The Agency office bustled with its usual morning hustle and bustle: the soft clicking of keyboards, the occasional rustle of paperwork, and Kunikida's voice, already sternly reprimanding Atsushi for a minor clerical error. Dazai Osamu, in contrast, was reclining on the back of the sofa with the elegance of a cat in the sun, flipping through a file with one hand and absentmindedly sipping lukewarm coffee with the other.
Nestled safely inside the scarf tied loosely around Dazai's neck was something, someone, small, warm and at that moment vibrating with frustration.
“Would you stop moving?” Chuuya hissed, his voice weak but filled with annoyance. He stood on Dazai’s shoulder like an emperor on his throne, his arms crossed and his tousled orange hair blowing slightly in the breeze from the air conditioner. “I’m trying to keep my balance, jerk.”
“But Chuuya…” Dazai drawled with a lazy smile, shifting his shoulders just enough to make Chuuya stumble a little. “If you’re going to act like a parrot, you better learn to hold on tighter.”
“I’m not a damn parrot!” Chuuya snapped, his small fingers grabbing the edge of Dazai’s collar.
In fact, he was a borrower: a ten-centimeter person with strength that defied his size, a cunning born of necessity, and a withering gaze. He lived in an apartment carefully concealed among Dazai's drawers, tucked away among notebooks and silk scarves, and had been a part of the detective's life for just over three years.
Their relationship was complicated. Or it would be if it weren't so absurdly simple.
Dazai adored him.
Making fun of him? That was the icing on the cake.
"I should have stayed home," Chuuya muttered, adjusting the strap of his bag. "You said I could accompany you to the ADA for a 'quiet day.' This isn't quiet. You're swaying like a drunken tree."
“I’m offering you the full experience,” Dazai said innocently. “A front-row seat to my majesty.”
Chuuya's response was a kick to the jaw. Soft, but effective. Dazai made a theatrical face.
“Ow~! My delicate face!”
“Delicate my ass,” Chuuya muttered, and for a moment, Dazai simply smiled.
Then a thought struck him, one of those thoughts that come when you are bored, naughty and completely unconcerned about the consequences.
He looked around. Kunikida was distracted, shouting at Tanizaki. The coast was clear.
"Hey, Chuuya," said the man.
Chuuya, still standing near Dazai's neck, narrowed his eyes. "What?"
Dazai's smile widened. "Ever wonder what it would be like to be inside my mouth?"
Chuuya froze. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
“I mean,” Dazai continued, his voice suddenly melodious and mock-melodious, scooping the borrower up in one hand. “you’re pretty small. Portable. Convenient. I could just…”
And before Chuuya could jump, run, or curse him, Dazai opened his mouth.
It wasn't a serious threat, obviously. Just enough to stick out his tongue, maybe scare the little one...
But Chuuya stumbled.
And landed right in that tongue that was waiting.
There was a moment of stillness. A heartbeat. Two.
Dazai blinked.
Chuuya spluttered, thrashing about on the wet surface, his small fists pounding into the warm muscle beneath him.
”DAZAI! LET ME OUT!”
Dazai closed his mouth.
It wasn't his intention. But, oh, now this has gone from provocative to irresistible. The taste of his boyfriend—slightly powdery, like the inside of his tiny coat and the cinnamon soap he used—tickled his tongue.
“Mmm,” Dazai hummed around her, his voice vibrating softly.
Chuuya yelled and braced himself as Dazai threw his head back slightly. "Don't even think about it!" he yelled, muffled up.
But Dazai, his eyes narrowed, swallowed slowly and mischievously.
And Chuuya started to slide.
The movement was careful: a gentle tug of tongue and throat, a small, writhing figure pushed back by the movement of muscle and air. Dazai's fingers ran over his neck as he felt Chuuya's small body form a slight bulge in his throat, slowly sliding under his skin like a wriggling pill. It was light. Warm. A strange pressure that made Dazai's shoulders tremble.
Then it disappeared. The lump disappeared under his collarbone.
Dazai sat there, stunned.
A small and a very slight shudder was felt just below his chest. He could feel it, just behind his ribs. Chuuya.
He was inside.
Alive, perfectly safe, although extremely angry.
“Oh my god,” Dazai whispered, gently placing a hand over his stomach. “I really did.”
A dull thud was heard from inside, as if Chuuya had just kicked the stomach lining.
“YOU...! I SWEAR TO GOD, DAZAI!”
He grimaced, then chuckled. "Hey, calm down. I just wanted to try."
“¡LET ME OUT! ”
“You’re warm,” Dazai murmured aloud, tapping his chest as if knocking on a door. “And you’re squirming… Like a spicy jelly bean.”
Chuuya shouted something unprintable from inside his head.
Dazai laughed so hard he almost doubled over.
