not realizing you’re talking to your ex-boyfriend!sukuna while drunk !
you were way too drunk and the sigma chi house was spinning.
the music thumped through the walls and your head felt light and fuzzy, but you were smiling anyway, red cup dangling from your fingers as you leaned against the wall for balance. your friends had disappeared ages ago and you didn’t really mind.
that’s when you saw him.
tall. pink hair. tattoos crawling up his arms. he looked really familiar but your drunk brain couldn’t connect the dots. you just knew he was stupidly hot standing there by the stairs with his arms crossed.
you stumbled over with a bright smile.
“hi,” you said, voice soft and sweet. “you have the prettiest eyes. like… scary pretty.”
sukuna looked down at you and his eyebrow raised, but he didn’t move away. the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.
“yeah?” he asked, voice low.
you nodded, stepping closer until you were leaning into his space. he smelled so good. warm and a little sweet, just like someone you used to know.
“mhm. my ex had eyes like yours,” you mumbled, resting your forehead against his arm because the room wouldn’t stop tilting. “he was mean looking but really nice to me. i miss him a lot actually.”
sukuna stayed quiet, one big hand coming up to steady you by the waist so you wouldn’t fall.
you kept talking, words spilling out easily now that someone was listening.
“we broke up because i thought he didn’t care enough but… he used to do the sweetest things. like bringing me coffee before class or letting me play with his hair even when he acted all tough about it.” you sighed softly. “i think i messed up. i still wear his hoodie to sleep sometimes.”
his grip on your waist tightened just a little.
“you’re drunk,” he murmured.
“super drunk,” you agreed with a little laugh, tilting your head up to look at him again. “but i mean it. he was the best. made me feel safe even when he was quiet and scary. you kinda look like him, it’s weird.”
sukuna let out a quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. he guided you through the crowd with a hand on your lower back, taking you upstairs without saying much. you didn’t even question it. his room felt familiar but everything was blurry.
he sat you on the edge of his bed and grabbed a bottle of water, crouching down in front of you so you could drink it. his hand rested gently on your knee the whole time.
“you’re really nice,” you whispered, eyes half closed. “my ex was nice like this too. when nobody else was looking.”
he didn’t answer right away. just brushed some hair out of your face with careful fingers and helped you lie down. when you reached out and grabbed his hand he paused.
“stay?” you asked softly.
sukuna sighed, but it was the soft kind. he sat on the edge of the bed and let you keep holding his hand, thumb rubbing slow circles over your knuckles while you drifted off.
“yeah,” he said quietly, watching you fall asleep in his bed again. “i’m not going anywhere.”
Zanka would be type to make your coffee in the morning while he brews his tea; he knows how you like yours. He would be up to study and do his work alongside you whenever possible. He's very diligent and disciplined too, so much so that it makes you want to work even harder! He would always remind you to focus. He would also remind you to take breaks. And if you refuse, he would click his tongue, pull you up from where your butt is glued to, and make you go on walks with him. Perhaps you would get some snacks along the way before getting back. He would also offer to read over your essays and other works—and he would give really good feedback too!
Zanka would absolutely scold you when you're neglecting your health ("What d'ya mean you've already eaten breakfast? No. Coffee and a piece of toast ain't a meal"). And he would absolutely offer to do any neglected chores ("S'okay, just keep focusin' on your assignment—Yeah, I know what to do. Just focus, don't worry 'bout me”).
And when things are getting a bit too much, with disappointing scores and deadlines dreadfully approaching, he would always be there to help soothe your pain. Even when he gets a bit stiff and awkward as he engulfs you in his embrace (you know what he means when you feel his thumb caressing your skin). Even when he doesn’t know what the right words are (you know what he means when his voice softens as he speaks in between pauses).
Zanka would encourage you and cheer for you, anything so you can get back on your feet again (because he knows how hardworking and capable you are, because he always believes in you).
It’s difficult to escape from Zanka’s arms in the morning. It's impossible even, when the weather is cold. He doesn’t care if you have to get up because you have to pee or that you have to get ready for work. He groans when you move and he whines when you try to push away from him—but his arms are too strong, and his legs are too tangled with yours! He tightens his hold on you even further, murmuring about something with his dialect even more pronounced, before nestling his head on your shoulder (you can slowly feel a bit of his drool spilling when his breathing steadies and you hold back your amusement). All you can do is sigh. You trace patterns on his exposed skin when you decided to wait until he’s gotten enough sleep. The weight and warmth of his body are starting to get to you though, and the fragrance of sandalwood that lingers on his sheets isn’t helping.
…Maybe it can’t hurt to snooze for a bit more.
・・・
When everyone asks why you were late, you pin the blame on Zanka, who’s now lucid and wide awake next to you. You can see his ears slowly turning pink while he brings up excuses and tries to casually deny everything in front of everyone (but it’s too late. They’re already teasing him! They’re now calling him ‘Zan-zan the Cuddlebug’, and Zanka’s fluster is making him stumble with his words. His face is starting to get too hot to handle that he’s hiding his flushed cheeks. It’s okay, though. Just give him a peck and it will solve everything!
The first time Enjin noticed how nervous Zanka got around you, he stifled a laugh. The cigarette in his mouth kept moving up and down at the mere thought of Zanka being in love.
Sometimes Enjin would tease Zanka by talking about you, about how beautiful your eyes were or the way you laughed. You were a pretty girl, and everyone knew it, especially Zanka, and Enjin used it for his amusement.
"I heard she's seeing a guy from the city," Enjin blurted out once in the middle of a mission. Zanka looked at him, confused, over his gas mask. Enjin was fiddling with Umbreaker, and Zanka just tightened his grip on Assistaff.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, his heart pounding a mile a minute. He knew exactly who Enjin was referring to.
"Your girl," Enjin replied, returning his gaze. He noticed the slight blush on the boy's ears and cheeks.
"Don't talk nonsense," Zanka snapped and walked away quickly.
Enjin knew there was something between you two, but he couldn't prove it. Zanka was very reserved, and you were very cautious. Whenever he was about to catch you together, nothing. Enjin found it amusing, like playing cops and robbers, but he was starting to get bored.
"Zanka must be really upset," Enjin whispered in your ear when he returned from his mission that same day, his arm wrapped around you completely.
"Huh?" you gasped. He inhaled from the cigarette that seemed to go on forever whenever you saw him. He inhaled and exhaled several times before continuing, his weight falling on you as if you were a pillow.
"It wasn't a good day today," he said, looking at you with those intent eyes of his and smiling, his dimples becoming more noticeable.
"Really? What happened?" Your questions were genuine, your eyes looking innocent and eager for information, so innocent that Enjin felt uneasy, but that feeling vanished as soon as Zanka entered the dining room.
"Hey Zanka, why don't you tell her how it went today?" Enjin challenged Zanka, who only gave him a withering look and walked away. His eyes never met yours, and that made your heart flutter. You shifted uncomfortably under Enjin's arm, and he walked away. "Poor kid, maybe he needs some motivation," he shrugged and disappeared. You stayed in the same spot for a few minutes and then headed to Zanka's room.
