Aftercare with Gojo where he focuses on kissing life back into your limbs after a particularly rough session with him.
He showers with you. No round two, no sexually stimulating touches, just him being as soft and delicate with you as he can. He spends a lot of time reassuring you as he scrubs your body, telling you that you're just as pretty as you were before, even with all these marks on your skin. Regardless of his words, he kept scrubbing your skin, as if trying to bring back some of the purity it had before things got animalistic.
He requests that you stay as light in clothes as possible because he'll be examining your body. Normally, you just stay in your underwear and a bra because with these examinations comes Gojo checking every inch of your skin. You get to lay back and relax while he thoroughly goes down your body, massaging your tender muscles and overall rehabilitating you.
He brushes his fingers against the dark marks on your neck and your chest, feeling the love that went into putting them on you to begin with. As his eyes trail down the rest of your hickey-littered, unobserved body, he realizes he loves you so much that it's taken a physical form on your skin.
You are not the only one who leaves scratches behind. Satoru does, too. He looks at your ribs, inhaling at the sight of four red, long streaks that trail from your ribs on each side, to where he can no longer see, on your back. He leans down and kisses the bright lines, like doing so would heal you in an instant. He does the same for the nail indentations he left behind on your waist and on your hips, kissing the aftermath of being so driven with pleasure that he had to take it out on your skin. He finishes up massaging your lower body. Your thighs, which were also bruised by his lips, your knees which had rug burns on them, and just a thrown in ankle massage for the harsh grip he had on it before.
You feel like you're in another place when Satoru looks after you this way. Almost 90% of the times he does this, you fall asleep when he has you flip over to examine your back. This was one of those times when his touch felt so heavenly, and light against your skin that you couldn't help but rest your eyes, resulting in your slumber.
His hands run down the expanse of your back. He undoes the clasp of your bra, not able to see the point where his scratches end until the material is moved. It's expected for you to leave these behind on him, but he's in shock at the ones you got from him this time. He traces the lines, the slightly swollen skin warm to the touch, and his revitalizing kisses return to soothe the sting. He can see choppy patterns of his nail indentations on your lower back, a warm hand rubbing them to try to make them fade. He can hear your soft, rhythmic breathing by now, a soft smile drawn on his features. He rubs little pressurized circles into your calves, watching you to make sure he's not pressing too hard. He ends the examination with some finishing touches on your achilles tendons and your heels.
"Baby," Satoru coos, laying on his side, facing you. You're still laying on your stomach, little puffs of air escaping your lips. His fingers trail down your spine, past the undone clasps of your bra. "Baby..." he tries again, this time running a thumb across your shiny, saliva coated bottom lip.
"Mm..." you hum, not opening your eyes.
"You okay?" He asks his hand playing with your damp hair, softly.
"Mhm," you nonverbally confirm.
"Alright," he finishes. He turns his lamp off and scoots closer to you, his arm and leg draping over you like a makeshift blanket.
Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.
Word count. 0.8k
A/N. Prob gonna delete. Art by @_3eam on X.
It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.
He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall.
But mostly, he dreams of you.
Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of.
Do you dream of him too?
Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you.
Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.
Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future.
Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon.
Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes.
A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.
Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.
And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead.
He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club.
It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you.
The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses.
Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.
The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms.
Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.
First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.
He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.
Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.
And he dreams he’s there.
He wants to be there.
“Satoru?”
Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.
All is well in your little heaven.
Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.
For now, he is yours.
He only dreams he can be forevermore.
A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.
every man in yokohama has a long list of crimes they’d commit to be with you, but none quite as long as dazai’s.
contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, port mafia boss!dazai, port mafia member!reader, bsd typical blood / violence, unprotected sex, established relationship, takes place before doa, dazai & reader are a lil unhinged bc they're in love, praise, soft dazai, riding dazai, sub reader, v slight breeding kink oops — 10.1k
The music shook your chest as you watched people head to the front of the club for a dance, a combination of those that were regulars, and those who were just desperate to blow their money on an evening in one of the finest night clubs in the country.
It had grown hot in the club, even for an autumn evening in Yokohoma. There were more people filling the tables than usual, standing only to swing their partners around on the dancefloor. A woman sung sultrily to the crowd, a song that you hadn’t heard in ages. Even for a Saturday, it was crowded, the capacity met, and then surpassed, packed to the brim as a group of foreign billionaires weaseled their way in by paying twice the entry fee.
You swirled your glass, sitting alone at the bar with your legs crossed, the tight, red dress rising up on your thighs. Beside you, a man was puffing a cigar, blowing the smoke back in your face so frequently that it took all your effort not to cough. Still, he paid you little attention, too enraptured by a skinny young woman that giggled every time he touched her arm.
A few more individuals made their way to the dancefloor, tracking unaccompanied dancers like prey, hopeful that they could score a partner for the evening. It was amusing, really, how often you’d seen some of the same men come back. They’d throw stacks of money on the table in a desperation to acquaint themselves with beautiful, upper-class women, even if they’d go home unhappy and broke.
Ice clinked against the sides of your glass as the last drop disappeared down your throat, warming you up for the rest of the evening. Already, you had caught the glimpse of several men in the club. But those who knew who you were knew to keep their distance, and they never tried to sneak more than a subtle glance in your direction.
Those who didn’t usually noticed nothing but your striking beauty and the allure of darkness that seemed to follow you. They were drawn to you easily, smiling at you like they were entitled to gawk at your appearance, like it would be criminal for anyone so beautiful to shield herself away from the world.
Rarely did that ever end well for them.
You handed your empty glass off to the bartender—a dear friend that you’d convinced to work for you at the club—and made your way over to the dance floor. The crowd parted for you with quick glances and slackened jaws, stumbling on their own feet to get out of your way. Once you passed, the world seemed to resume itself. Everyone continued about their business, averted their gaze, even if they were careful not to get too close to you.
Something about that made you smile.
For a while, you danced on your own, grinning carelessly to yourself as you twisted your hips, unbound yourself to the music and the alcohol that ran through your veins. It was a different kind of freedom, and though you’d once been wary of the watchful eyes, they no longer bothered you. You loved losing yourself in the rhythm, loved feeling transported to another realm.
The setlist for the evening included a few of your favorites, and you carried on until there was sweat on your forehead, a single bead trickling down your temple, one that you hastily wiped off. Breaths came to you more stiflingly, heaving inhales and exhales that paired with your thirst.
Finally, the tempo of the music slowed, just enough to snap you back into the present, and the energy zapped out of you as your mood darkened. The time of the evening had passed when you realized that it was no longer fun to dance alone.
You sighed, and with a frown, let your gaze trail across the room to find the cool brown eyes that you loved more than the music you spun in circles to. But Dazai was already in a conversation with someone else, tapping slender fingers against his glass full of amber liquid. He listened intently to a conversation between two men twice his age.
Beside him, Chuuya stood at the edge of the table like a loyal bloodhound, his arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall. You caught his eye instead and smiled to him, though not a single muscle in his face twitched. It seemed as though he was intent on keeping up the charade for the evening.
As much as you wanted to smile even more sweetly and taunt him mercilessly, you didn’t let yourself get too distracted. Instead, you refocused your sights on your other goal.
The stocky, tall man was right where Dazai said he’d be, sitting with a couple woman and a few empty glasses in front of him. He had a neatly trimmed, graying beard, sporting a watch that was, at least, a couple million yen.
You caught him watching you over the edge of the table, his smile slow as you bat your eyelashes at him, sauntering past him with a perfectly coy expression. Eyes lingered on the curves of your hips; the smooth skin of your legs revealed by the dress. The lust came in near waves off of him, thick and heavy as they reached you.
It made your job easier, the obvious attraction that they never tried to hide from you. You smiled to yourself, and felt a sense of satisfaction, despite his disgraceful leering.
The seats at the bar had been filled up when you returned, leaving no room for you and your new companion to retreat.
A younger regular, one with an overabundance of nerves and an awkward smile, spoke in hushed whispers to his friend, one that was dressed in a suit far too cheap to be in this club.
You tapped him on the shoulder, smiling at him in the way that had everyone bending over backwards for you. “Excuse me?”
He looked over, irritated for a fleeting second before realizing who it was that had approached him. Immediately, he was to his feet, stammering over a greeting while his friend gawked at him with incredulity.
“Sorry to bother you,” you said, softening your voice. “I was wondering if I could have those seats. I hate to—”
“No, no,” he said, practically shoving the other man away, pushing him out of the chair while he sputtered confused nonsense. “Take them! We’ll be out of your hair.”
You thanked them before placing yourself neatly back onto the stool you’d occupied before. It was far too easy.
The bartender sent you a knowing look, all too familiar with your games, before going back to mixing a drink.
Moments later, you felt the presence of another behind you, an overwhelming smell of tobacco and pine assaulting your senses. He was taller up close, taller than Dazai, at least, and older than you’d originally thought. Deep wrinkles weathered his skin, his eyes, and though there was still a hint of black in his dark hair, it was slowly being overtaken by the signs of a life that was twice as long as yours.
“Pretty dress.” That was the first thing he said to you, letting his eyes wander over your chest, lips curling into an ugly smirk. “It suits you nicely.”
You wouldn’t be won over so easily, so you merely smiled at him, nodding in thanks. Though, that had him coming on twice as strong, as if the simple eye contact that you’d made earlier had been a full invitation to fuck you. He took the seat next to you, signaling the bartender over.
“Let me buy you a drink,” he said, and though it was a kind proposition, it always made you laugh. You received a million free drinks from strangers here.
Still, you shrugged and let him, unsurprised that he knew what you’d been drinking earlier. It was a clear sign that he’d been watching you since before you even got up to dance.
“What’s your name?”
“Should I give it away that easily?” Your voice was silky in your response, unimpressed, but luring him in, nonetheless.
He laughed, and offered you his own instead, Tanaka, as if you didn’t already know it. You’d been planning on springing him into this trap since the moment he’d arrived that evening. It was a target and a plan that had been set in motion for days.
His grin was uncomfortable, but he thought so highly of the way his lips curled, seemingly luring you in.
In reality, you weren’t sure how any woman could stand to get down on her knees for that.
Half an hour passed as you talked with him, preening under his endless string of compliments, wishing that you could string him on for a little bit longer. You enjoyed the words well enough, just another thing to stroke your ego, but the minute he moved closer, you inched away, placing distance between you before he could touch you.
It was obvious it frustrated him, but one look at the flash in his irises had you knowing that he enjoyed the chase.
