── ★ 𝐈 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍

WHAT YOU NEED; A RUINATION

[ nsfw ] — smut (18+) ; bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 7,149 — read on ao3

tags: shameless smut, rough sex, established relationship, aged-up characters, oral sex, vaginal sex, explicit language & sexual content, praise kink, dirty talk, domestic fluff

summary:

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this.

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Or, in which Bakugou Katsuki is the one ruining you, yet also the one being ruined in the end.

The bedroom is dimly lit, bathed in the soft golden hue of the bedside lamp. The air is warm, and the only sounds filling the space are the steady breaths you take, and the quiet rustle of the sheets as you shift between his thighs. Katsuki sits propped up against the headboard, legs spread comfortably wide as you kneel before him, your gaze fixed on his hard cock resting against his abdomen, flushed and glistening with beads of pre-cum that call to you like a siren.

The moment feels intimate, personal—like a secret shared only between the two of you. His bare chest rises and falls steadily, his crimson eyes half-lidded, softened by the warmth of the moment, by the way you look at him like he’s the only thing that matters. And to you, right now, he is.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. His knuckles brush your cheek, grazing your skin so tenderly that it makes your heart stutter. He pushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them gently behind your ear as he leans back again, watching you with that intense gaze of his. There’s affection in the way he looks at you, mixed with the unspoken desire burning in his eyes. “Good girl,” he whispers, the words rolling off his tongue like honey, thick and sweet. “So good for me.”

Your breath hitches at his praise, thighs clenching together instinctively as arousal blooms hot and thick between your legs. But it’s not about you right now; it’s about him—about making him feel good, watching the way his lips part and his jaw tightens as you slowly lower yourself, your mouth hovering just above the tip of his cock. You can feel his heat, the slick bead of pre-cum teasing your lips, and it sends a wave of anticipation through you.

You press a soft kiss to the head, tasting the salt of him on your tongue before you part your lips and take him in. Slowly, you swirl your tongue around the tip, savoring the way his body reacts—how his thigh muscles twitch, how his breath catches for just a moment. He’s watching you, always watching, and the weight of his gaze makes your skin prickle with excitement.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, his head falling back against the headboard, fingers curling into the sheets. But even as the curse slips past his lips, there’s a gentleness in the way he cups the back of your head, guiding you but never forcing, letting you set your own pace. “Just like that…”

You hum against him, the vibrations of your voice making him hiss through his teeth. His approval fuels you, makes you more eager to please him, and you take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you start to bob your head, tongue gliding along the underside of his cock. The weight of him fills your mouth, every inch of him stretching your lips, and you can’t help the moan that escapes you as your chin becomes slick with spit.

Your hands come up, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock as you pump what you can’t take in your mouth, and it’s intoxicating—the sound of your wet mouth working him over, the salty taste of him, the low grunts and growls that escape him in response. You’re lost in it, in him, so completely consumed by the way he feels against your tongue, by the way he reacts to every little movement you make.

It’s impossible to ignore how wet you are, how your own body throbs with need as your thighs press together, trying to alleviate the ache building between them. But no matter how turned on you are, you can’t stop. You don’t want to. The taste of him, the feel of him twitching in your mouth as his hips start to move, gently thrusting up into your heat—it’s all too good. Too much. You can’t get enough.

“You love this, huh?” Katsuki breathes, voice thick with lust and amusement as he gazes down at you, his fingers stroking through your hair. “You love sucking me off… fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

The praise sends another rush of arousal through you, making your toes curl as you take him deeper, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You gag just slightly but push through it, the mix of discomfort and pleasure driving you to take him even more.

His fingers tighten in your hair as he groans low and deep, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his thighs tensing as he fights to keep his control. But you don’t let up, even as his breath quickens, even as the taste of him becomes stronger—bitter and salty as the first spurts of his release hit your tongue.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His voice cracks, and with a final thrust of his hips, he spills into your mouth, hot and thick. The taste of him floods your senses, a little sour, a little bitter, but intoxicating in the way it fills you completely, like you were made to take it.

But you don’t stop.

Even as he trembles beneath you, even as he curses and gasps for breath, you keep going, sucking him through his orgasm, your lips still wrapped tightly around him as you bob your head slowly, milking every last drop from him. His body shudders, a broken moan tearing from his throat as his hand tightens in your hair, pulling you closer to him as if he can’t handle the pleasure but doesn’t want you to stop, either.

“Shit, baby,” he groans, his chest heaving as his hand falls from your head to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your spit-slick skin. His voice is softer now, more vulnerable, and it makes your heart swell. “Too good… you’re too fuckin’ good.”

The sound of his praise, the way his thumb strokes your cheek, and the sight of him above you—flushed and breathless, with his chest heaving and his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction—it all makes your heart flutter in your chest. There’s such a softness in the way he looks at you, even now, even after he’s just fallen apart in your mouth. The love in his gaze is undeniable, and it makes you feel warm all over, like you’re the most precious thing in the world to him.

You swallow what’s left of him, your lips parting with a soft pop as you finally pull back, resting your cheek against his thigh as you look up at him, your own body trembling with the aftershocks of arousal that have yet to be addressed. You’re breathless, your face and hands covered in spit, but you don’t care. All that matters is him—the way he’s looking at you, the way his fingers continue to trace patterns on your skin, like he can’t stop touching you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he mutters, his voice hoarse as his hand cradles the back of your head, pulling you up to meet his lips. The kiss is slow, tender, and filled with a kind of love that makes your chest ache. When he pulls back, his forehead presses against yours, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your lips as he smiles, just a little. 

Your breath comes out in soft, shaky pants as you slowly rise, straddling Katsuki’s hips. His cock rests against your soaked folds, teasing you as you hover just above him, already wet and needy from everything that’s come before. The sheets cling to your knees, and your thighs tremble with anticipation, your body practically vibrating with desire. 

Katsuki leans back against the headboard, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips as he watches you, his crimson eyes half-lidded but focused entirely on you. His arms rest casually on either side of him, but his fingers twitch like he’s dying to touch you, to feel your skin beneath his calloused palms. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths, the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he shifts beneath you.

“Whaddya want, huh?” His voice is rough, teasing, yet there’s an edge of softness beneath it, that familiar tone he only uses when it’s just the two of you, when you’re wrapped up in each other like this. His fingers finally come up to brush your thighs, dragging along your skin slowly, so slow it sends sparks of heat straight to your core. “You gonna tell me what you want, or are you just gonna sit there lookin’ pretty?”

You bite your lip, feeling your heart stutter in your chest at his words, at the way he watches you like he’s waiting to devour you whole. Your hands press against his chest for balance, his skin warm under your palms as you lean forward slightly, your lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Wanna ride you,” you whisper, your voice low and breathy, trembling with the weight of your desire. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest rises to meet yours with each breath. “Wanna show you how much I love you, Katsuki.”

At your words, he groans softly, his head tilting back slightly as his hands slide up your thighs, fingers digging into your hips. There’s a flicker of something tender in his eyes, something that makes your heart swell even more, and the way he looks at you—like you’re everything he’s ever wanted—only makes you more desperate to feel him inside you, to be closer to him in every way.

“Yeah?” His lips curve into a smirk, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in his gaze. His hands grip your waist, holding you steady as he watches the way you line yourself up with him, your slick folds gliding against his length, coating him in your arousal. “Then show me. Show me how much you fuckin’ love me.”

With a deep breath, you sink down onto him slowly, your walls stretching to accommodate him as he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, the stretch so deep and so good that you can’t help but moan, your body trembling as you take him inch by inch. His grip on your hips tightens, his head falling back with a deep groan as you clench around him.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice low and hoarse as he watches you through half-lidded eyes. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You can’t stop the whimper that escapes your lips as you begin to move, slowly at first, your hips rolling in smooth circles as you ride him, your body desperate to feel every inch of him. The heat between your legs is intense, and the way he fills you so perfectly has you gasping for breath, every movement sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body.

His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing strokes. You moan softly, your back arching into his touch as he leans forward just enough to take your nipple into his mouth, his lips warm and wet as he sucks gently, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

“Katsuki,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you continue to ride him, your pace quickening as the pleasure builds inside you. His mouth on your breast, his hands on your hips, his cock buried so deep inside you—it’s all too much, and yet, you need more. You need all of him. 

He groans against your skin, his breath hot against your chest as he pulls back, his tongue flicking over your nipple one last time before he leans back against the headboard, his hands gripping your hips again. “That’s it, princess. Keep goin’. You’re so fuckin’ good.”

His praise sends a shiver of excitement through you, making your movements even more desperate as you ride him faster, your hips grinding down against him with every thrust. The slick sounds of your bodies moving together fill the room, the wet heat between your legs driving you wild as you feel your climax building, creeping up on you with each roll of your hips.

His hands wander down to your ass, fingers digging into your skin as he helps guide your movements, his eyes dark and full of lust as he watches the way you take him, the way your body moves so perfectly above him.

“You gonna take all this cum, huh?” he growls, his voice strained as his grip on your hips tightens. “You gonna let me fill you up?”

You nod eagerly, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, the pleasure too much to contain as you feel the first tremors of your orgasm building inside you. “Always, Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice shaking with need. “For you, always.”

He groans at your words, his hips bucking up into you as his fingers dig into your skin. The heat between your legs is almost unbearable now, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter inside you until you can’t hold back anymore.

“Katsuki,” you whimper, your voice breaking as you ride him faster, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “I—I can’t… It’s so—” 

“Fuck, you’re gonna come for me, huh?” He grins, his voice breathless and teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness in his gaze as he watches you, his hands never leaving your skin. “Do it, baby. Come for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to fall apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. The pleasure is overwhelming, stealing your breath as you gasp for air, your thighs trembling as your entire body shudders with the force of your release.

Katsuki watches you the whole time, his lips parted in a quiet groan as he grips your hips, holding you steady as you ride out your orgasm. His gaze is soft, full of affection, and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest even as your body quakes with pleasure.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of warmth as his thumb brushes over your trembling thigh. “You’re so good for me.”

Even as the last waves of your orgasm fade, you can’t stop. You’re still so wet, still so needy, and the way he fills you, the way his cock feels buried deep inside you—it’s not enough. You need more. You need all of him.

You start moving again, your hips rolling in slow, deliberate circles as you ride him, your body aching for another release, another high. His hands slide up your back, one cupping your breast again as his other hand presses against the small of your back, guiding your movements with soft, gentle pressure.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans, his voice hoarse as he watches you, his eyes dark with lust and affection. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”

You shake your head, your breath coming out in short, desperate gasps as you grind down against him, your body trembling with need. “No,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean forward, pressing your lips to his. “I can’t… I need you, Katsuki.”

He groans softly into your mouth, his hand sliding up to cup the back of your head as he kisses you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a slow, languid dance. The kiss is full of love, full of the warmth and affection you always feel when you’re with him, and it only makes your heart swell even more.

You ride him faster, your body moving on its own now, desperate for more of him, more of the pleasure only he can give you. His hands roam your body, his touch gentle and firm all at once, and you can feel him trembling beneath you, his cock pulsing inside you as he nears his own release.

“I’m gonna come,” he growls, his voice strained as his hands grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he thrusts up into you, his hips meeting yours with every roll. “Fuck, baby… you’re so fuckin’ good…”

You nod, your head falling back as you gasp for breath, your body trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please,” you whisper, your voice shaky as you grind down against him, your walls pulsing around his cock. “Please, Katsuki… fill me up…”

With a final thrust, he spills into you, his body trembling as he releases inside you, hot and thick. The sensation sends another wave of pleasure through you, and you can’t help but moan as you grind down against him, taking everything he has to give you.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled together, breathless and trembling. His hands slide up your back, pulling you against his chest as he holds you close, his lips pressing soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your jaw.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice soft and full of love. His breath is warm, his words making your heart swell as you melt into him, feeling safe and cherished in his arms. The world outside the bed fades, leaving just the two of you—bare, tangled, and basking in the afterglow of your shared pleasure.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder, still catching your breath. His skin is damp, his chest heaving as he slowly calms down from the intensity of it all. But Katsuki’s hands never stop moving—one glides up and down your back, gentle and soothing, while the other traces lazy circles on your hip. Even after everything, he’s still touching you, like he can’t get enough of your skin against his.

"Still got energy to keep goin'?" His voice rumbles against you, teasing, but there’s an unmistakable tenderness there. He tilts his head down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his fingers brushing through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face.

