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Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category: M/M

Fandom: 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs

Relationships: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke/Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou
Stray Dogs)

Characters: Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Tachihara Michizou (Bungou
Stray Dogs), Hirotsu Ryuurou (Bungou Stray Dogs), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke (Bungou Stray Dogs),
Nakajima Atsushi (Bungou Stray Dogs), Kunikida Doppo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fukuzawa Yukichi (Bungou
Stray Dogs), Tanizaki Junichirou (Bungou Stray Dogs), Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (Bungou Stray Dogs),
Sakaguchi Ango (Bungou Stray Dogs), Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs), Fyodor Dostoyevsky (Bungou
Stray Dogs), Mori Ougai (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Additional Tags: Explicit for future chapters, Chuuya is me in every customer service job i've ever had, Student!Chuuya,
Mafia Boss Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray Dogs), sugar daddy!Dazai, Sugar Baby!Chuuya, Age Difference,
Soukoku, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dazai has some trust issues, Top Dazai Osamu (Bungou Stray
Dogs), Bottom Nakahara Chuuya (Bungou Stray Dogs), Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, I take joy in tormenting
poor akutagawa, referenced homophobia, Bad Parenting, Daddy Issues, Cum Play, Intercrural Sex, Minor
Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Anal Sex, Rimming, Mild Dom/sub play, Edging, mild bondage,
sskk, Crossdressing, Breathplay, Lingerie, Kidnapping

Language: English
Series: Part 1 of So Hard for the Money - verse ● Next Work →
Collections: good but unfinished (check for updates), Simply Wondrous, bungou stray dogs, laced with crack
Stats: Published: 2019-08-19 Updated: 2021-06-20 Words: 92158 Chapters: 17/26 Comments: 910
Kudos: 5860 Bookmarks: 952 Hits: 135849

He Works Hard for the Money

CataclysmicEvent, orphan_account
Summary:
The options make him want to curl his lips with disgust. Sugar Baby (female), Sugar Baby (Male), and—

The entire reason he was on the stupid website—

Sugar Daddy.

How far the mighty had fallen. What would his parents say if they could see him now?

Notes:
This is gonna be a comedic, smutty, dramatic story and I'll be adding tags as I go. I would apologize for how trashy this is
gonna be, but ya'll saw the Sugar Daddy tag before you clicked. You knew what you were signing up for.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Bait and Switch

“You can’t possibly be serious about this.” Michizou was sputtering, his entire face turning a deep shade of maroon, the only exception being
the tan bandage over his nose. Chuuya was pale but resolved, his expression unchanging as his fingers worked across the keyboard.

He hadn’t come to Yokohama to start over just to starve after six months.

Chuuya had always been the type to believe in self-reliance. Up until now, there hadn’t been an issue in his path that he couldn’t use his fists
to knock his way out of. And this—he’d been assured by one of the girls in his class that this wouldn’t be so bad. He was helping himself out of
it, in a way—he was just using his face instead of his fists this time.

“Unless you have a better idea,” Chuuya muttered, clicking the necessary boxes to fill out his profile.

Age: 18

Height: 5’3

Occupation: Student

Looking for:

The options make him want to curl his lips with disgust. Sugar Baby (female), Sugar Baby (Male), and—

The entire reason he was on the stupid website—

Sugar Daddy.

How far the mighty had fallen. What would his parents say if they could see him now?

“You could get another credit card?” His roommate offered, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. Chuuya couldn’t help but feel a little bad for
the guy. They had met on a Facebook group of kids in their university class—Tachihara Michizou had posted an ad talking about how his
roommate had dropped out at the last second, and he’d been unfortunate enough to have Nakahara Chuuya be the one who answered.

“Nope. They said I’d have to put money down to get a line of credit at this point.” Chuuya replied flatly, gritting his teeth as he clicked on the
damn Sugar Daddy logo, hitting save so he could move on to the last section of the profile set up. “I’ve already maxed out three, so who could
blame them?”

Chuuya would say up until three weeks ago, he’d been a pretty good roommate. He’d never been late on rent, he never brought any girls
home, and he’d kept the common areas clean. It was just when his finances completely fell apart towards the end of his first semester that
things had become a problem. He’d gone through six part-time jobs in as many months, and after his last departure from his barista job—

(Imagine hot expresso being poured directly over a customer’s head).

