CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWELVE
pirate poly!141 x f!reader
tw: NSFW, MDNI, heavy topics such as death, blood, and past trauma mentioned
masterlist
a/n: thank you for all your support while i grow through a difficult time!! i appreciate all of you for being so patient and loving. long chapter for u!! <3
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
Ghost didnât remember much about his childhood. His mind blocked it out for him. But he did remember the pain and suffering he went through at such a young age.
He didnât deserve that. Seeing his family, massacred in front of him. The blood mixed with the metallic scent that even now seemed to tinge his nose with a nostalgia that made him sick.
He was only a child, yet that was the day Ghost was born within him.
It was like an awakening. He saw how cruel the world could be through a pure lens and it tainted his vision red. Nothing was ever the same that day, and gradually, Simon was forgotten and Ghost was his new muse.
He could recall the nights he spent alone, digging through waste bins and slumping out on the streets like a dead dog. Stealing bread from shop merchants and having to run, barefooted to avoid getting beaten. Freezing to death on the street corner when winter came around and the pure snow covered the ground in a blanket.
It was scary for a boy his age. Dehumanizing. He didnât deserve that.
He thought he was lucky when a ship crew came along, parading the streets to offer security. A job, a place to sleep, and meals â it seemed perfect for somebody who had absolutely nothing.
He couldnât have been more wrong.
Ghost never saw Simon again after that day. He was lost somewhere at sea, hidden under the roar of waves. Ghost didnât know where to look for him until soon enough, Simon had disappeared and Ghost replaced him. Graves made sure of that.
A captain, like hell he was. Ghost knew something wasnât quite right about Graves the moment he met him, yet as a child, he was desperate. Once he was in, it was too late, and the broken pieces of him became completely irreparable.
Graves held a devilish aura about him, one Ghost could practically see radiating around him. Every step he took was one closer to chaos.
No matter the destination, Ghost was held on by a leash with Graves being the handler. The sights Ghost saw, some being from his doing, was something heâd never get back. It was as if reliving that very day where he lost everything.
Living amongst Gravesâ crew was worse than living in hell. He wouldâve preferred it. To be banished for his sins, to taste the sweet nectar of death, and live his eternity punished. Anything to stray from Graves and his ship.
When he saw the way you lookedâthe darkness looming over you, the distress in your eyesâhe saw himself. And when he saw Graves, he saw the life that was stolen from him.
That red that clouded his lens when he was a child was all he could see. Pure, angry red.
Now, standing in Priceâs quarters, that red only grew angrier. This time, for youâfor putting you in the same position heâd been stuck in for years.
You didnât deserve that.
Your mind was a whirlwind of chaos. It was struggling to digest the information given to you. So much at once and you could barely manage to keep yourself together.
Everybody looked sorry for you. Ghost looked enraged. Price was lost. Soap and Gaz were remorseful. It was too much.
You hated that they looked at you like that. You hated when they didnât look at you like that more. Having them worry, when for the duration of your stay it was like walking on burning rocks, it felt strange.
Their own worry caused yours as well.
âWhat is that?â you asked. âThe mark of death. Iâ I donât know what that is. What does that mean?â
You were becoming more frantic. The panic that ensued was growing, and you could tell it bothered Price. He was quick to grasp your shoulders, settling you.
âItâs complicated,â he explained quietly, hushing you. âThat man you saw? His name is Phillip Graves. Some call him the Devil of the Seas. Heâs a wicked pirate who feeds off of the innocent, their fear. None of us know what he truly is, not even Ghost, but we believe heâs apart of something sinister.â
âWhat, like heâs sold his soul? Made amends with the Devil? You are talking madness!â you exclaimed, exasperated.
âWe are talkinâ truth,â Price corrected. He was as patient as ever, yet still held the firmness of a leader. âHeâs that of a reaper. Souls is what he wants. The mark of death is his contract, you may say.â
âBut you are not telling me what the mark does,â you cried.
Your head hurt. The world was spinning. You didnât understand.
âI think itâs quite obvious what the markinâ is, dove,â the Captain said solemnly. âIt is only by miracle it hasnât happened to Ghost yet.â
âSo I am to die? Is that it?â You flickered your gaze between each man. Your eyes told a million stories, and each of them were ones of fear and anguish. âI am going to die?â
âNo,â Ghost snapped. You looked at him. He seemed as pain as you were, but the anger was taking over logic. âYou ainât dyinâ. Not today, not tomorrow. Mânot lettinâ it happen.â
âGhost,â Soap tried, but he was quickly shut down.
âI said no,â he repeated resentfully. âPrice, show her the map.â
Price turned to him, stiffening. It seemed he still didnât quite want to let you know the full truth. Now, you felt it was to protect you rather than leave you out. It was too late for protection.
The Captain silently walked to his desk, pulling open the old drawer with a slam, shaking the table. He pulled out the map youâd seen so long ago, unrolling it and slapping it on the table.
âCome, dove,â he called, and you listened.
The men surrounded the desk with you, staring down at the map. The ink was still the same as it was beforeâislands crossed out with an X, while one remained circled.
âSuppose itâs time you knew, hm?â he asked, offering the smallest of smiles. You found that you missed his real one. The one he tried to hide when he found a joke of yours humorous.
Your nerves shot up. Your emotions were at an all-time high. You were scared, scared to find out the truth.
âThese islands,â he began, tracing his finger along the map to point at the ones with an X, âare all land marked by Graves. Every single one, we went to in search of a medic. The one in the poem, remember?â
The one who heals the ill and poor
shall be the cure to all demise.
You werenât sure how it linked to you. Youâd never met Graves, nor had you met your pirate crew until they took you away. The connection wasnât there. It didnât make sense.
âYes, I remember,â you confirmed quietly. âWhat does it have to do with me?â
âWe searched for a medic from every village, yet when we arrived, they were famished with death, or on the brink of,â he explained. âAll of the villages were all succumbinâ to Gravesâ mark of death. We think he was attemptinâ to get rid of all villages as much as he could so we wouldnât be able to find their medics. We donât know how, but he knows we have the prophecy, and he doesnât like it.â
âAnd how do you know the prophecy is related to Graves?â you questioned. âHow do you know it relates to me?â
âGhost got the prophecy a long time ago when he was still on Gravesâ ship,â Soap piped in. His hands rested on the table and he leaned over the map, but his eyes bore into yours. âHe was searchinâ for answers even then. This is all he got.â
You couldnât imagine the desperation Ghost must have felt, knowing Graves had him under his despicable spell. Not knowing whether he was going to live or die.
Your heart ached.
âAnd me?â
The room went silent, as if your words burned a wound in them.
âYour village had the mark, yet nobody had suffered from it,â Gaz said quietly. His eyes were soft when he looked at you with the unmistakable glimmer of pity in them. âWe knew you were the one we were lookinâ for.â
âMy village was not cursed,â you denied, shaking your head. âThere is simply no possibility. We rarely got outsiders unless they were coming to browse the merchants.â
It clicked in your head how quickly it mustâve happened. Graves, visiting your village under the guise of an innocent shopper, gearing his interest towards the various merchants that littered your small streets.
It wouldâve been so easy for him. So terribly easy.
Your people died to Priceâs crew, but the true evil was the man who gave the pirates reason to ensure a massacre.
âThatâs why you did what you did,â you muttered to yourself in disbelief. âYou killed them because of him. You killed Mary because of him.â
âThe curse wouldâve taken over the moment you left,â Gaz explained. âYou were the shield protectinâ them without even knowinâ. Youâre meant to fulfill the prophecy, grantinâ you immunity until we found you.â
All this talk about a prophecy made you want to scream, cry, yell, anything. Why you? Why were you the one chosen, and why did it have to be you?
You wanted your life back. You didnât want to be apart of this.
Before you knew it, tears welled up in your eyes. They stung, causing you to blink rapidly. You didnât want to seem weak, but in this moment, you were.
âDove?â Gaz called out, concerned.
âI donât want this,â you cried, shaky hands balling into fists. âYouâyou knew I was apart of this and never told me. You kept me in the dark for this long, you hid me from the truth, and for why?â
âWe donât have all of the information yet, dove, pleaseââ Price began, but you shut him down.
âBullshit!â you shouted, and he reeled back in surprise. You had been outspoken before, plenty with the Captain especially, but he had never seen you lash out so fiercely. âYou took my life away because you assumed I was the one in your ridiculous prophecy on a whim. You took a guess and went with it. I am hardly a proper medic, let alone worthy enough to be that person for you, so why have you chosen me?â
âYou must understand, you were the only medic left alive,â Price defended. âWe had no choice. We did what we had to do.â
âAt my expense,â you argued.
