Chapter Text
Crystaliqueeen’s Soukoku Realm Presents:
UNMISTAKEN PLEASURES
"Page 12, Section 16—" Dazai started as he slowly paused, "—Never provoke the dominant."
Chuuya is a sleep-deprived law student and a smutty fanfiction writer. One night, he feels pressured with the deadline of his papers, plus his brain is high in caffeine. Since he's fucking panicking, instead of sending his academic paper, he accidentally sent his sinful smutfic to his calmly provocative professor, Osamu Dazai. It's as shitty as it seems, but who would have thought that it was just the start of something more enticing, sinister, and tempting in Chuuya's life?
CHAPTER 1
If there are three things that Chuuya currently regrets in his life at this moment, they are the following:
One: taking his Juris Doctor degree.
No, no, he's honestly just being dramatic right now. He doesn't really regret it that much, but if he were given a chance to write an entire book, including his monologue filled with rants about the hell he's experiencing in law school, he'd write it in a beat. His degree is not difficult, to be honest, but it needs perseverance, and staying consistent in persevering is hard. He loves what he is doing so no matter how tiring or difficult it is, he’s willing to keep striving.
Two: not getting enough sleep last weekend.
To be fair, he spends his nights writing fanfiction instead of sleeping. There are nights when he can have the privilege of having some time to take a rest and not dwell much on the readings and cases that he needs to digest. However, instead of using that time to rest, he ended up spending it all writing, which he doesn't regret at all. What he regrets is the fact that he could've used at least some sleep. This is the reason why, right now, for the entire damn week, he's been fucking sleep-deprived.
Now, for the last one...
He regrets not being fast enough to click the undo sent button in Gmail.
Fuck.
Here's the thing about Nakahara Chuuya's damn life: Aside from the fact that he had a brother who killed almost all of his friends and a clone who died in his arms when—shit, wrong universe. Let's start again.
Here’s a humble fact about him. Chuuya is simply a sleep-deprived law student and a smutty fanfiction writer. He had been working on his other fanfictions and policy analysis paper simultaneously for the past few weeks, and thus, sleep was never an option. Tonight, there's a deadline that he must beat, and it's actually his fault for writing the fanfic first before his academic paper. Now, he's suffering from the pressure of the deadline and from the fact that he needs to truly submit it or he'll fail his fucking taxation class.
11:50 pm.
10 minutes left before the deadline.
In his dark room filled with strong coffee's aroma, the clicking noises from him slamming his laptop mindlessly are heard. His fingers are typing fast, and his heartbeats are joining the tempo. He's almost there. The paper's almost finished. He just needs to fix and revise it a little bit. Chuuya yawned and blinked rapidly before typing continuously. There's a single drop of sweat slowly sliding from his temple. There are also four cups of coffee on his table, along with the messy piles of his academic papers. He inhaled sharply and immediately saved his paper.
5 minutes left.
He needs to send it directly to his professor's email account, so he immediately went to Gmail and typed a short introductory statement. Again, his fingers rapidly explored his laptop's keyboard. The noise of the tapping is loud, and Chuuya's heart clenches in intense panic when he realizes that it's almost time. His brain is fried as fuck from too much thinking for the past few days, and he's currently high in caffeine.
"Fuck, load faster." He whispered those words while waiting for the folder to open in order for him to attach a file.
1 minute left.
His heartbeat rings in his ears. If he were to fail this fucking subject for the late submission, he'd definitely scream tonight like there's no tomorrow. He didn’t stay out all night this entire week for this paper to fail him. He rubs his hands in frustration, and finally, the folder loads. He immediately clicked and attached the file. He was panicking with all his heart, and just a few seconds before midnight, he pressed that button.
Sent.
"Damn, finally!" He almost punched the air in relief as he fell on his back, leaning on his chair in front of his laptop. Chuuya lets out a heavy, exasperated exhale while smiling a little.
This damn paper is finally over. That's a small accomplishment, but it's truly satisfying. Now, he can start thinking about the other papers that he needs to finish within this week and—
His eyes landed on the attachment that he had sent.
