หโน เฃช ห maddieโ s!her. 9teen. college student. bsd enthusiast. go visit my primary blog โโด @mqdilen หหห if you love reading and any of the latter .แ๐นญ
heโs been staring at you for almost the entire meeting.
Dazai Osamu was a lot of things. through the handful of months you had been posted at yokohama's armed detective agency, you had become well-acquainted with the tall brunet and his eccentric ways. accountancy was a solitary profession that required little to no interaction with the agents; Kunikida Doppo, at most, if only to cross-reference your calculations with his own in that funny little book he kept.
but agent Dazai; you had no real reason to pay attention to him. your internship would end in two weeks, and off you would go to whatever firm would take you next. you had made it a rule not to get attachedโto be cordial, be polite, professional. gather up your experience like little gems collected on your journey, and move on.
it was what happened during your last stentโit was how this one would go, too.
except; his laugh reminded you of wind-chimes. he had this messy, unkempt mop of hair that curled softly around his features. that lopsided grin when he was trying to rile someone up. a lot of things that man was, indeed. Dazai Osamu was as much the reason you wanted to tear your hair out as he was the way you applied extra care to your makeup these past few mornings.
two more weeks, you would remind yourself when it got too much; when your heart sped up or your eyes instinctively looked for him over your computer screen. two more weeks, and you could leave this ridiculous office crush behind and move along on your professional journey, just as you intended to.
so why wouldnโt he stop looking at you like that?
note: a lil something ive been cooking up on the side!! itโs been marinating in my drafts for a while lolol but id really love to finish it <3 i canโt blame reader, i too, would have a whopping crush on this guy
เฑจเง. everyone had something to hide, you knew all too well. everyone had some sort of body they liked to keep in the closet. it was why you and DAZAI OSAMU worked so well, after all. no questions, no strings attached; a completely unprofessional relationship that consisted of heated looks and too many things always left unsaid.
. . . what is to become of you both, of this fragile tranquil you shared, when an overseas ability user shows you just how many of those bodies your superior had buried in his closet?
warnings: dazai x f!reader, original guild member character; robert lee frost (irl poet circa 1874), angst, hurt/comfort, f!reader, gifted!reader, shared baths, unresolved feelings, sexual content, sexual relationship, unprofessionalism (superior/subordinate), dazai doesn't respect boundaries (he barges into your bath), foul language, unrequited (?) love, praising ("good girl"), smoking, pretend drowning, post season one, w.c โ 7.2k
note: i wrote this a very long time ago. it was part of a massive mega fic i wrote for dazai when i was a teenager lolol. i think it'd be fun to rewrite one day, let me know what you guys think mwah mwah <3
now playing: cashmere cat โ trust somebody ft. selena gomez, tory lanez
The gallery was always vacant come this time of day.
It was the point of the evening where dusk and night collided in a burst of vivid oranges and violet splattered against the sky. People flooded into nearby train stations to commute from a long shift at work, all with their own stories, someone dear waiting for their return.
Perhaps that was why nobody sat on the bench beside the only spectator of this particular piece as he contemplated on its beauty. The pale white wall behind its canvas threw the whole painting into awe-inspiring focus.
THE LAMENT FOR ICARUS
Herbert J. Draper
Oil on canvas, 1898
"Beautiful piece," His sudden company mused when he took a seat near the edge of the bench. "Isn't it?"
Dazai Osamu didn't take his eyes away from the painting when he answered, voice light, "It is. A heart-breaking story painted so magnificently."
"Perhaps that's why it has a whole wall to itself."
"I wonder . . . "
Dazai turned to regard the stranger at his side. A poor description; no one was really a stranger to him in Yokohama. Except, this immaculate man who wore a suit of white and had hair akin to an ebony waterfall was no man regular to this city.
"You surely have come a long way to admire the artwork." He said to him through a lopsided grin.
The stranger mirrored his smile; a mischievous little upturn of his lips that hid everything he was feeling. "For a masterpiece like this? Why, I'd walk the globe to see it."
"Even for a facsimile? I hear the original is on display in Britain."
"And I heard the exhibition in Yokohama was truly an experience." Was the stranger's enigmatic reply.
"The Lament for Icarus," Dazai began to recount what he knew of the story. "A tale of a captured son and his father. In order to escape, the father came up with the idea to create wings of feathers and wax. Although he warned his son not to fly too close to the sun as they escaped, the son could not help his wonder," A pause. Heavy with thought. "Icarus flew too close to the sun despite his father's warning and suffered the consequences for it. His wings of wax melted into a heap that could no longer hold his weight any more, and he went plummeting to the earth."
"A sad story." His company commented.
"A moral which teaches human beings not to spoil righteousness with what they have, by desiring what they have not."
"Is that what you think?" The man asked him. His eyes were a bottomless colour of deep brownโso deep they almost looked black, when he turned around to Dazai with an urging hum. "I think of it as a love story."
Dazai's eyebrow raised. "Oh?"
"Icarus was so enthralled by the sight of the sun that he ignored his father's warnings and flew too close," The stranger's voice dipped, as if speaking about something grave. "His wings of wax were no match for the heat, but he did so, any way. Pushing closer until it eventually led to his end."
Dazai continued to regard the man by his side. He had an aura of mystery and an accent thick with routes of the west. "A love story doomed to calamity, hmm? How awful it is to be fallen for, then."
A pregnant moment. Then, a spark, an unsheathing of the metaphorical blade.
