Molly's Fics Cause she Refuses to Read Them on Ao3

Slick

He's just finished laying down his terms for this negotiation when he hears a loud thud from behind him reverberate across his office.

At the top floor of the tallest building in Yokohama, armored in bulletproof glass windows and underlying infrastructure that could withstand a point-blank range blast from a giant dragon. Port Mafia's influence is undeniable and nobody gets to his office without express invitation.

Because of this, the other party involved in this business meeting looks at him first, as though to check with him if he has ears and has therefore heard the sound. His ears are fully functional, even if one of them is currently sporting an imprint of a certain chibi's teeth. He layers his impatience with boredom as he raises an eyebrow, taps the end of his pen against his copy of the contract. His other hand remains over his phone, as though he's ready to pick it up and walk away if they keep on boring him.

Another loud thud.

This time, Ango can't resist clearing his throat. He's standing stiffly an arm's width behind the group of representatives from the government. More specifically, from the sub-group within the government, the ones that are responsible for things such as experimenting with fusing olden gods with humans.

"...Is the Port Mafia Headquarters perhaps under some sort of attack?"

Faint impressions of a sneer flits into his face. "Then perhaps we should complete our negotiations quicker so I can attend to other matters."

Any other underground group might feel empowered by having government representatives actually deign to show themselves on their headquarters. But he knows that the only reason this group has agreed to hold this in his office instead of a more neutral location is because they're counting on this building to provide enough cover for them and their identities. After all, aside from Port Mafia staff, most people who cycle through the building's entrances and exits are either in disguise or in body bags.

As such, he doesn't bother treating them with the slightest sense of deference.

The lead scientist starts arguing over some of the terms in the contract. He doesn't see the value in squabbling over such things. At the heart of it: Port Mafia turns a blind eye to people and locations under their noses suddenly being... repurposed. In turn, the government also turns a blind eye to Port Mafia's businesses.

He's not particularly interested in the financial profits of this endeavor. He isn't all that interested about the experiments that supposedly elevate humans to godliness. But here he is anyway, enduring boredom until they finally are able to finish everything.

The ink's not even dry over the contract's duplicate copies when a particularly loud thud makes the floor grumble, reminiscent of an earthquake. The government representatives hurriedly file out of his office and into the private elevator that would bring them directly to the underground parking, where they can drive away in their unmarked vehicles.

Ango is the last one to leave, a thoughtful look on his face as he stares at the door behind Dazai.

Once he's sure that they're all out of the way, it takes him all of his self-control to not hurtle himself towards the door adjoining his personal quarters to his office. Perhaps it's for naught, because by the time he comes in and locks the door behind him, the air is saturated with so much sweetness and musk. It reminds him of apples drenched in caramel and honey, savored directly off a plate made of cedar.

Chuuya's appearance too, reminds him of the same thing. Compared to the Chuuya of one hour ago, the wanton being writhing in the middle of his bed is several notches up in debauchery. Cheeks flushed red like the ripest of apples, slick dripping out of him and wetting his ass, his thighs, running down his legs like honey. Sweat dampens his hair to the point that they seem darker, sticking to his forehead, his jaw, his neck, all over the sheets.