⋆ COLD HANDS ノ DAZAI AND CHUUYA! X FEM! READER 𓆩♡𓆪 <𝟑
୨ CW ୧ ― sfw , crack , teasing , established relationship , can't think of anymore ( ･ั﹏･ั)
꒰ fic type. imagines ꒱
. ୨୧ ⁺ req by anon : maybe could I request Chuuya Dazai not together (u don’t have to do it if u don’t want to) Where how they react to reader coming into bed late and putting her FREEZING hands up their shirts to feel their warm body
ℒ. notes ― I FINALLY REWROTE IT!! i hope the anon sees this<3 apologies for being a tad bit dumb LOL mwah!
CHUUYA
you slip into bed, later than you expected but sometimes work forces you to stay crazy hours ― chuuya knows all too well. you try not to make a noise, the squeaking of the bed causes you to cringe but chuuya didn't budge.
you cuddle behind him, letting the blankets fall over your body like a second skin ― your eyes sparkled at the thin shirt he wore. with a sinister smirk, you gently hover your hands over his sides and that's when you shove your hands under his shirt.
chuuya jolts with a shriek, like he's been electrocuted.
"THE HELL―?" his whole body arched away as far as he could the blankets practically go soaring if you weren't holding down most of the weight. you pull him back with a soft smile, pecking his shoulder like you've done nothing wrong.
he grabs your wrists, eyes wide, body turned to you, hair a mess ― he took this personally. "baby, what ― why are you like this?!" he lets out a tired whine, cupping your hand to his cheek.
as he recovered from your attack, he pulls your freezing cold hand to his lips, blowing warm air over your knuckles while mumbling slanders.
"you could have asked me to warm you up, not put me into cardiac arrest."
he pulls you to his chest anyway, despite how cold you were, tucking your hands under his shirt properly warming you up this time, trapping them under his arm.
"there...you're lucky i love you," he spoke, "never do that again...unless you want some payback," he smirked, poking your leg with his cold foot and chuckles at your soft shriek.
he leaned over to kiss your forehead, pretending he's not enjoying this sweet moment with you.
DAZAI
you slip into his futon, the ground was cold ― but the heater in front of the two of you warmed you both up real quick. well, besides your hands.
you bite your lip to muffle your giggles as you ready yourself, your fingers tugging up his shirt and landed on his chest.
he just lets out a strained noise, not too loud but definitely a reaction.
he jolts, the futon skidding left and right as he rockets up to catch your hands, his eyes wide and hair messy ― you burst out in giggles.
his hands grab at your wrists and he pulls your freezing hands out of his shirt, his eyes turn from wide to a playful glare. "oh, seeking warmth?"
your giggles die down for a moment, your hands moving to cup his face but he stops you, leaning back and fell down with a laugh, you following him.
now you were straddling him, fighting for your wrists back but he didn't let you go. "ah ah ah! you asked for this, belladonna~ " he's got a tight grip, his eyes sparkle with tiredness and mischief.
"let me warm you up, nice and toasty, yes?"
with that, he turns you on your side and faces you, shoving your hands into his shirt again and trapped then under his arms.
if you complain he is too warm, for being in front of heater for a longer period then you've been, he'll just laugh ― soft ― shifting you closer you to him.
"oh come on, don't be so dramatic~ i'm your personality heater...with a price."
the price? kisses, and a whole lot of them.
he ends up wrapping every limb around you for the rest of night, waking up all hot but extremely loved.
How would they react at first if they realized they like you?
✧ OSAMU DAZAI
Most likely, Dazai would act as if he’s joking. He’d be brutally straightforward, not letting you breathe too much in the agency office or finding any excuse to irritate you.
“I’ve heard our most beautiful colleague even has time for my documents too, isn’t that right, bella?”
Even if your heart sometimes beats faster when he compliments you or when he stares at you with that hollow yet intense gaze, Dazai still manages to annoy you far too often.
“You heard wrong.”
Snatching your mission report out of your hands, he made you flare up, rising from your chair to grab it back unsuccessfully.
“Or…I can help you draw your conclusions faster, bella! Trade for trade.”
His smirk grated on your nerves even more. You muttered, “I hate you.” though malice laced it.
Your eyes widened as he gripped your waist, your documents held above your reach while his gaze pinned you down, looking straight at you from above.
“Aww, I truly don’t wish to upset my favorite colleague.”
And yet, no matter how much Dazai jokes, avoids seriousness, or dodges his own feelings, if your life were ever in danger (even if sacrificing you would perfectly serve his strategy) he would never hesitate to save you. Excusing himself with the idea that he’ll surely come up with another plan, though deep down he knows he can’t admit yet that you’re far more important to him than you should be.
✧ CHUUYA NAKAHARA
Chuuya couldn’t stand you from the very moment you entered the Port Mafia at the same time you refused to put up with his arrogance, always firing back whenever he provoked you.
Chuuya barely managed to keep his irritation in check, to stop himself from rolling his eyes when Mori assigned the two of you on the same mission.
“I don’t contest your skills at organizing us, but do I really have to be teamed up with her?”
You answered with the same subtle tone, yet throwing provocation in his face.
“Afraid you’re too weak to keep up?”
And still, Chuuya was utterly stunned when he saw you in action. How resilient, how strong you were. His eyes widened in admiration. Catching him staring, you couldn’t resist teasing, even if his gaze made your own heart hammer.
“Like what you see, foxy boy?”
