#Demon chuuya x you

[chuubian]

Angel of small death

Tags demon Chuuya x fem reader, religious symbolism, cruel Chuuya, loss of virginity, drinking and smoking, no protection, light bondage, is this considered monsterfucking, rough sex, degradation, breeding kink, mirror sex, religious guilt yummm, MDNI

Summary Being a virgin at your age isn’t cute anymore, it’s depressing. You decide to go out and do something about it, but there’s something just a little bit off about the man you met.

A/N hehehe for Valentine's Day I wanted to do something a little bit darker. Chuuya being an angel or demon is always on my mind.

Enough is enough. You have to get this over and done with. No more naively waiting for love, it's time. At this point it was getting embarrassing— being a virgin at 20. Since it didn't happen naturally, you have to take matters into your own hands.

It's agonizing listening to your friends talk about all the things they do and experience. The random hookups, the fruitful relationships, the crazy nights spent just having fun. They actually live life. Why can't you have that? Envy and resentment fills your entire body when they treat it as if it's not a big deal. Your head feels like it's about to explode from bottled up dissatisfaction. There's only one solution.

Growing up evangelical, there was still a sense of dread at the thought of going to a bar. It's a place filled with drinking and sex— filled with sin. Even after leaving the faith, lingering guilt dictates your entire life. Having never been to a bar, you don't know what to expect. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you debate whether you should really wear this. Is it too much?

White lace stockings adorn your thighs. Silk fabric hugs your waist— draping elegantly and accentuating all your best assets. You spent hours agonizing over your hair. It leaves your arms shaking, aching from tedious styling. Glitter is dabbed onto the thin skin of your eyelids, lined with dark charcoal and mascara layered over your eyelashes. This is the best you've ever looked, but self doubt is creeping in. Stalking the dark recesses of your mind. Hunting and butchering any confidence you may have.

Pushing down all your apprehension, you grab your jacket and call a cab. Unfortunately, none of your friends are joining you tonight. If they were, maybe it'd be easier to ignore the giant pit of anxiety forming in the bottom of your stomach. Are you really going to do this? There's still time to stop.

You prepared early. The bottle of tequila in your freezer had been left untouched until this moment. Taking it out, you unsteadily pour yourself a shot. Hopefully this helps your panicking heart— beating away rapidly in your ribcage. Alcohol isn't something you have often. As you throw the drink back, your throat constricts and burns despite it being chilled for several hours, heat pooling in your belly. It tastes bitter and disgusting. Your tummy clenches, attempting to send the drink back up— rejecting it completely.

The taxi is waiting outside when you're done. It takes a few minutes before the tequila affects your cognition, so you get in easily, relaxing into the backseat. It's weird. Being alone, all dressed up. Just to go to a sleazy bar. Tugging at the edges of your clothes— discomfort sinks into your bones. Even your own skin feels foreign. Wrong. And the quietude within the car makes your brain whirl.

The cab arrives quickly. There's a thick cloud of smoke fogging your vision, and plaguing your lungs once you walk inside. It's filled with middle aged, unkempt men. Hardly any women are in sight, and the few that are, have a scowl permanently etched onto their foreheads. You take a seat at the bar, away from any people. It's hard to start up a conversation with anyone.

Nervously, you order yourself a martini. You need something strong. It's salty and horribly bitter, but the drink you had previously— and this one— work together to relax the muscles that were so terribly tense before. Sighing, you look around. Everyone is caught up in their own little world. The determination you had before suddenly vanishes and your only wish is to go home. Despite the warmth blazing through your figure, a cold sweat breaks out over your skin. Shivers seem to attack you, leaving you a pile of terrified bones. You shouldn't have come here. Maybe you were just meant to die a virgin. It's fine, you could live with that. Probably.

“You scared?”

A gruff voice speaks up behind you. You whip your head around. The man is ginger with clearly expensive clothing and an intimidating aura. Something about him makes a shiver run down your spine. Your lips pop open dumbly— forming an ‘O’ shape.

The ginger man's gloved hand comes up to grab your chin, dragging you closer and leaning in— quietly observing every little detail of your face. Although the man is not necessarily large, he’s muscular. Well built. It feels as if he’s towering over you. Like goliath standing over you, squashing any chance of escape or survival.

“Relax, I won't bite… unless you like that.”

Ignoring your instincts screaming at you to run, to run back home and never look back, you feel drawn to the strange man. Something keeps you planted in your stool. His cool minty breath wafts into your face— suffocating you. You take a deep breath, but it does nothing to ease the nerves pulsing beneath your sinew and tissue. He smiles at the sight of your unease.

“I'll get you a drink.”

It's not a question. He wraps an arm around your waist and the intoxicating scent of his cologne smothers you and drowns all your senses. You can't move. The man is strangely cold, and from the corner of your eye you swear you can see a shadow that looks like wings. Maybe it's just your imagination. You shake your head, clearing your mind, and suddenly they're gone.

A disorienting ring echoes through your ears while he orders for you. The rest of the encounter is a blur. Drink after drink appears in front of you, and you down them without a second thought. Your initial apprehension is forgotten as the charming man pulls you closer and closer, until you're almost straddling his lap. You don't seem to notice— or mind— how his hands roam down your waist and teasingly play with the hem of your stockings.

“It’s getting kind of crowded… Why don't we go somewhere more private?”

Veins throbbing with a disgusting mix of alcohol and blood rushing through them, you nod without hesitation. A hollow feeling spreads over your chest and ribcage. Sudden guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Are you really doing this?

“To yours?”

It's a question of safety. You may be about to sleep with a man you barely know, but under no circumstances should he know where you live. A wide grin spreads over his features. His teeth are blinding and sharp, like fangs.

“Not exactly.”

He wraps his thin fingers around your wrist, helping you up into your feet. The sudden movement has your head spinning and your stomach churning. God, it feels like you're going to throw up. A silent prayer plays in your mind. Part of you regrets ever even thinking of coming here. This goes against everything you've ever believed in. Against every oath you've ever taken.

The devil themselves must be laughing at you now. Wrapping their slender snake-like tail around your throat and squeezing as hard as they can. You can't protest even if you wanted to. Silently, with shaking legs, you let Chuuya— whose name is the only thing you can truly remember from your conversation— lead you out of the bar and into the cold night air.

“Where are we going?”

He doesn't answer. Did he not hear you? The burnt rubber and tar scent of the street follows you everywhere. Your eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. In the shadows, you can faintly make out the silhouette of smiling figures— laughing and mocking you. Alcohol has rendered your legs practically useless as they quiver with every step, the only thing holding your weaker body up is Chuuya’s strong arms.

Your blurred vision watches his handsome stoic appearance. Is it really possible a man like this is interested in you? Streetlights illuminate his face. He almost looks like an angel. Like something to be worshipped. You can finally see his eyes clearly, without the dark veil his hat leaves in the way.

Wheezing, the small amount of air left in your lungs evaporates. They're stunning. Bright, breathtaking blue. Like nothing you had ever seen before.

Your heart almost stops at the sight.

The dark pupil in the middle of his iris is insanely dark. Oddly shaped. Almost elongated. Is that normal? Nothing about him seems real.

Broken, fluorescent neon lights flicker at you— calling out to you, ridiculing you. Every object surrounding you seems to know who you are and what you're up to. You've never done this, and they know. Everyone does. They can tell from the look on your face. You're not meant to be here.

Barely any cars are parked at the motel’s lot. It's completely empty except for a few shady people hanging around and the bored front desk employee. If something were to happen, no one would hear you scream. Maybe that's why he chose this place.

The flight up the stairs to the room feels like a death march. The man's grip does nothing to relieve the nervous, cold thrill that seems to freeze your blood over. If anything he's making it worse. His skin— even through the layers of clothing— feels like ice. Your hairs are standing on end, prickling you painfully.

“Here we are.”

He takes a small key card out of his pocket, quickly unlocking the door and pulling you inside the room.

It's dirty. The walls are covered in what you can only assume is solidified cigarette smoke. It smells faintly of urine and gasoline. Only scarlet sheets and flat pillows are on the bed— no comforter. Mirrors cover the ceiling above the bed and there's red ambient lighting instead of regular bulbs.

Chuuya does not bother locking the room. He opts to lightly urge you deeper into the room, sitting on the bed, helping you onto his lap with your legs on either side of his. Fear grips your heart. It pounds away in your sternum laboriously, struggling to break free of the restraints this man — no— this thing has it in.

“Wait I.. I have to tell you something.”

“Hm?”

Freezing cold gloved hands caress your legs. Goosebumps rise up your thighs and arms. Your hands apprehensively clutch the lapels of his jacket. The blue in his iris has darkened to nearly pitch black— swallowing any radiance into its depths. He's too close. It's oppressive. You're not sure this is something you'll survive. At least, not with your sanity.

“I've never done anything like this…”

“Oh honey…”

Voice dripping with arrogance, a cheap snicker finds its way onto his smug face. He toys with the lace band of your stockings, pulling and then letting the garter strap snap back against your thigh.

“I know. Anyone with eyes can tell.”

Scorching hot shame burns across your face. Your back seems to absorb it all, spreading it through your entire system and dampening your skin with sweat. Chuuya presses your front completely against his, taking off his gloves and revealing his pale, scarred hands. When he grabs your waist again, you tense up. Sharp claws press against your skin, threatening to rip your flesh apart.

What…?

A dumbfounded gasp rips itself from your lungs. Your mind screams at you to run, but your body won't listen. This is payback. Retribution straight from the lord himself for daring to stray from his teachings. You deserve the hell this devil will put you through.

Chuuya can tell you're afraid, but he won't let go so easily. His sharpened talons dig into the fat surrounding your hips.

“No no no… this is what you wanted. You can't leave that soon.”

His rough lips press against the tender skin of your neck, hot tongue dragging over the veins and arteries beneath your skin— flames engulf you as searing, fervent lust takes over your alcohol infused brain. Your mouth goes dry and your fingertips tingle, going numb.

You never realized how much you need this.

Scratches and bite marks will surely cover your entire body by tomorrow, but you don't really pay it much mind. He’s like a ravenous animal, getting a small taste of food for the first time in a millenia. His huge claws shred through the snowy white silk fabric adorning your figure.

“I can't wait. When I see a sweet thing like you, I can't resist.”

Chuuya bites into the supple flesh of your throat harshly with his pointed, needle-like fangs. Your hands rest on his chest, bracing yourself for the sharp pain that washes over your neck. The soft thump of a heart isn't there, just uneasy stillness.

Your bottom lip trembles, futilely trying to hold back the terror and desperate cries of pain asphyxiating you. A low growl rumbles through his chest. He pushes you down onto your back, eyes wide and staring up at him. Chuuya wastes no time in starting to undress. Nimbly, his flexible, clawed fingers undo the tie loosely knotted around his neck. Jagged nails dig into your wrists, holding them above your head and fastening them down with his tie. If you even tried to get out— which you wouldn't dream of doing— he'd overpower you easily. A lowly sinner is reduced to a devotee in the face of temptation.

With your hands out of the way, the thing can finally have his way with you. He pushes the tattered fabric off your frame. A rush of cold air sweeps over your newly exposed skin. It feels weird. Like being put on display to be assessed and lambasted. Your eyes dart around, desperate for any way to fix the predicament you've gotten yourself in, but there's no way out.

Wrists aching and nagging for freedom, your body tenses as Chuuyas talons trace the lump over your esophagus. Threatening to rip your throat out.

“Cute… Are you scared?”

Smirking, he gets a vicious glint in his eyes— It's a bizarre change from his previously lifeless gaze. A snake wraps itself around your neck, trapping any words that threaten to bubble up. He hovers over you and rids himself of all the layers keeping you two apart.

Chuuya’s skin glistens under the cheap motel lights. It looks plastic-y, unnaturally shiny. Your eyes follow the angelic lines of his strong, muscled chest. It left you breathless— lungs wrung dry. Tears well up in your eyes, obscuring your view, but somehow your corneas can make out vague shadows sticking out of his back, right by his shoulder blades.

“Are those-?”

Rough lips cut you off. Your mind is filled in a hazy cloud of exhilaration and thirst. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes— a disgusting combination that you can't help being lured by. You let out a surprised squeak as a forked tongue glides over your bottom lip. Chuuya takes that as an opportunity, taking advantage of your bewilderment, to slip his tongue inside, deepening the kiss. It's like he's trying to devour you whole. As if he wants to possess you.

Without thinking, your hands attempt to reach out for the shadows only to be pulled back over your head by the fabric ensnared around your wrists. He lazily drags his lips away from yours. A shameful, loud smack resonates across the otherwise quiet room. Your eyelids flutter open, immediately noticing the inky black feathers behind him— shiny and strong.

A knot of panic expands in your chest. Little glimpses of memories you thought you'd buried down deep bob back up to the surface. Dreading the eventual Armageddon. Fearing not only for yourself, but your family and friends who could be sent to the deepest circle in hell for the simplest of transgressions. There's a reason for those seemingly arbitrary rules in your congregation. You knew what was at stake, but somehow you managed to convince yourself none of it was real. That it wasn't a big deal if you indulged for once.