Of course, you and Zanka had been in a relationship for months. But Enjin was so nosy that he might ask things that would make Zanka uncomfortable. He begged you to keep it a secret until Enjin gave up, but Enjin was stubborn. Too stubborn.
Enjin followed you from a distance, desperately trying to figure out where you were going.
"Come on, come on," he sighed until you finally reached Zanka's door. You knocked three times, as if it were a secret code, and the door opened.
Enjin stifled a shout. He wanted to jump up and announce that he was right, but he held back. He maneuvered Unbreaker again and stood outside the room like a guard.
Hours passed, and neither you nor Zanka dared to come out. Enjin started thinking inappropriate thoughts.
He pressed his ear to the door and strained to hear, but he couldn't hear anything. He cursed under his breath and concentrated on listening.
Until he heard the bed creak. It was Enjin, for God's sake, he knew exactly what that creaking meant.
He opened his eyes in shock and covered his mouth to stifle any sound, moving away from the door.
"Zanka, you make me proud," he thought, stretching a little before finally leaving the room.
The next day, Enjin was waiting for you in the dining room. His gaze fell upon you both as ypu entered, almost hand in hand. Enjin smiled and invited you to sit with him. Zanka suspected something was amiss but said nothing. When you sat down, Enjin was grinning from ear to ear; it was actually quite awkward.
"Why are you smiling like that?" Zanka asked.
"You had a good night, didn't you?" He commented mockingly, Zanka looked at him suspiciously, but his red ears gave him away.
"Well done, Zanka, I'm proud."
You looked at both of them, confused. You didn't know Enjin as well as Zanka and didn't know what kind of gestures or comments were common between them, but Zanka understood perfectly.
"Damn," Zanka muttered, thinking that all that was missing was a sign that said, "Congratulations on losing your virginity, Zan-Zan."
you get injured on your hip on your latest mission and when you pull up your shirt and turn a bit in front of your mirror, hissing at the subtle touch of your fingertips hardly brushing over it, you notice the approach of Enjin's fixed golden hues train directly onto the dark mark colored along your smooth skin, through the reflection of your mirror. and when he approaches behind you, he gently reaches down to barely graze it. instead, carefully holds the curve of your hip and circles his thumb delicately around the deep violet mark.
doesn't say much, simply silently studies it, glances up at you through your mirror and bends to his knees to subtly plant supple kisses along the achy bruise. all while gingerly holding onto your hips, ever so careful and mindful not to harm you. tending and treating you with such delicate caress and care. stimulating those familiar pesky fluttering butterflies in the depths of your stomach. he can be gentle and cute sometimes.
you'd smile, reach to ruffle a hand through his amber hair and tell him that you're alright. he only hums against your skin, looks up at you and pulls away to reach back up to your level (well, back to his level, so to speak, he's so freakishly tall). gently perching a palm at the back of your head and pushing his lips against your forehead.
your gachiakuta partner reacting to you maxing their credit card after a heated argument! they rich rich in this one, babes. lowkey kinda ooc too ehe. female reader!
featuring: august stilza · tamsy caines · semiu grier · cthoni andor · enjin · gris rubion · bro santa · zodyl typhon · arkha corvus
august stilza!
laughs when the bank called him about a suspicious transaction in his credit card. he opened his account and saw you spent nearly half a million inside one of his private boutiques. it was one shirt, dress, shoes, or even a small handkerchief after another, minus signs seemingly never-ending.
"nah, don't do anything," he told the teller, already sketching his latest runway fashion with you in mind. "that's just my wife doin' a li'l retail therapy! matter-of-fact, you think y'all can upgrade the card's limit?"
tamsy caines!
he was already watching the endless notification of your shopping spree with a small, satisfied smile on his lips. it started with small transaction in various restaurants and soon escalated to salons, spas, and finally boutiques in the higher-end malls of the city. if he was being honest, it was fun keeping tabs on whatever you spent his hard-earned money as payback to his mistakes.
so when the bank called him to confirm some suspicious transaction, he merely approved them all on the spot. "no need to call if this happened again," he said, already planning his next fuck-up. "though you could block that card and upgrade my other one instead..." just for funsies, he added mentally.
semiu grier!
she was the one who handed you her wallet a few hours after the argument. "treat your pretty li'l head with love, baby," she chuckled, dragging a finger from your collarbone to your chin, lifting your head. "'s my apology for makin' you mad earlier. 'm sorry 'bout that, gorgeous."
so, of course, she was all but satisfied when the bank called about numerous suspicious transaction on her card. she listened as the teller (word) all your retail therapy, giving a small hum of approval when a particular intimate item caught her ears. "don't worry 'bout those," she said, eyeing the clock on the wall. just a few more hours before you return, so she should probably ready the house. "that's just my lovely wife doin' a self-care day."
cthoni andor!
she prepared herself for your retail therapy. not one to spend her time with unnecessary conversations, she called the bank the moment you stepped out of the house. "don't call me if you see any suspicious transaction my my credit card," she informed them. "my wife is just doing a little bit of shopping."
and so, she watched the notifications pile up on her phone. a jewelry here. an assortment of bags there. a box full of the newest gaming console here. nothing out of the ordinary for you. her lips quirked upwards as she counted the amount you spent in just a few hours. she decided to message you, asking if you wanted to spend a romantic dinner with her in your favourite restaurant to finish off your shopping spree.
enjin!
accepted that he fucked up the moment you gave him the silent treatment and took his main credit card. he sighed as another notification popped up on his phone, this one was from your favourite restaurant. apparently, you were having a party from the amount of dishes you ordered. but make no mistake, he was watching the notifications with a smirk on his lips, calculating the amount you were spending by the hours.
he nonchalantly answered the call from the bank, notifying him about the suspicious transactions on his card. he cackled when the teller suggested freezing the card to protect his money. "nah, don't do that," he countered, already on his feet to fetch his car key. "you'll get me in deeper trouble with my woman. just let her enjoy herself for the night." he was already at the door by the time he ended the call, certain that you'll need his other credit cards by the time he get to you.
gris rubion!
not only was he the one who suggested you treat yourself with his credit card, he was also your driver and personal bag holder for the trip. he smiled softly as he watched you point at each and every bag displayed in dior, uncaring whether they fit your current aesthetic. whenever a sales agent dared to mention his presence, you upfront glared at them, as if challenging them to put a stop on your retail therapy.
he stepped aside for a second when the bank called about suspicious activity regarding his credit card. he listened attentively to the teller as they droned about the risks of the transaction and the possible solution—freezing the card. he just chuckled lightly. "no need to freeze the card," he said, watching you try on different pairs of high heels. "my wife is in charge of these cards."
bro santa!
the moment you tried stepping out of the house alone, he was by your side, asking to accompany you to wherever. he insisted being there as a precaution, and for the fact that he doesn't like you going out alone, especially when you were angry or expressing any negative emotions. you settled with him being your personal shopping cart.
