Ƈԋυυαɳɳ𝜗ৎ

Hi! I'm Annie, i'm just someone who loves a lot Chuuya!  She/Her 17yrs old Spanish/English Main Fandoms: Pressure, Bsd, Dandys World, Tfc, TADC, KNY, Poppy Playtime. I'll be posting drawings or wips if i can! 💜

[iwamimimimi]

Seeing how many the many post of different characters I would like to request Dazai and Chuuya in typical colombian outfits ( if is possible eating empanadas) AMOR DESDE COLOMBIA PA

[fluffylovelycuddles]

HAHA this is so wholesomee i LOVE this art so much 💖

[iwamimimimi]

Seeing how many the many post of different characters I would like to request Dazai and Chuuya in typical colombian outfits ( if is possible eating empanadas) AMOR DESDE COLOMBIA PA

[iwamimimimi]

hi! just wanted to drop by and say that i reaaaaally love your art and that you’re pretty cool <3 thanks for sharing your work! greetings from Chile >:D

[iwamimimimi]

[angeliczaii]

꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ .. ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴀᴠɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅʀɪғᴛ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ..

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ꒰ྀི১ ໒꒱ིྀ ; ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴋᴏʜᴀᴍᴀ's ғɪᴇʀᴄᴇsᴛ ᴘᴏʀᴛ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ ғᴏʀ 6 ᴍᴏɴᴛʜs ɴᴏᴡ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ-ʀᴏᴏᴛᴇᴅ sʜʏɴᴇss ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ɪᴛ ɪᴍᴘᴏssɪʙʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ʜɪs ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ..

ᴀ/ɴ ; ᴡᴜᴜᴀʜᴀʜᴀ! ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ 🍮.. ᴄʜᴜᴜʏᴀ ɪsɴ'ᴛ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɢᴜʟᴘs..

‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹‧₊˚♪ 𝄞₊˚⊹ ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ..૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

The rain in Yokohama always felt heavier outside the Port Mafia headquarters. Inside Chuuya’s top-floor executive office, the only sound was the rhythmic scratching of his fountain pen against a stack of endless reports.

And, of course, the incredibly soft, nearly silent shifting of fabric from the corner of his desk.

Chuuya didn’t look up from his paperwork, but a small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. He knew exactly what you were doing.

You were currently sitting on the edge of his massive mahogany desk, supposedly organizing archive receipts from three months ago. In reality, you had finished that task an hour ago. You were just staying. You always stayed.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted your weight. You slid exactly two inches to the left. Your sleeve lightly brushed against the leather of his coat.

Chuuya intentionally leaned back in his chair to stretch, creating a gap between you. He watched from the corner of his eye as your shoulders slumped slightly. You waited exactly sixty seconds—he counted—before you subtly shuffled closer again, closing the distance until your arm was pressed flat against his side.

You didn't say a word. You didn't demand his attention, ask him how his day was, or beg him to take a break. You just needed to touch him. You were like a tiny planet trapped in his orbit, completely helpless against his pull, yet far too shy to ever ask the Executive to actually look at you.

"You're going to rub a hole in those papers if you keep organizing them," Chuuya murmured, his voice low and gravelly from hours of silence.

You flinched, your face instantly exploding into a bright, burning crimson. You pulled your hands back to your chest, looking anywhere but at him. "I-I'm sorry, Nakahara-sama! Am I crowding you? I can leave—"

You started to slide off the desk, but before your feet could even touch the floor, Chuuya’s hand shot out. He caught you by the wrist. He didn't use his ability, but the grip was firm, warm, and entirely inescapable.

"Did I tell you to leave?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but..." You chewed your bottom lip, your fingers nervously tightening around the hem of your own shirt. "I know I'm... I'm a lot. I don't mean to take up your space."

Chuuya let out a heavy sigh, running his free hand through his orange hair. He let go of your wrist, only to wrap his hand around your waist and pull you forward. With a gasp, you tumbled straight into his lap.

Your face buried itself directly into the crook of his neck. You froze, completely paralyzed by your own shyness, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"You're an idiot," Chuuya muttered, though his tone was incredibly soft. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "You think I don't notice? You follow me into meetings. You sit close enough to steal my warmth. When we walk through the corridors, you literally hold onto the back of my coat so you don't lose me."

"I'm sorry," you whispered into his skin, your voice trembling. "I'll stop—"

"I don't want you to stop," he interrupted, his grip tightening. He leaned his head against yours, his breath warm against your ear. "But you drive me crazy when you just hover there. If you want me to hold you, just say it. You don't have to play a game of inches every time you want to be close to me."

You hid your face deeper into his neck, your hands finally finding the courage to grip the fabric of his vest. You held on for dear life, letting all your pent-up, clingy affection flood out.

Chuuya let out a soft huff of laughter. A faint red glow of gravity enveloped you both, making you feel completely weightless as he stood up from his desk chair without breaking the embrace. He walked over to the office sofa, tossing his fedora onto the coffee table, and lay down, pulling you right on top of him.

You curled into his chest like a cat, your head resting right over his steady heartbeat.

"Better?" Chuuya asked, his fingers gently threading through your hair, untangling the strands with a patience he saved only for you.

You nodded quickly against his chest, finally letting out a contented sigh.

"Good," he mumbled, closing his eyes and resting his chin on top of your head. "Then stay right there. Don't move an inch."

The next morning, the stormy Yokohama rain had cleared, leaving bright sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Chuuya’s office.

You woke up slowly, the comforting, familiar scent of expensive wine and leather enveloping you. It took your brain a few seconds to realize you were still completely sprawled on top of Chuuya’s chest on the office sofa. Your arms were locked around his middle, and your legs were tangled with his.

