OKAY I SWEAR THIS IS MT LAST REQUEST FOR A WHILE... so i was thinking about a dazai x reader x chuuya smut 💭💭 reader is pm executive, kinda a protege of mori, always in his shadow and he always keeps an eye on her, because of this she is cold and sharp in her answers, she does her job and dont keep contact with others BUT dazai and chuuya are obsessed, wanting to know more about her and YES of course skk are competitive because they want her.
they keep trying to get closer, joking around and talk to her, each one with their charisma, but she only ignore or is cold with them UNTIL mori put the three of them together in a mission anddddd after, they call her to drink in chuuya's apartment and to celebrate that everything goes well, she try to refuse but in the end she accepts.
they drink a lot, she gets a little tipsy, chuuya and dazai suggest a game like true or dare orrrr like never ever have i and one thing go to other with some dare or answer.
about the smut i was thinking about they breaking the cold side of the reader and she turning into a mess, bondage, dominate thing with her, a lot of dirty talk, oral sex (fem and m), biting, they obsessed with her boobs, a lot of spanks, a lot of kisses, she surprising they with a brat side and yes reader have a dirty mouth too!!! of course degrading and praise in the mix please :)) thank you again 🩷
Warnings: smut, restraint, brat taming, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, oral, hair pulling, biting, jealous behavior, other sexual acts.
Summary: You’re the Port Mafia’s coldest executive, Mori’s perfect protégée. Dazai and Chuuya are I obsessed and competitive. When a night of “harmless” drinking turns into a dangerous game, you finally snap and they take full advantage.
The Port Mafia meeting room is silent. This is the suffocating kind of quiet that happens whenever you enter the room. Mori walks in first. You follow him like a shadow. Back straight, shoulders squared, face expressionless. Hair immaculate. Uniform perfect. Gloves pristine.
An executive tailored by Mori himself—
his flawless protégée, his most controlled weapon, and everyone knows it. You take your place behind him without a word, hands folded neatly. Eyes forward. Breath steady. Not even a flicker of emotion. You might as well be carved from marble. And he’s proud of you for it.
Across the room, Dazai Osamu is already staring. Feet kicked up on the table, fingers tapping at his knee. His grin is too sharp, too curious. “Aw, she’s here,” he sighs dramatically. “The ice queen herself~ I can feel my heart freezing already.”
You don’t turn your head. You don’t acknowledge him. You simply blink. Chuuya snorts under his breath. Standing arms crossed, he watches you with a different kind of hunger. More grounded. More dangerous. “Give it a rest,” Chuuya mutters at Dazai. “She’s not going to react.”
Dazai grins wider. “That’s what makes it fun.”
The meeting drags on. Mori speaks. Executives grumble. Plans are laid. You record everything in silent precision, jotting notes at Mori’s side. Your pen moves with cold efficiency. Nothing distracts you. Not the weight of power in the room. Not the threat of violence behind every executive’s words. Not even the two men watching you like they’re trying to solve a puzzle.
Dazai leans forward, chin on his hand.
“How do you get your handwriting so pretty?” He says it loudly. Purposefully.
You don’t pause. You don’t even breathe differently.
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Dazai says, eyes still on you. “I like the challenge.”
You keep writing… until your pen stills for half a second. Barely a twitch. Barely a break. But both men notice. And that tiny crack in your perfect mask? It lights something feral behind their eyes.
The meeting ends. Executives disperse. Mori turns to you. “Stay. There’s one more assignment.” Dazai and Chuuya freeze in place so obviously you can practically feel them listening. Mori smiles, soft and calculating. “I want you three on a mission together.”
The air shifts sharply. Dazai’s smile widens—slow, wicked, starved. Chuuya lifts an eyebrow, hiding how interested he actually is. You finally move, just slightly. “…Sir?”
“Your teamwork will be essential,” Mori continues, pleased by your icy confusion. “And I’d like to see how they function under your command.”
Dazai nearly purrs. “Oh, Boss~ Giving her charge of us? I feel spoiled.”
Chuuya rolls his eyes but he’s staring at you more intently than before. You remain still. Expression unreadable. Mori pats your shoulder, a silent reminder of expectations.
You bow your head politely. “As you wish. I will ensure the mission succeeds.”
Then you step back, ready to leave. But Dazai steps into your path. Close enough you can smell the faint hint of smoke and bandages. Close enough that any normal subordinate would step aside. You don’t.
You stand still, hands behind your back, gaze fixed forward. Cold. Untouchable. He leans in, whispering. “I’m looking forward to working with you, miss executive.”
You don’t blink. You don’t move. You just say, quietly. “Step aside.”
Oh, that sets him off—he laughs softly, delighted, and moves. Chuuya snaps his fingers as you walk past him. “You better not get in my way out there,” he says, tone challenging.
You turn your head just enough for your eyes to meet his. Cold, commanding, unimpressed. “I expect the same from you, Nakahara.”
Chuuya goes completely still. That tone. That authority. That unshakable fire under the frost. He swallows once, jaw tightening. Dazai looks between you both, eyes gleaming. “Well…” he murmurs, satisfied in a way he shouldn’t be, “this is going to be fun.”
Night settles over Yokohama like a blade being drawn. It’s the perfect atmosphere for a Port Mafia operation and you walk toward it with the same unshakable calm you always carry. Dazai and Chuuya, however…
They watch you like you’re a problem they can’t stop wanting to solve.
The three of you stand on an abandoned overpass overlooking the target warehouse—your breath forming pale clouds in the cold night air. You unfold the mission file. Completely composed. “Here’s the plan,” you say simply.
