#chuuya nakahara x y/n

[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.

[chuuminn]

chuuya x reader - scorched lungs and shotguns

featuring; early dating period awhhhh, tton!reader being a bad smoker, reader wears mascara, chuuya uses ‘doll’ as a nickname, shotgunning, just something a lil silly, intentional lowercase, 1.2k word count

'what to do when your stupidly handsome date offers you a cigarette’ was not covered on your theoretical pre-date flashcards. stumbling out a “sure ! i’d love one” probably wasn’t the right answer. but chuuya's leather dressed fingers were already retreating to tuck away the polished silver cigarette case, leaving you with a neatly rolled stick dangling dumbly between your thumb and forefinger.

"just relax,” yosano's words had been cooed with a reassuring smile when she swiped mascara onto your lashes, not three hours before. “i'm sure your 'mystery man' will adore your quirks."

pshhh, quirks. the term normally refers to small things, right? the little endearing habits you notice about another person. like how you know that ranpo’s hand always brushes his pocket when he stands from his desk, seeking out spectacle shaped reassurance. or, that dazai is a terribly clingy drunk; but only until he hits drink number nine or your fingertips accidentally graze the edges of the cotton that wraps his skin. whichever comes first.

quirks aren’t the ugly, hacking cough that accompanies your every attempt at smoking.

you could just return it, yes. laugh it off and continue to enjoy the sound of the water lapping at the pier beneath you. only, the mere possibility that your date, effortlessly suave as he seems, might brand you as ‘lame’ or ‘a buzzkill’ summons an uncomfortable bubbling into your chest and the rising of a shrill nagging voice in your mind. it heaves, preparing to berate you, until-

a flicker against the dim evening — subtle, but enough to catch your gaze — banishes the nerve.

chuuya’s struck his lighter, illuminating the planes of his face for you to admire. there was no better backdrop for him than here, leaning against the railing of one of yokohama’s many bridges.

he mentioned growing up here, and judging by that passionate gleam in his eyes when he’d spoken about it, you could tell he loves the city fiercely. a few unruly strands of fiery hair catch the flickering light, stark against the muted twilight blues behind him. it’s a museum worthy painting, if not for the five pronged silhouette of the port mafia towers intruding over chuuya’s shoulder. an irksome smear on the yokohama skyline.

nooo. nope. you didn’t need to spend more time than absolutely necessary thinking about the port mafia and your many unpleasant. especially not while on a date that, up until now, was going suspeciously well.

you follow chuuya’s movements as he cups the lighter, shielding it from the harbour breeze, to deliver it to his lips. the glow of the flame stretches towards him as he inhales, a motion you were becoming all too familiar with. barely a month of dating and already you were giving into the grand gravitational pull of chuuya nakahara. so when those gloved hands extend the light to you, it’s all too easy to tilt your body closer to his.

difficulty comes when you fumble with the end of the cigarette over the lighter. the blasted flame, it was mocking you! mischievously dancing around the edge of your cigarette and refusing to share its heat. you offer a sheepish smile to your merciful date. “mine’s broken.”

there’s a breathy chuckle before reassuring fingers wrap around your wrist.

it wasn’t as though this was the first time he's touched you; but still, the gentle guidance sends warmth blooming along your skin. he curls your fingers and moves them to better cup the light, protecting it from the wind as he’d done. immediately it settles into a steady flame. traitor. “better?”

“better…” you can’t say the same for your heart, sure the damn thing was about to beat out of your chest. the new proximity makes your head spin. a seductive cinnamon-y musk joins the lingering smoky smell in the air. he’s close enough to feel the air shift across your shoulder as he takes a slow deep drag of his own cigarette.

“ow -” the flame in your grasp jumps, nipping your thumb and demanding your attention. you’ve already been standing there an awkwardly long time, and frankly the angle of your arm was beginning to hurt.

what more was there to do, other than take an enthusiastic and far too ambitious inhalation…

there’s a glint of amusement in chuuya’s eyes as he watches you sputter, a lopsided smirk adorning his pretty features. your eyes are wide, no doubt in alarm from the choking miasma burning its way to your lungs. yeeeah, he’d figured that’s how it might go. you were polite, maybe a little too eager to please, a far cry from the company he normally kept. definitely not someone who indulged in this particular vice often. it was… sweet. “you alright there, doll ?”

“uh huh, yep, just- perfect-“ you wheeze, head bobbing quickly. unconvincingly. a blind hand waves the air clear of the wisps still curling from the offending stick. “how are you- ugh, holy mother of- how are you meant to enjoy this when it burns so bad !?“

you summon the meanest glare you could muster, scowling down at the cigarette. the muscles in your abdomen cramp and seize as you cough into your sleeve, earning a smoky huff of amusement from chuuya.

“cute." he hummed with a slight laugh, silver curling into the evening from his quirked lips . "here, lemme help ya”

his fingers uncurl from yours, surrendering contact only long enough for him to catch your chin. your stomach turns and any air remaining in your poor burning lungs is stolen as the tips of his bangs brush against your nose. when he next speaks his voice is a soft rasp, eyes flitting over your features. somewhere hidden in the breaths that follow, a whisper of vulnerability tickles your lips. “this okay?”

“yeah,” you reply easily. “i trust you.”

you aren’t sure why those words made his breath hitch.

“just, try it again, yeah?” he drawls, bringing the cigarette to his lips once more. “breathe.”

the cherried tip flares as he takes a long slow drag, before he leans into you. the dangerous beginnings of a protesting whine build in your throat when he stops just shy of a kiss, only to be stifled by the sight of bittersweet silver cascading from his slowly parting lips.

you drink in his breath, the smoke trickling down your throat to pleasantly warm your chest instead of scorching it. the fiery fog fills you, singeing his name into your lungs.

with a shaky 'whoosh' it wisps out from your lips, smooth and silky tendrils dispersing into a hazy curtain between you. the barrier does nothing to quell the heat of his gaze, mismatched eyes half lidded and smokey in their own right. you’d be more than content staying here, counting his lashes. the sheer intimacy of sharing a breath sent your mind reeling into a dizzying swirl.

“heh,” his lips twitched up as his smoldering gaze finally tore from your own, casting over the rest of your slightly tilted face. “you’re blushing —“

“am not !!!”

thank you for reading !!! this is the first part in a series of nonchronological one shots between our reader and chuuya, with dazai poking his head in every now and then. i am super duper excited, i hope you enjoy where we go from here. comments, feedback and reblogs are all welcome and appreciated ! mwah !

masterlist

[zairene]

hey girl i loved your dazai relationship headcanons SM, can I please ask for a version with Chuuya? YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY AMAZING.