He droned on, careless conversation about hobbies you didn’t want to understand, and though you smiled, pretending to be interested, your focus drifted to the table where Dazai sat.
His conversation had shifted to Chuuya, the two other men from earlier gone. It seemed strained between them, sharp words spoken as they glared at one another, visibly at odds about something.
Despite the clear dispute, anger cleared away from their expressions within seconds, Chuuya straightening like a board beside his boss once again.
Dazai looked up; it was less than a second that your eyes met, but your knees had weakened, heart stuttering in your chest as it skipped a pulse.
A soft exhale left you, and you longed for Dazai, craved the feeling of his strong palm on your skin, the kiss of his lips on your neck. You had half a mind to say fuck the mission and walk right over to the table and plant yourself on his lap.
It would certainly cause a scene, especially when there were so many new customers there who knew about Dazai but didn’t know about you.
Still, you knew Dazai wouldn’t object. He’d merely smile into your hair and curl his hand around your hip, continuing on with his conversation like nothing was out of the ordinary.
You looked away. If you were to make it through the rest of the night, you couldn’t get distracted by the beautiful man just feet away from you. “Sorry,” you said, turning back to Tanaka. “What were you saying?”
His interest in conversation had already waned, and he faced Dazai, displeased by the uptick of fascination within your expression. “Found someone more interesting already?”
You laughed, shaking your head as you pressed your palms into your thighs. You may have longed for Dazai, been so desperate that you couldn’t spare him another glimpse, but you could still play this role well. There couldn’t be another slip, every move had to be precise.
“I’m just curious,” you said, puckering your lips in a pout. “He looks important.”
Tanaka took a sip of his drink as you spoke, nearly spitting it back out when your sentence concluded. His eyes were hard, narrowing at the sight of Dazai just meters away, surrounded by a security of sorts, “You don’t know him?” He coughed.
You frowned, tilting your head. “Should I?”
“That’s Dazai Osamu. He owns this place.”
There was room for a theatrical pause. You took that moment to pretend to think. “Oh, of course. What a silly question,” you said, humming, and set your chin down on your hand to glance back over at the table of Port Mafia personnel. “I hear he owns a lot of things.” You tilted your head, gauging the man with siren eyes. “Is that true?”
Tanaka huffed, but he didn’t deny it, looking down at his two-million-yen watch like it was nothing more than a trinket. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t worry about him.” He seemed irritated, though he didn’t let it show, his voice the only indicator that you had upset him. “But I can tell you it sure gets hard to run a business in Yokohama when the Port Mafia owns half the city.”
You widened your eyes, leaning forward. “You’re telling me the Port Mafia owns this place?”
Tanaka laughed, loud and haughty, looking at you like you were just a poor idiot from the countryside, even if the dress you wore cost just as much as his entire suit put together. “Oh, hon, if only you knew.”
The condescending tone sent a screech through your entire body, momentarily halting any proper responses in your current act. But he was unfazed, already moving onto the next topic of conversation, telling you all about the business dealings that you’d known about from the long list of jobs within his file.
There was, truly, nothing about him that you hadn’t already dug up. It was boring you immensely, but you smiled on, nodding enthusiastically as he spun the most lackluster story you’d ever heard.
Dazai, across the room, stared at you as you conversed, clenching his jaw at the way the man eyed you, the gaze that scoured your body like you were nothing more than a piece of meat.
Oh, he would certainly enjoy tearing him apart later, even if he would be too easy of a case to break.
“When are we leaving?”
Chuuya’s voice snapped him out of his onlooking, and Dazai leaned back in the chair, shedding the tension in his shoulders to resume a comfortable position.
“Not until they’re both in the car and I can confirm with Tachihara and Gin that she’s safe,” Dazai said, crossing his arms over the table. He couldn’t forget that there were others around him, those who would never say a word to him, but knew who he was, knew what he stood for. Even here, he couldn’t let his guard down.
“Safe?” Chuuya laughed, though it was without any humor. His irises flashed dangerously, steely grey darkening into a deep silver. “You trust that idiot not to lay a hand on her? He’s undressing her with his eyes.”
Chuuya seemed intent on irritating him that evening, as usual.
“I don’t trust anyone who comes here.” Dazai scowled. “Don’t be a fool.”
A moment of silence lapsed between them, and Dazai became sickened by the way the man was eyeing you. Though you took it all in stride, leaning just far enough away so his knee didn’t graze yours, and his palm didn’t brush against your own, it still lit a fire deep within him.
It was all the better, he supposed, to feel such deep hatred for his enemies. It made it easier to tear them apart without any guilt.
“How long are you going to make her do this, huh?” Chuuya spoke up once more from beside him, his voice nothing more than a grumble as he whispered down to Dazai. “This charade you two are carrying on has lasted long enough. I mean, you’re whoring out your wife for fuck’s sake—”
Dazai reacted without a thought, despite not wanting to take his eyes off of you for even a second. He gritted his teeth and turned on Chuuya, his hand gripping the gun in his pocket, finger tight on the trigger. Enough of a warning for him to know how sincerely the simple comment irritated him.
“Don’t ever insinuate that I don’t love my wife, Chuuya, or it’ll be the last thing you ever say.” Dazai spat the words out carefully, just under his breath, holding Chuuya’s piercing gaze without blinking. “You may be a valuable asset to the Port Mafia, but I will not listen to your opinions on matters that don’t concern you.”
Chuuya stared, setting his jaw before turning away once more. The two of them looked back to where you were smiling, leading the other man out of the room, though still not touching, placing a respectable distance between you.
“I’m just surprised, Dazai.” Chuuya leaned back, crossing his arms as he titled his head, watching your figure fade into the shadows. “You love her so fiercely, and yet, you watch as this carries on time and time again. I don’t understand.”
Dazai stood from the booth, tucking the gun back into his waistbad, under his coat. He straightened his shoulders, inhaling deeply. “I think you’re underestimating her if you truly believe she doesn’t have a handle on the situation.” His hands slipped into his pockets as Chuuya followed, grumbling from just a few feet away. “Besides, I’ve never forced her into anything. It was her idea in the first place.”
“Why?”
Dazai sighed, though it was almost wistful, the mere thought of you enough to turn him into a lovesick fool. “Perhaps it is because there are many men that seem to think they can crawl into her bed so easily, and she enjoys their humiliation when they realize that they are so far beneath her.” Dazai shrugged, and smiled lightheartedly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Perhaps, she just wants to make everyone’s lives a little easier, including yours. You should thank her sometime.”
Tanaka sat beside you in the car, his hand lingering in the leather seat between his thigh and your own. Night had fallen deep across the city, the sky a navy through the haze of streetlights. Though it was nearing one o’clock in the morning, there were crowds of people out and about, lines at all of the much more affordable clubs in the area.
It hadn’t taken much to get him to come with you. You’d batted your eyelashes, smiled at him from under them, and told him you had a car waiting out back.
That was enough. When you’d pulled yourself down from the barstool, he’d followed after you, eyes blown wide as you’d begun leading him out of the room.
All it took was a dress that hugged your curves and a small grin, and he was in the car with a man that worked for you, heading to a building that your husband owned.
“Do you live far?” Tanaka asked, itching to put his hands on you, even though you’d convinced him to hold off until you got back to your room.
You placed your chin on the inside of your palm, glancing out the window at your own reflection. “Not too far.” You turned back to him, offering him a shy smile. “Why? Are you getting impatient?”
He grinned wolfishly. Your stomach churned anxiously at the sight of it, even when he was no match for you, nor all the other, powerful individuals that surrounded you. “I don’t think I need to answer that.”
Through the rearview mirror, Tachihara met your eyes, and they softened, just barely, silently showing his support from the front of the vehicle.
It was, in a way, a relief. You relaxed, regained a sense of composure, and let your ruby red lips spread over your teeth, cocking your head as Tanaka indulged himself in whatever fantasy was milling about in his mind. His eyes were cruel, though the darkness in them was nothing compared to what you were used to.
Idly, he made comments in your ear of all the things he wanted to do to you, his unpleasant breath tickling the skin there as you tried your best not to recoil. The smell of him was growing heavy in the car, overwhelming and nauseating. You sat even more stiffly, pressing Tanaka away with a palm to his chest as you giggled to yourself, pretending to enjoy his vulgar words.
Tachihara pulled the car around to the back of the building, letting the two of you out as he put it into park.
Any fool should’ve known where they were, what the dark building in the middle of the city stood for, but Tanaka was all too focused on you, intoxicated and inattentive. The mafia headquarters loomed overhead, dark, and unassuming, a triad of buildings stacked perfectly against one another.
“Thank you,” you said to Tachihara, winking at him as Tanaka turned his back, too disoriented to take in anything but the sight of you right before him.
The car drove away, then, and you were left to guide your guest into the building, towards the room that you had already planned to meet Dazai in. When you reached the elevator, Gin was waiting for you, dressed in female attire, this time, charading as a worker instead of the trained assassin that she truly was.
“Impressive building,” Tanaka said, as if not noticing all the obvious signs of the mafia base. “You must come from quite a wealthy family.”
You smiled at him over your shoulder, curious as to why he didn’t assume you’d come into the riches on your own. “I suppose you could say that.”
Gin opened the elevator, then began typing a message to her boss, alerting him of your arrival. Tachihara had taken the longest route back, giving Dazai just enough time to arrive home before you.
“Are you a renter?” he asked, staring as the numbers on the elevator increased, climbed higher while you went towards a floor that was only two below the penthouse.
“We own it.”
Tanaka turned towards you, eyes wide with surprise, perplexed even further by the alcohol running through his veins. “You didn’t say—”
Abruptly, he cut himself off. Whatever comment he was about to make was overshadowed by the fact that he’d met you at the Port Mafia’s night club. That was certainly no place for anyone that didn’t have a million yen to spare in their pockets.
Finally, the elevator dinged, and you relaxed at the sight of the familiar hall, the carpet that had recently been replaced, the paintings that you’d personally added, ones that had been purchased at an auction. There were traces of you everywhere, and though it belonged to many members of the mafia, it was, inherently, your home.
You grabbed Tanaka’s hand, realizing just how cold it was, wrinkled with calluses and dirtied nails. It took everything in you not to grimace as you pulled him towards the fourth door on the right, the one that had been used for every interrogation over the past two years.
It had become something of a holding cell for the mafia’s enemies, and most didn’t remain here long. You doubted that this man would be of any exception.
