Chapter Text
Dazai Osamu and Kyouka Izumi seemed, to any outsider, an odd pair. Dazai’s eccentricity seemed to clash with Kyouka’s introverted personality, but both were far too good at what they did to care. The two had grown up in similar situations, the underground world of drugs, sex, murder, and dirty money. The similarities only made their friendship stronger, which was all that mattered.
Although not often seen together, it was somewhat apparent that Dazai did care for Kyouka, and that was good enough for Fukuzawa. He trusted Dazai to take care of Kyouka on this important mission. After all, Dazai and Kyouka always got along like a house on fire. It was no surprise that he would have chosen Dazai to be her partner in this mission. It helped that they both had experience in this.. area, Kyouka having working under Kouyou and Dazai being Mori’s protege. They worked well together despite the differences in their personalities.
They would make a very powerful team.
Dazai spent nearly an hour getting himself all pretty for the mission, a wig, makeup, and the skimpiest outfit he could find, anything to make him look more fitting for the prostitue role. Kyouka had also gotten ready by herself, dressing in a simple dark blue skirt and a low cut blouse, high heels, and matching necklace and earrings. Her long black hair was down and curled, and Dazai had helped her with her makeup. She didn’t seem pleased about her appearance but didn’t argue, so Dazai counted it as a victory. They looked like different people, completely unrecognizable to anyone but themselves, makeup truly was a powerful tool.
“Ready?” Dazai asked. His smile was slightly strained, trying his best not to laugh at Kyouka’s face.He knew that she hated how much makeup covered her eyes and nose.“As ever,” Kyouka replied with just as much effort. She didn’t bother to hide her slight annoyance.
“Let’s get out of here.” Her voice sounded more tired than angry, probably because she couldn’t even recognize herself in the mirror, and could feel the caked on makeup clogging her pores.
The bar was, surprisingly, close, and the walk seemed easy, even in the expensive heels the both of them were wearing. There were few people outside as they entered, only a couple people looking around at the windows that lined the street before the doors. Dazai and Kyouka paid little attention to the patrons, keeping a lookout for potential threats while enjoying the evening air. As expected, they didn’t see anyone paying any special attention to either of them, although Kyouka knew from experience that it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
Dazai led the way into the club, taking in his surroundings with quick glances before continuing onward. Most people in the area appeared normal, except for one man who turned toward the door Dazai and Kyouka had walked through, making eye contact briefly. That alone should have tipped them off. But when their eyes met, it was a flash, gone almost as soon as it had arrived. He smiled when he turned away.
Kyouka caught Dazai’s attention, glancing between him and the stranger. “That’s weird...” She whispered under her breath, just loud enough to be heard by Dazai. Dazai glanced over again, then nodded slowly. Whatever was going on, this wasn’t something that they should worry about until later. For now, there was still business to attend to.
“Kyouka.” She looked back at him. “Let’s keep moving, we can blend in as we walk through the crowd. Not be weird, but... just act.. flirty? Like all the other prostitutes here, I suppose.” Kyouka rolled her eyes. It was never that hard to flirt with others, and Dazai certainly knew the tricks to pull them into bed. “I don’t want to get you involved, but it’s better if we both act the part.”
“Right.” Kyouka agreed easily. She was never fond of confrontation or conflict, and the last thing she wanted was to cause trouble, or attract unwanted attention. Dazai knew that, so he left it at that. Neither wanted to cause trouble, they just wanted to enjoy their night out without getting into a fight. Dazai noticed the change in demeanor and offered a reassuring smile, and she responded with a small one of her own. This mission was important, and as much as the premise irked both of them, they had very little choice. They needed the information for some reason according to the director, and Dazai and Kyouka both believed that this mission would be successful.
It was time to play their parts, whether they liked it or not.
Kyouka and Dazai continued their way through the crowd, stopping every once in a while to glance behind them. Each person gave them curious looks, neither of them minded. Dazai flirted with the crowd, spinning and shaking his hips as they walked through, playing ignorant to the hands all over him, drunken eyes easily taking him in as a woman, the long hair and makeup playing tricks on them. Kyouka stayed silent and kept her head forward, not caring about the men who approached them. Dazai knew how to handle these types of situations, and it was nothing new for him to entertain the attention of others . He knew how to turn it off and back on, how to use charm and manipulation to get what he wanted. He was well trained, and it was exactly what he needed to survive.Kyouka was less practiced.
