#so:alternate

[nkhrchuwuya]

in defense

bungou stray dogs | T | 871 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

you and chuuya have dinner with your mother, but her temperament is as bad as it always is. chuuya won’t tolerate it. (chuuya ft. reader with a mother who denies their mental illness)

“what the fuck did you just say about them?!”

chuuya’s voice is the low rumbling of an engine, threatening to go faster than it ought to be. you stay seated, holding onto his wrist in an attempt to calm him down, the only thing preventing him from lunging at your holier-than-thou mother.

“chuuya, it’s fine…”

“no, they’ll hear me talk,” chuuya says, his voice softening just the tiniest bit when the words are addressed to you. “i won’t tolerate anything less than respect.”

your mother only holds her head up, a disparaging gesture if you’ve seen one. “might i remind you, young gentleman, that you are the visitors in my home?”

it all started when your mother had given you a call saying she was nearby. (you hadn’t wanted to pick up, and honestly with the way it’s shaping up, you wish you hadn’t answered the call at all.) she had invited you over for dinner at a place she was borrowing from a friend. she asked to see you. but she, more importantly, stressed, that “you should bring that boyfriend of yours.”

now, a part of you had deeply wanted to spare chuuya the trouble of having to meet your mother. he was already long aware of the way your mother belittled you and thought negatively of your own sufferings, no matter how much of it was caused by herself personally. but you’d answered the call (which basically meant a yes) and any chuuya-preserving desire of yours had been overridden by one emotion:

your fear.

fear of going alone. fear of having to face the brunt of whatever she had stored up her sleeves.

you couldn’t possibly go alone.

and chuuya knew that, so when you started off with “so my mother called, and…” he quickly interrupted with “i’m going with you.”

and now you’re here. in front of the dining table, most of the meal still untouched, your mother’s tongue as sharp as ever, and chuuya’s self-control hanging by a thread. he’s about to suckerpunch your mother and you know it.

“you don’t and you won’t want to know what i can do to you,” chuuya says, half under his breath to give your mother the chance to not hear it. but she hears it. you know he’s not beyond using his mafia connections if you’re involved. “so if i were you i’d take that bullshit you said back.”

“what, that my daughter’s faking mental illness for attention?” she says, scoffing. “she’s just fooled you, too! why the hell would she be sick?” turning to you, your mother makes a face that nearly makes you hurl. “manipulating me wasn’t enough for you, wasn’t it? you had to trick your little boyfriend about your poor sick brain so he would stay with you, is that it?”

“that’s not true!” you yell, unable to hold it back. but the tears—you hadn’t even noticed the tears—have made your voice shaky, and your rebuttal only ends up sounding like a plea. like please, love me, mama. a demand of a lost child for the misplaced affection of their mother.

chuuya wrenches his hand off of your grip—you hear the gentle sorry murmured your way—before he curls his hands on the table. “i’ve had enough of you.” with a flash of red, the table tilts a full 90 degrees and all the food promptly spills over your mother before the table crashes onto the ground. there’s an explosion of sound as plates break shrilly on the floor. something else creaks. you’re not sure what.

and the instinct to say sorry is there. to apologize for his behavior. but you see your mother drenched in soup and salad, shock in her face, and the feeling dissipates.

a smile rises to your face as chuuya takes your hand in his again to say “we’re going.”

when the door slams shut behind the two of you, it splits in half as it bounces, brittle, against the frame. your mother doesn’t get to say another word.

hopefully never again.

-

back at the penthouse, there is no better place to recover than being warm in chuuya’s arms.

chuuya insists on apologizing. “i didn’t mean to explode on her, but she just—”

“it’s okay,” you say, pressing closer against him. “i liked it. it was kind of hot.”

“it was kind of hot?” he chuckles. “you’re unbelievable.”

“no, you’re unbelievable.” you look up at him, catching the hints of guilt and yet defiance in his eyes. he thinks you deserved what he did for you—and while he’s apologetic, there’s no way in hell he’s changing his mind about it. so instead, you say, “thank you, chuuya. no one’s stood up for me as strongly as that before.”

“which is ridiculous.” chuuya brushes your hair aside to press a kiss on your forehead. “you were so strong to have survived her for so long. but she doesn’t have to be part of your life anymore.”

“i know.” you sneak back into the deep embrace, tucking your face against his chest. “especially now that i have you.”

“yes,” he assures, twirling a lock of your hair into place. “especially now that i’m here with you.”

