaku. Ango. The slug.”

You smile a bit to yourself. “Yeah,” you agree. “You do.”

Dazai looks as if he wants to say something, his lips are parted and his gaze is uncertain. You give him a questioning look, wondering what could possibly be running through his head right now, but then he speaks.

“Shuji,” he says so softly that you barely hear him. “My name was Shuji.”

Your eyes shoot open at the admission, Dazai’s goes just as wide, as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it out loud. You open your mouth to say something but Dazai doesn’t even give you the chance to.

“You can’t use it ever, okay?” he says, voice tinged with a type of panic you’ve never heard in the boy before, dark eye filled with desperation. “Never. Not when we’re with people. Not when we’re alone. Not ever. You can’t.”

You don’t think Dazai has ever begged anyone for anything in his life, but he’s begging you now… a part of you can’t help but wonder if it’s for his sake, or yours.

“Can I say it once? Right now?” you ask quietly, swallowing thickly.

Dazai looks unsure and hesitant, but he finally nods. “Then you have to forget it, okay? You can’t ever let anybody know it. Nobody can ever know it. And nobody can know that you know, okay? No one, especially Mori.”

You don’t really like the sound of that, your gut tugging uncomfortably at the stress on Mori’s name, but you don’t want to press anymore than you have, so you agree.

With the winds howling around the cliffs to drown out your voice, and only Dazai and the stars to bear witness, you shift to face him. You reach up to cup Dazai’s cheek, fingers brushing against the bandages on the right side of his face, watching as he inhales sharply at your sudden touch. Before you can lose your nerve, you lean in to ghost your lips against his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, Shuji,” you whisper softly, pulling back to sit next to him. Your face is on fire, and Dazai doesn’t react beyond a shaky breath and his fists tightening in his lap.

Finally, instead of responding, he reaches out to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Your smile is soft, and you can feel Dazai’s fingers trembling, body uncharacteristically lax as he rests next to you.

Your free hand brushes a stray rock at your side and you turn to look at it curiously, noting the jagged edge and then getting an idea. Dazai frowns when you pull your hand from his and shift away, giving you a questioning look, but then you shift to your knees, grabbing the rock and etching your first initial into the flat rock that the two of you are sitting on. Dazai watches you carefully and when you hold it out to him, he hesitates before taking it from you.

He doesn’t do anything for a second, staring down at your initial with the jagged edge of the rock resting against the ground next to it. Finally, he takes in a steady breath before carving a ‘+ S’ right next to yours. You chew on the inside of your cheek and your eyes are a bit misty as your hand falls to trace the letters.

After a few moments, you let out another breath and settle down next to him again, a bit closer than you were before, thigh pressed firmly against his and shoulders brushing. You reach for his hand again, intertwining your fingers with his, looking up to the vast sky above.

Your lips part to speak, but the words catch in your throat, fingers tightening around his for the sparest second. He gives you a curious look and you don’t dare to look at him as you finally force the words from your lips.

“The moon… it’s pretty beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” you say quietly, throat tight as you stare up at the sky, the glittering stars and the full moon glowing above. 

You can feel Dazai’s gaze on you as he responds. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I think if I died tonight… I would die happy.”

Three years later on the early morning of June 19th, Dazai Osamu sits on the cliff’s edge in the same spot he did with you all of those years before, watching the sun break over the horizon. His fingers trace over the two engraved letters next to him, and not for the first time in the past two years he’s spent underground, he yearns. 

He yearns for you so bad that it makes his chest hurt, his stomach turns in on itself; he yearns so desperately that it’s hard for him to breathe without you, the thought of you weighing so heavily on his mind that he thinks the pressure of it might kill him. As he’s gotten closer to finally being able to leave the underground and join the Armed Detective Agency, he finds that he thinks more and more of you.

He wonders what you’re doing—if you’re thinking of him, if you hate him, if you’ve forgotten all about him. He can almost imagine you sitting here with him, shoulders brushing, thigh pressed to his, fingers intertwined.  He doesn’t know how long he’s spent sitting in that spot, fantasizing that you were there with him, longing for days with you and Chuuya and Odasaku and Ango that are long gone.

Before his thoughts can spiral any further, his phone rings—only one person would be calling him right about now, so he lets it get to the final ring before picking up.

“Fukuzawa-san is ready for you,” Ango says as soon as Dazai picks up the phone, waiting no time for pleasantries.. “Make your way over to the Armed Detective Agency when you can… Happy birthday, Dazai.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, hanging up the phone and letting out a soft breath. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and his eyes linger on the engraved initials, worn with time but still clearly visible, for only a few seconds longer. He pushes himself up to his feet and walks back down toward the beach house with the thoughts of you still clouding his head.

Yeah, Dazai thinks a bit dryly, chest heavy and aching as he looks back at where the two of you once sat three years ago. Happy birthday.

fun facts!

the inspiration for this fic came from the summer vacation bungo mayoi cards with dazai, oda and ango LOLLLL

the inspiration for the "dazai osamu not being dazai's real name" comes from the fact that irl!dazai was a pen name—his real name was tsushima shuji.

i'm gonna drop some pm!reader universe lore here too. in the pm!reader universe, i decided to go with the popular theory that dazai was the previous boss's son/grandson, which is why his word held so much weight when he vouched for mori. when everything calmed down after the death of the previous boss and after most of the old regime of loyalists had been disposed of, mori had shuji change his name to dazai osamu, to shred any connection he might have had to the previously reigning mafia family, just in case more loyalists popped up. in the present pm!reader universe (from 16-22), only kouyou and hirotsu know who dazai really is.

heyy, may i ask for a satoruxreader where its readers birthday and gojo and megumi are tryna bake a cake for reader? (ofc gojo has a backup cake that he bought just incase anything goes wrong cuz ofc its gojo what do you expect)

kind — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: what do you guys do when people start singing happy bday? I just smile until my cheeks hurt 🥲 anyways this is set when megumi was still a kid

"megumi, wake up!" satoru yells as he slams the door of the boy's room open. naturally, he is met with one ruthless glare, but he rapidly tries to save himself, "before you get mad, look at the date!"

the boy grumbles before getting up and checking the calendar. his eyes widen at the 'y/n's birthday' written under the date. quickly, he scrambles to his feet and starts pulling satoru downstairs and towards the entrance.

