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“What do you think?” Dazai spins around, her dress flaring up in a circle around her, lace dancing like waves. The dress is something Chuuya picked out ages ago, drunk out of her mind and dreaming of Dazai. She never thought she’d have an opportunity to put it to use, never mind get Dazai to wear it.
Dazai’s never been one for dressing up; in the mafia, as far as anyone knows, her outfits were all curated by Mori or occasionally Kouyou, meant to represent a certain image. All of the money anyone else would have spent on clothes or self care, Dazai spent on whatever caught her interest that day. A car she couldn’t drive, drugs she was banned from accessing, companies. Then, when she finally left and joined the agency, she kept Oda’s coat and wore whatever she thought detectives wore. It’s all very inspired by documentaries and crime television they used to watch as kids, as far as Chuuya can tell.
It’s a bit of a treat to see Dazai dressed in something frilly, for once. Elise wore them often, and while Chuuya isn’t stoked about the implications of that, she’s selfishly glad it set Dazai off them. This image of Dazai, soft and angelic, is for her eyes only. She’d gladly rip out the eyes of anyone who tried to look at what was hers.
“Hellooo? Earth to Chuuya?” Dazai waves her hands vigorously in front of her face, and Chuuya catches the way her breasts move a little under the dress, her thighs peeking out from beneath the hooped skirt. “Is it no good? Maybe I should stick to mafia black after all…” Dazai continues after a moment, voice teasing, but Chuuya catches the notes of uncertainty in her eyes.
“No! No, just. Taking it all in.” Chuuya sputters, waving her hands. The last thing she wants to do is set Dazai back in her… whatever it is she’s doing at the agency. “It’s nice. Really accents your waist.” She draws her eyes to said waist, how perfectly grabable it is, just plush enough that she imagines how soft she must be beneath the fabric, how pretty her skin is…
“Well, I do have a stunning waist.” Dazai agrees, spinning around again and giving Chuuya an ample view of her ass. “Lots of coverage… I don’t think I ever have to wear my bandages under this.” She twists a little in the mirror, trying to get a view of her arms in the tiny changing room. When Chuuya had booked the session, she’d expected the room to be a bit bigger, but she supposes stores never really expect rich mafiosos to book out the entire store for single dress try on.
“I don’t have shoes though…” Dazai leans down to take a look at her bare feet, showing off a little by arching her back, and Chuuya knows when Dazai is genuinely thinking and when she is tempting her. There’s no chance Dazai gives a fuck about her shoes, or lack thereof. She’s trying to see what she can get away with.
Most things are games with Dazai. It irritates her just as much as it amuses her, because as much as Dazai likes playing, she is terrible outside the chess board. “Oh? Should we go shoe shopping?” Chuuya pretends to think, tapping her gloved hand on her chin. “I don’t think any stores are open this late… Maybe we should split up and look around.”
Dazai flusters, straightening. “I don’t know if that’s necessary–”
Chuuya snaps her fingers in mock epiphany. “Oh, no you’re right!” The words burn her tongue, but she perseveres. “I’ll order it online. Same day shipping. I can have Akutagawa pass it off to Atsushi the next time they ‘stumble across each other’.” She grins at Dazai’s worsening poker face. “That way we can end the day now and get on with what we had planned.” She tilts her head, as if asking for agreement.
“Well…” Dazai pauses, her face going pleasantly blank as her brain clearly works overtime to figure out how to get what she wants. She’s so endearing. They both know if Dazai asks, Chuuya will be more than happy to provide, yet every time she does this charade of pretense. It’s as amusing as it’s long winded.
“Oh? Did you have something else in mind you wanted to do?” Chuuya outright teases, and Dazai goes a delicious shade of beet red, eyes darting around to finally rest on the mirrorless ceiling. “Just ask, darling.” Chuuya purrs, leaning in closer, her breath hot in Dazai’s face.
It’s fascinating, watching Dazai’s pride fight against her arousal. Typically she masks it well, but they haven’t seen each other in months, and Chuuya knows Dazai is as pent up as she is, even though she makes a show out of flirting with all sorts of men and women in the city. Finally, after a moment, Dazai clearly resigns herself, slumping a little towards Chuuya’s waiting arms. “Can we have sex?” She breathes, then immediately cringes.
Chuuya laughs, tugging Dazai into her arms. “Was that so hard?” She reaches up to pull the dress’s collar to the side, mouthing at Dazai’s neck. Dazai whimpers, her hands darting over to cling to Chuuya’s body, eyes slamming shut.