“You're staring.”

“A demon...?”

You're speechless. Staring at the spread out wings in front of you, Chuuya sits back up straight, leaning away from you and letting you breathe. They're massive. Large enough to cover you entirely, shielding you from the prying eyes of God. A heavy feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and a wave of nausea flushes over you.

“Oh, look at that.”

Chuuya’s voice is lower. Dark and rough— he's enjoying this. His thumb runs over your puffy bottom lip, toying with it. Toying with you. His other hand travels down over your throat, then down to your chest, pinching your nipple meanly, twisting. He relishes in your choked up whine.

“Don't tell me you don't enjoy that, I know it's a lie.”

“I can’t- You're a demon!”

Cackling, he lets go.

“I know, kind of obvious isn't it? Besides… by the way you’re reacting, you clearly like it.”

“But-”

“Shhh. Be quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut, teeth clanking together bitterly. Leaning down, his lips close around the little nub, fangs attaching themselves onto it and scraping cruelly. A euphoric sensation courses through you, his name tumbling from your lips uncontrollably as your hands clench, arching up into his touch.

“Fuck… C-Chuuya..!”

Tugging harshly, his teeth scrape over your nipple— making your cunt throb. You should not feel this way at the hands of a monster like him. It's wrong.

But it feels so right.

Goosebumps rise up across your skin. Your eyebrows knit together meanwhile his large hands grip onto your waist, claws stinging. Chuuya’s lips pop as he finally lets up, and you finally resign yourself to your fate. Looking up at the ceiling, your body jolts at the sight of his wings reflected on the mirror. They look heavy— held up by his strong back muscles.

His wings sway gently and glitter under the soft red lights, trapping your bodies underneath. Then, Chuuya flips you over onto your tummy— his coarse lips trailing little kisses down your spine. Every time his skin makes contact with yours, little sparks of arousal bounce over your ribs and out to your limbs. His rapid breath tickled you and it was hard to stay still.

Your hands were stretched far above your head, with your elbows and head resting on the cheap, lumpy pillow. He forces your hips up, with your knees planted firmly on the bed and your face embedded in the abrasive cushion below you. Freezing air conditioning chills you to the bone. You're a lab experiment, a scrap of prey— spread open and ready to be dissected.

“Don't move, angel.”

He pushes your back down, forcing it into a painful arch.

“There you go, stay just like that.”

Pointed talons wander past your vertebrae and down to the supple flesh of your ass, leaving dark red scratches etched onto your skin. Your insides are roaring, begging you to fight back. To leave while you can. But your heart wants otherwise. He's so handsome. His smell surrounds you— it's hypnotizing. And although his touch burns, you can't help craving more. He's like a drug you can't get enough of.

Your body easily obeys, trying its hardest to maintain the unpleasant bend in your spine. A strangled cry forces itself past your lips as your legs shake with the effort to hold their own weight up.

“Are you seriously struggling with something so simple?”

Hefty, cold hands land between your shoulder blades, grinding you into the scratchy sheets. A shiver works itself through you. You arduously unclench all your muscles, sucking in lungfuls of sleazy motel air and Chuuya’s heady scent.

“I–I’m trying…”

“It's not enough. Try harder.”

You hear some shuffling behind you, the bed creaks and the heat from Chuuya’s figure is temporarily gone before you feel him looming over you— his thighs pressed against the backs of yours. He leans down, crushing your body underneath his wings encircling you. Nosing at your throat, he presses his hips against your backside, letting you feel how hard he is.

A calloused hand ruthlessly tangles itself in your hair, pulling. His other hand snakes underneath you, leaving behind flashes of heat. You feel feverish as his hand unexpectedly pinches your inner thigh— delighting in the sound you make— before his fingers part your soaked, messy folds. Your form tenses when a finger easily slips in, embarrassing squelching sounds fill the air as he pumps it into you.

The intrusion feels foreign, not good or bad, just different. You let out a sigh of relief, glad that it's not as painful as you feared. Chuuya's thumb gets to work on your clit, rubbing it in tight little circles. Your body moves as if it's been electrocuted, letting out a garbled moan.

“Chuuya…”

“Feels good huh?”

Another finger joins the first, curling against your sweet spot. It doesn't take long for you to be reduced to a puddle of tears and snot— fat globs of salty teardrops soaking the pillow beneath you. Your lower belly aches, an empty craving spreading and shrouding you. An angelic plea falls from your lips, with his name distorted and muffled.

Your weeping only encourages him more— his pace getting faster and rougher. His claws, despite being sharp enough to cut your ribcage open, don't hurt. Your mind is solely focused on the sensation of his flexible fingers inside your dripping cunt. It's not surprising that a demon would be so well versed in matters of depravity.

Just as the pool of heat in your tummy seems like it's going to erupt, when it feels like your figure is floating— ascending to a new heaven, Chuuya’s movements halt. The blood rushes within your ear canal loudly and your tissue is shuddering underneath your skin. It takes everything in you to hold back your sobs. His surprisingly gentle hand cards through your hair, shushing you sweetly.

“Shhh dont cry, angel. I didn't even hurt you, you should've known I wouldn't let you cum that fast. It's, honestly, all on you.”

He stays like that— with his entire mass weighing you down. Carefully, his fingers withdraw and your body fights to keep him in place, squeezing around nothing. You feel too empty. Now that you've had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you can't fathom a world without it.

There's a pulsing lump in your throat from the built up frustration, drawing a shaky sigh from your belly. Your ears barely manage to pick up the noise of his thick, feathery wings flapping and the low growl that vibrates in his chest. Thankfully the stinging in your eyes has finally stopped at this point, but it's not enough for Chuuya. He needs more.

He doesn't make you wait much longer, pushing into the sloppy mess of your pussy. The air is shoved out of your lungs. Your body tightens, denying him entry, floundering. Every cell of your being stings.

“Fuck.. w-wait..”

Chuuyas hips still. One hand comes up to rest on your thigh, leaving a trail of your arousal cooling on the surface of your skin. His thumb traces gentle circles onto the soft flesh of your hips. The hand in your hair tugs at the locks sternly, turning your entire head to face the side wall.

“Watch.”

The back of your neck strains to angle itself the way he wants— it feels like your head is about to snap off. Your eyes drift over to the mirror veiling the wall. You can see everything from here— the flexing of his muscles, how his wings hang low and heavy, the way his stronger body easily molds and manipulates your own. His figure glows under the cheap lighting, the red hair surrounding his face looks like a crimson halo— the former golden glow now tainted by the depravity he surrounds himself with regularly.

“Chuuya please!”

He doesn't wait for you to relax before completely sheathing himself inside of you, groaning when his pelvis crashes with your backside, forcing your walls to make way for him. It's too sudden. Too big. Is he a fucking monster?? The curve of your spine, your knees, and your wrists all sting— pushed to their limits and more. There's no way you can handle more, but Chuuya does not exactly grant you the freedom of choice.

Your scalp tingles as his grip in your hair tightens. His hips start rocking up into you, forcing you to adjust. You choke on your own spit as he savagely pounds against your sweet spot, spearing you open and holding you down.

“Oh God…”

“Don't call him, he's not here, I am.”

The mirrored image is hard to make out through the wave of tears building in your waterline, but you can faintly make out the image of his flushing skin and aggressive movements. You don't even want to look at yourself. The image of you bent to a demon's will is far too humiliating to take.

“Even your God can't help you now.”

Beads of moisture slide between your bodies, sticking your hair to your overheated forehead. Pitchy wails get trapped in the hollow of your chest. Chuuyas defined muscles overextend themselves as they pick up the pace, slamming his cock into your sensitive cunt without faltering. Every nerve ending in your body is lit on fire, frayed and hyper-sensitive. Through the reflection, you swear you see his eyes go fully dark— like black holes, sucking in any life that they can.

“Agh… f-fuck…”

Unconsciously, your hips roll back against him. There's something so delicious about being split open like this. It hurts like hell. Every single muscle, tendon, ligament, and bone in your figure is going to be screaming at you tomorrow. But through the intense torture youre being put through, your neurons can still find bliss in the afterglow.

There is no pleasure without pain. No light without darkness.

“Fucking slut.”

You let out a mortified, wounded cry wail beneath him, squirming. Eyebrows and nose scrunching, your protests come out in distorted groans. Your hands clench, digging your nails into the palm of your hand as your elbows struggle to stabilize themselves. Every time you attempt to get back up, Chuuya speeds up— brutally whacking his hips into the plush tissue of your ass, fucking you dumb.

The choir of salacious noises between the two of you sound inhuman. Your throat feels like it's being torn open with a knife. Your eyes shut tight, toes curling, as your entire body tenses and shudders. Lava seems to form in your lower tummy, boiling you from the inside out.

“This is all you’re good for, isn't it? Say it”

“Nghh N-no!”

Your brain is spinning, obliged to accept the overloading sensations and transgressions Chuuya is committing against you. Every movement in your body is dulled and slowed— it's like your nervous system would rather focus on the vicious slam of his hips into your cunt, than to help you have any form of mobility.

“Fucking say it.”

Your mouth forms the words before you have a chance to deny them.

“That's all I’m g-good for…”

A puddle forms on the dirty motel sheets made of your arousal, sweat, and your melting figure. Chuuyas arms wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, wings encapsulating both your bodies and hiding the mirror from view. It's almost romantic how sweetly he holds you.

Almost.

“ ‘m gonna fucking breed you. You're mine.”

The puddle of lava in your tummy gets more and more restless— bubbling angrily and threatening to erupt. With one last ruthless thrust into the spongy little spot inside you, the lava surges out, burning everything around it. Your orgasm seems to go on forever, scorching you but also dunking you in arctic waters. Chuuyas hips still against you, releasing hot spurts of cum into you. You can't really think about what that could mean for you in the future.

The apocalypse feels like it has finally come for you. Destroying everything in its way and leaving the earth a blazing wasteland. Only this time, you aren't worthy of salvation. You will be left alone to the mercy of the devil before you. Revolting bile is pushed against your teeth and you're forced to swallow it back.

Remorseful, your body trembles with effort as you attempt to sit up— to get Chuuya out of you and away from you as soon as possible. Only, it's impossible to move. Chuuya’s chuckle is devious and low, sending a chill through your bones.

“Oh no… I'm not done with you yet, angel.”

[chiara-hotel]

When you’re injured

Characters: Blade, Chuuya, Yosano & Sanemi

Event Masterlist: here

Warnings: Injuries, blood, mention of murder

- Blade is silent when he first sees your injury, then immediately asks how you got it… or who did it to you

- Even if you say no-he’s very persistent, constantly asking until you tell him

- when you finally do, he waits until you go to sleep to go out and murder them

——————————————————————————

He stands in-front of you as you just got back home for your mission-eyeing the blood dripping down your stomach. The cut was fresh, it must have just occurred and it must have been a person due to the nature of the cut. He would know from injuring and killing so many people. Blade stares at you before asking the question “who did it”. You looked back at him, clutching your stomach before answering “no one”.

Of course he didn’t take that for an answer, constantly questioning you “who did it” while aiding you to heal your wounds. It’s not until you finally give him the name that he backs off asking. Though he doesn’t leave, grabbing more bandages and gently patching your wound. Kissing your cheek he leads you towards your room and puts you in your shared bed. Its only after you fall asleep that he leaves, grabbing his blade to slay his new target.

Chuuya stares at your wound for a moment before staring into your eyes. How could this happen? Why did this happen? He should have been there for you. Why want he there for you? Who would dare do this to you? Why would they do this to you? All of those questions run through his mind until he goes up to you and starts aiding you with your injury. He doesn’t press you for more information-not in that moment anyway. Chuuya wants to make sure you’re okay more than anything and make sure he didn’t do anything else to you. When you get all patched up, he tucks you into sleep before heading downstairs.

When he reaches the living room however… Chuuya is calling the black lizard, making them find whoever this man was and ask him what he did to you. Even after he insisted it was only the one scar… Murder is still the only option. To chuuya anyway.

When yosano first discovers your injury she gets worried for you. She wants to ensure your safe and healthy but of course if you work for the ADA things are going to happen here and there.

Yosano is also glad it isn’t life threatening-but is worried because she now has to injure you to a life threatening state in order to heal you. At least she can heal you though instead of letting you bleed out. If the injury isn’t too bad though, she’ll just bandage you up and scold you a bit.

Freaks. Out. What cursed demon could do this to you? Sanemi unleashes another attack on the demon that hit you and killed him.

If that didn’t work, he’d stab himself to expose the demons to his blood and then kill it. Even as he’s bleeding and probably has a deeper wound than yours, he runs over towards you to aid your wound.

Sanemi also immediately suggests he brings you over to Shinobus to aid in your healing process.

[shiroganeryo]

Happy Father's Day with the Bungo Dads! 💞

Now we've come full circle as we celebrate the fathers today 😊 For the moms, please check out the Mother's Day post ❤️

Profiles/credits: Fumiya Nakahara, Yūko Tsushima + Sadako & Torao Kunikida are my OCS~ Chuuya, Dazai, Atsushi and Kunikida belong to Asagiri and Harukawa!