[nkhrchuwuya]

knight to a princess

bungou stray dogs | G | 709 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

you finally confess to chuuya the existence of your little daughter. their first meeting goes well. (chuuya ft. single mom reader)

chuuya thought he was prepared.

you’re on your fifth amazing date with chuuya when you tell him “there’s something you have to know about me.” chuuya nervously fiddles with the longer end of his hair and tells you, “there’s something you have to know about me, too.” everyone has their secrets, and his career is heavier than usual, so he thought he’d be prepared to just casually take whatever it is you have to tell him.

until you tell him.

the night you discover that chuuya is part of the port mafia is that day he learns about your daughter.

strangely, you hold his secret like it is not acid and yet expect him to recoil at yours.

“it’s a long story, far too dreary for a nice night like this,” you say, thumb fiddling with the spoon and fork in your hands. “but i wanted you to know.”

chuuya smiles, a tender smile you’d never quite seen on him before. he puts his cutlery down and reaches out to place his hand over yours. “may i see her?”

taken aback, you ask, “like a picture?”

chuuya cocks his head to one side and your eyes widen.

-

chuuya shows up at your doorstep the next day with two bouquets of flowers—one of the ridiculous, sweepingly large ones he always gets you, and another that is much smaller.

a bouquet that would fit easily in a three-year-old’s arms.

“this is chuuya,” you say to your daughter, who is hiding behind your leg. “he’s… a special friend. he’s a good guy, baby.”

“hi chuuya,” the girl says, before offering her name.

chuuya crouches to get to her height, offering her the bouquet. “it’s nice to finally meet you, princess.”

with a giggle, your daughter takes the thornless roses and rushes to the sofa, mumbling about princes.

“sorry, the house is quite small,” you say, as you gesture chuuya in. he shakes his head as he takes his shoes off at the entrance. “i’ll get you some tea, yeah? you can wait in the living room.”

chuuya sits across your little girl, who hides behind the bouquet of roses she is fiddling with. she peers curiously at chuuya between the petals. when he doesn’t move, or strike, she puts down the bouquet onto the sofa and approaches him.

“why’s your hair like that?” she says, although it’s mostly a garble of sounds. it’s by some miracle that chuuya’s understood it. when she reaches up for the strands, chuuya bends down so she can run her fingers through the strands.

chuuya doesn’t really know how to answer the question, so he deflects. “do you like it?”

“pretty!” the girl confirms. “are you a princess?”

that makes chuuya sputter. “no,” he says. “you are. i’m a knight.”

“knight? whatsa knight?”

“well, he’s someone who protects the princess and the queen,” chuuya tries to explain. the little girl attempts to clamber over his lap at this moment, so he lifts her up with ease. she’s still fiddling with his hair. “he’s strong and brave.”

“mama’s a queen,” she says idly, still tugging at the strands. “she’s strong and brave.”

chuuya smiles. “sure is.”

as he sits there, the child lost in thought, chuuya imagines how difficult it must have been, raising a child nearly alone like this. any attraction he’d had for you has already doubled at this point, his confidence in your survival skills and determination growing by the second. and look at the beautiful young girl you have, too.

chuuya wants to protect what you’ve built.

“hey, princess,” chuuya says, catching the attention of the little girl. he puts out his pinky finger, and offers it to her. “can i make a promise to you?”

“promise what?” she asks, but offers her own pinky finger anyway, mirroring the gesture. chuuya intertwines their fingers together.

“that i’ll always protect you and your mama,” he says. “like a knight.”

your little girl’s eyes widen in delight. “like to a princess and queen?”

“yes, exactly like that.”

“you promise me, okay?” your daughter says, grinning, squeezing his finger.

(you watch quietly at the doorway, in awe, smiling to yourself.)

-

the next time chuuya comes, he brings along with him a full-sized dollhouse.

[nkhrchuwuya]

after thunderstorms

bungou stray dogs | G | 908 words  nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

breaking up with chuuya was the best option until it wasn’t. when he finds his way back to you, is your heart ready to open up for him again? (chuuya ft. exes to lovers)

in hindsight, of course this was exactly where this was going to go.

no rationalizing or emotional processing could have prepared you for this moment, in the middle of a thunderstorm, your heart thudding as hard as the rain outside…

chuuya, the man you once loved with all your heart and soul, standing outside your door.

he’s dressed casually, like he was on his way to pick up some tissues at the convenience store below his building when he’d decided to just run. he’s wearing a hoodie underneath a leather jacket, some black denim pants, his trusty boots.  

and he’s drenched, of course. head to toe soaking with the rain, and yet he just stands there, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking up at you with a slightly open mouth as if looking for words to say.

he looks into your eyes searching for something and a part of you deep inside hopes he finds it.

