#dark mori woman
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witchyfashion · 3 months ago
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https://amzn.to/4ciKIP9
https://amzn.to/4dedbGW
https://amzn.to/3yjIL7b
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invisible-pink-toast · 7 months ago
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“The woman dies.
She dies to provide a plot twist. She dies to develop the narrative. She dies for cathartic effect. She dies because no one could think of what else to do with her. Dies because there weren’t any better story ideas around. Dies because her death was the very best idea that anyone could come up with.
‘I’ve got it! Let’s kill her off!’
‘Yes! Her death will solve everything!’
‘Okay! Let’s hit the pub!’
And so, the woman dies. The woman dies so the man can be sad about it. The woman dies so the man can suffer. She dies to give him a destiny. Dies so he can fall to the dark side. Dies so he can lament her death. As he stands there, brimming with grief, brimming with life, the woman lies there in silence. The woman dies for him. We watch it happen. We read about it happening. We come to know it well.”
- The Woman Dies by Aoko Matsuda (translated by Polly Barton)
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devilous-ov-noir · 2 years ago
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𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖏𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖙𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗 🖤💀🖤
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delicatelydeceased · 2 years ago
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🗝𝔙𝔦𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔞𝔫𝔞🗝
©Delicately Deceased | Instagram • Shop
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ozai-the-bonsai · 3 months ago
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Could you write for Daemon targaryen like currently after all those nightmares in harnehal he finds a prisoner of harnehal as the only person who brings him peace him falling in love with her and trying to be better person he still fights for team black obviously rahaenya is definitely not happy with these arrangements especially seeing him all dedicated all in love some things he never have done for her but she have no option currently rather accepting his second wife though at the end when team black would be winning and fight at harnehal like aemond Vs Daemon she ask for reader's head happy ending at the end please or anything you wanna write I just wanna see Daemon happy in love at end please
Finally I have time for my hobbies again! Sorry I left you waiting for ages, this term the exam season was tougher than what I have been accustomed to… Anyways, I have started writing some stuff and I wanted to post the intro instead of writing a full-length chapter 1 since it would have taken a couple more days (:
As a side note, I honestly have no idea where this story will be headed because I have no clear course planned, I had some little ideas and I just started writing them. Also I will be introducing stuff which is not in the asoiaf universe.
I am continuing to read Silmarillion from where I left off and let’s say the ideas about Daemon’s love interest are… inspired from what I have been reading (; Enjoy!
Memento Mori
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: strong language, I am not a native English speaker, reader is (or will be) described with long hair
This is a very short introduction! Also the chapter is from Daemon’s pov. The title is inspired by Memento Mori by Lamb of God (the song has been a great inspiration for the story so far)
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The dungeons of Harrenhal were cold, wet and lonely.
He had no idea when, how and why he had gone down there – one moment, he was in his chambers and the next, he was opening his eyes to the mossy stone walls of the dark dungeons with a torch in his hand. The line between dreams and reality was becoming thinner each day he spent in this cursed castle.
As Daemon walked past the empty cells, he tried to shake off this unsettling feeling lingering around him, dancing on his neck on its tippy toes, making him wonder whether he was indeed alone.
I doubt Simon Strong keeps prisoners down here, he thought while wiping the water from his forehead which was dripping from the broken ceiling. Maybe he has decided to lock up the witch?
Just when the Rogue Prince – correction, the King Consort – was about to turn back and leave the depressing, humid and somewhat eerie atmosphere of the dungeons behind, a soft humming reached his ears.
A soft, sweet humming of a song coming from one of the cells at the very end of the darkness.
“What kind of prisoner is Simon Strong hiding here?” Daemon asked, his voice created echoes as he waved the torch in front of him, trying to cast some light.
The humming stopped immediately, as if the sound itself was cut by a knife.
Daemon’s purple eyes widened upon seeing that the last cell was indeed not empty.
There was a young woman inside, looking at him with her eyes full of curiosity. Her hair had an unearthly shine under the dim moonlight. She tilted her head to the side. “You can see me?” She asked, it was the same soft voice from a moment ago, though the sweetness was no longer there to be felt.
Daemon raised an eyebrow at her direction. “Do people not see you?”
The young woman shook her head, her movements – no matter how simple they were – felt almost too harmonious. “Not normally, it is not intended that I am seen.” Stopping for a moment, she eyed Daemon from head to foot. “You are not really here, are you?”
The raised eyebrow quickly turned into a frown. “What do you mean? I am standing in front of you.”
She shook her head once again. As her soft whisper filled his eyes, Daemon started falling into the nothingness, again, for the unknown-th time ever since he had come to Harrenhal.
“Wake up.”
***
When he woke up, trying to catch his breath, Daemon found himself lying on his bed, as always. Anytime he had one of those weird dreams – he wasn’t even sure if he should call them dreams anymore – his consciousness would find its way back to his bed.
Unless he was daydreaming, which were considerably the worse.
“Who the fuck was that weird woman?” Daemon muttered to himself as he stood up, dressing up in his regular robes. The feeling in his stomach was telling him that he had to go down there, to the dungeons, to find that woman. If he were to wait until dawn, he feared she might be gone.
What was it that she said again? It is not intended she is seen?
Leaving his chambers with a torch in his right hand, Daemon shook his head to the thoughts flowing through his mind, causing his silver hair to move. “Weird woman,” he muttered to himself as he walked through the dark corridors of the castle with haste. “She somehow reminds me of the witch.”
The dungeons were as dark and wet as he remembered from the dream. A cold wind was wandering besides him, kissing the mossy walls and licking Daemon’s skin, sometimes whispering wicked words in his ears. Even the wind was odd here, in Harrenhal, but he had somewhat got used to it – hearing its eerie whispers whenever he walked alone during the hour of the wolf.
“Show yourself,” Daemon spoke with a strong voice which created echoes as he stood in front of that very cell from his dream. “Your king commands it!”
“Huh, king?” The same soft voice answered from the dark corner of her cell. The moonlight had left its shining spot, leaving the torch in Daemon’s hands as the only source of light in this entire corridor of the dungeons. “I answer to no king.”
A condescending scoff left Daemon’s lips as he came closer to the bars made of steel, separating him and the weird woman. “You do live in Westros, do you not?” Daemon asked, not really waiting for an answer. “As long as you breathe in this land, you do answer to the King.”
A chuckle came from the darkness. “I have been breathing in this land before your ancestors flew across the Narrow Sea, Daemon Targaryen.”
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kentopedia · 1 year ago
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i miss when we first met
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FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k
SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.
CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned
note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today
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You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.
Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.
Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.
He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.
But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.
Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.
He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.
Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.
It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.
It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.
Since he’d killed Mori.
You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.
“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”
You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.
“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”
Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”
His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.
You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”
Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.
“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.
He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.
“I am lucky.”
Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.
“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”
“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”
Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”
You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”
You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.
As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.
“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”
“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”
Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”
Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”
“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”
He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.
Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.
You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”
“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”
And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.
It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.
You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.
He was a horrible, loathsome person.
You’d never be able to stop loving him.
“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”
Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  
You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.
“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.
Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”
You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.
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You didn’t see him again before you left.
The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.
Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.
It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.
A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.
You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.
Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.
When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.
“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”
You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.
“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”
“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.
“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”
“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”
Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”
“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.
You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.
“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.
A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”
You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.
“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”
“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”
He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”
You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”
Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”
Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.
Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.
“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.
“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”
You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?
His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”
“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”
“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”
You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.
“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”
Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”
“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”
You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.
“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”
“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.
Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”
You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.
“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 
Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”
You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.
For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.
“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”
You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”
“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”
You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.
“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”
“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”
Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”
His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”
“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.
Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.
Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.
“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”
And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”
You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”
“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”
“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”
“Stop it.”
“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”
Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”
“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”
He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”
“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”
His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”
Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.
“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”
That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.
“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”
“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”
He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”
“Yes.”
“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”
His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.
When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.
“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.
His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.
You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.
“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”
Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.
“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”
Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.
It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.
“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.
Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”
You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.
Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.
“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”
His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.
Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.
When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.
“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”
You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.
Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.
“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.
He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”
His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.
Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.
And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.
Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.
You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.
The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.
You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.
For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.
But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.
You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.
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You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.
Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”
You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what’s happening all of the time.”
Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.
Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.
“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.
You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.
He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.
“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”
Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.
He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.
You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.
The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.
As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.
“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”
You took a sharp breath.
Fuck.
“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”
Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.
Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  
“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”
It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.
You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.
Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”
“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”
“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”
You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.
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When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.
You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.
Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.
You’d never been able to slip past him.
“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.
“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”
Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 
You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”
You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.
Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.
“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”
You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.
 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”
“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”
When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.
“Say it.”
You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.
“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”
Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.
“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.
“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”
Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”
“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”
You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.
“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”
There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.
“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.
He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.
The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.
“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”
Dazai was silent. You pressed on.
“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”
“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.
You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”
Dazai scowled.
“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”
His finger rested on the trigger.
“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.
Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.
As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.
But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.
“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”
“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”
“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”
You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.
You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—
“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."
“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”
You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”
“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”
“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."
“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”
“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”
Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.
“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”
“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”
“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.
“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”
“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”
You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”
“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”
“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”
“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”
His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.
“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.
He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.
“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.
“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”
“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”
It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.
Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”
“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”
You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.
Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.
“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”
There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.
“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”
Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”
“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”
“What—”
“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’
You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.
Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”
You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.
Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.
Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.
“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.
“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”
Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.
Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.
Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.
“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”
Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”
Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”
You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.
His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.
“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”
“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.
“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”
You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.
“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”
“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”
You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.
“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.
“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.
“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”
His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.
“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”
You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.
“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”
Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.
“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.
You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.
Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”
“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”
You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.
“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”
“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.
His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.
Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.
You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.
A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”
“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”
You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.
“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 
Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”
You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.
“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”
Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.
Of course you would.
Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.
“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”
“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”
“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”
You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.
There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.
“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”
“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”
“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”
Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.
Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.
“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”
Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”
Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”
Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.
“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”
You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.
“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”
Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”
“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”
You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.
“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”
“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”
Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”
You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”
He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”
“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”
Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”
Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”
Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”
Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.
You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.
And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”
You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.
You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.
As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.
“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 
He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”
It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.
“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.
“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”
You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.
It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.
“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  
Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–
“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”
“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”
Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”
You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.
“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”
“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.
Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.
“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.
Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”
There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.
“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”
You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.
“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.
The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.
“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”
You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.
Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.
Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.
You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.
“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”
“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”
You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.
“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.
“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”
Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.
“Boss—”
Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.
You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.
“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.
You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.
“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”
You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”
“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”
His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.
“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.
“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”
You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.
“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”
You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.
“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.
He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”
For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.
You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.
Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”
Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.
It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  
Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.
You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.
The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.
“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.
“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”
Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”
A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.
The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.