You smile, your heart fluttering at his touch. The warmth in his gaze, the quiet affection that lingers behind his teasing words, it’s everything you’ve come to know and love about him. Katsuki—rough, tough, a little brash, but in moments like these, he’s soft and open, all for you.

"Mmm… maybe," you hum, your voice lazy, though the aftershocks of your pleasure still send pleasant shivers through your body. You shift slightly, wincing at the sensitivity between your legs, and Katsuki's hands immediately tighten around you, as if instinctively trying to protect you.

“Oi, don’t push yourself.” He clicks his tongue, but his voice is soft, and there’s a glint of worry in his eyes, even if he’s trying to mask it with that usual gruffness. “I’m not goin' anywhere, you know.”

You chuckle, leaning up just enough to look him in the eye. “I know, I just…” You bite your lip, your hands tracing the contours of his chest, your fingers gently brushing over his heart. “I love you. And I always want you, Katsuki. It’s like I can’t ever get enough.”

His eyes darken at your confession, and for a moment, the teasing smirk on his face falters, replaced by something deeper. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he gazes at you with that soft, yet intense look that always leaves you breathless.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, his voice rough but filled with so much love it makes your chest tighten. “Every part of you. Every damn part.”

There’s a possessiveness in his tone, but it’s not harsh or overbearing. It’s full of adoration, the way only Katsuki can say it—like he needs you, craves you, but also wants to keep you safe, wants to love you in all the ways he knows how.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his thumb before leaning in to kiss him on the lips. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without needing words. He kisses you back just as gently, his hand slipping from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, holding you close as your lips move together in perfect sync.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathing heavily, Katsuki gives you that lazy grin that makes your heart skip a beat. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, his crimson eyes soft but still burning with the intensity that makes you melt.

You trace your fingers over the firm planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch, the way his muscles tense just slightly at the sensation. Your nails scrape lightly over his pecs, then drift lower, tracing the deep ridges of his abdomen, following the defined cut of muscle that leads downward. The whole time, your gaze is locked on his, watching for every little reaction, every subtle shift in his expression. And you see it—the way his breath hitches, the flicker of something dark and hungry in those crimson eyes, the barely-there tremor in his fingers as they twitch at your hips. 

He’s trying to stay composed, to keep that usual cocky edge, but you know him too well. You know how to unravel him. 

“You’re so sexy,” you breathe, voice laced with unfiltered desire, your words rolling off your tongue with the kind of smooth confidence that’s second nature to you. The smirk that tugs at your lips is slow, teasing, like you’re savoring the power you have over him. You drag your nails lightly down his abdomen, feeling his stomach clench beneath your touch, and let your fingers dance along his v-line. “I want you all the time.” 

His reaction is immediate. A deep, low growl rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your palms, and his grip on your hips tightens, fingers pressing into your skin like he’s fighting to hold himself back. His jaw clenches, his throat bobs as he swallows hard, and his pupils blow wide with something raw, something primal. His breath is heavy, uneven, and for a moment, he just stares at you—like you’ve stolen the air from his lungs, like he’s trying to process the weight of your words and the way they punch through whatever restraint he’s barely holding onto. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, voice rough, thick with something almost reverent, and then he moves. 

It’s sudden, fast—before you can blink, he flips you onto your back, pinning you against the mattress with a kind of controlled force that makes your stomach flip. His body is solid, warm, pressing down over you, his thighs caging you in, his hands bracketing your head. He’s hovering just above you, close enough that you can feel his breath against your lips, but not close enough to kiss. Not yet. He’s teasing himself as much as he’s teasing you, savoring the moment, making you wait. 

You swallow hard, pulse hammering against your ribs as you stare up at him. His face is shadowed in the dim light, his golden skin glowing under the soft hue of the bedside lamp. His hair is a mess, wild and tousled from your fingers, and his lips are parted, pink and kiss-swollen. But it’s his eyes that make your breath catch—the way they burn into you, intense, filled with something so unfiltered it makes your skin prickle with heat. 

“Say that again,” he demands, voice low, almost dangerous, but there’s something underneath it, something deeper. A plea, almost. 

You know exactly what he’s asking for, exactly what he wants to hear. And you don’t hesitate. 

“I want you all the time,” you say again, slow, deliberate, letting every syllable drip with sincerity, with hunger, with devotion. You lift a hand, cupping his cheek, your thumb grazing over his sharp jawline, and his breath stutters just a little, his lashes fluttering as he leans into your touch—just barely, but you catch it. 

Something about the way you say it, about the way you look at him when you say it, makes his whole body tense. His fingers curl into the sheets beside your head, his muscles coiling like a predator about to pounce, like he’s barely holding himself together. 

Then he’s kissing you, hard. 

It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim. His lips crash against yours with a bruising intensity, stealing your breath, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you. His hands move, one tangling in your hair, gripping tight as he tilts your head back, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your toes curl. The other hand drags down your side, firm and possessive, following the curve of your waist before gripping your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh. 

He kisses like he does everything else—fierce, overwhelming, like he has something to prove. Like he wants to ruin you for anyone else, make sure you never forget the way he feels, the way he tastes, the way he consumes you whole. 

And you? You love it. You thrive on it. 

You moan into his mouth, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him growl. His hips press down against yours, his cock heavy and hot against your soaked folds, and the friction sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You arch into him instinctively, chasing more, desperate for him, for everything he’s willing to give you. 

“Needy little thing,” he mutters against your lips, his breath warm, teasing, but there’s a roughness to it, like he’s just as desperate as you are. His thumb brushes over your lower lip, tracing the shape of your mouth before pressing inside, against your tongue. His gaze darkens as he watches you suck on it, your lips wrapping around his thumb, your tongue swirling over the pad. 

His breathing stutters again, and you can see it—that momentary flicker of vulnerability, of sheer awe, like he can’t believe you’re his, like he doesn’t know what to do with the way you undo him so effortlessly. 

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he murmurs, shaking his head, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s softer, tinged with something tender, something he’d never admit out loud, but you see it. You always see it. 

You grin up at him, releasing his thumb with a slow, wet pop, and tilt your head, your voice dripping with playful confidence. “That’d be a hell of a way to go, wouldn’t it?” 

He barks out a laugh, sharp and genuine, before cutting it off with another kiss, this one slower, deeper, more controlled. His hands roam your body, tracing every curve, every dip, committing you to memory. And then, with a low, gravelly whisper against your ear, he promises, “I’m gonna make sure you never wanna go a fuckin’ day without me.” 

And with the way his fingers slide between your thighs, teasing, coaxing, setting your skin on fire, you know he means it.

You whimper softly when his fingers find your clit, the pads of his calloused fingertips circling it with a touch that’s hesitant yet firm, like he’s still figuring out just how much pressure will make you shatter. “I wanna be good for you,” you whisper, voice soft, but there’s a weight behind your words—a promise, an invitation. Your hands slide over his broad shoulders, down the ridges of his chest, tracing over every defined muscle, every inch of skin that’s burning hot under your touch. You feel the way he tenses beneath you, the way his breath hitches just slightly, and it sends a shiver of satisfaction down your spine.  

Katsuki's fingers twitch against your clit, and you swear you feel him shudder. He swallows thickly, his crimson eyes flickering between your face and where his fingers are pressed against you, as if he’s trying to memorize every little reaction you give him. He’s hesitant—not because he doesn’t want this, but because he always wants to do it right. Because despite his rough edges, despite the sharp tongue, and the explosive temper, Bakugou Katsuki is meticulous when it comes to you. He treats your pleasure like a challenge he refuses to lose.  

But there’s something else simmering beneath the surface—something darker, more primal. His need to take something soft, something untouched, and leave his mark all over it. It’s that childhood troublemaker in him, that same part of him that probably kicked over sandcastles just to watch them crumble, the same part of him that grins whenever he makes a mess. Only now, you’re the sandcastle, and he wants to wreck you.  

Your breath hitches when he finally presses a little harder, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your clit. His other hand grips your thigh, his touch firm, grounding. “Yeah?” His voice is low, rough, filled with something almost smug but not quite. “You wanna be good for me?”  

You nod quickly, your fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You know he likes the praise and craves it even if he won’t admit it, but he also loves hearing you submit like this, knowing that you’d do anything for him. And you would—you'd let him have all of you, let him ruin you completely if that’s what he wanted.  

He exhales through his nose, his smirk deepening. “Course you do,” he mutters, but there’s something almost affectionate in his teasing. His fingers move with more confidence now, rubbing slow and steady over your clit, watching your every reaction with laser focus. “You’re always so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you?”  

You whimper, pressing your thighs together, but his hand on your leg tightens, keeping you spread open. He doesn’t stop touching you, doesn’t let you escape the slow, devastating pressure of his fingers.  

Your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself, but Katsuki doesn’t give you the chance to breathe. He leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping into something dark and velvety. “You always say the right shit to get me goin’,” he murmurs, his fingers dragging lower, teasing at your entrance before sliding back up. “Always runnin’ that smart fuckin’ mouth, and then you look at me like this—” He presses down harder on your clit, just for a second, making you gasp. “Like you need me.”  

You do. You need him so badly it’s almost painful, and he fucking knows it. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, see it in the way his eyes darken as he watches you squirm beneath him.  

Katsuki shifts, pulling his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. But before you can protest, he grabs your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, pressing down just enough to make you part your lips for him.  

“That desperate, huh?” he taunts, his smirk widening as he watches your lips tremble. “You want it that bad?”  

You nod, your breath coming in short, shallow pants, but he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Nah, c’mon, baby, use that mouth. You were talkin’ real sweet just a second ago.”  

You swallow hard, trying to focus, but it’s difficult when he’s looking at you like this—like he’s already won, like you’re already his to break apart and put back together.  

“I want you,” you breathe, your voice shaking. “I want you to ruin me, Katsuki.”  

His eyes darken, something dangerous flashing through them, and you know you’ve just fed into that part of him, the part that loves to take something soft and make it his.  

Katsuki groans, his grip tightening for just a second before he lets go, shoving you back onto the bed. He moves fast, so fast it makes your head spin, settling between your legs, pressing his body against yours. His cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, and you can feel how hard he is, how much he wants this, wants you.  

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he looks down at you, his hands braced on either side of your head. “You don’t know what you do to me.”  

You smirk, your wit bubbling up even through the haze of arousal. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”  

Katsuki growls, but there’s amusement behind it, something fond beneath the frustration. “Smartass.”  

But he doesn’t give you a chance to retort—he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all heat and hunger and raw, unfiltered need. His hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, sliding up your waist, squeezing your thighs as if he can’t get enough of touching you.  

And then he’s lining himself up, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that don’t give you nearly enough. He watches your face, drinking in every little twitch, every little gasp, his smirk widening as he sees how badly you need him.  

“Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough, possessive.  

Your fingers dig into his back, your body arching against him. “Ruin me, Katsuki.”  

His breath shudders out of him, and then, finally, he thrusts into you, stretching you open inch by inch until he’s buried deep inside you. The stretch is just enough to make you gasp, to make your nails rake down his back, but it’s perfect. He’s perfect.  

Katsuki groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath ragged. “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls, his fingers tightening on your hips. “You’re so—” He cuts himself off with a shaky breath, swallowing hard. “Shit, baby.”  

You feel him tremble slightly, like he’s holding himself back, trying not to lose control too soon. But you don’t want him to hold back. You want all of him.  

“C’mon, Katsuki,” you whisper, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him in deeper. “You can do better than that.”  

His eyes snap open, locking onto yours, and for a second, there’s nothing but silence between you. Then, his smirk returns, but this time, it’s sharper, more dangerous.  

“You really wanna test me, huh?”  

Before you can respond, he grips your hips and slams into you, knocking the breath from your lungs, making you cry out. He sets a brutal pace, his thrusts deep and demanding, every movement claiming you, leaving no room for doubt—no room for anything except the feeling of him, the way he fills you completely, the way his body moves against yours like he was made for this.  

He’s everywhere; consuming you; possessing you, and you let him. You want him to. Because there’s no one else who could ever make you feel like this. 

No one else who could ever ruin you so perfectly.

Your gasp is swallowed by the heat between you, your breath catching in your throat as Katsuki's hands find yours, his fingers threading through yours in a firm, grounding grip. His palms are rough, calloused from years of training, from battle, from holding power in his hands—and now he’s holding you, keeping you steady as he thrusts into you with deep, measured force. His grip tightens, squeezing your fingers just as his hips snap against yours, drawing a sharp, breathless moan from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, damp with sweat, his ragged breaths mingling with yours, the heat of his body searing into you.  