Chuuya narrowed his eyes in annoyance, even if a betraying flush crept up his cheeks.
But his hidden emotions would only come out when fear overwhelmed him. When your life was truly at risk, he would break completely. Confessing everything in a shaken, frantic voice.
“Don’t you fucking dare die, [Name]! Don’t you—Shit! I can’t lose you. I-I really—“
Your lips twitched faintly as your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion dragging you down.
“I know, Chuuya. I know. Me too.”
✧ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY
He would never say it outright. For him, acknowledging interest in someone is a colossal weakness, especially in someone working at his side. He would blame it on admiring your intellect, on your obedience, on nearly accepting that he actually trusts you.
Instead, his methods are far from moral.
“You know you’re the best one along my partners, right, [Name]?”
He tilted your chin up, smirking down at you, his eyes attempting to hypnotize you and nearly succeeding.
You smiled back, gaze dropping to his lips before returning to his eyes with that addictive, dangerous look.
“How can I help you this time, Fyodor?”
And still, he would not treat you as he does everyone else. Avoiding (logically, strategically — as he calls it) using you as a mere sacrifice.
✧ RANPO EDOGAWA
Ranpo was utterly confused at first. Why weren’t his deductions working? Why did his heart pound inhumanly fast whenever you stood too close? Why did his body warm up when you praised him for his insights, but not when anyone else did?
It took him a long time to realize he actually liked you, and once he did, the best solution was to confess. And yet… without you, he doubted he would’ve survived it alone.
One day, after a mission, Ranpo came to you, catching you off guard.
“Hey, Ranpo. Are you okay?”
“Why do you always care how I am or what I do?”
You blinked. Once. Twice. You couldn’t tell if his tone was harsh or curious.
“Ranpo?”
His hands twitched, and when his eyes slowly opened, soft in a way you had never seen, you froze.
“Tell me why. Because I’m going insane thinking I’m the only one seeing you in a way I shouldn’t. It makes no sense.”
When you kissed him, Ranpo forgot all the months of headaches this had caused him, melting completely into your touch.
✧ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA
For Akutagawa, realizing he had feelings for you would be unbearable. Disgusted with himself, he’d rather lash out at you like a child whenever you were too “naive” for your own good.
“Are you fucking serious? Why did you come here? What if something happened and I wasn’t there?”
But the moment he raised his voice, he hated himself even more, especially if your expression showed the slightest hint of hurt. Frozen a second too long, he never apologized (not at first), choosing instead to storm off, guilt gnawing inside.
Yet, after a mission, when you came to clean and bandage his wounds with fierce determination, his chest throbbed violently. Your gentle hands touched his face, far too softly for someone like him.
“Why are you doing this? I only saved you because you were in my way.” His voice was low, yet not angry.
Your gaze met his as you murmured against his face, focusing again on his bruises.
“Every time?”
Your ironic jab irritated him, but he froze again when you leaned too close to grab another set of bandages.
“Because I trust you, Akutagawa. And because you’re stronger than you think. Scream all you want, but I know you have a good heart, Ryuu.”
His muscles tightened, eyes wide with fear and vulnerability. Overwhelmed, he couldn’t even move. All he managed was a weak scoff, hiding his gaze. Still, your smile start forming when you caught the blush on his cheeks.
✧ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA
Atsushi would be flustered beyond belief, confusing you endlessly at first.
If you hugged him too affectionately, he’d stammer an excuse and flee somewhere else.
If you were too sweet with him, praising him, he’d flush crimson and hide his face as quickly as possible.
But if there were even a hint of danger for you, he would be the very first at your side to protect you.
It would be impossible not to notice in the end—most likely kissing him after a heroic act, catching him completely off guard.
“[Name], what—“ You leaned into him, brushing your lips against his before resting your forehead on his. “Y-you like me too?”
You smiled, nodding and that was all it took for him to cup your cheeks and press his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss.
✧ DOPPO KUNIKIDA
Doppo would deny his feelings outright, embarrassed to even clear his throat or tug at his tie as though he couldn’t breathe—only whenever you teased him about how responsible he was.
You leaned your head beside his chair, watching him so closely he nearly spilled his coffee. Smiling with your eyes shut, you spoke.
“You’re so serious sometimes, Doppo! Can I help you relax a little?”
“I-I… Nevermind. No! No need…”
You chuckled as he exhaled loudly, teasing him before planting a kiss on his cheek.
“A real embodiment of a husband, did you know that?”
He would be shocked and flustered the entire day. Still, it would be the serious push he needed to finally invite you out properly with every minute and place meticulously planned.
✧ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA
You wouldn’t realize it at first. Even though you’ve known him your whole life, if Fukuzawa ever noticed his feelings drifting beyond platonic, his instinct would be to create distance.
Until you intervened.
“Even if you’re the President of the Agency, that doesn’t mean you can boss me around however you want, Fukuzawa!”
He sighed, rising from his desk and walking toward you. His hands folded beneath the green yukata under his black haori.
“It’s necessary to separate these matters. Our personal lives shouldn’t affect our work.”
“Oh, so you’d rather push me aside? What does that have to do with what’s between us and our personal lives?”
For a fleeting second, you caught Fukuzawa’s eyes widen.
“It’s not that I’m pushing you aside, [Name]. It’s simply—“
“You’ve developed feelings for me, haven’t you, Fukuzawa?”
