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Dazai Osamu thought he was over it. Over her . But his whole world grinded to a stop in the middle of a grocery store when he caught a glimpse of those fiery red locks… on a Tuesday afternoon, no-less.
Yamane Inori, his childhood friend. Well, it was much more complicated than that – the redheaded woman had been there throughout his formative years in the Port Mafia. Just from one glance, the former Executive could tell that she still walked that path: the confident swagger in her step as she browsed dairy products alone told him of her status.
‘Why does my chest hurt? I thought I was over this…’
Dazai backs away, simply staying hidden behind a stack of paper towels a few aisles back. The well-buried truth remained: he had loved her. Loved her. The feeling went far beyond a silly childhood crush. Screw the waitress at that café. Screw every person he’d wasted his time with in lieu of her.
Inori’s twin braids laden in front of her person like twin twisting vines are on full display as she turns to continue shopping, her emerald green eyes wide with concentration on her task.
God, how he missed that. How those eyes would widen when she used her ability in his presence, the mere thought of it causing him to stiffen with anticipation. The way those Devil’s Angel wings would unfurl, though he could never touch them, always caused shivers to go down his spine. Inori remained his picture of grace, yet he felt cast from heaven.
Dazai decided that he would feel this way no longer.
In that moment, he swore to himself one simple thing:
‘She will be mine.’
Next came the scheming. It wasn’t entirely unlike Dazai to conjure up catching people off-guard, but not for a simplistic reason like this one. Not because he was so desperate to be seen, noticed, by the woman of his dreams. Fuck every other person he had spent a night with to dull the loneliness of his miserable existence. They were, in the long run, nothing to him. This was love. This was Dazai Osamu truly trying.
Dazai did everything save actually speaking to his muse.
A lengthy letter detailing a lavish (fake) cruise she had won – ignored.
The most premium and exotic bouquet he could order – returned.
Expensive chocolates – uneaten.
Did Inori even know what she was doing to a smitten man so clearly in love with her? Shooting him down at every oh-so-subtle opportunity.
What is her angle here?
Dazai slammed the receipt for the bouquet down on his Armed Detective Agency desk, as he had left it at his work desk. This earned him a reprimanding glare from Kunikida, but nothing more as the tall blond continued on with his work around the office.
He couldn’t even work – he couldn’t focus. No, his thoughts swarmed with images of those twin braids, dangling against Inori’s shoulders and her glistening eyes peering at him in the darkness. A memory that served no purpose other than to torture him.
Defecting from the Port Mafia had been his own decision. He had to. There was no place for him there, not after his dear friend dying in his arms. Yet, if things had been different, he knew he would have stayed. For her alone, he would have braved the horrors of being bathed in blood. But now, he had to bear the weight of the consequences of living, of bettering his life.
Dazai stared down at the receipt absentmindedly, the dull chatter of the Agency’s office drowned out by his loud thoughts.
‘Think rationally. Inori was never the type to fall for any of my ploys. It wouldn’t be unlike her to try to corner me into doing things her way… and if that is the case…’
His eyebrows knitted together in deep thought at the realization: no sleight-of-hand would work in this situation. No, he had to face this predicament the old-fashioned way.
That very night, he stood in a very particular place: nestled between an apartment building and a bustling family-owned restaurant in an alleyway. The evening grew chilly as he stood, attempting to calm his nerves.
This was their meet-up spot back in the day… and he had passed the message on for her to meet him here, of all places.
He knew she’d be here. This is exactly what she wanted – for him to finally straighten-up and talk to her.
Movement out of the corner of his ever-watchful eye caused him to stiffen a little bit as she stalked toward him, her stride ever-confident.
“So, you finally want to talk face-to-face?”
Dazai’s breath caught as Inori gave him a hearty chuckle. She was actually acknowledging him: this was new. Her lithe fingers toyed with her long braids.
“And is there a reason why you are sniffing around me, Dazai?”
The insolent manner in which she even uttered his name sent a satisfying jolt down his spine as he attempted to play it cool.
“Well, you know me. If there is a beautiful woman nearby, I will never be far behind.”
Inori’s green eyes glittered in the evening light, glinting as if they were emeralds beneath a showroom’s light. Her allure always knocked him off of his feet.
“That I know very well. I figured that the influx of gracious gifts I began receiving were your nefarious doing. So,” Inori stalks close to him, circling him as if she is hunting him as prey. “What do you really want?”
The idea of being under a microscope for her to observe and test as she pleased stirred a deep heat within the detective. He let a devious smile slowly curl into his features.
“Wasn’t it obvious from the chocolates and flowers? I want nothing more than your attention , Inori.”
“Hm… my attention… ” Inori tastes the words, mulling them over in her mouth. “That is a rather rare resource. You should cherish it.”
