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catsandgoodbooks · 6 months

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So. Punz and George. They're both very much defined by their relationships with Dream, probably more than anyone else on the server. It's hard to talk about Punz without bringing up Dream, and it's hard to talk about George without referencing him either. They have lives, of course, but Dream is always at the forefront of their minds. Punz spent a whole year of their life just waiting for Dream's escape; George dreams away the days even after the jailbreak in a fantasy world of his imagination where everything is perfect and he can be with Dream.

But they don't really have a relationship. They don't talk, especially not about Dream, because that would show that they cared, and George is trying to deny that to himself after the dethronement and Punz cannot allow anyone to consider even for a moment that they are on Dream's side or it was all for nothing. So the relationship they do have, weak and distant as it is, is based on bitterness and perceived betrayals and envy.

George doesn't really think about Punz much. If he did, he'd had to think about Dream, and not his Dream, not the Dream that exists only in his dreams now, but the actual, real Dream. The Dream who dethroned him without a second glance. The Dream he abandoned. The Dream locked away in an obsidian prison, rotting away as George sleeps. And George doesn't want to think about Punz. Not when it pulls him out of his dreams and makes him think about Dream.

When he does think about Punz, though, he's not exactly a fan of them. They betrayed Dream; undeniably, inexcusably, they did. They had his trust, and they threw it away for a little extra bit of money. George would never do something like that. Dream left first, after all. Dethroned George first and told him he didn't care what happened to him. Dream never did that to Punz.

And that's important. Dream never turned against Punz; they were the one who chose to betray him. Dream never quite trusted George the same way he did with Punz, and, in the period leading up to the dethronement, he let George in on less and less of his plans, grew closer and closer to his mercenary. George told himself it was because Dream wanted to keep him safe. After the dethronement, he accepted the fact that Dream just didn't care about him anymore, and that it had been a sign of that.

George tells himself that if he had been in the situation as Punz, if Dream trusted him, he would of never done what they did.

Punz...doesn't have a great opinion of George, to tell the truth. They might of pretended to betray Dream, but George (and Sapnap, and everyone who was there and just watched it happen) is the one who actually did. George left. He left and didn't come back, didn't even show up for the arrest/execution (because that's what it really was, an execution, no use dancing around it). He didn't even go visit Dream in Pandora's Vault, even when he had every chance to, even when he didn't have a plan dictating that he absolutely could not do that. Not like Punz did.

Unreliable. Untrustworthy. Uncaring. Those are the nicest words for what George is, at least to Punz. Dream died, twice, and George was nowhere to be found. Just because Dream had been trying to keep him safe. To make sure people didn't try to target George to hurt Dream. And George just left, like that was an option in this game they were all playing, that none of them save Wilbur had chosen to play, like you could just throw up your hands and say "okay, that's it, I'm done" and leave with immunity, taking everything you've done with you. That wasn't how the world worked. And it didn't matter if George understood that or not, because it still hurt Dream, and that was what was important. Because what George did was a betrayal, and because they were already familiar enough with that to know how bitter it tasted. Because Punz had to constantly pretend and reap what they had sown and deal with this betrayal they had committed - not the one they were infamous for but the one in their heart and their brain and the way people looked at them and laughed with them and the way they had agreed to the plan and let Dream die and the sneaking suspicion they had, growing louder every day, that something had gone wrong and that they had to do something about it but that too would be a betrayal - but George didn't, just because he had been there earlier and knew some people longer. Because people trusted him more and he didn't have to prove how reliable he was and how much he hated Dream and all that.

And because George had Dream's love in a way Punz never could. Dream loved too freely, that much was true, but he flinches at every motion Punz that was a little too fast, a little too sudden, and makes sure to call everything a business arrangement, makes sure they're mercenary and client, makes sure to suppress any little trace of attachment that could get either of them hurt. And, even now, even after George has gone and left, Dream still loves George; Punz isn't too blind to reality to miss it. And they had kinder days together, back before everything went wrong; there were no kinder days for Punz, and there never had been.

Despite everything, they're two sides of the same coin: wishing for something that is no longer reachable, no longer possible, because things have changed and because people have changed. Because Dream has changed, partially due to the decisions they made, and there isn't anything they can do to go back to how it was. Not truly.

