SUMMARY → some people are in your life for a short amount, the hardest part of that is that most of the time you don’t really get closure. you just move on, but once in a while, things work out no matter how bittersweet it is.
PAIRING → hanma shuji x fem!reader
GENRE → drabble, hurt/comfort, closure of a broken relationship
MASTERLIST→ if you want to read other works of mine
A/N → first hanma drabble of the bunch starting with the worst so i set my expectations low ALSO, yes, i did re-watch the movie and it inspired me to make this!
UNEDITED!
SOME PEOPLE ARE IN our lives just to teach us something. To be there for a fleeting moment, just a season before they disappear again and get replaced by someone new. It happens all the time but every now and then a small thing will remind you of them. Depending on how the departure went it will leave you with a warmth or dread.
“This song reminds me of her.” the man said, taking a sip of the coffee you had just placed down. You didn’t have to strain your ear to know where the song came from, “It’s from a movie.” he adds on.
Nodding you take the previous cup he drank, “Five centimetres per second.” you say, naming where the song comes from. “She would always watch it and cry thinking it would happen to us.” he tells you. Humming you whip the table down, “Did it?” you ask, playing along.
“Yeah… but not by me.” he tells you. Nodding at his word you want to know where this conversation would go and as it’s not too busy you have to time to indulge in it, “Want to tell me about them?”
“She’s married now, has kids.”
“You don’t?”
Shaking his head he looks into his cup the heat condenses on his glasses, “Never really dated anyone after.” he says, so softly you wouldn’t have heard him if you weren’t focused on his words. Shifting his gaze back to you, “Do you… do you think if I called her then she would have come with me?”
Taking a deep breath, you think deeply on how to word your answer, “I had a friend when I was younger was absolutely in love with him. And without a doubt, if he had asked me to come with him, I would have.”
“But that’s as a teen, right?”
“Yeah, when you are married and have kids it’s no longer just about one person anymore.”
Humming, he leans back. Giving you his full and utmost attention, “What would you want?” he asks instead. Feeling a little flustered by his eyes roaming your frame in such care, you turn around to take the cups from a different table, “You should call her, Shuji. I bet she would love to hear from you.”
Wiping the table, “If I were too—“ turning back around you cut him off before he could finish his question, “You wouldn’t.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it’s selfish, you know I would. And you are anything but that.”
Placing your hand on his, “I know it’s you who keeps leaving the present.” you tell him. A soft smile comes to his face, which your eyes can’t help but follow, “How did you know?”
“You’re the only one who would remember me re-watching that.” you tell him. Pressing a small kiss to his cheek, smiling softly at the man that held your heart for so long, “Bye, Hanma-Kun.” you whisper, before leaving to the front again.
“Bye.”
And just like all those times before he watches it from afar.
–pairing:devil!ran haitani x f!reader, 17th century new england au, inspired by ‘the witch (2016)’ and the salem witch trials folklore
–content:dark content, corruption, loss of virginity, ritual sex, erotic horror,monster-fucking, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstim, mentions of assault/abuse, archaic dialogue
–note:my shot at erotic horror featuring ran haitani for @semisgroupie’sheaven&hell collab bc i watched the witch and thought ran would make a good human!black phillip, dark content ahead so minors can f*ck off! feel free to rb, send me an ask, or leave a comment <3
You fled from the only home you knew since crossing the tempestuous waters of the sea after the demise of your parents, running as fast as your legs would carry. The events that led to your expulsion happened so quickly, you left with only the clothes on your back as your aunt chased you out of her home.
The resounding hammering of your heart was almost loud enough to overpower the cruel clamor of the villagers from behind the settlement’s walls. Their insults were all ones you’d heard before from the lips of the only family you had left–your paternal aunt. She had uttered them in passing as you dutifully worked on your morning chores while your uncle ogled at you, hissed them into your ear as she pulled you away from her husband’s wandering hands, and finally screeched them early that morning when she found the very same man hovering over you as he tore your bodice and pushed up your skirts.
“Whore. Slut. Witch.”
You were none of those things. Your virtue remained intact despite the attack in the barn moments prior. Your fingers had not breached your mound even when the sounds of your aunt and uncle’s couplings snaked into your ears and all of the warmth within your body pooled between your legs. Instead of falling prey to your innate sinful desires, you turned to prayer–to your faith–to dispel those corrupt thoughts. After losing your parents and your homeland, your love of God had been what kept you going. It gave you the courage to board a ship and sail to the New Land to reunite with the only family you had left, gave you the strength to work from sunrise to sunset completing household chores, and it would give you the will to press forward in hopes of finding a village or a family in need of an extra set of hands.
Hopes that wore thin after a day and a half of walking without the smallest sign of civilization. No matter how far you traveled along the edge of the dark, ominous forest, there was only a clearing of grassy rolling hills as far as the eye could see.
Throughout your journey, venturing into the wood had never been an option. Nothing good ever came from places shrouded in darkness where the lord’s light could not shine through. Darkness was what propagated all sorts of sin. That was the reason you fell asleep watching undulating flames dancing in the fireplace.
Night crept upon you, and you woke up to the sound of rustling grass and snapping twigs. Exhausted beyond anything you had ever experienced, you mindlessly followed the noises and collapsed next to a brook near the wood to quench your thirst. You cupped your hands and desperately drank your fill of freshwater until your belly cramped from the sudden intake. You were splashing water over your face when, suddenly, the faint smell of smoke wafted up your nose.
Despite the pulsating ache in your feet and calves, you leapt to your feet and staggered to the source of the scent only to find hot ashes over a bed of dead grass. It was the first sign of human life you had seen since leaving the settlement, and you could not help the breathless laugh that left your lips at the hopeful sign. Just as you wondered where the person behind the fire could have gone, you heard more rustling grass and snapping twigs and looked up to see movement in the tall grass and weeds leading to the wood.
It seemed to almost beckon you to enter it; a ray of light shining down just at the entrance before darkness engulfed the rest of the wood. Weary, hungry, and desperate, you clutched at your soiled skirts and stared at your adversary–the primeval forest–debating whether to enter or not.
In the end, you took the light as a sign from God and entered the wood, knowing that it would either lead to your salvation or perdition.
As you clumsily made your way through the forest, the little daylight that did squeeze through the thick towering treetops waned as another day in the wilderness came to an end, and your renewed hope with it.
Panic bubbled in your chest and your breathing become labored as you struggled onward. The deeper into the wood you traveled, the thicker the foliage became, until you were squeezing through vines, piercing yourself on thorned stems, running into wayward branches, and stumbling on the jutting tree roots that littered your path.
One nasty tumble, in particular, was what pushed you over the edge and had you sobbing, face down on the cold earth as hot tears spilled from your tired eyes. With your faith stripped, you were left vulnerable for sinful thoughts to cross your mind and you pleaded for death to the ground below.
But instead of death, you received another sign of life–the smell of chimney smoke–just ahead and only growing stronger. And like the survivor you were, you slowly rose to your feet and wiped your tears with dirty hands before trudging toward the miraculous smoke you weren’t so sure was a blessing from God anymore.
The difficult path eventually gave way to a clearing of dead grass where a cabin stood directly in the middle. It was a striking but strange structure of black wood panels, a steeply pitched roof, and glass-paned windows that emitted a blood orange glow from within. An intricate dwelling that was out of place yet matched the ominousness of the wood.
It wasn’t until the door creaked open that you stopped in your tracks and realized that the wood had been engulfed in uncanny silence except for the grass crackling beneath your feet. A shudder ran down your spine as you watched a tall silhouette appear from behind the door amidst the strangely tinged light.
The figure quirked its head to the side as if considering you, and blood pulsated in your ears as every fiber of your being told you to flee. But before you could take more than a step back, the figure took a step forward, and you found yourself unable to move or speak as the most handsome man you had ever seen approached you.
His appearance was unlike any other and that only added to his allure. His cropped short hair was dyed like a fine, patterned cloth and combed to the sides. His white chemise was without ruffles or puffed sleeves. His black clothing was long and form-fitting with little to no adornments save for golden buttons down the length of his waistcoat and coat and a flat and narrow red silken cravat. His black leather boots were also strange in that they stopped at the hem of his breeches instead of traveling up his calves.
It was not until you caught yourself admiring his pale skin, thin pink lips, high cheekbones, and lidded-lilac eyes that you realized you felt no shame in your libertine actions, and he too was not offended by them. On the contrary, his lips curled upward into a beguiling smile as he towered over you, his eyes catching the light as they too drank their fill of you in a way that made you feel naked.
“Thou art alone.“ It was not a question, but you were too enthralled by the melodic quality of his voice to notice. “Thou art weary, lost, and in need of shelter.”
He reached out for you, his long slender fingers picking out a dry leaf from your hair. Your breath caught in your throat as his warm fingers trailed down the side of your face to gingerly cup your cheek. Deprived of affection for far too long, you readily leaned into the strange man’s touch with a whimper, closing your eyes and pretending it was your father’s hand.
“Come unto me, Little Lamb, and thou shalt have everything thy heart desires.” He murmured, slipping his other hand behind your head and drawing you closer until his warm breath fanned over your face.
You opened your eyes and swirling orbs of lilac peered down at you, haunting and inviting all at once.
“W-what dost thou require of me?” You shivered under the intensity of his gaze, pressing your legs together as heat pooled between them.
“What canst thou give?” His head cocked to the side, and his eyes lowered to your torn bodice and further to your filthy skirt.
“I’ve only myself,” you whispered. A maddening flush spread from your cheeks up to your ears and down to your neck and chest. It pricked your skin and caused that familiar pulsating ache to build until wetness seeped past your quim.
His smile took on a sinister edge, but you had long since gone past the point of no return. “‘Tis all I ask, Little Lamb.”
He pulled you to him and his mouth pressed against yours in a fervent kiss. It was unlike what you had ever expected. It was violent and bruising, hot and wet. It overpowered you and forced you into submission. It tasted of sweet sin and set your skin aflame. It was everything you had been deprived of and you soon returned it with just as much ardor, snaking your arms around his neck and tangling your fingers in his hair.
If there was still any doubt that the stranger before you was the Devil himself, it vanished the moment your surroundings transformed into a bedroom with a crackling fireplace, dim blood orange light, and black luxurious furnishings.
The Devil’s hands slithered behind your back and ripped up your bodice and chemise until they fell onto the ground in ribbons. He did the same with the rest of your clothing until you were trembling and bare. His mouth moved down your neck and sucked on the flesh there, leaving a trail of marks in its wake. You gasped and squirmed but his hands grasped your arse and held you in place. His mouth journeyed further until he took a nipple into his wet warm mouth and suckled on it like a babe before giving the other the same attention.
Jolts of pleasure coursed through you and a throaty whine escaped your lips as the room shifted once more and you found yourself arching off silken sheets with the Devil naked and looming over you, lidded eyes aflame, swollen lips parted, and pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He was bewitchingly beautiful and all you could do was watch in awe as he settled between your legs and put his mouth on your dripping quim.
It was a dirty sinful act, but you cared not and reveled in your sin. His long forked tongue parted your folds and lapped at your slick. It traveled up to the throbbing nub atop your mound and flicked at it before drawing it between his lips and sucking until you were writhing underneath his hold. As his mouth and tongue worked your sensitive nub, A finger pushed between your folds, past the ring of tight flesh, and into your most sacred place. It thrust in and out of you with deliberate strokes that pressed against one fleshy spot in particular. One finger became two and then three and before you knew it, waves of molten pleasure built up and bubbled over, a wail ripping from your throat and blinding light clouding your vision.
You halfway expected the flames of hell to engulf you and send you to the deepest depths of Hell, but instead of death by hellfire, you were proven to be very much alive when the Devil pierced you with his cock and claimed your virtue.
He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up onto his lap. “I have accepted thy gift, Little Lamb. Thou will want for nothing. I shall provide everything thou desires. I shall be thy lord, master, father, and husband.”
The blacks of his eyes expanded until they covered the entirety of his eyeballs and a set of ridged horns protruded from his scalp. He was a monster but you cared not for he had promised everything you had ever wanted.
“Ride my cock,” he growled into your ear before gripping your hips.
“Take my seed into thy womb,” he continued, picking you up and slamming you back down onto his length.
“And seal thy fate with mine!”
You kissed the Devil and did your new master’s bidding. Your hands gripped his horns and you met each thrust of his hips with your own, sobbing out in pleasure every time he hit the nerves near your womb that had you seeing stars.
“Yes, right there!” you cried, throwing your head back in ecstasy, “there, there, there!”
He rutted into you like the beast he was, stretching you out and working you toward another peak more intense than the first one. You turned into a babbling mindless mess with each forceful thrust, your walls contracted around the Devil’s pulsating cock. An animalistic growl ripped from his throat, and he bit into your shoulder, his sharp teeth drawing out blood and long tongue lapping it up.
Pain and pleasure–that was what drove you to completion and the Devil shortly afterward. Your spend gushed out of you and coated your conjoined bodies while the Devil’s shot his inside of your womb, filling you up until your belly swelled and cramped.
You squirmed underneath him and whined in pain, but the Devil paid you no mind, pinning you down on what was now the cold rumbling earth.
Back in his human form, he pulled out of your spent quim and pressed a kiss against your sweaty brow.
“‘Tis done,” he declared with a horrifying smile. “You are mine.”
At his declaration, his seed turned molten and burned your insides. You writhed and screamed as the Devil laughed above you, lilac eyes shining, and just when you were sure the mercy of death would befall you, the ground split open beneath you, and you fell to the depths of Hell with the Devil holding you for what would be all eternity.
featuring: mikey x reader, bonten, takemichi, kazutora
note: haha let’s pretend it didn’t take me almost 2 months to write this~ regardless, i hope you all like the ending. it’s the ending i had in mind since the beginning! a huge thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented on this story~ you guys mean the world to me <3
A part of you had always known that your memory would come with a myriad of problems and emotions, but you never expected them to include the worst parts of yourself that had been buried in the darkest recesses of your mind. The putrid feelings that naturally arose in a child from a broken home. The kind that made you seek out others in similar situations just to make yourself feel better because misery really didlike a little company. Those were the terrible feelings that propelled you to look for your half-brother, the product of your father’s affair, and the only person that seemed to have it worse than you.
It was only after you found him, that you started to feel better about yourself. You appreciated the refrigerator at home that was always full, your clean and comfortable bed, and even the constant influx of toys gifted to you by your absent parents–all of the things Tetta didn’thave. And when you realized that the one thing he did have was a mother’s love, you selfishly weaseled your way into his home and took some of that love for yourself while replacing it with your warped affection for him. A transaction you considered to be generous compared to the material things your parents gave you instead.
And much like the constant influx of toys your parents sent you to make up for their absence, you showered Tetta with affection in spite of his scheming and terrible actions against those in his way. You knowingly turned a blind eye to his misdeeds and continued trailing after him like the good little sister you fooled yourself into believing you were. Because if you didn’t, then you would’ve been forced to face your true ugly self. The one you’d worked so hard to hide and forget. The selfish, miserable girl who had everything Tetta wanted and thought that being a clingy and annoying sister would’ve been enough to make up for it.
But in the end, it wasn’t. Tetta’s power-hungry spiral led him to an early and terrible death, and you coped the only way you knew how– burying your guilt and acting the part of the naive little sister whose only fault was loving her lost cause of a brother. It took everything you had gone through with Mikey and Bonten to strip the veil from your eyes and see that your brother had been a despicable person who had gone so far as to kill in cold blood.
As the faces of Izana Kurokawa and Emma Sano swirled around in your mind, you felt Kaku’s warm breath stutter behind you as his body shifted.
“Mmm can’t sleep?” His morning voice came out gruff as he tightened his hold on your waist and drew you closer until you could feel the calm beating of his heart over his warm chest. It was the middle of the night but your thoughts were running haywire and you were finally coming to terms with your past actions–or inactions–particularly when it came to someone the man holding you had cared for deeply.
“Did you ever hate me… after what he did to Izana?”
The question left your lips before you realized you’d been thinking aloud. It took him a moment, but he sucked in a breath when it dawned on him who exactly you were referring to.
“I hated Kisaki… but never you. I could never hate you.” He admitted slowly, tasting the words as they slipped from his lips to the shell of your ear. “I know you had nothing to do with his crimes.”
He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple before settling back into bed with a tired yawn, his thumb tracing circles over your hip. You knew it was meant to comfort you but his touch only made your skin prickle from guilt. You couldn’t help but feel that you didn’t deserve it. His comfort. His love. His faulty faith in your innocence. All of those things weighed heavily on your conscience along with the knowledge that you could have done something to stop your brother and perhaps prevented the tragedy that occurred on that frigid February day. The one that ripped two of Mikey’s loved ones–a brother and sister–and probably led him down that path of self-destruction.
And for the first time since your memories returned, you felt something other than fear and resentment toward the man who’d held you accountable for your brother’s sins. Your heart clenched with pity for Manjiro Sano and just like every night since you’d woken up from your accident, you fell asleep thinking of him.