Even though you two had been dating for months, your face still burned bright red at the sheer realization of how clingy you were being.

You cautiously looked up. Chuuya was still fast asleep, his orange hair messy against the leather pillow, his sharp features completely relaxed. One of his heavily tattooed hands was still buried in your hair, while his other arm was clamped securely around your waist, keeping you pinned to him.

' I need to get up, you thought, panicked. He’s going to think I’m suffocating him. '

As much as you loved him, your deep-rooted shyness always kicked in the moment you became fully conscious. You didn't want to be a burden. You didn't want him to wake up and feel crowded by his overly attached girlfriend.

Very slowly, you began your usual routine. You loosened your grip on his vest. You shifted your hip back by a fraction of an inch. You holding your breath, trying to levitate yourself off him without using an actual ability.

You managed to slide back just enough to create a tiny gap of cool air between your chests.

Before you could slide any further, Chuuya’s arm suddenly clamped down like a steel vise. With a sharp grunt, he pulled you violently back down, flat against his chest. Your forehead bumped gently against his chin.

"Where do you think you're going?" Chuuya rasped, his voice incredibly deep, rough, and dripping with morning sleepiness. He didn't even open his eyes.

"I... I was just going to make you coffee," you squeaked, your face pressed into his collarbone. "I didn't want to crowd you. We've been like this all night."

Chuuya finally cracked one blue eye open, glaring down at you with a mix of affection and utter exasperation. "We've been dating for half a year, and you're still trying to sneak away from me in the mornings because you're too shy to just lay here?"

"I just don't want to annoy you," you mumbled into his chest, your fingers instinctively gripping his shirt anyway. Your body wanted to stay, even if your shy brain told you to run.

Chuuya let out a low groan, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He squeezed you so tightly you could feel the steady, rapid beat of his heart.

"You're my girlfriend," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You couldn't annoy me if you tried. If I hated you being clingy, I wouldn't have asked you to be mine. Now stop trying to escape and put your arms back around me."

Hearing his blunt, honest reassurance completely melted your anxiety. A soft smile broke across your face. You finally let go of your hesitation, wrapping both arms securely around his neck and burying your face back into his warmth.

Chuuya sighed contentedly, his grip relaxing into a warm, heavy embrace. He ran his hand down your back, pulling the blanket higher up over your shoulders.

"That's better," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "Now go back to sleep. The Port Mafia can wait."

і һ᥆⍴ᥱ ᥡ᥆ᥙ ᥱᥒȷ᥆ᥡᥱძ this!! (ˆ ̳ , ̫, ̳ˆ)"੭ likes and reblogs appreciated!!><

my inbox is ON / OFF!! 🍧 don't be shy to req!! ^^

the dividers are not mine!! I do not claim these.

[nakaira]

𐙚 BLACK SORROW

chuuya nakahara x fem!reader.

synopsis. your bestfriend is more than capable of standing up for himself, you know. but this doesn't mean you don't hate it everytime you have to attend a match of his and see him getting punched. it's especially harder tonight.

general tags and warnings. fem!reader, boxer!chuuya, bestfriend!chuuya, mentions of violence and blood, drabble setting so it's not as detailed etc. set before the fyozai and chuuya fucking oneshots.

note. ahhhh i hope you guys like this because as i mentioned before, i still have my doubts. i gen dk whu most of the stuff i write ends up being so yearning-ish. writing this made me miss writing my chuuya fic sm, i will work on it as soon as i get time tom. icl i rlly liked a para or two from here. they r gen so good. i hope you guys enjoy this!

divider by @strangergraphics

chuuya nakahara wasn't a violent kid. the first time he had raised and swung his little fist at someone else was because that guy had made you cry and for six year old chuuya, nothing was more heartbreaking than seeing tears coat the apple of your cheeks. in fact, ever since then, every time he had ever punched someone was mostly for your sake.

whether it be your exes or anyone who talked bad about you, everyone got a taste of chuuya's fist and yet, over the time, punching became the source of letting his stress and anger out of his body.

what was once used to protect you from any and every thing which could hurt you has now turned into something which keeps chuuya grounded to reality, keeps his head sober despite whatever feelings and emotions you evoke in his heart.

he has invited you to multiple fights of his ever since he accepted a man's offer to join hands with him and fight in underground rings when he was in his last year of high-school. it's not like he's loosing anything — his wins helps the man promote his gym and the money in his share mostly goes in buying you whatever you eye because for chuuya, nothing matters more than seeing your eyes sparkle. be it because he buys you a pretty diamond bracelet or a cute plushie or because you are breathless seeing him fight; reasons do not matter at all and even his own well being comes second to you.

this doesn't mean he invites you to just any fights. chuuya would rather keep you in the dark when it comes to more notorious opponents and only invites you when he knows his opponent won't do something which will scar you.

yet this is exactly what ends up happening.

the fucker he has been fighting tonight looks and moves like any average boxer would but the impact of his punches is too strong and the moment his knuckles connect with chuuya's wrists and arms, he has to bite back a hiss. it can't be normal so chuuya tries to end the fight with one final move.

the opponent thinks the same as they both guard their faces with their fists and swing one of them at each other's faces. both fists connects with their targets yet chuuya feels as if someone grabbed his brain and rattled it. a punch from someone of this physical stature is not supposed to feel this way.

chuuya stumbles a step backwards, removing the glove and raising his hand towards his nose as the bastard punched him near his nose and lips. immediately, a warm fluid coats his hand while his vision gets blurry.