He was starting to think that the customer service industry wasn’t for him.

“Do you have any relatives you could borrow money from?” Chuuya’s lips twitched down into a deep frown, but he held his expression into a
tight mask of indifference. However sore the nerve Tachihara had just struck may be, the student was just trying to help.

“Afraid not.” Chuuya sighed, scrolling through pictures of himself, trying to find the right one to set as his profile picture. Maybe something
from the beach? No, that felt a little too obvious, and Chuuya had already marked it on his profile that he wasn’t willing to—

“If it means me having to cover your rent this month, it’s fine. You can find another job.” Chuuya wasn’t so sure. The coffee shop had been a
bust. As had the book shop. And the travel agency. And the convenience store. “I just—I don’t want you to have to suck some gross dude’s
dick for rent—”

“I’m not sucking anyone off, okay?” Chuuya scoffed, turning his head to give his roommate a half-hearted glare. “I already marked on my
profile that I’m not willing to put out.”

“Not everyone gives a damn, Chuuya, it could be dangerous—”

“And you think some gross old man could make me?” Michizou opened his mouth to say yes, yes they could, but then he remembered the time
a group of thugs had tried to rough up their group of friends on the way back from a karaoke bar one night, and Chuuya had left each and
every one of them bruised and bloody.

Well, maybe not.

“I just think a lot of creeps use websites like this. What if you end up on a date with some serial killer or something?”

“Then they’ll be a really unlucky serial killer.” Chuuya shrugged, sounding more confident than he felt. He finally selected a photo of himself
that seemed appealing enough to get the job done. It was a candid shot one of his friends had taken of him during summer vacation. Chuuya
had been sitting at a picnic table eating some Takoyaki, laughing as he watched some friends goofing off with water guns in the distance. He
was smiling, his hair looked okay—and his shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest and torso underneath. It wasn’t over the top or
embarrassing, but he was sure it would probably catch some perverted old man’s attention.

“Fine. Fine.” Tachihara grumbled, throwing his hands up in surrender. “Do what you want, Chuuya—at least I can say I tried to stop you.”
Chuuya rolled his eyes as his roommate stomped out of the living room. He finished up the rest of the profile, adding in small things—like his
preferences on payment (cash only, please), what he was willing to do (keep your hands to yourselves, geezers), and what his availability was.
Once all of that was done, he hit submit and allowed himself to be done with it. He sat back on the couch with a sigh, setting his laptop aside.

Michizou really was overthinking it. Chuuya was running short on time and cash, and he could handle himself. Besides—he doubted he was
actually going to get that many offers. The girl in his class who had told him about the site had mentioned how she only got three or four hits a
month, generally discontented salary men. The redhead had no reason to think he was going to be any more popular than an adorable girl like
Sayako.

He stood up with a yawn, stretching his arms over his head. With all of this out of the way he could finally focus on getting some dinner
together. It felt like he’d been stressing out over that site all afternoon. He strolled off to the kitchen, pushing up the sleeves of his t-shirt as he
plugged in his rice cooker, getting together what little groceries he had left. He had some yellowtail left for tonight, but it was going to be a
long stretch of cup noodles after this.

He was in the middle of chopping up the fish when he heard his phone buzz the first time. He rolled his eyes and ignored it. It was probably
one of Michizou’s friends. The biology student had a nasty habit of leaving his notifications turned off, so most of his study partners had gotten
in the habit of getting Chuuya’s number instead.

Buzz.

He supposed if none of this worked out, he could turn to stripping. He was fit enough for it—and he’d grown up taking dance. With a little
practice he’d probably be fine, and if any patrons got rough with him Chuuya would be allowed to knock their teeth out. That was still a step up
from the Travel Agency—

Buzz. Buzz.

He tossed the fish into a pan as the rice cooker started to steam, his brow knitting with concentration. He supposed bartending could also be
an option—but knowing him, he’d just end up throwing someone’s drink in their face. He had little patience for sober customers—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

“Jesus, Tachi—” He muttered, trying valiantly to ignore it. Weren’t there also websites where people would pay cash for pictures of your feet?
He tilted his head to the side, looking down at his bare foot and wiggling his toes. They weren’t gross or anything—really, if someone was
already into that then maybe they would pay a decent amount of money for a few shots—

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz—

“For the love of GOD, WHAT?!” He snapped, whipping around and snatching the phone up. It wasn’t more than a fraction of a second before his
face was the same color of his hair.

