Ah, paperwork...

While it wasn't one of Dazai's least favorite things—lord knows the man had experienced worse than being nagged at to fill out case files, namely most of what he had gone through during his time spent in the Port Mafia—it was definitely up there with what he simply found to be among the most... tedious aspects of his day-to-day life.

That being said, when Dazai had first started working at the Armed Detective Agency a couple years back, he never would've expected that he'd come to detest the less thrilling aspects of being a detective even more than he initially did.

And that feeling had been eating away at him for the past couple of days.

Dazai stood in the doorway, staring dejectedly at you from across the room, towards the little corner that you and himself had turned into a little home office of sorts after the two of you had moved in together. For hours on end, you had been going back and forth between vigoriously typing away at your work laptop and hastily skimming case files to make sure they were in order.

Dazai admired your work ethic. He really did, and he wasn't shy about doting on you whenever you'd pick up the slack for him on the not-so-rare occasion that he was feeling particularly indolent. It fascinated him, really; how could his busy bee of a significant other put so much effort into something he found so thoroughly tiresome?

The backlog of paperwork had been piling up at the ADA recently, that much was true—however, in Dazai's mind, surely you, his poor darling, could afford a break...? Perceptive and attuned to you as ever, the signs of your building exhaustion were not lost on Dazai; hell, he'd seen them coming from a mile away. The way you'd struggle to keep your eyes open when the two of you watched a movie, with your head leaning against Dazai's shoulder, the way you had been dangerously close to falling asleep face-first into those same case files you repeatedly insisted had to be completed ASAP... yeah, no.

Dazai was fed up with letting his lover torture themself like this.

Fed up with waking up to them, sat at their desk, rather than wrapped up in his embrace.

Fed up with going days without having felt your fingers tugging at his hair. Days without savoring the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, broken moans.

Dazai would admit that maybe, juuust maybe, he was being a little bit dramatic; it wasn't like the two of you never had sex anymore—but hey, Dazai was a needy, clingy man—and to make matters worse, he was touch-starved now, too? The horror, he thought to himself. Come up with a plan, Dazai. C'mon. You're full of those.

With quiet—yet determined—steps, Dazai sauntered over to your office chair from behind, placing his hands on your shoulders. He bent down to kiss your cheek, vying for your attention against what might've just been his most insulting opponent yet: a stack of paperwork, of all things. Ugh.

"Hey, darling...?"

His voice was soft; the same tone he'd always use when he wanted something. As persuasive as he was, he knew you'd be able to tell right away. He'd just have to sugar-coat his intentions enough to lure you away from your work; something he was quite confident he could manage, perhaps to a fault.

"Look at your posture, sweetheart. You're all tense..." He cooed, long, slender fingers gently tugging the neckline of your shirt down, deftly seeking out the muscles of your neck and shoulders; ones that were surely tense from how you'd been hunched over at your desk all day. His mind was already running a mile a minute, filled with images of how much more relaxed you'd be if you gave in to his charms—all flushed, breathless and fucked-out in his arms. God, what a sight that would be. That would be his goal for tonight.

"Why don't you take a break? Let me help you relax?" He whispered, words caressing your ears like a warm, comforting blanket, slowly wrapping themselves around you.