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[iwasei]

┌─ “ ! „ FEARLESS, STUPID

tw. a/b/o, military au, dystopian au, noncon, threesome, heat, dumbification, double penetration, patronization/ degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, dom/sub themes, choking, anal play, a lot of spit and cum, size kink, tummy bulging, mentions of human captives, kinda forced prostitution wordcount. 9.8k

a/n. I had a lot of fun writing this one bc it’s just extremely fairycore and indulgent. heavily inspired by rhi and her incredible brain for writing the hand that feeds!!! I love that fic and have always wanted to write smt set in vaguely the same world. thank you to everyone who beta read as well I appreciate it soooo much ♡♡

geto suguru, kong shiu, fushiguro toji x fem!reader

The air is dry and cold, enough to hurt on the way in. It’s cold enough for your warm air to come back out and form droplets on your nose that drip into the snow.

Your head down, crouched in the smallest shape you can make yourself, is how you find yourself drifting in and out of focus. Not only are you cold and hungry, but it’s been long enough for the scent of smoke and ash and foul, sour fear to have started losing it’s smell. You can’t even expend the energy to move your head to the side and look, without getting tired. The crunching of the heavy boots in the snow is the only thing that’s pulling you back into it. That and the occasional clang of the line of cuffs shaking around someone’s wrists.

It’s gone quiet now.

You wonder if others have fallen asleep. You’re not far off yourself. When some commotion happens over by the gates, some of the uniformed figures rush to go look, feet kicking up snow as they go — It’s a blur of shouts and orders, before the loud hum of an armored vehicle stops not too far away. That’s all it takes to wake you up again, and despite yourself, your arms start shaking in their place behind your back. The cold of the metal radiates all through your bones.

You realize you’re scared. That’s the thumping between your ears.

“Lieutenant. Good evening, Sir.”

A soft, almost warm voice stands in stark contrast against the cold of the surroundings when the feet stop a few steps short of the kneeling row of people. “At ease, soldier.” He sounds older than some of the youthful faces you’ve seen here, dragging people around by their ankles to stuff them into loaded trucks. But not old. Not nearly old enough to carry the weight he does. “What’s all this?” the voice pivots, aimed now towards your group. A few of the women beside you uneasily shuffle in their places.

“Captives from a raid by the fifth division this morning. They interfered with the commission’s supply line when they tried to escape.”

You smell smoke with each breath. The man makes a soft humming noise, before he scans the row of kneeling people again. “So why are they still here? We have plenty of mouths to feed already.” You have seen what they do with prisoners here. Just this one, long day has shown you all you need to know. Your life will be short and unnoticed, and if you’re lucky, you won’t go through hell before you’re shot between your eyes. The cold air makes clouds in front of your face, as the steam rises above the snow into the black night. “Beta's?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You strain your neck to tilt your head up. You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the wrongful association of that voice, smooth and lithe and easy- with the pain you’ve witnessed. You don’t have much hope of making it out, and though you could beg, you’re not even sure if they see you as human enough to consider a plea a plea. Your eyes glide up the perfectly fitted suits, dark gray and gold until you find the face of the leader— and startle. Long, black hair is tied into a sloppy bun in his neck, and long bangs almost hide one eye from view.

But the eyes are striking and sharp and long lashes frame them against pale skin, and you can’t look away when his lips form the words. “So, kill them.” His cigarette burns bright orange when he takes another pull.

The younger of the two only lets out the briefest breath. “...Yes, Sir.”

The fear makes the pitched whimper get stuck in your throat, and more puffy clouds drift out of your lips when you start to shuffle in a panic. Not fight, you don’t ever fight. The man turns on his heel. And you’re not the only one, as soon cries and sniffles and the petrified glances only set you off more. Your eyes drop to the muddied, dirty patches of snow that the cars drove through, the people around the camp; as your stomach turns and your bottom lip starts to wobble. You knew this is how you’d turn out.