The following morning, you woke up to a crippling fear when you realized you would have to face Mikey and pretend you hadn’trecovered your memories and were planning your escape. It swirled in your belly and scarcely let you keep down the couple bite of breakfast you did manage to swallow. It was all you could think about despite Kaku’s best efforts to distract you with plans for your future together.
He spoke of different places the two of you could visit, at home and abroad, but your mind kept going back to the penthouse and your white jail cell. He even talked about the childhood friend that would be hiding you in the meantime, Takemichi Hanagaki, but the only piece of information that stuck with you was that he’d been close to Mikey before Bonten’s inception. But it wasn’t until the two of you were in the back of a cab heading back to the penthouse, that your strained string of composure snapped the moment Kaku hung up on Koko and disclosed that Mikey and the rest of Bonten would return in the evening.
“I-I can’t go back there!” The declaration came out rushed and desperate. With your head tilted downward, you wrung your hands together over your lap.
Kaku’s concerned gaze weighed heavily on you. “What do you mean you can’t go back? You don’t have another option, Y/N.” He reached for your hands but you jerked them away and looked up.
“W-What if I can’t escape?!” you demanded, not caring if you had an audience. “What if Mikey finds out or what if I just can’t leave–”
You barely managed to stop yourself from giving yourself away, from voicing that dark and twisted feeling you’d been struggling to snuff out since last night. The ‘him’ was on the tip of your tongue, but you swallowed it and turned away, shame bubbling in your chest. You were sick. There was no other explanation for why you were having those feelings of regret when it came to Mikey, and you feared returning to his side because you weren’t sure you would have the strength to leave him if you did.
A choked sob ripped from your throat at the thought of sentencing Kaku to death over your betrayal. Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries.
Unable to see you cry, Kaku pulled you into his arms and held you close, tucking your head underneath his chin. He smelled of the hotel room’s soap and his signature musk. He smelled like safety and everything you should’ve wanted without a shred of doubt but didn’t, so you buried your face in his chest and cried even harder while he held you tighter.
“I’ll meet with Takemichi today so we can get you out of there tomorrow before first light, okay?”
You wished you had the means to leave on your own and not have to depend on a knight-in-shining-armor to come to your rescue. But you didn’t and you probably never would even with Kaku.
Unable to voice your response, you nodded against his chest and braced yourself for your reunion with Mikey, hoping you’d put an end to your traitorous feelings toward him once and for all.
For the first time since your imprisonment at Bonten’s penthouse, you were alone. Kakucho had left you there with a kiss on your forehead and the promise of freedom early the following morning. A promise that had lost its sweetness now that you had returned and were left to your own devices in facing Mikey. Once you retreated to your white room, an overwhelming sense of helplessness settled into your bones and made your escape seem impossible.
You tried working on a variety of tasks around your room to keep your mind off Mikey but everything you touched made you think of him and the things he’d done to you. The lies and manipulation he used to have you do his bidding. The encounters with the Bonten members he orchestrated that you now realized were meant to punish you but quickly snowballed into something messier. Something that had started off as a sick revenge ploy and contorted into an unhealthy obsessive relationship. Mikey wanted to make you his and you didn’t know if you could part from him in spite of everything done to you.
In the end, you gave up on keeping yourself busy and settled for a shower before heading to bed. It was a futile attempt to avoid him, much like a child covering its eyes and thinking they’re safe just because they’re blind to the dangers surrounding them, but it was all you could think to do in order to prevent yourself from going mad with worry. Perhaps if luck was on your side, you’d be able to avoid the reunion altogether and leave without ever facing him.
Unfortunately, it’d been some time since luck had genuinely been on your side, and you were stirred awake by the sound of the heavy door and Mikey’s strained voice.
“I know you’re awake,” he said as he approached you. “Why aren’t you greeting me like always?”
Your heart dropped at that, but you braced yourself before drawing the covers back and sitting up on the edge of the bed, slowly taking in the man you resented yet cared for. The person who was your enemy, captor, pretend brother, and lover. Seeing him dressed in black and covered in blood, you recalled the last thought you had before succumbing to your injury; a thought that likened him to the personification of death. And just like your first encounter, Mikey came to you–only this time you didn’t pass out. His hands, although clean, smelled like blood and gunpowder as they gingerly held your petrified face. As he searched your face. his pools of endless black widened before his brow furrowed and a glint of melancholy shone only to be replaced by a hardened look–one he’d only directed at his men but never you.
His lips twitched into a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and your throat constricted. You gripped the covers as you peered up at Mikey and to your horror, his thumbs wiped away tears you hadn’t realized you’d shed.
“Your memories are back, aren’t they?” It was a statement posed as a question that left no room for you to answer it. “You’re looking at me the same way you did when we first met.”
You opened your mouth to refute him, but you couldn’t form the words and just stared up at him in horror. His smile disappeared and he released your face, turning his back to you in what you could only describe as disappointment.
The plan had failed, and it was all your fault. You were unable to save Tetta and Hanma and now Kaku and Koko would be added to that list unless you threw Mikey off their scent. You wracked your brain for what to say or what to do in order to protect them and decided to ask the question you had wanted to ask him since you recovered your memories.
“Did you really want me dead?”
That caught his attention well enough. He paused halfway to the door before turning his head just enough to see his profile. The dark circles underneath his sunken eyes were more pronounced than you remembered, and you wondered if he’d gotten any sleep since the last time you slept together.
His mouth opened for a moment but he quickly shut it and looked down. Mikey had always been a force of power to you, but ever since you’d started recovering your memories, he seemed to have weakened. The Mikey that stood before you was a shell of what he had once been. Gone was the all-powerful and ruthless leader of Bonten who made grown men tremble with only a look.
He faced you head-on and you resisted the itching urge to comfort him, to make meaningless apologies and ignore the root of the problem. You’d done it countless times with Tetta and you’re subconscious forced the same habit with Mikey, but you were resolved to put an end to it all.
When Mikey seemed to realize you weren’t going to fall back on your old habits, a glimpse of panic crossed his face before he looked to his feet.
“I did… I was planning on killing you myself that day,” he looked up and gave you a rueful smile. “I didn’t think it was fair that Kisaki’s sister got to live while mine was dead.”
You repeated Sanzu’s words from that day. “An eye for an eye.”
He shifted his gaze and looked lost in thought. “Exactly.”
Silence filled the space between the two of you as you contemplated a world where your brother hadn’t delivered the blow that led to Emma Sano’s death. You eventually shook that fantasy from your head and stood up to face reality head-on.
“I’m not Tetta,” you declared, approaching a stunned Mikey, “and I’m not Emma. I’m just me.”
For the first time in your warped relationship, you had some semblance of control and didn’t hesitate in getting everything off your chest.
“I’ll admit that I did turn a blind eye to his schemes and crimes, and for that, I apologize. And while I don’t think I deserved to die for that, I do think my memory loss and everything else that happened was some sort of long overdue karma.”
He shook his head lightly, the remorse on his face as clear as day. “No matter what you did or didn’t do, what I did to you was wrong, and I want to apologize even if I don’t expect or deserve your forgiveness.”
You were speechless. An apology from Mikey was something you had never expected. He was the leader of Japan’s largest crime syndicate and apologies, let alone remorse, had no place with someone like him. Yet there he was, sorry for using you as an outlet for revenge against your brother’s crimes and with no expectation of forgiveness. You had already known reuniting with him would’ve weakened your resolve on leaving him but his lament was like a wrecking ball crashing into it and causing it to crumble with each forlorn look his midnight eyes cast in your direction.
You wondered if his remorse was enough to let you go. You licked your lips as you tried to find the right words to say, and his eyes darted to your mouth. Warmth spread across your cheeks under his intense stare. When you finally mustered enough willpower to breach the subject, Mikey beat you to the punch.
“And I’m also sorry because even though I don’t deserve you, I can’t let you go.” He went to you, retaking your face in his hands. You watched frozen in place as that familiar deranged expression peeked through his mask of sorrow, lips twitching, eyes glazed over, and pupils blown out. He backed you against a wall and, just like that, regained control.
“Just as I was unable to kill you.”
With his body pressed against yours–his warm breath fanning across your face–heat pooled in your core and goosebumps rose across the expanse of your skin. The power his touch, words, and gaze had over you was terrifying considering your memories hadreturned and you were well aware of his true motive behind your kidnapping and manipulation. It was as if nothing had changed between you–no, things had changed. You could love and be loved by him without that voice in the back of your head telling you it was wrong because he was your brother. It was now telling you something different altogether.
“Mikey, no, th-this relationship isn’t healthy.” You pleaded, pressing against his chest and ignoring the growing arousal pressing against your stomach. “We can’t go on like this… I-I need to leave.”
He chuckled at that and shook his head before pressing his forehead against yours, the smell of blood and sweat filling your nostrils. You watched as one of his hands pulled out a handgun from his back pocket and set it down on the nightstand next to you.
“Since we both know I’m incapable of killing you, the only way you’ll be able to get rid of me is if youkillme because I refuse to die by anyone else’s hand but yours.” He nuzzled against your neck, tickling the sensitive skin there as he inhaled your scent. “Otherwise, if you run away, I’ll keep searching for you. I’ll chase you until the ends of the earth if I have to.”
It was a threat that tasted like a promise, made only sweeter by the press of his lips against your jugular. You gasped at the sensation of his warm, wet tongue trailing up to your jaw, and that was all the invitation Mikey needed to seize the back of your head and draw you into a hungry kiss.
You wasted no time in reciprocating it and pulling him closer until you were also tainted with the blood he’d spilled. The possibility of this kiss, this encounter, being your last spurred your desperation and you matched his ardor, well-aware of where it would lead.
The two of you made your way to your bed amidst a series of messy kisses and fervent touches. His hands ran up your thighs, while you snaked them around his torso, the skirt of your nightgown bunching up around your hips in the process. When the air in your lungs ran out and he broke off your kiss, the intoxicating desire shining in his eyes coaxed a whimper from your lips. Your own lust fogged your mind and muffled the voice of reason begging you to untangle yourself from your captor and finally put an end to it all.
But how could you when Mikey’s lips quirked into that satisfied grin he wore whenever you surrendered to him before reattaching to your skin and leaving a trail of marks down your throat, while his erection pressed against your aching core just enough to tease but not satiate your need no matter how much your hips writhed against him? That voice’s pleas fell on deaf ears as you worked on removing the pesky bloodied clothing that separated you from what you wanted.
You took in his pale skin that shined underneath the moonlight and marveled at the sight of him. Your hands traveled up the expanse of his exposed skin, committing each groove and indent to memory while he rested his head against your forehead and watched. His breath hitched when your fingers brushed against his erect nipples. Emboldened by his reaction, you lowered your mouth to one of them and flicked at it with your tongue while your thumb mimicked the same movement on the other. He let out the needy moan when your lips wrapped around the now swollen nub and you rolled the other between two digits.
You reveled in the power you had over him and finished stripping him of his clothes by tugging on his briefs and releasing his erect cock, flushed at the tip and already leaking. You brushed the slit with your thumb, ready to pump his length, but he pulled away first, leaving you dumbfounded.
“No,” he hissed, seizing your wrists. “Your turn.”
Before you could ask what he meant, he pulled off your flimsy nightgown and captured your lips in another fervent kiss, making you dizzy with desire. He settled you on your back and helped pull off your underwear. Bare and lying on the bed at his mercy, you panted as his eyes greedily drank you in. You flushed and tried to cover yourself when you were all too aware of your current state only to have Mikey pin your arms down at your sides.
“Don’t. I want to see you.” He breathed and planted butterfly kisses down your shoulder to your clavicle. “And worship you.”
He returned your attentions tenfold by sucking and nipping at your nipples, taking his time with each until they throbbed and you were a writhing, teary mess underneath.
Clinging to his back, your nails dug into his shoulder blades. “Mikey, please. I want you–I need you.”
You felt him smile against your skin. “Patience, sweetheart,” he kissed down your sternum to your navel. “I’ll give you what we both want.”
Mikey held your thighs apart and put his warm mouth on your cunt, sliding his tongue through your wet folds and over your sensitive nub. You cried out from the delicious shock and buried your fingers in his hair, while he growled and closed his mouth around your clit, lapping and suckling at the throbbing bundle of nerves.
A series of whines left your lips from the pressure building in your core. “Yes, yes, yes, God, Mikey, yes…”
Your orgasm overtook you, your words trailing off, and you gasped, back arching and bright white dotting your vision.
For a moment the only sounds you could make out were your ragged intakes of breath and Mikey’s mouth devouring your cunt like a starved man. It didn’t take long for another peak to build before your first one subsided, but before you could come on his tongue once more, he moved above you, spreading your legs and burying his entire length inside of you.
It’d only been a couple of days since the two of you had last fucked, but it felt longer than that. Being stretched and filled with Mikey’s cock had been amazing the first time, but the pleasure you felt now was unlike any other. You chalked it up to the knowledge he wasn’t your brother at first, but quickly realized it was probably the possibility of never seeing him again after that night. Tears dotted your eyes and you had a harder time discerning the reasoning behind them.
Mikey readjusted your legs by placing them over his shoulders before he pulled out his cock and pushed it back in, black eyes watching in fascination as your cunt greedily swallowed him up.
“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groaned, meeting your gaze with his smoldering one. “Such a good girl for me.”
His strokes were short and shallow, rubbing against that spot that made your toes curl and your hips roll against him, but after a while, you needed more.
“Mmmm Mikey, please.” You moaned, bringing a hand to where your bodies met. “Harder… faster”
Never one to deny you in bed, he gripped your hips and fucked you the way you wanted to be fucked. He dragged his cock against your walls, pulling out almost entirely before ramming his entire length back in and hitting your cervix with each thrust.
“God, I fucking love you.” He moaned before placing a kiss against the side of your leg. “I could stay like this forever and it still wouldn’t be enough.”
“I-I love you too, Mikey.” You keened before pulling him down to seal your love with a kiss.
The delicious friction of your fucking and the added stimulation of your clit had your eyes rolling back as your orgasm washed over you. A wail ripped from your throat as your muscles stiffened and you gushed around his cock, coating your conjoined bodies with your release. Your cunt clenched around him until it was all too much and his hips stuttered as he came with a groan, filling you up with his seed.
With lidded eyes, you watched his entire body shudder as your cunt pulsed around his length, wringing out every last drop of his seed. The possibility of becoming pregnant with Mikey’s child crossed your mind, and you found you didn’t dislike the thought. You wanted to savor everything about him at that moment, his lithe body covered in a sheen of sweat, the tendrils of his white hair that stuck to his forehead, his pink parted lips drawing in ragged breaths from the exertions of your fucking, and the rise and fall of his chest and the erectness of his nipples, still flushed from your earlier attention.
The man you loved was so beautiful. You wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of your days in bed with him, where you were both stripped away of your problems and past. The only place where you were just a man and a woman that loved each other. Not the enemies your turbulent past wanted you to be. And if you didn’t have other people involved in your escape, you might’ve just stayed with Mikey.
But you couldn’t betray Kaku, Koko, and their friends who were willing to risk their lives to hide you from Mikey. You couldn’t selfishly ignore the problems around you and pretend everything was fine anymore. So with tears burning your eyes, you gave him a forced smile before pulling him into an embrace. He settled his head against your neck and sighed in contentment, causing you to hesitate just for a moment before continuing with your plan.
With one arm slung over his shoulders to hold him in place, the other carefully reached over to the nightstand and picked up Mikey’s handgun. The cool metal weapon was heavy in your palm as you handled it–almost as heavy as the pit lodged in your throat–but you swallowed your guilt and held the gun out.
“Mikey,” you croaked as the beginnings of a sob broke through. “I’m sorry!”
Mikey’s breath hitched, and as soon as he lifted his head, you bashed the side of his head with the gun repeatedly until the iron tang of blood assaulted your nostrils and his head slumped against your shoulder.
It was only when Mikey laid unconscious on top of you, and his warm blood trickled onto your face that you dropped the bloodied gun and sobbed apologies into his shoulder.
Cleaned up and dressed in the only pair of pants you owned, you curled up on your armchair and waited for the first signs of sunrise. Clutching your knees, you glanced over at the bed where Mikey lay unconscious. You’d cleaned his wound and wrapped his head to keep it clean, careful to not move him too much. Every second that passed increased the risk he’d wake up, so you spent your time alternating between watching the night sky and his unconscious form.
When the warm glow of the sun finally peeked through the horizon, you stood up and walked over to where Mikey was. The moments when you got to stare at his sleeping face were rare. He looked at peace and you observed him for a moment before picking up the cleaned gun and tucking it behind your pants. With your heart racing in your chest, you walked to the door without looking back.
The penthouse was eerily silent as you shut the door behind you and made your way to the front elevator. It wasn’t until you rounded a corner that someone pulled you by the arm and slammed you against the wall.
You hissed in pain and watched Sanzu’s scarred mouth twist into a sinister smile. He looked like a mess. His skin was sallow and sweaty, pupils dilated to the point that his baby blue irises were barely visible, and his eyes were rimmed red. Even without the twitching and angry red scratches on his neck, you could tell he was high and having a bad trip.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He sighed, trapping you between his arms and pressing a knee between your legs. “You should be with Mikey,”
He pressed against you until you felt him harden underneath his slacks. “Unless you’re tired of him and want someone else.”
