Dazai can never beat the high maintenance allegations. He needs you with him at all times. I mean what would he do without his belladonna, he's convinced that if you leave his side he'll die.
That also translates to the bedroom, his long slim fingers have to be on you during ever moment of your love making. He needs to know that you're real. But his way of always having his hands on you always ends up in you being oh so overstimulated. I mean you need to feel as good as you make him.
He loves when you orgasm. His mission every time you two have sex is to break the record of how many times he can make you cum. Not to even mention he has such a high sex drive. He needs sex like all the time. And oh boy his stamina you could be going for hours if you have the right amount of time.
Most of it is just him between your legs coaxing one orgasm after another. Once he's satisfied in how many times you've come all over his face then and only then will he sink his cock into you.
But if you think that once he comes inside you that you'd be done, you are dead wrong. I mean you made him so pent up with the sweet whines that came out of your mouth. So why wouldn't he need to cum 2-3 times inside you?
Hello ghost I'd like your hcs and thoughts on something
How would dazai react to his s/o dead from suicide?
(mainly out of morbid curiosity) but can you imagine how badly he would have taken it? Especially considering oda has technically killed himself as soon as he decided to fight gide.
oh, i am more than willing to entertain your morbid curiosity before bed because i think about this sometimes like a depressed psycho. let me add more to the pain: gn!reader was his fiancé and he found you. trigger warning, read at your discretion.
✝︎ when he walks into the bathroom, seeing you laying on the floor, he already knows - it doesn't stop the initial shock, even going into some denial despite it all.
۫ ׅ he shakes you, useless, but he can't rule out the possibility
۫ ׅ his hands tremble
۫ ׅ his eyes are already lining with tears
۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough time to get you to yosano
۫ ׅ he shakes you again - nothing
✝︎ when it hits him you aren't moving, not breathing, his gaze is scanning for the culprit - pills. the simplest way.
۫ ׅ "that's not fair, my darling. we were supposed to go together" - said while on the brink of weeping, unable to breathe properly
۫ ׅ he thinks he had done something wrong, even though he knew you were just as depressed as he was - he will now never get that reassurance
۫ ׅ brushes hair from your face - you're not even cold yet
۫ ׅ wonders if there's enough for him to follow you
۫ ׅ sits down with his back against the wall, staring ahead, zoning out, tears falling that he is unaware about
✝︎ stays in the bathroom with your lifeless body for a while, unmoving.
۫ ׅ his mind is blank
۫ ׅ his phone might ring, he ignores it - doesn't hear it, actually
۫ ׅ has fleeting thoughts here and there on where you got the medication to begin with
۫ ׅ how is he going to break it to your family, your friends, the agency
۫ ׅ should he follow you
✝︎ when he finally starts regaining consciousness, he just breaks down
۫ ׅ he lost another thing he wanted most
۫ ׅ feels hopeless
۫ ׅ believes he will never have the happiness he knows he doesn't deserve
۫ ׅ eventually screams when he remembers you're just lying there - you're there but not and it's driving him crazy
۫ ׅ clutches you in his arms and hates he can't hear your heartbeat
✝︎ he is internally fighting himself whether to follow you to the afterlife like he always promised or abide by oda's dying wish to be better.
۫ ׅ you made him truly feel he had gotten better
۫ ׅ you're gone
۫ ׅ oda's gone
۫ ׅ he misses you both so much already
۫ ׅ he wants to see you two again
✝︎ the neighbor finds him and has to call the emergency number to get the coroner.
۫ ׅ he won't let them take you - they had to rip him off your body
۫ ׅ threatens to crawl into the bag with you - the professional psychologist doesn't know what to do to help soothe him like they're trained to
۫ ׅ begs them to euthanize him - they're planning to admit him
۫ ׅ has to be held back from climbing into the back of the coroner's car
۫ ׅ kunikida somehow ended up there just as the doors closed and has to be the one to console him - he doesn't know what to say other than convincing them not to send him away
✝︎ he misses your funeral.
۫ ׅ he couldn't face your loved ones - he didn't have it in them to tell them he couldn't save you
۫ ׅ he sits at your grave in his suit he had prepared for the wedding that will never happen after everyone else has left and the sun is going down
۫ ׅ he tells your ghost you're selfish for making him love you then leave him
۫ ׅ he's jealous you get to see oda before him
۫ ׅ he sleeps there all night
✝︎ he never fully recovers
۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with sleeping around
۫ ׅ he doesn't bother with flirting
۫ ׅ he wears your engagement ring as a necklace
۫ ׅ brushes off any stranger that tries offering him consolation
۫ ׅ everyone at the agency is secretly on suicide watch rotation - he knows
✝︎ he never comes to a decision on if he wants to follow in your steps.
