Chapter Text
“The Port Mafia members have stopped looking at me in fear. They think I’ve lost my edge,” Dazai scoffs, a gun dangling from one finger, almost absentmindedly.
He steps over a body, blood clinging to the bottom of his shoe, his footprints following him as he slowly moves towards you at the other end of the near-decimated warehouse.
You know there is no escape. Nothing you can say or do that would get you out of this alive. So, you lean against the wall, awaiting Dazai and your inevitable death. And what a beautiful death it would be.
By the hands of the infamous, Osamu Dazai, an executive member of the Port Mafia. A man consistently responsible for so much death and destruction over the years, from when he was as young as 15 years of age.
But, in spite of all of the ugly things he had done, Dazai was beautiful. Tall and lithe, his coat perfectly tailored to his body and flowing behind him. His dark eyes were cunning, just visible behind rich deep-brown hair that fell across his face and curled along the ends.
He had a powerful aura about him, something innate that made people fall to their knees before him, often pleading for their lives. Their last sight - that painfully stunning face.
You can’t help but stare at him as he walks towards you, taking in his sharp angles and rough edges. You shiver, trying to find some speck of warmth in him but there is nothing - only a cold and empty look in his eyes.
You can see it now, as he cocks his head and smiles at you, “Not going to beg?”
“As much as I’m certain you’d enjoy seeing me on my knees, I think I’ll die on my feet tonight, Dazai,” you say, bitterly returning his smile.
Dazai laughs at this - an icy, heartless sound that makes your body warm and your pulse speed up. However, you don’t miss the fact that the damned gun still hangs in his right hand, while his left toys with the bandages that cover the length of his body.
“Disappointing…although, I can’t say I’d expected anything different from a member of the Armed Detective Agency. Always stubborn til the end.”
He finally reaches you, diminishing what little space had been left. Despite the bitter fear that courses through your veins, you hold your chin high and your eyes never stray from his. If you are to meet your death tonight, you swear to maintain some semblance of dignity. Dazai would never get the last laugh, not when it came to you.
So you continue smiling, “I’ve heard stubbornness is one of my best attributes, Dazai. Don’t expect me to break any time soon.”
This causes him to lean in closer to you. With your back already against the wall, you have no choice but to stand your ground.
The two of you are now face-to-face, barely a hairsbreadth between you. You know if you were to breathe too heavily, your bodies would touch. The feeling is almost electric, your pulse beginning to race for different reasons entirely.
That is, until he places his right hand against the wall, the gun still between his fingers and now dangerously close to your head.
It is clear he can sense the racing of your thoughts as he stares down at you, “Are you sure about that, Y/N? Seems to me like you’re pretty close to breaking right now.”
You slowly lift your own hand, gently encircling his wrist and pointing the gun straight toward your temple, “Try me. I’m not telling you anything and I’m not running away. Go on back to your boss and let him know.”
At this, Dazai begins to laugh hard, his hair falling into his eyes as his head drops to his chest, the gun no longer pointing towards you at all.
“Damn,” he sighs, almost dreamily, “you might be even more of a suicidal maniac than me and that’s saying something.”
Suddenly he moves impossibly closer to you, bringing his lips right below your ear and whispering, almost sensually, “Interested in a double suicide? Right here. Right now. Sounds pretty romantic, huh?”
You can’t help the small exhale that leaves you, his lips lingering unnervingly close to your neck and his soft breath against your skin.
“You’re insane,” you manage to say despite the fog of panic and…something else that has clouded your brain, “You would kill yourself right here, right now if it meant I left this world with you?”
You feel his lips brush your neck, the coolness of them sending a shock through your body before he exhales, “My dream has always been to die with a beautiful woman at my side.”
Your body stiffens against his, “I won’t forfeit my life without a fight, Dazai.”
He backs away suddenly, the pressure of him immediately replaced by the chill of the warehouse.
“That’s too bad” he shrugs, “I truly thought you were going to be the one for a second there, what with the way your pulse was racing beneath my lips.”
Your body sags against the wall a little as he moves away from you. Your thoughts are a jumbled mess, struggling with the fact that he had not only placed a kiss against your neck, but had strategically placed it where your heart pulsed beneath your skin.
Sensing movement, you notice that Dazai has turned his back on you and begun to take in all the carnage he had caused earlier tonight.