He was not a man who lied. So he chose silence. Only action. He raised his hands slowly, his knuckles brushing your cheek gently. Devotion glimmered in his eyes, tangled with restraint.
✧ SAKUNOSUKE ODA
Oda was a serious man, respecting anyone who respected him, kind whenever he could be. And yet, when he realized his behavior toward you was different, he didn’t hesitate to speak—awkward as he was. For him, communication was the best solution.
After a long day, he waited for you, one hand hidden behind his back, ready to offer you a flower regardless of your answer. Apologizing or celebrating together.
“Oda?”
He swallowed, hesitant but steady
“If I’ve got the wrong impression, or if this makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. No pressure. I just want to confess that…I like you…and that I’d like to know you better.”
His thoughtful sincerity filled your heart more than you ever expected.
✧ ANGO SAKAGUCHI
Difficult. He was torn between avoiding the whole ordeal (such a headache) and admitting that he was helplessly drawn to you.
Still, one hint from you was enough to tip the scale.
After a few glasses of whisky, you convinced the bookworm to join you on the dance floor.
At first, he preferred to just watch you, leaning against the bar. But then, under his breath, Ango murmured, “Fuck it.” When you crooked your finger at him with that dangerous smile, he surprised you — his lips pressing onto yours, cupping your cheeks right there in the middle of the dance floor.
✧ SIGMA
Sigma would panic at first, afraid to ruin what he had with you, yet guilt gnawed at him for keeping such a secret.
His voice sabotaged him.
“I need to confess something.”
“What’s happening, Sigma?”
Your worried look only deepened his guilt. His head lowered.
“I’m so sorry…I hope you don’t think I’m a horrible person, or that I had any ulterior motives. You’re such an incredible person… and I’ve…developed feelings for you. I know it’s inappropriate—“
“Sigma…” Your shocked voice made him lift his gaze. “I wouldn’t have thought… And… I—I feel the same way.”
Now it was his turn to be shocked.
“You do?”
You nodded. Silence stretched between you, until both of you smiled, meeting halfway in a slow, gentle kiss.
note. i still have tomodachi life fomo . anyway here’s me projecting my bad sleep schedule
“chuuu.. chuuya..” you whispered, poking your sleeping husband until he gradually woke up. “huh..? hm? hi sweetheart.” he murmured, “what time is it..?” he questioned.
“not important.. look at our mii’s! they fell in love!” you gushed, happily flipping your nintendo over to show him. he flinched once the bright screen hit his face.
“aren’t we cute!!” you squealed and excitedly shook the nintendo. “yes.. yes we are.” he grumbled rubbing his eyes. “we look very cute.. but it’s way too late for you to be on that game, doll.. what time is it even..?” he yawned as he reached for his phone on the nightstand.
five fifty three a.m. it was almost six in the morning and there you were awake on a game. he signed and put his phone down, turning over to face you.
“doll.. it’s nearly six in the morning.. too early for this. wake me up if we get married. goodnight, i love you.” he grumbled, slowly drifting back to sleep.
“i wonder how soon i could make us have a family..” you wondered aloud, and that was the last thing chuuya heard before falling back asleep.
i wrote this very sleepilyy if theres any mistakes let me know ໒ 𓏼ཾ›̥̥̥ ·̭ ‹̥̥̥ 𓏼ིྀ১ goodnight everynyan
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.
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.
Hiya, can I req chuuya x fem super upbeat reader :3 as in, always energetic and happy and playful. never down, loves pranking (trying to sneak up on him, messing with him, jumping on him and starting wrestling or tickle fights, always losing to him). basically makes his life always have something going on. thank you!!
⊹ ꒰🍷꒱ ˖ watch ur back! — chuuya x fem!reader 𓏲ּ𝄢
cw: sfw, crack, suggestive if u squint
a/n: gsjrjfsrh i love this idea smmm (˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵), enjoy! 𖹭 last div by tsumiinum ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୨ 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ୧ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡
⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ your pranks keep him on his toes in the best way. hiding his hat only for him to find it perched on your head while you strike a dramatic pose, swapping his wine with a non-alcoholic version just to watch his expression shift before he haules you into his lap, growling playful threats against your neck. he pretends to be annoyed, but the way his grip lingers and the soft curses laced with affection give him away. life with the mafia ia sharp and dangerous; you make the in between moments feel like something worth coming home to.
⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ tickle fights & wrestling matches happen constantly. you’ll pounce on him while he is trying to relax on the couch, fingers digging into his sides or attempting to pin his arms. he'll indulge you for a minute or two, trying not to let out hid laughs while letting you think you have the upper hand, before flipping you effortlessly beneath him. his hat will end up knocked sideways, his coat rumpled, and he'll be laughing that rare, rough laugh while you try (and fail) to escape. the fights always end the same way—his mouth on yours, hands firm on your waist, the playfulness melting into something warmer and more intimate. you love how easily he matches your chaos without ever making you feel silly for it
⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ sneaking up on him has become your favorite sport. you'll wait until he's pouring a glass of wine or reviewing reports, then launch yourself at his back with a laugh already bubbling out. he always senses you coming—but he lets you get close anyway, just so he can spin around at the last second, catch you mid jump, and pin you against the nearest surface with that smirk. “nice try, doll,” he'll mutter, voice low, while you squirm and giggled in his hold. you never win those surprise attacks, but losing to him feels like winning anyway.
⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ even on rough days, when missions leave him tense and quiet, you never let the mood stay heavy for long. you bounce into his space with that bright, relentless smile, tugging him out for a late night drive or challenging him to some stupid game that ends with both of you breathless and tangled together. he never tells you to tone it down. Instead, he pulls you close afterward, forehead pressed to yours, murmuring how you are the only damn person who can make him forget the blood on his hands for a while.
♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୧ 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮 ୨ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡
you never played fair, and chuuya had learned to expect it.
the second he stepped into the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and a loose tshirt, you struck. you tackled him from the side like an overexcited linebacker, arms wrapping around his waist as the two of you crashed sideways onto the bed. he let out a surprised grunt, half laughing already because he knew exactly what was coming.
“the fuck- get off me, you menace-”
too late. you were already wrestling for position, legs tangling with his as you tried to pin him down. chuuya flipped you effortlessly, but you hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him with you, both of you rolling in a mess of limbs and laughter. his shirt rode up—perfect target.
“think you can relax, huh?” you teased, fingers already digging into his sides as you wrestled to stay on top.
“fuck-” chuuya let out out a loud, undignified laugh and bucked hard, nearly throwing you off the bed entirely. he grabbed your waist to steady himself and immediately regretted it—you used the grip against him, digging in right where his sides dipped. giggles burst out of you at the way his face twisted, trying so hard to stay composed while losing the battle.
he retaliated fast. one strong arm locked around your middle, pulling you flush against him as he rolled on top. the wrestling turned into pure chaos. you were squirming and kicking, him pinning one of your thighs with his knee while his free hand went straight for your worst spots.
you shrieked with laughter, head thrown back against the pillows. “chuuya- no no no-!”
“yes,” he shot back, grinning like a shark even as his own laughter kept breaking through while he hovered over you, hat long gone, red hair messy, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. he leaned down mid tickle and pressed a quick, messy kiss to your open mouth, swallowing one of your giggles. the kiss was clumsy, teeth clicking because neither of you could stop laughing. he pulled back just enough to nip at your jaw, then attacked your neck with tickling fingers again.
you wheezed, tears threatening to spill, and tried to twist away. your hands shoved at his chest, then immediately snuck back under his shirt to tickle him right back. chuuya’s shoulders shook with suppressed giggles as he caught your wrists, but you kept wriggling, hips bumping, legs kicking.
another kiss—deeper this time, slower, right as your giggles started to die down. his tongue brushed yours, tasting the bright, breathless joy still bubbling out of you. then he smirked and went right back to tickling your sides.
“asshole!” you gasped into his mouth between peals of laughter, trying to curl into a ball. he wouldn’t let you, body draped heavy and warm over yours, one hand still loosely pinning your wrists while the other tortured you with light, maddening scratches.
eventually you tapped out against his chest, gasping for air. he finally relented, collapsing beside you and pulling you half on top of him. his chest heaved with leftover chuckles as he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the top of your head, fingers now gently tracing your back instead of attacking it.
“you’re ridiculous, woman” he muttered, voice warm with fondness.
you just grinned against his collarbone, still catching your breath. “you love it.”
“yeah, sweetheart” he admitted, voice rough with laughter and something sweeter. “i really fucking do.”
SOOO Bsd..right hehe it's me.back again!!! I needed a idea for the request.and I got one
Chuuya, Dazai, Ranpo, Sigma, Fyodor Nikolai
(Tho if you can't write all of em I please ask for Chuuya, Dazai and Sigma)
With a lover thats a dog persona. Like they are really loud that they don't realize it, Oblivious, really sweet, loyal, would do anything to make their lover happy. Etc... take your time and i wish you a happy new year and merry late christmas!!
ʚɞ You are a bad girl, bad girl, what you gonna do now? ʚɞ
Pairings: Chuuya x Reader, Dazai x Reader, Ranpo x Reader, Fyodor x Reader, Sigma x Reader, Nikolai x Reader
Summery: Them with their golden retriever lover!
Tags: Fluff, emotional vulnerability, strong themes of loyalty, dazai is highkey a bih, overprotectiveness, Fyodor calls you 'milyaya' (forgive me if this translation is wrong), The Book mentioned, themes of cages and freedom in Nikolai's part, comfort in Sigma's part, Reader calls Nikolai 'Kolya'.
A/N: Tysm for the req! FIRST BSD FICCC, tbh this is not my first Bsd writing but it is the first in a very long time, gave me so many flashbacks, someone correct me if I've written anything wrong here, anyways, hope you enjoy!
⚘ Chuuya Nakahara:
Chuuya notices it in pieces.
The way you practically bounce when you see him. How your voice carries across the room without you realizing. How you stand a little too close, tail-wag energy radiating off you as you talk about your day like it’s the most important thing in the world.
You’re loud, affectionate and clingy in the best way.
“Chuuya!” you shout the second he walks in, already halfway across the room. You latch onto his arm, grinning up at him like he hung the sun himself. “You’re back! Did you eat? Are you tired? I missed you—”
He sighs, but there’s no heat in it. His hand settles on your head automatically, fingers ruffling your hair.
“Tch… you don’t gotta announce me like that,” he mutters, though his ears are red.
You beam. “Oh—sorry! I just got excited!”
That’s the thing. You always do. You’d do anything for him. Carry his coat. Wait up late. Defend him with your whole chest if someone even looks at him wrong. And you never expect anything back—your happiness comes from him being okay.
Chuuya realizes, slowly, that you’re not just loyal. You’re devoted.
