God, Chuuya hates that smirk. He hates how smug it is, how perfectly it fits on his lover’s stupidly gorgeous face. Dazai just stands there, hands in his pockets and a shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“Well? Aren’t you going to try them on, Chuuya?” he coos.

Dazai had told Chuuya that he had a surprise for him, only to be met with a set of feminine undergarments. No way in hell was Chuuya going to put on lingerie for his horndog of a boyfriend.