#anyway i wish that was me...... chuuya move over

[the-gayest-sky-kid]

how do you look at this and not want to shoot him in the head tbh

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[annievrse]

robbers

chuuya x pm!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic w/c: 0.9k c/w: chuuya calls reader 'doll', guns & murder (ur literally a sniper) a/n: this was gonna be a lot more angsty, but I wanted some cutesy gross relationship shit, so here u go, my babies. enjoy!!

Zooming in your scope, your eye is trained on a familiar redhead. You watch as he tries to talk his way out of an infiltration mission that had gone awry 10 minutes earlier, and with you as the Port Mafia's sniper, it's your job to ensure Chuuya gets out of there unharmed.

The earpiece lodged in your ear fizzles a string of words you can barely focus on, but you press it and talk anyway.

"Yes, Aktuagawa is on the roof," you mumble, lifting your head to confirm the questions streaming through your ear. Squinting into the setting sun, you see the younger boy walking along the edge of the building, hoping to get a better angle to attack. "Will take my shot. Over."

As you try to get comfortable, the leather of your vest and pants drag along the concrete roof you lay on. Steadying your breath, you aim for the head of the mastermind behind the organisation that had been killing ability-users for sport.

Now, you hold your breath and squeeze the trigger. There's no sound, but your hurried exhales, and you begin packing your gear instantly. There's no need to look to confirm your kill.

"—inside is clear—"

"—building empty, return to headquarters—"

The silence is deafening. The subtle ringing in your ear punctuates as such. A sudden crackle through your earpiece startles you as you descend the 38 flights of stairs to the street.

"You could've aimed a little more to the right. I got rat blood on me."

You shake your head. "Be grateful you're alive."

Chuuya scoffs, and you imagine him rolling his eyes. "He was an easy target; I would've easily taken him out."

"Just meet me downstairs, please," you sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. The stairwell is humid, and you're starting to sweat under all the leather you sport.

"Yes, ma'am."

You twist the device from your ear and shove it in your pocket.

Emerging from the building, you're hit with a gust of cool night air, the feeling both relieving and chilling. You squint into the darkness. The door behind you slams, and you jump, tripping over your foot and falling to the ground. You put your hand out to stop yourself and brace for the impact.

Except you don't make it to the dirt and are, instead, held mid-air by a familiar force. You roll your eyes when the commander of said force appears before you in the shape of a five-foot-something redhead.

"Careful, doll, don't need you breaking your trigger finger."

You give Chuuya a deadpan look, still surrounded by a red aura. He stalks toward you, the hem of his coat flapping in the wind. You look at him through your lashes and wish he'd let you fall—he gazes at you so intently that if he weren't Chuuya, you'd have punched him by now.

You feel yourself move upwards and stumble once you're on your feet again. Chuuya walks ahead, but his hand hovers behind him slightly.

"Well..." you say, grasping his fingers. You walk toward the PM car, which is parked in the distance.

Chuuya gives you a side look. "Well, what?"

"Well," you say. "Make yourself useful and kiss me."

Chuuya's eyebrows fly up and he stops. "Useful? I just saved your ass from—"

You drop your bag and cover his cheek, smiling as your lips meet his. It's messy, and you swear you felt his teeth nip your bottom lip by accident, but it's nice. Chuuya's fingers tickle the sides of your neck, and he mumbles something incoherent.

You pull back an inch and peck his lips once more when he chases after you. "What?"

Chuuya sighs and leans his forehead against your shoulder, his hands moving to your waist. "Thanks for getting me outta there."

You laugh softly, burying your hands in his hair, moving his hat onto your head so it doesn't fall on the ground. He doesn't thank people often; he doesn't need to with his hatred of initially putting himself in that position and his constant obligation to save everyone.

You don't need his thanks; you never have, but you just kiss his cheek and reassure him. "Always."

Chuuya turns his head, and you feel him press delicate kisses on your neck. He trails his lips to your earlobe before laughing lowly in your ear, squeezing your sides.

You put your hands on his cheeks and pull him out of your neck. His face is squished between your palms, and you stop yourself from kissing him silly. Chuuya wraps his hands around your wrists, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on your pulse points. His blue eyes stare into yours, and the butterflies in your stomach refuse to settle.

“You can stop staring now,” Chuuya mumbles, his cheeks blooming red. He'd blame it on the breeze if you tease him about it.

You shake your head, smiling bashfully. “No, you look pretty."

"Oh, please," Chuuya scoffs, eyes sweeping the building behind you. The subordinates deemed the perimeter clear before, but Chuuya scowls at the place anyway. "Let's go."

Sighing, you pluck his hat off your head and put it back on his. "Lead the way, pretty boy."

Chuuya begrudgingly fixes his hat and swings your bag onto his shoulder. "Only if you stop calling me that."

You tsk, wrapping your arms around his middle. "Can't deny what's true."

Grumbling, Chuuya throws his arm over your shoulder and draws you into his side. "Whatever."

[chaiifluuf]

That's that me espresso! — c. nakahara

synopsis. chuuya struggles to fall asleep again after thinking about you and his unexpected dreams

content. fem!reader, fluff, suggestive in one part, chuuya is lovesick and he doesn’t know it <3

notes. i don’t know if i got his character right.. i tried my best tho ! and yes this is inspired by sabrina carpenter’s song espresso hehe (*´꒳`*)

chuuya doesn’t dream. 

or well he didn’t use to because tonight was the first time he had a dream in a really long time.

the fact it wasn’t a nightmare shocked him even further and out of all things he could’ve dreamed about, it was about you. why you? he isn’t sure himself. chuuya let out a silent sigh as he rubbed his face, trying to recall everything he saw because a part of him is still in disbelief that he had an actual dream.

the first thing he remembers is you wearing a summer dress while walking at the shore of a beach. the gentle waves crashing into your bare feet as you carried your flip flops in your hand. then you turned around and your face was beaming. chuuya swore you had the happiest smile he had ever seen on you. something seems to catch your attention when you look at him.

“chuuya, your hair is in your face!” you tell him with a light giggle. as soon as you mention that, he notices how his hair strands start to obscure his sight as the wind blows from behind him. you make your way towards him as if an idea popped into your mind. “wait, stay still,” you say and swiftly move behind him while chuuya couldn’t help but blink in confusion. “what?”

you don’t say anything in return but it doesn’t take him long before he realises what you’re doing as he can feel your fingers gather his hair into one place. you were making a ponytail for him. 

“there! now it won’t be bothering you,” you say once you are done, looking at him in satisfaction and glee. chuuya touches his head for a moment, not used to having it like that. it indeed felt nicer. he thanked you before the two of you start walking again.

“no problem. you look really good with a ponytail too…” you mumble the last part and chuuya almost misses it. he glances at you, about to say something and he’ll never know what because that was the moment he woke up.

chuuya believes there was probably more going on in the dream but this is as far as he remembers. he casts a look to the side, scanning over the clock that reads 2:56 am. there is more than enough time to get his much needed sleep. because it is a rare occurrence for him to not be exhausted from a usual workday, he’ll take any bit of rest he can get. 

with that in mind, chuuya shifts his body to the other side and closes his eyes, a soft exhale leaving his lips. it was just a silly dream and he will forget it soon enough anyway. although he still doesn’t quite understand why you were there. you were one of the closest people to him, he’ll admit that. you knew him better than most people and he has lost count at how many times you have made his day so much better. the two of you were good friends and that’s it. yeah, this is fine.

except it isn’t.

falling asleep turns out to be a much more difficult task than he anticipated. he isn’t even that tired anymore which did not help. chuuya’s mind is still stuck on his damned dream. he can’t help but picture again your radiant smile, how your hair blew in the wind, the way you stared at him and that pretty dress… he quickly shaked his head to snap out of it. he can’t believe himself. chuuya decides to get up and find something to distract himself since he couldn’t sleep now anyway.

he wished that would’ve been the one and only time he dreamed of you. this was the third time in the week that he hasn’t slept well. all of them had you in it and at this point chuuya thinks something is wrong with him. how does anyone dream about the same person so many times in such a short time? 

chuuya groans into his pillow as he suspects yet another badly slept night. of course you were on his mind once more. he is glad that these aren’t nightmares but at the same time he doesn’t know how to feel about these dreams either. he’s also shocked by just how vividly he remembers all of them. 

in the second dream, chuuya was at a restaurant with you. if he’s going to be honest then it felt like a date. the dimmed lights, the romantic atmosphere, a lit up candle placed on the middle of the table and two glasses filled halfway with red wine. he still remembers the simple yet elegant carmine dress you were wearing. your gaze was filled with so much warmth and adoration that he felt his heart falter. then you laughed at something he said and god your laughter seemed sweeter than the desserts the two of you were having.

the entire time his eyes were stuck on you as if you were the most breathtaking person he had ever come across. and you were. while the conversation was hazy to him, the scene of you intertwining your fingers with his was still clear in his mind. your rosy cheeks afterwards made you look even prettier. thinking about it alone made chuuya’s heart rate fasten.

the third dream however, the one he had tonight, was a different story. because with each time these dreams seem to get bolder and chuuya doesn’t know how to handle it. 

you were pushed against the bed with him hovering over you. he was kissing you and they weren’t some kind of gentle kisses either. more like they were filled with desire, need and many other strong emotions he couldn’t pinpoint. he pulled away for a moment, his lips still brushing against yours. your hair had gotten rather messy, your lipstick was smeared and it was obvious that you were breathless as he could feel your breath on his skin. 

“chuuya, please…” he couldn’t fight back the shiver that went down his spine when he heard your pleading voice. your arms were wrapped around his neck as you held him close. his lips slowly trail down from your lips and he can’t help but start sensually kissing your neck. chuuya relished the soft noises that left your lips.

“want you s’bad,” you murmured to his ear and chuuya swears his heart skipped a beat. were you even aware of the effect you had on him? “i’m right here, doll.” his tone was low and husky as one of his hands sneaked below your shirt, lifting it up as he traced your waist. he didn’t miss the subtle tremble of your body when his bare hand came in touch with your abdomen. god your skin was so soft and your flushed face was the most adorable sight. he grinned before going for your lips again and then—

chuuya can feel his face heat up as he realised what he was thinking. he buried his face into the pillow once again because that was just a little too intimate. and goddamn it, he feels like a schoolgirl who just talked to her crush for the first time.

why the fuck is this happening to him?

he hasn’t seen you in a while since both of you were busy with your missions lately. you did text him though, and even if he always didn’t have the time to respond, you liked talking to him about your day as well as your frustrations at times. chuuya didn’t mind and when he had a chance would type you back. with a lot of things going on, you and him were still in touch. so are his dreams supposed to be some kind of sign to see you again?

if only you knew how much you have driven him insane. he needs to do something, anything to get these dreams out of his head. a night with actually good rest does sound nice right now. however he won’t get that, not tonight at least. suddenly chuuya gets an idea. a stupid idea perhaps, but he believes he will only continue to suffer if he won’t do anything about it. he grabs his phone from the bedside table and opens the messages app.

Me 4:03 am

you up?

chuuya sighs, there is no going back now. he hopes you’re asleep but a small part of him wishes you would respond because he has no idea what to do at this point. five minutes later, he hears his phone vibrate.

Y/n 4:08 am

mhm, something wrong?

his eyes slightly widen in surprise. so you were awake. for a moment he thinks what to text back.

Me 4:09 am

not really, just can’t sleep

Y/n 4:09 am

what a coincidence haha

now that i think about it i still haven’t seen your motorcycle that you promised to show me one day

maybe wanna meet up? ^ ^

chuuya’s mind pauses because this might be exactly what he needs — to see you again. without thinking too much he starts typing.

Me 4:10 am

sure

i’ll come and pick you up

Y/n 4:11 am

YAYY 

i’ll see you then!! 

he can’t help but smile a little. a genuine smile that he hasn’t had in a while. he quickly changed his clothes, locked his apartment and began making his way to the garage. 

he might never admit it but even with you in his dreams, he still missed you. the real you.

fun fact: initially, i had put a winky face after the “i’ll come and pick you up” text but then decided against it bc i’m still not sure if he would do that LMAO

[kaeyx]

Regarding accidental polyamory, still in the early months of dating dazai and he has to go on a work trip (high security prison, not that he tells you that) so chuuya takes care of you while hes gone. Initially you think this just means chuuya will help in emergencies, but he goes into full "cooking dinner, helping with home renovations, massaging your shoulders" bf mode. It only takes a few days before he is pulling you into his lap to grind on his hard-on while complaining that dazai is worthless and inconsiderate for leaving you like this. No amount of "i am normal about dating and understand that my partner has a life outside of me" will convince chuuya. Obviously you are stressed and need relief from working all day. His projection game is insane. Keeps saying stuff like "break up with that loser and date me instead" but then will talk about all the kinky shit the three of you will do together when dazai is back

Dazai annoys his russian cell-qneighbor with how excited he is to get back home (and tie the both of you up)

Oh my god you're so right and that is so hot too adjsckze

You think he's just going to take care of you, keep an eye on you since Dazai is sometimes a little paranoid and likes to know you're safe, that kind of thing. But it's only days before Chuuya is shifting all the groceries into one hand so he can hold yours, giving your hip a squeeze when he drops by after work, then one hand curling around the back of your head to kiss you properly (for "good luck").

Chuuya pulling you in for grinding/dry humping has me 🥴🥴🥴 god Please Chuuya one chance

I know maximum security prison probably doesn't have the one phone call thing but imagine it did omg. It's been a few days/a week since Dazai "left for work" and Chuuya has moved fast, going from hanging around always to kisses to full on groping, spooning you at night "so you won't be lonely" and not-so-subtly grinding against you, pressing his bulge against your ass. Whispering in your ear that he could treat you so much better, he could spoil you, leaving wet kisses all over your shoulders and neck. But he also talks about sharing? One minute he's promising to fuck you so good you'll never be able to look at Dazai again and the next he's purring in your ear about how he wishes you were sandwiched between them.