And neither of them really care about anything or anyone else. They're not here to fight for ideals or morals, they just want to keep the people they love safe and away from the people who would want to hurt them. They are willing to kill for it, but, because of who Dream is, and because that would put them in danger, they can't. They're not allowed to, explicitly in Punz's case, implicitly by Dream pushing George away. Because Dream wants to keep the people he cares about safe, and that can't happen if it looks like he cares about them or vice versa.

(It's only okay if Dream's the one getting hurt, after all)

#punz was raised in the middle of a warzone and became a mercenary in order to survive and get the hell out of #there #back on my bullshit #yes yes i will talk about sapnap (in conjunction with punz) someday #right now it's george time #ranty rant rant #sorry if i got stuff wrong i am so tired right now and finals are coming up #also just me inserting my headcanon #just cause #dsmp #c!george #c!punz #c!dream #dnf #drunz #who would have guessed it #my writing #long post

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waterfallofspace · 8 months

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A Game Of Chess

When D/azai starts a game with C/huuya, he wins it. But will round two turn out differently, or will the King claim his Pawn once more?

So the wonderful @onetrickponi requested something from b/sd with ~this post~ as the inspiration.

I decided to go with S/oukoku, so here's a little two-part game of chess, two different situations where this phrase may occur.

Characters: C/huuya, D/azai and A/kutagawa (briefly over the phone) Word Count, Total: 4.8k Part One, Check: 2.3k Part Two, Mate: 2.4k

