#fucked up dad mori agenda

[originalartblog]

Thank you! I am begging you to reconsider.

#when your ability manifestation is dragging you is it a self-callout #my favourite part of drawing mori is adding that one strand of hair in the front #it's stupid but 100% essential for The Vibes™ he looks weird and naked without it #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanart #bsd mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd fukuzawa #bsd fukuzawa yukichi #bsd chuuya #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd elise #nawy's doodles #and a cameo from #the murase au #ada!chuuya #ask answered #thank you 💖

[plinko-mori]

So Dazai isn't here

Does that mean my beautiful man will have back at his side the kid who left him? Who knows

#bsd mori #bsd ougai mori #bsd ogai mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd mori ogai #bsd theory #bsd mori theories #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #bungou stray dogs manga #bsd chapter 113 #bsd manga spoilers #bungou stray dogs manga spoilers #bsd armed detective agency #bsd port mafia #bsd dazai #bsd osamu dazai #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd 113

[bi-writes]

notorious: reboot — chapter three mori quam foedari

You haven’t seen anything yet; you have no idea what I will sacrifice to get to where I need to be.

type: series, alternate universe detail: mob!tom word count: 6.4k warnings: mature language and themes, some nsfw content and nsfw innuendos series masterlist

There were webs in your dreams. Spiders, with plump, dark bodies that crawled all over your skin. You could feel them inside of your mouth, coming out from between your teeth, burrowing into the softness of your hair. You itched, squirmed, and cried, but nothing stopped them. Piling on top of each other, weaving their silk around your neck, pulling tighter and tighter until you couldn’t breathe. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, but you could still feel them crawling inside of you. And then you felt a warm hand on your neck, breaking the webs in half, blowing fire onto your skin that burned their fat bodies into nothingness. You opened your eyes, and it was Tom, leaning over you, talking but you couldn’t hear what was coming out of his mouth. Then you screamed.

You jolted awake, sitting up abruptly, looking around your bedroom. The other side of the bed was still made up and empty like always, and the sun was just coming up over the horizon. You sighed deeply, putting your hand on your chest. Tom was in your dreams. He was in your dreams, and he was leaning over you, talking to you, helping you, saving you. The feeling was foreign. You always did things on your own. Your own ambition and determination had gotten you this far, and it was the only thing that was going to carry you through these next long months. Relying on someone else wasn’t in your agenda. No one except your mother had ever looked out for you, and she had been gone a long time, and while you loved Mariposa dearly, she had her flaws, and you always made sure to have a Plan B when it came to her.  

Independence was all you had ever known. You ran your fingers over your neck, which you had just imagined tightened and hung around spiderwebs. You were helpless, and he had to come save you. You had tried so hard in your life to never be in that position, to always have a way out, to always have a way to get yourself out of sticky situations, and that was why you always trained, always kept learning, never stopped trying to get better and better at being yourself.  

You hoped it wasn’t a vision of what was to come. If you had to rely on Tom, if you had to truly lean on him for help, you had to have been out of your mind. You couldn’t think about it anymore. You just couldn’t.

You slid out of bed, padding into the kitchen. Mariposa was sitting there, at the breakfast counter, sipping some coffee. She turned to look at you. Her curls were combed out nicely, and you figured she had been awake for a little while already.

“What are you doing up?” She asked, and you shrugged. You wanted to forget the dream you had been having for the last few nights, so you gave her a short, vague answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you said, and she nodded. You went to the coffee pot and poured yourself a cup, joining her at the counter. Mariposa had partly moved into the spare bedroom in your apartment for the time being. She kept some things here for herself, but she stayed some nights back at her apartment and some nights with you. You did like when she was here. It was nice to have company on mornings like this.

“Me neither,” she said softly, looking down at her cup. She found comfort in the warmth of it. “I’m nervous.”

“For?”

“For tonight,” she answered honestly, tracing the rim of her mug. “I’ve never…I’ve never been a part of an…initiation. I mean…I know my dad has said things about your father and some of his men, doing things to join, but I sort of thought it was a myth.”

It was true. Your father was very insistent on all his lackeys being present at a ceremonial initiation. You thought it had been myth, too, but then you overheard your father on the phone one day talking about such matters. Your father’s initiations involved burning pictures of your younger self, bleeding over their ashes, and getting a certain Latin phrase tattooed behind your ear. Your father ran his business the way his Italian predecessors had, and he was adamant on keeping those traditions.  

Mori quam foedari, was the Latin phrase, meaning death before dishonor. Your father expected his men to live up to his name, to their own names, and once you were in the family, the only way out was death. You had heard rumors that men that had wronged your father were expected to die, and upon their deaths, your father had their tattoos blacked out before they were dumped in the Colorado River. They didn’t deserve to wear the phrase, especially in death.

You sighed, thinking too much, brushing your hair back and running your fingers through it. “Don’t worry about anything, Ri. I’m going to be there. We’re going together. I’ve got your back, and you’ve got mine. Yeah?” You turned to look at her, and she nodded slowly. She was staring off distantly.