Ahem I got sidetracked anyway that one phonecall. Dazai calls you, of course, and immediately hears hiccupy apologies and stuttered cries of his name, your voice wavering. He can hear low grunts and the slap of skin on skin in the background and grins, already knowing what's happening. Chuuya bending over your shoulder, draping himself over you so he can taunt Dazai, describe how wet you are and how well he's treating you while he's away, fucking into you with a brutal pace to make you cry into the receiver and give Dazai a show. Both of them speaking to you at once, one in each ear, cooing at you and praising you or not, until you're trembling like a leaf and milking Chuuya's cock while he growls, laughing at Dazai because he can't get to you.

[circinuus]

I was wondering if I could request Dazai (possibly Chuuya too, seperate) taking care of a sick s/o? gn please! Take ur time and take care of urself! <33

taking care of a sick s/o

ft dazai, chuuya. 0.7k words

gn!reader

❥ hi nonnie! tysm for the request and the sweet message ♡ if you're not feeling well, i hope you'll get well soon! sorry this one isn't too good, i need to practice writing more

"Dazai, get awayy-"

Your protest was cut by your miserable sneeze, before further drowned in your lover's long whine.

Hell hath no fury like flu during fall, you concluded. And seeing your currently pouting beloved, it seems that it's not that less of a nightmare for him too. Food and medicines are down. Yet, the body pains and subtle headaches still linger.

Dazai had noticed the way you slump at your desk. Hidden among the piles of abysmal paperwork was you sighing and kneading your temple to quell a grating pain that wasn't supposed to be there. Dazai had noticed this; the lack of enthusiasm and vigor in your ever-refreshing smile. And that was all it takes for him to take you by the hand and throw some well-crafted excuse to Kunikida, dragging you back to your shared abode.

That was a few hours ago. 

"Shouldn't you be back at the agency?"

"And leave you alone?" he gasps, partly offended at how you inch away from his kiss. "My flower, what if you're dying from your cold?"

'Oh! we can finally have a double suicide!' he said. 'But death by sickness is nasty,' he then deflates. Despite his vocal laments, they soon fade to nothing but a white noise as your mind drifts to the pile of unfinished works and reports, eyes blank from the haze of your worry and malady.

"A frown doesn't suit you, belladonna," soft fingers rest on your head, and suddenly you are conscious of the creases forming on your brow and the taut arch on your lips.

"Shh, it's okay," his whispers flows to your ears like a lilting tune. Your eyes find their way to his, and swirling in his eyes is a sentiment so foreign. So latched with raw, genuine concern, ripped off all the playful and mischievous glint you wished you weren't the reason for such disconsolate eyes.

"Dazai-"

"Rest." he presses a kiss on your eyelid. Your words soon die in a blissful sigh, too tired and too content to propose another protest.

With his gentle strokes, the angry storm of uneasiness and sickly discomfort dull, and sweet lull of sleep finally embraces you.

You much rather not let your lovable waste of bandage catch your cold. But alas, you are only human. And what can a mere human do when they feel their lover's warmth engulfing their being? So loving and solicitous; you are helpless under his touch.

Besides, you owe him as much for making him this worried.

Chuuya frowns as he observes the thermometer.

"I should call the doctor back."

"Love, please," the thick blanket he draped over you slightly shifts. "He was just here."

'It's just a silly cold, anyway,' a huff escapes your sore throat. But Chuuya isn't all convinced. A deep furrow nestled itself on his brow, and for a second you think he's mad. Maybe it has something to do with you passing out in his office just now; something about fatigue and seasonal flu, the doctor just said.

The mafioso heaves a long sigh before moving closer to sit at the edge of your bed.

"(Name), y'know how much you made me worry?"

"I had the medicines already. I should be fine." you sniff, red-nosed and voice strained. 

"But.. sorry."

"Hey, hey, sweetheart, it's not your fault" he is quick to shush you, fingers moving to rub circles on your hand. "I should've taken care of you better."

"You know it's not your fault," you interlace your hands together. They fit so well, you smile. And from Chuuya's chuckle, he seems to notice your sentiment.

"You're such a sweet thing, aren't you, doll?" he presses a loving kiss on your knuckles. Now you weren't sure it was him or the flu that was burning your cheeks.

"Rest up and don't worry your pretty head." He gives your hand a final reassuring squeeze. "I'll take care of everything,"

Chuuya moves to smooth your blanket, tucking you in for the night. And yes, he resists the urge to press a goodnight kiss on your lips, as much as he doesn't want to wait until your flu goes away. But you can feel the comfort of his hands never leaving yours throughout the night.

♡ @ashthemadwriter

[familiariscanis]

death's kiss (can't come from me)

soukoku, beast au, rated m. 2k words. warnings for discussion of death and choking but no actual on screen death

read on ao3 here

"If you really want me dead, then you ought to just kill me now, Chuuya."

beast verse. chuuya wants dazai dead. dazai, as it turns out, wants much the same thing.

Chuuya's long past tired by the time he hears Dazai come home. He's past mad too, but he's always mad when it comes to Dazai.

Dazai takes his time in the entryway, barely making a sound, and when he comes into the living room he does so slowly, lethargic as he pads the length of the apartment, heading straight to the liquor cabinet. It's late, but he pours himself a glass of whiskey anyways.

"You went out," Chuuya says.

"I did." Dazai knocks back his whiskey, and then pours himself another shot, putting the bottle away and shutting the cabinet door. He doesn't drink that one though. Not yet, at least. Instead, he leans forward, letting his forehead rest on the glass of the cabinet. His breath fogs up the glass.

"You're not supposed to go out without telling me," Chuuya continues. He narrows his eyes at Dazai, who does not move from his place by the cabinet. "Or what, did you forget?" 

"Of course I haven't forgotten." Dazai doesn't seem himself. He seems distant, tired.

Dazai never seems tired. The man can stay awake for days on end and never show a single sign of fatigue. "I didn't forget." He lifts his head, giving Chuuya a skewed-sideways smile over his shoulder. "I just did it anyway."

Dazai doesn't do tired. Dazai doesn't get tired. 

He gets tired. Of course he gets tired. He's just a man. Only a man. Chuuya knows that, even though the entire rest of the world, and probably Dazai himself as well, has forgotten that fact.

Chuuya might as well be the last bastion of remembrance of the fact that Dazai's just a fucking human beneath it all. A brilliant and terrible human, but underneath all his schemes and ice-cold smiles he's still got a beating heart and pumping blood. No one else ever seems to remember that fact, and Chuuya himself comes close to forgetting in times like these. He wishes he could forget, erase the knowledge of the human that lies under the monster's mask.  

"Bastard," he says, instead of all of the other many things he wants to say. "Half this city wants you dead, you know. Don't be such an idiot."

"So worried." Dazai retorts mockingly. "It's not like Chuuya would cry if I died." 

"No," Chuuya agrees easily. He's not sure if he's ever had any tears to spare for Dazai, but if he did, they dried up a long, long time ago.  "But you do owe me your life, so you're not allowed to die on me."

"Do I?" Dazai asks. He laughs. It's a dreadful sound, that laugh of his, sharp as a serrated knife. He brings his glass to his lips but doesn't drink from it just yet. "I'm not sure that's true." 

"To me it is."

"I must just die anyway, all on my own," says Dazai nonchalantly, his uncovered eye sliding sideways to look at Chuuya, his gaze lidded and heavy with something other than inebriation. And then, slowly, poisonously, he smiles. "If you really want me dead then you ought to just kill me now, Chuuya." 

He could do it. He could kill him now, and he could do it so very easily. Walk the few steps across the room and put his hands on his throat and press until his heartbeat flutters like a desperate butterfly's wings against his hands, and keep pressing, until that butterfly beat fades away and everything is quiet. He could press and press and press and press until there's nothing left and all of the anger is gone and all of Dazai is gone too and maybe if he does that and if he squeezes the life out of Dazai like Dazai has always wanted then Chuuya will be free too and they'll both be free and they'll both be happy and they'll both get what they want and they'll both be happy. 

Chuuya will get what he wants. Chuuya will get the entire rest of his life without Dazai, because that's what he wants. Chuuya wants to free himself from the chains that have inextricably tied him to Dazai. Wants to stop following him. Wants to stop believing him, wants to stop wanting him and caring for him and believing in him and wants to stop hating him and loving him all in the same breath. 

That's what he wants. He knows he wants that. That's all that he wants.

He can't get what he wants as long as Dazai is still alive, and he can't let anyone else take his life but him.

There's a dagger in his belt and a knife in his boot. He thinks about them, thinks that Dazai would be beautiful with a gash in his throat or a blade in his chest but Chuuya doesn't move for any of them. He breathes in through slowly through his nose, the smell of whiskey sharp on his senses, heady. He doesn't need his knife, he decides, even if blood would be a lovely thing on Dazai. His hands are good enough. If Dazai is to die, Chuuya wants to feel him under him, to feel the life leave him and his heart come to a stop.

He doesn't realize he's moved until he's already done it, until Dazai's back is slamming against the cabinet with enough force to shake the glass inside it and his cup is falling to the floor, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces. 

The whiskey gets on their shoes. Chuuya pays no mind to any of it, ripping one leather glove off with his teeth and then yanking the other one off. He doesn't remember dropping the gloves, but he must have, because they're falling to the floor, joining the whiskey and the broken glass under their heels. 

"Right," Dazai hums approvingly, amused. "Just like that."

"Fuck you," Chuuya spits, head spinning and hands clamping down harder on Dazai's shoulders, pinning him to the cabinet with bruising force. Dazai, for his part, does not resist; he actually seems to relax, letting himself go boneless against Chuuya's grip. "I'm not playing your game. Whatever game this is, I'm not going along with it." 

"Of course not," Dazai's head lolls back against the cabinet door like he's drunk, but his one uncovered eye is sharp and shines with something that Chuuya no longer knows how to read. "I'm not playing, Chuuya." His voice is soft. "It's not a game, Chuuya. You want to kill me, don't you?"

"I'm going to kill you," Chuuya corrects in a growl, because he's never allowed himself to think about what he does or does not want, not when it comes to Dazai, not anymore, and because going to is a lot easier and a lot more certain than wants to. You don't have to think about what you're going to do; you either do it, or you don't. Going to is an action, and action is what Chuuya is good at. Action is what Chuuya knows. He doesn't know what to do with something like wanting. Not when it comes to Dazai. 

"Is there a difference?" Dazai asks, even though they both know that there is. "If you're going to kill me, Chuuya, why not do it now?" 

Even when in the throes of Corruption, Chuuya has never felt so out of control before, moving like someone else is pulling his strings. He lets go of Dazai's shoulders, and for a second Dazai staggers, off balance, and then Chuuya's hands are back on him, held against the column of his throat, palms pressing against the layers of gauze bandages. He doesn't press down, not yet. He feels dizzy, like he's drunk too much, even though he hasn't had a drop. "Is this just some sick way of getting off?" he asks, feeling his lips twist into a bitter snarl. He can feel Dazai's pulse under his fingers, and it's a perversely intimate thing, to feel the proof of his life under his hands and to know how easily he could take that life away and stop his heart. "Is that what this is?"

Dazai's body is hot and solid under his, so alive under him. One of his hands grabs at the back of Chuuya's shirt, gripping him tightly— but not to push him away; Dazai's hands are on his back, fingers digging into his suit, catching on the jut of Chuuya's shoulderblade, holding onto him like a lover. It's a mockery of intimacy that they make, but it's an intimacy all the same.

"Ha," Dazai laughs, breathless even though Chuuya hasn't yet tried to take the breath from him.  "Maybe. Maybe that's all this is, Chuuya. But do you mind so much?" His fingers curl against Chuuya's back, tightening their grip slowly. "Chuuya's sick too, isn't he? That's why you're still here, isn't it?"

"Shut up," Chuuya snarls, making up for his lack of eloquence by pressing his thumbs down just a fraction of an inch. Not enough to do anything, not enough to restrict his breath, not really. A warning. Or a promise, maybe. He can't tell one from another nor up from down right now. Dazai's mouth stretches into a wide grin, mocking and worse than mocking it is knowing, and he looks at Chuuya like he's seeing right through him, that everything that he is and everything he has felt has been laid bare, stripped away for Dazai to see with an unerring clarity that Chuuya himself has never been able to have. There is the distinct and unnerving sensation that Dazai sees him better now than he has ever been able to see himself, and it makes Chuuya feel violent and vicious. He wants to hurt him for what he sees, wants it with the sort of desperate fury of a cornered animal.

"You could leave," Dazai says, "you could have left but you never did—" Chuuya's thumbs press down harder, restricting Dazai's breath for a moment. He gasps when Chuuya finally relieves the pressure on his throat, though he's still irritatingly calm, looking smugly self-assured even as he’s being choked.

"You never will, will you?" he asks hoarsely. "Chuuya, you—" He's goading Chuuya now and he's been goading him all along and Chuuya knows it, but he has never been able to resist rising to even the most obvious of bait when it's from Dazai. He squeezes again, a vicious thrill racing down his spine as Dazai chokes and his hands claw at Chuuya's back. Even if this is what Dazai wants and what Dazai planned and Chuuya is once again and once more just a pawn of Dazai's will it is satisfying in a way that nothing else is to hurt him. 

Chuuya releases his grip, and Dazai gasps hard, his throat straining and face red and chest heaving. He coughs, and then he laughs, and then his laughter summons up another furious wave of choking coughs, so intense that his body seizes as his lungs desperately seek air.

