Archive of Our Own

To call Dazai a stray wouldn’t be too far from the truth. He had a place to come home to, a warm, loving one, but he preferred spending his nights out. Oda didn’t know what he did on those nights, but he wasn’t too bothered to find out. He didn’t mind when Dazai went out on an evening and didn’t return until the sun was coming up. 

Sometimes he’d bring company, sometimes he wouldn’t. There was an array of frequent partners, of alphas Dazai had met god knows where. Oda didn’t mind; their relationship was solid, and communicative, and Dazai was happy. Sometimes, Oda would look on fondly as Dazai dragged them into his room, sipping his coffee as he prepared for the day, ignoring the lewd noises coming from the bedroom. Other times, Oda would invite himself in.

He loved to watch Dazai with other people. Especially with alphas. He himself was usually gentle with Dazai, bad at telling him what to do, bad at saying no. Oda would cave to Dazai’s every whim in an instant. It was probably bad, to spoil an omega like that. But if Dazai said run, he’d say how far; if Dazai said to give him the stars, he’d say how many. 

But when Dazai was with an alpha-- it brought out that subservient side of him that Oda rarely saw. He loved taking care of Dazai, loved pampering him and doing his bidding, but he loved watching Dazai get taken down a peg, too, even if he himself didn’t often have the heart to do it. 

Dazai seemed to have very varying tastes in alphas. He’s brought home tall ones, short ones, mean ones, kind ones. He’s bright home two at once, women and men alike, some returning visitors, some new finds. 

Oda’s favorite repeat customer was a short alpha with sharp green eyes and an arrogant air about him that almost made Oda’s skin crawl. He could look at Oda and it would feel like he was reading Oda’s mind. Usually, Oda hated cocky alphas, hated the way they treated omegas like a lesser species and treated betas like they didn’t exist, but Ranpo was different. While it was clear he was a lot more confident and strong than both Oda and Dazai, he never made Oda feel like he didn’t exist. He did treat Dazai like he was below him, but-- well, Dazai asked him to, so that was alright, Oda thought. 

He was here now. Oda had lost track of how many times he’d been over at this point. Dazai still brought home other alphas, but he seemed almost fixated on Ranpo, dragging him home nearly every weekend now. Oda didn’t mind; he was coming to enjoy the alpha’s presence in their home himself. Last weekend, Dazai had brought him home Friday night and he hadn’t left until midday Sunday. 

It had felt disturbingly natural, having him around. He’d fit into their dynamic with ease, tossing Dazai around while softening to Oda. If Oda didn’t know better, he’d guess the alpha was fixing to infiltrate their relationship for real. He still can’t decide if he would mind. 

“So how come,” Ranpo says now, stretching himself out on the couch, “You let him boss you around?”

Oda blinks. Ranpo looks so comfortable on the couch he, Oda , bought, you would think he lived here already. “I don’t.”

“Yeahl, sure. I mean, how come you don’t boss him around?”

Frowning, Oda looks over at where Dazai is across the room, humming and flipping through a magazine. The smell of content omega floats through the air. Dazai’s hair is damp from a recent shower, curling around his ears and chin. Oda feels himself soften just looking at him. 

“Why would I?” Oda wonders aloud, gaze lingering on Dazai a minute longer before he returns his attention to Ranpo.

“He’s an omega,” Ranpo says easily. 

For a moment, Oda’s hackles raise. “... So ?” 

Ranpo snickers at him, rolling his neck lazily. “Relax. I just mean, he’d probably like it.”

Eyebrows knitting, Oda frowns further. “Why do you say that?”

Ranpo shrugs. “He likes when I do it. And he loves you, so he’ll probably love you to do it.” Seeing the apprehensive look on Oda’s face, Ranpo’s smirk smooths into something a little more understanding. “Not all the time. Just for a little while. Just for fun. I don’t mean he dislikes the way things are now. I just think maybe you would both enjoy a little powerplay, hm?”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” Ranpo says, and doesn’t elaborate. Oda feels caught out anyway. 

“...And what exactly do you think he wants me to do?”

“Well,” And here Ranpo smirks knowingly, “He likes being talked down on because he’s an omega. Have you ever tried that?”
Horrified, Oda shakes his head. 

“Don’t look so green. I just told you he’d like it.”

Oda looks back at Dazai. He’s started pulling the pages out of the magazine and folding them into intricate nonsense shapes. There’s paper shreds everywhere. Knees bent on the chair, he’s curled forward, hunched over his important work. 

“Dazai,” Oda calls from across the room. Dazai’s head snaps up, at attention. “Sit up straight.”
Immediately, Dazai stretches his legs down off the chair, back unfurling into a straight line. He leans back in his chair and grins sheepishly at Oda, brushing off his thighs. Little scraps of paper flutter off his lap, raining down onto the carpet. 

Oda regards him steadily. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell Dazai what to do-- when he does, Dazai listens, although it sometimes means Oda has to put up with a lot of whining. It’s just the demeaning aspect of ordering him around as an omega , not just as Dazai. There’s a long history of omegas being treated as subhuman, and Oda would never want to make Dazai feel that way.

