tzoiiann

[tzoiiann]

Small Prob - Geto Sugru

+ pairings. geto suguru x f!reader

+ tags. Romance, eventual smut, unedited, kinda cringe, age gap (Geto 17/18, Reader 15/16), explicit content, mentions of pregnancy, smoking, my personal experience, turned into Geto x reader, not for the faint of heart 😭

+ a/n. Reblog with your favourite line ! It would help me very much to grow my account !! Thank you in advance <33

+ summary. A romance story about the complex relationship between Geto Suguru and the reader, delving into their deep connection, the challenges of their age difference, and the emotional consequences of their choices. The story touches on themes of growing up, love, and personal growth, while exploring the struggles of navigating a relationship during a turbulent time in life.

+ support me ✰ .ᐟ buy me a coffee I Instagram

Thursday had arrived, and as always, you were spending the night at Suguru Geto’s place.

He had been gone since 10 PM, leaving with Satoru to check on his car. But when the rain caught them off guard, instead of coming home, he ended up at Satoru’s place. By 11, you decided to join your cousin and his friends in their car for a while. When Suguru found out, he grew envious, insisting that you return or else he’d stay at Satoru’s for the night, leaving you alone.

Now, back at his apartment, you sat on the couch, wearing blue shorts with side slits and a white tank top, a cigarette lazily resting between your fingers. The smoke curled into the dimly lit room as you exhaled, eyes drifting toward the clock. The sharp knocks on the door pulled you from your thoughts. You already knew who it was.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you unlocked the door. And there he stood—shirtless, his damp t-shirt slung over his shoulder, strands of dark hair clinging to his face.

You let out a sigh and turned back toward the couch, taking another slow drag of your cigarette as you munched on some chips. The irritation from earlier still lingered.

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” you asked, not bothering to mask your annoyance.

Suguru shot you a dry look as he rummaged through his closet for fresh clothes. “It’s wet,” he grumbled, slipping into a pair of dry shorts but leaving his torso bare.

You watched him for a moment before putting out your cigarette in the ashtray and making your way toward the bed. Satoru’s antics aside, Suguru’s little tantrum still gnawed at you. You crawled under the covers, your body naturally gravitating toward him despite your frustration. He was lying on his back, arm draped over his eyes, exuding the silent brooding energy he always did when he was sulking.

You shifted closer, placing your hands on either side of his face before murmuring, “Kiss?”

Suguru cracked an eye open, but before he could answer, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. Again, you whispered, “Kiss,” pressing another one, softer this time.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest before he cupped your face, tilting it up as he deepened the kiss. His lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, savoring the moment.

But just as you started melting into him, he pulled away with a small sigh. “You’re such a pain in the ass,” he muttered, brushing his thumb over your cheek before rolling off the bed.

You watched as he grabbed his pack of cigarettes, lighting one up before sinking into the armchair across from you. The soft glow of his phone screen illuminated his face as he scrolled absentmindedly, lost in whatever held his attention more than you.

Feeling neglected, you sighed and turned away, scrolling through your own phone, the distance between you stretching in the silence.

Minutes passed before you heard the familiar sound of his cigarette being put out. The next thing you knew, the bed dipped behind you, and a warm hand slipped around your waist.

Suguru didn’t say anything as he gently turned you to face him. Propping himself up on one arm, he gazed down at you, his expression unreadable before he leaned in, capturing your lips once more. The kiss was slow, lingering—an unspoken apology wrapped in warmth and desire.

Then, without a word, he pulled back slightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before murmuring, “Come here.”

He settled against the headboard, legs spread just enough as he tugged you onto his lap. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your skin before sliding higher. Warm palms cupped your breasts, thumbs grazing over sensitive peaks, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. Your back arched instinctively, pressing into his touch as a shiver ran down your spine.

Suguru’s mouth found yours again, the kiss deeper this time—possessive, claiming. His hands roamed, fingertips mapping the curves of your body like he was relearning every inch of you. One hand trailed lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. A single, fluid motion had them sliding down your legs, pooling at your ankles.

And then—

He smirked against your lips. “Still mad at me?”

Your clothes slipped from your body like leaves carried away by an autumn breeze, leaving you bare before him. Suguru’s eyes roamed over you, taking in the sight he knew so intimately—the curves that fit against his own like they were made for him, the soft dips of your body that he had traced countless times. A familiar heat pooled in his gut as his arousal grew with every breath, every second that passed with you so exposed beneath him.

His fingers trembled slightly as he reached toward the bedside drawer, retrieving a condom. The foil packet glinted in the dim glow of the room, a silent promise of what was to come. His hands, usually so steady, shook just a little as he tore it open and rolled it onto himself, the sensation a stark reminder of the thin barrier between him and the one thing he craved most—you. But it was a necessary precaution, even if it only heightened the anticipation thrumming in his veins.

As you straddled him, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands found their place on his shoulders. Your body moved with ease, guiding him inside you. A sharp gasp escaped you both at the sensation, the overwhelming heat, the perfect way your bodies molded together. The rhythm came naturally, as if you had danced this dance in a thousand lifetimes before, and with each slow thrust, the pleasure built, a crescendo rising in a symphony of sighs and moans.

Suguru’s thoughts wavered between the intoxication of your body and a nagging feeling at the back of his mind—something was different. The condom felt looser, almost as if it wasn’t entirely secure. But in the haze of pleasure, he ignored the thought, too lost in the way you felt, the way you clung to him, the way your lips met his in a kiss that stole every rational thought from his mind.

With a firm grip on your waist, he flipped you effortlessly, pressing you into the mattress as he hovered over you. His dark eyes burned into yours, heavy with desire, with possession. He positioned himself again, teasing you just for a second before plunging back inside, swallowing your sharp gasp with a bruising kiss.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving behind crescent moons in his skin as he set a relentless pace. The sound of your bodies colliding echoed in the air, punctuated by soft cries and breathless moans. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach winding tighter, tighter—until it snapped, sending you spiraling into euphoria.

Your body clenched around him, drawing him deeper, and that was all it took. With a low, guttural groan, he followed, his own release crashing over him in a white-hot wave. His grip on your hips tightened as he rode out the aftershocks, his breath ragged against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled in the remnants of passion, your bodies warm and slick against each other. Suguru’s lips found yours again, but this time, the kisses were slow, languid, a savoring of what had just happened.

And then—

He pulled away slightly, his brows furrowing. Something felt… wrong. A flicker of concern crossed his face as he glanced down.

“Uh, baby,” he murmured, attempting to sound calm, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him. His dark eyes met yours, uncertainty swimming in them.

You blinked, still coming down from the high, your body humming with warmth. “…What?”

Suguru inhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair before exhaling. “We have a small problem.”

Your stomach twisted at the sudden shift in his tone. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated before finally meeting your gaze again. “I think… my condom slipped off inside you.”

Time seemed to slow.

The weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating fog, chilling the warmth that had just filled the room. Your heart, once pounding from pleasure, now raced for an entirely different reason. The air grew heavier, thick with unspoken tension.

Your mind reeled, thoughts crashing into each other in chaotic disarray. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not like this.

Suguru watched the shift in your expression, the way your breath caught in your throat, the way your eyes widened slightly before a carefully constructed mask of control slid into place. His heart clenched. He hated seeing that look on your face.

“I—” You swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll go check.”

You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist as you ran a hand through your hair. Then, without another word, you climbed out of bed, making your way toward the bathroom.

Suguru remained where he was, staring at the ceiling for a brief moment before he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. He stood, making his way to the window, where he lit a cigarette with slightly shaky fingers. He needed to clear his mind.

In the bathroom, you exhaled slowly, willing yourself to remain calm. With careful fingers, you reached inside, searching. Your stomach dropped when you felt it—the thin, slick condom lodged deep within you.

You retrieved it with a careful tug, your breath catching as you turned it over in your palm. His release was still inside, glistening under the bathroom light. A wave of nausea rolled through you, but you swallowed it down.

The reality of what had happened was undeniable now.

You disposed of the condom, washing your hands with an almost mechanical precision. Your reflection stared back at you in the mirror, eyes shining with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall.

Gathering yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, the tension in your shoulders still heavy. Suguru was exactly where you expected him—leaning against the window, cigarette between his lips, lost in thought.

Silently, you crossed the room and stood beside him, mimicking his stance as you reached for your own cigarette. The lighter flicked, the small flame illuminating your face before you inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine dull the edge of your nerves.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the only sound the faint crackling of burning tobacco and the distant hum of the city outside.

