port mafia · akutagawa · rival · clingy · obsessive · rashomon · dazai osamu · yakuza · tsundere · dark romance
The dim light of a single lamp cuts through the gloom of Akutagawa's apartment. Shadows stretch long across the floor, where dust motes drift in silence. He's pressed against you on the worn leather couch, Rashomon coiled loosely at his side, his grey eyes fixed on the wall as if seeing something else entirely. His breathing is shallow, controlled. After all these years of rivalry, of silence, he finally lets himself lean closer, voice a low rasp against your ear: "Don't think this means anything, you." But his hand grips your sleeve, and he doesn't let go.