And gods help anyone who tries to take advantage of that, because Chuuya will tear the world apart before letting someone hurt something so pure.
⚘ Osamu Dazai:
At first, Dazai thinks it’s an act. You’re too eager. Too trusting. Too openly affectionate—laughing loudly at his jokes, clinging to his sleeve, praising him like he’s some misunderstood hero. He thinks it's an act because he too ia relishing in the same facade.
“You’re amazing, Osamu!” you say brightly. “I love being with you!”
He watches you carefully and waits for the punchline but it never comes.
You follow him around like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You listen when he talks. You defend him when others criticize him. When he’s quiet—really quiet—you sit beside him, humming softly, content just being there.
One day he asks, casually, “You know I’m not a good person, right?”
You tilt your head and smile. “I know you’re my person.”
Something in his chest twists painfully. You don’t see his darkness. Or maybe you do—and you stay anyway. Loyal to a fault. Loving without conditions. You don’t try to fix him. You don’t demand anything.
And that terrifies him. Because if you ever realized you deserved better… he doesn’t think he’d survive it.
⚘ Fyodor Dostoevsky:
You adore the man. Openly, loudly and without restraint. You sit too close, speak too brightly, praise him without irony. You smile at him like he’s something precious instead of something dangerous.
Fyodor watches you like a curious experiment. You bring him tea before he asks. You wait patiently for his attention. When he dismisses you, you return anyway—unbothered, unwavering.
“How naive you are, milyaya. You should be afraid of me,” he says softly once.
You blink. “Why would I be afraid of you?”
That answer—so simple, so sincere—makes something fracture. Your loyalty is absolute. You’d follow him anywhere. Do anything to make him happy. And you never once question his intentions.
Fyodor recognizes the danger immediately. Not in you but in himself. Because loving someone like you would be the first sin he’d commit willingly—and the only one he’d never be able to justify.
⚘ Ranpo Edogawa:
Ranpo figures it out in five seconds. Your loud, clingy and undeniably lovely demeanor. It's no facade, he's deducted— rather genuine love he's received from very few people.
“You behave like a dog,” he says flatly.
“Huh?” you reply, already offering him snacks you bought just because you thought he’d like them.
You’re loud, affectionate, emotionally transparent. You praise him endlessly. You stick by his side with unwavering loyalty, defending him with your whole heart even when he’s being unbearable.
And Ranpo? He thrives. You make his life easier. Happier. Warmer. You listen to his rambling. You clap excitedly when he solves cases. You don’t mind when he’s blunt—you just wag your metaphorical tail harder.
And the detective isn't just leeching off of your love. He returns it, in any way he can. He starts saving candy just for you, lets you sit closer than anyone else. And when someone insults you Ranpo’s smile sharpens. Because you might be oblivious—but he’s not. And anyone who hurts his loyal partner will regret it immediately. To think his intellect is to solve cases only would be a major misconception.
⚘ Sigma:
Sigma is overwhelmed. You’re so earnest. So affectionate. So present. You praise him constantly—his efforts, his kindness, his existence. You cling to him when you’re happy, curl up beside him when you’re tired, follow him around like being near him is enough.
“I’m not… very remarkable,” he says once, uncertain.
You stare at him like he said the sky is green. “What? You’re amazing. You’re kind. You make me feel safe. Of course you’re remarkable.”
You say it so easily that Sigma doesn’t know what to do with that kind of devotion. He’s afraid of disappointing you. Afraid of being unworthy of your loyalty. But every time he falters, you’re still there—smiling, patient, unwavering.
And for the first time, he believes he's more than just a creature born of The Book.
⚘ Nikolai Gogol:
Nikolai loves it. You’re loud. Dramatic. Unapologetically affectionate. You laugh at his antics, encourage his chaos, cling to him without fear. You call his name across rooms. Praise his performances. Defend him fiercely even though he doesn't need it.
“Kolya!” you shout happily, tackling him into a hug. “You were amazing!”
He freezes for half a second—then laughs. Oh, this is dangerous, this freedom is dangerous. You don’t flinch from him. You don’t fear him. You don’t try to cage him. You love him loudly, loyally, without restraint.
And Nikolai, who fears stagnation more than death, finds himself wanting to stay—just a little longer—if it’s with you.
Because you don’t try to control him. You are the hands that open the cages of his life instead.
little gift for @jelly-kibtyfish . i hope this isnt weird i js have bad cramps 🌾
thinking about how chuuya nakahara, who has known nothing but violence and chaos his whole life, treats you with utmost gentleness and fragility.
the night is loud. dead silence, with the exception of the soft inhale and exhale of you and your boyfriend's breaths. its a normal night, yet somehow, you're hyperaware of everything.
and that's quite bothersome.
chuuya doesn't notice it at first; he doesn't notice the way you tense up in his arms, your frame shaking. he doesn't notice how you scowl deeply, your eyes shutting as if your last defense to pain is to pretend you don't exist.
he doesn't notice, of course he doesn't. he's asleep.
and you should be asleep, too.
but this undying, unfortunately prospering pain in your stomach is making that very difficult.
you carefully roll onto your side, bringing your knees to your chest in hopes to ease the pain. you dip your chin inwards slightly, leaning your cheeks on the curve of your knees and forehead just barely pressed against the top of your knees.
the pressure is somewhat comforting.
but it's not really enough.
minutes turn to an hour; how long have you even been up, since the pain became too prominent to ignore? you roll over again, now leaning your forehead against chuuya's chest.
he faintly groans, his eyebrows furrowing a little as he stirs awake.
crap...!