“come in,” you say, even if your throat is constricted. you’d rather not him have sick at your doorstep, after all. you make a gesture with your hands, but he does not move. just stares at you. “chuuya… you’re going to get drenched.”

“we’ve done worse to each other,” he finally utters. the sound of his voice after so long rips open a wound that you thought had long healed. it makes you look up and finally look him in the eyes, and you realize the tracks the rain have made on his face look like the were made of tears. something in you aches for him.

you shake your head. “i’m not doing this, chuuya. we’ve been through this.”

months have passed. gods, you’ve lost count already. one minute it was just a month and the next it’s been nine. ten now, has it been? when chuuya had brought you home at this exact doorstep and said, this is going to be our last date. i’m sorry. when chuuya had taken the heart you had given to him so gently and crushed it in his fists.

he was right. he was right and that’s what kept you going—he was right in saying that he couldn’t have any liabilities in his line of work. that he was doing this for your safety; that he’d rather you be alive and cared for in someone else’s arms than in his and yet in constant danger. you knew, with all rational thought, that he did the right thing in having dumped you.

yet he’s here again?

yet you open the door again?

you look at each other, waiting for the other to say something. holding chuuya’s gaze is painful. something in your gut scrambles and he looks like he’s in agony, too. you still don’t know what brought him here of all days. after so long.

deep inside, you know he is gauging if you’re going to take his words well. he’s always done that; always wanting to make sure he doesn’t hurt you with what he says. but you just want him to talk. you just want to hear him again.

you don’t know why.

“chuuya…” is all you manage to say, his name so heavy in your mouth.

but it breaks something between the two of you, and chuuya finally talks.

“there’s a dent in my heart where you used to be in it,” he says, final and absolute. “i wanted to see if you felt the same.”

a dent. a dent! that’s to underestimate it, what he’s left in your heart. a hollow like a black hole, eating you up from the inside out. you chuckle, full of self-pity. “a dent doesn’t cut it.”

“it doesn’t,” chuuya agrees. “what i’m saying is—there’s a part of my heart still molded in the shape of you. and i had to tell you.”

the pulsing of your heart feels too much now. “what do you want, chuuya?”

“you,” he says, so sure. his gaze on you is intense, gray eyes cloudy with pain and yet so clear. “it was a mistake. i shouldn’t have—i was willing to fight for ya. i still am. but i was a coward. maybe i still am. i don’t want to be anymore, which is why i’m here.”

take me back.

the words are left unsaid but hang heavily between the two of you.

take me back, if you want to.

“what happens… after?”

the question is vague but so was his supplication. but it does not matter. gravity keeps you both steady. you know your answer to his question before he’s even asked it.

“the same,” chuuya promises. “everything we did. everything we were—then better. i’ll do better. shape me up to be the man you deserve. i want to be the one that gets to love you.”

outside, the storm has slowed down, the leaves on trees now barely shaking, the road having a glassy sheen from the lightly pattering rain. inside chuuya is a chaos you know contrasts what is behind him.

when you reach out with a hand, he takes it, presses a kiss on your knuckles like he always has. his hands are cold. you want to warm them.

“you’re an idiot,” you say, using your held hands as leverage to pull him into the threshold, out of the rain. he laughs, oh, sound low and self-deprecating, but it is his laughter nonetheless.

“your idiot,” he says, looks up at you like begging for mercy.

“yeah,” you say, heart light. “yeah. my idiot.”

[nkhrchuwuya]

local specialty

bungou stray dogs | G | 902 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

longing for the food from your home, you decide to try cooking it up for yourself in the penthouse. you’re a little worried about how chuuya will react to it. (chuuya with an s/o who isn’t from japan)

“do you mind if i do something crazy for dinner?”

you ask, one hand on the phone and the other on the rail of the shopping cart. chuuya laughs from the other side of the line.

“you asked me to call so you can ask about dinner? stupid,” he cackles. “you know i’ll eat whatever you feed me.”

“hey!” you scoff. “i just wanted to make sure you’d have no complaints—i’m not cooking a separate meal for you, asshole.”

you can hear him grin through the phone. “yeah, yeah, sweet. cook up whatever you want. i love you. i’ll see you tonight.”

“take care, chuuya,” you say, and the call ends just after chuuya murmurs something about being embarrassingly domestic.

pocketing your phone, you push the cart into the store, listing the ingredients down in your head.