And both men straighten, unconsciously. You point to the map. “Nakahara—you’ll take the east entrance. They’ll expect brute force there.” Chuuya gives a low hum of approval. He likes that you trust him with the heavy work. “Dazai, you’ll disable the traps inside. Quietly.”
Dazai presses a hand to his chest. “You know me so well already,” he says, voice teasing.
You don’t react. Finally, you fold the file. “I’ll infiltrate from the north window. We regroup in the central corridor once both sides are cleared. Follow the plan or I leave without you.”
Chuuya’s brows lift slightly, impressed despite himself. Dazai’s smile softens—becoming something far more intent. “Understood, little miss executive.”
You move first. Silent. Efficient. Climbing the scaffolding and slipping through the high window with the fluidity of water.
The warehouse erupts with movement. Men rushing. Weapons drawn. You slip between shadows like you belong to them, dispatching guards with swift, precise movements. No wasted energy. No sound. Down the corridor, you hear a familiar voice, then…
Chuuya’s ability explodes a group of armed men into the wall. “Stay down, dumbasses—!”
You hear his grin in his words. He’s proud. Showing off. For you.
Dazai, Meanwhile…He moves like smoke—appearing behind enemies without a whisper. He glances up to the rafters, knowing you’re somewhere above. Then he drops another guard with a lazy stance.
You arrive first, wiping blood from your gloves with clinical precision. A body at your feet. Another slumped against the wall. You’re steady. Composed. But your chest rises just a bit faster than normal. Then—
Heavy footsteps. Chuuya walks in, dusting off his coat. “Area’s clear,” he says. “Barely a workout.” He glances at the bodies behind you. A pause. “Tch. Show-off.”
Then asoft thud behind you. Dazai lands from the catwalk, hair tousled, sleeves slightly rolled from the fighting. He beams. “I’m here~! Did you miss me?”
You give him an empty stare. Dazai lifts both brows.
Chuuya snorts. “That’s a no, dumbass.”
“Ah,” Dazai sighs, “but her eyes did flick to me. That’s basically affection!”
You ignore them both. “Mission’s done. We return.”
You try to move past them but Chuuya steps into your path. “Oi,” he says quietly. “Good work today.” It’s the first sincere thing he’s said to you.
Dazai leans beside him, nodding proudly.“Yeah. You were—honestly—amazing.”
You look at them both. Truly look, and say. “Focus on the debrief. Emotions after.”
Chuuya blinks. Dazai exhales a soft laugh. They share a glance. Their expressions shift. They’ve noticed the truth:
You’re not cold. You’re controlled. And they want to know what’s under that control more than anything.
Rain begins to fall as you exit the warehouse. Chuuya runs a hand through his hair, breath visible in the cold. “Oi. Drinks at my place.”
Dazai steps up beside you. “Oh come on~ We worked so hard today.”
Chuuya clicks his tongue. “Just one drink. Celebrate the mission.”
They look at each other then both tilt their heads toward you with matching smirks. Dazai. “Miss executiveeeee…”
Chuuya. “Don’t be like that.”
You take one slow breath. One long exhale. “…Fine.”
Their smirks turn to fire. Quiet, triumphant fire.
Chuuya’s apartment is too nice for someone who fights like a street brawler. Sleek furniture, expensive wine, dim golden lighting. Warm, masculine, intimate. You step inside and immediately regret it.
Dazai kicks the door shut behind you with a soft thunk, humming as he slips off his shoes. Chuuya tosses his jacket onto a chair. “You sit there,” he says, nodding at the couch.
You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not your subordinate.”
“Not an order.” He smirks. “It’s just the best seat.”
Dazai, already rummaging through the kitchen, calls out. “Red velvet couch for our cold princess! I approve.”
You sigh, but you sit. Chuuya brings over a bottle of whiskey which you find odd knowing his love for wine. He pours three glasses.
You take yours politely. Chuuya takes a long drink from his. Dazai sits much too close on your left. Chuuya sits much too close on your right. You’re boxed in. And you know damn well it’s intentional.
You sip. Warmth spreads through your throat, loosening the edges of your composure—only slightly. Dazai watches the movement of your lips on the rim of the glass. Chuuya watches the way your throat moves as you swallow. You ignore both of them with expert precision.
Dazai breaks the silence first. “You did well today,” he says softly, fingers brushing your knee like it’s accidental. It isn’t.
Chuuya snorts. “She did better than you.”
You don’t flinch. “…Shut up and drink,” you say, motioning at their untouched glasses.
Both men smile. And they obey.
By the second drink you feel warm. Relaxed enough that your body sinks an inch deeper into the couch. Not relaxed enough to let your guard down fully. Not relaxed enough to let your expression slip. But warm.
Chuuya notices first. “You’re loosening up.”
“No,” you respond immediately.
Dazai grins into his glass. “You are~”
You glare at him. Chuuya plants his glass on the table. “Let’s play something,” he says. “Make this less awkward.”
“It isn’t awkward,” you say quickly.
To which Dazai immediately replies. “So it is awkward.”
You look away. Chuuya laughs under his breath. “Never Have I Ever,” he suggests.
Dazai taps his chin. “Truth or dare, then?”
Chuuya leans back, casual. “You scared?”
You turn your head sharply toward him. “Of what?”
Your fingers tighten on your glass. Dazai sees it. His smile widens slowly. “Sounds like a yes~”
You take a longer drink—too long—and set the empty glass down with a soft click. “Fine.”
Both men grin. Predatorily. Chuuya starts. “Never have I ever fantasized about someone I work with.”