Intense feelings of anger and frustration burn at you as you realize he truly doesn’t see you as a threat. You are so insignificant that he feels comfortable fully baring his back to you. As much as you’d like to make him regret doing so, you’re not sure you can; you’re not sure anyone can.
It wouldn’t be a bad bet to say that Dazai does not see ANYONE as a threat. His own ability allows him to completely cut off someone else’s ability with just one single point of contact. Your ability can’t touch him, no one’s can…
And right now…you have nothing else in your arsenal which means you also have nothing to lose. You decide if you’re going to have any chance of escaping, it’s now.
You begin sprinting towards the door, jumping over the crumpled bodies that litter your path, immediately sensing Dazai make chase. In one last ditch effort, you tap into your ability, fire blazing from your skin in a threat to burn this whole damned place to the ground with both of you inside.
However; just as quickly as the fire is lit, it dies. It’s as though all the oxygen has been stolen from it. Stolen from your own lungs as you feel a hand grip your throat, squeezing hard enough that you begin to feel dizzy.
Dazai is there, his eyes dark and his soft lips twisted in a sad smile as he holds you out in front of him. Before you black out entirely, he loosens his grip, allowing air to fill your lungs in a desperate gasp. It feels like breathing in shards of glass and your chest rises and falls erratically.
“That was a foolish thing to do, Y/N. If I didn’t have further use for you, I’d end you right where you stand,” he grits out, fingers squeezing your throat again in warning before throwing you to the ground. He’s frustrated, not only at your little escape attempt but at something else as well. Something bigger than you. The Port Mafia, maybe?
“Use for me? What do you intend to do?”
Your voice comes out gravelly and you can’t help but wonder if you will have bruises in the shape of his fingers encircling your neck.
Dazai is staring at his arm, frowning down at the bandages burned away, the edges still smoldering with the last licks of your fire. You smile a bit at that, that you did inflict some damage before he stole your flames from you.
“The Port Mafia members have stopped looking at me in fear. They think I’ve lost my edge,” Dazai sighs, echoing what he said earlier, “I’m going to use you as an example. Show them how easily I can subdue a member of the Armed Detective Agency.”
You shiver, apprehension lacing every nerve in your body, “How do you plan on doing that?”
“You’re going to be my little toy for the evening,” he smiles, the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him tonight and that scares you more than anything else.
***
A long mahogany table sits in the center of a massive room. Every wall has been shrouded in luxe, velvet curtains and sleek leather couches and chairs are spread throughout the space. Antique, bronze lighting fixtures dot the walls - all dimmed to the lowest hazy, yellow glow - and candles are placed sporadically on worn, wooden coffee tables.
The minuscule flames of the candles call to you but Dazai is only inches away. You can do nothing but breathe in the smell of smoke and liquor that permeates what you can only guess to be a lounge of some sort, slow and sultry music surrounding you.
As you approach, Dazai takes his place to the right of the head of the table where the Port Mafia Boss is already comfortably seated, his legs crossed and his chin resting in his hands. You stand there, unsure of your role, as the rest of the Port Mafia executives and other, less-important members file in.
You’ve been dragged along to this party as an accessory, a piece of Dazai’s plan.
He’s had you adorned in a tight black dress, short enough that it would be almost impossible to sit without revealing everything. The thin straps feel as though they might break at any minute, made of fine gold chains that drape across your shoulders and match the priceless earrings that now dangle from your ears.
You feel like a doll playing dress up but you suppose that’s the point. You are the perfect complement to Dazai, in his black suit with an antique gold watch dangling from his pocket. He’s thrown his jacket across the back of his chair, his body on display in a tight button-up shirt and dark vest. He’s replaced the bandages you burned off him earlier. Everything as it once was.
The boss of the Port Mafia, Ogai Mori, clears his throat suddenly, demanding all attention be turned towards him and him alone.
Dazai chooses this moment to drag you to him, pulling you down onto his lap so that your body is flush against his, his legs sturdy underneath you. You knew that the timing was deliberate. He wanted everyone in attendance to see exactly what type of control he had over you.
You could tell that Mori had come to the same conclusion, his attention flicking toward you and Dazai with the slightest flare of annoyance. Dazai just grinned sheepishly and nodded in deference.
Mori turned back towards the crowd, getting to his feet before speaking in a low, affectionate voice, “Welcome, everyone! I am pleased you could join me. It has been much too long since we have all gathered together like this.”
He smiles deeply, looking at each and every person surrounding him, “Our accomplished organization is the most influential and incontestable in Yokohama and this legacy will continue to grow long after we’re gone. So please, join me in celebrating our triumphs past, present, and future.”