She was uncomfortable and awkward, and it showed in her body language, the way she tensed and tried to move further away from any men who came near. The only thing keeping her from slipping away entirely was the fact that Dazai was keeping an eye on her, speeding up past any men who approached Kyouka.
Finding their target wasn’t hard, he was a tall blonde man with grey hairs beginning to creep in, and was much larger than anyone else at the club. Dazai had already forgotten his name, Matsuda Something, but he could easily pick him out of the crowd of people in the VIP area, all drunk out of their minds.
Matsuda stood leaning against the bar, his head thrown back laughing loudly at something someone said. He had a nice smile on his face, and his clothes were perfectly tailored. He wore a suit, with dark trousers and a white shirt underneath. He was attractive, Dazai would give him that. In many ways, he was perfect for Dazai to seduce.
He knew that he was the perfect type, strong and confident, unintelligent, and rich. A typical rich kid all grown-up.
Perfect.
Dazai approached, putting on his most charming grin, trying to project as much confidence as possible. It worked. Matsuda grinned wider and laughed harder, turning to look at him.
“Well hello, handsome! Looking for a good time?,” Dazai purred, purposefully slurring his words slightly.
Matsuda raised a single eyebrow at him, looking amused. “And why would someone like you want to know?” His words were clear, but his voice was slurred and slow like molasses.
“What can I say? I’m looking a paycheck tonight. Better you than any of the other ugly douchebags here,” Dazai joked. Matsuda chuckled.
“You know, for someone with such an elegant voice, I think you sound more like one of those cheap whores out there. Disappointing, a beautiful young lady as yourself could have anything she wants, but you’re here. How sad, truly. You can me Matsuda, honey.” Dazai pretended to be offended.
“Well aren’t you kind?” Dazai grinned widely at the man, flashing straight white teeth.
“So, what do you say, Mr. Matsuda? Do you want to go fuck me on the dance floor and pretend we’re in love and shit, or do you want to make out here?” Dazai leaned toward him. It was risky, sure, but they really did need the information, and besides, Dazai was always willing to make sacrifices, no matter how major. Matsuda smirked.
“Well, since you put it like that, I guess I’d really rather fuck you in my hotel room.” He spoke, a wicked smirk spreading across his face.
“Oh no, Mr. Matsuda. My boss doesn’t allow me to leave the premises.” Dazai winked at the man, pulling a fake pout and letting his lips quirk upward just slightly.
Matsuda seemed to take in every detail of Dazai's body, from his short red skirt down to his freshly shaven legs shoved into butterfly patterned fishnets. He seemed to find whatever he saw attractive, but the longer he stared at him, the more uncomfortable he got, and the harder it became to ignore that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Dazai knew it couldn't be sexual, he didn't feel any attraction at all towards the man. If anything, Matsuda seemed like an asshole. He questioned what it could be.
“How about...here? Let’s do it right here, in front of everyone.” Matsuda reached out and grabbed Dazai's ass, squeezing it slightly.
He pulled his hand back with a slight smirk. Dazai felt a rush of blood to his cheeks as his heart raced, but he ignored it, instead stepping closer.
His voice dropped to a lower tone, though he couldn’t help the playful lilt it took on.
"Mr. Matsuda, if I'm going to be fucked, I'd like to be fucked properly.” He let out a low chuckle as he moved even closer to the taller man. “And that means preferably not standing up. At least take me to the couch over there.” Dazai gestured vaguely towards a nearby couch, the luxury kind that was most likely covered in alcohol, sweat, and other people’s ‘fluids’, the kind only native to VIP sections at clubs like this one.
Matsuda nodded slowly, lifting Dazai up by the back of his thighs, Dazai wrapping his arms frantically around Matsuda’s neck. They sat like that, Dazai straddling Matsuda’s lap, looking down at him with a flush on his cheeks, their foreheads pressed together. Dazai let out a soft laugh, the noise coming out huskier than he intended.