His body froze in horror.
"What the fuck—" Those are the words that escape Chuuya's mouth as he stares at the sent file: "Oh, no, no, no, no, no... no. Shit. Shit. Shit."
He starts feeling cold. His tired-as-fuck brain starts malfunctioning, and his eyes widen as he shakily stares at what happened. With all his might, he immediately reached for his laptop to press the undo button, but it was already too late. Right at that very moment, he feels his heart drop from his chest.
"Fuck, no, what the hell!" He's trembling as he tries to find a way to undo what he sent, but he can't think straight, and he's panicking, and he's getting anxious for the recitation tomorrow, and he hasn't reviewed yet, and he's unfocused, and he can't fucking calm down—
Chuuya feels his world has darkened.
He had sent his 15 thousand-word porn without plot BDSM smutfic instead of sending the file about the damn taxes!
You see, you can't really blame him. When your brain becomes too exhausted to even function, you'll start to unconsciously do dumb things and accidentally do stuff that you will regret for the rest of your life. Did he space out earlier? No, no, he's not spacing out. His mind is fully alert. But why the fuck didn't he realize that he sent the wrong file? Is it because of the coffee? Did he misread the file name? Why the hell are those files even in the same folder? What happened? It's midnight, and he's panicking to send it in order to beat the paper's deadline and save his grades.
Then slowly, his gaze landed on the recipient.
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Chuuya wants to shout and punch gravity. If he were in another universe, he would probably go on a rampage because of this. He inhales sharply and clenches his fist tight as he calms himself down. His nervousness is too much as he realizes how shitty this situation is. First, his grade in this subject will sink. Second, this subject's professor is terrifying.
And lastly...
"Oh fucking hell," he mutters in desperation as he exhales heavily again while trying to calm himself down, "You stupid little shit—goddamn it, Chuuya. What have you done?"
He bites his lip hard in irritation and panic. His professor in this subject, Osamu Dazai, is a calm and calculative genius. He's the type of person who resembles a walking mystery. He might be an extremely enigmatic individual, but there's something about him that is undoubtedly mesmerizing, so much so that even Chuuya is captivated— just a little captivated.
In short—
The entire steamy fanfiction is about Osamu Dazai himself.
Professor Dazai is just perfect. Yes, he can be pretty intimidating, especially when he gives firm and in-depth lectures, but his movements are all gentle and cold in a very—how should Chuuya explain it?—sexy way. His voice is also mild; hypnotic, and irresistible, and his eyes? Oh damn—
His observant eyes are penetrating.
It's enough to bring a sudden jolt of chills down Chuuya's spine whenever their eyes meet for milliseconds in the middle of discussion. Dazai's impassive expression is too much to handle when he's tackling intellectual and legal things, but his eyes... there's more to that that's even harder to handle. It's as if he can see through your soul and read every single thing inside your mind. That's what Chuuya feels whenever he's inside the four corners of the classroom with Dazai.
Now, to say that he has a little crush on his professor is understandable. It is Dazai's fault for being hot. What's odd is the fanfiction itself.
Well, when you're stressed, you need a release, and writing has always been Chuuya's release. In this context, where everything's professional and legal, he needs a breath of smutty literary works to keep himself sane. He can write fanfiction about others, but he's not inspired to do so. Yes, inspiration plays a huge role in this. That's why, when he started admiring his professor a little, he realized that he could use Dazai as a domain of that stress-relief. He can use Dazai as his fanfiction's subject.
No homoerotic shits were intended. It's entirely for a breather and stress relief.
What he didn't expect was this entire plot twist.
"Greetings, Mr. Osamu Dazai. Attached herewith is the analysis regarding Monetary and Fiscal Stabilization Policies as well as the empirical study of the existing Fiscal Deficiency in our country's economy. Please be guided."
With regards,
Nakahara Chuuya.
Reply. Reply all. Forward.
"Policy analysis on fiscal stabilization, my ass." Chuuya whispers in frustration.
