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i’ve been thinking too much (help me).

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dazai doesn’t know how to describe how he feels during sex.

there’s fear and confusion and insecurity and everything else dazai goes out of his way to ignore and cover up. but he can’t do that during sex. he can’t cover up his burdens with jokes as atsushi thrusts into him, as atsushi kisses his scarred skin and calls him beautiful, along with a bunch of other words dazai calls lies.

during sex, dazai can’t hide.

he’s vulnerable.

“dazai-san?” atsushi asks quietly after another thrust. he’s on a chair, pants and underwear off, dazai in the same situation, but on atsushi’s lap with his dick inside of him. it’s their favorite position, since they can both melt into each other’s arms and lose themselves in the euphoria of sex.

dazai opens his eyes (he had been closing them?), and stares down at atsushi.


“are... are you alright?” atsushi’s voice is too soft, too sweet for a setting like this.

too sweet for me... dazai thinks.

“you seem... upset, is all.” atsushi’s voice pulls dazai back to reality. his words actually make dazai amused, and the corners of his lips turn up.

he’s spent years meticulously building up his walls, and atsushi ever so casually breaks them down, and sees right through him.

“i’m not, atsu. just...” dazai trails off, looking for a word to summarize whatever the hell he’s doing. in truth, he has no idea. spacing out during sex because he thinks he’s unworthy of being loved doesn’t sound right.

“just, thinking, is all.”

dazai didn’t have a concrete idea for what atsushi’s reaction to his words would be, but smiling and cupping his cheek was definitely not it. but still, dazai leans into the familiar touch, and softly gasps when he can feel atsushi lightly thrust into him.

“you don’t have to think, dazai-san,” atsushi whispers, kissing dazai’s cheek. his next thrust is a bit harder, and it makes dazai whine.

“just focus on me.”

atsushi ends his sentence with a long kiss, one that dazai happily reciprocates. his hands go to atsushi’s hair, and atsushi’s goes to the small of his back. it’s a slow kiss, the one that makes it feel like time slows down, and you can do nothing but be lost in the sensation of the person against you.

dazai’s favorite kind of kiss.

there’s a smile on dazai’s face when they break apart for air, and it’s still there as atsushi continues to slowly fuck him.

he’s right.

dazai doesn’t need to think. not about all the imperfections of his body, all the hateful cuts that decorate his arms, the people he’s pushed away because he fears getting too close, the fears that control his entire life—

he doesn’t need to think about all of that. he doesn’t need to think about how to feel during sex.

all he needs is atsushi, and dazai knows for a fact that atsushi isn’t leaving anytime soon.