Tugging him along, you increased your speed, an invisible string guiding you right back to Dazai. He was your fiery beacon, and though you were still separated by walls, your heart thumped at being so near to him.
“Eager, are we?” Tanaka asked, and when he grinned in the lights, you realized how slimy it was, a hunger dripping off the edges of his yellowed teeth.
You smiled right back, but it was forceful, painful as it etched its way onto your cheeks. An itch started in the cracks of your palm, willing you to snatch it out of Tanaka’s hand and scrub it clean. Still, you held on, remembering that this was for the Port Mafia, this was for Dazai and everything you’d worked for over the years.Your determination increased tenfold. “It’s just around the corner.”
Finally, you reached the room where you knew Dazai would be waiting, and just like every other time you’d done this, every time you’d brought another willing victim into a den of wolves, you could finally relax.
You entered the room, not bothering to flip on any of the light switches. There was furniture, but it was dusty, bloody, and it would make it far too obvious that you were not leading Tanaka back to your bedroom. You didn’t want him turning tail too quickly, running when he discovered you had no intention of rolling around in the sheets with him.
He shut the door behind him with a quiet click, advancing on you like a hunter. It would’ve been threatening, intimidating perhaps, if you had not been able to sense Dazai on the other side of the wall. You knew that whatever control Tanaka thought he had on the situation had quickly evaporated, and it was only a false blanket of security that he’d wrapped himself up in.
“Can I get you anything? Maybe a drink?” you asked, stopping Tanaka with a flat palm to his chest, not allowing him to come any closer. “The alcohol in me is starting to wear off.”
He ignored your wishes entirely, upon you once more. One larger hand ripped yours from his chest, pulling you just another inch closer. “I’ve had enough tonight,” Tanaka said, teeth flashing in the dim starlight. “I’m dying to fuck you.”
You frowned, eyebrows wrinkling. “Well, I’d like a drink first.”
“I’m not in the mood.” He yanked on your hand again, and this time, you knew he’d kiss you, knew he’d plant the cracking pale lips of his own on yours. The thought of it made you ill.
Without thinking, you slung a fist across his face, a crunch sounding from his nose at the force of your hit. Blood trickled from one nostril, flowing in a fast stream over his lips, into his teeth.
He bent over, and you stood, straighter, staring over him as he cursed. The punch had been much more forceful than you’d intended.
“What the fuck.” He was angrier than before, and though his pain was immense, it did little to dissuade him. You kept your face hard, inching backwards as he stood tall, so much bigger than you’d remembered. It wouldn’t take much for him to lift you, throw you onto any surface he wanted.
You’d use your ability if you had to, kill the man if it was necessary, but that would mean the entire plan had gone to waste.
“You bitch—”
Without letting any fear cloud your face, you took a step back and bumped into something solid and warm. A cologne more familiar than Tanaka’s enveloped you in a safety net.
The older man made it one step further, aggressively, before every ounce of determination waned from his eyes. He staggered, tripping over himself and stared back at the man that had slowly come up behind you. The one that was brushing soft fingertips between your shoulder blades, his steady breath tickling the crown of your head.
Dazai smiled, in a way that was so menacing that your heart thumped twice in its chest before resuming its natural melody. Tanaka took a step back, scrambling away, nearly tripping over himself in the process, eyes dilated in fear.
“You,” he breathed. “Dazai—” Tanaka didn’t finish his sentence, too stunned as he stared between the two of you. “What’s going on?”
Dazai stepped forward, letting his hands fall away from you as he cornered the newest addition to his long list of enemies. Already, you missed the warmth of Dazai’s touch, the security that came with his proximity.
Tanaka cowered before him, suddenly so small, weak under the breadth of Dazai’s power. A sense of twisted satisfaction curled within you, lightning up every pore under your cold skin.
“I believe you owe my wife an apology,” Dazai said, and his tone was even, hard, not a hint of amusement laced within the words. Tanaka’s eyes darted to you, where you stood with your arms loose at your sides, eyes softer, every inch of you more delicate now that Dazai was in the room.
“Wife—” The word tumbled from his mouth before he could stop it, hesitant. “You said you didn’t know him. You asked me questions about him.”
You slid the ring back onto your finger, the one that you’d kept tucked away in the pocket of your bag. It glimmered in the beams of the moon, the diamond and rubies sparkling. “I can lie just as easily as a man can.” Crossing your arms, you sighed, and stared at Dazai’s taut back, the strained muscles in his shoulders as he stood over Tanaka. “You’re all so stupid sometimes. It only takes a simple question, and you never ask it. Anyone in that club could’ve told you who I am.”
He balked, considering his own ignorance, and followed your eyes back to Dazai, who had gone just a few steps behind you, to the small storage of top-shelf alcohol that you kept locked up in the room. “What is this about?” he asked, shaking his head to clear away his distress. “You’ve obviously brought me here for a reason. What is it?”
“I find it funny that you think you’re the one in control of the situation,” Dazai said, turning his back to fix himself a drink. He didn’t doubt that you would watch Tanaka for him with careful eyes. Even the smallest twitch of his eyebrows would be telling. “You don’t get to ask questions.”
“I haven’t done anything,” he said, and though his voice was hard, there was underlying panic. “I’ve stayed well out of the Mafia’s business, as promised—”
“Perhaps.” Dazai interrupted smoothly, coolly. “Our agreement wasn’t broken, per se. I just happen to think that working with outsiders is an act of much higher treason.”
Tanaka blinked, faltering. His jaw went slack, a mere second ticking before he replied. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t try to lie to me.” Dazai glanced over his shoulder, dark eyes narrowing. “I’m talking about Dostoevsky. The rats that are trying to take over my city.” He tsked, rolling the glass around on the counter, clinking it against the granite. Then, he popped a crystal bottle open, letting it fill a quarter of the glass. “Such a shame. You’ve built quite a name for yourself in Yokohama. Is this really worth losing all that?”
Tanaka stuck both hands in his pocket, shaking his head vigorously. His fingers flexed against his sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know who that is, I’ve never crossed anyone by that name.”
Seeing an opportunity while Dazai’s back was turned, Tanaka began to pull out a pistol from his coat; one you had, stupidly, forgotten to check for. It seemed he doubted that you were a threat, and if he could just kill Dazai, you’d be an easy target.
You moved without thinking, making the single-step distance between you and Dazai. There was a gun relaxed at his waistband, and you stole it, knowing exactly where he kept it hidden. Before Tanaka could point his own at the head of your lover, you’d acted first, aiming Dazai’s gun, your jaw tense and back straight. “Put it down.”
Tanaka, caught off guard, locked his jaw, and his fingers twisted tighter around the handle of the gun, inching towards the trigger. For a moment, he contemplated, but even without knowing the thoughts in his mind, you could read his actions.
You wouldn’t give him the opportunity to do as he wanted. Instead, you fired your own gun, digging the bullet into his fingers, shattering them, blood spattering as Tanaka dropped the pistol to the floor in a ghoulish scream.
For a second more, he writhed in pain at your own hand, once again. You held your arm taut, before letting the gun drop to your side as Dazai hummed behind you. Tanaka had fallen to his knees, tears welling up, his vision glossy as he dropped the maimed hand to his thighs.
Dazai came up beside you, smiling at you, and brushed his fingers down your arm. Slowly, he took the gun, placing it back into his waistband, his touch electric on every centimeter of your skin. “You’ve handled it beautifully, my love.” Dazai squeezed your hand, tilting his head so dark hair cleared away from his eyes. “I can take it from here.”
You nodded, and though Dazai was, by no means, pushing you out of the room, he could see how exhausted you’d become by the whole ordeal. If you wanted to leave—and you did—he wouldn’t object.
“Will you be long?” you asked, just a whisper over Tanaka’s heavy breaths of pain.
Dazai laughed easily, his breath ghosting the bridge of your nose. “Akutagawa will be here soon.” A touch lingered on your hands for a minute longer before he pulled away completely. “Then, I’m yours for the rest of the night.”
It was already late, but you’d take whatever time you could get with Dazai, even if you were drained. You nodded, and he turned away, going back towards his enemy, pulling Tanaka up roughly by his collar. Dazai’s expression changed into a man you almost didn’t recognize, if it hadn’t been for the moments that you’d had to see him shift into the underworld’s fearsome demon.
You left the room, yawning, Dazai’s voice the last thing you heard before you shut the door silently.
“Now that you’ve learned your lesson, perhaps you’ll be more willing to tell me everything you know,” he said.
Despite Dazai promising to leave once Akutagawa arrived, he’d been gone for nearly two hours, with no indication that he’d be returning anytime soon.
You waited for him in the penthouse of the Port Mafia headquarters, the home you’d come to know well in the past few years. A glass of imported wine was beside you on the nightstand, resting between a book you’d been too tired to read before bed.
You sat up, unable to fall asleep, and chewed your lip thoughtfully. It seemed ridiculous, really, for you to already miss a man that you woke up next to and fell asleep beside every night.
Still, you couldn’t help the desperation in your chest, the need to see him, to brush the mask of the Port Mafia boss away so Osamu could take his place.
You finished the wine, then headed towards the door. The room felt cold and lonely, and if Dazai wasn’t going to return soon, you’d just find someone else to bother on the lower levels of the building.
Though, just as you were about to slip on a pair of shoes, the door unlocked, swung on its hinges, and Dazai stepped through the threshold, a vision of gore and violence and every ounce the man you adored.
“Osamu,” you said, and even when you’d said his name a thousand times before, it still left your lips like a prayer. A smile formed, and you dropped your shoes, eyes sparkling, as you regarded the mess that he was in.
Dazai took one look at you and relaxed, shoulders falling as you closed the distance between the two of you. “Sorry it took so long, sweetheart,” he said, craning his taller frame down to kiss you.
You gripped the lapels of his coat, holding on tight as you pressed into him, deepening the kiss. Dazai’s bloody fingers cupped your cheeks, smearing red along your jaw, ruining your clean skin. Though, as you exhaled a sigh deep into his mouth, you couldn’t have cared less.
“I thought you said Akutagawa was going to take care of it?” you asked as Dazai released you, offering you a small, almost defeated smile.
He walked past you, towards the bathroom, feet dragging as he shrugged off his dark coat. Under the crisp top, his muscles were stiff, strained from all the stress. He wiped another hand over his face, doing little to clean up the mess of red that remained on his cheeks.