“N-no! Stop it, Sanzu.” You tried escaping his grasp but he only ground against you. “M-Mikey won’t like it if you do this!”
He laughed and pushed off you before gripping your neck and slamming you back into the wall. You cried out in pain while also managing to conceal the sound of the gun hitting the wall.
He glowered at you. “What Mikey doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he snarled and took your lips into a bruising kiss. You pushed against him with one hand while the other snaked behind you.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment, Y/N. Ever since that day Mikey let me have you.” He worked his way down to your neck while you balled your hands into fists, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“You see this is how things were meant to be, Mikey having his fill of you and then letting me have a turn. After all, it’s thanks to me that he found you in the first place.” His free hand shoved inside of your panties and you bit back a yelp.
“I found you.” His fingers parted your dry folds.
“I killed Hanma.” He painfully forced two digits inside your unwilling cunt.
“I led you to him!”
He curled his fingers inside and you shifted your hips under the guise of responding to his ministrations to pull out the gun. And as he smirked at you while fingering your dry cunt, you switched off the safety and shot him in the stomach just as the elevator dinged.
“AHHHH!!!”
Staggering back, he screamed in pain as fresh blood permeated the front of his purple vest and spilled onto the floor. His hand covered his wound and soon enough the pale pink sleeve of his button-down turned crimson. You tried getting away but your legs gave out, and you collapsed on the floor, bile rising in your throat from the overwhelming smell and sight of his blood.
“You little bitch!” He lunged at you and managed to grasp one of your ankles. “I’m gonna fucking kill y-”
A deafening gunshot reverberated off the walls and silenced Sanzu for good, the bullet going right through the center of his head. Your blood ran cold, your ears rang, and your head pounded as Sanzu’s lifeless body toppled over.
There was a piercing scream and it was only when Kaku’s large hand covered your mouth that you realized it was yours.
“Shhh… it’s okay. You’re okay.” He pulled your quivering form into his lap and held you tightly until you managed to recollect yourself.
Footsteps coming from the front elevators caught your attention and you turned to see Koko rushing to you, his face pulled into a scowl. He briefly glanced at Sanzu’s corpse before shaking his head and helping you to your feet.
“We’ve gotta get out of here,” Koko seethed, pulling you toward the exit. “All of us. There’s no oth–”
He stopped mid-sentence when Takeomi emerged from the shadows, gun in one hand and gaze locked on his little brother’s dead body lying in a pool of his blood.
It only took a moment for him to put two and two together and avenge his brother’s death but it felt much longer than that for you. It was as if the scene was played out in slow-motion; you saw everything but could do nothing to prevent it. As Takeomi drew closer and aimed his gun, Koko wrapped his arm around your waist and dragged you away. Tears burned your eyes and a wail tore from your throat as you dug your heels into the ground and clawed at Koko’s arm. Kaku turned around and offered you a reassuring smile before closing his eyes. Takeomi fired his gun just as Koko lurched you around and shielded you from witnessing the death of your most cherished childhood friend.
As Koko dragged you around the corner, you managed to look back one last time to find Ran and Rindou holding back a weaponless Takeomi mourning his brother while Mochi appeared from the shadows, defeated, as he stared at the lifeless bodies of Bonten’s top two men. Led by Koko, you stepped into the elevator and descended to what would be a new chapter in your life. Even without Koko stating it, you knew that was the last you would see of them. And by the look your companion gave you once he passed you on to his friend, Inui Seishu, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d ever see him again too.
Seven long months had passed since your escape, and in the meantime, it seemed like the whole country had forgotten all about the ruthless Bonten gang that had disbanded in a couple of days and disappeared off the face of the earth immediately afterward. The media blamed their fall on a power struggle between Kaku, Sanzu, and Mikey that left the former two dead and the latter missing along with the Haitani brothers, Takeomi, Mochi, and Koko. But while everyone else seemed to have forgotten Bonten, your protectors, Takemichi Hanagaki and Seishu Inui, didn’t, and they made sure you were always guarded in case Mikey ever did make good on his promise of finding you–especially in your current condition.
You sat out on the balcony above D&D Motors admiring the sunset as the ex-Toman members ate, drank, and chatted away inside Draken and Inui’s shared flat. The guys always got rowdy during their little reunion–especially when alcohol was involved–and while you normally had Hina’s company to distract you, she was running late and you were feeling emotional at the sight of Toman without its leader. You feigned nausea when Draken sent you a worried look and Inui stopped you before letting you go with a nod.
Leaning back on one of the wicker chairs, you closed your eyes, took a couple of deep breaths, and focused on the sounds around you. It was an exercise your therapist had introduced you to months ago and one you found helped when you were feeling more emotional than usual.
The sliding door opened and Takemichi stepped out, taking a seat on the chair next to you with a sheepish look on his face.
“You okay? You were looking a little pale.” His cornflower-blue eyes were wide with worry as they trailed down your face to your swollen stomach.
“We’re okay,” you assured him. “Just feeling a little emotional seeing everyone together except…”
You placed a hand over your womb to find comfort in your baby’s gentle breathing and stirrings. Takemichi’s gaze lingered on your hand before smiling knowingly.
“It’s hard for me too. Knowing that he’s out there all alone after everyone he’s lost.” He leaned forward and placed a comforting hand over yours.
“Which is why I think we should find him.”
“Wait wha- Ah!”
At his declaration, your heart leapt to your throat and you jerked forward, surprising your baby and suffering the consequences.
Takemichi rushed to you with a look of panic on his face, hands lingering over your shoulders and stomach.
“Are you okay? Is the baby okay?”
You rubbed your belly and waited for your baby to settle before sitting back on the chair.
“I’m fine. We’re fine,” you said with a smile.“She’s just a kicker, this one.”
“Like her father,” he replied without missing a beat. A silence followed as memories of the man filled the void.
“So you know where he is,” you stated. “Who else knows?”
“Just you, me, and Tora, although I suspect Inupi has an inkling,” Takemichi admitted as he returned to his seat.
You chuckled. “Of course he does. Nothing gets past him.” He nodded with a grin, glancing inside to find Inui scowling at a drunk Chifuyu.
Your gaze followed his and trailed toward Draken who was deep in conversation with Pah and Peh. “Are you planning on telling Draken?”
“Not unless Mikey agrees to come back.” Takemichi tore his gaze from his friends to the orange sky. “I don’t want him to suffer through another disappointment.”
You nodded, peering down at your swollen stomach. “I understand. That’s also the reason why I haven’t told him my little girl’s name yet.”
“So does tha-”
“Yes, I’m going to Mikey, and I’ll only return if he agrees to come back with me and Emma.”
Takemichi opened his mouth, but his protest died on his tongue and said nothing, nodding silently instead.
“He’s up north in one of Bonten’s old resorts near some-”
“Hot springs,” you finished, recalling the time you declared your love for him all while recovering bits and pieces of your memory.
“You’ve been there?” He was understandably surprised.
“Yes, once,” you admitted. “Although I can’t say I know the exact location.”
“No worries. I have the address and everything. If I didn’t have to work this weekend, I’d take you there myself tomorrow.” He rubbed the back of his head and sighed, leaning back in his seat.
It was sooner than you expected, but you couldn’t waste any more time waiting for him to make the first move. You were done with just sitting around and waiting for others to make decisions for you. After months of healing and introspection, Mikey was still the one you wanted and you were determined to meet him and see if he still wanted you.
“I’ll go by myself. It’d probably be best if I did anyway.”
He wore the worried expression he’d adopted as of late whenever you did anything that would put a strain on your body, and his gaze lowered to your belly; the source of his worry.
“Are you sure it won’t be too hard on you?”
Resting a hand over your protruding stomach, you gently shook your head. “I’ve got two months left before I pop.” You shot Takemichi a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”
The following morning, you left with Kazutora so Inui wouldn’t ask too many questions, but from the lingering look he gave, you wondered if he suspected the purpose behind your outing and the possibility of never seeing you again. There was a tug on your heart as you exited the shop and gave Draken a wave that he replied to with a nod. You would miss the warmth and solace that Inui, Takemichi, Draken, and to a lesser extent the rest of the Toman gang, offered, but it would pale in comparison to the hollow in your chest you had been living with ever since you left Mikey.
“You okay from here?” Kazutora asked after walking a couple of blocks.
In the months you’d come to know him, Kazutora was the one Toman member you never connected with. He’d always been distant and reserved with you, and after a while, you stopped trying to break down walls you knew he’d only build right back up again. Takemichi chalked it up to pent-up guilt he still felt toward Mikey, and in some ways, you understood. Guilt was a major reason you never spoke candidly with Draken about Emma Sano or Tetta.
“Yeah, thanks.” You turned to face him while he looked away.
“I- tell him… never mind,” he sighed before running a hand through his long hair. You decided to be bolder and placed a comforting hand over his arm.
“Hey, I get it. Don’t worry.”
For the first time since you met him, it felt like Kazutora was truly seeing you and not Kisaki’s sister or Mikey’s girl. And when he walked away with his head tilted up and a lightness to his step, you vowed to bring back Mikey to give Kazutora the closure he still needed. The same closure you planned on giving yourself when you made a detour to buy a wisteria bonsai tree and headed to visit your brother for the last time.
It was only when you saw the untended state of your family’s grave that you spared a thought for your absent parents. Were they still so busy that they couldn’t spare some time to pay their respects and tidy up the grave?
A sharp kick from your baby stirred you from your thoughts and reminded you of the task at hand. With the plastic wrapping of the small potted tree, you cleared off the dead leaves and dirt that covered the gravestone and placed the pot on the ledge in front of the wooden marker with your brother’s name.
“Sorry it took so long,” you said, tracing the characters of his name branded onto the marker. “But here it is.”
Unlike your previous visit, tears didn’t well up in your eyes and your throat didn’t close up. Instead, all you felt was the relief of being released from a burden that’d been with you for so long you’d forgotten what it was to live without it.
“I hope it can comfort you in ways I couldn’t,” you took a deep breath before continuing. “I-I’m done living with regret. I’m going to live my life the way I want… fearlessly and next to the people I want… and I’m sorry… for all the ways I wronged you.”
You took a step back, inclined your head, and clasped your hands together. With your eyes closed, you wordlessly offered a prayer for your brother–the last thing you would do for him–before crumpling up the wrapping into a ball and leaving, not sure if you would ever visit again.
You stood in front of the derelict resort as the taxi you had taken from the train station drove away, mulling over how different the situation was compared to almost a year ago. Overgrown foliage covered the walls and sidewalks and no lights were on despite the late hour. Instead of sleeping most of the way, you’d remained awake and took in the sights during the train ride out of the city. And whereas the reason behind your previous visit had remained unknown, this time you knew exactly why you were here and what you hoped to accomplish.
Inside, the resort wasn’t in any better shape. It appeared to have been abandoned since the fall of Bonten and had been visited by looters. Most of the furnishings had been taken away or broken to pieces. Paper doors were torn. Glass shards littered dirty hardwood floors. The smell of mildew permeated the air. Bugs and small animals scurried out of your way as you made your way through the abandoned building searching for a sign of human life in a place that had once been filled with it. A sign that came in the form of a warm glowing light spilling from one of the suites. With bated breath and your heart in your throat, you nervously walked toward the room and peered inside.
Across the room, Mikey sat on the floor looking out at the neglected garden, leaning against the Shoji door frame with a shot glass of amber liquid. There was a small lantern next to him as well as a large bottle of liquor and countless others, empty and scattered across the floor. He looked different than you remembered him. His hair was longer and dyed black. His skin was sallow and his eyes wearier than before. His clothes were wrinkled, stained, and smelled of the same pungent liquor he drank. It was as if he’d stopped taking care of himself around the same time Bonten fell. He was a ghost of a person. A living person playing at being dead. A man that had lost everything including his will to live.
If he noticed your presence, he gave no indication. He turned away from the garden to look straight ahead and downed his shot. A cool gust of wind sent shivers down your spine and you adjusted your oversized cardigan before entering the room, trepidation in each and every one of your steps. You stood in front of him and only addressed him when he refused to even look at you.
“I got tired… of waiting for you to fulfill your promise.” His sunken eyes remained stubbornly fixed on the wood of the doorframe opposite to him, so you continued with just as much stubbornness. “Although I can’t say it was much of a chase… or that this place deserves the title of the ‘ends of the world’.”
At that, Mikey turned to face you, black eyes as dull and lifeless as coal and thin mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Are you finally here to kill me? To avenge Hanma, the woman from the store, and Kakucho? For what I put you through? The lies I fed you in order to manipulate you into doing my bidding? For fucking you while making you believe I was your brother?”
Each poison-laced word that spilled from his mouth was like a gash against your heart, reopening wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. Tears glazed your eyes and your throat closed up, leaving you unable to utter a word. You couldn’t remember a time when you’d seen so much anger and anguish swirling around in his orbs, weighing down on his brow, and tightening his jaw. It relieved and frightened you all at once. It gave you consolation knowing he was still capable of emotion even if it could lead to him breaking his other promise of being ‘incapable of killing you.’
But just like the other times you had been in need of grounding, your baby reminded you of her presence with a firm kick against your stomach. That was all it took for you to brace yourself against Mikey’s storm of emotions and find the words you needed to say.
“And leave my child without a father? I don’t think so.”
Anger and anguish molded into shock as his eyes lowered to your stomach. You shrugged off your cardigan and held your pronounced belly, leaving no room for doubt.
The empty shot glass slipped from Mikey’s hand and shattered on the patio, discarded and forgotten after your announcement. After recovering enough to move, he shakily rose to his knees and crawled the short distance to you, his wide eyes glued to your belly.
He sat back on his haunches when he reached you. “H-How long?”
“Seven months,” you replied, rubbing your belly. “She’s a perfectly healthy and active baby.”
His glazed eyes met yours and all you saw was warmth and amazement etched into his face. An expression you’d never seen on him but one you preferred to all the others.
“She…? Y-you mean?”
You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. “We’re having a little girl.”
He exhaled sharply before breaking into a tentative smile. His hands trembled as they rose to touch your belly but only hovered over it in hesitation. You helped him along by taking his hands and pressing them against the front where your baby moved the most. Your daughter was as responsive as always and kicked not once, but twice for her dad.
Mikey looked up at you in wonder, causing a surge of affection to bubble in your chest. You were unable to resist the urge to caress his cheek and brought his head against your firm stomach so he could hear his daughter. He wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close while you ran your fingers through his hair. It might’ve been imperfect, but this was your little family and tears streamed down your face as you watched Mikey’s face light up with each movement your daughter made.
“I-I was thinking of Emma for a name,” you breathed as one hand cradled your belly and the other his cheek. “After her late aunt.”
At first you thought it was a trick of the light, but as you felt wetness against your belly, you realized Mikey was crying. You wondered how long it had been since he’d shed tears. Had he shed any for his fallen comrades months ago? Or had the last time been his sister’s death all those years ago? If he was embarrassed by the act, he didn’t show it and merely tightened his hold on you while his tears soaked your clothing.
“Thank you for coming back to me.” He said after his tears ceased and placed a gentle kiss over the swell of your belly before rising to his feet and cradling your face in his hands. “And for giving me a reason to live.”
You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, relishing in the familiar feeling of his cool, calloused hands.
“Thank you for waiting.”
And just like that evening when you confessed your love for him and Mikey made love to you, he pressed a slow and gentle kiss to your lips. That same kiss that had seemed like a promise. A promise you now realized was a promise of love. A love that had patiently healed and was ready to begin anew.
summary: im sorry im so lazy and i just want to post this – soft sex w vulnerable house husband sanzu
warnings: bonten timeline au, sub!sanzu, house husband!sanzu, vulnerable!sanzu, gang executive!reader, soft dom/service dom!reader, kind of body worship, praise, pet names (baby), slight breeding kink, mentions of past severe physical wounds/implied disability + ptsd because of them (Sanzu)
notes: this is very much borderline selfship and i was hesitant on sharing but my friends convinced, please be mindful with tags, i just wanted to be soft with haruchiyo sobs + i also might be basing a mini series off of this
He tried his best. He really, really did. But as much as he wished to be, and as much as he tried to be, Sanzu Haruchiyo was just simply not cut out to be a house husband. He could not cook–everything he tried to cook ended up inedible and he had nearly set your home on fire several times, causing more work for you when all he wanted was to make something for you so you could relax after a long day at work; he could not clean, he had the attention span of a gnat and every time he tried, he got distracted and forgot to finish and only remembered when you came home with that disappointed stare as you looked around the apartment and his heart felt like it was lodged in his throat.
Because you took care of him so well, you bought him everything he wanted, made sure that he never had to ask for anything, work for anything, and he couldn’t even give you the most simple things. He missed being able to be by your side and he hated trying to do things for you and failing miserably.
And the worst part was that everybody knew. Ran, who was the perfect house husband for his partner–home always spotless and fancy dinners always made for when they came home from work. Rindou, who worked with you, who Sanzu knew had his eye on you and looked down on him knowing that he would be able to do better for you.
He hated it.
