he still remembers the first time you used his given name, back when the two were ever so painfully getting closer in your relationship. your voice was soft that evening, and you felt a little reluctant to call him “osamu” for the first time.

if only you knew how his heart skipped a beat at that time—how badly he wanted to ask you to say it again, to bless his ears once more with the warmth and gentleness of your tone. but of course he disguised his initial reaction with a lighthearted response: “ara, ara, is that what you’re calling me now, bella? how scandalous~”

it still feels odd to him, hearing his name being spoken and laced with so many emotions: love, frustration, concern, neediness. he loves it every single time, and he could listen to you say it for hours. maybe it’s a bit indulgent, self-serving even, but he doesn’t necessarily care.

besides, you seem to like calling him by his first name or nickname rather than his last name, given how many times it accidentally slips out at work.

though he doesn’t mind at all, and quite frankly, no one at the agency really does either. it’s a place of chaos and strange wonders, so nobody bats an eye at what you call each other.

to him, it’s more of a sign of how comfortable you are, forgetting where you are and who’s watching in the first place. it warms his chest.

──────── small drabble here (,,>ヮ<,,)

“you okay, ‘samu? you’ve been unusually quiet.” you mumble, gently stroking his hair while his head rests on your chest.

he looks up at you, his heart fluttering once again at the nickname. he actually wonders if he could ever get used to it.

“why, i’m quite alright, my dear~ can’t a man dwell in silence and listen to his lover’s heartbeat once in a while? how am i supposed to hear it when i keep talking?” he says, his voice smooth and steady as ever.

“that is, unless you like hearing me talk? in that case, how about we talk about the new suicide method i thought of. it involves you and your soft, squishy thighs–”

you pull on his hair, causing him to shut up real quick and let out a whine that may or may not sound somewhat indecent.

“bad dog.” you say, and dazai only gasps as he feigns offense, leaning in closer.

“bad dog? how dare you call me such a simple-minded, voracious, filthy beast? i’m so much more intelligent and well-behaved than a stinky mutt!” he says dramatically, pouting ever so slightly.

you giggle at that, feeling just a tiny bit bad. not for him obviously, but rather for the poor dogs he insulted. “i’ll never understand why you hate dogs so much.”

dazai only looks at you, his expression softening at your laugh. he doesn’t really want to answer, so he settles for attacking you with kisses instead.

“simple, they’re sloppy. but i suppose if i’m a dog to you, i may as well act like one too, right?” he teases, his kisses wet and more like he’s licking you, which feels ticklish.

you squeak out in fake disgust, laughing and trying to tilt your head away. “gahh, osamu, stop! that tickles! bad dog, very bad dog!”

eventually, dazai stops and pulls away, giving you room to catch your breath after laughing so much. god, he loves hearing you laugh.

chuuya.:

when you first called chuuya “chuu,” cooing the nickname right into his ear at work, the man was utterly perplexed, confused and embarrassed all at once.

he’s a man of authority at work, and having you rile him up so easily with just a single word, no matter how cute and innocent, is really bad for his ego.

but despite everything, and even while already plotting how to get back at you, he can’t deny that it sounds extremely sweet rolling from your lips.

it gives him a sense of normalcy he’s never known in his messed-up life. how could he, when he literally grew up as a lab rat, got stabbed in the back more times than he can count, and now works in the mafia? and he’s actually decent at his job, too.

no person who’s good at killing will ever feel remotely close to normal or human. no, more often than not he feels empty, like he’s not living but merely existing to serve.

when you enter the picture, however, his perspective changes. he feels happier waking up now, less miserable and more fulfilled. he loves that you provide a stability in his life he so desperately yearned for. after all, the only stable thing he could rely on back then left him, betrayed him. and blowed up his car for no fucking reason at all.

and while chuuya is utterly scared that you’ll betray him too, that you’ll leave him like everyone else did, these small domestic moments silence his doubts.

they remind him that you’re not like the others, that you love him, unconditionally and irrevocably, and he clings so desperately to that feeling. because your love is one of the few things in his life that makes him feel truly human—wanted instead of needed.

it’s such an ordinary thing for couples to do, giving each other nicknames. while he calls you things like darling, sweets, or doll, too, knowing you came up with something personal—even if it’s just a shorter version of his name—makes him feel cozy and warm.

the thought that you even cared enough to come up with something, that it’s specifically meant to tease him and make him feel something, means more to him than you could possibly imagine.

however, just because he’s softening over a nickname doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook. if you want to play, he’ll play dirtier. he’ll tease you with names he’d only use in the bedroom, or touch you where he knows it will leave you wanting more.