The pace he sets is relentless, every roll of his hips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, your body arching to meet every thrust like you’re trying to take more of him, trying to pull him deeper. His cock stretches you perfectly, every inch dragging against your walls, hitting that devastating spot inside you that has your legs trembling around his waist. He watches you through half-lidded, lust-darkened eyes, his gaze flickering between your parted lips and the way your face twists in pleasure. His expression is one of pure, unfiltered possession—like he owns every moan that leaves your mouth, every shiver, every needy whimper that spills from your lips.  

"Fuck," he growls, voice rough and breathless, his grip on your hands tightening as if to anchor himself. "Say my name again."  

You barely have the presence of mind to respond, too lost in the feeling of him pounding into you, filling you over and over again, but you manage to whimper, "Katsuki—" your voice breaking on the last syllable as he thrusts particularly deep, your head tilting back against the pillow.  

A low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, his lips brushing over your jaw as he presses himself impossibly closer, his body flush against yours, his weight pinning you down in the best possible way. He’s everywhere, surrounding you, his heat, his scent, the intoxicating mix of sweat and something inherently him flooding your senses. You feel drunk on him, utterly consumed, and he knows it. You can feel it in the way his body tenses, the way his hips jerk just a little more erratically, like he’s losing himself in you the same way you’re drowning in him.  

His hands, still clasped tightly around yours, suddenly push your arms above your head, pinning them to the mattress as he leans in, lips ghosting over your ear. "You're mine," he breathes, his voice low and wrecked, sending a shiver down your spine. His teeth graze your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "Say it."  

You barely manage a nod, your thighs tightening around his waist, desperate for more, desperate for all of him. "I'm yours," you gasp, and that’s all it takes for him to snap.  

Katsuki growls, something primal and desperate in the sound, and his pace turns brutal, his thrusts rough and deep, claiming you in every way possible. His hands are still wrapped around yours, fingers locked together, but there’s nothing gentle about the way he’s taking you now. It’s raw, all-consuming, his body demanding more, his need for you spilling over in the way he fucks into you like he’s trying to carve himself into you, like he never wants you to forget this—forget that you belong to him.  

Your moans are nothing but broken cries now, his name the only thing you can manage, gasping it into the air between you like a prayer. His lips crash against yours, messy and desperate, swallowing your sounds, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. He’s close, you can feel it—the way his thrusts are growing erratic, the way his breath stutters against your mouth, the way his hands squeeze yours so tight you’re sure he’ll leave marks.  

“Fuck—" he grits out, his whole body tensing, his hips slamming against yours in a final, deep thrust. And then he’s gone, lost to the overwhelming pleasure. His groan vibrates against your skin as he buries himself as deep as possible, his release crashing over him like a tidal wave—dragging you under with him. A sharp gasp escapes you as your own pleasure surges, legs trembling around his waist, eyes rolling back as the sensation overtakes you completely. You can feel the way he trembles above you, the way he breathes your name like it’s the only thing grounding him as he spills inside you, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.  

He stays there for a moment, his forehead still pressed against yours, his breath heavy and ragged, his body pressed tightly to yours as if he never wants to let go. Slowly, his grip on your hands loosens, his fingers uncurling, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he laces them together properly this time, softer, more deliberate, grounding himself in the warmth of your touch.  

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he exhales, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there as he whispers, "You're mine." 

This time, it’s not a demand—it’s a promise.

"I only want to be yours," you whisper, your voice soft yet unwavering as your fingers uncurl around his and weave into his hair, tugging gently at the damp strands. Katsuki stills above you, his breath catching, and for a moment, everything slows. The heat between you lingers, but the intensity shifts—melting into something deeper, something raw and unguarded.  

His grip on your wrists loosens, fingers flexing as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with them now that the fire has simmered down. He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his eyes are wide, uncertain. Vulnerable. It’s rare to see him like this, stripped of his usual brashness, his walls lowered just enough to let you see the boy underneath—the one who’s never really known how to handle tenderness without wanting to crush it in his hands.  

"You’re already mine," he mutters, but there’s no cocky edge to his voice, no smirk tugging at his lips. Instead, he says it like he’s trying to convince himself, like the idea of being wanted this much is still something he doesn’t know how to accept.  

You offer him a small smile, brushing your fingers through his hair, your nails lightly scratching against his scalp. He exhales shakily at the sensation, his body relaxing into your touch despite himself. You can feel the tension in his muscles ease, the weight of something unspoken lingering between you both.  

"You don’t have to act so tough with me," you murmur, tracing the shell of his ear, your touch featherlight. "I love you, Katsuki. All of you."  

His eyes dart away for a second, like he needs to escape the weight of your words, but you don’t let him. You tilt his face back toward you, catching his gaze and holding it, refusing to let him run from this—run from you.  

His jaw clenches, but then, with a slow inhale, he lets himself sink against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers if he lets go.  

"You fuckin’ ruin me," he mumbles, his voice muffled against your collarbone. But his hold on you tightens, contradicting his words.  

You smile, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Good," you tease softly, earning a quiet huff from him.  

But he doesn’t pull away. He just stays there, breathing you in, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. 

And for once, Bakugou Katsuki lets himself be loved.

things they do that make your heart skip a beat

♱ bakugou, kirishima, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, shinsou

fluffy and suggestive 😔

disclaimer this could all js be niche stuff i find attractive…

bakugou

♱ wears black compression shirts and tank tops that cling to his biceps, shows uncharacteristic patience helping you with schoolwork, blushes when he catches you looking at him, grabs your hips when he walks past you, cooks shirtless with a ‘kiss the cook’ apron on, chronic manspreader, reverses the car with his hand on your seat and looking over his shoulder yk exactly what im talking about

kirishima

♱ makes you sit on his back when he does press ups - will then proceed to do one handed press ups while grinning at you in the gym mirror, poses after a work out for you, wipes stuff off your face and (if edible duh) licks it off his thumb, has the worlds deepest morning voice, hugs you from behind CONSTANTLY - if he could glue himself to your backside you better believe he would

midoriya

♱ IS RESPECTFUL TO HIS MOTHER 😫😫, will hurl himself out the car to come open your door for you, gives you the most insightful opinions of clothes, makeup, whatever, rubs his thumb over your hand when he holds your hand, holds the door open for you without a second thought, the sidewalk rule <3, saves every. single. photo. you send him

todoroki

♱ pays for everything before you can protest, sends you flowers with little notes attached randomly, brushes/styles your hair for you, will sit for hours in changing rooms w you and make you do 360s for every outfit, takes candids of you and refuses to delete any of them, constantly leans down so you can speak in his ear and you get a big whiff of his fancy cologne, speaks diff languages 🥹

kaminari

♱ leans his hands on the tops of doorways when he’s talking to you, pulls you in by your belt loops to talk to you, leans over in the middle of serious conversations to whisper a stupid joke in your ear that you have to struggle not to cackle at, wears rings and lets you play with them, calls you “m’lady” and “ma’am” when you’re annoyed at him, whenever he zips you up in a dress or buttons you up he’ll kiss the back of your neck and your shoulders, is really good with his little baby and toddler cousins 🩷🩷🩷

shinsou

♱ “yeah?” “mhmm?” WHEEWWW SIR, plays guitar for you and sends u vids of him playing songs u request, stretches and his shirts always lift up to show off his happy trail 🙂‍↕️, drags you down to sit in his lap for EVERY activity he does - paperwork, video games, whatever, has constant bedroom eyes???, tugs on your hair to get your attention, had to lean back and adjust himself everytime he sits down bc he wears the baggiest pants in existence

do i need to start a taglist?

.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.

© jxwl4k 2025

well Chuuya??? was it????

"my pretty girl"

I'm unzipping your jeans with my teeth.

bf!katsuki loves to spoil you rotten.

he’s taking you out to dinner? bam, you find a new dress in your closet.

you two are out shopping and he notices your eyes lingering on a necklace? its yours.

you’re home by yourself and hungry? he’s ordering whatever you want.

you call him complaining about your bad day? theres flowers at your door within the hour.

you and katsuki are hanging out and you begin looking at your hand, noticing how much your nails have grown out since you last got them done.

“what’s up with your hand?” katsuki asks you.

“nothing, just need to get my nails done again soon. its so expensive to go to nail techs though, so i’ve been holding off on it,” you tell him.

“how much is it?” he asks, and you immediately know what he’s hinting at.

“kats, no. ill probably just paint them myself or something”

“hell no. if you want to get them done then ill make sure it happens.”

“are you sure?”

“‘course. you know i’m a man of my word,” he nods, “I take care of whats mine.”

oh and he meant it. sure enough, you booked your appointment and got them done, and paid for them with katsuki’s card.

later that day you stood in front of katsuki, now admiring your new set with that cute design you had been wanting.

“thank you again, kats. you didnt have to pay for them,”

“stop thanking me, baby. you deserve whatever you want.” he hummed as he grabs your hands gently to get a good look at them. “looks fuckin’ beautiful on you.”

you felt a sudden flush on your cheeks as katsuki begins pressing faint kisses to your knuckles, caressing them with his thumbs.

“you spoil me too much kats.”

he pulls you by the waist, pressing you against him. “dont care. always gonna take care of ‘ya.”

. ° .

❱ ִֶָ⋆ http:˚ nie ♡ presents! ˚ˑؘ  ·˚

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 BAD INFLUENCE, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME ; an osamu dazai fic. ❞

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . nope, sorry, no part two will be there.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; fem!reader, troublemaker!dazai, richboy!dazai, nsfw, public sex, getting caught, dazai has a choking kink, food play, dry humping, going in rough, begging, dazai is a tease, needy!reader, needy!dazai, desperate!dazai, desperate!reader and that's all i remember.

there aren't 'two kinds' of people in the world to be frank. sure, the ideal includes having two different personalities which are a contrast to each other but those were the foundation upon which many branches were created from.

the 'good' and 'evil' are just the original trunks through which many branches sprouted -- all different in some way and similar in other ways.

the leaves of the branches stick together and that is what's normally referred to as a 'clique'.

dazai knows you and him are different people but he can't help but return the smile you offer him as he waves dismissively at the professor who is screaming at him for entering the class after fifteen minutes since it's start.

the brunette thinks the professor should be glad that he even decided to attend it and the reason why he did so is simple really, the teacher is in great luck to have you in his class because by now it was a known fact in the very back to the very front of dazai's brain that wherever you are, he will be too for even getting as much as a glance at you once is enough for him to be content for the entire day.

"sir is screaming at you." you point out in amusement, eyes trained to stay on the man who is now shooting daggers at dazai through his eyes but does the latter really care?

no, he doesn't. what he does care about and feels grateful for is the unexpected friendship --- no, rather it's an acquaintance type of relationship that you two share for the only time you two talk is in this specific class or sometimes outdoors as well if you two end up bumping into each other -- that he found himself developing with you.

"he can't make his wife scream so he does it instead." dazai joked to make you smile like he always does as soon as he enters the class, he likes to think you sit with him at the last bench in the last row is due to his ability of making these boring lectures fun by his side comments.

you snicker quietly as you shift to make space for him and he smiles at you, plopping down on the space next to you but making sure to be as close to you as possible.

"thanks sugar," he muttered to thank you for saving him a seat. this is why you like sitting next to him. to be as close as possible while making it look like it's natural, it's necessary.

dazai had this habit of placing his arm on the back of the chair and you had a habit of discreetly leaning on it a few minutes later after you make sure he is paying attention to the on going lecture. he then proceeds to rub his thumb on the space between your two shoulder blades and that would be the routine. well it used to be.

dazai's eyes glances downwards and even if this isn't his first time seeing you in a skirt, this is his first time seeing you in thigh high socks. the way the socks bring out the essence of your thighs out more has him gulping.

dazai is a man of power and of great patience but he is a human after all and humans are weak infront of their desires.

so he really shouldn't be blamed when he continued to cast his eyes downwards to observe in every detail of your thighs through your ridden up skirt. he gulps once as he is almost tempted to run his hand over your thigh but stops himself when he feels the professor looking at him.

straightening up immediately, the troublemaker smirks at the professor with a raised eyebrow as if asking him the reason of making dazai his centre of attention. said teacher sighed before shaking his head as he muttered something under his breath, probably curses at dazai.