"I am no man to question another's limits when it comes to following their interests, but the art of Yokohama is not why you came here," The stranger steered his attention away from the art when Dazai said the next words slowly, "Respected Guild Member, Robert Frost."
"Are you always so sure of yourself?" The man; Frost, asked him, but there was a tremor in his voice that spoke of hidden amusement.
"No human is sure of themselves," Dazai mused. "But have the capability to convince themselves that they are."
"You speak as if you are not a human being."
"Now, that is a funny observation."
The painting depicted a grand angel with wings of burnt orange and brown, laying in the arms of those who sung his heart-breaking lament as he was swept away to the underworld. Quiet hung thick in the air; simply two men who didn't have the highest opinion of each other to an innocent by-stander. But the conversation was already taking place. One which used the shattering silence as its catalyst.
"Why [Name]?" Dazai asked him after a long moment. "Surely, the Guild can execute their plan using Atsushi-kun alone. A woman with an uncontrollable ability is bound to be too messy, even for you, to ensue chaos on the city."
"Ah, so that mind of yours is wicked, after all." Frost said through a breath of peculiar awe. "Is it difficult? To be cursed with such knowledge?"
Dazai chuckled at the question, parrying. The twinkle left his eyes, turning them a matte coffee under the sparkling gallery lights. "The mind is a curse. I would have thought the Guild had their fill placing a bounty over the head of Atsushi-kun. And now they wish to take yet another member of the Agency into their ranks. Allure for broken things is not their style," A pause. Realisation suddenly crackled in his mind. "Unless an operative of the Guild is not acting on standard protocol?"
Frost's hands, hidden behind gloves of white, came up in an open gesture of defeat. "You were not the first to break lovely [Name] out of my ability for no reason. Indeed, I sought her out purely on my own accord. The rumours of the lady with a broken ability were just too attractive not to buy into."
"That doesn't seem to be the case," Dazai cut him off with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "While I do accredit those who would travel the world for something they are interested in, travelling all the way to a foreign land relying on a simple rumour is not a risk the Guild would take." Frost looked to him, and when he did, he noticed that the colour of the Agent's hair was rather similar to those painted on the angel laying dead in the picture. Dazai lifted a hand hidden in bandages and traced something in the air, as if drawing his incomprehensible thoughts into focus. "No. It is not a risk someone attempting to stop the Guild would take."
At that, the pinpoint accuracy he has said those words in, emotion betrayed the cracks of Frost's face. Dark eyebrows lifted in surprise.
"Well, you would be no fun trapped in my ability!" He said through a disbelieved scoff. "It would be over before I even blink."
"Are you complimenting me?" Dazai chuckled. His eyes had tugged at the sides when he smiled. An unreadable one that could hold a light to Frost's own.
"You told me that the mind is a curse." Frost pushed.
"It is. And yet, it is that curse which will come together and fight to protect this city. It is also that curse which wonders why you have decided to betray your organisation, and why you believe our [Name] could be the one to stop them."
Frost turned away from Dazai's coy smile to admire the painting, suddenly contemplative under a passive expression.
"The Guild was magnificent, once," He reminisced, his mind drifting to someplace far away. "An organisation that promised of community and prosperity. That was why many of us were attracted to its membership in the first place. And then," Frost paused, eyes fluttering to the top of the staff he carried. "It was cursed. With ideas of greed and calamity. It's magnificence dulled by the want for power, territory and mostlyโfor prized trinkets."
"Prized trinkets." Dazai repeated, turning back to the painting. "Is Atsushi-kun what they think of as a prized trinket? Miss [Name], too?"
"No, but the city in which they live in is. At least, according to our Leader. And in order to obtain such a trinket, one must eradicate the forces that protect it."
"Ah, so pit the Armed Detective Agency against the Port Mafia in order to remove both organisations from the city?" Dazai's voice had an airy, impressed tone. "It's not bad."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it is what I would have done."
"During your time as a Port Mafia Executive, I'm sure."
Slowly, Dazai turned back to look at the man sitting next to him. The stranger to Yokohama who dropped by uninvited. Frost didn't take his gaze away from the artwork to see the dangerously probing look Dazai had to his eyes. Instead, his lips lifted into a smile.
"My ability, Mountain Interval, shows people the lives that they could have lived. Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect?" Frost didn't give Dazai a breath to answer. "Everyone makes choices. But nobody knows what choices have the capability to change their entire fate. And when somebody is trapped in Mountain Interval, it is as if they are living a completely different life to the life they would have lived if they didn't make that choice. Of course, the only way to break Mountain Interval, is to realise what choice that was."
Quiet. Perilous, teeth-baring. Frost took delight in the way Dazai's body had gone completely still with realisation, and went on.
"Through a probability of fate, lovely [Name] found herself assigned to a board of Port Mafia Executives in the middle of a perilous mission for wealth. It took her quite some time to figure out what choice she had made in order to bring her there. Although," Finally, his attention drifted from the piece to look directly at Dazai. "I'm sure you have already guessed what that choice was within the second I spoke of it. As, at the heart of it all, there seems to be you."
If Dazai did come to guess what choice his subordinate had made trapped in a world that showed her his Port Mafia past, he didn't show it. He didn't show any emotion on his face as he turned to look ahead and went silent. He looked just like he did when Frost approached him before they had this conversationโall the secrets of the world locked up in his head and his emotions so tightly restrained it was inhuman.