No matter how little his mind or soul cares for life, Chuuya thinks, his body still does not want to die.

"You never will," Dazai says again, his voice hoarse and straining but full of a vicious, triumphant glee, and it's not clear whether he's saying that Chuuya will never leave him or never kill him.

Chuuya steps back and releases Dazai without warning, who cannot catch himself in time and crumples to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. He seems to be laughing to himself as he picks himself up, putting his hands in the broken glass and not seeming to notice or care. When he stands, he sways slightly, until his back hits the cabinet and he leans heavily upon it, as though he no longer has the strength to support himself on his own.

He's never seen him look like such a mess. Never seen him look so real, so immediate, so mortal. Dazai has always been cold distance and impersonal cruelty. 

"I would have liked it," Dazai says, and he almost sounds sincere, "if you had decided to kill me." 

"If I had been able to, you mean," Chuuya retorts, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice. He knew all along he wouldn't— couldn't. Just as he's always done, Dazai was able to see Chuuya more clearly than even Chuuya himself ever could. 

Dazai smiles. "If you had," he says, "you would not be Chuuya. And then I wouldn't have liked it." 

[queer-charming]

1000 Words - Part 5 - Chuuya x F!Reader (NSFW)

Words: 8.5K

Rating: E

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! Please excuse any grammar or spelling errors, I spent about 8 hours writing this today and I'm tired haha. Anyway, it took me literal months to write this FINAL chapter, for some reason I just had the worst Writers blog, but I hope you enjoy some spicy Chuuya time!

You walked into your office that morning groggy and tired, the beginnings of a headache making themselves known at the front of your skull. You had your fourth cup of coffee in your hand as you set down your purse and draped your coat over the back of your chair. You sat down, gave one more good stretch before turning your attention to the stack of papers and envelopes engulfing your desk before you. Reluctantly you plucked one envelope from the top and popped it open, pulling the chicken scratch written letter out and doing your best to discern what the first word was.  

A knock at your door pulled your attention away from the parchment in your hand. “Come in,” You croaked out in your still not fully functional early morning voice. The door opened to reveal a familiar figure, a figure clad in well fitting black trousers, a tailored white dress shirt and a signature choker. Chuuya sauntered into the room, effortlessly closing the door via his ability behind him, holding up a cardboard carrying box of coffees.  

“I come bearing gifts.” Chuuya planted the case of coffees down on your desk. “Also I didn’t know your favorite and I don’t have your phone number to ask so I took a guess, I take you as one with a sweet tooth.” You smiled. You do indeed have a sweet tooth, you happily took one of the cups of coffee, favoring it over the halfassed cup of not nearly strong enough coffee you had brought from home.  

“So you remembered our deal.” You remarked, taking a sip out of the cavity inducing drink in front of you.  

“I am a man of my word y/n.” Chuuya replied in a tone that was all too serious to actually be taken seriously. Using his ability, Chuuya pulled a chair from across the room to sit across from you. “Also with how many of these reports I send you, its only fair I experience the pain of reading them at least once.” You chuckled.  

“Well I wish you luck,” You chose a random stack and plopped it on the desk in front of the redhead. “Tell me when the headache kicks in, I have Tylenol.”  

*************************** 

To be honest, you hadn’t actually expected Chuuya to make it past a few reports before he gave in and quit, but here you were, nearly four hours in and almost half way through your stack of papers and he was still going, granted he’d moved from the seat across from you after about four reports and has now positioned himself sat upside down on the ceiling, every few minutes you’d find a single sheet of paper drift down from the ceiling and back onto your desk as he completed reading it. You spared a glance up at him every few minutes, just to make sure he was still awake, despite the metric fuck ton of coffee you both had consumed throughout the morning.  

“These are written by fucking toddlers!” Chuuya’s voice startled you out of your focus, nearly causing you to drop the papers currently held in your hands. “They might as well be written in crayon.” And while you agreed with your favorite ginger haired mafioso, the only response you had to make was a chuckle behind your papers.  

“Kouyou said that there used to be an operative who would actually write his reports in crayon.” You chimed in, the memory suddenly rising to the surface.  

“That was Dazai.” Chuuya paused. “I never saw him do it but it sounds like something that idiot would do.”  

“What was he like?” You asked, and after a pause you added. “When he was an executive.”  

Chuuya seemed to think for a second before responding. “Besides a scathing pain in my ass? He was immature, reckless, lazy, strolled his way through missions and took special pleasure in traumatizing other agents.”   

“Mori always seems so wistful of him though.”  

“That my friend, is because as far as Mori was concerned Dazai was a ray of fucking sunshine who could do no wrong.” There was a certain level of venom in Chuuya’s voice, one you imagined that had it been directed at you, would sent a wave of panic through your body. You were glad it wasn’t. 

Before you could finish your thought, Chuuya was back on the ground, standing before you, hand reaching for a pen as he wrote one of what probably would end up being about fifteen correspondence letters to other agents regarding information in their reports. You were able to glance at a few of the letters Chuuya would write, and compared to his letters, even your most sternly written ones sounded like pleasant requests. You imagined you would have several panic written letters sitting on your desk tomorrow morning.  

“Chuuya what a pleasant surprise!” Kouyou’s voice boomed from the office door. “I was wondering why your office was empty, what brings you to the records department?”  

“I offered to help (Y/N) today since you refuse to hire a full team and she was dead on her feet last night.”  

“No I wasn—” You started before Chuuya shot you a look and you immediately shut your mouth. He hadn’t turned to greet Kouyou yet.   

“Last night? Now what would you be doing to keep my lovely (Y/N) up so late?” You didn’t even have to look at Kouyou’s face to know how suggestive that single sentence sounded and imagine the look of the cat that caught the canary on her face.  

“Hardly anything even close to what you’re thinking,” Chuuya countered quickly. “It all pertained to work.” It was at this point that Chuuya finally turned to face his mentor who still looked at him as if she knew something he was trying to hide. Kouyou stood for a moment in silence, waiting to see if you were going to add anything.  

“Well, that is very kind of you. It seems you two must have had a very busy morning then, considering the volume of reports this week, why don’t the two of you take a break, go get lunch or something, I’m sure all these reports will still be here when you get back.”  

“But-”  

“That sounds like a fantastic idea, come on (Y/N).” Chuuya cut you off before plucking your current report from your hands and placing it down on the table. He grabbed for one of your hands, pulling you from behind your desk and toward the door of your office.  

“So what was with the hasty exit?” You finally asked after the two of you had sat down at a little coffee shop down the street from the Port Mafia headquarters.  

Chuuya stirred his coffee. “Trust me, that woman comes standard with ulterior motives.” This you did know already, you’d worked with Kouyou plenty long enough to learn that. “Had we stayed I can guarantee she would have orchestrated some plan to give herself some entertainment at the expense of the only two other people in the room.” You nodded, both of you sitting in silence for a few moments. “Besides,” Chuuya started again. “You can’t tell me you aren’t ahead of schedule now.” He was right, you were well beyond where you would be had he not been with you all morning.  

“Thank you.” You said with a smile, taking a cautious sip from your steaming coffee. You were probably well above the safe limit of caffeine intake but it wasn’t like that particularly concerned you at this moment.  

The day had been a dreary one, rain clouds that threatened to pop at any minute covered the sky, What little rays of sunshine cut through the gloom were rapidly being eaten by the gray clouds. “Least I could do for humoring me last night.” Chuuya said after he set his own cup of coffee back down on the table. “You could have just declined and asked for the rest of the report.”  

“No I couldn’t.” You countered easily.  

“(Y/N) You don’t work for me, you can say no to me anytime you want, you won’t see any repercussions.” 

“That’s not why.” You said before you could stop yourself. Looking back at the executive, you recognized his curious expression, the silent question in his eyes, ‘why then?’ it asked. “I didn’t go to your office last night because I felt obligated to, I went because I wanted to.” You said cautiously, hoping he took it as exactly what you said and didn’t hear the ‘because I’m desperate to spend time with you’ between the lines. It was silent for a few minutes afterward, Chuuya seemingly mulling something over in his head. Finally he spoke.  

“Take the rest of the day off.” He said bluntly. ��

“I bet your pardon?” You squawked. What? Absolutely not, you had so much to get done! Did he forget it was report season? 

“You heard me,” He retorted. He seemed to hear your internal shouting. “Look, you’re going to be done with report season a full day early with what we got done this morning anyway, its the perfect opportunity to take half a day and recharge.” Your shoulders were still tense as you looked at him incredulously.  

“And what about you? Gonna go back to your office and drown yourself in more work while I get to trapeze through a day off?” Chuuya smiled, it was small but noticeable.  

“Who do you think you’ll be spending the day with?” Everything stopped, the world halted where it was. You stared at the man before you for a moment before collecting yourself. Calm down, it was just a day for two friends to spend some time and relax, no stress of work, don’t overthink it. It’s nothing. “As long as you’d like to, that is-” 

“It sounds fun.” You interrupted his backtracking. “What are your plans?” He seemed stalled for a minute, like he hadn’t been expecting you to say yes. Finally his mind seemed to catch up.  

“You hungry?”  

******************** 

Three days. It had been three days and it was nothing but silence, all consuming, deafening silence that rocked you to your bones and put a pit in your stomach. It was day three into a new report season and Chuuya was stuck in a mission that was only supposed to last a day, but it's been three and there has been no correspondence, no status updates, no communication and you felt the anxiety in your veins and the tremor in your breaths.  

You sat in your office, attempting your best to focus on a letter than should have taken you five minutes but instead had taken you thirty. It was maddening. Chuuya was fully capable of handling himself, perfectly capable of getting himself out of any dangerous situation, but no word from him, no ‘we’re okay, it’s just taking longer than usual’. He was on another joint mission with the ADA, something big and something bad, so big and bad in fact, that you knew almost nothing about it, all you knew was probably the most terrifying fact, that it may require a return of double black.  

You slammed the letter in your hand onto the desk, mind far too jittery to even consider working. Sure, Chuuya had been away for weeks at a time before on missions, but there had always been constant updates, there had never been total radio silence, and one thing you knew from working in the Port Mafia for so long, radio silence was never good. You stood from your desk, walking around your desk to the small window in your office, looking out on the gloomy day. Your arms were crossed over your chest as you tried to force your mind to quiet. Worrying wasn’t going to do anything, it was only going to stress you out more. You took deep grounding breaths, it wasn’t helping.  

“He’s going to be fine.” Kouyou’s voice broke through your thoughts. You didn’t know when she’d come into your office, and frankly you didn’t care. “There isn't a force on this planet that could take Chuuya out, not without one hell of a fight.”  

“Any word?” You asked. You didn’t bother hiding your concern, there was no use doing so in front of Kouyou. Knowing her, she probably predicted you’d develop feelings for her favorite protege as soon as you’d sent that first letter. There was no point in trying to hide from her.  

“Not yet, but this isn’t the first time Chuuya’s done this.”  

“When was the last time?” You asked. Her words had brought a sliver of peace to your panicked mind.  

“The dragonhead conflict, he was sixteen.” You’d read past reports on that conflict, it was bad, the casualties unrivaled in almost all of the Port Mafia’s history. It was where Chuuya and Dazai had gotten the name double black, where they were named devastating rivals. You weren't even in Yokohama at that time. “Chuuya ended that conflict near single handedly, he’ll be fine.” You took another deep breath.  

“Thank you, Kouyou.” You sighed. You still hadn’t turned from the window, but your grip on your arms had loosened and your rapid heart rate slowed, even if slightly.  

“Executive Ozaki.” A voice broke through the short silence. It was the voice of one of the couriers as he sped down the hallway toward his superior. “Word, from Executive Nakahara.” Your heart rate raced again at the message, scrambling to get to Kouyou as she took the letter from the courier. “I was directed to give it directly to you.”  

“By whom?” Kouyou inquired.  

“One of Executive Nakahara’s team.” With that the courier left, leaving you and Kouyou to open the letter. Unfolding the parchment, Kouyou read its contents silently. She took a deep breath.  

“Chuuya is alive,” You released the breath you’d been holding at the words. “However, the conflict has yet to fade, it seems Chuuya may have to resort to drastic measures to get the job done.”  

“What are drastic measures?” You asked, though you could guess.  

“Corruption.” Kouyou responded curtly. She sighed. “Luckily Dazai is there, this will be coming to an end shortly.”  

“What would happen if Dazai wasn’t there?” You found yourself asking, unsure if you really wanted to know the answer.  

Kouyou only looked at you for a moment, seemingly debating how she wanted to answer. “If Chuuya were to ever use his corrupted state without the presence of Dazai, corruption would rip him apart from the inside out until it killed him.” You stopped breathing.  

“Dazai would never-” 

“No,” Kouyou interrupted, guessing your question. “Dazai would never voluntarily let Chuuya die of Corruption, he will always pull him out of it.” You nodded, returning to your desk to attempt to continue your work. 

*************************** 

It was Friday, two fifty-four in the afternoon when the letter landed on your desk. You recognized the penmanship anywhere, and your breath stalled in your lungs when you looked at it. It was from Chuuya, presumably the report from the harrowing mission he’d just returned from.  

Chuuya got back to Yokohama only yesterday, but he never came into the office, instead he was under direct orders to go home and recover, orders from Mori himself. He was on mandatory leave for no less than three days, as that’s how long it usually took him to get back on his feet after using corruption. Apparently this time was different than normal, he’d been under longer than usual, Dazai just managing to pull him out in time. Kouyou said he had slept for ten hours when he got back, he was so incapacitated she had to make sure he was still breathing a few times, the news had made your blood run cold.  