──────── small drabble here (,,>ヮ<,,)

“ahh, you’re so damn cute, chuu~ look at you, so focused on such trivial work,” you tease him, sitting on his lap in his office and pinching his cheeks playfully. “my pretty man.”

chuuya only raises a brow, averting his gaze from the file he’s reading and now staring at you. a small smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“heh, cute? is that really all you can come up with to annoy me?” he says, drumming his finger gently over your hip with the hand that’s steadying you.

“oh no, i didn’t mean to annoy you… is my pretty little executive upset i called him cute?” you say in a higher pitch, cupping his cheeks and smiling in amusement.

now you’ve got his full attention. he knows exactly what you’re doing—calling him little when you know how insecure he is about his height.

still, he keeps his emotions surprisingly well in check. though maybe it’s only because he refuses to give you the satisfaction of a reaction when you’re being such a brat. at the same time he can’t let you get away with it so easily either.

“call me little again, i dare you,” chuuya warns, though his voice sounds anything but threatening.

“my little chuu-chuu,” you mumble, a challenging glint in your eyes.

“you’re being bratty on purpose, aren’t you, doll? want me to correct this behavior so badly, hm? well, that can certainly be arranged.” he whispers against your ear, his grip on your hips tightening.

a small shiver runs down your spine at his words and your cheeks grow hotter. this is what you wanted, after all. you love riling him up so much, don’t you? not that he minds. this gives him a reason to be extra rough with you tonight.

“gonna wipe that stupid grin off your face. just you wait until we get home.”

ranpo.:

ranpo is so used to people respecting him, taking him seriously, and using honorifics that compliment him on how intelligent he is.

after all, his ability to deduce the truth or predict an outcome from the smallest of clues is astounding—both to outsiders and to you.

so when you called him “ranran” for the first time, he took it as a challenge. your intentions were innocent enough, just a cute nickname you came up with and wanted to call him.

but who is he if he doesn’t feel just a little mocked by it, as if you weren’t taking him seriously?

to him, nicknames are endearing, yes, but also childish. he prefers the respect that comes with honorifics, the praise tucked neatly inside them. so why should he put up with such antics from you? because you two are together? hardly a reason. at least, that’s what he tells himself at first.

he doesn’t expect you to grovel at his feet (though, admittedly, the image is rather amusing), but he does hope you’d respect him.

truthfully though, the more often you call him by that nickname rather than his actual name, and the way your voice grows softer, more playful when you say it, the less it actually bothers him.

in fact, it starts to feel genuine. adorable, even. and ranpo loves seeing you happy. it makes his heart swell in a way he doesn’t quite know how to deal with.

maybe being seen as just ranpo, your ranpo, the love of your life—hopefully—is sometimes more pleasant than being treated like the world’s greatest detective.

obviously, he’d never admit that. so he keeps up the dramatic act, because letting you know how much it gets to him would be far too vulnerable.

but being with him for some time now, you can read him more easily than he’d like to admit. much to his demise, you realize way sooner than he’d prefer that he actually loves it.

perhaps he shouldn’t let you hang around dazai so much. that man keeps teaching you how to read lies through body language. and now, that’s something even ranpo can’t hide. much to his annoyance.

──────── small drabble here (,,>ヮ<,,)

“soo, how’s my sweet ranran doing?” you ask, plopping yourself over his shoulders and chair at the agency.

it’s a busy day, but you finally have some free time. and what better way to spend it than by annoying– uh, spending time with your ever-so-loving boyfriend?

ranpo, who’s been munching on some snacks, leans his head back and looks up at your face, trying to hide the small smile tugging at his lips with a mild pout.

“don’t call me that,” he says, but you only laugh, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“you know you love it, don’t act like you don’t~” you tease, sitting down in the chair next to him. you rest your head on your hand, elbow on the table, gazing at him while stealing one of his strawberry pocky.

usually he’s the one stealing snacks from others and never lets anyone take his sweets, but as long as it’s you, he allows it.

“you know you’re gonna have to replace that,” he says, watching you eat the pocky with a small hint of amusement.

“aww, is ranran sad his sweets are getting eaten? how ever can i make my darling forgive me?” you muse, playing into his shenanigans.

“well, for one you could go buy me more sweets. but i happen to accept kisses as payment as well,” ranpo says, leaning his upper body ever so slightly closer.

you roll your eyes playfully but eventually comply with his demand, kissing him tenderly.

he smiles at that and holds you in place as you try to pull away, enjoying the warmth radiating from you.