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seesree · 9 months ago
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Dark Feminine Energy(Jyestha Nakshatra) + Mercury Ruled Nakshatras
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Alexa Demie, Jyestha Sun
Jyestha opposes the sweetly coated nakshatra of Rohini, which is a nakshatra of abundance & joy and being internally satisfied thus outwardly not doing much. But in Jyestha, it’s where you are internally unsatisfied thus outwardly you do everything to achieve satisfaction thus making you outwardly abundant and full of richness. They get more inward satisfaction after outer satisfaction. This nakshatra is connected to Alakshmi, Lakshmi’s jealous, hungry sister.
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Naomi Campbell, Jyestha Moon
Alakshmi means ‘Not Lakshmi’, so Alakshmi is everything opposite of Lakshmi. Lakshmi loves sugar and sweets while Alakshmi loves spice. Alakshmi is literally everything you neeed to know on why Jyestha’s have such a dark feminine power. They are not trying to satisfy a male force but more trying to satisfy themselves. This nakshatra has a similar energy to Chitra but Chitra’s are nurturing when it comes to male energy just like Maddy Perez(Jyestha Sun, Chitra Moon) . Alexa Demie’s Chitra Moon made her character in euphoria more sympathetic to the toxicity of Nate.
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Jyestha Moon, Shomi Kaiser & Jyestha Sun Alexa Demie
People spotting Jyestha energy. It mostly has to do with energy not the physical
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Jennie Kim, Jyestha ASC
Jennie’s birth time is unreliable but for now i will use her for Jyestha and maybe the frequent comparison between her and Alexa Demie could be because of Jyestha
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Tyra Banks, Jyestha Sun & Megan Ewing, Jyestha Moon
This Nakshatra’s dark feminine energy tends to extend towards it’s trine nakshatras too( Ashlesha and Revati)
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Kim Kardashian, Jyestha ASC
A Side Note: Ashlesha is the stage where a woman awakens to her sexuality and master it
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Megan Fox, Ashlesha Moon & Angelina Jolie, Revati Moon
You’ll notice Mercury ruled nakshatras have alot of sexual energy and give a sexual or terrifying vibe
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Barbara Mori, Revati ASC & Adriana Lima, Jyestha ASC
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This image is so Jyestha CODED(Chitra as well)
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lavandulawrites · 5 months ago
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The Wine Connoisseur
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Yandere Mori x reader
Masterlist
Warnings: imprisonment, manipulation, slight mention of murder, Elise is Mori’s daughter
Word count: 716
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Mori was a peculiar man. His love for the city admirable. He was cruel and calculated. His predictions never wrong. He never shied away from violence, but rather welcomed it. He valued ambition and loyalty. His daughter, (who you came to know after awhile where his ability, an extension of himself) was spoiled to the brim.
It had surprised you when you had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t the boss of the Port Mafia and he answered you truthfully. It might have been the expensive wine you both had in your system or the intimacy of you two, you didn’t know. He had looked at you with such earnest and gentleness “If I wasn’t the boss of the Port Mafia, I would have opened up an orphanage”. You had only looked at him in shock. To imagine the cold and calculated man could have a so tender wish like that m, almost seemed surreal.
You could never fully understand Mori and he never gave you the chance. He was an imposing figure who captured the eyes of everyone whenever he entered a room. He was undoubtedly a handsome man. His charismatic smile swooning woman and men alike. It wasn’t a secret that the woman of the Port Mafia all had a little crush on him.
When you first met him was at a wine conference. You and many others were completely unaware that the notorious Mafia was amongst the quest.
The black haired man was clad in a expensive black dress with dark crimson details which matched his eyes perfectly. He had eyed you all night long and finally approached you after he was down with his business. Even his gait was striking.
“Enjoying yourself?” his voice deep and smooth. In his was a wine glass filled with deep red liquid. He gently swished the wine and took a sip.
You two talked all night long about all and nothing. At the time you were completely unaware of his true identity.
Weeks past and you two became close friends, but you still felt that you didn’t know him. When you asked about his occupation he said he was a doctor. When you thought back on it, he had indeed been truthful. At least to a certain extent.
You threw your head back and glanced up at the ceiling rose. You were so lost on your thoughts that you didn’t notice the man behind you. Your eyes wandered to the person behind the couch. With your position everything was upside down. Mori smiled and chuckled at your position.
“I see that you like the new ceiling” he chuckled. “I am glad the restoration of this penthouse paid off”. He discarded his red scarf and took a seat beside you. He loosened his tie. It has been a gift from you before all this.
You sighed as you removed your gaze from him. “I still don’t understand why you go to such lengths. No matter how much money you spend on me, I won’t change my mind”. You change your position so you were more upright. “I still want to leave. I want to experience the world, not being locked up here like some damsel in distress” your eyes narrowed.
His lips curled up into a smirk. He hummed as his fingers drummed on the backrest. “You don’t know what you are talking about. What is it to explore? Nothing. It’s absolutely nothing. You have everything you need here and more. And regarding your desire to leave…” he moved closer to you “Believe me when I say I will change your mind. It’s only a matter of time. The human mind is rather fragile”. He filled the two wine glasses that stood on the coffee table with the wine he had brought with him and gave you one of them. He raised his glass. “To our future and our relationship” he clinked his galas against yours.
The wine rich and tasted awfully similar. Your eyes went to the bottle that laid in its silver ice bucket. It was the same wine you both shared at the conference all those months ago. Suddenly the sweet wine tasted as bitter as the bile taht had rose up your throat at the sight of your slaughter friends.
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witchyfashion · 1 month ago
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comes in more colors
https://amzn.to/4eqZzJ2
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ravencincaide · 1 year ago
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Desperate times call for desperate measures 
Summary:  You leave your small twins with Dazai and Chuuya and hope the two of them can manage their fatherly-duties while you take an hour of much needed ‘me time’. Scratch that, you just needed long enough to take a shower in order to feel human again before going back to being a mom.
Pairing: Dazai x Chuuya xfem! Reader 
Inspired by Sweetober prompt 8: Napping together
Warning: Cursing, hints at depression/ postpartum depression, New parents/exhausted parents.
Enjoy~
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You were going to kill Chuuya. 
No, you decided as you paced back and forth around the house, rocking the fussing twins in your arms. You were going to kill Mori for dragging your Chuuya out of his parental leave to deal with whatever shit Dazai had gotten himself into. You had thought the suicidal maniac of a lover would have gotten more efficient on missions- or at the very least more considerate. Nope. Still, somehow, if one part of twin dark was sent on a mission, he’d get in sufficient shit to need the second one's assistance. 
Responsible adults, your ass.
You sighed as the wailing continued with no amount of rocking, hushing, singing and pacing doing much to ease the tears. You were also silently cursing Chuuya for getting you pregnant with twins, why couldn’t it have been one to start with? Though you admitted as you looked down at the two crying balls of ginger, they were adorably cute; both took after their father in appearance,inheriting Chuuyas ginger hair and stunning blue eyes. With the only seeming resemblance to you being in their chins and petit nose. 
You definitely picked the short straw you mused bitterly as another loud cry made your ears ring. 
The ginger haired girl was crying and waving her doll around every now and then, getting it tangled in your hair or hitting you on the head with it with a surprising amount of strength. Her twin, an almost identical copy of her with slightly fluffier hair and larger eyes, was just gripping onto you and crying. He wasn’t wailing as loudly as his sister but the teardrops that rolled down his cheeks were larger, almost comical. 
There was no doubt in your mind that they were setting each other off. And all this mess because you got distracted and missed nap time. 
God you could feel yourself reaching your limit. What you’d give for just a little bit of time to yourself- a few hours was all you asked for. Something you hadn’t seen much of- if any after giving birth. As soon as the twins were born you got to spend a month in the hospital recovering before you and the babies were allowed home. Then it went downhill from there. First the wonderful nanny that you had picked out had to leave your services. The agency you hired her through was quick to send a replacement, but that woman got killed in an unfortunate plane crash. Getting another replacement was proving more challenging. Then almost directly after, despite being barely at home Dazai pulled from parental leave due to ‘emergencies’; first several back-to-back abroad missions where he’d only come home for a few days tops and then his last one for which he left over two months ago. You had Chuuya but even he had to go back into the office several times a week.In the best case.  If that wasn’t making your existence miserable, suddenly Dazai needed backup out of the blue, forcing Chuuya to leave without warning in the middle of the night. 
For the last two months you were completely alone. 
You had to do everything; from childcare to household chores, to different parenting classes and doctors visits with the two. In the evenings after putting them to bed you’d be sitting and going through reports and reviewing mission statements to keep your lovers workload manageable and the department not at a standstill. It became your job to ensure subordinates were still sent out on missions and nothing critical, that couldn’t wait until their return, got missed. Then you’d get a little cleaning and food prep done,  shower if you managed to do that before the babies woke up for their nightly feedings. When you’d crawl into bed you’d shut your eyes for twenty minutes at a time, plagued by nightmares of your partners drying and being a failure as a mother. When you’d finally calm your demons, the twins would get hungry again so you’d be up to warm the bottle for them before changing them and rocking them back to sleep. Sometimes you’d fall asleep right on the soft carpeted floor with both of them cuddling to your chest, sleeping a few hours longer than in their own beds. 
Those mornings were your salvation. 
You let out a loud groan, looking up at the ceiling as you felt tears sting your eyes. You didn’t know if children were meant to scream and cry so much. You didn’t know if you were doing this right or wrong. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do. You just wanted them to be healthy and happy- why couldn’t you do that? You brought them closer to your chest and pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads. “ Mama’s trying her hardest” you muttered as you continued to rock them “Mama would really really need a helping hand though.” 
-
It seemed gods took pity on you just this once. 
You nearly broke down crying or screamed out in joy when you heard the car pulling up to your driveway. Then silence before a key pushed into the lock followed by the door swinging opened. 
“ Sweetheart we’re back!” Chuuya yelled as he kicked off his shoes. You heard Dazai’s voice muttering something to him, the bickering overshadowed by the twins' cries. You made quick way towards the hallway. The moment Chuuya and Dazai came into sight, new screams filled the house; excited cries of “ Dada” and “ papa” which bounced off the walls, a bitter reminder that you children were never this excited to see you. 
You could see Chuuya chuckling, a bright expression on his face full of love and happiness. He didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by the yelling- if anything it seemed to fill him with contagious happy energy and an eagerness to get his damned coat off so he could come to the children. Dazai, dressed in completely white attire, which resembled something between a prison uniform and the dresscode of asylum patients seemed less happy about the screaming. But even he had a smile playing on his lips as he hurried towards you at the same time as Chuuya, who had given up on hanging his coat and just threw it on the ground. The two were practically tripping over each other, with each ‘papa’ and ‘dad’ cry getting more and more eager to get to you, limbs frailing; hands, arms and snappy remarks at each others inability to get out of the others way. 