You couldn’t tell what kind of event this was at first but it was now clear that this was a Port Mafia Party, a hedonistic affair with no shortage of criminals, alcohol, drugs, and sex.
Cheers broke out around you as you rolled your eyes at the absurdity of Mori’s words. You couldn’t keep yourself from whispering under your breath, “As if.”
“Ow,” a sharp pain radiated from your thigh where Dazai had just pinched you, “what the fuck?”
He was all smiles as he gazed up at you, “I wouldn’t say things like that if I were in your position, Y/N. You sound like you’re ungrateful for the wonderful opportunity I’ve given you.”
“What opportunity is that?” you asked, hoping you sounded even more ungrateful than before.
Dazai laughed before responding, “The opportunity to be the center of attention of course.”
It didn’t take long for the party to truly kick off, and soon all of the attendees are lost in their own depravities. However, you can’t help but notice that stares never cease - people can’t stop looking at you draped across Dazai’s lap.
“Why are they all staring,” you ask him, beginning to feel uncomfortable. He wasn’t lying when he said you would be the center of attention.
“Because you’re a member of the Armed Detective Agency. But…now you’re mine. It’s simple, I took you down and I could easily do the same with anyone else. It’s best they remember that,” he says, whispering it into your ear like it's some dirty secret.
You can’t help the heat that floods your body at this but counter with, “I’m not yours, Dazai. In what world would I ever be yours over the agency’s?”
“This world, Y/N. You’ll come to see that very quickly, I’m sure,” he says, one arm snaking around your waist to fully anchor you to him.
He brings a glass full of sparkling liquid to his lips, and drinks deeply before offering it to you.
“What is it?” you ask, unsure of the consequences this might bring.
He smiles playfully at you, his eyes bright for once, “It’s just champagne, cross my heart.”
He lifts the glass to your lips and encourages you to drink and you do, hoping something will alleviate the discomfort you’re feeling.
Finally, the Port Mafia Boss turns towards Dazai, a smug look on his face as he fully takes you in, “So Dazai, who do we have here?”
Dazai returns the smug look, “She’s my new toy, stolen from the Armed Detective Agency. I don’t think I’ll be giving her back any time soon.”
At this, he brings his lips to your neck, beginning to place kisses along the side until he reaches your almost-bare shoulder.
“Isn’t she just exquisite?”
“She is. Far too exquisite for the likes of you, Dazai,” drawls a man as he approaches from the shadows, glaring at Dazai beneath the rim of his brown hat.
Dazai immediately perks up, lifting his lips from your skin and breaking out into a mocking grin, “Chuu-ya,” he lilts, the syllables lifting and falling in a sing-song tone, “So glad you could join us. I for sure thought my prayers had finally been answered and you had been killed. Unlucky us!”
The two men hold each other’s stares, Dazai’s lined with laughter and the other’s filled with annoyance.
Nakahara Chuuya, another executive member of the Port Mafia and equally as dangerous as Dazai, if not more so. You can’t stop the breath caught in your throat.
He was shorter than Dazai but his presence was just as imposing nonetheless. A dark aura seemed to surround him, like a lingering smoke that swirled and churned. His hair was long, pulled back from his face and falling along his shoulder in a river of red that reminded you of fire. Your lips part as you take him in. Chuuya was beautiful in the same way a match that had just been struck was - a flame burning bright, hot, and angry.
“In your dreams. If anyone should be dead by now, it’s you, Dazai. Can you possibly speed that up?” says Chuuya, taking a seat to your left. He leans back in his chair, his stare finally landing on your face.
Mori clears his throat, his gaze moving between Dazai and Chuuya, “Play nice, you two. I apologize Miss…ah, what was your name again?” he says, looking at you intently.
“Y/N,” you respond coldly, not giving away anything more.
“I apologize miss Y/N for their behavior. They’re perfect partners but poor sports. I’m afraid their bickering is something you’ll come to expect at every turn.”
You narrow your eyes at him, “I don’t intend to be here long enough to form expectations.”
You feel a light exhale against your neck as Dazai chuckles, “So eager to die. I think I may have finally found the one,” he says wistfully.
“Good. Go ahead and get on with the double suicide. None of us are getting any younger here,” Chuuya grates out, his eyes still on you.