“chuuya!” he can hear your voice filled with concern the best of all but he can't lift his head without feeling a violent wave of nausea.

when he finally does after a few seconds or perhaps a minute (he isn't sure) has passed, chuuya sees two bulky guards holding his opponent and forcefully take off his gloves and a bloodied brass knuckle glitters as the lights reflect on them.

“fucker . .” chuuya hisses, leaning back against the ropes of the boxing ring. had it been his way, he would've loved to punch the audacity out of this punk for even daring to use such dirty tricks and disrespecting him but the guards, referees and organizers jump on him before chuuya could.

“does this mean nakahara is the winner?” someone asks from the audience.

“wasn't it obvious he was going to win? when has nakahara ever lost?”

“but still. this can't be fulfilling considering his opponent will have to forfeit.”

exactly, chuuya agrees in his mind. there is nothing good about this win and rather, he feels irritated at the opponent whose name he doesn't want to remember. if chuuya ever bumps into him again, he will make sure to repay him for tonight's punch and fuck him up so bad, he will tremble before resorting to cheap tricks like this ever again.

breathing out slowly to calm himself and give his blooming irritation an outlet to leave his body, chuuya watches with lazy eyes as you pull apart the ropes to step inside the ring before anyone else could. his manager (the man) is a few steps behind you, furiously arguing with the organizers but chuuya honestly doesn't care what they are arguing about because you are running over to him and there are tears in your eyes.

to those who aren't used to violence, seeing even a little bit of it is enough to shake them in their bones, makes them tear up and wonder how humans can do this to others of their species. you belong to this category.

so, despite the pain rushing from his nose to his brain like a salary man trying to catch the last train to his house, chuuya tries to stand up and stumbles a step ahead while keeping his palm pressed against his nose to stop the bleeding.

“oh, you are bleeding — are you okay — no, of course you aren't. why did he — oh, what do we do? is it hurting too much —” interrupting yourself as your tongue can't keep up with the whirlwind of your thoughts, you can't complete a single sentence or question without shoving the next one in it midway.

your hand cups his cheek and the tears in your eyes makes him feel the same he did years ago when chuuya nakahara first realised he can never stay as just friends with you because has the moon ever accepted to not revolve around the earth just because it doesn't have its own light?

you raise your other hand to wipe the sweat trailing down his eyebrows, frowning because this is a state you hate to see him in.

“calm down, doll. doesn't even hurt anymore.” he rasps out because he's a liar and he is in pain but he would rather pretend otherwise than to see tears paint their sheet over your eyes.

he takes off the other glove and tosses it on the floor of the ring and pulls you in closer to hug you, resting his chin on your strained shoulder.

“you don't mind me being sweaty and shirtless, yeah?” he tries to joke but winces as his lips hurt when he tries to smile.

“can you not?” you snap yet you can't help but hide your face against his collarbones. at any other time, you would've teased and refused to touch him but the moment you saw him stagger back after being punched, you felt someone pulling your heart out and playing with it. “you are my best friend, dumbass. i don't want to see you hurt even if it's because of a sport.”

nakahara chuuya's eyes sharpen and he grits his teeth because had it not been for that fucker, you wouldn't have been scared. he ought to beat the living lights out of him for this —

chuuya's snapped out of his thoughts as he feels you move away from him and before he could protest, you gently tug at his arm, leading him to the corner of the ring where a chair has been placed for him.

his manager asks him something as soon as you make chuuya sit down and he replies with something half heartedly as his eyes are pinned on your figure, watching you grab the first aid kit from one of the staff members.

you step towards him and place the first aid kit on his lap but the coolness of it doesn't make him flinch or wince because the sparkle in your eyes have dimmed and instead the aftermath of a firecracker bursting is left instead and theres an urge rising in him to apologise to you.

“i —” the words die down as you gentle dab the cotton ball against his lips.

“you are the strongest person i know but i am not. i don't like seeing you hurt and i hate seeing you in pain when i am right there and can't do anything even more.” you raise your eyes and offer him a weak smile, “isn't it insane? i want to wrap you and keep you safe from everything which can harm you.”

“sorry —” for the second time, his voice dies as you shake your head, leaning closer to check on his nose.

“does it hurt alot?”

chuuya blinks. he hates to make you worry and for making you witness this but humans are selfish creatures who falls into a specific situation again and again if they know it'll gain them something, no matter how destructive it may be for their own selves.

“yes.” he whispers, eyes softening in grief because he feels bad for lying yet chuuya would rather get into these situations to have your attention on him than to hear you talk about fyodor or dazai because no artist would want to see someone else paint their muse when they can't see it the way he does.

fyodor and dazai do not know you, your story and hardships the way he does. they do not know what factors contributed to make you who you are today.

but you'll never know this and chuuya won't reveal it as well. he's fine if they are interested in you, they won't be the first ones to be. he has smiled through gritted teeth every time you introduced him to your shitty exes anyway.

in fact, chuuya nakahara is fine with anything and everything as long as you'll stay by his side, for, the moon continues to revolve the earth even if the sun is the one the earth revolves around.

[thewickedjazzy]

TEENAGE GUCCI BAG

♡「16 yo! Chuuya X 16 yo! Reader.」

SYNOPSIS: puberty is a completely normal, natural part of growing up... well, unless you're chuuya nakahara, in which case it somehow turns into one long string of adolescent embarrassment.

WARNINGS: fluff, mild swearing, puberty/growing pains humor, extreme adolescent mortification.