As soon as they put the cuffs on and tossed you onto the ground to wait… your own whimpering just melts into that of the others, but peaks when a hand grabs you by the hair and yanks you up, then lifts you by your arm. “No, no, stop!” The girls around you start screaming too, one grabbing at your arms to pull you back down. But the soldier doesn’t hesitate to kick her in the nose, as you cry, trembling like a kitten picked up by her neck.

Everyone’s scared for themselves, but they’re scared for you too, and you for them. “Stop, please! Please!” They cry. The blood thumping between your ears makes it hard to focus on anything but the painful grip on you, and the disgusted face of the man before you. When you don’t make any effort to fight, he drops you back down into the cold snow, and instead aims the long barrel of his gun straight at you.

You can’t even look away, as your heart rate slows. As you watch the small snowflakes come from the sky to meet you.

“Wait.” The voice returns when he stops halfway to the car, and makes your eyes shoot up to find his face, as shivers roll down your back. You know you’re stinking up the place, as the placating hands of the girls around you reach to brush fingers. It’s not much, but allows you to take a sniveling breath. “This one’s an Omega… Settle down, soldier. We’re not trying to hurt, are we?” The buzzcut’s eyes widen slightly, maybe as he takes a first good look at you and notices the smaller frame, big doe-like eyes, the softer set of your face and demeanor. Just as quickly as he gives you another up and down, he steps aside and lowers his heavy-duty gun back to the ground.

The older one takes a step back towards you. Your face must be windbitten, lips cracked and cold and stained with tears where you sit, but the noiret doesn’t falter as he drops into a squat before you. His face breaks out into a soft smile, and his hand rises to brush along your cheek, avoiding the black eye as he goes. “You’re a rare find. You on blockers?” Not enough recent ones to keep out all of the scent, clearly.

It’s not a question that needs answering, but as his thumb brushes over your lip, you find yourself giving the smallest nod. Gently, careful not to make any harsh movements. He does the same when he helps you right yourself back onto your knees, and then gives you a slow, calculated trace with his ocean-dark, silvery eyes. “Smart. We almost missed out on you with all the Beta stench.” A small furrow worms between his brows. “Are there others?” He asks, and then gives a swift continuation. “Don’t lie. If you lie I’ll know.”

Your voice cracks when you start. “I- If I tell you- what will happen to them?”

With only the slightest bit of hesitation, he seems to mull it over. Sharp, angular features soften just a bit as he draws his hand back from your face to run it under his nose instead. And whatever he smells must soothe the urge to get angry at being questioned, because his cheeks push up genially until his eyes are practically just moons. “How’s this? I’ll be fair, after hearing whatever information you have.” The anxiety ebbs and flows as you look to the faces at your side, then swallow.

Your heart hammers wildly in your chest. You have no reason to lie. There’s no one left that didn’t get shot as they ran… You clear your strained voice with a tight cough. “I- this is all that’s left. There’s no one else. We had people who escaped before you even closed in. B-but there weren’t any Omega’s left, the last raid already took them all. That’s all I know.” You try to keep your bottom lip from wobbling as you talk, ignoring the cold of the tears that are now freezing on your lashes.

Those dark, unrelenting eyes don’t waver as you speak, and you can’t help but wonder what it is he sees. Surely he knows, you wouldn’t need to lie. Just as you start getting anxious at the silence, he gets up from the floor, before dusting impatient hands over his pristine jacket— and a saccharine smile slips back onto his lips as he waves a hand. “Bring the Omega.” You jump when the soldier from earlier immediately starts yanking at your chains, but that’s it. It’s not in your nature to fight back. Then the Lieutenant walks back to the car as another opens it for him, and casts a final glance your way.

The smile doesn’t fall when he shifts that gaze to the side, and sucks his teeth. “Kill the monkeys.”

+

There’s nothing more embarrassing than having to fight your nature at every turn. You’re confronted with it more than you’ve ever been before, when they drag you across the cold tiles with your legs kicking, tears rolling in thick beads down your face and neck. You’re not a fighter. You’re not made for it. At every chance, your body chooses the easiest way out, oblige now, suffer later. Even when your mind screams at you to run, bite and kick and escape — you stay down. Cold metal slices into the tender and sore skin of your wrists when they yank you up another few feet, before dropping you onto the floor next to the makeshift desk.