“W-Who’s going to be there?” She wondered, her thoughts roaming to the sweet blue-eyed Englishman she had been talking to much too often.

“I’m not sure, Ri. But…we should be ready for anything.”

“Like…if it’s all made up? If…it’s a trap?” Mariposa asked this because she thought that she should, but she was convinced it couldn’t be. Harrison wouldn’t be okay with having her walk into a trap, would he? Surely, he cared for her enough that he wouldn’t want her to get hurt, not anymore.  

“Yes, Ri. That’s what I mean.” You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, sighing. “But I don’t think he’ll do that.”

Mariposa took a long sip of coffee, frowning a bit. She had her reasons for believing that, but she was curious about yours. “Why is that?”

You shrugged, leaning back in the chair. “When I saw him the other night, we…I don’t even know how to explain it,” you laughed a bit, shaking your head. “We were close to each other, you know…flirting and…I don’t know.”

You thought about your legs on either side of Tom’s waist, your lips brushing against his, your hands on his chest. You thought about his gaze, his dark eyes that lit your insides on fire, made you feel warm from the tips of your fingers all the way to your toes. You thought about threatening to shoot him with a gun, and how he had smiled at that. You thought about how good he had looked in that suit, and how all you had wanted to do was run your fingers through his curls and kiss the smirk off his face. You weren’t sure what you were feeling; lust, want, desire, need, romance, it could’ve been a lot of things, but you couldn’t deny that there were thoughts in your head that your father wouldn’t approve of.  

Jesus, y/n…get your shit together.

“Trying to figure each other out, I’m sure,” Mariposa raised an eyebrow at you. “Both of you are the most mysterious, secluded individuals on this planet. You keep everything inside. Maybe that’s why you’re both like that together. You know each other more than you think.”

You pursed your lips, “Ri, we’re strangers to each other.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she countered. “You don’t have to know someone to know what they’re thinking, to…to figure out why they are the way they are. I don’t…I can’t figure Tom out when I look at him. I never can. It’s like he’s got…a barrier around him all the time. A barrier made of iron.”

You tapped your fingers against the kitchen counter. That wasn’t what you felt, and somehow it made your heart beat a little faster, knowing you saw more than others did. You saw complexity in his eyes, not darkness, not iron. You saw warmth wanting to crawl out between the dark covers of his walls, despite his venomous words, and you liked knowing that no one else could sense that. It was like you knew secrets about him that no one else did, not even Harrison.  

Picking him apart, little by little, piece by piece, until he’s nothing but mine.

“How was Harrison? I never…I never asked,” you said, changing the subject, clearing your throat. “Everything went alright?”

She nodded, “uh…yeah. I was in and out.”

You watched as she shifted in her seat, taking a long sip of her coffee. She didn’t meet your eyes, and you narrowed them at her. Mariposa was a romantic. Everything was theatrical and poetic to her, and sending her out on a job, you expected her to tell you how exciting and how easy it had been, how she outshined men and how she was so good at what she did. But her account was short and to the point, and it made you suspicious.  

There could only be a few reasons why she wouldn’t give you details. Either her father had said something, but he was in Los Angeles helping yours, so that couldn’t be it. She could have screwed up the job, but you knew that was impossible, because Tom had already replied to your message. It was something else, and she was avoiding your eyes.  

God, fuck, of course this would happen.

“You saw him,” you said finally. “You spoke to him.”

Mariposa hesitated, and you leaned forward. She hated disappointing you, almost as much as she hated disappointing her father.  

“Ri, tell me what happened. Tell me,” you coaxed her gently. “I’m not upset. Just tell me the truth.”

She swallowed hard as she put her curls behind her shoulders, “we…it didn’t start out intimate or…or romantic or anything. But we were in his office, and it just…it just happened. We kissed.”

She looked at you, waiting for your reaction. She thought you might scold her about getting involved with him. She thought you might yell at her for compromising the plan, the mission, business itself. But her heart was full of love, and Harrison’s eyes had reflected the same. He was soft when he looked at her, and she ached to be looked at like that, to be understood. How could she not kiss him?

You blinked for a moment, thinking.  

“You kissed him, or did he kiss you?” You asked finally.

“y/n—”

“Ri, just answer the fucking question.”

“I…it was me. I kissed him,” she admitted, and you took a deep breath.  

“Good,” you said, turning back to face your coffee.

“Good?” She stuttered, and you nodded, watching as the light in the room changed as the sun rose up higher.

It was different when it was the woman that kissed her man, especially a man like Harrison. Harrison was a sight for sore eyes, you could admit that. He had a body he worked hard for, dressed expensive and like a man of authority, and he had a handsome face, especially with those killer blue eyes. Harrison was a man that had had many a woman, and he was used to them melting at his touch. He had no trouble drawing them in, and he had no trouble making them fall for him. This time, Harrison had reeled in a woman that wasn’t afraid to fight back, and you knew Mariposa’s loyalty lied with you, even if she did kiss him of her own volition.