He drinks. Dazai drinks. You don’t. Chuuya raises an eyebrow. Dazai tilts his head, fascinated. You remain still. “Go on,” you say.
Dazai hums thoughtfully. “Never have I ever wanted to fuck a coworker.”
He drinks again. Chuuya drinks without shame. You do not move. The air thickens. Chuuya stares at you openly now—hungry. Dazai’s eyes drag over you like velvet. “Liar,” Dazai murmurs sweetly.
Your jaw tightens. “You don’t know me.”
“Oh, but we want to,” Chuuya says, voice dropping low. “Isn’t that the whole point?”
Dazai’s turn. He taps his finger on his glass. “Oh little miss Executive… I dare you to smile.”
It’s ridiculous. Infuriating. You glare at him. “We aren’t playing truth or dare.”
But then Chuuya adds quietly. “Come on. One smile won’t kill you.”
You exhale sharply through your nose. And the slightest, tiniest smirk curves your lips. Barely there. Gone in a second. But it still counts. They exchange a look. A dangerous one.
Chuuya leans forward, elbows on his knees. “You’re cute when you’re pissed.” You freeze.
Dazai slides his hand around the back of the couch, behind your shoulders. “And even cuter when you pretend you don’t hear our compliments.”
Your pulse jumps. You hate that they see it. You hate even more that you can’t stop it. You straighten your posture. “Stop playing,” you say slowly, voice lower now. Both men still their focus entirely on you. “Say what you really want.”
Chuuya looks you dead in the eyes. “We want you.”
Dazai leans in against your ear. “All of you.”
The cold in your chest cracks. Not broken, not melted, but splintered. Enough that your voice comes out quieter than before. “You couldn’t handle me.”
Chuuya’s breath stutters. Dazai’s pupils dilate. “Oh,” Dazai whispers, delighted, “I think we will manage.”
Your heartbeat is quiet but sharp in your ears. Dazai is the first to move. He doesn’t touch you. Not at first. He stands with the lazy grace of a man who’s already made up his mind, steps behind the couch, and leans down until his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear.
You don’t turn your head. You don’t move. But your breathing shifts by a fraction and both men notice. “Relax,” Dazai murmurs, voice like warm smoke. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
You laugh a low, cold, sharp exhale that slices the air between you. “Are you sure?” you ask quietly.
Chuuya stands too. He steps in front of you, slow and deliberate, blocking your view of anything else. His presence fills your vision. Broad shoulders, flushed cheeks from the alcohol, eyes burning with something fierce and unrestrained.
He tilts your chin up with two fingers. “You don’t scare me.”
You stare back at him. “I should.”
His tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip. “Oh, sweetheart...”
Behind you, you feel Dazai’s fingers slide through your hair. Barely there, more a whisper than a touch and you don’t pull away. Instead you freeze, breath catching softly in your throat. A real reaction.
Dazai smiles against the side of your neck. “I knew it,” he breathes. “You’re sensitive. Perfect.”
You swallow tightly. “I’m not—”
His fingers brush your throat, tracing the line of your pulse. “Oh you are.”
Chuuya watches your reaction like he’s starving for it. “Look at her,” he says to Dazai, voice dropping to a rough murmur. “She’s finally showing something.” You want to look away. To bury whatever heat is pooling in your stomach. But Chuuya cups your jaw gently. Thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “Don’t hide,” he whispers. “Let us see.”
You stand. Quick, too defensively. But they’re both on their feet in an instant, closing the space you created. One step back— Chuuya steps forward. One more— Dazai’s hand slides to your hip, drawing you between them.
You’re boxed in again. “I didn’t say you could leave,” Dazai hums.
You wet your lips. “This is reckless.”
Chuuya smirks. “That’s the point.”
Dazai brushes your hair back, fingertips barely tracing your neck. He leans down, lips grazing your ear. Chuuya lifts your chin with a single knuckle, his breath warm against your mouth. Your cold expression fractures.
Only slightly. But enough. Chuuya’s voice is a low growl. “There it is…”
Dazai whispers. “I want more.”
Chuuya presses his mouth to yours gently. Aslow testing kiss, not rough, not demanding, just… hungry. Soft lips. Warm breath. A hand on your jaw pulling you closer. Your breath stutters.
Dazai’s body presses lightly against your back, his hands settling on your waist as he watches from over your shoulder. When Chuuya pulls back just a fraction Dazai steals the moment. He turns your face toward him and kisses you too. His kiss is different. Slower, deeper, intoxicating. A taste of alcohol and danger. He swallows the tiny sound you didn’t mean to make.
When he pulls away, both of them stare at you waiting. Watching your chest rise, your pupils dilate. Watching the cold break in real time.
You whisper, breath trembling. “…You can’t handle me.”
Chuuya grins like a man given permission to destroy. “I don’t think you understand what this is doll.”
Dazai’s voice is a velvet promise. “We will ruin you.” Their hands finally move.
Dazai’s hands slide down your waist, fingertips grazing your hips before pulling you back into him. Your spine pressed against his chest, your breath caught in your throat.
Chuuya’s hands lift to your collarbones, thumbs brushing the base of your throat, watching the way your pulse jumps beneath his touch. Both men look at you with equal hunger.
Chuuya’s pupils blow wide. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says quietly, “you’re in trouble now.” You don’t know who moves first, you, Dazai, Chuuya but suddenly the room shifts. The distance between you collapses. Dazai’s hands slide higher along your hips, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his breath warm where it meets your neck.