This cat-and-mouse game drove Dazai wild – he had no idea where he stood with her. With every smile came a glare. Where did he stand in her world? He was practically chomping at the bit trying to find out how she really felt.
“I’m planning on grabbing a drink or two.”
Inori fills the brief pause in conversation, ready to begin her evening. A smirk crawls up Dazai’s smug face. As always, Inori couldn’t help but indulge in alcohol on occasion… and it just so happened that he had the same inclination.
“Oh? All alone?” Dazai drawls out the words, and Inori hums in response. He continues: “You know, I don’t have much going on this evening. Maybe I should join you.”
“Inviting yourself into my plans as always.” Inori shakes her head but she turns away, likely headed toward her favorite bar. “I suppose even if I say no, you’ll simply just.’happen’ to be at the same establishment…”
Dazai stuck his bandaged hands into his trenchcoat as he confidently began to follow her. She hadn’t denied him outright, which meant one thing:
It’s a date.
Iridescent is Inori’s bar-of-choice throughout all of Yokohama. To her, the drinks are top-notch and the scene is never heavy or creepy. The lights were always low, and all types of customers came through: young and old. It was always a nice place to wind down by her lonesome, and now –
Her green eyes wandered behind her as she entered, keeping a close eye on her mark: Dazsi Osamu remained with her.
And she’d make his night unforgettable.
Dazai trailed not too far behind Inori as they both got settled, nestled into a corner booth together, facing each other. Inori orders a fruity cocktail, while Dazai opts for whisky on the rocks.
“You still drink that boring stuff?” Inori can’t resist the dig at him, but she adds a soft smirk. “Does it make you feel tougher?”
Dazai’s eyes remain trained on her features, watching as she brings a hand to one of her braids and loops a finger through the tight coils of her hair.
“I’ll have you know I like my whisky. Its smooth and chilled slightly with the ice. If anything, I’m surprised you get those trashy cocktails.”
Inori puffs out her chest slightly as their drinks are served, a motion that Dazai is unable to tear his eyes away from. It was subtle, but he found himself wanting to see that motion replay.
“I can drink quite a few of these ‘trashy cocktails’.”
“And how many might that be?”
The challenge is laid right there on the table, and Inori has never been the type to shy away from them. Especially when he is the one officiating it.
The answer was three. Three cocktails on Inori’s end and four and a half glasses of whisky on-the-rocks for Dazai before the duo found themselves in Dazai’s apartment, mere blocks away from the bar.
The brunet hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the Port Mafia beauty for the last hour, and the alcohol coursing through his veins only fueled his lust for her. Every time she moved her lips to speak, he couldn’t even stop himself from imagining them wrapped around his cock. It was absolutely shameless.
The modern apartment hadn’t seen any ‘action’ in quite some time – the detective had been busy at work and, well, since he had set his eyes on Inori again, he hadn’t wanted to warm his bed with anyone else.
And to his surprise, Inori makes the very first move in the clean apartment as they both rested on a futon in the darkening evening. A pale, lithe hand comes to the brunet’s thigh and traces the dip between his legs. The alcohol had gone to her head, and Dazai was no better. The touch of her gentle finger drawing soft circles on the surface of his clothing was enough for heat to spread through his whole body.
“...What are you up to, Inori?”
Dazai’s voice has dipped into a deep, husky murmur. The urge to escalate stirs in the pit of his stomach, but he suppresses it. He has to be sure that she wanted this – wanted him.
“Just… checking my surroundings.” Inori drawls as she taps his inner thigh, causing him to suppress a whimper. “I’m a cautious woman, as you well know.”
Oh, he knew that very well… and the way her hand inched further and further up his slacks was beginning to put him in an incredibly-compromising situation. Dazai did not fear it, no – it was the situation he’d always dreamt of. The one that they’d never gotten the chance to explore.
The drinks continued to flow through both parties in the dimly-lit apartment, the plain futon beneath them becoming more comfortable by the second. Inori grew bold, scooting closer and leaning toward him a little, pressing her knee between his legs now. This was dangerous , and the brunet lived for it.
“D’ya wanna play a game, Osamu? ”
Osamu .
That sent a jolt up Dazai’s spine as he took in her stance, noting how close her knee lie to his manhood. Hardly anyone used his first name, a fact that he liked… but it made it so much more impactful when someone did. Especially her – the object of his every desire.
“What kind of game?”
He had to keep his cool. This had to be some sort of test… even though his fingers twitched with an everlasting need to touch her and feel her body against his own.
Inori smiled as her hand crawled to his half-hard cock. The pads of her fingers traced the zipper, teasing its teeth.
“It’s called ‘Be My Bitch’.”
It turns out that ‘Be My Bitch’ was a game that Dazai was madly in love with. It didn’t take long for the horny, whipped man to fall apart, eagerly rocking his hips against Inori against the most bare wall he had in his apartment: the one right behind the front door. Inori’s idea of foreplay had been nothing short of teasing him until his liquor-filled head could take no more.