âAt all of our expense,â he retorted. âI did not care for your life when we stole it. I did not care for it when you were locked in the brig. I cared for Simonâs.â
You fell silent, whipping your head to look at Ghost. Youâd heard Price call him Simon before, by a slip-up, but now he had said it purposely. Ghost simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.
All that talk before and now, at your aid, he was as quiet as a street mouse.
âWithout you, he will die. We do not know when. Graves hasnât killed him due to the thrill of holdinâ his life in his hands. Itâs a toy to him. He can take his life away at any moment, and I would not allow that, even if it meant ruininâ yours.â
Priceâs cheeks were reddened from the frustration and helplessness he was feeling. He was a Captain trying to save his crewâs life, uncaring of yoursâin the beginning, at least.
Now, the mere thought of losing both had him kneeling like a pitiful dog to the Devil of the Seas.
âI do not wish to be here,â you murmured, taking a step back. Soap opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him. âI need to be alone.â
The Captain gave you a sad smile, nodding his head. He was respecting your wishes.
âAs you wish,â he agreed, and you made your way out of the suffocating quarters, returning to your shared one with Gaz and Soap.
âDove,â a voice called out. It was quiet, like it was whispering, yet to you, it sounded loud. You hated its voice.
It was black. Your eyes couldnât adjust to the light, no matter how much you shifted them to look around.
Your body felt heavy, as if something was weighing on you. Your lungs were tight, and when you opened your mouth for air, nothing came in. You slapped your hands over your throat, clawing at the skin.
Why couldnât you breathe? You felt like you were drowning. No matter how hard you tried, you couldnât take in an ounce of air, and you could feel your lungs beginning to protest.
A cold panic came over you, like an icy wave consuming you in its dangerous waters. You tried to move your legs, but they were stuck. They were too heavy.
All you could do was helplessly paw at your throat, praying to gasp for a breath, praying that the Gods had mercy on you.
âDove,â it whispered once more. Where had you heard the voice before? You knew it, but your mind was blanking from the lack of oxygen.
âIâll be seeing you, dove,â it mocked.
Dove. Dove. Dove.
âDove!â
You shot awake, a sharp gasp invading your lungs. The burning in your chest was harsh, and it was as if you truly hadnât been breathing.
Coming to, you blinked the groggy confusion away, lifting a hand to wipe at your eyes.
Soap peered down at you, his eyebrows knitted worriedly. His hands were on each side of your shoulders, as if heâd shaken you awake, and when you realized you had been asleep, you only guessed thatâs what he was doing.
âI kept callinâ ye but ye werenât wakinâ,â he said wearily. âAre yâalright?â
You glanced around the room, taking it in. Gazâs bed. The clothes strewn on the floor. The mess on the small desk that youâd never seen occupied.
You were no longer suffocating in darkness. It was a mere dreamâno, a nightmare. A terror.
You were safe.
âI donât know,â you confessed breathily, still catching air.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you recalled the nightmare. You couldnât remember the voice, not when you were fearing a death that was merely fake, but you knew now.
âTell me,â Soap urged gently, taking a seat next to you on the bed. You sat up to join him, frowning at the floor. âItâs okay.â
You risked looking up at him, searching his eyes. They were soft whenever they looked at you, and theyâd been like that since the beginning. He was always patient, even when you did things that cost him a scolding from Price.
You felt like you could trust him, more than any of them.
âIt was that man,â you explained. âGraves. I think he is messing with my head. I dreamt of dying, like⌠like I was drowning. I couldnât breathe. The whole time, I could hear his voice, calling me out. Mocking me.â
Soap listened carefully, taking in every one of your words. He cared, that much you could tell, and the situation weighed heavy on him. The worry lines on his face were proof.
Graves was tormenting with your mind, feeding into your fear. He knew you were terrified, and he enjoyed it. The way he mimicked what he told you, whispering it the same as before, it sent chills down your spine and made your blood run cold.
You understood now why Ghost was always a mysteryâbecause he was scared, too. He just hid it better.
âI am scared,â you confessed shakily. âI do not want to die.â
âAnd ye wonât,â he assured, but you shook your head.
âYou do not know that,â you argued. âNone of you do. You have not given me a chance at life. I am stuck in this without a choice, and I am the new target. Itâs not fair.â
Soapâs expression dropped into one of guilt. His focus shifted away from you, avoiding your eye, before returning back to you.
âItâs not,â he agreed quietly. âWeâve done to ye what Graves did to Ghost. Treatinâ ye likeâlike burdening scum, like ye donât matter. I canât express to ye how sorry I am for everythinâ.â
You didnât want an apology, but you accepted it nonetheless. It was the first anybody had truly apologized for the mess you were thrown into. Maybe it was something you needed without realizing. You felt a sliver of weight lifted.
âI never had a family,â you told him, staring down at your feet that hung over the side of the bed. The shoes Soap surprised you with stared back at you. âThe village did not like my values or my lifestyle. It was hard being an outcast there, but it is even harder here.â
âYer not an outcast.â
Looking back up at him, you found him smiling, a faint sparkle twinkling back at you.
âNot anymore. We thought ye were a little strange in the beginning, though,â he said, the end of his sentence bordering a tease.
You couldnât stop your own smile from forming. Despite carrying the crushing weight of the worldâs worries, as well as growing a headache with every word spoken from each of them ever since your arrival, you found yourself growing more fond over them the longer you lingered.
Itâd been a bumpy road, and there were still miles ahead of you, waiting to unravel. But you couldnât fully convince yourself that there wasnât a part of you, yearning to belong with them.
âYou are all very strange,â you retorted lightly. âI have never met such people as you before.â
âThank ye.â
âIt was not a compliment.â
Soap snorted, shaking his head at the banter. âThe Captain is bitinâ tooth and nail in his quarters, thinkinâ he fucked this all up with ye. Never seen him that worried before, but with Graves beinâ around again, I donât blame him.â
The statement caught you off guard, and you found yourself curious. âHe is worried for me?â
Soap eyed you strangely, as if it had been obvious the whole time. âAch. âCourse he is. Capâs got a good heart, even if it doesnât seem like it.â
âI did not realize he cared for me after everything,â you confessed.
Soap hummed, looking down at his trousers and picking at a loose thread. âWe all do.â
You stared at him dumbly, cocking your head in question when he didnât elaborate. You had become acquainted with them, surely, you lived with them now after all, but you werenât aware they truly cared.
When Price had told you theyâd grown fond of you, you didnât quite believe it. You assumed it was his way of convincing you to trust him, but it seemed that wasnât the truth.
The two of you sat in silence, staring anywhere but at each other. The awkwardness grew, and it felt strange to feel that when the relationships had been too uptight even consider having those moments.
You took the time to weigh out your options. The Captain being worried, especially over messing things up with you, had you in a turmoil.
As much as you wanted to deny the path chosen for you unwillingly, you felt an obligation to please them. Yet, not in the way you initially thought.
You didnât want to let them down.
Maybe you truly were as strange as Soap thought.
âIs he still in there?â you asked Soap. He perked up, nodding his head.
âAye. Heâll be rottinâ in there before we know it.â
You pursed your lips, facing that inner battle once more before coming to a conclusion. âWould you like to join me, then?â
Soap raised his eyebrows, watching you stand from the bed. You shot him a warm smile, tilting your head at his confusion.
âFor?â he asked.
âYou all need a medic,â you said, giving a nonchalant shrug. âAnd I do not wish to die by the hands of a filthy pirate such as Graves. I am in this now, so I suppose Iâll simply have to deal with it, am I correct?â
Soapâs smile slowly grew at your sudden courage, standing up to join you. He reached out for you, and once you became confused, he looped your arm with his, grinning down at you.
âSure are, dove. Iâll come with ye.â
The Captain looked a mess when you entered his quarters with Soap. Ghost was beside him where Price sat at his desk, the map and prophecy still scattered on the table. The two of them were speaking hushed to one another, yet when the door opened and you stepped in, they went silent.
âShe wanted to be alone, Soap,â Price protested, but you quickly shook your head, taking a step closer to the desk.
âItâs alright,â you assured. âI have had time to think.â
Priceâs eyebrows raised and he glanced at Gaz for a brief moment before returning to you. âI see,â he hummed, nodding. âI have as well.â
You cocked your head, eyebrows furrowing. He gestured for Ghost and Soap to step out of the room, requesting privacy, and the sudden realization that you would in fact have to speak after your outburst made your nerves to churn.