Then, finally, you broke the quiet.

“What are we going to do?”

Your voice was soft, steady—but beneath it, there was a thread of uncertainty.

Suguru took a long drag before exhaling slowly, his gaze fixed on the dark sky. Then, he turned to you, his hand finding the small of your back as he rubbed slow, reassuring circles.

“I’ll talk to Satoru,” he murmured. “Get some money together by morning, and then… we’ll figure out a Plan B.”

You nodded, your fingers tightening slightly around your cigarette.

Suguru turned toward you fully then, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Everything will be okay, baby” he assured you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “We’ll sort this out. Together.”

And for now, that was enough.

[tzoiiann]

you were sure, without a doubt, that math had been invented by the devil himself—or at the very least, some ancient sadist who found joy in human suffering. and who else but the sumerians, the architects of civilization, to introduce numbers and wedge them into the very fabric of reality?

which brought you here, sprawled out on gojo satoru’s bed, textbooks and loose papers abandoned at the edge of the mattress, your laptop open but wholly ignored. your eyes were squeezed shut, thighs trembling, and brain struggling—desperately—to process the numbers being traced against your cunt with his tongue.

“you’re fidgeting too much,” he mumbled against your folds, the vibration of his voice sending another pulse of heat up your spine. he sounded amused, always so amused, as if he weren’t the one making this impossible.

“oh, i wonder why,” you bit back, and your sharp exhale turned into a shaky whimper when his tongue swirled again—slow, purposeful.

"mm, attitude," he teased, pulling back slightly. his glasses—he had insisted on keeping them on, of course, just to be extra insufferable—slipped an inch down his nose. he peered over them, a lazy grin on his lips, cerulean eyes twinkling with mischief. "you should be thanking me, you know. most people have to suffer through studying, but me? i’m making it fun for you, baby."

fun, he says. as if this wasn’t absolute torture.

"fun for you," you gritted out, propping yourself up on your elbows to glare down at him. it was hard to look menacing when your legs were thrown over his shoulders, his breath hot against your dripping cunt.

“fun for both of us,” he corrected, and before you could retort, he dove back in, tongue flat against your clit before spelling out a number with slow, languid strokes.

your back arched. fuck. that was—okay, that was definitely a six. or maybe a nine? shit.

he pulled back again, looking far too pleased with himself. “c’mon, princess. what’s the answer?”

you struggled to keep your voice even, mind still hazy. “si—sixty-nine?”

he huffed a laugh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your inner thigh. “mmm, close, but not quite.”

"what do you mean not quite—"

before you could argue, he started again, this time tracing a much longer sequence of numbers, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through your core. your nails dug into the sheets, jaw slack. it took you a second—two, three?—before you realized: oh. he was giving you the answer to the long equation from earlier.

bastard.

“satoru—!”

“concentrate,” he chided, pausing just long enough to smirk up at you before resuming, each flick of his tongue slow, deliberate.

"i—i can't!"

"yes, you can," he murmured against you, tracing another swirl, another long stroke that had your toes curling. "you want that A, don’t you?"

your head lolled back, a moan slipping out before you could stop it. god, you hated him. hated how smug he was, how good he was.

"better get the answer right, or you're getting a big fat D," he chuckled, pressing a final, lingering kiss against your sensitive clit. "literally."

your breath hitched. okay. fine. if this was how he wanted to play, you were going to win this damn game.

you swallowed, chest heaving, and forced your scattered thoughts into something coherent. focus. deep breath. think of the numbers, not the way he was staring at you over the rim of his glasses, lips shiny with your slick, eyes full of challenge.

“eight…three…seven…five…” your voice wavered, but you kept going, pushing past the pleasure clawing at your mind.

gojo’s grin widened, and his grip on your thighs tightened just slightly. “atta girl.”

[tzoiiann]

ino

[tzoiiann]

this is so real help me 😭

[tzoiiann]

WORST BEHAVIOR . . . dazai gets turned on watching you fight and just can’t help himself.

ft. pm!dazai + f!reader, pm!reader, possessive behavior, physical fighting, dazai is a little pervy, one use of ‘good girl’, semi-public & unprotected sex, choking (m!receiving), 2.5k w.c…mdni !!

p.s.! ⊹ ࣪ ˖ i know i’ve been promising this one for a while :< thank you for being patient with me !!

dazai already knows you indulge him; you let him get away with more than anyone else ever would. even outside of work, when he’s stripped of the authority that comes from being the youngest port mafia executive, the unspoken next in line for the throne of yokohama’s underworld, you always give into his whines of five more minutes or just one more kiss, i swear.

if you asked him, it was your own fault that he liked you so much; you were addicting. if the port mafia was a black hole where all light escaped, you were a twinkling star, falling from the sky right into dazai’s blood-soaked hands, and he loves you more than he ever thought he could. you weren’t quite an executive yet, but you were good at what you didー fighting.

there were only a few things in his meaningless life that made him less than bored: drinking with odasaku after work, harassing chuuya to tears, and watching you train, or better yet, getting to see you on a mission. his favorite part was that you always looked so, so hot while you were doing it.

he tries to act surprised when you’re both sent to take care of some low-level group, threatening to leak information that they definitely didn’t have. he didn’t really have to come with you on this assignment, it was below his level as an executive, after all, but he went through all of the trouble of leaking the address to one of the mafia’s “hideouts”, ensuring they’d show up at the dingy warehouse. it looms before the two of you, weathered from the salty air of the port, glass windows splintered and broken.

his coat flutters behind him with every giddy step, happily following after you and your little black skirt; maybe if he was lucky enough, he’d get a peek beneath it.

“are you sure you don’t have somewhere else to be right now?” you turn to look over your shoulder, reaching your hand out for him and intertwining your fingers loosely.

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.” he swings your arms between the two of you loosely. you only drop his hand to pull the rusty door open, greeted by three men, all expectantly waiting for you.

“my, my,” he whispers against the curve of your ear. “looks like we’ve been caught.”

“what do we have here? a little girl…” one of the men grins, looking at you in a way that made dazai want to kill him himself. the way his eyes drag up your body stirs an instinct to pull you behind him. “…and her guard dog?”

of course, he’d never put you in any real danger. this group was pathetic, and even at three to one, they didn’t stand a chance against you. dazai can predict all of their moves flawlessly anyway, and you have a implicit understanding that he never gives you more than he knows you can handle. his gun remains heavy against his side, always within his reachー just in case.

his fingers instinctively twitch towards the grip as one of the men reaches to grab you, but you don’t let him, seizing him by the forearm, leg sweeping him from behind and tossing him onto the ground. he falls to the concrete with a groan, looking up at you with a dazed scowl. the heel of your foot connects with his jaw before he can make another move, and he falls still against the ground.

one of the other men comes from the side, but you’re still too quick, catching him out of the corner of your eye and dodging with ease. you hit him hard enough for him to stumble, and you take the opportunity to grab him by the throat, knocking him backward. dazai’s eyes widen, the hair rising against the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck; he was almost jealous. the man chokes as you slam his back against the wall hard enough for his eyes to roll back and his body to crumple to the ground.

there’s only one man left, and your lip splits when his fist connects with your face. dazai’s eyes narrow, and the man’s glaze over in frustration as you recover quick enough to dodge his next hit, crouching low. you curl your leg around his waist from behind, pulling him down to the ground by the back of his shirt until he’s pinned beneath you.

you’re quick to get up, and when you’re far enough away for dazai’s comfort, he aims his gun and fires once, twice, then again before the man falls still.

the only thing heavier than dazai’s presence is his gaze, and you feel it prickle against your skin like the sharp edge of a knife from where he’s still standing in the doorway. when you meet his eyes, they’re red and glowing, and locked onto you.

he walks towards you, only the heavy sound of his shoes against the cement and your quiet breaths filling the warehouse. you swipe your thumb across your lip, breaking his gaze to look at the blood smeared into the crevices of your fingertip before dazai grabs your chin, tilting it upward. his tongue is warm as it traces along the cut before he presses it past your lips. your noise of surprise is muffled as he kisses you, the taste of your own blood permeating your mouth.

he walks you backward until the back of your heels hit the edge of the cold, concrete wall. his mouth never leaves yours, tracing the roof of your mouth and the edge of your teeth as if he doesn’t already have every part of you committed to memory. his cock strains against the fabric of his trousers, poking against your thigh as he presses himself flush against you.