[newroseanna]

(Request is open)

He folded you in half like a flip phone so he could get deeper into you. You clenched around him so tightly. He slammed in and out of you. He went down to kiss you. Eating your mouth out. You look so damn beautiful to him, he's glad that your all his and nobody else's. Thats how it should always be. He wants to breed you. He wants to see your stomach swollen and plump. He wants to see your boobs full of milk. He wants you.

DAZAI, FYODOR, Chuuya, EREN, Levi, JEAN, BAKUGO, DABI, SHIGARAKI, DRAKEN, BAJI, TAIJU, SANEMI, Iguro, DOUMA, ZORO, SANJI. (Insert your fav characters)

[chocsra]

"Sweep Me Off My Feet, Honey-coated Words."

Chuuya x fem! reader oneshot - 'My Demon' inspired (kdrama)

a/n: i haven't wrote like this in a while! lmk if u want this as a series!! ALSO THIS IS BASED OFF MANGA CHUUYA. NO BLUE EYES 🤕🤕

summary: after being chased by a mysterious killer, a gravity manipulator saves you, only to switch abilities with you, leaving him powerless unless you two touch.. but apparently, you've met before?

Who is a friend and who is a foe?

Misty skies flow through the light air of dark streets. 11:34 AM, that's enough to feel the pit of your stomach drop in fear, absolute horror. You feel your feet being dragged across asphalt streets even if you stumble or feel tears falling along the way. Just a few hours ago, you picked up an Uber sleepily, wandering a cold beach, another figment of a lonely night.

When you found yourself waking up on a dark road still seated in the car, the loneliness dropped for a second, goosebumps rose and eyes scanned. The mysterious Uber driver adjusted his cap so that it covered his face in the car's front mirror, you opened your phone hesitantly to check the app, only to find that your selected uber was 32 minutes away.

A disoriented stare ran from your phone to the back of his head, fear coursed through every vein, a lump caught in your throat, fuck.

Through a punch and a kick, you dashed out of the car and took rugged steps for preparation as you see your driver pull a sharp blade out, a box cutter. Rugged steps turned into uneven running as your feet clashed harshly onto the asphalt, sucking in sharp breaths, exhaling even sharper ones; the dry air piercing out could slice skin itself.

A dead end arose as you ran, hopeless dread pulling at your feet, the once fiery and piercing breath turned shallow as you trembled. The cold, dark air preparing you for an even colder blade piercing.. God knows where.

Then you saw him, him.

A man, not so tall, who drenched from the dark, emerged from the shadows. It was as if the glow of the moon reflected off his ivory, smooth skin. There was something about him that seemed so.. foreign. To his silky copper hair, bangs that framed his face messily, and a few specific locks that rested on his left shoulder - such an unusual haircut, one that showcased slight sweat and a disehelved look despite his fancy attire.

He had eyes that naturally seemed low-lided, tired stormy grey eyes that you could make through his long lashes; a shine that was printed on his undereyes, one that presented the curves of it. His pinkish lips were tugged into a soft smirk, his hands stuffed in pockets.

The man walked ever so carelessly, as if he were used to lurking in the dark, and watching others drown in it. An expensive raven fedora adorned his hair with a pristine chain hooking around the piece, along with a black bolo tie, a leather choker, and white button up shirt. A long overcoat was thrown loosely over his broad shoulders, with a fitted grey vest and black blazer underneath. You took in his black dress shoes and matching slacks, before he halted, almost making you.. choose between them.

Something about him was also off, incredibly off, one that made your insides swirl and rummage for an answer. So, who is a friend and who is a foe? Crime inhabited every street and alleyway in Yokohama, there may be no safe option, but there is safer.

"Help me!" You run up to the suited man, adrenaline coursed through every vein, pumping to your pounding heart. "He's.. he's trying to kill me!" The man averted his stormy eyes to you, on you, tilting his head as if he were trying to clarify your statement. "And what do I get in return?" A crisp, raspy voice rolled off his tongue like candy, but his words were anything but sweet.

You dart your eyes back to the walking killer, face contorting in confusion, "Consider it a favour." he rasps, sleepy cat-like eyes barely gazing at you. "A favour?" your brows furrow in disdain and repulsion, what kind of life threatening situation deserves a deal in return? A mere business exchange?

"My boss told me we needed more men for infiltration," he clicks his tongue, the glint of the sharp blade inching closer.. and closer. "I think you're perfect." He explains ever so vaguely, "I can't just agree to something so vague.." you purse your lips, head turning as time feels so slow, so slow and so dangerous, "Do you want to live or what?" the man downright scoffs. "Fine." you mumble, biting your inner cheek before he nods his head arrogantly, like you made a respectable, good, choice.

"Noted," the man responds as the criminal behind you lengthens the box cutter to it's max length, you whip your head around in fear before a crushing force pierces the man's chest, dropping the box cutter in the process, blood coughs out of his mouth as his back clashes into the car's front window. Glass shatters and the dashcam runs crushed, lines of blood dribble out the killer's temple and forehead, body disehelved and messily thrown. From the corner of your eye, you see the same shine of the redhead's dress shoe, perfectly angled at the fallen man as he chuckles darkly, hands still shoved in his pockets.

"We've been waiting for you," He inquires, casually striding to the bloody man, "You have a debt to pay." the words roll off his tongue so perfectly, each consonant, vowel, each felt dipped in honey, even as he grabs a fistful of the man's hair, baring his teeth in a smirk devilishly.

'You have a debt to pay' rang in your ears almost irrevocably, there was a catch to his deal, isn't there? A mystery man whose bones crushed under his foot so casually, the wet stainted lips the redhead had, it was covered in lies, deceit, wasn't it? So, who is a friend and who is a foe? If there's one person to trust, it's yourself.

Your feet broke from the shackles holding you in place, from the feeling of your gut, you should've trusted yourself from the beginning, you should've decided what you wanted for your fucking self. You took your feet and ran away from them both, whatever debt he has to pay, he could pay it, whatever deal you had to go through, could suck your fucking dick.

Crash.

The beaten man was thrown right in front of your path of running, landing harshly onto the road; you halted immediately as the pavement cracked and debris emerged. The stormy-eyed man kept his gaze set on the half-dead one, his bones were messily twisted, a look of agony and hatred sent like fluid to each of his veins.

"Miss," you heard a familiar, sugar-coated voice dripping to your attention. The man again, smug, arrogant face dropped for a second, not with a look of sincerity, but rather seriousness. It overtook your breath with the smell of his musky colonge and cigarettes.

"we had a deal too."

You stopped for a second, maybe more than that - he finally stuffed his hand out of his pocket and extended it to you, revealing a gloved, large hand. His fashion was intricately overdressed, you could see from head to toe, he was dripping in a virginal assortment of accessories - rich in flavour, and extravagant in taste. He extended his hand gentle but firmly, undertones of something more lurking under his refined gloves, as if grasping his hand would seal your unknown deal. You stared up at him through your lashes; unbeknownst and rather innocent.

Time is wasting, but is 'waste' a proper word for a moment so enchanting?

Then, a sudden roar of a car's lights awoken and came crashing onto you two, the man, clearly taken off-guard, grabbed your hand, and pushed both of you off the road. Suddenly, you feel the once enamouring misty air blind you as you feel a firm hand grasp onto your wrist, another arm wrapped around your shoulder. A limp, fleeting rush of air flew past you two, as you crash into the lake below you.

Dim shines of city lights prick through the surface of the airy water. Lukewarm but cold quivered and raked through your skin as your hair splays in the lake. Dark corals of reefs peek against your vision as you turn your head around, only to see the same man, your saviour, sinking in the water asleep, his grey eyes were closed shut as his long lashes compliment his skin underneath the shimmer of the moonlight, along with a glow of red outlining his features. His fedora was nowhere to be found, only revelling his silky copper locks. He, without the fedora looked familiar, a little too familiar.

Wait.

You remember him now, all too well.

Chuuya Nakahara.

"I'll be honest, I think blind dates are completely useless."

An elegant man dressed in a fancy black tuxedo had his arms folded in the chair across from yours, almost sleeping in such a fancy restaurant. He had glowly copper hair with bangs that framed his face quite nicely, the sunlight from the open window shining through his locks delightfully too. The man's hair was on the longer side too, so he had it pushed into a half-ponytail, how pretty.

"Since when was this a date?" a raspy, no nonsense voice grumbled from his pinkish lips, his eyes still pinched shut. "I'm sorry?" you scoff, "Didn't Mori set you up with me?" you scan your eyes around the restaurant intently, the whole place was empty, it seems that the restaurant was reserved empty just for this 'date'. "Mori?" the redhead perks his head up, now setting his undivided attention towards you, "Yeah.. Mori." you nodded your head slowly, hinting that your fellow classmate set you up on a blind date with one of his friends.

"Why? He's not really into stuff like that." his brows furrow at you, leaning forward in his seat, now manspreading. "He said that you were.. 'a ladies man.' I guess he thought we were a good match." you inhale deeply, leaning back onto your chair. "Tch," he scoffs, turning his head to the side, still smiling,

"I guess you could say that."

"So how did your date go?"

you were currently walking on campus, your classmate, Mori, bumping into you. "Like shit. You were so lying about the whole ladies man part!" you snicker, still slightly irritated, your friend looked a little offended for his friend, but sighed. "Looks aren't everything, y'know, he's a really good guy when ya get to know him."

You quirk a brow at your friends revelation, "Huh? Looks were all he had! He was cocky, an asshole, had the worst manners, the most secretive bitch I've met, and talked about some secret occult society he was in!" counting the amount of times your date pissed you off on your fingers, if you kept going, you would need more than two hands.

Your friend beside you raised a brow more than once, "Hold on, what the fuck are you talking about?" he motioned harshly, "That's what I'm asking you!" you halt your steps, turning to face him. "Why the fuck did you set me up with him?!"

"Relax, what was his name? Was he the guy with glasses, tall, black hair?" you dart your eyes around your surroundings completely confused, "What? His.. his name was Chuuya Nakahara, I think." your friend pulls out his phone to show a picture of four friends having a drink at a bar, one matching exactly his description. "That's him. Who the hell did you go out with?"

Well shit.

'Seriously?! That crazy bitch from the cafe?' you thought, submerged in water, bubbles floating from both of your mouths to the surface. Excruciatingly and hesitantly enough, you pulled his wrist from the sinking body of water, and swam to the nearest surface of land. Barely noticing the red outline of his body travelling to yours.

Chuuya awoke on a shallow pile of land, surrounded by the lake's water. He rubbed his temple sleepily as he groaned, seeing your sleeping figure through lazy eyes. What did he get himself into? The redhead pushed your hair out of your face to get a closer look, not minding when he sees your eyes fluttering open. Then, he saw a poking tattoo of black ink written across your neck.

A5158.

Several pants of flashbacks flow through his head, you rise disoriented, rubbing your head as you look up at him. He looks at you with discontent, eyes that usually told a powerful story, every speck of grey took you out of the honey he dipped his words in. But now, he looked shocked, almost unreadable; enigmatic.

"..What happened?" you mumble, unaware of the glowly red outline running along your figure, to each strand of your hair, to the curve of your arms. The redhead firmly held your wrist, the lines of red connecting to him, the curve of his shoulder, the juncture of his neck, even the sharp line of his jaw. A large wave of clear, water splash behind you two, filtering the gaps of sunlight capturing the slope of his cheek. Chuuya stammers, an unreadable desire chasing from him to you.

"What.. did you do to me?"

taglist: @sstarshroom @soleelia @tomiroro

[gaoau]

yes, you do; you're an abominable sinner

theory of the two demons warnings — none word count — 3.7k

prev. — next.

childlike, joyful cackles ring through the hallway as [Name] makes their way to the training room. they're running slightly late and dreading the moment they step into the room to find Dazai pointing a gun at them again. they raise a brow at the unfamiliar laughter, growing louder and louder as they reach the door. they doubt Dazai has it in him to laugh so joyfully. the glowing bruise hugging their spine and shoulders aches with every little move they make, from turning the handle to closing the door behind them.

there's a young child expectantly gazing up at Dazai, who's broodingly leaning against the wall as per usual and doing his best to ignore the little pesky bundle of energy asking to play. exasperated, Dazai sighs in slight relief now that [Name] is here to take this brat off his back. but when he finds their eyes, exasperation morphs into amusement at the loud rage simmering in their scowl. he figured this was an expected reaction, particularly after memorizing their entire history off their files.

it feels like a million shards of broken glass stabbing and invading [Name]'s bloodstream, smoldering as they liquify to burn them from the inside out. tinted with an ugly shade of innocence, they gawk at Q, clearly no older than ten years old, a worn doll tucked between their arms and a bright grin as they press, "i can play with them now, Dazai-san?!"

he ignores the high-pitched call of his name in favor of smirking at his mentee. [Name] stares back at a hollow, bottomless pit of pure darkness. they can hear wails echoing from its depths. and they don't care—not about how desperate Dazai is to burst into tears or how many friends Chuuya has lost or how much murder has stained their palms. "is this who you wanted me to fight today?" they question in a low snarl. the only thing they care about is the fact that Q is still bright.