You followed him, trailing a few feet behind, feeling silly for wanting to cling to him so tightly. Yet, you couldn’t get enough of him, and you watched as Dazai remained silent, pausing in front of the mirror to regard his own appearance. He made a face in the glass as he gazed back into his own expression, sticking his hands under the faucet. The water ran in a steady stream, staining the sink a rose color as he scrubbed the blood from his fingers, his nails. There were parts of his bandages that had been soiled, and he ripped them right off, exposing pale wrists that hadn’t seen the sun in ages.
You mimicked his action, washing your hands in the second sink before scrubbing the blood from your face, clearing away the smear of maroon that he’d put there. The water shut off, briefly, and Dazai regarded you, frowning as you rid the evidence of his crime from yourself.
“I sent Akutagawa home.” Dazai finally answered your previous question and sighed, frustration evident. He stretched his hands over his head, the bones popping in one fell swoop. “Tanaka cracked right open; he really didn’t know anything.” He blinked at himself in the mirror once more, tidied his hair, then scowled. “He’s just a low man on the totem pole, and he paid for it with his life.”
Dazai seemed at odds with himself, and he drummed his nails against the countertop before patting his hands dry. The blood had been cleaned from his skin, and even though his hair was still unkempt, it was the only evidence that any wrongdoing had happened at all. Nothing but a speck of blood remained on his collar, the rest garnishing his coat instead.
You shifted, leaning against the counter. “Did you get anything out of him?”
“Names, a location.” Dazai clenched his jaw, fists tight at his sides. “He wasn’t lying, but who knows if they’re real or not. He could’ve been given fake locations. I’ve asked Ango to check on it.”
Dazai, once again, left you standing, contemplative, in the bathroom. You could hear him shuffle around in the other room; he released a small sound of relief as he stretched out his sore muscles.
When he’d finished moving around, you returned to the other room, and he was settled in the red armchair, legs spread out in front of him. Dazai rested his head against the back cushion, his eyes closed in serenity, a deep exhale expelling the tightness in his body.
It was almost a sight too serene to spoil.
“Do you want some space?” you asked, and though you’d always respect his wishes, that was the last thing you wanted to give him. You wanted to consume him completely, to press yourself against every crevice of his being and swallow him whole.
Dazai opened his eyes and blinked at you. Instead of replying, he smiled, slowly, and gestured to his thighs, sparing a glance at his knees.
Your heart pounded, launching its way up your throat, and you scrambled over yourself to crawl into his lap, straddling his thighs, the muscle strong beneath you.
Gently, he smiled at you, and brushed your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck. You let your arms rest on his shoulders, and slowly, you removed the bandage from his eye, hating whenever he tried to hide any part of himself from you.
You waited for him to protest, but he relented, and let you kiss his forehead, the very darkest parts of himself on display for you alone. It was hard not to collapse under the weight of your love for him.
You discarded the bandages, tossing them onto the table as Dazai tapped a pattern in the crevices of your skin.
For a moment, neither of you said a word. You noted every feature of his that you loved so dearly, and Dazai just watched you study him, tried hard not to smile against your lips when you kissed him.
If only he could see how beautiful he was, surely, he would understand that he deserved a life so much better than the one he’d been dealt. That someone with a smile brighter than a dying star shouldn’t have it taken away by years of endless anguish.
Finally, Dazai spoke, whispering your name in a tone he never used on any word but that one. “You don’t have to do this anymore if you don’t want to.”
“Hm?” you asked, tilting your head, so distracted by the endless galaxy within his eyes.
Dazai huffed, placing a possessive hand on your hip. His thumb grazed the bone and you shivered, smiling at him in confusion.
“Sweetheart, I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re obligated to do something just because you’re my wife.” He looked past you, an uncertainty beneath his words that he was ashamed of. “If you don’t want to take on any more assignments—"
“I told you already, Osamu,” you began, brushing the hair at the back of his neck that was hidden beneath the collar. “I don’t mind.”
“I know, but—” Dazai hesitated, his gaze steady on the doors behind you, the ones that led to your bedroom. Somehow, he seemed to think all the answers would be there, a script written out for him to recite to you. “Chuuya brought it up to me earlier. He said that I’m…” Dazai swallowed the words, shaking his head. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I just want you to promise me that you know if you want to stop, you can stop. Even if you wanted to quit the Port Mafia altogether, I’m happy to give you whatever you need.”
You smiled, kissing the wrinkle between his eyebrows in the hope that it would ease the anxiety in his expression. The tension was such an unusual thing for anyone but you to see, as Dazai had such trouble revealing his vulnerabilities to the world.
“I promise.” You swept your thumb over his lip, watching as it bounced right back into place, so soft and lovely. “I just don’t want to quit.” You leaned back on his lap, so you were able to see the entirety of his face.
Dazai’s eyebrows drew together once more, putting that worry right back on his appearance, and a part of you hated that of all the things he had to be stressed about, it was something as silly as you not wanting to quit your job.
“Why?” Dazai asked, tilting his chin, searching the depths of your soul for an answer that would appease him. “I don’t understand. You hate them; you tell me you hate them every time they try and lay a finger on you.”
He wasn’t wrong, certainly not about something like that. You loathed that men looked at you like you were something that they could just steal away, like they were entitled to the subtle way that they brushed your hip in passing, caressed your back when they walked behind you.
You just didn’t hate everything about the work you’d been doing. After all, it was your idea.
“I just don’t want to,” you said, looking over his shoulder to the open curtains, the bright expanse of Yokohama laid out before you. Twinkling star lights from skyscrapers and the port in the distance. “It doesn’t matter.”
It was your home, your city, and it always would be. You wouldn’t let Dazai die, wouldn’t let anyone take him from you—including himself. You’d continue to do whatever it took to protect that. Whether or not you used your appearance to achieve those ends didn’t matter. When it was all said and done, Dazai’s enemies would be dead, and you’d still have him to come home to.
“It matters to me.”
You shook your head, chewing on your lip thoughtfully. There were a million different ways you could’ve explained it, but none that were intelligent. “It’s embarrassing, ‘samu.”
Dazai laughed, a genuine noise, and kissed your shoulder as you sighed, relaxing into him once more. “I can’t think of anything about you that could possibly be embarrassing.”
You held his gaze, wishing for him to relent, to just give up and let you have this one. Instead, he just smiled back patiently, hoping you’d reveal another part of yourself to him as he slowly traced your hard collarbone.
Those pools behind his eyes were too distracting, the thumb on your neck dangerously close to your throbbing pulse. You swallowed, letting him feel every movement as your throat bobbed up and down.
“I guess,” you said shyly, “I like it. I like leading on your enemies, letting them think that they could possibly have a chance with someone like me. I like the look on their faces when they realize they’ve been made a fool of, that the girl who they wanted so badly belongs so completely to the boss of the Port Mafia.”
Dazai studied you for a moment as you shrugged the revelation off, his deep brown eyes darting over every crevice of your face. “You want to make them jealous of me?”
“Maybe.” Your cheeks heated, and though you’d been together for years, loved him for even longer, you still shied under the weight of your own desire for him. “I don’t know. Maybe I just want them all to know that I’m as much the boss of the Port Mafia as you.” You wound your arms around his neck, anchoring yourself to him, the only person you’d ever need in the dangerous world. “They’re blind to their desire, and they refuse to see that I have complete control over them.” You smiled, lazily, fondly. “Don’t they know that this is my city, too?”
Dazai’s strength made an appearance then, and he gripped your cheeks, holding you with a spiraled mix of possession and affection. “It is,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across your own, “and I’d burn it all down before I let anyone take it from you.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest at his deepened tone, the seriousness that drew on his normally playful inflection. You grew hot, and a twist of desire started deep within you, spreading down easily, slowly turning your thoughts into a muddled mess.
“I know,” you said, trying to keep your words steady as Dazai drew lazy circles up and down your sides. “Everyone knows.” You met his eyes, soft, yet dark, clouded with a longing you weren’t unfamiliar to. “The woman who brought them to their knees is still nothing more than a simple fool for Osamu Dazai.” You inhaled drawing your fingers to his open collar, the crisp bandages around his chest. “What could they ever do to deserve that kind of devotion?”
Dazai waited, watched your smaller hand run across his neck, his smirk slowly growing on his lips. “I’m a lucky man, indeed,” he said, drawing the words out slow and lazily. He tipped your chin down to him, his smile displaying the almost sharpened points of his canines. Slender fingers caressed your hipbone, pressing you farther down onto his thigh.
You let out a small sound, not taking your eyes off of his as his expression grew wily, and the slip you wore slowly began to rise up your thighs, exposing the softer skin of your leg.
“I admit, I can’t stand that everyone in this city wants you so fucking bad.” Dazai sunk his lips to your neck, kissing the space between your shoulder and jaw. “But I can’t blame them. My beautiful angel.” He smiled under your jaw, gripping your hips harder, forcing you to drag against his thigh. A puff of air left your throat as Dazai grinned, spiking your arousal. “It’s for the best, isn’t it? I’ve ruined you for anyone else.”
Your eyes flashed; Dazai bounched his leg, just once, his eyes shining, every move calculated. He’d always known exactly how to touch you, and he’d never forget, never stop enjoying the way you jerked so easily under his palm, the way you were already trying to rub yourself against him.
“Osamu,” you began, desperate for just a moment of friction, to feel his rigid muscle drag against your cunt. You wanted him so badly that your heart stumbled over itself, all the love you held, locked up there and looking for a way out.
He made a sound of disapproval, holding you still with a tight grip on your hips. His fingers dug into the bone, but it did little to ease your aching need for him.
“See?” Dazai’s kisses were light as he whispered against the shell of your ear, the sound nothing more than a breath of air. “I barely have to touch you and you’re a whimpering mess.”
You swallowed, tugging at the hair at the base of his scalp, trying to remain steady, if only for him to give you what you wanted.
Dazai seemed to be in a generous mood, worn from the previous mission, and he was grinning lazily, two fingers slipping under your dress.
His grip loosened, and you shifted, letting him pull on the strap of your panties, drag them down your thighs, over your knees, to discard beside the chair. Already, there was evidence of your desire, a spot of wetness obvious against the red satin.
He let the garment hang between his fingers before he looked back at you, watching as it softly fell to the floor. “If only they knew how easy it was to get you wet,” he said, shrewdly, “they’d want you twice as much as they did before.”
You let out a soft whimper, trying to direct his beautiful hands back between your thighs. Though, Dazai kept his fingers away, and in an act of desperation, you pressed your forehead to his, conveying every ounce of your affection for him.