The letter on your desk brought warmth to your chest, it confirmed that he was okay, well he was alive at least, you weren't sure if okay was a word you’d use yet, it had only been twenty-four hours since he’d gotten back. But the letter also brought a different feeling... annoyance. What the FUCK was he doing working when he was under strict order not to? Also how did he even get the letter to you in the first place? He wasn’t even allowed in the building right now, the doormen ordered to shove him back in the direction he had come if he even darkened the doorway. Mori was very serious with his executives, if he said Chuuya needed to rest then damn it he was going to make sure he did.  

You tore open the flimsy seal that kept the envelope closed, perhaps a little too aggressively, and pulled out the folded parchment inside. The handwriting was still just as neat, if not a little trembled.  

“Mission number – 32846 – was a success,” the letter started. “Albeit a difficult one. Our target’s name was Yuzono Hakatski, a former Port Mafia member and a traitor. She’d been causing issues for the boss for a few months now, interrupting supply chains, burning down warehouses, killing our couriers, seriously what happened to don’t shoot the messenger?” You found yourself smiling at the joke. It was clearly strained, you could feel that even through the writing, but the fact that he was still making an attempt to be funny warmed your heart. “Originally Mori thought we’d just have to deal with her ourselves, but it turned out this particular thorn in our side and a bone to pick with a specific thorn in my side. She hated Dazai, so much so she was willing to dismantle the entirety of the ADA just to get to him, and she almost did, they were lucky to leave that battle field with no casualties, our team however wasn’t so lucky, we lost six good agents to her team of overzealous hit men. One of them was strong, much stronger than the others, wouldn’t let anyone get close to him and had the fight in a choke hold. His ability was something else, a near cosmic force of destruction and mayhem, and unfortunately the only way to fight that kind of ability is with another cosmic force of destruction and mayhem, and unfortunately for him, mine was stronger, but unfortunately for me, it fucking sucked. Yuzono Hakatski has been returned to Port Mafia custody and awaits trial for her crimes, more than likely she’ll be executed and we can all put this behind us. I’m aware I'm missing quite a few chunks in this story, but frankly I'm not sure I'm in the condition to be going all over it in this letter, but if you have any questions, forward them to my home office.” Underneath the final sentence was an address, this was Chuuya’s personal address, the address to his apartment, he’d given you the exact location of where he lived, information that even some of the most high ranking members didn’t have access to, he’d just given it to you in a letter. You let that information sink in for a minute, the annoyance you’d been feeling dissipated briefly, but quickly made it’s return when you reread the letter and realized he was in no condition to write this letter, let alone write more. He was supposed to be resting, not doing his due diligence, other members of his team survived, they could write this to you for now, he needed to fucking rest for once. You slammed the letter down on your desk, your mind made up, you were going to utilize the address he gave you, but not for the reasons he gave it to you.  

Finding the apartment was surprisingly easy, it wasn’t far from your own honestly. It was approximately ten AM the next day and you stood outside a large metal door, you double checked and made sure the numbers on the door matched the numbers in his letter, then you triple checked and quadruple checked as you tried to school your breathing. This was simple, you were just coming to check on him, maybe make him some food because you doubted he could do it very well right now and you were determined to make sure he was eating. Your grip on your purse loosened slightly, your hand stiff from how tightly you’d been holding it. Its fine, this was only a guy you were going a little crazy for who was sweet and considerate and made your heart race every time you even looked at  him, what could go wrong?  

Steeling yourself and gathering as much nerve as you could, you lifted your hand, giving a solid three knocks to the door and waiting for it to open. It didn’t take long before you heard movement on the other side, the heavy clunk of a lock mechanism as it released and suddenly the door was opening. Chuuya looked exhausted and incredibly shocked to see you standing outside his door, his copper hair, normally precisely tamed and managed, was a little more loose, clearly unbrushed today but not completely out of control, he wore a simple grey long sleeve and black joggers. There were dark circles under his wide eyes and his skin, normally fair, was abnormally pale and feverish.  

“(Y-Y/N)?” Chuuya stuttered out. “What are you-” 

“I thought Mori said mandatory rest,” You interrupted him, crossing your arms over your chest and feeling the annoyance from the day before rise again in your chest. “What do you think you’re doing trying to send me reports when you should be recovering?” You ranted.  

Chuuya was silent for a moment, seemingly processing what you had said and catching up to the fact that you were stood right there in front of him, then a smile cracked his features. “Did you come all the way here just to lecture me.”  

You halted. “N-no,” You sputtered out, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks. “Mostly.” You looked away, silent for a minute before the worry started to seep back into your bones. You turned your attention to the man in front of you. “Are you okay?” You asked. He smiled again.  

“What, worried about me?” He said, clearly intending for it to be a joke, but the truth clawed its way out of your throat before you could stop it.  

“Yes,” You said, seemingly surprising him a little bit, but you couldn’t stop the flow of words from your lips. “Three days of no communication, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead and I was terrified that you weren't going to be coming back and  when Kouyou told me about you having to use corruption I got even more scared, what if Dazai didn’t pull you out in time, what if-” You rambling was cut off abruptly by a pair of arms around your shoulders. You were being hugged, Chuuya was hugging you. Your mind short circuited. He was warm, really warm, the smell of cinnamon and firewood filled your senses, you found yourself memorizing it as your arms came up to wrap around his middle, burying your head into his neck, letting him surround you. It was the first time he’d ever hugged you, in your many months of knowing him, of talking to him and being around him, it was the first time he hugged you, and you were grateful for his firm hold on you, fearing your knees would give out at any minute.  

“I’m sorry for worrying you.” He whispered against your hair. “I’m okay, better than I was yesterday that’s for sure.”  

“How long does it usually take?” You found yourself asking against his throat. You hadn’t pulled away yet, content to just stay there engulfed in his warmth, feeling his steady heartbeat against your chest.  

“A few days, typically, I’m sore but functioning just fine, no need to get all wound up.”  

You chuckled against his skin. “Well unfortunately you make it very easy to get all wound up.” You felt him expel a breath, a partial laugh as he finally pulled away from you. You mourned the loss, but found you were much more relaxed than you had been just moments before.  

Chuuya stepped aside, allowing you entrance into his home. “Well if I'm going to have a baby sitter she may as well come in.” He joked, a kind smile on his lips. Chuuya’s apartment was neat and well furnished, matching floor to ceiling windows to his Port Mafia office, the floor was a pristine white wood, a red rug under the small coffee table of the living room sat between two white couches, red pillows decorating either end of each. The apartment was open concept, the only thing separating the kitchen from the rest of the house being a single counter top attached to a marble bar, it was a home befitting a mafia executive.  

Once he closed the door, you noticed how his walk was stiff, his body clearly straining to keep him upright. He looked tired, his complexion, while mildly better than it had been when he had first opened the door, was still far too pale for your liking, and despite the fact that it’s only been a few days since initally left for that mission, he looked thinner.  

“So,” Chuuya started, pulling your from your thoughts as you hung your purse on the rack near his front door. “Since you’re here, would you like to get the rest of that report, save me from having to write it all?” You stared at him.  

“You mister,” You jabbed a finger at him. “Are not allowed to do any sort of work until your better. Don’t even think about it.” Chuuya raised his hands, showing his palms, an amused look on his face.  

“Yes ma’am.” You chose to ignore the warmth that phrase bloomed in your core and instead set toward his kitchen to see what he had to work with, you were thinking soup.  

“You don’t have to cook for me you know, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself when this happens.” Chuuya said as he watched you gather ingredients, chicken from the fridge, some fresh vegetables, he even had the stock, tucked away far in a cabinet.  

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.” You said as you set a pot to boil on the stove, you hadn't turned to look at him yet, so of course you were currently missing the way his eyes trained to your back, trailed down your spine. The way he watched your hands move as you diced the multitude of carrots, leaks and other veggies you’d found stashed in his fridge. “What’s the point of having friends if they don’t cook for you when you’re recovering?”  

“Well most of my friends are in the mafia, so...” 

You jabbed your knife in his direction from across the room. “No excuse.” All in all, he let you cook, allowed you to use his kitchen to your hearts content and even offered to wash dishes, which again, you refused to let him do. For someone who was supposed to be resting, he sure was bad at it.  

“Has anyone ever called you a workaholic?” His voice chimed after so many minutes of silence. You were at the end phases of your cooking, Chuuya having forgone his standing and instead opting for a seat at the bar as he watched you move about the kitchen. “Because I feel like the word fits pretty well.”  

“Says you mister, ‘let me send this report in the day after I almost kill myself’.” You jested, you didn’t turn to look at him, instead keeping your attention trained on the boiling pot before you. You heard him give a playful chuckle.  

“I’m serious though,” He started. “You spend all day working on safe routes for agents in the field, organizing bribes, gathering information, then a week a month you voluntarily drive yourself insane as you read hundreds of reports written by literal children, and then to top it off, you come over here and proceed to make soup the second you walk in the door because I’m mildly sore. Do you ever take a day off?”  

“Do you?” You countered.  

“Not my point and you know it.”  

You thought for a moment, when was the last time you took a day off? There was that half day you took with Chuuya after he’d helped you with your reports that season, but beyond that, you couldn’t remember. “What about that day you and I went to that cafe, I took that day off.” You finally turned to point the wooden spoon in your hand at the man sitting behind you.  

“First of all,” Chuuya countered. “That was only half a day, and second of all, I practically had to drag you away from your work kicking and screaming.”  

“That’s a little dramatic.”  

“Am I wrong?” You stayed silent, pouting as you returned to your soup. No, he wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t going to let him win that easily. You could feel his smugness behind you.  

“Maybe I should have you come over and cook for me once a week... you want a job?” Chuuya joked as he lounged across from you on the other couch.  

“I already have a job, thank you.” You smiled as you joked back, but your were happy to finally make him eat something.  

“Well I can’t pay you as much as Mori does, but I can promise not to run you as ragged.” You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words, a much different image coming to mind at the words. Damn him and his stupidly attractive face.  

“As tempting of an offer as that is,” You started. “I quite like my job, I get all the Port Mafia gossip delivered right to my doorstep courtesy of Kouyou.”  

“She does like to gossip,” Chuuya confirmed, then a startled look washed over him. “She hasn’t said anything about me, has she?”  

You eyed him suspiciously, the urge to stir the pot rising within you. “Maybe, maybe not.” You supplied, maybe a little bit of a lilt in your voice as you watched his reaction.  

“Don’t think just because I’m a little sore that I won’t come over there.” He threatened, pointing a finger at you. You felt excitement well up in you, you understood why Dazai enjoyed messing with Chuuya so much, it was fun.  

“And do what?” You teased further. “Show me the wrath of gravity?” He huffed out a laugh, a disbelieving smile on his face as he sat up straighter, like a tiger ready to pounce.  

“You think I won’t? Are you daring to challenge a Port Mafia executive? You’re walking a dangerous like missy.”  

You laughed. “Missy? Is that the best the great Executive Nakahara has, most feared executive?” You don’t know what made you so bold, maybe it was being alone with him, maybe it was being so casual, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop if you wanted to.  

“Brat.” Was all he said before he lunged forward, it was only half serious, but fast enough for you to barely dodge. The coffee table, the only thing separating him from properly reaching you, was moved across the room like it weighed nothing, you guessed with Chuuya’s ability, it really did weigh nothing to him. With your only line of defense gone, you jumped up, narrowly avoiding his hands wrapping around one of your arms as a excited laugh fell from your lips.  

“I was expecting more from a big tough executive,” You taunted, though a feeling in your chest led you to believe you may grow to eat those words later. “Can’t catch a little girl?” Chuuya stared at you for a moment, blue eyes boring into yours, a look of mischief in his smile.  

“I was going easy on you,” He started. “But now that you’re gonna get cocky I guess I gotta teach you something, huh?” Your heart leaped into your throat as he lunged at you again, this time undeterred by the coffee table, his hand reaching your forearm before you could dodge him, not like you’d be able to even on your best day when he was being serious. He yanked you forward, his other hand finding your lower back, one of his legs coming behind your own to pull it out from under you and suddenly you were heading for the ground, but what should have been a hard impact was a gentle glide onto the soft rug beneath. Your back touched the floor, one of your arms still trapped in his grasp, holding it over your head as he hovered over you. You breathed hard, trying to catch your breath. “Anything else you’d like to say?” Chuuya prompted, a cocky grin on his face. You shook your head, suddenly realizing just how close he was to you, hovering just above you, only inches from your face, if you leaned up just slightly, it would only take a little. Chuuya seemed to come to the same realization, his eyes suddenly wide as he stared at you, but he didn’t back away, didn’t release your arm or let you get up. 

The sun was beginning to set outside, rays of orange and yellows spilling into the room, reflecting off of the light floors and walls, painting Chuuya’s copper hair in flames as it fell around his slender face, his eyes holding more shades of blue than you remember last seeing, you wanted to count them. Without thinking your other hand, the one not pinned the floor, came up, gently brushing a stray piece of red hair away from his face, holding it out of the way so you could see him properly. His eyes darted from your own down to your lips and back again. He leaned down slowly, slow enough to give you time to tell him to stop, not that you wanted to. You met him in the middle, a gentle press of lips, a chaste kiss, cautious and experimental. Fireworks went off in your brain as you separated, but it wasn’t long before his lips were on yours once more, this kiss much more hungry than the first, the first had been innocent, curious, it said ‘I like you’. This kiss was sure, absolute in its devastation as you let him steal your breath away, let him press you into the floor, when he started to pull away, lifting your head to chase him, pulling him back to you with nothing more than a hungry kiss, it said ‘I want you’. He released your arm, you quickly wrapped it around his neck, pulling him down toward you as his free hand went to the back of your knee, hiking it up and over his hip as he settled between your legs. The heat that had been building in your abdomen all day was beginning to overflow, overtake you as your other arm tangled in his hair, giving a swift tug and drawing a gasp from his lips. You took advantage of the moment to introduce your tongue to his, memorizing his taste, unsure what the noise was that you produced, but seemed to spur him on as he gave a rough roll of his hips, perfectly positioned to pull a ragged gasp from you. He pulled his lips away from you, but not far, close enough that you could feel his breath against your skin as he panted against you, his nose occasionally brushed yours.  