"[name]?" he murmurs, blinking a few times to adjust to the darkness.
"yeah?" you whisper, shuffling backwards a little in hopes that he goes back to sleep.
"what's wrong? hey, come back," he shuffles forwards, wrapping his arms around you again.
"nothing," you lie.
"liar. tell me what happened," he rests his chin on the top of your head, gently pushing your face into his neck.
his scent is familiar; comforting. almost makes the pain go away.
almost.
"i have really bad cramps," you mumble, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.
"mm, 's that so?" his hug feels less tight and more tender now. softer, adorned with care and laced with a little concern.
"yeah. nothing serious, see? it'll be fine, so go back to slee—" before you can even finish, chuuya flips you around.
with the care of a lover, and the cheekiness of a man that has a point he wants to prove.
"you go to sleep. is this okay?" he asks, wrapping his arms around your torso again. his hands are cold upon first contact with your skin, when he slips under your shirt.
"chuu—?" he lifts one hand from your stomach to cover your mouth, waiting until you settle down—flustered, nonetheless—to remove his hand.
before he returns it to rubbing up and down your sore area, he presses a kiss to where your lips would've rested under his palm. you dramatically roll your eyes, trying to ignore how that may have been the most charming thing he's done tonight.
"good night," he whispers, resting his now warm hands against your lower abdomen. kind of like a heat pack, except its not uncomfortable and you can actually sleep!
"i love you," you murmur, turning your head slightly to plant a messy peck to his cheek. you miss—miserably, as you'd call it; but he thinks its lucky—, and reach the corner of his lips instead.
i'm on my period and want egg rolls terribly, so you are in the same boat. make your boyfriend(s) dazai, chuuya, atsushi, and akutagawa figure it out, fem!reader.
⭐︎
𝒪. Dazai -`♡´-
pet name: my darling/my darling girl
"Hey, I'm home!" Dazai calls out, a sigh following while he rubs the back of his neck. He's exhausted, a long day at the agency where he actually had to rush through his paperwork before the deadline tomorrow, which kept him away longer than he wanted, leaving you alone for a couple hours too long.
You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket that you have completely cocooned yourself in, the TV playing but you aren't paying much attention to it, and you sniffle. You quickly wipe your nonsense tears with the blanket, hearing his footsteps get closer, and you don't want him to see you have been crying. You bring the material tighter around your head, hugging it tight, and ball yourself up more on the cushion.
"Hey," you greet, keeping your voice as level and even as possible.
"I didn't mean to stay so late, I just had piles of papers-" He stops when he gets to the couch, seeing your mildly red and glassy eyes, his brows downturning. He glances over his shoulder at the television, only to see your favorite sitcom running - nothing happening that would cause tears. You rush to wipe more at your face with the already damp blanket, peeking up at him when he faces you once more, concern evident. "Oh no, you're made at me." He immediately spits out, dropping down to his knees to be eye-level with you. You shake your head, fervently, another small sniffle causing his concerned gaze to drop to the tip of your pink nose. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. I'll never stay late like that again-"
"No, 'Samu, you-you did nothing wrong," you get out in barely a whisper. He lets out a small breath from relief, shoulders relaxing, but you're still a visible mess that you're doing a lousy job of hiding from him.
"Then what's got my darling girl crying?" He asks, his voice caring and sweet and worried, fingers brushing some hair from your face that stuck itself to your tear-stained cheeks. You blink at him once, lower lip suddenly trembling, before dropping your stare and bursting into a nearly childish sob. His entire body freezes, going rigid, hands frantically trying to see where he is allowed to touch you, hushing you softly, and playing back the entire month to see what all he could have done wrong - he doesn't care you said he didn't do anything, he is fairly certain he messed something up. "Hey, hey, no, don't cry, it's okay." He soothes, rubbing your back while you continue weeping into your hands. "What's wrong?" He sounds helpless, considering nothing indicated in your messages and brief phone call earlier in the day that you were upset. You are a big crier as is, but usually he knows what exactly caused it so he can fix it immediately. He never knows what to do if it's random outbursts like this.
"I-I..." You attempt, hiccupping a bit, him waiting with slight impatience, before letting out a wail he has never heard from you before. "I just want some friggin' egg rolls, and we don't have any!" The room is still, aside from your relentless crying, and it's his turn to blink at you in silence. He pauses, collecting his thoughts, and finally assess the condition you're in: a ball in the same spot he left you when he placed a kiss on your forehead as a goodbye, then took off to work. His hand resting on your body feels the slight tremble, and it clicks in his brain what's wrong.
"Oh, I see," he bites back a small smile, knowing now really isn't the time to laugh at your misery. "You have some big feelings, don't you?" You nod again, trying to wipe away the ceaseless mess of tears from your eyes again, but it's only smearing them more on your skin. "And the only cure is egg rolls?" He asks, a hint of rhetoric behind his words. You nod again with a weak 'mhm', looking up at him with big, wounded eyes.
"I looked everywhere," you sniff, and he has to prevent himself from saying 'no, you didn't'. He smiles, warm and a bit mischievous, propping his cheek on his fist. "I made so many! How are we out already?!" Because you ate them all, he breathes out a small chuckle, lightly shaking his head at your adorable theatrics.
"I'm sorry, I must have been a little greedy and didn't save any for you," his lips press carefully to your temple, brushing back the blanket and more of your hair. "Tell me everything you want, I'll go pick it up. I'm sure somewhere is still open just for you."