“is the nickname really that bad?” you ask, amused.

“hmm… let’s just say it’s not the worst thing your pretty little mind has come up with.”

atsushi.:

atsushi is used to nicknames, most commonly known under his nemesis’ own: weretiger. though, it isn’t really an intimate one.

he’s quite certain akutagawa only calls him that to mock him, to reduce his worth as a human being by not even acknowledging him as one.

and while he doesn’t mind all that much—since it’s one of the few things that doesn’t sting so horribly, considering what else he was called during his time at the orphanage—nothing could have prepared him for the nickname you decided was his the moment you started dating.

yes, you didn’t even wait until the two of you were settled before addressing him with it. ever since you met atsushi, the name lingered on your tongue, aching to be spoken out loud.

though, he knew long before you first called him “‘sushi” that this would be his nickname, because he saw that you had already saved his contact under that name.

he wasn’t prying, god no. he was just helping you find your phone by calling it. it’s not his fault he was the one who found it first and happened to sneak a peek at the display.

but in all honesty, he didn’t think much of it at the time. after all, his first priority back then was bringing your phone back to you.

it didn’t cross his mind again until much later, when you two finally got together and you called him that sweet, adorable name out loud. and it didn’t help that you said it so casually, so absent-mindedly, in such a soft voice that he practically melted.

he still melts at it even now. he tells himself he should be used to it by this point, but he simply can’t wrap his head around how cute you sound and look saying it, always beaming at the sight of him.

truly, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt more loved in his entire life than with you. and that nickname especially makes him feel cherished.

he doesn’t know exactly why. maybe it’s because it’s from you, specifically. or maybe it’s just the fact that it reminds him he’s grown into someone who can be loved, someone who isn’t useless or worthless

──────── small drabble here (,,>ヮ<,,)

“you know, every time i call you ‘sushi i actually want to eat sushi. maybe atsu is a better nickname,” you mumble, sitting cross-legged while waiting for atsushi to finish braiding your hair.

he loves braiding your hair in the evening before bed. it’s comforting, and a nice way to spend a little more time together before actually falling asleep.

“ah, i’m sorry…?” he says, not entirely sure how to respond. after all, he didn’t choose his own name. though he’s not sure he’d change it even if he had the chance.

“mhm, don’t be. maybe i just need another nickname for you, one that doesn’t make me hungry,” you say, dismissing his apology quickly—you don’t want him to feel bad about his name too.

he’s far too precious to you for that. and you’d never want him to feel more like a burden than he already does.

“what about atsu? would you like that?” you ask, leaning back against his chest as he finishes braiding your hair.

atsushi wraps his arms around you, adjusting you so you’re leaning more comfortably against him.

“hm… i don’t hate it. but you don’t have to change the nickname. we could also just keep some sushi in the fridge to deal with your cravings,” atsushi says.

“ah, and with what money are we going to afford that? besides, sushi tastes best when it’s fresh. nice idea though.” you mumble, closing your eyes as sleepiness begins to wash over you.

“i’ll just stick to ‘sushi. i don’t think i’d be able to erase it from my memory anyway. i’ve had you saved like that in my contacts since forever,” you say, smiling proudly.

“yeah, i know,” atsushi says with a soft chuckle. you open your eyes and look at him, not having expected that.

“how come?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

“w-well, i saw it when i was helping you search for your phone, and my name popped up on the display since i was the one calling you. it wasn’t on purpose…”

“mhm. you sure you didn’t snoop around?” you tease him, smiling lightly.

“of course! i would never go through your stuff, love,” he insists, emphasizing his words so you’ll believe him.

“i was just teasing, ‘sushi. don’t worry, i know you’d never do that,” you say, pulling his face down to press a quick kiss against his lips, which he gladly returns.

۶ৎ note.: i could go on and on about this! having someone create their own nickame just for you or simply calling you by your first name is so dear to me. personalized nicknames over universal nicknames any day !! also, i decided to end my hiatus a day early because i miss writing sm. and just a small last thing, i’ve been getting requests during my hiatus. while i don’t mind that, please keep in mind that in the future my breaks might be longer and that i won’t write them until after my hiatus. hope you guys can understand and respect that! ♡

tagging.: @illchooseanamesoonipromise @xyliskz @justyna4a @sakui1 @irlyluvosamu

↪thanks for reading! reblogs & comments are much appreciated! MLIST