he answered the call from the bank while you were getting fitted. he almost chuckled out loud when the teller told him about the suspicious transaction happening with his credit card. they suggested freezing the card and he immediately declined. "everything's all right," he told the teller. "my wife is just out shopping. do you think i could upgrade the card's limit right now?"
zodyl typhon!
he knew you were going to do retail therapy the moment an argument ended, no matter if it was good or bad. he had accepted that fact long before you two got married. and so, he left his wallet on the kitchen counter with a note wishing you a happy shopping. you left with a smile on your face.
when the bank called about suspicious activities on his card, he cut them off in the middle of their introduction. "there is no need to freeze the card or even trouble me with this," he said. "my wife is merely spending time for herself with my credit card. if you do anything to dampen her mood, i'll cut all contact with your business."
arkha corvus!
he had already talked to his bank regarding suspicious activities on his card. not that he directly stated the cause to be you—oh no, it was unacceptable for others to view you in such a light. he just reassured them that a spike of transaction was normal and there was no need to contact him with the issue, unless the total amount was less than six digits.
he watched the notifications pop one after another as you went through your shopping spree. he had a satisfied smile on his face, imagining your beautiful face as you buy out an entire section of your favourite brand. maybe it was time to build you another walk-in closet. or, even better, buy another floor of the building he owned to be constructed as you closet. he held his chin, deep in though. "i'd have to consult her about this when she returns. although, it wouldn't hurt to see how she's doing at the moment."
enjin is so clingy you’re in the common room chatting with the others and he’ll just barge in, pick you up and toss you over his shoulder. because apparently it’s cuddle o’clock now and he hadn’t seen you all day (three hours max).
enjin’s favorite time was when the night settled over the cleaners hq and things got quiet. add you into the mix and it was perfect.
you were the only person he could slow down with.
tonight you were tucked into his side, half draped over him right where you belong. his arm rested lazily around your waist, fingers caressing the soft skin beneath your shirt. all while he watched you tracing the ink on his other arm.
it almost amused him how fascinated you were by his tattoos. always looking. always touching.
he definitely liked it a lot when your fingers traced the black, white clouds of his arms up to his biceps. neck. everywhere. it felt like you were learning each day new.
your fingertips dragged up to his biceps, then his shoulder, slipping across his collarbone. his breathing grew heavier and he thickened in his pants. but he didn’t act on it… yet.
“this one’s my favorite,” you whispered, letting your fingers ghost over the ink stretched across his chest.
“yeah?”
“mm.” your touch lingered there before you teased. “it suits you.”
he let out a quiet, rough laugh. it died as quick as it came on his laps as your hand drifted lower. despite having done it so often you still hesitated before you circled the tattoo on his stomach. his muscles flexed under your touch.
his arm around you tightened, pulling you closer. “you’re getting bold,” he rasped.
“you don’t like it?” you asked, glancing up at him.
that earned you a look, because you knew it drove him crazy.
“did i say that?”
you giggled softly and shook the head. your fingers resumed their teasing path, tracing ink, muscle, warmth.
“maybe i’ll let you mark it one day,” he whispered huskily. “for now don’t stop.”
so you didn’t, but asked, “mark how?”
“you know exactly how,” he muttered.
slowly you understood what he meant. he didn’t want only your fingers tracing his tattoos, but something else too.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
i love you, mark lee. i hope you know we will always support you in your next endeavor 💚
You like to stare at your boyfriend’s face when he’s sleeping.
He calls you creepy, but there’s something so serene in watching him when he has no sense of the obligations he holds on his shoulders or the weight of the burdens he carries. You gaze at him as the sunlight peeks through the curtains, smiling when the corner of his mouth twitches.
“If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to regret it.”
You giggle. “You just look so cute, that’s all.”
One eye peeks open. His hand instinctively wraps around your waist, tugging you close to his frame and pulling up the comforter to huddle you in his warmth.
“How often are you doing this?” He asks groggily, his voice still heavy with exhaustion.
“Don’t worry about it,” you say, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “Just go back to sleep.”
“How can I when I know you’ll be staring at me the whole time?”
You laugh, slipping a hand underneath his shirt to run your fingers over his stomach. You’re instantly engulfed in happiness, in the feeling that you’ve chosen the right person to love. You could stay in this moment forever with him.
“Do you know how hard you work, Mark Lee?”
He hums softly like he doesn’t want to broach the topic this early in the morning. You’ve had arguments before about how overworked he is, how he should take a break, and this list goes on and on. You understand why he would rather not get into it today.
“I like seeing you when you’re just… you. If you want to call me creepy again, so be it.”
His lips press against yours and you sigh, wishing you could savor this a little longer before you have to get up and start your day.
“You can stare at me for as long as it makes you happy, baby,” he murmurs, slowly drifting back to sleep.
You brush your fingertips over his jaw, smiling.
You hope he never has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders ever again.
Gachiakuta men holding hands, Headcanons, Zanka, Follo, Enjin, Gris
Masterlist
ZANKA
♡He would be incredibly nervous and would talk about anything and everything to distract himself.
♡He would initiate contact by lightly brushing his hand against yours. If he notices you don't pull away, he would timidly take your pinky finger in his.
♡He would wait for you to take his hand first before clinging to you.
♡He likes to stroke the back of your hand with his thumb.
♡He loves intertwining his fingers with yours.
FOLLO
♡The first time, he would hold his breath to gather his courage and take your hand as if he were greeting you. His hands always sweat, so he would constantly wipe them away before taking your hand.
♡He doesn't like you to take the initiative; he has to take your hand first.
♡He prefers you put your hands in his pockets and then take your hand from there.
ENJIN
♡He would take your hand first, even before you were a couple, holding it firmly regardless of what others might say.
♡Although His hands are much larger than yours, and he would hold them gently.
♡He's more inclined to put his arm around you than to hold your hand.
♡He likes it when you hold onto his sleeve instead of his hand.
GRIS
♡His hands are warm and firm; you can even feel that warmth through his gloves.
♡He would constantly stroke your hand whenever he holds it.
♡He doesn't tend to walk and then take your hand; he would offer you his hand first and then start walking.