Ghost gave your shoulder a light squeeze as he walked behind Soap, catching you off guard. When you looked at him, he stared forward, avoiding your gaze.
The door clicked shut as they left, and you stood uncomfortably in place, shifting on the balls of your feet.
âI owe you an apology,â Price began. âA true one. I may be a Captain, and I know in those regards, I come off rather violent. I can be a brute, I will admit, but I am also a man who knows times when he is right and wrong.â
He stood up from his chair, circling around the desk to face you. He leaned against the old wood, crossing his arms and clearing his throat. Upon quick inspection, you saw the faint smoke of his cigar swirling in its ashtray.
âI should not have treated you so unkindly since the beginning. I should have considered how scared you must have been, how alone it must feel,â he continued, eyes drifting off for a moment as if deep in perplexing thought. âI do not apologize for doinâ what I thought was right in that time to save my own, but I do feel sorrow for what transpired in your time beinâ here.â
You couldnât help but wonder if Ghost had been the reasoning for this. He wasnât a man of many words, but you knew the respect him and Price had for one another. It was safe to assume heâd speak with him privately regarding everything.
âIâd like to apologize as well,â you began, but Price stood up straight, quick to raise his hands in protest.
âYou have nothinâ to apologize forââ
âI am sorry for lashing out the way I did earlier,â you cut off. Price stopped, lips pressing together. His gaze remained stuck on you, now that you had his attention. âIt does not excuse what you have done to me, and I see you have realized that. If this is to be my life, I wish for compromise rather than seclusion.â
Price didnât say anything at first. His eyes darted over your face, taking in your features. He saw the calmness you held compared to when you were last in his quarters.
You didnât seem defeated, nor did you seem to simply agree for the sake of him and the others. You wanted this for yourself.
âI will grant you that,â he agreed in a hum, nodding once. âI do not wish for you to feel out of place no longer. You have had enough of that, I believe.â
You took in his words, and they made you smile. It was what you wanted to hearâno angry exchanges, no selfish banter. A simple compromise, one you both wanted.
âGraves came to me in a dream,â you told him. His expression soured. âI believe there will be plenty more instances where he will do that. Based off of what you have told me about him, I do not want to prolong his presence longer than I must. So, Iâd like to be of help.â
Just as quickly as Price grew tense at the mention of Graves, he calmed down, shoulders relaxing when he realized your implications.
âSoap has not convinced you, yes?â he asked, uncertain. âThis is your call. I may have taken you due to my own selfishness, but I give you the choice now. You do not have to be a part of it if you do not want. You are part of us now, but this is not your battle.â
âIt is,â you disagreed, though remained a calm composure. For the first time around Price, you felt at ease in the same room. âIf I am to be part of your crew, your family, then your battles are my battles. I may not have had a family, but I am certain thatâs how it works. Does it not?â
Price stared at you; expression unreadable. It took mere moments for his lips to slowly curl up, granting you one of his rare smiles that seemed to radiate a certain light youâd never seen before. It caused your heart to pick up, though you were unclear as to why.
âThat is how it works with us, dove,â he agreed softly. âYour battles are ours. You can count on it.â
âWonderful,â you cheered with a smile of your own. âShall we continue what wasnât finished before, then?â
Price chuckled low under his breath, his amusement growing the longer you stuck around. He nodded, tapping his desk and calling you to it.
âCome on, dove.â
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â° his parliament's on fire â dazai osamu
.đĽ Ý Ëđ¸ď¸đˇ.đĽ Ý Ë KINKTOBER NO. 1 - nightclub owner!dazai
every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes theyâd commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazaiâs.
contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, port mafia boss!dazai, port mafia member!reader, bsd typical blood / violence, unprotected sex, established relationship, takes place before doa, dazai & reader are a lil unhinged bc they're in love, praise, soft dazai, riding dazai, sub reader, v slight breeding kink oops â 10.1k
The music shook your chest as you watched people head to the front of the club for a dance, a combination of those that were regulars, and those who were just desperate to blow their money on an evening in one of the finest night clubs in the country.
It had grown hot in the club, even for an autumn evening in Yokohoma. There were more people filling the tables than usual, standing only to swing their partners around on the dancefloor. A woman sung sultrily to the crowd, a song that you hadnât heard in ages. Even for a Saturday, it was crowded, the capacity met, and then surpassed, packed to the brim as a group of foreign billionaires weaseled their way in by paying twice the entry fee.
You swirled your glass, sitting alone at the bar with your legs crossed, the tight, red dress rising up on your thighs. Beside you, a man was puffing a cigar, blowing the smoke back in your face so frequently that it took all your effort not to cough. Still, he paid you little attention, too enraptured by a skinny young woman that giggled every time he touched her arm.
A few more individuals made their way to the dancefloor, tracking unaccompanied dancers like prey, hopeful that they could score a partner for the evening. It was amusing, really, how often youâd seen some of the same men come back. Theyâd throw stacks of money on the table in a desperation to acquaint themselves with beautiful, upper-class women, even if theyâd go home unhappy and broke.
Ice clinked against the sides of your glass as the last drop disappeared down your throat, warming you up for the rest of the evening. Already, you had caught the glimpse of several men in the club. But those who knew who you were knew to keep their distance, and they never tried to sneak more than a subtle glance in your direction.
Those who didnât usually noticed nothing but your striking beauty and the allure of darkness that seemed to follow you. They were drawn to you easily, smiling at you like they were entitled to gawk at your appearance, like it would be criminal for anyone so beautiful to shield herself away from the world.
Rarely did that ever end well for them.
You handed your empty glass off to the bartenderâa dear friend that youâd convinced to work for you at the clubâand made your way over to the dance floor. The crowd parted for you with quick glances and slackened jaws, stumbling on their own feet to get out of your way. Once you passed, the world seemed to resume itself. Everyone continued about their business, averted their gaze, even if they were careful not to get too close to you.
Something about that made you smile.
For a while, you danced on your own, grinning carelessly to yourself as you twisted your hips, unbound yourself to the music and the alcohol that ran through your veins. It was a different kind of freedom, and though youâd once been wary of the watchful eyes, they no longer bothered you. You loved losing yourself in the rhythm, loved feeling transported to another realm.
The setlist for the evening included a few of your favorites, and you carried on until there was sweat on your forehead, a single bead trickling down your temple, one that you hastily wiped off. Breaths came to you more stiflingly, heaving inhales and exhales that paired with your thirst.
Finally, the tempo of the music slowed, just enough to snap you back into the present, and the energy zapped out of you as your mood darkened. The time of the evening had passed when you realized that it was no longer fun to dance alone.
You sighed, and with a frown, let your gaze trail across the room to find the cool brown eyes that you loved more than the music you spun in circles to. But Dazai was already in a conversation with someone else, tapping slender fingers against his glass full of amber liquid. He listened intently to a conversation between two men twice his age.
Beside him, Chuuya stood at the edge of the table like a loyal bloodhound, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. You caught his eye instead and smiled to him, though not a single muscle in his face twitched. It seemed as though he was intent on keeping up the charade for the evening.
As much as you wanted to smile even more sweetly and taunt him mercilessly, you didnât let yourself get too distracted. Instead, you refocused your sights on your other goal.
The stocky, tall man was right where Dazai said heâd be, sitting with a couple woman and a few empty glasses in front of him. He had a neatly trimmed, graying beard, sporting a watch that was, at least, a couple million yen.
You caught him watching you over the edge of the table, his smile slow as you bat your eyelashes at him, sauntering past him with a perfectly coy expression. Eyes lingered on the curves of your hips; the smooth skin of your legs revealed by the dress. The lust came in near waves off of him, thick and heavy as they reached you.
It made your job easier, the obvious attraction that they never tried to hide from you. You smiled to yourself, and felt a sense of satisfaction, despite his disgraceful leering.
The seats at the bar had been filled up when you returned, leaving no room for you and your new companion to retreat.
A younger regular, one with an overabundance of nerves and an awkward smile, spoke in hushed whispers to his friend, one that was dressed in a suit far too cheap to be in this club.
You tapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him in the way that had everyone bending over backwards for you. âExcuse me?â
He looked over, irritated for a fleeting second before realizing who it was that had approached him. Immediately, he was to his feet, stammering over a greeting while his friend gawked at him with incredulity.