"Can I get as many as I want?" You bat your wet lashes, hugging the material more around your body, and he gently pokes your nose.
"Of course, my darling. As many as it takes to cure you."
𝒞. Nakahara 𐚁
pet name: my love, sweet girl
"Chuuya," you quietly whine, shuffling into his office, where he is working on some last-minute paperwork for a meeting tomorrow. He lifts his gaze long enough from the sheets to acknowledge you, but his pen didn't stop moving as his cheek is propped on his fist.
"What is it, my love?" Chuuya asks softly, the only light in the room coming from the far corner of the lamp he flipped on a few hours ago when the sun was setting. You had been doing what you could not to bother him, knowing he has work piling up he had been ignoring, but you are now at your limit.
"Chuuya, I'm hungry," you pout some, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Did you forget to eat again?" He is still writing along the papers, but he is making sure to keep his attention on your conversation. "I thought I reminded you to order whatever you'd like earlier?" Maybe I forgot again. He pinches the bridge of his nose, silently scolding himself for not keeping better track of time.
"I did," you shift your weight in your spot, dropping your arms to behind your back, fingers messing with the hem of the shirt you grabbed from his drawer. "I'm still hungry, though, and I didn't get what I wanted." He stops briefly, ink pooling around his pen, then twists his wrist to check the time, the watch face reading after midnight.
"Do you think what you're looking for is here in the kitchen?" He finally sets his work to the side, pushing his chair out to stand and stretch his limbs.
"I checked," you mutter. You stand there quietly for a moment, hearing his slippered feet shuffle along the floor to meet you, and you don't want to meet his gaze. He waits, patiently, his arms across his chest now while he stares at you, remaining silent so you can let him know what it is you're needing. However, you don't say anything else, just messing with your hair or moving your feet.
"Talk to me, sweet girl. I can't help if you don't tell me," he encourages, attempting to coax some words from you. He watches you closely, your cheeks puffing some, your bottom lip poking out, and your lash line rims with tears threatening to spill out of nowhere. His brow arches, stepping closer, leaning down to try getting a closer look and catch your eye. "What is it?" You inhale, holding it, darting your teary gaze in his direction before veering off elsewhere.
"Would you..." You begin, feeling childish, and pressing the heel of your hand into your eye. "Wanna go to the convenience store." You mumble. "Want snacks. And... And egg rolls." You admit finally, letting out a long exhale as you mentally tell yourself to get it together.
"Okay," he draws the word out, nodding slowly and standing back straight up. "What kind of snacks?" He tests the waters, remembering the time, the fact you're still hungry this late, and you're now having a mini mental breakdown in front of him over it.
"All of 'em," you mutter. "And ten egg rolls. And ice cream. And cheese sticks." You continue rattling off all the different things you could eat right now, him listening intently, and nodded along to each request, the ten egg rolls specifically catching him off guard, especially since you just said the other day the ones from the convenience store are 'utter garbage'. I get it now.
"Alright, my love, go get your shoes on then. We can take my bike," he says, walking past you to the bedroom in search of comfier clothes to change into. Your brows come down at that, staring at the back of his head like he's insane.
"But the convenience store is in walking distance," you retort, following after him.
"I'm not making you walk when you're feeling like this," is all he says when handing you one of his hoodies after pulling one on himself. You blink at him in surprise, but he just ignores you as he walks toward the door. "C'mon, before you lose your appetite."
𝒜. Nakajima ⁰८ᩥაᩥ⁰
pet name: apple (like "apple of my eye")
"What is it?" Atsushi whispers, eyes darting from your face to your very full plate of food you originally said you wanted. You two have been sitting at the mall food court table for roughly ten minutes now, most of his food gone when yours is completely untouched. You eye your plate, knowing it's about to be a waste, and tears immediately spring forth, making you even more embarrassed. He notices this, his brows coming together, and carefully reaching his hand out to trace a finger along your knuckles. "Somethin' wrong, apple?" He asks again, leaning on the surface so he can keep his voice down.
"Uhm..." Your fingers twitch forward, other hand subtly applying pressure to your abdomen since it's hidden underneath the table from prying eyes. "I-I came wildly unprepared. And... And this all looks really gross." You murmur, dragging your line of sight to meet his, concern prominent.
"Is it not what you wanted?" He immediately thinks it's his fault, that he didn't pay attention to what you asked for, that he hadn't heard you correctly. "Do I need to get you something else?" You blink away the tears, realizing he completely skipped over your "unprepared" comment. You stare at him, trying to think if there is anything you want to eat, when you shift some in your seat, the embarrassment getting worse.
"I wanna go home," you suddenly tell him. His features drop, already internally kicking himself for ruining this day. He took note of your behavior earlier in the week, how you were more irritable than normal, getting upset over small things, not wanting him to touch you - not even for a hug. He thought taking you out for some fresh air and being around other people would help, but now you're about to cry in the middle of the food court and asking to go home.
"I-I'm sorry, I should have suggested a day in instead," he mutters, his hand beginning to withdraw, but your fingers reach out enough to trap them together.
"No, I was having fun, but I just don't feel good," you explain, which isn't necessarily a lie, but if he hasn't caught on yet, you're not going to explain it to him in public. "I-I wanna still see you. Just... Maybe while laying down." You suggest. He nods once, analyzing you to see what ails you, your face a bit pale, and your grimace is evident. Unprepared for what, exactly? He thinks to himself, head moving around to see the line from the restaurant he got your food from is gone.
