Chuuya Nakahara

Chuuya had heard it a million times at this point. But he was starting to doubt it more and more each and every time he heard the words “you are human” being uttered. At first, he was glad to have some reassurance, it was nice to hear it whenever he got those moments in life where he would just pause, and think, and think. And think. But after some point he started to believe it, feeling more confident maybe? Hmm, no… more content than anything. But that faded way almost as quick as the anger bubbled up in him. Boiling over till he makes a mess of himself. It just didn’t sound the same, it didn’t feel good anymore. He stopped caring. There was a pit of emptiness that sat down deep in him. He was always second, always the second choice, like he just wasn’t human. So, he just stopped believing he was human. The only thing he ever felt was anger anymore. He was used as a weapon, ever since he was a kid, his frustration the only thing that kept him as well.. Chuuya. Just a string of personalities, something that doesn’t feel real emotions. Sure, he’ll feel emotions, but they were all made up, he was made to feel and think and live a certain way. That thought irked him.

So, he mostly stopped caring for people, mostly himself. He just wanted to tear the world apart, make everyone feel like he did. But, even as a Port Mafia executive, he didn’t get the chance to do that. Therefore, he did something close. He started to go home and take people home whenever he went to the bar, which was most nights if he wasn’t working late. He’d end up ravaging their insides, he’d never actually do any damage but if you hooked up with Chuuya you were best to be sore, even if he goes easy on you. Men, women, skinny twinks, muscular, tall, short, didn’t matter. As long as he got some relief he was good and gone in an instant. Tonight though, he met his match. Usually he laid them down and fucked them so hard the next time they sat down for the rest of the week they’d be reminded of him. But, it seems that you were a challenge, a brat, snarky and confident. You felt the same way he did, but in a different sense. You didn’t feel human, you barely felt anything at all actually. Neither of you discussed those matters though, you were too busy riding him.

His hands gripped your waist, the back of his head pressed against the headboard of your bed. He, surprisingly, had taken a slight liking to you. The way you move with ease, the way you feel around his dick, your smartass attitude, your beautifully curved body, the almost dead look in your eyes and the way it changed when they rolled back into your head when he shifts a hard thrust upwards.