AUTHOR'S NOTE & W/C: ~1.2k words | this is just a quick little blurb! i randomly thought of this and couldn't stop chuckling because 16 yo chuuya being this flustered is just way too cute. it's pure, lighthearted fluff and honestly one of the sweetest little pieces i've written in a while... plus, i lowkey just needed an excuse to write him wearing diptyque orphéon (lit one of my biggest hcs for him). anyway, enough of me rambling. hope you guys like it!! might actually get back to posting more often now ♡

at sixteen, chuuya's body is changing at breakneck speed. his shoulders are broadening out, his muscles tightening, his body temperature feels like a furnace and all that jazz, thanks in no small part to the volatile puberty hitting his system all at once.

and of course, ane-san has been relentless about it.

"a true gentleman carries himself with absolute grace, chuuya," kouyou instructed him weeks ago, handing him an array of high-end soaps, roll-ons and an expensive perfume with a sharp, warning glare. "you will not wander these halls smelling like an unwashed feral hound. look at dazai... a walking mummy who smells like stagnant river water. you are better than that!"

chuuya takes that advice to heart. not just because he respects kouyou, he surely and absolutely does, and will always trust her input, but mainly because of you...

and right on cue, part heavenly vision, part absolute nightmare. there you are sitting on the bench across the mat, casually re-wrapping the white tape around your knuckles.

even at sixteen, you are already an absolute terror in the port mafia. aside from how undeniably stunning and effortlessly gorgeous you are, recognised as the undisputed face card of every woman in the organisation, you are also a short-fused landmine waiting for someone to step wrong. you have a temper like a razor blade when it comes down to people ogling you and surely zero tolerance for disrespect. more than one low-level grunt has ended up in the mafia infirmary with a shattered jaw simply for staring at you a second too long or letting their eyes wander.

for all his explosive pride and bravado, chuuya is utterly defenseless when it comes to you. he likes you so fiercely it practically makes his skin itch, and the idea of you viewing him as anything less than pristine is his absolute worst nightmare. dazai's atrocious hygiene habits are already legendary - well thanks to ango accidentally letting those rumors slip over drinks- and chuuya is damned if he lets any of that foul reputation rub off on him.

which is precisely why, midway through your grueling spar, chuuya abruptly snaps his gloves off.

"time out. i'm taking ten," chuuya barks, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm and heading straight for the side changing room.

you don't even pause your taping, just raise one eyebrow, your lips twitching with amusement. "a break? already? oh, come on! we've only been at it for forty minutes!! don't tell me gravity boy is losing his wind."

"shut up! I'm not winded!" chuuya snaps, his face flushing bright red, half from heat, half from sheer embarrassment. "i'm... resetting, alright! mind your own business!"

a few minutes later, chuuya strolls back out onto the mat. you're already mid-stretch, pausing with your water bottle halfway to your lips as he approaches.

chuuya has literally washed his face, re-applied a layer of roll-on deodorant, and doused himself in an expensive cedar-and-juniper fragrance kouyou-san had bought him. he tries to act completely casual, rolling his shoulders and picking his gloves back up as if nothing happened.

the moment he steps onto the mat, the passing draft carried a veil of powdery woods and a whisper of smoky warmth straight toward you. you cannot help but pause mid-sip, hand halting in midair as the crisp juniper scent cuts through the stale air of the training room. you take two subtle sniffs, trying to piece together the ridiculous puzzle of why this fiery terror suddenly smells like an expensive parisian jazz club after midnight.

"oh my god," you gasp, letting your bottle drop onto your bag as you burst into a sudden laugh. "are you serious right now?!"

"what?!" chuuya yells, his jaw tightening as his face burns up to his ears. "what are you laughing at?!" his voice cracking just a fraction on the 'at' before he snaps his jaw shut.

it takes less than a second for his towering pride to disintegrate into unadulterated catastrophe. his heart plummets into his stomach as his mind instantly spins out into a panicked overdrive. what are you laughing at?! what if he didn't do it right? what if he put on too much? what if he somehow missed something up or applied the roll-on weirdly, or -god forbid- he still smells like a teenage gym locker and you just noticed? heat flares up in his chest, entirely masking the absolute wave of mortification crashing over him.

"chuuya," you snicker, tossing your head back with a soft laugh that makes his pulse hammer even faster, "we've been sparring for forty minutes. you took a ten-minute break just to do a full spa routine in the middle of a workout? be for real now!"

"it's called basic hygiene, you idiot!" chuuya yells, his face burning bright red as he stalks back onto the mat. "ane-san says a true gentleman doesn't walk around reeking like a wet dog! some of us actually care about presenting ourselves properly!"

"oh? presenting yourself properly? or trying to impress me?" you tilt your head, a sly smile slowly settling into one that practically dares him to take the bait.

which, chuuya falls right into, his breath hitches. low-key panicking but trying to cover it up with his pride. "in your dreams! i'd rather impress a wall!"

instead of hanging back, you step off your side of the mat and glide straight into his personal space. his wide, azure eyes lock onto yours, tracking your every move as you close the gap until there's nowhere left for him to turn, leaning in close enough for your hair to graze his shoulder before taking a slow inhale right beside his collarbone.

"hmm.. juniper berries... jasmine and cedarwood.. is that... diptyque orphéon?" you murmur thoughtfully, pulling back just an inch to meet his wide, panicked gaze, with a devious smirk playing on your lips. "ohoho! i gotta say... kouyou-san outdid herself! "

"how did you- hey!! w-what the hell are you doing?!" chuuya stammers out, his voice squeaking as he takes a hasty, frantic step backward, practically tripping over his own feet on the mat. he throws his arm up over his neck in a desperate attempt to block you. "are you insane?! get away from me, you weirdo!"

"i'm just curious," you giggle, leaning forward as he continues to back up, clearly enjoying every second of his absolute meltdowns. "even your hair smells good... congrats, you actually got me."

