most recent work: | soulmate!gojo au |pretty bakugo| dad!todoroki | secret boyfriend bakugo , pt. ll | soft bakugo | vulnerable bakugo | mafia boss dazai [thirst] | awkward sex related things
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he pretends to fall asleep only to feel your hands trace his features with the tips of your fingers, lightly brushing away the hair falling on his forehead before you kiss his soft hairline.
when you lean back he's looking at you with his biggest shit eating grin. "you couldn't resist because I'm too pretty?"
"yes babe you're pretty..." at this you smile and proceed to hit him with the nearest pillow, your little comfort long gone "...FUCKING ANNOYING"
he pretends to fall asleep only to feel your hands trace his features with the tips of your fingers, lightly brushing away the hair falling on his forehead before you kiss his soft hairline.
when you lean back he's looking at you with his biggest shit eating grin. "you couldn't resist because I'm too pretty?"
"yes babe you're pretty..." at this you smile and proceed to hit him with the nearest pillow, your little comfort long gone "...FUCKING ANNOYING"
he pretends to fall asleep only to feel your hands trace his features with the tips of your fingers, lightly brushing away the hair falling on his forehead before you kiss his soft hairline.
when you lean back he's looking at you with his biggest shit eating grin. "you couldn't resist because I'm too pretty?"
"yes babe you're pretty..." at this you smile and proceed to hit him with the nearest pillow, your little comfort long gone "...FUCKING ANNOYING"
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just look at the little strain on his neck and his baby dark circles. he was tired but also committed to protect everyone and I need to sit down a minute because someone as young as him should never have this burden and responsibility on his shoulders.
summary: mori is a firm believer of the saying ākeep your friends close, but your enemies closerā, therefore he marries his most prominent executive to the daughter of the only person that could endanger the port mafiaās existence.
wc: 3.8 k
w: all of their characters are in their twenties, light violence, mentions of blood, derogatory remarks and suicide since itās dazai.
a/n: hi nonnie! you are sooo kind to me omg i love you so much, kith kith. iām actually job hunting and it is exhausting, but iām trying not to stress too much įµį“„įµ
p.s. i'll do a separate one for chuuya since this got a bit too long.
āYouāre getting married tomorrowā
Mori spoke from the place behind his desk, not bothering to look him in the eye and instead enjoying the view of golden light showering the city. Dazai shrugged, busying himself with a letter opener and tentatively pressing the tip of the blade against the palm of his hand.
āDonāt think itās possible, Iām planning to drown myself tonightā
The executive frowned in annoyance, the blade was to blunt to even draw a bit of blood, much less to slit his throat without causing a bloody mess. He threw the useless tool away, the silence broke with itās clattering against the wooden desk. āThis is serious, Dazaiā
āI know, I also got my sleeping pills. Not a big fan of feeling my lungs burn with all the water coming inā
Mori turned only in time to catch the small bottle Dazai threw at him. Sleeping pills made from belladonna, the dosage was enough to sleep but not to kill and he mentally thanked the person who sold him the most harmless version of the pills. He ignored the whine of his pupil when he pocketed the bottle.
āAs you know there is a foreign clan that threatens to settle in the country.ā
āLetās kill themā
Mori sighed. āAs much as it pains me to admit it, they have enough resources to crush the Port Mafia in the blink of an eye.ā
The face of the young executive darkened, for someone who crave death so much, he hated the idea of dying by someone elseās hand. His name was enough to raise whispers and his reputation was built to make the most dangerous gift users kneel in surrender.
āSo you offered me as the proverbial olive branch?ā
āThat is until you gain enough intel to bring them down from inside. Their leader is weak, you see, the whole organization is a family so when I told him the story of my young orphan son who walks a lonely path he couldnāt help but tell me how worried he is his little treasure is walking the same path. Apparently his only daughter hasnāt manifested an ability and that hindered his social relationships. The poor man fears his bloodline ends with her.ā
A devilish smile adorned his features as Dazai realised his bossā reasoning. āSo not only a cripple but a misfit tooā Mori sighed again and said something about watching his language but Dazai was too busy foreseeing the possible scenarios; surpisingly content with the new game. āGive me a month, then Iām killing myself on the sunny side of the caribbean.ā
That is how the next morning you met your soon-to-be husband over breakfast. Rage still burning under several layers of self-control and your fatherās stern speech.