And Ran was vocal about it, constantly making snide comments whenever they crossed paths in the apartment complex, like today. Rindou didn’t need to be, it showed on his face whenever Sanzu showed up with you to a work event on your arm–the flash of hatred, disgust, jealousy.
Hehatedit.
And he tried his best to pretend it didn’t bother him but…
“You cause more work for her than you do help, don’t even know why she still wastes her time with you.”
He stared out the window, Ran’s words ringing through his head over and over and over again as he tried to answer the question himself. Why, why, why, why?
But no answer came.
–
You came home late again. A sigh on your lips as you slipped off the blazer you wore to the negotiation meeting, hanging it up on the coat rack before tugging the tie around your neck, letting it hang loose. You turned your attention back toward the rest of the apartment, frowning when Sanzu wasn’t there to greet you, and when you didn’t smell the burnt attempt at dinner like you usually did.
You frowned, “Haruchiyo,” you called, anxiety building when you got no response from your husband, “Baby, where are you?”
You dropped your bag to the ground as panic began to set in when you got no response. Flicking the lights on to look in the kitchen for him, throat closing up when you realized he wasn’t sitting at the table waiting for you.
“Baby?” your voice edged at a more desperate tone, mind beginning to swarm with worst case scenario thoughts. It wouldn’t be the first time that Bonten’s enemies went after its executives’ loved ones as a means to get to them, and while you knew Sanzu could take care of himself, having been Bonten Number Two until the incident that rendered both him and Haitani Ran bedridden for nearly a year and removed from their positions in the organization, it had also been three years since he had actually had to fight, or train.
“Ba-” you began, heart lodged in your throat but you cut yourself off with a sigh of relief when you saw your husband curled up on the seat by the window, forehead pressed against the glass, knees tucked to his chest. “Baby, what’re you doing?” you asked softly as you approached him. He didn’t react, and a frown tugged at your lips when you reached out to touch his shoulder, heartbeat faltering when Sanzu physically flinched at the touch, finally tearing his gaze from the window to look at you.
“Hey,” you kept your voice soft as to not startle him, kneeling next to him on the seat by the window. You brought one hand up to touch his face, gently cupping his cheek and you hated how his eyes were glassy as they met yours before they fluttered shut, leaning into your touch. You leaned in, bringing your free hand to his opposite cheek, holding his face in your hands as you traced his cheekbones with your thumb. He let out a shaky breath, hot against your skin, “Baby, talk to me.”
His lips parted as if he were going to speak, eyes briefly opening before he closed his lips and looked away. You shifted closer, pressing your lips against his pink ones gently and you swore your heart broke when you felt his lips trembling against yours. Your lips moved slowly against his, trying to soothe him into a less distressed state because you knew from years of experience that when Sanzu got quiet and shaky, his mental state was bad.
After a few moments, you pulled back, lips brushing his, “Talk to me,” you murmured.
And for a second, you feared he was going to look away again but instead, he looked up at you through his lashes, jaw clenched momentarily before his lips parted to speak, “I don’t know why you want me,” he said, and your heart dropped in your chest, “I’m not-I don’t do anything good for you-”
“What?” you gaped, voice little over a whisper, interrupting him, but he ignored you.
“I fuck everything up,” he continued, “Everybody knows it. I make so much extra work for you and I can’t protect you like I used to and-”
“Haruchiyo!” you said sharply and Sanzu’s lips zipped shut instantly, he looked away. You forced him to look back at you, “Haruchiyo, I want you because I loveyou.”
He didn’t believe you, and your stomach sunk when you noticed the dark look on his face, and you opened your mouth to say something else but paused, a new idea coming to mind, “C’mere, let’s get off the window seat, yeah?” you murmured and Sanzu’s eyes narrowed but you didn’t give him the chance to argue, helping to tug him to his feet.
You pulled him over to the bed gently, laying him back and you watched as his face tinted pink as he looked away from you. You only smiled lightly, cupping his cheeks again and making him look at you, “Look at me, baby,” you murmured and you watched as Sanzu looked up at you through his long, wet lashes. You stroked the skin of his cheeks and his chest was rising and falling rapidly as you straddled his waist. “I love coming home to you trying to cook me something, Haru, and-”
“I fuck up,” Sanzu interrupted, “Burn shit, make a mess, I make things so much harder and-”
You shut him up by pressing your lips against his softly, “And I love it regardless,” and you watch as he physically faltered, confusion covering his face as his brows furrowed, “Haruchiyo, the fact that you keep trying and trying even though it doesn’t turn out the way you want means the world to me.”
And your voice choked up because you hated seeing him like this. It had been so long since he had worked himself up into a state like this and the last time it had happened it had gotten messy in the worst ways–it had been right after the accident when Mikey had told him that he wouldn’t be able to take his place back as Bonten’s second. He had gotten nasty, cruel and Rindou and Ran and even Kakucho and Kokonoi had told you to take a break, to let him ride out his anger on his own but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Because he wasn’t angry,he was hurt and upset and he didn’t know how to cope with the change and what type of friend would you have been if you had left him to suffer on his own?
So you pushed through despite the vile words and insults spit toward you and you were there as the anger shifted to distress and you were able to catch him before he hit rock bottom.
You pressed your lips to his forehead, lingering there for a moment before pulling back again, “I know adjusting hasn’t been easy, and I know you’re trying your best for me-”
“It’s been years,” his voice was hoarse, “I should be-”
“Three years is nothing in comparison to a lifestyle you had grown used to for almost twenty, Haruchiyo,” you interrupted him, “But you’re trying and-”
“But Ran-”
“I don’t give a shit about Ran,” you said sharply, watching as his face shifted into one of surprise, “I don’t care about any of them like I do for you. If I had a choice of any person in the world, I would still choose you a million times over because I love you, Haruchiyo.”
His chest heaving and his breath was shaky and you could tell that he was trying his best not to crumble. “I love you,” his voice was little over a breath and his eyes were glassy and your chest tightened almost painfully as you leaned down to kiss him again. Sanzu didn’t verbalize his emotions often, he’d rather show them through his actions, and you knew that when he did it was always a huge show of vulnerability on his part.
This time, his hands came up to your face, one hand sliding behind your head and the other cupping your cheek. His lips moved against yours insistently, desperately, he clung to you like a lifeline and you kissed him back just as urgently, hoping to convey all of the emotions that you couldn’t quite figure out how to voice out loud. The ‘I love yous’ that ran deeper than just mere words and the ‘I’ll never leave you’ that you knew he didn’t believe whenever you told him.
“So much,” you breathed out against his lips, “So fuckin’ much, Haru, you make everything worth it.”
“Stop that,” his voice shook and you wanted to cry because you knew he couldn’t handle affection–verbal, physical or otherwise. He had gotten better with physical affection over the years but verbal always made him curl in on himself, it broke down walls that he wasn’t ready to let fall.
“No,” you said and pressed your lips back to his before he could protest, one hand coming up to grab the hand he had cupping your face, intertwining your fingers and pressing his hand down against the mattress next to his head. His free hand fell to your waist, dipping beneath your dress shirt to touch your skin, fingers digging in almost painfully, and you slipped your other hand behind his head, holding him as close as possible.
Your tongue traced the inside of his mouth, tasting the honey on his tongue and the spice on his lips. After a few moments, you pulled back, kissing the rough skin of the diamond-shaped scar on the right side of his lips.
“You’re so pretty, Haru,” you murmured, and your name left his lips so shakily that it nearly had you tearing up. But instead, you focused your attention on his neck, sucking gently, tracing soft patterns on the sensitive skin that always had him whimpering and gasping. His grip tightened on your hand as your teeth grazed his skin, you peeked up at his face, entranced by the light flush decorating his cheeks and the way he bit down hard on his bottom lip. “Prettiest boy in the whole world.”
He inhaled sharply as your teeth dug down lightly into the crevice of his neck, a soft whine, muffled from where he was biting his lip, vibrated in his chest and throat.
Your free hand slid from behind his head down to his chest, your other hand squeezed his gently as you worked at unbuttoning his shirt, exposing the skin of his chest. Your nails traced patterns on his skin, his body jerked as you ran your pointer finger around his nipple, breath heavy.
He murmured your name again and you pulled your lips from his neck, eyes falling on his pretty green ones, dark and dilated and barely focused on you.
“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you giggled, amused, watching as the flush spread across his face darkened.
“‘m not,” he said quietly but the protest was only half-hearted.
“Gonna let me take care of you tonight?” you asked, searching his face for any sort of hesitancy. Sanzu hated giving up control—so much of his life was already out of his own control that he clutched onto any sort of sense of control he possibly could, and you would never push if he was uncomfortable with ceding it to you.
His lips, puffy and red from your kisses, parted to say something. No words left his lips but after a few moments, he nodded, “Yeah,” he said and you smiled at him.
“I’ve got you, baby,” you whispered, bringing your lips back to his neck and dragging them down to his collarbone. His breath was quick and heavy as your hand trailed down his chest and abdomen, tracing the lines of his abdomen and the scars decorating his skin.
You slid down his body, lips running along his skin, your free hand drifting down to the waistband of his pants as you pressed soft kisses along the deep scar etched across his chest and upper abdomen—the remnants of the wound that prevented Sanzu from returning to his position in Bonten.
His breath caught and his grip on your hand tightened again, you could feel his eyes trained on you. “Relax, baby,” you murmured against his skin before repeating, “I got you.”
He didn’t respond but he let his body sink into the mattress, only lifting his hips to help you slip off his pants and underwear. His grip on your hand remained tight and you smiled against his abdomen as your other hand wrapped gently around his cock. A soft whimper slipped from his lips as you lazily pumped him, thumb running over his leaky tip, smearing precum over his head and down his length.
Your name left his lips as little more than a breath, trailing off into a half-whine and you squeezed his hand gently as reassurance. “I’ve got you,” you repeated, “always got you, Haruchiyo.”
You pulled your lips from his abdomen and slid down a little more, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, watching as his hips jerked up and he let out a sharp inhale.
You moved back up his body, straddling his hips, suppressing the moan that rose to your chest when you felt his cock slide between your folds. Sanzu was unable to muffle the moan, a pretty, soft moan escaping his lips as his hips bucked up.
You ran your thumb over the back of his hand soothingly, your free hand coming up to cup his face as you sunk down on his cock. Your lips parted at the feeling of Sanzu’s cock stretching your walls, thighs trembling lightly on either side of his hips. Your fingers traced his cheekbones, lips grazing his as he let out another moan, breath hot and quick mixing with yours and it made you dizzy.
Your eyes fluttered shut as he bottomed out inside of you but you forced them back open, intent on watching him instead. His cheeks were flushed pink, eyes squeezed shut.
You ran your fingers over his swollen bottom lip, “Open your eyes, baby,” you said quietly, watching raptly as Sanzu’s eyes opened, green eyes lidded and glassy and unfocused, hair splayed out on the mattress beneath his head.
“You’re so pretty, Haru,” you murmured again, shivering at the feeling of hot breath quickening against your fingers, at the way he could barely hold his eyes open.
You rolled your hips against his, letting out a soft moan as you felt his cock drag against your walls. Sanzu groaned against the fingers resting on his lips and you brought your hand back to his cheek, the tips of your fingers gently running through his loose hair.
You pressed your lips against his jaw, muffling your moans, kissing up and down his neck, more focused on the pretty sounds spilling from his lips than your own pleasure.
His grip on your hand was tight and the fingers of his free hand were trembling against your thigh as you picked up the pace of your hips, rocking yourself harder, faster, you could feel his tip nudging your cervix with every bounce of your hips; listening as the soft moans and whimpers shifted into louder ones, higher pitched.
Your eyes flickered back up to his face, watching as his green half-rolled back, as his jaw went slack, as his grip tightened on your hand and the fingers against your thigh pressed in deeper.
He was close, you could hear it in how his moans grew more desperate, in how his hips rocked up to meet yours, in how he pressed his head back hard against the mattress.
“That’s it, baby,” your voice broke mid-sentence, a moan slipping out instead, “That’s it.”
“Feels s’good,” Sanzu slurred, bucking his hips up faster against yours, “So good.”
His lashes were wet and eyes were watery and you couldn’t draw your gaze from his face. “Wanna feel you cum for me, baby,” you gasped, “wanna feel you fill me up.”
The pace of your hips became erratic, desperate to bring both Sanzu and yourself to your highs. At your words, Sanzu’s moan choked, head tossed back, tears slipping down his face, “‘m cummin’, fuck, fuck, ‘m cumming, I-“
Your mouth dropped open and you pressed your lips hard against his as you felt him spill his release inside of you, teeth nearly clashing against his as you groaned into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as your own high hit you suddenly.
You grinded your hips down hard against his, shaky as you rode out your high, feeling Sanzu whimper into your mouth, squeezing your hand tight as sensitivity began to take hold.
Your breath was heavy as you panted against his lips, body coming to rest limp on Sanzu’s chest. You lifted your head up to press soft kisses against his jaw and neck, kissing both of his scars, lips caressing the rough skin before you finally kissed his lips, your free hand wiping the stray tears that had spilled from his eyes.
His lips moved weak against yours, chest still rising and falling rapidly as he tried to recover from his high.
“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, “So fucking much. No one could ever compare to you, Haruchiyo.”
You weren’t even sure if he was fully registering what you were saying, eyes still unfocused on your face, chest still heaving. And you knew it wouldn’t be enough, you knew in a few weeks he would probably face that same rattling fear of abandonment and insecurity but you would make sure to be there again so you could wash them away.
Pairing: Draken | Ryuuguji Ken x Reader, mentions of Hanma Shuuji x Reader
Rating:Mfor Mature
Warnings: infidelity, not poly, Draken stealing Hanma’s girl (but it’s consensual and she is very into it), no smut but it’s implied.
A/N: pls this is the first thing i’ve written in ages and i’m not that proud of it lmao. i love draken so much but writing him is so, SO difficult for me; it makes me want to cry. this started out as a bday present for him but morphed into some ugly “leave hanma for the good guy” piece lmao. i still love you shuuji, but draken— come on. (side note: draken is the only man i would leave hanma for. it’s just… draken, yk?)
You’ve always had a knack for getting in trouble.
It’s never really made sense. You’re a nice girl with good grades and a career that you’ve been working for since you graduated high school on the horizon, your name and trouble shouldn’t even be in the same sentence. However, mischief seems to lurk around every corner as far as you’re concerned; how else would you have wound up here?
Here, stumbling through the door to your home with someone who doesn’t belong there.
- in which nahoya knows nothing but how to destroy himself in the pit of darkness. will you save him?
prologue of: short series (1)
timeline: first future, souya is absent in this time, along with mitsuya who doesn’t make gang appearance despite being alive. toman executive nahoya x fem! reader
a/n:it’s still in planning mostly but i’m too busy to fasten it’s progress. so i decided to upload this little thing anyway. i have yet to decide on whether to create a tag list or not, but if you’d like to be added, comment down below.
“protect me?”
nahoya grumbles at hislast words in the meekest of voices, the subtlest of whispers ringing painfully among the clashing wind. he wishes so badly to get it out of his head, get it to just stop. but it ceases to in the most persistent way, thrashing in the corners of his head till all he hears are the voices of that raspy yet soft tenor, that voice of selflessness, that voice of his other half.
“souya come back,” he fists his hair into his hands, traces of his smile long gone, “I swear big brother will do it right. big bro will protect you.”
“come back, little bro. I know you’re still there,” nahoya’s knees fall to the stone floor, his knees scraping harshly against the uneven surface- and he can’t seem to care, can’t seem to feel the throbbing pain shooting through his knees, can’t seem to grasp the hideous headache tearing him apart, can’t seem to stop the surge of tears that don’t follow his will anymore.
he’s going crazy.
nahoya feels utterly numb, as if the sharpest of knives carved a sheath hole into his chest and left his heart in bereft darkness, excruciating and unbearable. nahoya knows he’s lost such a huge part of himself, his other half, his twin devil- and it’s all because of himself, his carelessness and his ignorance.
nahoya takes all the blame upon his weighted shoulders, shoulders that slouch with a ton of bricks breaking against their blades. nahoya smashes the bottle of alcohol against the floor, debris of broken glass splashing around him like powder in the air. he feels a few of the tiny glasses stab against his palm, his skin, but it doesn’t hurt at all.
It can’t hurt when he’s profusely bleeding through his chest, punching what feels like the stab of death on his ribcage.
nahoya feels regretful, hurt and lost.
nahoya feels halved.
but he can’t feel the warmth of his brother serenading his beating heart, he cannot feel his little brother, his twin devil.
he cannot feel anything.
and what reason is there to fix his life if not for souya?
taglist is disabled for now since it’s just a prologue.
content: amnesia, manipulation, corruption, yandere themes, violence/death, blood, dubcon, smut, use of adult toys, overstimulation, fauxcest, exhibitionism
featuring:mikey x reader,koko x reader, sanzu, kakucho
note: okay im really excited about this update! the story continues to unravel and more memories are recovered. heavy bonten violence in this part so proceed with caution. like always dark content ahead so minors can not-so kindly fuck off! feel free to reblog, drop me an ask, and comment <3
While others chose to place their faith in relationships, people, or some celestial being, Hajime Kokonoi only believed in money and lived his life in pursuit of material gain. It was what had kept him tethered to Mikey’s side after the fall of Tenjiku and Koko had yet to find reason enough to leave Bonten; a treasonous act that he wouldn’t hesitate to commit the moment Bonten blood money stopped lining his pockets and Mikey finally succumbed to his demons.
