#chuuya nakahara x gender neutral reader

[despairots]

- at the top of my lungs, in my arms, she dies , #c. nakahara!

description, there’s a reason why chuuya never went to visit you. it’s been like that every since that fateful day of dazai jumping, leaving no goodbye to chuuya. he felt distraught, but he’s moving on, taking the lead of the port mafia boss. though, he’s wondering if you miss him.

story contains, suicide, swearing, mafia activities, character deaths, beast!bsd spoilers, unrequited love??, more like right person, not enough time, angst, etc. gender neutral! reader. drabble, short.

it’s terrifying that i never wrote about chuuya,,,, anyways my bsf is gonna watch bsd and im tryna gatekeep dazai and chuuya from him (i showed akutagawa to him so he can take him)

chuuya nakahara doesn’t remember the last time he visited you. he was piled in work, and a few work that dazai refused to take on and do, leaving it to chuuya. he’s stressed, i mean, who wouldn’t? he’s the port mafia boss.

he hasn’t seen you in a while, he’s too afraid to face you. thinking about all the guilt on leaving you would catch up to him, it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty— he does— he doesn’t know if you’ll forgive him. he knows you’re a pretty forgiving person, until it’s someone you care about is hurting you a lot.

chuuya’s scared, in short words.

he remembers your touch, your leadership, your eyes, you don’t smile often, he misses it though. he cherishes you very much, if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be thinking of you this much.

he hasn’t seen you ever since dazai’s suicide, he misses you both (dazai, a little bit less). after all, you were chuuya’s first love, how couldn’t he miss you? everyday, chuuya wonders what would happen if you didn’t leave.

now, at the port mafia, he’s by himself. all alone. piled with work and the amount of mafioso’s that don’t know how to work. as much as he hates this job, it’s the only place he feels like he belongs in, his loyalty goes beyond.

he wants to see you, so much that it’s hurting him. kouyou could see the look of distraught on the boss, as an executive, she asks what’s wrong with him. they can’t have their boss in this type of state.

kouyou knows how much you mean to him, he has a picture of you in his office, a spider lily caged in a glass beside the photo. she could tell that chuuya loves you, very much so, until the very end.

she’s visited you here and there, telling you how chuuya is and how much he misses you, aswell as wanting to see you. she remembers the words that you’ll wait for him, no matter how long until he sees you.

you had told her not to tell chuuya, well, because maybe chuuya will hurry the process and be there as soon as possible. you wanted him to take his time, you’d wait forever for him, even in death.

“where are you going?” kouyou asks, the answer already in her head once she sees the port mafia boss turn around, holding a bouquet of red roses. “you wanna come with?” the sight makes kouyou widen her eyes a bit before she closes them and turns around.

“i already saw them.” she whispered softly, her heels clicking on the floor as chuuya nods and leaves the building, a black car appearing in front of him.

chuuya can’t remember your voice, he only has your voicemails. he can’t remember your smell either, he only has a few months left until all your clothing, bedsheets, pillows, and perfumes are gone.

the sight of your place comes into view, stepping out of the car and heading straight to yours, the guilt and excitement all rushing into his brain—

—until he steps infront of your grave. dropping the roses on your grave and seeing the left over flowers kouyou left for you. there’s a restrained look of sadness on his face as he stares down on your grave, the wind blowing past him.

he’s scared that you won’t forgive him, for not visiting you, for not being there for you when you needed him the most, and especially, not being strong enough to save you. he thinks that maybe he should’ve just stayed with you, to stop you from hurting yourself any longer.

it’s the life time guilt he has for not being able to forget you, he gave you up to fast and chuuya wants to experience the life of being with you again.

there’s a reason why chuuya never went to visit you.

it’s because you’re dead.

[cheriecoke]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

[with-my-calamitous-love]

more gentlemen thoughts 🪩🎧

gentleman! dazai, who tucks your bangs behind your ear when he’s talking to you. who leans down so you can whisper in his ear. who gifts you annotated books and back hugs. who loves to kiss that spot under your ear after whispering something for just you to hear. who always walks with your hand in his.

gentleman! chuuya, who loves to carry you bridle-style. who spoils you rotten, because he loves the smile on your face when he gets you little gifts. who won’t leave for missions without giving you a spectacular date night- nice dinner, fancy wine, and making sure your body remembers him the next morning. who loves when you wear heels, even if it makes you taller than him <3

gentleman! ranpo, who sleeps in with you. who won’t open a bag of sweets before making sure you’ve had a piece first. who praises you as much as you praise him, calling you the best and reminding you how much he loves you. who is so cheeky it makes you blush. who absolutely knows the effect he has on you. who leaves kisses on your cheeks when you least expect it.

gentleman! atsushi, who religiously practices the sidewalk rule. who is RESPECTFUL TO YOUR PARENTS 😩, who is really good with younger siblings/cousins. who also loves to carry you around, whether its princess-style or on his back. who loves taking you on dates after a long week, kissing your head and making sure you’re happy.

gentleman! akutagawa, who reminds you of appointments you forget about. who very rigidly hands you a coat, scarf and mittens because its flu season. who helps you cook and clean, a surprisingly good homemaker. who is the driest texter on earth, but who will show up to your workplace to check on you when you don’t respond (he’s definitely not worried and he definitely does not care.) (he does.)

gentleman! kunikida, who opens every door for you. who will walk behind you when you’re going up the stairs, looking down when you’re wearing a skirt to give you privacy. who keeps pads, hair ties, touch up makeup, lip balm, or any of your needs ready in his notebook in case you need it. who wants to keep your relationship to himself, private, but who also will happily talk about you any chance he gets.

gentleman! odasaku, who is a great listener. who holds your hand and actively asks about your day, wanting to hear everything. you leaves you little love notes in your bag, on the fridge or on your desk. who will not leave the house without telling you he loves you. who tells you he loves you when he wakes up, before he sleeps and whenever he gets the chance to. who dedicated all his books and short stories to you. 🫧

[moomuzan]

' IS IT CASUAL NOW?

dazai osamu chuuya nakahara ranpo edogawa

sum. needy! lover boys—your relationship is not labeled, not defined by any means, but, god, they need you like air.

notes. suggestive ⤸ bottom dazai, top chuu fluff ⤸ painfully unaware ranpo

“It’s pathetic how much you’re trying to cling to control,” voice low, your fingers hover over the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when you keep crawling back to me every goddamn time.”

Your gaze slices through the unsheathed bravado, zeroing in on the way Dazai’s breath hitches, that fleeting crack in his confident mask—enough to send a shiver of triumph through you. Shifting in his lap, you hold him in place, and momentarily, his eyes flash, a tell that would go unnoticed by anyone else, but you catch it. He’s slipping, unraveling under the weight of your presence, and you haven’t even begun to dig in.

One by one, you undo his buttons, savoring the deliberate slowness, relishing the burn of discomfort that begins to cling to the air around you. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles pale, but you know—oh, you know—that this facade of restraint is nothing but a thin veil stretched too tightly over something far more volatile. You’re pushing him, probing the limits of his composure, searching for the breaking point where he shatters into something unrecognizable.

“You know I’m right,” your lips brush his ear, warm breath hitching in the space between you. His eyes flutter shut, a futile attempt to block out the heat pooling in his stomach, the magnetic pull he can’t escape. Yet, the evidence is there; muscles tighten beneath your touch, every feather-light caress igniting something primal within him. He wants this, wants you—each moment a descent into madness and desire.

With tantalizing slowness, your hands drift down his chest, fingers grazing the taut skin of his abdomen. Dazai shudders in response, a sharp intake of breath escaping his parted lips as he remains ensnared. Doing so, he allows you to peel away the layers of his defenses, one agonizing inch at a time. And, heavens, he needs you to.

When silence reigns, you dig your fingers into the flesh of his waist. It sends a jolt of heat through him, and rather than recoiling, he leans into it, breath hitching and back arching, desperate. Every inch of him seems to scream for more, yet you hold him there—caught in a tormenting limbo between fierce control and reckless surrender. He wouldn’t fight it. Couldn’t.

Pathetic.

The shirt falls open, and you take a moment to truly see him. Rapid breaths dance in concert with the frantic rhythm of his heart, skin flushed with a heady mix of frustration and something darker, deeper. You pull him closer, inch by inch, and he is letting you. Naturally.

With him, it’s always been the same. Out there, he’s a viper, a reaper, the ice-cold mafia executive everyone fears. But with you? He’s nothing but a mess, ready to get wrecked by the same power he held over others. He never stays long, never talks much—too consumed by his unapologetic needs.

But he always returns.

“You hate this,” you say, voice a whisper but charged with a devastating clarity. “You hate that you need this. That you need me.”