Mariposa had kissed him first, and because of it, he would believe he had the upper hand between them, that he could play her like an instrument he had known his entire life. But Mariposa was your wild card, and Harrison could play her all he like, but he would never be able to play the music right. You would make sure of that.  

Use him, abuse him, lose him.

“Good,” you repeated. “Because now he thinks he holds something over you. And we’re going to use it against him.”

You didn’t recognize the face you saw in the mirror, not entirely. You were seated in front of your vanity, and Mariposa stood behind you, braiding your hair back. She was doing one single braid, tight and intricate. When she was finished, she pulled a few stray hairs out to frame your face. You looked sweet, innocent. The white dress you were wearing didn’t help convey that message any less. It was strapless and stark white, a blinding color on you that you didn’t wear often. You couldn’t blend in wearing white.

Mariposa finished with your hair, stepping out to the side to look at you and her side by side in the mirror. You were matching, wearing the same dress, but she had her effortless box braids in again. Both of you wore barely any makeup, but Mariposa couldn’t help herself and put a pair of lashes on and some lip gloss. Her bare skin glowed, and you were a little jealous at how put together she still looked even without her makeup caked on perfectly.  

“Are you ready?” You asked her, but it was more of a formality than actually wanting to know if she was prepared for the night. She hiked her dress up, showing you the gun strapped to her thigh. You pulled up your own dress, showing her your own firearm, and you both smiled at each other in the mirror. You took her hand in yours, and you both squeezed at the same time.

“Remember the plan?” You asked, and she nodded, taking a deep breath.  

“Get him alone,” she repeated. “Get him to talk about everything and nothing. Make an excuse to seem vulnerable, and let…let him take care of me.”

You met her eyes in the mirror, and she seemed unsure of herself.

“Harrison is…tender-hearted,” you said gently. “He wants someone to take care of, Ri. So…let him take care of you. In any way that you need.”

She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment to think. You knew she would take those orders to heart, and you didn’t blame her. Mariposa was sweet inside, and maybe she did need to be taken care of. You couldn’t hold that against her. She needed touch, affection, words as sweet as she looked being whispered in her ear. Maybe when this was all over, you would let her be with someone tender-hearted without rules. But for now, you both had a job to do, and she needed to remember that before she allowed herself to get carried away with it all.  

Death before dishonor.

When she opened her eyes again, you could tell by the look in her eyes that she was ready to go. Steeling herself inside like the good soldier she was, she followed you out the door.  

When you both emerged outside, there was a car waiting for you. Tom had sent a car, and he didn’t disappoint. A sleek four door luxury vehicle, all pretty and perfect for you. The driver got out and opened the backseat door for you both, but then he handed you both black cloth blindfolds.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Boss’s orders,” is all he said, and you both got settled in the car before tying the blindfolds on yourselves. When he was satisfied, he got into the drivers’ seat again and started the car, pulling away quickly. Tom never liked to be kept waiting. You weren’t to be late, not even by a second.

You held Mariposa’s hand as the car drove, and you both leaned against each other. You counted the minutes, and by the time you counted almost forty-five minutes, you wondered if Tom really had just sent you both to your deaths as easily as that.

He wouldn’t do that. Not yet, at least. Not until he gets what he wants from you.

When the car finally stopped, you were allowed to take off the blindfolds. You both undid them, pulling them off slowly, and you both looked ahead at the house in front of you. You weren’t in the city anymore, no, you were somewhere else.  

The car had driven up a long, winding gravel driveway, protected by a large gate with a few men hanging around the entrance. The driveway circled back towards another gate, and in the middle of it all was a fountain made of limestone and marble. The driveway was lit up beautifully with small lights, and the entrance of the grand house was lit up as well, with double doors at least ten feet tall made of dark oak wood.

You and Mariposa linked arms as you stepped onto the gravel in your heels, holding onto each other for balance as you followed a few more men as they walked away from the entrance to the house. You weren’t allowed in there, not yet.

You were led around the back of the house. The grounds were beautiful, a large two-story mansion that must’ve been thousands of square footages of old American wood and all its charm. The backyard was made up of an acre of greenspace that led to a dock, a lake that other large houses shared. Behind the house, the cellar doors were closed, but a few men already standing there opened them up for you, showing you the staircase that led downwards towards the basement.  

“After you, ladies,” one of them said lowly. You went in first, holding onto the railing and stepping down sideways to not lose balance in your heels. When you got to the end of the stairs, there were a few lackeys waiting for you both, offering you their hands to help you down. You and Mariposa took their hands gratefully, and then they let you go as soon as you were on your feet steadily. The lackeys stood in a circle around a dimly lit table in the middle of the space. The circle opened up to invite both you and Mariposa in, and beside the table were Tom and Harrison and a few others who you noted were family. A few younger suited fellows who shared Tom’s curls stood behind them, and you noticed everyone in the circle was wearing black besides you and Mariposa.