âSorry to bother you,â you said, softening your voice. âI was wondering if I could have those seats. I hate toââ
âNo, no,â he said, practically shoving the other man away, pushing him out of the chair while he sputtered confused nonsense. âTake them! Weâll be out of your hair.â
You thanked them before placing yourself neatly back onto the stool youâd occupied before. It was far too easy.
The bartender sent you a knowing look, all too familiar with your games, before going back to mixing a drink.
Moments later, you felt the presence of another behind you, an overwhelming smell of tobacco and pine assaulting your senses. He was taller up close, taller than Dazai, at least, and older than youâd originally thought. Deep wrinkles weathered his skin, his eyes, and though there was still a hint of black in his dark hair, it was slowly being overtaken by the signs of a life that was twice as long as yours.
âPretty dress.â That was the first thing he said to you, letting his eyes wander over your chest, lips curling into an ugly smirk. âIt suits you nicely.â
You wouldnât be won over so easily, so you merely smiled at him, nodding in thanks. Though, that had him coming on twice as strong, as if the simple eye contact that youâd made earlier had been a full invitation to fuck you. He took the seat next to you, signaling the bartender over.
âLet me buy you a drink,â he said, and though it was a kind proposition, it always made you laugh. You received a million free drinks from strangers here.
Still, you shrugged and let him, unsurprised that he knew what youâd been drinking earlier. It was a clear sign that heâd been watching you since before you even got up to dance.
âWhatâs your name?âÂ
âShould I give it away that easily?â Your voice was silky in your response, unimpressed, but luring him in, nonetheless.
He laughed, and offered you his own instead, Tanaka, as if you didnât already know it. Youâd been planning on springing him into this trap since the moment heâd arrived that evening. It was a target and a plan that had been set in motion for days.
His grin was uncomfortable, but he thought so highly of the way his lips curled, seemingly luring you in.
In reality, you werenât sure how any woman could stand to get down on her knees for that.
Half an hour passed as you talked with him, preening under his endless string of compliments, wishing that you could string him on for a little bit longer. You enjoyed the words well enough, just another thing to stroke your ego, but the minute he moved closer, you inched away, placing distance between you before he could touch you.
It was obvious it frustrated him, but one look at the flash in his irises had you knowing that he enjoyed the chase.
He droned on, careless conversation about hobbies you didnât want to understand, and though you smiled, pretending to be interested, your focus drifted to the table where Dazai sat.
His conversation had shifted to Chuuya, the two other men from earlier gone. It seemed strained between them, sharp words spoken as they glared at one another, visibly at odds about something.
Despite the clear dispute, anger cleared away from their expressions within seconds, Chuuya straightening like a board beside his boss once again.
Dazai looked up; it was less than a second that your eyes met, but your knees had weakened, heart stuttering in your chest as it skipped a pulse.
A soft exhale left you, and you longed for Dazai, craved the feeling of his strong palm on your skin, the kiss of his lips on your neck. You had half a mind to say fuck the mission and walk right over to the table and plant yourself on his lap.
It would certainly cause a scene, especially when there were so many new customers there who knew about Dazai but didnât know about you.
Still, you knew Dazai wouldnât object. Heâd merely smile into your hair and curl his hand around your hip, continuing on with his conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.
You looked away. If you were to make it through the rest of the night, you couldnât get distracted by the beautiful man just feet away from you. âSorry,â you said, turning back to Tanaka. âWhat were you saying?â
His interest in conversation had already waned, and he faced Dazai, displeased by the uptick of fascination within your expression. âFound someone more interesting already?â
You laughed, shaking your head as you pressed your palms into your thighs. You may have longed for Dazai, been so desperate that you couldnât spare him another glimpse, but you could still play this role well. There couldnât be another slip, every move had to be precise.
âIâm just curious,â you said, puckering your lips in a pout. âHe looks important.â
Tanaka took a sip of his drink as you spoke, nearly spitting it back out when your sentence concluded. His eyes were hard, narrowing at the sight of Dazai just meters away, surrounded by a security of sorts, âYou donât know him?â He coughed.
You frowned, tilting your head. âShould I?â
âThatâs Dazai Osamu. He owns this place.â
There was room for a theatrical pause. You took that moment to pretend to think. âOh, of course. What a silly question,â you said, humming, and set your chin down on your hand to glance back over at the table of Port Mafia personnel. âI hear he owns a lot of things.â You tilted your head, gauging the man with siren eyes. âIs that true?â
Tanaka huffed, but he didnât deny it, looking down at his two-million-yen watch like it was nothing more than a trinket. âA pretty girl like you shouldnât worry about him.â He seemed irritated, though he didnât let it show, his voice the only indicator that you had upset him. âBut I can tell you it sure gets hard to run a business in Yokohama when the Port Mafia owns half the city.â
You widened your eyes, leaning forward. âYouâre telling me the Port Mafia owns this place?â
Tanaka laughed, loud and haughty, looking at you like you were just a poor idiot from the countryside, even if the dress you wore cost just as much as his entire suit put together. âOh, hon, if only you knew.â
The condescending tone sent a screech through your entire body, momentarily halting any proper responses in your current act. But he was unfazed, already moving onto the next topic of conversation, telling you all about the business dealings that youâd known about from the long list of jobs within his file.
There was, truly, nothing about him that you hadnât already dug up. It was boring you immensely, but you smiled on, nodding enthusiastically as he spun the most lackluster story youâd ever heard.
Dazai, across the room, stared at you as you conversed, clenching his jaw at the way the man eyed you, the gaze that scoured your body like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.
Oh, he would certainly enjoy tearing him apart later, even if he would be too easy of a case to break. Â
âWhen are we leaving?â
Chuuyaâs voice snapped him out of his onlooking, and Dazai leaned back in the chair, shedding the tension in his shoulders to resume a comfortable position.
âNot until theyâre both in the car and I can confirm with Tachihara and Gin that sheâs safe,â Dazai said, crossing his arms over the table. He couldnât forget that there were others around him, those who would never say a word to him, but knew who he was, knew what he stood for. Even here, he couldnât let his guard down.
âSafe?â Chuuya laughed, though it was without any humor. His irises flashed dangerously, steely grey darkening into a deep silver. âYou trust that idiot not to lay a hand on her? Heâs undressing her with his eyes.â
Chuuya seemed intent on irritating him that evening, as usual.
âI donât trust anyone who comes here.â Dazai scowled. âDonât be a fool.â
A moment of silence lapsed between them, and Dazai became sickened by the way the man was eyeing you. Though you took it all in stride, leaning just far enough away so his knee didnât graze yours, and his palm didnât brush against your own, it still lit a fire deep within him.
It was all the better, he supposed, to feel such deep hatred for his enemies. It made it easier to tear them apart without any guilt.Â
âHow long are you going to make her do this, huh?â Chuuya spoke up once more from beside him, his voice nothing more than a grumble as he whispered down to Dazai. âThis charade you two are carrying on has lasted long enough. I mean, youâre whoring out your wife for fuckâs sakeââ
Dazai reacted without a thought, despite not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a second. He gritted his teeth and turned on Chuuya, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket, finger tight on the trigger. Enough of a warning for him to know how sincerely the simple comment irritated him.
âDonât ever insinuate that I donât love my wife, Chuuya, or itâll be the last thing you ever say.â Dazai spat the words out carefully, just under his breath, holding Chuuyaâs piercing gaze without blinking. âYou may be a valuable asset to the Port Mafia, but I will not listen to your opinions on matters that donât concern you.â
Chuuya stared, setting his jaw before turning away once more. The two of them looked back to where you were smiling, leading the other man out of the room, though still not touching, placing a respectable distance between you.
âIâm just surprised, Dazai.â Chuuya leaned back, crossing his arms as he titled his head, watching your figure fade into the shadows. âYou love her so fiercely, and yet, you watch as this carries on time and time again. I donât understand.â
Dazai stood from the booth, tucking the gun back into his waistbad, under his coat. He straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. âI think youâre underestimating her if you truly believe she doesnât have a handle on the situation.â His hands slipped into his pockets as Chuuya followed, grumbling from just a few feet away. âBesides, Iâve never forced her into anything. It was her idea in the first place.â
âWhy?â
Dazai sighed, though it was almost wistful, the mere thought of you enough to turn him into a lovesick fool. âPerhaps it is because there are many men that seem to think they can crawl into her bed so easily, and she enjoys their humiliation when they realize that they are so far beneath her.â Dazai shrugged, and smiled lightheartedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. âPerhaps, she just wants to make everyoneâs lives a little easier, including yours. You should thank her sometime.â
Tanaka sat beside you in the car, his hand lingering in the leather seat between his thigh and your own. Night had fallen deep across the city, the sky a navy through the haze of streetlights. Though it was nearing one oâclock in the morning, there were crowds of people out and about, lines at all of the much more affordable clubs in the area.