Dazai’s jaw clenches, a silent protest etched on his face before his dark eyes lock onto yours—searching, undone, half-lidded. “You sure do talk a lot.”

Yet, despite his foolishness, the truth, raw and wounding, is this: Dazai does hate it. But not in the way he wants you to believe. He hates that he can’t stop wanting this, wanting you, wanting the sweet release of surrender. He aches for it in a way he can’t express, in a way he’s never allowed himself to feel. Years of cold stone walls, the need for control, and yet they suffocate him, a noose tightening around his throat, while the thought of letting go shatters him anew.

You lean in closer then, tracing the edge of his belted waistband, the final barrier between you and the truth beneath. He doesn’t stop you. No fight left, only an acquiescence that settles heavy in the air. What resides here is undefined, a feral dance of power and submission, untamed and dangerous.

After unbuckling his belt, your eyes never leaving his, your fingers slip beneath his pants. Dazai gasps as he feels your fingers brush against his sensitive skin, the touch tentative yet purposeful, igniting a storm within him. He’s lost, and he knows it—his grip on those carefully crafted emotions fading like whispers in a tempest. You’re unraveling him, thread by thread, and he can do nothing but surrender, over and over again.

“Your body’s betraying your wicked mind, dear,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “Stop holding onto your selfish dreams.”

In response to your words and tightening grip, his hips lift subtly to meet your hand, the soundly inhale that escapes like a confession, the way his chest trembles with each shallow breath. It’s instinctive, a primal response that overrides the sharp precision of his mind, leaving nothing but raw need in its wake. He doesn’t just crave this—he starves for it, the hunger etched into the taut lines of his frame, his skin burning beneath your fingertips like kindling ready to ignite. Every nerve is alight, every inch of him unraveling under your deliberate torment, each brush of your hand pulling him deeper into a haze of helpless desire.

He falters further, a low, guttural sound slipping past his lips as his head tilts back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. His body answers you without hesitation, chasing every flicker of heat, every promise of release. The tension he carried like armor moments ago melts into something molten, spilling into the cracks of his carefully constructed facade. There’s poetry in his surrender, the way his body bows to you as if your touch were both a command and a sanctuary. He is undone, not just by touch but by the cruel truth in your gaze—the knowledge that you hold all the power he swore never to relinquish.

And still, he aches for it, again and again, day by day, for you, for the ruin you carve into him with every devastating touch.

The room throbs with heat, heavy with the remnants of desire and tension. The sheets cling to your damp skin, barely draping over the curve of your hip, yet even that scant barrier feels unbearable to him. Chuuya’s arm tightens around your waist, his hand sprawled possessively across your stomach, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. His lips—swollen and red from what just transpired—trail soft kisses along the curve of your neck, each lingering touch a silent claim that mirrors the grip of his fingers.

His mind flickers back, replaying moments etched into the haze of passion. The way his hands roamed over your body, desperate to map every inch of you. His gloves abandoned long ago, he’d let his bare hands glide over the smooth expanse of your back, tracing the delicate dips and curves of your form. Rough yet reverent, his touch had left a trail of yearning in its wake. Even now, the memory only sharpens his hunger.

Desire courses through him, a need far from sated. He has touched, kissed, claimed—but it isn’t enough. It never is. Every soft sound you make, every shiver beneath his fingertips, only deepens the craving that burns within him. He wants more. He needs more.

When you shift, muscles tensing as if preparing to rise, his grip tightens instinctively.

“Don’t,” he murmurs, his gravelly voice sending a tremor down your spine.

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder. His crimson hair is a wild mess, damp strands clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes, usually sharp and calculating, smolder darkly, heavy-lidded and brimming with something raw and unfiltered. In this moment, he looks utterly wrecked—and yet entirely unyielding.

“Chuuya, I need to—”

“You don’t need to do anything,” he interrupts, his tone low, dangerous. His hand slides lower, brushing against your hip, igniting a pulse of heat beneath your skin. “Stay.”

The other hand presses against your stomach, grounding you, pulling you closer. His lips graze your shoulder, trailing down to the sensitive spot where your neck meets your collarbone, plunging you into a sea of sensation.

“This isn’t—” you begin, but your words falter as his teeth scrape lightly against your skin, followed by the warm glide of his tongue.

“I know exactly what this is.” Voice thick with desperate urgency, he adds “And I don’t care. You’re not leaving.”

Your breath hitches as his lips find the pulse in your neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark. He doesn’t relent, kisses turning into nips, his teeth grazing your skin like he’s intent on branding you, ensuring you’ll remember this.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you whisper, though your voice trembles, unconvincing beneath the weight of his touch.

A low chuckle rumbles against your skin, his lips curling into a smirk. “Doesn’t it?” he drawls, his hand sliding up to trace the edge of your ribs. “Then why are you still here?”

Your silence betrays you. His hand moves, brushing the sheet aside entirely, tracing lazy patterns over your bare skin.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, brushing the shell of your ear. “Trying so hard to deny it, but your body’s honest, doll.”

His words melt the last threads of your resolve, the mockery within them tinged with a need he can’t voice.

“Stay,” he repeats, his breath hot and insistent. “Stay with me. Tonight.”

And as his arms wind tighter around you, pulling you flush against him, his silent promise is undeniable: tonight, you’re not going anywhere.

Ranpo exists in his own untouchable world, one of brilliance and ease, where the weight of actions doesn’t hold meaning, and consequences are but distant whispers. He’s blissfully unaware of the intoxicating effect he has on those around him—on you, specifically. Why would he question it? He doesn’t notice how your breath catches like a startled songbird when his hand brushes against yours, nor how his mere proximity unravels you, thread by delicate thread. To him, it’s all so simple, so natural. You’re here, by his side, and that’s where he believes you belong. He doesn’t need to ponder why that feel so profoundly right.

He sits far too close on the couch, the soft press of his thigh against yours sending ripples of awareness through you—an illicit thrill, though you both know it isn’t intentional. He doesn’t spare a thought for the way the air between you has vanished, charged with unspoken promises. His attention, as fleeting as moonlight, flits lazily over the file in his lap, fingers flipping pages he’s not truly reading, his mind adrift in its own vibrant sea. The golden glow of the lamp bathes his face, casting light over the unruly strands of his dark hair and highlighting the serene expression he wears like a crown.

You’re acutely aware of him, of the faint scent of sweets that clings to him, of the steady rhythm of his breathing, of every casual move he makes as if they’re notes in a symphony composed just for you. And then, without even lifting his gaze from the file, he takes your hand in his, his grip light yet possessive, as though it belongs there—as if the universe conspired to create a perfect fit between you.

“Hold still,” he murmurs absently, as if you’d moved at all. The deep, velvet softness of his voice rolls over you like a warm tide, pulling you under its spell, and before you can muster a response, his lips kiss your knuckles, warm and fleeting. His touch is tender, unthinking, like a gentle breeze brushing over your skin, yet it sears into your consciousness, igniting you from within. Your chest tightens, heat swirling in your cheeks, but he remains blissfully ignorant of the way you stiffen under the weight of his gaze. To him, it’s nothing—just a moment of thoughtless affection. He shifts slightly, leaning closer into your space, the warmth of his shoulder brushing against yours. His presence is consuming, enveloping you like a silken cloak—so achingly casual that it steals the breath from your lungs.

Ranpo pulls back just enough to allow the air to shimmer between you, eyes still glued to the paper, his thumb now tracing lazy circles along the back of your hand. The touch sends delightful shivers racing down your spine, but he doesn’t even glance up. And then, as if curious about the very fabric of your connectedness, he brings your hand to his lips again. This kiss lingers a heartbeat longer, soft and steady, his breath fanning across your skin, igniting butterflies in your stomach that flutter wildly.

“You’re warm,” he remarks offhandedly, his voice low and almost hypnotic, like the languid murmur of a summer breeze. “Maybe a little too warm.” Finally, he turns to you, and his green eyes twinkle with light amusement, a mischievous edge that makes your heart leap. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

The words are nonchalant, drifting carelessly through the air, yet they strike you like lightning, leaving you flustered and helpless against the enchanting spell he’s unknowingly woven around you. He tilts his head slightly, studying you in that whimsical way of his, completely unaware of the way your resolve crumbles beneath his gaze.

Your cheeks burn as you nervously look away, praying he won’t see the vivid flush spreading across your skin. But he remains blissfully oblivious—of course, he doesn’t notice. He’s still holding your hand, still tracing slow, teasing patterns across your skin, still sitting far too close. He doesn’t realize the storm he’s ignited within you, fierce and unrelenting.

And yet, there’s a softness in the way he stays there, in the gentle cadence of his thumb moving in circles against your palm, in the way he breathes so steadily beside you, each rise and fall a hushed promise. He’s unaware, yes, but there’s an unmistakable thread of intention woven into his presence, buried deep within his unconscious mind.