"dude, what did you do to him? he seems to hate you with a passion." dazai tilts his head to look at you who mumbled, a amused smile playing at your lips as you stare up at him before cocking your eyebrows up.

"guess he can't stand seeing someone as good looking as me, hm sugar?" dazai grinned at you cockily and you felt your heart beat escalating, you hum as you glance at the professor to see his back turned towards the class as he looked at a stack of papers on his desk. you took the chance, looking at dazai and eyeing him before you cross one leg over the other as you know really well how the action would make your skirt ride up.

hook up culture isn't something you are fond of but one night with this man is all you ask for, like a virgin maiden had you opened your arms to the sky as you prayed to the entity above before taking this very big step.

you felt your heart beat a particular thrust which made even you acknowledge its beat when you make dazai's eyes trail down to ogle at your exposed midthighs and those thigh high socks which makes your thigh look oh so grabby.

the notorious man found himself leaning in closer towards you just a bit as he smirked charmingly and raised his hand to drum his fingers against your temple.

"or maybe that old bastard is scared of something else which he knows i am capable of doing." he whispered. you were about to turn your head to stare at the front again had it not been for his other hand which immediately your jaw to hold you in place.

"capable of doing what?" you whisper out as you realized you had no choice but to stare at him, dazai smirked as he winked.

"let's play a game? if you win, i'll tell what i'm talking about to you." he offered and the maiden always found herself tempted by the devil, you nod.

"good girl sugar. this class is boring anyway." he brings your hand towards his cheek and leans on it and you playfully scoff, giving your professor a scared glance to see him not noticing what you two are up to, you look at dazai,

"oh hush now, not everyone is a genius like you dude. some of us actually gotta study like hell." you playfully poke his cheek.

dazai shrugs as he chuckled before leaning down to get something from his bag, you curiously peek at what's in his hand and seeing you do so, dazai decided to help you by opening his palm and you raised your eyebrows in curiosity and wonder when you noticed a pack of gummies in his hand. you look up at him, face painted in amusement and confusion and oh, how did he stop himself from leaning in and kissing your lips right now? even he isn't aware but he has always been a man of great self control and pretence.

dazai only grins to cover up the urge to bite his lip and thoughts which are urging him to push you on your knees right now and have you take him, even the thought itself makes him poke his inner cheek with his tongue while he tears the packet open and picks up one of the gummies between his index finger and thumb before he extended his hand to push it past your soft glossed lips as he lets the pad of his index finger linger a little on your upper lip to feel it's softness before he pulls his hand back to himself and smiled innocently as if he isn't imagining choking you on his dick.

he side glanced at the front of the class to make sure no preying eyes are being entertained, leaning near your ear to breath out and let his hot breath collide with the shell of your ear, dazai feels ecstatic to see you try to cross your legs discreetly. "is it good?"

the words sound lewd to you as you repeat the three words but imagine yourself in a completely different scenario, the tricks played on you by your inciting fervor for the male sitting next to you. you gulp before nodding.

dazai slumps down on his seat as he placed his arm around your shoulder to bring you a bit closer to him, his hands gripping your forearm and he whispered,

"say whatever you want to but isn't this class just a little too boring?" he whispered near your ear, a smirk on his face and if possible, said smirk only became more cocky when you nodded immediately as if not even aware of your own actions.

the gummy swirled in your mouth and you could feel it's flavor bursting into your tongue but all you could focus on was the desk infront of you as you realised that if you tried to move a bit, you could be against dazai's body. his words are a blur but his voice is prominent as always.

teasing, seductive and hot.

"why don't we play a game? i'll give you your answers if you win and i'll have a source of entertainment in this boring class, okay? see, this is a win win situation for the both of us." dazai shrugged, feigning innocence but when you nodded, he couldn't help but smirk devilishly.

devilishly in the sense that when you turned your head to look at him and you saw him staring down at you, the smirk on his face made you shiver as it made you realize how powerless you are against him and his intellect.

"the one to give up first loses." is all he said, didn't bother to explain the rules as he thought it would be better to show you how the game is played. because something about the fact of having you trust him without knowing what he has in store for you is addicting and pleasurable. to have you trust him blindly makes him feel giddy.

dazai picked a gummy from the packet and after a glance to the front to make sure no one is looking as you two are still in a classroom, he places the gummy on his collarbone before grinning at you.

"eat it." he mumbled. you widened your eyes for how is this man sane when he is asking to play this game which could be seen as nothing but sexual in a classroom full of students? doesn't matter if you two are situated at the very back of the class and the taller students sitting infront are towering and hiding you two barely.

"you must be joking." you muttered but all dazai did was shake his head, a cocky grin on his face.

"i can assure you that i am really not joking right now. what, you scared?" dazai teased and if possible, the cockiness dripping from his grin only increased as he looked down at you from his position.

you scoffed as you raised your eyebrows at him, you quickly looked at the front to make sure no one is looking before you leaned towards his neck. dazai snickered, the way you anxiously made sure no one would look behind was too adorable for his heart to not squeeze in fondness. he hooked his finger under his collar before pulling on it to make his collarbone and skin more visible and available for you.

you gulped as you leaned near the gummy and parted your lips which came in contact with his skin and dazai shuddered at the feeling. even though the touch was barely felt, it still has an effect on dazai who closed his eyes when he felt your lips press against his skin more as you gently bit on the gummy, leaning back with the gummy between your teeth had given you the opportunity to look at the way dazai's chest slightly heaved up and down and the furrow of his eyebrows.

as he opened his eyes and tilted his head with a smirk, you ate the gummy while taking another one from the packet and looking down your body as you tried to think of a spot which would get him just as flustered as you but then you pause, sparing a glance at the man who continued to watch you contemplate with a mocking pout on his face and you wonder, is it possible to make the dazai osamu flustured?

with a defeated sigh, you place the gummy on top of your thigh high in such a way that half of the gummy laid on your bare thigh skin and the other half on your sock.

you did not, even in your dreams, ever expect the man who could walk and have the trail of footsteps he left be crystallized and worshipped, to bite his bottom lip while a slight and and faint blush leaves its stamp on his cheeks.

"if you keep on staring, the lecture will be over soon." you taunt but in a playful fashion due to not being able to sit still under his intense and trance like gaze and dazai knew his actions and their effects on you.

"what a tease." he muttered as he extended his hand to pinch your thigh while leaning down leisurely and as his tongue passed his lips to swipe the gummy off your thigh, his hand slipped between your thighs to grab a handful of your flesh and squeeze it -- all just to elicit a very faint whimper from you which would reach only his ears.

"you really shouldn't be the one to utter that." you mumble, clearing your throat as you pull the gummy from his lips and twisted it between your fingers before you toss it in your mouth, covering your mouth with the back of your palm as you looked at the front just in time as the professor looked back and he, upon seeing dazai stare at you while biting his lip as he tried to restrain a smile from spreading onto his lips, shook his head.

it's not like he can actually correct the behavior of the brunette who comes from a family under whose feet money and people alike falls.

money speaks volumes to the public more than education ever did after all.

"what are you so scared for?" dazai began as he proped his elbow on the desk and leaned on it, staring at you with an obnoxiously attractive and smug grin but when you do not look nor speak to him in fear of getting caught by the professor, dazai puffs his cheeks a bit before he picks another gummy from the packet.

he shoved the packet into his pocket before he leaned forwards, a grin comparable to a mischievous child on his face as he drops the gummy between your breasts and he leans in to immediately scoop it between his teeth as well as moving his hand to grip your thigh again.

the reaction elicited was one dazai would remember and smile over for days for how could he not when you jumped slightly in your seat when you felt the gummy dropping on your chest and immediately feeling his breath on your skin, the way you looked down at the back of his head with widened eyes when you felt him lick a strip towards the gummy, you felt your legs clenching had it not been for the hand of his which is holding your one thigh and not letting it squeeze against the other -- for dazai needed to know what his limitations laid.

but what he did not know is there are no limitations you hold when it comes to dazai for how could you when your free leg crossed over the one dazai was holding so that he has no choice but to sit for the entirety of the lecture with his hand between your legs.

dazai raised his slender fingers to hook around and pull down on your top, he nibbled the top of your breast where the gummy laid before picking it up between his teeth and as he sat straight, the cocky smirk he showed wasn't meant for you but for the professor who was discreetly looking at you two and curling his fingers into fists, what a bad influence you are dazai.

"don't try to ignore me, you are breaking my heart and making me loose faith in romance." dazai scoffed playfully, faux sadness on the pout he displayed and you looked at him with the same playfulness he carried as you mockingly pouted too.

"why aren't you dead yet?" you teased and watched as the man let out a small and breathy whine, taking advantage of this playful and comfortable mood between you two to get even closer, laying his head on your shoulder and tilting his head to brush his lips against your neck which made you shudder.

"if sir catches us and if i get in trouble, i will make sure you pay for it." your warning is nothing but a joke and he knows it but even if it wasn't, it wouldn't have been much of a problem for he knows what words to use to make you go all shy and giggly.

"you won't get in trouble sugar. i'll make sure of it. but it's amusing how you are scared of sir catching us rather than focusing on the fact that a guy is extremely close to you to do whatever he wants to." dazai breathed out and watches how after his breath hitting your skin makes it a tourist destination for goosebumps.

in response, you squeeze his hand (still sandwiched between your thigh he is gripping and the back of the other one) hardly but it only makes him hum as he parted his lips to let his tongue out and moisten his plush, bottom lip.

"not afraid?" dazai whispers. you shake your head as your eyes fall on him and you smile.

"you don't give me a reason to be." you whisper out as it felt right to be quiet in such a vulnerable moment shared and when you looked into his eyes, how were you supposed to look away from this man who makes everything so breathtakingly beautiful whenever he is doing it?

"good, let's keep it that way." dazai mumbled yet his eyes fell on your lips and you knew he shared the same thoughts, desperation and feelings with you. you knew you aren't the only one feeling suffocated from not being able to just lean forwards and capture his lips in a kiss.

dazai's lithe fingers slipped into his pockets and into the gummy packet from which he picked one and raised it towards your lips, your eyes shakily followed as you tried not to make your unstable respiration visible but when has something ever been hidden from the man who is the master of hiding?

your lips part as dazai gently pushed half of the gummy into your mouth and when you tried to look to the front to make sure if anyone had turned to look at you two, you found your movements restricted by the man whose hand came to grab your jaw while the other (still sandwiched between your thighs) squeezed your thigh.

you let out a confused hum and to hear more noises leaving the temple of your mouth for dazai to worship is his wish as a human bounded by his desires, to have the maiden kiss his feet after he fulfills her wish is his desire as the devil, lulling you into him. so why won't he do what he did when his hand which was grabbing your jaw pulled you forwards and he tilted his head a bit to take the other half of the gummy between his teeth.

his hand immediately left your jaw to grab both of your hands and place it on his crotch, pushing them down onto it and letting you feel as his cock hardens a bit under your palms. the intensity of the situation making your eyes close shut.

a breathy whimper leaves your lips and it makes dazai hiss as he presses your palms harder onto his crotch and as a result, you squeeze his hand tighter between your thighs in an attempt to cross your legs and not feel how his actions are affecting your cunt and hormones.

"dazai osamu." the name called in a very cold and strict tone is what made you to immediately pull back. much to dazai's displeasure as he made sure to keep your hands still above his crotch and with a bored gaze, turned to look at the professor.

"yes sir, how may i help you?" his voice is overcoated with sugar and sickening honey as he blinks innocently yet the grin on his face just makes it clear how 'innocent' he actually is. dazai stares into the professor's eyes, not shying away from making direct eye contact.

you, on the other hand, gulp when you notice most of the class turning their heads to look back at you and you just hope they don't find this position weird or suspect anything as dazai refuses to leave your hands, instead, he guides your hands to squeeze his dick and your breath almost hitched at the small and barely audible whine he let out. does money make one so brave or does he truly have, like he claimed, a trick up his sleeve which makes him one step superior to the professor?

you try to appear normal and not flustured but how can you when the constant movements of the man's hand makes your own to squeeze down on his cock and the way his thighs jerk or he lets out short intake of breaths meant to show how much pleasure he is gaining from all this is constantly reaching you, so, how can you appear normal?