Something that would happen sooner rather than later thanks to Mikey’s obsession with Kisaki’s amnesic sister.
Like the other ex-Tenjiku members, Koko had known the girl when her real brother had still been alive. She’d been a bright and tenacious young thing, stubbornly trailing behind her brother and Hanma, with sheepish smiles for all of Tenjiku whenever she was caught and berated harshly by Kisaki. A memory that felt like a lifetime ago whenever he saw her shrink away from Mikey during his bouts of rage or stare off into space with that blank look of hers.
Koko had by no means been close to her the way Kakucho had, but his stomach sank regardless when the broken woman hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, trying to understand why her brother abhorred the sight of her one day and worshipped her the next.
Maybe it was some sort of fondness he had for the girl she had once been or maybe he just had a soft spot for sisters, but where had Koko failed to acquire the means to pay for Akane’s surgery, he found himself showering Y/N with gifts using his money rather than the money Mikey wired him; that money was used for the gifts from Mikey.
–pairing:devil!ran haitani x f!reader, 17th century new england au, inspired by ‘the witch (2016)’ and the salem witch trials folklore
–content:dark content, corruption, loss of virginity, ritual sex, erotic horror,monster-fucking, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstim, mentions of assault/abuse, archaic dialogue
–note:my shot at erotic horror featuring ran haitani for @semisgroupie’sheaven&hell collab bc i watched the witch and thought ran would make a good human!black phillip, dark content ahead so minors can f*ck off! feel free to rb, send me an ask, or leave a comment <3
note: WE’RE ALMOST DONE! so sorry for the wait but life has been hectic for me and i’ve had zero energy to write until this week. like always dark content ahead so minors can not-so kindly fuck off! feel free to reblog, drop me an ask, and comment <3
If someone had asked Kakucho what the most impactful event in his life had been, he might’ve once responded with the day he met Izana Kurokawa, the man who had been his friend, master, and brother all at the same time. Now a man grown, Kakucho recognized it hadn’t been meeting Izana but rather losing him, Tenjiku, and her, on that frigid February afternoon.
Where his relationship with Izana had just made sense, his relationship with Kisaki’s sister never did. From the moment Tetta Kisaki weaseled his way into Izana’s life, Kakucho hated him. He hated everything about the bespeckled teen who held himself up like some bigshot gang leader. Well, everything except the girl who stubbornly trailed after him.
She called herself Kisaki’s sister even after he bit out the word ‘half’ to amend the title. She was vivacious, kind, caring, and everything Kisaki and Tenjiku weren’t. She didn’t hold back her laughter, didn’t blink away tears; all of her emotions shone on her face–raw and unfiltered.
At first, Kakucho chalked her up as a silly spoiled girl rebelling against her parents by chasing after her gang-member half-brother. It made the most sense given her age and upbringing and not just because Kisaki said so. But as the days went on and Kisaki’s sister continued hanging around Tenjiku, Kakucho accepted the fact that her presence went beyond teenage rebellion to something deeper and more intimate. A reason that mirrored his devotion to Izana– love for her brother.
Kakucho didn’t realize cared for Kisaki’s sister until he found himself gravitating toward her during meetings, escorting her home after Kisaki berated her, and thinking of different ways to clumsily comfort her. He didn’t realize he liked her until he stuffed her cold hands in his pockets, shielded her eyes and ears from Tenjiku’s violence, and held her close after confessing his fears regarding Izana, Kisaki, and the impending war against the Tokyo Manji gang.
And by the time Kakucho realized he loved Y/N, it was toward the end of Kisaki’s memorial service and he had been dragged outside to a dark alley by a seething Hanma.
a/n: for @hanayanetwork “summer” network collab! not beta read, cause I’m just in a silly goofy mood.
The summer air dances around your cheeks as the sun whispers its warmth against your skin. The breeze envelopes you as it tickles your senses, firing them with the scent of fresh greenery and newly bloomed cherry blossoms, it smells new, smells alive. Melancholic clouds drift across the azure sky, dipping and entwining with the pale yellows hemmed against the horizon by the golden fires of the sun.
summary: ran had one rule–one rule–and who would sanzu be if he didn’t try to break it? heavy on the trybecause of course he fails miserably and it backfires on him.
warnings: hybrid au, bunny!sanzu, bunny!reader, switch!sanzu, sub!reader, dom!ran, unprotected sex, threesome, humiliation (ran to sanzu), thigh riding (? kind of), dubcon (not really but just in case), established relationship (ran x reader but sanzu fucks around w them), pet names (princess, baby, doll, bunny) UNEDITED
“You’re not an excuse for me to look after them. I would’ve still done it, regardless."
There’s so much fondness in his eyes that you could drown and be content to never catch your breath again from staring into them.
"Then would you let me look after you?”
pairing:shinichiro sano/gn!reader
content tags:childhood friends. angst and hurt/comfort. slice of life ft. gangs. idiots to lovers. old friends trying to reconnect but are being dumbasses about it. they don’t deserve the friends to lovers tag because they’re stupid and pining. draken gets a cameo. we’re moving to the semi-roommates arc. veeery self-indulgent domestic fluff and food love language with a hint of suggestive content at the end.
a/n: yesss, the sano family chapter! holy fuck, this is probably the longest chapter i’ve written for this fic (8k ~ never again) but i have to establish a lot of things—and honestly, anything for the sanos.
There’s always a wistful part of you that made you feel as if you were being left behind in the raw, unaffected hours before daybreak.
Alcohol-induced headaches never numbed the feeling enough, but you didn’t feel so alone this time. You woke to the baby hairs behind his neck, his eyelashes; brushed by a fingertip. They fluttered from sleep, and from an article you read some time ago, that meant he was in a state of dreaming, REM sleep or whatever. You hoped it was a good dream.
The both of you didn’t shower last night so you caught a whiff of the izakaya, the laundry soap on his clothes, his sweat.
It’s a comfort. How real Shin felt next to you on the bed, wrapped all over each other.
You’d been together for awhile so you had to wonder why committing to this hadn’t crossed your minds.
It wasn’t as if you two didn’t lack the awareness of how much you acted like you never had any boundaries, though he’d probably hate you knowing now that he had a pimple behind his ear, that his face was rough and a little oily in the morning.
Shinichiro would act like you never had bad skin, like you didn’t put as much effort in your appearance as he did, like he hadn’t filled out since then and he still had to catch up to you. You wondered whoever told him that he wasn’t interesting. His rejections were most likely the root for the insecurity though those were also a series of misjudgments and tough luck on his part, all hard-bitten lessons about heartache.
He probably collected them like bruises yet he still took the blow of a joke graciously.
Twenty consecutive rejections were a record though it was over before the hurt would taint his decisions, lacking the toxic relationships one recklessly accumulated before arriving at the age of thirty. You would rather he never go through any of that. He’s had enough. You wondered if you were. Just enough to not wake him but still find a place in his arms.
You really wished it wasn’t so early.
But then Shinichiro woke up a little later on, lumbering to the bathroom.
Upon his return, he snuggled back to you, muttering to your hair that you should quit pretending, and you sagged against him with a sigh.
“You don’t sleep like that. You snore, you sleep-talk over the phone,” he recalled in a mumbling daze, making you ask what you ever said on the other line. You didn’t feel as chagrinned as you should, though this was the first time you realized he’d been waiting out longer on you after passing out on your midnight calls.
“It’s in gibberish language, I can’t tell.” For that, you shoved him a bit, rankled.
“Get off me.”
“No.”
You didn’t fight him when he squeezed you tighter into his hold, as if he could fit you nicely in his ribcage.
At 4:42am, you lost your motivation in badgering him back to sleep.
You had alluded before that you’re taking sleeping meds, but Shinichiro knew how you struggled.
He still told you that you looked like a nightmare, and you weren’t taken aback by his words, cracking a smile. Then you shouldn’t be too comfortable around one.
His observation wasn’t meant to be an insult, though he couldn’t ignore how your eyes were all watery and bloodshot from a mild hangover. He got up again to bring you a glass of cold water.
“Did you love all of them?” you asked, unexpectedly.
“Hm?”
“The women who rejected you,” you stopped mid-drink when he raised a brow at you. “I’m not taunting you.”
Shinichiro watched the smooth line of your throat bob, finishing your glass. “Sort of. It depends,” he replied. “Most are just, you know, crushes.”
Then he fished out a packet of painkillers from the drawer of his nightstand and waved it at you, which you declined. “And the others? Last time I tallied, it was still seventeen rejections.“
"You missed out,” he shrugged. “Not that my love life is that amazing back then anyway.”
“It’s a little different falling for adults, though.” You melted back to your pillow, pulling up the sheets to your chest. “Like you really get to know each other, but it’s harder. Sweeter, sometimes. It’s fun for awhile too until one of you suddenly talks about the future.”
Agreeing, Shinichiro let out an amused exhale. “Talking about the future is always the deal breaker.”
The truth was it had never gotten that far with him, though he reflected back on the time he was rejected because he was a mechanic.
Low income and prospects; he’d never be introduced to her affluent parents, who shunted her off to Keio with expectations that demanded more of her than it did to him. Junko was an intern in the hospital his grandfather frequented for his hypertension.
It’s almost love at first sight at the hallway, spilling instant coffee all over himself. She drank house blend from the upscale, rooftop cafes that had the best views of the city skyline. The first sign was noticing how her Tokyo was different from his, how their passions unaligned. He’d like to believe there’s almost a middle ground in dimples, scribbled cupholders, and grievances over board exam stress.
Junko confessed that he granted her the kind of peace that she hadn’t repossessed in her life before paying for his coffee and leaving him.
Shinichiro figured it’s for the best when she never knew he used to be in a gang.
As it turned out, Bakery girl also didn’t know much about your history.
She wanted to marry. I didn’t.
That should speak for itself.
He thought about your parents, and then about his.
It’s sad and complicated.
“So are we gonna have this discussion too?”
“I’m not thinking that far yet,” you nestled yourself to him. “You disappointed?”
“No, not really. I’m,” he wanted this, whatever solace he found with you. He’s keeping it. “I’m fine with this for now.”
Even though he did play with the idea on how your name would sound like with Sano.
“Yeah. Me too,” you loosened up, and he didn’t tease you for overhearing your sigh, relieved but melancholic. “But one day, we’ll be coming back to that.”
“One day,” Shinichiro echoed back with a nod, seeming to be serious, though he’d been lost for awhile over the sight of your bedhead, the side of your cheek that’s all puffy and chafed from his pillow. “I’ll be waking up next to you every morning.”
“Then you’re going to have to put up with me in a week.”
“You put up with me everyday.”
“You’re not bad.”
You gave him a bemused look. Stunned by your sincerity, he recuperated after another second.
“You aren’t either.” His lips creased up into a smile. “Everyone will love to see you again.”
Eyes wide with disbelief, you blurted out, “like this? So suddenly?”
“It’s just breakfast,” said Shinichiro, sinking a little over a disheartened, “unless you don’t want to.”
“No, I’d love to,” you said, blinking up at him. “It’s just that I didn’t bring a gift.”
Climbing down the flight of stairs, you’re tempted to ask if they remodeled the house.
The furniture wasn’t exactly placed like how it was in the space of your memory, but everything was still there; all sweeping traditional interior lined with cedarwood, sliding doors and shelves arrayed with modern fixtures, books, antiques. They had a new TV. You swore the old choba-dansu should be next to the window, though the kotatsu was still in the heart of the other room, sprawling against the tatami.
There’s something about the floorboards weighing under your foot that made you ache. You used to race each other here, pulses of wood joined with laughter.
Your eyes wandered to the family pictures on the walls, the narrow hallways, the way the morning light spilled gold into the kitchen, warm with the smell of cooking, and then there was Emma.
She wasn’t tiptoeing to reach the faucet on the sink anymore, but she’s standing over it with an apron on her waist and a scrunchy tied on her blond hair. Yawning on her palm, she anticipated to greet him from the doorframe but then he dragged you in with him by the arm.
“Look who’s here,” said Shinichiro.
A surprised blink, followed after her spine straightening. Her drowsiness melted off from the stutter of your name, aware and awake from your presence, but she didn’t radiate unsettlement; just shock and awkward recognition.
“Hi Emma,” you said with a wave, almost biting your tongue once a small voice crept at the back of your head, remember me? “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” Emma nodded to you with a meek smile. Then she shot an assuming glance at her older brother, who offered nothing but a close-eyed smile beside you.
Making an apologetic gesture with your hand, you said to her that you didn’t mean to barge in unannounced, and he took that as his cue to explain himself, inviting you for a night after a reunion with your friends.
She assessed it with a hum though it didn’t last long when she still had meals to prepare, kindly asking him to pull out a few more ingredients from the fridge before he returned to his routine. He was on rice duty, though she did most of the work because she trusted neither of her older brothers in cooking at all. More trouble than its worth.
Shinichiro looked about ready to quip back, though he conceded with a sigh and she was gracious to not recount all of his mishaps in the kitchen while folding eggs from the omelette pan. After his morning coffee, he shortly left the both of you to wake up Mikey.
You insisted on helping, despite her not really needing it when she was halfway done with the dishes, giving the steaming pot of miso soup a stir and then resuming back to cutting the slab of mackerel into five parts, the meat pink and glistening against her knife.
Emma considered you after asking you to wash the vegetables and handing you another cutting board to chop up the green onions for the soup and the store-bought natto. Then you went about on other simple tasks, like slicing the tamagoyaki and portioning the natto and broccoli gomaae, setting them all in a crockery on the table. The bowls of rice would soon follow.
When you learned that she did this everyday, you told her that she was amazing.
She flustered over the compliment and denied it with a shy wave of her spatula, just after a soft hiss sizzled under the fish fillets and she turned them over, their skin seasoned and lightly crisped.
Humble, you thought, but you remained to be at awe. She’d really grown a lot.
Her grandfather would walk in the kitchen not long after; the morning newspaper tucked in his armpit.
With Emma occupied on pan-searing the mackerel, you began to prepare his tea.
Where his little brother got the rotten disposition to talk back to him, Shinichiro blamed it entirely on you.
He didn’t often have to remind him to be on his best behavior because they didn’t get a lot of visitors, aside from friends or a distant relative. But we got a guest today. You listenin’ there, Manjiro?
Heard you two come here last night, muttered Manjiro with a big yawn, head tipping back down after his mussed-up hair had been brushed, kept back from falling over his face with a knot.
Comb on his hand, Shinichiro asked why he was still awake, but he provided an answer for himself with a quick glance to his Toman jacket, hanged up neatly on the divider shelf, next to the laundry and clothes baskets; one of them was piled up with wrinkled shirts, disarranged. His socks were mismatched on the other basket, and he’d have to remind him about folding them later.
Manjiro would walk out of his room with him, carrying his towel around to the kitchen.
Old, pliant thing. The color’s all dull and faded, seams unraveling into snags. Emma never hesitated bringing up that it should be thrown away, no matter how she dutifully washed it for him. He still clutched it from the tip, like how he would asleep – for all his fourteen years.
You recognized it too.
“I can’t believe you still have that towel.”
Manjiro cast his gaze up at you, unblinking and expectant. He looked a little younger, somehow.
Then he ignored the remark, asking you about the state of your clothes.
Emma was demure enough to keep the question to herself, though when he raised it with a twist of his towel, her eyes shone with curiosity and speculation, peering up at you and him with the furtive indication that the thought had lingered in her mind for awhile.
Shinichiro stepped in, explaining that it’s because you got so wasted last night that you threw up on yourself. You elbowed his gut for being too crass and he doubled over, which hauled in snickers from his siblings.
“Well, it’s true!” he coughed.
“Shut up, Shin.”
His grandfather was unquestioning, but he cleared his throat and it registered to everyone as a scold.
A slice of egg roll was wedged between your chopsticks, and you brought it to your mouth, catching on a hint of mild sweetness. Your father’s tamagoyaki was always on the sweeter side because he firmly believed that’s how Kanto-style should taste like. Your older sister never preferred making it the way he did, but you figured this was a little closer to home.
So was the gentle clatter of dishes, murmurs of thanks, appreciative hums.
You and Shinichiro’s elbows brushed, right after he reached the soy sauce to a sleep-cranky Mikey, who mumbled something about Ken-chin being late only to be reminded that it was a Saturday, no school – again.
Emma chewed on her fish slowly as she listened in between them, caught off guard of your pleasant remark about the spread. It’s received with a glad, bashful smile, followed after talks about the recipe, dashi stock, then yourselves. A rundown of your lives, bulleted with small and uncomplicated questions, good-natured replies. Grandpa would acknowledge them with a nod. More of a listener, he wasn’t too meddlesome to pry more, unlike Shinichiro who’d prod with a comment every now and then.