We canāt let the family end with you.
He loved you, you knew that. But he also had an overly complex and old-fashioned mindset that made him have a poor concept of you as a person. Yes, he could spoil you rotten and give his own life to protect you but in his eyes you were a weak little girl you couldnāt fence for herself; this especially after your gift didnāt manifest.
At least, publicly.
Truth be told you could read peopleās minds since you were eight years old. It was nothing flashy as the war oriented abilities that ran in your family but it was good to know who was a friend or foe. The only thing that stopped you from confessing your truth was your uncleās lust for power and the several allies he made within the household; all of them coveting your dadās throne as the patriarch.
So you remained silent, slowly honing your abilities and doing your best to delay the boiling rebellion. Your last strike was enough to make the rebels distrust each other, thinking a mole was among them. It should be enough to slow them down until you know how to handle the double-faced man in front of you.
You saw him studying you and you didnāt need to peek inside his mind to know he was smart as he was beautiful. Soft skin, delicate features and an untamed mop of raven hair.
Dress in black from head to toe and a few loose buttons from his white shirt he was ready to sweep a lady off her feet. With his charming slime and polite comments you could tell he was a master manipulator and well versed in the subtle art of seduction.
While he was busy ordering some sort of dessert he promised youāll love, you tried to get a look on his thoughts only meeting radio silence. You wondered if you were too focused on your fatherās thoughts to not hear anything else.
āDarlingā the stranger called while offering you a spoonful of what looked like cheesecake āSay ahā
You complied, more in surprise than obedience. Swallowing the bite, barely indulging in its sweetness. āDazai-san, donāt do that again.ā
The young man pouted and tilted his head to the side. āWhy not? We are getting married at noon so think of it as practice for cutting the cake, and please drop the honorifics. Thereās no need for my wife to call me by my last name when it soon will be yours too.ā
If only you hadnāt spent the last twelve years realising how deceitful appearances are, youād fall head first for this boy. His voice was warm and inviting, his smile was kind but his eyes were the ones which gave away the act. Cold masked under curiosity.
Two could play that game.
āYou talk of it so carelessly, we donāt even know each other's blood type and you are completely fine on getting married in a matter of hoursā lying was best when mixing it with truth, yes you were furious but that could easily turn in embarrassment and self-deprecation āYou donāt love meā
The small whisper reached Dazaiās ears just like you planned, his hand shyly reaching for yours. āBut I could, love is something thatās built over time. We are not in love, yet, but Iām sure it wonāt take long, you are beautiful, kind and-ā
āGiftlessā
Naive. Dazai was eager to know how deep was the hurt within your soul, coming from a patriarchal family with powerful gifts he could guess you craved praise and belonging. He wanted to poke the wound and made it bleed a little.
āThere is no such thingā
āNo, you must be aware that unlike my family I have no ability. So if you are marrying me planning to get some sort of human weapon Iām afraid that wonāt be possible.ā
Dazai chuckled, the rich sound fueled by the hint of pain tainting your collected demeanor. āThatās irrelevant. Even a bit ironic if you squint.ā he elaborates to your confused expression āWe botch come from powerful families that will tear the other apart unless we marry, myā¦father keeps pestering me to settle down and judging by the way your father keeps looking at us I can tell he does a bit of the same. So why donāt we give it a chance?ā
You frown, conflicted but not that angry; at least you were certain he didnāt know about the inner affairs of your family. āI donāt think we-ā
āA month. We get married for a month and then both of us can find our peace in a better placeā
Dazai smiles when you decide to shake the hand he was offering. If things turned out well, not only the Port Mafia will remain untouched but heāll get some personal perks.
A double suicide doesnāt sound that bad.
The wedding went by in a blur of white lace, fragrant flowers and shaking hands with the never ending list of guests. What was supposed to be a small and private event turned in a flamboyant display of power and wealth, none of the families sparing a dime to risk being outshined by the other.