You’re sniveling like a child. The man behind the desk looks at the several soldiers who stay put, before lifting an eyebrow.

“Lieutenant Geto says you’re to clean her up for processing.” One of the men sighs, before glaring down at you with a tight-lipped frown. It sets the hairs on your neck on end to feel such blatant displeasure from an Alpha.

The lighter haired young man stands from the chair at that, and gives you a quick once over. “For the barracks or to be sent to the commission?” He smiles when you look up at him, gentler, then places a warm hand on the top of your head to start soothing you. It’s enough to make your lip wobbly. The little bit of warmth isn’t enough… but it feels so nice. So good, to have a caring touch.

One of the other soldiers takes the heavy strap off his shoulder to put the gun down, and grunts. “Neither.” His top lip lifts into a scowl as he glares at the corner of the room, before turning to look down at you too. “Personal pick, I heard.”

The other soldier remains at the door, but clicks his tongue. “And we’re supposed to keep our mouths shut about it.”

“You ever had an Omega?” The one asks the other, nervously grinding his gun in circles. “I haven’t. Yet we’re going to war for ‘em… Only for pompous pricks to get first pick of the litter because they’re bold enough not to report to the commission.” The soldier grins without any amusement from across you, and you can’t help but hide more into the leg of the man who’s still touching you kindly. “Goin’ to war for pussies like yours… must make you something real special, right? But you’re unreported. What’s keeping me from just… taking you for myself?” Then he looks between the two other men. “I’m even willing to share between the three of us if you’d help out. Keep some things quiet.”

“You said the Lieutenant picked her out because he liked her, right?” The lighter haired man runs his free hand through his undercut, then leans down to lift you under your arms and get you onto tired legs against him. “Means you got something in return for keeping a secret already.” He’s all wired muscle under the uniform he wears, and wraps his arm around the small of your back before picking you up entirely. “Don’t do something stupid. There’s no place to keep her where some officer wouldn’t smell her anyway. Can’t keep her under your mattress like a pack of cards, can you?” He starts walking you towards the doors of a presumed bathroom without complaining, even though the other guy clicks his tongue.

“Itadori. You think you’re helping out just being another dog for the commission?”

“Instead of a thief?” He pushes the door open with one hand, already walking through. “Go get your free drinks or cigarettes or whatever he promised you, and do your job. I’m doing mine.”

The door falls shut with a loud noise behind you both, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth. Your arms wrap a little tighter around his neck. “T-Thank you.”

His grey eyes find yours, before he smiles again. Softer. He’s an Alpha too, but must come into contact with your kind more frequently. He feels gentler to the touch when he speaks. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he deposits you in a stained, old bathtub, and sighs before grabbing the showerhead. “Let’s get you cleaned up first. Ranking officers like their girls extra clean.” When you don’t move, he goes to take off your dirty shirt, and you only shiver in place as it happens.

After a few seconds of silence where he brushes fingers over the unmarked stretch of your neck, you swallow tightly. “You can’t let me go, can you?”

Itadori turns up the water until it’s warm, and his brows flatten. “…No. I’m here to do a job. I’m sorry.” You believe him. Doesn’t make you feel any better, though.

+

The cot is barely big enough for you, and the cold from the floor radiates up through the ratty, old mattress into you. But it’s still better than sleeping in the bed where Geto sleeps, where he can get his hands all over you, hold you, cling to you. You’re glad that the Lieutenant doesn’t particularly care whether or not you shy back away from him for the night, as long as you don’t act up when he wants you close. It’s an unwritten contract he likes to pretend you have. As if you weren’t forced into it. As if you had any choice.

The starchy sheets are cold too, they leave you shivering more than sleeping. When you walk through the halls you’re cold and barefoot and uncomfortable, but when you’re here you’re colder, naked and more uncomfortable.