Mikey was keen enough to keep up with the conversation, even though it seemed like he’s more content shoveling down his breakfast, cheeks full, bits of rice on the corner of his mouth.
He’s the one you actually had to look out for, but you felt oddly shortsighted around him.
Same eyes, same face. You’re still taller than him, but he’d grown a few inches. His hair too, partially tied. He’s lost a lot of baby fat. He wasn’t all lanky limbs like Shin used to be, but he had more muscle to him, gained from years of martial arts … and street fights, you’d assume.
Invincible Mikey, they called him nowadays, and it wasn’t like you doubted his reputation.
“Eat your vegetables,” chided Emma. You’re on her side regarding that.
“Don’t want ‘em.” Mikey pushed away his plate of broccoli gomaae.
“Give ‘em over here.”
“Shin-nii!”
“Shin!”
“What? He’s gonna waste it.” Shinichiro slid the gomaae atop his rice mixed with natto after Mikey gladly handed it to him.
You’d learn from Emma that he usually preferred spinach over broccoli, that she’d been attempting to get him to eat the latter to no avail. That he’d always polish her food off his plate anyway.
Mikey stuck out his tongue at Emma, who sniffed at him in annoyance. Her response was more mature than spitting out a protest, though you’re watching things differently again: two children wrangling over a petty argument that they’d soon forget after breakfast was over.
You didn’t notice Shinichiro catch you staring at them and he pretended to not notice how your eyes softened, sneaking in his slice of egg roll on your plate.
Grandpa didn’t reprimand all of you for a second time, savoring his meal after one last bite of rice.
Letting you stay here for a week went on smoothly than what you’d expect.
There wasn’t a lot of fuss about your situation – just sympathetic nods and similar, appraising expressions – and it wasn’t like you were in dire need of a place to begin with. You couldn’t gauge their thoughts, but perhaps everyone had been more accommodating to Shinichiro. He’d just nudge you that it’s because you’re welcome here.
You didn’t dwell on it, though you’d compensate for their hospitality by being reliable around the house.
Shin snorted, assuring you that you were likely more dependable around here than his own little brother. Emma let out a short huff, amused and agreeing, while the both of you gathered the dishes to be put into the sink.
With a slight furrow to his brow, Mikey swiped him with a kick under the table.
Shinichiro jerked up in pain, attempting to retaliate back, which had Mikey mock him, “you call that a kick?"
"I’ll show you a kick, you little—"
The telephone chimed in. Shinichiro elected himself to pick it up from the hallway before padding back to the kitchen later with his jacket and keys.
"I forgot I have to get a shipment today,” he told you.
“Ah, it’s okay. You should go,” you said, understanding. “I’ll just commute back."
He nodded. "I can still drop you off—"
"I’ll do it.”
The both of you stared at Mikey, who just promptly offered to give you a ride, and before you could mutter a word, he had already hopped off his chair, heading to his room to get his motorcycle key. Then you turned to Shinichiro. He shrugged and sent you a look that seemed to tell you, can’t turn him down now once his mind’s all set.
Shinichiro trusted you with his life, but he didn’t let you drive his little brother in a motorcycle ever since you got a kick out of rampaging through the road.
Once upon a time, Mikey was seven and you were seventeen. You passed by his elementary school and saw him with a bunch of middle schoolers who were sore and curled-up on the ground. It’s a pattern, you knew. It’s familiar to you, but you honestly had no clue what to do with him.
You figured you ought to do what your older sister would when you sauntered off with him to the convenience store to buy a box of plasters, bottled water, and a dorayaki.
Sitting on the curb, Mikey was picking at his skin from the dirty, bloody scrapes on his arm without a flinch of pain and he dully kept at it until you cleaned them up for him with a splash of water and some wet wipes. Again, he didn’t flinch, but you figured he’d always been like that. You’d never caught him break into a cry once.
He must’ve hit something sharp because you knew he was never in the receiving end of a fight. It wasn’t unlike him to be careless, though.
Arm rubbed with antiseptic and patched up; he was already gobbling down the last of his dorayaki when he asked you why you bought the Anpanman band-aid.
You shrugged. ‘Cause you’re a brat.
Mikey didn’t watch Anpanman anymore. You didn’t really care, but you thought kiddie band-aids were cute and kind of funny-looking. He retorted that your sense of humor was stupid, though he had no qualms about you bringing him back home or not telling his older brother how you drove slow enough that he had a nap on the backseat.
There’s a drool stain on your hoodie that he didn’t apologize for, but it became some unspoken secret between the both of you.
“Now, I’m the back seater,” you stated.
Mikey didn’t mention if he forgot about it. The truth was you didn’t mind if he did, but you were coming to grips that you weren’t actually sure how to talk to him anymore. It’s the same thing with your late nephew all over again.
You thought about asking him about his studies though he’s probably indifferent about it, and you couldn’t take yourself seriously when you felt like an elderly person just for even considering on broaching the topic so you scrapped it, mulling over his gang, Keisuke. Maybe Haruchiyo. Did Senju continue to tail after them? Did all of them still hang out?
Recalling the trio made you rekindle the bond that you had with their older brothers, a bunch of menaces too. Though you snapped out it, figuring it was awkward to mention them this early, given the incident with Shin’s motor shop. How was he ever since that happened? Did he cry? Did he grow up a little faster?
“Do you still drive a bike?” asked Mikey, voice overlapping with the crackle of the exhaust. He coasted to the route outside his neighborhood.
“Nope,” you said, smacking your lips around the answer, as you grappled on the handles from the sides of his motorcycle. Shin’s. Used to.
“Thought you’d been spending time with him.”
“Shin drives,” you shrugged. “He thinks I’ll go back to my old habits if I did,” you weren’t sure why you told him that. It wasn’t a lie, but it awfully felt like you’re trying too hard to sound cool. It’s a bit frustrating.
He nodded. “I saw you in his shop, sometimes.”
“I didn’t see you,” you admitted.
“You missed.”
He’s being obscure.
You weren’t sure if it’s a teenager thing or it’s just a Mikey thing.
There wasn’t much talking after that. Perhaps, something in the road spoke louder to the two of you.
There’s a bend in the path, sloping up to the streetscape, and it was a rush since then, all wind and motion. He sped through the glaring light.
You closed your eyes for a moment; so bright, stars swam behind your eyelids. Your chest pounded. Something in the air knocked off the breath from your lungs, hair flailing wildly behind you. It made your mouth twitch, but it’s the engine that cackled out for you.
Peeking through your lashes, you almost mistook Mikey’s hair for sunlight.
Then you gawked at the sky through the glass of commercial buildings, streaked orange-bronze from the wake of the day, and Shibuya almost felt uncrowded with all the blurred whizzing that went about noticed and unnoticed.
Mikey didn’t drive like his older brother, and thankfully, he didn’t drive like you. He drove like there wasn’t traffic, hindrances. Like he owned all the roads and boundaries, bent them to his will, conquered. It’s devastatingly free-spirited, and you contemplated of Kamikaze. If one could be embodied in a boy when paths cleared for him, rip-roaring through them in the blaze of a motorcycle.
After passing under the narrow shadow of the JR Yamanote line, the rumble of the train overhead, he asked you for directions and you obliged.
It only took him about eight minutes to arrive at your place. Shin would’ve gone for fifteen. Or twenty, if he’s in the mood for a detour.
Once you swung your leg back, dismounting from the motorbike, you thanked him for giving you a lift. Then you mouthed him off about how he should probably wear his helmet, lifting it off your head and handing it back to him.
Of course, he’s not inclined to listen, but it’s acknowledged with a shrug.
“Uh, Mikey,” you started.
“Mm?”
“Want some apple juice?”
“Sure,” then he parked his bike outside the house, careful to not tip over the potted geraniums.
“We could’ve been roommates, you know.”
“Emma already prepared a room.”
What used to be his parents’ bedroom.
“Besides, you should clean up yours,” you quipped.
“I told you I will.” Shinichiro crossed his arms stubbornly, sitting down on the futon.
He knew that you didn’t really believe he was a slob and his bed was always made; a virtue that served as a routine reminder that he grew up under his grandfather’s discipline. Back then, it’s either the whack of a slipper or a well-kept bed.
Despite that, he wouldn’t deny that his bedroom was still a little dusty and cluttered with a shirt or two here and a few random objects there, left to linger because of procrastination.
Basically, a room, you concluded anyway as you flipped a page from one of his magazines, some reader’s digest about auto repair. You pulled that out from an old, dog-eared stack where you also found his broken headphones and his Kawasaki Ninja diecast.
Shinichiro thought your words might’ve been a jab about yourself until it dawned on him that he couldn’t recall what your bedroom used to look like.
Nowadays, it was bare and neat in a way that it felt like something was missing, like a memory had been misplaced somewhere. Because all he could recollect were the times you spent most of your idle afternoons in his house since it neighbored the dojo and it was larger and more vacant before his siblings toddled their way into his home.
“It’s not like we haven’t slept together,” he tried not to wince from his words.
You lifted a shrug, unloading all of your things from your bag. “Sleep here, if you want.”
“I used to.” Shinichiro lied flat on his back against the quilted spread, hands dovetailed behind his head. He stared at the familiar creases on the ceiling. “When I was waiting for my mom,” to come back.
It was quiet for awhile until your weight dipped from his side, laying down with him. Both of your eyes were on the light on the center of the room, round and opalescent like a glass moon.
“I’ll sleep in your room tonight,” you decided. “Sounds good?”
Shinichiro closed his eyes. Felt the fan, felt you closer. “Nah, I’ll sleep here.”
Send me our group photos from the izakaya, you reminded him because he forgot to do it the other day.
You didn’t have to ask him about their contacts when you already had them listed in your phone. There’s an address on a paper napkin in Wakasa’s handwriting that you kept folded the other night. You planned to meet him and Benkei in the gym.
Shinichiro tagged along with you, admonished there by Wakasa who nonchalantly warned him that his membership was at the verge of being terminated for not showing up to actually do anything with it. Benkei was about to reach you a registration form, but you asked if you could just use his membership instead.
They didn’t mind as long as it was put into good use. Shinichiro believed they probably wanted to hang out with you some more. He remembered the times the three of you sparred in the open field while he watched from the sidelines, and then the tap of a stolen Malboro pack, all king-size cigarettes. A familiar shadow stretched out behind him. He glanced over his shoulder.
Senju stepped in the gym sometime later on, and he waved at her, no longer asking where her older brother had gone.
“What’re you doing out here?” asked Shinichiro, finding you outside the old dojo in the middle of the night.
You didn’t acknowledge him for awhile as you perched yourself on the engawa; a broad, sturdy thing, but the varnish had long since flaked off the floorboards, losing their sheen to dust and age. You couldn’t believe the dojo was closed for good, but your childhood was still entombed here, under the heart of your palm. “I used to wait for Akemi-nee on this spot.”
“You mean where you moped?” he was about to smoke though he deflated upon realizing that his lighter was left behind his room, patting for it from his empty pockets.
“I didn’t mope. She was always taking too long and I was bored,” you shrugged, hugging your leg to your chest, while the other dangled on the ledge. Your gaze averted from him. “Then your mom would bring me inside and give me snacks.”
Shinichiro hesitated before crouching down to sit beside you. “She always did that.”
You nodded. “She’s really nice.”
His mother was the one that actually taught you how to solve fractions when you struggled in math in the second grade. No one had patience for you back then. Your older brother was never around and your older sister gave up on you, letting you copy her answers instead. Your parents were too busy signing divorce papers and the teacher proceeded with the next lesson.
You never understood why she didn’t call you stupid for having failing marks or why she still fed you when you got a question wrong. She often made onigiri because there’s too much rice left around. It just tasted like any other onigiri, but after a bite, you always felt full.
“I didn’t think anyone could be that nice. Even got Takeomi bawling the first time we all had dinner at your house.”
Shinichiro reminisced; his mouth slanting up from the memory. “Mom thought she screwed up the dish or something.”
“I thought he was acting weird, but I think I understand now,” you mused with a soft, reflective hum. “Your mom was everyone’s mom.”
“Manjiro’s mom too,” he said, a shade pensive. “I wish he got to meet her.”
“He seems pretty content, though,” you noticed. “He has everyone.”
Then your chin leaned on your knee. A half-smile. “He’s always had you.”
There’s a trade off in trying to learn more from each other.
Shinichiro taught you the basics, like the difference between screwdrivers and Allen keys. How to replace a tire, how to assemble flat pack furniture.
He even taught you how to properly clean an oven and stove top because he felt like roping you in on a chore that he didn’t want to do all by himself for the nth time. You sighed, pulling out a scrubbing brush and a box of baking soda in the cupboard under the sink as he instructed. Both of your wrinkled hands would reek of grease and artificial lemon from the stainless-steel polish.
Despite his excuses, you still taught him how to organize his documents. It’s an incredibly mundane and un-fun task, but you reminded him that it would help him a great deal one day than keeping all of his bills, tax forms, and everything else mixed-up in one place inside a drawer. It extended passed files when you two began to sort out his miscellanea of tools, DVDs, CD albums, photos, motorcycle magazines, and secondhand manga in his room.
Inside the tin box in his closet was a stack of letters that he never had the heart to get rid of.
Then you would go about teaching him how to use a spreadsheet; how to burn files on a CD; how to mend holes on his clothes so he didn’t have to bother his little sister anymore; how to cook salmon without burning the skin off, along with the kitchen.
Although grateful, Emma would call him out for being biased as hell and Mikey had a good laugh out of it because they knew he didn’t listen to anyone before just to get it right. Shinichiro would compensate by helping her make onigiri with the leftover fish, just like how he taught her years ago, and Mikey would steal one for you and himself when they weren’t looking. You didn’t snitch on him, watching TV together in the living room, sticky rice on your fingers.
You weren’t expecting to enjoy the variety show, but perhaps why you did was because the game was absurdly cruel and the comedians managed to get a chuckle out of you. Grandpa was missing out on the best part, snoring from his chair with a cup of cold, forgotten tea on his hands, and while Mikey was amused, he was a few blinks away from dozing off himself.
The both of you, however, weren’t paying attention midway when Shinichiro and Emma joined in to watch, joshing each other with wry glances. On the couch, he flopped next to you with an arm on your shoulder while you plucked out the rice stuck on a strand of his hair, making you wonder how long his siblings had confirmed their suspicions about you two after catching them share a look.
Not minding, you figured it was a pleasant night. It was one of many nights, and before you knew it, you often invited yourself in their home without being asked to.
Ryuguji Ken wasn’t the kind of person you had expected.
The Sanos were fond of him. You’re convinced they had already taken him in as one of their own.
Grandpa – with his tendency to misremember names, not from senility – would recall his right. Whenever Mikey was planning to eat dinner at home, Emma would prepare him a meal too; interestingly, plated with more care and an extra notch of rice or tsukemono than the others. Shinichiro and Mikey always had something to say about him, a story or a mention in passing.
Sometimes, you felt as if the boy had already been introduced to you when his name cropped up in conversations. Draken. Ken-chin. Ken.
Something you’d carelessly pick up later on, foregoing formalities with an abrupt leap to his first name. It’s a slip that no one seemed to mind, but you’d still attach an honorific when referring to him.
You met him at the motor shop, just moments after Shinichiro had been standing with you on the counter while waiting for the water to boil from the electric kettle. Seafood instant ramen, a debate over some scene from a French romcom, an eyeroll that had his fingers on the belt loop of your front jeans, tugging you to him playfully. Hand to his chest, you had to push him away when the both of you heard the growl of motorbikes coming to a halt.
Shinichiro sulked over his cup noodles, even after greeting Mikey and Ken from the door. You turned a heel behind you.
Tall kid.
Ken towered everyone in the room.
The dragon tattoo could’ve given off a different impression at first glance, though what riveted your attention was how remarkably polite he was.
Hand on your hip, you stared pointedly at Mikey. “You got a cool friend. Ken-kun has manners. What happened to you?”
That earned you snorts from both Ken and Shinichiro, who began discussing something about a broken muffler.
On the other hand, Mikey might as well have threatened you with a smile. You smiled back.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Shinichiro-kun and Mikey.”
“Oh, I get Shin.” You waved from the couch, and then you darted your eyes on his little brother, slurping on instant ramen. The cup noodles would be placed back on the coffee table, empty. Shin will be pissed when he comes back.
Ken seemed to share the same sentiment with a sigh. Tolerant but familiar of him, his bottomless stomach, habits, and all.
“But what’d Mikey have to say about me? I doubt he’s had a high opinion.”
Ken looked confused. “He actually—"
“I told him that you were a shitty delinquent,” interrupted Mikey.
His tone held no spite. Something about it sounding flat and deadpan rolled off as droll to you that you couldn’t help but wheeze out a laugh. You wondered if you’re just in a good mood or nostalgic.
If you were his age, you would’ve already chucked the nearest object at him and he would’ve effortlessly dodged it.
There’s a mirthful upturn of his lips, and before you could throw a jab at him, Mikey beat you to it when he mentioned your tattoo to Ken, acquainting a dragon to another.