(CW: Swearing, sexual themes, character with the kink. No technical smut action happens, but it's quite heavily implied!)

~~~ Check ~~~

Ask anyone in the Port Mafia, and they’re sure to agree; Chuuya is a force to be reckoned with. One that, most will add, shouldn’t be reckoned with. And yet, he’s neither the king of the Port Mafia chess army, nor the queen.

“Instead,” Dazai continues, taking pride in the pronounced groan from the couch next to him. Seems his talents have been wasted preparing mere witty retorts. A long drawn out monologue serves to coax an entirely new type of annoyance. “You’re more of a pawn. A mighty pawn! But, a pawn nonetheless.”

“Watch it, you may be able to stop gravity manipulation, but you aren’t immune to other forms of violence.” Chuuya growls, hat sliding forward as he springs to his feet. He corrects it with a single hand, the other glove waving in frantic, yet meaningless, patterns.

“Oh Chuuya, you have something planned? I knew you cared! See, I’ve been planning ways to bring you down a peg,” Dazai pauses to meet Chuuya’s rolling eyes with a wink, “for years now.”

“What a load of-”

“And yet, here I was thinking you didn’t care enough to do the same!” He pauses again, feigning hurt with a hand draped over his forehead in a gesture that can only be described as dramatic. A word often associated with the heart-of-gold, soul-of-grey, detective. “But it turns out I was wrong, Chuuya always car-”

“AHK’SHHaa! Christ.”

Chuuya cracks a grin behind his fist as the outburst nearly knocks Dazai off the counter he’d placed himself on. An onlooker would assume it was the ferocity of the sternutation, perhaps the volume. It wouldn’t be an unfounded guess. Chuuya’s not exactly one for subtlety, although he’d like to believe he can control them when needed.

They’d be wrong.

Being used to gunshots, like he is, the volume was practically nothing. Surprise could be another assumption, though it would once again be incorrect. While Dazai didn’t see it coming, he’s never been one to jump at unforeseen circumstances. It’s simply not his nature.

And besides-

“AESHH’ah!”

-despite seeing Chuuya’s nose twitch, his brows furrow, and hearing the gasp catch in his throat, Dazai’s whole body trembles once more in time with the sneeze.

“Oh dear, Chuuya will wake the neighbours at this rate!”

It’s a bluff, and they both know it. A well thought out maneuver, disguised as a simple taunt. Meant to control the situation, a strategic move, like a chess piece gliding across the board.

“AKSHH’iuh!” Chuuya straightens up, glove still pressed to his nose. There’s a beat of silence, Dazai’s annoyance monologue temporarily paused. He seems at a loss for words, breath coming a little quicker than a moment ago.

Unfortunately Chuuya doesn’t get to revel in it for long, the shift in his sinuses presenting an urgent distraction. “Pass the tissues, would ya?”

Without a word, Dazai drops from the counter. As his footsteps fade off into the kitchen, Chuuya allows himself a single heady sniffle. As expected, it’s deeply irritating, both in noise and reaction. The itch that’s been taking its time spreading through his face suddenly hones in on his nose, increasing with every shaky breath.

“AESHHiew! AKZSHH’aa! Oh Christ… hiH– AMFSHH!”

Using his gloves isn’t exactly what Chuuya had intended, but hell. It’s better than aiming at the floor. Much as he may enjoy Dazai’s reaction to that display, the other detectives don’t deserve such indecencies.

“EMSFHHh!” Not to mention, the improperness of the act is more Dazai’s particular brand of infuriating. “Speaking of the asshole, when is… AEMFSH’ah! mon dieu. When is that bastard gonna get ba-”

“Talking to yourself, one of the first signs of insanity, Chuuya.” Dazai calls, a smirk dancing across his face as Chuuya jumps.

“The first sign of insanity is- hH’AKZSH’aa!” He manages to duck to the side, wheeling back around with a glare. “Is the fact I’m wasting my breath talking to you.”

“Oh dear, was that supposed to be a comeback? It lacks a bit of the wit a good retort should possess.” Dazai mocks, a smile dripping of bitter humour crossing his cheeks. “Seems Chuuya’s tongue isn’t quite as fierce as his glare.” And with that, Dazai leans against the wall, a tissue box still in his hand.

In the time it had taken for him to walk to the supply closet and back, his entire demeanor had shifted. As simple as changing clothes, he’d replaced the off balance vulnerability with a controlled posture of dominance.

Still trapped behind his hand, Chuuya finds his knees starting to weaken. It was clear what direction this interaction would be taking. While it wasn’t something he’d planned, it was certainly welcome nonetheless.

“Well are you gonna hand them over or what?” Chuuya replies, a snarl creeping along his lip as his nose threatens to retaliate against the delay. Despite being pressed against the fabric lining his hand, it seems desperate for further relief.

“Perhaps.”

“Then hurry up, you bastard. I… hh– I hhhave to… hhAHh–”

Dazai lunges forward, the movement sudden enough to trigger a fight or flight response. It takes every ounce of Chuuya’s willpower not to lash out as Dazai, in one fluid motion, grabs onto his wrist and pulls it away from his face.

“Not yet,” Dazai hums, eyes alight. It seems the games have begun; with Chuuya at a deeply itchy disadvantage. Already down his queen by the second move.

Dazai's been careful to avoid Chuuya’s bare skin, despite his ability working quite easily through clothing. It’s a hint to the nature of the game they’re playing. Each move will be calculated, each touch laced with intention.

“aEHh–” Chuuya manages to starve it off with a sharp exhale, his body rapidly beginning to tremble as the power seeps from his veins into Dazai’s grip.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant feeling, some wouldn’t even notice. It’s not like the action of removing the gift has a sensation, it’s more… the lack of sensation as the power drains away. To someone like Chuuya, who almost constantly maintains a slight flow of their gift, it’s hard to miss.

“Not as vocal,” comes the next command, Dazai’s grip loosening enough for one finger to trail down Chuuya’s arm, reaching the bare skin between his sleeve and his glove. The touch is cold, a gasp nearly escaping Chuuya’s tightened lips.

“It’s nhehh– not gonna be easy,” Chuuya lets his eyes shut for just a second, savouring the sweet relief that the false depiction of privacy offers. The promise that when they open again, he’ll be free to release every itch.

Dazai breaks the spell in a single move, the relief quickly replaced with overwhelming irritation. Chuuya’s eyes fall open in time with his mouth as he finds Dazai’s chocolate gaze awaiting his arrival. Nose still pressed against his, the smirk Dazai’s wearing is felt, more than seen.