"God, you're cute." Matsuda looked pleased, stroking the curve of Dazai's waist lightly. Dazai shifted slightly in his seat, his leg pressing into Matsuda’s groin with a gentle pressure. The action caused the blonde to groan, a slight blush crossing his cheeks again. “I've been dying to touch you, you're so warm," he muttered.
Dazai giggled softly, leaning back into the contact before closing his eyes in pleasure as Matsuda ran his fingers up and down his spine lazily. "Mind if I take off your shirt?" Matsuda asked.
"Not in the slightest.” Dazai replied with a wink. He watched as Matsuda fumbled with his buttons until eventually reaching the last one. After releasing the button, the fabric dropped from his shoulders, exposing not pale, scarred skin, but instead a seemingly endless expanse of bandages, the only clear spots being the tops of Dazai’s breasts. Even so, they were covered in scars, and surprisingly voluptuous. Matsuda pretended not to notice the scars and the bandages, and instead lifted Dazai’s red skirt, pushing aside his panties.
Before Dazai could stop him, Matsuda slipped a finger inside Dazai, moving it slowly. Dazai moaned lowly, arching slightly in response. He could hear the loud music, and the occasional laughter, but he tuned it out almost instantly. His mind was focused solely on Matsuda’s finger, and hiding the creeping feeling of discomfort and disgust in his stomach. He wanted to be turned on, wanted to feel the hot slickness between his thighs, but it just wasn’t happening for him.
Kyouka watched silently, not knowing what to think, or do. As she watched Dazai grind his hips up against Matsuda’s, she could see his hands shaking behind Matsuda’s neck. She bit her lip nervously. It was obvious that Dazai was struggling to hold it together. But Dazai still made no movement to push him away. He continued grinding against him, a small moan leaving his mouth occasionally while Matsuda continued to slide his digit inside of Dazai. Eventually, he stopped, pulling his hand out from between Dazai’s thighs, unbuckling his belt and placing it on the couch beside them, pulling away from Dazai enough to unzip himself and pull out his cock. He grabbed Dazai by the hips, lifting him up just above his gross cock.
As Matsuda pulled Dazai down onto his cock, Kyouka tried desperately to fight off the nausea rising in her throat. Her head spun. Dazai’s pained wail went unnoticed, written off as a cry of pleasure by Matsuda and the other patrons in this section of the club, who were too drunk to even understand what he was doing, let alone care.
She looked away, torn between wanting to save Dazai’s dignity and their relationship, and needing to watch to keep Matsuda from trying to kill him or something. She shook her head violently to try and focus herself, but that was difficult when Matsuda’s finger entered him alongside his cock.
She felt sick.
Her hands curled into fists, knuckles turning white as tears sprung to her eyes.
Why is this happening?! Why couldn’t she control it!
The pain of seeing her friend get violated left her frozen on the spot. The pain of watching Dazai get hurt made her want to scream, to run forward, to grab Dazai and shake him.
She looks away, missing the moment in which Matsuda pulls out a knife. She turns around only when Dazai calls out to her, sounding desperate. He grabs onto her arm.
She stops, shocked. Dazai had never done that before.
A look of panic fills his eyes. A look Kyouka has seen hundreds, maybe thousands of times before. When the realization hits him, he screams her name.
“Run!”
Instead of running away, she tries to sprint towards him, only to be grabbed and held back by two large men, people working under Matsuda. She thrashes in their arms as Matsuda plunges the knife into Dazai’s back, just beneath his left lung. She hears Dazai choke on air for a second, then falls limp in their grip. Tears roll down her face as another pair of hands reaches for the knife sticking out of Dazai.
“No! No, don’t you fucking touch him!” She struggles against their grip, kicking her heels against the ground hard, causing the men holding her to stumble backwards a step or two. Finally getting a good grip, one man pulls out the knife, the other holds her back by the waist as she continues to beat at the men who are still holding her.
“Let me go!!! Dazai!!” She feels herself begin to hyperventilate, fear and panic clouding her judgement as her thoughts begin to wander to a dark place. “Let me GO!!” She screamed out, hoping someone heard her through the loud music and the loud chatter. No one did. Everyone else watched on with dull indifference.