It hadnât taken much to get him to come with you. Youâd batted your eyelashes, smiled at him from under them, and told him you had a car waiting out back.
That was enough. When youâd pulled yourself down from the barstool, heâd followed after you, eyes blown wide as youâd begun leading him out of the room.
All it took was a dress that hugged your curves and a small grin, and he was in the car with a man that worked for you, heading to a building that your husband owned.
âDo you live far?â Tanaka asked, itching to put his hands on you, even though youâd convinced him to hold off until you got back to your room.
You placed your chin on the inside of your palm, glancing out the window at your own reflection. âNot too far.â You turned back to him, offering him a shy smile. âWhy? Are you getting impatient?â
He grinned wolfishly. Your stomach churned anxiously at the sight of it, even when he was no match for you, nor all the other, powerful individuals that surrounded you. âI donât think I need to answer that.â
Through the rearview mirror, Tachihara met your eyes, and they softened, just barely, silently showing his support from the front of the vehicle.
It was, in a way, a relief. You relaxed, regained a sense of composure, and let your ruby red lips spread over your teeth, cocking your head as Tanaka indulged himself in whatever fantasy was milling about in his mind. His eyes were cruel, though the darkness in them was nothing compared to what you were used to.
Idly, he made comments in your ear of all the things he wanted to do to you, his unpleasant breath tickling the skin there as you tried your best not to recoil. The smell of him was growing heavy in the car, overwhelming and nauseating. You sat even more stiffly, pressing Tanaka away with a palm to his chest as you giggled to yourself, pretending to enjoy his vulgar words.
Tachihara pulled the car around to the back of the building, letting the two of you out as he put it into park.
Any fool shouldâve known where they were, what the dark building in the middle of the city stood for, but Tanaka was all too focused on you, intoxicated and inattentive. The mafia headquarters loomed overhead, dark, and unassuming, a triad of buildings stacked perfectly against one another.
âThank you,â you said to Tachihara, winking at him as Tanaka turned his back, too disoriented to take in anything but the sight of you right before him.
The car drove away, then, and you were left to guide your guest into the building, towards the room that you had already planned to meet Dazai in. When you reached the elevator, Gin was waiting for you, dressed in female attire, this time, charading as a worker instead of the trained assassin that she truly was.
âImpressive building,â Tanaka said, as if not noticing all the obvious signs of the mafia base. âYou must come from quite a wealthy family.â
You smiled at him over your shoulder, curious as to why he didnât assume youâd come into the riches on your own. âI suppose you could say that.â
Gin opened the elevator, then began typing a message to her boss, alerting him of your arrival. Tachihara had taken the longest route back, giving Dazai just enough time to arrive home before you.
âAre you a renter?â he asked, staring as the numbers on the elevator increased, climbed higher while you went towards a floor that was only two below the penthouse.
âWe own it.â
Tanaka turned towards you, eyes wide with surprise, perplexed even further by the alcohol running through his veins. âYou didnât sayââ
Abruptly, he cut himself off. Whatever comment he was about to make was overshadowed by the fact that heâd met you at the Port Mafiaâs night club. That was certainly no place for anyone that didnât have a million yen to spare in their pockets.
Finally, the elevator dinged, and you relaxed at the sight of the familiar hall, the carpet that had recently been replaced, the paintings that youâd personally added, ones that had been purchased at an auction. There were traces of you everywhere, and though it belonged to many members of the mafia, it was, inherently, your home.
You grabbed Tanakaâs hand, realizing just how cold it was, wrinkled with calluses and dirtied nails. It took everything in you not to grimace as you pulled him towards the fourth door on the right, the one that had been used for every interrogation over the past two years.
It had become something of a holding cell for the mafiaâs enemies, and most didnât remain here long. You doubted that this man would be of any exception.
Tugging him along, you increased your speed, an invisible string guiding you right back to Dazai. He was your fiery beacon, and though you were still separated by walls, your heart thumped at being so near to him.
âEager, are we?â Tanaka asked, and when he grinned in the lights, you realized how slimy it was, a hunger dripping off the edges of his yellowed teeth.
You smiled right back, but it was forceful, painful as it etched its way onto your cheeks. An itch started in the cracks of your palm, willing you to snatch it out of Tanakaâs hand and scrub it clean. Still, you held on, remembering that this was for the Port Mafia, this was for Dazai and everything youâd worked for over the years.Your determination increased tenfold. âItâs just around the corner.â
Finally, you reached the room where you knew Dazai would be waiting, and just like every other time youâd done this, every time youâd brought another willing victim into a den of wolves, you could finally relax.
You entered the room, not bothering to flip on any of the light switches. There was furniture, but it was dusty, bloody, and it would make it far too obvious that you were not leading Tanaka back to your bedroom. You didnât want him turning tail too quickly, running when he discovered you had no intention of rolling around in the sheets with him.
He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, advancing on you like a hunter. It wouldâve been threatening, intimidating perhaps, if you had not been able to sense Dazai on the other side of the wall. You knew that whatever control Tanaka thought he had on the situation had quickly evaporated, and it was only a false blanket of security that heâd wrapped himself up in.
âCan I get you anything? Maybe a drink?â you asked, stopping Tanaka with a flat palm to his chest, not allowing him to come any closer. âThe alcohol in me is starting to wear off.â
He ignored your wishes entirely, upon you once more. One larger hand ripped yours from his chest, pulling you just another inch closer. âIâve had enough tonight,â Tanaka said, teeth flashing in the dim starlight. âIâm dying to fuck you.â
You frowned, eyebrows wrinkling. âWell, Iâd like a drink first.â
âIâm not in the mood.â He yanked on your hand again, and this time, you knew heâd kiss you, knew heâd plant the cracking pale lips of his own on yours. The thought of it made you ill.
Without thinking, you slung a fist across his face, a crunch sounding from his nose at the force of your hit. Blood trickled from one nostril, flowing in a fast stream over his lips, into his teeth.
He bent over, and you stood, straighter, staring over him as he cursed. The punch had been much more forceful than youâd intended.
âWhat the fuck.â He was angrier than before, and though his pain was immense, it did little to dissuade him. You kept your face hard, inching backwards as he stood tall, so much bigger than youâd remembered. It wouldnât take much for him to lift you, throw you onto any surface he wanted.
Youâd use your ability if you had to, kill the man if it was necessary, but that would mean the entire plan had gone to waste.
âYou bitchââ
Without letting any fear cloud your face, you took a step back and bumped into something solid and warm. A cologne more familiar than Tanakaâs enveloped you in a safety net.Â
The older man made it one step further, aggressively, before every ounce of determination waned from his eyes. He staggered, tripping over himself and stared back at the man that had slowly come up behind you. The one that was brushing soft fingertips between your shoulder blades, his steady breath tickling the crown of your head.
Dazai smiled, in a way that was so menacing that your heart thumped twice in its chest before resuming its natural melody. Tanaka took a step back, scrambling away, nearly tripping over himself in the process, eyes dilated in fear.
âYou,â he breathed. âDazaiââ Tanaka didnât finish his sentence, too stunned as he stared between the two of you. âWhatâs going on?â
Dazai stepped forward, letting his hands fall away from you as he cornered the newest addition to his long list of enemies. Already, you missed the warmth of Dazaiâs touch, the security that came with his proximity.
Tanaka cowered before him, suddenly so small, weak under the breadth of Dazaiâs power. A sense of twisted satisfaction curled within you, lightning up every pore under your cold skin.