“My my, Chuuya. Your nose is so warm!” Dazai coos, leaning back to demonstrate by running a finger against his own nose, then back over to Chuuya’s. Biting his lip is the only way Chuuya keeps from moaning. Even Dazai touching his own nose seems to tickle.

“hiEHh– D-Dazai…”

“And,” Dazai continues, Chuuya’s breath catching in his throat. “It’s practically quivering. Chuuya must need to sneeze something awful. I wonder what could be causing this? Hmm, let’s see…”

Trailing off, Dazai lets his eyes scan the room. It’s for dramatic effect, he already knows. There’s no doubt he’s known since the moment Chuuya walked in. It’s unlikely he planned for it, considering the earlier reaction, but there’s no question he caught on fast.

The distraction gives Chuuya enough time to scrunch his nose, a desperate attempt to satiate the ever deepening urge. The action has quite the opposite effect however, a moan slipping past Chuuya’s tongue before he can catch it.

“What was that, Chuuya?” Dazai hums, the action blowing a soft wind against Chuuya’s nose. It nearly tips the scales, only a frantic clench of the jaw allows him to control the burning need. His nostrils flare greedily, aching for another touch, something to give them the ability to overpower his will.

“I’m… I’m gohhnna sneeze-” Chuuya manages to gasp out, his lips parting in a snarl, breath starting to come faster, chest beginning to tighten with his eyes–

“Did I say you could?”

And just like that, the reaction stalls. A tear slides down his cheek, Chuuya nearly whining as Dazai’s cold touch wipes it away, a finger brushing the bridge of his nose. It feels as if his entire face is lit up, the flush on the tips of his ears beginning to match his nose.

“I dohh… don’t think I… I caahhh– hEDT! I can’t…” More stutters fall out, each word only delaying the inevitable. The sneeze is coming, and despite his best efforts, Chuuya knows there’s no fighting it. Not anymore.

“No.”

And still, somehow, despite the overwhelming desire, the unavoidable trembling, the greedy flaring, Chuuya feels his teeth clench. That command was firm, undeniable, and direct. He is not allowed to sneeze.

Words die on his tongue, even the idea of parting his lips leaves him breathless. Once he allows a touch of air through, there will be more than words spilling out. Determined to maintain composure, he feels the world start to slip into a light fog.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dazai hums, giving Chuuya’s wrist a light squeeze. With a poorly contained gasp, Chuuya begins to pant. “You didn’t even notice, did you?”

Chuuya answers in the form of a watery glare, still too itchy to risk words. Dazai’s fingers relax, dropping Chuuya’s wrist. Without a second thought, Chuuya raises it back to his nose, moaning at the relief the harsh touch offers.

“AESH’NGKT! Merde-”

His other hand quickly slips to his face, only managing to half-stifle the sudden burst. The allergic tears lining his eyes begin to pour over, his nose greedy for a full release. If anything, the stifle only served to make it worse.

“I don’t believe I gave you permission for that,” Dazai starts, fingers beginning to trace up Chuuya’s neck, wrapping around his choker. Chuuya’s teeth pierce into his lip, knees weakening once more. “Though, maybe I’ll allow it. Seems it didn’t do anything to relieve that miserable tickle. I’ll even allow one more!”

Without a second thought, Chuuya lets Dazai pull his head closer, aiming for a bandaged shoulder as the– “ANGKT!” brings him a moment of relief. From his position against Dazai’s chest, Chuuya lets a smirk flash across his features. Elevated pulse, body trembling in time with each gasp Chuuya takes.

“I’m being awfully generous here, don’t you think Chuuya?” Dazai purrs, eyes beginning to dance once more as he pushes Chuuya back against the wall, releasing his grasp. “I think you should thank me.”

From behind his wrist, Chuuya freezes. If he attempts to speak, he won’t be able to hold it back. The dam already broke, the stubborn power of sheer will is fending off the waves. Dazai should know that too… which means this is an indirect invitation to…

“hieHh–!”

…or a test. One that letting himself go would immediately fail. Studying Dazai’s expression, Chuuya attempts to navigate his response. The choice is quickly made for him, as Dazai leans forward with a wink. Shivers race down Chuuya’s spine as he feels the breath against his ear.

“You’ve been quite obedient. Feel free to indulge your own desires now.”

“AESHH! AK’SHHAA!” The double breaks free with a growl that leaves Dazai trembling almost as hard as Chuuya. Another follows on its heels, then a second, third, fourth, the fit continuing as Dazai’s lip begins to match Chuuya’s.

“ASHH’aa! Cahhn’t stahh… stop– hH’AEMFSH!”

A hint of concern passes through Dazai’s eyes as the fit doesn’t seem to let up. “Are you–”

“AESHHiew! A bid idtchASHH! Idtchy. ADSHH’iuh!”

“I can see that, or shall I say hear that,” Dazai replies, making a show of covering his ears with a teasing wince. “Might be the last thing I ever get to hear!”

“Is thad a… ahh– ADTCHh! AESHH’aa! Is thad a complimedt?” Chuuya taunts, pausing to grab a handful of the tissues he’d nearly forgotten about. With a harsh blow, a moan slips out after it. The action lets air flow through his nose once more. “AECHH!” Which of course only serves to agitate it further.

Dazai rolls his eyes with a smirk, hand finding his way to Chuuya’s thigh. “Only Chibi would think saying someone’s loud is a compliment.”

“Only you would mean it as one. ASHH’iuh! Fucking Christ.”

“Switching to English?” Dazai nearly growls, voice lowering with each desperate sneeze. “Is it already that intense?”

In lieu of a response, Chuuya guides Dazai’s hand up from his thigh, letting the cool fingers brush his warm nose. The touch is excruciating, his chest heaving as he attempts to hold back long enough to get out, “Feel fehh… for yo- hAHhh– for yoursehhhlf.”

Dazai takes the invitation, tracing each flaring nostril with his index finger, eyes beginning to gloss over nearly as much as Chuuya’s. His breath begins to fall in sync, both of them starting to pant. “Seems so,” Dazai manages to choke out, legs beginning to tremble once more.

“hH’ASHH! AESCSHH! yeASHH’iuh! YESHH’shaa!”

Unable to fight it any longer, Dazai leans forward and pulls Chuuya into a greedy kiss, his tongue betraying the depth of his hunger. Chuuya lets himself be swallowed into the embrace, hands finding their way up Dazai’s back to grip his jacket. Together they push back against the wall, intertwined in a beautiful tangle of limbs and tongues.

Chuuya pulls away first, only managing a sharp gasp before he ducks into Dazai’s shoulder for another harsh– “AETCSHH!” which Dazai blesses with a light moan, pulling Chuuya closer.

“I’m gonna kiss you again.”

With a laugh, Chuuya pulls back again, mischief lighting up his eyes. “Did I say you could?”

Dazai returns the gaze, hunger dripping from his narrowed eyes. “Sadistic, Chuuya.”

“Shut up and kiss me, bastard.”