"where are we going?" satoru inquires the rushing megumi.

megumi pauses then looks at him, confused and wondering just why is this guy so stupid, "to get the cake obviously."

satoru laughs loudly and starts shaking his head, "megumi, megumi, megumi…we are going to bake the cake ourselves!"

the boy in question pales at the suggestion and looks at his sister's room in hopes of her waking up and rescuing him. however, the girl does not get the telepathic waves her brother is sending and is still soundly asleep.

so megumi is then dragged by one very excited gojo satoru. satoru eagerly wears his apron—one that has a very proud catoru on it—then he helps megumi put his own. megumi’s apron has a chibi drawing of his divine dogs and no matter how much he denies it, it’s obvious that he likes it.

while satoru gets the ingredients, megumi is laying out the rules for today’s baking mission. satoru does glare at him every now and then but he can’t exactly complain. his experiences with baking are disasters that can't be ignored.

so naturally, the little boy was in charge of the measurements cause god forbid satoru does it.

“satoru, how the hell did you mess that up?!”

“y/n, it said two spoons!”

“TABLE SPOONS NOT TWO SPOONS FROM A FREAKING SPATULA, YOU SUGAR OBSSESSED—“

so no, satoru shall never touch something related to measurements. the both of them stand in front of the ingredients, determination radiating off of them.

satoru takes hold of the recipe and starts reading, “we need a cup of white sugar!”

nodding, megumi swiftly gets the cup and hands it to satoru.

satoru pours it in the bowl and megumi has to stop him from ‘taste-testing’. from there on, they start working in (partial) harmony—fighting every now and then with megumi almost losing his marbles over the supposed adult trying to eat something every minute.

after a bit, they are finally done with the dry ingredients, each of them sporting a handful of flour on his hair. megumi glares up at satoru, “you ruined my hair.”

“now you will look more like me and people won’t think that I kidnapped you!” satoru beams but megumi easily ignores him.

said boy grumbles and starts padding away to get the wet ingredients, doing his best to gather them in his arms and delivering them in one trip. satoru simply watches him with a little grin before asking, “say, what do you think of y/n?”

after putting the ingredients on the counter, megumi looks up at satoru, confused, “why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. I mean it’s obvious you like her more than me,” satoru fake sniffles—in megumi’s eyes it’s asking to be punched but oh well, “but, I want to hear you say it.”

satoru doesn’t expect him to answer so he doesn’t question any further.

satoru starts pouring the wet ingredients together. he starts humming a soft tune, your favorite song, and finally combining the ingredients together. he then hands megumi the bowl for him to mix the batter.

the boy silently does it. and they are left to bask in the silence, before megumi finally speaks up, “I think she is nice…probably one of the kindest people I have met.”

satoru smiles at him then laughs lightly, patting the boy’s head, “that’s good.”

when megumi is done with the mixing, he—with the help of gojo—pours the batter in the baking pan. megumi’s face is troubled for a moment before he looks at satoru, “you’re going to marry her, right?”

proudly, satoru nods, “was planning on doing it even before your little grumpy-self showed up.”

megumi watches satoru put the baking pan in the oven with ease. satoru then dusts his hands and megumi glares at him, “break her heart and I will fight you.”

satoru grins, frame towering over the boy, “you think you can win?”

the boy nods up at the white-haired man and gets into a fighting stance almost immediately, summoning his divine dogs. satoru quirks a brow and he seems like he is going to fight megumi as well, but, instead, he bends down to ruffle the boy’s hair.

normally, he would instantly swat his hand away, but right now, it catches megumi by surprise and he looks at satoru wide-eyed.

“you don’t have to worry about me breaking her heart.”

reluctantly, megumi looks down and mutters a small ‘good’.

after a long while, they hear your voice, “I am home!”

“Y/N!!!!!” your boyfriend screams the moment you step in. he tackles you into a very big hug and starts peppering your face in kisses, “how was your day?”

“it was okay,” you pat his head then you look at the boy, “hey, megumi! how’re you?”

megumi nods with a small smile and you chuckle before noticing what he is wearing, “what’s with the aprons, you guys?”

satoru, who hasn’t stopped kissing your cheek since you entered, replies excitedly, “we were trying cook something!”

you sweatdrop and nervously look at your boyfriend, “…and how did that turn out?”

“hey!” he huffs, “you need to have some faith in my cooking skills!”