Frost wondered, just for a second, as he regarded the enigmatic Agent of the Armed Detective Agency, if there was a person in this world that he would let the reins on those emotions loose for. If the woman he had trapped in his Ability could ever have the possibility to be that important to him.
"Perhaps the leader of the Guild is akin to Icarus," Dazai suddenly said when Frost moved to get up. "Yokohama is the sun he can't have, but he'll attempt to fly towards it, any way. Casting the entire organisation into flames amidst the process."
Frost cocked a brow from where he stood; a step or two away from the bench. "You say humans are never sure of themselves, but you speak as if you are."
"And you say you would like to betray your organisation, but there is a vacant look to your eyes that tell me good is not the only thing you wish to do."
The conversation ended at the final tone in Dazai's voice. Frost closed his eyes and began to walk awayโthe sound of his shuffling steps and the constant clicking of his walking stick echoing against the walls of the gallery.
"I was pleased to meet you here, Dazai Osamu. Give my respects to lovely [Name]," Then, right before he exited the place through the quiet automatic doors, he promised, "I do hope I meet her again, very soon!"
The sound of his staff reduced to nothing and Dazai Osamu was once again, alone in the gallery. Nothing save for the silence that made his mind all the more deafening and the haunting angel-song of the painting that whispered throughout the air.
If someone were to tell you, days before your world was thrown upside down, that you would be relieved to be in the middle of the mess that was Dazai Osamuโs apartment, you would have laughed straight in their face. But now here you were, admiring the dust against his table-tops, the blinds you took an entire afternoon of your life to put back together and the empty mackerel tins like you had just stepped into a small corner of heaven.
Because you were home. This was your home. Every crack in the floorboards and dirty coffee cups were a reminder of the man that you shared it with.
But after what you had sawโthat Ability Guild Member Robert Frost trapped you inside . . .
You grumbled, shutting your eyes as if to dull an ache, and sunk into the hot water a bit more. He had a deep bath in his apartment, which was one of the few things you were grateful for amidst all the clutter. Bunking with your colleague was not easy. Bunking with your colleague who you were unrequitedly in love with was definitely not easyโbut there were reprieves. The warm water seeped into your muscles and threatened to send you to sleep as you tilted your head back, thinking.
Dazai should be back soon. He had promised not to leave for too long, heading out to do God knows what on a Sunday afternoon. You were wise not to keep tabs on your superior's endeavoursโbut the way you reacted when he shrugged on his jacket; the short stab of panic through your chest. You had not expected it, but he had seen it. And the way his eyes twinkled with mirth told you he thought you were finally putting you both out of your misery and inviting him to bed.
If only he knew, what you had saw. What you knew. Taste the panic on your tongue that screamed at you when he wasnโt there; what if he leaves, this Dazai Osamu you were falling so hard for, and you were back in that Ability? That you hadnโt really broken out, after all?
Business with a mysterious individual. I won't be too long, Dazai brushed you off before spinning on his heel and out the door.
A Port Mafia Executive.
Dazai Osamu was a ruthless Port Mafia Executive before he crossed paths with you.
It was the fact that took all of your attention. Of course it did, because it was the most startling. There were a lot of things you thought Dazai worked as before coming to the Agency, but hellโthe Agency's enemy never dared to cross your mind. And you hadn't been able to tell him, were afraid. There wasn't really a fitting way that you could drop a bomb like that in the middle of a conversation and not expect it to explode back up in your face. But the more this information sat on your shoulders, the more it threatened to eat you whole with a burning need to know.
You couldnโt even tell him you were in love with himโhow the hell were you meant to tell him that?
You placed your arms back into the water with a sigh. What were you meant to do with this? Some of it was so surprising that you weren't aware of how important it could be; Yosano, with a tether to the Port Mafia's Boss; Chuuya, with an ability he couldn't control and the possible key to yours; Dazai, with a life you wanted to believe wasn't a part of him, any more. You were still in the process of digesting it that you hadn't even thought about how to act, let alone who to speak to, first. Or why the city you called home somehow felt foreboding all of a sudden.
As if shadows lurked in the walls and waited to come out. Or, as if an evil bigger than all of you loomed at the horizon and threatened to throw the city into upheaved terror.
You didn't have the chance to be swept up by the sea of your overthinkingโa distraction barged into the bathroom, uninvited.
Quite literally.
A startled gasp bubbled from your throat when Dazai closed the door behind him and turned around. You didnโt even hear him come in!โhe always did walk with those weightless steps, erasing himself from existence everywhere he went. But now, standing there, he was a calamity. Something was swelling beneath the surface, you could tell, but your shock won out first, quickly chased by hot mortification.
โOh my GodโDazai!โ You shrieked, dipping down into the water so it reached your burning cheeks. โWhat the fuck!โ
He didn't answer you, which gave you immediate warning signals that something was wrong, very wrong. His eyes held you for a moment; flickered to the bath you were attempting to sink into as far as you could with your arms clamped against your chest, thinking.
His thinking stopped when he came to a decision and started shedding his coat off of his shoulders.
"What the fuck are youโ?" You watched as he bent to take off his shoes. Anticipation and nerves were a punching force in your throat. "Dazai." No answer as he attacked his other lace. You barked his name, "Osamu!โ
He finally looked up to you after throwing his shoes somewhere without a care in the world.