Finally they seemed to remember how to walk and the bottleneck in your hallway was replaced by two adult men rushing towards you. 
“ How are my loves?” Chuuya cheered looking far too happy as he hurried pressed a kiss to your children's heads. First the boy then the girl. Dazai did the same in the opposite order, both ignoring you and your puckered lips. 
For a second a pang of jealousy hit your heart. You hadn’t seen your partners in over two months and before greeting you, their attention was on the children. Picture perfect fathers. Shitty lovers. And the second the thought entered your head you felt your heart drop to your stomach with guilt. In what sane world was a mother jealous of the attention her babies were getting? You should be happy and proud that both of your partners- not only the biological father- cared so deeply for the balls of joy you created. Though, you added almost bitterly, right now these two brought you anything but joy. 
“ Here” you stated in a slightly bitter tone as you pawned over one kid per partner “ Do everyone a favour and act like fathers for longer than 30 seconds.  I need some ‘me- time’ before I murder someone” 
Chuuya and Dazai shared a look of bewilderment between each other as you stepped away from them. They had expected kisses, hugs and a warm dinner but got a kid each and a blank stare in return. Dazai stared at your retreating form with agap mouth for a moment before he stretched the little girl towards Chuuya; “ Here Chuuya be a good dad, me and Y/N have some catching up to do.” 
You pretended to ignore what he said, the same way he ignored your comment about ‘me time’. Though you wondered if you should at the very least make them dinner before taking out that ‘me time’ moment. 
“ Heeh stop being so bitter and just hold her, Mackerel.” Chuuya snapped trying to get the boy to settle in his arms “if your swimmers could actually swim they’d be your kids” 
“ Don’t be such a slug about it” Dazai declared as he turned his attention away from Chuuya as the boy began sobbing again making Chuuya curse before attempting to pacify him. Zero attention to either Dazai or the girl in his arms. 
In the process the girl-child who had just settled down, amusing herself by pulling on strands of Dazai’s grown out hair, turned her attention away from him and towards her crying brother. Seeing him cry, her eyes began to water.
 In seconds Dazai’s attention was back to you; “ Ohh Belladonna you’d not be so cruel as to demand your newly returned partner whom you haven’t seen for months to be a father without sleep or proper meal “ Despite his dramatic words he shifted the girl to his other arm so her back was to her brother and began rocking her more quickly. His second hand was trying to keep her attention on the doll she had abandoned in favour of his hair. The very doll she had been hitting you with not even ten minutes earlier.  Scratch your earlier thoughts. They were adults and older than you- they knew how to order in or warm up leftovers! 
You sighed heavily before you went towards the kitchen and the fridge. “ Then you boys are in agreement that we stop at two right?” You questioned  when you returned with a cold rattle for the boy. He was quick to grasp it in his hands before beginning to chew on it. The relief it brought was sufficient to stop the tears. 
For now. 
When you got no reply, you motioned between the two of them and then to the children in their arms. If you weren’t so tired you’d have laughed at the look of horror drawing of Dazai’s face as he realized you were serious, and then the very hurt expression at the mere idea of not having any children of his own with you. That look melted a piece of ice around your heart.  “ Or can you manage to look after them for an hour while I take a shower in peace?” 
Your lovers nodded eagerly, both giving you a salute before shuffling off towards the baby proofed living room with toys, a playpen and floor covered in soft playmats. Your eyes lingered long enough until they were out of sight before you headed upstairs to your bedroom. Once there you dragged yourself towards the chair by your make up table which had a thin layer of dust over your make up palettes. Serving as a bitter reminder of just how ‘much’ time you dedicated towards yourself in the past months. The thought plastered a bitter smirk on your face; no wonder you didn’t get as much as a kiss-hello from either Dazai or Chuuya. 
You dropped in the chair with a heavy sigh and buried your head in your hands. You didn’t understand what was wrong with you. You didn’t understand where you were making mistakes; how could other mafia women manage to do so much more? More time with children, more work, more chores- many would even visit headquarters to spend lunch with their husbands. 
Husbands- the word brought a bitter taste to your mouth. How long have you three been together already? How many milestones have you celebrated? Missions, promotions, twins. Plans for extending the family with at least one more kid- Dazai’s. And still your ring finger remained bare. In fact after the icy greeting today you doubted your relationship would ever move anywhere positive from this standstill. 
You heard steps outside your bedroom, irritated and heavy before the door to your bedroom swung open with Dazai’s usual dramatic appearance “ Ahh my sweet Belladonna my heart-”
You didn’t need to turn around to know the look he was wearing.” One hour” you stated “ Or no more kids. Your choice” 
The door closed as quickly as it had opened. 
The peaceful silence didn’t last for long. Though you didn’t know how long you were sitting in your thoughts, salvaging a moment of being alone, you knew it couldn’t have been longer than five minutes before you were interrupted again. This time the footsteps outside your door were calmer and more confident. Their owner opened the door very gently. You closed your eyes biting back the frustration as you heard Chuuya’s half hesitant whisper “Sweetheart..” 
“ What is it, Chuuya?” You still didn’t have it in you to face him. 
“ If you want to soak in the bath, it's ready any minute now” You nodded, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so cold to him. Especially when he went out of his way to do something nice for you. “ Also, do you know where the nursing bottles are?” 
There it was. 
“ There are some prepared bottles in the fridge; just place them in boiling water for a few seconds until they’re body temperature. Not too hot.” You rubbed your temple as you spoke, fighting off the want to cry and scream much like the children downstairs. These were things he as their father was supposed to know. Or at least be able to figure it out on his own. He could lead an entire faction on his own, why couldn’t he handle a baby or two? 
After your reply you heard Chuuya linger in the doorway for a few moments. You pictured him opening and closing his mouth, hesitating as he thought over what to do. A hopefully side of you hoped he’d come in and wrap his arms around you and just hold. Just fucking hold you for a moment without the children being present. Then another cry from downstairs and he was gone; the door shutting quietly behind himself. 
You waited for a moment, gathering your strengths before leaving the safety of your room, rushing quietly through the small hallway, trying not to waver at the sound of the children's cries. Once in the bathroom you closed and locked the door before leaning your back against it. Why did no one tell you that when you’d become a mother you’d become so alone while constantly surrounded by others? 
Shaking your head you stripped before climbing into the baths. You let out a low moan as the feeling of bath salts soothed your skin. Then salvaged the moment of humanity as you dipped your head underwater with the realization you didn’t need to watch anyone while you washed. Then you reached for the shaving blade and shaving cream, getting rid of the hair on your body that annoyed you more than you’d ever wish to admit. 
When you got out of the bathtub and showered off, you felt human. Like a sliver of being a woman was returned to you. Dressing in clean clothes only reinforce that.  Now then you were feeling more ready to tackle the rest of this cursed day.
Coming out of the bathroom you noticed how quiet it was. The silence filled you with dread; anyone with children knew that the only time they were quiet was either when something was wrong or they were up to something, while anyone acquainted with Dazai and Chuuya were very aware that the two together were constantly either bickering or yapping.
Silence like this filled you with dread. 
Throwing your dirty laundry carelessly to the side you rushed downstairs, heart in your throat. When you made it down the stairs you stopped, shocked as the sound of snores reached your ears. More carefully you made your way towards the livingroom being cautious to remain light on your feet. 
Once there you leaned against the wall, your eyes falling on the heartwarming sight before you. All four of them were on the soft playmat. Chuuya was lying stretched out on his back on his coat, an arm dropped over his eyes and loud snores resonating around the room. On his chest lay your daughter with his hat covering her head from the light. His hand was on her body keeping her close to himself. Dazai was lying curled up into a ball on his side, beside Chuuya. His messy head on his thigh. Your son laying in his arms, held close to himself through a make-ship baby-carry out of his bandages. Although he wasn’t snoring you could tell he was fast asleep by the rise and fall of his shoulders. 
Going over to the couch you picked up the warm covers before gently placing it over them. You saw Dazai stir, a sleepy eye opening just long enough to register that you weren’t a threat then he shifted slightly, creating a space between him and Chuuya for you. “ Don’t be a stranger Belladonna” he whispered as he beckoned you to lay down between them. 
Once you did, he wrapped one arm around you, the second one still holding your son in place, before he buried his face in your hair. He took a deep breath in and out, his hand finding yours and squeezing it once before interlocking your fingers together. “ I’ve missed you” he muttered, his eyes sliding shut in tiredness “ Lets rest now and when we wake up I wanna give you a proper greeting Bella” 
Before you could answer he was fast asleep. Which was probably good because it saved you the embarrassment of explaining why his one sentence brought you to tears.  
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Author note: Craving part 2?
Check out We need to talk for the sweeter version, and Happy Unhappy home! For more angst.
All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!
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yawarakaizai · 1 year ago
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pm dazai and pm chuuya who constantly fight each other for readers attention... but then someone hurts reader and all of a sudden they work together so seamlessly to kill the mf who dared to touch you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)
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ⵌ YOU'RE QUITE THE SAME IF LOVE'S THE GAIN
SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM!Dazai Osamu + PM!Chuuya Nakahara (BSD) CONTENTS jealousy, reader+chuuya+dazai are 16/17, reader is an heiress, hostage situation, fluff n cute!! (implied) torture, worried chuuya NOTE This wasn't the department you specialised in. You wanted to manage finances, and while Mori was more than happy to grant you the role - Dazai would nag for you to join him and Chuuya on missions that didn't concern you in the slightest. There's only so much patience one can have. COMPANY Tangled Up
A/N THI S WA S RLL Y C UT E !! sorr y this one was l ate ;//; i hav e a scho o l trip tmrw ^^// maybe i'l l t ry sm ut nex t ... i have a l ot of good re qs i ho pe i ca n ge t throu gh the m a ll ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱
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Missions with Dazai and Chuuya always resulted in a thrilling adventure. There was never a time you'd look back on a mission you'd had with both and say to yourself, 'that was a bummer.'
You weren't supposed to work alongside them. Within the Port Mafia, Dazai and Chuuya were always to be assigned missions that were too dangerous for someone ordinary.
And, you? Well.
You possessed no ability. Your purpose in the Port Mafia was your background - your status.
Heiress to your father's wealth in your homeland of France, your parents were part of a certain elite group that made you a walking target should you venture without protection.
That is why you were always thrown as the bait.
With all respects to Dazai, that is, who introduced to Mori the idea of having you be the helpless, dumb damsel skipping merrily into danger.
You weren't happy about this arrangement and that was made clear by your sulking.