âI believe you owe my wife an apology,â Dazai said, and his tone was even, hard, not a hint of amusement laced within the words. Tanakaâs eyes darted to you, where you stood with your arms loose at your sides, eyes softer, every inch of you more delicate now that Dazai was in the room.Â
âWifeââ The word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it, hesitant. âYou said you didnât know him. You asked me questions about him.â
You slid the ring back onto your finger, the one that youâd kept tucked away in the pocket of your bag. It glimmered in the beams of the moon, the diamond and rubies sparkling. âI can lie just as easily as a man can.â Crossing your arms, you sighed, and stared at Dazaiâs taut back, the strained muscles in his shoulders as he stood over Tanaka. âYouâre all so stupid sometimes. It only takes a simple question, and you never ask it. Anyone in that club couldâve told you who I am.â
He balked, considering his own ignorance, and followed your eyes back to Dazai, who had gone just a few steps behind you, to the small storage of top-shelf alcohol that you kept locked up in the room. âWhat is this about?â he asked, shaking his head to clear away his distress. âYouâve obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?â
âI find it funny that you think youâre the one in control of the situation,â Dazai said, turning his back to fix himself a drink. He didnât doubt that you would watch Tanaka for him with careful eyes. Even the smallest twitch of his eyebrows would be telling. âYou donât get to ask questions.â
âI havenât done anything,â he said, and though his voice was hard, there was underlying panic. âIâve stayed well out of the Mafiaâs business, as promisedââ
âPerhaps.â Dazai interrupted smoothly, coolly. âOur agreement wasnât broken, per se. I just happen to think that working with outsiders is an act of much higher treason.â
Tanaka blinked, faltering. His jaw went slack, a mere second ticking before he replied. âI have no idea what youâre talking about.â
âDonât try to lie to me.â Dazai glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. âIâm talking about Dostoevsky. The rats that are trying to take over my city.â He tsked, rolling the glass around on the counter, clinking it against the granite. Then, he popped a crystal bottle open, letting it fill a quarter of the glass.  âSuch a shame. Youâve built quite a name for yourself in Yokohama. Is this really worth losing all that?���
Tanaka stuck both hands in his pocket, shaking his head vigorously. His fingers flexed against his sides. âI donât know what youâre talking about. I donât know who that is, Iâve never crossed anyone by that name.â
Seeing an opportunity while Dazaiâs back was turned, Tanaka began to pull out a pistol from his coat; one you had, stupidly, forgotten to check for. It seemed he doubted that you were a threat, and if he could just kill Dazai, youâd be an easy target.
You moved without thinking, making the single-step distance between you and Dazai. There was a gun relaxed at his waistband, and you stole it, knowing exactly where he kept it hidden. Before Tanaka could point his own at the head of your lover, youâd acted first, aiming Dazaiâs gun, your jaw tense and back straight. âPut it down.â
Tanaka, caught off guard, locked his jaw, and his fingers twisted tighter around the handle of the gun, inching towards the trigger. For a moment, he contemplated, but even without knowing the thoughts in his mind, you could read his actions.
You wouldnât give him the opportunity to do as he wanted. Instead, you fired your own gun, digging the bullet into his fingers, shattering them, blood spattering as Tanaka dropped the pistol to the floor in a ghoulish scream.
For a second more, he writhed in pain at your own hand, once again. You held your arm taut, before letting the gun drop to your side as Dazai hummed behind you. Tanaka had fallen to his knees, tears welling up, his vision glossy as he dropped the maimed hand to his thighs.
Dazai came up beside you, smiling at you, and brushed his fingers down your arm. Slowly, he took the gun, placing it back into his waistband, his touch electric on every centimeter of your skin. âYouâve handled it beautifully, my love.â Dazai squeezed your hand, tilting his head so dark hair cleared away from his eyes. âI can take it from here.â
You nodded, and though Dazai was, by no means, pushing you out of the room, he could see how exhausted youâd become by the whole ordeal. If you wanted to leaveâand you didâhe wouldnât object.
âWill you be long?â you asked, just a whisper over Tanakaâs heavy breaths of pain.
Dazai laughed easily, his breath ghosting the bridge of your nose. âAkutagawa will be here soon.â A touch lingered on your hands for a minute longer before he pulled away completely. âThen, Iâm yours for the rest of the night.â
It was already late, but youâd take whatever time you could get with Dazai, even if you were drained. You nodded, and he turned away, going back towards his enemy, pulling Tanaka up roughly by his collar. Dazaiâs expression changed into a man you almost didnât recognize, if it hadnât been for the moments that youâd had to see him shift into the underworldâs fearsome demon.
You left the room, yawning, Dazaiâs voice the last thing you heard before you shut the door silently.
âNow that youâve learned your lesson, perhaps youâll be more willing to tell me everything you know,â he said.
Despite Dazai promising to leave once Akutagawa arrived, heâd been gone for nearly two hours, with no indication that heâd be returning anytime soon.
You waited for him in the penthouse of the Port Mafia headquarters, the home youâd come to know well in the past few years. A glass of imported wine was beside you on the nightstand, resting between a book youâd been too tired to read before bed.
You sat up, unable to fall asleep, and chewed your lip thoughtfully. It seemed ridiculous, really, for you to already miss a man that you woke up next to and fell asleep beside every night.
Still, you couldnât help the desperation in your chest, the need to see him, to brush the mask of the Port Mafia boss away so Osamu could take his place. Â
You finished the wine, then headed towards the door. The room felt cold and lonely, and if Dazai wasnât going to return soon, youâd just find someone else to bother on the lower levels of the building.
Though, just as you were about to slip on a pair of shoes, the door unlocked, swung on its hinges, and Dazai stepped through the threshold, a vision of gore and violence and every ounce the man you adored.
âOsamu,â you said, and even when youâd said his name a thousand times before, it still left your lips like a prayer. A smile formed, and you dropped your shoes, eyes sparkling, as you regarded the mess that he was in.
Dazai took one look at you and relaxed, shoulders falling as you closed the distance between the two of you. âSorry it took so long, sweetheart,â he said, craning his taller frame down to kiss you.
You gripped the lapels of his coat, holding on tight as you pressed into him, deepening the kiss. Dazaiâs bloody fingers cupped your cheeks, smearing red along your jaw, ruining your clean skin. Though, as you exhaled a sigh deep into his mouth, you couldnât have cared less.
âI thought you said Akutagawa was going to take care of it?â you asked as Dazai released you, offering you a small, almost defeated smile.
He walked past you, towards the bathroom, feet dragging as he shrugged off his dark coat. Under the crisp top, his muscles were stiff, strained from all the stress. He wiped another hand over his face, doing little to clean up the mess of red that remained on his cheeks.
You followed him, trailing a few feet behind, feeling silly for wanting to cling to him so tightly. Yet, you couldnât get enough of him, and you watched as Dazai remained silent, pausing in front of the mirror to regard his own appearance. He made a face in the glass as he gazed back into his own expression, sticking his hands under the faucet. The water ran in a steady stream, staining the sink a rose color as he scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his nails. There were parts of his bandages that had been soiled, and he ripped them right off, exposing pale wrists that hadnât seen the sun in ages.
You mimicked his action, washing your hands in the second sink before scrubbing the blood from your face, clearing away the smear of maroon that heâd put there. The water shut off, briefly, and Dazai regarded you, frowning as you rid the evidence of his crime from yourself.
âI sent Akutagawa home.â Dazai finally answered your previous question and sighed, frustration evident. He stretched his hands over his head, the bones popping in one fell swoop. âTanaka cracked right open; he really didnât know anything.â He blinked at himself in the mirror once more, tidied his hair, then scowled. âHeâs just a low man on the totem pole, and he paid for it with his life.â
Dazai seemed at odds with himself, and he drummed his nails against the countertop before patting his hands dry. The blood had been cleaned from his skin, and even though his hair was still unkempt, it was the only evidence that any wrongdoing had happened at all. Nothing but a speck of blood remained on his collar, the rest garnishing his coat instead.
You shifted, leaning against the counter. âDid you get anything out of him?â
âNames, a location.â Dazai clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. âHe wasnât lying, but who knows if theyâre real or not. He couldâve been given fake locations. Iâve asked Ango to check on it.â
Dazai, once again, left you standing, contemplative, in the bathroom. You could hear him shuffle around in the other room; he released a small sound of relief as he stretched out his sore muscles.
When heâd finished moving around, you returned to the other room, and he was settled in the red armchair, legs spread out in front of him. Dazai rested his head against the back cushion, his eyes closed in serenity, a deep exhale expelling the tightness in his body.
It was almost a sight too serene to spoil.
âDo you want some space?â you asked, and though youâd always respect his wishes, that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You wanted to consume him completely, to press yourself against every crevice of his being and swallow him whole.
Dazai opened his eyes and blinked at you. Instead of replying, he smiled, slowly, and gestured to his thighs, sparing a glance at his knees.
Your heart pounded, launching its way up your throat, and you scrambled over yourself to crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs, the muscle strong beneath you.
Gently, he smiled at you, and brushed your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, and slowly, you removed the bandage from his eye, hating whenever he tried to hide any part of himself from you.
You waited for him to protest, but he relented, and let you kiss his forehead, the very darkest parts of himself on display for you alone. It was hard not to collapse under the weight of your love for him.