~~~ Mate ~~~

Ask anyone in the Armed Detective Agency, and they’ll tell you that Dazai is one of their more valuable assets–

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chuuya calls from his position resting against the doorway. “The only one who’d call you that is yourself, you smug bastard. The rest of ‘em have enough sense to see you for what you really are.”

Dazai sighs, letting the paperwork he’d been pretending to fill out for an hour lay abandoned on a desk. A desk that’s certainly not his. Along with a carefully forged note asking Atsushi to fill it out, on behalf of one Kunikida.

Turning back to the interruption, Dazai gestures vaguely at the empty office. “Then why would they leave me all alone to watch the business? They know I can handle such a task!” He trails off with another performative sigh, sprawling out over his desk. “It’s tiresome, being so crucial and trusted.”

In response, Chuuya merely huffs a growl, rolling his eyes for what feels like the fifth time in the past ten minutes.

“Chuuya wouldn’t understand,” Dazai continues with a wink, earning the sixth eye roll. “He’s merely a pawn, while I am a king!”

“Isn’t the king practically useless?” Chuuya asks, raising an eyebrow incredulously. “The queen does all the work after all.”

“Ah, a pawn such as yourself would think like that, wouldn’t they?” Spinning in his chair, Dazai catches Chuuya’s eyes with that shit-eating grin that practically screams ‘I’m better than you so I’ll try to dumb this down’. It’s infuriating, and Chuuya finds himself fighting the urge to roll his eyes yet again.

“While the king may not be on the front lines, his influence is what guides the entire kingdom. Without him, the battle would rage with no cause or order, each piece fighting for themselves. A mere pawn cannot take out a knight with pure strength, he needs a strategy. That’s where the king comes in.”