“Tell me to stop.” He panted, so close you could feel the words on your lips.  

“No.” You whispered back, surging forward to capture his lips again, he didn’t stop you, instead his other hand coming up to cradle your jaw as he tilted your head upward, giving himself better access as he plunged his tongue into your mouth. His thumb was over your pulse point, no doubt feeling how rapid your heart was beating. He broke the kiss, but only to trail his lips over your jaw, pressing heated kisses against your throat, sucking hard against your pulse, ripping a broken moan from your lips. It was going to leave a mark, one that would last beyond just tonight, you felt heat between your legs at the thought. His lips returned to yours, though the kiss had devolved back into something sweet, still hungry and passionate, but gentle. Suddenly he broke the kiss, rising to sit up on his knees as you looked up at him curiously. His hand rested on the outside of your thigh, his other coming up to push strands of hair out of his face.  

“As much as I would love to fuck you on the floor,” He panted as he caught his breath. You felt the coil in your core tighten at the words. “That may be better suited for a day when my muscular system isn’t screaming.” Right, you’d forgotten about that, he was supposed to be resting. You rose to sit before him, pushing some of your hair out of your face.  

“We don’t have to...” You lead on, not quite saying the words. “Tonight, if it’s too much, we can always-” 

“That’s not what I said,” He stopped you, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips. “I still want to have sex, just not on the floor....If you still want to, that is-” 

“Yes.” You didn’t let him finish as you got to your knees, a hand hooking behind his jaw to pull him to your lips, reveling in his taste for a moment. “Yes, I want to.” You whispered against his lips. Without another word, he pulled you off the floor by hand before guiding you across the apartment toward his bedroom.  

The second the door closed he was back on you, his hands grasping tightly at your hips as he stole your lips in a heated kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as your tried to pull him closer. You let him back you up toward the bed, climbing up onto it and coaxing him to follow, on your knees as you slipped your hands under the hem of his shirt, memorizing the feel of his abs against your fingertips as you pushed his shirt up and off, finally breaking the kiss to get it off and tossed to the other side of the room. Your breath escaped you when you looked at him, he didn’t seem real as you lowered your head to plant heated kisses over his shoulder and up his neck, pulling the sweetest gasps from his lips as your hands tracked up his torso until your lips once again met his. You let him coax you onto your back, once again settling between your legs as his lips found your neck, you tilting your head up to allow him better access. He nipped at your skin as his hands ventured lower, slipping under your shirt to hike it up, moving to pull it off to join his on the floor. His lips ventured to your chest, moving down until he reached the fabric of your bra, one hand moving behind your back to make quick work of the clasp before the item was discarded. He raked over you with his heated gaze, his eyes igniting fires over your skin as he lowered himself over you once more, his lips tracing the swell of your breasts as his hands ventured lower to grab at the skin above your waistband, grip tight enough to bruise. You arched your back at the sensation of his tongue laving over one of your peaked nipples, drawing a desperate gasp from your lips as one of his hands came up to kneed at your other breast. Your mind was foggy, unable to focus on anything but him, but his touch, his lips, his tongue.  

He rose again, his hands making a quick downward journey to the button of your pants, popping it open before yanking roughly at your waistband, dragging the fabric down your thighs along with your panties, throwing the clothing across the room as he took you in, laid out before him like a meal. He leaned forward, taking your hands in his as he intertwined your fingers, pinning your hands above your head as he caught your lips in a heated kiss, grinding his still clothed erection hard against your bare core, ripping a moan from your throat, which he took advantage of to thrust his tongue back into your mouth. 

“This is how that night in my office would have ended if that courier hadn’t walked in.” Chuuya panted against your lips.  

“Fucking courier.” You said as you hastily reconnected your lips, he gave a huff of a laugh before once again descending your body, lips tracing a searing trail down your torso until he was pressing heated open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, sucking dark marks there, marks that would last days, marks that no one would ever see except him.  

“I was thinking of all the ways I could have you over my desk.” He confessed as he kissed up your thigh, toward where you were wanting most. “I wanted to devour you right then and there.”  

“I would have let you.” You confessed back. “I was so desperate for you to kiss me.” You let out a gasp as he placed a kiss to your core.  

“Live up to your expectations?” He breathed against you, sending sparks up your spine. All you could do was nod as he licked a hot strip from your entrance to your clit, hands coming to pin down your hips as he worked to unravel you. Your hands tangled in his hair as he repeated the motion, his blue eyes looking up to meet yours before he gave a rough suck to your swollen clit, a ragged moan ripped out of you. He explored you, watched your reactions as he worked his tongue over you, devouring you like a starving man as you could do nothing but pull at his hair and scream. You really hoped his walls weren't too thin or else his neighbors would be getting quite the experience.  

He abused your swollen clit as one of his hands released your hip, instead coming to tease at your entrance with his fingers, pushing two inside of you and curling upward, searching for the spot that would leave you gasping and seeing stars. He found it soon enough, ripping a broken wail from your throat as he scissored his fingers, curling them again to hit that perfect spot paired with a particularly rough suck to your clit. If he kept this up you would lose your voice before he even fucked you, not that he seemed bothered by that as he doubled his efforts, pulling moans and gasps from your lips one after the other. Your grip in his hair must have been painful, but he didn’t falter as he added a third finger, curling up again and sucking hard. You were quickly approaching the edge, attempting to rock your hips against his tongue, but his grip was unyielding. You arched your back as he pushed you over the edge, tearing the most mind-blowing orgasm out of you that you’d ever had.  

You were panting, attempting to catch your breath as he pulled his fingers from you, kissing up your body until his lips found yours, shoving his tongue roughly into your mouth as your hands ventured down, slipping your fingers under the waistband of his joggers and palming his hardened erection through his boxers. He moaned into your mouth as he bucked into your hand, seeking more friction. Finally, he pulled away, hands going to his waistband and pulling the fabric down and over his hips, pulling his boxers with it as he dragged the garment down his thighs and off, dropping them to the floor. You stared at him, at his newly freed cock, your breathing becoming heavier and the desire to take him into your mouth rising from your chest. You wanted him to cum down your throat, wreck you beyond repair, ruin you for anyone else, you wanted to be claimed by him.  

“See something you want?” He asked in his cocky tone as he lowered himself over you again, his heavy cock grinding against your core in the most delicious of ways. You reached up and kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you ground your hips up, absorbing his resulting hiss into your soul.  

“Thinking about choking on your cock.” You said bluntly, and you swear you saw him stall out.  

“Another time.” He choked out as he reached over to his bedside table, pulling open the drawer to retrieve one of the condoms inside. Ripping open the foil package he slid the condom over his hard cock, tossing the foil aside and lowering back down to your level, balancing himself on one elbow as the other hand reached down to align himself with your entrance as he placed a passionate kiss to your lips. He pushed the head inside, stretching you open as he pushed further. Your legs came to wrap around his waist as he slowly entered you. The burn was intoxicating as he stretched you, body conforming around his cock, welcoming him into your velvet walls, clenching around him and hearing him hiss against your lips. His pelvis met yours, fully seated inside of you, where he belonged as far as you were concerned as you adjusted to feeling of him so deep. He fit perfectly, like he was made for you, made for your body. You canted your hips up, and indicator for him to move as you moved to pressing hot kisses to his neck and jaw. He pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in steadily, his breath catching in his throat. The next time he did it, he thrust back in a little faster, pulling a silken moan from your lips as he caged you in, a hand on either side of your head as once again he pulled nearly all the way out before thrusting back in quickly. You sucked in a breath at the impact as he did it again, his pace picking up as he repeatedly thrust in and out of your slick pussy.  

“Don't stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” you chanted as your fingers wrung into the pillows behind your head, legs spreading as far as you could possibly get them as you tried to pull him deeper. He hooked his hand under your thigh, hiking it up further, allowing him to get that much deeper, ramming perfectly into that spot inside you and tearing a scream from your throat. He moaned into the flesh of your throat as you clenched around him.  

His pace quickened further, thrusting hard enough to shove you a few inches up the bed. You dug your fingernails into his shoulders, trying to get him closer as you arched your back into his chest, feeling your orgasm approaching once more. He bit into the flesh of your shoulder as his pace stuttered, a broken moan escaping his throat as he pulled you closer.  

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you as you wailed out for him, chanting his name as he fucked you through it, thrusts becoming less organized as he neared his own collapse over the edge. He gasped into your ear as his own orgasm hit, cumming into the condom as you wrapped your arms around his neck, placing a kiss into his sweat dampened hair as he came down and slowed inside of you, but not yet pulling out.  

“Fucking Christ.” Chuuya panted against your throat, collecting himself.  

“Jesus had nothing to do with that.” You replied, earning the smallest of laughs. Slowly he pulled out of you, discarding the condom before collapsing next to you. You turned to your side, resting your head over his chest as you listened to his rapid heartbeat as it steadily slowed. “Not what I had expected to happen when I came over here.” You breathed. Chuuya huffed out a laugh above you.  

“Wasn’t on my to do list either.” Chuuya’s fingers drifting up and down your bare back as sweat cooled over your skin. “But if this is what happens after I use corruption from now on, I’ll have to find more excuses to use it.” You gave a halfhearted slap to his chest as you placed a kiss to his throat.  

****************** 

Your back hit the edge of your desk as Chuuya walked you backward, his hands on either of your hips and his tongue exploring your mouth as he kissed you. Your hands tangled in his hair as he slipped his hands under your shirt, teasing at the flesh just above your waistband. It was the first day of a new report season and your first day back in the office.  

“I love this skirt.” Chuuya murmured against your lips as he played with the hem of your skirt, a simple black pencil skirt that you’d had for years.  

“Just the skirt?” You asked.  

“Well, the girl inside of it is pretty nice too.” He joked, earning a playful slap to his chest as you kissed him again. it had been two weeks since that night and the two of you had been taking advantage of every spare moment to have your hands on each other, spending every night at one of your houses, more often than not ending up in bed together or that one time when he did actually fuck you on the floor, the two of you had never done anything in the office though, too afraid of getting caught, that anxiety suddenly rising back into your chest as your hands found his wandering ones, stilling them as you broke the kiss.  

“Best behavior at work.” You whispered.  

“I’m always on my best behavior.” He rebutted as the sound of a door opening broke into the silence of your little world.  

“Well, what do we have here?” Kouyou’s voice chimed through the air, forcing Chuuya to take a hasty step back. “Oh no need to act so surprised, I was wondering how long it would take, Chuuya I was expecting you to be faster.” You saw the blush rise to your boyfriend’s cheeks, alongside an annoyed glare shot toward his mentor.  

“You planned this didn’t you?” Chuuya deadpanned.  

Kouyou chuckled. “Don’t confuse me with Mori, boy. However, did I see a pretty girl and think, ‘she would be perfect for my little Chuuya’? Perhaps.”  

“Kouyou-” You started but were quickly cut off.  

“Anyway, important work to get to, you two have fun, no sex in the office please, or if you do, clean up after yourselves.” And with that she was gone, just the way she had come, leaving a very flustered couple in her wake.  

[chuuyascumsock]

Helloooo

That rat reaction pic was both adorable and had me laughing my ass offf(my sense of humor is lowkey highkey kinda broken so apologies 😭)

ALSO

ME??? A MONSTERFUCKER??????HUH?? THAT SOUNDS DEPLORABLE! But youre right so anyway- (kinda actually saw a monsterfucker bingo and did it{yknow just for funsies and shi} and like i ticked off 10 of the 24 boxes? i mean i think thats enough to qualify??? Right??)

okie soo umm i kinda waited too long to type out the thoughts and they um *disssipated* so immm kinda gonna string together the crumbs i still remember🥲

(Also like to clarify when i say werewolf,i kinda mean like the something between like that one halloween official art and atsushi when he’s in his weretiger form?)

Imagine werewolf chuuya who just cant keep his hands off you when he’s in heat,he just NEEDS you,CARNALLY

While you’re cooking dinner he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you,nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck,lightly nibbling on your skin and just slightly grinding his crotch into your ass.

After a while you can feel his hard on and how hes desperately trying to hold himself back.

so you do the only sensible thing you can think of~

You turn around and kiss him~

You have no idea how it escalated from a passionate kiss to this,but now he has you bent over the kitchen island,your underwear discarded and forgotten while he frees his hard cock from his now-tight pants.he coats his dick in lube and precum before he thrusts into your rear,(although he’d love to go right at it,he knows your only human and would never want to hurt you) going at an inhuman speed and illicitting the most lewd little sounds for you~

His claws sinking into your hips to hold you in one place,all the while he’s letting out breathy “good girl/boy” and “that’s it take it hnghh you take me so good doll” s as he ruts into your ass.as he feels his climax nearing he goes harder and deeper his throbbing cock continuously hitting your g-spot causing you you whine and moan out loud,all which makes him go harder,the feeling of your tight little hole driving him over the edge and when he finally comes its thick sticky and he doesn’t let a single drop seep out.he continues rutting into you,fuckin his come back into you while keeping you locked in a mating press.after around two to three more rounds(now having moved to the bedroom) he slows down and makes sure your okay.he loves to see the fucked out look on your face as he cleans you up and as he sees your silly little hole white and glazy with his come he has to resist the urge to plug you up and let you stay that way until your next session,but if youve previously said your okay with it he’s definitely gonna do it-

Once your tucked in all nice clean (and *cough*plugged up) he gets into bed as well spooning you and lightly licking the bites and hickey now covering your neck and collarbone.

