#deranged behavior

Lithe fingers stay knuckle-deep inside with fingertips pressing firmly upward, ragged breathing becoming full-on panting that grows heavy above you; a free, trembling hand tenderly brushes some of your hair from your eyes. Your nails are cautiously digging into the material of his shirt, trying to scratch at his covered shoulder blades, and a shiver rushes through your entire body. You’re bare, nothing shielding you from him, sweat forming on your skin, and the sheet is clinging to your back. Soft and quiet sounds come from you: some broken whimpers, some hushed moans, others whispered pleas of his name stumbling out as if your life depends on it. And honestly, in this moment, it might.

You could feel it swarm around you the instant he stepped over the threshold, the door closing slowly, quietly, and no heartfelt greeting ringing through the apartment like you were used to. You were tucked away in the corner of the couch, a blanket wrapped around you while you watched a movie, awaiting his arrival home from work. Text messages were seldom sent during his shift, which wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary; however, he always made an effort to text you and let you know if he needed to be away from his phone. Replies were short, no emojis or emoticons, and when you asked if he was okay, he simply sent: “just in a mood”.

That “mood” shrouded the entire apartment when you heard his heavy footsteps get muffled by the carpet, his figure standing in the doorway, and you could sense something was… off. His eyes were trained on the television, a bandaged hand resting on the wall beside him, but you could see from where you sat his body was rigid; his other hand at his side flexed a few times, at different short intervals, knuckles going white, and you couldn’t help stealing a glance at his side profile to notice his jaw tight, the vein usually well-hidden under the gauze now prominent. He visibly swallowed, still avoiding looking in your direction, and his fingers curled back in, methodically, slowly, forming a tight first that gradually unfurled so his slender fingers were dangling back by his thigh.

“Hey,” you tried not to make it obvious that you had seen his abnormal visage, the shadows moving with him, stretching along the floor, their clawed fingers trying to reach you.

“Hey,” Dazai’s tone was flat, voice monotonous, and the word was quick. It made you fall silent, evident the way he texted you earlier was how he decided to speak to you, and you stayed still. Watching.

When his head finally turned, eyes gliding to meet yours, something was different. They moved, obvious, clearly, with a dangerous intent, all over you. The hairs on your arms stood on end. I’ve never seen him like this before. He carefully stepped along the floor, making his way toward you, but it wasn’t his normal gait – it mimicked a predator that had found what it was looking for, and didn’t want it running off. He didn’t want to chase. Your pulse shot up once when he was right beside you, then suddenly relaxed as he grew closer and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his hand ghosting over your shoulder. He pulled away, only slightly, and you could see then his pupils from the close proximity: they were huge. Blown out completely, engulfing the usual chocolate irises he often gazed at you with, and his knuckles grazed lightly along the trail of your jaw before his lips connected with yours. It was a simple kiss at first, until you made the attempt of pulling away, and he wouldn’t allow it.

His soft mouth stayed on yours, his hand now cradling the back of your head, body hovering over yours, and pressed harder into the kiss. A sigh escaped him, resembling relief, and you felt his fingers flinch in your hair; there was a weird rush coursing through your veins that had run cold as ice, the kiss beginning to turn into something harsher. You couldn’t breathe, your palms resting on his chest, lightly applying pressure to let him silently know you needed a bit of air – then, of course, you two could kiss again – but he was ignoring you, your heart pumping in your ears, and a small sound rang out.

He wanted to steal every last breath you had, keeping a hold on you to prevent your escape, until he was done. Until he was satisfied. Until he knew you understood he was the only thing you needed to live.

His lips parted, forcing yours open, and you were able to gasp in a gulp of air to ease your slowly crippling lungs. Hearing your struggles to breathe was enough for him to pull away, your hands beginning to shake while you held loosely to his work shirt’s collar. “Thought about you all day.” He finally admitted, his voice changed, an edge to it that was too deep to be him. It didn’t sound like it was actually him speaking, maybe something more sinister that lived underneath, begging to come out, and you blinked, shocked at the confession, considering it felt as though it was the exact opposite.

He stood back up straighter, his fingers languidly drawing back along your cheek, taking their time mapping every inch of skin you have, his thumb cautiously moving down the side of your neck to rest on your pulse point. The corner of his lips tugged up, head cocking with some hair falling across his menacing eyes, and the smirk he wore startled you as he clocked the racing thump thump thumping against the pad of his thumb. Satisfied, his hand lazily withdrew completely before he stalked off in the other direction to the bedroom, leaving you there wondering if you should run after him or out the front door.

The evening consisted of him pacing around you as if he was backing you into a corner, occasional side-eyed glances with those demonic eyes, the starvation he had put himself through evident in the way they greedily devoured you. As if you were being hunted, a one-sided game of cat and mouse, where you were unsuspecting but acutely aware at the same time that he wanted you. You were drawn to him, though, like he wanted you to be. Especially since he had a scalding shower, taking time to properly blow-dry then style his hair, and, for some reason, doused his skin and lounge clothes in cologne – the scent you loved, purposefully sauntering past you to make it waft over your being when you had made the brave decision to venture into the bedroom for something. You had completely forgotten what it was when he carefully stepped by, figure frozen in place with the smell heavy throughout the entire room, violently invading your senses, him finding any reason he could to remain near you or tiptoe around the apartment wherever you had scurried off to.