Unless, of course, Ranpo’s right-- he usually is-- and Dazai wants Oda to treat him that way. He doesn’t want to examine why Dazai would want that from Oda, because it doesn’t matter. Oda knows Dazai enjoys that treatment from the alphas he brings home, but he never imagined that he would crave that from Oda of all people. 

Oda glances at Ranpo again. He’s looking at him already, gaze sharp, like he knows he’s right. Like he knows he’s got Oda intrigued. He does, of course. 

“Dazai,” Oda says again, then clears his throat. He tries to conjure his most commanding voice, thinking back on the alpha’s he’s seen order Dazai around. The omega seems to respond well to them. Maybe if Oda can manage that kind of authority… He squares his shoulders back into the couch cushions and tries, “Pick that paper up.”

In his own ears, it’s a little wobbly, although definitely louder, more demanding than he usually would be with Dazai. The omega picks up on it immediately, eyes going round and body falling still like a prey animal listening for a predator. He blinks at Oda as if at a loss, and then all at once dives forward and begins to pluck scraps from the floor as if compelled. 

Oda watches in silence, a little shaken. Beside him, Ranpo lets out a single, proud crow of laughter. 

“Told you,” He mutters to Oda, curling his legs up under himself. Then louder, to the omega across the room. “Faster, Dazai. Hands and knees.”
Dazai slides off the chair entirely, landing on his knees with a thud. He peers up at the two of them through his lashes, looking a little lost as his gaze flits between the two of them. For a moment, he lingers on Oda’s face, eyebrows quirking in confusion, before he puts his attention on his task, piling the scraps of paper on the carpet. 

A little shudder of interest moves through Oda. Maybe it’s just the alpha’s presence beside him, but seeing Dazai so obedient in front of him makes his stomach clench. His hands twitch against his thighs. Distantly, he hears Ranpo snicker at the action. (Of course he noticed something as miniscule as that-- nothing seems to get past the alpha’s senses.) He can smell Ranpo’s own interest in the air. Briefly, Oda wonders what his own piquing arousal would smell like, if he had a scent. 

Dazai still smells a little confused, although there’s a tinge of something smokey that Oda recognizes from their many nights together. Arousal , plain and simple. Oda watches silently as Dazai finishes collecting the pieces and then looks up at him inquisitively. 

Him, not Ranpo. 

“Good,” Oda says helplessly, trying to find his footing under Dazai’s dark gaze. Ranpo snickers again, obviously enjoying his unease. Oda clears his throat and tries to make his voice more steady, more commanding, “Come here.”

Without so much as a breath of hesitation, Dazai crawls forward, still on his hands and knees. He lays his chin right on Oda’s knee, peering up at him through his lashes, like he’s trying to look demure. They all know that Dazai’s the biggest brat on Earth-- most of the time . This new side of him… Oda’s not sure how much of it is an act, how much of it is because of Ranpo’s commanding presence, or… 

Oda’s hand lands in Dazai’s hair. Immediately, he leans his head into the touch, pressing into Oda’s palm. His scent is sweet, content. Oda’s nails scratch at his scalp and he purrs softly. 

Maybe Dazai can be this demure in reality, even if he’s usually a demanding little brat with Oda. Only because he knows Oda lets him, all but rewards the behaviour. 

“See?” Ranpo whispers, then kicks his foot out towards Dazai. Like a trained dog, Dazai shuffles forward until he’s all but sitting on Ranpo’s foot, chin still in Oda’s lap. For a moment, Oda’s brows knit in confusion, before Dazai shivers a little, hips moving. Oh. 

“Like a dog,” Ranpo says, “Hm, puppy?”

Dazai turns his face and presses it into Oda’s knee, hiding. Oda’s chest feels heavy with arousal and affection. He lets his hand slide down the back of Dazai’s head until he can press the pads his fingers against the sensitive gland behind his ear. Dazai whines high in his throat, hips hitching harder against Ranpo’s foot. 

Oda marvels. It was seemingly so easy to get him so worked up.

“Slow down,” He says, trying again to keep his voice steady, commanding. 

Dazai follows the shaky order without question, another little whine pulling out of him as Oda massages the glands. The whole room smells like aroused omega by now. Oda feels high off of it, and when he glances to the side, Ranpo seems a little affected as well, though he doesn’t show it much-- Oda wouldn’t know if it weren’t for the alpha’s scent. 

A heady rush of satisfaction overtakes Oda, both at the way Dazai listens to him and with the way Ranpo’s breath hitches beside him. Oda digs his fingers into the gland a little, and Dazai hisses, then purrs. 

“Good,” Oda says, throat constricting. His dick twitches in his pants, half-hard. He feels light-headed. “I like when you listen to me, Dazai,” Oda says plainly. “Do you like listening to me?”
Ranpo snorts. “You’re so vanilla. Obviously he likes it, look at him.”

“That could just be because of you.”

Shaking his head, Ranpo leans forward until he can peer at Dazai’s face, half-squished into Oda’s pant leg. “Look at him. Smell him. He likes it, and he likes us talking about him like he’s not even here.” Ranpo pokes Dazai’s cheek. “Doesn’t he?” He asks, asking Dazai without asking Dazai. 