You discarded the bandages, tossing them onto the table as Dazai tapped a pattern in the crevices of your skin.
For a moment, neither of you said a word. You noted every feature of his that you loved so dearly, and Dazai just watched you study him, tried hard not to smile against your lips when you kissed him.
If only he could see how beautiful he was, surely, he would understand that he deserved a life so much better than the one heâd been dealt. That someone with a smile brighter than a dying star shouldnât have it taken away by years of endless anguish.
Finally, Dazai spoke, whispering your name in a tone he never used on any word but that one. âYou donât have to do this anymore if you donât want to.â
âHm?â you asked, tilting your head, so distracted by the endless galaxy within his eyes.
Dazai huffed, placing a possessive hand on your hip. His thumb grazed the bone and you shivered, smiling at him in confusion.
âSweetheart, I donât ever want you to feel like youâre obligated to do something just because youâre my wife.â He looked past you, an uncertainty beneath his words that he was ashamed of. âIf you donât want to take on any more assignmentsâ"
âI told you already, Osamu,â you began, brushing the hair at the back of his neck that was hidden beneath the collar. âI donât mind.â
âI know, butââ Dazai hesitated, his gaze steady on the doors behind you, the ones that led to your bedroom. Somehow, he seemed to think all the answers would be there, a script written out for him to recite to you. âChuuya brought it up to me earlier. He said that IâmâŚâ Dazai swallowed the words, shaking his head. âLook, it doesnât matter. I just want you to promise me that you know if you want to stop, you can stop. Even if you wanted to quit the Port Mafia altogether, Iâm happy to give you whatever you need.â
You smiled, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows in the hope that it would ease the anxiety in his expression. The tension was such an unusual thing for anyone but you to see, as Dazai had such trouble revealing his vulnerabilities to the world.
âI promise.â You swept your thumb over his lip, watching as it bounced right back into place, so soft and lovely. âI just donât want to quit.â You leaned back on his lap, so you were able to see the entirety of his face. Â
Dazaiâs eyebrows drew together once more, putting that worry right back on his appearance, and a part of you hated that of all the things he had to be stressed about, it was something as silly as you not wanting to quit your job.
âWhy?â Dazai asked, tilting his chin, searching the depths of your soul for an answer that would appease him. âI donât understand. You hate them; you tell me you hate them every time they try and lay a finger on you.â
He wasnât wrong, certainly not about something like that. You loathed that men looked at you like you were something that they could just steal away, like they were entitled to the subtle way that they brushed your hip in passing, caressed your back when they walked behind you.
You just didnât hate everything about the work youâd been doing. After all, it was your idea.
âI just donât want to,â you said, looking over his shoulder to the open curtains, the bright expanse of Yokohama laid out before you. Twinkling star lights from skyscrapers and the port in the distance. âIt doesnât matter.â
It was your home, your city, and it always would be. You wouldnât let Dazai die, wouldnât let anyone take him from youâincluding himself. You��d continue to do whatever it took to protect that. Whether or not you used your appearance to achieve those ends didnât matter. When it was all said and done, Dazaiâs enemies would be dead, and youâd still have him to come home to.
âIt matters to me.â
You shook your head, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. There were a million different ways you couldâve explained it, but none that were intelligent. âItâs embarrassing, âsamu.â
Dazai laughed, a genuine noise, and kissed your shoulder as you sighed, relaxing into him once more. âI canât think of anything about you that could possibly be embarrassing.â
You held his gaze, wishing for him to relent, to just give up and let you have this one. Instead, he just smiled back patiently, hoping youâd reveal another part of yourself to him as he slowly traced your hard collarbone.
Those pools behind his eyes were too distracting, the thumb on your neck dangerously close to your throbbing pulse. You swallowed, letting him feel every movement as your throat bobbed up and down.
âI guess,â you said shyly, âI like it. I like leading on your enemies, letting them think that they could possibly have a chance with someone like me. I like the look on their faces when they realize theyâve been made a fool of, that the girl who they wanted so badly belongs so completely to the boss of the Port Mafia.â
Dazai studied you for a moment as you shrugged the revelation off, his deep brown eyes darting over every crevice of your face. âYou want to make them jealous of me?â
âMaybe.â Your cheeks heated, and though youâd been together for years, loved him for even longer, you still shied under the weight of your own desire for him. âI donât know. Maybe I just want them all to know that Iâm as much the boss of the Port Mafia as you.â You wound your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him, the only person youâd ever need in the dangerous world. âTheyâre blind to their desire, and they refuse to see that I have complete control over them.â You smiled, lazily, fondly. âDonât they know that this is my city, too?â
Dazaiâs strength made an appearance then, and he gripped your cheeks, holding you with a spiraled mix of possession and affection. âIt is,â he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own, âand Iâd burn it all down before I let anyone take it from you.â
Your heart stuttered in your chest at his deepened tone, the seriousness that drew on his normally playful inflection. You grew hot, and a twist of desire started deep within you, spreading down easily, slowly turning your thoughts into a muddled mess.
âI know,â you said, trying to keep your words steady as Dazai drew lazy circles up and down your sides. âEveryone knows.â You met his eyes, soft, yet dark, clouded with a longing you werenât unfamiliar to. âThe woman who brought them to their knees is still nothing more than a simple fool for Osamu Dazai.â You inhaled drawing your fingers to his open collar, the crisp bandages around his chest. âWhat could they ever do to deserve that kind of devotion?â
Dazai waited, watched your smaller hand run across his neck, his smirk slowly growing on his lips. âIâm a lucky man, indeed,â he said, drawing the words out slow and lazily. He tipped your chin down to him, his smile displaying the almost sharpened points of his canines. Slender fingers caressed your hipbone, pressing you farther down onto his thigh.
You let out a small sound, not taking your eyes off of his as his expression grew wily, and the slip you wore slowly began to rise up your thighs, exposing the softer skin of your leg.
âI admit, I canât stand that everyone in this city wants you so fucking bad.â Dazai sunk his lips to your neck, kissing the space between your shoulder and jaw. âBut I canât blame them. My beautiful angel.â He smiled under your jaw, gripping your hips harder, forcing you to drag against his thigh. A puff of air left your throat as Dazai grinned, spiking your arousal. âItâs for the best, isnât it? Iâve ruined you for anyone else.â
Your eyes flashed; Dazai bounched his leg, just once, his eyes shining, every move calculated. Heâd always known exactly how to touch you, and heâd never forget, never stop enjoying the way you jerked so easily under his palm, the way you were already trying to rub yourself against him.
âOsamu,â you began, desperate for just a moment of friction, to feel his rigid muscle drag against your cunt. You wanted him so badly that your heart stumbled over itself, all the love you held, locked up there and looking for a way out.
He made a sound of disapproval, holding you still with a tight grip on your hips. His fingers dug into the bone, but it did little to ease your aching need for him.
âSee?â Dazaiâs kisses were light as he whispered against the shell of your ear, the sound nothing more than a breath of air. âI barely have to touch you and youâre a whimpering mess.â
You swallowed, tugging at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to remain steady, if only for him to give you what you wanted.
Dazai seemed to be in a generous mood, worn from the previous mission, and he was grinning lazily, two fingers slipping under your dress.
His grip loosened, and you shifted, letting him pull on the strap of your panties, drag them down your thighs, over your knees, to discard beside the chair. Already, there was evidence of your desire, a spot of wetness obvious against the red satin.
He let the garment hang between his fingers before he looked back at you, watching as it softly fell to the floor. âIf only they knew how easy it was to get you wet,â he said, shrewdly, âtheyâd want you twice as much as they did before.â
You let out a soft whimper, trying to direct his beautiful hands back between your thighs. Though, Dazai kept his fingers away, and in an act of desperation, you pressed your forehead to his, conveying every ounce of your affection for him.
âOsamu,â you breathed, blinking into his warm irises, a shade of brown that had easily become your favorite. âIâm so crazy about you.â You kissed his cheeks, smearing your lip gloss all over the skin heâd just wiped clean. âI couldnât stop thinking about you all night. Everyone in Yokohama watches me, but I ache for you.â
His eyes flashed, pleased, and he relented, nudging his thumb to the inner most part of your thigh. The smile was still mocking, but he gave you at least some relief; Dazai let you sink back down on his thigh, the pressure just enough to have you clawing your nails into his chest.
He kissed your nose, but kept you where you were, perched on the middle of his leg and much too far from his cock. âWhat would you ever do if I wasnât here to take care of you, hm, darling?"
