hunger hurts, but starving works
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Summary
What Dazai did with his time didn’t bother Chuuya. Sure, he felt a certain… protectiveness over Dazai. Afterall, Dazai had only been seventeen when they met, young and impressionable; he hardly knew what he was in for. It was only natural, he remained, to feel a certain amount of responsibility for him.
If Dazai wanted to whore himself like a blood slut, that was his business. Chuuya couldn’t care less if Dazai spent his nights on his knees, or in some other bloodsucker’s expensive sheets, or getting his brains sucked out by someone who wasn’t Chuuya. Nevermind that Chuuya was there first, or that Dazai had the most divine blood the redhead had ever tasted. Or that Dazai had left a lingering, taunting impression of himself in Chuuya’s apartment, or that sometimes, most times, Chuuya would close his eyes and pretend whatever neck he was sucking on was pale and scarred, or whatever whore he was fucking had brown hair and deeper brown eyes. And nevermind that he was never truly satisfied when he fell back asleep, quietly, secretly longing for that taste on his tongue again.
Chuuya wasn’t bothered in the least.
or: skk vampire sex ft possessive chuuya, pining, and also emotional constipation
Series
- Part 1 of hunger hurts, but starving works