" Oh, look at me, I am an unattended woman. "
You sluggishly wandered around the dark halls of the abandoned facility, your voice just barely loud enough for the walls to echo your sarcastic jokes.
" This is serioouuuss! " The earpiece cleverly hidden in your ear crackled into life, you knew the voice belonged to Dazai. " Been chasing this guy for ages now, I think he's got some sort of phasing ability. He might appear outta no where, but Chuuya's trailing behind you, so don't worry. "
As if it could ease your nerves, it only made you regret agreeing to this further. " Great. I'm comforted. " You replied in a snarky manner.
You were dressed in lavish clothing that not even your pompous, arrogant mother would ever think of wearing. You seemed to have a distaste for reminders of the generational wealth you possess and opt to distance yourself from a 'royal' life. It proved impossible when it was the only thing that allowed you to maintain a job in the Port Mafia.
The gloomy and cold atmosphere left you hugging yourself for warmth as you traversed through complicated corridors. Although your earpiece was not connected to Chuuya's, you worried that you were walking off-course and/or Chuuya knew where you are meant to go, but could not blow his cover to correct your stupid mistakes.
Chuuya did a pretty good job at staying hidden. You could not hear a thing other than the clacking of your heels against metal flooring. " Ohh.. I'm so scared. " You pitched your voice higher, this being your best shot at luring out whoever it is the PM were after. You weren't taking this seriously, that was clear to both Dazai and Chuuya.
This wasn't the first mission you three were together, there were a few others that you'd two go through but this was the first time you were thrown a seal to a shark.
Dazai was elsewhere in the building, you weren't sure where and he gave no information when asked. With the affirmation Chuuya had your back, you knew that there was nothing to fear.
You would have appreciated some communication on his end though. You figured it must be his unnatural shyness towards you that made it hard for him to be too forward.
You easily noticed how his behaviour would change around you. And with Dazai around? Oh, boy.
Even if you could be a little air-headed sometimes, you weren't dumb to the hints in front of you.
From the day you were rescued from captivity - a story for another day - Chuuya stood out. You find it funny how he'd be unable to face you for more than a minute before looking away hurriedly. It sprung your new-found hobby of teasing Chuuya whenever you could. Of course Dazai picked up on it pretty soon after too and Chuuya has not known peace since. You couldn't help it! You weren't to blame! You giggled to yourself reminding yourself of Chuuya's little crush, fingers intertwined behind your back loosely, your back straightening from its previous hunched-over stance.
Feeling sudden confidence surge through your veins with the recollection of memories with Chuuya, you were just about to turn on your heel to address the gravity manipulator until a hand grabbed you from behind - before you had the chance to see who it was, you felt cold metal press against your temple that made you freeze up.
In front of you, Chuuya had finally revealed himself, but he too was stood as still as stone.
" Kill me 'n the girl goes too. "
They have never let it get THIS bad. Not ever have you ever even been in the hold or this close to an enemy, and here you were at gunpoint, something that was not planned.
You didn't dare break eye contact from Chuuya. This might just be your final moment. With great trust in Chuuya and Dazai's ability, you weren't sure how they'd proceed with this.
Chuuya might end up being the last thing you see. The look of fear on his face too didn't ease your nerves. They were not in the position to bargain. And funnily enough, you blamed yourself for this.
" Fine, yeah. Let her go. " Chuuya stood up from his mid-offensive position and dropped whatever weapon he had. A gun and a small knife for close-combat, he raised his arms above his head to firmly show his surrender. The hand that was previously on your lower hip raised to roughly cover your mouth, a gloved palm shoving itself in your face and that broke you down immediately. Fear took over and your knees went weak with pure fright, yet the man behind you had his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek with such a harsh grab that it kept you standing up-right, the barrel of the gun pressing in deeper to your skull, sure to leave indents - that is if you weren't just shot dead. Then an indent would be the less of your worries.
With your back pressed against the chest of the stranger, you could feel the vibration of his confident voice as he spoke loudly, " Don't take me for a fool, Nakahara. You could easily use that ability of yours. " And that was true. You actually forgot about Chuuya's ability. Your mind was too foggy at the moment.
It was the first time you saw Chuuya Nakahara look uncertain in whether this mission would end well or not. He smiled insecurely as he let out a gruff exhale, " Wouldn't do that if I wanted her to live, yeah? Now let her go. "
Even if he kept grinning, you could see how the sweat dripped from his face even through your own teary eyes. With the palm pressing over your mouth and nose, it was difficult to breathe and steady your heart that was already beating fast enough as it is.
" Hmm.. " The gun was lowered slowly, caressing down your cheek and to your chest before being positioned at the pit of your stomach, " But do I really wanna? "
You began to squeal in protest, unable to accept your helplessness but it seemed someone else did your job of retaliation for you.
In the blink of an eye, the man holding you captive fell backwards and consequentially dragged you down with him but ended up tripping you up a bit further. You fell with your head banging on the hard floor, your captors hand slipping from your mouth and allowing you to briefly ‎gasp for air. The clattering of a gun was heard somewhere yet you were too dazed to properly do anything at this point.
The last thing you remember was the feeling of being raised from your underarms and distant shouting.
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" -as if she'd be able to do-"
" No, you shut up! You could've done something easily. "
" It was your idea to use her as a fuckin' pawn, don't twist this. "
" Uhh! I'm sowwy~! I thought Chuuya Naka-fucking-hara had some balls to intercept~! "
" Zip it! She's waking up! "
Groggily, you stared at the two of them, sitting opposite each-other on the end of your bed. Judging by the bright white, you were most likely in the infirmary.
Chuuya was the first to lean in, he must have not noticed his hand coming to rest over yours which were folded nearly over your stomach. He had hope in his eyes, contrasting with the emotion you last remember them in. " Y/N? " He called out to you, taking a glimpse at the steady heart monitor.
Testing your voice, you let out a low hum before croaking out a meek, " Heya. "
Dazai was the first to break a laugh at your first words. His and Chuuya's eyes were soft.
" Don't look cute, I'm pissed at you both. " You huffed, turning your head to the side, avoiding them both.
Chuuya held your hand a little tighter, he understood if you decided to be unhappy with him. " Sorry, Y/N. I really fucked that up. Shit, I just didn't know what to do. " He explained himself with such compassion you were urged to look at him again. " I guess I discovered seein' you like that. Uh. In trouble and stuff, makes me seize up badly. "
From the corner of your eye you saw Dazai huff before standing up, but Chuuya held onto your attention as he continued speaking tenderly to you, " I thought that this loser would have planned a set-up and knew that was gonna happen but. It took too long. I realised last second he didn't plan shit. "
" Hey! Don't be so rude, Chuuya~ Besides, if it weren't for me, precious princess would've been shot. " You saw Dazai reach into his back pocket for something you couldn't quite recognise yet.
" Oh, that was you, Dazai? " You asked, alluding to the sudden drop during the action. " Yuup~ And y'know what the best part is? "
You quirked a brow and stole a shared glance from Chuuya. Dazai was unexpectable.
" Since me and Chuuya are so nice.. "
So Chuuya was in on this too?
Dazai paused his sentence and hummed in a baby-ish voice. " Kill me and the girl goes too! " He mocked, earning him an earnest giggle from you. " That wasn't funny, Dazai! I was scared! " You retorted, but still couldn't wipe that smile off of your face.
" Sorry, sorry. But, like he wanted, he's not dead. "
Dazai held the object he had pulled out in front of him. Bloodied priars.
" Technically death caused by unattended injuries is not 'killing him' on MY end, isn't that right, Chuuya? "
Chuuya nod his head before you.
They have that man locked in a fucking basement.
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©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3
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darling--angst · 1 year ago
Note
i’d like to request space song with dazai (specifically pm!dazai) hurt/comfort scenario,, reader comforting dazai during a breakdown or smth :(
Space Song
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Pairing: Pm! Dazai x Fem! Reader(platonic)/Mori x 27! Reader
Type: Oneshot
Genre: Comfort/Fluff
Warnings: Long winded commas, Stormbringer spoilers/mentions, Dark Era mentions, Oda's death, mentions of war, mentions of Yosano's backstory, Mori being a bitch, slight yandere Mori mentions, kinda went off topic..
Synopsis: Dazai finally found someone who saw him for who he was and when his dearest friend died, he finds himself finding comfort in her embrace like a child being comforted by his mother.
A/n: Hey.. Please state if you want it to be romantic/platonic.. since you didn't say which one you want, I'll do the latter. Reader is implied to be 27 while Mori is 33. Reader is like a mother to Dazai. I kinda wrote this without thinking so I am so sorry.
Event // Pm. Masterlist // M.Masterlist
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Dazai Osamu is the feared Demon Prodigy, the youngest underboss in the history of Port Mafia, the boss' right hand man, a genius; but deep down he was a child. A child misguided to do the wrong deeds, a lonely child used as a tool by others, a child who got affiliated with a mafioso at the age of fourteen, after an attempt in suicide. He was suicidal, a child at his age should be thinking of academics instead of how to end a war with another organization with the least casualties for his own gain. He could not see the purpose in living. Nobody saw him for who he was, it was never Osamu Dazai. Everything changed when he was fifteen, he met someone who gave him a reason to live for, someone who didn't judge him.
"sir, the boss has called you to his office" A black car stopped just beside of where he stood in the street.
"A mailman huh. I guess it really is important for Mori-san" he sighed, entering the back door of the car. It has almost been a year after Mori made him his 'witness' and succeeded as the Port Mafia boss.
The drive was silent, nobody said a word. The mailman was focused on driving and Dazai was looking out the window, observing people and their daily activities.
"We're here" The mailman said before the car stopped.
"mhm" He muttered opening and closing the door shut, and he drove away.
He was very familiar with the building. The five building-like-towers in the heart of Yokohama, the middle one being the tallest of all; where the Port Mafia boss, Mori Ogai lies. He reaches the highest floor and was eventually greeted by the guards, as he arrived he saw the boss and an unfamiliar woman sitting on the boss' desk, reading a document.
"Boss" He cleared his voice making his presence clear as the both of them talked.
"ah.. Dazai-kun" Mori shifted his attention from the woman to him.
"Sit down please" He offered while Dazai walked over to the small chair in the middle of the room. Mori made his his way towards another chair and sat down across him. She took documents on top of the desk after grabbing a brown, vintage briefcase. Making her way towards the door, Mori began explaining to Dazai. The only sound that feel the room was her heels clacking to the tiled floor until Mori finally spoke up.
"As you know Dazai-kun, the previous boss has returned.. based on the information you acquired from investigating Subarachi(?) city, it may have a lead on this 'Arahibaki' and by coincidence it seems that the Sheep King is looking for the so called God of Destruction" He explained.
"and?" He replied, clearly uninterested.