“That’s the player, moron,” Chuuya retorts, a new confidence leaving his eyes shining. For once, the high-and-mighty attitude Dazai’s sporting might be all bluster. He mistook the king for the player, a foolish mistake.

For a minute, just a minute, there’s silence. No witty retort, no smug explanation, just a pause. One hanging thick with deeper meanings, and… something Chuuya would almost call sadness. The look Dazai gives him holds no sense of authority. There’s no superiority in his expression, just a haunting wash of melancholy behind his whiskey soaked eyes.

Chuuya opens his mouth, just to close it again. No words seem appropriate, not while that look remains on Dazai’s face. A look that suggests something deeper to his meaning that he desperately wished Chuuya would’ve understood.

The ringing that sounds out knocks Chuuya from his thoughts. His fist connects with the doorframe before he can catch a breath, blood pumping through his ears. “Fucking-!”

“Chuuya!” Dazai laughs, a cheshire smile smothering the expression that had just occupied that space. Or maybe it was never there at all… “What a foul tongue! And go easy on the offices, would ya? We don’t exactly have the unlimited budget of the Port Mafia. Kunikida will finally have that aneurysm if he finds a hole in the wall.”

Clutching his phone as it continues to demand attention, Chuuya aims a glare at no one in particular. Not giving Dazai the satisfaction of a direct reply, he snaps open the phone and turns his back to the room. “This is Chuuya.”

The voice starts rambling on about meetings, conferences, deadlines, and something to do with ‘assignment reports missing key details involving jinko’. Digging his fingers into his temple, Chuuya considers hanging up on the kid.

While there’s no denying his talent in battle, his mannerisms always seem to hit a nerve. A similar nerve to the one Dazai hits, or maybe closer to the sleepless nights where thoughts refuse to give up control.

A combination of everything he hates about himself and Dazai, wrapped up in one human being. Still, it’s hardly like he’s to blame for that. Not like you can hold it against the kid for learning from the role models he was given.

“Look, Akutagawa, I’m a bit busy at the momen–” Chuuya nearly growls as a noise sounds off behind him, an all too familiar one. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he considers leaping from the window. The only thing stopping him is the prickling starting to invade his sinuses. Too late now, no point in suffering for nothing.

Spinning on his heel, Chuuya casts the darkest glare he can muster at the ‘all too innocent’ whistling detective still holding the weapon in his bandaged hands. Hard to believe a bottle so small can cause such huge fallout, and yet Chuuya can’t deny the powerful itch beginning to spread.

“I’m gonna hahh– have to call you back. No, I understand the meaning of urgent, do you understand the meaning of busy?” Flipping Dazai off as the snickering gets louder, Chuuya pulls the phone away from his face. “hH’ANGZT!”

“What’s the matter, Chuuya? You seem a bit irritated?” Dazai calls, increasing his volume to ensure his voice carries through the phone. “Is it talking to Akutagawa? That always sets me in a foul mood.”

The noise from the phone seems almost hurt, coated in a thin veil of disgust. Chuuya brings a glove to his nose, pinching it shut long enough to get out, “You talk to him then.” Thrusting the phone in Dazai’s general direction, he leans into his opposite shoulder to muffle another “AMFSHH’uh!”

“Speak to Akutagawa? Yeah, I’ll pass.” Dazai taunts, aiming his speech at the phone, clearly putting on a performance. “That would just ruin my day, and it’s been going pretty well up till now. I spend my days actively hoping I won’t run into that guy.”

“You-” Akutagawa starts, before the lines goes silent as Chuuya’s body jerks with another “AHGNTiew! AKNGDT’hah! Merde.”

“Are you alright?” Akutagawa offers, the genuine nature of the question getting overpowered by joyous laughter bubbling up from Dazai. Chuuya barely has time to glare before he’s aiming for his shoulder again as another harsh sneeze nearly doubles him over.

“Oh Chuuya here’s just fine, I think he’s just allergic to your presence! Even through the phone, you seem to leave him in… quite a state.” Dazai wipes a tear from his eye as Akutagawa lets a few faint curses slip through the phone. “Maybe you should consider hanging up, let the man have a bit of time to breathe.”

