Archive of Our Own

It is the same thing every time in Chuuya and Dazai’s little ‘arrangement’: sleep together, finish, go their separate ways until one of them needs release. Rinse and fucking repeat. The familiarity of each other’s bodies – of knowing exactly how to please and what to do during their moments together – kept both Chuuya and Dazai content. Contentment was comfortable… almost too comfortable. 

And to Nakahara Chuuya, being comfortable is a sign that something is irreparably wrong.

It was an early morning. 3:35am, according to the Mafia Executive’s digital clock on his nightstand. He lay entangled in Dazai’s arms, but tonight his eyes pierced the darkness. He’d been wide awake for hours now after they both had finished enjoying each other’s company. It’d been the first time in a while due to their busy schedules and the thoughts ate at Chuuya:

‘I am only fulfilling a purpose.’

‘I am not enough to build a life with.’

‘I am simply a means to an end… again.’

Again.

After another sigh, Dazai roused slightly while he spooned the Executive.

“Mmh… Chuuya, go to sleep. You not being asleep is waking me up.”

“Can’t.” Chuuya’s hoarse, tense voice wavers slightly. “...I have a lot on my mind.”

The detective sighs dramatically, as he always does, and something inside of Chuuya just snaps .

“Our little ‘arrangement’ is just fun for you, isn’t it?” 

“Of course it’s fun ,” Dazai replies simply. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be–”

Chuuya scoffs loudly at that and he sits up, pulling out of Dazai’s arms. 

“–I meant that this is all just a game to you. Another one of your stupid fucking games that you play with everyone .”

‘That I’m no different than anyone else you sleep with.’

The implication goes unsaid, as many things tend to in their tumultuous ‘relationship’. The haze of the early morning sours with Chuuya’s bitter tone, and Dazai is all-wise to it. The brunet shimmies a little in the suede covers to try to sit up, rubbing his face with the back of his hand.

“Look, Chuuya, I don’t know what you’re so pissy about this evening, but can’t it wait until we wake up? You don’t have work tomorrow and I’m planning on being late to work, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it when we’re both rested.”

The avoidant tactic that the detective tried to use with him, the dismissal of anything and everything that Chuuya tried to express… it fucking hurt. The Executive was no stranger from the occasional hurtful comment, even from the man who warmed his bed beside him. But the tight, windless rattle of his lungs never lies about how Chuuya actually feels. 

“...No. I want to talk now. ” The guttural growl rumbles out of Chuuya’s throat. “I need to know what the hell this is before I make a decision.” 

“ ‘This ?’” Dazai deadpans.

“This – us. What the hell are we?” 

The question hangs in the air for a moment and Dazai chuckles at it after a beat.

“Well, currently, we’re two humans with needs that are comfortable enough with each other to allow those needs to be met.” 

Chuuya’s heart sinks as he grips the covers tightly. His instant reaction was to break something, anything, but his voice comes out quietly instead:

“Is that really all, Dazai?”

‘Is that really all I am worth to you?’

“Don’t try to make this ‘arrangement’ something that it isn’t, slug.” Dazai replies tiredly. “Our sex is great, we don’t need to complicate it.”

Okay, ouch? 

The Executive let out a bitter sigh as he hid the initial shock of the emotional blow, simply turning away from Dazai underneath the blue covers.

“...Yeah, you’re right.” Chuuya grits his teeth as he tightens his fists. “It’s just sex.”

In the morning, Nakahara Chuuya woke up to an empty bed and an even more barren heart. 

Dazai had actually left early.  

How fucking cruel could he manage to be to leave early and be punctual rather than face Chuuya after their argument? The implication was clear-as-day: the Executive had his answer.

What they had was nothing but a fragile, selfish arrangement .

Breakfast felt cold even though he practically scooped it into his mouth from the skillet. Eggs went down easy against his nauseated stomach. If he thought too hard about it, he’d freeze and shatter. 

“Tch. Why am I acting like I’m going through a damn breakup?” 

Chuuya scoffed at himself, but the situation truly wasn’t much different than a traditional breakup. Especially one with no closure: just a cold bed and memories swirling around of nights he wished he could repeat as well as the one that broke everything.

He already missed tracing patterns on Dazai’s newly-wrapped bandages already. It was pathetic, that much was certain, but he missed it terribly.