He had sixty-seven emails.

But they couldn’t all be for—

He opened up his inbox, and he wasn’t sure whether or not to be pleased or dismayed. They were all messages from that website. Every.
Single. One. “But—it’s been five minutes—” And when he finally clicked one of them, the amount the guy was offering had Chuuya’s face going
from a deep maroon to being as pale as a sheet.

“250,000 yen?!” He had to clap his hand over his mouth so it didn’t come out as a shriek.

It had been three days since Chuuya had set up the online profile, and now he was standing in front of an izakaya he would have never been
able to afford for himself. The sleek black exterior of the building almost seemed to reek of wealth. The redheaded teenager crossed his arms
over his chest, taking a deep breath in an attempt at steadying himself. Every single person that had walked inside so far had shown up in
some sort of sleek sports car, dropping their keys off with the valet. Chuuya almost felt a little ridiculous, walking up from the subway station.
The guy had offered to give him a ride, but Chuuya wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t want some creepy old geezer knowing where he lived.

A reminder on his phone buzzed, reminding him that he only had a few more minutes to make it inside on time. Whether or not this was being
a whore or a leech on society, Chuuya intended on treating it like any other job. Meaning he was going to take it seriously and do his best—
until someone made him lose his temper, which was possible.

You can do this, he told himself, silently trying to hype himself up. It’s no big deal. Just a dinner with some lonely old man. You can do it. You
have to do it.

It was now or never. He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply through his nose as he marched towards the entrance. He could see the hostess
looking him up and down with wariness, and he refused to let himself be deterred. He was wearing his nicest outfit—a deep garnet dress shirt,
black, closely fitted jeans, and matching charcoal combat boots. It wasn’t the classiest get up, no, but if Chuuya had the capital to run around
buying fancy clothes he wouldn’t be here, would he?

(And he’d had a pair of nice slacks, but they’d been lost in his fiery exit from his position as a receptionist for a dentist’s office. Go figure that
he needed them now.)

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone for a reservation at eight o’ clock.” He spoke smoothly, sounding more confident than he was. The
hostess eyed his boots in a way that made his teeth clench defensively “It should be under Nakahara Chuuya.” He added pointedly. That got
her back to scanning the list, her eyes widening with surprise when his name was, in fact, there.

“Oh, yes, of course Nakahara-san. The rest of your party is already seated, right this way.” She smiled at him warmly, like she hadn’t been
about to send someone to toss him out, bowing politely as she stepped out from behind the podium and led him inside.

And it was worse on the inside.

The wood floors were so polished that he could see his reflection in them as he walked. Guests were seated on silk cushions at elegant, low
lying tables. Almost all of the men were wearing elegant three-piece suits, he even saw one woman in mink. People actually wore that? He’d
always figured that was more of a thing from western movies. More than one of them raised an eyebrow at him questioning, but Chuuya didn’t
react.

No turning back now, he told himself, his hands in tight fists at his sides as he followed the hostess.You’re already in too deep. But wasn’t this
taking forever? He felt like he’d been following this woman forever and a day. How big was this restaurant, anyway? His mouth got dry when
she reached the wall at the end of the dining room, gracefully pulling back shoji doors.

Oh god, a private room? He swallowed hard.

You have to do it, he told himself grimly. If you don’t, Tachi’s gonna know you’re a chickenshit. Of course he’d told his roommate where he was
going and why. He had to, especially if this guy did turn out to be a crazy serial killer. If he came back now with no cash, Michizou was going to
know that he’d been right and Chuuya had been wrong.

It was an unacceptable outcome.

So he marched right inside, forcing himself not to cringe when the doors closed behind him. “Ah, Nakahara-kun—” A gravelly voice echoed
from across the room. “Right on time.”

The room was dimly lit by tōrō lanterns sitting at each corner. It was a little strange, seeing the traditional stone lanterns inside—but the
redhead had to admit they added some ambiance. On the other side of the low black table sat the man who had selected his profile.