You don’t know that much about the army. You don’t know that much about other things either, but you know that Omega’s are few and far in between. You know they go for lots of money, money that even Geto doesn’t have. You know that he’s using you to your full potential before his higher-ups find out, and that too much commotion would draw attention of the commission. Attention you don’t want. When your teeth start chattering, the man in the large bed, with the soft pillows and body heat calls.

Says your name like he means it. Like he likes to whisper to get under your skin- holding your life between slim fingers. He sighs. “Come. Get into bed. I can’t sleep when you’re not sleeping. And you’re not going to sleep when you’re shivering to death.”

“I’ll sleep,” you softly assure, pull your thin blanket closer. Your feet are cold and the room isn’t dark enough for it to actually happen. But you can pretend.

“I’m not asking.” You know he’s not. Maybe it’s because the alarm clock is showing an ungodly hour— and he’s tired. It wouldn’t be the first time his boot meets your cheek when you whine too much, displease him in ways Geto doesn’t like. “Come.”

He yawns when opening the blankets, waves you closer. An Alpha demands, and your lungs ache to follow the order. It physically hurts to resist. Your thin layer of tears sit on your waterline for a while before you shift. Slip across the room naked, and crawl into the bed under his arm. “That’s a good pet…” The panes of his chest are warm enough to have you melting like ice into his shape and mold yourself to him. It’s in the weight of his arm over your waist as he pulls you in close. Tethers you. You want to be and stay mad. Frightened.

It’s just… Geto’s scent’s become one you can bury yourself into. Your hands ball against his chest, and the fingers he presses into your hips stray down.

Your breathing hitches at the touch, and your stomach seems to want to crawl up into your mouth when he spreads your legs apart. “I’m hardly the worst one here. Get used to it already. People here are frustrated. Many of them haven’t had an Omega in years.” His rough fingertips slide between your legs and trace over the raw, achy mess he made of you not hours before. It’s sticky and uncomfortable, and you jerk when he rather impatiently starts thumbing your clit. It hurts- enough to make your face scrunch as you hide it into his pecks. “You don’t even know how lucky you are that I’ve kept you to myself.”

You do know that, though. You’ve passed by some of the barracks further away from the officer buildings. You’ve smelled the Omega fear, the blood and sweat and ruts; or what it’s like for a person to beg for a moment of reprieve. You have not a scratch on you, and you should be more grateful than you are. That you’re not taking a whole division’s sexual frustration to keep them from killing each other. When his fingers slide the wetness, remnants of slick and cum back into you and force your pussy to stretch again- you start sniffling against him. “I know I am,” you whimper, biting your lip. It’s not enough to just be this. You can’t just lay and wish for it all to go away. You have to be a participant, or Geto might switch you out.

As you whimper, swallowing back the tears- he presses his lips against your forehead. “Can’t help but cry? Poor baby.” He grinds the fleshy part of his palm against your pussy, breathing against you. “Tell me what it feels like.”

“I- Feels- b-big,” you choke out, twitching when his fingers curl into you and fuck deeper until they stroke much deeper than your own. The coldness fades a little when he rolls you over onto your back and gets on top, pinning you with his thigh. “Geto-sama- Please stop, I’m still- sore. It- it hurts really bad.”

With a slight frown, he pulls his fingers out of you and wipes them on your thigh, before sighing. Your eyes crack open at the lack of touch. His long black hair falls down over his shoulders, as he holds himself above you— and stares at you for a moment too long. One where he seems to consider your feelings at least a little, for once, brushing his clean thumb along your neck and shoulder. “I’m going back to the front soon. Do you know what that means?”

You’re not sure if it’s meant to be patronizing… but you don’t know. The wet, cold numbness that returns to your cunt is an unexpected unease. You wanted to stop. You did. But when he sits back on his heels and looks at you for a few seconds in abject silence, the distance feels too far. Geto comes back to you with a furrowed brow, before a line of kisses is pressed along your jaw and neck, where he takes a deep breath and makes your entire body purr. “Means you’ll be passed on to some other scum.” He almost growls when he says it, urges your one leg over his thigh to make room.