"Wait here, I'll get a box," he instructs, quickly getting to his feet and rushing over. You sigh heavily once you know he's out of earshot, your hand coming up press to your forehead. It obviously isn't an embarrassing thing to talk about, and you're - kind of - confident he understands this happens regularly, but you two haven't been dating terribly long and aren't sure how to act around him. Usually, you'd just be a hopeless heap in your bed crying and squeezing a pillow, but he insisted on taking you out and, honestly, it's so hard to say no to such a cutie like him.
When he comes back, he doesn't say a word as he takes it upon himself to start cleaning up, shoveling everything into the styrofoam, and your can't help eyeing the small bag on the table. Your brows come together, pointing at it. "Atsushi, what's that?" He hums, glancing up at you then at the bag, closing the box then carefully sliding the small bag toward you.
"It's an egg roll," he shrugs. "I felt awkward just asking for a box, so I ordered something small." He watches your intense stare, gesturing to it. "Think you're hungry enough to take a bite and try it?" You delicately take it and pull the roll out, fresh, and smells amazing. The ill feeling you had disappears enough for you to take a small bite, and as you chew, more nonsensical tears come forward that just completely burst from the dam.
"It's really good," you try to say with the most convincing positivity you can muster, but he is staring at you in gobsmacked horror, not knowing in the slightest what to do. Did she burn her mouth?! Why is she still eating it?!
"Wh-Why are you crying, apple?" He reaches out to wipe your tears away with the heel of his hand. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it."
"N-No, I do like it!" You sniff, taking another bite and feel extra pitiful. "It's exactly what I wanted!" You say with your mouth full, trying to shield it with the back of your hand. "I want a hundred more of these, and I need to get a pad!" You hiccup, no longer caring how best to hold yourself together, overwhelmed by there being something your body will allow you to eat. He stands stock-still when you say that, a few wandering eyes darting in your guys' direction that he has to ignore, and he just closes his eyes with a hefty sigh of relief.
"Alright, I'll escort you to the bathroom then get you a hundred more while I wait," he helps you to your feet, staying close behind you as he guides you away, softly hushing you and comforting you that everything is okay, and: "You could have just said so, you know. I'm exceptionally good at taking care of others." He kisses your hand, holding onto your half-eaten egg roll, and rushes back to the restaurant asking how fast they can make a hundred more for you.
ℛ. Akutagawa 𓄧
pet name: sweetheart
Akutagawa stares at you, expression blank, mind a little too calm for the situation. He hasn't ever seen you like this before, you not one to cry, even if the occasion calls for it. However, you're sitting on a bench with him waiting for the train, quietly sniffling, and a couple small tears slide down your cheeks that you don't bother wiping away.
"Is something... bothering you, sweetheart?" He finally asks, speaking slowly. You side-eye him, clearing your throat then dropping your line of sight to your shoes.
"You'll make fun of me."
"Most likely," he responds with a nod, but his voice is softer than it was before. "However, I don't exactly want to continue dealing with this if there is a fix." Could you be a little more sympathetic? You huff, shoulders slumping, and more tears slip from your blurry eyes. His brow raises at that reaction, the thought that maybe he did something wrong passing his mind - only briefly, since you would have said something by now.
"I..." You start, hesitating as you sneak another glance in his direction, him waiting to find out what the issue is with his hands shoved in his pockets. "I uhm..." You clear your throat again then carefully wipe under your eye. "I have been wanting egg rolls all week, and... You said we would go get some before going home, but uhm..." You gesture to the station, the group of people also waiting to get on one, and his indifferent gaze takes in the setting. His head slowly turns back toward you, cocking it some, then sighs. Egg rolls? Really?
"Your favorite place is a block away from home, sweetheart," he reminds, working hard not to roll his eyes alongside the comment, trying to be considerate of your clearly fragile condition. "I figured you'd want the best ones instead of just going somewhere else." You sit there for a moment, your mind consumed of only thoughts of egg rolls dancing around your head, that you had completely forgotten about your favorite restaurant with what you deemed to the have "the world's greatest egg rolls" is on the way back to your shared home. You blink a few times before sinking down in your spot from embarrassment.
"Oh," is all that can come out of you.
"It isn't like you to cry, especially over something so silly as food," he remarks, removing his hand from his pocket and placing his arm closer to you. "Are you positive nothing else is bothering you? Do I need to kill someone?" You shake your head immediately, avoiding looking in his direction.
"Just... I'm in a lot of pain, Ryuu," you murmur. His gray irises glide sideways, eyeing you up and down, when he makes the connection after seeing your legs shift around. He doesn't say anything else, or acknowledge your discomfort, his hand snaking down your thigh and gently squeezes.
"We aren't too far away. You can rest when we return," he comforts the best way we can, feeling your arms link around his, and setting your head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry for thinking you broke your promise," you mutter, sniffling again at not trusting your boyfriend with a simple task. "I guess I'm more emotional than usual."
"No apologies needed. Do you want ice cream as well?"
"Iced coffee," you correct. He thinks to himself, where the closest coffee shop is on the same route, and bites back a loud sigh at the realization there isn't. It's in the opposite direction. Because of course it would be.
"So be it."
a/n: i got my egg rolls.
masterlist | requests: closed
dividers from puppizai and bhavihelps here on tumblr