"Hmm? I'm undressing to take a bath." Both hands came to undo his waistcoat when he straightened, his fingers making quick work of the buttons holding it in place. "What do you think I'm doing, love?โ
Love. Red washed over your skin at the two ideas attacking your mind right then, all at once. One; seeing Dazaiโyour superior, your roommate, the man of your most intimate desiresโwithout his clothes on, and two; having youโhopeless romantic, desperately piningโwith him in a small bathtub where you also donโt have your clothes on.
Fucking say something!
"N-No," You said, but your voice was a little strained. Dazai locked eyes with you as he undone the first button of his shirt, and you had to fight before the intense deep brown of them drowned you whole. "No, no, no!โ
"No?" He opened another button. "Whatever do you mean?"
The part of you that roiled in bed at night, imagining your fluttering fingers on your body as his own was screaming at you. It was begging you to let him join, to see all of that clothed skin you craved so desperately, to explore it wet and bare. But this was so quick, so out of the blue. You had been in love with this man for months; you werenโt ready for something to happen so suddenly. There was something wrong. You knew your superior a lot better than he gave you credit forโand that unhinged emotion in his eyes you couldnโt place, it frightened you. For him.
โWhat the hell is your problem? Youโre not getting into the bath with me!โ You protested, but your mouth was dry and it came out a little weaker than you would have liked.
Suddenly, his fingers paused on the third button of his shirt at your denial. "Are you saying that you won't let me bathe with you if I remove all of my clothes?"
Love. Remove all of his clothes. Your heart was slamming against your ribcage. โYes! Get out!โ
Three quick steps that you only had to blink to miss and he was already at the edge of the bath and swinging his leg into the water.
What is heโ! You shrieked his name, but he didn't heed. Not until he took both of his legs that still had his pants on, for God's sake, and sat in the water on the other side of the bath. Liquid sloshed over the sides at the added weight. He adjusted himselfโlegs awkwardly shoved beside your body that you plastered against the bath wall and arms on each ledge.
You were so speechless that it took you a moment to find any coherent words.
And they were;
"Are you nuts?!"
He grinned. It was oddly forced, only you could notice. "Rude. What do you think?"
"You just," Your eyebrows crashed together, eyes flying from his face to his body rapidly. Anger and shock kept ebbing on the surface of your faceโneither one staying for long enough. โYou justโwhat the hell, you're still in your clothes."
"You told me that you would not let me in if I had no clothes on," He rested his head against the back of the bath. His neck muscles moved underneath his bandages when he drawled, "But said nothing against me having them on."
You tried to meld yourself against the cold ledge, snarling. Stupid brunet and his talent to reason himself to correction, every single time. You hated him, you loved him; they eddy together into a colour you canโt explain. Part of you wants to give him a kick and scream bloody murderโhow dare he invade your privacy so obtusely? But that other part; that damned complicated part, it somehow relaxed at the thought of your superior seeing you this vulnerable. As if the leap in your relationship would open some metaphorical new door.
Stupid girlโwhat was he even doing, really? Trying to kill you? Is that what he was doing?
"I had an interesting meeting today," He suddenly spoke up, his voice tight and blunt. Less musical than you know him for. "We shared a similar appreciation in art."
"Did you?" You asked him, your own voice so embarrassed it was hoarse. "Did he tell you to try and ruin the bath of the closest woman you could find, too?"
"No, but he did tell me a peculiar story of a woman he trapped in his Abilityโof a life she could have possibly lived."
Snared.
Caught.
He knew.
You cleared your throat, taking a moment to form the words, โHe didn't happen to have two soul-sucking eyes, a white suit and a bird sitting on top of his head, did he?"
"The suit and eyes? Yes. The bird?" Dazai raised a brow. "Unfortunately, no."
"Damn. The bird was the only redeeming thing about him," You muttered. Then, took a deep breath. "Dazai, I was going to tell youโ"
"Were you?" He sang, but it wasnโt playful, it was the start of a lament.
โI just didn't know howโ"
"Were you scared?"
It was enough to force your own words back into your mouth, the way he had said such a thing. It was like a whip, quick and impactful.
Were you scared?
Of me?
It suddenly fell into place.
The urgency, the barging in uninvited, the dark storm underneath the surface of his composed expression. He was always the jokerโhe wore a smile so bright it was too perfect to be real when he teased Atsushi during work hours or flirted with the waitress in the Agency Cafรฉ. But you could see the fissures, you always picked out the tells he thought no one else could. And this little episode of his, it wasnโt you he should be asking that question to.
It was him.
He was scaredโunder all that bravado. Your superior was scared of what you had saw in an Ability world which showed you his past. What life would have been in the present if he had stayed with the Port Mafia; how cruel and wicked and empty he would have become, because of it.
It broke you. It emboldened you, all at once.
Slosh, slosh.
Dazai felt the water shift, lapping up against the sides. Rarely did the man not know what he was doing. His mind was honed like a whip, a dangerous blade, once used to destroy and decimate. But you knewโ you had been shown who he really was by that Ability. He had never meant to keep his crimes from youโbut, perhaps, he had grown comfortable. With the snide comments, the gentle jabs, the drinks you shared from his dirty glasses.
He had grown comfortable to the peace of youโyou stilled his mind, you made him forget.
But now, the little charade was up. You had seen how broken and dirty he was. Youโd throw him away like everybody else; a filthy, too-used rag.