Dazai's smile is as weightless and feathery as every other day, though today it dances with a faint hint of mockery. "don't underestimate them; they're a walking catastrophe," he warns, soft voice of proper advice. Q bounces over to him, standing in front of him to curiously peer up at [Name]. "i have a few theories i'd like to test out. go on, Q." he gives the kid an encouraging shove, prompting them to start playing.

giggling bubbly to themself, Q approaches their new playmate with a beaming grin. [Name] can't stand the sight of such a young mirror living in the Port Mafia's clutches. they're cautious of the fragile smile organizations like the mafia enjoy wiping clean off the face of the earth. Q knocks their balled fist gently into [Name]'s stomach and they let their guard down in confusion for a moment. they glance up at Dazai before Q pulls their arm back. from underneath their oversized sleeves, blood drips onto the floor.

[Name]'s heart sinks. "hey, what the hell?" they ignore the ache of yesterday's bruises as they drop to their knees, reaching carefully towards Q. they're holding a glass shard, willingly letting its edges dig into their palm. as they laugh gleefully, [Name] tries to pry it out of their hand.

"get ready to use your ability on them," Dazai chimes in.

"huh?"

before [Name] can even hope to register what Dazai could possibly mean, Q takes it upon themself to rip their doll and activate Dogra Magra. [Name]'s vision blurs as they freeze, a dark handprint manifesting on their wrist. Dazai stays out of sight and out of reach in case they mistake him for a hostile hallucination. but the images flashing directly into their retinas have nothing with reigning demons or little angels, the pure and the tainted floating around them, the echoes of falling creatures drowning in ink. all [Name] sees is blinding lights reflecting from their bleeding palms. the same poisoned whisper plays in their ears like a broken record.

childlike laughter bounces off the walls, but [Name] can't hear it. their hands act on their own as they dig their nails into their forearms, ripping through their sleeves and tearing through the skin and drawing blood. i want to die, i want to die, i want to die, i need to die. what hasn't been completed or who hasn't been saved doesn't matter when selfish desire is much stronger than altruism. they crawl and stumble, reaching for shadows that don't exist.

they touch Q instead. as soon as their fingers come into contact with Q's ankle, the handprint vanishes; the hallucinations cease and they regain their senses. Q frowns—they've never had anyone but Dazai counter their ability.

children so young generally take longer to kill than usual, but [Name] doesn't try to harm Q past stealing a small amount of life from them. it's not life they take; an orange glow activates and vanishes within a second. they shrivel into themself, panting and gasping for air, cradling their torn arms to their chest. with blurry vision, they glare at the drops of blood and sweat dripping onto the ground, falling from their face and crying from their eyes. they gulp thickly, wiping the bloody tears off with trembling fingers. their nerves burn under their skin at the influx of energy.

a pondering hum resonates through the room. it takes them a little too long to realize it's Dazai. he's thinking. "do it again, Q."

[Name] gasps at the order, eyes wide in panic. Q doesn't hesitate to do as told. they grasp the glass shard tightly on their unharmed hand before pressing their fist against [Name]'s shoulder. they try to move away before Q gets hurt again, but they only manage to stumble backwards. this time, however, when Q rips their doll, nothing happens.

Q blinks curiously at this rather odd development. they glance up at Dazai in case he's willing to offer an explanation. as [Name] anticipates anything unreal to attack them with bated breath, Dazai counts. he waits.

a beat later, the dark handprint to identify Dogra Magra's curse resurfaces on their bloodied wrist. the orange glow manifests around them and makes them stronger. images and whispers that make [Name] claw at their skin relentlessly, deeper into their flesh so the blinding lights on the ceiling stop flickering so tauntingly. they thrash helplessly, reaching towards Q blindly. Dazai casts a glance at the broken doll. he's already proven both of his theories. he watches in silence as [Name] takes their sweet time in leeching the energy from Q's activated ability.

finally, their fingers brush against Q's face, leaving a smudge of blood on their cheek while they snap back to reality. the handprint fades away. on their hands and knees, they try blinking the blood away from their eyes. Q's slippers come into focus.

Dazai's voice echoes, "good," and [Name] wishes Dogra Magra would make them a haunting hallucination to disappear as well. "that's all i needed. maybe i'll ask Kouyou-san just to make sure…" he scans his bored gaze over his mentee as they gasp and pant to catch their breath. they might be in excruciating pain from the rivers of blood pouring from their arms, but it doesn't keep them from glaring at him so scornfully, so hateful. he hums, "[Name], clean yourself up. give Q a hand, too, while you're at it, yeah?"

both [Name] and Q watch as Dazai exits the room without as much as a single glance at the mess he's leaving behind. once the door closes behind him, [Name] exhales a heavy sigh of relief, letting their shoulders relax while they sit up on their knees. the ache on their forearms starts to slowly settle, burning on the surface of their open wounds. there's still a tingle on their fingers from when they stole Q's lifespan, but it doesn't seem to be as strong as it was with Chuuya.

still out of breath, they lick their dry lips as they gather their bearings. then they notice Q is silently staring at them. they'd been laughing nearly maniacally before, but now they're awfully quiet. their palms are slashed open and bleeding. they're still holding onto that damned glass shard.

"hey! hey!" they start, taking a step closer to [Name], "can we play? can we?"

[Name] looks at their bright, round eyes. they're a kid. they're just a kid. a young kid who shouldn't be here or in a lab or cutting themself up for other people's gain. (they're just a young kid who shouldn't be here, [Name] thinks, but these are thoughts that don't spare Q or whatever happened in history.) fate bleeds through [Name]'s soul, no matter how resistant and resilient they might be. it turns a fragile shade of agony and helplessness.

crawling closer, they try not to scowl at the walking catastrophe, because it's not their fault at all that [Name] is so angry. "are you okay, kiddo?" they steal the glass shard from them, using Mirror Mirage to crush it into dust without leaving any more scratches on themself. gently, they grab onto Q's wrists, shifting their hands to face up and assess the damage. it makes their blood boil. "these cuts are bad, we should clean them up."

"are we gonna play after?! please?" an excited glimmer lights up Q's eyes—a child's spark lights up the night.

although panting softly, [Name] manages the kindest of simpers, huffing a chuckle. "yeah, sure," they answer and an endearing grin blooms on Q's face instantly. "let's fix this first, though." they get back on their feet, motioning the little kid to follow them. (Q thinks they'll follow [Name] anywhere.)

"okay! i'm Kyuusaku!" they cheer, bouncing excitedly on the balls of their feet. their small fingers snake their way into [Name]'s hand, holding it tightly. their open wound burns and their blood mixes with [Name]'s. "come on, let's go play!" they tug and drag [Name] towards the infirmary; the faster they both get patched up, the sooner they can play, after all.

[Name] laughs to themself, letting Q lead the way. a voice in the back of their head says they should be concerned to know Q seems to be more than familiar with the route to the infirmary in this maze of a building. they ignore it when Q's overjoyed cackles ring through the hallways as they squeeze their hand in excitement. [Name] squeezes back.

Dazai Osamu doesn't believe in anything; not in life, not in death, not in good or evil. he believes humans are so weak they cannot live without a faith to rely on. he scans his eyes over [Name]'s files and finds their faith. it's not loyalty; Mori didn't save them from the ruins of an orphanage. he'd laugh if it wasn't so bitter. when he hands the updated documents to the boss, he glares at him with a gaze that demands confirmation to all his conclusions.

with a chuckle, Mori processes the latest development in Mirror Mirage's training. there seems to be a lot more to it than what those researchers managed to put together. as detailed as the information is, if they had known better than to miss crucial bits like this, they would have tried to keep this little tricky ability under even more surveillance. it's quite the powerful tool. countless organizations around the globe would love to get their hands on it.

"i'll be adding it after this, but," Dazai starts, making Mori hum as he looks up from the papers on his desk, "the nullifying effect lasts around fifteen seconds, which can be quite dangerous if used right. the only issue is that it seems to incapacitate them."

there's always a downside, of course. Mori doesn't expect perfection from anyone, not even from the demon prodigy glowering at him across his office. "they're a better investment than i originally thought, then," is the response he chooses with optimism. it makes Dazai's glare burn a bit stronger.

"you had your eye on them for a while," he states as if it were a matter of fact. it is a matter of fact; he knows this much from what he's gathered so far. mentoring [Name] isn't limited to using them as a punching bag.

Mori stares at Dazai with blank eyes. he takes a second to consider the million results that could come from this interaction depending on his answer. "i did meet them before you. seems they were worth it." he waits for a reaction on Dazai's face. he wonders how quick he is to put two and two together. it's been a year, after all.

"i am curious about that, Mori-san."

"what is it?"

"the attack on the orphanage, the organization we eliminated, the misinformation they acted on," he starts listing off occurrences with the help of his fingers. Dazai stares at Mori with a blank eye. "you know there's no such thing as coincidences on this side of the world."

letting the silence settle for a moment, Mori hums. then he grins. "you're right, Dazai-kun."

Dazai seems surprised for a second at the confession. "what if they find out?" he asks, knowing just how easy it'd be for [Name] to write Mori down on their hitlist. he asks because he can't yet put his finger on what it is this man is scheming.

"i'm not worried about that. they won't find out unless you tell them." Mori shrugs carefreely. he looks Dazai in the eye for a little longer, finding the questions he isn't pressing on. airily, he laughs, "i'll let them be the ace up your sleeve when you put a knife to my throat."

"no way," Dazai chuckles genuinely. he shakes his head, lips curling into an amused grin. "they'd never work with me to take your head—or to do anything, really. they'd rather die."

"well, that doesn't mean much coming from them. i won't be mad if they kill themself, but try your best to avoid it, will you?"

Dazai doesn't believe in anything. Dazai knows [Name] won't slice their own wrists anytime soon. whatever belief he has for them is a lie. "so you did know. is that why you left them to me?" even when knowing this, Mori believes he can save this kid and make him live cleanly, properly.

"i'd like to see where this goes."

the discussion ends there. putting another good word in for their mentee, Dazai relinquishes his position as a mentor. he leaves [Name] to train as an assassin under the one and only King of Assassins deep in the basement. Mori doesn't argue; he trusts Dazai will oversee [Name]'s progress until either one dies and he's making this decision because it's the most profitable. if used right, Mirror Mirage can be an unstoppable weapon. promptly after his report, Dazai exits the office.

Mori watches the door close behind him. he glances at the files on his desk, humming, "i hope it works out for you, Dazai-kun."

Yumeno Kyuusaku doesn't like their name anymore. they did at first, when it was only a cute, fun play gifted to them by the mafia. now that they've gone through hell at Dazai's hand—not to mention the hell that awaits—they hate it. they don't want it anymore. it hurts and they didn't ask for this.

jarring, agonized screams echo through the destroyed training room. blood-curling and nearly deafening, [Name] has never heard anyone wail at the top of their lungs with so much pain in their voice. they want to cover their ears from the horrifying noise. they can't, though; not when Q is clinging onto their shirt with balled fists, trembling in their arms and bawling so loudly. Q buries their face in [Name]'s chest, tear-stained cheeks and bleeding wounds making a mess on their clothes. they sob and shout and hiccup until their throat is sore.

even then, they don't stop. [Name] hugs them closer, wincing at the pain shooting through their body and drilling into their eardrums. they know how painful it is to be a tool for organizations bigger than they can comprehend. Q doesn't deserve this. not the training, the desensitization, the torture, the abuse—whatever name it might have, Q deserves none of this. they cry in the only comfort they can find, and [Name] wants to cry, too. they don't, though; not when it's the last thing Q needs right now.

[Name] can't tell if the blood covering them is theirs or Q's anymore, but they know the open cuts are on Q's arms. they should get those cleaned up sooner rather than later, but when [Name] makes a move to get off the floor, Q grips their shirt tighter. they refuse to let go.

sighing, [Name] listens to them sob and shout and curse, "i'll break him…! i'll break Dazai-san…!" they go in circles. they've been going in circles ever since Dazai (waving his hand dismissively, "do whatever you want.") walked out the door earlier. "i'll break him, i swear i will! i hate him! i'll break Dazai-san, i'll break him…!"

with a tone as gentle as they can muster without shattering, [Name] shushes them, "it's okay, kyuu-chan, i know." they run their fingers through Q's hair, matted with blood and sweat.

"i'll destroy him! i'll burn him down!" Q pounds their fist against [Name]'s chest. it's not [Name] whom they want to hurt, but they know no other outlet that doesn't involve glowing bruises and bleeding out.

"i get it, kyuu-chan. i wouldn't blame you if you destroyed the whole world. i bet you could, huh?"

"i don't want to! it hurts! i don't want this…!"

"i know, kyuu-chan, it's not you—"

"don't call me that!" they snap, pulling away abruptly. the open slashes on their arms burn as the coagulated blood pulls at their skin. [Name] stares at their face. cheeks burning a fierce red, eyes quivering and filled with tears that keep flowing; the face of a child, young and angry, throwing a tantrum over a toy their parents refuse to buy. a bruise on their temple and a scratch on their nose and dried blood on their forehead; the face of a weapon (a walking catastrophe), not a person.