He lets out another heavy sigh as he clicks the file and sees the fanfiction instead. A scream of terror escapes from the back of his throat as he almost falls from his chair. The title of the story met his eyes, and the preface made him silently curse in horror.
The Devil's Temptation
Written by Nakahara Chuuya
"Keep quiet," Dazai whispers as he stands in front of a redhead with an impassive look. "I don't want to hear you whimper in pain."
His grip tightened on the whip that he'd been holding. He's looking directly at the petite body in front of him, kneeling with his arms tied. He looks beautiful; as always, his beloved looks beautiful. Dazai's eyes lowered down at the tied man in front of him. His dark eyes are merciless and cold. "What did I say about you escaping, Chuuya?"
Yet, instead of answering him, Chuuya just pressed his lips tightly together.
Dazai takes a closer step toward the kneeling man and reaches his hand to touch Chuuya's lips, sliding his strong fingers to the delicate chin of his possession as he pushes it upwards to make Chuuya look up at him.
There, he sees the mesmerizing blue eyes of his masterpiece.
His eyes remain cold and manipulative, while Chuuya stares back at him with a fiery glare. It's too tough and too unnerving. It made Dazai's heart tighten in anticipation.
It would be lovely to see those firm, courageous eyes turn into something broken and shattered. Chuuya's body is filled with bruises and red marks. He's stripped naked while being tied in Dazai's dark and chilly basement. It's such a sight to remember. His hair is also fixed in a messy ponytail for an easier grab, which Dazai can use in many ways.
But he doesn't look scared.
Chuuya's eyes are still burning with anger, resentment, and pain—not from the physical pain that Dazai inflicted earlier, but deeper than that.
"You've been very disobedient, kitten," Dazai mutters. "I must teach you a lesson you'll never forget."
Chuuya immediately closed the file and pulled his hair in intense annoyance and frustration. This scene is very steamy and kinky. It's also a Dazai x Chuuya fanfiction, which means—
I'm in fucking trouble.
The most rational thing to do is send an apology message, but Chuuya can't calm down. Not now. Not when he doesn't know what to say or how to start it. He can send a message to Atty. Osamu Dazai tonight, but he doesn't know what to say. He can also apologize tomorrow, but he doesn't know what face he will show to his professor.
Damn it.
With a heavy chest and a stressed-as-fuck mind, he tried to stay calm before he opened another document to start working on his other papers. He can't panic entirely tonight. He needs to utilize his time. He can't get frustrated for long since he still needs to finish a lot of papers. He will postpone his embarrassing breakdown since he still needs to survive law school.
—
The day after that is the day of his execution.
As always, Chuuya woke up early and prepared to go to work. It's not like he slept in the first place. There are visible bags underneath his eyes, and he looks like a walking manifesto of sleep deprivation. He wasn't able to have a proper sleep since he'd been reading cases all night, and he also couldn't get the accident that happened out of his mind. Right now, unlike his mafia counterpart in the canonverse, he doesn't look fancy. He doesn't have time to be fancy. Law school is not about being fancy when the students' minds are fucked.
And well—
The morning happens as usual. His class will start around afternoon. In the morning, he needs to work in his office as a market analyst. As someone who graduated with a degree in political economy as his pre-law course, Chuuya's pretty confident in his skills. Though, to state a fact, life in university and law school is entirely different. He never doubts his intellectual capability when he's still an undergraduate, but law school can certainly humble a person. He was humbled real quick since he stepped into that educational institution.
Sighing, he hopped down from his motorcycle and walked into the shared office. Stressed from last night, he lets himself fall down on his cubicle's seat before preparing the necessary equipment to start working. From the cubicle beside him, there's his co-worker, Tachihara, who is grinning at him.
"Have you seen the email our boss sent yesterday?"
The word "email" made Chuuya shudder as his temple pulsed in traumatic reminiscence of what happened last night.
"No, I got busy. What is it about?"
Tachihara blinks in disbelief and says, "You haven't seen it yet? Mr. Dostoevsky is requiring all the employees to attend an event this weekend."