“I asked you a question, honey.” Chuuya bites down, pushing Dazai against the mirrored wall until her Dazai buckles, slumping down to give Chuuya better access. “No…” Dazai pouts, and Chuuya chuckles, taking full advantage of their positioning to fondle at Dazai’s plush breasts.
She really has gotten healthier. When they were teens, fondling Dazai was a bit like fondling a brick wall. She had tits, of course, but she was malnourished to death and had an unhealthy obsession with binding every part of her body with bandages. Now, Chuuya can take a handful of them and squeeze the soft flesh, feeling their weight in her hands. It’s drool worthy.
Dazai whimpers again, legs trembling, and Chuuya takes pity on her by shoving her knee between her legs, grinding down on the unclothes heat hidden behind the layer of frill. She stares incredulously, then dares to look back at Dazai, who still will not look her in the eyes. “You didn’t even wear panties?!” She hisses, and Dazai whines, batting uselessly at Chuuya’s shoulders. “I didn’t want to ruin them!” She hisses right back, diminished by her hips beginning to grind at Chuuya’s leg, almost as if she couldn’t help herself.
“Really? Four weeks and you’re baring your needy pussy for the world to see?” Chuuya says, and Dazai moans unabashedly at the words, hips going faster in quick, furious grinds, leaving behind patches of wetness in their wake. “Darling, I didn’t know you were such a
whore
.” Chuuya grinds her legs a little harsher, and Dazai spasms immediately, hips stuttering and mouth hanging open as she orgasms, silent wails slipping past her mouth and Chuuya continues her ministrations, one of her hands abandoning Dazai’s breasts to ghost over her puffy pussy lips. “Look at you… honey, you’ve ruined my pants.” She tsks, rubbing gently at Dazai’s needy clit, causing her to jolt again as she either orgasms again or rides a second wave of her orgasm. It’s always a bit hard to tell with Dazai. “All this work just for you to soak this pretty dress I got you…”
“M sorry, sorry Chuuya.” Dazai babbles ditsily, and while Chuuya loves every version of Dazai, this one is one of her favourites. Dazai nuzzles into Chuuya’s chest, eyes large and watery as she comes down from her high. She’s no more than a needy pet, desperate to please Chuuya in whatever ways she sees fit. “‘M sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise, sorry.” She drops all the way to her knees so that she is level with Chuuya’s hips. She begins to orbit towards the wet heat between Chuuya’s legs, and she has to tug the brunette away, less she starts mouthing at it and completely ruins both her pants and her underwear. “Wait a second, darling.” She makes quick work of her belts and makes an effort to not look too hard at Dazai’s blissed out face, the hickies lining her neck.
As soon as her underwear hit the floor Dazai is back at her, pressing almost absentmindedly against her dripping pussy, mouth at her clit. She looks perfectly at home, and Chuuya brings one hand to press her deeper, rougher.
If there is a single thing in the world Dazai is good with, it’s her tongue. She sucks at Chuuya’s clit and licks at her pussy sporadically, seemingly whenever she feels like it, before finally sinking down into her hole, thrusting her tongue while grinding Chuuya’s clit with her nose. She’s errantic, messy, drooling down her chin and clearly out of it, but it’s one of the best feelings Chuuya has ever experienced. Dazai’s hot tongue flicks against her walls, and she clenches down, sparks of pleasure spilling up her spine. Dazai moans loudly into her cunt, sending vibrations all across her core, and Chuuya opens her eyes to see one of Dazai’s hands jutting down to presumably finger her own pussy.
The thought alone has Chuuya cumming into Dazai’s mouth, shaking through her orgasm as waves of pleasure flood over her, aided along by Dazai’s continuous moans. By the time she has come to her senses Dazai is leaning against her leg, drooling mindlessly as one of her hands works furiously to finger her own cunt, as made obvious by the wet noises coming from under her skirt.
Chuuya is exhausted, but the sight is making her consider her stamina. Still, her holds back, tugging brown hair up to look into hazy, mindless eyes. “You like eating me out that much, huh?” She muses, and Dazai nods vigorously, face flushed and her hands working even faster somehow, almost violently. “I love it… Chuuya tastes so good, so hot…” Dazai moans, and Chuuya holds back a giggle at how stupid she sounds, how fucked out she looks.
“Show me how good. Cum.” Chuuya orders, and as if on command, Dazai jerks, cumming for the second time that night, her hands falling still as her eyes roll back and she collapses against the mirror.
Oh, right. They're in a change room. Chuuya supposes this is one of the only perks of renting the whole thing out. She lifts Dazai into her arms easily, then stares at the puddle of slick left behind where Dazai had sat.
… She’ll have to tip the employees really, really well.
At least she ended up buying the dress anyways, or she imagines this would have gone much worse.