AS A BOYFRIEND. chuuya nakahara

* ˚ ✦ synopsis: how chuuya nakahara would be like as a significant other.

* ˚ ✦ genre: headcanons !

* ˚ ✦ warnings: spoiler free + a fem reader is also very heavily implied / stated !

* ˚ ✦ author’s note: sure you can ! and ty so much that means a lot <333 i did write as y/n still in the ADA, if you don’t mind !

chuuya nakahara, the hot-headed and impulsive young man who you were interested in when you first met him.

he’s very arrogant when it comes to his abilities and his remarkable skills revolving around the port mafia. he may talk a lot of shit, but he can still definitely beat your ass at any time any day, no doubt. and this personality does NOT come off as pleasing to women, hence his failure in the romance department. so, when he realized that you weren’t immediately disgusted with him after knowing him for such a little time, he already developed some appreciation for you.

with chuuya, there is also a lot of patience with him too—but not in the way you would think. chuuya had a difficult time trusting you. chuuya despises dazai, and it’s very well known, and knowing that you were a part of the armed detective agency and was on dazai’s side put him off. yes, even in their years of rivalry and multiple times of working together, he just doesn’t find himself truly trusting him or you.

it’s not like you weren’t trustworthy or showed signs of being dishonest, he just knew that if he became too vulnerable with you, it would open up an opportunity for you to betray him and he doesn’t do well with betrayal. he knows that it’s not impossible to gain his trust, so he respects you at first, but he keeps his distance.

so yes, you have to chase him, he doesn’t chase you.

think of the trope of, she falls first but he falls harder… sort of.

this started with subtle flirting from you, very subtle to the point where it had him going insane on the fact whether or not you were interested in him. it’s not like he could go to someone with advice so he was seriously stressing himself out over it. there were times even when dazai pointed it out but chuuya would brush it off as dazai trying to poke fun at him.

after you did it multiple times, he finally decided he would reciprocate it because it’s not like he didn’t like you, he was just surprised at the fact HE DID? so, the one time he came back with an even risker line with you, you were shocked. this had you excited because you finally had some type of confirmation that he liked you! now the next step, asking him out.

it was hard catching him in his free time with being the port mafia’s strongest martial artist. he was constantly sent out on missions and meetings. just to your luck, you found him strolling the streets one random day, and that encouraged you to just go up to him knowing this moment would not occur again.

this confession was just you talking and him staring at you with his widened eyes and his lips slightly parted. and when you were done speaking, he could only spit out one thing. “yeah… yeah sure.”

and that started your relationship with him!

i honestly don’t believe it would be filled with arguments, at least not real ones. because the PETTY ARGUMENTS you guys have is an hourly occurrence. no joke. the playful banter between the both of you is amazing, but his competitive spirit can get overwhelming and it causes petty arguments. at this point, you kinda just believe that he likes to hear himself talk.

i feel that the biggest problem you would have in a relationship is his major trust issues. mentioned before, he doesn’t do well with shady or shifty behavior. this doesn’t pair well with situations where you want to have a surprise party for him for his birthday, but he’s under the impression that you’re doing something behind his back that isn’t as innocent as it is.

the product of this is arguments and a lot of breaks between you two. he’s not difficult to talk to, but incredibly difficult to get to, if that makes sense. it would take a lot for him to believe that you’re being truthful. you can sense he takes loyalty very seriously, so after the birthday party incident, you took a mental note that surprises don’t sit well with chuuya and to make sure to not do them again.

other than that, your relationship with him is pretty smooth!

however, he also has his moments where he makes weird comments toward you trying to suggest that you’re “inferior” to him and that you can’t handle yourself. he always feels like he has to protect you or things will go downhill even when you have proved countless amount of times that you were extremely capable.

those times when you have to give him a reality check and bring him back down to earth for a second. his apologies are him bringing you a bouquet and a long talk about how sorry he is why he made those comments and how he would never make them again. you forgave him and he really stood by his word! he always gave you credit when it was due, maybe too much sometimes, but you can tell he was sorry.

other than that, some general things would be that he isn’t a big fan of PDA. he doesn’t hate it but doesn’t prefer it. he wouldn’t mind if you just held his hand or kissed him on the cheek (maybe lips) but would much rather save everything else for in private. he’s all for separating his work life from his relationship with you, especially since both of your workplaces are against each other. he’s very awkward when it comes to intimacy, but once you’re together for a while he likes it, especially getting home after a very rough mission that day.

he likes to act like he hates pet names, even the silly ones you give him, but he likes them. he would never admit that you calling him pookie bear makes his heart happy each time.

overall, chuuya is a pretty good guy who has his moments. he can be painfully unaware of himself and his actions sometimes so you have to handle the liberty of telling him off and putting himself in his place when it’s needed. but don’t worry, he never takes it to heart when he realizes he’s wrong. he loves you and as the relationship goes on, he learns to trust you a little more every day.

(📦) — BUNGOU STRAY DOGS TAGLIST // @4nthonyyliving

(📝) — TAGLIST FORM :: sign to be apart of the taglist!

[osaemu]

e,m,i yandere version for chuuya nakahara

notes: mentions of alcohol, implied manipulation, implied kidnapping, implied physical/psychological abuse

EXPOSED — how much of their heart do they bare to their darling? how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? chuuya will only be more open with you once he's sure of your devotion. i'd say that he's the kind of yandere who would genuinely want his darling to want to be with him, so once he's inevitably won you over, he might be more willing to open up over a shared glass of wine.

MASK — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? some people think that chuuya's always brash and short-tempered, but in a more natural setting he's actually rather calm and reasonable. he's open to negotiating with you under the right circumstances, and if you appeal to his humanity, you might even have a chance. at least, that's what he lets you think.

IDEALS — what kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? chuuya wants you to stick around for as long as possible. he's not the type of yandere that'll treat you poorly just because he can — chuuya would genuinely treat you well after the initial necessary discipline (which was a little painful, but he always fixed you up right after his point was made).

a/n: im so normal for yandere chuuya

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[junosmindpalace]

puppy love

-literally.

☾ ft. chuuya nakahara

☾ chuuya is met with an unfamiliar sight in your office. sfw. 800.