You softened; even if his gaze was taunting, there was utter devotion between his dilated pupils.
All those men who fell for your act may have been complete fools, but Dazai was even worse off than them: he was a fool in love.
âItâs so hard not to crawl into your arms every time youâre around,â you admitted, grabbing the buckle of his belt to undo it with a clank. The mere sound, the feel of the leather between your fingers, nearly had you salivating. âIâm stronger than a lot of men in Yokohama.â Your features contorted then, eyes vulnerable as you looked up at him through delicate lashes, no longer a vision of authority, but of someone who desperately wanted to be taken care of. âNot you, though.â
Dazaiâs grip on you relaxed, and something in his eyes shifted, lips parting as an exhale left them. He said nothing as you removed the belt, and instead, let himself sink deeper into the cushion, bearing your weight.
Hastily, you pulled down the zipper of his slacks. The weight of his heavy cock in your hands was so familiar. You stroked him gently, watching for any reaction, and while his face remained steady, you could sense the change in his heartbeat.
âI donât need you to be strong around me,â Dazai said. His voice had deepened, your name leaving his lips, raspy by the end of his sentence. âYou can fall apart if you want to, my love.â His erection grew slowly in your palm, and he brought you closer, your bare, soaked cunt dragging against his thigh. âIâll always be here to put you back together.â
You smiled, flushing as he hardened, his breath growing uneven. When you had him leaking within your palm, you shifted forward on your knees, grinning at his reddened cheeks. Dazaiâs eyes drifted towards your chest, just inches from his face. Â
Uncertain, you hesitated, even though you wanted him, needed him with every fiber of your being. It was an unfamiliar position. He could take control of the situation at any moment, but you werenât usually the one looming over him.
âOsamuââ
âWhat?â he released with a sigh, and in one swift motion, lifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. âYou walk around my nightclub in those dresses I buy you, force those pretty tits into other menâs faces, but now youâre too shy to fuck your husband?â
You made a face, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you, and if only to prove a point, you sunk down on him, your folds slick. Dazai slid into you easily, a sinful noise breaking the silence between you as he grinned. âIâll f-fuck you,â you stuttered, swallowing under the heat of his watchful eyes. âItâs justâŚâ Your words failed again as his cock went deeper in you, your focus entirely on your own pleasure.
âJust what?â He stopped you for a moment, planting you on his thighs, his cock still straining, filling you. Glaring, vibrating with need, you opened your eyes, lips parting as he whispered against your mouth âFinish your sentence, sweetheart.â Â
âItâs not my fault, Osamu,â you said, on the edge of a whine, squirming within his hold. âI canât help that they stare.â
He laughed, then, and it was just a brush against your swollen mouth, the one he kept coming back to. âThey can stare all they want,â Dazai said, tilting your chin up. âAs long as they know who you belong to.â
Finally, he let you go, his hands tracing the edges of your knees, and you started a slow, steady pace, gasping as you held onto his neck tightly. He bowed his head into your collarbone, and kissed you once, before leaning back lazily, watching you take and take and take.
âDoing so good, angel,â he said, watching you with such a passion that it was distracting, as he let his palms rest simply on your thighs. âYou always look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, donât you?â
âFeels so good,â you muttered.
âI know.â Dazai seemed too devilish with his dark hair fanned out against the red chair, grinning in a way that twisted up your insides, sweat beading down your forehead as you tried to reach your orgasm.
You were hot with his piercing gaze upon you, but he didnât bother to move his hands, did nothing to even pretend like he was fazed. You sunk down faster, heart racing, as the muscles of your hips strained, burned. Already, you were growing tired, sleepy from a full evening, but still so desperate to come around him.
You leaned forward, trying to angle your body, gain some relief from the position. Though it did little, and instead you were left sighing in frustration, wishing that he would do anything, instead of just look at you with a lust blown smile.
With every moment, the pain began to grow, the ache in your legs far too much to give way to pleasure. You started back at Dazai, frustrated, eyes glossy with need.
Dazai laughed at you then; it wasnât quite mocking, but it wasnât kind either. âDonât tell me youâre already tired.â
Frustrated and impatient as you dripped down your own thighs, you grabbed his throat, thrusting his head into the back of the chair.
Dazai, eyes wide with surprise, stopped smiling as you curled your hand around his neck, his fingers digging into your thighs.
âAre you just going to sit there, Osamu?â you said, your words high-pitched and desperate. âOr are you going toââ
The end of your sentence was cut off by him gripping the back of your hair, smashing your lips into his own. The hand on his neck fell away, drifting to the lapels of his bloodstained collar, as he brought you down hard on his cock, hitting a place deep inside you that you hadnât been able to reach with your own strength.
Dazaiâs fingertips left bruises on your skin as he devoured the inside of your mouth, bringing you down over and over, stretching your walls with each movement.
âSo pretty and desperate for me,â Dazai laughed, but he was breathless, his own tenacity crumbling from adoration. âCanât do anything by yourself, can you, baby?â His kisses were sloppy as he dragged them across your neck, tongue grazing the sharp vein under your ear.
âNo, but you saidââ you were losing your breath and your words. âYou said youâd take care of me. I donât want to cum all on my own, âsamu.â
Dazai groaned, his gaze drifting down to the space between your bodies, where you were sucking him back in, your own body aligned with your heart, never wanting to let him go.
âFuck,â he said, slamming you back down on his thighs, his eyes hazy with love. âOf course Iâll take care of you.â One hand guided your hips as the other curled around your jaw, setting the pace with half his strength. âYouâre my whole world.â His words stuttered, aching cock twitching inside you. âIâm nothing without you, understand?â
You nodded, but you werenât quite thinking straight, the words a jumbled mess when they entered your mind. âI love you,â you said, gasping the end of his name. âI love you, Osamu, need more.â
Dazai breathed, just as heavily, softening as he regarded you. Heâd always loved the look on your face as you came apart. âYou take it so well,â he said eyelids fluttering over hazy eyes, and he kissed your forehead. You dragged your hands all over his chest, just wanting to touch any part of him. âWish you could see yourself. Youâre so beautiful.â
You groaned, pulling him closer, until there was nowhere left to go, surrounded completely by Dazai; the smell of him, the taste of him. âSay it back,â you muttered, âsay you love me too.â
He choked on a laugh, and the lewd sounds of your wet arousal were loud as he came in and out of you. âI love you, angel, you know how much I love you.â Dazai kissed you, then, and your heart sped at how hoarse his voice had become, how easily it was for you to make the most powerful man in Yokohama fall apart at the seams. âYouâve got a pretty ring to prove it, donât you? I donât want anyone but you. I never will.â
âCome inside me.â Your eyes squeezed shut as his cock reached impossibly deep within you, stretching you, your legs shaking as you tried to ignore the dull ache within your tense muscles. Tears sprang to your eyes, coating your lashes; it was almost devastating how much you loved him. âPlease. Feel so full, âsamu.â
âYeah?â He reached between you to play with your clit, and you were so close, crying out a broken moan as he touched you. âNeed to remind everyone that youâre my girl, hm?â He knew just how you liked to be touched, how easy it was to get you to come when he fucked you like you needed. âWant me to put a baby in you next, sweetheart? Shit.â He curled his fingers, bruising your mouth as he stole the oxygen from your chest. âEveryone would know then, wouldnât they? How could they doubt youâre mine when youâre carrying my child.â
You cried out, then, breaking, spasming around his cock as you fell onto his chest. Dazai said your name, kissed the top of your head, but you were too full of love for him. You breathed heavily as he brought you down once more, twitching against him from the ache in your sensitive cunt.
A moment later, Dazai jerked, then came inside you, spilling his warm cum against your folds, the white ropes dripping down your thighs, staining his dark, wrinkled slacks. Slowly, he pulled out of you, letting you rest on his chest as you breathed, your legs sore. A gentle touch ran up and down your spine as Dazai wrapped his arms tight around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.
âGod, youâre perfect,â Dazai said, and his voice sounded almost broken, devastatingly emotional. âYou canât ever leave me, okay, angel? I need you right here by my side.â Lips grazed your temple, so sweetly, gently. âWhatâs the point of all this if I canât share it with you?â
You smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck, eyes full of tears as you kissed him. âIâm not going anywhere, Osamu. I promise.â
OCTOBER MASTERLIST - leave a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the tag list
tag list: @satohruu (hannah i planned this one bc of your tags on my last pm dazai fic HDSFHSFH) @cha0thicpisces
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