Mori coughs out a laugh and stands, nodding goodbye to the three of you, “It’s time I take my leave. I need to check on Elise. Take care not to burn the place down tonight Y/N. Keep your hands on her, Dazai.”
It dawns on you that the boss knew your name, he just wanted to hear it from your mouth. He knows everything, especially the ways in which you could become a problem for their organization’s safety.
Dazai makes a point to tighten his grip on your body as he replies casually, “I intend to keep my hands on her for as long as possible, boss.”
Though the words should frighten you, you feel yourself growing warm, your thighs rubbing together just slightly. Dazai notices, bringing the hand not currently holding you against him, to your thigh, his fingers beginning to trace gentle circles on the side.
Your pulse jumps and you quickly grab the glass Dazai had abandoned earlier and down the rest of the effervescent alcohol.
“Thirsty?” Dazai asks, his head tilting and his eyes sparkling in unchecked amusement.
“You brought me to a party, Dazai. People drink at parties. I’m playing along.”
Chuuya laughs sharply bringing his own glass to his lips and drinking slowly. You watch as he does so, taking note of how his fingers wrap around the glass, long and slender - almost elegant.
“Chuuya, grab us another drink. Something stronger,” Dazai commands, fingers continuing their lazy pattern along your thigh, coming closer to the more sensitive skin lining the inside of your thighs with every passing second.
You watch as Chuuya’s eyes darken with anger, “Fuck off and get it yourself,” he replies, making a point to settle deeper into his chair.
You feel Dazai start to get up and you slide from his lap. You’re barely standing before he unceremoniously dumps you onto Chuuya, “Fine. But if she burns you, it’s not my fault.”
“Dazai,” Chuuya shouts after him, but it's too late, he’s already disappeared into the crowd.
Your heart flutters as you realize you can use your ability again. Immediately, you start to sift through every possible way out of this but Chuuya’s hands are on you. One gripping your hip and the other encircling your wrist, effectively keeping you trapped, unable to leave his lap.
“I can see the gears turning in your mind, Y/N. Desperately searching for all the ways you can escape, right? Well, I want you to know that if you burn me - if you even let one flame loose - I will end you with no hesitation,” he says, low and dark, staring at you with intention, “I am not Dazai. I do not play the foolish games he does, they are stupid and useless.”
Your whole body is tense on top of his, his grip on you so tight you can feel the bruises starting to form, “Then do it, Chuuya. End me here and now. I dare you.”
Chuuya cocks his head at you, a smirk lining his face, “I don’t want to. I meant it when I said you were exquisite. I’m perfectly happy sitting here with you on top of me as long as you behave.”
“What exactly is behaving for you, Chuuya,” you ask, wondering if you are better or worse off in his hands over Dazai’s.
“Compliance. Willingness. Submission,” he lists, each word laced with suggestion. You can tell Chuuya is a man who values control, in whatever form he can get it. Having Dazai as a partner makes that almost impossible. It’s incredible how relaxed he is with Dazai gone.
But his relaxed demeanor doesn’t diminish his power, he isn’t lying about his earlier threat. One lick of fire and he will kill you. And you know Dazai will return at any moment. Escape seems impossible and you deflate with defeat, melting into Chuuya.
“Giving up?” Chuuya asks, his voice right at your ear. One of his hands comes up, moving your hair out of the way before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him.
His eyes have softened and there is nothing callous in them. He seems almost sad. It’s a jarring juxtaposition from Dazai, whose eyes contain a cruel, uncaring coldness. Someone who kills just to feel something.
In comparison, Chuuya feels so much, heavily and often. It is evident on his face as he looks at you, his mask slipping for just a moment.
You lean your face into his touch if only to feel that over anything else. You also feel too much, heavily and often. It’s something that weighs on you and you are giving up. At least at this moment, there’s nothing you can do and you both know it.
Chuuya’s thumb brushes against your bottom lip, softly, and your mouth parts a little. He keeps it there as his other hand releases his unrelenting grip on you, instead beginning to gently caress your side.
“You are -“ he begins to say but freezes, dropping his hand as his eyes leave yours, instead focusing on something behind you.
Dazai.
“Chuuya. I didn’t give you permission to play. Only to watch. Honestly, I’m a little disappointed she was so well-behaved, I was hoping to return to find you a little pile of ash,” he says swooping in with a glass in one hand and a cigarette in another.
Looking like a prince from a storybook, Dazai moves towards a nearby couch, placing his drink on the small side table before grabbing your waist and tearing you away from Chuuya back to him.