~ in honour of his birthday…my bsd debut on tumblr!

chuuya stared downward wide eyed at the sight before him. his body is still, not daring to move. his forward step is halted, his lips are slightly parted, and he holds in a breath. 

in your office, on the ground in front of him, was a large, plastic dog carrier. 

he had come to discuss details about an assignment with you, but noticed you were unresponsive to his knock on your door. with furrowed brows he let himself in, calling out for you in the vast empty space. hardly two steps in, instead of being met with the usual sight he’s become accustomed to- you, seated at your desk at the farthest end of the room with your nose buried in piles of paperwork-, he was met with a portable dog carrier in the center.

he slowly approaches the carrier with bent knees, tilting his head to get a better look inside. he straightens when there’s a crash and the bars to the crate echo loudly throughout the room. the bars continue to rattle until a snout pops out from the darkness and sniffs the entrance. 

he lets out a shaky exhale as the body of a small puppy accompanies its snout and eagerly jumps into view. it paws at the door that continues to noisily ring out, and starts to bark. chuuya thinks his heart is going to burst. 

“hello there, little one. where are you from?” he smiles and leans his hips back, putting his hands in his pockets and tilting his head to the side. 

and suddenly he remembers his line of work, and the horrific thought that the dog might be injured dawns on him quick. he hurriedly strides over and falls to his knees as he examines the carrier and fiddles with the door lock in a panic, the puppy behind it continuing to bark and paw the door. muttering a c’mon…under his breath as he struggles, the door eventually unlocks and is pushed open by the hyper dog, who immediately jumps on top of chuuya and sends him flying backwards. he’s quick to catch himself by propping up an arm as he uses the other one to secure the puppy on his chest. 

“well, you sure are hyper, aren’t ya?”

the dog didn’t look injured or even scared in the slightest. it wore a harness and its tail wagged vigorously, slowly climbing up chuuya’s chest and towards his face as it sniffed him curiously. chuuya’s face scrunched up and he laughed as the dog licked his cheek. 

the dog didn’t wear a nametag or a collar. he couldn’t even tell the sex. chuuya scratched the fur behind the dog’s ears affectionately with one hand as he sorted through the contents of the carrier with the other for a clue as to what a dog was doing in your office. 

a leash, a squeaky toy, some bully sticks. there wasn’t much for him to go off of. was this your dog? how come he had never known you had one? 

he looked back down at the puppy in his arms, the two of them making eye contact. the dog leaned in to lick chuuya’s face again and he smiled, flinching away. “affectionate, too.”

his position as an executive in the mafia would probably warrant him to tell off whoever made the decision to bring a dog into work, but his love for dogs outweighed his sense of responsibility, just this once. especially if it was your dog. 

“chuuya! hey!” 

both the redhead and the dog on his chest immediately perked up at the sound of your voice, turning their heads toward the sound. the dog jumped off of chuuya’s chest and ran toward you entering the office, and you laughed as it jumped up to greet you. you rubbed its fur affectionately. “i see you’ve met my dog!” 

chuuya quickly got to his feet. “yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to let it out of the carrier. thought it was hurt or something.” 

his cheeks tinted red as you waved him off. he’s a little embarrassed to be caught on the floor with a dog in his arms, especially while he was on duty. he supposes it was better you than one of his other subordinates, however. 

“sorry for making you worry, i didn’t mean to leave you alone.”

“no, no, it’s…fine.”

it was more than fine, really, chuuya silently thought to himself as he observed the puppy jump up and down in excitement, eager to run around and play after spending time in its carrier.

you walk toward chuuya and the carrier with your dog following excitedly behind you, bending down to grab a stick for the dog to occupy itself with. you threw it to the opposite end of the office, the dog immediately winding up after it, as you sat down in your desk chair. chuuya got up and walked over to you, half sitting on your desk as he leaned down toward you, keeping his eyes on the playful dog.

he tried to make the question sound intimidating and sarcastic, an indicator he was bullshitting. but instead, he asked in all sincerity:

“so…is this going to be a regular thing?”

[callmegreeneyes]

Hi! Can you write chuuya with s/o but only fluff, lots of fluff<3 that's can be scenario with cuddles and kisses?

Take care!

Scenario: Chuuya just got back after a long-time mission, and since you've missed each other, you cuddled on the terrace in front of a starry night.

Pairing: Chuuya x gn!reader

Genre: fluff af ♥️

Type: oneshot

A/N: Hey, hon! Firstly, I am deeply sorry it took me so long, but I haven't been well. Secondly, thank you for your request ♥️ I love this scenario, it's my favorite, and I think it's perfect for Chuuya! This is also my first requested oneshot, so I hope you’ll like it and that it was worth the wait ♥️ thanks again, and take care! !If there are mistakes, I am sorry, but English is not my first language!

Warm Welcome

One, two, three …

You took a sip from the glass of red wine on the wooden table in front of you.

Four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten …

The pleasant aroma of the wine made a smile appear on your lips. Despite the penthouse being full of refined bottles and Chuuya telling you to feel just like home, you brought a cheaper one from your small apartment. It wasn’t as exquisite as his, but it was good enough.

Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen …

Before departing for a long mission, Chuuya gave you a copy of his penthouse’s key, giving you the chance to come over anytime you wanted. That day you seemed to miss him more than usual, so you decided to stay for the night at his place. But it wasn’t enough. So, you decided to wear one of his white shirts. You needed to feel him closer.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty …

Since you two had started dating, you’ve been more anxious anytime he had a long-time mission. You repeatedly told yourself that it was ridiculous. You both worked for the Port Mafia: you were a subordinate and he was an executive. You knew how dangerous your jobs were, yet you couldn’t do anything about it. You got worried, every single time.

Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…

For the past weeks, you tried to focus on your work as much as you could, but in your free time, you couldn’t help yourself. Fortunately, you found out that counting stars before going to sleep reduced a bit your anxiety.

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight…

To your eyes, they were an array of diamonds and you would have spent the night looking at them.

Only one person made you feel that way.

Suddenly, the gentle wind caressed your cheeks and played with a lock of your hair. You closed your eyes and sighed, cuddled by the night wind.

You were thankful that Chuuya's penthouse had a terrace.

- What you doing outta here?

As soon as you heard that voice, you opened your eyes. You turned to your left and stopped breathing. Chuuya was there, before your very eyes, in his usual work clothes. You couldn’t believe it.

- I-I’m j-just enjoying the night breeze. - you stuttered, taken by surprise. You put a hand on your pumping heart and told it to get a fucking grip.

The redhead sat next to you, on the same small couch. He couldn’t help but notice the red wine on the low table.

- You're treating yourself good, I see. - he smirked.

Expert as he was, he first twirled the wine to make it oxygenate and bring out more aroma. Then he sniffed it and took a sip before frowning. - This is not one of mine.

- I brought it from my apartment. - you replied, taking the drink off of his grip and drinking it.

- Why? Y/N, ya know I don’t lack fine red wines.

You placed the glass on the small table and smiled at him. - I’m well aware, yet at the same time, I know you keep your collection for important occasions.