“I put in a good word that if I come back you’ll come back to me- but…” His sharp eyes find yours blown out and dark, as he pulls you closer to his hips and rolls himself against you. His hard cock- he’s always hard when you’re in his bed, bops as he grabs himself and pumps a few achingly slow strokes. A translucent drop of precum drops to your pussy, and he spits on his hand and your pussy for good measure. “I’ll be two months without this soft Omega cunt squeezing me to sleep.” As he groans and slides the flushed head of his cock against you, he presses his weight into you again. “Let me use you. Or see what fucking happens.”

+

The hearth burns at the far end of the pristine, wooden room. Enough to make your hands clammy, shifting yourself back and forth between both legs- before glancing up to Geto once more. He looks more pampered today. Standing straight with only his fingers looped loosely around your arm. For a split second you wonder if you’d be able to make it down the marble set of stairs and across the courtyard into the shallow bushes— but it’s only a moment. Not more than a brief hope that instantly gets snuffed out when the heavy doors slide open, and a deep grunt passes by you both.

Geto salutes, the man does not. He only clears his voice with a mix of impatience and -tobacco, probably, before motioning his head towards the desk. “Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” His voice is frighteningly low, more rumble and bass than anything else, and sets the hairs on your arms on end.

His half-lidded eyes flick from the man beside you, ever so swiftly to you, then back. Face blank, uncaring. You stumble when Geto takes a few steps forward, basically dragging you behind him towards the chairs. When he lets you go, he gives you a look, and so you sit. Hands folding in your lap to keep them from picking at the edges of your clothing.

Or lack thereof. There’s a clean gold plate with the name Shiu Kong engraved at the very front of the desk, staring back at you. Your Alpha doesn’t hesitate to sit down too. “Major General Kong, Sir. A pleasure as always. You’ve lost some weight?”

“Hardly,” the man shoots right back, unfazed. “You can lay off the flattering.”

Geto and the stranger seem to converse with their eyes for a moment, before your owner gets comfortable in the velvet chair beside you, and hangs his arms over the back with a slight smile. The other man doesn’t bother to sit in his own chair across from you, instead just bending to get out one of the no-doubt expensive cigarettes, and lighting it. The smoke travels in slow, winding circles up to the ceiling as he hums. “So, the Omega. Y’ want to buy her?”

“I’d like her returned to my possession with the least amount of scratches when I get back, Sir.”

“We’re in a war, Suguru.” The man takes a short puff of his cigarette again, before putting his foot onto the chair and leaning in just barely. Dark, grayish eyes narrow. “You can’t pick out playthings at your whim. We have rules about these sorts of things.” The ash goes into the overfull ashtray, before those irises find you where you’re still slumped in the too-big chair. Almost amused, he lets out a bit of air through his nose, before punctuating his words with another drag. “Higher ranks get first picks, but if you’re gone, you’ll have to share. She looks healthy, young. Girls like that go for a lot of money these days.”

“I understand, Sir.” Geto’s smile doesn’t slip though, not even when he takes one of your hands and pulls until you get up. With his prompting, you instead sit back down on his lap instead, and the noiret hooks his chin over your shoulder when he strokes your thigh. You duck your head in shame. “It’s just that- she’s more of an indoor pet. I’d like to keep it that way, if possible.” His other hand winds under your chin to nudge it back up into view, as you shiver. Watch the attention of the superior officer linger just a second on the way your shirt falls around your hips.

Geto’s. “You have a mansion not too far from the front, as I understand it? And due to surely unfortunate consequences, your last Omega… broke.” His voice gleams as he says the words, and they seem to wind like a coiled spring around your neck. “I’m more than willing to part with mine for a while, if I could have a guarantee she’d be close by. Used sparingly.” You don’t know enough about the army to know if Shiu Kong has the kind of strings that Geto’s presuming he has— but you don’t really dare complain. The silence drags; before it crumbles into pieces when a slight relaxation pulls at the older man’s lips, cocking his head.