Dazaiās guests were intimidating at best, threatening at worst; it was obvious they knew it was a forced union instead of a joyful occasion. Most of them congratulated you with a quiet nod and muttered words; that is until your husband returned to your side. Then everyone turned kinder, smiled wider and bowed in respect, wary to not anger him and keeping a respectful distance from the newlyweds.
That sort of attitude can only be gotten by fierce loyalty or pure unadulterated fear.
Now the firm arm around your waist felt more like a slithering snake than a loving reassuring gesture. Your husband looks for your eyes when he feels you tense against him, an unanswered question only emphasized by a raised brow. Sly and demanding. His features soften in the blink of an eye but youāve seen it.
If only a glimpse, youāve seen the real him.
Before any of you can talk, your father and uncles come to give you kind flattering words and wish you well in your new journey. You relax a little when your unclesā thinks about taking a break from the rebellious plans now that youāre married, thinking your father wonāt be able to deal with the loneliness and step down on his own volition.
What an idiot.
āEnjoy the marital bliss before it fadesā one of your uncles aggressively pats Dazaiās back and not to diminish your husband but the manās ability was inhuman strength so you bring him a bit closer fearing the man will break his spine. To your surprise your husband isnāt hurt nor bothered. āOne day youāll wake up and wonder where the hot girl wentā
Thank god your father has enough common sense to take him away before you stab him with your hair pin, your husband finds your fuming face amusing.
āMarital bliss, huh?ā you roll your eyes and he brings you closer to his body as a response, it is your first dance as a married couple and Dazai thrives in the conflict behind your tight smile. He knows you are not as innocent as you like to appear. āIf it helps, I promise I wonāt turn into an ass like him.ā
āToo bad it wasnāt in your vowsā
There it was, the spark he was looking for. Dazai would be terribly bored if you turned out to be the spineless little girl your father sold to his.
Heāll have to test that spark himself that very night, the way you handle your first night together will reveal more to him than what youāre willing to give yourself.
You could be a coward or a strategist, maybe a bit of both.
Truth be told he wasnāt expecting for you to choose to sleep by his side, yes you had a honeymoon suite in the most luxurious hotel in the city but he could always ask for another room. You were unpredictable, and he liked that, it kept his mind going in a wits game.
Would you seduce him?
Would you expect him to seduce you?
Dazai wouldnāt mind either, you were attractive and your body moved with an innate sensuality that was too swift to be a performance. If he was honest, heād like it very much. To have you naked under himā¦or maybe on top; he was versatile. The only thing he absolutely wonāt let go was the opportunity to lick the side of your neck and enjoy the veins pulse with nervousness.
Yes, he might have developed a kink in a single day.
Unfortunately you come from the bathroom in your comfiest pajamas and Dazai knows that if he wants to do it heāll have to make the first move. He doesnāt. Instead he changes into his sleepwear and takes his side of the bed.
Sharing a bed was an strategic move.
From what you could gather during the wedding, he was dangerous, ruthless and pretty much the second in command; so the safest place was by his side.
That is if he didnāt choose to kill you in your sleep.
āWhat are you thinking?ā
āNothingā
Dazai half supports his weight on his shoulder. āCome on, your thoughts are so loud I canāt sleepā
āDeathā his brows raise in surprise.
And here he thought heād heard everything in bed, this time he snorted. āMine or yours?ā
āMy motherās. She died giving birth, it would have been nice to have her aroundā
You really hoped he bought the lie, after all it was true. Your mother had died and it was just reasonable a girl missed her on her wedding day; you were fine though. Maybe youāll be sad at your real wedding.
He softly caresses your cheek. āAre you okay?ā
This man is dangerous for all the wrong reasons. His touch is addictive and his beauty is only increased by the half-lights of the room; just like the pied piper you could follow his voice to the ends of earth. Or at least the most primal side of you would.
āI think we should go to sleepā
For the first time you feel the heavens are on your side since your husband doesnāt seem to be an early bird. By the time you are having lunch he swings by the dinning room, hair still wet from shower he takes his place by your side with a salacious smirk and you come to notice the pleasure your husband has in teatrics.