Chuuya steps even closer from the front, his fingers tracing the seam of your shirt, eyes running over you like he’s memorizing your shape. For the first time tonight, the cold wall inside you cracks. Heat spills through it.
Chuuya doesn’t ask this time. He cups your jaw and kisses you till your knees weaken. Deep. Slow. Savoring. Your lips part against his before you realize it, your breath catching in his mouth as he licks into you, tasting whiskey and adrenaline and the first real spark of want you’ve shown all night.
A soft, helpless sound escapes you. Barely there. But enough. Dazai groans quietly behind you at the sound—like it hits him somewhere low and dangerous. “Again…” he whispers against your ear. “Make that sound again.”
You pull away from Chuuya just enough to glare at Dazai but your lips are swollen now. Your breath unsteady. Chuuya smirks, thumb brushing the wet corner of your mouth. “Beautiful,” he murmurs.
Dazai’s hands roam upward slow, experimental, testing you. When his palms slide over your ribs to your chest, you stiffen. A sharp inhale. Dazai freezes. Then he smiles, dangerous and sweet. “Oh~? Sensitive here? I knew that cold act would melt some day.”
Your jaw clenches, but you don’t step away. You don’t stop him. And he takes that tiny permission like you handed him a loaded weapon. His fingers slip beneath your shirt, dragging it slowly upward. The fabric lifts an inch. Two. Your skin meets cool air. Then Dazai lifts your shirt over your head, slow and deliberate, leaving you in your bra, breath uneven. He kisses your shoulder. “This,” he whispers, “is what you hide from everyone.”
Chuuya’s eyes darken. “Not from us,” he mutters. Chuuya steps in, his hands warm on your hips. Then he moves them higher. Rough palms cupping your waist, your ribs, then finally your breasts. He palms them through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples, watching every flicker of your expression. “You’re perfect,” he breathes. “Absolutely fucking perfect.”
You gasp, as his thumbs tease harder. Dazai laughs softly behind you. “There she is…” His fingers trail down your arms, pulling them behind your back, just enough to arch you slightly, presenting your chest to Chuuya’s hungry stare.
Chuuya moves closer still. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs, voice low. “Let me taste.” Chuuya leans down and kisses the top of your breast, slow, deliberate, lips dragging heat across your skin. Then he sucks lightly just enough pressure to make your breath break.
Dazai holds your wrists behind you, gentle but unyielding, breathing against your neck. “Oh, you like this,” he whispers. “I knew you would.”
You gasp again, sharper this time. “Shut… up—”
Chuuya bites lightly against the edge of your bra. You moan. Dazai’s breath stutters.
Chuuya freezes for half a second like he’s savoring the sound. Slowly, he looks up at you. “You have no idea,” he murmurs, “how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”
Dazai turns your face to meet his, kissing you deep and messy. Pulling a whimper from your throat you didn’t mean to make. At the same time, Chuuya slips your bra strap off your shoulder and lowers his mouth again. His tongue circling your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth.
Dazai’s kiss, Chuuya’s mouth—It breaks you. Your knees buckle. Your breath shatters. Your body arches involuntarily into them both. Dazai moans into your mouth. Chuuya growls against your skin. You gasp, voice cracking. “Wait—”
Dazai pulls back just enough to whisper. “Overwhelmed? "Look at her — shaking for us.”
Chuuya’s thumb strokes lazy circles around your nipple. “You can tell us to stop.”
Dazai kisses your jaw, your throat, sucking little marks into your skin while his hands slide around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. Chuuya sucks harder on your nipple, rolling it gently between his teeth, his hand kneading your other breast like he’s trying to memorize every softness.
You choke out a sound a broken, needy gasping moan. And both men freeze. Just staring.
You pant, head falling back against Dazai’s shoulder. Your cold exterior is gone. You’re breathless. Flushed. Shaking. And they’re starving for you.
Chuuya leans in again but you grab his shirt with one hand. Pull him closer by the collar and whisper against his mouth. “Do better.”
Chuuya’s eyes go black with desire. Dazai lets out an obscene groan behind you. “Oh she’s a brat,” he says breathlessly, “I knew it—”
Your lips curl. “Take turns,” you murmur, voice low. “Or fight over me. I don’t care.”
Dazai laughs, completely undone. Chuuya licks his lips. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”
You whisper. “I hope so.”
Both men snap. Chuuya grabs your chin roughly and Dazai slips his hands down your arms, guiding them behind your back again. Except this time… he doesn’t just hold them. He binds them.
Silk, soft and hot against your skin, wraps around your wrists with a whisper. You gasp.
Chuuya sees that reaction and smirks like he’s been waiting his whole life for it. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and sinful, “you like being held.”
Dazai tightens the knot gently, his breath on your neck. “She doesn’t just like it,” he purrs. “She wants it.”
You glare at him over your shoulder. “I didn’t say that.”
Dazai sighs dramatically. “Lying already? We just started.”
Your arms are tied behind your back, arching you forward, presenting your chest, your throat, your entire body. Chuuya steps in close, one hand sliding up your sternum, thumb brushing the base of your neck like he’s testing how fragile you can be. “Look at you,” he says softly, like he can’t help it. “Pretty and tied up. Finally where you belong.”
You lift your chin defiantly. “I can still break both of you.”
Dazai groans. “Oh fuck, she’s perfect.” He moves behind you, hands sliding down your waist, gripping your hips and pulling you back so your ass presses against him. You gasp againand he laughs breathlessly. “She reacts,” Dazai murmurs against your shoulder, “even when she doesn’t want to.”