“satoru, last time I did that you—“

“what’s that burning smell?” a sleepy tsumiki mumbles as she finally gets out of her room.

megumi and satoru share a look before satoru darts to the kitchen screaming about his masterpiece. you and the kids follow suit. when you enter, you find satoru on his knees—devastated and probably about to start act two of his ‘I am great cook’—with a very burnt cake in his hands.

tsumiki goes to pat the sad cook’s back while megumi grumbles, “I shouldn’t have unrealistic expectations anymore.”

you chuckle at the scene unfolding in front of you. however, you already find yourself walking towards satoru. he quickly throws himself into your embrace. rolling your eyes, you still rub his back to comfort him about his deceased cake.

what you don’t notice is satoru winking at megumi who gets the cue to close the lights.

you look around in the now dark room, “did the lights go out again?—“

satoru disappears from your arms and you hear rustling and whispers. however, it quickly quiets down and when the lights are back on, you’re met with quite the sight.

satoru, megumi, and tsumiki are all wearing birthday party hats. there is also a very humongous cake on the counter.

the cake has a miniature version of the four of you. mini megumi is noticeably grumpy with mini tsumiki having the sweetest smile on her face—just like the real one. mini satoru is latching onto your mini version who looks done with everything around her.

there are also towers of gifts distributed in the entire room.

but you barely have time to focus on them any further before satoru eagerly blows a birthday whistle and screaming out, “on my mark—three, two, one, go! happy birthday to you!”

the kids sing along—though megumi does it a little shyly.

overwhelmed, your eyes start to tear up and satoru’s feet naturally take him to you. his arm is around your waist as he pulls you close and continues singing for you.

megumi also makes his way to stand beside you with tsumiki tagging along. you lock eyes with satoru who smiles tenderly at you, singing, “happy birthday, dear y/n,” he presses a kiss right under your eye while wiping your tears, “happy birthday, y/n.”

“WOHOOO!” satoru loudly cheers and picks you up, twirling you around making you laugh. when he sets you down, he presses one loud smooch to your cheek once again.

tsumiki giggles before she quips, “blow the candle, y/n!”

your head snaps towards satoru who is already smirking at you. you narrow your eyes, “don’t you even dare. it’s my birthday!”

“really now?” he tilts his head before easily throwing you over his shoulder and quickly blowing out all the candles, ignoring your nonstop hitting of his back. he then starts spinning around and his laughter fills the room.

“SATORU, YOU’RE GOING TO DROP ME! STOP!”

“NEVERRRRR!”

meanwhile, megumi and tsumiki are left sighing at the scene in front of them.

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happy birthday osamu❗❗❗

Pop your pérignon — d. osamu

summary. so what if he doesn’t care about his own birthday? you still wanted to make him feel special

content. gn!reader, fluff, idk the ending seems rushed sorry :(

notes. the silly doodle is drawn by me <3 and happy happy birthday to our sweet, adorable, charming dazai !!! mwah mwah ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

you have been mentally counting the days to his birthday.

dazai has told you about his birthday once and you’ve told yourself to not forget it since. he doesn’t really care for it, thinking that there’s little to no point celebrating his age growing by one, a mere reminder that he’s managed to live through yet another year. or so he told you and it makes you a little sad when you think about it. most people you have met get excited or at least look forward to their birthdays so seeing him be so indifferent about his own is unusual for you.

that doesn’t mean you were going to keep it that way. while you had nothing grand planned, you still wanted to surprise him and that in itself turned out to be a much more difficult task than you expected. dazai knows you really well and because of that you can’t afford to make even a single slip up. 

now the hardest part was actually figuring out what to gift him. you didn’t want to get him just something random and expensive, you wanted it to have a meaning for him. you found the amount of time you spent thinking about it embarrassing because who doesn’t know what to give to their own boyfriend? but in the end you did get an idea. a simple but sweet idea. whenever dazai went on a longer mission or had to be somewhere, you used the chance to work on it and put it together. and of course afterwards making sure it was hidden well, under the bed behind many boxes to be exact.

getting a cake was trickier. at first you thought about making it yourself but then you’d have to make it a day before his birthday with no way of knowing if he was going to be away somewhere or not. so if he were to stay with you then making a cake without him noticing is near impossible. with that in mind you chose to buy one and that wasn’t easy either. to somehow get a cake in the fridge a day before without him suspecting anything? yeah you couldn’t have done it alone. that’s when you decided to ask tanizaki for help.

you told him exactly which cake to get and when the time was right, you sent tanizaki a message, a sign that he could enter since you had intentionally left the front door unlocked for him. you were laying bed with dazai when he came in and you didn’t even hear him open or close the fridge. his ability was the plan b in case if dazai happened to suddenly go there. in the end everything went smoothly and you couldn’t feel more relieved. you made a mental note to yourself to pay him back for the cake later.

and before you know it, the day is here. you lazily rubbed your eyes as the rising sunlight woke you up. you slightly shift your body, turning your head a little to see the familiar chocolate brown hair and his face nuzzled against your back. his peaceful state always managed to bring a subtle smile to your lips. but that soon falls as you remember something and god you should have realised this earlier.

how are you going to get out of bed?

the ideal scenario would be that you slowly manage to escape his grasp, placing a pillow in your place and then you would have the chance to get everything ready and surprise him before he wakes up. except it’s dazai that we’re talking about. asleep or not, this man refuses to let go of you easily and only whines about how cold it is without your warmth. and most of the time it works because you can’t deny how comfortable it is to relax in his embrace and forget about the world around you for a moment.

but right now you actually wanted no, needed to get up. you sigh slightly as you think what to do. you know he is going to wake up, dazai has never been a heavy sleeper so moving out of bed would definitely alert him. which leaves you one last option that has to work. you carefully start to shift your body, trying to move his arm, which is wrapped around your waist, out of the way. you were close to sitting up before you could feel dazai’s hold tighten around you, making your movements pause.