-

moving to yokohama was the most life-altering decision you’ve made in many ways. and you would not undo it even if you were offered a supernatural chance to.

but that doesn’t mean the nostalgia for the places you once called “home” entirely goes away.

you hum a melody from your early teens as the penthouse kitchen begins to fill with familiar scents and flavors. it’s like a part of you that rarely showed has burst clear to the surface and is now manifesting itself into a delicious meal.

would chuuya like it, you wondered, would he enjoy it, would he at least tolerate it? for a flash of a moment you daydream of bringing chuuya back home. how he’d stand out, what ways he’ll fit right in. would he delight in it? would he want to take part in it?

you hum happily, dreaming as you tend to the broth.

-

“i’m home—woah.”

chuuya watches, entranced, as you swiftly move to bring a serving bowl of something unfamiliar to the dining table. you sigh once you put the heavy plate down, smiling as chuuya wraps his arms around your waist.

“something crazy, huh?”

“not too crazy, i promise,” you laugh, and chuuya kisses your apron-clad shoulder.

“i’ll get dressed down, then let’s eat, yeah?”

“yeah.”

you fiddle with the spoons and forks—no chopsticks!—and shiver a little bit in fear as you set the table. wringing your hands around the apron as you hang it, you wonder if you should make something normal, something usual, something japanese just in case. but before you can pull out the salmon from the fridge, chuuya is already out the bedroom door.

“ready,” he grins, leaning against the doorway. you nod, following him to the dining table.

chuuya “oohs” at the dish as he sits down, inspecting it curiously. “looks delicious,” he remarks, as you take a seat across him.

“i didn’t have all the right ingredients,” you say, twiddling your fingers. “i had to make replacements… i mean, not out of lack of trying, i scoured the city’s specialty markets… i think it still tastes close enough, but—”

“baby,” chuuya coos, placing one hand on yours, unfurling your clenched fist. “relax. i know you gave it your all. come on, let’s taste it.”

you watch as chuuya eagerly scoops out a serving. you watch as the beef cuts jiggle in their softness as chuuya lifts them; leaving them to boil in the broth long enough has made it beautifully tender. another scoop, and he takes some soup, catching some of the vegetables—radishes, potatoes, string beans, cabbages. you wonder if you’d put enough fish sauce, staring closely as he fills his bowl.

your heartrate flats as he brings a spoonful of the dish to his mouth and—

his eyes widen as he chews a little more eagerly and—

“woah, that’s crazy good.”

“really?”

your voice a small squeak. chuuya goes for another mouthful, and something in you glows. you turn to your own plate and take a bite too, enjoying the explosion of such a homey flavor in your mouth.

“you should cook this more often, when—hey, what’s the waterworks for?”

chuuya gets out of his chair and embraces you. you’re not crying, not yet, but you feel the tears brimming around your lids. you sniffle against his shoulder as he pats your back.

“miss home?”

“a little, yeah,” you admit. “mostly… thought you wouldn’t like it.”

“why would—?” chuuya frowns. “you’re thinking of troublesome things again.” he sneaks a kiss to your lips, and you can taste the pepper in the broth when you do. “food’s great,” he says. “didja really think i’d find it weird? i’m not in the port mafia f’nothing, yanno? i’m used to unusual, to exotic, to unconventional.”

you smile. that makes chuuya smile.

“well, if you like the food so much, i wouldn’t mind cooking local specialties for you more often,” you say, and chuuya pumps his fist. “maybe even one day—”

“you better bring me home,” he finishes, a flush rising to your cheeks. “if food tastes this great where you’re from, why’re we holing up here in yokohama, no?” when you finally break into a laugh at his eagerness, chuuya grins. “there’s my angel. look, i’m really hungry—feed me a lil, won’t you?”

you pinch his nose and chuuya stumbles backward, cackling. he kisses you on your knuckles before he gets back on his chair, enthusiastically filling his mouth.

watching him eat, you think to yourself—well, he’ll fit right in.

[nkhrchuwuya]

ok so picture this ;) imagine Chuuya with a s/o who appears innocent and is genuinely innocent out in public when it comes to innuendos and stuff. very genuinely shy if they finally get it. but in bedroom they’re a bit of a monster and very attentive in bed when they get to the devil’s tango. they like to make sure both of themselves and chuuya’s needs are satisfied and met?

[ EXPLICIT CONTENT ]

oh boy, chuuya would definitely enjoy an s/o like this! i said this before but i really feel like chuuya is the type of person who enjoys the flavor of a secret, and knowing that his s/o has a side that only he gets to enjoy is something that will stroke his ego a lot.

he'll probably even go at length to keep "the facade" in front of, say, mutual friends. for example, if s/o takes a bit of time to get onto a raunchy joke, which leads to the inevitable "hah! you must have trouble getting them to do stuff in bed huh chuuya?" he will definitely go along with it. "yeah, such an innocent little angel, wouldn't want to taint them." (all the while s/o is pinching them under the table because they know exactly what he's doing!)

a fun thing to imagine is the first time chuuya ever gets to bed them, fully expecting he's dealing with some sort of virginal, naive soul, only to get jumped and taken care of so well he's glued to the bed afterward. imagine how red he'd get and how wide his eyes are as he watches the s/o crawl over to him and ask to suck him dry? priceless.