[Name] recognizes this face. it's forever unfading in their mind, whenever they glanced at the mirror wall before going to bed. as Q wails grievances about their cursed name, [Name] can't ignore the lonely kid out of sight, chained up and awaiting death with open arms. they can't hear them and they can't see them, but they know they're there. they don't want Q to end up like that. they don't deserve that—not that [Name] did, either. so they listen.

Q doesn't like their name. [Name] thinks kyuu-chan is a cute nickname. Q hates being called Q or anything similar. it hurts and they didn't ask for any of this. not the hospital beds, the straps, the needles, the experiments, the pain. [Name] didn't ask for any of this. they empathize. Dazai is nothing but a nightmare. it all brings pain because of an ability no one ever wanted. the saying in the Port Mafia goes, the greatest misfortune for Dazai's enemies is that they are Dazai's enemies, but what about the poor fools under his wing?

"hey, hey, it's okay." [Name] holds Q's face to stop their rambling, gently cupping their cheeks and brushing the tears away. they leave a smudge of blood on their skin. they see Q's bottom lip tremble as they bite back their sobs. "i never caught your full name, you know?" and because they're a fool under Dazai's wing, they'll behave just like one, because do whatever you want isn't lenience, but a dare. [Name] knows not to touch what burns, but Q is getting burnt, too, unless they do whatever they want.

there's no such thing as rules here, but [Name] is breaking all of them. Q furrows their brows in a frown, eyes glazed over. for a moment, they don't understand what [Name] is asking. when they let go of their face, they settle down, crumbling against [Name]'s chest once more. they mumble quietly, "…Yumeno… Yumeno Kyuusaku…"

"yu-chan?"

(Dazai tells them, "don't," but they reach for the fire again.)

Q shakes their head. they don't like that, either.

[Name] hums in thought. "yume as in dream?" Q nods this time. "okay, let's see, then. yumekyuu? yumesaku… no, that's so bad, sorry." they hear a faint giggle, bursting through Q's bloodied lips. [Name] breathes easy knowing they're calming down, they're not hurting as much anymore, they're not burning. "menokyuu? yunome…? i'll work on it," they chuckle to themself. Q laughs with them.

it's not much. Q's arms are still littered with open cuts and they're still seething with anger. but they stop crying, sniffling as they nuzzle into [Name]'s filthy shirt, letting them rub their hand up and down their back soothingly. eventually, Q dozes off.

([Name] tells him, "shut up," but they know this pain and it'll never end.)

inside the infirmary, [Name] dismisses their right-hand, "good work today, namiyo-san." namiyo bows and exits, making sure not to disturb her boss after their intensive training with Verlaine.

they open the brown envelope that namiyo came to deliver and pull out a bundle of photographs. flipping through them, [Name] can't hold back the grin tugging at their lips. four kids, each in a different home, but fortunately loved and happy. maria, shion, kentarou, and yuu. they're doing fine now.

the battle isn't over yet.

[downbad4fyodor]

what if fanfiction writers were in BSD?

I’ve seen this question a few times, so I’m assuming it’s the same person. But the question is interesting so I don’t care.

all I really have to say is I’d be a pretty badass character and no man would be safe literally 95% of the cast is sexy af, and I’d most likely be serving a life sentence in “horny jail” or impregnating every decent looking guy I can find because that’s just who I am as a human being.

[sweetmunchies]

Taking requests!!

Rules and regulations below!

Hi! I mainly write reader inserts, but I’m open to ships too！Smut, fluff, comfort, I’m here for it all!

My asks page isn’t working, so please comment any requests!

Fandoms I will write for:

Jujitsu Kaisen (main)

Bungous stray dogs (main)

Black Butler

Genshin Impact

Vanitas no Carte

There’s probably way more, so just ask! Those are just the main ones.

Things I won’t write for:

-Rape/non con

-Pedo content

-Suicide scenes

-Character deaths

-Any racism, homophobia, etc

Things I’m ok with!:

-Smut

-Bdsm content (with exceptions)

-Ships

-Reader inserts

-LGBTQ content

-implied/referenced past suicide attempts

-self harm

-Romantic stuff

-Most things that aren’t on the “nos” list

Looking forward to getting requests! I genuinely LOVE to write so I’m super excited （＾ν＾）

[whatyousae]

sometimes he wonders how did he get so lucky, all the nights he stayed awake to admire your face under the moonlight glow. all the times he thanked the gods for giving him the love of his life.

how he swore he will become the person who will accompany you through your sickness and wealth, to become the father of the children you'll have in the future. pinky swearing with you even if it seems silly to him.

then why couldn't he move? you're bleeding in front of him yet he couldn't do anything. legs staying in place as he watches the light in your eyes disappear, he could have done something. he promised that he would protect you whenever.

then why are you gone? he promised, he pinky swore with you. a simple promise that he couldn't even keep. all those memories of your laugh that were the music he always wanted to hear, or the smile you always wore even in the darkest times.

or how he blames the gods for taking you away from him so early, he was there yet he couldn't do anything to prevent your fate. maybe if he continued to pray to the gods begging them to give you back it will finally become true.

he is one of the strongest isn't he? then why couldn't he save the person he deeply cherished?

demon slayer: TOMIOKA GIYUU, shinazugawa sanemi, iguro obanai, akaza, KAMADO TANJIRO

jujutsu kaisen: nanami, geto GOJO, yuuta, toge, ITADORI

bungo stray dogs: CHUUYA, ranpo, dazai, AKUTAGAWA, atsushi, TECCHOU

hunter x hunter: KURAPIKA, killua, gon, SHALNARK, kite

2024 @whatyousae — do not repost, copy, translate

[chuuyameows]

part 2 of priest dazai x demon chuuya

there you go i never break my promises 🤞

[destinyisastar]

Can I request an alastor and reader, where the reader is the owner of the alastor's soul, because in the beginning the alastor hated having made that contract that made him sell his soul, but as time goes by the alastor falls in love with the reader, and if If you feel comfortable, he is also being turned into a yandere by the reader (this yandere part can be removed if you don't want it), so reader tired of Alastor's antics and maybe a little scared, she the reader had an idea to make Alastor unwillingly to help Charlie and his hotel project. Could you do what Alastor would be like in the beginning until his more romantic transformation, what kind of things could happen...I'm curious

Say your Mine

Alastor x Fem Overlord Reader

Summary: You are a powerful overlord who is rising to the top, until a new sinner starts to take over what's yours. Once a deal has been made your new pet has taken more than a fancy to you. How will you deal with him now?

More info!: I am sorry that this took so long!! I made Alastor a slight Yandere (he seems more like a pathetic man in love I think). Also, Readers power is similar to that of Chuuya's from bsd! I really liked this idea I hope you enjoy this anon! Thank you so much for requesting!! This is a long one so beware!

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

You beam with pride as you see sinners on the street run into the shadows to hide from you. Grinning widely at them as they curl up in fear, one even kneeling before you, begging at your feet.

 Making a name for yourself was surprisingly easy once you landed in hell. Of course, you had the little rough and tumble with a couple of overlords, but you always came out on top.  Deals upon deals fell into your palm. You never dealt with your soul, absolutely never, you were no fool. Unless of course you knew you would never lose in the first place. Your good friend (A friend? In hell? Surprisingly yes!) Zestial wanted to make a deal with you when you first met.

“You are making quite the name for yourself….”

“Impressed aren’t your Zestial?” You asked grinning.

Zestial chuckles, “Would you care for a deal, my dear?” He bends himself down to your level, “I never deal with anyone I know won’t make it worth my time….”

“Oh, Zestial… I would have to say ……. no!” You giggle, lightly nudging him away. “But I could offer my friendship to you instead!”

And that was that!

However now there was someone moving in on your territory… A newcomer who sinners called the Radio Demon… He was stealing your mojo, killing off overlords left and right broadcasting their screams on his little radio show how…. peculiar.

Now you were making your way to his station to either end his life or offer him a deal…

 oh, this will be fun….

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

 “Well, I didn’t expect such a visit from an individual of your nature here Oh-ho!” A shadow comes from the ground taking form of the new overlord, Alastor.

“I simply came here for a chat Mr. “Radio Demon”, You tilt your head slightly, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” You say with a wide smile.

Ever the gentleman, the Radio Demon opens the door and leads you to his broadcasting room.

“I don’t suspect you came here for a friendly chat....” The demon says with a wild grin.

“How correct you are……”

Alastor summons his shadow creatures, and they begin their assault.

The little one pounces on you trying to scratch out your eyes, but you quickly throw it off making it splat into the wall. Another yanks your arm, opening its mouth yet the creature doesn’t get a chance to take a bite, as you rip its head off with your other hand.

Alastor summons his tentacles, wrapping them around you and slamming you into the wall.

“This is useless darling…. All your work will have been for nothing.” His eyes turning into radio dials. “You poor fool, you truly thought you could defeat me…”

“I’m the fool?”

“Yes! Are you becoming deaf my dear? Are you such a weakling that you lost your hearing already? You haven’t even left a scratch on me!” He laughs.

You laugh along with him. “Oh, Alastor…. You’re so pathetic…”

Alastor tilts his head to the side with a screech of static, “Pray tell how I am the pathetic one, when you are the one in corner?”

“Your so full of yourself!” You giggle.

Alastor feels the ground underneath him begin to shake, he looks down to see floor breaking apart. Hands come from the darkness beneath him making his tentacles release you. He tries to get away, but the hands grab him throwing him through the ceiling of his radio station all the way to hell’s red sky. Alastor falls to ground with painful loud static making the sinners on street run to safety.

You come out of the destroyed station wiping the dust off you as you make your way to the overlord on the ground.

“I’m the fool you said.” You kick Alastor in the stomach as he tries to stand up.

Alastor falls to the ground once more, his grin stretching higher.

You grab his hair to level himself with you as you stand, “My, my how pathetic you look right now Radio Demon!”

Alastor huffs, he summons his tentacles once more, but darkness beings to surround you forming a barrier cover you both completely, making his power somehow lessen.  

“Now, now I did indeed come for a chat! You just jumped to conclusions!” You let go of his hair with a push to the ground.

“I can see that you are as powerful as they say,” You let out an airy laugh, “Not as powerful as me though!”

Alastor lunges at you, a green aura surrounds him but he is quickly brought down by an unknown force.

“W̶͇̣̿̅ḥ̵̨͊͒ǎ̶̭̠̇t̷̝̦͘ ̸̖̀̽̋t̶̟͉̬̿͆̚ḣ̵̜̥̔é̷̢̙̩̔͋ ̷̨͈̥̆̍̅f̶̻͋̎ů̴͔̀c̵̟̔k̶̰̟͚̾ ̵̨̜̤̀̈́͗ä̴͙̲̩́r̸̹͉͙̓̾͋è̴̟̘ ̴̘͌̔̐y̵̬͙͌ö̴͎͖́u̵̗̩̎͜ ̸̝̼̬̾̄̚d̵͚̏̃o̸͕̞͔̚i̴͎̤̇̇n̶̻̯̊̅ḡ̷̐͜͝ ̶͇̘̓̀t̴͖͔̉̒͗ớ̸̢̥͊ ̵̣̊̈́͜͜͝m̵͎͔͛̾e̸̲̺͓̎!̸̜̰͎̔” He screeches out.

“I’m just making sure you know that I am more powerful than you…now what..should..I.. do..with…you? Hmmmm?”

Alastor snarls, he tries to claw your face, but his arms are forcefully pulled down.

“Let’s make a deal.”

“W̶̥̅h̴̨̟͝a̶̧͇̯͆t̸͈̦̬͠͠?̵̻̥͊͐̚”

“A deal! Hello!? Are you the one deaf now? Hmm?”

Alastor stares at you with a terrifying grin.

You raise your hand towards him, “We could forget this little mishap ever happened… I can help you on your little route on becoming the most powerful overlord hell has ever seen…. Of course, you would have to obey every single one of my commands, come to me at my every beck and call…… it’s just the cost of your soul...” This time you’re the one grinning at him.

“Come on now….” You release him from the force of your power, “Its only your soul…. Don’t you want more power than you can ever imagine…. Don’t be a fool Alastor…. Shake my hand.”

Alastor now on his knees, stares at you as you stand above him, he raises his hand, “Immense power….?”

“Exactly.”

He takes hold of your hand.

“A wise decision Alastor.”

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Alastor despised you…. well, at first, he did.

In the beginning of your little partnership, you treated him like a dog… making him fetch little things for you… making him cook for you…it was humiliating.

The Radio Demon became nothing more than a maid.

He grits his teeth as he stirs the pot of jambalaya, you had specifically requested it, he turns to see you at the dining table staring at the window.

His heart starts to… flutter? Why did it do that?

You turn around to meet his gaze, “How’s it coming along, Al?” you smile at him.

“Its coming along rather nicely my dear!” He tells you as he turns back towards the pot, adding a bit of spice to it.

Alastor feels your eyes still on him, “Anything interesting happen today, Alastor?”