Chuuya strokes your cheek with two fingers. “You going to be good for us?”
You raise an eyebrow. “No.”
Both men laugh like they’re unraveling. Dazai kisses your shoulder hard, biting lightly. Chuuya grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back, exposing your throat. “You’re mouthy,” he growls.
Dazai’s fingers dig into your hips. “You’re a brat.”
You smirk. “Do better and maybe I’ll behave.”
Chuuya’s inhale is sharp and vicious. “Oh, you’re screwed now,” he mutters. Dazai pushes you forward slightly and Chuuya palms your breasts again, rougher this time, squeezing until you whine. Then Chuuya murmurs. “Bend her over.”
Your breath catches. Dazai moves you effortlessly, guiding you to the back of the couch. You’re bent forward, bound, your chest brushing the cushions, your ass arched high because they positioned you like that.
You should feel exposed. Instead you feel hot and wanted. Dazai runs a hand over your ass. “You’re trembling,” he whispers.
You shoot back. “From boredom.”
He laughs—dark, delighted—then brings his hand down hard. The sound fills the apartment. Dazai exhales a shaky moan.
You gasp. It’s sharp, involuntary. Your thighs press together instinctively. Chuuya steps behind you, his voice low. “Say you didn’t like that.”
You stay silent. A dangerous choice. Dazai smacks you again—harder, perfectly placed and your legs buckle. He catches your waist, holding you up, smiling against your back. “She liked it. Our cold little executive's just a needy slut underneath, huh?"
Chuuya kneels behind you, running his thumb across your heated skin. “She loved it.”
You grit your teeth. “Shut up.”
Chuuya laughs into your hip. “Oh, she’s shaking.”
Dazai leans forward, whispering filth into your ear. “You look so good like this… Back arched, wrists tied, ass red, breathing hard. All for us.”
Chuuya’s hand slides between your legs from behind, over your clothes, just enough pressure to make your breath choke. “So fucking wet,” he growls, “and you’re still pretending you don’t want it?”
You bite your lip. Hard. Dazai kisses your neck, smirking. “Tell us something sweet,” he whispers.
“No.” Chuuya spanks you again—sharp, fast. You moan. Loud.
You try to burry your face, mortified. Dazai grabs your hair and pulls your face up. “No hiding,” he breathes.
Chuuya lifts your hips a little higher. Dazai holds your shoulders, helping you balance. You, tied, bent, trembling are finally out of control. And they’re obsessed. Dazai kisses down your spine. Chuuya presses his thumb between your thighs, rubbing slow lazy circles.You gasp, head dropping forward.
They groan in unison at the sight.
“Good girl…” Chuuya murmurs.
“Naughty girl…” Dazai whispers.
Chuuya’s thumb circles you too slow, too teasing. Dazai squeezes your ass, admiring the way it bounces. You moan again. Then you breathe, voice shaking. “…Is that all?”
They both go still. Deadly still. Chuuya stands abruptly, yanking your hair so your back arches beautifully. “What did you just say?”
You smile. “That the Port Mafia’s strongest men can’t even get me warmed u—”
Dazai cuts you off with a hand squeezing your thigh hard. “You’re going to regret every word you just said,” he murmurs.
Chuuya leans down, lips to your ear. “We’re going to break you.”
You whisper. “Then do it.” They drop to their knees for you. Chuuya first. Then Dazai. Two of the Port Mafia’s strongest men kneeling behind you, staring at your trembling body like they’re about to devour every inch. Your wrists are bound, your knees pressed into the cushions of the couch, your back arched, ass up, thighs trembling.
Chuuya palms the back of your thigh, spreading you open. Dazai groans at the sight. “Fuck… look at her.”
“Don’t stare,” Chuuya mutters, voice low and wrecked, “taste.”
Chuuya leans in first. His breath ghosts over you. Hot, steady, teasing and you shake. “Sensitive already?” he murmurs. “Good.” Then he licks you. A slow, dragging, devastating stroke from bottom to top. With a growl in his throat like he’s been waiting years for this. "Such a pretty pussy... fuck-she tastes good."
You choke on your own breath. Your knees buckle. Dazai catches your hips immediately, holding you steady. “Don’t fall yet,” he purrs. “You haven’t even started begging.”
You want to snap at him—But then Chuuya does it again, tongue circling your clit, pressure perfect, and your entire body jolts. “Fuck—!”
Chuuya groans into you. “Say it again. Chuuya sucks—slow and deep— hands gripping your thighs to pull you against his face. He eats you like he’s starving. No hesitation. No mercy. You tremble violently. Your breath shreds into moans you can’t control.
Dazai watches your face, cupping your cheek from behind, whispering into your ear. “That’s it… fall apart for us…Listen to how good you sound. Our cold little executive falling apart.”
You gasp louder. Chuuya moans into you at the sound, tongue flicking faster, lips closing around your clit. You nearly collapse again.
Dazai moves behind Chuuya, one hand holding your hips up, the other sliding down your stomach, teasing the sensitive skin just above where Chuuya’s mouth is working. You’re shaking so hard Dazai has to steady you. “There you go…” he whispers, voice sinfully soft. “Let him taste you.”
Chuuya pulls back just enough to breathe. “You taste so fucking incredible.” Then he goes back in, harder, hungrier. Tongue fucking into you, nose pressing exactly where you need it.
You moan and Dazai’s fingers curl into your hip so hard he trembles. “Do you hear yourself?” he whispers. “You sound like you’re already ours.”