[nkhrchuwuya]

distance

bungou stray dogs | T | 822 words nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

the distance does not rattle chuuya’s attraction for the bewitching beauty he’s met at an international party. long-distance courtship is next on the table. (chuuya and s/o in a long distance relationship; first and second meeting)

“…a hundred miles away and you’re still right here in my heart.”

“my, that’s awfully romantic of you, nakahara. don’t tell me you write poetry about me, too?”

“hah! wouldn’t you like to know?”

the two of you met in passing; one high-ranking member of a dangerous organization to another. at an international party you both don’t remember save from that one dance—tipsy with champagne, the music slow, lights low—you’d exchanged names and numbers as was expected of you.

and then kept your eyes on each other all night.

chuuya does not have the courage to call you until he’s landed back in yokohama.

your name a secret on his lips, syllables under his breath. it is morning in your time when he calls; and late at night in his. somewhere deep in chuuya he knows this will never work, no matter how electric the room felt then.

but it works.

and when it does, chuuya pours his entire heart into it.

you know he is not calling on behalf of the port mafia. and you’d be damned if you answered for your organization as well. this isn’t—and hasn’t been about them. not since you’d stepped out of that party hall with chuuya’s warmth still burning where he had his hands on your waist.

this is about you.

and chuuya makes sure you know. he doesn’t let you forget.

“bewitched me, haven’t ya? can’t go a night without thinking of ya.”

you laugh. “i’ve barely laid my hands on you, sir.”

“and yet look what ya did to me.”

you think it’s better off this way—for it to burst into flames and fizzle and then die out. you wholeheartedly believe it will die out here, between raunchy calls of soft sighs and harsh breaths, talking of sweetness and slick and nearly tasting the sweat on his skin in your mind, the sound of him lighting a cigarette afterwards so vivid you can almost smell the smoke surround you where you are alone in your own bed, miles and miles away.

you’re ready for this to die in this way. for things to drift apart, like all things that are separated by distance tend to do.

not chuuya.

so when he’s called for an emergency trip back to where you live, his heart pounds desperately in his throat when he confirms the mission with his boss. when he asks to come a little bit earlier—no more than a week, a timeframe where the mafia won’t miss him too much—he is given a look that both chills and does not faze him.

“remember your loyalty to the port mafia,” he is told.

and he answers, “i know where my heart belongs.”

(it is port mafia first, but god damn, it is you second, third, fourth, fifth, all the way until infinity.)

then he goes public.

instead of taking the mafia’s private jets, he goes to haneda airport and books a first-class seat. he looks stupid in the carrying a giant bouquet of roses through customs and security checks, but they let him pass with only an odd glance in his direction.

he doesn’t call you. doesn’t send you a message, doesn’t give you any inkling that he’s coming.

and yet.

because your intel is just as good as his, you greet him at your local airport, already dressed perfectly for the dinner date he’d been imagining, jet lag be damned.

“there’s my little witch,” he says, grinning. the flowers come first; you take them in your arms and smile widely at them and chuuya has to step back a little to recover from the fact that he can see you react in real-time.

you smirk at him. “you could have gotten caught, mafia boy,” you tease, referring to his little publicity stunt. god knows how many operatives are after him in yokohama alone.

“woulda been a shame if ya didn’t catch me,” chuuya says with a shrug, like it hadn’t meant anything at all.

he takes one step closer to you, and you think he will reach for your face—like he always threatened to do, when you called him to take you in public, to punish you and discipline you until you’ve stopped being a little brat—but instead he takes your free hand. like a gentleman, he presses a kiss on the back of your hand and smiles tenderly at you.

there’s only so much video calls and modern technology can communicate of a person, because by god, has it been months and months, but you still weren’t prepared for the effect of one smile of his could do to you.

“hotel then dinner?” he offers, and you tangle your connected hands so you can walk him to the private limousine you’d already prepared for the both of you.

“hotel then dinner,” you confirm. with a smile, you add: “and then perhaps you may have dessert.”