He brushed a lock of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear, a sneaky excuse to graze his fingers along your cheeks. - I see you again after a month. I think it's quite an occasion, don't ya think? - he whispered, inches away from your face.

Your cheeks have grown flushed. In order to hide them, you stood up to get one of his top-notch wines.

- You're not going anywhere. - Chuuya said, grabbing your wrist and pulling you on his lap.

You replied, bewildered. - B-but you just said ...

- I know what I said! - he exclaimed. Then he took a deep breath. - Let’s just do it later ... now, I need you. -. His eyes stared deeply into yours.

You've missed him so much.

You've missed his red curls and the way they tickled your skin, giving you delightful chills on your back.

You've missed his deep, magnetic blue-green eyes and the way they looked at you, longing for you to be his. You didn't remember how many times you've lost yourself in those gems.

You've missed his scent, a mix of cologne and tobacco, that felt almost like home by now.

You realized how much you've missed his lips when he gently cupped your cheeks and kissed you. He could feel the taste of wine on your lips. He found they were sweeter than usual.

He took his gloves off, threw them on the sofa, and brought his hands back to your face. He barely touched you and you felt your heart burning. You've never felt this way before Chuuya. What is this man doing to me?, you thought while softly brushing his neck with your fingers.

About twenty pecks later, your lips got apart and you were even more flustered. - So, how did the mission go? - you asked, trying to shift his attention from your blush.

- Good. Everything went perfectly as planned. - he said, proudly.

- Did you get any injuries?

He shook his head.

- Good. - you sighed out of relief.

You started playing with his hair. - You know ... you could’ve told me you were coming back tonight. I would have prepared something for you.

He wrapped his arms around you and smirked. - Like what?

- Well, I could have cooked dinner …

He laughed slightly. You both remembered the last time you tried to cook. It didn't end very well.

- Hey! I’m getting better! - you protested.

- Oh, is that so? - he said, surprised.

You puffed and started to look at the stars, trying to find other ideas. - Well, otherwise, I would have prepared a hot bubble bath.

He hummed, pleased by your suggestion.

You took it as a sign to continue, so you did. - All accompanied by some candles, your favorite bottle of wine, and maybe some music.

He turned your chin with his hand to meet your eyes. - I would have liked that. - then, again, whispered close to your lips.

- Then, next time warn me when you get back. - you breathed, closing the gap between you.

You started to scratch his neck. You immediately could feel him smiling into the kiss.

The redhead pulled you closer by squeezing your waist. Then, he sweetly bit your lower lip to deepen the kiss, and your tongues initiated a loving slow dance.

Before joining the Port Mafia, you thought you wouldn’t have experienced something like this. You believed that those love stories were just stories.

But then … you met Chuuya.

Thanks to him, you had a chance to discover everything you missed: respect, understanding, trust, friendship, and ... love. You didn’t believe you would have loved someone so much. But, there you were. Kissing the man who stole your heart. Your love for him was so strong that scared you a bit sometimes.

After several minutes, you both were out of oxygen so you broke the succession of kisses.

While catching breath, he noticed what you were wearing. - Angel, is this one of my shirts?

- Yes. - you said, looking at the white item. - Is that a problem?

He shook his head while a small smile appeared on his lips. - No, I think it suits you.

- You do?

Just like you, Chuuya would have never expected to have a serious relationship. He sure had a few affairs through the years, but he never thought he could have trusted someone the way he trusted you. By consequence, he never believed he would have ever been as close to someone as he was to you.

You’ve been dating for about 9 months and, even though it wasn’t such a very long time, for the both of you it was a big deal. You were still exploring your feelings and gradually getting above your boundaries.

He nodded, rubbing your back. - You should wear my clothes more often.

You purred. - Noted.

Chuuya smiled warmly. While he was away, you two barely got in contact because of your schedules. It wasn't necessary for you to say it out loud, it was pretty clear that you wore something of his because you've missed him. That gesture filled his heart with pride and joy. Furthermore, before departing, he secretly took one of your bracelets with him. Anytime he looked at it, it reminded him he had somebody to come home to; then, he would get everything done and over with to come back and see you again.

- I’ve missed you too, by the way. - he whispered to your ear.

You blushed once again. Despite your reasons being implicit, he still figured it out. No one has ever understood you, but him. The feeling was so surreal to you. You started to wonder if you'd been through all you did just to meet him, just to have him in your life.

He caressed your cheek before giving you a kiss.

You both pulled away from each other, and you couldn't hide the smile growing on your lips.

- What about you, babe? What did you do while I was away? - he then asked, brushing his lips against your collarbone. Once again, you could feel shivers down your spine. It took you a couple of seconds to reply.

- Well, I‘ve had some missions. Afterward, I’ve been hanging out with some of the Lizard’s squad and ...

Suddenly, your phone started beeping on the low table. You took it in your hand to look at who was texting you. It was Tachihara.

- Why is he texting you at this time of night? - Chuuya asked, peeking at the sender’s name.

- Well, I’ve been hanging out with him for the past weeks. - you explained, muting your phone and putting it back where it was.

Chuuya groaned. - Couldn’t you hang out with someone else?

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused by his reaction. - Why? What’s wrong with Tachihara?

- He keeps calling you ‘princess’! - he complained.

Your colleague has called you by that stupid nickname since day one. In his opinion, your kind manners and innocent appearance (really unusual features for someone who works in the mafia) justified that nickname. However, you’ve told Tachihara countless times to stop calling you that, but he never did, so you decided to just let him be.

- Chuuya, he does it for mocking me.

- So? It still bothers me, Y/N.

Maybe, I shouldn’t tell him I’ve been hanging out with Dazai too, you thought. You got on pretty well with the guy. You found him amusing and interesting. Nevertheless, you were aware of their extremely difficult relationship. The redhead knew how flirty his ex-partner could be and he didn’t want you any closer to ‘that bastard’.

You leaned closer, inches away from his lips, and looked deep into his eyes with pure adoration. - Well, it shouldn’t. Because I …

You kissed his forehead.

- … only …

You kissed his nose.

- … have …

You kissed his left cheek.

- … eyes …

You kissed his right cheek.

- … for …

You kissed his lips.

- … you.

At first, he got lost in your sparkling e/c eyes. After he heard his pumping heart, he then registered every word (and kiss) you delivered to him. He immediately averted your gaze, trying to hide the blush with his hat.

You, obviously, noticed and giggled. - You’re so cute, Chuu.

- Tsk, shut it. - he murmured, visibly embarrassed.

You smiled widely while taking and caressing the hand that held the hat.

Then, his gaze met yours, and a question peeped in his mind. - You mean it? You only have eyes for me?

Both of you have never been loved for who you really were. That was something you understood very soon.