“where are you going..?” he mumbles against your skin, the sleep in his voice evident. i take a small breath and then respond. “to the bathroom, i’ll be right back.” your voice is quiet as you let one of your hands brush through his hair. you silently prayed for him to let you since you really have no idea what else you’re going to do otherwise.

you have to hold in an exhale of relief when his hold loosens again, giving you the chance to sit up. a sleepy ‘okay’ is all he says in return and you’re almost surprised at how effortlessly you managed to leave. it could be because he’s still half asleep. all that matters now is the cake and the present. as quietly as possible, you take out your wrapped gift and the cake from the fridge. a rather small cake because you know that he doesn’t have a really big sweet tooth. you wanted to put candles on it too but now wonder how many. definitely not the age he is turning because they wouldn’t all fit. without thinking too hard you just put three as it looked nice like that.

you took out a lighter and within a few moments, all the candles were lit. all that is left now is to go and wish him a happy birthday the way he deserves. you carefully take the cake and the present, approaching the bedroom door as small nervousness starts to grow. what if he doesn’t like it? the last thing you want to do is to make his own day worse for him. thankfully you don’t get to dwell on your thoughts too long because you don’t want the candle wax dripping down on the cake.

when you enter the room, dazai is laying on his back, lazily rubbing his eyes before he turns to look at you. the immediate confused look in his eyes made you smile.

“happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear osamu, happy birthday to you!” you sing softly while slowly sitting down on the bed, placing the cake beside him. you noticed the way he is blinking and dumbfounded as if he couldn’t believe this was real at first. you expected that kind of reaction.

“what?” he speaks up after you sing, slowly sitting up. seeing dazai so off guard is rare, even to you. “come on, blow out the candles!” you tell him with a chuckle. with some hesitation, he does as you say and your face beamed. you also decide to give him the present.

“i know you don’t really care about your birthday but i couldn’t let today just pass by either.” dazai seems like he’s speechless for a moment before focusing on you again.

“you seriously didn’t need to do this.” his voice is soft yet you could sense a bit of disbelief in it as he sees the wrapped gift for him as well. “but i wanted to and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” you say back with certainty, leaving no room for argument.

you then encouraged him to open the gift, your anticipation for his reaction growing. as he removes the wrapping, a small book is revealed and as soon as he opens it, a couple of pages filled with pictures of him and you can be seen. basically a photo album. while dazai flips through the pages you can’t help but notice his lack of reaction, only a small smile coating his lips.

does he not like it that much? you had hoped that he would at least point out a few photos or something but he’s completely quiet, which makes you even more anxious.

“…is it okay? i’m going to be honest, for the longest time i wondered what to give you because i wanted it to be something special or meaningful to you. then i got this idea and thought it’s perfect, a photo album containing the memories of us. but if you don’t like it then i can—“ your unsure rambling is cut off by dazai as he presses a tender kiss on your lips. and suddenly everything seems okay again.

“don’t like it? my love, you have no idea how grateful i am for this,” he tells you, holding your face so that you’d see the sincerity in his gaze, “…i don’t think anyone has ever properly celebrated my birthday, including myself so you just going out of your way to do this for me? i don’t deserve it.” his words push you to give him a light kiss, relishing in the soft surprised sound he lets out.

“yes you do, osamu. i’ll make sure that today will be all about you.” you say to him with a sweet smile, warmth and fondness pooling in your eyes. you swear that for a brief moment you could hear dazai’s breath falter. it’s clear as day that he is not used to this but you are determined to change that.

he looks like he’s about to argue back before eventually sighing in defeat, cuddling closer to you as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and you almost miss his quiet words spoken against your skin. 

“god i love you so much…”

katsuki who breaks his sleep schedule ONLY on your birthday because he wants to be sure he’s the first one to text you.

at exactly midnight .on.the.dot. you get a string of messages from your boyfriend saying :

“happy birthday, moron.”

“i love you and all that stupid mushy shit”

“you better say it back. fucked up my sleep for you.”

“❤️”

he doesn’t even care if you’re already asleep, he’s already sure he was the very first one to text you but if you are still awake he’s even more proud cause you saw it happen. him who you (and his friends) tease all the time for going to sleep at like 8:30 sharp stayed up doing fuck all just to be the first to wish you a happy fucking birthday.

so yeah, you bet your ass he’s proud. and he’ll go to sleep and knock out immediately with a smirk on his face when you text him a “thank you sm, katsuki !!! i love you sosooososos much💕💕”

“yeah you better. go to bed, g’night <3”

n’ yeah okay, maybe he’ll be a bit crankier than usual, but it’ll be worth it seeing how bright you smile and jump to hug him, kissing all over his cheek with thank you’s and love you’s.

he’ll just take it out on kaminari.

bakugo never meant to get this distracted. seriously. it wasn’t his fault.

it was yours.

because every damn time you sat in front of him, every time you rested your chin on your palm, every time you furrowed your brows while scribbling something in your notebook—he got stuck. like, full-on, brain-short-circuiting, totally-useless kind of stuck.

he should be paying attention. should be listening to aizawa’s lecture. should be taking notes instead of memorizing the way the sunlight caught in your hair or how your lips pursed when you were thinking.

but no. instead, he was sitting here, burning every little detail of you into his brain like some lovesick idiot. the curve of your nose, the way your fingers absentmindedly twirled your pen, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when it fell into your face.

he was so screwed.

“bakugo.”

his whole body stiffened. aizawa was staring at him, unimpressed.