"please do stay back after class and let's have a small tea party." the professor speaks sarcastically and his words weren't meant for you, you knew yet still your ears burned in shame when the class snickered or straight up giggled but so did dazai.

dazai giggled sweetly, pretending to be flattered and shy as he replied back, "my my, is this a date between us two sir?"

you look down to try to muffle the snicker that was to leave your lips at the humorous words of the man and the sight of you being affected by his words like he hoped to, made dazai's heart fuzzy and and his cocky smile to widen.

so it really isn't much of a surprise when dazai is seen happily making his way to the professor's office, behind said authority figure, but what is surprising is you walking alongside dazai. you aren't in trouble and your professor made that much clear when he told you he had a departmental meeting to attend and wouldn't trust dazai in his office alone. as a fairly well performing student and sometimes making small talks and jokes with the professor, he thought you will make a good choice (also considering that you are one of the few people the troublemaker seems to get along with) to be the one to supervise over dazai and said troublemaker was overly ecstatic too with the professor's choice.

however, you weren't. not even in the slightest to be asked to stay back after lectures and you made it known to the joyful troublemaker next to you by walking with slumped shoulders and furrowed eyebrows which said troublemaker found adorable.

but he couldn't have you sulking, can he?

so dazai takes a step closer to you and at the same time wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you closer, your eyes widening in surprise; flattered, and it made his heart flutter when you let out an almost inaudible gasp as you feel his fingers teasingly lift the hem of your skirt, dazai almost giggled but to stop himself from doing so and risking the professor looking back at you two, he tilted his head down to nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck and then he smiled, in your shade.

"you don't look pleased. am i that displeasing for you to look so bothered?" his words were provocation and he knew you didn't know of so and this is why he continued on with this act when you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at him ; you shook your head as you felt panick begin from your toes and raise towards your lower abdomen, you looked down at his hand on the side of your thigh as it played with the hem of your skirt and when the panick reached till your chest, you grabbed his hand and clasped it tightly as you looked at him, eyes wild in panick.

panick of loosing this tension created and of things going back to the way they were because you really can not tolerate going back to being casual deskmates after playing such a dangerous game which had desire and self control as its two rules.

dazai felt the ends of his lips curl up into a satisfied grin when he stared right into your eyes and watched you bringing his hand towards your mouth -- towards your lips specifically and he practically leaned on his toes when he felt the faintest touch of your lips on his hand before you pulled his hand more near and bit the skin of the backside of his palm.

dazai, in return, bit his lip as he looked away with a smile and when you freed his hand from your grip, he looked down at the pink skin and teeth mark left by you and smirked.

he leaned his head on your shoulder again and this is when you mumbled , "someone was being all cocky and saying they wouldn't let me get in trouble. what happened to that?"

dazai snickered quietly at the teasing tone and hummed, tilting his head up to slightly lick your jaw before he whispered against it, "isn't trouble worth it if it's with me?"

when you do not reply but only look at him with a cocked eyebrow, dazai puffed out his cheeks yet again to let his displeasure be known as now he sulked, yet unlike him, you didn't try to make any efforts in making him feel better.

"i hope you don't hold me asking you to stay here after lectures against me --" your professor began and you immediately separated from dazai, nodding at the man and the way you took a step forwards to listen to your professor better had dazai poking his inner cheek with his tongue, not liking it at all.

for when the devil sees one fearing his own kind more than him, he feels humiliated, challenged.

dazai osamu never liked feeling second to someone else but he stays put and doesn't do anything except glare at your back and if only you could turn your head to look at the ferocious glare he has, maybe you would drop on your knees right there and then and maybe he knew it too and this is why he continued to glare at you yet a cocky smirk slowly crept to his lips like a snake slithering towards its unsuspecting prey.

"i will be back in thirty minutes or before, please keep an eye on that troublemaker and i'll make sure to give you extra credit for this." your professor promised and who were you to refuse?

the maiden found shelter in the priest and his vows yet a shelter is different from a home.

a home.

dazai.

no one else.

. . . is it understood?

maybe it was your naivety to not notice or find anything wrong with dazai's unusual quietness as you two entered the professor's office.

or maybe you knew it damn well and still decided to go for it because the maiden grew greedy and wanted more, to make a deal with the devil.

dazai's sharp eyes followed when you sat on the leather chair next to him and he watched your eyes scanning over the office before you hummed, impressed.

yet he also watched the stack of papers on the professor's desk which caught your attention and how you immediately approached it while saying something along the lines of, "these must be the class test papers. do you want to see your paper too?"

"not really, go ahead." dazai muttered lowly and he felt his finger twitch when you only hummed. is his voice not seductive? why are you being so nonchalant?

did you ever wonder why the devil approached the pure maiden? maybe it is the devil that got seduced and not the other way around and maybe this is why the devil wanted to make a deal with the maiden so he could keep her all for himself.

you leaned down a bit on the desk as you searched for your paper among the many others and found it after a great deal of effort being used and this made you a bit tired to have to go through all the different papers to find your's and then arrange them back in the pile. you looked down at your paper with a slight excitement mixed with a slight anxiety but when your eyes fell on your mark, you raised your eyebrows in awe.

not bad. most of your answers were correct but they weren't what you were interested in, you were more interested in seeing the ones you got wrong and so to make yourself more comfortable, you leaned on the desk.

dazai gritted his teeth and looked away when he saw your breasts being squished between the glossed wooden table and your body and slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes trailed to your lower body to see your skirt riding up (due to leaning and practically laying on the table).

dazai stared long enough to make out the colour of your panties and if he stared a bit more, he could make out the outline of your cunt and he did. for if he hadn't, then he wouldn't have seen the wet patch on it and gotten the courage to do what he did next.

dazai knew it was too weird for you to not have any effect because of his flirting but now that it is clear you were only putting on an act of nonchalance to hide your obvious reaction to him, he felt his deflating ego rising from the bottom to take lead of him again.

like an eagle, he stood up from the chair he was sitting on to approach you and made his presence very obvious to you. your breath refused to leave your windpipe when you could easily make out dazai's crotch pressing against your ass, his legs on your's and when he leaned down, you could feel his chest against your waist.

your hands holding your quiz paper shook slightly and he smirked upon seeing so as he raised one hand to run it down your back.

"show it to me, sugar." dazai muttered lowly against your ear and lord, oh lord, the gravel tone he spoke in made you want to beg him to take you at the very moment but self restraint is a humorous thing and it won't let you submit till it broke in half.

you do not reply but lick your lips which suddenly got really dry, shakily raising your hands to let him have a clear view of your paper and you looked down, staring at the desk you are inappropriately laying on.

"next page," dazai ordered when the first page showed no incorrect answers and when you failed to listen to him, he gently pinched the back of your thigh which made you to slightly jerk forwards at the unexpected action yet what followed it was his crotch being pressed against your ass.

you whimpered at the touch as the more he pressed his crotch against you, the more you felt the wet patch of your panties rubbing against your wet folds.

"hey, i asked you to do something so why won't you? wasn't i clear?" he hissed down next to your ear and you wondered why is he so worked up?

but how would you know when your forehead is pressed against the desk and your forehead is all sweaty? how would you know how his eyes didn't even glance up to see you pathetically trying to turn the page with shaky fingers and failing.

"what are you even gonna do after seeing it? you don't look even a bit interested in it." you try to speak but your voice comes out as a whine which makes dazai close his eyes. he hummed, moving his hips back before he pushed his crotch against you again to elicit the sound from you one more time. he felt as if didn't hear it right, didn't savour it right the first time.

"what are you --" you mumble when he humped against you again but soon found yourself missing the touch and rhythmic thrust when he stopped and the way his hard on cock could be felt between your ass cheeks.

"-- no, please don't stop." you begged softly and with such fragility that it was evident how your arousal and attraction towards the man behind you is playing with your mind. but when the man only snickered, refusing to move and fulfill your wishes, you took matters into your own hands and pushed your ass against his crotch.

as he hissed, you were made very aware of the hard and clothed dick pushing your skirt and panties between your folds and it made you let out another needy whine

you hide your face against your arms, forehead pressed on the desk after dazai grabbed the paper from your hands and carelessly tossed it on the stack of other papers ; he humped against you again and released a deep breathy sigh.

"ah . . . fuck, fuck, fuck." dazai cursed lowly under his breath as each curse was accompanied by a thrust which left him breathless, his throat felt dry while your legs felt hot and so did your core. you had to spread your legs for him but you didn't find the energy to do so and neither did dazai who has no greater urge then to rip your skirt off but all he could do at the hands of the one who now has him in captivity, is to let out whimpers and curses as he pathetically dry humped against you.

why he felt at such a loss of energy could be explained with great simplicity, really. he felt so because he is in a great state of euphoria, more then what his body and heart could handle and so he feels overwhelmed.

"please, please let me -- ahh, please? fuck, gotta fuck you. need to feel your preety pussy sucking me in, please let me sugar. please." needily he whined as he leaned down even more to bury his face against your neck and whisper against it. his pleas were answered with you grinding against him as short breaths, gasps and whines were all that left the castle of your mouth and through your lips.

though he isn't dazai if he doesn't turn the odds to his favors soon.

"let me fuck you? gotta fuck you. maybe then you'll realise what you did wrong." he rapsed but as if it's a secret between you both, you and dazai knew he wasn't referring to the quiz paper but to something else which was revealed with his next action.

and it seemed like he wanted a verbal answer for your nod had no effect on him and didn't push him to go through with his next course of actions.

dazai's lithe fingers found access under your skirt and he ran the back of his index finger along the plush of your ass while he whispered, "why don't you cling to me instead of that old professor sugar?"

his voice was between a whine and a growl and it only made you to grip the edge of the table at the tone he spoke in only made you aware of your own needy state.

"come on, you know i'm better than he could ever be, right?" dazai whined against your neck and to get a response from you other than the short breaths you let out, he nibbled at your skin while at the same time, in perfect coordination, his hands moved towards the waistband of your panties as he pulled it and stopped, eyes looking down at the table you are squished on with wrath,

"gonna fuck you on this table yeah? old hag needs to know he isn't better than me," dazai tilted his head up towards your ear as he whispered out, "and definitely not a better choice for you." he licked your earshell.

the movement of his crotch rutting against your ass stopped as he moved a bit back only to smile arrogantly when you whined out loud, hooking your ankle around his in a pathetic and quick attempt to stop him from taking a step back.

"please . . ." you opened your eyes and leaned up to look back at him, sweat drops forming on your forehead and lips almost swollen from how hard you were biting down on it, ". . . fuck me. put your hands all over me dammit!" you whined, irritated at the lose of touch.

"yeah? why should i?" dazai raised his eyebrows as he stared down at you for a few seconds before he crumbled, his arrogance being bullied around by his arousal and he found himself leaning forwards to grab your breast, squeezing it harshly as a demand for a response.

". . . please, please? fuck, please, i just need to -- you can't do this to me after riling me up so much . . . hah, seriously? fuck. stop looking at me like that." you mumbled because your arousal froze when you stared at his brown pupils, the ones bearing many secrets and plans, many fortunes and tragedies and how on earth can even lust bow down to admire someone's beauty?

the way his hair sticked to his sweaty forehead and he stared at you with an obnoxiously arrogant smirk yet the pink dust spreading onto his cheeks gave it away how he, with an overbearing beauty, is affected by his hormones and feelings and emotions and lust and why aren't you playing along with him so he could just fuck you?

no. he don't want to just fuck you. when the one who never had anything handed to him with love finds someone he wants to invest his love in, no matter in which shape or form it is in, he won't be satisfied with normality.

he will torture you and himself till he gets what he wants.

for who do you think he is? isn't he the one who walks so even the demi-gods and goddesses can admire and feel envious for feeling threatened and admiration for a mere mortal whose ecstacy comes from being in situations where his heart accelerates and he is hanging on the thin line between life and death.

"why should i when this is how you look at me during lectues?" dazai breathed out and his raspy tone could ascend you to the deepest pits of pleasure and then push you to the cliff of greed and desperation for more. dazai who still has your breast between his fingers, squeezed it as he glared down at you, "always looking at me so prettily and giving that old hag more of a chance to pick on me --"

he leaned a bit towards you as he extended his other hand to twirl your hair strand, "-- do you do it on purpose? knowing i won't focus on shit?" dazai muttered lowly, voice seductive and smooth like honey flowing through a honey comb and luring a man towards its, hiding its danger behind its tempting look.

"that's not my problem." you scoff yet the arrogance laying in your eyes at the sudden fact is not something he will let go so easily.

dazai pulled on your hair to pull you closer before he peppered small kisses along the curve of your jaw, you felt his lips extremely close to your own but before you could feel even the lightest touch of his lips on your own -- he moved back.

