Work Text:
You’ll know something is ab-sol-utely wrong when Nakajima Atsushi wants to take a day off to visit a “friend.”
Osamu Dazai knows that too.
Why?
Because the weretiger doesn't have friends.
Jokes aside, the statement wasn’t entirely false.
Atsushi did have people.
Coworkers. Teammates. People who would risk their lives for him without hesitation.
But friends? That also outside the agency?
Na-ah!
That alone was suspicious.
And Atsushi?
Atsushi was a terrible liar.
The way he avoided eye contact.
The way his fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve.
The way he said “friend” like it might betray him if he didn’t say it fast enough.
Dazai noticed everything.
Of course he did.
He didn’t question it out loud. That would’ve been boring.
Instead, he smiled in a dangerously soft manner and waved Atsushi off like nothing was wrong.
“Have fun, Atsushi-kun.”
Which, translated from Dazai, meant:
I will absolutely be following you.
Exactly seventeen minutes later, a small blinking dot on Dazai’s phone came to a sudden stop.
“How efficient,” he hummed.
Beside him, Kunikida didn’t even look up from his notebook.
“I refuse to be involved in whatever crime you’ve committed this time.”
“Not a crime,” Dazai said cheerfully. “An investigation.”
“Illegal surveillance is a crime.”
Dazai's eyes glinted with mischief.
“Only if you get caught.”
Kunikida finally glanced at him. Paused.
“…You put a tracker on Atsushi.”
“Such harsh wording. I prefer ‘ensured his safety.’”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” Dazai Osamu said lightly, slipping his phone into his coat pocket, “You’re coming with me.”
“I am not—”
“You are.”
Doppo Kunikida shut his notebook with a sharp snap.
“…This better not interfere with my schedule.”
“It absolutely will.”
Kunikida sighed.
They found Chuuya Nakahara halfway there.
Which, statistically speaking, was already a bad sign.
Chuuya had just stepped out of a convenience store, a small bag in hand, sunglasses perched lazily on his nose, looking—unfortunately—like a functional member of society.
That illusion lasted exactly three seconds.
“Heyyyy Chuuuyaaa~!”
Chuuya froze.
Slowly... very slowly...he turned his head.
There, across the street, waving like an overexcited child who had just spotted free candy, stood Dazai. The absolute waste of bandages.
Beside him, looking like he was reconsidering every decision that led to this moment, was the green haired man, who apparently was Dazai's new work partner.
Chuuya closed his eyes.
“…No.”
Dazai was already crossing the street.
“Yesss.”
“I said no.”
“And I said yes.”
“That’s not how conversations work!”
“It is when I’m right.”
“You’re never right!”
Kunikida muttered, “I wanna go back!” (But was ignored anyways.)
Chuuya pointed at Dazai. “Whatever this is—I’m not involved. I have work.”
Dazai didn’t even blink. “You’re free for the next hour.”
Chuuya paused.
“…Excuse me?”
Dazai tilted his head, smiling. “Three meetings postponed. One cancelled. You finished your report early. Impressive, by the way.”
Silence.
Kunikida looked concerned.
Chuuya looked offended.
“…Are you stalking me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Dazai scoffed. “I only stalk people I like.”
“…I’m going to kill you.”
“Aw, Chuuya, don’t flirt in public.”
“I’M NOT—”
Chuuya stopped. Took a breath. Adjusted his hat.
“I’m leaving.”
He turned.
He took one step.
Dazai grabbed his sleeve.
Chuuya didn’t even look back.
“Let go.”
“No.”
“LET GO!”
“No~”
“…I will break your arm.”
“You won’t.”
“I will.”
“You can’t.”
“I absolutely—”
“You’re curious.”
That did it.
Chuuya stilled.
Slowly, dangerously, he turned back.
“…About what.”
Dazai hummed, pulling out his phone, letting the small blinking dot reflect in his eyes.
“About why your favorite rabid dog hasn’t reported in all day.”