On your part, at the beginning of your relationship, you hardly adjusted to his luxurious lifestyle and, especially, accepted his glamorous gifts. Not only because you weren’t used to it, but also for reassuring him that you didn’t like him for his money.

Chuuya was surprised by how simple and down-to-earth you were and also relieved that you weren't a gold digger or hungry for power.

He really was incredulous about the fact that you wanted to be with him for his person, and not for his role in the Port Mafia.

And when you understood that giving gifts was one of his love languages, you started to look at them differently. Sure, you still had to tell him not to spend too much money on you, but you warmly kept all his presents. He was always happy seeing you with one of his gifts on, especially on dates.

On his part, Chuuya made some real efforts to make you trust him. Despite his gifts, comforting gestures, and sweet words here and there, you had a hard time removing all the doubts wandering in your mind. Because of your past experiences, you kept fighting against your trust issues. In other words, you were quite the paranoic.

The redhead, having the same issues as you, knew the feeling. And since you pushed all the right buttons for him to trust you, he was determined to reciprocate. He wanted you to feel at ease around him and, to your surprise, he achieved his aim. You don't even know how he has done it, but it wasn't important. When you realized that you could put faith in him, you felt blessed.

You two couldn’t have asked for anyone better.

You knew he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, same as you, and that's why your expression was deadly serious. - Yeah, I truly mean it. - you said, pressing a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

Chuuya was totally mesmerized by your actions and couldn't do anything else but look at you like he was under an enchantment.

You pulled him by the collar of his shirt and whispered in his ear. - Let me show you.

You started to leave delicate kisses all over his neck, his hair ruffling between your fingers. You worshipped the man and you wanted to let him know. He deserved it.

Chuuya closed his eyes, relaxing under your graceful touch. You’ve always treated him with the utmost care and kindness and although he couldn’t understand the reason for you to do so, he inevitably surrendered to you.

When your kisses reached his jawline, he clutched you tight.

- I wish we'd spend more time together. - the redhead said, rubbing your back.

- Me too. But we already talked about it, remember? - you replied, still peppering him with small lazy kisses.

You discussed this topic several times. You guys tried to organize your different schedules to find extra time for yourselves. But nonetheless, it was harder than you thought. Firstly, Chuuya was an executive so his tasks were not just more difficult, but they required more time to accomplish; you were an ordinary subordinate and because of that you had more missions on your agenda. Secondly, your jobs were often unpredictable so you could have been called into duty anytime and your missions could have lasted longer. Thirdly, most of the time, when you were done with your tasks you both were exhausted.

You both struggled a lot. But even one hour together was worth the effort.

However, Chuuya was a man full of surprises. - Well, I might have a proposal. - he revealed, smiling smugly.

You stopped your actions and curiously looked at him. - Really? That is?

For unexplainable reasons, the way he looked at you got you nervous.

- Move in with me. - he breathed, staring deep into your eyes.

May I have drunk too much wine?, you asked yourself. You couldn't believe your ears. - Say again?

He took your hand and started to draw small circles on it with his thumb. - Move in with me. - he securely repeated.

You knew him enough to know that he wouldn't have done or said something that he hadn't wanted to; but, at the same time, you'd be lying if you didn't know how impulsive he could be.

Maybe he pronounced those words because we were apart for four long weeks, you believed. - Chuuya ... have you thought this through?

Little did you know he had been thinking about it for some time.

He imagined waking up next to you every single day, giving you good morning kisses, and keeping you in bed, despite your sayings about being late for work.

He imagined you having breakfast together, with you telling him what you had dreamed about during the night and informing one another about your plans for the day.

He imagined intertwining your hand or holding your thigh on the drive to work and giving you a hidden kiss before parting.

He imagined getting back home and cooking dinners together, by the sound of your laughter and smooches.

He imagined having more time for indoor and outdoor dates.

He imagined spending weekends in bed and cuddling in each others' arms.

He imagined giving you goodnight kisses and sleeping together.

Someone would say he almost planned everything.

He had no doubts about it. All he wanted was you, every part of you.

At first, he felt nervous thinking about asking you. He attempted to do it again and again, but every single time your piercing gaze left him petrified and breathless. When you asked if there was something wrong, his cheeks went scarlet.

Though, his long-time period mission gave him the chance to prepare himself and now he couldn't wait any longer. He was more than ready.

- Yes. I’m serious about us. - he declared, kissing your knuckles. His ardent eyes fixed intensely on yours, diving into the depth of your soul looking for a glimpse of something. An affirmative response from you. - So ... will you?

You have never lived with anyone before and you didn't believe you would in the future. You've always been alone. And despite being in a relationship with Chuuya for nine months, you hardly acknowledged when you thought about it.

In a corner of your mind, you thought he would have got tired of you eventually and left you. Just like everybody. But in Chuuya's case, it was different. You always considered the redhead like a star: so bright and beautiful, yet so unreachable and out of your league. In your opinion, he deserved so much better than you.

And although you've told yourself to live this relationship day by day, enjoying the present and not questioning the future ... now you had to face what your future together would have been.

Because this wonderful star wanted you to live with him.

You were incredulous. You didn't know how all this could have been possible still, you were over the moon. You would have joined that precious star. You repeatedly nodded while a cute smile crept on your lips. - Yes. I will.

He smiled widely and pulled you into his embrace once again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him as close to you as possible. You wanted to cry out of joy. You’ve never even dreamed of such a thing.

- If you don’t have to work, you can move in tomorrow. - he said, brushing your hair.

You pulled away a little from the hug and nodded again.

- Then, we can go to our favorite Italian restaurant. - he sweetly whispered, an inch from your lips.

You couldn’t control the big smile on your face or the sparkles filling your eyes. It wasn't just happiness. It was something bigger and you could feel it because your heart was about to explode. - You don’t know how much I love you. - you breathed, pressing your lips onto his.

Begrudgingly, he broke the kiss and stared at you. - What?

It took you a couple of seconds to realize what just happened. Then, you froze. Shit. Apparently, he really didn’t know how much you loved him. He didn’t know at all.

You mentally slapped yourself. My stupid mouth. Couldn't I just shut up and kiss him?

You had never told him you loved him and in that moment, you had no idea what to do.

- Y/N. You just said you love me ... is that true? - he asked, studying your expression.

Your hands started to sweat. You didn’t want to confess, or at least not in this manner. But it was too late to go back on your feet. You had to be honest with him.

Despite you getting anxious, he deserved to know the truth. - Y-yes, it’s t-true. - you admitted, your voice shaky.

He furrowed his brow. - Why didn’t you tell me?

