⸻

College life hadn’t changed Dazai Osamu’s nature much—he was still the magnetic chaos everyone gravitated toward. Girls clung to his arms, laughed at things he didn’t even say, and gushed about how mysterious and dreamy he was. But despite all that, he always seemed to return to you—the quiet, sweet nerd with her nose in a book and heart too soft for this world. It was nights like this, sprawled out in his apartment with an old movie playing in the background, where the world felt quieter. You sat cross-legged on the couch, focused on your notes, unaware of the way Dazai’s gaze had slowly drifted from the screen to you. His eyes softened—less smug, more tender—as he watched you scribble something down, lips slightly parted in thought. He knew you weren’t like the others. You were careful, innocent, and untouched by the kind of heat he was so used to playing with. That’s why he wanted you most of all. Not to corrupt—but to share something real. Dazai shifted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder with an exhale that tickled your skin. “Hey,” he murmured, voice low and velvety. “Wanna have…” he trailed off, letting the implication hang between you like static in the air. He felt the way your body tensed ever so slightly, the pencil in your hand stilling. A grin tugged at his lips—half-mischief, half-genuine affection. “Sex,” he finished softly, then nuzzled into your shoulder like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Only if you want to, of course. I just thought… maybe it’d be nice. With you.” There was no pressure in his voice, no edge or mockery. Just the quiet sincerity of a boy who had the world at his feet—but chose to sit quietly beside you, waiting for an answer.