"then you being a needy mess isn't my problem as well." he squeezed your breast again before leaving it but before he could pull his hand back to himself, you grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand towards your breasts again. he could feel your legs shaking as you looked at him with a slight frown, desperate to do anything to please him so he could do so in return. this chance won't be coming again and so it should not be wasted at all.

dazai's hand grabbed the flesh of your breast, continuing to squeeze it and with each squeeze, the next one got prominently rougher and harder while he stared into your eyes. something about the sweatbeads on your forehead, bottom lip being sucked in as you pursed your lips and bit them and the especially tempting,  pure and desperate flashing in your eyes had his breath increasing greatly.

and a few and very dragged out seconds, dazai lets out a shaky and frustrated breath before his hands left your breast and hair strand to grab the curve of your body and turned you around so you were once again facing the table. dazai leaned forwards to hide his face against your neck while one of his hands left their initial position to slither down towards under your skirt to your ass.

"you are being such a brat. why are you being a brat? can't you just be good for me sugar? let me fuck you like a good girl?" he whined out and as his frustrations grew by the way he seemed to torture only himself by teasing you, dazai gently bit your neck and you hissed out at the sudden action but with each second passing, the intensity and force in his bites increased till he was biting you hard enough to leave his teeth marks.

you shuddered a bit when you felt his index finger drag down your ass till it reached the waistband of your panties, his cold fingers provided an oddly addicting sensation but it soon disappeared when he pulled your panties down and let them pool by your ankle. and he impatiently grinned against you again, this time, however, the only thing separating his clothed cock from your bare ass is your skirt.

his sneaky hands found a path between his quick and continuous humping to pull your skirt up to your waist. he stared down at your ass with a hungry stare and he would've loved to go on his knees and just have a taste had it not been you fueling his sexual frustration and neediness with the way your whimpers and soft whines only accelerates his frustration further and his frustration pours the spotlight on the growing arousal he needs to get relieved of now or else he won't be able to feel the same pleasure he could feel at this moment if he tried to pleasure himself later, he knew.

"fuck, be a good girl already sugar so I can just fuck you already." dazai whined loudly, pulling down at the sleeve of your top to move his lips against your shoulder to plant a soft kiss before he parted his lips to let his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting it hard. you yelped.

was this not your breaking point with the way his teeth teased you and brought you pain yet the humping against your naked ass brought you pleasure? the heat from his body behind your's and the slight shake of his body with each whine and whimper he released only made you break further. and you did.

your head was buried between your arms on the desk as you loudly begged, "please please please -- ah, i need you, I want you, please!" you raised your voice in sexual frustration.

the man behind you who played a dangerous game by playing with your and his lust finally felt satisfied and hence why he was quick to unbuckle his belt with the flick of his hand down the buckle of the belt.

you raised your head and looked over your shoulder, licking your lips as you began to rub your thigh together and watched him pull his belt out and as much as dazai enjoyed watching the fat of your ass move with your leg movements, he could not let you pleasure yourself -- not when he is there.

he raised his knee to push it between your thighs and to stop your movements and you pouted again, as you stared at him but he had no mercy as he took his belt and leaned forwards to wrap it around your stomach and pull it along your back, tying it and gripping the leftover part in his palm.

you saw him pull down his zipper with haste before he pulled his jeans and boxers down to his knees. he used the belt he tied around your waist and stomach as a controlled of sorts, jerking it to tell you to look forwards and he leaned in, placing his hand on the edge of the desk and next to your hips.

with the other hand, he grabbed his cock and stroked and pumped it thrice (you knew cause your eyes refused to leave him and devour in the sight of him), he guided the tip wet with precum towards your inner thigh and rubbed it against it twice.

"'i'm sorry! sorry! sorry! please dazai, don't be like that. fuck me! fuck me!" you whined out loud and dazai snickered at the way you were so fucked up by his teasing that you didn't even realize you were apologizing to please him when the situation isn't even asking for it. he could feel his cock twitch at your willingness to please and flatter him.

"yeah? you are? not gonna be a brat now, are we?" dazai taunted but at the moment even his taunts are so sexy to hear so you comply, nodding.

"yeah, i'll be good. promise, dazai! for real!" you whine again as you feel him increase the pace of rubbing his tip against your inner thigh. dazai hummed as he spreaded your cheek with one hand and grabbed his cock again, pushing it against your inner labia to collect some of your juices to guarantee a smooth entrance for him and mostly you.

"yeah? but sugar don't you realize where we are right now? what if sir walks in?" dazai smirked as he raised his eyes to stare at you staring at him with wide eyes and a pout as you shook your head quickly, arching your back and trying to push your ass against his crotch but he stopped you by pulling at the belt again.

"we will be quick! trust me, please? i will go mad if you don't touch me right now." your whines, the more he heard, the more he desired to hear more.

dazai fauxed hesitance as he looked at you with faux uncertainty but you knew of the act he is putting on immediately as his actions heavily contrasted his words ; he slowly pushed only the tip of his dick inside your hole.

"i mean i'm up for it sugar but what if we get caught? you'll get in trouble too." he teased, mocked your patience even when he saw how transparent his lack of care for getting himself or you in trouble is, he has the sources to get out of trouble anyway so why would he be afraid?

he warned but then why is the danger himself lurking closer to your breasts before slithering upwards towards your neck as if poison spreading through your veins?

but then again has temptation and lust ever been less dangerous than actual poison? one who kills you physically or one who messes with you mentally and emotionally and then physically?.

temptation has always been the devil's strong weapon, his pride and his charm.

"but didn't --" oh the man whose fingertips spreads temptation and adulterous thoughts into your head, why would you not even let the girl infront of you, bending for you, to complete her sentence?

rudely thrusting into you to break a moan out of your vocal chord is what he did and hiding your face in your arms is what you did.

"were you saying something sugar?" dazai smirked, you know he did cause it was evident with the edge of arrogance in his words but you took advantage of not being able to look at his face to speak up or else you would've surely stuttered and stumbled on your own words.

"for someone claiming they won't let me get in trouble, you are awfully going back on your own words a lot of tim -- dazai!" you yelp out his name but surely you'll wonder later if your words weren't what dazai seemed as interesting for he intrupted you everytime with a thrust.

but this one had you screaming out his name ; bare and skin to skin, warmth and wetness, clamping down and penetrating were all simulations you two felt at once.

"yeah? welllll," he dragged on, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue before he jerked the belt and pushed on your back to make it into a perfect arch and began thrusting at a rapid pace after dragging out his teasing for too long and he rasped out in between, "guess i gotta keep my word. can't go back on them now, right sugar?"

dazai asked but when he didn't get any reply other then filthy moans from you, he tutted in what seemed like faux disappointment though its hard to hear his voice over your pleasure filled one.

his hand went down to graze and grab your knee before he pushed it up on the desk, leaning his head near your neck again to whimper against it while pounding into you.

his cock penetrated in and out of your walls before but this new position had given him an opening to graze the tip against the one spot which made your b shiver upon it being disturbed but once you didn't feel the head of his cock grazing against the spot as he pulled back (before thrusting in again just two seconds later), you found yourself missing it and so, you tried to meet his thrusts ; you moved your hips back at the same time as he thrusted forwards. a breathy moan left you as you digged your nails on your elbows (due to having your arms folded on top of the desk).

"fine, if you won't answer me then make sure to scream my name out as loud as you can." he muttered in between whimpers and whines, he could feel sweat drops dripping down his back and forehead, the way your walls sucked his dick in as if promising to not settle for anything other then drowning it. this is what lead to his quick thrusts as he wanted to feel the feeling again and soon.

the desk began to move with each movement and if only you were conscious and rational enough to worry about the stack of quiz papers falling down, you would've raised your head to look at it and would also be curious to look back and that's when you could've seen the hand holding onto the belt around your waist and how tightly he was holding the ends. hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

your eyes barely stay open as you feel dazai tug you closer using the belt around your waist and you probably heard him take a step forwards as well but you aren't sure when his hand reached down towards your core to push against your inner thigh, making you spread your legs a bit more.

your eyes close and you rely on your other senses as your hardened nipples find pleasure in the friction created by your clothed breasts moving against the desk with every thrust dazai makes.

over your own pleasure filled voice, it is hard to hear anything else but due to the close proximity and dazai's lips moving against your skin, you felt and somewhat barely heard his whimpers and unstable intakes of breaths.

the hand on your inner thigh slithered upwards when he felt his balls tightening and your walls clamping around him even tighter to the point the man felt his knees growing weak.

dazai let out a shuddering breath as he leaned his chest against your back, squeezing you against him and the desk as his fingers traced around your wet outer labia.

"dazai!" a scream ripped through your throat when you felt it clearly ; the way his cock hitted your g-spot. your scream made him caress your outer labia using a bit of force, your back arched and dazai's lips peppered kisses along your neck and shoulder, pulling down on your top sleeve using his teeth to continue marking your shoulder with his bite marks.

dazai's eyes rolled back as your walls squeezed him tighter with each hard thrust to your g-spot and he stopped pushing and tracing your outer labia. he raised his hand and head to look at the glossy coating on his fingers and with a smirk, he brought his finger near his lips before smearing your juice all over his lips and licking it.

a high pitched moan left his lips as he tilted his head back at the way he is teasing himself. closing his eyes to hear the erotic sound of his dick slamming in and out of your wet cunt, his balls hitting against your ass with each slam and your moans and whines -- this all pushed him over the edge more but he wasn't satisfied with this much and wanted more so, dazai traced his hand along his chest before raising it towards his neck and slightly choking himself.

he raised his head to look at your fucked out stare and still arched back, a very faint red blush began to spread on his cheeks as his eyes narrowed. curling his toes and digging his nails in the base of his shoes to obtain any kind of stability, he began to move even faster and you chocked on your moans.

"can't really let you cum here sugar. you'll ruin the professor's desk." dazai smirked and relished when your breath hitched and you shook your head, loudly begging.

"no! please no! don't be so mean to me dazai!"

"but i am only being considerate of our professor sugar." dazai snickered and you had to bite down on your lip before you parted them to speak out again,

"w-what a mean guy! you don't even kiss me but say all kinds of romantic things! you go around teasing me but when i try to do the same, you act like a fucking virgin. i make you loose focus in class? yeah as if --" you stop to moan as he licked a spot on your neck before sucking on it,

"-- what about you and your sneaky touches? always teasing me! making me so worked up and hot. and now when you are finally fucking me, you deny me of my orgasm!" you squeal when dazai pulled hard on the belt and all the while, his thrusts never once lost their velocity.

"you wanna kiss me sugar? i am a mean guy tho." dazai teased and squeezed his neck a little harder, moaning lowly at the pleasure surging through his body.

"yeah." you moan out as you decide you can't reply with a witty remark as you feel the knot of pleasure being pulled in two directions ; one by dazai's dick and the other by the rubbing of your squeezed breasts against the desk.

"soon. yeah? gonna kiss you really soon and really good." dazai uttered a promise and once again dropped his face against your neck, abandoning the belt to wrap both of his arms around your waist and under your stomach to lift your ass up a bit for even more easy access as he panted.

one thrust to your g-spot had sparkles flying inside your entire body. your knot of pleasure was reaching its limit as he pulled at it even more.

the other thrust made him gasp as your walls squeezed down hard onto him.

the third thrust made the desk to inch forward, rocking it and along with it you felt the friction hitting your hardened yet clothed nipple and it spreaded a very raw ounce of pleasure behind your chest and towards your back, making it arch.

the knot grew weaker and weaker and was barely holding on.

the last thrust was followed by him whimpering out your name and your knees went weak, you would've fallen on your knees if it weren't for him holding you up.

the knot broke and cum flowed down his dick making it hard for him to thrust in and out without his dick slipping out and so he stopped to allow you both to catch your breaths.