“dazai,” you try to warn, but it isn’t very convincing, breathed out like a hymn; god, his name has never sounded so sweet. he sings your name back with a smile, groping you through your shirt with one hand as the other unbuckles his belt. he slides his fingers down your stomach until he pulls your shirt out from where it’s tucked into your waistband, flipping the hem of your skirt upward to expose those cute little panties. “we’re still…we’re here. in a dirty warehouse.”

“what’s wrong? there’s no one else around. you made sure of that, didn’t you?” he cups your chin between his fingers again and turns your head towards the enemies, bloodied and unconscious, chests heaving shallowly. he presses a kiss to your jaw, trailing up until his lips rest against the curve of your ear. “did you already forget? when their bloodstains haven’t even set into your clothes yet? i didn’t know you could be so cold.”

he unbuttons your shirt with the flick of his thumb, just enough to expose the curve of your tits, sitting oh so prettily in your bra. he skims his fingers against your panties, stroking the soft fabric where your most sensitive spot is covered. he pulls them aside, giggling against your ear when you’re already wet as he slips his middle and pointer fingers inside of you. your frown falters as he curls them with expert precision, eyelids fluttering in bliss as something achingly sweet ignites in your stomach.

“you know what i was thinking while i was watching you?” he drops his voice low, watching the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip when he finds your clit, grinding the heel of his palm against it in pressured circles. “‘i wonder how it’d feel for her to choke me like that…to wrap these pretty little fingers around my neck and squeeze’.”

the lingering adrenaline of a fight and dazai’s body pressed so close to yours makes you feel dizzy. you part your lips to reply, but his hand is back on your jaw before you can respond, brushing his mouth over yours teasingly.

“do you have any idea what you do to me?” the pad of his thumb is cold against your warm cheek. he strokes himself with the slick collected on his fingers, pressing into you with the tip of his cock. his bangs fall over his eyes as he hangs his head and watches you stretch around the shape of him, disappearing inside your warm cunt inch by inch.

your nails dig into his arms, feeling his lithe muscles tense through the expensive fabric of his coat. he pries your hands off, fingers wrapping around your wrists as he pins them against the wall, holding them in place with one hand. his grin bites against your neck as you throw your head back and arch your hips instinctively.

“my good girl,” he breathes, sucking the skin beneath your ear between his teeth, soothing it with a kiss when you whine. “my sweet, perfect girl.”

“mhm,” you exhale, your own breath getting caught in your throat. your back is pressed against the cool cement behind you, with dazai’s firm chest flush against your front. the broken window above you pools sunlight over your half-dressed bodies. “yours.”

you feel his uneven breathing against your skin as he presses his lips against your jaw. his cock rubs against you deliciously, velvet walls fluttering and clinging to him each time he pulls his hips back. it’s so easy to melt into him like this, with the security of his hands against your skin, his soft hair tickling your neck, and his cock filling you perfectly, like you were made for him to take.

he lifts your leg, fingers squeezing the plush of your thigh and supporting your weight. he thrusts inside you at a new angle, hitting the slightest bit deeper, but it’s just enough to make you gasp as your belly flutters and your knees nearly buckle beneath his palm as he holds you up. your hands clench around nothing, nails digging into your palms in a desperate need to hold onto something.

“the way you threw that man and pinned him to the ground,” he whispers. “would you do that to me?”

“no,” you’re breathless, words lost on you as your mind clouds over with pleasure. his hips grind against yours, the head of his cock kissing the deepest part of you as your eyes roll backward. “i don’tー i’d never hurt you.”

“but i’d let you,” he rasps. “you could do whatever you want to me.”

he lets go of your wrists, and you bend your leg around his waist, trying to press him even deeper. you balance on your tip toes as he thrusts into you harshly, curling your arms around his shoulders, as if his cock nestled inside you wasn’t close enough; it was never enough when it came to dazai.

“fuck,” your voice is breathy and broken, and it echoes throughout the gutted warehouse. the heat building in your stomach is already overwhelming, rushing to your head until you feel drunk on it. your muscles are taut, toes curled as you feel him throb inside you, his hips stuttering. “osamu.”

his grip on you tightens, and he whines; it’s just barely audible, and you would’ve missed it if he wasn’t right next to your ear. your eyes are hazy, half open as you look at him through your lashes as he watches the way your tits bounce against the fabric of your bra in time with his movements.

your hand trembles as you lift it, closing your fingers loosely around his neck and pulling his gaze back to yours. you can’t help but grin, lips curving up into a drunken smile as you watch his cheeks flush a pretty pink and his eyebrows furrow in pleasure. dazai rarely expresses his emotions so openly, and you commit it to memory as best you can through the fuzzy feelings of bliss blurring the edges of your mind. he lets out the prettiest noise, something between a moan and a cry vibrating against your palm, his cock throbbing inside you as you squeeze his bandaged neck.

his thrusts grow sporadic, breathy moans growing in volume. his nails dig into your hips, and you rub your clit desperately, quivering in his grip as you feel him stall and cum, warm and deep inside you.

everything fades to static as the sweetness in your belly burns brighter and brighter until it finally explodes into white, hot, sparkling pieces that pierce your vision. dazai pants and hangs his head, but his eyes snap to yours as you mumble something close to “cummingー”, always so desperate to take in the pretty way you fall apart for him, because of him.

he whimpers when you draw your hand from his throat to his face, brushing his bangs away from his eyes. you cup his cheek, smoothing your thumb against the tape holding his small patch of gauze in place as you breathe in one another.

your legs ache, tensed muscles finally relaxing as you lower your foot back to the ground unsteadily. your head falls against the wall with a final sigh, chest heaving. dazai is beaming at you when you peek your eyes open after a few moments, looking irritatingly adorable with his messy hair and crooked tie.

“i can’t believe we did that here,” you glance towards the pieces of shattered glass that litter the ground.

“you loved it,” he smiles, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. “you love me〜”

he pulls out of you carefully, snapping your underwear back into place. you grip his tie, wrapping it around your hand and pulling him in to press your mouth to his before straightening it and sliding the knot back into place.

he pouts as he watches you start to button your shirt back up, squeezing your waist softly.

“can’t you leave some open?”

your glare is weak, and he meets it with a smile. he slides his coat off his shoulders, draping it over your own to hide your wrinkled clothes.

“i’ll call a car to get us,” he hums, slipping his hand into your own as he guides you outside the warehouse. “i’ll even give you the rest of the day off for a good performance!”

you rest your head on his shoulder, sleepy and sated. the breeze is cool on your warm skin, carrying the scent of the sea as it gently brushes through your hair.

“you know,” he starts, typing away at his phone, still as happy as ever. “you still owe me lunch from losing that bet last week.”

he has another tease on the tip of his tongue, but he falters when he sees the red splotch of blood staining your pouted lips. he slips his hand beneath your chin and tilts your face towards him. he frowns at the cut, visible eye narrowing as he brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth.

you wrap your hand around his wrist loosely, pulling it back to press your lips to his palmー i’m okay. he sees one of the mafia’s black cars pulling in from the corner of his eye, and presses a lingering kiss to your foreheadー i know. he pulls the lapels of his jacket tighter around your shoulders before he slips his hand back into yours, and when he walks you to the car, his coat flutters behind you.

BSD MASTERLIST

[tzoiiann]

currently thinking about chuuya ahhh! >_<

no but actually, imagine relaxing in an alleyway after a long mission, chuuya resting his back on the wall behind him and you doing the same on the opposite wall, the pent up stress really messing with his mind as he’s tempted to just bend you over and take you right then and there against the wall but he refrains from doing so. so instead you’re the one that offers something relatively similar..

.

.

.

.

you don’t know how long it’s been since you first got on your knees in front of chuuya, but it’s not like you minded anyways. you had taken his cock in your mouth, with one of your hands was grasping onto the fabric of his pants resting just above his thigh, the tip painfully hitting the back of your throat with every push of his hand. he was holding your head with one hand, his fingers buried into the strands of your hair while he was smoking a cigarette with the other (he’s killing two birds with one stone!) as he let out occasionally groans here and there :3

(swim by chase atlantic is so chuuya coded RAHHHH)

[tzoiiann]

Our Love is Six Feet Under- Nakahara Chuuya

featuring: Nakahara Chuuya (bsd), gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) warnings:- angst throughout, major character death, major light novel (stormbringer) spoilers!! a/n:- my, my, this idea has actually been rotting in my brain for over a month and its my longest fic till date. i loved writing it i hope u guys like it too <33 heavily inspired by 'six feet under' by billie eilish

wc: 3k || masterlists

You feel like you’ve been through worse than hell and back when you drag your eyes open. It doesn’t take you long to assess your situation and remember what had happened to you in the first place to get you attached to a hospital bed with various machines around you.