You answered trying your best not to avert his gaze. - I didn’t know if we were on the same page and I was afraid that if I had told you I would have scared you away. I indeed would have waited longer to tell ...

Chuuya abruptly interrupted you. - When did you think you would have told me?

- At the right time. -. You were not only afraid of scaring him away, but you were scared to be vulnerable too.

In the past, every time you trusted people, you always found yourself to be the only one in pain.

- If you don’t feel the same, it’s fine. -. It's a lie, a voice sang in your head.

Time by time, you grew to learn that if you opened your heart to someone, your heart would have been the one bleeding.

- But, please tell me. - you begged, holding your breath.

When you joined the Port Mafia, you believed that your policy would have been perfect for that kind of environment.

You didn't know how wrong you were.

In one of the most dangerous and cruel organizations, you unexpectedly found the truest relationships you've ever had.

And when you realized you were in love with him, you decided to keep it to yourself. You guessed you were just waiting to be ready to completely open your heart.

Fortunately, once again, Chuuya proved you had no reason to be afraid.

He sighed. - You’re such an idiot sometimes …

- I was j-just trying to p-protect me from … - you tried to reply, but he cut you off again.

- … but I still love you.

Everything stopped. The time, your breathing. You opened your mouth, trying to formulate a complete sense sentence, but no words came out. The only thing you could do was stare at him.

The redhead started to stroke your hair, encouraging you to speak your thoughts. - Y/N?

Your heart was racing and your head was spinning. You replied, stuttering. - … Y-you do?

- Yeah. I do love you. - he replied, his hands cupping your face.

You didn't doubt the truthfulness of his words, but a thought landed in your mind. - W-wait… if you love me, why haven't you said anything either?

- I wanted it to be special. - he explained, caressing your soft cheeks. - That's why I asked you to dinner at our first date's restaurant.

Just like you, Chuuya was waiting for the right moment. But, for different reasons.

He's never told anyone those three little words and since he knew you've never heard them, he wanted to do something unique. He has been planning to tell you for a while.

Firstly, he would have taken you where you had your first date. You two would have had a beautiful dinner, accompanied by suffused lights, sweet melodies, and a romantic panoramic view of Yokohama.

Then, he would have taken you for a walk near the river because he knew how much you liked night walks and the moon’s reflection on the water.

Afterward, you two would have gotten back to his penthouse and he would have given you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

And, after a couple of sips from a bottle of red wine, you would have danced on the terrace under the starry night with the only sound of your beating hearts.

That.

That would have been the moment.

The moment you would have learned about his love towards you.

In front of those words, you felt guilty. He was so passionate and sweet ... and you were the worst. - I shouldn't have said anything.

Being aware of how romantic he was, you were a hundred percent sure that he already had planned something. - I ruined your plans. - you groaned, hiding your face behind your hands.

His eyes softened. He found you so cute.

- You did not. - he said, uncovering your face. - This won't change my plans.

You tilted your head. - You sure?

He nodded and looked at you affectionately. - I’m glad you told me. - he reassured you, kissing your forehead.

You could see his gleaming eyes were sincere and that made your heart get warm. - And thank you for loving me. - he added in a whisper.

You’ve never felt so lucky in your whole life. - I should be the one thanking you.

Chuuya stared deep into your eyes and you couldn't resist any longer. Your hands slithered up his neck and you leaned in to meet his lips. The kiss was gentle and sweet. He put his hands around your hips and kissed you back again and again and again.

Next, he paused and rested his forehead on yours. - Tell me again.

You looked at him lovingly. - I love you, Chuuya Nakahara. - you breathed, unable to hide a smile.

The redhead's heart started racing like crazy. He pulled you closer by wrapping his arms around you, hugging you tightly, and pressing his lips on yours once again. Your hands slowly reached his face and gently cupped his cheeks.

- I love you so damn much, Y/N Y/S. - he sweetly whispered between kisses.

Kiss by kiss, your mouth opened slightly and you could feel his tongue against your own. Then, Chuuya brought a hand up to clutch your hair, pulling you even deeper into the heavenly kiss and sending shivers down your back.

As the kiss intensified, you brought your hand behind his head, his hair ruffling between your fingers, and Chuuya lightly moaned into your mouth because of your enchanting touch.

The kiss got so passionate that you both sank deeper and deeper into each other, totally lost by the intensity of your actions.

When you finally pulled away, you both were out of breath. Chuuya stroked your cheek as he broke into a smile when his eyes met yours again.

- I think it's the perfect time for a 1964 Romanée-Conti bottle now. - he suggested, smirking.

You gulped. Saying that bottle of wine was expensive was an euphemism. - Chuu, you sure? I know it's very pricey. - you said, scratching the back of his neck.

- Yeah, 'm sure. - he replied, pecking your cheek. - And since I liked your earlier idea, what do you say you take two glasses and the wine while I take care of the hot bubble bath, mh? - he whispered against your lips.

- I’d love it. - you answered, kissing him one last time.

Chuuya took you in his arms and went inside to celebrate your relationship’s new chapter surrounded by bubbles and perfume.

Afterward, you both spent the rest of the night peacefully sleeping between the sheets of your soon-to-be shared bed.

all rights reserved © 2023 callmegreeneyes

don't repost, edit, translate, use, or copy my works on any platform. please. reblogs and feedback are welcome. thank you.

[sahisan]

— bsd twitter links / visuals ! part... multiple !

featuring . dazai, mykola, kunikida, akutagawa, yosano + bonus (separate).

notices: fem bodied reader. make sure to log in to twitter ! i dont fw whatever the notes in the posts say so please ignore them ! this part includes multiple chars because my inbox has quite a few reqs of visuals with different chars so instead of spamming them i decided to make them into one single post. i couldn't help myself with the bonus sorry chat...

— dazai.

handjob while he plays video games.

picking up his pace ! make sure to keep up <3

he can be pretty rough when he's not lazy wants to be.

↑ some more.

choking you while fingering you. ughh i need.

llllloves using toys on you. he's so mean about it too.

on the agency's couch...

absolutely undeniably dazai coded.

— mykola.

he loves it messy. or making you a mess, you choose.

changing positions every minute cause he wants to try literally everything.

surely he can go deeper. and faster.

anywhere? anywhere.

loves dressing you up.

↑ and himself as well.

— kunikida.

loves having you give him a titjob.

sucking him off.

he is absolutely folding when you hug him during sex.

slow n deep.

he finally fucks you on his desk.

he's already trembling once in your arms.

— akutagawa.

please give him a handjob. he'll fold.

tries to keep his mouth occupied because he's not sure where to put it.

hugging him while riding him.

he's so gentle like you're porcelain.

this. just kiss him and cockwarm him and he's gone.

his everyday routine.

cuddly on the side <3

does not have a breeding kink however loves just filling you up.

morning.