It was symbolic. Two birds in white, about to join the family of Tom’s pack. This wasn’t ordinary, and this hadn’t been done before, not with women, and you could see that the whole room was feeling something new and foreign about the ceremony about to take place.

Would your white dress turn black from fire? Or red from blood?

“y/n y/l/n,” Tom said your name, so that everyone could hear it. You looked around the room a bit. His men towered over you and Mariposa, all from different parts but united in this one circle. They had different faces, different pasts, but in this one ceremony, they were one, and it was the first time you understood why men like your father and Tom did these things. It was to make you belong, and to make others feel like you belonged. Sharing in one ceremony would make you family, and it meant something more than coworker and coworker. You would be their sister, they would be your brothers, and there was nothing purer than a bond like that. Not romantic, but loving, and it would mean that even in death, you would be one.

You sucked in a breath, hating the feeling in your chest. All you ever wanted was to belong, and you tried so hard to belong to your father, to be one with his men, and they refused you because your father refused you. You needed brothers, wanted brothers, but your father shut the doors in your face more times than you could count.  

Tom didn’t hesitate. You had only known him personally for a few weeks, and here you were, standing in the basement on his country American mansion, and you belonged. He was making his brothers your brothers, bringing you into a sacred circle of family, love, sacrifice, and blood, and he didn’t hesitate once to invite you into it. You were a woman, you were, and Mariposa was a woman, but he didn’t care. He knew what you were, he knew what Mariposa was, and making you belong seemed like the natural thing to do.  

Why does it feel like I belong here more than I belong with my own family?

“Mariposa Muñoz,” Harrison said her name, nodding at her, and she tried not to smile at him. She couldn’t let you see this side of her, she refused. She simply nodded back, but their eyes danced in the presence of each other.  

I am yours, and you are mine.

“I’ve written up a contract for you both to sign,” Tom said, passing over two thick papers in front of you on the table. “For eighteen months, you’ll stay here in New York. And when I call, it means I have a job for you. You’re both to do it, and in exchange, this family will help you sort your business in Brooklyn and in Queens, so as long as you don’t bring that business to Manhattan.”  

You and Mariposa looked at each other briefly before turning back to him. You just needed to get her simple okay, even though you had spoken of this before. Her eyes told you she was ready as long as you were.

“Deal,” you said simply, and Tom produced a pocketknife from his jacket, pulling the blade out and passing it to you both. Then he put down a single white feather onto the table.

Two little birds, my little birds, signing it away.

You picked up the knife and met Tom’s eyes as you dragged it across your palm. You scrunched your nose a bit as you cut it, turning your hand over and letting the blood drip onto the table. You gave the knife to Mariposa before you picked up the feather, dipped the tip into the blood you dripped onto the metal surface, and signed your name at the bottom of the paper. Mariposa followed suit, making a whimpering sound as she cut herself. She signed her name at the bottom of the other paper, and you both stepped back, your palms dripping blood onto the floor. Tom looked around the room at all the lackeys, especially longer at the ones who stared at the both of you straight on.

He couldn’t blame them. Both you and Mariposa were wearing beautiful white matching dresses, but it was a sign he needed to speak.

I am yours, and you are mine.

“No one is to touch either of them,” Tom said darkly, turning his head. He wanted to meet each one of his lackeys in the eyes, so they knew how serious it was. Even looking Tom in the eyes was a privilege. “They aren’t here for your enjoyment. You will only address them by their last names, and you will call them nothing else. You are only to speak to them if it’s necessary for the responsibilities given to them, and for no other reason. If they speak to you, you answer, otherwise, you don’t say a fucking word to them. If you can’t follow these rules, either of them has my permission to blow your thick heads off. Is that understood?”

Strings of “yes, Mr. Holland,” and “yes, sir,” sounded around the room, echoing between each of them.  

Harrison came towards Mariposa, and you were surprised when he put a finger under her chin and gave her lips a single kiss, then both of her cheeks. Then he stepped to the side, looking down at you with his baby blues, and he lifted your chin and gave you a kiss, then kissed both of your cheeks. You watched as Tom repeated the same with Mariposa, kissing her lips and her cheeks, and when he came to you, you both stared up at each other momentarily before he leaned down and kissed both of your cheeks first. He gripped your chin a bit tighter as he leaned down to kiss your lips.

But it was a real kiss. Not a peck that the rest had been, but a kiss, and you closed your eyes to reciprocate it. Tom tilted his head to the side as you kissed, and when he pulled away, you realized he wasn’t just lingering on you, but he was silently saying something to the rest of the room.

She’s mine.

If it had been any other setting, if it was anyone else doing this to you, you would’ve clenched your fist and punched him right across his handsome face. But you had to take a deep breath and take it, because this was Tom Holland, and he was playing you. You had to be smarter, you had to be better, and pretending to go along with everything he planned would keep his guard down. You let him silently claim you with a hot kiss.

“Miss y/l/n, Miss Muñoz, these are your brothers. Like you, they bled on contracts written up by me, and like you, they were kissed by monsters. This is your family, and should you dishonor that fact, you’ll die by my hand or by the hand of whomever you wronged.”