Your heart stutters but you’re unable to tell if it’s because you desperately wanted to remain with Chuuya or because you’re once again in Dazai’s grip. You push away both thoughts, neither a viable option when you apply logic to the situation. But nothing about your situation is logical right now.
Your whole world has been turned upside down within the span of a few hours. It is comical to think about who you were earlier versus who you are in this moment - and who you’re with…
“One day, those bandages will catch fire and no one is going to put them out for you,” Chuuya says, his eyes narrowing as his mask falls back into place.
Dazai laughs and pulls you close to him as you sit sideways across his lap, your shoulder against his chest, your arm draped along his shoulders for stability. He doesn’t even bother to reply to Chuuya. Instead, he lights the cigarette and inhales, handing you the glass he returned with, “For you. Being alone with Chuuya for an extended period of time tends to make a person want to drink.”
“Funny that I only wanted a drink when I was on your lap, Dazai,” you bite back even as you down the amber liquid. It is bitter and burns your throat but you feel lighter after.
Dazai just gives you a crooked smile, every insult you throw rolling off him, the perfect picture of arrogance. Smoke begins to fill the air and music surrounds you, something slow and dark playing on the speakers.
Chuuya chooses an armchair close by, watching Dazai as he plays with you, fingers tracing patterns across your skin. He remains silent, drinking and staring.
Quietly, Dazai begins whispering in your ear, “I think Chuuya likes you, what’d you do while I was away?”
“Call you an arrogant bastard and devise a murder scheme that ends with you in pieces, never to be whole again.”
“No wonder! That’s Chuuya’s ultimate fantasy. Probably got him hard just talking about it,” Dazai’s eyes twinkle with mischief, “But unfortunately for him…you’re mine tonight. I think we should let him know that. It’s only fair.”
“What do you mean-“ you begin to say before Dazai’s hand begins to caress your cheek. Your heart is beating against your chest and you feel Dazai shift beneath you, his hand moving to the back of your head, tangling in your hair, turning your face towards his.
“Ready?” he whispers, a sly smile beginning to form.
Before you can answer, his lips are on yours, sweet and smoky. You gasp and Dazai uses the moment to deepen the kiss, his mouth insistent against your own. You try to pull back but his hand in your hair is unbudging and you can feel your resistance dwindling into nothingness at the speed of light.
Dazai is one of the most beautiful and dangerous men you have ever come across. It’s impossible to deny your attraction to him and it only grows as his tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip. As you prepare to jump off the deep end, he pulls away, shocking you back to the present.
Despite looking the portrait of calm and collected, you can feel his own heartbeat pounding through his chest. He looks towards Chuuya, lazily taking a drag from his cigarette. Your gaze follows to find a blank face, devoid of emotion, staring at you. He is giving nothing away but you see his hands gripping the arms of the chair, his fingernails digging into the wood. You begin to wonder why this little farce Dazai has come up with is affecting Chuuya like this.
“Enjoying the show, Chuuya?” Dazai asks, making a point of grinding up into you. You can barely hold back a groan as you begin to throb with desire.
Chuuya cocks his head, clearly disillusioned with the scene playing out before him.
“Far too exquisite for the likes of you, Dazai,” he says, echoing his statement from earlier as he downs the last of his drink.
“For once, I agree with you,” Dazai says, tearing his gaze from Chuuya and replacing the attention on you, “Turn around and straddle my lap, Y/N.”
“Here? Now?”
“Here. Now,” Dazai says in a tone of voice that tells you it's not up for debate. Immediately, your mind starts running through all variations of what his game could be. Is this some sort of power move? Control? Desire?
You get to your feet, taking a second to ground yourself. Your eyes meet Chuuya’s and you flush. The thought of him watching this happen has you feeling off. You can’t identify the reason though. It isn’t as though other couples aren’t throwing themselves at each other all throughout this party. In fact, no one is even looking over at you and Dazai anymore. That is, except for Chuuya, who will not turn away. No matter how much you silently will him to.
He just nods his head at you, his eyes betraying nothing.
Dazai impatiently clears his throat and you slowly turn, Chuuya’s seat to the left of you feeling light years away. You see that Dazai has fully settled into the worn, leather couch, his legs spread wide in a purely male way, his power subtle yet commanding.
Now that you are only looking at him, you smirk, “You are a bastard, you know that right?”
“I know,” he answers before saying, almost questioningly, “I think you like it, Y/N.”