— yosano.

riding her in reverse cowgirl.

sucking her strap while she holds your hair back for you <3

overstimming you with a vibrator.

↑ and making you wear her skirt while at it.

quickie in the agency's restroom when you're needy.

riding her.

fingering you n choking you.

sucking on her tits when she comes home after a tiring day.

+ bonus !

— chuuya.

after aftercare.

↑ some more.

you're both needy at work so he takes you to the pm headquarters' restroom to take care of it.

slapping your ass & rewarding you after.

this w him is justtt.

he decides to take the initiative.

part 1 for — dazai / chuuya / fyodor.

(ignore) requests that were for these characters utc !

[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. 🫧

[thewickedjazzy]

"Chuuya soothing you during your period."

Quick, call 911? This art is so gorgeous, my brain just did a full system shutdown. I need a reboot!

Credits to the amazing artist @laelepuc .

[chuuyrr]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐆𝐍𝐈𝐙𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 .ᐟ

feat: dazai, chuuya, fyodor

ꨄ˙ CW(s): gn! reader, mentions of alcohol (reader is drunk)

ꨄ˙ SYNOPSIS: in which you drink too much and don't even realize that your boyfriend is your boyfriend or you might as well be drunk in love

in the dimly lit bar, the air was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. you found yourself swirling the remnants of a colorful cocktail, the room around you blurring as the night progressed.

DAZAI sits beside you, and couldn't help but notice your flushed-pink demeanor, fueled by the drinks you had consumed, and giggles to himself.

in your tipsy state, you tilt your head, looking at dazai with a playful suspicion. the room spun slightly, and you sway on your seat, trying to focus on his face.

"you know," you slur, "you're a suspicious stranger. i bet you've got some secret agenda." you point an accusing finger at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

dazai, amused by your playful accusations, couldn't help but giggle even more, "oh, do i now? well, i'm just a harmless 'stranger' who happened to find the most adorable drunk person in the entire bar."

you raise an eyebrow skeptically, still not recognizing him, "adorable, huh? well, mr. stranger-fanger, you're gonna have to prove it." you cross your arms, a challenging smirk on your flushed face.

dazai, seizing the opportunity, wraps his arms around you with a mockingly serious expression, "see? no danger here, just a guy who appreciates adorable drunks."

you broke into a fit of giggles, melting into his embrace, "well, you're not that bad for a stranger, i guess."

completely unaware that the 'stranger' was, in fact, your boyfriend, you continued to enjoy the whimsical dance of laughter and teasing, creating a memory that would undoubtedly be cherished in the days to come.

"i'm gonna be serious though, i am your boyfriend," dazai says to you.

you blink softly at him, your tipsy-drunk state had somehow lead you to look at him as such. dazai blinks back before a grin starts to tug on his lips.

"do i have to remind my dearest? well, then. buckle up because you're in for a treat!" he says before he instantly starts peppering your face in kisses as he holds you tightly.

you immediately start to squeal and giggle as you are reminded of the constant kisses that your boyfriend would give you admist the alcohol in your system.

"osamuuu!" you say in a soft whine before he pecks your lips.

dazai grins even more widely at your cute little whine as he cups your face now, "that's more like it. goodness, such an adorable drunk you are, hmm?"

CHUUYA watches with a mix of concern and amusement as your cheerful demeanor transformed into a tipsy state.

as the night wore on, chuuya decides it was time to take you home. he gently placed his gloved hand on your shoulder, trying to capture your attention, "hey, it's getting late. how about we head home?" he suggests, his voice warm and caring.

however, in your inebriated state, you misinterpreted the situation. you gasp sharply before you squirm in your seat and whine softly, "nooo, i'm having so much fun here! plus, you can't take me home! i have a boyfriend!"

chuuya was flabbergasted, but he couldn't help but chuckle at your resistance afterwards upon seeing this, "come on, baby, i'm not a stranger. i'm your boyfriend, and I just want to make sure you get home safely."

now it's you blinking softly, looking at him with a mix of confusion and innocence, "boyfriend? really?" you giggle, completely unaware of the true nature of your relationship.

"you're being so silly right now, i almost can't with you," chuuya sighs, still laughing softly, "geez, i didn't know my baby can be this forgetful with this much alcohol."

undeterred, chuuya continued to coax you gently, his amusement growing as you stare at him in awe as you begin to pat his cheeks in your warm hands, "this pretty face is all mine?"

chuuya chuckles again, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he takes your hands in his before leaning in to press a lingering kiss on your lips and whispering, "i'm all yours, baby."

the night unfolded in a blend of laughter, warmth, and the endearing challenge of convincing you that the 'stranger' was, in fact, the person who cared for you the most, and you couldn't help but giggle even more into the kiss.

FYODOR observes your increasing intoxication with a measured gaze, a sense of concern clouding his usually composed demeanor.

as the night unfolds, you continued to enjoy the array of drinks that nikolai had generously provided you two. fyodor, recognizing the potential consequences, decided it was time to intervene. he places a hand gently on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"dear, perhaps it's time to slow down," fyodor suggests, his voice calm and measured as he tries to get you to stop.

you looked at him with a tipsy grin, oblivious to the fact that fyodor was your boyfriend, "but nikolai is just being generous. no harm in a few more, riiight?"

fyodor's piercing gaze held a mixture of concern and determination, "i'd rather not see you regretting this tomorrow. let's enjoy the night responsibly," he insists, attempting to guide you away from the tempting allure of more drinks.

however, in your intoxicated state, you resisted his efforts, misinterpreting his intentions, "oh, come on! live a little, stranger!" you playfully tease, unaware that fyodor was the person you were romantically involved with.

fyodor couldn't help but hide a small smile at your playful antics, though he inwardly feels a twinge of sadness at being referred to as a stranger, maintained his composure.

he observes you with a subtle sadness in his eyes, a fleeting emotion that betrayed the depth of his feelings. still, he wasn't one to give up easily.

with a gentle touch, he cupped your face, making you meet his gaze, "remember, i'm the one who cares deeply for you," he murmurs with a faint smile, his eyes staring in yours.