"shut up! shut up!" he yells, his hands clutching the collar of his shirt as his temper tries to protect what's left of his dignity. "i'm not letting you sit here and dissect my cologne! are we gonna spar or are you just gonna sit there critiquing my cologne notes like a snob?!"

"oh, we're sparring," you murmur, stepping back into your stance, "let's see if that tonka bean holds up when I throw you over my shoulder."

"oh yeah? bet!!" chuuya mutters as he lunges forward with a fierce smirk, completely hiding the fluttering heat in his chest, determined to prove he's every bit the man he wants you to see.

[gravitys-taintedsorrow]

BREAKING NEWS: A MAN, WHOM LOCALS DESCRIBE AS WHAT COULD ONLY BE A PORT MAFIA GRUNT WAS HIT BY A TRUCK. THOSE WHO KNEW THE VICTIM SAY HE WAS ON HIS WAY TO A DATE WHEN THE UHAUL CAME CRASHING INTO HIM.

MY FUCKING DATE. GOD DAMN IT!!!!

[minimafioso]

Been thinking about what Corruption markings might look like on Chuuya's torso since it's usually hidden

[baby-tini]

Thinking about a post I made about how Chuuya definitely tops, and is a soft dom. He's just so sweet and giving, so utterly yours, and he gets off on belonging to you, but he's more into you being with him. You don't belong to him, but you're still his, Chuuya Nakahara is a man who thrives on equal partnership. He's a man who needs you to tell him everything, especially when he's fucking you. When he has your hair fisted and his cock is hitting that spongy spot inside of you to the point all you can do is moan and whine, pathetically pushing your hips back against his own and crying. Tears rolling down your cheeks as you pray to never let this feeling slip away from you. His other hand secured on your hip as he fucks away all your worries and anxieties.

"Theeere you go, doll, you take my cock so well... yeah? You want more? Can you say please for me, hm? My pretty girl, god you take it so well, good girl."

[iwanttobakefree]

pet names chuuya would use on you because I am obsessed with him + drabbles Ი︵𐑼

a/n: the last one is nsfw

⋆˚࿔ “doll”— the world just slips out of his mouth way too often. It doesn't matter where you are, what you're doing or who is around you. Whether you're guest at the Port Mafia HQ and he's in front of all his subordinates or you're in your shared bedroom together with the lights off, he will say it. In his eyes, "doll" is the most eulogistic pet name of all. A doll is beautiful, delicate, precious and most importantly his. It's his way of saying "you're mine, and I love you" every time he's speaking with you.

The room is bathed in light filtering through the bluish-tinted windows; the sun hangs high in the sky. It isn't your first time visiting the Port Mafia headquarters, but today feels different. You came to surprise Chuuya, but he hasn't returned from his mission yet, leaving you in the company of his subordinates. To be honest, they aren't as bad as you expected. In fact, they are quite polite and kind—though perhaps that’s just because they know Chuuya would skin them alive if so much as a hair on your head were harmed. Anyway. The door on the far side of the room opens and Chuuya appears, his gloves stained with blood and his coat draped over his arm. As soon as he sees you, his eyes light up and he walks toward you, stopping short of an embrace to avoid getting you dirty. "Doll," he whispers, taking off his gloves. "Why are you here?" He takes your hand in his now un-gloved ones. "I just wanted to see you." You say with a smile, while in the background his subordinates look at each other uncomfortably, clearing their throats and considering if they should leave the two of you alone.

⋆˚࿔ “babe”— he'll call you that whenever he's worried for you. It's simply faster to pronounce and he usually rushes words a lot when he's worried, especially if it is because someone might hurt you. It's for when he has to call out for you to warn you about something physical that might be about to happen (even when it's just a book falling on the floor because you hit it) but he slowly started using it also when you're sad and he doesn't know why —it makes him worry more that it should.

Being Chuuya Nakahara is no easy task, especially when you care so deeply for someone and you know you inevitably made them a target for all your enemies the moment you finally won their love. He knows he shouldn't, but he worries about you constantly. You’re in the kitchen now, soft jazz plays on the radio. Chuuya watches you cook, his eyes full of adoration. He still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that you’re together, that you live under the same roof, and that he gets to share such a... normal life with you. "Ouch!" You quickly pull your hand up and bring it to your lips. "Babe?" The words tumble out so quickly that it seems almost impossible for Chuuya to have been so relaxed just a moment ago. Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you, examining your hand. "Hey, I'm fine. I just cut myself." "Oh..." He blinks a couple of times and lets go of your hand. "Oh, good. Sorry. Does it hurt? Let me put a bandage on it." You watch him with a small smile as he heads to the bathroom and starts rummaging around for bandages.

⋆˚࿔ “darling”— is all you're gonna hear when you're out for a date. He wants it to bee romantic and he feels like "doll" isn't enough. He wants to make you feel like you're the most important thing in his life (which actually you are) and he thinks "darling" sounds incredibly good when you're in a dimly lit room sat at a round table in a pretty dress and sipping expensive wine.

The room was lit by small candles on the tables; the frescoed walls were half-immersed in darkness and the ceiling adorned with mythological paintings, while the air was filled with soft music. There was no one else in the restaurant but the two of you. Chuuya was wearing a dark red suit, his sunset-colored hair illuminated by the candlelight. He placed his hand over yours. "I'm glad I managed to reschedule the meeting with the Boss." You smiled. "I'm glad, too." There was a brief silence, then Chuuya whispered—in a moment of vulnerability that would have seemed astonishing with anyone else—"I love you, my darling."

⋆˚࿔ “angel”— this one is only and specifically for when you're in bed. He's gonna murmur it in your ear while he hugs you under the blankets, relaxing after a long day at work, or groan it while he's topping you, sweaty and close to his climax. All that matters is that you're in bed, alone with each other, and that he finally can let himself go with you.