♡He likes it when you lean towards the hand he's holding so that your whole body touches his arm. Even while driving, he would offer you his hand to take.
a/n: this is my opinion, you dont have to agree with me
꒰ osamu dazai ꒱
green flags
makes life fun: even boring errands become dates. grocery shopping? he’s racing you down aisles. laundry day? he’s wearing your sweater and acting dramatic about “domestic bliss.” life with him never feels dull
soft with you in private: outside, he’s teasing, clever, hard to read. alone? he’s clingy, sleepy, affectionate, head in your lap, arms around your waist, mumbling that you’re warm and he’s staying there forever
he understands darkness: if you struggle mentally or emotionally, he’s not easily scared off by ugly feelings, grief, or messy thoughts. he understands heavy things better than most
loves deeply once committed: if he genuinely chooses you, it’s intense. loyal in a way that runs frighteningly deep
ridiculously attentive: he notices everything, when your smile looks forced, when you’re quieter than usual, when you mention liking something once in passing and suddenly it’s in his hands a week later
red flags
push-pull behavior: gets close → feels vulnerable → pulls away → comes back clingier than before. emotional whiplash
hard to reassure: even if he loves you, part of him may quietly wonder why. that insecurity can make him sabotage good things
keeps secrets: He’d convince himself he’s “protecting you” by hiding things, when really it creates distance and trust issues
emotionally evasive: the biggest one. he’ll joke instead of being vulnerable. he can love you deeply and still struggle to honestly say what he feels
manipulative tendencies: dazai is smart, too smart. if unhealthy, he could test you, push boundaries, or steer situations without you realizing
꒰ chuuya nakahara ꒱
green flags
extremely loyal: once he loves you, he’s all in. he’s the kind of boyfriend who stays, through hard days, ugly crying, bad moods, and every messy part of life
protective (but not careless): he takes your safety seriously. walks you home, keeps an eye on your surroundings, checks that you got home safe, and is already handling problems before you even realize there’s one
communicates: chuuya is more likely to say what bothers him, what he wants, and where you stand. he can be hotheaded, but you usually won’t have to guess how he feels
spoils you: nice dinners, thoughtful gifts, quality wine, expensive perfume/cologne because “you deserve good things,” and he absolutely remembers your favorite everything
passionate love: he loves loudly, fierce affection, intense kisses, protective arms around your waist, staring at you like you hung the moon
red flags
terrible temper: not necessarily directed at you, but his anger can be explosive. arguments could get heated fast
work comes with danger: being with him means living with risk. violence, enemies, and a dangerous lifestyle would always be part of the relationship
can be possessive: not necessarily controlling, but definitely a “who is that?” eyebrow raise type. if unhealthy, jealousy could become an issue
stubborn: once he digs his heels in, good luck moving him. apologies may come late, even when he knows he’s wrong
high standards: for himself and sometimes others. he can be harsh, blunt, and accidentally intimidating when frustrated
꒰ ranpo edogawa ꒱
green flags
knows you better than you know yourself: ranpo picks up on tiny things, the shift in your voice, the look on your face, habits you don’t even realize you have. you can’t really hide when something’s wrong, because he’ll know immediately
makes you feel chosen: he can be playful and bratty with everyone, but when he loves someone, there’s a very clear “this is my person” energy. you’d feel special in a very genuine way
loyal to the core: once you’re important to him, he keeps you close. he values his people deeply and doesn’t let go easily
makes life feel lighter: a relationship with him would have lots of laughter, teasing, little competitions, inside jokes, and random adventures that somehow become core memories
surprisingly protective: not always physically intimidating, but he’d absolutely use his mind to keep you safe, solve problems, and make sure no one gets one over on you
red flags
can be insensitive: ranpo’s honesty can sting. he may say the brutal truth without realizing how sharp it sounds
spoiled tendencies: he likes being babied a little, snacks, praise, attention, getting his way. cute… until he’s being dramatic because you didn’t indulge him
hard to surprise: planning cute secrets or dramatic reveals? difficult. he’ll probably figure it out before you finish setting it up
low patience for nonsense: if he thinks someone is wasting your time or hurting you, he can become blunt, sharp, and merciless very quickly
emotionally lazy at times: because he understands things quickly, he may assume he already “gets it” and skip the deeper emotional conversation you actually need
꒰ ryunosuke akutagawa ꒱
green flags
quiet devotion: akutagawa isn’t flashy with affection, but when he loves, it’s intense and unwavering. he’s the type to stand silently beside you through everything, his version of “I’m here” is powerful
deeply protective: if someone hurts you, insults you, or threatens you in any way, he takes it personally. you’d never doubt that he has your back
pays attention to what matters: he may seem detached, but he remembers details about you, your routines, preferences, things that make you comfortable, and quietly adjusts around them
soft side only for you: the colder he is with the world, the sweeter those rare moments become, a hand lingering on yours, quietly checking if you’re warm enough, awkward but sincere affection
would treasure your praise: your approval would mean everything to him. genuine compliments stick with him more than he’d admit, and he’d work hard to be someone worthy of them
red flags
emotionally closed off: getting him to openly talk about feelings would be difficult. he tends to bury vulnerability under silence, distance, or intensity
obsessive tendencies: when akutagawa fixates, he fixates. in an unhealthy relationship, that intensity could become possessiveness or unhealthy dependence
low self-worth: a big one. he often measures himself harshly. that can create insecurity, jealousy, or self-sabotaging behavior in love
can be harsh: he may say things bluntly or coldly, especially when upset, without realizing how deeply it lands
difficulty receiving love: even if you love him deeply, part of him may struggle to believe he deserves it
꒰ doppo kunikida ꒱
green flags
dependable to a fault: if kunikida says he’ll do something, he does it. you’d never have to question whether he’ll show up for you, emotionally, physically, practically, he’s there
takes relationships seriously: he’s not casual about love. if he commits, it’s because he sees long-term potential. he’d approach being your boyfriend with genuine care and intention
responsible king: bills paid, plans made, emergencies handled, future discussed. he’s the kind of partner who makes life feel stable rather than chaotic
encourages your goals: he’d respect ambition and want to help you succeed. the type to remember your deadlines, help you prepare, and quietly brag about your accomplishments
would make an excellent husband: realistically? strong husband material. stable, loyal, hardworking, and deeply committed
red flags
workaholic tendencies: he may prioritize responsibilities so heavily that romance gets pushed aside
truggles with flexibility: spontaneous chaos? sudden plan changes? he may internally combust
stress carries over: when overwhelmed, he can become tense, sharp, or emotionally unavailable until he regains control
may accidentally parent you: gentle reminders can turn into lectures if he’s not careful: sleep schedule, finances, diet, organization… very “concerned husband with clipboard” energy
꒰ atsushi nakajima ꒱
green flags
genuinely kind: atsushi has a soft heart. he cares deeply, loves sincerely, and treats people with warmth that feels safe to be around
very attentive to your feelings: he’d notice when you’re upset and immediately want to help, asking if you’re okay, bringing comfort items, staying with you until you feel better
affectionate in a sweet way: hand-holding, shy forehead kisses, hugging you a little too long, looking at you with that quiet “i really like you”softness
supportive partner: he’d be your biggest cheerleader. your wins feel like his wins, and he’d constantly remind you how proud he is of you
would cherish little things: notes from you? saved. random gifts? treasured forever. photos together? his favorite thing. he’d value every small sign of love
red flags
low self-esteem: a big one. atsushi may struggle to believe he deserves love, which can lead to insecurity, overthinking, or unintentionally pulling away
needs reassurance:he may quietly wonder if you’re upset with him, if you still love him, or if he’s “enough”
can be emotionally overwhelmed: he feels things deeply. stress, guilt, fear, or conflict may hit him hard
conflict avoidance: he may bottle up problems because he doesn’t want to upset you, which can create hidden tension
꒰ fukuzawa yukichi ꒱
green flags
extremely reliable: if he says something, it happens. no guessing, no uncertainty, just consistency and trust
emotionally mature: he handles conflict calmly, doesn’t escalate unnecessarily, and prefers understanding over drama
calm, stable presence: fukuzawa is the definition of emotional steadiness. being with him feels grounding, like things won’t fall apart just because life gets messy
protective in a quiet, powerful way: he doesn’t need to be loud about it. If you’re in danger or discomfort, he’s already intervening. you’d feel safe just standing next to him