You glance at him, trying to calm the tumult rage within your chest, but his face is turned back to the file, completely at ease in his world. He doesn’t see the chaos he’s left in his wake, doesn’t comprehend how every touch, every lingering kiss to your hand feels like a revelation, a realization of all the unspoken wishes you yearn to voice. But maybe, just maybe, some part of him knows—some deep, unspoken part of him that draws him close to you, closer than he’s ever been to anyone else.

And so, you let him stay, the warmth of his thigh pressed against yours, his hand loosely holding yours like it’s the most familiar thing in the world. Because for now, this quiet, undefined intimacy is enough. For now, he is more than enough.

join my taglist: @amvpk01 @sophistication-as @ezzyrainrunaway @xumyuii @cultluvin @cryptidfuckerofficial @dazaistn @dietcolavape @grayshadeofpurple @naviiq @vasarii @poekaryote @cheriboom @lurulu-ru @unlikelyfoxunknown @baldgirl212 @akutagawasprettygirl @rottenstawberrygirl @akutagawasinhaler @liv1ng-de4d-g1rl @loveyjjuliana @gyukivs @esotericsaints @emmilszzaie @whitehairedanimeboyskillmesoftly

a/n: HELLO i am alive, no further comments. idek why i wrote this. and it’s probably highly ooc i‘m sorry (i am not, i need bottom dazai biblically) also, i couldn’t bring myself to make ranpo‘s part suggestive ㅤ:,) yikes but it’s, at least, cute. in a way ?

[mooomuzan]

hyper-specific chuuya bf headcanons

“…the quiet understanding that, even in chaos, they are each other’s home.”

oo.1 :: during a sudden rainstorm, chuuya insists you dance with him in the middle of the empty street. he spins you around dramatically, ignoring how soaked you both get. he even lifts you off the ground in a final, cinematic twirl, laughing at your breathless smile.

oo.2 :: chuuya pretends to hate it when you ask to braid his hair, rolling his eyes and muttering something about how it’s “a waste of time.” but the second you start, he’s completely still, leaning back just enough for you to reach comfortably. he’ll grumble under his breath—“don’t make it look stupid”—but the soft way he closes his eyes gives him away. he secretly loves the feeling of your fingers in his hair, and though he’ll never admit it, he refuses to take the braid out until he absolutely has to.

oo.3 :: if a fight gets particularly heated, chuuya has this infuriating habit of silencing you with a kiss mid-sentence. he’s not doing it to dismiss your feelings—he just can’t stand the thought of you being upset with him for too long. “i hate seeing you mad at me,” he’ll say, his forehead resting against yours, voice quiet and sincere.

oo.4 :: one night, you convince chuuya to graffiti a wall with you. at first, he acts too dignified for it but eventually gets into it, creating surprisingly artistic designs. by the end, he’s smeared in paint, laughing, and calling it a masterpiece.

oo.5 :: chuuya challenges you to a cooking duel, complete with dramatic commentary and music playing in the background. he pretends to be a judge for your dish, acting overly critical, but it’s just to cover up how much he loves your cooking.

oo.6 :: sometimes, after a particularly stressful day, chuuya will wordlessly walk up to you, throw his arms around your waist, and bury his face in your shoulder. he doesn’t say much, just breathes you in like you’re the calm in his storm. if you run your fingers through his hair, he’ll let out the softest sigh, “just needed to hold you right now.”

oo.7 :: when you’re walking side by side, chuuya has an oddly romantic habit of grabbing your wrist. he’ll lift it up and press a small kiss to the inside, lingering for just a second longer than necessary. when you ask him why, he’ll shrug and smirk. “your pulse is there,” he’ll say, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.

oo.8 :: he sets up a city-wide treasure hunt for your anniversary, complete with clues written in elegant script. each clue leads to places that are significant to your relationship—like the first place you met, or where you shared your first kiss. he acts all serious as you solve each riddle, but when you finally find the “treasure”—a simple, heartfelt note from him—he admits he just wanted to see your smile as you pieced everything together.

[sahisan]

chuuya is always hot.

no, not like that.

his body is always hot.

again, not that.

arahabaki keeps his body warm, no, hot, 24/7 and it's such a blissful addition to what he already presents.

and it's all about how he constantly keeps you warm on all occasions, and even when you two aren't particularly close enough—maybe a meter or so between the two of you—the heat emanates from him and you're able to feel it either way.

it's very cold in winter and you're out and forgot your gloves? chuuya's warm hands are right there, either stopping to heat yours up while rubbing them and blowing some hot air onto them, or just getting one of them in his pocket with his own hand already interlacing your fingers together. he rubs your reddened from the cold cheeks and pokes your, the same color as your cheeks, nose, and you can already feel the warmth spreading all over the places along with your whole body.

sometimes you wonder why the hell he even needs floor heating in his penthouse when he's right there. a walking heater. a volcano in the human body ("oh, c'mon, shut it."). it actually matches his fiery-red hair so well, you once thought. chuuya interlaces your legs together at night, tangling his own in yours, and the amount of heat under the blanket you share together actually sends pleasant, warm tingles to the tips of your feet.

chuuya's mouth is also very hot. do you see where i'm going with this? once your and his lips meet and, no matter who slips their tongue into whose mouth, the kiss is always boiling hot—his tongue is, the inside of his mouth is, the hand that reaches for the back of your neck is. it becomes borderline scorching hot with his hands starting to roam all over your body, like you've wrapped yourself in a hundred heating pads, and it feels just so right.

chuuya is hot in both ways, and he does take great pride in it.

[mariaace]

Can i get a kiss, and can you make it last forever? (Bungo stray dogs man)

A/n:Why am i doing these? I have no idea. Do I have 10 reqs? Yes. Do i still decided to write this instead? Also yes.

Context:Type of kisses with bsd men

Warnings: Slightly suggestive at Dazai's part and maybe Jouno's? Chuuya's part is longer. (Can you blame me?)

Genre:fluff

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Atsushi, Akutagawa, Tecchou, Jouno, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

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Dazai Osamu

Dazai's kisses are flirty. He likes to pull you in your lap while you kiss and it often turns inot make out sessions. His hands are always wondering around your body any chance he gets. He often smirks in between kisses when you squirm. He also loves quick kisses, because he catches you off guard with them. If you get flustered easily, he would do it even more often than usual.

Chuuya Nakhara

Chuuya's kisses are passionate. He doesn't like quick kissed more than the normal ones. Of course, he still does them. But he would always prefer to take his time when kissing you. He puts a lot of passion in every single one of them. One of his hand is usually between your cheek and collarbone (somewhere in the area) and his other is on your waist. Most of the time if he doesn't takes his hat off it bumps to your head and falls to the ground. (At first he was embarrassed about it happening, but not anymore.). He also likes when your legs wrap around his waist, because that way you feel closer, while you kiss.

Atsushi Nakajima

Atsushi's kisses are sweet. He puts all of his love into a single kiss. He loves giving you quick kisses, but he also likes the long ones, either way, he will actually show you how much he loves kissing you. His hands usually everytime have a different place, because he can't even decide where to put them. Every time after he kisses you, he tells you he loves you. Just to remind you. (Not that he didn't with the kiss.)

Akutagawa Ryonosuke

Akutagawa's kisses are careless. At first he was scared to kiss you. And to be honest, he kind of still is. His handa never have any idea where to go and he usually doesn't say anything particular after the kiss. He still kisses you so careless tho, because he knows that you love it when he kiss you, and trust me he loves it too. Would he ever admit that? Absolutely not. But you can feel it in the kiss, so.

Tecchou Suehiro

Tecchou's kisses are gentle. Let's be real, this man is strong asf, but he is also oh so gentle with you. His hands are always around your waist, even while kissing you. But is his grip tight? Nope. He holds you like you are a made of glass. Don't let me started on the kissing itself. Teruko once even asked you if you are scared of him doing something. He just is so gentle.

Jouno Seigiku

Jouno's kisses are rough. Yes, the complete opposite of Tecchou's. He bites on your lips, hands squeezing your body, pushing you against a wall, you name it. He's a sadist, what do you expect? Of course he never does it enough to actually hurt you, maybe just a little. But that's for your own pleasure trust me. He almost never kisses quick, because if those reasons.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor's kisses are cold. Not exactly in the aay you're thinking of. They are full of love trust me, but his hands and his lips feel a little cold on your skin and when he puts more pressure onto your lips and his grip, you might squirm a little. He will wonder around with his hands, not because he doesn't know where to put them, but because he loves your reactions to it.