Even more shameful – Chuuya had recently begun to daydream about his fuckbuddy. Not typical friends-with-benefits daydreams, either.

Chuuya absentmindedly swished his glass of orange juice as his thoughts briefly wandered back in that direction. 

What was it like to see Dazai outside of their mutual human needs? 

Trips to the grocery store, strolls through the botanical garden a few blocks away…

“Tch.” Chuuya clicks his tongue at himself. “Like I’d ever willingly want to spend time with that dickhead.”

But the thought had already metastasized. The statement was absolute bullshit and Chuuya knew it. Ever since they’d reconnected four years after his defection from the Port Mafia, and Chuuya had gotten high on literally ‘sleeping with the enemy’, the idea of spending time with the detective besides sleeping together wasn’t so bad.

The mere idea of all of that being ruined, regretfully, introduced a new and extremely heavy weight in the redhead’s stomach. Chuuya isn’t pushed to unease easily. 

It was like he was a young boy with a stupid crush all over aga–

Wait.

Was all this the reason behind his insistence of needing to know where they were headed?

Oh. 

The glass of orange juice clinks onto the counter, nearly toppling all over the Executive’s hand.

Oh .

A soft scoff that turned into a bitter laugh came out of Chuuya as he gripped the marble counter, keeping himself upright.

That bastard had sensed that things were getting complicated and had run for the hills – good for him, honestly. After all, what kind of masochist falls in love with someone like Dazai Osamu?

“Me. Only I would do something so fucking stupid.”

After their monumental fight, Dazai Osamu does what he does best – finds someone else to share a bed with. It wasn’t like it was difficult to do… but something about the people who filled his time weren’t quite the same. He found himself cringing when he put his dick into anyone who wasn’t Chuuya. None of his releases felt the same. The stress-relief didn’t ever last . 

After two harrowing weeks of sleeping around, the detective had even gone as far as scheduling his hook-ups so close together that the people he shacked up with began to notice. A rookie mistake if he’d ever made one.

“Glitter on your neck, Osamu?” The woman he had been casually sleeping with for a few weeks scoffed angrily. “That’s unlike you. I knew you had broads on the side, but you’re usually much more… put-together than this.”

His bandaged hand flies up to his neck as he grimaces in embarrassment, not wanting to think about his last lay (that had been approximately eight minutes ago, no less). 

“Oh, I wouldn’t mind it, Mikoto-chan,” The detective continues to schmooze her up, his hands finding a comfortable place to rest on the pretty brunette’s hip bones. “You won’t even notice it when I–”

The woman suddenly brings a lithe finger to his lips, stopping his train of thought in an instant.

“Whatever it is that has you acting out, you should deal with it before it causes you to make a mistake that you’ll regret. Then , you can come see me.”

Dazai pauses. This was certainly… a well-deserved metaphorical kick in the balls. He chuckled softly after her words set in and he took her hand, kissing it softly.

“Maybe you’re right, after all…” He pauses with an embarrassed snicker. “...I forgot to bring a condom.”

His would-be (third) dame of the evening sighed with a knowing chuckle, patting his cheek.

“I figured just as much.” 

In those two weeks of humiliation after making such a disgusting discovery about himself, Chuuya buried himself in work. He found himself staying late with any menial task he could find that Mori-san or other Executives had no interest doing. It kept Chuuya’s mind off of the fact that he was practically going through a one-sided breakup.

The cigarette lunch breaks hardly soothed his broken heart. The stitch-job that each little bandaid he used at his disposal came with no alcohol to stave off infection. The drinks flowed, but Chuuya continued to wake up with the same hollow sensation of loss .

During a particularly rainy day, that profound sadness had finally turned to pure, unbridled anger . The embarrassment had finally caught up – why the hell was he moping around about Dazai Osamu? Hell, he’d probably immediately begun chasing tail as soon as the two of them had their unceremonious split. 

Chuuya scoffed outwardly at the idea of that as he settled down in his spacious penthouse, ignoring the shameful burn of loneliness niggling in the back of his mind.

‘Silly me.’

He’d sat down, relieved in part that he was alone: it was five o’clock, and that meant that one of Dazai’s favorite shows was on. Some stupid comedy that Chuuya could never get into, but he always let that detective have his damn way when he looked at him with those big, brown doe-eyes…

“Tch. At least I can watch whatever I want now.” 