“Have her stand.”

You do, spurred on by the quick pat to your thigh and a winning smile, eyes fluttering as you trace the patterns on the floor. As the presence of the older Alpha fills your senses and he circles around you too close, he smells of smoke and a deep, woody musk that could bring you to your knees if you weren’t so used to it by now. After a round where his finger patiently brushes past your most valued features, he takes your face into his palm and forces your eyes up. Until you can no longer ignore the handsome face ducking down to meet your gaze.

You whimper. Let your face get turned here and there before he takes the end of the cig from between his lips, and addresses you directly. “You got a name?”

“Y-yes.” You stumble out, basically whispering it when he stares like that. He doesn’t have a kind face like Geto does, you notice, more angular, stubbled, at least a decade older too. You find yourself reaching for Geto’s hand despite knowing better, if only to have something to cling to as you blink away nervous jitters, and excess tears that are always ready to spill. Your bare feet shuffle against the carpet below.

Whatever he sees staring back at him is enough for his fingers to drop to your collar, dragging it either side with a grunt. “It’s some skill to find an unmated, pretty, little Omega hidden from the commission, Lieutenant… One would almost call it suspicious.” There’s a hint of amusement, one he pushes out alongside the butt of the cig. As if he knows he’s in, Suguru stands from the chair to put a comforting hand on your back and rubs circles through the flimsy fabric of his oversized shirt, tucking his thumb into the loose boxers you’re wearing below.

“I just get lucky, Sir. Omega’s delivered to the commission lose their charm too quickly, s’all.”

Shiu’s eyes give you another slow up and down, then he clicks his tongue. “So, what do you want in return for this present?”

“Nothing at all, really.” The hand pulls you into his side to nuzzle along your neck for some extra show, where he nibbles at the sensitive spot— makes you whimper like a bitch in heat. It’s loud enough for the other man to eat you up whole with his eyes, puffing out his chest a little to push off the desk. The swift hand wrapped around you gives you an adoring squeeze, before Suguru pouts into your temple like he’s parting with a prized possession. “Just that I get her back once I’m done with my service at the front in a few months.” 

“Done.” Shiu busies himself with the bottle of expensive looking liquor, before casting you another glance. “Dress her in some actual clothes though, will ya? She already attracts enough attention as is.”

+

You stare at the fogged-up window with your duvet tucked to your chest, and breathe a few shallow breaths. There’s soldiers running up and down the camp, tucking their caps low against the biting wind. You only bother to follow one of them with your eyes, light hair peeking out from under the hat as he runs his laps. Instead of lingering on the thought, you shiver when a heavy, muscular arm pulls you around your waist and down into the bed. Shiu’s quick to let out a grunt, before opening his eyes and hooking his chin over your shoulder to nose at your neck. “You’re goin’ into heat soon?”

You barely dare shift when his stubble tickles your throat, and a few rough kisses get placed right over your pulse. “Probably. I-I’ll- ah-” His hand wraps around the base of your neck as he starts sucking on the sore skin, where bruises still sit from yesterday. You’re not sure if it’s his hands wrapped around your neck that caused it, or the way he bullied his cock way too deep into your throat— but you’re so sore. “I’ll need heat blockers for a while.”

“Mh,” he smells like tobacco. And a heavy, manly musk that’s so overwhelmingly Alpha. It’s distracting. It melts your tongue to the bottom of your teeth. “No need. We’re far enough away here that they won’t smell you. Or if they do, they can’t do anything about it anyway.” You blank, only to mewl and curl away when his lips and tongue rakes over a particularly sore spot, making your toes curl.

“But- b-but I,” you stutter, and one hand comes up to protect your scent gland from him as he gets up onto one arm to get on top of you. You haven’t gone through a proper heat in forever. It wasn’t ever safe even with just Beta’s around— you barely even remember what it feels like. Only that it hurts so bad it could make you sick. “But I don’t want to go into heat. It hurts.”