He had begun to grow impatient as the sun went down, hands fidgeting at his sides or with your hair, shifting in his spot if he sat beside you, legs spreading wide that squished you into the arm of the couch without any room to get out. He had done everything he knew you liked to catch your attention, and instead of having you pouncing on him, you were hiding from him. He couldn’t take much more of it, not wanting to chase you in the slightest, but have you land into the pitfalls of whatever traps he laid out, but somehow you nimbly and narrowly avoided each one as you stepped with the utmost caution around him. You had caught, from the corner of your eye, his jaw clenched tightly, brows downturned as he stared blankly at the television, and his chest rose higher than usual while a strange, guttural and low sound came from him. Frustration. Agitation. Desire. Hunger.

The hunger was getting strong, too much for him to handle, that when you slipped yourself free to run off to the kitchen, he had to follow you – as he had been since coming home. Even taking the extra mile to press his chest to your back with his arms outstretched on either side of your body, palms flat on the surface of the counter. He was choosing then to close in, and your eyes betrayed you, flickering down to his well-manicured nails, traveling your wandering gaze to his wrist and arm that were bare, skin visible with every scar on display for you, and his nose would occasionally find the back of your ear to gently nuzzle against. An impulsive thought hit you like a freight train, ogling the way his veins protruded to the surface, dragging your tongue along it until the tips of his fingers were sucked into your mouth–

“What caught your eye?” He whispered, gravelly, as if he had swallowed rusted tacks, interrupting your thoughts in an instant. The way he spoke, the octave, the pitch – it made you full-on blush, alongside sending two signals: one for cause of alarm to your head and one for the mindless thing between your legs. He raised his middle and ring fingers, joined together, leisurely, showing off how generous he was to have his nails trimmed with meticulous care just for you. His eyes were glued to the side of your face, holding back a triumphant smirk at the deepening flush on your cheeks. You swallowed, distracted, brows furrowing as the tip of his nose gently trailed along your skin, breath hot as it fanned out in quick huffs, a quiet but deep inhale, and you noticed then you could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage and into your shoulder blade. He wasn’t controlling it – he couldn’t anymore, since he was so enthralled with the idea of you – allowing it to give away what was wrong with him, it stuttering every now and then as he inhaled again. His eyes fluttered closed while his fingers tried digging into the faux marble countertop – white knuckles returning to show how hard he was working to hold himself back, and his arms were beginning to inch closer to your body, ensnaring you, while his drooling mouth found the nape of your neck to pepper wet kisses into it.

“I’m gonna shower,” you blurted out, twisting around to face him, just to see that look in his eyes hadn’t vanished. If anything, it worsened. You wouldn’t have described it as lust – more so a devious hunger. Utterly insatiable. Nothing could cure it, no matter what all he would help himself to. Those black voids flicked around your face, head slightly tilting, and a flash crossed them at the thought of your naked body coated in water, beads dripping off your shoulders and down your legs, steam curling around the room, fogged mirror to conceal the things he was dying to do to you. The way he gazed at you, a million miles away, his tongue poking out to his bottom lip as his mind continued wandering, not making any moves to give the space needed for you to go to the bathroom. “Osamu–”

“Lemme watch,” he breathed. Cheeks flushed once again at the request, burning hot as it crept down your neck, but he was shamelessly serious. He wanted to get a chair and place it right in front of the bathtub, rip the curtain off the rod, and simply watch you bathe, like it would be a personal show for him – the way your hands skate along your arms as soap bubbles are left behind; hair drenched and slicked back from your face; lashes wet and heavy; skin reddening from the heat raising your internal temperature. His delusional, broken brain confused it with you preparing yourself for him. Watch? His heavy breathing caught your attention, and his eyes appeared to spin in their sockets.

“N-No,” you cleared your throat, hands back on his chest as you subtly pushed him off of you, gaining your personal space, then quickening your pace toward the bedroom without looking over your shoulder. He stood there, watching after you, the way your hips swayed when you walked, and he almost chased after you. Almost. He won’t chase you – not tonight.

He allowed you to be left alone, the bedroom door closed, locked, and the bathroom door opened, taking your time to bathe, since it seemed he listened enough to your declination of letting him watch you do so, which was an odd request. He had never asked something like that; sure, you two take showers together, but he never asked to watch. You thought about his behavior, how difficult it was to ignore all night the way he watched you, circled you, sat close to you – which, none of it should come off as anything outside of the ordinary of your boyfriend, Dazai naturally an observant and clingy guy. However, it ate away at you when you’d catch in the corner of your eye him licking his lips; how tight his grip would be on you at different points of the evening, as if worried you were catching on and didn’t want you running off; how he spoke few words unless it was a seductive trick to throw you off your guard. Wearing cologne at the end of the day and not bothering putting his bandages back on for the night. Saying he had been thinking about you nonstop, but nothing showed for it.

You sighed while drying off, padding along into the carpeted bedroom to the drawers, rummaging around for a set of pajamas, distracted. You faltered, hand clutching your towel a little tighter, static filling your surroundings that caused the hair on your arms to stand straight up again. You smell it first, the enticing scent that seemed to lull you into a false sense of ease, mixing in with the cleanliness only brought from the lingering remnants of a fresh shower ending. I thought I locked the door?