۫ ׅ you'd be waiting there for him to yell at him if he did - like a hypocrite
۫ ׅ oda might be disappointed too - like a hypocrite
✝︎ he hallucinates you.
۫ ׅ everyone just lets it happen - "he's going through the unimaginable"
✝︎ he isn't ever really the same, honestly.
۫ ׅ he'll never know why you did it - you didn't leave behind a note
these are just my headcanons on what he would do if someone he deeply loved as a significant other, so much so he wanted to marry them, committed. may be out-of-character, but a man put through the worst once already going through it again can only hold himself together so many times.
-ghxst
i love being sad.
dazai masterlist
tag list//: @dazaisfavoritemistake @luanniidae @starr3i
It's not unusual for DAZAI to tap away on his phone during work hours, so no one — except for Kunikida, who still hasn't given up on glaring — pays it any mind when his smirk widens at his screen. What remains a secret, however, is that he's not looking at some funny tweet but instead at your tits, the blue lace of your bra making for a pleasant contrast in colour.
He's awfully smug about the whole ordeal, really; also, who is he not to play along? He definitely sends you not only some appreciative words back, but also a picture of his own, featuring either his hands — he does know that you're quite fond of his fingers, after all —, his face — because you can never complain about that! —, or his by now half-hard dick, pressing against his trousers, even though taking soft nudes borders on workplace indecency. Oh, and your pictures are definitely saved and stored away on his phone for later usage.
[new message from Dazai] “someone's needy, harassing me during work hours! just kidding bella!! you're so cute xx stunning too! how am i supposed to listen to kunikida any longer when you're so so pretty? :( ill call out sick, be there in 20 x”
CHŪYA really doesn't expect to see anything but a picture of a dog you saw outside or of a particularly pretty flower when he spares a brief glance at his phone during a Port Mafia meeting. It's already disrespectful, though he doesn't plan on anyone noticing the miniscule action — that is, until he all but chokes on his coffee at the photo of you, legs spread wide, two fingers deep inside of yourself, wearing not only his favourite lingerie set, but also one of his ties.
He tries hard to ignore the way everyone stares at him when he, all too abruptly, excuses himself to the bathroom, his face bright red. In the safety of a stall, he really can't do anything but shove his trousers to his knees, one hand immediately closing around his dick while he types your number into his phone with his free one — and while he might snap at you, oh so flustered, he's also so damn turned on that he can barely focus on anything but the sound of your voice and your photo.
“Fucking Hell, babe—, God, with how Mori was looking at me, I bet he knew what was up. Fuck—, send me another one, please, I'm so damn close, ah—”
Business meetings aren't RANPO'S favourite way to spend time. They're awfully boring, making him huff and sigh when he has to sit through them — though this one gets a lot more interesting the moment he clicks on a text message from you. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of your panties, pure lace and hiding not even the slightest bit just how wet you are, thighs glistening, though that's about all the physical reaction he's going to show. The fact that his dick strains against his trousers is no one's business.
He is, however, quick to text you back, amusement dripping from his messages, and if Fukuzawa wasn't already watching him with sharp eyes, he'd sneak away to the bathroom to call you. For now, you'll just have to do with sexting — this meeting is going to go on for a while, especially if he won't soon start contributing, and he's unfortunately got better things to do.
[new message from Ranpo] “having fun without me? youre so mean. at least send me more pics im dyin g here... maybw bend over or— ooo i know, we bought that toy a while ago, right? why don't you use that one for me, doll....”
FUKUZAWA sucks in a sharp breath the second his eyes fall onto your form clad in nothing but one of his yukatas, and even though he attempts to remain calm, he's already blushing, arousal churning low in his stomach. Really, he was just trying to take a miniscule break from all the paperwork he's facing — besides, the cat ringtone signaling your message did sound rather urgent! —, though now he's not certain whether he can focus on it again.
He ends up typing “This is most inappropriate.” in response, though he never sends it, instead replacing it with a “You look stunning.”, only to never send that one either. In the end, he just quits work a little earlier that day and hurries home faster than he'd ever want to admit, cheeks still flushed with arousal when he joins you in bed, immediately slotting himself between your pretty thighs, long fingers spreading your folds apart and into your cunt to prepare you — only to realise you've long done that yourself. How convenient. He might reprimand you a little afterwards, though both of you realise it's not to be taken seriously. When he's honest with himself, he rather liked that photo — and he'll definitely keep it.