The omega whines, something like agreement. 

“Oh,” Oda says, and then, experimentally, feeling it out-- “I guess he does like it.”

Dazai’s hips jerk hard against Ranpo’s foot and he moans into Oda’s knee. There’s a little puddle of drool seeping into the fabric. Oda can’t bring himself to mind, but still, he gathers his courage and says in his most derisive tone: “He’s drooling all over me,” To Ranpo, and then, “Bad dog,” To Dazai. 

Dazai whines and spasms like he’s been hit. Oda’ shand slides along his neck again until he can get a loose grip around his throat, squeezing the sides. He knows Dazai likes that, and is rewarded with a high-pitched keen. Dazai’s hand finds Oda’ ankle, squeezing like he’s trying to ground himself. 

“Now you’ve got the hang of it,” Ranpo snickers. Oda would almost find his haughty amusement annoying, if he weren’t right. When he glances over, the alpha is palming himself languidly through his pants, watching Dazai jerk his hips sloppily against his ankle. As if sensing Oda looking at him, he glances up at Oda, lips curling into a grin. He looks like a predator, and even Oda feels himself melt a little under his gaze. 

“Tell him how good he’s doing,” Ranpo goads, “You know he likes that.”

It’s true-- since the beginning of their relationship, Oda’s always known that. It’s not like Dazai’s ever tried to hide it; not like Dazai ever could hide it. He turns to mush far too easily for that, Oda thinks pleasantly. It’s nice to have at least one weapon Dazai can’t wiggle out of. 

“He is doing good,” Oda says, fingers pulsing tighter around Dazai’s throat. He can feel Dazai’s heartbeat flutter under his fingertips. “Is he always this sweet for you?” 

Ranpo hums. Oda feels a little insane, like he’s slipping. His fingers itch to work over his groin, but he refrains, trying to stay focused. He’s so overwhelmed right now, he knows that it’d only take very little to get himself off, and he’s not ready to give in. Not now, when Dazai’s clearly close, hips jerking wildly. 

“Slow down, sweetheart,” He says, the pet name slipping in without his intention. It’s hard not to be endeared by the omega right now, though. He’s glowing pink, hair curled up with sweat, eyes hazy, drooling into Oda’s knee. His fingers on Oda’s ankle are sweaty. Oda wants to take a picture of him like this, to keep with him all the time. 

And, apparently, he can have Dazai like this whenever he wants. He feels dizzy at the thought. 

Dazai tries to slow down, but he’s still sloppy, desperate. Ranpo seems to be pressing his foot up into Dazai’s groin, too, bullying it against his poor clothed dick on every thrust. He’s mean, Oda thinks, and he loves it. He could probably learn a lot more from him, about what Dazai can be like. 

As if he can tell what Oda’s thinking, Ranpo looks at him, all sharp eyes and knowing grin. Oda shudders and swallows his own spit, thighs tensing a little. Maybe he could learn a bit about what he can be like, too. 

“Fuck,” Oda mutters to himself, flushing. Dazai whines beneath them and spills in his pants. His scent spikes in the air, and Oda massages his scent glands languidly, trying his best to help him through it from his position. He’s so hard in his pants that it hurts, and it doesn’t help when Dazai immediately turns and tries to climb in his lap, hand accidentally pressing down on his groin. 

Oda inhales sharply, and Ranpo snickers. Dazai spasms a little, Oda's not sure at what. 

“Calm down,” Oda says, holding back a groan.

“Need you,” Dazai breathes, scrambling into his lap. He lands heavy on Oda’s thighs, spent dick pressing into Oda’s own hard one. The omega moans and dives in for a kiss, missing and pressing his mouth to Oda’s stubble. His scent spikes in irritation at the sensation, and Ranpo full-on laugh at that, loud and amused. His hand lands on Oda’s knee, right next to the puddle of Dazai’s drying drool. 

“Alright,” Oda says into Dazai’s neck, both him himself and to the omega. He needs to get a grip on himself, but it’s hard, between the weight of Dazai against his dick the weight of Ranpo’s hand sliding up his thigh. He still feels delirious, like he’s in a fever dream. 

Ranpo leans into his side, chest pressing into Oda’s shoulder so he can mouth at Dazai’s neck. He smells heavenly. Oda shudders and groans when Dazai’s hips twitch against him. He’s already starting to get hard again. Insatiable. 

“There you go,” Ranpo says, voice low and almost growled. Oda doesn’t know which one of them he’s talking to anymore. His dick twitches anyway, and Dazai whines, finally managing to press his lips to Oda’s successfully. He’s over-eager, endearingly so, tongue lapping at Oda’s lips like a dog lapping at water. Oda curses himself-- Ranpo’s put the image in his mind and now he can’t get it out. 

Shyly, Oda passes his arm around Ranpo’s shoulder, pulling him in tight against him. 

Ranpo laughs but leans in anyway, pausing in his attack on Dazai’s neck to mouth at Oda’s, right behind his ear where his scent gland would be if he had one. He doesn’t, but his heart flutters in his chest anyway.