(I wanna add some more but i think this is already long enough.i hope this makes sense and sounds coherent at least,i think i got a little lost in the sauce🥲)

Also yess i saw that voyeurism tag👀👀👀 (got me wet just thinking about it🫣)

Ooh and also of smut,fluff,angst and crack,What’s your favorite??

And bestie(am i allowed to call you that?) im like 99.99% your irl personality is just as great as your online one🙄🤚

That isnt debatable btw🫶

I speak facts not fiction 😌

Well except for the smut,that’s fictional-

ACTUALLY NO FRICK IT THATS FACTS TOO!🙌

And to end this silly,goofy and unreasonably long ask id just like to wish you a lovely day/afternoon/evening/night filled with snackies,dopamine-inducing events and a lot of,as you said, H2hoe!

Stay safe and slay safe😌💅🏻

(Help its 4.50 am😭🥲)

-🧀

YOU DID, YOU DID GET LOST IN THE SAUCE, YOU WERE DROWNING IN IT 😭 BUT IT WAS GOOD SAUCE, DELICIOUS SAUCE EVEN. (Fr made me choke on my mango and everything while reading).

Glad you specified that you didn’t mean Chuuya like full furry mode or that would’ve been awky 💀

Literally Chuuya— but THAT WAS SO GOOD ACTUALLY. I can’t believe you wrote almost a full smutshot in my inbox, you should rlly write this down and post your own smut LMAO.

I forgot to add something to my Detective Chuuya summary, but it’s ok, I fixed it 🤭

My favorite genre is crack, I feel like I write top tier crack ngl, my Ai chats also look insane with all the silly stuff I do with the characters (literally mostly Dazai bc I kin him so doing platonically silly shit w/ him is my comfort).

AND YES YOU CAN CALL ME BESTIE— I feel like we’re definitely past that 😈 But I will have to deny my irl personality being just as good as my online one because I am socially inept 🥰

ALSO GET SOME SLEEP BESTIE CAUSE THAT’S SUPER IMPORTANT (I’m a hypocrite). BUT EAT A GOOD BREAKFAST AND FUCK UP THOSE CLASSES 💪😼

[bnesszai]

”God I wish I could punch you in the face.” A certain mafioso grumbled, annoyed by the fact that his blankets were stolen in the dead of winter.

“Well good morning to you too sleepyhead.~ My that’s quite the bedhair, is that a bold spo-“ Chuuya shoves Dazai off the bed, letting out a satisfying yelp.

“When did you come in anyway?” He didn’t bother asking how anyway. Probably picked a lock. Or five.

“Mmmmm 3 am?~”

“Do you EVER go to sleep or does the thought of inconveniencing people keep you high?”

“Chuuya knows me sooooo well!” The bastard was still wearing their agency uniform. The tacky slacks and vest. It was half decent, but there were plenty of other things in their closet.

“Go wash up, you smell like sewer water.”

“I was mixing your cologne-“

“you w h a t?” It was so easy to give Dazai a reaction. But there was always something familiar about how it felt.

“Ohhh yeah, what’s that new one? Obsidian 69?”

“78 you- oh never mind. You’re insufferable. If you want cologne I’ll get you something decent. Stop stealing my stuff though!”

“We’ll see who’s boring when I start tickling you?”

“Ehhh? Ticklish? I’ll have you know my time in the port mafia gave me the best poker face for ticklihehehehehe! Oh chuuyahahahaha stohohop-“ Chuuya had enough bragging for 7 in the morning, and perhaps humbling this mackerel a little would do so good.

“What a poker face.”

“Nohohohohot fahahahahahahair- hahahaha!” Chuuya couldn’t help it- he let out a snort at the sight of such an outwardly artificial guy losing his mind over some tickles. So Chuuya moved up to the waist.

“Careful.~”

“Chuuyahahahahahaha!! Stop- stop I can’t breheheheheheathe-“

“This is what you get for taking all the damn blankets.~” He knew Dazai was letting him get so close, but he’d think about that later. For now, he had the upper hand. Or so he thought.

“Mm but chibi you forget!~ I can do this!” Dazai managed to swivel around and pin Chuuya back on the bed, tickling him instead and giving no mercy.

“I’m not as ticklish as youhahahahaha- jeez stop it-“

“Ticklish are we?~”

Needless to say, Chuuya was late to work. But with a grin still painted faintly in his eyes, Mori could piece it together himself anyway.

They're absolutely disgusting

[osarina]

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: a series of connected one-shots set in the same universe that can be read as standalones or all together, centered around port mafia member (eventually executive)!reader and dazai's relationship progressing over the years.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: as promised the master list for the universe i’ve been talking about for almost a month now!! they're all in chronological order! and as i said above, can be read as standalones or all together. keep in mind there might be some minor discontinuities but for the most part, there shouldn't be any. although i might adjust things here and now as i get new ideas so keep that in mind!

WORLD OVERVIEW

an overview of pm!reader’s ability/background/general world building for those curious

AND WHEN I'M BACK I YOKOHAMA | AGE 16

with the team sent to escort you back to the port mafia headquarters obliterated, you're on your own in a war-torn yokohama. or, well, you are until mori sends out the infamous double black to retrieve you... you almost wish he would've let you suffer out there alone.

LOST IN THE DARK (THEN I FOUND YOU) | AGE 16

with a blizzard rocking yokohama, you find yourself seeking refuge in nakahara chuuya's apartment because, somehow, his building is the only one that has working generators... yet you find yourself becoming a bit suspicious (and concerned) when you realize the one person you expected to be there isn't. so you decide to go looking for him yourself, forcing chuuya to come along, and you end up maybe biting off more than you could chew.

IN A SKY FULL OF STARS, I SEE YOU | AGE 16

dazai is on the verge of falling apart. he can feel it happening, it's just a matter of whether or not he's going to be able to get out of your apartment before you come back and catch him like this. he has the opportunity for it—he does—but when he realizes that you might be in just as bad of a state as he's in, dazai decides to swallow his pride and put aside his own struggles to try to help you in the same way you've helped him in the past.

CHAMPAGNE KISSES | AGE 16

in a desperate attempt to try to get you to drink with him, dazai offers up a secret he's never told anyone... and how could you possible refuse that? AKA the first kiss fic.

SOMETIMES ALL I THINK ABOUT IS YOU (LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE) | AGE 17

realizing you have no idea when dazai's birthday is, you and chuuya embark on a massive quest to figure it out. and you do—but you also find out something far more worrying in the process, making you question if you ever really knew dazai osamu. the issue? you have no way of bringing it up to him. but you'll have to worry about that later anyway. first things first: you have to plan a birthday that dazai will never forget.

YOU'VE BEGUN TO FEEL LIKE HOME | AGE 17

dazai is not as slick as he thinks he is, and you let him get away with way too much. OR, dazai realizes the only place he feels comfortable enough to sleep is at your side, but god forbid he vocalizes that.

YOU AND ME (ALWAYS FOREVER) | AGE 18

more than friends, not quite lovers. that's been your relationship with dazai osamu for as long as you can remember. you didn't want to push him, and you gave him plenty of chances, but there's only so long you can wait for someone. you thought you would be better off moving on—you were wrong, of course.

MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE | AGE 18

your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

WICKED LOVE WILL LEAVE ME BLIND | AGE 18

dangerous games are played between you and dazai during one of the most important events of the year for the japanese underworld. you're never this risky, not when your reputation is on the line, but fuck being near him just seems draw out all of the worst in you.

DEATH BY A THOUSAND CUTS | AGE 18, POST-DEFECTION

seven months after his defection, you run into dazai osamu by sheer chance. you know in your heart what you should do—traitors are to be disposed of, regardless of any previous relationship you might've had with them... but can you bring yourself to do what must be done? or will you be more driven by the questions you desperately need answered?

KNOW IT'S FOR THE BETTER (ALL I WANTED WAS YOU) | AGE 19

he can't stop himself from calling; you can't stop yourself from answering. he never speaks, but he doesn't have to—just knowing he's there is enough to lure you in. that's how it remains for weeks. that is until you mention that you're going on a risky mission and dazai has to to make an equally risky decision to keep you safe.

HE'S THE SERPENTINE, HE'S MY COLLAR | AGE 22

you're finally back in yokohama after spending three years abroad dealing with mori's foreign business. the last person you want is to see dazai osamu, the wounds of his abrupt betrayal still too fresh for comfort. unfortunately, he decides to take matters into his own hands by showing up at your office in the middle of the night

I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU) | AGE 22

four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

BIRDS OF A FEATHER (WE SHOULD STICK TOGETHER) | AGE 22

you're called back to yokohama when the president of the agency and the boss of the port mafia are infected by the same ability. you know that the situation is complicated, but you don't realize just how bad it is for you until you're sitting face-to-face with dazai on the opposing side for the first time.

GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVER BOY/KILLER QUEEN | AGE 22

summary: to be added

NOT CONNECTED

WASTELAND, BABY! | CIVILIAN!DAZAI

one chance encounter at a bar with a fourth year literature student sends your life spiraling in a way you never could've expected. you're not going to let this go far (you're lying).

PLEASE DON'T GO, I'LL EAT YOU WHOLE (I LOVE YOU SO) | AGE 17

summary: to be added, may 7

[bish-plz-haha]

WRITING PROMPTS (FAIR GAME)

I have so many writing prompts just kinda sitting around that I'm probably never going to get to.

SO

I've decided I'm going to post them on here and let ya'll have your way with them. (I'll add to this post on the bottom the links of all the prompts I post—which might be the ship or just a number or something. I cant decide yet.)

INSIGHT: They range from anime (Haikyuu and Bungou Stray Dogs, and Attack On Titan being the main ones) to Harry Potter and The Maze Runner to even Good Omens. Some are also original stories.

The fandom ones (which is most) are shipfics and more likely than not OOC, so if you don't like it: kindly move along.

But, as previously stated, I know I'm probably never going to use them or get around to them, so I thought I'd help out my fellow fanfic community (and even if I do, it's not going to be the same as someone else's story more likely than not so I dont see any harm 🤷‍♂️ plus, sharing is caring right? Lmao). I might also post them on AO3 too. I'm debating.

ANYWAY

I have, like, whole stories kinda (= being halfway/barely) planned out and some that are just like, pieces of a story or like a paragraph of something, so those are the kinds of prompts I got. Not the usual kind but, hey, if you wanna use it the way it is, cool. If you wanna change it up, also cool. You do you.

DISCLAIMER: I only ask that you reblog or like a post if you use a prompt AND that you tag me in whatever you post (Tumblr [user: bish-plz-haha] or AO3 [user: Myneighbourtodoro_ki] or wattpad [user: phan-dom]) so I can read the marvellous things you create (bc I couldn't do it myself).

Am I setting myself up for jealousy and envy? Yep. Do I care? No. Will I care later? Probably not.

An example (WHICH IS ALSO FAIR GAME):

Dazai and Chuuya are in the port mafia, and they do gay and be crimes. And they get into a shootout with the police (they get fed up with the port mafia), and dazai gets shot and killed. "So, dazai," Chuuya thought, "you finally get your wish. You are finally at the brink of death. So why don't you just slip over that edge. Why hold on?" With his last breath, Dazai whispers, "I love you forever." He finally goes limp in Chuuya's arms.

HAPPY WRITING!

[honeydazai]

oh to be chuuyas trophy wife who’s only duties are to cook him dinner and be his cocksleeve

being Chūya's trophy wife...

Chūya, who spoils you rotten with gifts, whether it's pretty dresses and skirts, expensive designer heels or jewellery that catches the light perfectly from every angle,

and who loves just how excited you look every time he buys you something you have wanted for some time; the way you thank him with bright eyes and a beaming smile and willingly drop to your knees to show him just how grateful you are,

Chūya, who honestly doesn't care if you spend $20 or $200 to get your nails done since he can afford it anyway; the mafia does pay incredibly well and whatever you wish for isn't enough to create even a dent in his black card,

and Chūya, who takes you out to important events as his arm candy and relishes in the way people stare at your dolled up form, dressed in only the prettiest and most expensive fabrics and with gorgeous jewellery draped over your whole body,

and who has you sit on his lap all prettily with a hand positioned on your hip at all times, the gesture almost possessive as he, occasionally, moves it down to your upper thigh to rub circles into the soft skin,

the way you try and sit still despite the urge to squirm whenever his touch gets a little too close to your panties, and, god, you're honestly trying your best to keep your tiny whimpers in as his fingers rub your folds through the fabric,

“You're all getting all worked up, doll, that's adorable. Still, we're in public, remember? So stay still and be good for me if you don't want to draw too much attention to us. Or is it that you want to put on a show for all these guys here, hm?”