“That was awfully inappropriate. Darling, you know I enjoy getting to hear from you during the day, and yet — what? I didn't mind you wearing my clothing in the slightest. I was worried about someone from the Agency seeing the picture. In fact, wear my clothes again whenever you feel like it. Please do. You looked quite irresistible.”
It's almost unfair just how seemingly unbothered FYODOR is. When checking his phone during a Decay of Angels meeting, aware that you know not to contact him except for important reasons, he merely glances at the photo lewdly depicting your raised skirt and the curve of your behind before putting it back into his pocket. Really, it's downright adorable that you're attempting to tease him — you should know better by now, darling.
While he doesn't bother with a response, he certainly makes sure to pay attention to you when he returns home. And, oh, the next time you want to toy with him, he sure hopes you remember this very moment, of you bent across his lap, his hand coming down ever so often on your butt, on the soft skin of your upper thighs, making you cry out with every slap. The marks, at least, will serve as a nice reminder, especially when you keep forgetting to thank him for every hit.
“There we go, dear. Ah, ah — don't cry now. This is what you wanted, is it not? My undivided attention — and you certainly have it, now. Which number were we on again? Tell me, darling, or we will have to start over, I'm afraid.”
The second SIGMA spares a quick glance at his phone, only to stumble upon a rather revealing picture you just sent him — and, God, 'rather revealing' is an understatement when he's able to see just how wet you are, thighs spread for the camera —, his face heats up significantly, earning him some odd looks from the other men he's currently in a meeting with. In a desperate attempt to regain professionalism, he clears his throat, trying to simply continue, but it's as if every thought has been erased from his mind and was replaced by you.
When getting home that evening, he's calmed down considerably, cheeks still warm with the memory of you being this bold, though his sudden calmness might just change when you expect him in that exact same position, legs wide apart, the smile on your face teasing — and who is he not to end up on his knees in front of you, tongue flattening against your cunt while both of you let out breathy moans? In the end, he's all but begging you to return the favour.
“Ah, God, I'm close. At least finish me off, please—, you were really cruel today, dear. Make it up to me? Please? Oh, fuck—”
this is 100% self-indulgent because tell me why my job treats my shyness/ introverted personality like it's a disease? My boss moved me from my backend job to a fulltime customer facing position, kill me now
headcanons, not a oneshot
My works: enjoy
Bye now - Mars ♡
Osamu Dazai
Oh boy, he is a menace
But on the other hand, he is also so sweet to you
Loves to make you flustered with sweet words
Randomly whispering dirty things into your ears at the most random times of the day
The type to speak up for you if you don’t want to talk
Orders for you always
Lets you hide behind him, loves when you hold onto him when you get nervous
Knows when to shut up if you need quiet time
Doesn’t try to change you or make you “come out your shell”
Is very patient and kind to you and he understands your little cues like the back of his hand
He studies you like a book, learning all the subtle signs of overwhelm, or panic attacks
Adores your timidness
Always tries to make you comfortable and safe in new environments where he knows you’d be more prone to get anxious
His heart actually flutters when you tell him that he’s your favourite person to be around
He takes pride in that
Loves that he is able to recharge your battery. When you come home from work, tired and exhausted, you just crawl into his arms and bury your face in his chest as you recharge
No talking, just you both holding each other
You both have a scheduled hour everyday for just cuddling and no talking
Gets defensive when someone tries to make backhanded comments about your shyness.
DO NOT INSULT HIS PARTNER
He tones down his public affections if it makes you uncomfortable
But if you give him the green light, boy oh boy, he’s pampering you with kisses and hugs and practically draping himself over you
Loves loves loves to show you off, he does it in such a way where you don’t even realize he’s flaunting you
The sweetest, will reassure you that you’re not a burden and he loves to advocate for you
Will say something like, “I’ll be extroverted for both of us! >.<”
If your coworkers/ bosses try to push you to do something you’re not comfortable with, he will be making their personal and professional life hell but his sweet sweet belladonna would never know
He’s so sly with it, until one day you stop and realize people don’t demean or treat your naturally introverted personality like a disease anymore
Osamu be working overtime behind the scenes
In his mind it’s the least he can do since he’s been blessed to be loved by you
The type to admire your reserved nature
The only time he’d push you to speak up for yourself is when you both are having sex and he denies you until you tell him explicitly what it is that you want
Praises you when you finally build up the courage to say it
Then wrecks you thoroughly
Then pampers you with the most softest and sweet aftercare
And endless cuddles, you’re not leaving his arms until it’s waaaaaay past your alarm the next morning, and you both are running late for work
stalker!dazai, who disappears more frequently during work at the ada, not because he’s slacking but because he wants to know more about you. he learns your habits both inside and outside the agency, like how you organize your desk, which cafés you stop by after work or during lunch, which routes you take home, and which streets you avoid.