"Ah." Chuuya shrugged at the announcement and said, "Ok. Is that it?"
"What do you mean, 'Is that it?' Aren't you excited? Mr. Dostoevsky rarely invites employees on special occasions. I've heard that this is the first time this company has had one in a while. Will you come?"
Chuuya waited for the desktop to load before he started putting on his headphones. "Ya said that it's mandatory. I guess I have no choice."
He added a grin to hide the drowsiness in his eyes. After that, he starts working, letting all his academic problems out of his mind for a while.
He doesn't really care about the company's events. His boss, Fyodor Dostoevsky, rarely shows himself in the office. His secretary, Nikolai, was the one active most of the time, so Chuuya couldn't care less if Fyodor wanted to invite the employees or anyone else to the event. He doesn't even know what Fyodor looks like or whoever he is, aside from the fact that he's the company's boss.
Typing, Chuuya lets himself get lost in the realm of his job.
After working, he immediately drove toward the university. There, he can continue reviewing his stuff again. He stays in the library, reading some cases, while waiting for the start of the class. The afternoon happens as usual. Recits, codal readings, multiple cans of coffee, and small chit chat with his colleagues (mostly Albatross and their group named Flag)—everything is the same until it's 6:00 p.m.—the time of their lecture with Professor Osamu Dazai.
And Chuuya had never felt his heart beat fast like this before.
It's not love, damn it, no. It's fear and nervousness. Imagine that scenario when you've never reviewed anything and then there's a very hard recitation with your terror professor. Yeah. That kind of nervousness. It's nauseating. His head feels dizzy (from the lack of sleep and anxiety). He's anxious, although that fear is not because of the recitation but because of the—
"Hey, are you ok?" Albatross, who is sitting beside him, asked, "You look pale."
"I didn't read all the cases last night," Chuuya replied, lying to prevent Albatross from asking more questions.
"We both know that you probably finished reading the cases last time. It's not a problem for you anymore. You honestly look like you'll piss on your pants right now. Why are you nervous? It's rare. Just yesterday, you were grinning after a good recit."
Chuuya sighs, "It’s good ‘till it lasts."
"I bet something bad happened," Albatross mumbled. "My instincts are telling me those things.. It's saying something like, "You should give Chuuya your support. His life's going to get fucked up soon.” "
Chuuya freezes and glares at his friend. Albatross' instincts are really accurate. His life's going to get messed up soon, huh? Chuuya leans on his chair and crosses his arms. He needs to think of a way to fix this. He needs to—
His thoughts paused when Dazai stepped inside the classroom. Instantly, everyone stayed silent. The intimidating and heavy atmosphere starts arising in the air. Everyone starts praying to not be called on in the recitation later, but Chuuya's too unfocused while following Dazai's movements with his eyes. His gaze narrowed as a sharp sigh of disbelief fell out of his lips. The man is wearing his usual white turtleneck long sleeves underneath his black cardigan coat. His eyes are emotionless, and his lips are calmly pressed together. He looks...
Damn it.
Chuuya immediately averted his gaze.
It's a good thing since Dazai never looks in his direction, too. As usual, his presence is invisible in the man's realm. Dazai starts his discussion with pure professionalism and calmness. The class is all nervous while listening because it's Dazai Osamu, their professor who can teach really well but can traumatize you once he starts asking questions.
The time meant for the class is long, as three hours seems like forever. Throughout the discussion, Chuuya is either looking down or highlighting his codals to prevent any eye contact with the man. He's also listening and taking notes while sometimes getting distracted by Dazai's low and gentle voice, which soothes everyone's ears inevitably.
He feels a lump inside his chest, but he ignores it. This feeling is annoying, but life goes on. The lecture ensues until it's over.
Finally.
He can finally walk outside the classroom, grab another can of coffee to flush the lump down his stomach, and forget everything. He can work on it. He'll find a way to fix it. He should write an apology letter or apologize in person. But first, he needs to get out of here. He needs to get away from Dazai. Thankfully, the class is over, and he's fucking safe.