[nkhrchuwuya]

between friends

bungou stray dogs | G | 963 words nakahara chuuya x reader/oc

the world is so entrenched in courtship and flirtation, an experience you feel a disconnect with. chuuya shows you that love isn’t always just about romance. (chuuya ft. aroace reader ft. platonic cuddles)

you bid goodbye to your friend at the end of your little lunch date, on account of having another appointment. after lunch, you’re supposed to meet with chuuya, who’s agreed to help you out in something you’re working on.

but before you can go, your friend laughs a small, pitying laugh in your direction, one that makes your heart stop in your chest before she can even utter the words.

“what a waste that you’re aroace when you have that nakahara guy all over you. if i were you i’d ask for a ring already. ahh, how cruel life can be.”

something ugly sits in your chest afterwards.

-

and then, when you’d finally met, they’d mistaken the both of you for dating again.

today, they’d mistaken the both of you for dating for again.

“they” meaning the retail worker at the fancy wine shop chuuya had brought you to today. a side-trip in exchange for helping you out on a little pet project you’d been working on.

“oh, we’ve got the best wines if you’re planning a romantic candlelit date. right here we have—”

“not a date,” you cut the worker at the shop off. things like these don’t make you too uncomfortable anymore, but the expectation that everything done by two people is for a couple is still quite a sting. “he’s my friend.”

chuuya looks like he wants to hold your hand and squeeze it, but knowing it’ll just make them misunderstand more, he decides to divert attention to himself instead.

“i’m looking for a wine with structure, something with a long finish…”

the employee looks you up and down once before turning to chuuya, and the weight of his stare leaves you curling in on yourself the entire afternoon.

-

“this better be good stuff,” chuuya hums to himself, as he plucks the wine glasses out of the cabinet you keep them in at your little home. “it didn’t cost much, but did he tattle off while recommending it, so if it doesn’t keep up to standard…”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, settling on the couch, a pillow against your chest. the feeling from the wine shop still hangs over your bones, and when chuuya brings over to the living room the two filled glasses of wine, the feeling only returns.

“dude at the shop get to ya?” he asks, placing your glass on the coffee table as he sits next to you. he swirls the wine languidly in its glass, waiting for you to answer.

you shake your head. “i was worried about you, actually.”

“me?” chuuya blinks. “think that pipsqueak can do anything to me?”

“not that, silly,” you correct, peeping out from behind the pillow to gently knock him with your knee. “like, aren’t you going to get into a relationship?”

chuuya pauses for a moment, as if letting your question sink in. you dread the silence that follows. you pick up the full wine glass and take a luxurious swig of it instead.

“woah, that actually tastes good,” you say idly, hoping to shift the conversation.

but then a sour expression crosses chuuya’s face. like he’s connected the dots. “you’re worried being friends with ya will stop me from getting someone?”

you laugh at the accidental implication in that sentence. “awfully confident of you, chuuya.”

“don’t change the subject,” he frowns. “ya get what i mean.” he takes a sip of his wine too, and you watch him closely.

chuuya is an attractive man. he’s rich, he’s powerful, he’s strong, he’s a gentleman (when it matters), and he’s got an aura around him that’s magnetic. sure, you’re aroace, but you can recognize that in him at least.

surely he deserves better than being stuck with people thinking he’s with someone like you?

maybe your friend was right.

before you can get a word out, chuuya has pinched your cheek from across the sofa, making you yelp. he doesn’t let go until you’re hitting his wrist with your hand, to which he shakes his head.

“tell me what’s bothering ya so i can help ya.”

“this is a waste of time,” you say faintly. “aren’t you better off spending time with someone who can love you back?”

that makes chuuya’s eyes widen. “ya sayin’ you don’t give a shit about me now?”

“what?” you shake your head. “of course not! you’re my dear friend. i care about you.”

“then what’s this nonsense about not loving me back?” he says. a grin fills his face, one so silly it makes you smile too. “dunno about you, that seems like love to me. friendly love.”

you laugh. “since when did you become such a philosopher about love, huh?”

“right when it’s needed,” he grins. he puts down the half-empty glass of wine, and then, reclining on the sofa, opens his arms wide for you to snuggle into.

you put your wine glass down too and accept his embrace. you settle your ear against his chest, where you hear the even beat of his heart. he begins to run his hand slowly down the locks of your hair; a comforting motion that you’re sure will lull you to sleep.

“we have to get working soon,” you say, even if your eyes are already closed.

chuuya pinches your arm lightly. “rest first. we’ll get on with it when we wake up.”

you take a long, deep breath. not a lot of people will understand how you experience the world, and many of them will continue to refuse to see it through your eyes.

but you’ve got chuuya on your side.

“thanks for being cool about… me,” you say, surrendering to the drowsiness. chuuya laughs, and pats your hand gently with his.

he squeezes you tighter in the embrace. “stupid.”