āSuch a pretty bird I see, up with the sun and ready to goā he pours himself a glass of brandy and laughs to your incredulous eyes āJust pretend itās coffee. So, from now on I have to go to work and you can wait here as the pretty little wife you are.ā
āNoā
āFieldtrip it is!ā
That was how you ended with a position ad honorem right by Dazaiās desk. His office was huge, not on top but still had a nice view of the city. He even went the extra mile to give you your own desk and bookcase and a small plate with you name and āwifeyā under it.
One visit to the Port Mafiaās headquarters was enough to threaten your life at least five times a day. Whether it was a poisoned cup of tea, a ricocheted bullet or an ability user going berserk, chaos seemed to follow where you went. Had it not been for your gift you would have been dead by now, and Dazai was awfully aware of it.
You weren't giftless, that was a given he realised during the wedding. No mundane human was supposed to feel less than threatened surrounded by mafia without something to support oneself. The fun was in discovering what kind of gift it was and how dangerous was it for him to have you around.
It wasnāt healing since you got hurt quite often and the bruises took several days to go away.
It wasnāt clairvoyance since you should have seen him coming and yet you wore his ring in your left hand.
At first he thought it had something to do with meals or sunlight because ever since you were an ite you made sure he ate three times a day and took him out on walks in the cityās prettiest parks. Turns out you were a natural caregiver. Not just for him but for those around you.
He wanted to kill you, a lot.
But everytime the thought came by it slept away just as quick. You were starting to grow on him. Not because your daily walks or fresh lemonade, but for the quiet genius you held at hiding your skills.
He was certain you were the one preventing the inner revolt in your family for all of these years. But, how?
Dazai knew first handedly how innocent looking things carried dangers that never met the eye; and there you were, absently stirring your tea as if you couldnāt smell the bitterness of the poison. A quaint cup that was meant to go cold and be discarded just as the ones before it; he observes you.
Shameless eyes trailing up and down your figure. Hands busy, now scribbling something about this new hobby of yours. Hair a vivid proof of how merciless the yokohamaās winds can be. Brows knitted in concentration and had he looked closer he would have realised you were studying him as much as he was studying you.
Like a mute quid pro quo.
After your first week here you noticed your husband was the only person immune to your gift. People came by in a mess of personal thoughts and morality trials, you heard their weariness, their anger, their terrified inner voices everytime they reported anything to your husband. Especially when it came to your family.
Heād figured out almost instantly, it was almost scary how far their informants could go to the point that every secretary near him was aware of the uncovered war within your family. It took all of your self control to entertain you with anything that was flashy enough to seem harmless. At this point your only advantage was your gift and you werenāt about to let him know.
āOh darlingā he chants in a teasing fashion that can only mean trouble.
āYes, Dazai?ā
The mafia executive pouts. āOh so dry, may I remember you that you are also Dazai now?ā
āIs this what you wanted to talk about?ā his sly smile gives you the answer.
āI read somewhere that happy marriages spice things up with games every once in a whileā sudden panic floods you from within. Yes, you shared a bed. But sleeping was the only thing you did and while you were aware heāll bring up the subject sooner or later you never imagined heāll do so in such crass way. Dazai doesnāt need his abilities to know what goes through your mind. āSo letās play a game, darlingā
āNot interested, thank you.ā
Your flustered expression almost makes him burst in laughter. āCome on, this is a good one, it called āfind the liarā.ā
Next thing you know, heās parading you around the highest and the lowest of Yokohamaās society. Making sure everyone knows who you belong to as if your matching outfits werenāt enough. The game was just a fancy way to assess your skills in order to prove if you were as spineless as you looked. Had it not been for the prize you were going to let him win.
āCome on, you donāt even know what the prize is!ā he whines, following after you like an annoying duckling; furious and just wanting to sleep you turn to face his shit-eating grin. He answers your unvoiced question. āDivorce. Iāll take care of all of the paperwork and play the part of the heartbroken man who couldnāt be enough for the love of his life. Then maybe Iāll hang myselfā¦that is unless you want to join?ā
Suicidal jokes aside it was a very attractive deal. Both of you knew that.