Rough hands smoothed around your sides and stomach, a pitched gasp coming out as you jumped, his palpitating heart about to burst through his chest and launch into your back, nails seeming to claw into your skin, and you stilled. Somehow, in a plan to escape, you walked yourself right into the cage he was luring you to, palms hot on your body, face burying in your neck while cautious kisses are left behind in the crook. He hummed, vibrating on your shoulder, and a mild sting struck up to your chest at the realization his nails were digging into the flesh on your hips as his arms wrapped around you like a cobra’s coil. You were trapped in the whirlwind of mysterious emotions from Dazai, his lips taking their time to press delicate kiss after kiss up the side of your neck, making your fingers relax enough to loosen the grip on your towel; though, you tensed at another rough scratch from his nails dragged across your abdomen.

“I want to be inside you,” he professed, his fat tongue licking a leisurely, wet stripe from the base of your neck to your earlobe. Your eyes widened at the action, flushed again at his blunt desire, and your chest rose. His tongue gently prodded in your ear, and your eyes accidentally rolled back before quickly correcting them, blinking rapidly as you tried focusing back to the task at hand: clothes. His hands swiftly grabbed your wrists then, when you thought you could busy yourself while he was lost in his own world, fastening them behind your back, and you couldn’t think quick enough to comprehend what was happening, let alone give a reaction, the towel dropping to the floor in a heap around your feet. His nose nudged into your jaw as his head pressed closer, forcing your body back flush to him, eyes traveling down to your exposed chest, watching the way it rose and fell as your breathing picked up. Goosebumps formed, a small shiver making you shudder, and your wrists were clutched tight in one of his large hands while the other came back around your front, fingertips ghosting up to your nipple.

“Don’t think I’ll let you run away from me,” his teeth grazed the shell of your ear, thumb circling around your nipple until it hardened. You bit down on your bottom lip, laying your head back on his shoulder as your lashes fluttered shut, stifling the small moan that wanted to come out. “All I thought about was you.” He whispered, his thumb not stopping its languid movements, holding you hostage in your own room. “How badly I want to tear you apart.” Your lids cracked open at that, distracted still when his thumb skated to the other side, showing just as much lavished attention to the untouched bud, his hooded eyes watching it peak in real time, before sinking his teeth down on your shoulder, immediately sucking and biting with a tantalizing pain that made your head spin.

Wrists wriggled in his grasp, wanting to be freed, but that made his hold turn possessive, not tolerating even the slightest bit of space between yours and his bodies, the waft of his cologne rampaging its way into the fuddled mess becoming of your mind. His teeth dug in deeper, nails clawing themselves to your veins, and you bite on your back teeth to withstand the rush of discomfort overwhelming your nerves. His tongue swiped around, a lousy means to soothe the ache, sending you mixed signals.

You suddenly cried out, though, when the pain got too intense, worried he was going to rip the flesh off your bones right there, writhing in his hold until his palm laid flat on your sternum that forced you back in place, pressed up to him. It was barely enough to make him stop, tongue gingerly lapping at the red mark he left behind, teeth wasting no time to latch onto your neck, beginning all over again just to make your knees buckle. His stronghold kept you steady, the moans you once wanted to conceal now spilling out of your mouth, permission for him to join with muffled groans as his teeth drove as far as he could allow them. As far as your supple skin could handle, no matter how terribly he wished to break through – just a little bit.

He finally released your wrists, arms tingling from being half asleep that fell to your sides, his mouth finding a new blank canvas to ruin on the other side, his groans morphing to grunts and light growls, and your mind couldn’t process where the door was anymore. Nor how to form coherent sentences, not when he was assaulting the spot on your neck that he knew drove you crazy, your body going limp, hoping his usual kindness was in there somewhere to hold you as his tongue circled and jabbed at it, a secret switch that caused the prettiest of sounds to burst from you. Both of his hands fondled your chest, the jagged, misplaced callouses expertly caressing your nipples, and you were feeling yourself give in to whatever the hell it was that befell him.

You are his perfect prey after all, a creature he spent plenty of time studying, learning your weaknesses down to the very minute detail, knowing what pulls you right into his bandaged hands to accept his embrace. Knowing what makes you crumble before him, letting him mold you to whatever he needs for the evening, stumbling around, shaking with fear that you mistake for anticipation. Mistaking danger for arousal.

He walked backward, dragging you with him as he held fast, bodies inseparable, guiding you until the back of his knees hit the bed. One last, slow drag of his tongue along your neck ended with an out-of-place soft kiss on your jaw, throwing you off once again so he could whirl around and toss you onto the mattress, crawling on top of you to keep your body pinned beneath him. No opportunity for you to leave, even if you wanted to.

Your hazed vision stared up at him, his shaggy hair framing around his face while he glared down at you, lips parted as he breathed, and you noticed he was still in his clothes while you laid there naked. His knee forced your thighs to open wide, and those starving voids took you in: trembling under him, hands loosely holding to his baggy shirt, cheeks stained the most perfect shade of pink, the fear in your innocent stare. The way your teeth chattered, the sound audible. The dark, almost bleeding bruises he left behind on your fragile skin. Exactly how he wanted you.