—
Ten minutes later, after some careful maneuvering and gentle coaxing, Dazai leaned over a cup and opened his mouth, letting Chuuya crawl out, soaked and furious.
He stood on the table, soaked, his fists shaking at his sides.
"I hate you."
Dazai handed him a napkin, trying not to laugh. "Come on, Chuuya. You have to admit, it was amazing."
“¡You swallowed me!”
“I brought you back,” Dazai said happily. “Save and sound!”
Chuuya snorted. "You're the worst boyfriend in the world."
Dazai leaned in and rested his chin on the table beside him. "And yet... you're still dating me."
Chuuya blushed and turned sharply, pointing a soaked finger. "I'm only staying because if I leave, you'll probably die trying to tie your shoelaces!"
“Ah~ So you do care .”
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH."
Still smiling, Dazai reached out and carefully took the little borrower in his palm. Chuuya squirmed, but didn't jump away. That was a victory in itself.
Dazai pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head, ignoring the small comment of indignation.
"I love you, you know that," he said softly.
Chuuya stood still.
“Yeah,” he murmured, reluctantly snuggling into the safety of Dazai’s hand. “I know. Just warn me next time before you make me into food.”
"I don't promise anything," Dazai whispered with a smile.
Okay, an AU I've been thinking of. Pred Dazai & Borrower Trans masc Chuuya.
Since it's a world with abilities, it was possible for Dazai and Chuuya have a biological child. (They both decided to have a child before Chuuya has his delicate [because he's a borrower] surgery into male, completely) [tbh, I don't know if some people would like this but, I don't see anything bad with it]
Anyways, Dazai keeping his beloved borrower husband safely in his holding stomach, so Chuuya can rest (he made Chuuya comfy clothes for his pregnancy)
(Question, would you prefer a little boy or a little girl? I have name for both either optional you choose :])
TW: Safe/Soft Vore
It's been a while since I drew stomach like that :3
The colors are plain because I got lazy to add shading :')
Anyways, something I'm planning to write. Borrower Dazai and Chuuya being found by Odasaku, who gets them free and takes them to the ADA (Odasaku will remain alive in this au and works at the ADA) (Also, in this au Chuuya is Transmasc but forced to wear dresses by their captor, an old man, who doesn't believe in those things and still sees Chuuya as a female, worsening his dysphoria.
Is not in the right angle but I'm lazy to fix it :'3
The sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the Armed Detective Agency, casting golden rays across desks cluttered with files, coffee mugs, and scattered pens. Outside, the world was bustling as always, but inside the office, a rare calm had settled. Morning cases had been wrapped up, paperwork was largely done (at least, delegated to Kunikida), and for once, there was no shouting.
At one particular desk—lazily commandeered by Dazai Osamu—sat a strange scene. Or rather, curled up on the edge of his open book, barely the size of his palm, was a tinier, peacefully slumbering figure. A 4-inch borrower with tousled ginger-copper hair, delicate features, and a navy-blue coat that looked lovingly stitched, now rising and falling with each small breath.
Dazai rested his chin in his hand, elbow on the desk, gazing down at the sleeping form with a growing smirk.
“Oi, Chuuya...” he murmured playfully, voice pitched low. “You’re seriously just gonna nap right here? On the battlefield of paperwork and bureaucracy?”
No response.
Chuuya didn’t stir. One tiny booted foot had slipped over the edge of the page, dangling precariously, and his cheek was smushed into Dazai’s half-written case notes. A faint snore escaped his lips—quiet and soft. The kind of sound Dazai would never let him live down if he were awake.
Dazai's brown eyes sparkled with mischief.
He reached down and gently poked Chuuya’s side with the pad of his finger. “You do realize you’re completely defenseless like this, right? What if I wasn’t me? What if I were a cold-blooded predator with absolutely no self-control?”
Chuuya shifted minutely, a small wrinkle forming between his brows. But still, he didn’t wake.
Dazai gave a mock sigh. “Tsk, tsk. How disappointing. You used to be more alert than this, Hat-rack.”
He paused, his smile deepening into something fond. “But you must be really tired, huh?”
Chuuya had been up late the night before, reorganizing the tiny space Dazai had built for him in a shoebox-sized home beside the desk. He was a little meticulous when it came to cleanliness—and a lot stubborn about not accepting help. So, of course, Dazai had caught him dragging thimbles and buttons around like furniture after midnight.
Now here he was, dozing with his guard completely down, trusting Dazai without hesitation.
His tiny hands twitched, one curling up to his cheek as he sighed in his sleep.
Dazai tilted his head.
“…You’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself.
His gaze slid to Chuuya’s side, where his tiny chest was rising and falling in rhythm. The curve of his back. His tiny shoulders. His delicate neck.
“…I wonder...”