“what?” he snapped, maybe a little too defensive.

“i asked you a question.” aizawa sighed. “maybe if you stopped zoning out, you’d know the answer.”

a few people chuckled, and bakugo’s face heated up—not because he was embarrassed, but because you turned your head just a little, just enough to glance at him.

for half a second, your eyes met his.

and fuck, that half-second nearly killed him.

then you turned back around, totally unaware of how wrecked he was, how his heart was still beating too damn fast, how his hand was gripping his pencil like it owed him money.

this was getting ridiculous.

hii, could you please write about katsuki x fem reader and how they just casually revealed their relationship to the class (eg. him cooking and sleepy reader comes down casually in his clothes or sum??) thank youu!!

A Sleepy Surprise

The smell of something delicious fills the dorm common area, making a few of Class 1-A’s students pause in their morning routines. You groggily stretch under the warm blankets before realizing that your usual alarm—Bakugo’s grumbling—has been replaced by the distant sound of something sizzling in a pan. The enticing aroma of food drifts up to your room, nudging you awake despite the sleep still clinging to you.

Without much thought, you pull yourself out of bed, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffle toward the door. Bakugo’s hoodie is the first thing you grab, slipping it over your head, the fabric swallowing your frame comfortably. The scent of him, something warm and familiar, lingers in the material. You don’t bother changing out of his sweatpants from the night before, the waistband cinched just enough to stay up, though the legs are too long and drag slightly as you walk.

Still half-asleep, you slowly make your way down the stairs, guided by the promise of food. As you step into the common area, a few voices murmur, but you barely register them. Your focus is entirely on the kitchen, where Bakugo stands at the stove, flipping a pancake with effortless precision.

He barely glances at you as he shifts the frying pan to another burner. “Sit down. Food’s almost done.”

You hum sleepily in response, dragging yourself to the counter. The class, however, goes completely silent. It’s the kind of silence that feels heavy, like everyone is holding their breath, waiting for something to explode.

You miss the wide-eyed stares, the way Denki nudges Mina, who claps a hand over her mouth, or how Kirishima’s brows shoot up in surprise. You’re too busy resting your head on your folded arms, the warmth of the kitchen lulling you back toward sleep.

“Smells good,” you mumble, voice still thick with sleep.

Bakugo scoffs, setting a plate in front of you. “Yeah, yeah, hurry up and eat before you pass out on the damn table.”

You grab your fork without a second thought, taking a bite of the food he made just for you, savoring the flavors as your brain slowly catches up with the world around you. "This is amazing, 'Suki."

The explosion of noise is almost immediate.

“WAIT, WAIT, WAIT.” Denki practically screeches, making you wince. “Did she just—Did she just call him—?”

“‘SUKI??” Mina gasps, hands on her cheeks. “OH MY GOD.”

“Are you two dating?” Iida asks, pushing his glasses up in pure disbelief.

Bakugo turns his sharp crimson glare on them, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “What, you extras deaf or somethin’? ‘Course we are.”

A chorus of “WHAAAAAT?!” erupts from your classmates, ranging from Kirishima’s proud laughter to Mineta’s dramatic wailing about life being unfair. You just blink sleepily at the chaos, still munching on your breakfast like this is the most normal thing in the world.

Momo clasps her hands together. “Well, I must say, I’m happy for you two! Though… I am surprised. How long have you been together?”

“Eh, a while,” Bakugo grumbles, flipping another pancake. “Didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Uraraka gasps. “A while?! And you never told us?!”

You finally look up, rubbing your eyes. “Didn’t think we had to?” you mumble.

Kirishima grins, throwing an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “Bro! You should’ve told me! I could’ve given you relationship advice!”

Bakugo smacks his arm away. “Yeah, like I need advice from your dumbass.”

Sero chuckles. “Man, if she wasn’t literally sitting there in your clothes, I wouldn’t believe it.”

“I dunno, I think it’s kinda cute,” Mina says, nudging you with a knowing smirk. “Our little firecracker is all soft for you, huh?”

You smile sleepily, still too drowsy to feel embarrassed. “Yeah,” you admit easily, making the class erupt in more screams while Bakugo grumbles about everyone being too damn loud.

But he doesn’t deny it.

nsfw ahead !

sigma and dazai have been on my mind for a WHILE. which, obviously, has resulted into uhm,,, unholy thoughts 😁

therefore, imagine dazai taking you from the back, pounding into you and abusing your cervix with every thrust as you suck sigma off <3

and dazai is not making it easy for you to please sigma because he’s fucking you dumb, holding onto your hips like he’s holding on for dear life,, which he isn’t known to do. and sigma? sigma is a blushing mess. one hand lovingly on your head as you bob it up and down on his length, the other one across his mouth as he tries to hide his moans.

and dazai just speaks pure filth to you, smacks your ass and everything while sigma lets out quiet “fuck” ‘s and whines. dazai slides his hand down, rubbing your clit with one hand as you moan out loud, gripping the sheets. the dark haired man lets out a chuckle, pressing his lips to your ear “you like the way i’m fucking you, beautiful? feel good? don’t forget about my friend over there, okay?” he kisses your temple as he gestures to sigma.

and sigma’s ears go red “no no, it’s fine i— oh f..fuck” he tries to say before you lick his dripping tip. your eyes trail up to him, a silent chuckle vibrating against his sensitive cock as he whines, closing his eyes and looking away. “look at the effect you have over him, pretty girl. got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?” dazai coos as he caresses your back, hips slapping against your ass.

and god, aren’t you just so beautiful? aren’t you just handling them both so well? that’s part of the filthy shit dazai whispers to you as he rubs your swollen clit, thrusting himself balls deep into you. and sigma agrees. he’s not going to say it out loud,, he’s too shy for it. but with the way you’re taking care of his hard-on, he could very well pass out.

your fingers trace patterns on sigma’s thighs, making him get louder, more vocal as he gets closer to reaching his peak. dazai, on the other hand, is aiming towards making you cum. he wants to see you fall apart because of him, wants you to know nobody else can fuck you this good. so he pulls out, like the annoying cunt he is and watches your hole gape and clench around nothing, making you whine impatiently.