“Perfection,” he murmured in his dropped octave, fingers slowly following the path down your stomach, wild eyes scouring every aspect of you – defenseless and not making a break for it. All his efforts for the evening got him what he so desperately wanted, the strange build up that made his hands tremor to the point of shoving them in his coat pockets during his case, the twisted daydreams he had of you that invaded his mind throughout the day that he wasn’t sure you could handle, ones that made him wonder what was wrong with him. Yet, there you were, terrified but staying in place. Right where he needed you.

You had been mostly silent, one-word answers, a soft ‘mhm’ here and a quiet ‘nuh uh’ there with nodding or shaking your head, shrinking down in your spot, and your eyes continuously wandered toward the front door. He noticed; every time you thought he wouldn’t, he noticed. Every subtle nudge closer to him, every touch to garner your attention, every dance around you was to ensure you stopped looking for an out and kept your eyes on him. Now, with him looming over you, his hand helping himself to touching and caressing different parts of your naked body, shuddering breaths leaving his parted lips – it was painfully obvious in the way your legs shifted to open yourself up more to him on instinct, how your hold never let go, and the hammering of your heart was the only sound filling the room that you wanted him regardless of how scared you were. His eyes traveled down, watching in the filthiest excitement and joy you were silently inviting him to do whatever he so pleased to you.

Ring and middle fingers slipped in your mouth when you were distracted by his features, wanting to watch him closely, but it took you a bit by surprise, though your lips latched onto them without further protest. However, they kept creeping further, dragging along your tongue, until they were down your throat, his other hand moving between your thighs to gingerly circle your hole in deliberate motions. “Open up for me.” He rasped, entranced by the sight. “Swallow my fingers.” You gagged around the digits as they reached as far as they could go, his knuckles bumping the roof of your mouth, and his middle finger teasing its way in, a low groan coming from him at the warmth immediately overcoming him. You gagged again when he pressed down on your tongue, tears welling up, and you squirmed a bit against the sheets.

It wasn’t easy to breathe with this happening, a second ring finger slipping in, stretching you deliciously, but they didn’t move. He drew his hand back from your mouth, observing and listening as you gasped for air, a couple of those tears slipping loose to fall down into your ears. He hummed, leaning down to lick it up, his tongue following from your temple to the corner of your eye, and he began to think of all the different ways he could trigger you to cry, bursting into a fit, adding to his sick fantasy.

Which leads to him lovingly pushing and pulling in careful strokes with his gorgeous fingers, keeping a close eye on your reactions, listening to your uneven breaths and quiet moans while his other hand carefully presses down on your abdomen. “Beautiful.” He praises, briefly biting down on his lip, maintaining his pace before curling his fingers up to press into that perfect sweet spot, your back arching into the sensation. His breathing is erratic, worse than before, as he ogles you, fingers working in tandem with your sudden hips rolling down into it, wanting more friction – wanting to forget how he had been acting. Get lost in the feeling. Relax into his touch, his thoughtful attention to your body’s needs.

His head ducks down into your neck when he sees your eyes close and feels you physically relax, the overactive muscle lolling out of his mouth to circle and lick at the bruise he had left behind already, biting down once again, and it shoots an electrifying shock of pain that makes your toes curl. Your nails are clawing at his shirt, trying to grip onto him, something, anything, recognizing he is back to sucking harshly on the already formed mark. His pace picks up, fingertips repeatedly pressing and massaging the swollen spot, the pleasure doing its best to overpower the slight agony, and you didn’t know what to do. You feel paralyzed, wanting to trust him as always that he is taking care not to go overboard, but there is still the doubt from seeing those typically kind and compassionate eyes be blackened by whatever monster decided to come out tonight.

“O-Osamu,” you croak out his name, followed by a hiss when he nips again, your hand flying up to his hair and another faint gasp punches out when he twists his fingers over and over inside you, taking his time to revel in the way you’re tightening back around them. “You’re… You’re gonna make me-me bleed–!” You cut yourself off with another small yelp, gripping at the roots while you try to pull him off of you. However, the low, rumbling hum he lets out that rattles along your skin and worsened hickey sends shivers tingling down your spine. His ministrations don’t stop, going back to plunging them in and out of you, listening as the broken moans sneak out despite trying to hold them in, and his head lifts enough to look down into your eyes that fill with fear. His pupils have constricted, the smile on his face anything but gentle or caring, joking nor friendly. Definitely not human.

“Don’t worry, my darling,” he coos, though his tone is dark, his other hand carefully stroking your hair away as your legs tremble around his waist, his fingers moving quick, knowing you far too well that you’re about to come. “I’ll drink every last drop that drips down. I won’t let it go to waste.” Your brows can’t help furrowing, the confusion running circles in your mind at what he said and the stirring, white-hot build in your abdomen not ceasing. You whimper, soft, quiet, like an animal unsure of what is going to happen to it, your hand delicately wrapping around his working wrist. “You’re okay, look at you. Shaking as if you’re scared. It’s so adorable.” He continues, ignoring the hold you have on him, pressing his spit-coated lips on yours, the same air-stealing kiss back to swallow every last breath you can possibly have.