Slosh, the water moved again, but this time with added weight. Then, a presence, a warmth. Dazaiโs eyes flickered open, only to dart to your hands suddenly outstretchedโreaching for him. They didnโt stop and he didnโt make any moves to deter them, letting you shift closer until both your hands rested on his damp shoulders.
You were moving towards him in the bath. Overcome with the desire to touch him, to ground him. It was entirely not like you and borderline mad to lift your body out from the water, to show this man your most vulnerable state when you swore youโd always keep this love for him buried, never to be said. And yet, you found yourself willing to do anything to make him smile, to reassure him that he wasnโt the mirage you sawโthat you knew he had become a new man, a better man.
You were in too deep, already.
Dazaiโs unreadable eyes darted to yours when you moved to straddle him underneath the water; soft skin against his wet clothes. They held questions, so many questions, the light twinkled back into them a little bit more.
You worried your lip between your teeth and his eyes flickered down, fixated there.
Maybe he was in too deep already, too.
โI donโt think,โ You whispered, voice low and feathery. Fingers curled into his wet shirt. โI donโt think I could ever be afraid of you, Osamu.โ
Osamu. He stared at you, and stared, and stared. As if looking at an art piece from the gallery, as if you were the most beautiful thing heโs ever seen. He didnโt let his eyes fall lower to your naked torso, nor did he bring his hands to cradle your hips as you sat in his lap.
He had to know. โWhat if I said you should be?โ
You quirked a small ghostly grin. โ. . . Then Iโd say, when have I ever taken orders from you, my shitty superior?โ
He couldnโt understand youโhe never could, right from the day you took your entrance exam. Dazai couldnโt predict how you thought. Perhaps, thatโs what made you so exhilarating, like an honest breath of fresh air. He felt the anxiety ease in his chest; the embers stayed, glowing, ready to consume him. But your fingers held onto his shoulders so tightly and your eyes wouldnโt stray from his own no matter how red your cheeks had become.
Right now, he didnโt ask questions.
Slosh. He swayed his body forward, completely on instinct.
And stopped, right before your lipsโletting you pull away, asking, begging. Dazai could feel how your breathing hitched so softly, coming out in puffs of air against his mouth.
"You do not want me." He said, and it almost shattered your naked heart. His eyes were hooded and heavy. "Do not be fooled; that person you saw, he is still with me. I am still him. Nothing can erase the stains on my soul."
Your hands moved from his shoulders to fist into the hair on his temples. "You are not that mirage. Your past does not define you, Osamu. I have seen all the good you have done for the Agencyโthat is not something a person incapable of change would do."
"Tell me to pull away." His lips were so close to yours, you could taste the bite of cigarette smoke. Liar. He told you he would quit. But perhaps addiction was all this was; making your mind eddy of all coherency and rationale.
Kiss me.
Kiss me until I can't breathe.
"Are you sure you want me to?" You challenged, the air charging. Hot. Electrifying. The type of surge you could feel when he caught you staring in the Agency offices, and didn't look away. "You are human, after all. What is that bullshit you always say?" His hands twitched, shoulders wound as tight as a bowstring. When you smiled, it was lopsidedโa stupidly lovesick expression. "That humans are never really sure of themselves?"
His ochre eyes flickered across your face. He was trying to read you. You begged him for once, for once, to let you in. To peek through the fissures you could see so expertly and glimpse who he was at theโ
Dazai surged forward, crashing his lips onto yours.
It was cataclysmicโhe moved like he needed you, the bath water lapping up and over onto the tiles as you joined. His kiss was so sudden that you froze, gasping against his mouth, the air squeezing from your lungs. You felt his hands grasping for you, desperate, almost clawing. They gripped the small of your back just where you straddled him and pulled you so impossibly close.
Holy shit.
This was happening.
The match has been struckโand you both caught flame, burned, like two tragic, collapsing stars.
Dazai must have felt your spine snap taut at the intensity of his pursual. He had rushed you like a starving man, after all, gasping for that tiny morsel of air. He softened around you, letting you go just so, but still keeping you encircled around the waist. He had pinned you down like a hunter would a butterfly by her wings, afraid, terrified you'd flap and fly away.
Parting your mouths. Waiting. Eyes colliding, bodies swaying forward to kiss again. And again. There were so many things you both left unsaidโbut that did not matter. Right now, Dazai felt as if he was as close to dying as he would ever feel, that if his lips were off of yours for more than a second, this reality would collapse in and unto itself.
โMiss [Name].โ He rasped between breaths. Before completely stepping off the cliff. โPlease, tell me to stop.โ
You fisted your hand into the back of his hairโpulling so his head would crane to look at you. You were done denying this thing between you, it was too far gone. The both of you were too far gone, and you did not fucking care.
โFor once, Osamu, shut your mouth.โ
You came crashing down on-top of his infuriating little smirk.
Mouths and teeth clashed together, some parts a snarl, some parts a feral bark of relief. You moaned into the kiss, feeling a pool of heat punching desperately low in your gut. Especially when Dazai tilted his head, slipping his tongue shamelessly between your teeth and invading your mouth so delightfully. He lapped and kissed at you, intent to taste every single inch of you. You felt his hand cradling the back of your neck, rubbing soothing circles, easing the tension from your shoulders and making you melt into him.
Holy God, he was good at this. You didnโt have the time to wonder how many women he had taken to bed to learn all of his tricksโand you did not want to. Not now. Not when your naked core rubbed against his wet pants under the water.