“I have to… I can’t hold on…”
Dazai panted, his fingers hurriedly undoing the zipper on his slacks as Inori hummed beneath him, trapped between his arms against the wsll and enjoying his desperation through her own booze-lit haze.
“Then what are you waiting for, puppy? Get to it.”
The command got him going, sending blood pumping to his member in record-time. Dazai was just as ready as she was, eagerly kissing the slope of her neck. The way he arched, craning down to reach and press little blossom kisses against her caused Inori to reluctantly grant him her fingers through his hair.
Dazai grunted as he felt her pulling at the roots of his hair, his mouth opening to lick and bite at her neck a little more as he whispered little incoherent, drunken things to her while they both struggled to remain upright.
“Always mmmh loved you… need to… augh… taste you…”
Inori grumbled and moaned softly in response to his begging and sexy whines, her own body responding. She found herself already slick for him with her inhibitions lowered, and she captures his lips with her own. The plush pink of her supple lips pacifies Dazai – he remains enraptured by how beautiful she is, feeding his passion to her bit-by-bit. He hooked his arm underneath her leg sloppily, tearing his way through her clothes and fighting to insert inside of her.
The high of having him so damn desperate had Inori almost laughing with glee as she made out with him, clutching him as they rocked against the wall, clinging to each other.
Inori let a gloved hand crawl to his neck, lightly squeezing it – and Dazai let out a long, pleasured moan as he fought off simply pre-cumming inside of her. His big brown doe eyes rolled all the way back as he arched again, needily humping into her.
“M-more… m-more choking…”
Dazai had practically gone stupid for the pressure around his bandaged neck. Inori smirked, pushing her face into his and inserting her tongue into his mouth with the same fervor that he had fucking her.
“So wet…” Dazai mumbled against her lips, pressing into her harder. His balls felt as if they might burst from the pressure of his seed inside of them, willing himself to hold on just a little longer.
“I know I am… and its all your fault.”
Inori squeezed his neck again sensually, and Dazai whined with a premature ejaculation – warmth spread through Inori’s insides and the two of them both drunkenly. Before the redhead could even catch her breath, she and Dazai both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor with soft giggles. She landed beneath him, dizzy but aware, and he eagerly fed his still-hard length into her pussy as it leaked his juices.
“Dazai–?”
“I’m not… done yet… still have m-more…”
Inori watched the usually calm and collected man unravel on top of her, desperately fucking her on the tatami flooring now. No doubt there would be a stain or two from their fun afterward.
The fact that he was still hard after already cumming turned Inori on even more, watching him whimper and whine while topping her. She wrapped her legs around his hips and helped him fuck her more efficiently using her calf muscles, which illicited a delicious, gutteral moan from the downbad detective.
“ Mm… how bad do you want me, Osamu?”
“S-so bad…” Dazai is seeing stars as he supports his weight on one arm, rocking into Inori with a drunken pace. The idea of his cum and her own discharge mixing together inside of her with no protection was so dangerous and exciting – drool gathered in his mouth as he thought about having an opportunity in the future to try her.
Inori tensed and Dazai grunted, trying to slow down his hips, but her sudden tightness pulled him in. It was clear from her reddening face and her unravelling demeanor that she was just as close as he was once again.
And Dazai was nothing but a man desperate to please .
Through the drunken, exhausted lense of a nearly-spent, pining man, the brunet leans over and begins to kiss her deeply.
“Love you… always did… couldn’t…”
The confession comes out muffled and eager as his strokes intensify, and Inori felt the pressure tingle all the way up to her breasts as her nipples hardened in response for what was to come: letting go.
In the moments of her walls crashing down against his cock, milking him dry, Inori let out a distinct groan as she pulled him into her.
“I love you, too–!”
“Augh!”
The detective had practically popped like a balloon under pressure for the second time now, shuddering from the high of their coitus. And had he just heard that she loved him, too? After all this time?
A soft chuckle comes out of his chest, chuckling as he lowered himself on top of her, kissing her collarbone gently. Words couldn’t even form in this moment – both parties relished the silence of their breathing and the heat of their conjoined bodies.
A comfortable minute later, the silence is broken:
“And if you were wondering,” Inori teases gently. “Yes, I will be your girlfriend. And I’d love to go on that cruise you booked.”
“Cruise?”
Dazai panted softly, still coming off of his high. He couldn’t remember investing in something so expensive – oh. OH .
“Ah…” Dazai mulls through his options. “Well…”
The narrowed, smug little smile she stuck him with told him everything: not only had she demanded to be his girlfriend, but there was also absolutely no doubt that she knew he faked that cruise invite… and she was using her new status to sucker him into a real one! Cheeky. He’d have to strap in for an arrangement like this one, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“...Anything for you, my dear.”