You promptly wish you’d rather have died instead, or never woken up. Not having had to deal with the pain that stabbed your heart like a thousand serrated, unforgiving knives would be a million times better than being alive. It would have been so much better than being the only survivor. 

Technically, you should feel no personal guilt over the Flags’ deaths. Its not like you had been hired to protect them, and what you had been paid to specifically do is the only thing that matters when you’re an assassin. Especially when the Port Mafia is the one who outsourced you. The blame of their deaths could, in no way, be pinned upon you.

Having feelings is what gets someone killed in the world you live in, a dark world in the deepest shadows of the city. Having an ability is no reason to be confident of yourself, not when the country is littered with ability users everywhere. And yet having an ability as unique as yours is how you managed to save yourself from the certain death brought upon you all by the King of Assassins.

It was supposed to be another normal day, right? You were off-duty, so you were hanging out with the Flags at the usual place, who you had become ‘acquainted’ with over the past few months of working together, Mori’s orders. If you could dare to curse yourself and them by calling you guys friends, you would. One of them, possibly the one you were closest with, had left for some mission with a foreign investigator, long story. So you were chilling out with the others, playing billiards and all that stuff. 

If someone had told you that would be your last memory together, you would have atleast clicked a picture for keepsakes. Or you’d have cherished the moment more, rather than treating it so casually. After all, you never know the value of what you’ve lost until you’ve lost it. 

In the present, you shut out your emotions- they’re too much of a storm for you to be able to deal with. The grief at their deaths, the horror at the memory of the sight, the overwhelming grief- you needed a break. You slipped back into unconsciousness, a weight lying heavy on your chest that would surely never leave you until you die.

********

The funeral seems much too loud and way too quiet at the same time, or perhaps thats just your thoughts. You’re silent in the shadows, yet again, watching the processions and the choir wordlessly. You don’t speak anything. You don’t think you have the right to. 

You haven’t dared to talk to Chuuya, or even approach him. He was the only member of the Flags who was not present when Verlaine struck, and thus the only one alive. He was incredibly close to them, you know, because you yourself were close to them, to him. Barely anyone had spoken a word to him, not even the boss. His aura was such that if you even dared to approach him, you’d probably either have your lungs squashed by gravity, or his own carefully crafted facade would break down. 

If, as someone who wasn’t even part of the Port Mafia or the Flags, you had been affected so badly, how was Chuuya coping? Was he? Yet, out of habit, you can’t help but keep an eye out for him. Silently, selfishly even, perhaps you’re hoping he can find it in himself to forgive you.

The foreign investigator has shown up again, looking much too cheerful for someone entering a funeral, and goes straight to Chuuya. You can feel that he’s pissed off, but a few words from Mori, and Chuuya stands up in a forced manner, going to leave with the detective. 

You manage to meet his gaze finally, but you don’t think you’d ever be prepared for it. His eyes bored straight into yours, eyes that had once looked at you with mirth and laughter, and dare you say it, love, eyes that were always an open gateway to his emotions. They held nothing but silent accusations, hidden anger, all pointing their sharp ends towards you. Not a single friendly feeling. 

Not a word is exchanged as he walks right past you, but there’s no need to. You’ve gotten the silent message he’s sending you crystal clear- he will never forgive you for this.

You think you deserve it fully, you understand. Even now. How twisted, really, but you got it. When he lost the Flags, he lost a part of himself too, but he still remembered you. And remembering you was a constant reminder of them, of your failure to save them, of the pain that came with. 

Though it hurt you, you knew that distancing yourself from him was the best thing to do. If you pursued him again, there was no telling what he might end up doing, but it certainly wouldn’t end well. Chuuya likely knew this too, and he clearly didn’t want you to come back. So you wouldn’t. This funeral would be the last time you associated with the Port Mafia, and thus Chuuya, even if it hurt you to do so. But again, considering feelings is what gets you killed in this world, and you’d rather not die so soon, although you actually don’t mind. 

And well, what did it matter if somewhere, sometime, Chuuya secretly wished you’d ask him to return?

********

Visiting their graves has become a monthly thing to you, due to your inability to let the past stay in the past. Perhaps its your own, guilty way of attempting to make amends, perhaps its your way of keeping their memory engraved in your mind, perhaps its to ensure that they aren’t forgotten, even if you know well they will never be. Deep inside, its a way for you to mourn the dead, as well as the loss of the living. 

You bring flowers every time, stay a while, occasionally leave something for them. Sometimes, you talk to them, sometimes you apologise over and over again, sometimes you stay silent, letting your thoughts still for a while. If nothing else, you just stared at the small rose plants that were growing there, one behind each of the five graves. It always amazed you, that such a delicate flower could grow in such a barren place. It sure seemed like they’d be blooming soon, and whenever you visited, you always made sure to check on them.

Time passes, but the wounds do not heal from inside, they just scab over, concealing the pain at first glance. You’ve gotten better at hiding it, yes, but that does not make it any better. You’ve become stronger, risen in rank as an assassin, honed your skills further. You’ve become reputed for carrying out your tasks in a swiftly lethal, unclouded way that left no traces. Almost a year has already gone by since the incident, and you still havent forgiven yourself. Nor has Chuuya.

That’s why, on their death anniversary, when you feel his cold gaze on you for the first time in a whole year when you were at their graves, you don’t hesitate to get up and start to leave. It’s best for him to not see you again. You’ve cut off all contact with the Port Mafia, except for when you occasionally got hired by them, and even then you finished it quickly, wasting no time. Interacting with no one. 

So that’s why it surprises you, when he holds up a hand, walking past you to lay the flowers on their graves. “You can stay.” He speaks emotionlessly, not looking at you. He sounds older, more mature, which was to be expected, you supposed. You remain standing where you are for a few moments, not facing him as he walks over and sits behind one of the graves. “As long as you aren’t doing anything wrong, of course.” He adds. At that, you sit in front of the grave he’s leaning against, replying quietly with a “No, I was merely paying my respects.”

It was anyways evening when you came, soon, the moon starts its ascent through the sky, as silence settles between the two of you. Not a word is exchanged between the two of you as you sit on opposite sides of the same grave, in each other’s company. The only people who could truly understand each other’s pain and suffering.

You settle for silently staring at the roses. Small buds have formed, but they don’t look well- its as if the whole plant is starting to wilt, little by little. They haven’t flowered even once yet,and you wondered if those roses would bloom before the plant died. Could they? After all, the weather was changing- it was raining more often these days. Maybe they couldn’t take it. Even now, a light drizzle had started as you sat, but it took you some time to realise, because you didn’t feel the rain at all, only noticing the faint red hue around. You didn’t mention it, nor did Chuuya.

Perhaps, whatever once could have been between you and the guy opposite you was symbolised by those roses- it could have bloomed, if given the chance, but life abandoned it,  left it to wilt in the aftermath of the storm. Any possible chances for you two were like the beloved ones who had left you now- six feet under the ground, dead, marked by a grave. This was merely the hand that fate dealt you, you had no choice but to accept it

********

“I can’t see the moon tonight.”. You murmur, almost to yourself, as you remain seated against the graves. It had been years, and even till now, neither of you had stopped coming to the grave to pay your respects, you arriving first every time and waiting for him. Your own visits weren’t monthly anymore due to life, more sporadic, but you still did visit from time to time, and you know Chuuya did too. And every year, on the fateful day that the incident happened, both of you never failed to show up, at the same time. Sometimes you exchanged a few words of greeting, a line or two about life. Other times you sat in silence till the moon’s glow started to dim, leaving as noiselessly as you came. Over time, this became your and Chuuya’s last remaining shared tradition out of all those that used to exist, your last link to each other. Seems like none of you was truly able to stay away from the other after all, huh?

“Say, Chuuya, next year, can you check for me whether the moon is visible or not? I feel like there really is something different about it on this day.” You ask him. He curtly replies, “Yeah no, you can do it yourself when you come back here. There’s no big deal about it anyways.” There’s no real bite in his words though, but it still saddens you. You wave it aside though, as you stare at the rose plants, like you always do. 

Over the years, those roses have wilted, died, and new plants have grown in their place. Not a single one of them ever bloomed though. You want to ask Chuuya to check on those plants next year too, but you don’t.