Nikolai Gogol

Nikolai's kisses are funny. He smiles, giggles against your lips, tickles you while you kiss all of a sudden, pick you up out of nowhere, all kinds of different stuff. Quick kisses are soooo common with him, he does them often and out of the blue so it catches you off guard. If you do them to him tho, ohh be prepared to run, cuz he's already trapped you and showering with kisses.

Sigma

Sigma's kisses are simple. He gives the most normal kisses out of everyone, but somehow they always feel different. It sounds cliché, really, but you can feel the love through his kisses. Both of his hands are usually around on your cheeks or resting on your neck. Quick kisses are also common with him, but for the same reason. He likes them, because he thinks it's cute that every time he kisses a different place on your face.

© mariaace 2024 pls do not copy, translate, steal or claim any of my works!

Reblogs are highly appreciated!</3

@transmascaraa @dazailoveschuuya

[thewickedjazzy]

I'm sorry, nonnie, but i love your ask so much that i just had to adorn it with stickers pft. <3

his eyes half-lidded alight with feral lust as he takes you in, bound and breathless beneath him with his choker, the one that normally rests against his own neck, is now sitting snug around your throat. his left hand lingers for a bit longer at your wrist, leather taut as his stubborness. however, despite his nature, he hesitates for a moment, smouldering down at you with those lust-darkened, mismatched eyes of his.

he yearns to whisper something filthy, something that would send pleasure sparks pooling low in your stomach. but the words die on his lips. a low sound rumbles in his throat, cracked and almost desperate, just as the way he feels whenever he’s got you right here, bound and beautiful with his belts, adorning your body like a work of art.

the smallest flicker of softness breaking through that hard exterior of the mafioso, and you catch it—just for a second. his fingers trace possessively along the belts that hold you in place, dragging his thumb down the leather strap around your wrist as though grounding himself in the feeling of having you right here, in his grip.

“fuck, dollface...” he murmurs with tenderness as he dips his head down, lips brushing your neck, taking his time despite the impatience simmering in him like a like a dog straining at its leash, even though you're the one bound by his will, yet it feels as if he’s the one being led. you should award him for his self-restraint. the way his kissable lips stay parted erotically as sweet praises spilling out, unable to be sealed shut with each time your sweet hole draws his leather-covered fingers in deeper, the way he’s fighting every urge to give in to that animalistic side of him, to ravish you without restraint. but he holds back, for now, brushing his nose against yours, each breath shuddering out as his chest presses against yours.

“i love looking at you,” he whispers, eyes drinking in the sight of you squirming and clenching around his two polished leather fingers,“all tied up and perfect, just f’me.”

[riiwrites]

boyfriend!chuuya who…

a/n : i’ve decided to make this into a series so please suggest who you’d like to see next :)

a/n : i tried to make this one gender neutral but it’s more hinted towards female reader as it’s mentioned when they first meet, but you can always just skip to the boyfriend part as always

warnings : stormbringer spoilers(?), mentions of insecurity

dazais version | atsushis version

masterlist | taglist | main page

dividers belong to @/benkeibear !

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who saved you when some scumbag from town took your purse/bag.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who wasn’t even on duty that day and was browsing through town until he saw a very distressed you.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who’s heart does a little flip when he sees you look up at him with tear filled eyes and a kind smile to say ‘thank you’ for retrieving your belongings and that you’re his hero.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who’s eyes widen as he coughs a bit awkwardly and averts his gaze before saying..

“Ah, uhm..don’t worry about it. Damn bastards like that don’ even deserve to be near the presence of a woman.” He says, slowly averting his gaze back to your glossy eyes. God, why was his stomach doing even more flips than he could ever imagine?

Your smile only grows wider as you reach into your once stolen purse/bag and pull out your phone, unlocking it and holding it out to him. He looks at it for a few moments before you speak.

“Let me make it up to you, next time I’m in town we’ll go out for a drink, it’s the least I could do.”

And to his own surprise, he reluctantly accepts, taking your phone and putting his phone number in, handing it back to you.

As if your smile could grow any bigger, it does.

“Chuuya, huh? I’ll see you around.”

As you turn around and walk away with his number saved, he stares at you from afar as you become a blur in the distance. He doesn’t know why he felt what he felt to someone random so fast, but he knew one thing. He needed to see that smile again.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who low-key keeps checking his phone every now and again to wait for your text, eyes widening slightly as he sees you have.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who can’t help but let out a little smirk and chuckle as he reads your texts.

pre-boyfriend!chuuya who finally takes you out on a few dates and by the third one, you’re finally his.

boyfriend!chuuya who doesn’t do much physical touch at first, wanting to be respectful.

boyfriend!chuuya who begins to wrap his arm around your waist or shoulder in public when you give him the green light.

boyfriend!chuuya who has his hand on your thigh when you’re sitting down.

boyfriend!chuuya who holds your hand and does the thumb thing.

boyfriend!chuuya who never initiates affection unless it’s hand holding or waist holding because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but if you wanted that he’d give you what you want.

boyfriend!chuuya who holds your cheek in his palm and strokes your tears away when you’re crying.

boyfriend!chuuya who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze when you’re anxious in public or in general.

boyfriend!chuuya who likes to take you out to fancy dinners, not all the time but on occasions.

boyfriend!chuuya who separates his work life from his love life, so you don’t become a target.

boyfriend!chuuya who wishes the flags were here to meet you.

boyfriend!chuuya who picks you up from any place during night, forcing you to wait there as he doesn’t want you to walk home yourself.

boyfriend!chuuya who trusts you to go out by yourself and do what you want as long as you’re not in danger, but would like a checkup every few hours.

boyfriend!chuuya who doesn’t judge you for what you wear, thinks it’s his choice and whoever has a problem can take it up with him.

boyfriend!chuuya who doesn’t care because he knows how to fight.

boyfriend!chuuya who kisses your knuckles as a greeting when he sees you.

boyfriend!chuuya who cleans your apartment/house for you for when you come back home.

boyfriend!chuuya who dates to marry

boyfriend!chuuya who never lets either one of you go to bed angry or upset.

boyfriend!chuuya who actually talks it out and wants you to speak to him when somethings wrong.

boyfriend!chuuya who always takes you drinking with him, having you try different ones to pick the best choice.

boyfriend!chuuya who keeps in mind which one is your favourite as it is now his go to drink.

boyfriend!chuuya who’s favourite sign of affection is kisses.

boyfriend!chuuya who rests his chin on the top of your head when sleeping.

boyfriend!chuuya who buys you a expensive and specific perfume so that he can remember your scent.

boyfriend!chuuya who always gets you flowers when you go on a date, it’s a must.

boyfriend!chuuya who lets you sit on his lap whilst he does work, resting his chin on top of the top of your head as he scribbles away.

boyfriend!chuuya who easily carries you when you’re too tired to walk or if you’re about to step in mud or a puddle.

boyfriend!chuuya who puts his jacket on the concrete floor so you can step on it just so you don’t get your shoes dirty.

boyfriend!chuuya who can read you like an open book, instantly noticing you’re upset.

boyfriend!chuuya who kisses your insecurities.

You were in the changing room with him as you were trying on different clothes, him with a slight smile and you with a very noticeable frown. Chuuya can’t help but notice as he also reflects your expression, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your stomach, peering over your shoulder.

“What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, clear concern evident in his voice and on his face.

“I just..” You start, unable to finish your next few words.

“You just..?”

“Feel so ugly..” You mumble.

Chuuyas expression shifts to a concerned look to a rather confused one, furrowing his eyebrows as he fully turns you around by the shoulders to face him.

“Don’t say that shit ever again.” He says sternly, noticing the way your bottom lip wobbles and your eyes become glossy once again. He takes your hand in his and begins kissing your knuckles, then kissing up your arm, then to your neck and then to your face. He kisses your nose before pulling away.

“Do you even know how much I love this damn face?” He begins, kissing your two cheeks and chin as you begin giggling, sniffling as tears stroll down your cheeks like a gentle waterfall.

“I can’t even begin to talk about how much I’m in love with this perfect face and body. Sometimes, i don’t understand why you’d wanna go for a guy like me..” He finishes, smiling comfortingly as he strokes your hair as you cry softly with a sweet smile on your face.

“I-..I love you, Chuuya..”

He pauses, his smile fading as his expression becomes surprised, but then his face lighting up as he picks you up and spins you around the small cubicle, you squealing.