The redhead flips through a weather channel and a few news segments before landing on a soap opera. It was the kind of thing they’d play in a hospital room, with how demure it sounded coupled with the stormy evening. 

Just as a woman began lamenting about her missing lover, the bell at his penthouse’s front door had just rung.

Chuuya scoffs at the clock. It was well-past any sort of visiting hour. Who the hell would ever just pop by his penthouse this late? He gears up to answer the door, annoyed, when he sees something through the front door camera.

A familiar trench coat. 

His face hardens and he swallows thickly. 

‘I’m not ready for this bullshit.’

The last thing he expected was to be confronted with Dazai after their rather-nasty break-up… or… well… equivalent of a break-up for people who are not dating. The memory of those thorny words continues to prick at Chuuya’s chest cavity. The knowledge of what he’d realized about his own feelings even more so – painfully etching at his innards with the fervor of a hungry animal. But there was no way that he could fall into another stupid fucking trap like that.

“...Fuck.” Chuuya makes a fist before opening the door after prepping a quick quip: “Sorry, I’m not–”

The Executive could not even get the words out before he took in a rather unexpected sight: Dazai Osamu, standing tall as usual, but his fists remained balled up in his coat, soaked from the rain. His teeth teased his lower lip, and… those brown eyes refusing to make any kind of eye contact.

If Chuuya didn’t know any better, he’d say that his former partner looked absolutely fucking miserable.

“...Chuuya, we need to talk.”

“We do?” Chuuya scoffed, another surge of gratification coursing through him as he drank in Dazai’s appearance. “I think we’re done talking.”

“ No , Chuuya.” Dazai’s brown eyes finally meet his blueish brown ones. “We have to talk.” 

Desperation – that was the one thing painted across the detective’s features – and Chuuya was LIVING for it internally. 

“I’m not interested in speaking on your terms. You made it clear that we were done when you left so abruptly and there’s nothing to discuss any–”

“I don’t want us to be done.” Dazai stepped up closer, pleading to Chuuya as his wet hair sticks to his forehead. “Chuuya, please, just let me explain. Just… just let me inside and we can talk all about it, alright? I’m getting soaked out here.”

The Executive secretly relished the unbecoming beg in his former-fuckbuddy’s voice. It was nice, in a way, watching someone who normally put up a facade of being put-together completely crumble.

Yet, what he really wanted to do was hear whatever pathetic excuses the brunet could have possibly conjured up. So, against his better judgment:

“...Yeah, you can come inside… for the last time.”

In a flurry of movement, Dazai Osamu sets into Nakahara Chuuya’s penthouse for the first time since he had left it in a hurry that fateful morning. It hadn’t changed much at all: the pristine, classy interior was just so Chuuya and it fucking hurt , which surprised the detective. It hadn’t hurt before now.

And the cold shoulder he was receiving was salt into his open flesh.

Chuuya had done what he would do for any guest when it was raining and his guest was wet and cold: he took Dazai’s trenchcoat and hung it up on the coat rack by the door in the parlor before leading him through the rest of the home to the kitchen. 

“Water?” 

Chuuya asks coldly as he begins grabbing a wine-purple glass from his shelves. Dazai found himself flinching at the bite to the redhead’s tone. 

‘He should know what I usually ask for… shouldn’t he?’

“Uh, actually, do you happen to have sake on you?”

“Hm… nope, I don’t drink sake. Water?”

Dazai grimaced but nodded curtly. Up until now, Chuuya always kept sake around since he knew it was Dazai’s go-to relaxing drink even if he didn’t drink it himself. Was he really… truly over him?

“...Yeah.” 

The detective swallows thickly as he sits down in his favorite spot: the couch next to the television. Instead of his favorite comedy, some boring soap opera drawls about on the screen. He grumbles about it a little, watching a pensive man stare at a phone in the rain. He hated the way that it mirrored his own turmoil.

Chuuya sets the glass in front of him on the coffee table, standing aside as he observes the television before adjusting the volume a little. He seemed to relish the stiffness of Dazai’s stature.

“Alright, what did you want to chat about?”

The brunet bristles slightly when he drinks in the indifferent posture of Chuuya – he was practically acting as if Dazai was a stranger.

“...I wanted to talk about us.” Dazai starts as he glances around. “Like you wanted. I’ve given it some thought, and maybe ‘us’ isn’t so bad after all.”