“Osamu,” you breathed, blinking into his warm irises, a shade of brown that had easily become your favorite. “I’m so crazy about you.” You kissed his cheeks, smearing your lip gloss all over the skin he’d just wiped clean. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night. Everyone in Yokohama watches me, but I ache for you.”
His eyes flashed, pleased, and he relented, nudging his thumb to the inner most part of your thigh. The smile was still mocking, but he gave you at least some relief; Dazai let you sink back down on his thigh, the pressure just enough to have you clawing your nails into his chest.
He kissed your nose, but kept you where you were, perched on the middle of his leg and much too far from his cock. “What would you ever do if I wasn’t here to take care of you, hm, darling?"
You softened; even if his gaze was taunting, there was utter devotion between his dilated pupils.
All those men who fell for your act may have been complete fools, but Dazai was even worse off than them: he was a fool in love.
“It’s so hard not to crawl into your arms every time you’re around,” you admitted, grabbing the buckle of his belt to undo it with a clank. The mere sound, the feel of the leather between your fingers, nearly had you salivating. “I’m stronger than a lot of men in Yokohama.” Your features contorted then, eyes vulnerable as you looked up at him through delicate lashes, no longer a vision of authority, but of someone who desperately wanted to be taken care of. “Not you, though.”
Dazai’s grip on you relaxed, and something in his eyes shifted, lips parting as an exhale left them. He said nothing as you removed the belt, and instead, let himself sink deeper into the cushion, bearing your weight.
Hastily, you pulled down the zipper of his slacks. The weight of his heavy cock in your hands was so familiar. You stroked him gently, watching for any reaction, and while his face remained steady, you could sense the change in his heartbeat.
“I don’t need you to be strong around me,” Dazai said. His voice had deepened, your name leaving his lips, raspy by the end of his sentence. “You can fall apart if you want to, my love.” His erection grew slowly in your palm, and he brought you closer, your bare, soaked cunt dragging against his thigh. “I’ll always be here to put you back together.”
You smiled, flushing as he hardened, his breath growing uneven. When you had him leaking within your palm, you shifted forward on your knees, grinning at his reddened cheeks. Dazai’s eyes drifted towards your chest, just inches from his face.
Uncertain, you hesitated, even though you wanted him, needed him with every fiber of your being. It was an unfamiliar position. He could take control of the situation at any moment, but you weren’t usually the one looming over him.
“Osamu—”
“What?” he released with a sigh, and in one swift motion, lifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. “You walk around my nightclub in those dresses I buy you, force those pretty tits into other men’s faces, but now you’re too shy to fuck your husband?”
You made a face, knowing he was just trying to get a rise out of you, and if only to prove a point, you sunk down on him, your folds slick. Dazai slid into you easily, a sinful noise breaking the silence between you as he grinned. “I’ll f-fuck you,” you stuttered, swallowing under the heat of his watchful eyes. “It’s just…” Your words failed again as his cock went deeper in you, your focus entirely on your own pleasure.
“Just what?” He stopped you for a moment, planting you on his thighs, his cock still straining, filling you. Glaring, vibrating with need, you opened your eyes, lips parting as he whispered against your mouth “Finish your sentence, sweetheart.”
“It’s not my fault, Osamu,” you said, on the edge of a whine, squirming within his hold. “I can’t help that they stare.”
He laughed, then, and it was just a brush against your swollen mouth, the one he kept coming back to. “They can stare all they want,” Dazai said, tilting your chin up. “As long as they know who you belong to.”
Finally, he let you go, his hands tracing the edges of your knees, and you started a slow, steady pace, gasping as you held onto his neck tightly. He bowed his head into your collarbone, and kissed you once, before leaning back lazily, watching you take and take and take.
“Doing so good, angel,” he said, watching you with such a passion that it was distracting, as he let his palms rest simply on your thighs. “You always look so pretty stuffed full of my cock, don’t you?”
“Feels so good,” you muttered.
“I know.” Dazai seemed too devilish with his dark hair fanned out against the red chair, grinning in a way that twisted up your insides, sweat beading down your forehead as you tried to reach your orgasm.
You were hot with his piercing gaze upon you, but he didn’t bother to move his hands, did nothing to even pretend like he was fazed. You sunk down faster, heart racing, as the muscles of your hips strained, burned. Already, you were growing tired, sleepy from a full evening, but still so desperate to come around him.
You leaned forward, trying to angle your body, gain some relief from the position. Though it did little, and instead you were left sighing in frustration, wishing that he would do anything, instead of just look at you with a lust blown smile.
With every moment, the pain began to grow, the ache in your legs far too much to give way to pleasure. You started back at Dazai, frustrated, eyes glossy with need.
Dazai laughed at you then; it wasn’t quite mocking, but it wasn’t kind either. “Don’t tell me you’re already tired.”
Frustrated and impatient as you dripped down your own thighs, you grabbed his throat, thrusting his head into the back of the chair.
Dazai, eyes wide with surprise, stopped smiling as you curled your hand around his neck, his fingers digging into your thighs.
“Are you just going to sit there, Osamu?” you said, your words high-pitched and desperate. “Or are you going to—”
The end of your sentence was cut off by him gripping the back of your hair, smashing your lips into his own. The hand on his neck fell away, drifting to the lapels of his bloodstained collar, as he brought you down hard on his cock, hitting a place deep inside you that you hadn’t been able to reach with your own strength.
Dazai’s fingertips left bruises on your skin as he devoured the inside of your mouth, bringing you down over and over, stretching your walls with each movement.
“So pretty and desperate for me,” Dazai laughed, but he was breathless, his own tenacity crumbling from adoration. “Can’t do anything by yourself, can you, baby?” His kisses were sloppy as he dragged them across your neck, tongue grazing the sharp vein under your ear.
“No, but you said—” you were losing your breath and your words. “You said you’d take care of me. I don’t want to cum all on my own, ‘samu.”
Dazai groaned, his gaze drifting down to the space between your bodies, where you were sucking him back in, your own body aligned with your heart, never wanting to let him go.
“Fuck,” he said, slamming you back down on his thighs, his eyes hazy with love. “Of course I’ll take care of you.” One hand guided your hips as the other curled around your jaw, setting the pace with half his strength. “You’re my whole world.” His words stuttered, aching cock twitching inside you. “I’m nothing without you, understand?”
You nodded, but you weren’t quite thinking straight, the words a jumbled mess when they entered your mind. “I love you,” you said, gasping the end of his name. “I love you, Osamu, need more.”
Dazai breathed, just as heavily, softening as he regarded you. He’d always loved the look on your face as you came apart. “You take it so well,” he said eyelids fluttering over hazy eyes, and he kissed your forehead. You dragged your hands all over his chest, just wanting to touch any part of him. “Wish you could see yourself. You’re so beautiful.”
You groaned, pulling him closer, until there was nowhere left to go, surrounded completely by Dazai; the smell of him, the taste of him. “Say it back,” you muttered, “say you love me too.”
He choked on a laugh, and the lewd sounds of your wet arousal were loud as he came in and out of you. “I love you, angel, you know how much I love you.” Dazai kissed you, then, and your heart sped at how hoarse his voice had become, how easily it was for you to make the most powerful man in Yokohama fall apart at the seams. “You’ve got a pretty ring to prove it, don’t you? I don’t want anyone but you. I never will.”
“Come inside me.” Your eyes squeezed shut as his cock reached impossibly deep within you, stretching you, your legs shaking as you tried to ignore the dull ache within your tense muscles. Tears sprang to your eyes, coating your lashes; it was almost devastating how much you loved him. “Please. Feel so full, ‘samu.”
“Yeah?” He reached between you to play with your clit, and you were so close, crying out a broken moan as he touched you. “Need to remind everyone that you’re my girl, hm?” He knew just how you liked to be touched, how easy it was to get you to come when he fucked you like you needed. “Want me to put a baby in you next, sweetheart? Shit.” He curled his fingers, bruising your mouth as he stole the oxygen from your chest. “Everyone would know then, wouldn’t they? How could they doubt you’re mine when you’re carrying my child.”
You cried out, then, breaking, spasming around his cock as you fell onto his chest. Dazai said your name, kissed the top of your head, but you were too full of love for him. You breathed heavily as he brought you down once more, twitching against him from the ache in your sensitive cunt.
A moment later, Dazai jerked, then came inside you, spilling his warm cum against your folds, the white ropes dripping down your thighs, staining his dark, wrinkled slacks. Slowly, he pulled out of you, letting you rest on his chest as you breathed, your legs sore. A gentle touch ran up and down your spine as Dazai wrapped his arms tight around you, his cheek resting against the top of your head.
“God, you’re perfect,” Dazai said, and his voice sounded almost broken, devastatingly emotional. “You can’t ever leave me, okay, angel? I need you right here by my side.” Lips grazed your temple, so sweetly, gently. “What’s the point of all this if I can’t share it with you?”
You smiled, resting your head in the crook of his neck, eyes full of tears as you kissed him. “I’m not going anywhere, Osamu. I promise.”
OCTOBER MASTERLIST - leave a comment on this post if you'd like to be added to the tag list
tag list: @satohruu (hannah i planned this one bc of your tags on my last pm dazai fic HDSFHSFH) @cha0thicpisces
synopsis: the cataclysm is over. yokohama and the rest of the world is saved, and your lover is back in your arms where he belongs.
tags: nsfw!!, reunion sex, overstimulation (dazai receiving), unprotected sex, descriptions of dazai’s injuries from the jailbreak, oral (dazai receiving), brief mention of picking at skin, praise, pet names “belladonna, sweetheart, love, my darling, etc,” sigma came back too asagiri told me himself, it’s so unnecessarily soft but i’m so happy he’s alive so idc
the second your phone rings, your heart starts racing.
please, dear god, please.