Tom allowed his men to get a good look at the two of you before he dismissed the room.

“Harrison,” Tom called his name. “Take the girls to get cleaned up.”

“You go, Ri,” you said darkly, standing there still. “I need to have a word with Mr. Holland.”

Harrison put a hand behind Mariposa’s back, guiding her back up the stairs, out of the basement. As soon as you were alone, you grabbed the chain around Tom’s neck and yanked him towards you, your touch cold and hard.

The kiss had thrown you off your balance a bit. He kissed you like it mattered, like he was talking to his men, and you hated feeling like less than you really were.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You demanded, the blood still leaking from your palm staining the front of his shirt. He narrowed his eyes a bit, unprepared for your hard attitude.  

“What are you fucking doing?” He shoved you off of him a bit, and you jabbed a finger into his chest.

“No,” you shook your head, “this wasn’t…inviting us into your family. This was branding us as one of your…lackeys. This was…inducting us as your girls. You kept your end, Tom, but you’re a bastard. If you think for one fucking second that I don’t see through whatever the hell this was, then you’re as dumb as you look.”

You grabbed him by the chin, blood on his face now. Tom hadn’t had blood on his face in a long time, not since he was running with the lackeys himself. Now it was apparent against his soft cheeks, his hard jaw. They brought out the darkness in his eyes. It belonged there.

“Let’s get one thing straight, Tom,” you said venomously, “Yes, I’ll come when you call. Yes, I’ll do the things you need me to do, and yes, I’ll be doing it well. But don’t you ever, for one fucking second, think that I’m one of your girls. Are we clear?”

He clenched his jaw, “y/n, I didn’t—”

“That stunt you pulled?” You interrupted him, and you could see he was searing with anger now. He hated being interrupted, so much. “Kissing me like that, in front of your crew? You’re pathetic. And if you think you can lay a claim on me, I dare you, Tom. I dare you to try.”

You gasped as he grabbed you by the back of the neck, forcing the distance between you to close. You stumbled backwards as he brought you in for a kiss, forced to sit on the table in the middle of the basement. Tom made his way between your legs, pulling you as close as possible. You let yourself enjoy the kiss for a few minutes. There was a stinging pain in your palm from the cut the blade had made, but you couldn’t be bothered as Tom Holland was kissing you, and he was kissing you purposefully. Not drunk, not high, not completely shitfaced, but Tom Holland was kissing you because he wanted to. You closed your eyes as you brought your arms around his neck, blood staining his creamy skin, but neither of you could be bothered as you kissed hotly.

His hands slipped down your sides, gripping your hips firmly, drawing your hips against his own. Your dress slid up your thighs, and you felt his calloused palms against the bare skin. You dragged your hand down his chest a bit, tilting your head to the side as you kissed, rolling your hips against his gently. The way his hands gripped you tighter told you he enjoyed it, and you let out a breathless sigh as you rolled your hips against his again, letting yourself draw pleasure from the feeling it gave you.

Death before dishonor. But you have never been daddy’s good girl.

You pulled away slowly, and you both exchanged warm breaths as you sat there, panting and breathless from the passionate kiss. You let yourselves enjoy the closeness for a moment, your lips brushing against one another gently, before you brought your elbow up, knocking him back right in his ribs.

What are you thinking? That one kiss is going to change the way things are?

“Jesus, fuck!” Tom cried out, stumbling back away from you, and you wiped your mouth as you got back onto your feet. You pushed your dress back down your thighs, fixing the neckline of your dress. “What the fuck is the matter with you?!”

It was good. Too good. And I hate how much you’re making me feel.

You made your way to the staircase, letting out a deep breath. Intimacy was a luxury. You were not Mariposa. You didn’t need love, affection, or touch to feel whole. You could feel whole all on your own, and you didn’t need a man nor a woman to do things for you. Tom caught you off guard, that was for sure, and you allowed yourself to indulge just for the sake of your own pleasure. But you couldn’t forget who the face was behind those kisses, who the man underneath those touches was. It was Tom Holland, and he used women. You were his…little bird. How could you be anything else to him? How could he be anything else to you?

Making me feel like I belong. Like I matter. You don’t mean it.

“The don’t fucking touch me rule applies to everyone, Tom. Including you,” you scoffed. “What did I say last time you touched me without my permission?”

He clenched his jaw, “you’d blow my dick off, darling.”

“Yeah, I did, so don’t test my limits, Tom. You’re pissing me off,” you started to climb the steps, and Tom came towards you, cautiously taking your hand to help you up. You let him lead you, as you were afraid of falling over in the heels Mariposa lent you, and you made your way into the house. Your heels clicked, echoing around the marbled floors and walls. Your eyes darted around the lavish living room full of lackeys, looking for Mariposa and Harrison, but you couldn’t see her anywhere. You turned back to Tom.

“Does Harrison have…an office or something?” You asked, and Tom nodded.