The Executive smirked bitterly as he strode close before taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch, sipping on his own glass of water.

“That’s too bad. I gave it some thought after you walked out on me and I decided that I didn’t want to think about some arbitrary ‘us’ that someone was so willing to walk away from. I’m sure you immediately found a couple of replacements for me.”

“That’s a stretch and you know it.” Dazai hissed as he glowered at Chuuya now. “I took some space to clear my head and I came to the conclusion that sex with you is the only sex I really want!” 

“ After fucking other people.” Chuuya rolled his eyes a little. “Am I wrong , Dazai?”

“...” The detective couldn’t quite argue with the direct statement. “No, but it doesn’t change what I found out about myself. I miss what we had. I couldn’t replicate it with anyone else.”

Chuuya blinks a little at the rare, vulnerable tone Dazai took to. And before he could prepare a response, the brunet was cuddled up beside him, pressing little kisses into his neck. 

Damn him. He knew the Executive far too well – his neck was his weakness. Chuuya’s inhibitions slack almost immediately.

“What the hell are you doing?” Chuuya asks tightly as he attempts to resist the pleasure of each suction on his neck, squirming slightly beneath the same man he admitted to himself he had been in love with. 

“Winning you back.” Dazai’s kisses increased after his hungry mumble against the exposed skin, pausing to speak between every motion. “I’ve .. missed .. you .. so .. much.” 

Chuuya’s bluish-brown eyes go half-lidded at the sensation, a soft hum coming out of his mouth. He reached around, putting the glass of water in his hand on the coffee table before them, lest it fall out of his shaky grasp. 

“...Ugh… you’re so damn bratty!” Chuuya groaned loudly, unable to resist the temptation of indulging in their usual activity as the kisses became more heated and passionate. He reached around, prying a clingy Dazai off of his neck that he suctioned to, eyeing him with a serious glare. “But this time, we’re doing things my way .” 

“Ngh, Ch-Chuuya–” 

“No stamina already?” Chuuya scoffed beneath Dazai. “We’ve hardly worked up a sweat. Or are you just upset you have to start on top this time?” 

The sight in the darkening bedroom was that of a detective on top of a Mafia Executive, hopelessly frotting him while the rain pounded on the floor-to-ceiling windows. Their mismatched lengths slid against each other in the heat of the moment – Dazai’s lengthier one twitched against Chuuya’s girthier cock. 

The embarrassment of shacking up with someone they had an ‘unofficial’ breakup with was long forgotten, both parties blinded by the fire of lust that stoked in the pit of their stomachs.

“I-I wanna…” Dazai mumbled over his furiously-rocking hips, failing to keep the covers over his shoulders as they let the friction between their erections increase. “...be inside of you, Ch-Chuuya…” 

“I’ve never seen you lose your composure quite like this,” Chuuya comments as he guides Dazai’s hips to his liking, keeping his gloved hands on both sides of the detective. “You must’ve really missed me, huh?” 

The detective whined loudly as he resisted the immediate urge to release, gripping the pillows on either side of Chuuya’s tousled, red locks. The tightening of Chuuya’s grip on his hips only encourages Dazai to continue 

“Besides, princess , I told you that I’m calling the shots while we share our time together tonight.” 

Chuuya rumbled beneath the ambient sounds of thunder in the distance. The Executive kept his composure more than usual today, which melted most of Dazai’s pride and with it, his shame as he let out a pathetic moan. 

“Can’t… can’t stay on top… n-need to be inside of you…”

Chuuya grunted as Dazai thrusted particularly violently, letting go more than he used to in the past. Their sacks collided, pain shooting through their bodies, but it only seemed to make Dazai’s precum leak all over Chuuya’s stiffness. The sight excited the redhead as he held in his release, panting as he reached up to Dazai’s shoulder, moving the bandages that clung loosely to his upper-body.

“I think I’ll take my turn on top before you burst, ‘Samu. ”

The duo repositioned, with Dazai finding the feel of the plush pillow beneath his chest quite comfortable as Chuuya yanked his gaze upward by his fluffy brown hair. 

“I’m going to punish you for teasing me downstairs with your stupid little kisses, Dazai. ” Chuuya hissed as he rubbed himself between the halves of Dazai’s ass, against his sensitive hole. “And I’ll pound some sense into you while I’m at it.”