Chuuya’s expression didn’t change.
Which, for Chuuya, was worse.
“…Say that again.”
Dazai Osamu smiled—slow, knowing, insufferable.
“Ryunosuke Akutagawa,” he repeated, almost lazily. “You know. Pale, dramatic, terminally allergic to sunlight and dying for approval?”
“I know who he is,” Chuuya snapped. “Watch your mouth.”
“Oh?” Dazai’s eyes glinted. “Touché”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Chuuya let out an annoyed huff before his gaze dropped back to the phone.
To the blinking dot.
Then back to Dazai.
“…What did you do.”
“Me?” Dazai placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “Nothing at all.”
“That’s exactly what worries me.”
He glanced over the location again, pin pointing the exact place.
Then his expression darkened.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
"Well? Where even is this place?" Kunikida broke the silence, irritation already creeping in. "And what exactly has it to do with Atsushi?"
"Everything." Dazai says as an evil grin fixes on his face.
The apartment building stood quiet, unassuming.
Ordinary.
Which made it worse.
Chuuya walked ahead without another word, steps sharper now, more certain.
He didn’t hesitate at the door.
The keypad beeped once.
Twice.
Click.
Kunikida stared. “You know the passcode?”
Chuuya didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
They stepped inside.
Silence greeted them.
“Chibi. Kunikida,” Dazai murmured, voice dropping just enough to carry, “Try to stay quiet, will you? Or we'll get caught!"
Kunikida frowned. “What surprise-”
Dazai raised a finger to his lips.
“Shhh.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
Together, the three of them moved down the narrow space toward the only closed door.
It wasn’t locked.
Just… shut.
It took Dazai only a minute to open it just enough to spy on the people inside.
~Inside~
"For fuck's sake, Weretiger slow down!"
Akutagawa's voice was muffled by the pillow clamped between his teeth, but the desperation cut through clear enough. His fingers clawed at the sheets, white-knuckled, as Atsushi drove into him from behind with relentless, punishing rhythm.
Atsushi's right hand held both of Akutagawa's wrists pinned together against the mattress, keeping him stretched out and helpless. His left hand gripped the jut of Akutagawa's hip, fingers digging into the pale skin hard enough to leave bruises. The angle was perfect--Akutagawa on his stomach, hips raised, ass presented like an offering.
"Don't tell me you can't take it," Atsushi breathed, voice low and teasing. He pulled back until only the tip remained inside, then slammed forward again, burying himself to the hilt. "You called me here yourself. You wanted this."
Akutagawa's response was a strangled groan. The pillow muffled most of it, but the way his body trembled...the way his asshole clenched around Atsushi's member...said everything.
Atsushi set a brutal pace. Each thrust was deep, deliberate, angled to hit that spot he'd already mapped out with his fingers earlier. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the small bedroom, punctuated by Akutagawa's choked moans and the wet squelch of Atsushi's cock sliding in and out of his well-used hole.
"Fucking—hnngh—jinko," Akutagawa gasped, turning his head just enough to speak. His eyes were hazy, pupils blown wide, spit slicking his lips. "What's gotten you so excited today?"
Atsushi paused for a beat, just long enough for Akutagawa to feel the emptiness, the lack. Then he leaned forward, pressing his chest against Akutagawa's sweat-slicked back, his mouth brushing the shell of Akutagawa's ear.
With the most mischievous smirk he could muster, Atsushi whispered, "You."
He punctuated the word with a snap of his hips so sharp it made Akutagawa's whole body jolt. The pillow was instantly back between his teeth, a guttural sound ripped from his throat as Atsushi resumed fucking him with renewed vigor.
The position gave Atsushi complete control. Every time Akutagawa tried to push back, to meet the thrusts, Atsushi's grip on his wrists tightened, yanking him still. Every time Akutagawa's hips started to lower, Atsushi's left hand shoved them back up, keeping him exactly where he wanted him.