"He's suggesting that you work with Nakahara Chūya, if possible make him join the Mafia" She walked passed them, handing Dazai the documents she read earlier.
"Mhm, and you are?" Dazai asked before reading the documents. She continued to walk towards the door before Mori stopped her by ordering the guards from behind the door.
"Stay. (name)-sama" He smiled while she stopped in her tracks after hearing a pair of guards ruffle through the door.
"Haii.. what do you want now?" She let out a long, exasperated sigh. Ignoring her question, he explained to Dazai who she was.
"Dazai-kun, this is (name)-sama. She was strategist from the Great War" Sighing, she flopped down on a spare chair after he continued to explain about her to the young boy.
"So she knows about you killing the previous boss then?" He asked before glancing at her then to him.
"Yes. Now let's discuss this whole thing and why am I part of this?" She sat up, sending a glare at Mori.
"It was just as I explained earlier. The previous boss returned, Dazai-kun saw him personally so now that we have the Sheep King in our capture, we'll use that to our advantage by making him join the mafia." He gave both of them a closed-eye smile, Dazai put down the document and she gave him an annoyed look.
"That won't work" Both of them sighed in unison.
"Hm?"
"Chūya is too loyal to the Sheep. It's already given after all if he didn't, he would've left them to die long ago. After realizing his own potential, he would join an organization with a high pay; if he didn't have deep ties with them..—" She explained, sitting back down while Dazai listened to her.
"The only reason for him to join us for the Sheep's safety" He followed after hearing her explain.
"—It's not guaranteed he'll be loyal. If he joins the organization for their safety alone, there's a high chance he will destroy the mafia from the inside and save his little herd"
"Wait are you suggesting-?" Dazai's eyes widened realizing what she means.
"Yes.. We have to make them suspicious of him. If they notice they have been too dependent on him, they'll do any means to overthrow him and that's where we go in." She moved the white bishop on the chess board creating an opening for the rook, and continuing the abandoned game.
"After their betrayal, the Mafia comes in and will pretend to wipe out the Sheep. Chūya, after being betrayed will stay to protect them; so he will do a bargain to save them" Dazai moved the black knight, eating the bishop and now he was in advantage in terms of pieces.
"He'll then join the mafia in terms of the bargain" She then proceeded to move her rook from across the board, blocking the king's only path to escape, almost delivering a checkmate until Dazai's queen ate it to make the game a bit longer, but not to escape the inevitable fate.
"however-" Mori sighed but was cut off by her.
"since the main priority is to make sure the previous boss doesn't return so his supporters won't start a revolution.. you have to fix that first or else you'll get tortured, then executed" She glances at Mori before moving her rook to eat Dazai's queen, delivering a back-rank checkmate. Mori was in awe after watching his protegee and ex-lover play chess in sync, as if they were reading each other's minds.
"But won't you get executed too, (name)-san? I mean you knew of how the boss'really died, yet you didn't say anything.. making you, another accomplice" Dazai leaned into his chair, analyzing how he lost.
"I'm not part of the Mafia—" She nonchalantly responded.
"Yet." Mori's voice was full of demands.
"..tch. As I said, no." She stood up from her chair, giving Dazai a small smile before turning back to the door.
"Why?" This time he was more pushy for some reason.
"It's none of your business" She hissed before opening the door and leaving.
"Well isn't she beautiful.." He muttered under his breath while Dazai sat there with a fed up look on his face.
That was their first encounter. The second one was after both of them planned a strategy to defeat Verlaine. Even if Dazai didn't have any encounters with her that didn't involve work, he grew close to her. During their plannings, he was childish but she didn't mind. He felt comfortable with her, as if he could actually show his true self. She didn't try to exploit his intelligence, as she has one of her own, she tried to understand his view of the world, she sees through his emotions but she never used it to take advantage of him.
When she joined the mafia, her position was a strategist, even if she didn't engage in missions, she was valued by the Mafia because she was the one to pull the strings and by she was liked Mori personally. He had an interest in her that Dazai seemed to distinguish as love, one that he thought Mori was not capable off. All those who tried to assassinate her failed, because of Mori's interference and his predictions. Dazai didn't want her to die, not because of how important she was in the organization but because of his own personal reasons. He then became an executive at eighteen and met quite a few people, Sakunosuke Oda and Sakaguchi Ango, whom he calls his friends. Dazai finds himself looking for her again and again, wanting to see her, because of him, Oda, Ango and her became acquainted..
Oda and (name) was on a small talking about the orphans until Ango interrupted.
"I feel like I'm quite the third wheel here you know?"
"My, my.. I never knew you were sad that you were left out Ango-kun" She teased.
"Tch. I never knew you liked kids (name)-san" He tried to switch the topic.
"I feel neutral about them—I don't dislike them nor do I like them... I once met a child in the war, she was there as a nurse since her ability allowed her to heal soldiers... such a precious child—if I remember correctly, her name was Yosano" She faintly smiled at the memory.
"You took part in the war.?" Oda fiddled with his fingers.
"Mhm.. as a strategist..." She responded. Both of them stopped in their tracks before she turned around to face them.
"If she was in the healing section and you were a strategist, how did you meet her?" Ango asked, she halted and her eyes widened a bit before laying her head low.
"My ex-lover was a doctor, he was in charge of the nurses in the war including her. I ended our relationship because of how he treated that little girl and some other reasons... in the end, she was left traumatized.. I don't know what happened to her after it was over" She quietly muttered, remembering the bitter memories of the war.
"I see.. I'm sorry for asking-" He tried to apologize but was cut off but a faint voice screaming her name.
"Y/n-san!"
" hmm.? Dazai-" before she could say anything else, his body crashed with hers as he hugged her.
"I'm quite hurt that you didn't invite me you know!" He pouted before looking at both of them.
"Anyway! Why did you three look so glum-" He tried asking but he was cut off by his phone ringing.
"Oh. It's him. Oii slug what do you want?"
"What do you mean what do I want!? You suicidal waste of bandages! We have a mission remember?!" Chūya screamed through his phone while Dazai listened with a nonchalant expression.
"Yea, yea"
"YOU'RE PROBABLY WITH THAT STUPID STRATEGIST AND YOUR EQUALLY STUPID FRIENDS!" He insulted him while Dazai was quite taken aback. He gasped before he returned the screams.
"OI YOU SLUG! YOU'RE PROBABLY JUST JEALOUS THAT I HAVE FRIENDS AND A MOTHER FIGURE!!!" All of you were quite shocked but Dazai didn't even realize what he was saying.
"I DO HAVE FRIENDS! AND I HAVE ANE-SAN!"
"NO YOU DO NOT! YOU MAY HAVE A MOTHER FIGURE BUT ALL YOUR FRIENDS ARE KILLED BY YOUR HOELESS BROTHER!" He screamed, ending the call before Chūya could repriocate what he said and kill him.
"sorry about that, slug was being extra annoying" he smiled but all of them were still processing what he said earlier
"Dazai.. do you see me as a mother figure.?" She asked, coughing. Her words didn't seem to process in his mind for a second or two.
"Of course not! I only said that to piss him off!" He tried explaining, even though his lie was clearly visible; she didn't bother to inquire any further, not wanting to be nosy.
"Now let's go drink I'm thirsty!" Dazai exclaimed, heading to Lupin while they followed.
That was the last time all of them drank. She was sent away because of an organization called the Mimic appeared, Mori kept her busy for a reason she couldn't hold a grasp on. Soon, Ango betrayed the mafia and Oda died. The reason why Mori kept her busy was so she cannot interfere and warn Dazai, now the Port Mafia has a special abilities permit with the cost of everything that mattered to Dazai. She only found out the last minute, and she hates that she can't do anything about it.
After hearing Oda's last words he was about to leave the abandoned mansion until he met her running. She saw Dazai, standing infront of the ballroom door with his head hung low; when she reached him, he collapsed to the floor into her arms. His head was on the crook of her neck, and her arms was around him, hugging him, slowly patting his head as he struggled to breath.
"Shh... It's okay I'm here" Her voice trembled knowing that the kids along with Oda are dead but she could only focus on the poor child in her arms.
"He's dead... Mori-san used the Mimic to get that black envelope and he-" He explained between hiccups.
"I know" She whispered but her voice cracked.
"What did Oda say.?" She patted his back trying to comfort him but his grip tightened on her.
"He wanted me to save people.. to find a value in life" He bit his lip.
"Then go.." She continued to comfort him but he left her embrace upon hearing her words.
"What.?"
"Don't worry about me.. one day you'll find your reason in living, and you would be happy that you listened to him" She smiled at him as he slowly got up.
"Then how about you?" He tried with every bit of strength he could find to convince her to go with him. She got up too, now facing him directly in the eyes she said:
"You're still young, you would be leaving an environment you are never supposed to be in. And I.. My soul is already bounded to the mafia, if I leave with you he'd do what it takes to get me back"
"But still I-"
"Mafiosos will be here soon... Go to Chief Taneda of the Special Division of the Unusual Powers in a small cheep bar, he'll help you. Don't hesitate to turn your back, go" She quickly explained grabbing him by the shoulders with a tenses expression. His lips parted but he didn't know what to say.
"Just go, I'll meet you again" She gave him a reassuring smiled. Upon seeing her eyes, he nodded.
"Thank you.." He quietly muttered before finally leaving.
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A/n: Damn that was hard and cringe.. just so you know I kinda got distracted by music while doing this I apologize... For the person who requested this you can go to the comment section and say if you want me to redo it because I'll gladly do so :)
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ozai-the-bonsai · 2 months ago
Text
Memento Mori
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: strong language
Important note: At some point in the chapter, the reader provides a way for Daemon to address her. However, I want to emphasise that what she provides him is a title she has earned in the language of her people. Please regard this title the same way when the reader is addressed as Princess or Queen or Niece or whatever. Daemon will not be explicitly given the name of the reader due to obvious reasons :3
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Credits for the gif: @dailyhodtgifs
“I don’t have time for stupid riddles and meaningless mind games, woman.” Daemon spoke with a hard tone, switching the torch to his left hand so that his right hand could rest against the Dark Sister. “I will not repeat myself again – show yourself!”
The woman walked towards the steel bars with slow steps, the sound of her bare feet touching the wet stones of the ground made Daemon realise that she did not have any kind of footwear on. All she wore was a plain, silver dress; however, when the light of the torch illuminated her figure completely, Daemon realised that the dress was not that plain at all. The ends of both sleeves and the neckline of the deep v-cut were all adorned with diamonds which made one think as if they had captured the light of the stars from the night sky. 