Chūya, who bends you over in all those pretty clothes he bought for you and who carelessly rips fine fabric apart only to hear you gasp in disdain, and who fucks you roughly until you're whining and moaning,

Chūya, who relaxes after a long day of work through watching you show him all those gorgeous outfits you've bought using his money, because having you put on a private fashion show only for him is honestly kind of fun,

even though he usually prefers to go shopping with you; just because he's the providing husband doesn't mean he can't enjoy fashion as a hobby, and if he can get you two colour coordinated outfits - all the better,

Chūya, who loves coming home to a warm meal waiting for him and to your open arms, because there's nothing better than to relax in your loving embrace after exhausting hours of working in the mafia,

and what better way to unwind is there than to position himself between your willingly spread legs and fuck you slowly and sensually, his lips on your throat and neck as he moans against your skin,

“Fuck, you're so good for me, princess. You always take such good care of me, hm? Cooking for me, looking all pretty - god, I love you.”

but also Chūya, who's quite rough with you whenever he's stressed; the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he yanks you closer by your hair, keeping a firm grip on the strands until the tip of your nose is touching his lower abdomen,

and he probably should feel guilty when you whimper and whine as he abuses your throat, but how you gag and sputter around the girth of his dick is simply so pretty that he can barely control himself,

and the way your expensive mascara runs down your flushed cheeks and your lip stick - the one you had begged him to buy you for weeks - sticks to his cock and is all smudged on your lips now has him thrusting into your mouth even faster, harder,

“You're so gorgeous with my dick between your lips, doll, so pretty. And you love being on your knees for me, hm? Bet you'd never leave your place between my legs again if I ordered you to stay. Fuck, god, 'm close, babe.”

and, well, it's not like he doesn't feel guilty after his orgasm when his head clears again, so he does his best to make the rough treatment up to you by eating you out until you're writhing and cumming with his name on your lips,

“You're so good, babe, so fucking pretty for me. Come on, I'm sure you can cum once more, hm? Don't hold back now, this is about you and your pleasure. Look at you, grinding against my fingers like a common whore - though you've got expensive taste for being such a slut.”

notes: yes yes yes!! this was so hot 🤧🤧 i want to be his pretty trophy wife.....

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[pie-reads]

Triple Black

Arising from your somewhat peaceful sleep for once, you were greeted with something unexpected. Instead of waking up in your bed, in your room, under your blankets and pillows, you awoke to the sound of a city, on the ground, in an alleyway, in the dead of night. Despite the fear currently coursing through your veins and the millions of questions running through your brain, you kept it together and started walking. Searching for answers or some kind of explanation since this seemed all too real to chalk it up to 'just a dream'.

As you walked you realized that you were still in your clothes you'd worn the day prior. Being completely drained from your days events you had chosen to forgo pajamas and passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow. Something you were now truly grateful for as your pajamas left little to the imagination. You were pulled from your thoughts however when you heard commotion from one of the alleyways you passed. You would have kept walking had you not heard oddly familiar voices coming from said alleyway. As you approached you could hear the conversation more and more clearly. "Good boy Chuuya! You really got them! Wanna treat as a reward?" A tall slender man with brown, bushy hair was speaking in a mocking tone to a much shorter red headed gentlemen wearing what looked like a fedora of some sort. "Stop treating me like your damn dog Dazai!" He yelled, "Anyway let's go, I need a drink and a nap."

"Dazai...and Chuuya...If they're here, and working together..." Your gaze then turned to the pile of bodies scattered aimlessly around the men. At least 30 lay unconscious, sprawled in the alleyway. "Dark Era..." you whispered to yourself, your situation became terrifyingly clear. Not only were you somehow in Yokohama in the dead of night, but you had stumbled upon the most fearsome duo in all of the port mafia. And now you were a witness. This was it, this is how you die. Your thoughts scattered and while you were lost in these thoughts, you hadn't noticed the pair had stopped bickering and had turned to face your direction in the darkness of the alleyway.

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Chuuya finally spoke, "Alright, c'mon out coward, let's get this over with already." You didn't move a muscle. Your thoughts raced. How were you going to survive this? Double Black is brutal, especially Dazai, the only thing you could hope for was that Chuuya would grant you a swift end. As he started walking towards you, you all but accepted death but- No. You weren't ready to die. Not like this. Before Chuuya could come any closer, you put on a confident façade, plastered a smirk on your face, and spoke, stepping out of the darkness.

"Chuuya Nakahara, Gravity manipulator," Chuuya was unfazed that you knew of him, more shocked that you were a woman really, but continued towards you nonetheless, "and host of Arahabaki." He froze. It's true people knew of his name and skill but...no one knew about Arahabaki, or at least they shouldn't. With Chuuya halted and a look of shock on his face, you began to walk forward and past him, being sure to keep a wide gate of course. Keeping an eye on both males you circled around them, like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. Sure that you now had their attention, you spoke again, "Osamu Dazai, ability 'No Longer Human', youngest exec in port mafia history," he eyed you cautiously, "who wishes for nothing more to leave this world as he sees now value in this thing we call 'living'." It was Dazai's turn to be shocked now. "Together you two make up 'Double Black', the most feared duo in all of the port mafia, and for understandably good reason." You say the last part glancing at Chuuya as he starts to glow a dim red, activating his ability. You almost dare to take a step back, drop your façade out of fear, until Dazai speaks.

"Easy Chuuya, let's hear what this fine young lady has to say." He never takes his eyes off you. "So my lady, you seem to know and awful lot about us. It would be rude not to introduce yourself now." The last bit he says with a menacing smile on his face. It takes all your strength not to break the aura of confidence you've shrouded yourself in. With a smile you say, "All in due time Osamu, but first, take me to your boss, I need to have a chat with dear old Mori." A bold choice, asking to see the boss so bluntly. But if you're going to survive the Dark Era you need power and status, and Ogai will be just the man to give it to you, once he realizes how useful you'll turn out to be. At your words both men exchange a grin before turning back to you, in sync, as if reading each others minds. Truly terrifying beings.

Your confidence fails you. For half a second your façade decays and in that half a second, Chuuya's on you. In a flash he's behind you, one arm over your chest, the other restraining your arms behind your back. His face close to yours, you can feel his breath on your ear as he whispers, " As you wish love." And just like that, your out. Consciousness slipping faster than imaginable. He hoists you up and cradles you, pausing to look at Dazai who still has a grin on his face, "So what now Dazai?" Chuuya asks, holding you. "You heard her," Dazai responds, "She wants to see the boss, so who are we to deny such a precious specimen her wish?" He says while bending down to caress your cheek. "Your such a pervert Dazai, she's knocked out asshole," Chuuya says, moving away from the bandaged man with a disgusted look on his face. "Ugh I just touched her cheek Chuuya. So dirty minded." Dazai sighs and adds the last bit as he walks away, the red head following him back to HQ.

[nkhrchuwuya]

home to me

bungou stray dogs | T | 859 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

where you expect horror there is only love, only a place to come home to. ⚠ alcohol, mentions of past relationship toxicity, implied abuse

you’re drunk. way too drunk to be out here alone in the street waiting to be picked up by your boyfriend, but gods, it’s been way too long since you’ve gotten out with your friends to hang out. it makes the throbbing headache worth it. it makes your aching ankles worth it.

it does not make the fear worth it.

it’s the alcohol—it has to be. you’ve been with chuuya long enough to know that if there is any reason for you to be afraid of him, it would be because his anger was directed at someone else… typically for your own sake. there’s no reason to be afraid of him anymore. he’s proven time and time again that he will never be that type of guy to you.

and yet the fear persists.

you look down on your phone, leaning heavily against the lamppost outside the bar. you can’t read the words, but you can tell that he’s about five or so minutes away. your friends have all gone home; you’ve made sure to send them home before even calling for your ride. you were used to being the last one out.

chuuya would be disappointed in you.

he’d be more disappointed if you got in any danger before he arrived, so you shake off the sleepiness and try to stand up straight. you remain hypervigilant—to whatever degree you can muster—to the people around you. people hanging outside the bar. hooded individuals passing by. even the people on motorcycles just driving past.

would he get mad at you?

if chuuya had imposed a curfew—there was no curfew—this was definitely past curfew. you can’t tell the time, but it’s late. the moon’s long past being high in the sky. maybe it was closer to dawn that you’d thought. oh, if there was a curfew, chuuya would have locked you out.

like that last boyfriend did, right? kept you out of the apartment he was crashing in, the one you were paying for. always policed you for what you were wearing, to the point where you could no longer share pictures of outings online because you’d always just bring a spare set of clothes to change into and—damn, the things he would do if he caught you.

fuck, what if chuuya does the same?

you fiddle with your thumbs, and in doing so, drop your phone on the ground. “shit.” cracked? no, it’s fine. you stand up, fully expecting someone else to have crept up on you. no one. you pat the thigh strap where you always keep the dagger chuuya’s given you. still there. still safe.

you see his car, the sleek, black one he loves to drive, the one whose engine has a gentle purr, round the corner, and you tidy yourself up.

sorry, you practice in your head. the first thing to say is sorry.

he drives up next to you and you wave a little bit as he rolls down the window. “hey pretty, care for a ride?”

you shake your head. “sorry about this,” you say, opening the car door and crashing—all tipsy dizzy limbs—onto the passenger side.

“sorry about what?” he asks, reaches out to press a kiss on your cheek that leaves you burning. he hands you a bottle of water. “drink. you’ll have a headache later.”

you groan, but the taste of the water in your parched mouth is heavenly anyway. “…later, what time is it?”

“like, 4am?” he shrugs. there’s a pause, a tiny blip in the conversation that suddenly makes you tense up, but then he smiles. “you look pretty tonight, baby. pretty wasted.” chuuya laughs. “but your eyeliner looks so good. wish i could have been with you tonight.”

a flush fills your cheeks that is only caused by him. “you’re not mad at me?”

he starts the engine, moves the shiftstick before his hand crosses over to your thigh. “why would i be mad at you?” he asks, turns to look at you once before returning his eyes to the road. “i’m glad i got to pick you up. i’m glad you get to go home to me.”

suddenly, there is a moment of pure sobriety. like the alcohol has suddenly been filtered out of your system, and you are seeing in absolute clarity. you put down the water bottle and squeeze chuuya’s hand, the one still on your thigh, and smile drowsily.

“no, i’m glad i get to go home to you, chuuya,” you say, and chuuya chuckles, a low sound that’s so full of affection you nearly start tearing up. “you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

chuuya tries to console you. “you’re drunk, baby.” he flips his hand so you can intertwine your fingers together, and you’ve never felt so complete until then. why were you so worried? why were you so afraid?

there is nothing to fear when you have chuuya around.

and as the fear dissipates, the curtain of sleep takes over, and you sink into the passenger’s seat, deflating.

“take care of me ‘til morning?”

he smiles. “‘til you’re sick of me, baby.”

[neonganymede]

If you have time and energy could I entice you to write 17?

Thank you my dear~

I am thoroughly enticed, my dear! Thank you for your request! <3 I do hope you enjoy~

Prompt: “Nothing makes makes me happier than making you smile.”

AO3 Link

When Chuuya woke, it was to a dull ache spreading throughout his head. He’d had worse hangovers, but this one still made him groan and bury his face back into his pillow. He knew he needed food and water, but sleeping this shit off sounded much more appealing.

Until his pillow rumbled with a quiet laugh, shaking a bit beneath his cheek, and Chuuya stilled on instinct. Nobody else was supposed to be in his bed, dammit! Just what the hell had happened last night?

Chuuya tried to think about all that he’d done, but that only made his head throb more. He couldn’t stifle an embarrassing whine, and his pillow chuckled more. The fucker. Chuuya could think of only one person who’d like seeing him suffer so much.

“Would Chuuya like me to go make him some coffee?”

“Stay out of my kitchen,” Chuuya answered on instinct—or, he though he did. His voice sounded muffled against the bastard’s chest, but Chuuya couldn’t find the energy to move just yet.

It wasn’t like Dazai was comfortable or anything. How could he be, when he was all stupid angles and endless bullshit? If Chuuya had better control of his body, he’d be kicking the shitty bastard out of his apartment and pretending that he hadn’t woken up cuddling this jackass.

Chuuya cleared his throat; his mouth felt dry and stale, his tongue still heavy with sleep as he tried to wet his lips. “The hell are you doing in my bed, dumbass mackerel?”

“Chibi doesn’t remember?” Dazai sounded distinctly pleased about something. Chuuya wished he had the energy to get pissed.

“If you’ve got something to say, then fucking say it, or get the hell out.” Chuuya considered rolling away from Dazai and telling him to get out anyways, but he ultimately decided against it. Only because he thought that moving so much might make him queasy. No other reason for staying exactly where he was.

But even to Chuuya, that sounded like a shitty excuse to keep pressing his face against Dazai’s bandaged throat. He just needed to hope that Dazai didn’t call him out on it because he did not have the capacity to deal with the mackerel’s usual nonsense this morning.

“How can I leave with Chuuya clinging to me so tightly, hm~?”

“I’m not clinging,” Chuuya griped, swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth. A result of the hangover, probably. Definitely not denial over the way he was absolutely clinging to Dazai.

Both of his hands were bunched in the cheap fabric of Dazai’s striped button-up, and he’d caught one of Dazai’s legs between his own as if to trip him the moment he tried to escape. He’d positioned himself on top of Dazai as well, weighing him down into the his bed.

Chuuya had definitely done all of this himself, too. Dazai, whether to keep from aggravating him or just because he didn’t want to, had resolutely kept his hands to himself. All that Chuuya could occasionally feel was Dazai’s hand on his back, all for the sake of keeping him in place.

Just fucking great. Chuuya blamed the wine.

“Chuuya’s been clingy since last night,” Dazai confirmed his suspicions lightly, as if discussing the weather and not an invasion into Dazai’s personal space. “I didn’t realize my dog missed me so much~!”

“Shut up,” Chuuya grumbled, his cheeks burning with shame. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, and he considered not being able to see Dazai’s infuriating expression a blessing. “Your voice is too fucking loud. ‘S annoying.”

Another lie. Dazai had been purposefully keeping his voice quiet, and Chuuya hated the way each word felt like a comforting balm working to soothe away the incessant throbbing in his temples.

“Sure, slug, whatever you say.” Dazai didn’t sound like he believed him, but he also didn’t seem to be in the mood to argue. Maybe he was taking pity on Chuuya. Oddly thoughtful of him, but Chuuya wouldn’t look into his motives too much just yet.

The world began to move, and Chuuya realized it was because Dazai had started sitting up. What the fuck—

“Relax, chibi.” Dazai shifted him, slow and careful, and Chuuya’s head lolled onto his shoulder. He should really kick Dazai’s ass, but he couldn’t decide on the why.