One hand is back to cradling your head, firm, keeping you two lip-locked together, his other halting now as deep as he can go, harshly tapping on that spot he’s been abusing for what seemed like hours, the whines and sudden choking from your throat filling the room. Eyes squeeze shut, nails digging and cutting into the skin of his wrist, grasping at his hair in an attempt to get him away so you can breathe – but it is all useless. You’re too weak with your back arching off the sweat-drenched sheets, heels scraping at the mattress, lungs burning from lack of oxygen to a point your head is getting dizzy, barely able to concentrate on the swirl of his cologne around what little bit of senses you have left, muffled moans and whines being eaten into his greedy mouth while you start dripping in your own come from this terrifying but beautiful orgasm he is letting you have. His tongue slips into your mouth, another false sense of relief to breathe and gulp for air, using it to press yours down and prevent you from speaking. His fingers slow, allowing you to ride out the ungodly high, aftershocks jolting your body, and your hands gradually loosen their holds.

“There,” he whispers, withdrawing from your mouth so you can catch a break, and a string of saliva connects you two together still. His fingers carefully, painstakingly slowly, pull out of your worn-out hole, and bring themselves up to his lips, darting out his tongue to taste you before it takes them in for him to suck on and lick clean – holding intense eye contact with you while he does so. You want to watch, something that usually turns you on, but the hunger he exhibited earlier is back, and the color in his irises shift. Even when you try looking away due to bashfulness, his other hand grips your jaw and forces your head straight so you can keep watching. Your chest heaves, and your pupils betray you as they dilate in front of him, a wicked and devious smirk forming when he slips them into your mouth – covered in the taste of you and his spit. “Savor yourself. See why I’m always going so crazy for you. Why I want to rip you to pieces and relish the taste of you, bit by bit.” He speaks fluidly, as if this is the easiest thing in the world for him to say, as if he didn’t just say it at all out loud to you.

Lids hood over your dazed eyes, doing as he instructed, lips beautifully wrapped around his digits while you feverishly suck and lap at them, your mind fogged and not registering what he had confessed. “Look at you.” He repeats, voice distant and gravelly, his gaze never wandering from you for a second. “Would you eat my heart too if I ripped it out of my chest and slipped it in your mouth? Would you want a piece of me inside you forever? To taste my love for you?” You aren’t given enough time to react to that, his fingers ripped from out of your throat and large, scorching palms cup your face, kissing you fervently. His lips trap yours in a rhythm you aren’t sure you can follow, occasionally biting down and pulling on your bottom lip, nipping at the flesh, his tongue licking your mouth and dragging along your tongue, the moans and groans and whimpers and whines primarily from him. You hold onto him, trying to ground yourself, but it seems he is wanting to sweep you away to whatever plane he is on, get you to his level, have you lose yourself too. Show his devotion to you. Taste his love in every slip of his tongue on yours, remnants of you mixed in his spit, and then rusted copper brings you back.

He drags out a groan, sucking on your bottom lip, eyes cracking open to see his are also barely open that stare back at you. He abruptly bites down, hard, that causes your nails to scratch at his arms, legs working to try kicking him off of you, but he has you pinned entirely under his body. Teeth let go, releasing you, and you blink rapidly up at him as his tongue swipes over his own lip. “I told you, my darling, I’d drink whatever blood comes to the surface.” He hunches down, the tip of his tongue lightly trailing up on your mouth, hand inching up to carefully grab your jaw when he notices you trying to pull away. “You taste utterly divine, whether it’s from a pretty orgasm or me drawing blood from those pretty lips.” He hums, gaze roaming your features, ears perking up at the sound of our resounding heartrate.

Those large, fatal hands trace down along your figure, a kiss graciously landing on your cheek before he sits up on his knees, and your stare falls to the outline of his dick in his sweatpants then back up to his expression-less face. One palm hovers over your chest, where your heart is, mouth in a line as his eyes hold yours. His mouth opens, voice barely an audible whisper: “I want to gut your heart and crawl inside you to take its place so you can only think of me.” Eyes widen in panicked shock, seeing lips curl up into something you wouldn’t exactly call a smile, all flawless teeth that resemble fangs, and you notice his pupils are still constricted. “I wouldn’t waste it. I’d make sure to devour it whole, right in front of you, so I can keep your love inside of me forever.” You can’t hide anything from him, especially since his hand presses down more and catches the skip in your heartbeat. He giggles, nails digging into your skin when you swallow, the careless thought entering your mind he is about to do just that right now. “Oh, my darling, don’t look at me like that. Please? Please, I only want you to know I just love you so much I don’t know how else to show you other than eating you alive.”

“Osamu, you’re scaring me,” you finally admit, the words the hardest thing to come out of you, so small and quiet. However, the blush on your cheeks is too prominent to ignore, your eyes flitting down periodically to how hard he is, and these morbidly beautiful declarations of his love for you cuts through you. Dazai rarely says ‘I love you’ – you know he does, but hearing those three words makes you vulnerable every time, melting down to putty for him to mold and play with. Of course, he knows that. A natural predator knows his prey like the back of his hand, willing to go any length necessary to stop it from running so he can enjoy his feast.