"Before I forget, I have received all the papers that you've submitted." Dazai stated in a calm tone, "I made sure to read them all."
No way.
No fucking way.
If the firm emphasis in Dazai's last words is just his hallucination, Chuuya will never know. Dazai's voice rings inside his ear. He made sure to read them all. It's enough to break his optimism that everything will be alright. All he can think of right now is him drowning in some prison in a meursault to escape this unexplainable embarrassing moment. No, actually, it’s worse than that.
Dazai read the papers.
Dazai has read the smutty fanfiction about him.
Chuuya pressed his lips tightly as he started internally cursing himself again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his fist is clenched tightly. From his peripheral vision, he can see Albatross blinking at him in confusion. His instincts are probably coming to fruition. His life will start getting messed up from here. Damn it.
"I've also noticed how hard you've worked for the papers. Most of the papers are informative, and some are—" Dazai paused as his lips slowly crept into a small, calm smile.
Chuuya clenches his fists tighter. He can hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears, and he's doing his best to keep looking down at his chest to avoid eye contact.
"—Well-written." Dazai continued as he started walking around the room with a calculative gaze. His pace is deliberate. It's slow and predatory.
Chuuya's grip on the pen that he's holding tightened. Dazai continued speaking.
"Although, I must say that I have a certain concern regarding your papers."
Dazai mutters those words as his calculative smile never leaves his lips. His voice echoes inside the silent room. It makes everyone listen further. Everyone except Chuuya can't listen to any of this anymore. All he can hear are his rambling heartbeats inside his chest.
"The papers that you have submitted need further deliberation. Think of it as an oral examination in comparison to the written one. This deliberation will take place tomorrow. It means one thing."
Chuuya feels his lungs contract when he sees a shiny pair of shoes in front of him. The atmosphere becomes thicker and suffocating. He's still looking down, but he can feel an eye staring at him right now. Dazai had stopped walking in between the classroom's aisles, just beside where Chuuya is currently sitting.
Shit, shit, shit.
"I shall discuss your academic papers personally."
Kill me.
He's still sitting on his seat while looking down. He looks calm and silent. There is no expression on his face at the moment, but he can feel a sharp heat injected into his veins when he hears those words. He can't breathe properly, and the anxiety that he's experiencing right now is really annoying. He wants to throw up. He needs to throw up.
Dazai is telling that to everyone in the class, but Chuuya can feel the sharpness of the tone directed at him. It's as if Dazai's intention of saying those words was for him to hear them. Or is he being delusional? Maybe. Maybe he's indeed being delusional. It's confusing.
He's still looking down, and he knows Dazai is standing beside him at the moment. He doesn't want to look up and meet the man's gaze. He can't. Not now. Not when he’s at risk of experiencing heart failure.
"Do you understand?" Chuuya's breath hitched when he heard those deep whispers lingering in his core. "...class?"
It squeezed the breath out of his system. Dazai's voice is low and dangerous. It lingers in his bones, and that voice is enough to bring shivers down his spine. Chuuya knows that it's a silent threat. He can feel how it’s a silent threat.
Everyone inside the room except him answers, "Yes, sir!" without realizing anything, and Chuuya wants to groan because what the fuck is this tension that's suffocating him right now?
"Good." Dazai whispers lowly, and Chuuya can feel the heat from that word.
They're close—too close—and there's something in their closeness that he can't quite explain. The heat from their distance is unexplainable. Despite not being touched or talked to, he can feel a burning sensation flowing through his nerves. Whatever the fuck is this, he doesn’t want to know. There’s a lot on his platter. There’s too much emotion inside him. His jaw clenches.
Thankfully, Dazai starts walking back towards his seat, creating a safe distance between them. Chuuya sighs in relief. It's as if a boulder was lifted out of his chest. He feels like he can finally breathe a little.
What was that tension?
"Class dismissed." Dazai stated this in his usual calm tone, and everyone started packing their things before walking outside.