Shiu stops his barrage on your neck to frown at you, as he nudges your legs aside for his own thick thighs. One eyebrow raises at you like you’re dumb. “It doesn’t hurt when I’m here to breed you full, little girl.” He scans your face as he keeps pushing your one knee to your chest, before his mouth flattens out. “You don’t know that? You’ve never had an Alpha cock in here during heat?” It’s embarrassing. It’s so embarrassing— the way he eyes you like you’re some sort of idiot. It’s not like you had the privilege of trying it out before all this, hiding like a mouse. “Aw, baby girl. You’re so sweet.”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“Daddy’ll have to teach you.” His large hand forces it’s way between your legs to squeeze your cunt and make you squirm under him, before he finally sits back and pushes the covers off, revealing the battle-worn body. “But not right now. Get up and go wash. We’re having company over.”

Your mouth’s dry, so you swallow tightly. “Who?” Your legs still tingle even when he gets out of bed, a little numb, a little achy.

“A… friend, I guess.” He picks out one of the cigarettes on the side table after putting on a shirt, and plops it between his lips. “You won’t like him.”

With sweat rolling down your neck, you stumble across the steam-coated tiles and grab onto the sink. Shaking like you’re ill. You definitely feel that way. It makes your entire skin feel statically charged, and sore, and so painfully needy. As soon as you take another step, you almost immediately topple over, legs trembling despite yourself. There’s no better sign than the dry feeling in your throat, and the way a whimper threatens to escape you with every move.

So you do all you can, and start tearing up as you wrap a towel around yourself. Even your own innocent touch feels too much, and you hurry through the process to barely manage pulling on a top and some panties, before your body refuses to oblige. You want to cry. Why did this have to happen now? Why here? Shiu hasn’t been bad to you, but he also isn’t particularly gentle. You didn’t want to go through heat at all. “Mh-mn, need- agh.” You whine thoughtlessly, as you wobble to the door.

There’s a swell of voices from down the hall— talking that doesn’t last long before falling quiet as you make your way to the bed. You’re so hot that it’s hard to keep your eyes open, your thighs rubbing uncomfortably as you walk. Thick, almost sticky tears wobble on your waterline, and the heat in your stomach sinks right into your center the more of the room you take in. It’s not your fault - everywhere you look it stinks of Alpha musk. Thick and overpowering to your flighty brain, it makes you want to keel over onto fours. You really are just a bitch in heat, and that is embarrassing too.

Makes you want to curl up onto a solid chest and let yourself get bounced onto his cock like a ragdoll.

It takes so much of your effort to drag yourself to the pillowed surface that you fail to hear the steps coming closer, let alone control that you’re scenting up the entire top floor when you crawl in and your pussy starts clenching around nothing. You’re mewling faint nothings as you stuff your face into the blankets— and smell only him. Heavy on your wet tongue. 

“Agh, I- Al-pha, I need- it hurts. It hurts, I want you~” With your chest to the bed and your legs raised up, you just feel like you need to— to get filled up to the brim to make this aching stop. “Mhmm-ugh, please, pleas- need you, Shiu~” Slick’s already coating your pussy enough to slip right in, wet like the spit in your mouth that gathers under your tongue. Your head’s so light. It’s spinning.

Then, a heavy palm strokes over your crown, and your noises explode.

“Ah, ah, agh, daddy, daddy.” The weight of the touch travels down your neck to grip you, and your body curls to raise your ass even further up in need of friction. “Daddy, please. I don’t want to~ T-told you I- need-ed blockers. Ah, ahh.” The low chuckle you get isn’t the one you expect, but you can’t open your eyes enough to see what’s going on.

“Bit friendly for a hello, isn’t it?” There’s a huge body that surrounds you when leaning over you, as lips travel down behind your ear. “S’cute though. That’s a pretty girl. Daddy’s here.” Rough hands push your hips down with one swift move, slipping two fingers under your panties to pull the fabric taut. The slick grinds the fabric uncomfortably to your cunt, but you can’t be still. “Already drenched through your clothes, pet.” You don’t mean to. You don’t, you’re so sorry. “Whining like a little baby, need to get filled up?” 