He grabs a bowl from the top shelf, tastes the jambalaya for a final time before pouring some into the bowl for you, “Oh just the usual darling, sinners falling at my feet, begging for forgiveness…I visited Rosie today as well.”

“And how was Rosie? I need to pay her a visit soon.” Alastor walks towards you placing the bowl in front of you.

“She’s doing well, she even gained new territory.” He stands by your side.

You grab a spoonful and put it in your mouth. “Oh, Alastor its delightful! Wonderful as usual!” You beam at him.

“Why of course it is, I made it! Ha-ha!” He begins to walk away when you grab his arm.

“Won’t you stay with me… you made the meal, stay please?”

Even though you treated him like a maid most of the time, you enjoyed his presence.

Alastor looked down at you, you with your soft smile, his own smile growing.

“I’d be glad too!” He grabs himself a bowl and sits beside you. “How was your day my dear?”

You continue to eat your meal, stopping to take a sip of your drink, “It was quite a good day, I managed to strike a deal with Carmilla, her mass weapon produce continues to grow, and I have a feeling that will be needing them soon.”

Alastor eats his meal, and it indeed is a wonderful meal (he made it! Of course, it’s delicious!). “Why do you think that?”

“Its mostly a gut feeling...”

The conversations flow easily.

It felt oddly domestic.

As you speak, Alastor feels a warm feeling pouring in his chest.  After all these years standing by your side following your orders, he thought he would hate you more, but you kept your part of the deal by giving him the power he desired. You never let anyone know that you owned his soul out of respect (was it respect? Maybe?), and he appreciated that. He appreciated the overlord who owned his soul.

He sees your hand on top of the table and reaches for it, its smaller compared to his.

You stop talking and look down at your hand to see Alastor’s slightly rubbing your hand.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

Alastor stays silent for a moment, “I….I enjoy spending time with you.” his radio voice is off.

It’s your turn to be silent. You remove your hand from his, “Thank you for the meal, Alastor.” You stand up from your seat, “Do you think you can clean up? I’m a bit tired from today I’m gonna head to bed early, again thank you.”

As you head to your room you feel Alastor’s gaze upon you.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Alastor has gotten close to you in the past days. A bit too close and personal. Lately all he’s been doing is trailing after you. Usually, he would go about his day and doesn’t come near you till you call him. You don’t mind that he dotes on you, but he doesn’t seem to be acting like his old self. The self that wanted you dead. You won’t lie, you enjoyed that part of him seeing as he wanted nothing more to be powerful.

“My dear, I believe this would look outstanding on you.” Alastor says as he points to a dress in a boutique window.

“Yes,” You say as you continue walking past the window, “It does seem pretty, but I do have enough clothing.” You turn around to face him not noticing an electrical static presence behind you.

“Why hello there Y/n! A hellish day we’re having today, aren’t we?” Vox says behind you.

Alastor’s grin tightens.

“Oh, hello Vox, I’m surprised your out on this side of hell.”

“I just felt like taking a walk around, I don’t think there’s any harm in that.” Vox leans down near your face.

“There’s always harm wherever you go.” You push his screen away.

Vox laughs, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Alastor stands behind you, a growing rumbling red feeling grows within him. Why are you chatting with that bumbling fool. He is nothing. He’s not worth your time. That’s right, you’re spending time with him today! Not Vox!

“Ha-ha-HA!” Alastor suddenly appears between you and vox. “Well, if I knew that such a garbage piece technology would appear I would have walked myself straight into the nearest hell pit!”

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t come here to chat with you! You old trash!” Vox sneers at Alastor.

“Is that the best you got, pal!?” he says with a static voice.

“I have plenty more where that came from, but I don’t want to waste anymore of my time with you!” Vox turns to you. “I’m sorry for that my dear,” He grabs your hand looking sincere, “I’d like to speak with you privately if I may.”

“What would we be speaking about?”

“Ah, I’d prefer if we spoke without prying eyes surrounding us.” He stands closer to you pushing Alastor away.

Alastor huffs.

“How about we have dinner together?”

Alastor’s static cut off. Dinner? Dinner with V̷̞̪̑̇o̴̭͘x̶̦̻͠ ? No. The answer will. Be. No.

“I don’t believe I have anything planned for this evening… I’ll take you up on that offer.” You smile at him.

No. Why did you say yes? WHY? Alastor feels his façade beginning to crack.

“Great! Does seven o’clock sound good to you?” Vox grins at you.

“Sure.”

Vox nods his head at you and zaps off into the nearest electrical wire.

Alastor stays silent.

“Why the long face Al?”

He shoots his head up giving you a grin, “Oh, nothing darling, I was just wonder why you would waste your time with such a pathetic piece of “tech”.”

“Vox’s technology is advancing from what I had in the past, I feel as I need to keep up with the future.” You look him in the eyes. “Don’t you think we should keep up with the times in order to succeed?”

“Don’t you think I’m enough for you?”

“What?”

“You don’t need that loon! I’m all the future that you need! We can work together, you and I!” He grabs both of your hands clasping them together, pulling you towards him, not caring that sinners are staring. “I’m all that you need.”

“Alastor,” You try to pull away from his grasp, but his hold tightens. “Let go now before I make you regret it.” Your tone turning more serious by the second.

He lets go but his hand traces yours, “You don’t need him… I treasure your presence that imbecile would only use you, my darling.” He cups your cheek, but you swat him away.

“Go back to your home Alastor. I’ll call you if I need you.” You stare at him one final time before walking away and Alastor disappears into the shadows.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

You had just about enough of this.

As you were sitting across from Vox eating your dinner, he talked about the advancements he made in his security systems, the newest models of these so called “phones”, how he was hoping that with your help he could expand his business across the seven rings.

You were intrigued, not only would you acquire the knowledge of these new technologies, but you would be even stronger than you are now. Vox’s help would certainly make things far easier for you.

“What’s the catch?” You ask him before taking a sip of your drink.

“No catch at all, I would just like to form a partnership with you. I believe together we can strike fear into these worthless sinners. Our business together would make others tremble in fear.” He smiles genuinely at you.

“A business partnership?”

“If you’d like to call it that.”

You raised your hand towards him, “Deal.” You smile back at him.

As Vox was about to shake your hand a tentacle broke through the window grabbing him and slamming down to the streets of hell.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Vox yells.

“Y̶͈̋o̵̘̩͒̊u̷̼͋ ̴̬̼̎̓ḍ̵͋ä̷͕͍̎r̸̪̈́ę̸̡̊̅ ̷̤̹̄̽ṭ̵̥̂r̵̢̖͌y̵̙̎̾ ̴̘̄̒ț̴̡͝o̸͕͙̊̕ ̵͖̉̔ṱ̸̋a̴̪͚̓k̷̥̈́͒è̵͚͝ ̴͓͌̓w̸̦̒̈́h̴̫͕́ä̶̻͝t̵͕̙̓̚'̸̡̿s̵͚̾̇ ̸̣̻̔m̵̘̼͝i̶͈̮̽n̶̜̐̚e̸̠̲͊͝?̸̪̈́” Alastor’s demonic form takes shape, a booming static floods through the city.

“Of course, it’s you, you old fuck.” Vox gets up with a shake in his legs. “Taking what’s yours? Are you so old that you forgot that, that woman is a complete league above the rest of us? I can admit that. Can you?”

Alastor cracks his neck to the side. His shadow puppets forming around Vox, his tentacles racing towards him.

Vox takes a stance, his electrical waves were about to strike Alastor,

Until you came in between them, the gravitational pull from your power pulling them to the ground, the darkness taking hold of them till they calm down.

You walk over to Vox first, “I am deeply sorry for this, Vox,” You release him from your grasp, you can hear Alastor thrashing around behind you. “I would like to continue our conversation at a later time, before I make our deal, I need to deal with him first….” You tone becoming aggravated.

“HA!” He looks towards Alastor who is still on the ground, “ No fucking way are you acting like a fucking child HA!!” He cackles.

“Vox….”

Vox visibly shivers, he turns slowly towards you, “Yes…?”

“You may go home…. now.”

“Ah! Yes! Of course, Hahahaa! I’ll see you soon!” Vox teleports away.

You begin making your way to Alastor, tightening your hold on him, forming the dark barrier around you like when you first met.

“What the fuck were you think you stupid fucking fool?”

He begins to let out a static screech.

You release him from your grasp and instead tug on the chain that forms around his neck. “You disobeyed my orders, how FUCKING DARE YOU!” Your demonic form grows larger.

“How should I punish you? Hmm?”

Alastor tries to grab your hands, but you slap them away.

An idea pops into your head, and you release Alastor from your tight grip, but not yet letting go of his chain.

“Do you enjoy spending time with me Al?”

Alastor starts to breathe normally again and crawls towards you, “Yes… yes I do.”

“You don’t deserve to be by my side.”

His static begins to take over the barrier.

“You made me look like a fool… you say you cherish me, yet you had the audacity to do this.”  You grab his chin making him look upwards at you, “That won’t do at all….”

“I order you to be in a pit of darkness…. Only and only when I call upon you shall you return to my side and obey my orders.”

“W̵͔̲͒͑H̷̙̫̹͔͎̒͝Ą̷̟̜͋͒̊́͠ͅT̵̢̧̩̙̖̓͂̅?̵̡̛̥͖̈́̃̚”

“Ń̶͉̤̥̲̹̩̅̓̌̏̔̚͜Ỏ̷̢͕̑̑̉͝͝!̸͚͐̏͆”

A dark pit forms beneath him, Alastor tries to claw his way towards you.

“L̵̟̮̈́Ę̷̝̮͍̦́̍͘͘T̶̖͙̰̪̎̿͠ ̶̧̪̥̝̙͂̽̎M̶͖͍̿̌́̈͝Ẹ̷̜̯̐ ̷͈̟̳̖̮̏͋͘S̴̢͔̙̮̈́̔͒T̶̨̡͕̎A̵̝͔͈̾̓Y̸̙͖̌ ̸̨̥͈̀̀͂̌B̵̢͍̣̐̒̑̚͠Y̶̢͚̳̓ ̵͓͐̀́Ȳ̸̺͝O̷̮͈͝Ù̸͎̳̈̋R̵͙̝͉͋͂ ̴͎̝̱͗̂ͅŞ̷̩̂͊̔͛͝I̷̫̼̳̎̒͜͜Ḓ̸̍̄͝È̵̡͔͙̻͂̚”

Shadowy hands grab him and pull him down to the darkness and the pit closes.

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

It’s been seven years and you’ve been doing great. You were able to gain new territories and eliminate those pesky pathetic overlords that are of absolutely no help to you.

You sit in your living room watching the 666-news channel. Normally you wouldn’t partake in such wasteful time, but vox had gotten you a new television set that he said, “was to die for”.

And an upcoming guest on the news was Princess Charlie Morningstar. You rarely ever spoke to the Morningstar family, you only spoke to Lilith as you both had quite similar interests. You considered her a good friend though you haven’t seen her in quite a while, last you heard from her she said she was taking care of business.

Princess Morningstar spoke about a project she was developing, a hotel for sinners to be redeemed. How unusual. Sinners wanting to be redeemed? How laughable. This is hell, no one can be redeemed….. or can they? You were intrigued. After seeing how the princess became a laughingstock after her song, you decided you wanted to “help” her.

Of course you wouldn’t show your face there yourself, no, no, no. You would send someone over there to guide her.

With a snap of your fingers a dark pit opened up on the floor next to you and a red being was formed.

The radio demon was on his knees while you continued to watch the television, sipping your tea.

Without looking at him, “Alastor…. Stand.”

Alastor gets up, wipes the dust off his coat and stands by your side, silently watching with a crackle of static.

“My dear, I apologize for acting out of sorts the last time we spoke….” He bends himself lower. “Please forgive me….”

“Watch the television.”

Alastor focuses his gaze on the … tv…. disgusting.

He sees the Princess of Hell fighting the news reporter… what was that woman’s name again? Killer? Killeye? It doesn’t matter.

“What’s my purpose in watching this noisy picture box?”

“The Princess wants to make a hotel to redeem sinners…”

“What does that have to with me?”

“I want you to help her.”

Alastor’s static cuts off abruptly, “What?!”

“Help the Princess with her project, even you might find it interesting.”

“That’s absurd!”

You glare at him, “Do you dare question me?”

“Of course not my dear…..”

A chain is summoned around Alastor’s neck, and you move him towards you. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”

Alastor grits his tightening smile. “I’ve spent years without you….  I don’t think I can bear to be without you any longer.” He grabs your hands that hold his chain. “Let me stay by your side…I won’t cause trouble for you again.”

“Weren’t you listening to me?” You pull his chain harder.

“You’re the one not listening to me.” He mutters.

You, in fact, pretend not to listen to him.

“Go to her hotel and help her, guide her.”

“Is that what you wish of me, my dear?”

You face him, “Yes that’s what I want you to do.”

Alastor huffs and grabs your hand, placing it on his cheek, rubbing his face slightly with it. “Let me stay…. Let me be yours….”

