#bsd chuya

a/n: the last one is nsfw

⋆˚࿔ “doll”— the world just slips out of his mouth way too often. It doesn't matter where you are, what you're doing or who is around you. Whether you're guest at the Port Mafia HQ and he's in front of all his subordinates or you're in your shared bedroom together with the lights off, he will say it. In his eyes, "doll" is the most eulogistic pet name of all. A doll is beautiful, delicate, precious and most importantly his. It's his way of saying "you're mine, and I love you" every time he's speaking with you.

The room is bathed in light filtering through the bluish-tinted windows; the sun hangs high in the sky. It isn't your first time visiting the Port Mafia headquarters, but today feels different. You came to surprise Chuuya, but he hasn't returned from his mission yet, leaving you in the company of his subordinates. To be honest, they aren't as bad as you expected. In fact, they are quite polite and kind—though perhaps that’s just because they know Chuuya would skin them alive if so much as a hair on your head were harmed. Anyway. The door on the far side of the room opens and Chuuya appears, his gloves stained with blood and his coat draped over his arm. As soon as he sees you, his eyes light up and he walks toward you, stopping short of an embrace to avoid getting you dirty. "Doll," he whispers, taking off his gloves. "Why are you here?" He takes your hand in his now un-gloved ones. "I just wanted to see you." You say with a smile, while in the background his subordinates look at each other uncomfortably, clearing their throats and considering if they should leave the two of you alone.

⋆˚࿔ “babe”— he'll call you that whenever he's worried for you. It's simply faster to pronounce and he usually rushes words a lot when he's worried, especially if it is because someone might hurt you. It's for when he has to call out for you to warn you about something physical that might be about to happen (even when it's just a book falling on the floor because you hit it) but he slowly started using it also when you're sad and he doesn't know why —it makes him worry more that it should.

Being Chuuya Nakahara is no easy task, especially when you care so deeply for someone and you know you inevitably made them a target for all your enemies the moment you finally won their love. He knows he shouldn't, but he worries about you constantly. You’re in the kitchen now, soft jazz plays on the radio. Chuuya watches you cook, his eyes full of adoration. He still can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that you’re together, that you live under the same roof, and that he gets to share such a... normal life with you. "Ouch!" You quickly pull your hand up and bring it to your lips. "Babe?" The words tumble out so quickly that it seems almost impossible for Chuuya to have been so relaxed just a moment ago. Suddenly, he’s standing right in front of you, examining your hand. "Hey, I'm fine. I just cut myself." "Oh..." He blinks a couple of times and lets go of your hand. "Oh, good. Sorry. Does it hurt? Let me put a bandage on it." You watch him with a small smile as he heads to the bathroom and starts rummaging around for bandages.

⋆˚࿔ “darling”— is all you're gonna hear when you're out for a date. He wants it to bee romantic and he feels like "doll" isn't enough. He wants to make you feel like you're the most important thing in his life (which actually you are) and he thinks "darling" sounds incredibly good when you're in a dimly lit room sat at a round table in a pretty dress and sipping expensive wine.

The room was lit by small candles on the tables; the frescoed walls were half-immersed in darkness and the ceiling adorned with mythological paintings, while the air was filled with soft music. There was no one else in the restaurant but the two of you. Chuuya was wearing a dark red suit, his sunset-colored hair illuminated by the candlelight. He placed his hand over yours. "I'm glad I managed to reschedule the meeting with the Boss." You smiled. "I'm glad, too." There was a brief silence, then Chuuya whispered—in a moment of vulnerability that would have seemed astonishing with anyone else—"I love you, my darling."

⋆˚࿔ “angel”— this one is only and specifically for when you're in bed. He's gonna murmur it in your ear while he hugs you under the blankets, relaxing after a long day at work, or groan it while he's topping you, sweaty and close to his climax. All that matters is that you're in bed, alone with each other, and that he finally can let himself go with you.

There are days like today when I miss the time with my sheep.

⊹ ꒰🍷꒱ ˖ watch ur back! — chuuya x fem!reader‎ 𓏲ּ𝄢

cw: sfw, crack, suggestive if u squint

a/n: gsjrjfsrh i love this idea smmm (˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵), enjoy! 𖹭 last div by tsumiinum ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୨ 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓸𝓷𝓼 ୧ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡

⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ ‎your pranks keep him on his toes in the best way. hiding his hat only for him to find it perched on your head while you strike a dramatic pose, swapping his wine with a non-alcoholic version just to watch his expression shift before he haules you into his lap, growling playful threats against your neck. he pretends to be annoyed, but the way his grip lingers and the soft curses laced with affection give him away. life with the mafia ia sharp and dangerous; you make the in between moments feel like something worth coming home to.

⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ tickle fights & wrestling matches happen constantly. you’ll pounce on him while he is trying to relax on the couch, fingers digging into his sides or attempting to pin his arms. he'll indulge you for a minute or two, trying not to let out hid laughs while letting you think you have the upper hand, before flipping you effortlessly beneath him. his hat will end up knocked sideways, his coat rumpled, and he'll be laughing that rare, rough laugh while you try (and fail) to escape. the fights always end the same way—his mouth on yours, hands firm on your waist, the playfulness melting into something warmer and more intimate. you love how easily he matches your chaos without ever making you feel silly for it

⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ sneaking up on him has become your favorite sport. you'll wait until he's pouring a glass of wine or reviewing reports, then launch yourself at his back with a laugh already bubbling out. he always senses you coming—but he lets you get close anyway, just so he can spin around at the last second, catch you mid jump, and pin you against the nearest surface with that smirk. “nice try, doll,” he'll mutter, voice low, while you squirm and giggled in his hold. you never win those surprise attacks, but losing to him feels like winning anyway.

⋆‧𓏲ּ𝄢𓏲ּ even on rough days, when missions leave him tense and quiet, you never let the mood stay heavy for long. you bounce into his space with that bright, relentless smile, tugging him out for a late night drive or challenging him to some stupid game that ends with both of you breathless and tangled together. he never tells you to tone it down. Instead, he pulls you close afterward, forehead pressed to yours, murmuring how you are the only damn person who can make him forget the blood on his hands for a while.

♡ ｡ﾟ•┈ ୧ 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓫𝓵𝓮 ୨ ┈• ｡ﾟ♡

you never played fair, and chuuya had learned to expect it.

the second he stepped into the bedroom in nothing but sweatpants and a loose tshirt, you struck. you tackled him from the side like an overexcited linebacker, arms wrapping around his waist as the two of you crashed sideways onto the bed. he let out a surprised grunt, half laughing already because he knew exactly what was coming.

“the fuck- get off me, you menace-”

too late. you were already wrestling for position, legs tangling with his as you tried to pin him down. chuuya flipped you effortlessly, but you hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him with you, both of you rolling in a mess of limbs and laughter. his shirt rode up—perfect target.

“think you can relax, huh?” you teased, fingers already digging into his sides as you wrestled to stay on top.

“fuck-” chuuya let out out a loud, undignified laugh and bucked hard, nearly throwing you off the bed entirely. he grabbed your waist to steady himself and immediately regretted it—you used the grip against him, digging in right where his sides dipped. giggles burst out of you at the way his face twisted, trying so hard to stay composed while losing the battle.

he retaliated fast. one strong arm locked around your middle, pulling you flush against him as he rolled on top. the wrestling turned into pure chaos. you were squirming and kicking, him pinning one of your thighs with his knee while his free hand went straight for your worst spots.

you shrieked with laughter, head thrown back against the pillows. “chuuya- no no no-!”

“yes,” he shot back, grinning like a shark even as his own laughter kept breaking through while he hovered over you, hat long gone, red hair messy, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. he leaned down mid tickle and pressed a quick, messy kiss to your open mouth, swallowing one of your giggles. the kiss was clumsy, teeth clicking because neither of you could stop laughing. he pulled back just enough to nip at your jaw, then attacked your neck with tickling fingers again.

you wheezed, tears threatening to spill, and tried to twist away. your hands shoved at his chest, then immediately snuck back under his shirt to tickle him right back. chuuya’s shoulders shook with suppressed giggles as he caught your wrists, but you kept wriggling, hips bumping, legs kicking.

another kiss—deeper this time, slower, right as your giggles started to die down. his tongue brushed yours, tasting the bright, breathless joy still bubbling out of you. then he smirked and went right back to tickling your sides.

“asshole!” you gasped into his mouth between peals of laughter, trying to curl into a ball. he wouldn’t let you, body draped heavy and warm over yours, one hand still loosely pinning your wrists while the other tortured you with light, maddening scratches.

eventually you tapped out against his chest, gasping for air. he finally relented, collapsing beside you and pulling you half on top of him. his chest heaved with leftover chuckles as he pressed one last, lingering kiss to the top of your head, fingers now gently tracing your back instead of attacking it.

“you’re ridiculous, woman” he muttered, voice warm with fondness.

you just grinned against his collarbone, still catching your breath. “you love it.”

“yeah, sweetheart” he admitted, voice rough with laughter and something sweeter. “i really fucking do.”

♡𐙚ּ ֶָ֢.

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