Her long hair had that same unearthly glow to it, again. “I still find it amusing,” the woman spoke, her soft voice holding Daemon in a warm embrace. “That you can see me, talk to me.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Daemon asked, not trying to mask his confusion at all. “You will be giving me some answers, woman: who are you? Why is it amusing that I can see you? And how did you know that I was not here in flesh when I first saw you?”
The woman chuckled as she held the bars with her both hands. “You desire to know quite many, Daemon Targaryen.” She raised an eyebrow at Daemon’s direction. “What will be my gain in all this? Why must I provide you with such information?”
The grip Daemon had on Dark Sister tightened, causing the eyes of the woman to drift to the sword fastened around his hip. “Your gain shall be keeping your life, woman.”
A small laughter left her lips as she took a step backwards, causing Daemon to frown upon her reaction. “You cannot end my life as long as I am here, in this cell.” Her words caused the frown on Daemon’s face to get deeper. “No one can. It is enchanted to keep me alive, without being fed or given water, through any kind of sickness or injury – you ought to try harder.”
“Is the witch keeping you here? Captive?” Daemon asked, the word enchanted had been enough to ring some bells in his memory. He should have known that it was the witch’s doing – they all had been her doings. All the things he had seen – or he had believed to have seen – and more. 
The woman nodded with slow movements. “I assume you have already met her,” she muttered, more to herself. “Explains why you weren’t really here before tonight.”
Daemon shook himself and took up a strong, authoritative tone to put an end to this unnecessary negotiation. “Fine, name your price then!”
“My freedom,” the woman spoke without even thinking twice. “You shall have all the information you desire and in extension, all the support you shall require from me – in exchange for my freedom from this cursed prison.”
“Fine,” Daemon muttered somewhat reluctantly. “Even though I cannot quite tell what usefulness you could possibly posses for me, I will give you your freedom.”
His words caused the woman to stand upright suddenly, showing her full height – she could be even taller than most Targaryen Princesses. Daemon found it utterly difficult to tell who and what she was – the aura she carried with her was with no doubt different than any other human without Valyrian blood. Hence, his guess would be that she was not from around here; however, she too was neither Targaryen nor Velaryon. 
It was almost that she was not from the world as the men of Westeros had known it so far.  
“What will be your question, Daemon Targaryen?”
Daemon didn’t even give himself a moment to think before the words lefts his lips. “Who are you?”
The edge of her lips curled upwards as she came closer to the bars, her face almost resting against them. “In your tongue, in the world as you know it, I do not have a name.” Her answer only caused the confusion inside Daemon to grow. “Your people and the people you rule neither know me nor my kind.”
“So you are no human?” Daemon asked, only to earn a nod from the woman. “What did your people call you?”
“Oh, I have had many names and I too was given many more names but my people preferred referring to me as, Lùthril.” The woman responded, she pronounced her name amongst her people with a different accent, catching Daemon’s attention even further. “Which is not my given name, it is the name my people seemed fit for me.”
Daemon raised an eyebrow at her. “And what does that mean? In the language of your people?”
Lùthril sent Daemon a cunning smile. “In your tongue, it means enchantress – roughly translated.”
The silver-haired man rolled his eyes in annoyance at her words. “Another enchantress? As if I didn’t have enough of those to deal with.” 
A soft chuckle left Lùthril’s lips. “Trust me, Daemon Targaryen, you have never had to deal with any enchantress of my kind, yet.”
With a swift movement, Daemon placed the torch on an iron holder hanging from the wall to his right. Then, he crossed both of his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow as he spoke. “And what would be your kind? You don’t look like any other men from Westros.”
“It is because we are not from Westros, at least not from the way you know these lands.” Lùthril responded, her voice felt like silk against Daemon’s skin when her words reached him, pulling him in a gentle embrace. “I believe the name of my people has been forgotten to yours for generations, perhaps there haven’t been any word to describe us in the common tongue.”
The gaps she left between her words was making Daemon furious, testing his patience but at the same time, he was more intrigued than ever – he found himself wanting to learn everything about her, uncover every last mystery she had to offer. 
“What about the language of my people?” Daemon asked. “Do you have a name in High Valyrian?”
The smile forming on Lùthril’s lips was so beautiful, so pure it could make the rarest, prettiest flowers in the Seven Kingdoms envy its beauty; even the clearest of the rivers could not compete its pureness. Perhaps it was a trick of the enchantress, he did not know, but Daemon felt his heart and soul were being drawn to her, the more he let his eyes devour her unearthly beauty.
“Valyrians used to call us Valargon,” she replied and chuckled upon seeing the sudden change in his expression. “I suppose you are no stranger to the term.”
There was no direct translation of Valargon to the Westrosi common tongue, it meant something in the lines of spirit people but that was not enough to catch the powerful meaning of the word itself. Valargon was used to describe a different race which looked similar to humans but were closer to the gods in every other sense.
“Don’t try to hold me for a fool, woman.” Daemon spoke with a hard tone, the feeling of having wasted his time was slithering slowly back into his mind. “Valargon are nothing more than some fairytale told in Valyria before the land met its doom. State your business now or I will make sure you meet your doom as well!”
Lùthril heaved a sigh as she shook her head in disbelief, the way she showed her King absolutely no respect was about to drive Daemon mad. One voice in his head was whispering him to smash her head to the bars until her pretty face was nothing but a mess of blood and broken bones. However, a different voice was telling him to be patient with her and was secretly yearning to touch her skin.
“Such a disappointment,” she spoke with a low voice which carried the hints of sadness, “that me and my people are nothing but a bedtime story to you. Look into my eyes, Daemon Targaryen. If you look deep enough, you will see the undeniable proof.”
A frown formed on Daemon’s face. “What proof?”
Lùthril motioned Daemon to come closer and his feet obeyed her without even letting him decide. Before he knew it, Daemon stood with his face against the bars separating the enchantress from him, her warm breath licked his skin when she spoke with a low voice. “What do you know about the connection between the Gods – the real Gods – and the Valargon?”
“Not much,” Daemon responded, being able to feel the heat and harmony radiating off of her body had made him drunk in mere seconds, he could not think about anything but her. Anything else wandering his mind few seconds ago was gone. “I barely heard that the Valargon were the last beings to have seen the eternal light from the Land of the Old Gods.”
“That should suffice,” Lùthril muttered, more to herself. “Now, Daemon Targaryen, you shall look deep into my eyes and if you look close enough, you shall see the eternal light for I have spent very many years living under its grace.”
[POV Change]
The moment Daemon Targaryen looked into your eyes to see the remnants of the ancient light, you swiftly reached forwards through the bars, pressing your right thumb against his forehead. Before Daemon could react, his very essence started falling down into the eternal light still captured inside the beauty of your eyes.
You showed him all he needed to see so that he would be ready to trust you in the end. Daemon saw you dancing on the moon-lit-meadows of the Land of the Old Gods, barefoot and adorned in white silk, the eternal light was visible on the shore behind your shoulders. As you danced, you were singing a sweet song in the Language of the Gods, the melody made the grass bloom whenever you hit the right tone.
The next memory was from the Feast of the Gods – right under the eternal light, all the Gods and your kin were gathered around the wooden table, which was adorned with the finest of food known to mankind. The Valargon maidens were serving the wines they have made from the sweetest grapes, celebrating the harmony of life and joy. 
Lastly, you showed Daemon the day your kind left the Land of the Gods on your ships, sailing east through the western waters, never to return to your homeland. The Gods, too, had left the magical lands around that time – after deciding that the era of magic, melody and harmony was over for the first men had set foot on the Earth. 
When men came, the ancient magic left the world, never to return, only to exist in the memories of those lucky enough to have seen it. 
Slowly, you left go off Daemon, freeing him from the clutches of the eternal light. When his soul returned to his body, he stumbled backwards, fighting to find his balance again. It took him a few minutes to comprehend what he had just experienced, all the while you waited quietly and patiently. For you knew that whatever Daemon was to decide next, would shape his destiny greatly.
“You are one fucking enchantress, there I have no doubts,” Daemon spoke with his usual careless and dangerous aura surrounding him; however, you could easily see through his façade – he was desperate to know how you could aid him in his mission, you being perhaps the most powerful being in the Seven Kingdoms at that particular moment. “They were all… true?”
He was referring to the memories he had seen a few moments ago. You nodded at him. “Those were my memories from a long, long time ago.”
Daemon frowned. “There is, though, something I do not understand,” he spoke cautiously. “How did a fucking Valargon ended up in Simon fucking Strong’s dungeons? It doesn’t add up.”
Heaving a sigh, you let your body slide down the right wall until you were sitting on the cold, damp ground – not that it bothered you, you could hardly feel it. “The destiny of the Valargon had to end in flames when the first Targaryen King arrived in Westros on the back of the largest dragon known to mankind.”
“Aegon the Conquerer,” Daemon said quietly, you nodded. “A Targaryen killed all your people, I understand – then why are you alive?”
“We all tried to overcome what was destined for us – the eternal light had to survive to see the end of all days.” A mischievous spark was visible in your eyes for a brief moment. “Thus, we tried to alter the destiny.”
Daemon shook his head in disbelief at your words, even the Rogue Prince himself did not approve of such behaviour. “Only a fool would meddle with the strings of the fate.” Of course, when he understood what you actually meant, the expression on his face changed. “And the said fool is standing in front of me, right, enchantress?”
A bitter smile formed on your lips. “I did it – I managed to change the destiny. However, it came with a terrible price.” Even mentioning those horrifying moments made you shiver in your place, you would give the days of your remaining life to forget everything you had seen on that cursed day. “As you see, all my people are gone and I am held here captive ever since.”
Slowly, without even realising, Daemon found himself sitting on the ground right next to you, on the other side of the bars separating the two of you. “130 long years and you have never tried to escape?” He asked with a rather mocking tone, failing to notice the way you inhaled his scent. “No magic tricks?”
You shook your head, pointing at the bars. “Did you not realise the missing lock or the door? This cell is being held with powerful magic. Only the blood of the man imprisoning me can set me free.” You added. “And coming back to your very first question: the enchantress of Harrenhal uses magic to keep me hidden from the eyes of men. Perhaps she has failed to strengthen her magic at the right time, hence it faded and you were able to see me.”
You heard Daemon cursing at the witch of Harrenhal, apparently she was being called Alys Rivers as of late. “That cunt of a witch has been around here since the Conquest?” You shrugged at his words. “Fucking cunt,” he muttered under his breath before speaking to you again. “What will I gain if I set you free? Can you aid me in winning my battles? Can you pour fear into the hearts of my enemies?”
“I will use my magic to aid you; however, your fate has been decided by the Gods long ago, Daemon Targaryen.” You spoke with a powerful voice as you stood up, from the looks inside Daemon’s purple eyes, you realised that he was, for the first time, seeing you as the mighty Lùthril you were. “It is no longer in my power to change their judgement. If you will, I can guide you through what was written for you in times of hardship and doubt.”
