Soukoku Oneshots

Transparent thoughts

By: Setosdarkness
Warnings:
Smut
Dirty talk
Anal play
Transparent Dildo

“I want to see inside of you, Chuuya.”

Dazai is many things, and a masterful actor is just one of them. He’s capable of softening his voice into a pool of honey, cloying and sweet to the ears. Dazai is a great many things, and being an annoying asshole who spouts a fountain of bullshit is one of his most salient identities.

“I want you to shut the fuck up,” is a very civil response, all things considered. Chuuya congratulates himself on improving his self-control and not immediately resorting to grabbing the other by the neck and throwing him off the building. “But we can’t always get what we want, huh.”

…Not for lack of trying. Over the years, Chuuya has committed a lot of effort in exterminating this pest who likes to buzz at him while demanding that he surrender to becoming a pet for life. The sheer audacity is almost awe-inspiring; not many people could boast to possess such thick skin impervious to shame and common sense. In any case, regardless of his efforts and wishes, none of Chuuya’s attempts to silence Dazai forever has yielded fruit.

Perhaps that shamelessness is the most powerful armor. Perhaps as foreshadowed by Dazai’s name, the thickness of his face is his number one weapon, extending all the way to form barriers over his ears and bouncing off words that berate him. This leads to situations where Dazai cheerfully cherry-picks through Chuuya’s complaints about him.

Like now: “Oh, so you admit that you want me.” Dazai nods like this makes perfect sense. “Then you should quickly undress so we can get things started.”

“Oi, are you just blatantly ignoring the rest of my words?!”

“Ah, I seem to hear some barking from far away…”

Chuuya’s self-control can only bring him so far. He succumbs to the urge to throttle Dazai. Because his opponent is fishy in all aspects, he slips away from his grasp and runs all over Chuuya’s apartment with the ease of a mackerel patrolling salty waters. The chase takes nearly a half-hour, given how they know each other too well that they could both predict each other’s movements.

It’s especially bad on Chuuya’s end, given that he has to restrain himself from knocking down his furniture. While he could easily afford another full renovation and replacement of his things, he’d rather not spend more money related to a fish. He already is an unwilling landlord to the world’s worst tenant whose crimes include stealing milk from his fridge, adding too much detergent to the washing machine and never contributing to rent. He also has to pay double for insurance, given that the years have wizened Yokohama’s businesses when it comes to dealing with him and his attached fish.

Thoughts about his finances constantly taking a Dazai-shaped hit makes his eyelids twitch and his heart howl in rage. He stops by the kitchen counter, palm holding the edge while he reminds himself that he likes his kitchen set-up and that it’d be a shame if he ends up punching a hole through the floors.

“You don’t have to do anything too different,” Dazai bargains with a smirk that’d be fitting for the car salesman out to scam the life savings out of his target and his target’s next five generations. “You just need to lie down obediently and let me take care of you, like I always do.”

Having the misfortune of knowing Dazai for more than a decade means that he’s gone through his share of hardships, in the form of having to listen to the other’s bullshit and battling the urge to throw up everywhere. None of his prior experience is of any help in stopping his lungs and throat from seizing with a bellyful of disbelieving laughter. He wouldn’t be surprised if this is Dazai’s new tactic in killing him—making him suffocate from indignation. “You? Take care of me?? What kind of delusion are you on, oi???”