You indulge him for a minute, but you quickly stand up from your seat.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Alastor, who is still on his knees, looks upwards at you, arms wrap around your waist. He nuzzles his face on you, “Yes, I understand….. but I do have a request….”

“And what would that request be?”

“If I do this… can I be yours….?” His eyes forming radio dials, static rings in your ears.

You smile down at him, running your hand through his hair, playing with his ears. You then bend down lower to his level, nearing his lips but not quite touching them.

“You can be mine.”

🎕┈┈┈┈🎕❂⋯❋⋯❂🎕┈┈┈┈🎕

Hi everyone! I know I haven't posted in a bit! Sorry!! I recently been getting to the persona series, the music goes hard! You should give Heartbeat Heartbreak a listen!

WordCount: 3619

destinyisastar 2024

[stuffeddeer]

Idk if your like still taking asks since your last one was 2 whole weeks ago but i really just wanted to talk about 15!Dazai cause i miss my pookie and i reread your first kiss hc’s and ughhh being Dazai’s first ever crush, hes so smitten with you and doesn’t even understand why, maybe also forces Chuuya to be his unwilling wingman because he deadass uses cringey one liners on you and chuuya is sick and tired of it.

15!Dazai deserves to be a giddy infatuated teenager and kicking his legs like a schoolgirl when you give him your attention 🤧

Smitten 15!Dazai needing a wingman | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

nearly 8 months later i am here to complete this request!!! hope this is what you wanted (and was maybe worth the wait lol)

Chuuya doesn't really get the whole "Demon Prodigy" thing. Oh, Dazai is just soo smart and soo scary - what a joke. Chuuya has seen him spend ten minutes trying to figure out how to open a cereal box. Sure, the ginger didn't know either, but he figured it out quickly once the brunet gave up.

On the battlefield, Dazai can be quick-witted and ruthless, a foe worthy of his title. Yet right now, Chuuya watches with his arms crossed as the man beside him stumbles over his words while trying to talk to you about the weather of all topics.

It's sickening, almost - seeing the "genius" Dazai so blatantly ignore every signal you're sending. It's true, of course, that the brunet teen is exceptionally off-putting and non-socialized. The bandaged kid with unruly black hair and one emotionless eye (the other bandaged up and hidden away) is the type of weird befitting a title such as Demon Prodigy. While he is a mere 15 year old, his presence rouses unease wherever he goes.

Or so Chuuya was told. With him, the 15 year old is just that: a 15 year old. Dazai is bright but childish, boisterous and witty, ready to spar verbally until Chuuya has to walk away to calm himself down. The Dazai that Chuuya had come to know during their relatively recent partnership would never falter like this around someone his age - someone of equal standing. He isn't one to falter with those of higher standing, either.

Lackeys fear him, new recruits find him off putting and so on. But there are a few in the mafia - Chuuya and yourself - that are privy to see what he can really be like. Or, Chuuya, more exclusively. You... get an interesting version of him, to say the least.

“So that’s why it’s actually bad that it’s sunny out,” Dazai finishes, cheeks dusted an embarrassed red and hands wringing together. Is that… sweat? Dripping down his forehead? The man is always annoyingly cold, usually shoving a freezing hand onto Chuuya’s neck just to laugh while watching him recoil.

Jeez. Chuuya already knows how smitten Dazai is for you, but this is a new low he wasn’t expecting.

You politely smile, trying to act like his rambling made any lick of sense. “Well, I suppose I like flowers enough to concede. A little rain is good now and again.”

“We both like flowers!” Dazai points out. You idiot; everyone does.

Chuuya takes one hand out of his pockets to readjust his hat. “Dazai’s been tryin’ to get me to go to some flower garden on the other side of Yokohama,” he decides to lie. As if it wasn’t clear before, you pretending Dazai’s argument held any merit only proves that you like him back. Helping you is all he’s trying to do, because that stupid mackerel will never make a move on his own. “But I keep tellin’ him I’m not interested. Would be nice if you took my place.”

Eyes widening ever so slightly, you turn to Dazai with a timid expression. “I didn’t know we had one.”

“Wait, I— “

“It’s free admittance. Paid for by the government to clean up our city or somethin’ - Kouyou told us about it,” which is true, minus the part where Kouyou told Dazai as well.

The excited smile you give causes Dazai’s usually-controlled heart to leap into his throat. “That’s super cool! I totally wanna go, if you’re still up for it, Dazai.”

He doesn’t reply. The stupid, idiotic strategist that supposedly has been bolstering the Port Mafia’s defenses is left defenseless by a pretty smile. Seriously? This is what Chuuya has to put up with? He should just smack Dazai and take it all back. He’s never helping this lost cause again.

With one gloved hand, Chuuya slams it against Dazai’s head to force it into a nod. The slam is hard enough for Dazai to snap out of his stupor, but soft enough that you don’t notice how rough the ginger is being. “Say yes, idiot.”

And Dazai quickly follows through. He swats Chuuya’s hand away with an “I was gonna do that,” before clearing his throat. Looking back at you clogs it up once again and he gives an awkward smile back and a nod of his own this time. “Y-yep! I wanna go. With you. Well! Not like with with you, but like, with you. So, not like a date, just— I wanna go and you should come.”

Chuuya did his part. Can he leave yet? God, remind him to never help Dazai ever again. This was embarrassing for Chuuya and the short man is just a bystander. Though, the flush on Dazai’s face and the excited grin on yours helps to keep Chuuya’s annoyance at bay. At the very least, now the two of you can finally move on from this awkward crush stage and he won’t have to see Dazai metaphorically drown himself in every conversation with you.

And when the two of them got back a week later out of breath from running, Dazai’s hands covered in dirt and you holding an uprooted bouquet of fresh flowers, Chuuya realizes that maybe he chose the wrong location.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I CHOOSE YOU AND ME, RELIGIOUSLY

osamu dazai x reader

thoughts about how dazai would treat you

same premise as the chuuya + atsushi ver

inspired by guilty as sin

osamu dazai, who doesn’t really know how to love. you confuse him and challenge the equations in his head. who is a mystery to everyone, even himself. who is sure that nothing will fill his heart. who is easy to approach, but hard to love.

osamu dazai, who wonders if he’s allowed to cry. if he’s allowed to show any real emotion behind the walls and bandages he’s put up. who wonders if he- an absolute vile monster of a man- is allowed to love you. who wonders if he deserves anything more than death for what he’s done, for the demon he still thinks he is.

osamu dazai, who still tries to be a good man. who takes the words of his former friend to heart. who wonders when he’ll deserve to love. who wonders when he’s considered good enough to love you. who is usually so smart, so calculated, and so thoughtful, and who is at an embarrassing loss for words when it comes to you.

osamu dazai, who decides he’ll bet against the universe once again. who throws his life to the wolves and the ocean rocks if it means getting to hold you. who treats you like gold, whispering words into your ear he would never dare to speak to anyone else. “you’re not my first kiss, my first time, or even my first ‘i love you’ but you are the first person who made living seem possible for me.”

osamu dazai, who prefers to be alone. who knows thats what makes you different, because for the first time ever, he craves your presence. he wants you in his lap while he reads, who actively pulls you towards him when he sleeps, who kisses your knuckles before leaving for a mission, who returns to engulf you in his embrace when he steps into a home. who actually thinks of his apartment as a home when you’re in it.

osamu dazai, who everyone thinks is a womanizer, but is secretly a gentlemen. who knows chivalry like its his first language. who always opens to the door for you, slips his hand around your waist like a puzzle piece, who zips up all your clothes for you, who presses kisses underneath your ear while he’s at it, who reads you poetry, who teases you because he can’t help but love the way you turn pink, who somehow manages to keep the flowers he buys for you alive for longer, who knows everything about you, and who lets you decode his soul.

osamu dazai, who wants you to know him as well as he knows you. who tells you about his past, about his wrongdoings, about odasaku. who swears that the most human he has ever felt was when he was looking at you. who can’t fathom how you’re real. who lets you see whats under his bandages. how his heart swells when you kiss each one.

osamu dazai, who makes chuuya promise him to protect you should anything ever happen to him. who can’t stand the thought of you leaving, even though death was such a common feeling for him in his life. who tells chuuya you’re his everything, and trusts him to look after you. who can’t imagine another man ever loving you, but knows that chuuya is a man of promises, and will not let anyone touch a hair on your head once he’s gone.

osamu dazai, who thinks of you as way to die. who takes one look at you and recalls things that haven’t even happened yet. late nights, messy kisses, promises, families, embraces, heaven, sin, unraveling, scars, loving not despite but because. who’s heart is so full of you he can barely call it his own anymore.

osamu dazai, who thinks that even if its all make belief, and if he’s simply made you up, he’ll uphold his vows anyway. he’ll still come home to you with a kiss to your forehead. he’ll still always give you his jacket when you even slightly shiver. he’ll still read to you his favourite poetry, tell you his secrets and watch how you love him anyway. he thinks that even if you aren’t real, he’ll love you like his favourite storybook.

osamu dazai, who knows the world will crucify him anyway. who knows he’ll likely pay for what he’s done at some point. who knows the universe will catch up to him soon, even though he’s trying to be better. who thinks its okay if he gets what he deserves, even if its death, because he’s already seen heaven just by kissing you. who thinks that way you hold him is spiritually holy, who lets you haunt him stunningly. he vows to find you in another life, one where he can deserve you. a life where he an love you with no limits. who knows he’ll choose you, always.

[yurislotusgarden]

ʚїɞ Not just a little crush ʚїɞ

ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ word count: 1k

ʚїɞ Tw’s: literally nothing, just pure fluff of him being down bad

ʚїɞ This is literally just 1k words of Pmzai being down bad, whipped, even lovesick, for his crush🤷‍♀️

How did he end up like this?

The youngest executive in Port Mafia’s history, The demon Prodigy, one of the most feared people in Yokohama if not the whole of Japan, Dazai Osamu has fallen in love.

He tried to tell himself that it wasn't that. That the nice feeling he got whenever he was around you was just because of him standing near, or spending time with a friend, a close one, but denial can go on only for so long.

The brunette at first thought that his crush, as Chuuya had called it when he had caught onto Dazai's more than normally weird behavior, was one-sided. After all, there was no way that someone like you could love him, that just wasn't a possibility in Dazai's mind, yet you decided to go against his calculations once again, you seemed to like doing that and causing him to freak out.

It wasn't too long before he realized that, just maybe, you did at least like him in a romantic way, some acts just couldn't be brushed off as a friend gesture.

One thing he just couldn't brush off, as well as it being the reason he realized his crush may not be one-sided, was him remembering one of the times you cooked him food, even though you were aware how picky he could get with that matter.

///////////////////////////

A figure with brown-haired locks could be seen walking on the deserted sidewalk. Moonlight shone on him as he arrived at his destination, your house.

You always greeted him so sweetly, especially when compared to all the people in his life. Welcomed him like he was a classmate, a friend, a normal person that you both knew he wasn’t. He wasn't treated like a superior, like someone who would kill if the smallest mistake was made around him, and Dazai knew that he liked it from the very start.

Dazai had thought before how would it be if you somehow were in the PM, but to his surprise, he realized he hated, even despised that idea. Something about the concept of someone like you, a person who in his eyes could be an angel for all he cares, being in a dark place full of violence and death like the Port Mafia, was just absolutely not right.

Dazai had arrived at your door, not having to wait long after knocking for the door to be opened by you.

“Dazai?”

You. Oh, the lovely little thing that you were in his eyes. Innocent compared to him, a civilian who somehow met and befriended a feared mafioso without the slightest care in the world.

He had no idea how he managed to get where he was, but he had no regrets.

“Yes, me! Now let me in, it's damn cold!”

///////////////////////////

You disliked crab.

In fact, you disliked most seafood, he was perfectly aware of it, and yet, you did this just for him. 

A crab that could as well look like it was made by a restaurant chef laid in front of him on the table. It looked well-seasoned, the crab’s shell was purely gotten rid of, and the smell wasn’t overwhelming like a lot of food tends to be like to him… you really thought it out carefully. 

“What is this?” It was kind of a stupid question, but he wanted to know your reasons.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked crab?”

“I do-”

“Then shush and eat, you stick.”

What did you just call him? Did he hear it right?

“...’Stick’?” You turned to look at him as he said that, stopping the cleanup you were doing just moments before.

“Yes, have you seen yourself? When was the last time that you ate a proper meal, dear?”

Oh. Goddammit. Don’t get him started on the pet names. He was aware that you used it on people you considered close to you, as long as they agreed, and he’s been lowkey embarrassed ever since you asked for his permission to use them on him, or more like embarrassed on how fast he agreed to that. Dazai didn’t know why he liked it so much, maybe it was because of how no one ever referred to him as such, maybe it was the way you sounded when you addressed him with them, or maybe it was entirely just the fault of your voice but he simply didn’t care anymore.

“I think we both know that you’d rather not know the answer.” His answer caused you to let out a soft sigh, but what he said was kind of true. In truth, he would answer that it was the last time he ate at your place, which on one side wasn’t that long ago, but otherwise, he barely eats anything. You and Chuuya were the only ones getting any kind of nutrition into his body, which he supposed he should be thankful for… not like he’s ever going to voice it out.