Finally able to get a word in, Chuuya brings the phone back to his ear with a cautious fist pressed against his nose, fingers holding it shut. “I’b fide. Just repord to Bori idstead. I’b a bid… ah’GNt!” He breaks off into a cough, the tight stifle leaving his head pounding. “A bid preoccupied.”

After a few muffled objections, a comment Dazai vaguely catches about ‘why are you even there’, and a final request for backup on the next mission he’s being sent on, Akutagawa hangs up.

Dazai offers an innocent smile as Chuuya turns back to him, a red hue beginning to flitter over his skin, fists balled at his sides. “What the hell was that, you bastard! Are you seriously trying to– AESHH! trying to get a fucking– YEASHH’iuh! fucking pounding?”

“Why Chuuya,” Dazai coos. “What a generous offer! I’d simply adore it if you pounded me all–”

“Shut the fuck up, you know that’s not what I meant.” Chuuya growls, pawing at his nose as another sneeze doubles him over. “Mon dieu. Did you really hhhah– have to spray that in here? If I don’t… ihihh– if I don’t leave I’m gonna be itchy for hours. ARSHH’iuh!”

“Oh my- I really didn’t think that through, did I? How reckless of me,” Dazai hums, sliding up from his chair. Chuuya feels himself step backwards before he can process the change, involuntarily retreating from the source of the tickle.

Sliding a hand in front of his face, Chuuya glares over the makeshift mask. “You’re still covered in the stuff. Keep your distance mackerel or I swear I’ll breAKSHH’aa!”

“Sorry,” Dazai replies, taking another step closer. “I didn’t quite catch that. Or you’ll what?”

“I’m serious, you bastard. I’m… hASHH! EMFFSHH! AHMFSH’aa! Fucking Christ.” Chuuya coughs out, his nose twitching dangerously with each step Dazai advances. As if just the knowledge of a closer proximity to his allergen is making the reaction worse.

“You’re having sex with the lord?!” Dazai gaps, a playfully smug expression resting across his eyes. “I mean, I know I’m good in bed, but to call me your saviour.”

Not bothering to dignify that with a response, Chuuya takes another step back, missing his shoulder completely when the next “yeASHH’iuh!” catches him off guard. Dazai seems to tremble a little at this display, crossing the distance between them in a single stride.

Chuuya takes a step forward, taking note of the way Dazai allows the intrusion, sinking back to allow Chuuya space to stand. His posture is open, inviting, nothing like the commanding stance of last time. This is a new game, and he’s inviting Chuuya to take the lead.

“Well fuck,” Chuuya growls, lowering his glove just long enough to let the sickly floral scent intrude past his defenses. He nearly whimpers as the itch increases tenfold, each breath bringing a new round of desperate hitching. “IhheHh– I’m gonna sneeze-”

“Did I say you could?” Dazai purrs, the sound catching in his throat as Chuuya spins him around, knocking him into the wall hard enough to expel his breath.

“I don’t remehhmber asking.” Chuuya smirks as Dazai’s eyes flash, his tongue poking through his teeth in a hiss of pleasure. Leaning closer to his shoulder, Chuuya allows his breath to catch once, twice–

“AESHH’ou!”

The action jerks his body closer to Dazai’s, a moan slipping from the detective's lips. Barely a moment to catch his breath, Chuuya lets the second, third, and fourth slip out in rapid succession, each aimed a little closer to Dazai’s neck.

By the fifth Dazai’s panting, shivers running through him as Chuuya’s nose rests against the bare skin. Gathering his composure long enough, he brings Chuuya’s hips towards his own. Dazai leans his head back, eyes fluttering shut in time with Chuuya’s.

“I’m not… not done…” Chuuya stutters out, a single tear running its way down his cheek. The slow trickle brushes against the side of his nose, leaving him breathless, only enough time to inhale for the– “hEYESHH! EASHHMF! MMFFSHH’aa!”

“You know,” Dazai whispers, voice stolen as Chuuya begins to rub his nose across the sensitive skin below his ear. “You don’t have a lot of warning for your…”

Chuuya smirks, pulling Dazai down to his level, breath caressing Dazai’s ear. “For my what, bastard? Say it.”

Dazai moans in response, a mixture of pleasure and submission as Chuuya lets his teeth mark Dazai’s skin for his own. Gentle enough not to leave any marks that will last too long, but not so gentle that he’s not reminded who’s winning this game.