“come on. let her have it” sigma says as he watches you squirm. dazai chuckles, a cocky smile appearing his lips “oh? think she’s not gonna make you cum if i don’t fuck her?” he teases as sigma rolls his eyes with a blush. “osamu.. please” you whine, looking back at him as he catches your jaw between his fingers.

“awww.. can’t refuse you when you ask me so nicely, belladonna. want me to fuck you stupid?” you nod impatiently, hand lazily pumping sigma as he watches the whole scene. dazai applies a sweet kiss to your lips, pulling away with a bite to your bottom lip. “only for you, pretty” dazai says with a wink as he parts himself away from you, slamming himself back into you.

soon enough your body shakes violently, as you yell his name. sigma takes a bolder approach, reaching for your face as he muffles your moans with a sweet kiss, tongue swirling against dazai’s previous bite. as you reach your high, dazai groans, gripping your hips tightly before painting your walls white with his thick cum, pulling out and watching it drip out from your aching hole.

your hand moves down to sigma’s dick as he whines against your lips, pumping his length before parting away from him “need you to cum too” and sigma bites his lip as you and dazai’s piercing eyes watch him. unfortunately for him, being watched only made his cock twitch in your hand as he gripped the sheets of the bed.

you got to work quick enough, kissing and licking at his sensitive tip as he begged for you to let him have it. his hips push up, fucking your fist as you chuckle, watching him rub himself in the palm of your hand “good boy, sigma. doing so well” and he whines, closing his eyes and throwing his head back before sticky ropes of cum shoot out from his mushroom-tip.

soon after you’re squished between the two as they kiss, praise and caress your body, taking care of you and making sure you aren’t hurting. sigma cannot stop thanking you, dazai cannot stop kissing all over you,, you’re so pampered, you’re their princess. until.. you know.. dazai decides to speak up.

“so… up for round two?”

“osamu, shut up”

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘? 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐁 𝐀 𝐏𝐕𝐒𝐒𝐘.

— top jjk pussy starved men.

— cw: fem!reader, cunningulus, cowgirl, monsterfucking, squirting, overstimulation, edging, nicknames, pure filth.

— a/n: this is dj khaled's worst nightmare ifykyk, sukuna's is nastier than your room where you're lying in your bed reading this rather than cleaning it.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

"atta girl. atta fucking girl!" satoru was so proud of you for riding his dick like it was your last. your body bounced on his, ass slapped so loud against his crotch that it was louder than the moans slipping from your lips.

gojo looked at you like a beast as he rested his shoulders and head on the bed frame, sitting up a little, making sure to get a good view. you made eye contact with him for a second and watched him stare at your pussy. he had heart eyes watching where you and him connected.

"getting tired, toru. nee—uh! need your help"

"aww princess. thought you'd never ask," his hands traveled your from your bent knees, to your thighs till they reached your ass and gave it a loud smack. you knew the consequences of asking him for help because this man won't stop until you've gone limp.

gojo grabbed a handful of your ass and used it to bounce you on his cock. his triceps flexed as bobbed you till your pussy stretched on his member. you watched as his tongue swiped against his lips and forged into a mischievous grin. his pace fastened and he hit your walls with so much force that it had your bed creaking and his ass levitate in the air for a millisecond.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck!! c'mon, baby. s—stretch it more. wanna cum in this—holy shit—cum in your pretty pussy."

"toruuuu," you cried as you rolled your head back in pleasure, barely keeping up with him.

"look—ahh how pretty she looks swallowing my cock in—goddamn! let's make her even prettier. let's paint her in my cum, y-yeah? fuckin—ahhhh! he moaned practically louder as he shot his load in you, his movements never stopping because he is a pussy starved whore. you could feel his trimmed white pubes stimulating your clit causing her to cum following his climax.

"fhuck princessh! huh! need m-more." you could barely comprehend his words because he was panting so much overstimulating himself. but he still craved for more, living up his pussy starved whore title.

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

"don't fuckin' move," his hand snaked tighter around your thighs.

"'s too much," you cried, fingers seconds away from tearing the bedsheets. toji had been eating your pussy for almost an hour. but the worst part was he hadn't let you come even once. the first fifteen minutes were fun but now it was plain torture. your pussy was so sensitive at this point that either needed to orgasm, or get the fuck away from the animal's face in front of you. is his jaw not hurting? you thought.

"toji, pleaaasee. lemme cum," you pleaded. his lips grinned against your pussy.

"wanna cum, yeah? do it yourself." he pulled away to look at your confused face. "grind this sweet pussy on my face, doll." you were scared he was going to pull something mean again. yet, you did it anyway because your brain doesn't work much when your pussy is hungry.

you were still in the same position, hips starting to jerk against his face. toji stirred his tongue out flat rubbing against your clit. with each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your high. toji felt it coming before you and to make sure he'd get to drink all your juice, he latched his lips on your pussy as you shuddered when you came.