". . . can i kiss you now?" dazai slowly mumbled when he felt you calming down from your high and a hiss left your lips when he pulled his still hard dick out of your hole.

you chuckle breathlessly, "lord, you are unbelievable."

yet you still try to support yourself on your arms before realizing dazai still has his arms wrapped around you and so he lifted you before turning you around.

your back hits the desk, cum dripping down your thigh yet your focus is on his still hard dick even when dazai cupped your jaw in his palm and raised it to capture your lips in his, your eyes immediately shut close yet your hands travel down to grab his dick, stroking it once using your index finger as if to feel it.

this had dazai gasp against your lips. you wrap your hands around his dick before beginning to pump it and dazai shows his appreciation to your action by moving his hips as well, thrusting into your hands.

you part your lips when you feel him part his but you are taken by a pleasant surprise when instead of letting his tongue explore your mouth, he tilts his head in such an angle that he can nibble on the side of your bottom lip as well as move his lips below your bottom lip.

your grip on his cock tightened when you sense his thrusts become faster yet you still remain unaware of how dazai's eyes are opened and boring holes into the ones of the one on the door who is flabbergasted, shocked ; the professor.

dazai winked at the professor before tilting his head up to capture your lips in a kiss again, mouth parting open and shamelessly moaning into your mouth when your last pump made his cum to shoot out and stain your hands with it.

dazai's arms wrap around your waist again, close to your waist as he makes sure your skirt is covering your bare ass before reaching towards your cunt to swipe some of it on the pad of his index finger and pulling his hand up to show it to the professor.

you feel dazai's lip attack your upper lip, kissing and sucking it before kissing you again, saliva mixing with your's and a filthy wet sound being produced which he is sure the professor heard.

you pull back from the kiss, panting as dazai used his other hand to push your head against his shoulder, mouthing the words with a mocking and cocky smirk to the man whose presence you are unaware of,

"tissues," he mouthed and when the professor began to glare at him again, about to shout, dazai looked down at you again before leaning in to kiss you again.

━━━━━━━ 💋 end.

imagine long-term bf katsuki being hung up on what engagement ring to buy you. he’s gnawing at his cheeks, constantly sighing and running his fingers through his hair for a couple of months, trying to find a ring that’s good enough for you.

after patrol, he browses every reputable jewellery store in tokyo, searching for your engagement ring. he takes pictures of every one he thinks might suit you and sends them to eijiro.

shitty hair: idk about this one man. diamonds are nice but y/n gives more garnet or ruby vibes

explosive: the fuck you mean? i have to get her diamonds

shitty hair: nah bro, you should get something that suits her. not every girl wants diamonds.

explosive: stfu i know what she wants better than you do

shitty hair: 🤷‍♂️ just my opinion man

you noticed immediately that katsuki was coming home later than he usually does. you didn’t say anything at first because maybe something came up, and he did seem really exhausted.

but as weeks turn into months, you become suspicious. what is it that your boyfriend's doing after work that you can’t know about. he hasn’t changed how he treats you. if anything, he’s been even softer and sweeter with you lately.

you decide to confront him about it.

you sit at the kitchen table, waiting for him to come home. as 8pm fades into 10pm and drips into 12am, your anxiety ramps up. your palms are all sweaty and your heart beats erratically in your chest.

you’re on your feet as soon as the lock eventually clicks and the front door is forced open. you stalk up to a sleepy katsuki, who flings his duffel bag on the floor with a sigh.

when he turns around, you’re looking at him angrier than ever. there’s fire in your eyes as you stare up at him, your brows knitted together and jaw tight.

you spit out, “where have you been?” katsuki blinks slowly, too tired to register your words and respond. he moves to throw his arms around you, but you step back, dodging his embrace.

this time, you repeat yourself with more venom, “where have you been?” you sigh, “i’ve been waiting for you since eight.”

he grunts thickly, “why’d you stay up, babe?” you roll your eyes and slightly suck in your cheeks.

you say exasperatedly, “because i was worried about you. you’ve been coming home late from work for the last two months now.” you fold your arms beneath your chest as you scold him, “so where have you been?! seriously, like, where the fuck have you been wandering off to while i make you dinner and do your laundry?”

katsuki shakes his head, whispering, “baby, s’not like that.”

you catch his words and scoff, “so then, what is it like? i clearly don’t know so why don’t you tell me?”

his full lips draw into a hard line as he huffs, contemplating whether to tell you he’s been hunting for the perfect engagement ring for his perfect girl… and that he’s finally found one. it wasn’t easy, especially since he has just put up with yappertron 3000 chargebolt, skateboard freak elbows, and shitty hair for the past three hours while acquiring this ring.

he bites his tongue, mumbling, “look, i’ve just been busy, yea?”

you chuckle derisively, “you’ve been busy? right, okay.” you turn around and begin walking away from him when he catches your elbow. his grip is firm but considerate.

he tugs you back, making you stumble into his chest. you try to shove him away, but he doesn’t even budge as he draws you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly.

you shout, “just fuck off, katsuki!”

wincing, he rests his chin on the top of your head and murmurs, “no more late nights, baby, i promise. at least not for a while.” his body is so warm against yours, and his musk is so strong. you give up your assault on his concealed but delicious muscles and still in his grasp.

you grumble, “it’s not about the late nights, katsuki. it’s about you keeping things from me.” he kisses the top of your head and rubs circles on your back with his calloused palms.

he mutters into your hair, “i’ll tell you soon, okay?” you shake your head before tilting it back, returning his soft gaze with your harsher one.

you murmur, “so you’re not cheating on me? or are you cheating on me but intend to come clean?” your boyfriend’s mouth falls open as he stares at you, his blond brows raised slightly. regaining his composure, his usual scowl is back on his face.

he grumbles, “cheating? why the fuck would i be cheating on you?!” he licks his lips and gazes past you for a moment, sighing, “for fuck’s sake, babe. god, why the fuck would i be cheating on you? d’you really think i’m a cheater?!” you shake your head, taken aback by his sudden frustration.

he shouts, “I’VE NEVER CHEATED! NEVER! NOT LIKE FUCK-ASS DEKU WHO DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A QUIRK AND THEN—”

you gently pat his chest as you try to soothe him, “okay, okay, honey, it’s okay. i know you’re not a cheater.” after a few minutes, he calms down (for the most part).

he grunts, “d’you really think i’d do that?” a droplet of his spit hits your eyebrow. you go to wipe it away but he beats you to it, apologising all the while. you reassure him it's okay as you stroke his well-defined back up and down.

you say softly, “of course not. but if you’re not cheating on me, then what else are you doing? i just don’t understand, suki.” he shakes his head before settling back into the crook of your neck; his resting place.

he murmurs into your hot flesh, “just give me a few days n’ i’ll tell you, alright?” you pull back, cupping his cheeks with your hands while his fingers clench the back of your shirt.

you shake your head, saying, “you can tell me now.”

he huffs, “babe—”

“no,” you cut him off. “tell me now. i deserve to know why you’ve been coming home so late.” he gazes down momentarily as his fingers curl into your shirt even more, close to tearing the fabric with how tight his grip is.

he mumbles, “stubborn brat.”

it’s like something snaps. he releases your shirt from his killer grasp and smirks. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a velvety red, ring box.

he grabs your wrist and places it in your palm, saying, “that’s the reason.” he gazes at you expectantly, waiting for you to open the box. but you’re in shock.

your wide eyes bore into his narrow ones as you blink dumbly. your lips are slightly parted, open enough for the flies to make a home in your mouth. and they could with how little you’re registering right now. you can’t think or speak or move. all you know is that your long-term partner just placed a ring box in your hand.

katsuki rolls his eyes, attempting to hide the pain in his expression as you continue staring at him. he huffs, “well, are you gonna open it or not?”

you nod, your mouth awfully dry. you seal your lips as you shakily open the box. inside is the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. leaves protrude from the band and petals encircle a bright ruby glistening in the golden living room light; a rose. your gaze flickers up to him before switching back to the ring, and then back up to him.

you stutter, “a-are y-you, u-um, a-ask-asking m-me t-too—”

“yes,” he says solemnly. “you’re everything to me, baby. s-so, yea, will you be my wife?” you nod furiously. smirking, he takes the little box from your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. all the tension pent up in his body dissipates as he embraces you once more.

you squeeze his slutty waist tight as you begin tearing up, trying to process that your boyfriend just became your fiancé. katsuki sweetly kisses your forehead before resting his against yours.

he mutters, “i don’t tell you how much i love you enough. clearly like fuck. i fuckin’ love you, baby girl. more than you’ll ever know.”

a/n: link to the engagement ring design here (please lmk if it doesn't work); just imagine that it's a ruby and not a diamond.

♯┆𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓 .ᐟ — 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You’ve faked it with every guy you’ve ever worked with. Every scene, every moan, convincing, but never real. Then Bakugo happens. One scene turns into something else entirely and now you can’t stop thinking about him, and you’re starting to wonder if it was ever just a scene.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content. smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, rough sex, praise, light degradation, dirty talk, light choking, possessiveness, semi-public sex (on set), creampie, light aftercare, porn industry setting, blurred emotional lines, language.

PART TWO

You weren’t nervous. Not really.

You’d done this a hundred times. With all the big names—Keigo, who liked to make everything a performance; Touya, who had a thing for whispering filth like he was telling you a secret; even that wild three-way with Shindo and Hitoshi that still topped your subscriber requests.

So no, this wasn’t nerves.

This was something else.

Maybe it was the name on the call sheet. Bakugo Katsuki.

He was the guy. The one who didn’t just act like a powerhouse on camera—he was one. Every scene he was in got clipped, shared, memed, thirsted after. The kind of raw intensity people couldn’t stop watching. Or jerking off to.

You included. Not that you’d admit it out loud.

Okay. Maybe once. When you were wine drunk and swiping through his catalog. Maybe twice. Maybe more.

You’d watched him wreck other girls. Watched the way his hands gripped hips like he owned them. The way his mouth dragged moans out like he knew exactly what buttons to push. You always told yourself it was research. Prep for the inevitable scene.

Now here you were, in the makeup chair, legs crossed, phone in hand, trying not to stare at the clock. You didn’t even get this antsy for award shows.

You shifted your hips a little. God, you needed to get a grip.

“Five minutes, Y/N,” someone called from set.

You gave a casual wave, sliding your phone into your bag. Cool. Easy. You’d done this before. You were the girl. The one who always looked good, always knew her angles, always gave the most convincing moans. No one ever knew they were fake.

No one needed to.

You only did this for the money. Never caught feelings, never chased orgasms. You could finish on your own time. You always did.

But when you walked onto set and saw him—arms crossed, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low, like the cameras were already rolling—your breath hitched.

And then his eyes locked on you.

Bakugo didn’t smile. He smirked. All sharp teeth and slow drags of his gaze. Like he was already undressing you in his head.

“‘Bout time,” he said, voice low and cocky.

You raised a brow. “Don’t get cocky, Dynamight.”

He stepped forward, close enough that you had to tilt your chin up. He smelled like something spicy—cologne, sweat, and danger. His smirk widened.

“Too late, princess. I’ve seen your work. Bet I could make you actually cum.”

You laughed. It came out a little shaky. “You think you’re the first guy to say that?”

“Nah,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek like he had every right to touch you already. “But I’ll be the first one to prove it.”

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. Cocky bastard. You weren’t new to bold claims—hell, you’d heard that same line from half the industry. But something about the way he said it, all low and sure like it was a promise, made your pulse skip.

You turned away before he could see the heat rising to your cheeks.

The scene started like any other.

Lights. Camera. Action.

You were on your back, legs spread, eyes half-lidded. Your moans were perfectly timed, your hands moving just how they were supposed to.

Bakugo was above you, teasing at first, fingers trailing up your thigh, smirking like he had all the time in the world. You tried to stay in character. Tried to focus.

But then his fingers actually slipped inside, and holy shit—

You bit your lip.

That felt… different.

His fingers weren’t just thrusting. They curled. Pressed. Rubbed against the spot you usually had to hunt for on your own. And when he looked down at you, his eyes weren’t blank or performative. They were locked in. Watching every twitch of your mouth. Every hitch in your breath.

“You always fake it this early?” he muttered under his breath, so low only you could hear.

Your stomach flipped. Your thighs tensed.

“What?” you managed, voice barely a whisper.

Bakugo chuckled. It rumbled low in his chest.

“You’re tight,” he said, dragging his thumb over your clit just right. “But you ain’t clenching like you mean it. Not yet.”

And then he sucked on your inner thigh.

Not for the camera. Not for show.

For you.

Your back arched on instinct.

“Relax,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin. “I got you.”

And you hated—hated—how badly you wanted to believe him.

He didn’t start slow.

He licked into you like he was starving, like he’d been starving, and this was his first meal in weeks. His tongue was hot, wet, relentless—flicking against your clit in firm, practiced strokes that had your legs trembling before you could even bite back the first moan.

You weren’t acting.

Not anymore.

Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you, white-knuckled, and your lips parted like you wanted to say something, but all that came out was a broken little gasp.

“Oh fuck—”

He hummed against you. Smug bastard.