So, week after week, while you pretended to mingle and drink expensive liquor you profiled possible traitors of the mafia. Truth be told there was a leak of information and instead of going to the head of the operation, Dazai decided to have some fun and see what you could do with the right motivation.
It only took three parties for him to know the extent of your gift.
You were a mind-reader; a very good one.
Not matter the amount of people, background noise or boose consumed, you always went to the right direction. Making the right connections and whispering your advances to his ear so he could hear from under the booming electronic sound.
Under neon lights, drinking expensive champagne acting like a cute little party girl while holding that calculating look in your eye, Dazai had to admit you were hot. Hotter than youāve ever been and definitely the hottest of all the damn club.
Realisation comes to him in small flashlights of uneventful moments by your side. Walks, meals, banter and a fair share of watching you sleep much to his chagrin. Fuck.
Heās torn between playing dumb or risking his trump-card.
Fortunately, the moment your lips graze the shell of his ear by accident the decision is taken.
Dazai wraps his arm around your waist in a possessive gesture, you shiver when he brings you closer. Feminine hands press against his chest in order to put some distance; he refuses. āWhy donāt we give it a shot?ā heās come to like how expressive your eyes can be, and he tells himself it is the alcohol talking and not him. āUs. I keep your secret gift a secret and you keep mine?ā
His face is close in a way it hadnāt been since your wedding day. āAnd what would yours be?ā
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request:Ā Oof how abt some Dazai fluff based on End by Frank ocean š„ŗš„ŗ
summary: dazai still wants to die by your side, but this time in a different way.
wc: 836
ādazaiā you offer him a slice of your orange and he eats it right from your hand, lightly nibbling your fingers as he knows heāll elicit that endearing giggle you let out every time you are flustered. ācome here, sillyā
in a tranquil spring afternoon, as you sit in the grass of a park near the office, dazai leans in for a kiss instead of placing his head on your thighs. he drinks your laugh in a light kisses he wishes he could bottle and keep away for the rainy days that haunted him more often than not. you kiss him, oh so slowly and finish with a playful peck as if you wished to seal your love within his lips.
before turning into a ghost, getou suguru comes back to you. a broken shell of the man you once knew with the shadow of death burnt in his pupils but still warm with remnants of scarlet life soiling his clothes.Ā
you hold him, sharing your warmth and carrying his sin as red stains you little by little; he pushes you away. cold lifeless hands rest on your shoulders in a weak grasp, he doesnāt want to taint you, he wants to preserve your light just as it is but he's selfish and scared and right now he carries the weight of sinners and saints.Ā
you see the conflict in his eyes, the need of forgiveness intertwined with his lack of regret; heās never been more beautiful in all of his broken glory. so you kiss him, hard and desperate you tighten your hold on him already foreseeing your unavoidable ending; he allows it.
suguru treats himself to this moment of need, of raw humanity and desolation. all teeth and tongue he holds the back of your head to deepen the interchange, you breathe life into him and he finally shares with you the taste of death. the roles reverse when his treacherous hands hang onto your body as his only hope, you feel him switch.
shed his old skin like a snake as he reborn in your arms, then he bites hard enough to open your lip and suck it with his own; you breathe each other's air when he joins your forehead in a gesture so typical of you that it feels so foreign that you barely recognize. āi want you to meet someoneā
his lips curl up with a smile that doesn't belong to him yet you donāt find fear in yourself; you love him. him and all of his bloodied pieces. him and all of his conflicted morals and distorted duties. you reach for him blindly, like one does with a god before heās gone with a vision and the only evidence of him is the copper flavor on your lips.
at the next morning thereās a knock on your door, two beautiful girls look at you with curious eyes until one of them hands you a piece of paper. you immediately recognize his neat penmanship. ācare for them, as are a piece of me that will remain with youā
before turning into a ghost, getou suguru comes back to you. a broken shell of the man you once knew with the shadow of death burnt in his pupils but still warm with remnants of scarlet life soiling his clothes.Ā
you hold him, sharing your warmth and carrying his sin as red stains you little by little; he pushes you away. cold lifeless hands rest on your shoulders in a weak grasp, he doesnāt want to taint you, he wants to preserve your light just as it is but he's selfish and scared and right now he carries the weight of sinners and saints.Ā
you see the conflict in his eyes, the need of forgiveness intertwined with his lack of regret; heās never been more beautiful in all of his broken glory. so you kiss him, hard and desperate you tighten your hold on him already foreseeing your unavoidable ending; he allows it.