Because he was here? Because Chuuya woke up cuddling him? Because he was forcing Chuuya to move when he clearly didn’t want to? All were valid reasons. Maybe Chuuya should just kick his ass on principle.

“Here, take these.” Two pills were pressed into Chuuya’s palm. Chuuya popped them both into his mouth, and then a bottle of water appeared in his empty palm. Dazai helped direct the opening to his lips, and he swallowed the pills down.

Before he realized it, Chuuya had drained half the bottle. The water tasted so good, clearing away the feel of cotton on his tongue, and he tugged the bottle away from Dazai so he could get a better grip on it. Another chuckle, this one a bit louder, had Chuuya opening his eyes at last.

Gradually, wincing at the onslaught of light in the room, Chuuya raised his eyes to glare at Dazai’s stupid face. The bastard smiled back, his expression giving nothing away, and Chuuya grumbled against the lip of the water bottle. He took another drink, slowly this time, and tried to think about what had happened last night.

Chuuya could remember drinking the wine, but he’d been alone then. And he’d started playing… video games? But he was pretty sure that Dazai had been present for that part. When had Dazai entered the fucking equation?

Had Chuuya… drunk-dialed this fucking asshole? No fucking way. Why would he call Dazai of all people?

And why the hell would Dazai even bother coming over? He usually ignored Chuuya’s drunk calls. He ignored Chuuya’s sober calls too, the bastard.

“I’m going to go make coffee. Does Chuuya think he can stand to be out of my charming company for that long?”

“How about you just fucking leave instead?” Chuuya took a deep breath, enjoying this closeness for another brief second before he shattered the moment himself by sliding out of Dazai’s lap. Sitting on the bed was more comfortable, but he’d been happy using Dazai as a fucking pillow.

“I can’t leave yet! Not until I know my dog is well taken care of~!” Dazai promised with a small pat to Chuuya’s head.

“HEY! I’m not your fucking—urgh.” Yelling was a mistake. Handing off the water bottle, Chuuya pushed his face into the dip in the pillow where Dazai’s head had been. It smelled like Chuuya’s shampoo, so he just knew that bastard had left his bathroom a fucking mess last night.

With an amused hum, Dazai slipped out of the bed, his feet padding soundlessly as he headed towards the bedroom door. Chuuya tilted his face just so he could keep his eyes on the mackerel for as long as he could.

To make sure the bastard wasn’t doing anything bad, obviously! Not because Chuuya wanted him to come back to bed! Ugh. He was trying too hard to kid himself.

Again, what the hell had happened last night? He might as well ask Dazai himself for an explanation, but Chuuya doubted he would get an honest answer out of such an evasive bastard.

Chuuya stayed in bed for a couple of quiet minutes before he decided he didn’t like the idea of Dazai being in his kitchen unsupervised. He pushed himself up and out of the bed, instantly regretting his decision. What was the harm in leaving Dazai alone for a little bit longer?

Suddenly motivated, Chuuya dragged himself out of his room and down the hallway. He paused on the way to use the bathroom and brush his teeth, still eager to get rid of the stale flavor permeating his teeth. From the kitchen, he could hear Dazai humming a rendition of his stupid suicide song, and Chuuya paused in the hall, leaning against the wall for support.

This all felt… horribly domestic. Waking up in Dazai’s arms. Having the mackerel make shitty coffee for him. Hearing him hum so casually in Chuuya’s space.

Chuuya closed his eyes against the sudden burn of longing that pierced through his gut. His stomach roiled from the emotion, and he swallowed down bile before it could fill his mouth.

Whatever this was, Chuuya was sure that it meant nothing. Not to him, and certainly not to Dazai. He needed to get that through his head before his heart could trick itself otherwise.

With a bone-weary sigh, Chuuya finished the journey to the kitchen, where he found Dazai leaning against the counter by the coffee pot. Dazai looked up, his eyes warm and innocent, and Chuuya felt his stomach doing somersaults again. Shitty mackerel.

“What, didn’t Chuuya trust me to deliver him coffee in bed?”

“Like I’d give you the chance to spill coffee all over my sheets.” Chuuya slumped against the counter. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, way too fucking tired to be dealing with this right now. “You can leave whenever you want. I can take care of myself without your damn help.”

“… I know you can.” Dazai cleared his throat, and Chuuya opened his eyes to risk a glance at his expression.

Dazai’s face looked strained, as if somebody had taken his skin and pulled it too tight to make him maintain that disgusting, pleasant smile. Chuuya could see the tears in his mask, so paper thin that it might as well not exist, and he wondered just how long it would be before Dazai unraveled at the seams.

Just… what the fuck… had happened last night? What could make Dazai wear such a horrible expression? Had… Chuuya done something? Had it been somebody else? What the hell was it?

And why the hell did Chuuya feel so defensive about it? Dazai could fucking deal with himself, so it wasn’t like Chuuya needed to interfere. It wasn’t like Dazai even wanted his interference.

“Doesn’t Chuuya want to know about last night?”

Urgh. He did.

Grumbling, Chuuya fetched two mugs and set them on the counter for Dazai to fill. “I’ll be on the couch. Don’t make a fucking mess.”

“Careful where you step~!”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t bother asking Dazai for clarification. Not when that fake-ass smile was back on his face. Huffing, Chuuya headed toward the living room, on the lookout for whatever destruction they’d caused last night.

“… HAH!? What the hell!?”

Dazai hadn’t been kidding; the living room looked like a fucking nightmare. Chuuya’s choker had been discarded in the middle of the floor. One of the lampshades had been tossed aside and replaced with Chuuya’s precious hat. His joycons were in pieces, dumped haphazardly onto the coffee table, and the dock for his switch had been smashed in front of the television. At least the console still appeared to be intact.

“Now do you see why I told you to be careful?” Dazai appeared at his side. He handed one steaming mug of coffee to Chuuya before he made his way over to the couch, hopping over one of the throw pillows on his way.

“What the fuck, Dazai!?” Chuuya growled, his grip on the mug tight. He had to remind himself not to break the handle and add to his growing headache, but Dazai’s frustratingly calm attitude wasn’t making it easy on him.

“Mario Kart,” Dazai explained sagely while he cleared away a spot on the table to set his mug.

Chuuya narrowed his eyes in disbelief. They’d played Mario Kart plenty of times before, and the results had never been so destructive. “Are you saying that I broke all this shit because you were cheating at video games again?”

“No,” said Dazai with a bright smile and a quiet laugh, the first genuine emotion that Chuuya had seen all morning. That did funny things to Chuuya’s heart that he chose to ignore. “I’m saying you beat me, and you got so excited that you smashed your joycon in celebration.”

Chuuya swallowed. He… distantly remembered something like that. If he thought hard enough, he could recall raising his tiny red controller high above his head before triumphantly pelting it to the floor. But that didn’t explain everything. “What about your joycon, asshole?”

“You wanted us to match. Something about me feeling left out if you were the only one with a broken controller.” His eyes practically shining, Dazai snickered at the memory, far too honest for Chuuya’s heart to handle. He hastily looked away, swaying a bit from the motion, and raised the cup to his lips.

Chuuya could hardly taste the coffee, but he could tell that it wasn’t bad; if anything, the liquid was nice and hot, and it helped Chuuya shake off a bit more of his headache. If Chuuya was remembering right, he’d been the one to make sure the pot was ready for in the morning. He refused to give Dazai much credit for pushing a button.

“And the switch dock?”

“You thought there was a spider on the floor. You needed to protect my honor like a good pooch.”

Chuuya shifted his glare back to Dazai, who patted the empty spot next to him on the couch. Joining him seemed like a bad idea, but it was better than standing in the middle of his own living room like an idiot. Heaving a sigh, Chuuya trudged over to take a seat beside him. He took another sip of his coffee before he set it on the table to join Dazai’s untouched mug.

“All right. So? What the fuck happened last night?” Chuuya settled back against the cushions, eyeing Dazai warily. “And before you fucking think about lying to me, don’t. You’re acting weirder than usual, and I want the damn truth.”

“If I intended to lie, then I wouldn’t have been here when you woke up,” Dazai pointed out testily. “I would’ve left this morning and let you connect the dots yourself.”

That sounded… reasonable. Almost too reasonable, but Chuuya wasn’t about to get pissed off that Dazai planned do exactly as Chuuya asked of him. He gave a small hum and then indicated for Dazai to continue.

“You called me last night, drunk and insisting that you wanted somebody to ‘wipe the floor with at Mario Kart.’” Dazai smiled wistfully at the memory, almost as if it had happened long ago and not less than twelve hours prior. “So I came over, we played some Mario Kart, you broke several things, and then you dragged me to bed with you. A pretty standard night for Drunk Chibi~!”

Chuuya narrowed his eyes, his lips pursed as he tried to figure out what the hell Dazai wasn’t telling him. Something had to have happened between Dazai arriving and Chuuya dragging him to bed, but Chuuya’s memory of the night before still felt foggy. As if Chuuya himself had drawn a veil over it all so that he wouldn’t have to remember the embarrassing details.

But something important had occurred, something that Chuuya needed to know about, but what the hell was it? Why had he called Dazai? Why had he insisted on him coming over?

Vaguely, he remembered bumping into the bastard on his way home from buying wine. Dazai had seemed… off. Distant. Empty, a puzzle with only the edges done, and Chuuya hadn’t been able to shake that look out of his head for the rest of the evening.

That… must have been why he’d called Dazai. Chuuya didn’t want to imagine what Dazai was capable of when his shitty face looked like that. He couldn’t just fucking leave him like that, not when it had been years since he’d seen Dazai wear such a vacant expression. Not when Chuuya could fix it.

And not when Dazai wanted him to. Why else would he have answered the phone? Why else would he have willingly walked into mafia territory just to play fucking Mario Kart with Chuuya?

Another memory surfaced, a moment of striking clarity during Chuuya’s drunken haze. He’d just finished smashing the switch dock onto the floor, all to protect Dazai from some spider that probably didn’t even fucking exist, when he’d heard it: laughter. Dazai had laughed, smiled, let the light return to his eyes when Chuuya had been so afraid he would drown in his own darkness.

Chuuya remembered how he’d perked up at the sound. Practically flew across the room to grab Dazai’s face in his hands, to see the evidence of Dazai’s amusement with his own eyes. He remembered his own relief at the way Dazai had grinned at him, had wrapped his fingers around Chuuya’s wrists, had asked if Chuuya liked what he saw.

And Chuuya remembered just how he’d answered.

“Nothing makes me happier than making you smile.” Chuuya repeated those words now, mystified by the memory of them. He’d actually said that to Dazai, and he’d meant it. How the hell had Dazai held back from teasing him about this?

One look at the bandaged mackerel told Chuuya all he needed to know. Dazai’s eyes widened, and his cheeks flushed. He sucked in a sharp breath, lips parted in surprise. Chuuya might have enjoyed seeing that more if he hadn’t been so shocked himself.

Dazai swallowed. His mouth wobbled around a cracked smile. “Chuuya shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean.”

“I don’t, Dazai. I haven’t,” Chuuya insisted immediately. He was sick of hiding his intentions behind sharp words and insults, and he was sick of searching for meaning in every taunt Dazai threw at him. To hell with the repercussions; Chuuya didn’t give a fuck. He wanted them to be open for once in their goddamn lives.

Dazai’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t say anything. He seemed to be sorting through his own thoughts, trying so damn hard to reach a conclusion, and Chuuya wanted to help. He wanted to skew the data, make sure that whatever solution his shitty mackerel arrived at kept him right here where he fucking belonged.

Dazai and Chuuya. Soukoku. Yokohama’s most dangerous duo. Two pieces of the same shitty puzzle that didn’t want to fit, by all accounts shouldn’t fit, but always would regardless.

“You stayed,” Chuuya said, quiet and insistent. He wasn’t sure where this thread would lead them, but he grasped for it regardless. “I said that to you last night, and you fucking stayed, Dazai. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Dazai lied, his smile pained. He shrugged helplessly and tried again. “I guess I wanted to know if you would remember. If you would still mean it today.”

“I do,” Chuuya confirmed, surprised by how easy it was to be honest after so many years of clinging to the lie. Part of him still hated Dazai, still wanted to be the one to kill him, and Chuuya doubted that would ever truly go away.

But another part of Chuuya, a much more irritating part, also loved that pain in the ass bastard despite his stupid bandages and his conniving bullshit. And that part of him wanted this.

Chuuya reached a hand out. Dazai stiffened for a moment, uncertain, before he hesitantly held out his own hand. Chuuya took the initiative and slid their fingers together, squeezing Dazai’s hand until he heard a soft oof in complaint. He risked a glance up at Dazai and found him smiling stupidly, his eyes glittering happily in the mid-morning sunlight.

Fucking pretty bastard. Chuuya couldn’t stand him.

“Now what?” Dazai asked, both elated and confused. His question sounded genuine, as if he didn’t know any of the steps to this dance and wanted Chuuya’s help to keep from falling. Or, at least to make Chuuya fall with him.

“Now,” Chuuya began carefully, “we order takeout because I’m not fucking cooking anything, and we watch a shitty movie. And maybe you spend the night again. Whatever the hell happens next is up to us. Nothing has to change if we don’t fucking want it to.”

“Hm….” Dazai grinned at this, his eyes warm and calculating as they settled on Chuuya. “I can think of at least one thing I’d like to change.”

“Yeah? I think we finally agree on something.” Chuuya grinned right back, hands reaching for Dazai just as he bent toward him.

If nothing else, Chuuya finally had a good method of shutting up that shitty mackerel, and if was also the perfect way to make Dazai smile again—well, that was for Chuuya to know.