The detective nearly salivated at the prospect – he loved the way Chuuya took control. They both had days in the past when they’d each take turns on top, but he’d never quite felt the fire that Chuuya currently displayed.

Chuuya gently leaned over Dazai’s back and brought a gloved hand up to his mouth, spitting gently into the palm of his hand. He covered his dick in the secretion before prepping the brunet’s asshole for entry.

“Relax, ‘Samu… I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

The low timbre of Chuuya’s voice was almost lost along with the rolling thunder outside, and Dazai does what he is told.

“Hmn… hurry up, Chuuy–” 

Dazai breaks off into a poorly-concealed whine of pleasure as Chuuya makes entrance, gently adjusting his position, leaning his hips into Dazai.

“Feel good, mackerel?” 

“M-mhm.” 

Chuuya takes the gentle affirmation as a signal to continue, taking great care to control his thrusts as he speaks through his pleasure:

“I bet this isn’t the first time this week you’ve been put in your place.”

Dazai remained in pure bliss as he listened to Chuuya speak lowly over their activity, panting as he squeezed the pillow beneath him. Chuuya rocked both of their bodies back and forth. The friction of Chuuya’s thick cock stretching out his insides and coming closer and closer to hitting his prostate was eye-rollingly delicious. 

“Mmn… Chuuya is…the only one… who has been inside o-of me.”

Dazai pants as he rolls his hips backward to meet the Executive’s pumps.

“Am I now?” Chuuya growls in Dazai’s ear, yanking Dazai’s head to the side to make eye-contact with him as he forces the detective to arch under him, taking complete control of the encounter. “And how does it feel compared to the rest of your conquests , Osamu?”

The use of his full first name elicited an unbecoming squeak from Dazai as he met Chuuya’s gaze, watching the heat of their encounter rise into his features. Before long, their heads are pressed together as they share a sloppy kiss.

“Mmh… b-better… much better…” 

“I .. better .. be .. better.” 

Chuuya asserted between every roll of his hips as he increased his speed. His voice began to shake as he had trouble controlling his urges to finish inside of Dazai.

Dazai, red in the face, continues to stare dreamily at Chuuya as he is railed mercilessly. With every thrust, he finds himself closer and closer to cumming – the stimulation from the sheets and familiar cumrag beneath his dripping cock not helping him hold back.

“Mmh… ahm… Ch-Chuuya… I w-want to cum…”

Chuuya nearly shoots his load inside of Dazai at the pathetic little beg that was accompanied by such a gorgeous half-lidded stare. He simply couldn’t deny the detective – or himself – release any longer.

“Then… I’ll make you.”

The brunet wails passionately as his body reacts to the redhead’s deep thrusts, unable to hold on any longer as he bursts all over the rag and sheets.

“Nngh–! Chuuya–!”

Chuuya’s eyes widened as he heard those delightful, desperate sounds and he pumped three more times before he mirrored them, unloading everything he had into Dazai.

Both of them panted and it is a few moments before the Executive is able to pull-out due to the sensitivity of his cock… but when he does, he lies down beside the detective, who smiled lazily.

“You okay, mackerel?”

Chuuya panted while wiping sweat away from his forehead. 

“I… think I’m in love with you.” Dazai admits softly, his eyes still crossed with pleasure. His voice remains thick with feeling. “And I don’t know what to do with myself.” 

Chuuya breathes heavily for a moment as the shock of the confession settles over him, panting with effort from their love-making. There was no way he’d say it just like that – Dazai had some tact, right?

“...I think you’re just cum-brained.” 

Dazai snorted and he shook his head, bringing a heavy hand to Chuuya’s head and gently rubbing it.

“No… but it helped me be able to actually say it. I… do love you, Chuuya.” 

Chuuya reddened heavily at that, realizing that the brunet was serious and not just saying things to get his way. The vulnerability they had shown to each other during this session had proved it.

“...I love you, too.“ Chuuya muttered softly, burying his face into Dazai’s neck, hiding his expression. “And I want us to be exclusive with a label from now on. An actual label.” 

The detective blinked sleepily, snuggling into Chuuya’s embrace.

“Okay, slug… we can talk about it later. Mm, I won’t be seeing Makoto-chan again. You’re better than… her…” 

Chuuya paused as Dazai began to fall into a light slumber, cuddling into him with the suede blankets and downy pillows.

“Wait… who?”