“ango-“
“he’s alive. he and chuuya are on the way back now.”
the next words fall on deaf ears as you collapse to the ground on your knees, sobs wracking your body. all the stress, all the tension, all the fear in your gut comes gushing out as you wail to the ceiling of your apartment.
he’s alive. he’s alive.
in what kind of condition, you have no idea. your communication was cut off once the time-manipulating gifted was murdered at fyodor’s hands, and though the time between then and getting this call was less than a mere hour, you couldn’t help but assume the worst had come to pass.
but now, your osamu is coming home.
the wait is the longest half day you’ve ever spent in your entire life. you can hardly sit still, agitation crawling up your legs until you have no choice but to pace around the living room, into the kitchen, back through the living room, into the bedroom, back out, rinse, repeat. the skin around your cuticles is picked raw, your face cramped from furrowing your brows in impatience.
your stupor is interrupted when a message from ango comes in:
they’ll arrive in an hour. i’ll pick you up and we can go to the airport together.
you know the rest of the agency will likely be there to receive him. perhaps some members of the port mafia would go for chuuya. part of you wants to decline ango’s offer, to wait to see dazai until he’s in the threshold of your home, but before you can think you’re already lacing up your shoes and grabbing your keys.
the drive to the airport is a blur. ango makes a poor attempt at small talk, but acquiesces in favor of silence while you stare out the window.
your foot taps the floor of the sedan the entire way.
with the help of his i.d. badge, ango receives clearance to drive to the area of private gates. when you pull up and park, atsushi is already outside, along with fukuzawa, kunikida, rampo, yosano, kenji, kyouka, and the tanizaki siblings. it would figure that the entire main staff came to welcome their fellow agent home. you smile to yourself.
above you, the roar of an engine signals the plane’s descent. though it is still quite far away, the aircraft approaches rapidly, and the breeze picks up around you. the balls of your feet ache. your hands are sweaty.
are you nervous?
wiping your palms on your shirt, you watch as the plane coasts onto the runway several hundred meters away, gradually slowing down as its shape grows larger in its approach.
your mouth feels dry. your jaw is clenched. your fingers are trembling with no sign of stopping.
finally, finally, the plane slowly turns and comes to a stop at the gate. the minutes that pass feel like an eternity, each agonizing second lasting longer than the one before.
when the door of the plane finally opens, all air leaves your chest.
chuuya comes out first, speaking lowly to another person who you don’t recognize. perhaps he was another prisoner? but then you hear atsushi call out “sigma-san!” and the pieces come together.
ango sighs next to you. “i’m going to have my work cut out for me figuring out what to do with him.”
you laugh. “come on, it can’t be as difficult as decoding a heartbeat, right?”
“touché.”
your smile is interrupted at the sight of a mop of brown hair coming out of the plane. any breath you had is caught in your throat, trapping your voice.
he looks exhausted. he’s using a crutch, one of his legs splinted, and dark rusty splotches coat his clothes in what can only be dried blood.
but he’s home. he’s alive.
the agency goes to greet him first. fukuzawa guides him down the steps, and atsushi is nearly inconsolable. you can’t see clearly from where you are, but you think kunikida’s shoulders are shaking as well.
you and ango stay back while dazai greets his coworkers. from the sound of kunikida yelling “i’m not crying!” you figure that, though wounded and worn thin, your lover has enough energy to poke fun at his colleague.
then the small group parts. you have a clear view of him now. multiple pairs of eyes are on you, knowing that this is really what dazai was returning for.
heat crawls up your neck and into your cheeks as tears well in your eyes. you can’t wait any longer. your feet move before you can do anything else, and you’re running to him with blurry vision and a sob stuck in your throat.
the arm that’s not leaning on the crutch opens for you, and catches you with ease once you collide.
“oh my god, osamu!” you cry, looping your arms around his neck. he staggers back at the sudden force, but quickly catches himself.
“hey, belladonna,” he murmurs in your ear, quiet enough that no one else can hear him.
he’s here, in your arms. his torso feels even slimmer than usual, and you can closely see the bloodstains on his shoulder, but he’s here.
you hold onto him, crying into his chest until one of his bandaged hands cups the back of your head. you look up, tears streaking your cheeks, and you rush forward to kiss him. it feels like something out of a fairy tale. your prince, battered and bruised, finally in your hold after saving the day. if this were a movie, there would be sweeping violins and the audience would cheer.
but it’s quiet, save for the wind and the breaths you and dazai share. the agency, ango, chuuya, and sigma long forgotten.
dazai pulls back, thumb stroking your cheek. his coffee-colored eyes hold so much love, a look only you could pry out of him.
you give him a watery smile. “i’m so glad you’re okay.”
he returns the expression, lightly tapping your nose with a finger. “of course i am. i couldn’t keep someone as beautiful as you waiting forever, now could i?”
your cheeks warm as you hug him again, letting go far too soon to allow him to move. he walks with you, waving back at the agency members, towards ango’s car.
the two gaze at each other, their emotions indiscernible. you’re familiar with their background, how they once were close friends until betrayal tore them apart yet a deep trust remained.
ango speaks first. “dazai, i-“
“thank you.”
there’s nothing left to say. perhaps later, the two will discuss future plans and what to do moving forward, but for now their mission is done. ango nods and leads you both to the car.
“let’s get you two home.”
the ride back is quiet. you and osamu are in the back, you having enough decency to keep him from pouncing on you while ango acts as your chauffeur, instead electing to rest your head on his good shoulder and hold his hand and trace circles on his skin with your thumb.
after bidding your farewells and thank yous to ango, you and dazai finally walk through the door to your apartment. you half expect him to push you against the closed door and kiss you all over right there, but he surprises you by sitting on the couch, laying his crutch to the side and closing his eyes.
you cautiously approach him. “you okay?”
“never been better, my dear.” he smiles, his eyes still closed. “just…tired.”
that doesn’t surprise you. his battle with fyodor, evading death multiple times in the span of half an hour, plus a fourteen-hour plane ride back to japan. all with a gunshot would being tended to and a broken leg.
“should we ask dr. yosano to treat you? we shouldn’t leave your leg in the condition it’s in.”
“it’s fine,” he says, “i reset it and it’s stabilized. i’ll give her a call tomorrow.”
you don’t argue further. he’s had worse injuries, and death seems to avoid him like the plague. he’ll survive one night.
“why the distance, love?”
it occurs to you that you’re still standing in front of him. he’s peering at you with one eye open, and as much as you want to, your feet seem stuck to the floor.
“uh…”
the words are swimming aimlessly in your brain. dazai is home, after what felt like an eternity. you should be ecstatic, desperate, all over him, hands wandering under his clothes, breaths fanning over his skin. but for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to move.
your lover sits up, looking at you expectantly. “darling?”
“i think…i’m scared.”
his gaze doesn’t waver. “of?”
“i don’t know,” you confess. “it’s just that…you’re here. i’m so happy you’re here. but i think- if i touch you, you might disappear.”
“you hugged me earlier,” dazai chuckles. “i’m just as real now as i was at the airport. come sit down.”
he gingerly takes your hand, and pulls you to sit next to him on the couch. you hold your hands in your lap almost stiffly, and he reaches his arm around you to guide you to his chest. he presses a kiss to your temple, lingering on your hairline. a breath you didn’t know you were harboring escapes through your nose.
your apartment is void of all sound as dazai continues pressing kisses down the side of your face. they’re feather-light, and you can feel his exhales against your cheek as he tilts your head to reach your jaw.
“i missed you,” he murmurs. “i missed you so much.”
goosebumps prickle your skin at the words. the low rumble of his voice is in stark contrast to the cheery voice he typically sports.
“osamu-“
his other hand reaches over to capture your waist and turn you to face him. it slides down your back, guiding you to hook your thigh over his lap in a straddle. his palm pushes just above your tailbone, pressing your pelvis to arch into him. his attention on your jaw doesn’t waver, and he continues to smear kisses down the column of your neck.
you slide a hand up his chest and over his shoulder, heart pounding in your ribcage as he laves his tongue over your skin. the curls at the base of his hairline slip between your fingers, and he hums against your throat. his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, trailing up and taking the fabric with him. you shiver and your exhale is shaky as you feel his touch skim up your ribcage and curl around your chest, kneading the flesh as you arch further into him.
his uninjured leg spreads to push your legs further apart, causing you to lose your balance and sink onto his lap completely. you feel the firmness in his pants, and it presses into your core. you whine at the feeling, squirming to relieve the ache. dazai nips at your neck, a warning to be patient.
the heat coursing through your body urges you to move, now. you guide dazai from your throat with a gentle hand, kissing him with all the love and adoration you can muster. you feel his fingers trembling.
gently avoiding nudging his hurt leg, you slide off of his lap and sink to your knees on the floor. dazai’s lips follow you until you’re too far to reach, but his hands rest on top of where yours lay on his thighs.
“sweetheart, you don’t have to. i was going-“
“i missed you too, ‘samu,” you whisper, honey in your voice. “may i show you how much?”
the smile he gives you cannot be described. all he does is squeeze your hand.
“of course, my love.”
your hands trail up to find the waistband of his pants. you feel the unbandaged skin of his abdomen, the pronunciation of his hip bones. the fabric catches under your knuckles as you pull his pants and boxer briefs down, allowing his hardened cock to stand in front of you.
the tip is already flushed. your hand wraps around the base as you nudge the end against your lips. slowly, your tongue trails up his shaft, curling over the tip and collecting the precum that’s began leaking out in beads.
you’re rewarded with a heavy, shaking breath. dazai’s hands claw at the back of your head, inviting you to take him into your mouth. as much as you want to, you refrain, continuing to stroke him and drag your lips ever so lightly over him. saliva pools around your molars, and you let it trickle out of your mouth and onto his tip. he jumps slightly at the sensation, sucking in a breath.
“darling, please-“ he groans.
“promise me something.” you murmur, lips forming the words over the end of his dick.
“anything.”
“promise me,” you pull back and stare him in the eye, “you won’t scare me like that again.”
a thumb pushes against your bottom lip, wiping the mixture of spit and precum off.
“of course.”
his vow is rewarded when you take as much of him as you can into your mouth. his hips jerk at the feeling of your tongue tracing the length of him. your cheeks hollow and you suck on him, cruse noises filling the room. spit bubbles at the cornes of your mouth as you bob your head up and down, working any bare length with your hand.
your dazai, normally so composed, is struggling to hold it together. this isn’t the first time you’ve had him like this by any means, but something about the care you’re putting into sucking him off causes sweat to bead around his hairline.
a breathy whine comes from his chest, and he holds your jaw with one hand in a feeble attempt to ground himself. you peer up at him through your eyelashes, smiling to yourself at his choked breaths and flushed cheeks. it spurs you to take more of him in, gagging yourself on his tip.
“god, baby, ahh…” he groans, both hands now cupping your jaw, thumbs stroking over the hollows of your cheeks.
his thighs are tensed under your palms, and you know he’s close. you maintain your pace, letting your spit dribble out of your mouth and down his shaft, into the creases of your hand and lessening the friction as you stroke him.
his cock twitches in your throat, and you press your tongue under the divot of his head and suckle. his chest concaves, and the tendon in his inner thigh flexes as warmth fills your mouth. his cum floods your molars, and you swallow as much as you can, gagging around him as he finishes.
you keep stroking him and nursing on his tip until he’s shivering from overstimulation and gently pulling your head away from him. you gaze at him with hazy, bleary eyes, cum still dribbling out of your mouth.
dazai wipes the liquid from your chin, then leans down to kiss between your brows.