stalker!dazai, who observes you every day and takes note of your cute little habits, how you pick your lip when you’re nervous, or how you always wait outside the shower until it reaches the right temperature.
stalker!dazai, who takes photos of you when you think you’re alone, like when you’re brushing your hair, when you change your clothes, or while you sleep. he keeps them hidden, of course—at least for now.
stalker!dazai, who sneaks into your apartment when you’re out. his fingers glide across the hangers in your closet, humming softly while he steals one of your fresh shirts. he cuddles in his sleep with it so that your scent clings to him all night. it’s soothing to him.
stalker!dazai, who not only steals your shirts but your used panties, collecting them. lacy pairs, cotton, even the ones you think are unflattering—he doesn’t care. he buries his nose in them late at night and wraps them around his dick while he jerks off, murmuring your name while he pretends it’s you he’s fucking. he especially loves the ones you’ve just worn, but acquiring them is sooo risky.
stalker!dazai, who loves laying down in your bed when you’ve just left, your sheets still warm and your scent still clinging to your pillow. sometimes, he ruts against the mattress just enough so a bit of precum stains it. the idea of you sleeping in the traces of him makes him feel so giddy and overwhelmed with desire.
stalker!dazai, who also likes using your stuff, like your cherry-flavored chapstick, your favorite perfume, or the lotion you use. sometimes, when he notices you’re almost out of one thing, he leaves a small package in front of your door and rings the doorbell, excitement rushing through him when he sees the surprise and happiness on your face. he disguises it as freebies the stores send out.
stalker!dazai, who slips into your apartment at night like it’s his second home. he doesn’t need to hush—he knows you’re a heavy sleeper, knows exactly when your breathing evens out. he lets himself into your room, relishing in the quiet intimacy, the vulnerability of you curled up under the blankets, completely unaware of his presence.
stalker!dazai, who before he even touches you, more often than not, just listens. the rise and fall of your chest, the tiny sighs you make in your sleep. he traces the shape of your face occasionally, brushing a loose strand of hair away. sometimes, he even rests his head on your chest, letting your heartbeat lull him, convinced it’s proof that you already belong to him. why else would it calm him so much?
stalker!dazai, who crawls into bed beside you, pulling you flush against him. your body molds into his, warm and pliant, and he buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent with shaky sighs. sometimes he just stays there, hard and aching, grinding against your ass slowly until he cums in his own clothes. on bolder nights, he lets his hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, brushing your hardened nipples. he moves slowly, reverent almost, savouring every inch of your skin. he presses kisses along your jaw and neck, whispering “so perfect for me” even though you can’t hear it.
stalker!dazai, who eventually decides that just holding you isn’t enough anymore. he pushes your panties aside, fingers trembling as he finally slides into you, slowly, gently, careful not to wake you or hurt you. he moans into your shoulder to muffle the sound, your slick warmth making him dizzy. it feels right, like he’s finally where he belongs.
stalker!dazai, who always finishes inside, addicted to the way your unconscious body clenches around him, as if even your sleeping self knows to keep him close. when he pulls out, he watches his cum drip out of your pussy. in the morning, you wake up confused, wondering why your inner thighs feel so sticky, but you brush it off, thinking you must have had a fun dream.
stalker!dazai, who loves kissing you and marking you. you’re his, so why shouldn’t he let others know that you belong to him? besides, he adores those cute little sounds you make in your sleep, or how you whimper when he bites a bit too hard into your skin. he litters you with hickeys, sometimes where only he will know, like right under your jaw, high on your inner thigh, or at the curve of your hip where your underwear covers it perfectly. other times, he leaves them plain in sight, on your throat or near your collarbone, so you’ll wake up wondering, admiring, and tracing the bruises with your fingertips in the mirror, unsure of what happened or if you’ve hurt yourself somehow.
stalker!dazai, who grows more bold once he has memorized everything about you, how long you shower, and where the best hiding spots in your apartment are. he uses that to his advantage and wanders around in your apartment, simply listening to you humming under the shower or watching you while you change or cook, imagining you’re doing it all for him and him alone.
stalker!dazai, who finally starts leaving anonymous notes and polaroids of you sleeping or showering in your bag, on your bed, or on your desk at work. “you looked beautiful today.” or “you taste divine.” he enjoys you growing more paranoid and thinking twice about whether you locked the door or not. it makes everything just that much more intense.