Dazai leaned closer and extended his hand, brushing his fingers along Chuuya’s side. The borrower flinched slightly in his sleep but didn’t wake. That mischievous glint returned to Dazai’s eyes.
“I wonder if you’d mind taking a nap somewhere even safer, hmm?”
He chuckled under his breath. “You always complain about the draft on this desk.”
And with that, he very gently scooped Chuuya into his palm, careful not to jostle him too much. The little borrower gave a soft noise of protest but stayed asleep, head lolling to the side as Dazai raised him closer to his face.
Now cradled against his fingers, Chuuya looked impossibly small. Dazai hesitated for a moment, simply observing him.
“Would you be mad?” he murmured, grin tugging at his lips. “If you woke up somewhere… unconventional?”
A moment later, Dazai slowly brought Chuuya toward his mouth, letting his tongue just barely flick across his boyfriend’s legs and boots, tasting the faint metallic tang of city dust and the warmth of wool. Chuuya twitched a little in his sleep, but again—no waking.
Dazai licked again, slower this time, savoring the odd but familiar sensation of the borrower’s taste. He’d teased Chuuya with things like this before—quick licks to fluster him, slow ones to make him huff in embarrassment—but he’d never actually gone this far.
Still… today seemed perfect.
“Just a quick visit into my pouch,” he murmured softly. “No danger. I promise.”
With one last glance around the office—empty, thank goodness—Dazai opened his mouth fully and gently guided Chuuya’s sleeping form onto his tongue. His fingers held the borrower steady until he was lying completely inside, warm and curled just slightly on the wet muscle.
Chuuya stirred faintly, a noise barely audible. But with Dazai keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he didn’t wake.
Dazai closed his lips, holding his boyfriend inside his mouth with a kind of reverence. He didn’t chew—of course not. Just held him there, his tongue carefully adjusting to cradle the tiny weight.
Then, after a long moment, Dazai tilted his head back—and swallowed.
It was slow, purposeful and careful. A faint gulp echoed in the quiet room as the small lump of Chuuya’s body slid down Dazai’s throat, forming a small but visible bulge in his neck.
Dazai placed a couple of fingers on his neck as he felt the little shape travel downward, beneath his collarbone, and finally vanish inside him with a final, subtle shift.
He placed a hand on his abdomen and grinned.
“You’re lucky I’m not a villain, Chuuya.”
He leaned back in his chair, stretching luxuriously with both hands behind his head. His holding pouch made a small sound, adjusting to the small visitor now inside—warm, safe, and sleeping.
“You’ll probably throw a fit when you wake up,” he mused aloud, tone affectionate. “Something like ‘What the hell, Dazai?!’ and then try to punch my holding pouch from the inside.”
He chuckled softly.
“But I bet you’ll sleep better than ever in there. All warm and quiet, nothing to knock you off the desk or startle you awake.”
His smile turned faintly fond. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
He closed his eyes and let himself relax, hand resting gently over his belly where Chuuya now rested, undisturbed.
//
Inside, Chuuya shifted slightly, a quiet sigh escaping him as he adjusted to the soft, rhythmic motion around him. He didn’t quite wake. Just nestled deeper into the warmth, lulled by the slow, steady beat of Dazai’s heartbeat above and the gentle rise and fall of breath surrounding him.
It was cozy. Strangely comforting. Like being wrapped in a hug from every side.
He’d scold Dazai later, probably. Loudly.
But for now… he just slept.
And Dazai, sitting smug and content in the quiet office, made sure no one disturbed him.
//
A few hours later, the quiet hum of the office was broken only by the distant tapping of a keyboard and the soft whir of the ceiling fan. Afternoon light poured in through the tall windows of the ADA, casting dappled shadows across Dazai’s desk, where he now lounged with a peaceful smile, legs kicked up and arms behind his head.
His eyes were closed.
He could feel the slight warmth in his pouch—the comforting little presence of the 4-inch borrower he’d so gently swallowed earlier. And if he focused just enough, he could feel the tiniest shifts inside. Soft movements. Barely there. But real.
Chuuya was waking up.
Dazai grinned.
//
Inside the cocoon of warmth and muscle, Chuuya stirred.
At first, it was just a blink into darkness. Then a twitch—his body stretching instinctively, his arms reaching out, only to hit… softness. Walls? No—flesh. Warm and damp, surrounding him on every side.
His brows furrowed.
“…Eh?”
Chuuya slowly sat up, blinking through the gentle press of moisture and warmth, utterly disoriented. He could hear something—a deep, rhythmic thump above his head, and the muffled sound of breathing.
His tiny hands pressed against the soft walls. They gave slightly beneath his touch—flexing with each slow inhale Dazai took far above.
“…Wait.”
His eyes widened.