“Your sneezes,” Dazai manages to pant, the aforementioned action drawing his breath once more.

“AESHH’aa! Fuck. Yeah, I guess they don't,” Chuuya replies, releasing Dazai’s shirt quick enough to slam him into the wall with a grunt. “I guess I don’t pay as much attention as some people.”

There’s a faint whimper in response, Chuuya taking the cue to let his hand wander down Dazai’s chest, resting right above his thigh. “However, I can definitely still feel it. There’s a near constahh… constant buzz. It’s just that I’m never sure when it’s gonna turn into a full sneeASHHH’iuh! Fucking hell.”

As his body jerks, Chuuya lets his hand slip lower, Dazai responding in kind with a moan. Pausing, Chuuya waits for the next move. It comes sooner than expected, Dazai barely able to contain himself as his hand grips Chuuya’s back, head tilting down to expose the hunger in his eyes.

At this, Chuuya pulls back, smirking at the whimper breaking their contact coaxes from the other. “Being this close to you is making the itch so much worse,” He muses, rubbing a finger under his nose. An invitation. “I think I’m gonna sneeze again–”

Not one to turn down the chance for a script flip, Dazai grabs his wrist, pulling it down to his waist. “I think you’ve had more than enough of those.”

With a barely concealed smirk, Chuuya lets his head tilt back, meeting Dazai’s eyes. “And if I caASHH’iuh! Can’t stop?”

“Well then,” Dazai taunts, letting his fingers slide up under Chuuya’s nose. “I guess I’ll just have to help you.”

“EHNGT!” Chuuya gasps in the aftermath of the forced stifle, his breath catching once more as Dazai’s fingers do nothing but irritate his nose further.

“I do believe I said that was enough, didn’t I?” Dazai hums, fingers rubbing back and forth over Chuuya’s rapidly twitching nose. The tortured appendage wriggles, Chuuya’s eyes fluttering shut as his whole body trembles.

“AHDTSHH’aa! Fuck, it won’t stahh… AENGT’shiew! Won’t stop if you keep… keeASPTCHH! Keep doing that.” Chuuya growls, leaning forward to rub his nose against Dazai’s shoulder again. He’s stopped by a single movement, Dazai maneuvering himself out of the way with a flourish. Too distracted to attempt to follow, Chuuya raises a fist back to his nose as the tickle hits its peak once more.

“A Port Mafia executive can’t even stop his own nose?” The taunt stops him in his tracks, Chuuya’s eyes snapping open to glare at Dazai as he finishes the statement. “The standards have really dropped it seems.”

“Or maybe,” Chuuya begins in a near purr, reveling in the slight crack that spreads through Dazai’s smirk at the abrupt tone change. “I never intended to stop it at all.”

It’s not easy to catch Dazai off guard, especially when he’s spent nearly 8 years studying your every move. Not easy, but not impossible. As Chuuya releases the grasp on his nose, pressing Dazai back against the wall, he takes pride in the light gasp that escapes the bastard.

“ASHHH’ou! yeASHh’iuh! hehH– ASHH’iuh!”

Mask fully shattered, Dazai can do nothing but moan as each sneeze jerks their bodies closer together. Chuuya drops all decorum as he rubs his nose against Dazai’s neck again. He lets a few groans slip from his tongue, flaring his nostrils as the skin contact leaves Dazai quivering.

Dazai’s response is a simple phrase, barely audible as his voice catches in his throat.

“Chuuya was never a mere pawn; a checkmate well earned.”

#waterfallwrites #i'm gonna be honest i wrote both of these in one session each and then edited for typos/anything obivous #but this was stream of consciousness style writing so i hope to GOD its enjoyable hahaha #also soukookoo for cocopuffs is just gonna live in my head now #anyways i hope you enjoyyyy~ and that i did justice to the prompt!#i just couldnt get the idea of someone fighting against it out of my head too-#and honestly i feel like both of these are what s/oukoku is #a mixture of teasing from one side then teasing back from the other #d/azai more often in control yes- but c/huuya can hold his own more than people give him credit for #ANYWAYS character study mode turned off ahaha #throwin this out there hoping it's not awful <3 #s/oukoku #d/azai #c/huuya

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