The room's air is filled with soft skin slaps and loud, ragged breathes. Chuuya's clothes are thrown around the floor while yours are more carefully thrown over a chair, but the result is still a mess. "Fuck—" Chuuya is definitely not the silent type in bed and he doesn't even try to hide it. His lips trade on your neck and his hands hold tightly on your waist, his dick pushing deep inside you at every thrust, a sweat drop falling on you shoulder from his. "Fuck, you feel so good— ah, I could do this all night, all night, angel, ahh, yea..."

[iwanttobakefree]

Chuuya Nakahara playlist + drabbles ♬⋆.˚

a/n: nsfw after the divider

୨ৎ The Wolf, Siames — Chuuya has always lived in terrible environments since he was a child; first the lab, them the Sheep, and ultimately the Port Mafia. He tried to hide it, but his past hunts him continuously, and he doesn't know how to get rid of it. He feels guilty for the death of the Sheep, even thought they betrayed him, and especially suffers for the Flags. He thinks he'll bring misfortune to those he cares about, and the Mafia's constant missions and paperwork, the cigarettes and the alcohol can't suffocate that feeling no matter how hard he tries.

୨ৎ The emptiness Machine, Linkin Park — It is no mystery that Chuuya Nakahara thinks he's not human. He's been merged with Arahabaki, he's been cloned, he's lived like a monster for all these years and came to believe he does not even have a heart. To wish for a place to belong and a human, nirmal life is one thing, but to obtain it os another one completely. All his life, he's simply been a machine, a killing machine, a creature no one could ever reach, and in that power he was alone.

୨ৎ Fallin' (Adrenaline), Why Don't We — Chuuya fell in love with you without even noticing. Or rather, when he noticed it was already far too late. One day you were an acquaintance, a friend, and the next you were his whole world. When did it happened? He doesn't know. He just knows that at some point his heart wanted to burst out of his chest and run towards you whenever he saw you. He wanted to show off more than usual when you were present, he even got injuried once because he wanted to swagger while fighting the enemy in front of you, and he became a reckless kid ready to do anything to show his love what he was capable of. He simply couldn't ignore your presence, your eyes on him, your voice, everything felt like a blow right to his chest, making him want to fight and give up at the same time. Then he finally confessed. He fought with his own body to stand if front of you and pronounce those words, "I love you". And they've been the start to a whole new part of his life.

୨ৎ Harder and faster — I genuinely and honestly think he would do it with you in his car at least once. Like. He will. You're getting back from a date, you're sitting on the front seat next to him all dressed up in his shiny car, his hand holding yours or your thight whenever he doesn't need to hold the steering wheel with both hands and he thought about it all the way back home. The moment he parks he's on you. Kisses, sweet whispers, gloved hands roaming all over your body and his hot breath against your skin before he finally pulls away just enough to undress you and finally get what he wants. His hips smack against your inner thighs at an incredible rate, pounding deep into you and filling the air with loud moans and grunts till he finally reaches his climax and releases all his love for you inside you.

୨ৎ Slow down, Chase Atlantic— I mean do I even have to say anything? This man is crazily strong, and he got stamina. There is no way you could survive as long as him in bed. He could seriously and unironically last all night, thrusting into you, sweaty, panting and moaning (quite loudly) how good you feel, how lucky he is to have you and oh how he would take you like this everyday, making you desperately grab the blankets to keep yourself anchored to reality. You basically always get tired before him and he just stops to cuddle with you and make you relax, holding your head against his chest and caressing your back.

[dorinote]

─── RON FROM ACCOUNTING DISCORD LAYOUT

f2u, credits appreciated !

pfp art by orvyns

─── preview

[fckingproblm]

I can writw any type of fanfics here if u want :p

Single or ships

Dm me senoritas

[mentally-dating-dazai]

Me Not Him

Just thinking about a Chuuya x reader where Dazai keeps pushing and teasing Chuuya, so Chuuya shows him exactly how to please you

Nsfw 18+

Based on this request~

2408 words

CW: Smut, dirty talk, rough, a few spanks, dazai watches chuuya fu!k you, hope I’m not forgetting anything~

➽──────❥ ❀⊱༺♡༻⊰❀ ➽──────❥

You and Chuuya have been dating for a few months now. Chuuya has grown protective, if anyone even looks at you in a way he doesn’t like…well he’ll make sure they can never see anything again. Dazai, of course, has made it his personal mission to be the exception. He doesn’t touch you. He just… talks. Soft, lazy, endless little comments whenever Chuuya’s in earshot.

“Looking good today darling. That shirt’s doing you favors.”

“Chuuya’s a lucky bastard. Wonder if he knows it.”

“If short stack ever gets boring, you know where to find me.”

Chuuya grits his teeth every time. You’ve told him more than once that Dazai’s just being an asshole for sport. Tonight is different.

You’re sitting at the bar with Chuuya, nursing a drink and trying to enjoy a rare quiet night. It’s supposed to be just the two of you. He’s been in a decent mood for once, even cracked a small smile when you teased.

Then Dazai slides onto the empty stool on your other side. “Fancy meeting you two here,” he says lightly, already signaling the bartender. “Mind if I join? The company at the other end of the bar was dreadfully boring.”

Chuuya’s expression darkens immediately. “We do mind. Leave.”

Dazai ignores him completely, turning that lazy smile on you instead. “You’re looking particularly good tonight, darling. That color suits you.”

You feel Chuuya’s thigh tense against yours. You’ve told him a hundred times that Dazai only does this to get a rise out of him. Still, the constant low-level flirting never fails to grind on his nerves.