It took Daemon Targaryen a considerable amount of time to arrive at a final decision, through which you waited patiently, giving him the space and the time to make perhaps the most important choice at the crossroads of his destiny. Finally, when he rose to his feet, a Targaryen King stood in front of your eyes, determination radiating off of him.
“What must I do?” Daemon asked, “to set you free?”
As you can notice, my inspiration for the reader has been heavily influenced by Lúthien and Galadriel 💜
Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa @superintenseart
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nauseaspecters · 9 days ago
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i don't enjoy the fandom depiction of chuuya being the 'second choice' character trope all his life.
unedited rambling under the cut. i'll structure my text posts better when it's not 4am
he's experienced and underwent through a lot of situationd of abandonment and betrayal, with unreciprocated attachments, definitely.
for the sheep, although they were almost like his family, since they were all he knew for 8 years, they viewed him as a weapon and a tool. stormbringer elaborates and adds complexity to this later but as a basis, it was true that they viewed this young teenager (chuuya) as more of an indispensably strong weapon to protect their survival, yet dispensable as a human if chuuya were to 'fall' to the other side. so much so that they jump to the chance to stab him (literally.) it's true chuuya does experience varying levels of not feeling he is doing enough.
however, to dwindle his character trope down to being "the other woman" type trope or the "constant second choice" is a misunderstanding of not only his character, but the characters around him as well. i see this seen most with dazai, mori, kouyou and the sheep.
in the case regarding dazai: chuuya is often labelled as the second choice to oda, and sometimes people use it as a point to pity chuuya in. however, it should be considered that chuuya and oda, and what they meant to dazai, cannot be compared. their relationships and significance to dazai were not in the same realm, and to think of it as "dazai chose oda over chuuya" ignores all the other factors as to what their relationship is built on. also, dazai choosing to leave the pm is not choosing oda over chuuya, it's hardly even related to chuuya, and especially not some decisive battle. it was dazai who was impacted by his dying friend's wishes and words, and he left for many reasons. ugh i will speak forever so i'll make that a different post. TLDR: chuuya is not the second choice to 'oda'
in the case regarding kouyou: i don't see this as commonly and i'm honestly a sucker for chuuya angst, but i don't think it's also right to think of chuuya as a second choice to kyouka in terms of kouyou's affection/care. firstly, kyouka is a young girl, and kouyou identifies herself in kyouka, with a deeper attachment of obsessive protection and instillment of what kouyou experienced. since kouyou was hurt by trying to reach the 'light', and she sees that same self in kyouka, kouyou shields kyouka in an unhealthy manner and isolates her from what she think will ultimately fail her. chuuya is a boy and from what we know, kouyou most likely does not see chuuya in the same style of projection and reflection. she's set to mentor chuuya in a very professional PM standpoint, and most likely does not form that deeper neurotic attachment that she has to kyouka. yes, chuuya calls her ane-san, but that doesn't mean they're necessarily also the closest. so to say that chuuya is the second choice to kyouka is strange, as it's not even a choice. chuuya is not in the picture for the type of internal bond that kouyou feels towards kyouka.
some additional stuff bdcause im rambling:
there's some weird extreme perceptions of kouyou as either someone that doesn't care about chuuya and a very close older-sister like doting on chuuya (the latter being a popular interpretation). i think kouyou cares to some extent, yeah. i think a lot of the pm that interact more extensively cares about each other to some extent. however, we do need to remember this is in the context of the PM. it's an inherently toxic and unstable environment, rooted in , well, Crime and power dynamics. kouyou was probably not the perfect mentor to chuuya, and nor are they some close healthy protective sibling-type dynamic either. the PM is rooted in abuse and a dark environment, it's unrealistic to think that a relationship we barely see much of is sunshine and rainbows.
ps: also sometimes it's not the matter of being a second choice he is just not a choice. as sad as that may sound.
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helplesslypurple77 · 1 year ago
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Day 8-Mori/Reader with prompts Fingering and Doctor Kink
Notes: Mori was getting dangerously attractive in that Yosano flashback…and obviously your ob-gyn should absolutely never do anything our doctor Mori is gonna do, this is a fanfiction, so, fiction. Anyway, enjoy(also im totally glossing over some of the less sexy bits of a normal appointment lol)
The familiar tickle of the bell welcomes you as you enter the familiar lobby of your Gynecologists. You check your watch, noting that you're a little early, so you set your purse on the coffee table and scroll through your phone absentmindedly. The office is surprisingly empty, only one other person sits in the lobby, a middle aged woman who smiles kindly in your direction, before Anne, the receptionist, calls her over with a wave. She’s definitely not new, you’ve known Anne since she started working here, and she’s still as pretty as ever, with long red hair and green eyes. She sends you a wink and a smile, and you smile back. 
You fiddle a bit with your necklace, bored. It's a new one, a classy thin gold chain with a single, red ruby. It winks prettily between your collarbones, drawing all eyes. You paired it with a white blouse, and a dark red skirt, as flashy as you could get away with at work, anyway. Your boss liked it when her employees quote unquote, ‘expressed themselves’, although you still got written up occasionally. Although it was probably Brad, your boyfriend, still salty about the shopping spree you had gone on when you found he cheated on you.
You're so bored you find yourself staring around at the familiar decorations for the thousandth time. The familiar fake flowers on the table, the tabloid and other magazines, the chairs around the front office, the pictures on all the walls. Your favorite one is a watercolor painting, naked fairies and female elves dancing around an enchanted forest. It was just so whimsical and pretty it had always fascinated you. 
“Miss Name Last-Name?” The receptionist smiles when you look up, gesturing at a pretty blond Nurse with a clipboard. She’s also young, maybe early thirties and she smiles as she leads you back into the room. Janet, the Nurse’s name she had informed you, quickly and efficiently takes care of the weight and height measurements, before she gives you a small smile and nod, and leaves the room. It's the same room you’ve been to before, ever since you were sixteen.
It's embarrassing but you've lived in the same town for most of your life. Your parents had moved you and your siblings here when you were seven years old, because your mom wanted to be by the sea and your father loved your mother a bit too much perhaps. But they were your parents and you loved them, no matter how embarrassingly lovey dovey they insisted on being. 
But anyway, this was your hometown. You had gone to school here, made lifelong friends here, and all of your doctors appointments had been in this town, including the Gynecologists. Your ob-gyn, Maya, had known you since you were young, and was a kindly middle aged woman, an old friend of your moms. It would be nice to see her again. You're sitting on the chair, legs not hooked but swinging in front of you when a knock on the door sounds and Nurse Janet peaks her head in. 
“I'm sorry miss Name, but Maya, your usual isn't available.” You frown in concern. “Is she ok?” The nurse steps in completely, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Yes, she just has a cold. I can either reschedule your appointment or assign you another doctor temporarily. What would you prefer?” The way the nurse speaks is a little peculiar, but you just brush it off. A new doctor, temporarily at least. You're tempted, just out of comfort to reschedule, but , and you've already driven here and gas prices are so high nowadays, it just feels like such a waste. You nod, coming to your decision. “I'll proceed with the appointment.” Janet nods, checking her clipboard. “Alright then, Doctor Mori will see you in about ten minutes.” The door closes and she’s gone.
Doctor Mori. You’ve heard the name, Maya has mentioned him in passing. And if Maya recommends him he has to be good, you have a lot of faith in your old friend. Your phone rings, loudly and with tha familiar ringtone that signifies your sister's calling. You check the clock on the wall, you have about even minutes, and quickly answer the phone. 
“Leila, i'm in the doctor's office.”
Your sister giggles. “I know.” She says, yelling over the chaos you can hear faintly in the background. “I'm calling because mom told me to tell you that Maya is out with a cold. So you should reschedule your appointment for next week or something.”
You sigh, as usual your mothers a little too late. “Um, it's too late for that. Couldn't you have told me like yesterday or something?” 
 “It's not my fault, blame mom.” Your sister scoffs.“So did you reschedule?”
“No, I decided to see another doctor, at least temporarily.” You pick your nails, checking the clock. Five minutes. “The new nurse called her Doctor Mori? You know, the other doctor that shares the building with Maya.”
“Oh yeah, I always remember Maya talking about him.” You can faintly hear your mother yelling in the background, and then your sister yells back, pulling the phone from her ear. “What mom? He? What? Just come here and tell her yourself!”
“Honey? That you?” Your mom’s voice interrupts your sister. “How are you honey?”
“I'm great mom.” You sigh. “Why didn't you tell me about Maya earlier.”
“Oh you know, i forgot.” Your mom giggles, shouting over the Bob Marley playing in the background. “Anyway honey, your sister told me you decided to see Doctor Mori?”
You check the clock. “Yeah, it seemed like a waste to just leave. And you gotta hurry mom, I'm almost out of time.”
“I see, I see.” Your mother makes no attempt to hurry, but then again she never does. “Well, Maya introduced me to Doctor Mori one time, and honey, he’s very handsome!”
“Yeah, yeah ok.” You check the clock one more time, you need to go. “Well I gotta go mom, i'll see you later then.” 
“Yeah, see you later Honey. Say hi to Anne for me. Oh, and tell her congratulations on her marriage.” And with a click, she’s gone. You sink back into your seat with a sigh, and then, something your mother said finally clicks. He. you shoot up in your seat, just as the door creaks open, and sure enough and man makes his way into the room. 
Your mother was right, he is handsome. His hair is slightly long and slightly messy with loose strands falling around his face. The dark strands tickle his neck, just barely brushing his shoulders. He’s clothed in a lab coat for some reason, underneath which is a gray purple button down and a slightly loose black tie. His eyes are dark, and slight wrinkles at the corner betray his age. He has a pair of small, rimless glasses hooked on his collar. 
“Miss Name? I'm Dr. Mori, I'll be filling in for Dr. Henderson today.” He blinks at you with a slightly absent smile. It feels unreal honestly, of course your replacement is a handsome older man who, in a few minutes, is going to have his hands all over your pussy. You curse every evil god who put you in this situation. And you hope, pray or anything else you can do that you won’t get wet. You sigh.
“It’s nice to meet you Dr, Ma-er, Dr Henderson has mentioned you before.” You smile, wishing that you weren’t currently at a gynecologist appointment with a man who was probably married who you were definitely thirsting over. “Although I thought…never mind.”
“You thought I was a woman?” You nod and the doctor laughs a little. “Yes, I’m not surprised. I’m actually partially retired, I just do Maya the occasional favor now and then.” Mori puts on his glasses, squinting at a clipboard. You try to subtly look at his hands, checking for a wedding ring.