Tired from your day at work- it was more hectic and dangerous than usual- you lean against Chuuya’s shoulder. He remains motionless- he doesn’t push you away, but he certainly doesn’t pull you closer either. This is another thing you developed over the years- if either of you felt like you needed a shoulder on that day, the other would offer it. And you wanted to do it one last time.

Eventually, you two get up and brush yourselves off, preparing to part ways. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on Chuuya’s for a second more than usual as you open up your umbrella- it always does rain on this day, but today it seemed a bit gentler yet stronger- as if the skies were quietly lamenting over what was to come. 

Right before he left, he quietly spoke, the whisper floating between you. “Don’t think everything’s alright between us, because it isn’t.” He always does say something like this before he leaves every time, and again, there’s no real bite or meaning behind those words, just a formality he wishes to continue. 

You let a sad smile rest on your face as you gazed at him, before responding, “Don’t worry, I know.”

“Take care, Chuuya.”

As you started walking off alone, feeling Chuuya’s eyes still on you, ensuring your safety like the gentleman he was, you wondered if you had truly tied all the remaining loose ends of your thread of life, or did you still have regrets? It was very likely- no one could say they died without any regrets at all. And besides, no one’s end was written in stone, unless they carved it themselves. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was ever all too much for you.

The next morning, you call your boss to let him know that you’re ready to take on the mission. It was an important one, involving both a long period of infiltration for gathering valuable intel, and then the assassination of the target at the end. It was a high-risk mission too, but you were used to those, weren’t you?

Why would this mission be any different?

*********

Another year rolled past. This year, Chuuya hadn’t been able to visit the graves at all after the first two-three months because he had been sent overseas for a long-term mission. During the months he’d been in Yokohama, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of you- of course he hadn’t, he made sure to avoid the days you came, preferring to merely see the traces of yourself you left and leaving his own. After that he only got the chance to return there on their next death anniversary, and even for that he had to fight tooth and nail. He was a man of actions, and he would never be the one to break the tradition.

But he’d never imagined that you would break it either. You too were a person who valued actions, or had you changed over the years? 

His sharp eyes scanned the graves cautiously, but there was not a single trace of you. The only life around were the rose plants, not a soul in sight.

Rage, resentment and hints of sorrow bubbled up in him, taking him by storm as he strode over and angrily sat down by one of the graves. He was silent the entire night, letting his rush of emotions subside, staring at the gates as if he was expecting you to suddenly pop out. He stared at the moon, and at the roses. Did you not notice that they were about to bloom when you last visited? Because they were in full bloom that night, for the first time in years, delicate, fragrant petals shining in the moonlight. The moon, too, looked beautiful that night, a full moon surrounded by clouds. It was raining, heavier than usual, but the moon was never hidden. A memory entered his mind- last year, you had asked him to check whether the moon was visible this year.

“Well, it’s visible, and it sure is beautiful, but you didn’t even show up. Why?” He bitterly spoke out loud.

In the soft blowing wind that accompanied the rain, a stray lone rose petal lying on the ground gently floated in air, appearing as ethereal as smoke. He rose up to leave- you clearly weren’t showing up- eyes following the petal as it blew about, landing on a grave not of the Flags, but right beside, almost as if the deceased had specifically asked it to be there. It seemed relatively new too, for he hadn’t seen it the last time he’d been here. He walked over to it, to read what was written on the gravestone.

A moment passed, then another. And another. And Chuuya doesn’t know how long he spent there, kneeling in front of it. He was slowly getting drenched, because his ability had deactivated itself at some point of the night, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the neatly written words staring back at him, taunting him.

At some point, he understood why he was alone that night. Why you weren’t there to give him company, solace that night. It was because you couldn’t, and so you’d left whatever remained of yourself there, beside him, beside them, eternally. He just hadn’t known.

He could barely breathe, he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to, because his chest felt so heavy then. Eventually, he noticed where the petal had landed- it was a small letter, slightly wet and yellowed, kept in such a way that the rain wouldn’t destroy it. Someone must have kept it there on your request, and so he took it  out, eyes taking in the faintly smudged but still intelligible words.

‘I’m sorry, Chuuya, for everything. I hope you can forgive me someday, even if I myself never could. Thank you for staying with me, for existing.

-Love, [Y/N]’

A silent tear slipped out of his eye, then another. “Idiot.” he whispered, voice cracking. “You’ve always been too hard on yourself. I think I forgave you a long time ago, I guess I just never wanted to acknowledge it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being too late.”

“And don’t worry, the moon looks beautiful tonight, and so do the roses. They’ve finally bloomed. I think you would have loved to see them, wouldn’t you?”

this took me ages to write, but i hope u like it hehehe anyways votes, reblogs and comments are really very much appreciated <333

[tzoiiann]

quote by @work-after-work

[tzoiiann]

..𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Dazai Osamu x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you and dazai always agreed on one thing; not to get feelings involved whenever you had your certain encounters. but, did you really keep your word?

tw: brief mentions of sex, friends with benefits, eventual fluff, dazai being down bad, non-sexual nudity, dazai being a boobs guy change my mind

notes: OMGOMGOMG FIRST FIC?!?! hope you enjoy reading it because i spent a lot of time on it </3

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

in your eyes, dazai osamu had always been a human riddle. what was really hidden behind that signature smirk he always flashed waitresses at cafes? what was his past like? just who was he? these questions would always remind you that you had half a mind about your little encounters with him. you knew for a fact that he worked as a detective in the armed detective agency, but what about in the past, how in the world did he make ends meet?

those exact thoughts were running through your head the moment you caught your breath after coming down from your high. you faced the ceiling with a blank stare, your eyes struggling to focus. taking one last breath, you turned to look at dazai who was surprisingly in the same state as you; his gaze hazy, his hair having turned into a complete mess from the intensity of it all and droplets of sweat running down his the side of temple and on the pillow. you silently stared at him, contemplating whether you should strike up a conversation or just wait for him to speak up himself. you decided on the former, the buzzing of your ears making the silence deafening.

“..uhm, are you alright? let me go get you a glass of water, or something.”—“hm? no need to ‘bella, ’m fine.” he let out a quiet giggle at that, his hand coming up and resting over his eyes as he let out a deep exhale. you merely blinked at him, unsure of what else to say, so you simply sat up on the bed, looking over to the pile of clothes left on the floor. you made an attempt to get up and gather your clothing when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and forcefully pull you towards its direction. you fell back on the bed with a grunt, looking over at dazai with a puzzled expression. his expression however, in contrast to yours, was nothing but innocent, seemingly harmless and only intended for good. but you knew for a fact that ‘dazai osamu’ and ‘good’ should never be in the same sentence. your eyes narrowed in suspicion, but quickly softened the moment you locked gazes. you noticed the afternoon sun casting upon his eyes, giving them the softest honey-like hue you’d ever seen in a person. your eyebrows furrowed as you kept looking at him dumbfounded, not realising you’d given him the most adorable look he’d seen in a while.

“what?” you spoke up, now genuinely confused on why he did that in the first place. his gaze shifted from yours, his eyes closing as he gave you that same signature smirk, however, this time, it was more genuine and soft. “i ripped your clothes off of you, ‘donna, what are you trynna’ retrieve?” you look at him blankly, your jaw dropping slightly as you did in fact remember him ripping your clothes to shreds in the heat of the moment, and due to his impatience. you let out a deep sigh, burying your face into your hands as you let out a loud groan. “are you fucking kidding me!? am i supposed to go out wearing what!- a cardboard box!?”—“don’t worry your pretty little head, just wear one of my shirts or somethin’. you’re tiny anyway, you’ll fit in it just fine~” he put on his sing-song voice for the last part, the same voice that made the corner of your eyes twitch every time he used it. you remained silent, maybe using his shirt as a makeshift dress wouldn’t be a bad idea right? right? “…” you blinked at him, exhaling through your nose “fine, whatever.” you got up from the bed, gathering your undergarments that were piled up on the floor, slipping them on quickly before walking over to the closet and opening. you glanced around it. finally, a white button-up shirt caught your interest. that could work, you thought, it was simple enough.

you put his shirt on, working your way up with the buttons. to no surprise, it was painfully oversized. the bottom of the shirt reached in between your upper and mid thigh, and it hanged incredibly low on your collarbone. you let out a sigh before shifting it on your body a bit, letting it hang off one of your shoulders and call it a day. the sunlight of the midday was casting upon you, with the shirt being practically transparent every curve of your body could be seen clearly. yet, the highlight of it all was your perky nipples that poked oh so obviously through the white shirt. as you were caught up in your thoughts, you noticed that dazai had been quiet for a while now. wondering what in the world could he be plotting again, you turned around to face him. you were expecting to be met either with a smirk or a whistle from him, but to your surprise, you were met with a pair of big, brown eyes that were looking you up and down in an adoring way. your eyebrows furrowed at that, arms crossing as you stared back at him with a puzzled look.