“Hirotsu-san.” Chuuya smiled, doing his absolute best to be charming. The gray-haired man seemed to be in his fifties—which honestly wasn’t
a worst case scenario. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He walked forward and sat down, his eyes sliding over at the sounds of someone clicking
on a telephone keyboard.

A dark-haired man sat in the corner, paying them no mind. If it hadn’t been for the noise Chuuya might not have noticed him at all. What with
is dark hair and his black suit, he almost faded into the background. The only thing that really caught the redhead’s eye were the bandages
poking out from the collar of his shirt.

“Don’t mind my colleague,” Hirotsu smiled politely, the monocle over his left eye glinting softly in the dim light. “He’s simply here to keep an
eye on me. A necessity in our line of work, I’m afraid.” Chuuya could have almost sworn he saw the dark-haired man’s lips twitch up into a
smirk.

“Line of work?” Chuuya questioned, crossing his legs and making himself more comfortable on his cushion as their waitress arrived, filling their
glasses with water and taking their drink orders. “Must be pretty dangerous if you need a bodyguard.”

He knew rich people moved around with hired muscle sometimes, if they were well known enough. But Chuuya had never heard of this Hirotsu
guy before, and the guy in the corner? He definitely wasn’t anyone’s muscle. The long fold of his legs implied that he was pretty damn tall, but
he didn’t look ripped or anything like that.

“You could say that.” Hirotsu replied graciously. His fingers twitched towards his pocket, but whatever he was thinking of reaching for, he
seemed to think better of it. “Your profile said that you were a student?”

Chuuya was slightly surprised by such a benign, conversational question. “Yeah—I’m a first year at Kanto Gakuin University.” That much
seemed to make the older man slightly impressed. He looked more like Chuuya’s proud grandfather than his date, but wasn’t that the point of
this? Having dinner with some lonely old man? Sayako had even said that most of them usually didn’t want anything more than
companionship.

“What are you studying there?”

“Literature.” The clicking in the corner stopped and the absence of noise was enough to draw the redhead’s attention. The man in black was
watching him now, his chin lifted just a fraction as his eyes left his phone. Now Chuuya could get a better look at his face—

And it was distractingly handsome.

“Really? What sort of literature do you prefer to study?” Chuuya dragged his eyes away from Hirotsu’s ‘colleague’, however reluctantly.

“Poetry. I specialize in European poets.” Chuuya already felt a little defensive, waiting for the man to comment on how someone in his financial
situation could be studying something a little more lucrative, but the words never come.

The longer the dinner went on, the more Chuuya found himself able to relax. Hirotsu was…if Chuuya was being honest, he’d have to admit that
the older man wasn’t that bad to talk to. He mostly just asked questions about Chuuya’s schooling and his hobbies. When Chuuya did make an
attempt to ask the gray-haired man about himself, the conversation would be gently steered away.

It wasn’t until they were polishing off the last of their sashimi that Chuuya began to notice it. Hirotsu—however pleasant he was—wasn’t
enjoying himself. The older man seemed to be squirming a little whenever Chuuya’s attention turned from him, and he kept checking his
watch. Not that Chuuya felt any differently about this entire thing, but Hirotsu was paying for this.

“Hirotsu-san—” His voice was uncharacteristically light, delicate even, as he set his chopsticks aside. The older man looked up at him, raising
an eyebrow with a bit of curiosity.

“Yes, Chuuya-kun?”

“Am I doing something wrong?” Chuuya spoke so bluntly that it made the gray-haired man stiffen with shock. “Because you don’t really seem
all that excited to be here—and while it doesn’t really hurt my feelings, I’d like to know so I can do better in the future.” Because if Chuuya was
really going to try to support himself with this, he needed to step up his game with the other sixty-six men who had emailed him.

“O-Oh. Well—” Hirotsu, to Chuuya’s shock, seemed utterly flustered. Up until now the man had seemed bored but firmly composed. “I
apologize, Chuuya-kun, it’s just been a—long day—”

But his eyes kept flickering to the man in the corner, and now Chuuya noticed that his shoulders were shaking. Was he—was he laughing at
Hirotsu? Or was he laughing at Chuuya? Or maybe both?

“Oi, bandages, what’s your problem—?” He started, only to freeze when the man looked up for the second time that night to meet his gaze.
And, like Chuuya had said before, he was handsome.