Chuuya’s mouth stutters when he feels your thighs clamp around him. Dazai lets out a low, broken sound. You pant. “Stop talking and keep going—”
Chuuya growls. Dazai laughs breathlessly. “Oh she’s still a brat,” Dazai whispers, delighted. “Even while she’s about to fall apart.”
Chuuya smacks your thigh lightly. “Hold still.”
You glare over your shoulder. “Make me.”
Chuuya curses and dives back in like a man possessed.
Chuuya doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, gasping, grabbing at nothing with your bound wrists. So Dazai finally pulls him back by the collar, breathing hard. “My turn,” Dazai says. But instead of taking over between your legs he stands, unzips himself, and cups your cheek. “Open.”
You look up at him with dark, ruined eyes. And you smile. A slow, dangerous smile. You open. Dazai inhales sharply like he’s been punched in the chest.
You take him into your mouth, tongue swirling, lips soft and warm, sucking him deep until his hips jerk forward despite himself. He groans. Loud, broken, not controlled at all. “You’re—” He chokes on air. “You’re too good—shit—” Your mouth pulls another moan from his throat.
Behind you, Chuuya watches your ass, breath hot and heavy.
Dazai’s hand tangled in your hair as you keep sucking him.
Chuuya takes his place behind you again. Mouth back on you, tongue sliding deep, groaning into you as he tastes how wet you are.
Dazai’s knees wobble. “Oh god… Watching you suck me while he eats you. You’re going to kill us.”
You moan around Dazai. Chuuya moans into you. Dazai holds your hair back as you lick him slow, teasing.Chuuya spreads you open again and fucks you with his mouth so deep you scream. Your body shakes uncontrollably. Your breath breaks apart. Your moans get louder, higher, desperate and they lose their fucking minds.
Dazai: “Say mine louder.”
You cry out and they both groan so hard it sounds like worship. You’re a beautiful, begging, shaking mess and they’re obsessed. You’re shaking. Chest heaving. Lips swollen. Wrists bound behind you. Knees spread wide on the couch. Face flushed with want and humiliation.
Dazai stands in front of you, breathing hard, hand still tangled in your hair from how you sucked him. Chuuya kneels behind you, mouth wet, chin shiny from you, tongue still licking the last taste of you off his lips. Both men are wrecked. And desperate. And competitive. And every inch of you is about to suffer for it.
Dazai reaches down between your legs, fingers sliding through the mess Chuuya made of you. You jolt, gasping, overstimulated already. “Sensitive?” Dazai coos.
You glare at him. “Try harder.”
Chuuya actually chokes. “Oh she’s asking for it.”
Chuuya climbs up behind you, pressing his chest to your back, one hand gripping your hip to keep you still as Dazai works you with slow, deliberate circles. Dazai smirks. “How long do you think she’ll last? Two minutes?”
Chuuya scoffs. “She won’t last a minute for me.”
You spit back. “I bet neither of you know how to make a woman cum.”
Chuuya lifts your hips slightly higher, using his knees to spread your legs wider. “Hold her,” he mutters.
Dazai grabs your thighs, keeping you open. “Oh sweetheart, you should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
Chuuya reaches between your legs with two fingers and spreads you open more, thumb circling your clit, slow, precise, agonizing. You gasp hard, head falling back.
Dazai watches every micro-expression. “Oh… she’s already shaking.”
Chuuya snorts. “I’ve barely touched her.”
You grit your teeth. “You both talk—”
Dazai presses a finger just inside you. Your voice breaks into a moan. Chuuya laughs darkly. “Not talk anymore, huh?”
They fall into a rhythm Chuuya stroking your clit. Dazai sliding one, then two fingers inside you. Each movement perfectly timed to deny you. Not enough to tip you over. Just enough to drag you to the edge and snatch it away.
You whine, breath cracking. Your thighs tremble. You jerk your hips forward, desperate, instinctive. And both men immediately restrain you. Dazai grips your hips tighter. Chuuya grabs your hair and pulls your head back, forcing you to arch. “Behave,” he growls.
“Or we start over,” Dazai sings sweetly.
You choke out. “Fuck—! Just—let—let me—”
“No,” they answer together.
Your moan breaks into something helpless. They’ve been waiting to hear that sound. “I want to cum!”
“Of course you do, exactly what we expect from such a greedy slut.” You can hear the smirk in Dazai’s voice. “Just ask nicely.”
You bite your lip, refusing.
Chuuya breathes, voice shaking with hunger. “Then we’re gonna keep you right here. Right on the edge until you cry.”
And you do cry, you have no idea how long this has been going on. Dazai curls his fingers deep inside you. Finding that perfect spot and presses. You scream. Chuuya rubs your clit faster, harder, relentless. You sob.
A harsh, shaking sound you didn’t mean to make. Dazai freezes. Chuuya’s breath hitches.” Oh fuck…” Dazai whispers. “She’s crying.”
Chuuya leans in, kissing your cheek where a tear falls. “Good girl,” he murmurs. “Let go.”
Dazai smirks. “That’s the point.”
They edge you again. And again. Until your voice breaks into sobs. Until your thighs twitch violently. Until your body arches uncontrollably. Chuuya strokes your back gently with one hand while ruining you with the other. Dazai whispers filth into your ear. “Cry for us… Come apart for us… Let everyone know who’s breaking you…”
Just when you think you can’t take more they stop touching you. Completely. Your whole body trembles violently. You whimper. “Please—don’t—stop—”
Chuuya stands behind you, rolling up his sleeves. “Get ready,” he says.
Dazai steps beside him, eyes dark. “I go first.”
“No,” Chuuya snaps, “I do.”