He ignores your comment entirely, shifting around in what seems like letting you loose. In actuality, he is turning you over on your stomach; he rests his hand on your back, gently pressing, and leans down near your ear. “I know, my darling, but you’re captivated, aren’t you?” His tongue teasingly prods into it after that, a soft whimper escaping from your trembling mouth. He pushes his pants down, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out, and slips his shirt off to put his bare, scar-covered skin on display for you to shyly peek at. You take a moment to gape, his cock painfully erect, the head as red as your cheeks are, leaking at the sight of you obediently lying on the bed for him – so pretty, as if being served to me on a silver platter.

A leg throws itself over your thighs, caging you down again, and his hands eagerly grasp at your ass to spread you open, to admire your hole that he had stretched out. Seeing it open and close, pulsing for him, and his cock jumps at the thought of soon being inside. He spits, letting the string drip down from his tongue to his cock, watching it slip down and onto your skin, making you jump slightly. He does it again, fisting it to spread it all over, then brings his hand up to have a glob spit onto his fingers to massage over your hole, a couple slipping back in – to make sure you can take him. You lay there, stock-still at his sudden silence, after him saying he is aware he has been instilling fear into you since coming home, worried you’ll become a victim of his sudden hunger you didn’t know he was capable of until this evening. You fist the pillow when his fingers slip out, preparing yourself when his tip carefully prods at your slicked opening, his other hand keeping you spread open as much as it can.

A puff of air comes out, mixed with a pitched whine when his cock slides in, filling you entirely, but he keeps pushing himself in. Your mouth falls open, clawing at the pillow when you realize he is balls deep – but it still isn’t enough for him, a whine of his own that is muffled behind him biting down harshly on his lip enters your ear as he thrusts a few times, wanting desperately to put more of himself inside you. However, his entire cock is already shoved in, and tears are pricking the corners of your eyes from the euphorically dull pain of his thick and long dick practically hitting your stomach. “Wanna be inside you all the time.” He pants, his thrusts more like desperate humping – quick and barely pulling out of you, staying at the hilt – while he grips at your hips. “Never wanna leave your body. Wanna live inside you.” He continues mumbling, thinking you can’t hear him over the light smacking of his hips into your cheeks and your gasping moans with each contact of his tip into your brutalized G-spot. “Need you. Need you so bad, so bad, so bad. Wanna tear you apart and crack you open, live in your bones.” He whimpers, his nails dragging down your back, leaving behind fine crimson lines, raising to the surface, drawing out pained mewling from you.

“O-Osa–” His hand slaps across your mouth then, driving his cock back in so deep your eyes roll back, and his body lowers until its weight begins to crush down on yours.

“Shut up,” he demands, his other hand sliding up your throat, fingers delicately wrapping around it, and then he stills. Both of you are breathing heavy, his mouth near your ear, and your walls constrict around his thick length, making him shudder. “Unless you’re telling me what I want to hear, don’t you dare speak.” He commands, and you give a few nods of your head, so he knows you heard and understood. His neck slowly cranes to look at the side of your face, your eyes flickering to the side to catch his, seeing him move closer to press his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re so submissive and obedient. You’d let me do whatever I want to you, wouldn’t you? Let me rip your stunning heart out and eat it in front of you; rip pieces of you off your body to keep with me in my pocket; let me sleep in your ribcage and think of only me?” You stared at him sidelong for an extended, quiet moment, listening to him, hearing him, and your pulse hit against his thumb. You hear him, in a pitched but utterly quiet whisper he’s ever spoken to you, murmur another ‘wouldn’t you, my darling’ since you haven’t given him any type of response yet. The doubt is settling into his nervous system, your silence loud, your body stiff beneath him, and the sound of your rattling heart can be heard for miles.

His hand gradually slips from your mouth, finding your jaw instead, gentle compared to the intense, pounding pain in your abdomen from how deep his dick is in your body. Your lips part, the bottom shuddering, his eyes flitting down to it briefly, and he is patient for an answer. “Y-Yes, Osamu.” You hear yourself say, the terror and fear riddled in your words, that you don’t believe it’s you speaking. Maybe the demonic monster possessing him was transferred into you while he violently kissed you, making you agree to his deranged pleas without a second thought. “Yes, I would let you.” His cock twitches against your walls, your lashes fluttering at the feeling, and something stirs in your stomach – butterflies or anxiety, who’s to say in this very situation?

For the first time tonight, his eyes softened at your answer, the unconditional adoration you were used to spilling past the broken insanity, showing you Dazai’s still in there. The man you know is there with you, placing a tender kiss on your temple, but his hands remain where they are – possessive on your neck, not applying pressure, but a reminder of what he is capable of. Reminding you he’s done it before, and your worry is he won’t hesitate right now, in this devastating state, to do it to you. “I love you so much. I love you in ways not humanly possible.” He whispers softly in your ear, his breath tickling inside, then that wet muscle licks up along the back of it. “I love you so much that I want you with me at all times.” His thumb caresses along the line of your jaw and lands another rough thrust into you, to jolt you back to Earth, reminding you not to get lost in his words. A soft ‘is that so wrong’ echoes in your brain, making you shake your head, afraid to give an answer he would hate to hear. Agreeance is safety.