stalker!dazai, who watches you get shakier each day, dreading going to work or falling asleep. your fingers linger over every new photo or note like you can’t believe they exist. he notices you jumping at shadows and growing restless in your sleep, having nightmares. instead of worried, he is thrilled, because the idea that you’re always thinking of him (or rather of a potential murderer) feeds his obsession.
stalker!dazai, who is ecstatic when you come to him one evening, feeling unsafe in your own apartment. trembling, you spill everything as tears well up in your eyes and you bury your face in his chest. he just hopes you won’t notice how fast his heart is beating right now and the small smile tugging at his lips. everything was going just like he planned.
stalker!dazai, who strokes your hair, cooing soft assurances. “how awful, bella… don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.” his voice is warm, soothing, laced with feigned concern. you cling tighter, soaking in the reassurance and warmth he offers, whispering, “...can i stay with you tonight?” and of course, he agrees, because what else would he say when you’re so prettily crying and clinging to him like this?
stalker!dazai, who when you finally relax against him and are almost asleep, dips his head low, lips brushing your temple, whispering almost too soft for you to hear “mine...” so you’re not sure if you imagined it.
stalker!dazai, who makes sure to keep you dependent on him and lures you further into his carefully crafted net of safety, because who else can you trust? who else can protect you? until one day, you won’t just be seeking comfort—but you’ll be trapped exactly where he wants you.
note.: i’m pretty sure some of ya all are gonna enjoy this (unless you’re not a freak as me) but yeah– just wanted to give you guys something before you starve and an update: i’m still working on some requests, an event, AND the kinktober fics so that’s why i’m not posting as much (not like i ever did lmao) i’m looking forward to october! ♡ ALSO, thanks so much for over 200 followers!! i’m definitely gonna do a 300 follower special! :)
↪thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! MLIST
𝒮ometimes you wonder where all your things go. You feel like your little trinkets vanish the moment you take your eyes off them for a second.
And, as you pull out the rest of your bobby pins to fix your hairstyle, a pin between your teeth to twist your wavy strands, your fingers come up empty. That little pearlescent hairpin, a daily companion to your hair, so ordinary that you’d bought it at the corner convenience store, has vanished. Your fingers traced the empty space across the cold, lacquered surface of the desk, searching for a trace of the pearlescent hairpin that had slipped away into the folds of your daily life without even bothering to say goodbye. You shrugged, convinced you’d misplaced it at the bottom of your bag or on the agency’s carpet. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It’s just a three-yen accessory, right?
You’ll never know how it ended up in his right hand, that same pin, hidden in the crook of his palm or tucked against the lining of his trench coat, right against his skin. In the sticky darkness of a Port Mafia basement, his wrists weighed down by reinforced steel handcuffs. Nor will you ever know the exact expression on his face,that wry smile, at once amused and strangely empty,as he deftly slipped it into the lock, freeing his hands before taunting Chuuya with an infuriating nonchalance. For him, it was a last-minute survival tool. But for you, it was just a mundane accessory that you
Osamu Dazai holds your hairpin against the lining of his coat. You don’t know that in the palm of his hand, hidden against his icy skin, it’s your hairpin that has just popped the lock on his handcuffs.
It didn’t matter. It was just a mundane, misplaced accessory that you’d lost without a second thought. You had a box of his pearlescent hairpins at the bottom of a drawer in your apartment.
But for him, as the handcuffs clatter heavily to the floor with a dull thud, that little pearlescent pin, which just a few hours ago brushed against your skin and held a piece of your everyday life, is the only thing that pulled him out of hell today. He picks it up carefully, slips it gently into the lining of his coat, telling himself that maybe he’ll give it back to you. or maybe not?
Deep down, there was something poignant and delightful about the idea that a fragment of you had witnessed all this, snug against him as he defied death by smiling into the void,and that you’d never know a thing about it.
Features that align with the average Japanese male beauty standard — youthfulness and androgyny.
Pallor. A somewhat sickly appearance, offset by a certain sleekness. Slight redness in the eyes and dark shadows beneath them from lack of sleep.
Dark, almost black eyes.
Clothing and Accessories
A rumpled trench coat. The hem is grimy and slightly torn. The model features a back vent and epaulette fastenings. The belt at the back is loosely fastened, creating a somewhat fitted silhouette. Several inner pockets are stuffed with all sorts of odds and ends.
A white shirt with thin blue stripes and a classic spread collar.
Bandages in less-than-ideal condition. Unable to change them daily, they have taken on a grayish/yellowish tint.
Classic trousers.
A wristwatch.
Low-heeled dress shoes.
Physique
An inverted-triangle silhouette achieved through shoulder padding. In reality, he is quite slender. The clothing compensates for his physical shortcomings.