You don’t know how to tell him he isn’t wrong. You don’t know how to admit to yourself that you are turned on and despite telling yourself you cannot want this, you know you do.
“If I said you could leave right now, this very second with no repercussions, would you?”
You go stone still, a look of shock taking over your face. You can’t tell if this is some sort of trick question. What answer he is looking for at this moment? Dazai is no fool, he would never let you go, especially not right now. So is it purely curiosity? Or is he trying to get inside your head?
You decide that neither answer is correct, and instead place your hands on his chest, lifting yourself up onto the couch before finally straddling his lap, your knees landing next to his hips.
“Bastard,” you say.
He just stares up at you, eyes hungry but questioning. He takes another long inhale from the cigarette but before exhaling the smoke, he once again grabs the back of your head and brings your mouth towards his. This time he exhales directly between your lips, the smoke pouring from his lungs into your own. You drink it down deeply, enjoying the way your blood heats up and your head grows dizzy.
Without backing away from you, Dazai says, “He’s still watching us.”
You try to look but don’t have a chance to as Dazai’s lips once again crash to your own. He’s dropped the cigarette into the ashtray and both hands come to rest on your ass, pulling you closer while simultaneously grinding you against him.
You moan into the kiss, the friction between your two bodies driving you insane. His tongue licks your bottom lip and you open to him, your mouths moving together deeper and deeper until you feel like you can’t breathe anymore. You don’t care though, and continue to kiss him, one hand tangling in his curls and the other pressed against his chest. You forget where you are and who is watching as you feel him grow hard underneath you. You know you are wet and are ashamed at how quickly you have given in to this.
Before you fall too deep into regret, one hand is at the hem of your dress which has already ridden up as you straddled his lap. His lips leave yours and begin to travel down your neck, insistently pressing kisses against the skin. You quietly gasp in pleasure as he drags his teeth across your throat, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. You realize then that is his intention. To physically mark you as his. In this moment, you can’t find a reason to care.
You want this, to feel his skin against yours and suddenly you’re lamenting the fact that you are in public. But you manage to slide your hand down his shirt, dragging your nails along his back, hard enough to hurt. If he can leave marks, so can you.
The whole time he had been toying with the hem of your dress but this pushed him to dive beneath it, his fingers getting infinitely closer to where you wanted him to be most.
Dazai’s lips return to yours and he is once again kissing you with reckless abandon, his knuckle brushing against your underwear, the lace evidently wet. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed right now. You just want more . more . more.
You deepen the kiss, begging him to go farther, and he does. Moving the lace to the side, he slides his fingers against you and moans into your mouth, “So wet for me already? I thought you despised me?”
“I do,” you say, choking on your words when he suddenly pushes two fingers inside you, moving in and out slowly as you grip his shoulders.
“You don’t seem like you do. Not with you clenching on my fingers like that.”
He starts moving his fingers faster, in and out, curling up to hit a spot inside you that has you biting your lip to keep from crying out.
“Oh no, that won’t do,” he whispers, “I want to hear you, Y/N.”
His thumb comes to rest against your clit, rubbing circles before finally causing you to let out that moan that he had been working towards. You immediately attempt to reign yourself back in but Dazai is making that next to impossible, his fingers moving inside you and his thumb torturing your clit with slow, deliberate circles.
He laughs and brings his lips to your chest, kissing the exposed tops of your breasts in the low-cut dress. He continues placing kisses there as you turn your head to the side, sensing movement. Chuuya is still there, sitting still, looking as if he is barely breathing. His eyes are trained on where Dazai’s hand is currently disappearing beneath your dress. He senses you watching him and his gaze lifts to yours. You can barely keep your eyes open as Dazai continues to fuck you with his fingers, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
You decide to give in to the feeling and your moans start to grow louder, your eyes locked on Chuuya’s. It is only moments before you’re coming, the rubber band snapping inside you and your eyes finally drifting closed. When you open them again, Chuuya is gone and Dazai is dragging your lips to his before pulling back and slowly licking the fingers that were just inside you one by one.
“You taste just as good as you look,” Dazai says brushing your hair back from your face, “How can I ever send such a fun toy back to the Armed Detective agency? Seems like a waste to me.”
At these words, you come crashing back down to Earth. This isn’t some random, inconsequential hookup. This is an executive member of the Port Mafia and you are in a den of snakes.
“I think I have a solution,” he says, his eyes bright with delight, “You’ll become a member of the Port Mafia.”