respects your independence: he wouldn’t smother you. instead, he supports you becoming your own person while still being right there when you need him
red flags
emotionally reserved: he’s not very expressive with feelings. you may sometimes wish he said more, showed more, or verbalized love more openly
work and duty come first: his responsibilities often take priority. that can lead to distance or limited time together
can feel distant unintentionally: even when he cares deeply, his calm nature might come across as emotional detachment
hard to read sometimes: you might have to learn his quieter ways of showing love instead of hearing it directly
꒰ fyodor dostoevsky ꒱
green flags
Intelligent and perceptive: fyodor is extremely sharp. he reads situations and people with unsettling accuracy. he would rarely misunderstand you, because he studies people deeply
calm under pressure: he doesn’t panic or act impulsively. in tense situations, he stays composed, which can feel strangely reassuring
deep convictions: when he believes in something, he commits fully. there’s a sense of purpose and certainty in him
unshaken presence: he carries himself like nothing truly rattles him. that steadiness can feel grounding in moments of chaos
articulate and thoughtful speaker: he expresses himself in a very deliberate, poetic way. conversations with him would feel intense, philosophical, and mentally stimulating
red flags
extremely manipulative: fyodor is not someone who simply “plays mind games” he specializes in psychological control. in a relationship, this is a major danger: influence, persuasion, and emotional steering would not be used gently
lack of emotional safety: you would constantly question whether his actions are genuine or part of a larger plan. that uncertainty is emotionally exhausting
secretive and opaque: he hides his true intentions very well. even closeness doesn’t guarantee transparency
moral extremism: his beliefs are rigid and intense. if your values don’t align, he is unlikely to compromise
control over connection: he tends to position himself as someone who understands reality better than others, which can create a power imbalance in relationships
꒰ nikolai gogol ꒱
green flags
never boring, ever: life with nikolai would be unpredictable, exciting, and full of chaos in a strangely fun way. every day feels like something unexpected could happen
surprisingly attentive beneath the chaos: he acts unserious, but he notices more than he lets on. he’d pick up on your moods, habits, and vulnerabilities quickly
affection would be theatrical but sincere: grand gestures, dramatic confessions, random gifts, appearing out of nowhere just to see your reaction, chaotic, but memorable
makes you laugh: he’s bizarre, funny, and weirdly charming. even frustrating moments could become stories you laugh about later
could love intensely: if he chose someone, it would probably be wholehearted, consuming, and impossible to ignore
red flags
wildly unstable: the biggest one. his unpredictability isn’t just quirky, it can be dangerous, impulsive, and emotionally exhausting
unclear motives: you may never fully know whether he’s joking, testing you, being honest, or performing
poor emotional consistency: one moment affectionate, the next detached, strange, or doing something completely unhinged
boundary issues: he’s the type to ignore normal limits because he finds reactions interesting
꒰ sigma ꒱
green flags
genuinely gentle and kind: sigma is one of the softest presences in the series. he treats people with care, patience, and a calm sincerity that feels safe to be around.
hardworking and responsible: even with uncertainty in his life, he strives to build something stable. he puts effort into making things work.
emotionally honest when safe: once he trusts someone, he tends to be open about his feelings and fears rather than hiding them completely.
warm presence: he brings a calm, almost soothing energy. being around him can feel like a break from chaos.
red flags
identity insecurity: a major one. sigma struggles with questions about who he is, which can lead to emotional instability or dependence on reassurance
fear of abandonment: he deeply wants connection, but that also makes him sensitive to distance or perceived rejection
easily overwhelmed: stress, conflict, or emotional intensity can hit him hard, making it difficult for him to cope in high-pressure situations
can become clingy when anxious: not in a controlling way, more in a “please don’t leave me” emotional reliance way
꒰ saigiku jouno ꒱
green flags
strangely attentive when he chooses to be: he may act chaotic, but when he focuses on you, he remembers details and picks up on things other people miss entirely
protective under the teasing: his playful, taunting personality hides a strong protective instinct. if someone genuinely threatens you, he doesn’t hesitate
honest in his own blunt way: he doesn’t sugarcoat things. what he says is what he means, which can make things weirdly clear even if it stings
exciting, never predictable: life with him would never be boring. there’s always an edge of surprise, banter, or chaos in the air
strong sense of justice (in his own way): he believes in his role and convictions strongly, which can translate into loyalty once you’re “in his circle
red flags
control through perception: because of his sensory abilities, he often “knows too much,” which can feel invasive or unsettling
blunt cruelty disguised as jokes: he may say things that hit hard and frame them as teasing, even when they hurt
trust issues (on both sides): he’s not easy to read emotionally, and he doesn’t make himself emotionally safe or predictable
hard to emotionally pin down: even if he cares, it may feel inconsistent or hidden behind sarcasm and games
꒰ tetcho suehiro ꒱
green flags
incredibly loyal once he chooses you: tetcho is the type who commits fully. if you’re his person, he’ll stand by you without hesitation, no matter how difficult things get
honest and straightforward: he doesn’t play mind games. what he thinks is what he says, and what he says is what he means. relationships with him would be refreshingly direct
strong sense of justice and fairness: he genuinely believes in doing what’s right. you’d never have to question his moral intentions or worry about hidden agendas
protective in a calm, steady way: not overly emotional, but reliable. if you’re in danger, he acts immediately and efficiently
hardworking and disciplined: he puts effort into everything he does, including relationships. he would actively try to be someone dependable for you
red flags
emotionally rigid: tetcho isn’t very expressive. he may struggle to verbalize affection or emotional needs, which can make things feel distant at times
very black-and-white thinking: his strong sense of right and wrong can make compromise difficult in emotionally complex situations
work-focused lifestyle: as a hunting dogs member, duty and missions often come first, which can create emotional or physical distance
low emotional awareness at times: he may not always understand subtle emotional cues, especially if you need comfort in a softer, indirect way
꒰ junichiro tanizaki ꒱
green flags
genuinely gentle and sweet: junichiro has a soft personality in everyday life. he’s caring, easygoing, and usually just wants the people he loves to be comfortable and happy
very supportive partner: he’d encourage you, agree with your ideas, and go along with things you enjoy just to see you smile. he’s not competitive in love, he’s cooperative
emotionally affectionate (when relaxed): in calm moments, he can be warm, playful, and physically affectionate in a cozy, low-pressure way
loyal to his close circle: he doesn’t easily abandon people he trusts. if you’re in his inner world, he’s not quick to let go
adaptable and easygoing: he’s flexible in relationships and not overly strict or demanding. he tends to “go with the flow” to avoid conflict
red flags
avoids conflict at all costs: he would rather ignore issues than confront them, which can lead to unresolved tension building up over time
emotionally inconsistent under stress: when things get serious, he may shut down or retreat instead of communicating clearly
can be overly passive: decision-making might fall on you, which can feel unbalanced in the long run
may hide discomfort: he’s the type to say “it’s fine” even when it isn’t, just to keep things peaceful
꒰ michizo tachihara ꒱
green flags
loyal when it truly counts: once tachihara commits to someone emotionally, he’s surprisingly steadfast. he’s not the type to abandon people he genuinely cares about
protective instinct kicks in fast: he’s quick to step in if someone threatens or disrespects you. not always polished about it, but very effective
emotionally direct (when he opens up): he’s not overly cryptic. when he decides to be honest, he says things plainly instead of playing mind games
playful and easygoing side: he can be fun, teasing, and relaxed in a relationship when things are safe and stable
red flags
double-life stress (big one): his undercover situation means secrecy, lies by necessity, and emotional compartmentalization. that creates distance in relationships
trust issues (both sides): because of his lifestyle, full honesty isn’t always possible, which can make emotional security complicated
emotional inconsistency: he may switch between casual, intense, and distant depending on his situation
risk-heavy life: danger, missions, and constant tension are part of his world, stability is never guaranteed
osamuslvt ─ 2026 ꕥ
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── THE CLOSEST TO HEAVEN I'LL EVER BE ノ HOW THEY KISS YOU (PT. 1) ‧₊˚ ⋅
✦ . . . three men. three different kinds of devotion. and the quiet, intimate moments where possessiveness, tenderness, and love blur into something consuming.