"I love watching you fall apart," Atsushi murmured, pace quickening. Pre-cum dripped from Akutagawa's neglected cock onto the sheets beneath him. "The great Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, the rabid dog of the Port Mafia, the guy who the agency asked me to watch out for, reduced to a moaning mess on his own bed. Taking my cock like it's the only thing that matters."
Akutagawa's response was incoherent, a string of curses and whimpers that dissolved into a long, broken moan as Atsushi's next thrust hit his prostate dead-on. His legs spasmed. His fingers curled into fists.
"Feels like you're begging for more," Atsushi growled, licking a stripe up the pale neck, tasting salt, then bit down on the shoulder. Hard. Not piercing though...just possessive pressure. His hips stuttered for a moment, savoring the vice-like grip, before picking up speed. Faster, harder, cock reshaping Akutagawa's insides with each withdraw and bury. The mafioso's legs shook, knees digging into the mattress as pleasure coiled tight in his gut.
"I--I'm not--fuck, too deep!" Akutagawa gasped, trying to crawl forward on his elbows despite the hold. His body screamed otherwise, ass pushing back to grind against Atsushi's pelvis, chasing that devastating friction. The weretiger laughed breathlessly, left hand snaking around to wrap around Akutagawa's leaking cock. He stroked roughly, thumb swiping over the slit to collect pre-cum, smearing it down the length in firm pumps synced to his thrusts.
"Your dick's drooling for it. So hard, Ryuu~ Bet you'd cum if I stopped right now."
To prove it, Atsushi stilled, buried to the balls, cock pulsing hot inside. The mafioso whimpered, hips twitching in futile need, hole fluttering around the motionless intrusion. He hated the whine escaping his throat, the way his body clenched desperately to pull the detective deeper. "Bastard—move!"
Atsushi grinned wickedly, resuming with a punishing rhythm that shook the bedframe. His hand flew over Akutagawa's shaft, twisting at the head, while his cock battered that sweet spot relentlessly. Akutagawa's resistance crumbled under the dual assault, moans spilling free, pillow forgotten as he tossed his head back.
"Are you trying to re-arrange my guts?" he spat, voice hoarse and broken, even as his walls spasmed in ecstasy.
The silver-haired boy leaned down, lips brushing Akutagawa's flushed cheek. He flashed the most innocent smile, eyes wide and sparkling, dimples popping, like a boy offering candy, not the feral top wrecking him. "Yes."
Then he yanked the wrists upward, hips crashing forward to emphasize. Cock spearing deep, grinding circles against Akutagawa's core. The mafioso shattered instantly, back bowing off the bed as orgasm tore through him. His cock erupted in Atsushi's fist, thick jets of cum painting the sheets and his own stomach. Hole convulsing wildly, squeezing Atsushi's length in rhythmic waves that dragged him over the edge.
Atsushi moaned, thrusting erratically through the climax. His balls drew tight, unloading rope after rope of scorching cum deep inside, flooding Akutagawa until it bubbled out around his shaft, trickling down thighs. He ground in place, milking every drop, hand still lazily stroking Akutagawa's spent dick.
But Atsushi wasn't done. He pulled out with a wet pop, cum gushing from the abused hole. Flipping Akutagawa onto his back effortlessly, wrists still pinned above his head. Akutagawa glared up, chest heaving, cock twitching back to life despite his weak shove. "Enough—get away—"
"Not even close." Atsushi slotted between spread thighs, rubbing his slick cockhead against the messy entrance. One hard push, and he sank back in, Akutagawa's legs wrapping around his waist unbidden. Face to face now, Atsushi folded him in half, knees to chest, pounding down with gravity's help.
"No! Not there-fuck-yes-yes please--fuck me harder-please Atsushi," Akutagawa babbled, resistance fully shattered, hips bucking up to meet the brutal pace. Atsushi obliged, free hand choking lightly at the throat, thumb pressing just enough to make Akutagawa's eyes roll. Their mouths crashed together, tongues tangling sloppy and desperate. Atsushi's cock dragged over every ridge inside, building them both toward the peak again.