“I love you, too,” you swallow, hesitant in the way you speak. “I wanna be with you always, you know that.” You say this slowly, wondering if this is all because you haven’t shown him enough that you do in fact love him just as much, a twinge of guilt hitting your chest when his hips buck in again that makes you gasp. Maybe you won’t drink his blood or eat his heart, but you are pretty sure you meant it when you said you’d let him do that to you, as much as he wants. Until he’s satisfied. Until he’s satiated. Until the monster is happy. “I-I do lo-ve you, Osa.” You breathe out, words stuttering with each small, brutal thrust into you, his cock so hard that you’re certain he will do this for multiple rounds before he’s considered done. His soft grunts vibrate near your lobe, holding you impossibly closer to him, hands tightening briefly around your neck when he shifts, helping it lean back so it’s exposed. Another languid, wet swipe runs up the side, a groan following at the taste of the sheen drops of sweat that formed on your skin. The fear oozing out of you. The way your heartbeat quivers against the muscle, the thought of all that blood coursing faster and faster in your veins.

“Are you going to leave me after this, my darling?” His quick thrusts haven’t stopped, a swirl of pain and pleasure shooting up your torso with each hit of his cock surpassing that spot completely, evident he is trying to crawl in your body. His palms take in the way you gulp down each confused sound, not sure if you want to scream from the agony or scream from the stimulation, and he has to bite his lip to prevent the devilish grin from forming at your distress. “You won’t be able to get very far if you do, you know.” He states, like this is purely fact, and your eyes stay trained on the ceiling to avoid looking in his direction – too terrified to find out if this is from his mood or if he means it. His legs shift, his cock drawing back some that allows you a moment of relief, a sigh blowing out while his knees spread your thighs farther apart, his hold never relenting on your neck. A jolt of electricity strikes up your spine when his tip drives back in fully without any warning, that scream you had been trying to hold back erupting out of you, and he just… laughs. He laughs at you, your pain, your squirming, the probable ache in your neck he has craned backward so you can look up at him while his hips persist in a now erratic rhythm, stopping at different intervals to make sure you can feel his dick in your lungs.

“Just know,” he begins, a man-eating simper plastered on his mouth, the fangs returning, and you know then what you had seen previously wasn’t a mere trick of your frightened mind: his gentle chocolate gaze has shifted to a haunting shade of crimson that you can’t believe were possible. Your body tightens again around his shaft, the veins rigged, and your eyes are wide. “If you ever try to leave me, I’ll track you down and bring you right back.” He laughs again, shuddering a bit from the hold you have on him, but it doesn’t stop him from forcing his cock to continue moving, a slow drag in and out now, harsh enough to punch out small huffs of air from you, and another low growl emits from his chest. “I’ll lock you away inside a box if I have to, so I can make sure to keep you here forever.

“I’ll play with you like my personal doll, dress you up in whatever I want,” his fingers slide up from your neck, grazing along to feel every goosebump, gliding along the outline of your jaw, past your ears, then nestles them into your hair – nails lightly digging into your scalp. “Then, I’ll lock myself in there with you, so we can play together more. So I can touch you whenever I please, and no one would ever hear us. Never find us.” He leans down as his hips still long enough, full of him, the painful pressure he has applied makes more tears spring to your horrified eyes, and presses a loving and lingering kiss to your forehead. In one swift, fluid motion, without any warning, his hands snap your head down in the pillows, keeping it there, one still tangled in your strands while the other holds a white-knuckle grip on the headboard once he starts absolutely railing into you. Your nails claw at the sheets, hips raising to meet his – or get away from him – just for the pain to gradually subside, the head of his cock finding your G-spot again, the inhuman pace making the both of you pant, mixing with desperate moaning, whining, whimpering, and occasional screams from his dick stubbornly continuing its bullying on your insides, his nails scraping down from your skull to the base of your spine. Matching bright red marks have formed alongside the others, and your muffled moans get louder when he forces all of his length into you and rocking his hips back and forth so his tip can knock repeatedly into your swollen spot.

“Fuck, you’re about to come. All for me,” he grunts under his breath, hair moving with him in certain places, some beginning to stick to his forehead with the sweat that instantly formed. Your mind has drawn a blank, the only thing able to come from your mouth are broken moans and huffed panting into the pillow that you are clinging to for dear life, his declaration absolutely correct. His wild eyes follow the bounce of your ass off his hips as his feral humping brings you to the edge, mouth falling open, fisting the pillowcase tight, and his uncontrollable thoughts spill over while he gawks. Your head is forced down further, smothering your own animalistic scream when his cock drives one more time into your body, everything shaking violently while you start coming, numbing your brain completely – to aid in forgetting everything he’s done and said to you.

The hold on your head eases, giving you the ability to twist your neck to rest your cheek, a sigh of relief escaping past your lips when his thrusts seem to drop down to normal, helping you ride out your second – and hopefully last – orgasm of the night. His hand finds its way to yours, grasping your wrist to stand your arm up, limp in his hold, letting him do whatever he wants to you, as fervent and sloppy kisses are placed all over the back of your hand and up your fingers, an elongated whine slipping out against your skin as he shields his mouth with it. “Wanna stay.” He whimpers, taking a couple of your fingers into his needy mouth, tongue lulling around them, spit dripping from his lips and down to your knuckles. “Wanna stay inside.” He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking your pointer and middle fingers as his cock twitches and jumps, a warning that he’s about to finish. And based on his lamentings above you, he’s not ready to. Teeth sink down bit by bit, a faint sting, lashes fluttering as they close on you, and your poor body can’t take much more of this.