“you’re incredible,” he purrs. “so good for me, you sweet thing.”
he guides you back up to his lap, pulling your pants and underwear over the curve of your ass as you come up.
“let me look at you, darling.” he murmurs. you spread your legs open, and his gaze falls to your pussy, using his thumbs to spread your folds apart and look at the glistening wetness that coats and drips from the area. “just as perfect as i remember. may i?”
you nod meekly, and he guides your hips to align himself with your opening. his hand on the small of your back pushes you further, and his cock splits you open.
before your whines can escape your lips, he captures them in a kiss. his mouth is filled with your voice as you sink down, fully enveloping him.
his free hand trails up your back again, the mix of skin and cotton causing goosebumps to raise, and you clench around him.
dazai pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips until it snaps from the tension. “i hate to ask you, love, but i can’t move much.” he lifts his leg slightly.
“that’s okay,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again. “i can do it.”
you lift your hips, then slowly lower them again. up, down. up, down. the pace is set, albeit rather slow, and dazai’s breaths get shaky. you remember that he’s already cum once, and as smart as he is, he’s not as gifted in terms of stamina. you know you should make this quick, but his sounds and the twitching of his muscles under you are so tempting.
as you continue riding him, your thighs start to burn, so you elect to rock yourself back and forth on him rather than up and down. his cock is completely hard again thanks to the sound of your whines, and it prods at the sweet spot with every movement of your hips.
the heat starts in your belly. it flares with every thrust, spreading through your pelvis and crawling through your legs. your calves flex and your toes curl, and the slapping of wet skin fills your senses.
froth gathers around the base of his cock, strings of your wetness foaming between you and your lover. your arousal has long since dribbled onto dazai’s lap, coating his skin with you. one of his hands finds your hips, helping you in your ministrations, while the other guides your jaw to him so he can suck on the delicate skin.
“‘samu, i’m close, i’m getting-“
“shhh, sweetheart,” he whispers. “you’re being so good…” his thumb catches on your clit, and he presses down, rubbing quick circles. the finger is quickly covered in your slick, allowing him to move faster. your legs begin to shake, and you writhe on top of him. whimpers keen from your throat, and you desperately grind yourself on his hand, chasing your impending orgasm. you lean down, panting against his neck, heat pumping through your veins. dazai’s circles continue until the ache becomes too much to contain and bursts, and you fall limp on his lap with a shaky sigh.
the resounding pulse around his cock draws a second load from him, and he quickly follows behind you. you both collapse against the couch, and he brings you into another desperate kiss, heaving breaths mixing together.
as the air stills and your bodies cool off, dazai continues leaving kisses around the perimeter of your face. though the affection isn’t uncommon, he so rarely takes his time with you like this that your heart can’t help but flutter.
“i mean it, belladonna,” dazai whispers against your cheekbone, and he shifts his hips to gently pull out of you. “i missed you. more than you can imagine.”
you hold his face, bringing him to look at you. “are you sure it’s not because you were staring at fyodor for too long?”
he chuckles, rubbing his nose against yours. “who knows? although, if you attempted to drown me, i wouldn’t have minded.”
“i would never.”
his pout is almost enough to make you laugh. “why not? you could come with me, you know!”
“i’m not letting you slip away that easily,” you whisper, your voice suddenly becoming serious. “not again. now, come on. let’s get cleaned up.”
the petulant whine he lets out is more than enough to pull him up. he tucks himself back into his pants with a grumble, which is shortlived when you kiss him on the cheek and pull his shirt off of him.
“going again already?” dazai smiles. “i’m touched that you still find me irresistible, but i’m spent!”
“your shirt still has blood on it, genius.” you give him a grin, then take his wrist and drag him to the bathroom. “and you reek. get in the shower.”
“only if you join me!” he twirls you into his arms. “you said you’re not leaving me, so you have no choice!”
idk what came over me but welcome home dazai ive got dinner on the stove and fresh sheets on the bed
A/N i definetly headcanon that Inumaki listens to Fujii Kaze on blast!! also look at him, he's so pretty ughhhhhh
Main Masterlist JJK Masterlist Requests AO3
(3.6k words)
“Come on, it’s so obvious y/n,” Yuuta sighs.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” you reply defiantly.
About a week ago, Inumaki left for a solo mission. Since then, you have been bothering Yuuta to entertain yourself. You’ve been close friends with him since he came to the school so it wasn’t out of the norm for you to hang out with him a lot of the time.
You’ve had feelings for Inumake since you met him, but you didn’t realize it until Yuuta became desperate to get you to see past your denial. These conversations about your feelings for the cursed speech user happened pretty often.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Yuta stared at you. He started waving his hand around as he spoke, “Anyone with eyes can see the way you look at him, as well as the way he looks at you.”
“We are just best friends. We’re only so close because I was the first student to meet him,” you explained. When he came to the school, you two immediately hit it off. Even with his rice ball language, you always seemed to understand what he was trying to convey. Panda likes to joke that your cursed technique is to read Inumaki’s mind.
As if reading your mind, Yuuta brought this point up, “Then explain how you are so in tune with him. You always know exactly what he’s saying and you guys can just look at each other and have a conversation without saying anything.” Yuta always found it confusing yet fascinating the way that you and Inumaki communicate.
This is the first time when having this conversation with Yuta, that you accepted that he was right. With Inumaki being gone on such a long mission, you’ve come to realize how much you miss him. And without him by your side like he always is, you’ve had a lot of alone time to read into your own mind to figure out how you felt about him. You never realize what you have until it’s gone, you guess.
With a resigned sigh, you finally relented, “Fine. You’re right.”
Instead of teasing you, like Maki or Panda would, Yuuta gives you a soft smile. “Why don’t you tell him then?”
“Are you kidding? I only just figured out these feelings this week. Plus I can’t ruin the friendship that we have,” you wave your hands in Yuuta’s face, trying to convey your issue.
“If he somehow doesn’t have feelings for you, you wouldn’t ruin your friendship. He cares too much about you,” Yuuta comforted you.
As if the universe was listening to the both of you, you saw Inumaki make his way to the tree you and Yuta were under. He had his duffel bag still in his hands, meaning after getting back from his mission he went straight to find you guys.
“Toge,” you screamed, getting up. You ran up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. The force of your body against his almost made him fall back, but he kept his balance and wrapped his arms around you.
If you weren’t so excited and were paying attention, you would have noticed the painful grunt that fell from Inumaki’s lips from your hug. You also didn’t notice the look that Yuuta shared with him. You weren’t the only one that expressed feelings for the other to Yuta.
-
Later, you and Inumaki were in his room sitting in his bed, plates of food on both of your laps.
Throwing your empty takeout box away, you grabbed the tv remote, “What should we watch? I was thinking like a stupid rom/com.”
Hearing a quiet “salmon” you put on the first movie you saw in the genre list, not caring to read the description at all.
When you watched movies with Inumaki, you guys always cuddled. So it was second nature for you to lay your head on his stomach and wrap your arms around his waist. Inumaki winced at your grip on him.
“Is there something wrong?” you looked up at him. You guys always cuddled so you didn’t think he was uncomfortable with your arms around him.
“Bonito flakes,” he tightly replied, with a shake of his head. He didn’t want you to let go of him.
You didn’t quite believe him but you laid your head down and snuggled closer to him. He tensed again before relaxing a little.
You sat back up, “Spit it out, Inumaki.”
The irony of your statement wasn’t lost on you but you were too focused on what was wrong with him.
Inumaki knew better than to argue with you. He sighed and leaned his head back against the headboard. Pointing at his stomach, “Tuna.”
“What’s wrong with your stomach?” you questioned.
Inumaki sighed and carefully lifted up his school uniform. Normally, the sight of his stomach would send you into a frenzy with how good he looked, but this time was different. His stomach was littered with bruises and cuts presumably from whatever curses he was fighting during his mission.
“Toge,” you whispered, bringing your hand to his stomach. “Rough mission, huh.”
He chuckled at your observation. Most of the cuts had healed but the blue and red marks still showed evidence of the fight.
“Do you still hurt?” you questioned, dropping his shirt. He nodded his head softly.
“I’ll be right back then,” you smiled. He rolled his eyes at you as he watched you walk around his room, grabbing a cloth and then a cup of ice from the mini-fridge.
You sat back down next to Inumaki, fully facing him. You wrapped some of the ice in the cloth before softly laying the cloth on his stomach.
“Turn around. I want to give you a massage for all your hard work,” you broke the silence with a goofy smile.
Inumaki laughed quietly and took the cloth out of your hands, brushing his fingers with yours. The small touch sent electricity flying through you.
Now that you’ve realized your feelings for him, you’re starting to notice more things you didn’t think you would ever pay attention to. How soft his hands are, the ridges and muscles of his arms, the way his nose crinkles when he snorts at something you said.
These are things you already noticed about Inumaki since knowing him. You simply thought you were an observant person but you never noticed those kinds of things about Maki or Yuta. It was obvious now, why you noticed little insignificant details like that about the boy sitting across from you.
Breaking you from your train of thought, Inumaki turns his body so his back is facing you, offering you a quiet, “Tuna mayo.”
“Right,” you hoped he didn’t see the blush that was blooming across your face and ears.
You laid your hands on his shoulders, rubbing your palms in hard circles. At first, Inumaki tensed at the pressure but soon he sighed and relaxed into your touch. Eventually your hands wandered from his shoulders to his neck then back down towards his arms.
Feeling exceptionally bold, you wrapped your hands around his biceps. Inumaki didn’t need to do much hand to hand combat so you knew that his arms probably did not need massaging. That didn’t stop you from letting your hands wander indulgently. Despite his short and lean stature, you could still feel the hardness of muscles on his shoulders and arms.
Inumaki turned his head to look at you, smirking, “Salmon roe.”
“What are you looking at, Inumaki?” you huffed. You finally released your hands from his body as he turned back around to face you.
He leaned over to his night stand to grab the notebook and pen that were sitting on it. He flipped through hundreds of filled pages and eventually stopped on an empty one. He wrote something before turning the book towards you.
IDK. I think I’m looking at a beast ;p
“How rude,” you sighed, crossing your arms. You failed to hide the smile that was plastered on your face, sarcastically replying, “If I’m so hard to look at, I think I’ll just leave then.”
