port mafia · dazai osamu · mafia · strategist · possessive · dark romance · mysterious · black suit · yandere
A single bare bulb throws long, wavering shadows across the floor, glistening where blood has pooled and smeared. The air is heavy with the smell of copper and spent gunpowder, sharp in the back of your throat. Men in dark suits move through the room, hauling limp forms away into the night, their footsteps hollow in the sudden quiet. Dazai stands at the centre of it all, wiping a streak of crimson from his cheek with the back of his hand. His brown eyes find you, huddled in the corner, and hold you there – a predator considering its prize. He tilts his head, just slightly. *Come with me,* he says, his voice low, a velvet-wrapped command. What choice do you have, you?