Albatross and the others have already told him that they'll wait in the cafeteria before rushing out of the classroom. Chuuya tries to calm himself as he starts fixing his things as well. He's still avoiding any possible eye contact, and because he feels weak from the tension earlier, he suddenly drops all his stuff on the floor.
He's slightly trembling. What the hell?
He silently curses because all his things start scattering like shit. The papers, his highlighters, and his pen—everything looks messy on the floor. Why was he being so damn careless and unlucky earlier? What are these unusual and unfortunate events happening in his life? He needs to go out, but—
"Hold them tighter next time." A deep, soothing voice made his thoughts halt: "That way, they won't escape from your grip."
Oh.
He blinked.
"Yeah, thanks," He replied nonchalantly, trying to act calm as he picked up his stuff. It took him a while to fully arrange it all inside his bag. When he's done, he realizes how he's now all alone inside the room with his professor.
With Dazai.
Fuck.
While still avoiding eye contact, he starts walking towards the door. He tried to pretend like nothing happened. He thought he was safe when suddenly, that same gentle voice stopped him from moving.
"My office—" Dazai stated calmly while leaning on his swivel chair. Chuuya pauses. He inhales deeply and turns around, only to see Dazai staring at him with observant eyes. As expected, he was unable to say anything in response. He's paralyzed while finally looking directly into the brunette's deep gaze, "—Meet me in my office tomorrow." Dazai stated those words gently and added, "For your paper's deliberation."
Shit.
Chuuya feels like there's a huge boulder falling down on him again. He feels like it's the end of the world when he hears that statement. He can already hear the upcoming alien invasion and robotic dominance. He can already smell chaos. What does Dazai mean? Personal meeting for the paper's deliberation? He wouldn't be confused if only he had submitted the proper papers, but that's not the case here. He submitted the wrong ones. There's no deliberation needed in that fucking smutfic.
It's not necessary.
"About that, it’s—" Chuuya feels his raspy voice stuck a little as he clears his throat and adds, "Why?"
Kill me.
The last word is not a question but a silent statement. Dazai's facial expression didn't change at all. "Why?"
"Atty. Dazai..."
"There are a lot of things that must be discussed regarding what you've submitted, Mr. Nakahara."
Chuuya bites the inside of his cheek when he hears Dazai's voice calling his surname. Why does it sound delicate and hot at the same time with the way his tongue rolls? He may look normal on the outside, but on the inside, he's rampaging like there's a destructive god inside his body. He tries to get a grip. He needs to get a grip.
"About that, I need to explain and apologize for what I've done."
Dazai calmly looks at the papers in front of his desk as his lips curve into a gentle smile. "We can also talk about that matter in the deliberation tomorrow."
Chuuya exhales. Dazai is right. Now is not the time for this. He needs to think rationally. He must think rationally in order to survive whatever the hell is happening in his life right now. With a nod, he replied, "Alright. Tomorrow, sir."
Dazai seems to approve of his response as he exhales thinly, "Perfect." The man stated that in a very deliberate manner, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."
Chuuya nods and tries to smile, but he fails miserably upon seeing Dazai's penetrating gaze directed at him again. With a shaky voice, he replied, "Yes. See you, Professor."
He immediately turned his back and walked toward the door. His heart is beating loudly. The air inside the classroom is heavy. He needs to get out of here as soon as possible. He was about to touch the doorknob when Dazai said something that made him freeze again.
"Page 15, third paragraph." Dazai muttered in a deep manner, "Revise the cable ties, Mr. Nakahara."
Did Dazai just bring the cable ties up? What the fuck.
Chuuya's eyes widened as his chest tightened. "What—"
There’s a beat, and then there's silence. Chuuya knows that the unspoken pressure and tension in that silence are enough to kill anyone. Dazai broke that silence when his half-lidded gaze met his eyes inevitably. His delectable lips still curved in a calm smile.
"Revisions must be made on your submitted output,” Those words are intoxicating and provocative, a soft bullet that scathes him. Dazai’s eyes penetrate his soul again, “Realistically, I'd say I prefer… handcuffs.”
What the actual fuck.
>>>