He was older, but not nearly as old as Hirotsu. He had a strong, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, dark, soft looking curls of hair falling into his face
—and his eyes, they were this gorgeous shade of brown. Chuuya was fairly sure that, depending on the lighting, they could be any color they
wanted to be. And they were sparkling with laughter.

“Look at that, Ryūrō—he figured you out before dessert.” His voice was low and smooth, better than any drink Chuuya had ever tried. “It’s
really not in the spirit of your punishment if the kid doesn’t even think you want to be here.”

“Punishment?” Chuuya hissed, color rising to his face as he looked back and forth between the two men. Hirotsu looked mortified, his face
turning red from the gray roots of his hair, all the way to where his neck disappeared under his collar. “What the hell is going on?”

“…” Hirotsu sighed, looking away from the bandaged stranger and back at Chuuya. “I apologize, Chuuya-kun. The boss has—interesting
ways of punishing his subordinates. He thought putting me in an—in a slightly embarrassing situation would be an appropriate way to make
me pay.”

“An embarrassing situation?” Chuuya repeated sharply, looking back over to the bandaged man, who seemed to be living for this entire
situation. “Explain,” he spoke sharply, pointing to the corner. “Right now.”

Whoever the man was, he seemed utterly amused by the way Chuuya was ordering him around. “Hirotsu here fell through on a rather
important negotiation for me—so I decided to show him what useless, dirty old men do with their time.” His dark, infuriating eyes sparkled at
Chuuya. “Getting him the prettiest date in town just happened to be a coincidence.”

It wasn’t Chuuya’s first time being called pretty—but it was the first time he could remember blushing this hard over it. Whatever weird game
these two were playing, it didn’t have anything to do with him. Really, he was better off just ignoring it and waiting to get paid. Sure, he was
kind of caught up in wondering what kind of workplace allowed this kind of behavior, but what good did that do?

As soon as he resolved to attempt to keep his cool, however, the bandaged man tilted his head to the side. “I think I’ve had enough of
watching you squirm as it is, Hirotsu. You can leave us now.” Chuuya felt his eye twitch with irritation as the older man let out a sigh of relief,
rising to his feet and leaving the room as quickly as possible. As the door slid shut again, the man in black rose from his seat in the corner.
Instead of walking over to the opposite end of the table, as Hirotsu had, he dropped down on the cushion directly next to Chuuya—so close
that the redhead could feel the brunette’s body heat radiating next to him.

“Sorry about all of that, love," that deep voice purred next to his ear. And—to Chuuya’s utter humiliation—he fucking shivered. “When I saw
how gorgeous you were, I really thought I was sending that old man on a date with a catfish. I tagged along to watch him sweat—and then
Chuuya turned out to be just as pretty in real life! What was I to do?”

“Not make eating dinner with me someone’s punishment, first of all.” Chuuya grumbled, squirming a little under the older man’s close gaze.
“What sort of workplace does that?”

“An unorthodox one, I’ll admit. But there are benefits to being your own boss—you can make things up as you go.” The dark haired man smiled
cheerfully, eyes sparkling down at him in a way that made Chuuya’s head spin.

“H-how are you the boss of someone that much older than you?” He managed to stammer out, mortified that he’d even stuttered at all. He
hadn’t been like this since fucking middle school, for christ’s sake—

“My organization is more about meritocracy than seniority—and I’m not that young. I’m 32.” The older man pointed out, leaning his hand on
his chin. The action of leaning over the table put him just a little closer to Chuuya, allowing the redhead to catch a whiff of his cologne—unfair.

“Most people over thirty would be flattered to have someone call them younger.” Chuuya grumbled softly, even more annoyed at the way
everything he said seemed to leave the man utterly amused. “Who are you, anyway?”

“My full name is Dazai Osamu.” He replied easily, perfect white teeth flashing in the dim light as he grinned at Chuuya. “But Dazai is just fine—
or—” Chuuya’s pulse was throbbing in his neck as the man—whom he now recognized as the Dazai Osamu—as in the demon prodigy, the
butcher of Yokohama, the boss of the Port Mafia—leaned in right next to his ear, soft lips pressing against his skin as he spoke. “I’m not
entirely opposed to Daddy.”

And then Chuuya was slapping the most dangerous man in Yokohama—maybe the most dangerous man in Japan—across the face.

This was why he didn’t belong in customer service.

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