“Aye,” he answered, going into the kitchen for some bandages and supplies. “Upstairs, beside mine. Come here, we got to get your hand done up, darling.”

Atta girl, Ri. Make him swoon, make him feel important. Make him feel as if he’s got everything in the world at his fingertips, but never let him know that you’ve got his limbs on strings, and you’ve never been better at making him dance.

You came towards the kitchen, and he motioned for you to sip on the marble countertop. With your good hand, you tried to get up, but Tom eventually put his hands on your hips and lifted you up onto it. He took some antiseptic spray and went over the cut on your palm, and you gritted your teeth, watching the liquid foam. He wiped it away after a few moments, taking a bandage and starting to wrap your palm.

“That was stupid of you,” you said finally, looking at him curiously. “Kissing me like that.”

He chuckled a bit, “if you’re looking for an apology, you won’t receive one. I’m not bloody sorry I did it.”

You rolled your eyes, “of course you aren’t. You’re a man.”

He glanced at you for a moment, “don’t give me that, love,” he muttered, pulling tight on the bandages, making you gasp a bit. “You fuckin’ liked it.”

Of course I fucking did.

You met his eyes after he finished, dropping your hand. You stared off as he came close, close enough to touch his lips to your earlobe.

“Can almost smell you from here, darling,” he whispered lowly, and you shivered a bit. “So you can say whatever you want about…touch and permission and your dignity…”

You stiffened, ready to slap him across the face, but then he kissed the skin under your ear, drawing a long sigh from you.

“…but I know what it is you really want. And when you finally get your pretty head out of the fuckin’ clouds, I’ll be waiting.”

Fuck you.

“You’ll be waiting until you’re dead then,” you snapped, and he chuckled darkly, shaking his head, and you closed your eyes as he kissed under your ear again.

“No, baby, you know how I know that?” He brushed a few strands of hair away from your eyes, taking a whiff of your perfume as he studied the way you shivered for him. He knew you were tense all over, he could feel the heat coming off of you. “Because you’re a fuckin’ queen. And you’re too fuckin’ beautiful to lay with anyone less than a king. And that’s me, love, and whether you want to admit it or not, you and I are one and the same. Two sides of the same fuckin’ coin, and when you finally realize that, you won’t be able to stop what happens between us.”

You think you’re so fucking smart. You think you’ve got me all figured out. But your walls are falling, Tom, with every word out of your mouth, and I will not stop until they’re gone.

He watched your reaction from the side, touching the back of your ear. He noticed a small, faint tattoo there, but he waited for your response. You kept silent, your eyes dark and lips pursed.

Tom reached up and touched your bottom lip with his thumb, feeling the softness of it.

“Mori quam foedari?” He asked, and you kept your eyes away from his.

“Death before dishonor,” you explained, looking down, laughing bitterly. “Family motto.”

Family.

All anyone wanted in their life was to have family. People to look up to, people to rely on, people to turn to when things went awry, people that would be proud of what you had become. You hadn’t felt that in a long time, and you doubted you would ever truly feel it again. You only get one family in your life; besides your mother, you had gotten a pretty shitty one when it came to love and affection.

Tom could sense the distance in your eyes, like you were thinking about a future that had been stolen from you. Family was your weakness, because you were robbed of one.

“You were wrong, y/n. You are a part of my family now. For eighteen months, aye, but as long as you’re here, you’re a part of this family. And maybe you don’t want to hear this,” you rolled your eyes at that, “but I’ll protect you. Because you signed your name, you gave me something precious, and I’ll protect you as long as you stay.”

I am yours, and you are mine. But it’s not true. It’s all a lie. It has to be. Making me feel like I belong. Like I matter. You don’t mean it.

You turned your head finally, looking at him straight on. You looked into his eyes, watching as that hard exterior, those iron walls, rusted just the slightest bit. You took his wrist, lifting his hand so his palm came up to cup one side of your face.

Maybe Tom was more tender-hearted than he let on.

“I don’t need your protection, Tom.”

“No,” he shook his head. “But you have it.”

You scoffed, “why should I believe you? When you’ve done nothing but patronize me, threaten me, and objectify me since I met you? You underestimate me, Tom, and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of being anything less than what I am, and if you can’t understand how much I bring to the table, then you’re not worth the trouble. Because I’ve fought my entire fucking life to get to where I am, and something tells me you might just push me all the way back to where I started.”

He tilted his head to the side, “what does that mean?”

“It means that I fought my father for a long time to get him to trust me, to even look at me like I was worth something. And you give me the same looks, and if you keep doing it, Tom, if you keep acting like I’m not as good as you or any of your men here, then I’m wasting my time,” you said sincerely. “I’m a woman of many talents, Tom, and you’re fucking lucky I’ve agreed to work for you for this long. Because your business is going to change with me in it, for the better, and when I’m gone…” You leaned forward, “you’re going to feel it. And I want you to remember that.”

“Then why would I let you go?”