[nkhrchuwuya]

(im)patiently waiting

bungou stray dogs | mildly E | 663 words nakahara chuuya x reader / oc

chuuya with an s/o saving themself for until after marriage. except, because life is like that, you end up walking in on him trying to... relieve his needs.

“fuck, baby!”

the syllables of your name a decadent sound on his lips. your hand hovers over the doorknob of the slightly ajar bedroom door, your heart suddenly pumping at what feels like a thousand beats per minute.

you did not, apparently, come home at the best time.

when you’d first told chuuya you were saving yourself for until after marriage, his face faltered with the slightest dismay before settling to his usual understanding smile. you’d felt guilt about that ever since, plaguing the back of your mind, and now—

“god, shit!” chuuya slurs again, and to that you gasp loudly, cheeks all red.

you’re about to turn around and just hide in the living room when—

“wait—shit, baby?”

the crisper sound of chuuya’s voice only then alerts you that, in your shock, you’d actually pushed the door open a little more, letting you and your boyfriend make tentative eye contact from six feet away. you take in what he looks like; his dress shirt rumpled in places; his pants pooled by his feet; his damp, sweaty expression…

his pretty, rock-hard dick in his hand.

“sorry!” you yell, suddenly aware that you are, in fact, staring. “i’ll be—i’ll be in the living room!”

and with that, you dash back into the hall, slamming the door shut.

-

you hear his footsteps before he announces his presence. your heart is still a loud drum in your ears. the sofa sinks where chuuya sits next to you.

you scramble to fill the silence. “f-feeling better now?”

“stupid,” chuuya snorts. “why are you asking me that?”

then nothing, for a moment. you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, because it’s basically rocking your frame. you hadn’t meant to interrupt him—hadn’t meant to be so imposing, and you weren’t opposed to him doing what he wants, thinking of what he wants while he—even if he’s thinking of you, but—

“i’m sorry,” chuuya finally says. “i didn’t think you’d be home early. i didn’t— i don’t want you to be uncomfortable, i just—”

“i know,” you answer, turning to face chuuya finally, despite your nerves. his gray eyes are heavy with guilt. you vaguely wonder if yours look the same. “look… my situation doesn’t change the fact that you have, err, very normal, very human needs,” you say, blushing. “i’m… well, consider me flattered i’m at least in your thoughts.”

chuuya smirks. “oh really? can’t let that get to your head.”

you take a look at him carefully. he’s joking with you now, but you can still feel his unease. you reach out to place your hand on his, careful not to touch his thigh—because, well, everything feels so sensitive right now, the air zapping with electricity.

it’s the first time you’re touching him since … well, that, and it suddenly comes to you how warm and firm chuuya feels under your touch, ever there, ever reliable.

“hey,” you smile. “really, you don’t have to feel guilty.”

“it was inappropriate,” he says, the syllables of the last word rolling out slowly. guiltily.

“what, no!” you deny. “i’m the one who walked in on you, remember?”

chuuya looks up at you with wary eyes. “you don’t feel disrespected that i—”

“chuuya,” you smile. “i’m already making you wait. the fact that you respect that enough to just deal with it yourself—”

“like any good man ought to.”

“—is already everything to me,” you finish. “look, what about we talk about this over tea, yeah?”

he blinks. “talk about what?”

you squeeze his hand in yours. “us,” you say, cupping his cheek with your free hand. “set boundaries, clear up that… that guilt of yours—you know, mature relationship stuff?” you grin. “i love you, chuuya. and i want to keep you, so let’s talk, yeah?”

he turns his face ever so slightly to press a kiss on your palm, the smile finally back on his face. “you’re the best.”

[nkhrchuwuya]

Do you think Chuuya finds girls with belly button piercings attractive or no?

hey dearie! i know you sent a follow-up ask saying i can disregard this but i really wanted to answer it so i hope it's okay 😅

idk if you get the same sense, but i always feel like chuuya likes the "flavor" of a secret. an s/o with a hidden belly button piercing (or, really, anything that doesn't show except when bared to him, like a tattoo, or an interesting scar or birthmark) will be extremely attractive, inherently because of the fact that it's hidden away. something only for him to enjoy- the "flavor" of the secret knowledge sweet in his mouth.

it's just such a chuuya thing to me, you know? hahaha

[nkhrchuwuya]