content. f!reader. sfw, minor injuries, kissing, suggestive themes, implied/referenced violence, needles, discussions of religion, established relationships. 3.9k+ words.
⤷ features osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, and fyodor dostoevsky.
would you like to see more content? fill out the taglist!
✦ — 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈
The plush leather of the chair warmed like an old ceramic pot left in the sun, cradling your tired body as it soaked up the light. Your feet braced against an adjoining stool as your diligent hands stitched a nasty tear on Dazai’s coat sleeve, ripped in a violent, early-morning raid in one of the harbor warehouses. You’d already been tempted to fix it, but Kunikida’s persistent complaints forced your hand—though the dedicated man hadn’t intended for you to do it, it would be obvious come Monday morning that the coat’s wearer had no hand in its sudden repair.
Speak of the devil and he will appear, standing at the entrance of your living room, tapping his foot with the impatience of a child.
“How long is this gonna take?”
“It’s only been ten minutes.” You didn’t even bother to look up, preoccupied with piercing the needle through a particularly tough patch of fabric. “And this is your coat. I could just not fix it at all.”
“Then I’d be practically naked!”
“That’s what I thought.”
Dazai’s eyes slitted like an ill-tempered cat, the distance between you unable to muffle the amusement in your tone. He was certain you were smiling, a crescent-shape drawn across your lips as you perched in the chair, pleased with yourself.
“Such a cruel woman!” he cried, hobbling like a midday drunkard across the room. “Can’t you have pity on a poor man’s heart?”
He tumbled into the chair, the motion accidentally forcing the needle into the tip of your thumb. Hissing, you snatched your hand, eyeing the bead of blood that blossomed from your fingertip. Your frown only deepened as a drop glided down your finger, claiming a piece of coat fabric for itself.
“Great. Now I’ve got blood on it.”
“It’ll come out.”
Your glare dried out any words that tried to come out of his mouth, flopping your unfinished handiwork down onto your lap.
“I’m the one who’ll have to clean it.”
“We certainly can’t have that, can we?” Your pissed-off face only egged on his shit-eating grin. “How will you be able to manage with such an injury?”
Uncareful hands rustled your shirt like they were attempting to placate a stray animal, the same uncareful man prancing off toward your bathroom.
“This is your fault, you know!”
He either didn’t hear you or completely ignored you—only he would know, but you could guess—the cliff-edge of a tune on his lips as he rummaged through your bathroom cabinet in the dark. Not that he needed to turn on the light to find it, hands meeting the cool plastic of a medical kit before he’d even finished the first verse. He returned, and you were in the same state he left you in, unamused and wilted.
He almost felt bad. Okay—he did feel bad. For you getting hurt, that is.
Not for messing with you. Much. It wasn’t his fault! You were so absolutely darling when enraged.
“Excuse me,” he sang, plopping onto the stool with the kit in his lap, nudging your feet with his hip as he reached for your hand. “Alright. Let me see it.”
It remained firmly held in your other. “You don’t have to go through all this trouble, you know. It’s just a prick.”
“No, no, no.” Despite his teasing, he was careful not to irritate you or your wound further, easing the hand into his lap. “You just sit there and relax. Doctor’s orders.”
That determined look on his face made it clear there was no arguing with him, so you didn’t. Submitting with a huff, you allowed your hand to be examined, now careful fingers tracing up the ridge of your thumb. Still, you couldn’t help your suspicion.
“Why do I feel like this was all just an elaborate scheme to make me pay attention to you?”
“They didn’t call me the demon prodigy for nothing.”
You swallowed the retort in your throat, suddenly exhausted by the idea of an endless back-and-forth. Your firm mask of anger did not take long to crumble to your feet, eyes fluttering as the sun tempted them to close. It had been an overwhelming day, and Dazai was more than happy to provide a momentary respite, nimble fingers massaging the tense muscles of your palm as you unwound.
He popped the kit open, reaching for one of the small bandages, only to halt at the sight of one of his wraps. If he was going to take care of you, why not draw it out for as long as he possibly could? He was sure you wouldn’t mind.
Unwinding a section of the wrap, he slowly spindled it around your thumb, careful not to wind it too tight. Your hand was so warm—unbearably so. Like you’d soaked up the sun itself. It would’ve been no surprise to him if you were its reincarnation, though he’d wonder what he had ever done to deserve sunshine in his hands.
The faint rhythm of a rickety fan guided his fingers, encasing your palm in the protective fabric. His thumb brushed past an old scar from a year he couldn’t name, and he made sure to document it in his mind with the reverence of a scholar.
“Uh, don’t you think this is a bit overboard?”
You were right, he knew, but he refused to answer, pressing his lips to the bandaged tip of your thumb. “Is there a problem with me wanting to take care of my beautiful girlfriend?”
A small noise from your lips—maybe in disbelief, maybe in something far more remarkable—shattered the remains of his soft intentions, his heated mouth drawing a line between the constellation of beauty marks on your hand. Scars, freckles, moles—anything he could see.
The medical kit landed with a thunk as he snatched you by the waist, dragging you onto his lap as he journeyed from wrist to arm. You flushed underneath his touch, taut like a spring pulled back on the verge of release.
“What is going on with you?” Your breath hitched, head craning back as he nipped at the sensitive patch of skin found in the juncture of your neck.
“What?” he asked, unrelenting. “Is something wrong?”
You didn’t know how to reply. Found yourself not wanting to, biting back a noise as he marked delicate, binding kisses up the curve of your neck.