He noticed your hips attempting to move. The water was sloshing and lapping with your ministrations. His hum was like honey across your skin, invading the cavern of your mouth and dancing down your spine. Fuck, you were so, so hot. You did not know if it was from the bath, or the steam, or the way every single nerve fibre ignited like a crackling firework. You were completely at his mercy. It was mortifying, really, how easily you bent your spine into him, how you keened.
Dazai seemed pleased by how soft you had become in his hand. Good girl, you wanted him to praise you, and almost slapped yourself for thinking something so depraved.
But then, he planted a firm grasp on the wet skin of your hip, guiding you to grind down against him. Hard. And all self-bereavement went flying out the window.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, you gasped, maybe you said it. Like your own lament before you sunk into death; yes, Osamu, yes, yes, oh my Godโ!
Teeth biting. Fingers digging, scratching, pulling each other so achingly close to relieve the months of agony you had put yourself through. You almost cried with pleasure when he raised his hips to meet your intensifying grinding, the stiff seam of his zipper hitting against your clit every single thrust.
โOsamuโfuck . . .โ You snarled. There was a dreadfully playful look to his eyes; pupils blown wide as he watched you grind against him. โYouโIโ!โ
โI think I remember you telling me to shut my mouth.โ He purred, voice like treacle. He reached around with his other hand to grope at your slick breastโkneading, working you like a divine harp only he could play.
The bandages, the friction.
You were about to loose your fucking mind.
โNow, why would I deny such a pretty ladyโs request?โ
You hinged your mouth open when the coil in your belly tightened, tightened, pulled so taut you were very sure you were about to implode.
And just when you got there, tittering on the knifeโs edge, did he slow his ministrations underneath you.
You could have bitten his gods damned fingers off.
Protests flew to the tip of your tongueโhot and causticโbut the words died when you felt a different kind of pressure there, instead. The hand on your hip has disappeared underneath the water and between your legsโmassaging, thrumming, your clit so overly sensitive that you couldnโt really parse what he was doing, but just knew that it felt so damn good.
This man; he was going to be your undoing. You had signed your death warrant now, but you didnโt care.
His lips came to your earโthe air sending shivers down your spine when he whispered, โTell me what you need, [Name]. My beautiful [Name]."
Oh, he was going to make you beg. You hated him. You would burn everything that attempted to take him away from you.
โIโahโI need . . . !โ He switched his pace, using his thumb to rub circles over your clit while his index slid against you, curling, teasing.
โHmm?โ
โShit!โ
โOh, I donโt think thatโs right.โ
โFuck you, Osamu.โ You gasped. He increased the speed of his fingers. โFuck you! Iโve always fucking needed you! Please, let meโ!โ
He snapped his fingers up into you, hot and hard. His hips canted, pressing you into all his sturdy linesโyour nipples, your skin, all rubbing and grinding and his mouth was on yours again, andโ
He bit down hard on your lip, and you saw white.
A spine-shattering orgasm ripped through your body. You bowed forward into him, and he held you close, breathing in all the sighs and shouts that tore from your throat for him. Broken, wounded versions of his name. You were so, so beautiful. He touched you like he would the petal of a flower but with enough force to never let you go. Dazai felt you tighten, fluttering around his long fingers so hard he knew how intense the orgasm had been. Then, you relaxed. Collapsing into him as if someone had cut your strings.
You breathed hot and heavy into your superior's neck. Into the damp bandages and soft curls of mahogany hair. There was foggy bliss for a moment. Nothing existed, nothing else mattered except the pulsing flutters of an orgasm settling all over your sweating skin. You felt like you were glowing with a fine layer of starlight, of pure, smouldering sparks.
A rock hit the bottom of your stomach when you came toโrealising what had happened, who had happened. You straightened up to straddle your current superiorโfuck, fuck, your mind started reeling, your breasts rising and falling rapidly when you realised you had walked right over the edge. The professional boundary was crossed. You would never go back, never return to just those heated looks across the Agency floor as co-workers, roommates, and nothing more.
You waited for the panic to come. The fumbling of your legs as you jolted out of the bathtub, never looking him in the eye again.
But it didn't.
Sharing a thousand unsaid confessions, you and Dazai stared at each other. It was the most disorientated you had ever seen your superior; his lips a little raw, eyes leaping with an untamed heat that you felt in your stomach. Breaths, in and out, in and out, a shared thing between you both. A secret. Some messy, dangerous formation of a promise.
Air caught in the back of your throatโand suddenly, it was laughter. Fucking hell, you were giggling. Like a damn schoolgirl. And it didn't stop. Tiny hikes and hitches of your laughs filled the bathroom air. You brought a hand up to cover your mouth, abashed.
You did not catch itโhow could you, so caught up in what had happened and how mortified you would feel about itโbut the sound of your peal of perfect giggles brought mirth to Dazai's dark eyes. You were sunshine, cradled here on his lap, covering your blushing cheeks with ashamed fingers. Always so bright, blinding, something he wanted to pocket in a small jar and keep on his nightstand.
He wanted you all for himselfโhe would stain you. He would eclipse the radiance that almost made it painful for him to touch you.
What an awful thing he was, then. A true rejection from humankind. He didn't care. Right now, he knew he'd corrupt you, and still, reached out to brush a strand of your wet hair behind an ear.
You peaked up at him, surprised. There was a warm expression softening all the lines of your superiors' face. It reminded you that he was still only a young man.
