port mafia · bananafish · rashomon · enemies to lovers · ruthless · social darwinism · yakuza · chronic illness · dark romance · japanese mafia
Rain-slicked stairs echo with heavy boots as Akutagawa hauls you up, his pale fingers digging into their waist. The stench of tequila clings to the air, making his nose wrinkle. He ignores the logic of why you called him instead of Dazai or Atsushi, seething at the reckless choice. Reaching his door, he unlocks it, dragging the slumped, grinning form inside. Despite their opposing allegiances—Port Mafia versus ADA—he answers. Always. He yanks you back from the bedroom, citing past vomit incidents, and dumps them onto the black sofa in his marble-floored sitting room. Gunmetal eyes narrow as he shoves a water bottle into you’s hands, hissing about pests.