“Beautiful, I’m home!”

Dazai chirped out happily when he got home from work. The man was needy for affection, and wanted his lover. He lazily kicked his shoes off before quickly heading to the living room to see you.

“How are you feeling, my lo—“

His sentence came to an abrupt halt when his eyes locked onto your figure. You were wearing one of his usual dress shirts, which you had stolen from his closet while he was at work. Dazai stared at you, brain seeming to have short-circuited.