“Please,” your voice is distant, fingers twitching in his mouth, grazing the ridges on the roof of it, his hips ruthless as their movements hit you in all the right and raw places, almost feeling his veins pulse with each drag. Dark brows furrow, concentrating too much on too many different things, like the fact he is about to come when I don’t want to; your fingers in his mouth and between his teeth that he is fighting internally to don’t fucking bite down; the slap slap slapping of his hips and balls into your ass and thighs alongside how soaking wet you are; the way your sweet little mewls and pleas fuel him further into not fucking stopping; and, of course, what he has been thinking about all. Damn. Day: how delicious you look scared. He lightly shakes his head to himself, mean grip on your wrist while another’s on your side, head falling forward and letting your fingers free when his jaw drops.

“My darling,” he breathes, planting a few haphazard kisses on your hand again. “I’m… I’m gonna come. Fuck, I’m–I’m gonna come inside you. Make su-re nothing… nothing can come out.” He demands, holding your lax hand close to his chest. He mumbles and mutters to himself, a man possessed, as he pistons his aching cock in you, watching the way you tremble under him.

“Keep me inside you.”

“Wanna be with you always.”

“Wanna devour you."

“Need you. Can’t live without you.”

“Never leave. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you. I need you.”

He chants different variations of these phrases until he reaches a halt, the warmth of his load a strangely welcomed soothing to the soreness in your well-destroyed hole. His hips jolt forward once, filled with aftershocks, pumping more and more inside you, squeezing your hand so tightly with his nails puncturing your skin. A weak yelp and another twitch of your fingers follow, making his lids crack open to examine the small trickling of blood down the side and beading around his fingertips. His tongue immediately cleans it up, wrapping his lips around the wound and gently suckling at what little bit of your blood he can draw out that he can. A deep, blissful sigh hums out, his other palm caressing your mangled back, softening cock not leaving – being serious to not let one drop leave you.

Finally, for the first time since he came home, you relax into the mattress, lids hooded as you stare back at yourself in the mirror that’s across the way from your shared bed, seeing him behind you with his eyes closed while he continues helping himself to licking your wounds, and it clicks then he might not have been exaggerating one bit everything he told you.

“Lover,” you croak. His eyes snap open, glancing down at you as his mouth withdraws and lets you go, arm dropping down to hang over the bed. “I… I hurt.” You tell him honestly. The scratches at your back are bringing a terrible sting to surface, the love bite throbbing on your neck, the stretch he caused to your opening and hole is uncomfortable given he is still in you, and lungs have remnant phantoms of stolen breaths.

Dazai falters for a minute, the haze dissolving, the monster retreating, and his eyes take in the state he left you – your body has occasional tremors, and your breathing isn’t back to normal yet. He can hear your teeth chattering, something you aren’t aware is happening.

“Oh, my darling,” he comforts in that usual soft and sympathetic way you were used to, especially when he was taking care of you. However, the switch up is still more daunting than you expected, no matter how badly you were wanting what that was to disappear. “I’ll kiss it better.” Your face buries itself in the pillow, to shield the wince when his dick leaves you, arm wrapping under your shivering body as he kisses your lower back and up your spine, paying extra attention to your shoulder, his petal-soft lips careful to not harm you further. “You’re okay, you’re safe.” He whispers, hand delicately running up and down your torso, and that feels like such an ironic thing for him to say. Him declaring you safe? How cruel.

He lowers down beside you, bringing you closer into him, skin warm and inviting. Fingertips trace up and down the paths created by his sharp nails, circling around the bruises he gifted you, dark eyes eventually flickering up to meet your gaze in the mirror.

“Did you really mean it?” You force yourself to ask after staring at his reflection, bumps rising on your arms at his delicate touch.

“Mean what?” You freeze, blinking at him, and he is staring back at you with a neutral expression. His fingers dance and skate along your frigid skin, sweat breaking out on your lip, but you don’t let him see any reaction. Your eyes are unchanged, exhaustion overcoming you, but you’re certain he can hear your heartbeat – especially with it hammering in your ears. He waits, head propped up on his hand, never breaking contact with your reflection. Dark irises change into that deep crimson once more, for a brief second, a warning. A threat. A silent drop it.

“Nothing. I-I don’t remember,” he nods slowly and hums, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before nestling more into the bed and you, his arm bringing you as close as he possibly can, eyes peeking out over your body to catch yours, and they’re normal. Pretty brown that gaze at you lovingly, that admire you even when you aren’t looking. He winks, but you aren’t sure if it’s flirtatious or taunting.

Maybe I imagined it all.

I hope you like the place I picked out for you if you ever try to run.

this was not written with my oc in mind, because she’d be into it, and i needed the fear aspect. however, this is dazai’s internal monologue whenever he’s around her in my fic.

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dividers from kodaswrld and enchanthings here on tumblr