"anh! anh! toji—ffhuuck!!" his teeth caused you to overstimulate and whine. your body trembled post climax for atleast forty five more seconds before your torso finally laid flat on the body. toji climbed up and peppered you in his kisses, lips covered in your juices crashing against your skin.

"ready for round two?"

"fuck off."

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

"can't fucking run away tonight, can you?"

you never thought you'd ever feel so helpless. sukuna had your wrists pinned abover your head with his two hands, the other two held your thighs apart so he can savour all of that pretty pussy.

his one dick teased your hole and the other rubbed between your asscheeks. you watched in horror as well as excitement as a big mouth appeared on his stomach. you knew he was a monster that could do things like this, but this was your first time seeing it upclose. the mouth grinned before a big wide tongue rolled out it, licking a long stripe that started from your pussy and ended on your tits. you were curious if it could go farther. it did. it forced his way meeting your tongue. but yours was so tiny compared to his, almost invisible under it's presence.

"go ahead. give it a kiss." he ordered.

your jaw finally relaxed as the tongue pulled out, a hefty amouth of saliva drenched your tits, you lifted your head up and planted a kiss on the edge of it. the tongue retracted, and you thought it was over. but it was a mere distraction as when you looked down, both his cocks had filled your either holes, the tip barely in.

"shit. need you more wet." he said before the mouth on his stomach spat on your pussy, your labia soaked as much as the bedsheets under you. the tongue massaged your clit, making you stretch and giving the monster in front of you an opening to attack your hole. sukuna bottomed out and you gasped in pain.

"kunaaaa! ahh—meanie."

"I had to, woman."

sukuna made sure to start with slow thrusts but when he felt your pussy getting used to the size, he started going more intense. he felt you shaking under him so when he looked down you were already cumming. with no second thoughts, he pulled out his cock, and his stomach tongue filled your pussy till the tip could feel your velvety walls.

"he is hungry. let him, sweetheart."

you came so hard that you vibrated against his big body. he felt it. you were about to squirt. sukuna lifted you up in the air so easily on his bigger tongue so that all your juices flowed directly on it and you watched. you felt so filthy but when you looked at him, he couldn't take his eyes off how your pussy juice created a small stream on the surface of the wide stomach tongue. you saw his neck bob as he was savouring the taste of you even though he never took you in his real mouth.

"mmhm. you're sweeter than i imagined." a new mouth appeared on his hand and licked away your tears. slowly, a few more manifested on his body.

"how about you let all my boys taste you?"

@osachiyo @hellkaiserinphoenix @audrinui @ilhvm @wifeyana @rizzmin @venusiansilk @suchawasteofagirl @blondieeu @lavalampfullofsoup @getoloverr @tojilvrs

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Holding hands .𖥔 ݁ ˖

☘︎ . . . genre. fluff

☘︎ . . . pairings. bakugou x fem!reader

⤿ yn has a habit of holding her friends hands except for bakugou.

⋆˚✿˖° j speaking . . .

- this has been in my drafts since November and I’m only posting it now🥲

-this is inspired by a wonwoo oneshot it’s from tiktok and the author’s name is serenedust_ you can check it out in tiktok, happy reading, my loves! <3

YN had this little habit—one her friends were well aware of. Crowds made her uneasy, and whenever she found herself surrounded by too many people, she’d instinctively reach out, intertwining her fingers with whoever was closest. It was a small, grounding gesture that helped her keep calm.

Her friends had grown used to it over time.

“Ah, the famous YN hand-holding ritual,” Mina teased one day, giving YN’s hand a squeeze. “It’s cute, you know. Like you’re our little comfort buddy.”

YN laughed, a little embarrassed. “I just… feel calmer when I’m holding someone’s hand. I’m weird, huh?”

“Nah, we love it,” Kirishima reassured her with his usual bright grin. “In fact, you’re welcome to cling to me any time, YN. A pro hero should be able to help out with stuff like that, right?”

Mina nodded enthusiastically. “Totally! Besides, it’s not weird if it’s helping you feel better.”

YN was grateful for their support. She knew they didn’t mind her habit, and that only made her more comfortable reaching for their hands whenever she needed it. But there was one person she’d never tried holding hands with—Bakugou.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. If she was honest with herself, she sometimes thought about it, imagining how it might feel to intertwine her fingers with his. But Bakugou was… well, Bakugou. He wasn’t exactly the “gentle touch” type, and she figured he’d probably find it annoying or weird if she reached for him in that way. So she always avoided touching him, keeping her hands to herself when he was around.

One day, as they sat together for lunch, Mina brought it up, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey, YN, have you noticed that you never reach for Bakugou’s hand?”

YN nearly choked on her drink. “W-What? I—uh…”

Kirishima chuckled, leaning in. “She’s got a point, you know. You hold our hands all the time, but not Bakugou’s. Are you scared of him?”

“Scared?!” YN stammered, her cheeks heating up. “I’m not scared of him! I just… I don’t think he’d like it, that’s all.”

Mina gave her a knowing look. “Oh, really? Because Bakugou here doesn’t seem like the type to get flustered over something as small as holding hands.”

“Shut up, Pinky,” Bakugou growled, though he didn’t deny it. His gaze shifted, and he avoided looking directly at YN.

YN could feel her face burning, but she quickly changed the subject, laughing it off. “Anyway! It’s not a big deal. I’m fine with holding your hands. It’s just… different.”