suguru treats himself to this moment of need, of raw humanity and desolation. all teeth and tongue he holds the back of your head to deepen the interchange, you breathe life into him and he finally shares with you the taste of death. the roles reverse when his treacherous hands hang onto your body as his only hope, you feel him switch.
shed his old skin like a snake as he reborn in your arms, then he bites hard enough to open your lip and suck it with his own; you breathe each other's air when he joins your forehead in a gesture so typical of you that it feels so foreign that you barely recognize. āi want you to meet someoneā
his lips curl up with a smile that doesn't belong to him yet you donāt find fear in yourself; you love him. him and all of his bloodied pieces. him and all of his conflicted morals and distorted duties. you reach for him blindly, like one does with a god before heās gone with a vision and the only evidence of him is the copper flavor on your lips.
at the next morning thereās a knock on your door, two beautiful girls look at you with curious eyes until one of them hands you a piece of paper. you immediately recognize his neat penmanship. ācare for them, as are a piece of me that will remain with youā
before turning into a ghost, getou suguru comes back to you. a broken shell of the man you once knew with the shadow of death burnt in his pupils but still warm with remnants of scarlet life soiling his clothes.Ā
you hold him, sharing your warmth and carrying his sin as red stains you little by little; he pushes you away. cold lifeless hands rest on your shoulders in a weak grasp, he doesnāt want to taint you, he wants to preserve your light just as it is but he's selfish and scared and right now he carries the weight of sinners and saints.Ā
you see the conflict in his eyes, the need of forgiveness intertwined with his lack of regret; heās never been more beautiful in all of his broken glory. so you kiss him, hard and desperate you tighten your hold on him already foreseeing your unavoidable ending; he allows it.
suguru treats himself to this moment of need, of raw humanity and desolation. all teeth and tongue he holds the back of your head to deepen the interchange, you breathe life into him and he finally shares with you the taste of death. the roles reverse when his treacherous hands hang onto your body as his only hope, you feel him switch.
shed his old skin like a snake as he reborn in your arms, then he bites hard enough to open your lip and suck it with his own; you breathe each other's air when he joins your forehead in a gesture so typical of you that it feels so foreign that you barely recognize. āi want you to meet someoneā
his lips curl up with a smile that doesn't belong to him yet you donāt find fear in yourself; you love him. him and all of his bloodied pieces. him and all of his conflicted morals and distorted duties. you reach for him blindly, like one does with a god before heās gone with a vision and the only evidence of him is the copper flavor on your lips.
at the next morning thereās a knock on your door, two beautiful girls look at you with curious eyes until one of them hands you a piece of paper. you immediately recognize his neat penmanship. ācare for them, as are a piece of me that will remain with youā.
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ā” Ė Ė ā§ āĀ trials and tribulations of the honoured one and his soulmate. (she/her pronouns, afab reader, soulmate!au, young!gojo, student!gojo, fluff, angst, slowburn-ish, soulmate bonds, black cat & golden retriever dynamics, multi-chapter, available on ao3)
SUMMARY: in a world where only skilled jujutsu sorcerers are able to see their soulmate bond, the first time gojo satoru sees the tiny little red string tied on the root of his left pinky finger he forms a very idealized version of what his soulmate might be: almost as strong as him, surely accomplished in jujutsu and aching to reform the secret society he was born into.
anxious and high on his rebellious teenage phase he frantically searches for his destined one, clan after clan he parades himself in balls, soirees and brain numbing meetings in hopes to finally meet his match to no avail.
how disappointing must it be to find the other half of his soul so painfully mundane and unaware of the thinly veiled world heās the very core of.
ā§ āĀ CHAPTER 1: Unstoppable force meets immovable object.