“you’re staring.” you pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone, your eyes never leaving his as you waited for an explanation at last. dazai merely blinked at you, a small chuckle leaving him as he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way. “no i’m not.” and as you expected, you were met with his signature smirk. nonetheless, this time it was more soft and raw, more genuine. you shook your head at that, too fed up with him lying straight into your face. “then your eyes are stuck, maybe you need a firm uppercut to recover.” you replied in a voice full of mockery, your eyes never leaving his. lastly, he let out the faintest of a scoff as she fully turned to face you, his gaze intense. “can’t help it, angel. you’re too pretty not to be stared at.”

you paused at that. sure, you were used to getting a few subtle compliments from him here and there, but being called pretty? your eyebrows furrowed significantly, your lips forming into a frown. a mere comment made it obvious that he was into you that way. you gulped and let out a small sigh. you froze even more the moment you remembered your agreement: just fuck buddies, no feelings involved. the agreement you had to painfully suck up and push your feelings away for just for his sake. you remained silent, the suffocating pressure on your chest becoming heavier by the second. no, this had to stop. morally, making love is done only in between lovers, thus the name. but you? you were not even close to being classified as it. each interaction with anyone would either be considered a relationship, a friendship or nothing. you were nothing. nothing to each other, nothing to the relationship. you were just a blank space floating around in a universe full of love. after gathering your thoughts, you decided to break the silence by finally speaking up, your voice shaky.

“no- shut up, shut the fuck up. we are not lovers, we are nothing. you have no right to call me pretty when i’m a borderline stranger to you. if you want us to be something, then it’s exclusively a relationship.” you saw his grin drop the moment you spoke in a firm voice. you took a moment to think before speaking up again. “i’m tired of this, dazai. i cannot handle just being manhandled like a ragdoll in a fucking sex position like it’s the only thing i’m good for. i don’t even remember the last time you said something nice to me for anything other than my appearance, like the supposed friend you are. maybe that’s all i am to you a domesticated whore.” you remained silent after that, nervously biting on your lip as you leaned your back against the closet door. you stared back into his now slightly widened eyes. you cursed yourself for the fluttering feeling in your heart and the heat burning into your cheeks every time you gazed at him, it was ironic considering the words you had spat out a few seconds ago that were spilt like venom into an open wound, his wound. the wound of the gapping hole in his heart.

you remained silent after that. you mentally cursed at yourself for letting such words slip out. you let out a deep sigh before turning to look at dazai; he was stunned. his eyes were shifting frantically from you to the wall, he was profusely dumbfounded. you let out a faint scoff before waking over to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand coming up to push his bangs out of his eyes.

“’m sorry, i’m just fed up with this situation, please forgive me.” you blinked once as your eyes shifted to his, and immediately saw them soften once you gazed at him with a hopeful look. he just remained staring at you with a half-smile, until it turned into a full-blown smirk, the same one he used to tease everyone out of their minds.

“aww, don’t tell me you have such feelings for me ’donna! oh my my my, whatever am i going to do?” he whined in his sing-song voice, his bicep placed over his eyes in a dramatic manner as he kept up with his melodramatic act. you let out a mere scoff. even though he wasn’t taking it as seriously as you would’ve liked him to, his reaction couldn’t help but make you let out a small giggle. “shut up, just tell me yes or no.” you let out a sigh, your breath shaky with nervousness as you blinked at him with anticipation.

he went silent after that, he really did seem to be considering your offer, it was a demanding one at that. “hmm, fine, whatever. buuuut! i’m expecting you to give me hourly kisses.” his lips formed into an exaggerated pout once he crossed his arms, his gaze never faltering from yours. you looked at him with a indifferent yet warm look as you shook your head. “god are you impossible, fine.” you scooted closer to him, your arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck in an embrace as you pulled his head towards your collarbone, letting it rest there. you tilted your head to the side, letting your cheek rest on top of his forehead as you pressed a small, yet lingering kiss to his temple.

“you will better have counted 30 by the end of the day.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake!”

——————————————————————

[tzoiiann]

..𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐑-𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Dazai Osamu x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you and dazai always agreed on one thing; not to get feelings involved whenever you had your certain encounters. but, did you really keep your word?

tw: brief mentions of sex, friends with benefits, eventual fluff, dazai being down bad, non-sexual nudity, dazai being a boobs guy change my mind

notes: OMGOMGOMG FIRST FIC?!?! hope you enjoy reading it because i spent a lot of time on it </3

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

in your eyes, dazai osamu had always been a human riddle. what was really hidden behind that signature smirk he always flashed waitresses at cafes? what was his past like? just who was he? these questions would always remind you that you had half a mind about your little encounters with him. you knew for a fact that he worked as a detective in the armed detective agency, but what about in the past, how in the world did he make ends meet?

those exact thoughts were running through your head the moment you caught your breath after coming down from your high. you faced the ceiling with a blank stare, your eyes struggling to focus. taking one last breath, you turned to look at dazai who was surprisingly in the same state as you; his gaze hazy, his hair having turned into a complete mess from the intensity of it all and droplets of sweat running down his the side of temple and on the pillow. you silently stared at him, contemplating whether you should strike up a conversation or just wait for him to speak up himself. you decided on the former, the buzzing of your ears making the silence deafening.

“..uhm, are you alright? let me go get you a glass of water, or something.”—“hm? no need to ‘bella, ’m fine.” he let out a quiet giggle at that, his hand coming up and resting over his eyes as he let out a deep exhale. you merely blinked at him, unsure of what else to say, so you simply sat up on the bed, looking over to the pile of clothes left on the floor. you made an attempt to get up and gather your clothing when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist and forcefully pull you towards its direction. you fell back on the bed with a grunt, looking over at dazai with a puzzled expression. his expression however, in contrast to yours, was nothing but innocent, seemingly harmless and only intended for good. but you knew for a fact that ‘dazai osamu’ and ‘good’ should never be in the same sentence. your eyes narrowed in suspicion, but quickly softened the moment you locked gazes. you noticed the afternoon sun casting upon his eyes, giving them the softest honey-like hue you’d ever seen in a person. your eyebrows furrowed as you kept looking at him dumbfounded, not realising you’d given him the most adorable look he’d seen in a while.

“what?” you spoke up, now genuinely confused on why he did that in the first place. his gaze shifted from yours, his eyes closing as he gave you that same signature smirk, however, this time, it was more genuine and soft. “i ripped your clothes off of you, ‘donna, what are you trynna’ retrieve?” you look at him blankly, your jaw dropping slightly as you did in fact remember him ripping your clothes to shreds in the heat of the moment, and due to his impatience. you let out a deep sigh, burying your face into your hands as you let out a loud groan. “are you fucking kidding me!? am i supposed to go out wearing what!- a cardboard box!?”—“don’t worry your pretty little head, just wear one of my shirts or somethin’. you’re tiny anyway, you’ll fit in it just fine~” he put on his sing-song voice for the last part, the same voice that made the corner of your eyes twitch every time he used it. you remained silent, maybe using his shirt as a makeshift dress wouldn’t be a bad idea right? right? “…” you blinked at him, exhaling through your nose “fine, whatever.” you got up from the bed, gathering your undergarments that were piled up on the floor, slipping them on quickly before walking over to the closet and opening. you glanced around it. finally, a white button-up shirt caught your interest. that could work, you thought, it was simple enough.

you put his shirt on, working your way up with the buttons. to no surprise, it was painfully oversized. the bottom of the shirt reached in between your upper and mid thigh, and it hanged incredibly low on your collarbone. you let out a sigh before shifting it on your body a bit, letting it hang off one of your shoulders and call it a day. the sunlight of the midday was casting upon you, with the shirt being practically transparent every curve of your body could be seen clearly. yet, the highlight of it all was your perky nipples that poked oh so obviously through the white shirt. as you were caught up in your thoughts, you noticed that dazai had been quiet for a while now. wondering what in the world could he be plotting again, you turned around to face him. you were expecting to be met either with a smirk or a whistle from him, but to your surprise, you were met with a pair of big, brown eyes that were looking you up and down in an adoring way. your eyebrows furrowed at that, arms crossing as you stared back at him with a puzzled look.