“Right. Now eat, I don't need you collapsing on my floor.”

“But I don't wanna!” If any of his subordinates saw him like this, whining because of food, they would be dead on the spot, but he's alone with you, and he’s been over being embarrassed about his behavior with you a long time ago.

You sighed, and he knew that you were about to use the biggest thing you have on the brunet against him, just to get him to eat… Not like that wasn't Dazai’s plan from the start, he's gotta get his fair share of you, doesn't he?

“You eat the most you can and you get cuddles.”

“With you playing with my hair?”

You smiled softly and said, “I'll even add head kisses to the mix.” knowing damn well that it’s gonna win him over.

You knew what you were doing, you had to, and he didn't mind as long as you kept your side of the deal. He's gonna finish that damn plate if it means affection from his favorite person will be solely on him for as long as he wants it.

Hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[chuulyssa]

𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 !

tw mentions of self harm, hurt & comfort, fluff, pm!zai, mentions of odasaku's death & grave

song forever winter tv ftv taylor swift

pair pm!zai x reader

wc 2.2k

You were the sun to his winter.

At least, that's what you liked to call yourself when you were alone. You would never dare to say it in front of him, though; he would only laugh, dismissing your words with a teasing remark. To be frank, you weren’t quite sure what to call the relationship between the two of you either. From an outside perspective, it might have seemed like you were just good friends — or perhaps, hopelessly lovesick. But up close, when the world wasn’t watching, you both knew you were just confused teenagers, trying to find your way through a life that had no room for love. In the Port Mafia, emotions were a luxury that neither of you could afford — especially for the Demon Prodigy, the emotionless killing machine.

Was it love? You didn't dare answer. Your circumstances forced you not to. But it was true that you were one of the three people Dazai had ever opened up to. It was true that you were the one he would lean on to in his most vulnerable moments. It was true that you were perhaps the only other person to have seen him without his bandages. He wouldn't hide himself from you. He was a shadow, and you were his light.

Then, why, you wondered, was he trying so hard to?

The dim, amber glow of Bar Lupin cast long shadows across the polished wood, the clinking of glasses and low murmurs filling the air like a quiet hum. You had been looking for Dazai everywhere since you received the ominous text from him.

zazai :3 1:03 A.M.

im sorry for everything

He was nowhere. Not in his container, nowhere in the headquarters, even Chuuya didn't know where he had gone. It was all your fault. You should've known earlier. He’d been distant lately, more so than usual. Now, about three hours later, after driving round downtown and coming back up, you hoped to find him here, at the one place that still held a sense of comfort for him.

As you pushed open the door, the familiar scent of whiskey and old wine greeted you. Your eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on the figure slumped over the bar. Dazai. His shoulders were hunched, dark hair falling over his eyes as he stared blankly into a half-empty glass. His fingers were coarse and brittled — of course, he had been refusing all the meals you invited him to. The sight of him like this, so utterly broken, sent a sharp pain through your chest.

You approached slowly, hesitating for a moment before sliding onto the stool beside him. “‘samu?”

He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge your presence at all, and for a moment you wondered if he even realized you were there. His eyes were glossy, cheeks red from the alcohol in his system. But then, he sighed wearily.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hollow, devoid of the usual teasing lilt.

“I was looking for you,” you admitted softly. “You can’t just text me stuff like that and expect me not to panic.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Worried about me? That’s a first.”

You winced at the coldness in his tone, and for a moment you wondered if he wanted you here at all, but you couldn’t back down now.

“You know there hasn’t been a day I’ve spent without worrying about you. But you’ve changed.”

“Changed?” He lifted his chin from the table top and rested it in his hands, sparing you a glance. “I am but your poor little kitten.”

“You are planning something, Dazai.”

He didn’t reply, choosing to instead play with the hem of your shirt.

“Answer me. What did Odasaku tell you? Why are you behaving like—”

“Would you look at the time? I almost forgot what sleep looks like,” he interrupted, getting up and throwing his coat over himself.

“Dazai,” you called, but the door closed and you were alone again.

--

The clock on your wall read 5:00 a.m. when the loud, insistent banging on your door jolted you awake. Who could it be so early in the morning? You stumbled out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you made your way to the door. As soon as you opened it, Dazai nearly fell into you, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. He was wasted, more so than you’d ever seen him. Had he returned to Bar Lupin after you had left? Or did he have a stock of alcohol? He must have stolen some from Chuuya.

He leaned on you heavily, hair cascading down his face and brushing your neck lightly. You didn’t say a word, just wrapped an arm around his waist, guiding him into your apartment after closing the door. The usual sharpness in his eyes was dulled, replaced by a glassy, unfocused gaze that told you he was far from sober.

The world outside was still dark and unsettling. But inside your small apartment, there was solace, calm, and a rare tranquility he always said he liked. Maybe that's why he showed up tonight after shunning himself away from you.

You led him to your bed. He sat heavily on the edge, his head drooping as you knelt in front of him, hands working with practiced care to pull off his shirt. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, and as the layers of fabric fell away, you saw the bandages that crisscrossed his torso, stained and frayed from neglect.

“I have some in my drawer,” you said quietly, moving to rummage through the drawer to find bandages to replace his old ones.

Your hands moved instinctively to them, but the moment you touched the first strip of cloth, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist with surprising strength. His eyes, though clouded with drink, held a trace of fear, of vulnerability that he rarely let anyone see.

“Samu,” you whispered softly. “Trust me, yeah?”

For a moment, you thought he might refuse, that he would pull away and shut you out like he had so many times before. But then, slowly, his grip on your wrist loosened, and he moved his hand away, giving you silent permission.

You carefully began to unwind the bandages, each layer revealing the scars beneath. Your heart clenched at the sight of them, the wounds that had never truly healed. But you didn’t let it show, didn’t let him see how much it hurt you to see him like this.

Gently, you applied medicine to his scars, wrapping the fresh bandages around him twice, making sure they were secure, desperately hoping they would help heal them. You looked at him. His eyes were closed as if he were trying to block out the world.

--

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the graveyard, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers and the lingering silence of the departed. You made your way through the rows of tombstones. Dazai had skipped the Port Mafia meeting, and they had sent you to find him so the boss could berate him yet again. You didn't want to, but you knew where he would be.

As you approached Oda’s grave, you saw him. Dazai stood there, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the headstone, communicating silently with the still rock. The wind rustled through the trees, carrying with it the faint scent of rain. You hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and walked towards him.

“Dazai.”

He didn’t turn around, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as if bracing himself for what he was about to say. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You stepped closer, refusing to let him push you away. “You skipped the meeting.”

“Ah, you’ve come for that. I should’ve known he would send you to see me.”

You walked closer to him, and he glanced back at the sound of your footsteps. “You know Mori won’t let that slide.”

“Why don’t you tell him I don’t want to work anymore?”

“Because you say that all the time.”

“What if it is real this time?”

You paused, searching for confirmation in his eyes for what he had just said.

“Oh,” you said, when you couldn’t find a contradiction. “You’re leaving.”

“Yeah,” he hummed lightly, still not looking at you.

“And you are completely sure.”

“Yup.”

“You won’t change your mind at all.”

“That’s right.”

Beat.

There was a moment of silence.

Finally, he turned to face you. And you saw what you were looking for.

“Now you will say something cheesy,” he said. “Something like, ‘I can’t live without you, please don’t go.’”

You turned pink, and he smiled, albeit it was a bit forced.

“But would you believe me if I said that?” You asked.

“I would, although I hope it isn’t true.”

--

The atmosphere in the corridor outside the boss's room was suffocating. You stood there, anxiously waiting for Dazai, knowing that he was probably getting scolded for skipping that important meeting earlier. You were more worried about what Dazai would end up saying, now knowing that he was going to leave the Port Mafia.

“You can't just leave the Port Mafia alive!” You exclaimed. “You were the one who said that.”

“Oh, then in that case, I think I would be the first person to do so! Or, on second thought, the second person, after Ango, of course,” he replied cheerfully.

When the door finally creaked open, you were taken aback. Dazai stepped out, looking as carefree as ever. His hands were casually tucked behind his head, and there was a cheerful grin across his face. It was as if the reprimand he’d just received had not had the slightest effect on him.

“Oh, you waited for me?” he said teasingly. “Let’s go to your house.”

You blinked, trying to process the abrupt shift in mood. “Yeah, I did,” you replied, your voice laced with confusion as you fell into step beside him.

How could he be so cheerful today, after that night in your room?

As you both walked through the winding hallways of the Mafia’s headquarters and out into the quiet streets, the tension began to ease. Dazai broke the silence. “You know, I met a wonderful girl today.”

His words caught you off guard, and you turned to him, surprise evident on your face. Dazai wasn’t one to talk much about girls or dating — at least, not unless it was related to a mission, in which case he would manipulate the lady and leave her broken-hearted the next day. You were glad that never happened to you though.

“You’ve started dating?” you asked, trying to sound happy for him.

“Mhm, maybe,” he flashed you a sly grin.

“Well? Mr Romeo, Who is she?” you pressed.

Dazai hummed thoughtfully before answering. “Oh, I visited Odasaku’s grave earlier, didn’t I? I bought flowers from a shop nearby. The girl working there… well, I think she might be even prettier than the flowers she sold me.”

You felt as though the world had tilted off its axis. “Oh,” was all you could manage to say. You smiled weakly.

He had just betrayed you thrice in the span of three hours, first by dropping the bomb that he was leaving you, then cheerfully brushing off whatever trouble he’d gotten into with Mori and now by nonchalantly mentioning a girl who seemed to have caught his eye.

Maybe this was something you could learn to live with. Maybe.

--

It was quiet — too quiet, the kind that weighed heavy on your heart in this night. You knew why Dazai had insisted on staying the entire day, and deep down, you dreaded it. This was going to be the last time he stepped foot in your home, the last time he sat on your soft couch, the last time you would share this space that had become a sanctuary for the two of you.

He sat across from you, his usual air of casual indifference replaced by something far more somber. He hadn’t said much since he arrived, and that silence had been deafening. You could feel the distance growing between you, an invisible chasm widening with each passing second.

“Ahhhh,” you screamed of frustration, and he chuckled lightly. “You’re really, really leaving, aren’t you?”

He didn’t meet your gaze, half-assed smile still on his face, his eyes fixed on the floor as he nodded.

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

“What about us?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

“Us?”

“Don’t,” you warned. If he was just gonna pretend that there was nothing between you, you didn’t need to hear it.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I don’t know, moron.”

“Ah, fuck,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Well, this complicates things. Pack your stuff then.”

“What?”

“We’re leaving.”

“Just like that?”

“You wanna hand in a resignation?”

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Chuuya and his s/o fighting off the organization that had the ✨ splendid ✨ idea of trying to kill them at their wedding?

Chuuya x Reader

“Do you, Chuuya Nakahara, take this person to be you lawfully wedded spouse?”

“I do.”

Chuuya did not consider himself a mushy person. He never thought much on the future with someone or dreamed about his wedding day. But ever since he met [Y/N], he had dreamed of this moment. The moment when they would finally be his. He would be theirs. Together forever.

Through the happy ringing in his ears, Chuuya vaguely heard them answer back “I do” after their own vows, and the minister go, “you may now kiss your spouse.”

He grinned. And just as about the moment their lips touched to seal their bond of marriage, the windows flew open & glass exploded everywhere. “What the hell?!”

The church was suddenly swarming with operatives. Who or from where, Chuuya couldn’t be sure. They all had that stupid, bland uniform of black tactical gear and shouting like idiots admits gunfire. He knew it couldn’t be the Agency. They would never be this sloppy, and he had to believe that Dazai wouldn’t ruin his wedding (on purpose like this). So they were just a bunch of faceless, opportunistic goons, trying to ruin his special day to make a name for themselves.

“You ruined my wedding!” Chuuya’s powers activated and the pews in the church flew at the men. Knocking them down like bowling pins.

He growled, but then turned his attention to the side when he heard a click. A few men sneaking past the main lines and up on his flank. Too close for him to activate his powers quickly.

Three shots then rang out and the men fell quickly. Chuuya turned to see [Y/N] aiming their pistol over his shoulder. “What? You didn’t think I was really going to come to our wedding unarmed, did you?” Chuuya grinned. God how he loved them.

More men swarm the church and Chuuya braced for a further fight. Before they could reach him and his new spouse, however, they were suddenly repelled back much like scattering leaves. “We’ll take it from here, boy.” Hirotsu announced as he stood in front of the happy couple.

“Old man…”

Blood curdling screams followed by the sound of a sword being sheath echoed as Golden Demon’s imposing figure hovered in the room. “No need to thank us.” Ozaki insisted as she appeared, equally mysterious, beside her demon. “Consider it a wedding present. Now, go on. Run off into the sunset like good little love birds. I expect lots of souvenirs from your honeymoon as a thank you.”

 Chuuya smiled softly at them, but then took [Y/N]’s hand and sprint off for the back.

He knew this life would not be easy for him. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them. But, if they were together, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome. They just had to keep moving towards the future together.