“It looks like Maya took care of most of your checkups a few weeks ago?” He says. You nod. “Yes, we just ran out of time for the last few. She was going to do them today but…” The doctor nods, confirming your thought. He flips through the papers on the clipboard, before setting it down on the small desk next to a picture of a pretty blond girl with blue eyes, the doctor next to her in the picture. “Dr. Henderson already did most of the necessary tests. Looks like you guys didn't quite get around to the physical?” You give him a nod in responds and he smiles. “Alright, well I'll step out for a moment, can you please take off your underwear and hook your legs up in those—well you know what to do. I'll be back in a few minutes.” You give him a nervous little nod and laugh combo, and he steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. You sigh, standing and rolling up your tight office skirt, and ridding yourself of your boring white panties. This is going to be so embarrassing, because you just know you're going to get at least a little damp. It's very different to have a fifty ish woman who you’ve known for years poking around your vagina, versus a finely aged dilf, with no wedding ring to speak of. You sigh again, climbing up into the strange reclining chair and hooking your knees in the stirrups. With your skirt rolled up like this, you can feel the cool air brushing your bare pussy, and you shiver a little. 
The door opens and Mori steps back in, noting your position on the chair with a nod. “I see you're ready to begin?” The doctor has a pair of plastic gloves on and he’s hooked his reading glasses back on his collar, the tie somehow slipping even more. You give him an affirmative, doing your best to nip any problems in the bud by focussing your thoughts squarely on your pet Cat. And it works too, as the doctor's gloved hands begin to feel surely on your pelvic bone, dancing around the lips of your pussy. Then, he starts to talk, distracting you from the cat.
“So, Miss Name, seems like you’ve known Maya for a while, huh.” He says. “Yep,” You reply, still trying to think of your cat. “I've had her since I was about seventeen. I assume you guys are old friends as well?”  
“Yes, we used to work together.” The doctores sure fingers pull at the lips of your pussy, and he squints. “That was until my ex-wife decided she didn't want me touching other women all day long, even if it was my job.” Your ears catch on ‘ex-wife’ and all thoughts of your cute pet cat fly from your mind. Your thighs twitch slightly, and you change the subject quickly. “That must be your daughter then, in the picture? Sorry if I snooped.” You bite your lip and avoid eye contact, it makes it all worse when you watch him prod at your pussy. Thankfully, for now at least, his fingers have left the more sensitive areas and are now poking at your pelvic bone again. 
“Yes, my little girl Elise. She’s pretty isn't she?” You nod, and he continues. “What about you? Any kids?” 
You shake your head with a laugh. “No, not quite yet anyway. I just broke up with my boyfriend actually.” Your tone turns a little resentful, you can't help yourself. “He cheated on me.” Mori makes a noise of surprise, cocking his head up to meet your eyes. “He cheated on a girl as pretty as you, huh. Spread your legs a bit for me darlin.” You almost choke, ninety nine percent sure you misheard. That damn pet name, Darlin’, and the complement? God you're doomed. The doctor chuckles at your silence, his dark eyes leaving your own as they dart back to your pussy. One hand spread your pussy lips apart, and two gloved fingers poke at your hole, pushing in slowly. You bit your lip, hard. You can hear the slight squelching his fingers make, and you literally want to die. Maybe if you pretend nothing is wrong, he will spare you the humiliation. 
“So, do you miss your job?” You clear your throat as his fingers reach deeper, pressing around looking for something. 
“Oh, a little.” The doctor's other hand goes higher, pressing down slightly on your lower stomach, feeling around. “Although, I usually don't get such pretty patients to work with. You're making this old man blush.” Oh, he knows, he’s definitely noticed how wet you are and he’s teasing you. You still can't quite tell if he’s flirting or not. He can't be, right? He’s a really handsome man, he must have a girlfriend or something. 
He withdraws his fingers from inside you, and you sigh with relief. But all your embarrassment comes rushing back as he reaches for the familiar speculum, slowly inserting it into your pussy with a squelch. You blush at the sound, but the doctor doesn't bat an eye as he ever so slowly opens it, peering inside for a few long, agonizing seconds. And then, he’s pulling it out with an embarrassing sound and placing it on a tray beside him. 
“Well, looks like we have no problems.” He takes off his gloves, balling them together and placing them on the tray beside the Speculum. “Everything looks good and you're plenty…” He pauses. “…Sensitive.” You blush, way too embarrassed to even complain. He clears his throat a little, dark eyes still darting back and forth between your pussy and your face. His eyes are dark, and they have a strange shine as they meet your own again. With a leap of faith, you decide to throw caution to the winds.
“I don't know doctor, you might need to check a little more thoroughly.” He eyes you for a moment, and an embarrassing silence fills the room for a moment. And just as you're about to backpedal, Mori stands, and with a click, locks the door. “You know…” He says, a new kind of gleam in his eye. “Maybe I should. Do you have any particular concerns?” This is absolutely crazy, and you love every minute of it. 
“Oh, I don't know, Doctor.” You shoot him a flirty little wink. “Maybe you should feel around in there some more, check for any irregularities?” 
“That's a good idea Darlin.” He pulls a stool over, and hangs his coat over a nearby chair, rolling up his shirtsleeves. “Well, I'll start with an oral check up, then maybe use something a little longer to really check you out, that sound good?” You nod, your reply dissolving into a moan as he leans closer, the flattened length of his tongue coming in contact with your clit. He starts out slow, flattening his tongue against your clit, dancing around the edges of your hole, teasing you with his little smirks. He looks way too hot like that, face buried in your pussy, your hands tugging at his hair. 
“You know Doctor,” You choke out, as the naughty slurping sounds fill the room. “My insides feel a little tight, maybe you should check those out.” Mori pulls away from your pussy, shooting you a spit slicked feral grin. “I was just thinking the same thing.” And then, he slips two fingers inside. Your head falls back against the chair, as his head disappears again, tongue licking your clit. He had his fingers inside you before, but it feels different now that he’s really trying to make you lose it. He scissors his fingers open, prying your hole open for future activities and your going to lose it. You need him inside you, right now.
“Doctor.” He looks up at you, fingers pausing inside of you. “I need you inside of me. Now.” 
Mori chuckles at your enthusiasm, withdrawing his fingers from inside you with a squelch, and moving to the cabinet. He pulls a foiled package out, and waves it in your direction. You giggle, playing with your tits through your shirt. “My my doctor, do you always fuck your patients?” 
“Nope, you're this old man’s first in a while.” He offers as a reply, unbuckling his pants. “We give free condoms to teens, to encourage safe sex.” He doesn't even pull down his pants, just pulls his erect cock out and strokes it a few times. You watch, licking your lips as he slides the condom down it. It's big, and you know he’ll stretch you out nicely. Maybe another time you would like to have it down your throat. But for today, you need him inside you.
Mori seems to share your enthusiasm, as he hurriedly lines his dick up with your hole, and with one last look of assurance, starts to slowly push in. The stretch is a lot, but with all that preparation it just barely stings. It also helps that he goes slowly, allowing for you to fully adjust to his hardness. He grips your thighs with his big hands as he fully shields himself inside of you, pulling out and using your thighs to pull you right back onto his dick. Your voice comes out in little pants and moans, joined by his grunts. 
“So doctor, everything alright?” Your voice is far from steady, but you can't really bring yourself to care. “How does it feel?” 
“Heavenly darling.” Mori’s mouth crashes onto yours, practically inhaling your face. He kisses with a wild kind of desperation, so different from the unhurried tone of voice he had taken up before. It's hot, the juxtaposition. And you can feel the coil of an orgasm curling in your stomach. “I'm close.” You pant out, as Mori nuzzles your jaw, his hair tangling with your own. “Same.” The doctor pants out, his steady rhythm speeding up a little, and you moan out especially loud as his calloused thumb works at your clit, rubbing little circles into it. 
The tangle of orgasm is building now, and then, the tip of his dick hits that spot, the spot that makes pleasure explode though your body. You shudder, and cum around his dick, gripping his shoulders and moaning out a garbled mix of his name and some moans. He continues thrusting, working you through your orgasm and just as you're about to come down he thrusts one more time, and with a small little moan in your ear, he withdraws. 
“So doctor.” You pant, leaning back against the chair. “Everything healthy?” 
“Very.” Mori says, disposing of the condom in the garbage and doing up his clothes. He scratches his neck awkwardly, watching you put on your underwear and roll down your skirt. “So, Miss Name? Do you maybe want to get coffee together or something?” 
You grab your purse, and turn, planting a bold little kiss on his lips, and pressing your business card into his hands. “I’d love to.” And with a ‘call me’ you close the door behind you.
End Notes: It's been a long time since i had an appointment lol, the details are hazy at best. Also barely got this one done in time
Taglist:@mulit05ho3st4n
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kaurwreck · 8 months ago
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It's not entirely fair of me, but I hate the fanon that Kouyou operates brothels for the Port Mafia. She's canonically the Port Mafia's torture czar; that she's oiran-coded more likely references irl!Kyouka Izumi's preferred archetype, Kyouka and Kouyou's relationship, and Kouyou's Edo-era literary aesthetics.
It grates on me that she's so often plucked from her actual role in the Port Mafia, which aligns with her ethos as a flower who blooms in darkness and which reflects that she is beholden to herself and doesn't share Mori's obsession with self sacrifice, so that she can be shoved ill-fittingly into a woman-coded role of archetypal brothel madam. She's a torturer!
That's also why she isn't considered a likely successor to Mori— she's still a leader within the organization, but the nature of her role requires and engenders some degree of distance from the rank and file, and certainly from the public-facing, corporate facet that's bathed in the light she detests.
(Never mind that she's never expressed an interest in succeeding Mori, and that she will always prioritize her favorites over the organization as a whole— why should she be made slave to the organization when that would preclude her from spending substantive amounts of the annual budget to rob the special division's armored vehicles for her best girl? She didn't hesitate to cooperate with Dazai for Kyouka's benefit even though it disadvantaged the organization— she does not want to be, nor is she suited to be, the Port Mafia boss.)
Also, brothels in early Yokohama were state-run. That's the Special Division's purview, which makes sense, given their utility for espionage and information gathering and dissemination.
Anyway; well-wrought female characters are substantive, not descriptive. Kouyou is a fleshy character whose contrasting tenderness and viciousness are contoured by her tendency to act on her whims and her unerring devotion to the individuals she adores.
Thrusting her in roles that would force her to act outside of her motivations and desires when the sum of her arc isn't her victimhood isn't compelling to me; it strips her of her dynamism. Contriving roles that don't exist based entirely on her aesthetic without any consideration of her characterization isn't better.
idk why do women have to be archetypes to be well written, why can't they be messy 26 year old torturers who embezzle organizational funds and brat tame their bosses.
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