“Truth is—” His breath prickled your skin. “I’d wrap you up entirely if it meant keeping you all to myself. I’m greedy like that.”
He met his destination at the curve of your jaw, darting his heated touch from the crinkle of your eyes to the wrinkle of your brow, ending at the corner of your lips to sit on the tempting edge of an actual kiss.
He pulled back, and despite the smirk on his face, the softness of his eyes had you melting.
“You okay, pretty girl?”
The heat left you dazed, replying with a simple, “Mhm.”
He hummed, caramel eyes flickering from your own to your lips. You were truly the most breathtaking creature to ever exist—you could feign indifference all you liked, but the best part of his day would always be watching you unravel the moment he had you in his arms. How could he not fall in love with such simple beauty?
“You'll have to forgive me, then.” His touch, despite his words, was gentle as he whispered against you. “I’m a weak man.”
You grabbed at his collar as your lips collided, sighs spilling into the kiss as your last drop of restraint dissolved. The coat bunched between you joined the kit on the floor, his hand circling your hip, chest pressed flush against his own. Could you feel his heart beat from this close? He certainly could feel yours.
“God—” he breathed. “Can’t believe you’re all mine. So beautiful.”
You laughed against his lips, eyes shining like he’d brought you back from the dead.
“You know this isn’t gonna get you out of cleaning, right?”
He snorted, knowing nothing could be more perfect than the realization that you had both been positively made for one another.
✦ — 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀
It had been a long day for the Port Mafia executive.
Not because of missions or paperwork—he would’ve preferred either to the assortment of mundane duties he’d been forced to attend. Fights were supposed to be fun. Exhilarating, even—at least that’s how he saw it. A clash of power and will, pushed to the brink to see which would win. He’d always admired foes that met him with that understanding.
Which is why he wasn’t too pleased by the string of cowards lined up for him to capture.
The latest had been a group that had attempted to breach one of the mafia’s largest depots. He had been looking forward to it for days, only to be met with disappointment as its members turned tail and ran the second they spotted him.
They were dumb enough to mess with the mafia, but not enough to even try to fight him?
What a serious buzzkill.
His shoulder creaked as he rolled them, like an old metal pipe, the elevator to the mafia’s private garage thankfully opening without delay. He wished for nothing more than to return home. Malaise crept in the shadows of his footsteps, halting with him as he spotted someone in the distance, messing with the top box of his motorcycle. His feet found flight like a second wind, rushing toward them.
“Hey!” His hands itched to tear them a new one—verbally or physically, he hadn’t decided yet—only for the wind to hit back at him as he met the familiar eyes of the woman he was dying to see. “Babe? What the hell are you doing here?”
You smiled, barely bothering to register how suspicious you looked as you closed the lid of the box, inching your way towards him.
“Hey, hun. How was your day?”
His eyes narrowed, flickering between you and whatever you were hiding.
“Fine. What’s going on?”
You were planning something—those eyes couldn’t hide mischief for long. He struggled to maintain a stoic facade as his annoying heart thrummed beneath his chest. You always managed to do that—he loathed it. One look, and he felt like a teenager all over again.
“I actually wanted to ask—can you drive us somewhere?”
His hard stare weathered. “I mean, of course I can. Where do you need to go?”
“It’s a surprise!”
And just like that, the stare returned. Chuuya had rarely experienced a nice surprise. They’d either been terrible on their own or followed by something worse, like the reaper kept a debt he couldn’t estimate. Even the word surprise left a bad taste in his mouth.
“Doll,” he sighed. “You know how I feel about surprises.”
“I know, I know,” you replied, confidence waning. “It’s a nice one, though, I swear. Very laid-back.”
He knew you had good intentions—he really did. His mind feared the pattern outlined in his footsteps, but he knew, truthfully, he couldn’t say no to you. Chuuya Nakahara was a man who’d rather experience a brief moment of happiness over a lifetime of wondering what-if.
He was a whipped man. If anyone else saw him like this, they’d never believe he was a member of the mafia, much less an executive.
With a browbeaten look, he surrendered. “Alright.”
It took some time to reach your destination, the bike a speeding bullet as it weaved through noisy, rush-hour traffic, escaping into the outer stretches of the city. He’d rarely been in the countryside, completely disoriented as the road shifted from concrete to rock, forced to rely on your directions alone as the path took multiple winding turns. You finally stopped, sat within an unremarkable patch of trees.
“Okay, I’m lost,” Chuuya said, removing the helmet you’d insisted he wear. “Where the hell are we?”
“You’ll see,” you sang, hopping off the bike and removing your own gear before snatching his hand as he dismounted. “Follow me.”
The trees were thick and dense, so he hadn’t expected the intense block of light that pierced through the leaves, forcing him to squint as he blocked it with his other hand. His eyes adjusted, he blinked, and the sight before him stole his breath.
“Damn.”
The hills of Yokohama quietly offered the best view he had ever seen, capturing the skyscrapers and the setting sun in a single scene. None of the hustle and bustle of city life could be heard from here, muted by the wind as it mixed with the flustering leaves and grass around it.
“I used to come here a lot when I was younger.” His eyes strayed from the city, breath ceasing entirely as it became restrained in the tranquil image of your face. “I thought you’d like it.”
There was a time, when you first started seeing each other, when he questioned if you could be any more beautiful. He thought it impossible, but it seemed his past self was a fool. Here, you were in your element, face cradled by a warm sun, the sky a frame around the canvas of your figure.
You were fucking ethereal.
“Oh! I almost forgot,” you said, dipping back behind the trees.
He was a weak man; he knew—had to be, if just your absence alone put such a monumental strain on his heart.
You returned, carrying what he assumed to be the items you’d not-so-sneakily placed in the top box.
“We have this—” In one hand, you raised a bottle of one of his favorite Bordeaux wines. “To ourselves for the next few hours. I’ve got a ride scheduled and everything, just in case we indulge ourselves a bit too much.”
He scoffed, too charmed by the proud look on your face.
“How’d ya manage that?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Flopping onto the ground, you set the basket from your other hand down, prying it open to dish out an impressive number of finger foods. You almost forgot he was even there, stomach growling as you snatched a pastry from its container. It was only halfway through a bite that you’d realized he hadn’t joined you in the grass yet, eyes darting between him and the dessert, patting the space next to you since your mouth was occupied.
He tried not to crumble at the sight of sugar smudged across your lips.
“Sweetheart,” he said, settling on the ground at your side. “You’ve got a little something on your face.”
Your hand swiped across your lip, only managing to wipe a small portion of the mess, brow furrowed in the most endearing act of concentration he had ever witnessed. If he fell over now, dead from the sight, he would be okay with that.
You blinked, looking at him expectantly. “Did I get it?”
He allowed himself to drink everything in for a moment longer, a thought rolling around in his head. His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, only working to smear the mess further.
“Oh! Thank—”
His restraint snapped, diving in for a bite. Jam mixed with the taste of your lips in an exquisite blend, satiating a vacancy he once thought could never be filled—one that had burned since the day he gained consciousness. He drove you into the soft grass, hands moving with their own goal, stealing the noise from your throat as he took in each tempered breath like it was his last meal.