But her friends’ teasing lingered in her mind, making her hyper-aware of Bakugou’s presence. She had no idea that Bakugou, on the other hand, had been noticing her habit all along. He’d seen her reach for Mina’s hand, loop her arm with Kirishima’s, and each time, he felt an uncomfortable pang of jealousy. Why wouldn’t she reach out to him? Did she think he wasn’t as dependable as the others?

As much as he tried to brush it off, it bothered him more than he’d admit.

During UA’s annual festival, the crowded grounds buzzed with excitement. Class 1-A had been helping with setting up booths, and the noise and energy around them were overwhelming. YN could feel her nerves kicking in as they made their way through the busy festival.

“Whoa, it’s packed,” Kirishima said, glancing around.

“Tell me about it,” YN mumbled, trying to keep her breathing steady.

Sensing her discomfort, Mina grabbed YN’s hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Hey, remember we’re all here if you need us.”

YN nodded, grateful. They continued walking, and as the crowd around them grew denser, she instinctively reached out to grab another hand. Her fingers slipped through someone else’s, feeling warm and steady—until she looked up and realized whose hand she was holding.

Bakugou.

Her heart jumped, and she immediately tried to pull her hand back, stammering, “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

But Bakugou’s grip tightened, refusing to let go. His expression was calm, almost unreadable, but his gaze was intense as he looked down at her.

“Quit squirming,” he muttered. “If it helps you feel safe, just… keep holding it.”

YN stared up at him, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. “B-But I didn’t think you’d want to…”

“What, you think I didn’t notice?” he interrupted, voice a little rougher, though he wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You’re always holding their hands, but never mine. You think I’d mind?”

Behind them, Mina and Kirishima exchanged wide-eyed glances, grinning like they’d just witnessed the world’s biggest revelation. Mina’s voice echoed in a teasing whisper, “Ohhh, looks like someone’s finally holding Bakugou’s hand…”

YN was mortified, but Bakugou simply glared at their friends. “Mind your own business.”

They continued through the festival, YN’s hand still tightly wrapped in Bakugou’s. The warmth of his grip was both unfamiliar and comforting, and she could feel her anxiety melting away. For once, the noise of the crowd didn’t seem so overwhelming.

She glanced up at him, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Bakugou.”

“Whatever,” he mumbled, though his cheeks had the faintest hint of a blush. “Just don’t let go all of a sudden.”

Mina nudged Kirishima and whispered, “Think they’ll let go after this?”

Kirishima laughed quietly, giving her a playful nudge back. “Not a chance. I think we’ll be seeing a lot more of this.”

As YN walked with Bakugou, hand in hand, she realized she didn’t mind the teasing. In fact, she didn’t want to let go at all. And judging by the way Bakugou’s grip stayed firm and steady, he felt the same way.

Years into their careers as pro heroes, YN and Bakugou had seen more than their fair share of action and chaos. Tonight, however, was one of those rare, peaceful evenings, where the two of them could finally unwind together. They’d just finished a mission, and now they sat sprawled on Bakugou’s couch, swapping war stories over takeout.

As they relaxed, a comfortable silence settled between them until YN, lost in thought, let out a small laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Bakugou grumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing,” YN said, shaking her head with a smirk. “Just… I was thinking about that festival back at UA.”

Bakugou squinted suspiciously. “Which one?”

“The one where I, uh… accidentally grabbed your hand.”

Bakugou’s face turned pink, but he quickly masked it with an annoyed scowl. “Accidentally, huh? Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

“Oh, come on, it was!” YN protested, laughing as she nudged his shoulder. “I thought you were Kirishima! But then I looked up and realized it was you, and I was mortified. I was ready to disappear right there.”

Bakugou snorted. “Yeah, I noticed. Thought you’d drop dead from embarrassment.”

“Hey! You didn’t help by tightening your grip, you know!” YN shot back, giving him a playful glare. “You practically crushed my hand! What was that about?”

Bakugou shrugged, feigning indifference. “Thought you needed the support, or whatever. You looked like you were about to pass out.”

YN giggled, shaking her head. “Sure, sure, big tough hero just wanted to help.”

Bakugou cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… I was waitin’ for you to do it all damn year, you know. You’d grab everyone else’s hand like it was nothing, and when it was me, suddenly you couldn’t even look at me.”

YN blinked, surprised. “Wait, you… actually wanted me to hold your hand?”

“Tch,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “Why do you think I always stood next to you in crowded places? Wasn’t a coincidence, idiot.”

Her laughter softened into a warm smile. “So all this time… you were jealous?”

Bakugou shot her a glare, cheeks bright red. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy.”

“What would you call it, then?” YN asked, smirking mischievously.

“A strategic maneuver,” he said, nose in the air. “If you got anxious, it was only logical that I’d be the one to handle it.”

YN snickered. “Right, because nothing says ‘tough guy’ like hoping someone will hold your hand.”

“Oi!” Bakugou growled, though his expression softened into an uncharacteristic smile. “You’re lucky I let you grab it at all.”

“Lucky, huh?” YN teased, leaning into his shoulder. “Well, in that case, I guess I’m lucky you’re still holding it.”

Bakugou’s fingers intertwined with hers, his grip firm but gentle. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go getting sappy on me now.”

YN rolled her eyes but didn’t let go, letting the warmth of his hand remind her of that day at the festival—the beginning of something she hadn’t realized they both wanted.

And for the rest of the evening, every time she tried to pull her hand away, Bakugou would grumble, tightening his grip and muttering, “Strategic maneuver, remember?”

YN only laughed, realizing that some things really never change.

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