“DAZAI!”
His voice was muffled to the outside world—barely audible—but within, it echoed slightly, bouncing off the holding pouch walls.
“Are you kidding me?! You ate me?!”
Outside, Dazai stifled a laugh and coughed into his sleeve.
“Oh, good morning, my little cherry tomato~” he sang with obnoxious cheer. “Sleep well?”
“Don’t you dare ‘cherry tomato’ me, you idiot!” Chuuya shouted, jabbing the wall closest to him with his fist. “Why the hell is it so warm?! Where the hell am I?!”
Dazai let out a pleased sigh and patted his belly fondly. “You’re inside me, obviously. My second stomach, to be exact.”
A sharp thump hit his abdomen. Chuuya had kicked him.
“I knew I somehow felt you licking me while I was passed out! What the hell is wrong with you?! Who swallows their boyfriend as a joke?!”
Dazai leaned closer to the desk, resting his elbows and cupping his chin like a giddy child. “You were so peacefully asleep… I didn’t want to wake you up. And I did think it might be… cozy in there.”
“Cozy?!” Chuuya sputtered from inside. “It’s like sleeping in a giant’s humid sock!”
Dazai chuckled, the sound rumbling faintly through his body and vibrating the small space Chuuya was in. The sensation made the borrower’s breath hitch for a second—not painful, just… odd. Surrounding.
“I will kill you when I get out of here,” Chuuya muttered, crossing his arms and slumping against the soft wall. “And not quickly.”
Dazai hummed innocently. “But you’re not uncomfortable, right?”
“…That’s not the point!”
“But you are comfy.”
Silence.
Chuuya glared at the darkness surrounding him, cheeks heating. “…Shut up.”
Dazai beamed. “I knew it. You’re warm, safe, and all tucked away where no wind can chill you, and no desk drafts can blow your scarf off. It’s the perfect nap spot.”
“You ate me like a breath mint, Dazai!”
“Please… I savored you.”
Chuuya groaned and let his head fall back with a soft thump against the fleshy wall. He was too tired to start trying to climb up a slippery esophagus—and part of him knew Dazai wouldn’t keep him in here long.
“I swear, the day you decide to be normal, I’m throwing a party.”
“Then you’ll never get that party,” Dazai replied cheerfully. “But admit it—you trust me enough to sleep through being swallowed. That’s kind of romantic, don’t you think?”
“Romantic?!” Chuuya was nearly shrieking now. “Is this some twisted version of a honeymoon to you?!”
Dazai laughed, folding his arms across the part of his abdomen where he could feel the faintest pressure from inside. “Hey, I could’ve done worse. I could’ve kept you in my mouth for hours. Or chewed.”
“Try it and you’re losing a finger.”
“You’re not even big enough to break my skin.”
“I’ll find a way.”
For all his fury, Dazai could tell Chuuya was settling. His breathing was still a little quick, but he was no longer pounding at the walls or trying to climb. The environment wasn’t hostile—it was soft and steady, the rhythmic rise and fall of Dazai’s breathing creating a swaying motion, like being rocked in a hammock.
And annoyingly, it was kind of comfortable.
“…You’re never doing this again,” Chuuya grumbled after a long silence.
Dazai grinned. “Of course not.”
He crossed his fingers under the desk.
“Liar,” Chuuya muttered.
Another soft silence fell between them. Dazai let it stretch. He leaned back in his chair again, hand resting gently on his abdomen, thumb drawing idle circles. The warmth of the sun, the quiet room, the gentle movements inside—it all felt… nice. Peaceful.
“I don’t hate it,” Chuuya mumbled suddenly.
Dazai blinked.
“…What?”
“I said I don’t hate it, alright?! So shut up before I take it back.”
A pause.
Then Dazai grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.
“Oh? My little firecracker’s gone soft on me. You like being close to me, huh? Even if it means being inside me?”
“Say it again and I’m never cuddling you again.”
Dazai snickered but shut his mouth.
He let the moment settle—tender and oddly calming. He could feel Chuuya shifting now and then, adjusting, occasionally poking the wall gently when Dazai laughed too hard. But mostly, he stayed still, basking in the rhythm of the heartbeat above and the gentle motion around him.
Eventually, Chuuya’s voice came, quieter this time.
“…Don’t do it around the others.”
Dazai tilted his head. “Swallow you?”
“No, bake cookies. YES, swallow me, you moron! If Kunikida sees, I’m gonna be labeled ‘Agency Food Item’ and banned from the premises.”
Dazai laughed so hard he almost choked.
“You got it,” he managed between wheezes. “Strictly private snack time.”
“You’re impossible,” Chuuya muttered.
Dazai gave a contented sigh and leaned back once more, resting both hands over the gentle spot where Chuuya lay safely curled inside.