“And I love ya too damn much.”

boyfriend!chuuya who realises after that he’s head over heels for you.

boyfriend!chuuya who talks about you to Kouyou, wanting to know how he can make you the happiest.

boyfriend!chuuya who believes you deserve the world, so he’s gonna give you it.

boyfriend!chuuya who in a world full of boys.. - he’s a gentleman. ❤︎︎

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi @silverbladexyz @inojuuy @boarcide @poedostoevsky11 @kissesmellow21 @star-light18464 @aliyahgracedrawing @chuuyathehatrack @boredwithwrath @akutagawasimp87 @rainy-dazie @lone-ray @ishqani @fun-cats @wefureko-blog @hoicacti @endy917 @dazaiiiosamuu @seikkoh

white = unable to be tagged :(

@/riiwrites reblogs are always appreciated ❤︎︎

[harmeu]

Falling Tears

(BSD MEN REACT TO THEIR SPOUSE CRYING)

(GN!Reader)

Dazai Osamu:

We all know Dazai is one to shrug off people's problems as if it were a measly little thing that was nothing to fuss over. The casual “You’ll be fine~!” But we all also know that Dazai cares for you. He loves you. If you were to sob in front of him it’d send him into an overdrive of broken worry.

You were tired. Sick and tired. It felt as if everyone was shrugging you off of your problems and you ran to the agency bathroom because your throat closed up and felt water appearing in your eyes. 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

You knew those footsteps. It was your boyfriend. Dazai. You immediately began trying to wipe the tears, imagining that if Dazai were to see he’d try to stifle his laughter because of all those times he waved off your problems and vents. Sadly the tears couldn’t stop and now you were a flushed mess looking down to avoid his gaze. It was piercing.

“Darling what's this? Why’re you trying to hide your pretty face from meee~?” He cooed tilting your head up, having a playful smile but it broke as he noticed your tears. 

“Oh..what happened.?” 

“No one listens or takes me seriously. Not even you! I’m tired. Go away.” You try to shrug him off but he grasps your hands pulling you onto his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He frowned, his face softening. “I’m the asshole for ignoring. I should've known.” Worry was evident on his handsome face and you flushed at his words. You really needed to hear that. As Dazai apologized he peppered your face with kisses.

“Next time slap me if I brush off your problems. I might like it if you slap me though.” He winked which you scoffed at, holding back a chuckle.

Chuuya Nakahara:

Chuuya, despite being someone who definitely needs anger management classes will get immensely suspicious if you were to get the tiniest bit of a frown on your face. “Are you alright?” He’d constantly ask and once you break down his heart shatters.

You collapsed onto your bed spasming a bit from trying to hold back your tears. You knew you could tell Chuuya your love about your problems. Though there was a thing inside of you that said that he would be forcing himself to comfort you so you kept your mouth shut silently sobbing into a pillow curled up.

You flinched as the door knob cranked open revealing your boyfriend with wide eyes as he saw you so disheveled.

“What's wrong doll?” He murmured going to you and sitting beside you on the bed taking his gloved fingers to stroke your back delicately.

“I-I’m sorry I don’t wanna bother.” You mumble back looking back down at the pillow you sobbed into.

“Tell me who did it.” Chuuyas glare becomes more pronounced as seconds pass and you almost chuckle at his overprotectiveness.

“I’m just tired.” You say averting your gaze.

“I can be your stress relief.” He stared and flushed at his own words, scowling. “Not like that! Like..my arms are free for you.”

You laughed and dug yourself deep into his chest nuzzling as Chuuya put his chin on your head, kissing it gently.

Ranpo Edogawa:

This piece of shit of an egotistical man will KNOW your sad but won’t do anything about it. He’ll brush it off like Dazai in a more childish way. “I have better things to do!” He’d say casually sucking on his lollipop. But those once closed eyes would widen at the sight of your tears coming on display.

Everything and everyone was so mean. Why can’t they just understand you're tired?! You’ve tried. So. Many. Times. To talk to your boyfriend about your problems but he’d change the topic with what he was busy with.

Thinking no one was here you buried yourself into your desk of the agency, silent tears slipping out your eyes as you took a shaky breath, hands trembling beneath the desk. You sniffled but then heard a drop of some kind of food. Ice cream. Splat on the ground as you lift your head to see your boyfriend staring at you wide eyed, his glasses barely holding on.

“What?” You say annoyed wiping your tears so you don’t embarrass yourself further.

“You're crying.” He said as if it weren't the most obvious thing in the world.

“No shit.” You rubbed your eyes frantically realizing the tears wouldn’t stop which turned into a sniffle fest and you averted your body from him in a fluster.

Footsteps came closer and you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind and a face nuzzle into your neck.

“Did I do it.?” Ranpo mumbled a childish tone evident in his voice.

“Your part of it.” You said between tears and then your boyfriend kissed the back of your neck sending shivers down you. You try to glare but he uses the puppy dog look to manipulate you. Damn it.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled averting his gaze.

You didn’t fully accept his apology but you did accept the kisses he kept giving you during this encounter making you flush.

(FIRST POST IN LIKE MONTHSOMG anyway)

[livelaughlovesubs]

Hiya I have a request if they're open?? I don't see the status rn so if they're closed feel free to ignore <3

Chuuya x ability user reader who can copy abilities and uses his own ability against him by using gravity manipulation to fuck him harder pls and tyyy!!

I’ve written one where chuuya used his own ability to make reader fuck him harder haha, that was fun >:)

Dom!AbilityUser!reader x sub!chuuya

Warning: chuuya tries to dom, pegging (I use dick), teasing, brat taming (?), dacryphilia

Sometimes you two would change positions and you’d let him top you, just to fed into his ego. And more often than not you’d also tease him until he succumbs, eyes teary as he lets you take over. Not today, he didn’t want things to go your way again.

That’s why he straddled your lap, binding your wrists together behind his waist, pinning you to the bed while looking all smug. “This time, you have to match my pace.” He snarled, thinking he got the upper hand and was in charge. What could you do in such a situation anyway? Tied up with no way to move, since he’s using his body weight on you. It might not be much, but it’s still pretty difficult if he’s pressing down on your stomach.

“You want to ride me? Go on then, pretty boy.” You appeared nonchalant, as if all this didn’t bother you. Instead, you grabbed his butt and leaned closer. Chuuya gritted his teeth, yelping when he felt you squeeze his ass. “Stop it, don’t do anything. I tell you what to do.” Then he slapped your hand away, face heating up while he slowly lowers himself into your lap. “Oh my, feisty. Alright, I’ll be obedient then.” You joked, laughing a little. He didn’t take that joke well, frowning as he grabbed your collar, groaning, “You better be.”

It took a moment until he managed to press your dick against his rim, and it took even longer until he got the tip in. “Nghh… w-would you look at that, feeling nervous already?” The boy taunted you, grinning and arching his back. His hands clutched your shoulders for support then he slowly sat down. “Should I be?” You said, then tried to move his body around to no avail. “H-hah..! See? I’m in control now.” He commented and took the entire length in. ”mhm..! Damn it.” Chuuya gasped, clenching around you tightly. He has taken you countless times, but his hole still needs time to get used to it. “Do you have difficulties? I can always take over.” You reminded him, smiling innocently. Those advances you make are signs that you have no cards up your sleeves anymore, it’s a good thing. Even so… Is this how you feel whenever he acts out with you or talk back? Was he as annoying as you right now?

“No need, I can get off on my own.” He proudly proclaimed and moved his hips, riding you diligently. No matter what you say, he wasn’t going to let your words sway him. As things progressed, his moans got louder and higher each time he bounces on top of you. He also didn’t hold his voice back, as if to rub more salt into the Injurie, basically telling you that he was doing just fine without your help. What a childish boy, should you entertain him some more or finally get to business?

The way he was so proud, as if he just achieved something amazing was adorable. You were looking forward to the face he’d make once the tables turn. Curiosity got the best of you and you grabbed his butt again while he has mid-air. The male immediately stopped moving and furrowed his brows, scoffing, “are you trying that same trick again?” He had a faint blush on his cheeks, otherwise he wasn’t that ruined yet.

”no, rather, I’m showing you a little trick.” You chuckled and leaned over to his face. For a moment he thought you were going to kiss him, instead you looked over his shoulder and pushed. He didn’t know what happened, but he instantly slumped back in your lap. The tip hit a sweet spot inside him, causing him to whine loudly, “ahHGhHnn..!! W-wait, stop!” Chuuya yelled, crying out from the pleasure. “What did you d-do..?!” This wasn’t good, you were messing up his plans again.