Akutagawa came first this time too, untouched, walls clamping like a vice as cum splattered between their abs. Atsushi followed seconds later, burying deep and pumping another load, overflowing and soaking the bed.
Finally, Atsushi pulled out slowly, watching his cum leak from Akutagawa's red, swollen hole. He flopped onto his side beside him, reaching out to brush sweat-damp hair from Akutagawa's face.
Akutagawa turned his head, dark eyes meeting silver. There was no softness there...not yet...but the usual venom was muted, replaced by a sated exhaustion.
"...Acceptable," Akutagawa rasped.
Atsushi grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to his shoulder. "High praise."
"Don't get used to it."
They lay there, naked and tangled, the afternoon light filtering through the curtains. Atsushi's hand found Akutagawa's, fingers interlacing. Akutagawa nuzzled into Atsushi's neck, boneless and sated, naked bodies glued with sweat and seed in tender afterglow cuddles.
Atsushi huffed softly, his fingers drifting up to thread through his boyfriend’s dark hair, combing through the strands with absent ease.
The quiet deepened. Their breathing slowed. The tension that usually defined them faded into something softer, heavier.
For a moment, it almost felt safe.
Until :
A voice cut through the door. “Akutagawa Ryunosuke.”
Both of them froze, Atsushi’s grip tightening instinctively.
“And you, you mother-fucking weretiger,” a voice snapped, fury unmistakable. “I know you’re in there.”
“Five minutes,” the person spoke again from the other side, each word sharp enough to cut. “You have five minutes to make yourselves presentable and get out here.”
Atsushi stared at the door, horrified.
“…We’re so dead.”
It had been roughly 5 minutes since the trio had started watching them.
Abso-fucking-lutely-----Enchanting?
Kunikida looked like he wanted to bleach his eyes while Dazai smirked as he watched the show unravel before him.
Chuuya's face heated up half with anger and half with embarrassment. Did him and Dazai look the same way at those vulnerable times? Did he also moan as desperately as Akutagawa did?
His patience drained by each passing second.
"Akutagawa Ryunosuke.”
The other two snapped their head towards him, Kunikida looked ever grateful while the brunette had a pissed look washed over his face.
“And you, you mother-fucking weretiger,” the ginger snapped, “I know you’re in there.”
“Five minutes,” Chuuya snapped from the other side, each word sharp enough to cut. “You have five minutes to make yourselves presentable and get out here.”
The door opened, and Atsushi Nakajima stepped out with Ryunosuke Akutagawa on his back, looking like he’d rather disappear than explain anything.
Silence hit first, then Chuuya Nakahara snapped, striding forward with a glare, “What did you do to him, weretiger, and why is he being carried like he can’t walk?”
“I’m fine,” Akutagawa said flatly, which did nothing to stop Chuuya, who shot back, “You’re not fine, you’re being carried, that’s the opposite of fine.”
Before Atsushi could defend himself, Kunikida turned on him, voice sharp, “This is reckless, inappropriate, and completely unacceptable conduct for an Agency member, what were you thinking?”
Atsushi bristled immediately, tightening his grip, “Oh come on, if we’re getting scolded then so should they, because last I checked, they kiss between missions too!”
“You do what!?” Kunikida whipped his head toward Dazai Osamu so fast it looked painful.
Dazai shrugged.
"Not my fault if Chibi just stands there looking so kissable" He says before dropping his voice to a whisper,"...and edible"
Chuuya elbows him hard, blush already creeping up his face.
“See?” Dazai added, completely unhelpful. “Violent and charming.”
Chuuya looked one second away from committing a crime.
Atsushi, still holding Akutagawa, whispered, “…We’re not the only ones getting judged anymore, right?”
Akutagawa closed his eyes, slowly brushing his face against the other's shoulder.
Atsushi Nakajima eased Ryunosuke Akutagawa down onto the sofa with surprising care, adjusting the cushions like that might somehow fix everything.