“Because,” you stared at his lips again, but then forced your eyes to return to his own. Tom licked his lips as you came close, your breath grazing the skin of his ear, making him relax, making him breathe harder. “I’m a y/l/n. And while its nice here in your kingdom…it’s not nearly as big as mine.”

And I’d die before I let you take it from me.

read chapter four

#ITS HERE #YAY #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland smut #thnsfw #mob!tom

[originalartblog]

I'm in love with your "mori is functionally skk's dad" art! I keep thinking about it 24/7! Partially because it's funny, partially because it reminds me about the time my father called me an "accessory to sin" and yeah that sounds like something that would happen in this AU.

Anon I need you to understand that this is no AU this a strong belief of mine, canon Mori has some serious issues with being a parental/mentor figure for overpowered kids he won't stop and it's so bad

I was gonna put it in the tags but it got needlessly long so

Fucked up dad Mori arguments (spoilers everywhere)

(Fifteen) Mori projects himself onto Dazai and subtly teaches him manipulation techniques. He also has a soft smile when Chuuya accepts his vision of leadership and pledges his loyalty to him.

(Storm Bringer) Accompanies Chuuya and sits next to him during the Flags' funeral. Sounded pleased when Chuuya said the PM was his family now. Chuuya's actual dad was also said to be a military doctor, which when combined with his mom and Kouyou also being very similar, should definitely be an intentional parallel.

(Dark Era) Mori wanted to teach Dazai another lesson in leadership on "necessary sacrifices" and "personal attachments vs decision making", it dramatically backfired, he is still disappointed to this day.

(Yosano backstory) Was protective of this little girl surrounded by army men, yet prioritized his grand plan to win the war over her emotional well-being.

[ ^ hey look how similar the last two points are (Mori doesn't learn shit) ]

(BEAST) When removed from the mafia, took over a shitty orphanage and made it good + offered emotional support to a lost teenager by LITERALLY offering to be his dad (+expressed his past will to save another lost teenager)

(also BEAST) Elise could be an adult, and yet she's always a child. That man is trying to fill in a hole in his life and when he got the orphanage he didn't need to do so anymore.

(Guild arc) Under the disguise of the local physician, he redirected Atsushi and taugh him one of his little lessons basically unprompted and Atsushi's impression of him as a mentor was very positive.

ANYWAY Mori has issues because he stuck himself between wanting to mentor the younger generation to help them grow into their potential and throwing everyone's emotions and desires (including his own) out the window in favour of the """optimal solution"""

#fucked up dad mori agenda #with my ramblings under a read more because they got needlessly long in the tags lol #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd fanart #nawy's doodles #ask answered #bsd chuuya #bsd q #bsd dazai #bsd yosano #bsd elise

[originalartblog]

I don't have a caption for this (original)

#this one is like 3 months old at this point #i imagine fourteen/fifteen-year-old was hell for mori's nerves #that kid made a stressed out mafia boss usurper disable a bomb he put under his own chair #does it count as fucked up dad mori #i'm counting it as fucked up dad mori #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanart #bsd dazai #bsd mori #bsd dazai osamu #bsd mori ougai #nawy's doodles #THIS ONE HAS *COLOURS*

[originalartblog]

Dazai stands frozen in vile disgust for the next 20 minutes

#dazai gets trolled dot jpeg #when you accidentally refer to the guy who raised and backstabbed you as your dad in the privacy of your own head #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd fanart #nawy's doodles #nawy's comics #fucked up dad mori agenda

[originalartblog]

actually I had one more

#this became an accidental 'fucked-up dad mori' agenda series #my most controversial take #the ''fucked up'' part is important #based on what? *points at fifteen* *points at storm bringer* *points at beast* *points at #sou.koku have issues #mori also has issues though this goes both ways #family status: we don't wanna think too hard about it #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanart #bsd chuuya #bsd mori #bsd kouyou #bsd nakahara chuuya #bsd mori ougai #bsd kouyou ozaki #nawy's doodles #fucked up dad mori agenda #nawy's comics #if you look at mori's head in his closeup panel you could easily make an angler fish out of it #quote from b.99 of course

[originalartblog]

Chuuya's father was written as a military doctor not necessarily to parallel Mori, but rather because the real Chuuya's father was as well. Nakahara Kensuke interestingly was a writer as well and occasionally wrote for newspapers because he hoped to follow in the footsteps of the real Mori. Just think it's a really interesting tidbit and your post made me think of it.