With a swift movement, you easily raised him up and down. Manhandling him with no troubles even though you were still tied up. He couldn’t do anything but groan and whine while you continued to make him ride you. “NghHh.. f-fuck, ah, feels good- no, wait! Y-y/n.?!” Tears were rolling down his cheeks now, and his gaze was filled with desperation. He was begging you quietly. “What is? Oh, perhaps you don’t need my help?” You said, despite knowing what he wanted the most in that moment. “I-I… how did you hmMnhg d-do that anyway..?” Chuuya stayed resilient while drool flowed down his chin, at the same time his body was still getting toyed with by you. “Did you forgot about my ability? My, I expected a bit more from you, sweetheart.” You teased, then rest your chin on the nook of his shoulder. He was arching his back and leaned back, while you kept leaning closer to him. Ability, you said. Was there something importan- yea, there was. You had a copy ability, one that allows you to copy another ability user’s ability for a set time limit. So you must have copied his ability. Is that why it feels so intense whenever you fuck into him, are these the effects of gravity manipulation? “T-that’s cheating… hahH~” He mumbled, looking to the side due to the humiliation. How could he miscalculate so bad to forget about that? Next time he should get some nullifying handcuffs.

“Oh dear, are you sure about that?” You asked him while continuously bucking up into him, or making him go up and down on you. That previously arrogant and confident attitude soon got swayed away and replaced with a helpless one. Your cock repeatedly hit his prostate, enough to make the strength leave his body and causing him to slump against your chest.

Each time you buried yourself deep inside him he’d let out a high pitched yelp, glaring at you before avoiding eye contact again. “What’s this? Surrendering already?” Now you were the one to tease him, reminding him of these embarrassing things. “I’m n-not. You… nGhhh, enjoy while you c-can hmNHgg!!” Even though it was a threat, you laughed through it. For you all of this was only empty promises and games anyway.

Then you looked over his shoulder, staring at his butt and how your hands are guiding his body. Something about watching your dick appear and disappear was so erotic that you couldn’t stop. His cries filled the room, echoing in your head, showing you who much he actually likes it if he wasn’t putting on a show. That pretty face of his was all red and wet with tears, eyes rolling back whenever you fuck him especially hard. His hair also bounced around with every thrust, more and more lewd moans slipping from those rosy lips.

It was fun watching him change up like that, which is why you whispered into his ear, “I’m looking forward to your next antics.”

[star-centric]

A/N: this is just something random both to help me feel better and to write something since I haven’t wrote in weeks lmao- reader is gender neutral!

Chuuya loves to spoil you.

You’ve never been the one to ask for anything, and he wonders if it feeds into why he’s so ready to give you everything you want.

It could be something as small as a new book you’ve been wanting to read, or an outfit that caught your eye when you were both out on a date- you barely bat your eyes and Chuuya is already pulling you into the store, taking out his wallet.

Fancy dates at restaurants you would never dream of dining at, lavish clothes that had way too many zeros on the price tag, even flying out of Yokohama for the first time- the list goes on and on.

Chuuya senses your hesitation whenever he tries to give you gifts, and he can read you well to see why. You stress to him that he doesn’t have to do all of this, that you don’t want him to think that you’re relationship hinges on being materialistic, but he already knows. He’s not doing this because he has to, he’s doing it because he wants to. You deserve the best, and he makes it his mission to give you that.

You scold him every time he spoils you by surprise (which it’s starting to happen so much it really shouldn’t be surprising anymore), and all he does is laugh and press his lips against yours. He knows that you can get it yourself, but why when he can just get it for you now? He doesn’t have this black card for nothing, and he rather spend it all on you anyway (even if it’s on the small stuff you can get yourself).

And Chuuya knows that you appreciate it every time too.

He’ll do everything in his power to give you the world and more.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

just thinking about chuuya spoiling the absolute fuck out of you.

$7 coffee? he’s got it.

your entire amazon wishlist? taken care of.

those cute, sheer, expensive clothes you absolutely don’t need but want? he’s got that for you and more.

and its not just limited to money. chuuya treats you like you’re made of diamonds. he especially loves taking you out for joyrides on his motorcycle so he can show you off. you and the bike, (he also calls it his baby) but mostly you.

he’s generous, and loving, and sweet like candy, even in the bedroom. until he isn’t.

chuuya is a rough lover, pulling orgasms out of you like its second nature. after a long day of spoiling and pampering you, he’ll spank you and tug your hair until you suck his cock the way he likes it.

“c’mon, cherie.” he groans, head thrown back while he sits on the couch, blue eyes watching you. “i worked you better than that, doll.”

your misty eyes while bobbing your head up and down isn’t lost on him. you shamelessly watch him, seeing his silky white shirt unbuttoned white your lipstick stains on his muscles. you can’t wait to get on his lap and ease down onto him, but not until chuuya says you can.

he groans again, his gloved hands slicking your hair back into a makeshift ponytail while you suck him off. he knows he’s being an asshole, and he knows you love it.

“tellement bien, jolie fille.” he praises, words rolling off his tongue in a way that makes your inside stir for him. “i’m gonna cum.”

he looks down at you and takes pity, wiping your tears. he almost laughs, seeing the expensive clothes he tore off of you ruthlessly. he’ll fuck you good as a reward, and buy you 10 more. 💋

[moomuzan]

LET ME F✸CKING DECORATE YOU, DOLL

ft. gn!reader x chuuya

sum. chuuya bought a piercing gun. a-fucking-what? i meant, a new toy. and he will most happily pierce your nipples. the catch? his dick gets rock hard! 3.3k

warnings. explicit sexual content (mdni), oral (throat-fucking), stigmatophilia, piercing play, breath and power play, manhandling, d/s, established relationship, praise, cursing, reader’s gender is not specified, anypov

CHUUYA NAKAHARA

“What… what’s all this?” you asked, wary, as you finally stepped into the apartment, locking your eyes on him.

“A new toy,” he said smoothly, lips curving into a smirk that was dangerous and magnetic all at once. Pushing off the doorway, Chuuya moved with that effortless grace he always carried, sauntering to the table. His gloved fingers wrapped around the piercing gun, caressing the metal like it was something precious. The way he handled it sent a shiver rippling through you.

“You’re not serious,” you murmured, though your voice wavered under his unrelenting gaze.

Tilting his head as his smirk deepened, he turned back to you. “Oh, I’m dead serious.” His eyes darkened, the predatory gleam in them sharpening as he stalked closer. “And of course, it’s for you. Who else?”

“Me?” you echoed, your pulse quickening.

Eyes narrowing just slightly, the heat of his gaze rooted you to the spot. “You trust me, don’t you?”

The way he said it wasn’t a question—it was a command dressed in velvet, impossible to resist. Your throat tightened, but you nodded before you could even think to stop yourself. “I… yeah. I trust you.”

“Good.” His voice dropped lower, that single word wrapping around you like a leash. He stepped closer, his scent—cigarettes and faint leather—curling around you. One gloved hand reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering in a way that made your skin tingle. “Take off your shirt.”

For half a heartbeat you froze, the words sinking in, but the command in his tone left no room for hesitation. With trembling hands, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, letting it fall to the floor. The cool air of the apartment licked against your skin, raising goosebumps along your arms and chest.

A possessive hunger gleaming in their depths, Chuuya’s eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. Of course, he didn’t bother to hide the way his gaze lingered on your bare breasts, the intensity of his stare making your stomach flip. “Perfect,” he murmured under his breath, as if talking to himself.

Without another word, he grabbed one of the alcohol swabs from the table, tearing the packet open with his teeth. The sharp, medicinal scent filled the air again as he stepped closer, swiping the cold swab across your nipple. You flinched at the sudden chill, though his other hand was already on your waist, steadying you with a firm grip that sent heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Hold still,” he breathed, the rough edge in his voice doing little to hide his excitement. Leaning in, his breath warm against your neck, his gloved fingers pinched your nipple, pulling it taut. The sensation was sharp, almost painful, and yet it sent a strange thrill shooting through you.

The sharp, satisfying click of the piercing gun echoed in the stillness, followed by stinging pain and the faintest gasp that spilled from your lips—a sound so soft, yet it sent a bolt of electricity straight through him. Chuuya’s gloved fingers lingered on your skin, his gaze fixed on the glint of the small metal bar now nestled against your flushed flesh. While his chest tightened, hot breath catching in his throat, a surge of heat and possession roared through his middle, his dick hardening ever so slightly.

Fuck, he hadn’t expected it to hit him this hard.

Yet, the sight of your body trembling under his hands, so vulnerable yet trusting, was enough to push him beyond reason. Every little sound you made—every hitch of your breath, every sharp intake of air left his blood thrumming with a visceral kind of hunger, one he could feel coiling low in his stomach and pooling between his thighs. It stoked the fire inside him, making his, still, clothed length twitch in need.

You were perfect. Too fucking perfect.

Almost glittering, the cool gleam of the piercing caught the dim light as he adjusted it with careful fingers, though his composure was fraying fast. His hands twitched, aching to touch you everywhere, to leave marks and claim you in ways that went beyond the smooth metal now decorating your skin. His gloves only heightened the frustration, a barrier between him and the heat of your body. It made him want to rip them off, to feel your softness and warmth directly, to let his bare hands roam freely. But no—he liked the control the leather afforded him, the precision. He couldn’t lose himself just yet. Not completely.