You glare back at them through wet lashes. “You both talk too much.”
Dazai responds. “No. I’m spanking her first.”
You shift your hips impatiently. “I bet you both hit like bitches.”
They groan at the same time. Dazai moves first. CRACK. His palm lands on your ass, hard, sending heat shooting through your spine. You yelp—sharp, breathless.
Chuuya watches your reaction. Then scoffs. “That’s nothing.” He winds his arm back. CRACK.
Your knees buckle. You moan into the couch cushion, shaking. Dazai smirks at Chuuya. “Show-off.”
Chuuya smirks back. “Your turn.”
Dazai smacks you again, perfect placement, sharp and stinging. Chuuya immediately answers with one harder. Louder, deeper, making you cry out again.
They fall into a rhythm: Dazai.
Chuuya. Each one harder than the last.
Each one pulling louder noises from you. You can’t tell who’s hitting anymore. Your body jerks, your breath shatters, your tears drip onto your chest. You sob. “Please—please—”
Chuuya growls. “Please what?” You choke on air.
Dazai presses his chest to your back, whispering into your ear. “Say who’s winning.”
You shake your head desperately. “I—I can’t—!”
Chuuya smacks you again. Dazai smacks the other cheek. You scream. Your voice cracks beautifully. Both men moan at the sound.
Tears stream down your cheeks. Your thighs are trembling violently. Your voice is gone, reduced to small, choked gasps and whines. Chuuya’s hands slide around your waist, pulling you upright gently. Dazai unties your wrists with slow, soothing touches.
They’re both panting like they fucked you already. Chuuya kisses your throat. Dazai kisses your jaw. You’re limp, ruined, trembling in their hands. And both of them whisper the same thing: “Good girl.”
Your body is still trembling when they finally lift you. Chuuya pulls you upright first, hands firm on your waist, guiding you out of the bent-over position slowly—like he’s handling something precious. Dazai kneels in front of you, wiping your tears with his thumbs, brushing stray hair back with devastating tenderness.
The contrast, their filthy intentions mixed with this sudden softness. Makes your breath stutter. They Put You Exactly Where They Want You
Chuuya sits back on the couch, legs spread, chest rising and falling fast. He pulls you into his lap, facing him, guiding you with careful, possessive hands. You straddle him, still shaking, your sore ass brushing his thighs. Dazai moves behind the couch, watching you both with hungry eyes. Chuuya cups your jaw with one hand. “Look at me.”
You do. Your breath catches. Because he looks wrecked. Flushed. Consumed.
“You ready?” he asks, voice low, gravelly. You nod. He doesn’t accept that. “Say it.”
Dazai murmurs from behind you. “Louder.”
Chuuya grips your hips, lifts you slightly. And thrusts into you in one slow, deep motion. Your breath breaks. A broken moan rips out of your throat. Your nails dig into his shoulders. Your body trembles violently around him.
He curses into your neck. “Fuck—she’s so tight—”
Dazai grips the back of the couch so hard his knuckles whiten. “Move,” he breathes. “I need to see her face when you fuck her.”
Chuuya starts to thrust, slow at first, savoring every twitch and gasp you give him. Your thighs tighten around him. Your moans turn breathless. Your entire cold facade is gone.
He kisses you hard, messy, teeth clashing, tongues tangled as he fucks you deeper. Your voice trembles. “Chuuya—!”
He groans into your mouth. “That’s right. Say my name. Say it again.”
Dazai suddenly appears behind you, kneeling on the couch. His hands slide down your back over the bruises he made. Over the marks he sucked into your skin, down to your hips. He grips you hard enough to guide your movements.
You’re bouncing on Chuuya’s cock, slow at first. Then faster as Dazai uses his grip to drive you down harder. You cry out. Dazai kisses the back of your neck. “You’re doing so well,” he whispers. “So pretty riding him… look at you, shaking.”
Chuuya thrusts up to meet each movement, moaning into your chest. “Don’t stop,” you gasp.
Dazai smirks. “Oh, sweetheart… we’re not stopping until you beg.” Dazai reaches around your body and grabs your breasts. Both hands, massaging, squeezing, thumbs rolling your nipples until you scream. Chuuya’s thrusts get harder, sharper, deeper. The sound of skin slapping fills the room.
Your head drops onto Chuuya’s shoulder, overwhelmed, gasping, tears forming again. Dazai murmurs in your ear. “Look at her… fucking crying while bouncing on your cock.”
Chuuya grabs your waist with bruising force.“She loves it.”
You manage a broken, desperate, “I—I—”
Dazai grabs your chin, forcing your head back. “Tell us. Who’s making you feel better?”
You gasp. Both men Wait. Watching you. Waiting for the answer. You smirk weakly. “Not sure.”
They snap. Dazai pulls you off Chuuya in one fast, smooth motion, flipping you onto your hands and knees on the couch. You whimper at the sudden emptiness. Dazai positions himself behind you, hand fisting in your hair, other gripping your hip. “You wanna test us?” he breathes, voice dark with arousal. “I’ll go next.”
Chuuya sits back, panting, eyes locked on you, stroking himself slowly as he watches Dazai line up behind you. Dazai pulls your hips back and thrusts into you with one brutal, perfect stroke.
Your scream fills the room. He groans loudly. “Fuck—so tight—so warm—she’s gripping me like she’s begging—”
Chuuya’s jaw drops, hand tightening around himself. Dazai grabs your wrists and pinions them behind your back, forcing your spine to arch, your face pressed into the cushions. Your voice cracks. “Dazai—!”
He laughs breathlessly. “There you go… say my name now.”