"You have such a beautiful laugh." Dazai said, his eyes unfocused. Elsewhere. "Have I ever told you about the first time I heard it?"
"No . . . " You answered. Curious as to where he was leading. "Humour me."
He chuckled. "Clever. It was during your first week, when we had all gathered to get to know you better after the Entrance Exam. Kunikida-kun had embarked on a lengthy explanation of what he expected from an ideal wife. All fifty eight points, I believe!" A pause, his lips curving impishly. "I remember how you allowed him to finish, listening with rapt attentionโbefore completely laughing in his face."
The memory was distant now, months and months into the past. You remembered thinking how absurd the Idealist had sounded with his demands of a perfect woman that would have the honour of being his wife. Shock had winded you so bad that you have barked out laughing right in your new colleagues face only on your second day.
Dazai's expression beamed. "It was glorious, Miss [Name], to see how red his face became. I think that could have been the moment where I fell madly in love with you, you know?"
He was teasing you. But the words set off a riot of butterflies in your chest, regardless. A silly part of you wanted to immortalise his voice saying those words and play it over and over again, to listen it so much that the dangerous four letter word made little sense.
You smirked, pushing at him playfully. "Liar. You're just stingy because I never laughed at your stupid jokes."
"You were a serious nut to crack! I honestly thought you would hate me forever, for no reason! Ah, but I sliced through you valiantly, in the end. Who knew you had a soft spot for toilet humour?"
"That's because you made a poop joke while we were in the middle of a critical government meeting and Kunikida-san cracked his pen in two."
"You! Still! Laughed!"
"Whatever, idiot." You scoffed, rolling your eyes. The banter settled, fizzled into something pregnant. Golden and vulnerable.
" . . . Osamu." You corrected, voice so soft it was like the beat of a butterfly wing.
Dazai didn't bother to hide how he reacted to his name shaped from your mouth. It made him rear up with possessive pride. Osamu, spoken like an angel's song. Only for your voice. He had to manufacture up a reaction for how that made him feel, in the future. But right now, it was just you, and him. A man and a woman. A bathtub, suspended in time.
If only you could both stay here, basking in the innocence of this moment, forever.
He had indulged himself, perhaps too much.
It was time to step back into reality. He was good, however, at dressing it up in ribbons and bows.
"What's this?" Dazai looked behind you suddenly with a slack-jaw. He gasped, over-grandiose. "Is that a vessel coming our way? One which could crash into us if we don't dive now!"
Your eyebrows dipped. Whatโ?
He was quick to suddenly grab your ankles and yank! until you were slid onto your back, splashing suds and soap all over the bathroom floor.
"You must go underwater, beautiful siren, or they'll see you!"
"Osamu!" Your arms shot out to brace yourself. You were laughing deeply because of how stupid he was being. "Hey, stop!"
The water sloshed about as he braced himself over you. He brought your faces close, his lashes long at this level and his voice a dark whisper. "I'll protect you, don't worry. They'll never see you~"
You pushed at his chest. "Get off of me, you big moron."
He gasped. "You'd push the man risking his life to save you? How cruel!"
"Not when the man is trying to drown me in his bathtub!"
"I'm doing no such thing!"
"You're so goddamn heavy I think you might!"
His eyes cast up. "Ah, Belladonna. Your beautiful voice has attracted them. Quick! Take me under the water while you dive. I'd gladly die a watery death with you."
You laughed again, high and stomach-aching, when he tried to bring you under the water, once more. Slapping your hands about and catching him in the face at one point. His bathroom surely was soaked by the end of it, and so was he. But you were laughing too hard to care and there was so much bath water in his hair he looked like a soaked puppy.
Perhaps it was a trick of the water when your ears became logged by the end, but you were very sure you heard the deep throng of his laughter, too.
The rare one you didn't hear a lot of the time.
His heart-shatteringly real laughter.
note: it was so fun to revisit this fic. it was a canon-divergent fic where reader became an armed detective agent and ended up living with dazai (because fuck company policy, i guess LMAO). jk atsushi took the last dorm so she was housing with her superior for a little while. i am a big fan of robert frost and his poetry, he became a character in part two of this fic series, but ofc he was a real author as is the bsd characters and his ability mountain interval is based on his collection of poems published in 1916. as described, he trapped the reader in a divergent life she could have lived if she didn't make that choice which changed the entire trajectory of her life (and Dazai's!). lmk if you guys would like to see more of this fic series or snippets of it. its v fun to see how much your writing evolves over the years and breathing life back into something u love so much !!
โงห๊ฐ๐ฉน๊ฑเผโงโ nsfw โน เฃช ห oddly specific sex thingsโdazai x fem!reader โ chuuya ver here
making you gush after your orgasm. after your orgasm rips through you, leaving your pussy clenching and fluttering in hypersensitive spasms, he doesn't stop right awayโinstead, he keeps you spread wide and ruined, softly kissing you at as he starts tapping his fingers lightly against your swollen clit and soaked folds, each little smack sending jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your overstimulated nervesโforcing fresh, uncontrollable gushes of your slick to squirt out in messy sprays that soak his hand and the sheets beneath you. he loves the way your hips jerk and your thighs tremble uncontrollablyโit's either his fingers, or him rubbing his sensitive, leaking tip up and down your puffy slit, smearing your cum and his all over your abused hole before slapping it firmly against your clit a few times, the wet, filthy sounds echoing as it makes you gush even harder, your pussy lips parting obscenely with every sensitive twitch and spurt as he circles his cockhead right over your hole without pushing in, teasing the raw nerves until you're sobbing and flooding again.