But God, the way your chest rose and fell, the way your body leaned into his touch despite the pain, had his head spinning. His cock strained against his pants, throbbing almost painfully as he watched you squirm under him. Pulse racing, his breathing grew heavier with each passing second. You weren’t even trying, and yet you were undoing him, piece by piece.

In contrast, the second piercing was worse—no, better. The sound you made this time wasn’t just a gasp; it was a moan, soft and breathless, and it went straight to his dick. A growl rumbled low in his throat, his control slipping as he worked the piercing into place. Feelingl the heat radiating off you, the way your thighs pressed together, as if you were trying—and failing—to fight off your own growing arousal. It made him grin, feral and wicked.

You were as undone by this as he was.

He couldn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers over the fresh piercings, watching the way you shivered, the way your lips parted as you sucked in a shaky breath. Twitching in response, his cock ached intensifying, growing by the second. It wasn’t just lust—it was something primal, something deeper. Seeing you like this, vulnerable and marked by him, flipped a switch in his brain. You were his now, utterly and completely.

Chuuya leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his voice dropped, thick and rough with need. “You don’t even know what you do to me,” he growled as his gloved hand slid down your side, gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises. Momentarily, his teeth grazed your earlobe, and he let out a shuddering breath, barely holding himself together. “Seeing you like this—knowing I did this to you—fuck.”

His hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of your thigh before stopping just short of where he knew you wanted him. He chuckled darkly when you squirmed, tilting your head back to meet his burning gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this, decorated like the possession you are,” he croaked, his voice thick with possession and desire. “You don’t even know how hard I am right now, do you?”

With rising hunger, he let his gloved fingers trail back up to your chest, brushing against the metal, barely even pulling on it, which made you gasp again. Yet, your aching sounds only drove him further in this abyss of utter lust, his body demanding more, more, more. His lips curled into a smirk, his pupils blown wide as he watched you unravel beneath his touch.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice a low, primal growl as his hand slid to your throat, gripping you just enough to make your pulse quicken. “Every fucking inch of you. I’ll make you never forget that.”

By now, the tension in the air was electric, a raw, unyielding charge that seemed to pulse between you. Chuuya’s piercing gaze locked onto yours, sharp and feral, as if every ounce of restraint had finally snapped. Before you could steady your breath, he was on you, his hands gripping your waist with bruising strength. The sheer force of him sent you stumbling backward until the edge of the table bit into the back of your thighs. In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up with ease, setting you down with enough force to make the table shudder beneath you.

“Stay,” he commanded roughly, yet he didn’t give you enough time to react, anyway, before his hands were on your shoulders. Forcefully, his brute strength pressed you back against the table, pinning you there with one hand splayed across your chest, the other braced on the desk beside you, the cool surface bit into your skin, a stark contrast to the overwhelming heat radiating from him as he loomed over you.

Chuuya’s breath had become uneven by then, his chest rising and falling heavily as he stared down at you. For a moment, it was as if he’d forgotten to move, frozen in place by the sight of you sprawled beneath him—vulnerable, trembling, and completely at his mercy. As though he was committing every curve and dip of your body to memory, his gloved hand trailed down the warm flesh of your stomach, slow and deliberate. His eyes darkened further, the hunger in them growing sharper with every passing second.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with something primal as his fingers, yet again, trailed over your stabbed, swollen nipples, brushing against the small glint of metal and earning a sharp intake of breath from you. The sound made him falter, his jaw tightening as a groan rumbled low in his throat. “It’s—You’re unbearable.”

Stepping back slightly, enough to stand fully before you, his presence ever so towering and suffocating, he drank in the sight of you. His hands moved to his belt, undoing it with practiced ease, the sharp clink of the buckle making your stomach twist in anticipation. But he didn’t rush, didn’t make a move to strip further just yet. Instead, he leaned in close, his gloved hand gripping your chin as he tilted your head up to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with possession, every inch of him demanding your submission.

“Open up.”

Before you even realized you were obeying, your lips parted, your body responding to the sheer weight of his presence. The smirk that curved his lips was pure sin, feral and triumphant as he reached for the glove on his right hand, tugging it off with his teeth. The sight of his bare hand—strong, calloused, and utterly confident—made your heart pound in your chest.

“That’s it,” his tone was dripping with satisfaction as he slid his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue. Meant to make you feel the roughness of his skin, his touch was firm, unrelenting, as he explored the softness of your mouth. “So obedient,” he muttered lowly, almost like a growl. “Do you even realize how good you look like this? Completely laid out for me, marked like a pet, doing exactly what I say.”

While his thumb pressed down harder, making you suck instinctively, his pupils blew wide at the sensation. A sharp, guttural groan escaped him that made his hips jerk forward slightly, the strain in his pants unmistakable. “Shit,” he hissed, pulling his thumb free with a slick pop that made his cock twitch. “Gonna’ unmantle you for behaving so well today.”

The man straightened, then, his lips curling into a wicked grin as his gaze raked over you. His arousal was palpable, his cock straining visibly against his pants, the evidence of his need impossible to ignore. At this point, he was only barely holding himself together, the sight of you pinned beneath him, trembling, marked and pliant, fraying the last threads of his restraint.

One hand moved to his belt yet again, undoing the rest of it with a sharp, deliberate pull. He didn’t look away from you as he worked, the air between you heating up as his cock sprang free from his pants, flushed and hard, the tip glistening with arousal, sticky pre-cum hugging the tip.

Wrapping his own hand around the length of his dick, he let out a shaky breath, his restraint fraying as he stroked himself lazily. For a brief moment, his head tilted back, teeth biting down on his bottom lip, and he groaned so throaty it almost startled you. Drunk in this moment, driven by your very own blooming arousal, your gaze was demanding, pleading, maybe even fuck-faced, yet ultimately glazed by pure need. When his eyes returned to yours, they appeared to have gotten darker, almost feral.

“Now, you’re going to take care of me,” he commanded while his gloved hand returned to the back of your head, threading through your hair and tugging just hard enough to make your scalp tingle. He guided your face closer, his cock brushing against your lips as he grinned down at you, feral and dripping with lust. “And if you perform well enough, I might even allow you to cum afterwards. Is that clear?”

When you merely nodded breathlessly, his free hand abruptly shot to your chest, furiously flicking the metal barrel that divided your hardened nipple with his index finger. A pain—so abstract it jarred your brain chemistry—jolted through your body. “Fucking answer me,” Chuuya hissed.

“Y-yes.” A silent cry escaped your lips. “I’ll be good.”

“That’s better.”

The heat of him was overwhelming, the sheer size of his length making your breath hitch as the tip pressed against your parted lips, then. Driven by compulsion, he didn’t give you time to think, his gloved hand tightening in your hair as he roughly pushed forward, his cock sliding past your lips and onto your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his voice trembling as his head tipped back. The warmth of your mouth, the softness of your tongue—it was almost too much. His hips bucked forward slightly, forcing you to take him deeper, after a sharp gasp escaping your lips sent a bolt of pleasure straight through his every being. His bare hand gripped the edge of the table to steady himself, his knuckles white as he tried to keep from losing control completely.

“That’s it.” Speaking a foul language of its own, his gaze pierced through your soul. The sight of you, your lips stretched around him, your eyes wide and teary as you struggled to take him all—it was enough to make his cock throb, the ache in his body intensifying. “Aren’t you the prettiest with my cock in your tight little mouth?”

Upon maddening thrusts that forced you to take more of him, he sheathed himself inside your dripping mouth, hitting your throat in a way that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Controlling your movements as he guided you, his gloved hand tightened in your hair, setting a slow, yet demanding pace that had his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he breathed as he mentally fought to keep himself from snapping. “So fucking perfect—taking me so well, like you were made for this.”

With quickening pace, then, the sound of your muffled breaths and the wet slide of his cock in your mouth filling the room, his grip on the edge of the table tightened. His head tilted back again, a low, guttural groan spilling from his lips as he let himself indulge in the heat of your mouth, the way your tongue moved against him, the way your throat constricted as he pushed deeper.

“You’re mine,” he snarled, his voice rough with possession as he thrust into your mouth harder, the tension in his body coiling tighter and tighter. “Only mine.”

For you, however, the pain, perversely mixed with pleasure, was almost unbearable. Making it hard to breathe, your throat kept burning with each, merciless impact as he buried himself further, the slick pressure of your tongue sending him closer to the edge. Every motion felt like fire, consuming your body, no, fuelling it, as tears welled in the corners of your eyes.

“Fuck,” he growled, the word half-snapped and guttural, his voice rough with desperation. “You’re driving me insane—fucking perfect, just like this.”