“you’re staring.” you pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone, your eyes never leaving his as you waited for an explanation at last. dazai merely blinked at you, a small chuckle leaving him as he rolls his eyes in an exaggerated way. “no i’m not.” and as you expected, you were met with his signature smirk. nonetheless, this time it was more soft and raw, more genuine. you shook your head at that, too fed up with him lying straight into your face. “then your eyes are stuck, maybe you need a firm uppercut to recover.” you replied in a voice full of mockery, your eyes never leaving his. lastly, he let out the faintest of a scoff as she fully turned to face you, his gaze intense. “can’t help it, angel. you’re too pretty not to be stared at.”

you paused at that. sure, you were used to getting a few subtle compliments from him here and there, but being called pretty? your eyebrows furrowed significantly, your lips forming into a frown. a mere comment made it obvious that he was into you that way. you gulped and let out a small sigh. you froze even more the moment you remembered your agreement: just fuck buddies, no feelings involved. the agreement you had to painfully suck up and push your feelings away for just for his sake. you remained silent, the suffocating pressure on your chest becoming heavier by the second. no, this had to stop. morally, making love is done only in between lovers, thus the name. but you? you were not even close to being classified as it. each interaction with anyone would either be considered a relationship, a friendship or nothing. you were nothing. nothing to each other, nothing to the relationship. you were just a blank space floating around in a universe full of love. after gathering your thoughts, you decided to break the silence by finally speaking up, your voice shaky.

“no- shut up, shut the fuck up. we are not lovers, we are nothing. you have no right to call me pretty when i’m a borderline stranger to you. if you want us to be something, then it’s exclusively a relationship.” you saw his grin drop the moment you spoke in a firm voice. you took a moment to think before speaking up again. “i’m tired of this, dazai. i cannot handle just being manhandled like a ragdoll in a fucking sex position like it’s the only thing i’m good for. i don’t even remember the last time you said something nice to me for anything other than my appearance, like the supposed friend you are. maybe that’s all i am to you a domesticated whore.” you remained silent after that, nervously biting on your lip as you leaned your back against the closet door. you stared back into his now slightly widened eyes. you cursed yourself for the fluttering feeling in your heart and the heat burning into your cheeks every time you gazed at him, it was ironic considering the words you had spat out a few seconds ago that were spilt like venom into an open wound, his wound. the wound of the gapping hole in his heart.

you remained silent after that. you mentally cursed at yourself for letting such words slip out. you let out a deep sigh before turning to look at dazai; he was stunned. his eyes were shifting frantically from you to the wall, he was profusely dumbfounded. you let out a faint scoff before waking over to him and sitting on the edge of the bed, one hand coming up to push his bangs out of his eyes.

“’m sorry, i’m just fed up with this situation, please forgive me.” you blinked once as your eyes shifted to his, and immediately saw them soften once you gazed at him with a hopeful look. he just remained staring at you with a half-smile, until it turned into a full-blown smirk, the same one he used to tease everyone out of their minds.

“aww, don’t tell me you have such feelings for me ’donna! oh my my my, whatever am i going to do?” he whined in his sing-song voice, his bicep placed over his eyes in a dramatic manner as he kept up with his melodramatic act. you let out a mere scoff. even though he wasn’t taking it as seriously as you would’ve liked him to, his reaction couldn’t help but make you let out a small giggle. “shut up, just tell me yes or no.” you let out a sigh, your breath shaky with nervousness as you blinked at him with anticipation.

he went silent after that, he really did seem to be considering your offer, it was a demanding one at that. “hmm, fine, whatever. buuuut! i’m expecting you to give me hourly kisses.” his lips formed into an exaggerated pout once he crossed his arms, his gaze never faltering from yours. you looked at him with a indifferent yet warm look as you shook your head. “god are you impossible, fine.” you scooted closer to him, your arms hesitantly wrapping around his neck in an embrace as you pulled his head towards your collarbone, letting it rest there. you tilted your head to the side, letting your cheek rest on top of his forehead as you pressed a small, yet lingering kiss to his temple.

“you will better have counted 30 by the end of the day.”

“oh, for fuck’s sake!”

——————————————————————

[tzoiiann]

a small part of the fic! 🫶🏻

“no- shut up, shut the fuck up. we are not lovers, we are nothing. you have no right to call me pretty when i’m a borderline stranger to you. if you want us to be something, then it’s exclusively a relationship.” you saw his grin drop the moment you spoke in a firm voice. you took a moment to think before speaking up again. “i’m tired of this, dazai. i cannot handle just being manhandled like a ragdoll in a fucking sex position like it’s the only thing i’m good for. i don’t even remember the last time you said something nice to me for anything other than my appearance, like the supposed friend you are. maybe that’s all i am to you, a domesticated whore.”

. ݁₊ ⋆.˚⊹ ٠ ࣪⭑. ݁˖. ݁₊⋆.˚

you remained silent after that, nervously biting on your lip as you leaned your back against the closet door. you stared back into his now slightly widened eyes. you cursed yourself for the fluttering feeling in your heart and the heat burning into your cheeks every time you gazed at him, it was ironic considering the words you had spat out a few seconds ago that were spilt like venom into an open wound, his wound. the wound of the gapping hole in his heart.

[tzoiiann]

sneak peak of my first ever fic! i decided to go for dazai x reader since chuuya will take me a while to characterise properly (pretty boy has a unique personality i love him sm sobs). currently 1.4k wc, stay tuned! <3

[tzoiiann]

tzoii!— standing proudly at 19 ✰—chuuya's doll, dazai's angel -`♡´-

likes: MATHS!! procrastinating (so sorry soz), cats/dogs (love them both equally AHHHH!), k-pop (itzy ult/ lia biased), spending $40 on k-pop albums proudly, astronomy (nerd), bsd obviously, idk what else i'm kinda boring ngl

dislikes: zionists (ehm ;-;), homophobia, pedophilia, transphobia, xenophobia, ableism, discrimination/racism etc., ppl with big egos, my dad lmfao, fyodor (sorry just can't vibe w him, it's ok if you like him tho obv), constant complaining

music taste: LANA DEL REY 🙏🏻, itzy, (g)i-dle, newjeans, twice, le sserafim! non kpop: chase atlantic, the neighbourhood, the weeknd, (a bit of) arctic monkeys, cigarettes after sex, melanie martinez

[tzoiiann]

—Random Chuuya drabble ♡

okay okay hear me out; chuuya would be the type of guy to have such ways of showing affection that make you writhe beneath him. kneeling down to buckle your shoes/heels —after he's done kissing and caressing your calves ehe >ᴗ<—, taking of his hat, holding it to his chest with one hand as he bends down slightly to hold yours with the other and kiss your knuckles, always placing his hand on your thigh whilst he drives and letting his thumb ghost over your skin occasionaly. he's just soooooooo!

oh! and forget shall we not the fact that he'd spoil you rotten. poor baby is always exhausted because of work and half of the time, when he comes back home he's too tired, merely pulling you into a hug and pressing a warm kiss onto your temple before whispering an 'i love you' and going straight to bed. so naturaly, since he can't be by your side, he makes up for it by buying you stupidly expensive stuff that you've eyed for more than a second when the two of you were just walking around the shops on one of his days off. valentino heels, pandora jewellery —that he complained were too cheap for their looks— and humongously big bouquets of sparkly roses in a dark wine red colour —for which you wondered where in the world you'd put them—! HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL AHHHHH

[tzoiiann]

honestly in the mood to write a fic but idk if i'll be able to finish it?? chuuya lovers arise

[tzoiiann]

OMGOMGOMG?!?!?! THANK YOU FOR THISSS

Post-ww2 Yakuza!chuuya x Fem!reader

✮ Contents: ACT ONE, ~2k words, yakuza, mentions of ww2, mentions of double suicide

✮ A/N: omg i LOVED WRITING THIS FIC !! SO GLAD TO BE APART OF @kentopedia 's event!! a lot of this chapter is going to be set up, but it's important for the rest of the series !! next chapter~ masterlist~

Note: this is a work of fiction. I have taken some creative liberties in this fic, and i do not claim to know everything about japanese history but i have tried my best to be as historically accurate as possible

The train screeched, dragging along the rusty tracks to a stop. The doors slid open and people clambered out of the hot, stuffed train cars with large suitcases full of luggage in hand. You stepped outside into the mid-afternoon sun, surveying the noising chatter of people and the whistles blown by conductors while smoke billowed out the top of the train and dissolved in the air. Kyouka was right behind you- a young girl of around fourteen that had lost her parents in the war and, your personal maid. She carried your luggage with relative ease, it always stunned you how this young girl could manage carrying things most have trouble with.