Oh yeah yeah yeah! I also know that Nakahara Chuuya's parents wanted him to be a doctor like his father, but he chose the #ArtistLife

But you made me realize I didn't explain my point correctly, it wasn't just the military doctor part that makes the parallel work, it's because his mom is described as being a distinguished woman from a lineage of warriors wearing a kimono:

AND those descriptions come a dozen pages after describing Mori and Kouyou in similar words:

And if it's just a coincidence I'm gonna laugh at Asagiri

#i didn't actually know the part about the newspaper i'm gonna have to go check that #anyway wanna hear about the mori knew about the arahabaki project from the start theory #ask answered #not art #i'm gonna go change my post to include kouyou and the mom in there it's important and not implied enough #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd storm bringer #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer #ALSO JUST REALIZED I FORGOT ABOUT MORI MENTORING ATSUSHI IN THE GUILD ARC DANGIT

[plinko-mori]

Mori, speaking embarrassed but with his eyes shining in happiness: Weißt du, Dazai, ich habe eine tolle Idee, um Zeit miteinander zu verbringen! Wir könnten über die Woche reden, dir Anekdoten erzählen, mit dir einkaufen gehen, um etwas für deine Freunde zu kaufen... Ich weiß nicht, Zeit miteinander verbringen, auch wenn ich nicht die beste Person bin, um Zeit mit dir zu verbringen, ich weiß nicht, ich könnte dir bei etwas helfen, das nicht direkt mit mir zu tun hat, was denkst du? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

PM Dazai, not even looking at him: I didn't ever understand what you said... But I pass, I don't care, so don't worry

Mori, with his heart destroyed:

#mori and languages #bsd mori #bsd dazai #fucked up dad mori agenda

[plinko-mori]

How do you think Mori can be as a father or husband?

What I personally think is that he as a...

Father:

Overprotective

Teaches the correct terms biologically speaking

Only sends you to the doctor when he doesn't know what you have

He treats you medically speaking

In the situation he gains too many money, you'll always have gifts

Clingy, shows too many affection

Treats you like a baby

Is in charge of your diet, although not of your routine

Doesn't act childish at all, he's a responsibility adult that sometimes will act childish

Many words of affirmation

Gives you privacy, but he's very literal and specific about times

Will teach you some of the languages he knows

Husband:

Similar of before but like, doesn't treat like if you were a baby, probably treats you like a child or teenager?

Rather than teach you will definitely correct you

Does exam from time to time

There's a day of the week, or the month, that is about you two being 24 hours together

Isn't jealous in an angry way... Like, he gets insecure and like "Will you leave me? I don't want you to leave me and I don't want to leave you 🥺"

Will act childish from time to time

Too many acts of service

I think he would tell you facts about his past, random anecdotes, etc

Will mess up with you in other languages

In both cases, he would do Elise more similar to you

#plinko mori #plinko mori asks #bsd mori headcanon #bsd mori #bsd ougai mori #bsd ogai mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd mori ogai #fucked up dad mori agenda

[plinko-mori]

Headcanon: Mori sometimes spoke happily to Dazai, with motivation... But Osamu couldn't understand him not because of feelings, but because out of nowhere Mori started speaking in another language

German, Dutch, French, Chinese, English...

#imagine knowing more than 5 languages #bsd headcanons #bsd headcanon #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd mori #bsd ougai mori #bsd ogai mori #bsd mori ougai #bsd mori ogai #bsd dazai osamu #bsd dazai #bsd osamu dazai #mori and languages #bsd mori headcanon

[plinko-mori]

I really just see Mori as a dad

Not a pervert but an obsessed dad that is too overprotective with his kiddos and can't see that

Not the best dad, but still a dad that wants the best for his kiddos but shows it in a horrible way

#fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd mori #bsd ougai mori #bsd ogai mori #bsd mori ougai #dad mori

[plinko-mori]

I think (bsd) Mori would be exactly like my dad when he tells me anecdotes, corrects information and explains a concept

A long fucking explanation that nobody wanted to hear

that I personally still love it tbh, like the way he explains it makes you listen to him... Like he adds comedy, random facts connected to what he's saying or a whole lore of his past out of nowhere that makes you stay in shock and the passion he uses to explain 😭

Mori would do that probably with the executives but a 100% with his children, I don't have proofs but I also have zero doubts

#bsd mori #bsd ougai mori #bsd ogai mori #bsd mori ogai #bsd mori ougai #bsd mori headcanon #fucked up dad mori agenda

[plinko-mori]

[Context: Ougai gave a mission to Osamu, but he "got distracted and forgot to do the mission" and the “kind soul” of Hirotsu helped Dazai]

Osamu, a little nervous: Are you mad?

Ougai, denying with his head: Es macht mich wütend, dass ich nicht wütend auf dich sein kann... [sigh] Weil ich wusste, dass das passieren würde

Osamu: W h a t

Ryurou, patting Dazai's head: Do not worry Dazai-kun, this usually happens

Ougai, after sighing: 我就不多说了，因为没有问题... So you two can go

Ryurou, understanding the Chinese: Don't worry boss, but before we go you must now that you answered Dazai in Germany

Ougai, giggling: Thank you for letting me know! I'll answer again. [innocent smile] I knew it would happen so I'm not mad, just be careful next time

Osamu, after thinking a little: Hold on a second! Hirotsu-san knows Chinese!?

Ryurou: After listening and reading too much of that language I learnt some things

Ougai, speaking with himself: I should notice when I don't speak Japanese...

#mori and languages #bsd mori #bsd dazai #bsd hirotsu #fucked up dad mori agenda #bsd mori ogai #bsd ougai mori