Simply primal, the unrestrained hunger twisting into something sharper—more wicked, his gaze shifted, darkening further. His bare hand moved from the edge of the desk, sliding down your neck and wrapping firmly around your throat. The pressure wasn’t overwhelming at first, but it was enough to make your pulse race, the weight of his palm against your skin stealing a faint wisp of air.

“I like it when you struggle.”

Your breath hitched in response to the dual sensations of his cock hitting the back of your throat, while his hand added more than enough pressure around your neck. Ever so slightly, this constriction made you acutely aware of every inch of him—the hardness of his body, the heat radiating from his skin, the raw power in the way he dominated you completely.

With his grip tightening around your throat, the world began to dim around the edges, your vision tunneling as he held you in place, his cock buried to the hilt in your mouth.

He didn't say a word, didn't utter a sound. He didn't need to. The message was clear in the way he looked at you, his eyes burning with a ferocity that stole your breath and set your nerves alight. The way he moved, each roll of his hips a deliberate, measured thrust that forced your throat to stretch around his thick length.

Instinctively, your nails dug into his arms, a silent plea for mercy, for reprieve. But there was no mercy in his expression, only a ruthless determination to claim every inch of your body, to mark you, all while using your mouth like it was made for his pleasure alone.

Hyper-aware of you struggling beneath him, his cock twitched against your tongue as the tight coil of heat in his core threatened to snap. His hand on your throat flexed, his grip tightening as he leaned over you. “I owe you,” he snarled, his tone dripping with possession as his hand squeezed harder, cutting off your air completely for a moment. Panicked, your chest burned as you struggled to inhale. Still, the way your throat tightened reflexively around him sent him spiraling. “Fuck—gonna’ cum, don’t you dare spill one drop.”

It was the moment your throat spasmed again when he broke. The red-haired let out a guttural groan, his hips slamming forward as his orgasm ripped through him, violent and overwhelming. His hand tightened on your neck as he came, the pressure leaving you lightheaded as he spilled his semen into your mouth, the heat of him flooding your tongue like a warm welcome. The way you convulsed beneath him—helpless, gasping—only intensified the pleasure, his body trembling as wave after wave crashed over him.

“Swallow it,” he reminded before his grip on your throat, eventually, loosened slightly, just enough to let you suck in a shaky breath, but his hand didn’t leave your neck entirely. The possessive weight of it lingered, a reminder of who owned you.

When he finally pulled back, his cock slipping from your mouth with a wet pop, he stood over you, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. Brushing over the faint marks left by his grip, his fingers lingered on your throat, and he smirked down at you, his expression dark and triumphant.

“You took it so fucking well.“ His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he straightened, gently tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, adding “Don’t worry,” as he leaned down to brush his lips against your forehead. “I promised I’d make you cum, too.”

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[ilovechuuy4]

꧁Embarrassing things that happened in bed꧂

Chuuya Headcanons + Scenario

warnings; Minor descriptions of s3xual actions, ejaculation w/o penetration. Not rlly proof read.

A/N: GUYS I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT POSTING A LOT IDK WHAT'S UP WITH ME I GOT NO MOTIVATION BUT I'M GOING TO TRY TO GET A REQUEST OUT ON THE 28TH DON'T THINK I FORGOT BOUT U GUYS

Headcanons↘︎

• While making out, the first kiss would always make you burst out laughing so it takes the two of y'all at least 10 tries to actually start making out.

• Once you went down on Chuuya and he was feeling it TOO much and almost suffocated you(he apologized profusely after)

• He's definitely broke the bed while having sex with you(using his ability to reach deeper points) but it didn't stop him from continuing.

• Y'all have done it in his office and Kōyō had walked in on yall before scolding the two of y'all.

• Chuuya had gotten leg cramps once and you had offered to ride him the rest of the time.

• Blasting music in a private residence (like a hotel, say PM went on vacation) just to have sex with reader and yet the both of you were still audible.

• For getting to close the blinds/window and a neighbor hears/sees.

• Chuuya finishing whilst y'all are making out before penetration(After a long mission)

Scenario↘︎

Oh god, how long that mission was. You and Chuuya we're assigned a mission last minute and nobody was particularly "up for it" or in other words, you two were the only ones at work at the ripe time of 1 in the morning. It wasn't even a fun mission, it was one of this long dragged out mission. But at last, you and the ginger haired man finally arrived home at the time of 5am.

Once y'all enter the house, your thoughts began to roam of the images of Chuuya's body stiff clearly full arousal during the mission and you had to admit, it made you feel some sort of way. Chuuya glances over, slowly walking to you before embracing you from behind. The bulge in his pants was prominent against your body as he slowly suckled and nipped at your neck.

Soft whines and gasps escape your mouth, head thrown back against the others shoulder. "Mh-mhm~ Chuuya. The whimpers escaping your mouth and before you knew it, your back was pressed firmly against the closest wall. "Fuck, darlin'. I couldn't help myself. You just looked so damn pretty during the mission." This confession made your face blush a deep, wine red as you simply glance away slightly, god how you loved this man.

You felt the other cup your cheek and pull you in for a kiss which you greatfully accepted. Your hands gently cup his neck one thumb rubbing up and down his jaw line. You could practically feel the need radiating off of Chuuya as his tongue pushed passed your lips to explore the caverns of your mouth that he so desperately wanted to explore. You allowed it, yall's tongues danced in a harmony of passion and intimacy and before long, the ginger was getting touchy.

His hands found your rear, gripping it firmly as his tongue is plunged into your mouth tangled around your own. Your couldn't help but let you soft whimpers as you had to slowly pull away, panting. "Ha, sorry it was just, a lot." You murmur, taking deep breathes but when you look at your boyfriend his face is a bright red. You cock a slight eyebrow in curiosity.

"What's wrong?" You asked which made Chuuya look away, he seemed, embarrassed? "I- uhm." He stamppered over his own words, his hands gripping onto your waist as of now. "I'm nintey-nine percent sure I just you know. Came." Chuuya said before burying his face into your neck. You hadn't ever seen him in such an embarrassing state but you couldn't deny that it was kinda fun.

"You came? From making out with me?" You scoffed playfully glancing down and indeed, his pants were well, soaked to say the least. A red hue rose to your cheeks before speaking once more. "Maybe uh, maybe we should take this to the bedroom?" And once you suggested that the man in front of you lit up like a lightbulb, scooping you up in his arms with a chuckle. "I'd never deny such an offer, doll."

[juniperstale]

i blinked, and suddenly i had a valentine — dazai, chuuya, ranpo

⋆ in which you get a valentine from someone else [ . . . gn!reader, sfw, lowercase intended, profanity, fluff, lowkey crack i think . . . ]

DAZAI cannot allow this. he is immediately pouty when he sees the flowers on your desk as the two of you walk into the office together. he concocts a plan silently, maybe he'll go through all the security footage and leave the son of a bitch a series of threatening messages till they quit or maybe he'll interrogate everyone throughout the day or maybe he'll- you're reading the message on the flowers. dazai panics, hurriedly moving to be back by your side again. what if you fall for them and leave him? his nerves settle when he notices you throw them out with an eye roll before turning to him.

"finish your work fast today, i made us reservations at your favorite restaurant, okay?" oh, looks like you're the one down bad for him. so he has nothing to worry about, after all.

CHUUYA makes a competition of it. this suitor thinks they can out love him? now that's called being delusional. they sent you a flower? expect a bouquet of your favorite flowers coming in the next 30 minutes. chocolates? chuuya already brought out all of your favorites, its literally out of stock everywhere. they brought you a card? chuuya will handwrite you a 100 page letter explaining how you're the best thing to happen to him. and if the suitors dares to ask you out in person? their world will be turned upside down. literally. chuuya will turn them upside down. its what they deserve, after all.

at the end of the day though, he is still human (? idk i haven't read stormbringer) and though he denies it, he does need a bit of comfort after fighting for you all day. it is you though. he will always fight for you.

RANPO doesn't mind. i mean, he's going to be the one eating the chocolates in the end so does it really matter? it does. it matters the minute you get bored of working and decide to read the letter the bozo left with the chocolates. he watches as a small smile creeps up onto your face and you let out a silent laugh. oh no, its time to put his detective skills to good use. within a few minutes he finds the scoundrel who sent you that letter based off the handwriting and... well he doesn't really have a plan after that so he tell the guy off and returns to your side.

he comes home a little later that night, with flowers and chocolates that he would also end up eating. but you don't mind. your just happy he's with you.

05.05.24. "a valentine fic in may?? what kind of brownie did u eat juni??" chuuyas was low key inspired by that one barbie life in the dreamhouse episode where ken and ryan are fighting to give her better valentines day presents. im so sleepy i'll check my grammar tmrw, gnight!