The moment Atsushi stepped back, Chuuya Nakahara was there, crouching in front of him, eyes sharp as they scanned him over.
“Idiot,” he muttered, brushing invisible dust off Akutagawa’s sleeve like that was the real problem. “You look like you lost a fight with gravity.”
“I did not,” Akutagawa replied, voice steady, if a little quieter than usual.
Chuuya clicked his tongue, unconvinced, then shot Atsushi a glare that could’ve cracked glass.
“You,” he said, pointing. “If you hurt my boy, you’ll breathe your last.”
Atsushi straightened immediately. “I didn’t--I mean, I wouldn’t--!”
“I know,” Chuuya cut in, still glaring. “That’s why you’re still standing.”
“…That’s not comforting.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
Behind them, Dazai sighed dramatically. “Ah, young love, threats, and overprotective mothering. How nostalgic.”
“No one asked you,” Chuuya snapped.
Dazai only smiled, stepping closer like he had no sense of self-preservation.
“Really, Chuuya, you should be thanking me. Without me, you wouldn’t have discovered this delightful little development.”
“I discovered it because you can’t mind your own business.”
“And yet,” Dazai hummed, leaning in just a fraction, just enough to press a quick, fleeting kiss to Chuuya’s cheek, “You’re welcome.”
Chuuya froze.
Then turned, slowly, face already heating up.
“Get out.”
“Already?” Dazai asked, far too pleased with himself.
“Yes,” Chuuya snapped. “Before I throw you out.”
“Such hostility.”
“Out.”
The green-haired man scrunched his nose, "I still don't get both of you obsession with Mafian asses."
"Of course you won't," Atsushi started, his eyes softening as it fell on the ravenette perched on the sofa.
"Yes! Obviously you won't!" Dazai exclaimed like a 5 year old discovering candy. "Cuz, you like a certain Vampire's dick better!"
Before Dazai could say anything worse, Kunikida stepped in, patience officially gone.
“That’s enough,” he said, grabbing Dazai by the ear without hesitation.
“Ow! Owwww! Kunikida-kun, violence is--”
“And you,” he added, catching Atsushi’s ear with his other hand.
“W-WAIT—!”
“You are both leaving,” Kunikida continued firmly, already dragging them toward the door. “Immediately. We will be having a long discussion about boundaries, professionalism, and basic decision-making.”
“I can walk!” Atsushi protested.
“You can walk outside,” Kunikida replied.
Dazai, somehow still smiling, waved lazily with his free hand. “Rest well, Akutagawa-kun. And Chuuya, don't scold him too much!”
The door clicked shut, and the silence it left behind lingered like a held breath finally released, soft and trembling, as if the world itself had stepped back just enough to let something quiet, fragile, and stubbornly real take root in the space they could no longer hide
Akutagawa stared at his superior, bracing himself for any scolding and a "Break-up with him".
"What!?" Chuuya says, suddenly defensive. "I'm not gonna scold you. Young love happens. And you both are adults, sexual intimacy is not weird for your age."
Akutagawa blinked.
Once.
Then, without a word, he shifted, resting his head against Chuuya’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Chuuya stilled for a second.
Then sighed, something softer slipping into his expression as his fingers moved, absentmindedly combing through dark hair as a mother would to her child.
"Ryuu?"
"Hmmm?" the boy responds.
"From the next time, please use protection."
Akutagawa says nothing just turns his head to the other side so that his superior couldn't see his pink tinted face.
After a while Akutagawa speaks again.
"Chuuya-san?"
"Yes?"
"Can you tell me a story?"
The ginger let out a amused huff, not expecting that question.
“A story? What are you, five?”
The boy pouted.
"Fine~ Do you want to know how me and Dazai met?"
Akutagawa shifted instantly, looking up, interest unmistakable.
Chuuya snorted.
“Figures.”
He leaned back slightly, gaze drifting somewhere far off.
“So...it was a sunny day. I was around fifteen—”
---------X-END-X---------