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
Night had silently settled over Yokohama, a deep, velvety darkness that made even the Agency's offices, on the other side of the city, seem calm and peaceful. A light breeze drifted through the open window of the small apartment Dazai and Chuuya shared, one of the few places where chaos didn't reign at every moment.
His room was dimly lit, illuminated by the silvery glow of the moon filtering through the curtains. Dazai slept as always: lying on his back, his hair spread across the pillow, one arm around Chuuya's waist. A soft, steady purr emanated from his chest: the instinct of a predator when it feels warm, safe, and snuggled up next to something precious.
Chuuya used to make fun of him for that.
"You sound like a motorboat," he muttered.
And Dazai would reply, "Just for you, Chibi," before snuggling closer and purring louder on purpose.
But tonight, something wasn't right.
Subtle. Strange.
The moon shifted. The air grew colder. And as the night wore on past midnight, a faint glow—like a silent pulse of light—came over Chuuya's body. He didn't move. He didn't feel the change spreading through his skin, tightening like a thread shrinking.
He simply… got smaller.
Tiny.
Until Chuuya Nakahara, gravity manipulator, former executive and current husband, measured only 3.5 inches tall.
Still fast asleep, curled up in the exact same spot but instead of the mattress, on the pillow, but now barely the size of Dazai's thumb.
He seemed calm. Small. Oblivious to everything.
And very, very close to Dazai's face.
Dazai, still unconscious, stirred. His predatory instincts sharpened. Predators always slept lightly, alert to the slightest scent or movement, especially the borrowers. His sense of smell, keen enough to track even the faintest trace across the room, throbbed at the presence of something small, warm, and alive.
Something he loved.
Something he wanted to have close by.
A soft sound escaped Dazai's throat, something between a purr and a sleepy hum. His lips parted slightly. His tongue instinctively slid out, brushing against the pillow.
And then-
He grazed Chuuya.
The tiny man let out a sleepy grunt, barely audible, stirring without waking. Dazai's tongue slid easily beneath him, enveloping him as if he weighed nothing. The pred's mouth opened wider, his sleeping body obeying only instinct: soft, automatic.
Chuuya stirred slightly only when the warm, slippery surface lifted him up.
“Mmm… what the—!?”
His eyes snapped open just as the darkness of Dazai's mouth closed around him.
"DA—!"
The rest of his scream faded as Dazai—his eyes still closed—softly sealed his lips, savoring the gentle warmth within. A deep, contented purr coursed through his body. His tongue reflexively curled around Chuuya; he didn't crush him, only envelop him in the soft, moist warmth of a predator's instincts on autopilot.
"Dazai! DAZAI! Wake up—mmph—HEY!"
But the predator didn't hear him. Not consciously. He simply tilted his head back slightly and swallowed.
A slow and natural gulp.
Chuuya felt himself being squeezed downward, dragged through the tight, rhythmic muscles of Dazai's throat. He slid helplessly but safe, down the esophagus, screaming and writhing as he felt himself moving, the world around him becoming an ever-narrowing tunnel of warmth and pressure.
From the outside, a small and smooth squirming bulge descended through Dazai's throat before disappearing beneath his collarbone.
Moments later, Chuuya tumbled gently into the soft, warm space of Dazai’s holding stomach— the pred's pouch-like chamber designed precisely for this purpose. Safe, but one where he couldn't escape.
“OH, FOR THE— DAZAI, YOU MORON!”
His voice bounced uselessly off the fleshy walls.
Above him, Dazai let out a pleased purr and squeezed a pillow tighter.
Chuuya planted his tiny hands on the warm, pulsing wall of the stomach-pocket and kicked in frustration.
“I swear Dazai, when you wake up, you are dead.”
In response, he could feel the faint vibrations of Dazai's snores and soft purring.
// // //
MORNING
The sunlight warmed the bedroom.
Dazai stretched, yawned, and blinked slowly, staring at the empty mattress beside him.
"Huh?" he murmured. "Where's my beloved spouse? My little tempest? My compact ball of fury?"
He sat up, his hair sticking out in all directions, looking around the room.
“Chuuyaaa~? Have you run away again? I promise I’ll only remind you of it for the rest of your life.”
Then-
squirm.
Dazai froze.
Slowly, his hand slid down to his abdomen. The slightest movement wriggled beneath his palm.
A very familiar movement.
"Oh," he said with a dawning realization. "Oh, no."
He lifted his shirt slightly.
A clearly squirming bulge was pressing outward.
"Chibi? Is that you?"
From inside: “YES, OF COURSE IT’S ME, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON! LET ME OUT RIGHT NOW!”
Dazai grimaced, his ears slightly flattened with guilt. "Ah. I ate you in my sleep, didn't I?"
“YES! YOU DID! YOU F—ING MACKEREL!! LET ME OUT ALREADY…!”
“Ah. This is kind of romantic if you think about it...”
Chuuya kicked the stomach wall.
“I SWEAR TO GOD—”
"Okay, Okay, hold on, I'll get you out of here," Dazai said, gently rubbing the squirming spot soothingly, his tone apologetic. "But... you're awfully small, aren't you?"
“YOU JUST REALIZED THAT?!”
Dazai’s brow furrowed.
“Chibi… why are you so tiny?”
“How am I supposed to know?! Maybe you did something!”
Dazai gasped dramatically. "Accusations? From inside my body? How rude!"
He earned another kick for that.
But beneath the humor, worry fluttered in Dazai's chest. He pressed his palm more gently against the pouch.
"Are you hurt?" he asked in a low voice.
Chuuya paused.
“…No. I’m just annoyed. And slimy. And stuck.”
Dazai let out a soft sigh of relief.
"Okay," he said warmly. "Let's get you out of there, my little husband."
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’ll stop once you are out.”
"You're never going to stop, are you?"
"Nope."
Dazai's stomach gave a small gurgle, —not from hunger, but from Chuuya's renewed, restless squirming.