"i may be a stranger in this particular scenario, but i am not to you," fyodor replies softly, realizing that your drunken state was proving to be a barrier. yet, he didn't relent.

the realization began to dawn on you, your intoxicated mind slowly connecting the dots, "wait a minute... you care about me? really?"

fyodor nods, his eyes holding a mixture of hope and longing, "more than you can imagine."

you blink softly, still processing the situation through the haze of alcohol. before you could react, fyodor leaned in, pressing a soft and lingering kiss against your lips. the touch was tender yet filled with an unspoken depth of emotion, an attempt to bridge the gap that had momentarily separated you.

as the kiss unfolded, a subtle warmth spread through you, and the fog of intoxication seemed to lift momentarily. the taste of familiarity mingled with the hint of sadness, creating a poignant moment that transcended the blurred boundaries of the night. fyodor then pulls away, his gaze searching yours for any signs of recognition.

there was a pause, a moment of suspended realization. slowly, your eyes widened, and a spark of recognition flickered within them. "wait," you whisper, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and clarity as you smile. "you're not a stranger, only my fedya kisses me like that!"

a soft smile tugged at the corners of fyodor's lips as the weight of being called a stranger lifted. the kiss had served as a catalyst, a bridge that connected the fragments of memory scattered in the alcohol-induced haze.

"my, my, how could you forget your fedya, dear?" fyodor sighs, shaking his head before he kisses your lips again and whispers, "traitor.."

ꨄ˙ A.N.: i feel like i might have written fyodor in an ooc-ish way, and if i did, i apologize !! haven't written for him in so long and i don't write for him as often as dazai and chuuya. this is also kinda silly i think now that i've finished writing this lol !! thank you so much for reading until the end (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[star-centric]

Holly (Domestic Happiness) || Chuuya

MEANING: Holly represents the modern-day symbols of happiness, peace, and optimism at home. As the last birth flower of the year, it blends positivity of the festive holiday season with hope for the new year approaching.

A/N: I love picturing Chuuya’s domestic life, he deserves all the happiness in life 🧡 Reader is gender neutral!

❀ FLOWER SPECIAL MASTERLIST ❀

It wasn’t often that you would wake up next to Chuuya.

The differing hours between your occupations made it a bit difficult- his position as an Executive made him work odd hours while your regular office job had you gone from sunrise to sunset. You still made time to see one another in other ways, but it was hard to find yourselves next to one another when sleep called.

When you felt something warm stir beside you, you were surprised to find that it was your husband, soundly asleep. He looked so peaceful, ginger locks spilling onto the pillow below. You were both jealous and amazed at how he looked so beautiful without even trying.

When was the last time you saw him like this? It had to be during your honeymoon, right? That was months ago, and seeing him like this now had you reliving the moment all over again.

It was a small ceremony, some of your close family and friends at a venue far from Yokohama. Seeing him become so awed as you walked down the aisle, seeing the tips of his ears burn bright as he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. You remember how much your cheeks were hurting that day from saying I do all the way to the reception and more.

“What’s got you smilin’ so hard?”

Chuuya roused from under the sheets, voice raspy and filled with sleep. “Must be good if it got you up like this.”

“It is.” You chuckled, tangling your legs with his. Chuuya shot you the same tender look as when he first said I love you at the sound. His azure eyes softened, pulling you towards him.

“Mind telling me what’s it about?” He wrapped his arms across your waist, rolling on top of you and burying his face into the nape of your neck, pressing kisses against it. It left you tickled, laughing as you weakly attempted to push him away.

Being married hasn’t changed anything in your relationship- you still had the same playfulness like you did in the early stages. The only thing that changed was the promise of forever, which you could do with Chuuya.

“I’m surprised to see you off today.” You gave him a quick peck in the midst of his “attack.” “Do I get to have you to myself all day?”

“Not all day unfortunately, I gotta see the boss around nine.” Chuuya sighed, getting off of you but still keeping you in his arms.

“This morning?”

“Yeah, but it shouldn’t take long. I’ll take you to that cafe you’ve been wanting to try once I’m done.”

You slept in since today you were off, so if your husband was still here…

“Um, Chuuya-“ a quick glance at your phone on the nightstand proved your thoughts right. “It’s 10:30.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Chuuya shoot out the bed like he did, covers and pillows being flung to the floor. He snatched up his own phone, cursing at the missed calls and texts. He groaned, rubbing his hand over his face. It was funny to see him stressed like this since he was always so composed- you held in your laugh while you got up too, chills shooting through body as your feet touched the floor.

“I’ll make you some quick breakfast- just go get ready.”

It was stereotypical, sending him out the door with his meal in hand and a kiss (even if one kiss turned to two, then to three- he could never get enough).

But seeing the adoration in his eyes match the same shine as your wedding ring made it more than worth it.

[irazai]

nsfw.

undoing his tie blindly and clumsily while sitting on his lap and grinding against his bulge, moaning and trembling —

— because making out with dazai is always so arousing. he is leaning against the headboard of the bed, has you on his lap with one hand on the small of your back to guide you into circles on top of his clothed bulge. as he sucks your lip, kissing you with so much passion, using his other hand to force your mouth open and spitting in it.

— because making out with chuuya is so messy and rough. he is comfortably leaning against the headpost of the bed, you are on his lap and his hands are on your bare ass, helping you bounce on his clothed member. he is pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth, squishing your cheeks with his gloved hand to make your lips pout and then kissing and licking at them.

[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.

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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 ?

[osaemu]

hi! could you please write c,h & t for yandere chuuya ? 🩷

notes: kidnapping, objectification, suggestive themes, physical harm from implied sex, violence, blood (implied but not specified to be yours), implied noncon, heavily implied physical abuse

CRUELTY — how would they treat their darling once abducted? would they mock them? once chuuya has you in his grasp, the chance of you escaping is basically zero. chuuya takes his time making sure that you know that damn well. chuuya likes to have his fun with you after he's got you — he'll tease you for falling into his trap so easily, almost as if you wanted him to own you. chuuya's at work most of the time, and how he treats you when he gets home depends on how his day was. if he's had a good day, chuuya's mellow and amiable at night. if it's been an especially good day, he might even take you out to dinner. but oh, if chuuya has a bad day, you're in for a painful night. don't be surprised when you wake up the next morning covered in bruises and scratch marks.

HELL — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them? being a mafia executive, chuuya has no particular aversion to violence. in fact, he views it as a welcome way to settling problems if needed. that includes you. while chuuya is generally a reasonable person, all that flies out the window the second he's pushed a centimeter too far. next thing you know, blood's on the ground, your hair's a tangled mess in his gloved fingers, and the only words you can form with your swollen mouth are pleas for him to stop.

TEARS — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? chuuya finds it counterproductive. you're most likely doing it to try to get him to look at what he's doing to you in a humane way, but it has the opposite effect. your tears only encourage him to be far, far worse. "darling, don't cry, s' only gonna make this harder for you. you don't wanna get hurt, do ya? mhm, that's what i thought. let's put that pretty mouth of yours to use somewhere else, yeah?"

a/n: literally ignore the tears part idk what i was on when i wrote that — me 2 hours later

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[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.