Sitting on the floor of Emma’s room, you stared curiously at the eyeshadow palettes on the low table. Autumn and neutral shades. There were charcoal eyeliners and pastel tubes of mascara. As she went about searching for a good color on you, she noticed that you seemed more comfortable with makeup, despite choosing to be barefaced most of the time.
You thought you’re just more neutral about it. “My older sister used to put some on me.”
Emma plucked out a brush from a blue polka-dotted pouch. Leaning up on your face, she began dabbing eyeshadow on you, a smoky brown shade of Cinnamon. Then another one that was likely named after some kind of spice. “Oh. She gave you makeovers?”
You didn’t know how to word it without stealing away the sunlight in her eyes. “Sort of.”
Sometimes, you even pilfered her concealer just to cover the bruises on your face, which had you receiving an earful of reprimands and a worried scowl that made her look twice her age. You used to retort that she’d get wrinkles like that and she’d always snap back that you’re a dumbass for using the wrong shade for your skin tone. Akemi helped you fix it anyway.
None of you wanted to alert your mother about what happened because the both of you would rather not be scolded for your mess and you never wanted to stress her out more than she already did for you.
“Your older sister’s lucky,” said Emma, deftly tracing your lid with an eyeliner pencil this time. “You’re not fussy about it at all.”
Even if that was true, you were relieved that she was only going to work on your eyes. It wasn’t the wrong foundation that was a turndown, but it was removing everything daubed on your face once this was over.
“Ah, I’m assuming those two are?” you asked, which came out more as a statement.
Emma was too occupied perfecting the stroke of your eyeliner to nod in response. Her face was endearingly scrunched up in determination that you couldn’t help but smile a little.
You listened to her recount about the time Shinichiro obliged to her whims, but he washed the makeup off him right after because he hated breaking out from it. Mikey didn’t want anything on his face, but he allowed her to do whatever she wanted on his toenails.
The trouble was he’d taken the pedestal for being the messiest nail job she had to put up with because he never stayed still and he had this awful habit of absentmindedly cracking his toe knuckles whenever he was bored.
In the end, her resilience pulled through when her work on his toenails turned out nice with a coat of dark green polish, but that was a long time ago.
Emma sighed exasperatedly. “Boys.”
You chuckled.
When she was done after a last touch of mascara, you almost didn’t recognize yourself when she handed you the mirror.
“Not bad. You got talent for this.”
Emma perked up at that.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said with pride before bowing her head down to her shoulders and blurting out with pink cheeks, “I mean, you’ve always been, but I was right! Eyeliner looks so good on you.”
You nodded and took another glance at your reflection, liking how simple and subtle the eye makeup was on your face. To Emma, the simplicity mattered when it should bring out the beauty of your eyes or somewhere along those lines.
Without warning, she took two snapshots of you, scrutinizing them with an approving hum.
“Uh, Emma,” you started. “What are you going to do with those pictures?”
She was still typing on her phone. “Sending them to Shin-nii. Just wanted to know his opinion.”
Then she flashed you a sweet, guiltless smile that hadn’t been guiltless at all.
“What was that?” Shinichiro breathed out.
You didn’t mean to whisper it against his ear, though your fingers had wandered far under his belt, curving on his hip to retrace an old scar; the shape of a graze wound, not a birthmark.
The gunshot rung back into your ear, somewhere in the cold rain, and he was pressed against you, saving you again, though the way he saved you now wasn’t as intense on the bed but it was desperate all the same; his tongue in your mouth, clothes chafing.
“Chiba,” you repeated, feeling stranded.
That had him sighing against your jaw, streeling down your neck with his mouth pursed on your skin. “We’re making out,” he said, “and you’re thinking about the war we had there.”
“Against my older brother,” you recalled the gun, Shin’s blood on your hand, and you clasped tight on his hip to stop the bleeding but all you saw was red, rage.
He called out your name in concern, a whisper to your collarbone.
“Sorry. I kind of ruined it,” you sighed, long and husky, “what we’re doing.”
“Not exactly …” his fingers pulled the loose strap of your tank top back into place, thumb running up your skin. “What’re you thinking?”
“Your spit,” you said.
Shinichiro swallowed on nothing.
He was about to peel himself away from you though you reached out to grip his thigh just to ground him back on your lap. A startled noise lodged up his throat. Stay.
“Okay,” he ceded, but there was something gentle and earnest in his gaze that made it harder for you to deflect him. “What are you really thinking?”
After trying and failing to recline comfortably on the pillow, you rose up to lean against the headboard and he shifted closer to you. “Chiba, you,” you confessed in a quiet murmur. Somehow, you weren’t afraid of losing him that time. “Just that I almost lost myself … does that make sense?”
“You were upset.” Shinichiro stilled, watching you unbutton his pants. Then you hooked two fingers on the waistband to tug it down to the jut of his hip bone.
The scar was puckered up, ugly. The kind that tore deep and jagged into skin, even if it’d been a graze. It shouldn’t belong in his body, like all the others.
“I hate remembering how much I was.”
Shinichiro had looked so raw and messed-up that he shouldn’t even be standing after taking so much beatings, persevering through and through. Black Dragons won for it, but nothing sounded triumphant with all the shouting and the police sirens; the rain that kept pouring violently as if the pavement hadn’t been drenched in blood and battle enough.
The howl of your older brother’s laughter when you began to pummel him to a coma …
There’s no mortification on his face when he yanked up his pants to shield your eyes from the scar.
“You didn’t know how much I wanted to kill him.”
But he did.
Grasped your hand to draw slow circles on the inside of your wrist, lowered down to your lap. He’s vying for you. It made his eyes darker, unwavering, but they held the same, imploring stare he gave you all those years ago. It’s impossible to look away.
“But that isn’t you,” Shinichiro said, holding you back again, but Seisaku’s blood wasn’t on your fist.
It was his hand, gently prying it open to intertwine his fingers through yours, and you brought his knuckles to your mouth, recalling what you’ve wanted to protect for so long.
“You had to be such an idiot.” Because you were going to end everything once and for all and he didn’t have to see how much of a monster you were for it. “You were supposed to be rushed in the hospital by Takeomi and the others. Why’d you come back?”
Shinichiro said it like it’s the most obvious thing to ever form out of his mouth.
“I came running back to you.”
With a broken leg. For that, you’d really let him do anything to you at this moment.
“Seisaku’s a bad aim too. Didn’t even hit right,” you heard him say, thinking he shouldn’t be patting his hip as if it was just a scratch, but his grin didn’t spread out broad and foolish because he knew you well enough that it didn’t alleviate you. “We’re both so busted up anyway. Figured we should go to the hospital together. You know how I don’t like that place.”
“I wasn’t the one who almost got shot,” you said, miffed.
“I’d rather it never be you.”
You’d take a bullet for him. He’d hate you for it, but you still would.
“Besides you’re the studious one.” You have a future, he’d reminded you back then and right now, shaping around your name in a light, affectionate note. “Who would’ve brought me lecture notes and homework so I could keep up with my classes?”
While you were checked out on the same day you were brought in the ER, Shinichiro wound up in the hospital for weeks. He never stopped complaining how going to the bathroom was such a pain in the ass, but he was actually just bitter that he had no girlfriend to take care of him.
Everyone bullied him for it anyway. His siblings visited him with you to torment him further. He sobbed every time, but one could mistake it for laughter.
Then he continued on, “who would’ve looked after everyone when I wasn’t around?”
“You’re not an excuse for me to look after them. I would’ve still done it, regardless.”
There’s so much fondness in his eyes that you could drown and be content to never catch your breath again from staring into them.
“Then would you let me look after you?”
You blinked at him before screwing up your lips in thought. “But I’m not in a hospital bed. Don’t have a bullet in me or broken bones.”
He huffed. “You don’t have to be, smartass.”
You chuckled, and perhaps, it eased him a bit from his exasperation. “Well, you’re acting as if you hadn’t been looking after me.”
Shinichiro fell back to you, slinking the length of his body over you like a hot tide, and you’re under him with the stifling need to wrench off his shirt just to recall what his naked stomach felt like over yours.
Your hands wove on each side of his face, thumb lingering on the swell of his lower lip, red and tender with a bruise. That’s for biting you earlier.
“You have, all this time,” you pried just a bit more, parting his mouth open for a warm, unfurling drawl of your name.
“Shin,” a faltering whisper, “why do you look sad …”
He just craned his head to you, noses touching, but it’s a blur once your lips met. His jaw had gone slack and your tongue was wet and slow, slower, until the kiss petered out and you’re left pondering what went wrong.
Shinichiro burrowed himself to you, spilling out a sigh on the hollow of your collarbone.
You stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to say, where to start, how to make him feel better. Your throat ached and your voice failed you. Your hands were in another language; clumsy, clinging on the small of his back where you’re trying to tie yourself to him.
He could’ve torn himself away from you. The thought really hurt, but you had no words to tell him that or something else as he only tucked you into him, embracing every dark, despairing secret he hadn’t heard – except your heartbeat.
The next morning, you rose up early for an interview. Though you woke two hours prior to your set alarm so you decided to just slip on his ratty, wool cardigan over your tank and prep up again for a spectrum of questions with pre-memorized answers.
Shinichiro rubbed the sand in his eye when he squinted on your notes, laying down on his stomach in a bundle of sheets, when he started with an unwittingly droning tell me about yourself.
It wasn’t deliberate about last night though he noticed a subtle pause, then the stiltedness of your voice that trailed after gradually answering in a manner that advertised confidence, checking all the hallmarks of what made you a competent candidate.
It’s rehearsed, but he thought you were really cool. The way you could switch up dispositions like that, even when you’re all cozy and casual with him.
You’d pass with flying colors, he’s sure. You weren’t all that inclined to feel the same. It’s not a matter of lacking self-esteem, but you’re just a little jaded about the dreary ordeal of job hunting all over again.
He’d help you slip into the sleeves of your suit jacket and then drive you to the company building within a district of skyscrapers and corporate households that would’ve urged him to retreat inside one of the tiny store fronts that was probably owned by someone else’s grandparents or the backstreets of a nearby shopping complex where they often led to a path that connected the train station and the local morning market.
Shinichiro could’ve already wandered far though he chose to wait outside on a bench instead.
His lips tilted up around a cigarette, recalling how he bent down to press a good luck kiss on your forehead and you reacted awkwardly from the suddenness, averting your eyes away. You bit your lip. Uh, let’s go around the city after this, all right?
Later on, you’d spot him first and sit right next to him, making a disappointed whine when you’re left with nothing to inhale from the stub of his cigarette. He’d prop a fresh one between your lips to watch them pucker just a bit once the smoke seeped in and he knew what you’d taste like for the rest of the afternoon.
Then rain fell, hard.
The weather was so volatile these days that he wondered if the season was still somewhere in mid-spring, and before the both of you could even reach the parking lot, you ran to the promenade with your suit jacket draped over your heads, despite his protests about it getting ruined.
You didn’t care until the two of you found shelter in the small oasis of a waiting shed.
Perched on the bench, he slid off your skewed headband and adjusted it back into your hair, though you pulled it out and stuck it to him instead. A few strands poked out from his ears after the thin, black teeth of the hairband gently grazed his scalp.
You stared at him, hair fringing over your eyes in wet, messy tendrils. “Just wanted to know what it looks like on you.”
“Ridiculous,” Shinichiro said with a snort.
“No,” you said, captivated for a slow moment where your knuckle brushed on his jaw. “Not at all.”
“Sure,” he managed out, his chest thrumming—nah, it’s just the rain. “So, um, how was it? The interview.”
You shrugged noncommittally. “Like what you’d expect.”
A week from now, you wouldn’t get the job.
You wouldn’t appear as dejected about the news as he was, but it was a callous acceptance. That wouldn’t deter you from your pursuit, lining yourself up on interviews from different companies, well-versed with all the back-and-forth, the bargaining.
Shinichiro never doubted you, though he hoped you could find the one that would make you genuinely excited. You didn’t believe in that anymore. He did for your sake.
“Why don’t you just work in the shop?”
“I’m no good at fixing things, Shin.”
“You could learn. Maybe, you could try to remember what I say for once.”
“I remember some things,” you said, but it wasn’t a promise. “But I think that should be a sign that I’m not meant to be a mechanic. I’ll just have to live as one vicariously through you,” then you winked at him, making him resign to the shake of his head, arms folded over his chest.
Shinichiro peered up. The rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. One of you was definitely going to catch a cold.
He wanted to bring up what the both of you talked about last night, though you seemed already passed it with your head on his shoulder. You never spoke about your older brother or anything else about him for a long time.
Your arm was curved around his waist, hand just a shy away from his hip. He hung himself to your warmth.
“Ken’s planning to work part-time.”
“Well, don’t underpay him,” you said, not skipping a beat.
Shinichiro frowned – because, of course, he won’t – but he figured you liked the kid, even though most of your interactions so far had been head nods and small talk over the weather and Manjiro.
“So Mikey too?” you asked, poking his knee with a finger.
“He’s always got a place there when he’s done being a gang leader.”
You beamed at that. “What about Izana?”
A cold, despondent pause. Shinichiro listened in to the restlessness.
“He doesn’t live near Tokyo anymore,” was his reply.
“Oh,” you muttered.
“He actually doesn’t want to see me.”
Hate, his mind provided. My little brother hates me.
“Shin …” hands interlocking; all he tried to feel was you.
— summary; in which you mistake the leader of bonten for a homeless man, and offer him money
— notes;please donate to my kofi if you like my content and wish to support me. reblogs are appreciated !!
❋ Of course, it would rain on the day of your job interview.
❋ A loud retort of thunder brings the rain pouring down, sending people into a panic. Umbrellas go up in the crowd, and those without them hastily find shelter in shops or quicken their pace to get out of the rain.
❋ You have a pocket umbrella in your bag, but it’s completely forgotten in your panicked haste to escape the thunder and the drizzle.
❋ You end up taking shelter in an ornate parapet with a young man about your age, as you try to brush droplets of rain from your clothes and face. He spares you only an indifferent passing glance, but the bleakness in his eyes frightens you. You’ve never seen anyone look so desolate, so utterly broken. It’s almost if there’s no life in him. He looks as grey as death with deep shadows etched upon the angles and planes of his breath-taking face.
❋ You stand beside him in silence, sensing that he probably isn’t one for small talk. Instead, you check the weather reports on your phone, relieved to find out that this is just a passing shower. And indeed, the sudden downpour already seems to be lightening into a drizzle.
❋ “Here, take this.” You unzip your bag and push your umbrella towards him. And though he takes it from you, his eyes remain as blank as ever. “It’s fine, I’ll be out of the rain in a bit!”
❋ You fumble with your purse, and withdraw a thin fold of cash, which is also pressed into his hands. This time, his mask slips for just a second. But as soon as the dull surprise registers in his face, it’s gone, sealed away behind cold grey eyes and an expression carved from marble. “You should also probably buy something nice to eat or find a place to stay for the night.”
❋ It’s with a last smile and a quick wave that you’re on your way. The icy rain trickles down the back of your scarfless neck, but the discomfort lasts for only a short time. You soon duck into a twenty-story office building, a sleek spire of gleaming grey that pierces the clouds.
❋ The interior is just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls, and brushed aluminium security desk and turnstiles. A very pretty receptionist shows you into a spacious glass-walled meeting room furnished with a spacious table of dark wood table and at least twenty matching chairs.
❋ The meeting room boasts floor-to-ceiling views of the impressive Tokyo skyline, as you take a seat, you find yourself nearly wilting in relief that you’ve managed to arrive on time. You have no idea what Bonten will do to late-comers, but considering your first encounter with them … You have a vague inkling that it can’t be anything good.
❋ The man who enters the room introduces himself as Takeomi Akashi. He’s tall, and dressed in a fine grey suit, a pink shirt and a maroon tie. His hair is slicked back, away from his face, and his eyes almost seem to be assessing you with a shrewd gaze. An unlit cigarette dangles between his lips.
❋ He pages through your resume and must like what he sees, for he nods approvingly and almost smiles at you. “Ordinarily, you would be interviewed by someone else, but you came … Highly recommended from Ran and Rindou.”
❋ Ah. Right. How could you forget the day those two barged into your clinic at closing time, held you at gunpoint, and demanded that you treat a pink-haired co-worker of theirs? And then proceeded to offer you a job as Bonten’s doctor before the blood had so much as dried upon your latex gloves.
❋ You grimace. “Thanks?”
❋ Akashi, thankfully, doesn’t comment on the expression on your face, but instead begins asking you questions, ones you’re sure would never be asked in a normal job interview. What benefits can you bring to the organization? Have you ever fired a gun? Have you ever thought about killing someone?
❋ And so it goes. You answer the questions as best as you can, and you think that you’ve been sitting with Akashi for about ten minutes when the door to the conference room opens, and the man from the bus stop strides into the room.
❋ You do a double take, but the man doesn’t even give you a second glance as he breezes by you and conducts a hushed conversation with Akashi. You hastily glance out the window and try to lose yourself in the stunning views, trying to give them some semblance of privacy. The conversation is brief, and is over as suddenly as it had begun. The man from the bus stop leaves, and it’s just you and Akashi once again.
❋ “Congratulations.” Akashi says, and the frown on his face smoothens out. “Welcome to Bonten.”