Dazai orders a drink, then leans an elbow on the bar, propping his chin in his hand as he looks between the two of you with open amusement. “You know,” he continues, voice just loud enough to carry over the music, “I’ve always wondered what it’s actually like for you. All that posturing, all that ‘I’m the best’ attitude… and then in bed he’s probably just average, no, below average. I bet a lot of grunting and not a lot of technique. I bet he tries hard, but always finishes within the first minute.”

You see the exact moment the words land. The way Chhuya’s fingers tighten around his glass. His jaw flexes once. Twice. Dazai keeps going, completely unbothered, eyes half-lidded and gleaming. “I mean, she’s being polite about it, of course. But you can tell. I mean she never looks completely satisfied. Must be exhausting, settling like that.”

Chuuya sets his glass down with deliberate care. “Say that again,” he says quietly.

Dazai’s smile widens. “Which part? The part where you’re mediocre in bed, or the part where she’s clearly used to better?”

That’s all it takes. Chuuya is off the stool in a blink. He grabs a fistful of Dazai’s coat, yanks him forward until they’re nearly nose-to-nose, and snarls low enough that only the three of you can hear it. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to talk about me. And you especially don’t get to sit here and run your mouth like you know a single fucking thing about what happens when the door’s closed.”

Dazai doesn’t even flinch. He just glances past Chuuya’s shoulder at you, still smiling that thin, sharp little smile. “Oh, I know enough,” he murmurs. “Enough to know you’re overcompensating. And enough to know she thinks met.”