You pretended like you were going to get up but Inumaki grabbed your hands forcing you to stay put next to him.
You both giggled at the familiar banter you shared and suddenly you felt as if all your troubles were melting away.
“I really missed you this week, Toge,” you whispered, truthfully.
Toge simply replied with, “Salmon,” looking like he wanted to say more than that.
“Give me your pen,” you commanded. He looked at you confused before doing as told.
You started to write, simply letting the words fly off of your hands and then eventually into Toge’s heart.
I really like you, Toge Inumaki. I miss you when you’re gone and I care exceptionally when you get hurt. You are the most important person in my life and will always have a place in my heart. I would rather die than be separated from you.
You placed the notebook in front of Toge watching as he read your note. He quickly wrote something down too and handed the notebook back to you.
^ ditto
You giggled at him before throwing your arms around his neck, his bruises long forgotten. He grunted at the pain but only pulled you tighter into him.
You buried your face into his neck and started to leave small kisses there. Toge whimpered at the feeling of your lips on him which only encouraged you further. You made a trail of kisses and bites until you made your way to his face. You kissed both of the marks on his cheeks then hovered your lips above his.
He was breathing hard, trying to catch his breath, which made you smile at the effect you had on him. Toge pushed forward, trying to catch your lips, but you pulled back with a teasing smile.
“Do you want to kiss me?” you asked, your voice turning sultry. Toge didn’t expect this kind of teasing from you but he wasn’t complaining. He whined at your words.
“I think you should use your words. How else am I going to know what you want?” you smirked. You were surprised by what you said but you didn’t backtrack.
Toge was beyond surprised at what you asked him to do. He gave you a look as if to ask are you sure which you gave a confident nod to.
Toge wasted no time, whispering, “Kiss me.”
The sound of his cursed speech washed over you, forcing you to bring your lips to his into a passionate kiss. You initially thought that the lack of control on your body would scare you but the longer you kissed Toge, the more the feeling excited you.
The two of you made out for what felt like ages. You weren’t sure when the cursed command gave you control of your body back, still kissing Toge like you wanted to steal away his breath.
Toge pulled back and searched your face. For what, you weren’t sure.
“Mustard leaf?” he asked you, hands fisting your shirt.
“I’m okay. I’m perfect right now,” you replied. You moved yourself to sit on his lap and laid a soft kiss onto his forehead. He sighed and rested his hands on your waist.
“I would love to continue, but only if you’re okay with that,” you offered, shyly. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“Salmon. Salmon,” Toge replied, excitedly. He kissed all over your face making you giggle. You softly pushed him back until he was laying down and you were hovering above him.
“Can I take this off?” you asked, seductively, holding the edge of his shirt. Toge’s breathing was fast again, heart beating in anticipation.
“S-salmon,” he stuttered. You felt euphoric at hearing the crack in his voice.
You lifted it softly, kissing up his stomach as it was revealed. He helped you pull the shirt all the way off and flung it to the side.
Staring at him like this was a euphoric feeling. You never thought that you would be looking at a shirtless Toge who’s red in the face and breathing so hard.
You focused on his cuts and bruises from his mission, bringing your lips down to kiss each one. Toge whined each time your lips tasted his skin, even bucking his hips up in search of friction.
You sat on his lap to keep him still, “Be patient. Let me admire and take care of what’s mine.”
Your words sent a shiver down his body making him whine again.
Kissing your way down his stomach you stopped just above his shorts, tugging on the waistband. You looked back up to his red tinted face and made him watch you pull his shorts off until he was only in his briefs.
“Tuna mayo,” he breathed.
“You want me to take mine off too?” you questioned innocently. “I don’t know if you deserve it. You left your girl all alone this week.”
You both knew that a mission is important and can’t be skipped, that didn’t stop you from teasing him.
“Bonito flakes,” he moaned, shifting his hips under you, desperate for anything.
“Fine, I’ll stop teasing,” you sighed. You stood up and stripped down to nothing. Inumaki watched you with rapt attention, not letting his eyes leave you once.
Once you had nothing on, you sauntered back over to him and sat on his legs. You bent over him, kissing him until he was breathing hard again. The feeling of your bare chest on his as well as the heat that was radiating from your core was sending him into a frenzy.
He moaned into the kiss, encouraging you to get a move on. You bent until your face was inches away from the tent in his briefs. You blew air on him and watched as he squirmed at the lack of touch.
Eventually, you stopped teasing and pulled his briefs off. His cock jumped to life, now freed of its confines. You drooled at the sight of him, all flushed and pink.
“Geez, Toge. Didn’t know you were hiding this under all those clothes,” you giggled. He had the prettiest dick you have ever seen. It was the perfect length to fit anywhere you wanted it to.
Inumaki chuckled at your joke before whining again when you softly grabbed him. You put one hand on his cock and one hand massaging his thighs. You let your hand roam his thighs, feeling the lithe muscles twitch under your palms.
Inumaki’s breathing steadily increased as he watched you, patiently waiting for you to do anything. Eventually, you stopped teasing and moved your hand, jerking him off. You hadn’t put your mouth on him yet, so it wasn’t all that lubricated. You decided to fix that.
You put the head of his cock in your mouth, flicking your tongue on the underside of it. He moaned at the feeling of your lips around him and you moaned at the taste of his precum.
You put your mouth to work, drooling a bit to add lubrication for your one hand to jerk him off. You jerked him off switching between a fast pace and a slow pace. He was writhing in place letting pretty moans and whimpers fall from his lips.
You unwrapped your lips from him to catch your breath, licking the underside of his cock instead. Inumaki placed a hand in your hair, not to guide you but simply to ground himself.
As you held his balls in one hand and licked the bottom of his cockhead, he quickly pulled you off of him with a drawn out moan. He was breathing extremely hard and you knew that he stopped you from making him cum.
“Why don’t you wanna cum, babyboy?” you asked with an “innocent” head tilt. You brought your head down to kiss along a bruise on his stomach, careful to not put too much pressure as to hurt him.
“Tuna mayo,” Inumake responded. He looked extremely frustrated. You couldn’t tell if it was because he basically edged himself or the fact that he couldn’t voice what he was thinking about.
Inumaki placed a hand on his face and leaned back with a sigh. Worried that something was wrong, you sat back on his legs and stopped touching him.
“Is something wrong, Toge? We can stop if you want too, I won’t be mad,” you asked. You gave him a comforting smile so he knew you were being sincere.
“Bonito Flakes,” he quickly responded, shaking his head and hands in a no motion. You giggled at his expression.
“If you don’t want to stop, then what's wrong?” you asked, a sultry tone overtaking your voice again.
You crawled up his body so your face was closer to his. You kissed him, hoping to calm whatever nerves he may have had. You stopped upon having a realization, saying, “Would you like to tell me what to do, Toge? Is that what’s wrong?”
Inumaki gave you a dubious expression before slightly nodding his head. You would have missed the motion if all your senses weren’t in tune with his.
You gave him a wide, but comforting smile, “I don’t mind. I would love to try that if you’re okay with that. I have to admit that I’ve thought of it before.”
You had a crimson tint on your face at your admission but you trusted Inumaki with every fiber of your being so you didn’t have to be embarrassed.
Inumaki stared at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, a loving smile adorning his pretty face. You leaned down, kissed each mark on his cheeks before giving him a real kiss on his lips.
“You can command me to do more than just kiss you. I trust you,” you told him. Faces inches apart, he breathed a sigh before kissing you more.
With a raspy, yet pretty, voice, he commanded, “Ride me.”
Immediately, your body moved down until your cunt was hovering above his cock. Without hesitation, you slowly slid down until he was fully sheathed in you, both of you moaning at the euphoric feeling.
The best part about his command, you noticed, was that your thighs weren’t getting tired. You rode him with extra fervor that you might not have been able to otherwise. You placed your hands on Inumaki’s neck, leaning down to catch his lips.
He placed his hands on your hips to guide your movements until he was hitting the perfect spot inside you that left spots dotting your vision.
His command must have been wearing off because soon you could feel the burn of your thighs, constant movement and the stuttering of your hips. As you struggled to focus on riding him, Inumaki kept his hands on your waist to keep you still as he pistoned his hips up into you.
The both of you were moaning so loud that there was no way other people hadn’t heard you guys. That thought left your brain as soon as it came, distracted by the feel of Inumaki.
You leaned down a final time, catching a kiss from Inumaki, moaning into his mouth.
“I love you, Toge Inumaki,” you gasped between moans. Toge smiled and pounded into you harder.
“Cum, please,” he commanded begged. With a sharp cry of Toge’s name, you came. The feeling of your walls fluttering around him made him groan before he spilled all he had into you.
Inumaki guided your hips, until the both of you gradually stopped moving at all, prolonging the euphoric feeling of both of your orgasms.
With Inumaki’s cock still buried deep in you, you laid down on his chest, careful to not put too much pressure on the scattered bruises. He brought his hands up until his arms circled you.
You both laid in the aftermath of sex, basking in the feel of each other's embrace. You whined when Inumaki finally pulled out of you, getting up. He grabbed the towel from earlier, the ice now fully melted, and used the wet cloth to clean the both of you up.
He then sat against the headboard, bringing you closer to him until you were laying against his side. He leaned over to grab the forgotten notebook and pen and scribbled some words down.
I love you more than words can say. I wish more than anything I could say that to you.
You grabbed his face, pressing a kiss to his nose, then a kiss on his lips when he pouted at you. You gave him a loving smile before responding, “You don’t have to say it, for me to know it. I can see it when you look at me, or open doors for me, or even when we’re sparring and I beat your ass.”
Inumaki rolled his eyes at your last remark, giving you a small chuckle. You giggled as you stared at him, completely enamored by the boy in front of you.
You were kissing again when Inumaki’s phone lit up with multiple texts. He picked it up to show you, it was the group chat.
maki n cheese 🍜
<could you guys keep that shit down??? you sounded like pornstars and I was trying to eat in peace
BAMBOO DESTROYER 🐼🎍
<took you guys long enough
yuuta okCUTsu 🤺
<congrats guys ! 🎉🎊
inumaki 🙊
> /(/ /o/_ /o/ /)/
maki n cheese 🍜
< don’t blush you idiot. It’s your own fault for sounding like wild animals
Inumaki put his phone down, giggling to himself. You joined in giggles, embarrassed, but way too happy to care about a thing. The both of you laid together for the rest of the night, enjoying each other’s presence.