❋ You have no doubt in your mind that the man from the bus stop had come in to pull some strings, and you frown, still confused. You crane your neck, trying unsuccessfully to catch a last glimpse of the stranger. “Uh, can he do that?”
❋ “Hire you?” At your nod, Akashi says, “He’s our boss. Didn’t you know that?”
— summary; you wipe the blood from rindou’s face, and the small gesture leaves him speechless
— notes;this is a birthday present for one of my best friends, @drowsydandere. thank you for always being there for me, i really appreciate you, and i’m super glad we bonded over our love for khr!
❋ You love your job in Bonten, you really do, but sometimes the sheer incompetence of your colleagues makes you want to tear your hair out.
❋ You’re engaged in a heated argument with one of the drivers over the phone that yes, the shipments are most certainly due today, you’ve checked the papers over three times, and if he still isn’t convinced, he can check with Koko and see for himself.
❋ Rubbing at your temples, you disengage from the call with a tired sigh. You even manage to muster a wan smile for the two executives, who are peering into your office with unabashed curiosity, most likely drawn to your raised voice and barely concealed anger. “Hello Ran, hello Rindou.”
❋ “Hello, [NAME].” Ran says, eloquent as ever when compared to his younger brother, who always seems tongue-tied in your presence. “Rough day?”
❋ “Not as rough as yours, apparently.” You say dryly, noting how the brothers are both dressed in brand-new suits, completely differently attired from when you’d last seen them. “Rindou, you still have a little blood on your face.”
❋ “Where?” Rindou says, and his voice sounds a little high when you inch closer to him, right into his personal space. All he can see is the softness of your skin, and the hair framing your face. In his fluster, his hand flies to his cheek, and begins scrubbing at what he imagines to be a patch of dried blood. “Here?”
❋ You could swear that Rindou sometimes has difficulty talking to you, and even looking at you, though you can’t imagine why. You’ve always tried to be nice to him, smiling at him whenever you pass by in the halls, bringing him cups of coffee whenever he looks particularly frazzled … Acts which Sanzu and Ran take particular pleasure in seeing you perform, Rindou much less so.
❋ “No, not there – A little to the left – You know what, just let me help.”
❋ After watching as Rindou unsuccessfully tries to clean the blood from his face, you pull out a handkerchief and start dabbing at his face. Tenderly and gently, much in the way that a loving spouse would do for their husband.
❋ If it’s even possible, you’ve inched even closer to Rindou. This close, he can smell the faint scent of your perfume, feel the warmth radiating from your skin. And you, you continue using that white square of cotton to clean the face of a hardened criminal, who finds himself rapidly softening under your careful ministrations.
❋ Ran watches his brother, and tries to muffle his smile with the back of his hand. He supposes that Rindou should count himself lucky; he would never have heard the end of it from Sanzu if the other executive had been present.
❋ Once Rindou’s skin is spotless once again, you tuck your handkerchief back into your pocket, and your suddenly graceless hand drops back to your side. Rindou still isn’t saying anything, but his face seems to be tinged pink, and your smile changes into something a touch more hesitant as you back away.
❋ “Thank you.” Ran says, when the silence stretches on for far too long, and when it becomes clear that Rindou’s mind is still clouded by his affections for you. Ran’s smile is tinged with amusement. He tilts his head thoughtfully, letting his violet gaze linger first on you, then on Rindou. “I’m sure that my little brother would like to thank you too, once he has recovered the use of his voice.”
❋ After that, Rindou doesn’t speak to his brother for the whole day.
— summary; you think that sanzu looks good with his hair up, and tell him exactly that
— notes;please donate to my kofi if you like my content and wish to support me. reblogs are appreciated !!
❋ You bump into Sanzu, Ran and Rindou as they’re leaving the interrogation room. You’re deep in conversation with the resident nurse, but you don’t miss the frown twisting up Sanzu’s face. Blood is splattered across his suit, and he’s scrubbing at his skin with a towel to remove the last few flecks still clinging stubbornly to his face and his hair.
❋ He’s grumbling to Ran and Rindou about how messy the last session was, and how it’ll take him ages to get the blood out.
❋ You tell the nurse to go on ahead, and walk over to Sanzu, who arches an eyebrow at your approach.
❋ “Let me help. This should make it easier, and the blood won’t get into your hair next time.”
❋ Whisking your fingers through Sanzu’s hair, and inwardly marvelling at how silky smooth the strands feel against your skin, you gather his hair up into a high ponytail and secure it with the fuzzy scrunchie from your wrist.
❋ “You look cute like this. You should wear your hair up more often.”
❋ You smile shyly at him, and hurry to catch up with the nurse.
❋ You don’t see how Sanzu’s face turns a bright shade of red as his mind finally registers your words, or hear the choked, funny sound caught in his throat.
❋ Ran and Rindou do, though. And they make no attempts to conceal their amusement once you’re out of earshot. Bursting into loud, boisterous laughter, making weird and grotesque faces, and puckering their lips. Mimicking your voice, and cooing at Sanzu, “Oh, Sanzu, you’re so handsome with your hair up! I’m in love with you, Sanzu! Let’s get married, Sanzu!”
❋ Basically, they do everything in their power to piss off Sanzu. And it works. He flips them off, and leaves in a huff, trying to ignore the sound of laughter grating incessantly upon his nerves.
❋ The next day, you catch a glimpse of Sanzu wearing his hair up, in the exact style you said you’d liked.
❋ And when you smile at him once again, Sanzu has to ignore the fluttering in the pit of his stomach … And the mocking laughter coming from Ran and Rindou by his side.
including ⋮ angst / no comfort. character death mentioned.
“ smoking is bad for your body, you know. “ you frown as you attempt to grasp at the cigarette that shinichiro nurses between his lips, making him pull away with a chuckle following while airing out the smoke from his mouth, “ it’s for your own good. “
there was never a day you didn’t try to get him to quit his bad habits, only wanting him in the best shape he can be.
he wasn’t immortal and you can only do so much but that is if he’s willing. you turn back to the view below, admiring the cars and people that pass. “ tell me, do you smoke to make yourself cool for the ladies? “
shinichiro frowns as he meets your eyes, aware of the amusement that swirls in your irises, “ no, i’m not that desperate. “ he replies with a pout.
you hum in acknowledgement, noting the detail that he provided — he wanted to have someone by his side and all you can do is ponder for ways he can see you in that perspective. ever since you were a stranger who wound up in his shop, you’ve come to admire him in ways he wasn’t aware of.
but shinichiro held you close, that was sure and somehow you convinced yourself that it was enough. despite the whining and taunting from him and his friends for not having a woman by his side, you were content that you were one and if not the only woman he wanted around when he wanted to unwind after a long day of work.
“ whatever you say, “ you sigh in defeat, smiling when he wraps his arm around you to persuade a smile out of you — which he was successful in. his scent was a mixture of a woody musk with an obvious hint of smoke, basking in it as you fell into the crease of his neck and shoulder, “ so then why do you smoke? “
shinichiro positions his head to lean against yours, “ it’s calming, the taste is shit though. “ nonetheless, he took another drag and was considerate enough to turn his head when exhaling to avoid it from masking over your face.
your eyes gaze to his features, seeing the gentle smile that sits on the line of his lips. dark strands hanging over his eyes as he stares at the scenery before him. you never knew what he was thinking, but you were sure that in his heart and head — he was content with himself and where he stood and you longed him for it.
“ you’re staring, “ he beckons you back from your thinking with his voice, “ i know i’m handsome but i thought you didn’t like smokers. “ he taunts.
“ i don’t, “ rolling your eyes, you attempt to pull away from the slight hold he has around you but he keeps you from leaving so the most you do is adjust your posture, “ unfortunately though, you are an exception. “
shinichiro beams, “ not even takeomi? “
laughing at his reply, you simply found the warmth in your heart comforting, “ not even takeomi. “ he pressed his lips on your hair, it probably didn’t mean anything but the small gesture made you add as your eyes closed, “ you’re the only one for me, shinichiro. “
.
.
.
your fingers crutch the entirely smoked cigarette that sat in between, inhaling the remaining tobacco that was left into your lungs. you were aware of the footsteps reaching closer but you didn’t pay any mind, continuing to litter the remaining bottom half onto the tray beside you — filled with countless of more.
“ have any more with you? “ the voice behind you, takeomi spoke. you motion your head towards a jacket near, previously owned by shinichiro. an opened pack was found in the same pocket he would store them in, “ do these taste good? “
“ they taste like shit. “ you laugh humorlessly, it was the same brand he would smoke and once he parted you understood what he meant about calmness. however, it didn’t calm the heavy ache you felt in your chest every time you lit another but you didn’t mind — despite the ache, your pulsing heart remained for the same man even a year after he passed.
you can hear him sparking the cigarette as you settle your head onto your arms on the railing, eyes glued to the streets below.
they were so pretty back then, when you found everything in sight so admirable when you were in love and had the man you desired beside you. now it was like a dry setting, it wouldn’t return to the sight you’d seen before but that’s okay — you wouldn’t want to share it with anyone other than him.
when the street lights were so prominent, when you two would see his brother and friend’s riding by and waving at the two of you with the brightest beams. you remember the last bright color you saw flooding the road below so vividly, it was blaring red and blue from the ambulance and police sirens, the night of his death.
it was gut wrenching knowing that you were the last person who he spoke to because it was the same night you vaguely admitted he was the only one you needed. but it was far gone and you were no longer fighting with him on his bad habits — instead, you were the one consuming them for him.
you couldn’t comprehend the stares that rindou kept sparing you, they weren’t anything bad but there was some slight guilt that made you feel uneasy on the stomach. usually it was a gentle gaze that explained his entire heart for you.
now they seem sadder than ever and you were concerned.
“ babe, are you okay . . ? “ you began, turning your body on the couch to face him as he snapped his attention away from his phone to you. his features seem puzzled, unsure what you mean so you add, “ you just seem sad, is there something going on? “
he remains quiet, almost as if he were thinking whether to confide in you but he shuts it down with a shake of head, “ no, not really. “
sighing, you return back to the book in your lap. you knew better than to pry more further, rindou was reserved and quiet normally and you trust that he will have a revelation sooner or later. but as you were reading, there was the burning stare that practically made a hole through your head.
turning your eye to glance at him, he falters with a frown, “ are you ever lonely when i’m gone? “
lonely huh, you thought. you couldn’t exactly say you were accompanied most of the time but lonely wasn’t the word you used. however, he takes your silence as an answer and continues, “ do you want a baby? “
you grimace at the suggestion, “ don’t propose such things if you don’t want it. “
rindou lets out an apology, claiming that he didn’t mean it that way but what other way did he mean? the topic was whether you felt remote, his solution is a baby but a child wouldn’t suffice because either way — he’d be gone.
“ a baby won’t fix my loneliness, we should have a baby because we want to create growth into our relationship. we want to create something together, not for the sake of my company. “ you sighed, meeting eyes with his lilac hues that wanted solutions to this but he didn’t have many options.
“ do you want another boyf — “ you cut him off, “ no, i don’t so don’t even try to recommend that either. “
he grimaces, his arms sitting above his chest with frustration, “ then how can we fix this? “
your eyes fixture from him back to your book, rather not replying because his question was stupid. you never asked for a fix, you were content with your relationship despite the space between the two of you so for him to figure that your case needed fixing, bothered you heavily. you couldn’t even recall when you complained about his lack of company so that’s where you seemed to focus on.
“ where is this coming from? “ you voice, not removing your eyes from the book. he hums, wanting you to repeat so you do, “ where did you gather that my lack of company was an issue? i never once had an issue with it. “
his shoulders shift, “ the guy’s girlfriends hates it, why don’t you? “
you close your book, directing your eyes back to him and frown, “ do you want to know why, i never complain about you being gone most of the time? “ he nods his head, encouraging you to continue, “ because you never let me sleep alone, as long as you come back to me — in our bed, i’m more than content. “
rindou draws his lower lip between his teeth, in thought and you turn back around but your ears catch a small laugh escaping his mouth. “ you’re so cheesy. “
“ the cheesiest. “ you sing, a smile lining your features as he inches closer to wrap his arms around your form from behind. he presses a gentle kiss onto your hair, thanking you for your patience and kindness because if there is one thing he knows is that he will never let you sleep alone.
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Here, the beasts are stronger, quieter. You are prey under the guise of a benevolent moon… but that is up to you.
an. i can’t even remember the last time i wrote for this fandom but i miss draken so <3 rbs are appreciated | m.list
His lips curl in a smirk as you dig your nails into his pecs and lower yourself a little more onto his length.
“You’re such a good girl,” Draken coos grabbing your hips to support you.
You can’t help it and moan breathlessly as you work your hips to meet his, “yo-you’re too big ..aha..” you meow trapping your lip between your teeth to cover your lewd moans.
He chuckles. “I know, baby, but you’re doing it so well.” He rises to meet your face and presses sloppy kisses into the crook of your neck as you sob and try to bounce on half of his shaft.
His fingers slide between your sweaty bodies and when he presses on your clit your jaw falls open. “Come on baby, you can cum like that too,” he hums meeting your teary eyes.
“Cum on me, make a mess.” Your fingers wrap in his hair as your walls spasm and clench around his fat girth.
When you gush around him, Draken smiles.
He keeps grinding your bud and you slowly lower yourself onto his cock, squealing his name as you end up sitting in his lap.
“That’s my good girl, now you can ride me good” he coos enjoying your throbbing pussy around his cock and your cum sliding onto his balls.
“Stop squirming,” he blows in your ear as you slide onto his thick length and begin to stretch around him.
You frown and try to adjust to his size but every time you take a slow breath your walls flutter painfully around him.
“It’ s too big,” you sob, gripping the edge of the table in front of you.
His thick tip drools pre-cum as your cunt squeezes him sporadically. Your clit swells as you squeeze your thighs together to seek friction and let out a lewd moan.
Mikey snorts as he lifts himself up from the chair with his cock buried inside you, “Sorry guys, looks like my pretty slut can’t stay put,” he coos to his subordinates before bending you over the desk and beginning to fuck his cock into your soggy slit.
Your juices gush out of your pussy sliding between your thighs and the lewd noises of his balls slamming into your wet nub make the other men in the room giggle, but you don’t care, not when his massive cock presses down on your spots and makes you cream so good and hard.
You press your palms on his thighs as Hanma holds you pressed against his groin, his cock spasming in your throat making you gag.
“Fuck,” he gasps, eyes rolling back in his head as he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you off his cock, your drool mixed with his pre-cum holding your lips connected to his thick tip, “you’re sucking me so well princess, go ahead.”
You wrap your lips around his head once more slurping hard before swallowing and working him slowly.
He squirms and moans. His cock throbs from your attention. Your tongue swirls so well over his tight slit that he might cum on the spot.
“Just … fucking take it,” he says throwing his head back and pressing a hand behind your head, “your cheeks full of my cock, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
His pre-cum dribbles sliding over your tongue and as you choke on his girth you can feel him throbbing heavy.
His hot semen fills your mouth and as you swallow it you finish working him greedily, bobbing your head back and forth until the last drop has left his fat balls and he pushes you away.
His big hand holds your face pressed into the pillow as the fat tip of his cock pokes at your folds.
You can’t see him but you know he has a smirk on his lips as he sinks into you. Your walls squeeze and suck him in as if your tight hole was made for his girth.
“Please, too big …” you sob into the pillow.
“You’re so cute when you cry,” he chuckles, fucking deeper and rougher. His heavy balls slap your clit making you sob and squeal his name.
Sanzu giggles as your cream begins to cover his shaft and a white ring forms around the base of his cock.
He licks his lips beginning with a steady rhythm to drill your slit, “fuck, you like being filled by a big cock mh” he spits out the words as you arch under him and twitch on his cock. "You like it when this big cock spreads your slutty cunt, don’t you? You like it when it hurts, you dirty little girl.“
A bunch of thrusts later you cum on him, your walls fluttering and clenching making Sanzu swear about how you are a little slut for his cock.
His hand wrapped around your throat keeps you pinned down as he bullies his big cock into your tight hole.
Your eyes water and your mouth snaps open as Taiju angles his hips and fucks his cock roughly against your cervix.
”It’s too deep, daddy“ you blurt, sobbing.
He chuckles as he continues his rhythm, capturing your bud with his crotch, ”you’re creaming so .. it’s not so bad mh“ he teases you pulling out half of his thick cock before thrusting his length more precisely back inside your slit.
Your folds tighten and when you finally relax he grabs you below the knees locking your thighs to your chest, his eyes fixed on your hole filled with his cock and the way your belly bulges under his thrusts.
”Mh shit, take daddy like this“ he moans licking his lips, ”so good, take it all.“
You throw your head back into the pillow as your pussy begins to gush and lewd sounds fill the room, ”yes, that’s it, fucking cum for daddy“ he taunts you as he feels you begin to squeeze his veiny cock, ”like a slut, my little slut.“
You arch so well for him and cum desperately, coating his shaft making a mess on him and on the sheets, ”fuck, you like being spread by a big cock uhu filthy girl“ he coo with a smirk on his lips.