Dazai fucks you hard. Fast, deep, relentless and each time you whine, you feel a sharp smack on your ass from Chuuya’s hand. Smack. You moan. Smack. Your legs shake. Smack. You cry out his name.
Dazai growls. “She’s losing it.”
Chuuya snarls. “She’s close.”
They both speak at once, “Yes, you can.”
Dazai keeps thrusting, hips slamming into you. Chuuya kneels in front of you and grabs your face, making you look at him. “Open.” You part your lips and he pushes two fingers into your mouth. You moan around them, tears dripping down your cheeks. Dazai fucks you even harder at the sound. Chuuya whispers. “Good girl… take it… be good…”
Dazai groans behind you. “She’s squeezing me—she’s fucking close—”
Your entire body tightens. Your thighs shake uncontrollably. Your voice shreds. “I—I’m—!—”
Both men snap at once. “Cum.”
Your release hits so violently your arms collapse. Your scream muffles around Chuuya’s fingers. Dazai holds you upright by your hips as you convulse around him, trembling so hard he has to steady you. Chuuya leans forward and kisses your forehead.
Dazai kisses your shoulder. And you fall apart between them. Shaking, crying, gasping, utterly undone.
Dazai pulls out slowly, kissing your back. Chuuya lifts your chin, thumb wiping your tears. They lay you gently between them on the couch. Your head on Chuuya’s chest, your legs draped over Dazai’s thigh. You’re limp. Breathless. Marked everywhere.
Dazai strokes your hair. Chuuya kisses the top of your head. Dazai murmurs. “You’re ours now.”
Chuuya adds, “And we’re not letting you go.”
You exhale a tiny, exhausted. “…okay.”
Both men freeze, then smile. Wrecked. Wild. Satisfied.
Morning in the Port Mafia headquarters is always cold. Sharp. Unforgiving. And today… so are your thighs. You step out of the elevator and the first thing you feel is the deep, bruising ache between your hips. The reminder of two men who had absolutely no business going that hard.
Your legs protest every step. Your back tightens. Your hips feel like they’ve been disassembled and put back incorrectly. You are wrecked.
But you’re an executive, you show nothing. …Mostly.
You walk as normally as you can manage, but there’s a tiny, involuntary stiffness in your stride. Aslight hitch when you shift your weight. Avery subtle wince when your foot hits the ground wrong. And unfortunately people notice. One whispers, “…Is she limping?”
The other. “Did she get shot or something?”
You keep walking. Cold. Expressionless. Even though your inner monologue is screaming. You finally reach your office. You lower into the chair slow and carefully and you fail. Halfway down, a sharp pulse of pain hits your ass. Last night’s spanking competition radiating heat like fresh fire.
You flinch and rip the desk. An operative outside your door peeks in. “…Ma’am? Are you okay?”
You stare him dead in the eyes. “Fine.”
Even though your ass feels like it’s glowing red. You try to sit again. This time you barely manage it, lowering yourself like a grandmother lowering onto a toilet seat made of glass. The instant your weight settles—You immediately regret it.
Your door swings open without knocking. Dazai strolls in, hands behind his head, humming like he slept perfectly fine. You know he did, on your chest. He takes one look at the way you’re perched stiffly on your chair. And his grin grows slow. “Ohhhh? Miss Executive… why are you sitting so gingerly?”
You glare at him, sharp, lethal.
He gasps dramatically and steps closer. “Wait—are you hurt?!” He puts the back of his hand to your forehead. “Do you have a fever? A sprain? Did you strain something?”
You don’t move. You don’t blink. “…Dazai.”
“I can’t,” he says sweetly, leaning down beside your ear. “I’m worried about you.”
You grind your teeth. “Stop.”
He whispers, “You weren’t saying that last night.” You elbow him. He giggles.
Chuuya storms into your office like he owns the place, long coat swaying behind him. “Oi. I need the report you promised me—“ Then he sees how you’re sitting. His sentence collapses. His smirk rises. “Oh. Oh that’s interesting.”
You sit up straighter and instantly regret it.
Chuuya crosses his arms. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you just got thrown off a building.”
Dazai beams at him. “Doesn’t she? Poor thing.”
Chuuya walks behind your chair and leans down to your level. His voice is soft and mocking. “You walking like that ‘cause of us?”
You clench your jaw. “Say another word and I’ll—”
“What?” Chuuya smirks. “Beg for us again?”
He hears it. Dazai gasps again, fake shocked. “Chuuya! Don’t tease her! She’s hurting! She needs comfort!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders dramatically. Then whispers in your ear. “Want me to massage the bruises?”
You shove him off. He laughs.
Chuuya sits casually on the edge of your desk, watching you try (and fail) to shift in your chair without wincing. “Aw, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “you should’ve said something.”
Dazai, “She did. Last night. Loudly.”
“Both of you—shut. up.” You snap.
They share a slow, victorious look.
“…She’s blushing.” Chuuya comments
Dazai agrees. “She’s definitely blushing.”
You glare at them. Chuuya leans down and murmurs against your ear. “You should’ve told us you bruise that easily.”
Dazai kneels beside your chair, smiling up at you innocently. “Or that you can’t walk properly after getting fucked .”
You quietly, viciously respond. “I will kill both of you.”
Chuuya chuckles. Dazai kisses your knee. Your face burns. Chuuya pats your shoulder. “Next time, sweetheart… use your words.”
Dazai nods. “Yes. Say ‘slower.’ Or ‘too big.’ We’ll listen.”
You choke. They smile. You vow revenge.