“What did I possibly do to earn you?” he groaned, fingers varnishing your lashes as watercolor eyes blessed him once more.
He sank back in, shivering at the way you breathed his name.
“I thank the gods you’re mine every morning.” The words escaped his throat like a man in prayer as he parted your lips with his tongue. “Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting to have this.”
Your hands cupped his face, and he knew he was forever changed by the unrivaled fondness of your eyes, looking at him the same way he looked at you.
“You deserve it. Even when you don’t think so. Especially then.”
He let the air circle around you both as passion waned into contemplation. You knew trouble when you saw it, especially when it circled the blues of his eyes, reflecting a trouble not yet justified by the alcohol forgotten at your feet.
“We’ve got a couple hours to kill, right?” One of those traitorous hands toyed with the trim of your shirt. “I think I’d like to taste something else.”
✦ — 𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘
Tears poured from the sky in a symphony of thunder and lightning, crackling against the earth without care for rhythm or melody. Pious men claimed it to be God, maddened at the ill-deeds of a forgotten, immortal son. The son—a demon—knew it was just a reminder. That there will always be two sides to a coin, whether that be sun and rain, good and evil. He was simply there to ensure balance between both.
The damp, underground labyrinth that served as Fyodor’s temporary hideout did little to soothe his stiffened joints. It was not the best place for someone of his fragile constitution, but he’d lived in far worse conditions with far worse company.
Not that his subordinates counted as such.
They nodded or waved as he passed, and whether it was from respect or fear, he didn’t care; many slipped by as their work concluded for the evening. None of them would serve any use if they didn’t receive rest, after all. He didn’t need them sharp. He needed them capable. This brought a thought to his mind, stopping a man before he slinked by.
“Where is she this evening?”
It didn’t matter whether he said a name or not—anyone with a brain could decipher who the Demon referred to.
“She’s in your office, boss,” the man replied, trying to hide his nerves to no avail.
“My office?” Fyodor raised a brow before waving the man off with a nod. “No matter. Thank you.”
The familiar path to his office echoed as people cleared from the halls, his footsteps racketing against an unforgiving metal that announced his presence. A rumble returned the unspoken greeting in kind, the clicking of keys crescendoing from the illuminated figure inside.
He squinted as he crossed the threshold, eyes adjusting to the bright screens in front of him.
“Welcome back.”
The smooth timbre of your voice was a balm to the cold, like a false, warm summer heat; the perfect antithesis to the storm outside.
“Good evening, my dear,” he replied, stripping himself of his hat and coat before settling them onto a nearby rack. You didn’t stop typing, another hand leading the mouse across the screen as it expertly sorted through multiple operations.
He waited, and then struck.
“I’m quite surprised to see you out of your normal hiding spot. Is your office not to your standards anymore? I’m certain I can find a solution to whatever it is you’re lacking.”
The mouse stilled. Caught in the trap.
“You’ve got more screens than I do.”
The statement was weak. At best.
“It’s helped me get more work done.”
He hummed, a smirk etched into the wintery paleness of his cheeks. “Is that right?”
You’d never admit you were here solely because you missed him—you both knew that well. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t relish the thrill, stringing you through a maze of his own design, enthralled at the possibility that he would one day hear the truth from your lips.
“The mission went well, I assume?” you asked, changing the subject. “I know it was supposed to start raining. Hope you didn’t get caught up in it.”
“It was barely a drizzle when I arrived. The mission itself went just according to plan.” He trapsed across the room, equally too stubborn to admit he had longed to see your face after a week’s absence. “All thanks to you, of course.”
Mellow eyes met his against the vibrant light.
Your shoulders rested, a smile perched on your lips. “What a flatterer you are, lyubimyy.”
It took more willpower than he’d ever, ever admit to another living creature to suppress the quiver that ruptured from the vacant cavity in his chest.
But it was the sight of you that almost destroyed him entirely, swaddled up in his spare coat, legs tucked to your chest as you huddled beneath the makeshift blanket. The gap between the coat and your body exposed the indecent slip you wore underneath. He would’ve commented on the lack of proper attire, around your subordinates specifically, if the mere sight hadn’t utterly entranced him.
What a cruel strike to the heart was the sight, seeing you tucked away and content in the small world he’d crafted. Safe from the storm outside. That was his purpose, too, he supposed. To keep balance meant to protect the sacred. And if the divine took mortal form, would it not be you?
But he was still a demon, wickedness in his blood. A tempting thought came to mind.
“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” he mused. “You look quite cold yourself.”
You shifted from content to confused, eyes flickering down to the coat.
“I guess a little bit.”
You yelped as frigid hands hoisted you from the seat. Fyodor planted himself down, taking his rightful place, before spreading you across his lap as if it were yours. He drank in your wide eyes and parted lips, stealing your warmth as his fingers glided across the underside of your jaw.
“Oh, dear,” he said, voice a mockery of concern. “You still look cold.”
Your eyes scrambled, looking anywhere but him. “I-I’m fine.”
But, like a shepherd, he guided you back.
“Don’t lie to me.” You knew you were doomed, ensnared by the squall of his stare. “You never have been able to. It’s alright.”
It released you for a moment, turning downward, but the breath you took was another trap.
“I know just the way to warm you up.”
He pressed his lips to yours—gentle, at first. Like someone knocking at a door, waiting to be let in. But it wasn’t long before the door was barged down, rendering your mind useless in a tremor of curses and sighs, uncaring as he methodically pried you apart. He wanted everything you gave. The warmth of your body burned, and he played your spine like a taut string, trembling beneath an expert touch before calloused fingers smoothed at the nape of your neck.
Still cold, it seemed. That wouldn’t do.
Your arms snaked around his neck like vines of ivy, and part of him—the man that remained despite the years that weathered away at him—wondered what it would feel like if they squeezed tighter.
“Fedya,” you pleaded, and he knew you were both damned.
You didn’t know what you wanted. Only knew that he’d be the only person you ever wanted to give it to you.
“Shh, milaya.” His hand returned, firm against your back, pressing you closer as his other hand plucked at the thin fabric pooled atop your thighs. “I’m not finished yet.”
Your breath surged as his touch sparked earthquakes across your skin, chest heaving, arms shaking. You couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eyes, tucking your face into the exposed skin of his neck as you attempted to calm the pounding drum of your heart.
“Are you warm now?”
If you didn’t love him so unbearably much, you’d have punched him at the first chime of that insufferable, cocky tone. You took another moment, strategically, an eye of the storm, before grabbing his face. You searched for something amongst those deep, ocean-like eyes, widened ever-so-slightly, pushing him down once you found what you were looking for.
“Not yet.”
part one of bungo stray dogs has finally concluded! how was the chapter? this was queued prior to its drop, so i can only imagine (in horror) the events of the current update.
i also had a funny realization while making this piece. it's been over a year since i've written anything for fyodor. feels like i've returned home after a long journey away. hope you enjoyed!