“Come on, we have to reach the house soon…” You gestured for her to come closer to you. once she complied the two of you weaved your way through the sea of souls, chatter of things from the increase in the cost of rice to the presence of American troops flitted about.

Both because of the war.

You bumped into a man and quickly apologised, smoothing down the yukata that you wore as you glanced around the station in search for one of the servants that would bring you to the estate you were being sent to live in-for how long you didn’t know.

You saw some men crowded around a poster taped against the wall. Probably a poster from Communist supporters or just a call to resist the rule of gaijin. It’d probably will be torn down soon, and from the presence of American troops in this station alone made you wonder why it hadn’t been ripped off.

“Miss!!” You turned around to the source of the voice to see a young boy hurrying up to you, hair white and donning a sickly-pale complexion.

“You must be…” you racked through your brain for the boy’s name as he panted for air, hands on his knees. You were told his name before you left Tokyo, it was…

“…Atsushi. Nakajima Atsushi miss.” He panted, pushing his crooked bangs out of his sweat-beaded face. “Nice to meet you.” Atsushi smiled, straightening his posture and turning to Kyouka. You watched as he tried to take your luggage out of kyouka's small hands, to which she promptly refused and instead toddled off in search of the car. You smiled at her antics and followed along.

the car shifted against the gravelly unpaved roads leading to the estate. It was a family estate, built near the edges of Yokohama and one of few buildings that were lucky enough to be saved from the bombing of the Tokyo area a few years back. You rocked in the seat, hands folded in your lap as you looked out the window at the vibrant shades of green that adorned old, twisting tree trunks that curved along the sides of the road. “Have you been back recently miss?” Atsushi inquired from his spot in the front, steering wheel in his hands.

“No, it’s been a while. I can’t really remember the last time I was here very well, I was very young after all.” You braced against the side and let out a sudden yelp as the car hit a particularly bumpy spot. You looked at Kyouka quickly, confirming she was okay as you saw the girl looking quite unbothered as she stared blankly ahead with a small luggage bag in her lap.

Atsushi nodded, slowing the car down as the winding path opened to the estate grounds. Parking the car in a slope by the road, the three of you clambered out, exposing your skin to the sweltering heat of the burning sun.

“You can go inside miss. there’s not many helpers anymore but it’s not that much of a trouble.” Atsushi grunted as he helped kyouka lug the luggage out of the trunk, quickly explaining the directions to the room you were staying in. You nodded and went inside.

The estate was different; maybe it was because the light damage that was restored over the years, but there was something else to it. Maybe it was the way light shone in and hit the tatami floors, dust dancing in the rays coating the room in a warm hue. The floors creaked under the most gentle of steps as you walked through the halls following atsushi's hurried directions to your room. Pushing the sliding shoji door aside you entered the room carefully, as if there was an undisturbed creature slumbering away, forgotten amidst the chaos of the years long world war. There was a few things in the room, a western style desk and closet and a futon along with a few books lining a bookshelf. You aimlessly grabbed a book off the shelf, flipping through the text in boredom with your chin propped in hand. The entire estate was quiet, a far cry from the memories of the maid’s chatter and gossip echoing against the walls as a child. It was to be expected; no one in Japan was doing too favorably nowadays.

You sighed and dogeared the page you were on, laying down on the futon and staring blankly at the ceiling

Kyouka brought up the market as you ate breakfast the following morning.

“mh? do I want to go?” You took a sip of miso soup, head tilted in thought.

Kyouka nodded “I thought you might like to go out.” You nodded and swallowed.

“You’re right about that.” You spared one last bite of rice-it felt wrong to waste any when it was so expensive- and stood up.

The car sputtered and groaned as it came to a stop in a random alley near the Yamiichi. You and kyouka filed out, atsushi having some work to attend to so the two of you were left on your own. It was a bit stressing; after all it was your second day in Yokohama. Loose rock and dirt shifted under your heels as you slowly figured out the proper directions to the market from the vague directions given by a passerby.

Yamiichi were technically illegal, but sometimes they were the only places that most people could afford to buy from. Of course they had risks. Yakuza gangs often fought for control of the most lucrative markets in the city, and American troops often intermingled alongside the Japanese in the markets. However, keeping your head low and avoiding standing out worked well to repel possible troubles.

You were just there with your maid to get some food and leave. As the sight of poorly constructed roofs of market stalls grew closer you couldn’t help the dip of anxiety in your stomach, spreading and curling around in your limbs like a plague.

The market was packed at this time of day, and you made a mental note to come later or earlier-though the former seemed better to you. Weaving through hungry and desperate people was a difficult task, being pushed around and hitting the sharp, protruding bones of hips and shoulders would definitely cause some bruises if this kept up.

Pausing to read the stalls signs to figure out who was selling what, you made your way to a stall selling sweet potatoes among other vegetables, sending kyouka to another stall as you rather not stay longer than needed. The seller, a middle aged man with silver streaks in his dark hair, placed produce in a worn sack as you named out what you needed, and when he named the price it was more exorbitant than expected.

“Are you sure? For all that?” You dug your teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your cheek, glancing at the half-filled sack. It seemed too much, but bartering didn’t seem attractive enough for you to argue with this man. You doled out some yen and placed them on the table, grabbing the sack of produce and hurrying off with it clutched to your chest.

Glancing around for kyouka, you didn’t see the man barreling towards you, looking around with hands shoved in pockets.

You didn’t notice him until he crashed into you, knocking the two of you to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Ah shit, my bad- are you okay miss?” You grunted and nodded, blinking dust out of your eyes as the ginger stood up and hurried to your side.

“I’m okay.” You sighed, looking to the side to find the threadbare sack ripped open and the produce spilled all over the dusty ground. You sighed and looked up at the man, gray eyes casting an apologetic glance at you while holding his gloved hand out. You nodded and took it, about to thank him when you heard an over-dramatic gasp and the crunch of gravel under hurried steps.

“Chuuya! How ungentlemanly of you to knock over such a pretty lady!” You saw a twitch in the man's-chuuya's- eye and he let out a silent hiss, glaring at the brown-haired man that strolled over.

“Shut it, mackerel. I didn’t mean to.” He snapped back, squeezing your hand a bit before dropping it. The brunette glanced at you before he grinned and dropped onto his knees, clutching your hand in his. You gaped a bit, a starry look in the mans eyes as he spoke quickly.

“My darling, would you like to reenact ending of the play Shinjuu ten no Amijima with me in a double suici-?” chuuya grabbed him by the collar, shoving him away from you and gritting his teeth.

“Sorry, sweetheart. For this mess-” He gestured to the wasted produce, “-and for dazai.” He shook dazai a bit and he whined about double suicides and how mean chuuya was for not letting him achieve one with you. You smiled a bit and giggled softly at the sight in front of you and if you were staring a little more carefully you would’ve seen the colour that flushed chuuya's cheeks.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll come back later I guess…” You sighed, shoulders slumping. chuuya's mouth opened before he shut it, nodding and rubbing the back of his neck.

“okay, guess I’ll go do…stuff…” He said it so quietly you had to strain your ears over the clammer of the market to hear. Before you could respond he lugged dazai up and dragged him away from you, not before you could register a snippet of their argument.

“c'monnnn, Chuuya! You hafta admit she’s reaaaally pretty-” a yelp followed.

“S-shut it!”

It took you a moment to realize they were talking about you.

You looked down and gathered some of the salvageable produce in your arms, and as you did so you realized your heart.

Why was it beating faster than normal?

Shinjuu ten no Amijima: "the love suicides at Amijima"; a kabuki play in which the two lovers commit double suicide at the end.

gaijin: foreigners; used by the Japanese to describe occupying American troops

Yamiichi: illegal black markets in post-wwii japan

©Cheriiyaya 2024

tagging: @rusmii @atsquie @minteraysolo @atzuhi @lovesick-fairy @adoredazai @pinky-99 @tabathastan @ravencincaide @dazaikinniess @nyx-prodigy @himikoslove @teddirika @hyacinth-venom @kaitoluver @dydrem @starracoonagain @scryarchives

[tzoiiann]

They hung a girl, with her legs blown off. They hung a CHILD, whose legs were blown off. There is no war, only genocide. Fuck Israel.