“Don’t hold back now, princess,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit slow, then latching back onto your clit like he owned it. “Let’s show ‘em what it looks like when it’s real.”

You whimpered. Whimpered. You didn’t do that.

Not even when Keigo pulled out the toys. Not even when Touya did that breathy thing in your ear.

This was different.

You tried—tried—to keep it together, but his mouth moved like he already knew every inch of you. Tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers still working inside you like he wasn’t giving you a fucking choice. He knew exactly where to press, where to flick, when to slow down and when to pick it back up again.

And it wasn’t even for the camera.

It was for you.

Your stomach coiled, tight. Too tight.

Your breathing hitched. Your thighs started to shake. You were going to—

“No,” you gasped, voice panicked, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—fuck—I’m—”

“Yeah you are,” Bakugo growled, pulling back just long enough to look at you. His mouth was wet with you, lips swollen, eyes wild. “C’mon. Don’t fake it. Just fuckin’ let go.”

And then he sucked—hard—right over your clit.

Your body snapped.

The orgasm hit like a wave crashing through you, ripping the air from your lungs. You didn’t fake it. You couldn’t. Your moans were raw, broken, punched out of you like the wind got knocked from your chest. You shook, hands flying to his hair, thighs locking around his head as your back arched off the bed.

And he didn’t stop.

Kept going. Licking, pressing, dragging your orgasm out like he wanted to ruin you.

You came again, again, before you’d even come down from the first.

Your voice cracked. “Bakugo, I—I can’t—”

“Yeah you can,” he muttered, not letting up for a second. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good. Look at you.”

You couldn’t. Your vision blurred. Your whole body was buzzing, on fire, shaking like you’d lost control of every single nerve ending. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You didn’t lose it like this.

But god, he was still licking you through it, fingers still curling right there, his voice low and wrecked as he talked you through it like he wanted to brand the sound of your orgasm into your memory forever.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he asked, voice gravel and heat, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You nodded, desperate, lost.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say it’s real.”

Your lips trembled.

“It’s real,” you gasped, breathless, broken. “It’s real, fuck I’m gonna—”

And just like that, you came undone again. Loud. Messy. Helpless.

Bakugo didn’t stop until your hips were twitching, your thighs were soaked, and your moans turned into soft little sobs of overstimulation.

The lights above you still burned hot. The cameras were still rolling. But everything else felt far away—muted, blurry, unreal. Your legs were jelly. Your chest rose and fell like you’d just run a marathon. And Bakugo was still between them, licking his lips like he’d just tasted something forbidden and planned to do it again.

Your brain was still fogged when he stood, stretching to his full height.

Then his hands were back on you, big and warm and so sure, gripping your waist like he owned it. He flipped you over effortlessly, face down, ass up, skin still hot and damp with sweat. Your thighs trembled when they spread open again, already overstimulated and soaked.

Bakugo slid his hands up your back. Slow. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he murmured, leaning over you, his cock grinding against your ass with lazy pressure. “That twitch in your legs? That little shake?”

You nodded weakly, eyes fluttering.

“That’s mine now.”

Your breath caught as he pulled his hips back. You barely had time to process before the thick head of his cock was pressing against your entrance—hot, heavy, and already wet from you.

“You ready?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question. It was a warning.

Then he pushed in.

Slow. All the way to the hilt. Letting you feel every inch. Stretching you open, filling you to the fucking brim. You choked on a moan, fingers gripping the sheets like your life depended on it.

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, buried deep inside you, letting your pussy throb around him.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, hips flexing. “So fuckin’ tight. Can feel you squeezing me already.”

You were. He hadn’t even started moving yet and you were clenching around him like you didn’t want him to leave.

Then—he moved.

A slow drag out. A sharp thrust back in. Deep. Deeper. Your mouth dropped open. No sound came out.

“That the spot?” he murmured, hips rolling again, hitting the same angle, slow and deliberate.

You nodded, gasping.

“You better fuckin’ tell me when you’re close,” he growled, pace still maddeningly slow. “I wanna feel it. I wanna hear it.”

He reached around and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing soft, teasing circles that made your arms give out. You dropped to your elbows, back arching like he’d wired you for pleasure.

Then he started really fucking you.

Not fast. Not rough. Just deep. Every. Single. Stroke. Reaching places that made your eyes roll back. His hips snapped forward with just enough force to jolt you up the bed, his fingers never leaving your clit.

You moaned into the mattress, voice high and broken.

“That’s it,” he breathed. “That’s the fuckin’ sound I wanted.”

You were spiraling. Every thrust, every rub, every low growl in your ear sent you closer to the edge.

“Bakugo, I—I’m gonna—”

“Yeah?” he grunted, hips picking up speed, still hitting that spot that made your toes curl. “Then fuckin’ cum for me.”

You shattered.

You clenched around him so tight he groaned, biting down on a curse as your body trembled under him. Your moan punched out of your throat, high and wrecked and real.

But he didn’t stop.

“Oh fuck—fuck, wait—” you gasped, hips twitching as he kept thrusting, dragging you straight into another orgasm with no break.

He leaned over you, voice low in your ear. “Not fakin’ now, huh?”

You shook your head wildly, whining into the sheets.

“Bet you never came like this on set before,” he said, voice rough. “Bet no one’s ever made you cum like this off it either.”

He wrapped a hand in your hair and pulled gently, just enough to lift your head.

“Say it.”

You could barely speak. “No one. No one but you.”

“Damn right.”

His thrusts sped up, rougher now, deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, joined by your wrecked little gasps, your whines, the slick mess between your thighs.

“You hear that?” he said, low and smug. “That fuckin’ sound your pussy’s makin’? That’s all me.”

You whimpered, and he slapped your ass—not hard, just enough to make you clench again.

“Ohhh, fuck,” he groaned, hips stuttering. “You’re gonna make me cum just like that.”

And then he slammed into you. Hard. Once. Twice. Over and over. You screamed—literally—as another orgasm crashed through you, your body locking up, eyes rolling back.

“Fuckfuckfuck—” he gasped, and then pulled out just in time to stroke himself twice, thick ropes of cum painting your back, his voice ragged as he came with a low, wrecked growl.

You collapsed.

No faking. No poses. Just you, ruined on the sheets, shaking and soaked and completely fucking gone.

Bakugo dropped to his knees behind you, panting. He grabbed a towel off the edge of the bed, wiped you down gently—so gently it made your chest ache.

“You good?” he asked, voice quiet now. Careful.

You nodded, still dizzy. Still pulsing. Still floating.

“I came so many times I lost count,” you whispered, dazed.

He chuckled, cocky and low. “Good.”

You rolled onto your side, trying to catch your breath.

“That was supposed to be a scene,” you mumbled. “That felt like a fucking movie.”

Bakugo leaned in, kissed your bare shoulder, then smirked against your skin.

“Baby,” he murmured, “that was just the warm-up.”

You snorted softly, still breathless. “You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Your legs were still trembling, body wrecked and used and buzzing. But something else was humming under your skin now. That ache in your core—not from need, but from power.

You rolled over, slow and deliberate, dragging your fingers down his chest. His eyes tracked every movement.

“Get on your back,” you whispered.

Bakugo raised a brow but didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillows, smirking like he thought he still had the upper hand.

His hair was damp with sweat. His lips were swollen. His chest rose and fell in hard, uneven breaths. You’d never seen him like this.

Your grin widened.

You leaned down and kissed him—soft, slow, way too good to be acting. Then you sat back, hips lifting off him, and slid down his body.

“Where you goin’?” he rasped, half-laughing, half-breathless.

You looked up at him from between his thighs, eyes dark, lips parted. “Didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

His breath caught.

You licked up the underside of his cock—slow, teasing, wet. He twitched in your hand, muscles tensing as you took your time, letting your mouth work him like you had something to prove. And maybe you did. Maybe you just wanted to see him fall apart the way he’d done to you.

You looked up, mouth wrapped around the tip, and saw it—the crack in his composure. The soft clench of his jaw. The desperate twitch in his thigh. The helpless sound he made when you sucked just right.

“You’re so sensitive, you’re not gonna last,” you said around him, lips brushing the head.

His fingers gripped the sheets. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You kept going, messy and perfect, tongue flicking and mouth sinking deeper, until he was panting, until he was cursing under his breath, until his hips jerked off the bed.

And then you pulled off, slow, dragging your tongue over the tip one last time.

He made a noise—wrecked.

You climbed back up his body, straddling his hips again. His hands found your thighs like muscle memory, gripping tight.

You leaned down, lips brushing his jaw.

“Beg.”

He froze. “What?”

You rolled your hips once, just enough to feel the slide of his cock against your slick entrance.

“Say it,” you whispered. “Tell me you want it.”

Bakugo swallowed hard. His voice was low, rough. “I want it.”

You licked the shell of his ear, teasing. “Not good enough.”

His hands trembled where they held you. Then he growled, breath hot.

“Please.”

You stilled.

“What was that?”

He gritted his teeth. Looked up at you like he hated how much he meant it.

“Please,” he repeated. “I want you. Need you. Fuck, I’ll say whatever you want—just ride me.”

You smiled. Real. Slow. Lazy and smug.

Then you sank down on him—deep, wet, tight—and his whole body arched beneath you, a broken moan punching out of his throat like you’d ripped it from his chest.

His hands flew to your hips.

You rode him slow. Sweet. All control. And when he finally came again—loud, raw, completely undone—you kissed him through it. Held him through it.

And when he whispered your name afterward, soft and stunned, like he didn’t know what just hit him

You smiled. Because for once, it wasn’t just acting.

Neither of you moved right away. His arms were still around you, chest rising and falling under your cheek, skin damp with sweat, muscles twitching beneath your fingers. Your heart was still beating too fast, and so was his.

Eventually, though, you had to get up. Had to move. The spell didn’t break, exactly—it just faded enough to remember where you were, who you were, what this was supposed to be.

You pulled on your robe in silence, legs still shaking slightly, and glanced at him across the bed. He sat up slow, pushing his hair back, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Like maybe he had more to say, but didn’t know how. Or didn’t think he should.

You hesitated.

So did he.

“Um…I’ll see you around,” you said, trying to make it sound casual, even though your voice came out a little too soft.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and reaching for his clothes. “Guess you will.”

Your stomach twisted, weirdly tight, but you smiled anyway. You nodded once, turned, and walked off set without looking back.

You didn’t see the way he watched you go.

Didn’t see the way his fingers flexed like he wanted to reach for you.

Didn’t hear the low, quiet fuck that slipped from under his breath when the door finally shut behind you.

You got home and didn’t even shower right away.

You peeled off your clothes slow, every muscle sore in the best possible way, and collapsed into bed wearing nothing but an oversized hoodie and your post-fuck glow. Your thighs ached. Your voice was half-gone. Your lips were still swollen.

You looked wrecked.

You felt worse.

And yet somehow, the only thing you could think about was him. The way he’d looked at you. The way he sounded saying your name. The way his hands had held you after like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You tried to distract yourself. Pulled up the scene, freshly posted not even an hour ago.

It already had thousands of likes. Hundreds of comments. More than anything you’d dropped in months.

You scrolled.

StepOnMeY/N: Holy shit, that was unreal.

BbyBakuGo: not y/n faking with everyone but bakugo

ToyasToy: Was that real? Tell me that was real.

It was.

You scrolled further.

KeigoOfficial: I feel personally offended. Gonna have to step my game up. Rematch y/n?

TouyaTodo: faked it? With me? damn. i must be losing my edge. hit me up when you wanna make it real doll.

You smirked.

Your DM notifications were blowing up. People you’d worked with. People you hadn’t. Everyone suddenly curious. Hungry. Competitive.

Your stomach flipped. It was fun. It was flattering. But none of it hit quite the same.

Then you saw it.

BakugoK: Already need more from my favorite girl.

You stared at it.

Read it once.

Twice.

A third time, just to make sure it was real.

Your breath caught in your throat. Your fingers went numb. You sat up in bed, heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to escape. Because what the fuck did that mean?

You clicked on his profile. Double checked that it was him.

It was.

No emoji. No game. Just a single comment that said everything and nothing all at once.

Already need more.

Favorite girl.

You slammed your laptop shut and screamed into your pillow. You kicked your feet like a schoolgirl. You laughed—hysterical, breathless, completely losing your mind.

Then you opened your laptop, stared at the comment again, and whispered out loud to no one

“Oh my god.”

Because yeah—you’d done this a hundred times. But this one was different.

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.