Imagine if virgin s/o waits till marriage to do the devils tango . Chuuya knows about this because like once they were making out and then before when Chuuya asked if they wanted to have sex for the first time (so he can show her how much he loves her 😭❤️) she was like “cant do this cause Im waiting till marriage😩” (but either way it will be soon cause Chuuya is planning to propose to this women I tell you, he’s just so in love and so damn whipped for her❤️ [obviously proposing cause he loves her and not for sex])

and then one day she walks in to Chuuya masturbating in their bedroom and moaning her name and she like closes the door and yells sorry 😭 I feel like Chuuya would be so embarrassed and then tease her about her flustered statement and then just end up cuddling with her on the couch or in the bed☺️

ok, personal thoughts: chuuya would definitely be super understanding to his s/o's boundaries for sure- but that just means he might be overextending himself for their comfort. i imagine for the first few weeks after knowing this he'll be so uneasy even thinking sexual thoughts about you bc he knows you're waiting and well... he's kinda impatient (but he won't let that get to him). i don't think it'll be too much to imagine he even refuses to "let out some steam" anywhere except the pm hq because he doesn't want to bother you with his own sexual thoughts.

if you do catch him though he'll be mortified!! he might think you might think he's disgusting or unbearable and it'll just be an awkward mess. talk to him alright? he'll tease you but you'll need to ease him out of it as well.

so at the end of the day, please reach out to him and measure your boundaries so that he doesn't end up curling himself into his fist ok? maybe you're ok with giving but not receiving. maybe oral is ok. heck, maybe just tell him it's ok and he'll stop stressing over it.

and sweet, i was going to write something short to put up with this ask but it ended up a little too long so i'll just be posting it as a drabble in the next few days 😂 watch out for it ok?

[nkhrchuwuya]

Omg ty for answering my ask!! The s/o waiting till marriage. Yes Chuuya would def respect their boundaries!! I can only imagine this scenario happening if s/o was coming home late from work and he didn’t think they would be so close to home or if he was in his office like you said because he wouldn’t wanna initiate anything sexual with his s/o AT ALL because yk boundaries, but sometimes he can’t stop them fantasies about his s/o getting to his head so he would have to do something about it when he’s alone (obviously s/o not being near him) 😭😭❤️ BUT I AGREE WITH HIS EXPRESSION/FEEINGS THAT MAN WOULD FEEL MORTIFIED IF S/O WALKED IN 💀 and yeah those two would definitely talk about it (probs s/o reassuring him that it’s okay).

omg of course! i would never purposefully ignore an ask (unless it's hateful or whatever, those will get chucked) so send them in all you want~ seeing activity in my inbox makes me rather happy, you know?

i already wrote up something (coming tomorrow 👀) so it would be repetitive to write it down again here, but i had a funny thought last night that i thought i'd share:

chuuya probably has extra... extra normal fantasies about his s/o after learning about the entire "saving for marriage" thing. like, maybe before he had kind of kinky shit going on but now holy shit does he now just want to worship the fuck out of that body and let them know he loves them. wouldn't put it past him to go full-on victorian man when his needs are at their highest. flash him a peek of a thigh and he's trembling. collarbone peeking under your shirt? don't mind if he just takes a moment.

wouldn't be so surprised if plain old chuuya just likes stuff like (slightly degrading) dirty talk and tying you up and maybe sensory deprivation but this chuuya? vanilla as hell until you coax him out of that shell of his.

just: chuuya being so whipped it becomes so out of character for him is such an adorable thought. please let him jack off in peace and tell him it's ok bc otherwise you are going to ruin his sanity just by smiling.

[nkhrchuwuya]

How do you think Chuuya would deal with having a s/o coworker who he accidentally made cry on the first day they met, (Chuuya’s not very good at first impressions), but the coworker tries to make things work the next day and talks to him on an even level and works towards making their work relationship better. S/o seemed like they were going to be an over dramatic crybaby when they first met, but they’re actually really reasonable, honest, rational and soft spoken and make a great team together, they just had a rocky start?

hey hey hey! nice to meet you, welcome to the blog~

okay so i'm guessing they're not yet s/o's at this point, right, so they've just met?

if the s/o can have the confidence (and i mean confidence, they can't just come up to him shaking or whatever, the way they hold themselves up is very important) to come up to him the next day and somehow apologize / explain away what happened (something like, "i was so overwhelmed and hadn't meant to cry" or "you hadn't meant to make me cry, i understand that") chuuya would be able to see them in a better light.

confidence. they better own up to those tears.

chuuya doesn't make good impressions but his first impressions of people aren't that sticky either, so if they can revise it chuuya is willing to give them a second chance. he's still an executive, after all; he knows the mafia has no space for "weaklings" who cannot have the composure to not burst into tears at the sight of something stressful.

so yeah! come up to him with confidence and he'll let them redo their introductions. (and he'll be so thankful he did let them, by the time they're actually dating! lol)