Chuuya’s grip tightens hard enough that the fabric creaks. For a second it looks like he’s actually going to throw the punch right there in the middle of the bar. Then he shoves Dazai back onto his stool hard enough to make it scrape, turns to you, and mutters, “We’re leaving.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. His hand finds yours, firm and possessive, and he pulls you off the stool and toward the door without another glance at Dazai.

~~~

Chuuya’s hand stays locked around yours the entire way, grip tight enough that it almost hurts. His shoulders are rigid, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle jump. It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk so you wait until you’re outside the apartment building. “He was just being an asshole. You know he only said it to get under your skin.”

Chuuya doesn’t answer. He just unlocks the door, pulls you inside, and kicks it shut behind you hard enough that the frame rattles. The second the door closes he has you backed against it, mouth crashing into yours in a kiss. His hands are already under your shirt, rough and impatient, like he’s trying to erase every word Dazai said. You push lightly at his chest. “Hey. Talk to me.”

Chuuya pulls back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark,and furious. “He doesn’t get to say that,” Chuuya mutters. “He doesn’t get to sit there and act like he knows a single fucking thing about what I do to you.”

You open your mouth to answer, but he’s already pulling his phone out of his coat pocket. He doesn’t even hesitate. He hits the contact, puts it on speaker, and waits. Dazai picks up on the second ring, voice light and amused. “Miss me already, Chuuya?”

“Get over here. You’ve got ten minutes.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end. Then Dazai’s voice comes back, smiling but sharp. “…Fine. I’m on my way.”

Chuuya hangs up without another word.  When the knock finally comes he doesn’t even check the peephole. He yanks the door open, grabs Dazai by the front of his coat the second he steps inside, and shoves him hard toward the chair. “Sit.”

Dazai raises an eyebrow, still looking far too calm for someone who just got manhandled across the room. “And if I don’t?”

Chuuya’s voice drops into something low and dangerous. “Then I make you. Sit the fuck down.”

For a moment it looks like Dazai might keep pushing. Then he glances past Chuuya at you and something in his expression shifts. He lets out a soft, almost curious hum and lowers himself into the chair without further protest.

Chuuya doesn’t give him a chance to get comfortable. He grabs a length of soft rope from the drawer by the bed, and binds Dazai’s wrists to the arms of the chair with quick, efficient knots. Not tight enough to hurt. Tight enough that he can’t get free without effort.

Dazai watches the whole process with half-lidded eyes and that same thin smile. “Kinky,” he murmurs. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

Chuuya finishes the last knot, straightens, and looks down at him with pure heat in his eyes. “You wanted to run your mouth about what I’m like in bed,” he says quietly. “Fine. You’re going to sit there and watch exactly how wrong you were.” He turns back to you then, expression still stormy but softer at the edges when his gaze meets yours. His voice drops. “Come here.”

Chuuya doesn’t look at Dazai again. He turns fully to you, and closes the distance in two strides. His hands find the hem of your top and lift it over your head. The fabric drops to the floor. He doesn’t rush. He works the clasp of your bra next, letting the straps slide down your arms before he tosses it aside. He peels everything off you piece by piece until you’re completely bare in the middle of the room. Dazai’s gaze is a heavy weight on your skin the entire time, but Chuuya never acknowledges it. He just keeps his eyes on you, hands warm and steady as they guide you toward the bed.

“On your hands and knees,” Chuuya says quietly. “Facing him.”

You climb onto the mattress and settle the way he wants, knees apart, back slightly arched, looking straight at Dazai where he’s bound to the chair. The position leaves you completely exposed. Chuuya steps up behind you, one hand settling at the small of your back while the other reaches around to cup your breast. He only plays with your nipples for a moment. Rolling one between his fingers, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp, before his hand drops away. You hear the soft sound of him undoing his own clothes. Then the blunt head of his cock presses against you.

Chuuya doesn’t tease. He doesn’t ease in. He thrusts forward in one smooth, deep stroke that forces the air out of your lungs and makes your arms tremble. The stretch is sudden and perfect and hard enough that your mouth falls open on a broken sound you can’t hold back.

Chuuya’s hands lock around your hips, fingers digging in as he bottoms out and stays there for a beat, letting you feel every inch of him. “Look at him,” he mutters, voice rough. “Don’t you dare look away.”

Chuuya pulls back almost all the way and drives back in harder, setting a deep, steady rhythm that rocks you forward with every thrust. The wet sound of it fills the room. Your fingers curl into the sheets. Your face is right there for Dazai to see—every flushed cheek, every parted lip, every little noise Chuuya wrings out of you on purpose.

Dazai’s voice cuts through the wet sound of Chuuya fucking you. “Look at that,” he drawls, shifting in the chair. He gives the rope a little tug, testing the knots with deliberate laziness. “All that effort and he’s still just… pounding away like a dog in heat. No finesse at all. You can see it on her face, she’s enduring, not enjoying.”

Chuuya’s grip on your hips tightens hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t even glance at Dazai. He just drives into you deeper, sharper, the slap of skin against skin growing louder. “Tell him how good it feels.”

You bite your lip, face burning. The position leaves you nowhere to hide—on your hands and knees, facing Dazai. Every expression and every broken sound on full display. Embarrassment crawls up your throat and you go quiet, only soft gasps escaping as Chuuya keeps thrusting.

The next second his palm cracks across your ass, sharp and stinging. “I said be loud,” Chuuya growls. He doesn’t slow down. If anything he fucks you harder, deeper, like he’s trying to force the words out of you with every snap of his hips. “Tell him. How fucking good this feels.”

Your voice comes out shaky and unwilling at first. “It—it feels good—”

Another slap, harder this time, the heat blooming across your skin. Chuuya’s other hand fists in your hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to keep looking at Dazai. “Louder. Properly.”

“It feels so good,” you force out, voice cracking as he bottoms out again. “Fuck—Chuuya—”

Chuuya makes a low, satisfied sound and keeps going, relentless, insatiable. One hand stays tangled in your hair while the other slides around to rub tight circles over your clit. Every time your voice starts to fade from embarrassment he spanks you again until you’re moaning and gasping the words he wants without being asked.

Dazai watches the whole thing with half-lidded eyes, still giving the ropes occasional little tugs like he’s only mildly inconvenienced. His commentary stays soft and mocking the entire time. “Aw. Look at her, trying so hard to convince me. How much longer do you think he can keep this up before he finishes too fast and ruins the whole performance?”

Chuuya’s laugh is dark and breathless. “Keep talking, bastard. You’re about to find out exactly how long I can keep going.” He pulls almost all the way out and slams back in so hard your arms nearly give. Setting a brutal, unyielding pace that makes it impossible to stay quiet even if you wanted to.

Chuuya’s breath is hot against the back of your neck, voice low and rough as he keeps driving into you without mercy. “Gonna fill this cunt up,” he growls, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the bed creak. “Gonna pump you so full it drips down your thighs while he watches. You want that? Want him to see exactly who you belong to?” His hand in your hair tightens, forcing your head up so you’re still looking straight at Dazai. The other stays locked on your hip, pulling you back onto every thrust. “Say it. Out loud. Tell him how good this feels.”

Your voice comes out broken and shaky. “It feels so good—fuck, Chuuya—”

“Louder. And tell him the rest.” Chuuya spanks you again when you hesitate, the sharp sting making you gasp. “Tell him I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.”

“You’re the only one,” you force out, face burning. “Only you—only you make me feel this good—”

Dazai’s soft, mocking laugh floats from the chair. He gives the ropes another lazy tug. “How sweet. Look at her, all flushed and obedient just because you told herto. Almost convincing.”

Chuuya doesn’t even spare him a glance. He just fucks you harder, deeper, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet room. “That’s right. This cunt is mine. Takes me so fucking well. Gonna fill you up until you can’t take any more. Make you feel it for days.” One hand slides around to rub tight, relentless circles over your clit while he keeps pounding into you. The dual sensation builds fast. “Come on,” he mutters against your ear, voice strained now. “Cum on my cock. Let him see it. Let him hear exactly how good I make you feel.”

Your arms shake. Your voice cracks on a high, broken moan as the orgasm rips through you. Hard and overwhelming, cunt clenching tight around him while you sob out his name. Chuuya groans low and filthy at the way you squeeze him, hips stuttering for only a second before he chases his own release.

Chuuya buries himself to the hilt with a final, deep thrust and cums hard. He keeps grinding through it, making sure every drop stays buried deep, muttering against your skin the whole time. “That’s it—take it. Take every fucking drop. Let him watch me fill you up.” He stays locked against you for a long moment after, breathing hard, still buried deep while the aftershocks make you tremble. Only when the last of it has settled does he finally ease back just enough to look past you at Dazair. “Still think I’m average?” 

➽──────❥ ❀⊱༺♡༻⊰❀ ➽──────❥

❀ This one was so fun!~ ❣️

❀ As always room for improvement! Sorry about grammar and spelling😬

❀ Requests are open! 💡

❀ Comment, likes and reposts are much appreciated! 🫶

❀ Master list ✨

~Thanks for reading!

[kyuusakuu]

Ummm Idk.

[thewickedjazzy]

People act like Chuuya isn't intelligent because they compare him to Dazai, which is an absurd standard.

In Age fifteen, Stormbringer and Dead Apple, Chuuya repeatedly proves he can analyse situations, adapt instantly, read people and execute complex plans with minimal information.

Dazai literally trusts Chuuya to understand plans he never fully explains. That only works because Chuuya can piece together tiny clues and reach the correct conclusion on his own.

Chuuya IS smart, he just has a different type of intelligence. intuitive, emotionally perceptive and incredibly fast under pressure. the fact that he can keep up with Dazai at all should tell people everything they need to know.