kissing you through your orgasms. the moment your body shudders, he pins his hips flush to yours, and instantly his mouth is on yours with a hard, wanton moan. you come up for air? he drags you right back down. your lips get swollen, slick, red. your tongue slides against his with sloppy, wet sounds as his hips stutter against your soaked thighs. his teeth catches your lip lightly, pulling a bit before letting it go with a gentle smack. and as the peak drags out and your body starts to melt, his kisses slowโturning languid and indulgent, soft plush lips sucking gently at yours, still buried to the hilt inside your pulsing heat while he savors every aftershock. he might not admit it but he needs it. he needs your mouth on his.
fucked out under your touch. he's fucked silly, fucked you silly, and god does he get so pretty during and afterโhis eyes get glassy, kiss-bruised lips parted as he pants prettily above (or under) you, body twitching with aftershocks. his hair is damp with sweat, his bangs are out of his face, strands clinging to his templesโand he just looks so beautiful. it's so obvious how pussy-drunk he isโhis pupils are blown, his face flushed a dewy red, and his eyes gleam with lust and something more. you stare up at him dreamily, taking him in. his long lashes flutter as he tries to compose himself under your loving gaze, heat creeps up his neck as if it's too much for himโhe tries not to fuck your snug walls again because you're still sensitive, but his hips always betray himโhe'll end up grinding his cum deeper into you until it's dripping out around his cock.
hands on the mattress. you have a thing for his slender, pretty hands (don't we all.)โthe way they look so elegantly long and graceful, yet hold surprising strength, veins subtly tracing beneath his skin, hands that make your pulse race every time they brush your body. he knows, you know he knows. so he uses them. during sex, his finger teasingly sneak up your palm before lacing them together in that possessive, intimate grip. he grinds your joined hands slowwwly into the mattress with every snap of his hipsโhis bony digits squeezing yours while your walls clench around his cock. if he's taking you from behind, he drapes himself over you as his fingers trail along the back of your hand, before they wove though yours as his lips seal over your neck. he lives for the sensationโthe way your hand tightens in his as each wave of pleasure blooms through you, nails digging into the back of his, or the way your grip loosens afterwards when you feel relaxed, thumb rubbing little circles over his skinโall makes his chest tighten.
not pulling away from your pussy. there's this thing dazai does when he's desperate and eating you out. he doesn't pull back. like, at all. his moans vibrate straight into your throbbing clit, low and filthy that make your hips buck against his mouth, the wet, obscene sounds of him sucking and slurping mixing with your desperate cries. even when he gets too carried away, his breaths coming in desperate, high, overwhelmed puffs, lungs burning for air, he doesnโt pull away an inchโhe presses his nose harder against your mound while his hot exhales fan over your dripping cunt. the relentless vibrations from his groans send shockwaves through your core, pushing you closer to the edge as he devours you messily, tongue fucking into your tight hole and lips sealed tight around your swollen clit, refusing to stop until youโre shaking and gushing all over his chin.
"shutting" you up when you get too loud. not because he doesn't want to hear youโit's simply to feel your moans, to make you lose itโhe crashes his mouth over yours in a filthy, desperate kissโwet, sloppy, and deepโtongue fucking into your mouth while his cock drives into you harder. spit slicks down your chin as he swallows every whimper and cry like heโs starving for them. or he slides two fingers past your lips, forcing them deep onto your tongue while he rails you. you suck, moaning loudly around his digits, drooling on his knuckles, eyes rolling back as your cunt clenches around his cock so hard it makes his pace falterโhis fingers thrust in time with his cock like heโs claiming both your holes at onceโit never works though. every attempt just gets you louder, wetter, filthier. and maybe.. that's the whole reason he does it.
breathless laughs. there's this point when you're having sex, and he's seeing stars. especially if you're riding him like you're trying to suck his soul outta his cock. your hips lift and slam down into him, taking his cock over and over before he can even register the thursts, soft thighs tight around his waistโmoaning and babbling his name repeatedly like he's something holy. and oh, he's memorized. so much that eventually he just gives up on trying to slow you down or worse, hold himself back and keep up his mask. he throws his head back onto the pillow, running his hand through his messy locks, letting out this breathless, delirious chuckleโlike he's in heaven and is getting his blessings, "fuuuck 'bella, you're so good, so fucking good-", it doesn't take long before he follows it up with another chocked, drawn-out moan that makes heat pool deliciously in your tummy. you swear you could cum from his voice alone.
โก๐ึผ ึถึธึข.
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ยฉ mouthfroth โ all rights reserved. Do not feed my work to ai. do not translate or repost my work on any platforms without permission or proper credit.
i just played saihate station and i got literally the worst ending (ending a) and right after that i got the true ending (ending z) AND OH MY GOD this game is so beautifullly made!! iโll definitely try to get the other two endings as well, but i gotta sleep first unfortunately. but the artstyle, the story, the characters, AND THE MUSIC??? everything is sooo damn pretty ๐ญ bdbs8sb8snixnd
if you enjoy some minor horror and enjoy themes like obsessive love, salvation, guilt, and just general themes of depression (iโd so say, at least) then this game might be for you! itโs free to play, as well :)