“Only thinking with this pussy, right? This is why Omega’s don’t run anything…” The lips ghost over your scent glands, making you squirm with dripping anticipation, when he lets his tongue run over his teeth and then along your throat. The juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, untouched and open and soft. He groans. “Ugh, fuckin’ hell, you’re so sweet. Your scent is almost making me sick.” One hand digs sharp nails into the meat of your ass, as the other reaches around to start pulling your camisole down over your sensitive tits. “Want some love from daddy, baby?”

A slightly raspier voice comes from somewhere behind you and drowns out your own whining and mewling. “I thought I told you to wait, Fushiguro.”

“Your pet was crying, Kong.” He rakes his teeth over that one spot again until you can’t stand it anymore, and your tears start dripping into the blankets. You push your chest out until his warm palm reaches around and squeezes, rubbing a thumb over your nipples. “Plus, just smell her. She’s scenting up the whole house. I wanted to come help.” After a long pause where you’re fighting the need to rub yourself on anything cock shaped like an animal— you’re turned over by a sturdy yank on your shoulder, and long fingers slide into your messy, drool filled mouth to press on your tongue.

Its Shiu, whose normally stern brow now is arched in amusement. The man on the bed with you moves away just enough to let you take a look, and take in the messy dark hair and almost metallic blue eyes, scarred face and dog tags hanging from his neck as he rolls onto his side. Shiu pinches your tongue to make you squeak, then leans in. “See you’ve already made introductions.” You mumble a pathetic ‘daddy’ under his sharp gaze, before he takes a deep breath.

“Poor girl, already going into heat? You didn’t last long. Needy, little pussy’s throbbing, isn’t it?” He pulls the top fully down until it’s hooked under your tits, then hums. “Look so cute when you’re begging to get fucked.”

“Gonna let me have a turn too?” Fushiguro rights himself onto one forearm, then pushes a finger down on your forehead until it's tilted all the way back and you’re looking up at him again. He’s got a mean sort of look in his eyes, right before his lips twitch when you groan softly at the touch. You literally can’t help yourself. It hurts so good— good enough to make you want to wrap your legs around either of their hips and stay there. Aches.

Shiu’s voice resonates through your body when he moves to kneel down to your body and starts kissing from your belly up, making you twitch. His gravelly hum reverberates in your clit, as your legs get spread over each shoulder when he comes up. “She’s not mine to give away Toji, so- ugh- restrain yourself a little.” His big hands smooth over your tits instead of squeezing you like you want, until you really start worming around under their touches.

“Mh~ hurry up!”

It’s out before you know it, and the backlash rushes straight to your cheeks in heat, burning up on your face. Fushiguro groans though, long and deep- before he pushes off the bed to get onto his knees, and grabs himself through the awfully casual clothing. His hand wraps around the large, large cock pressing against the fabric— and when you open your mouth and basically salivate at the sight- he lets out a lightly pinched chuckle. “Oh, you don’t wanna be doing all that, pet. You’ve got days of heat ahead of you— and you’re getting me hard as a motherfucker.”

All it’s doing is making you so horny you can barely see straight, and each inch of your body surges with electricity. You need something inside you. Now. Now, now, now. He runs a distracted hand through his messy fringe, and rolls his hips into his hand with a groan. “What’s it gonna be, Kong? If you take her underwear off I’m not leaving. Sweet, little thing like that…” Your legs are up by his ears when the familiar giant sits up onto the bed too, and your hand reaches for his to pull him closer by his thumb. “Haven’t had a greedy, fertile little Omega pussy in a while- the Commission always bitches I have too much fun.”

A hesitant furrow worms itself between Shiu’s brows for a bit, before he sighs. “Can’t bite ‘er, she’s not mine. I’m just keeping her.” His eyes are more blown out than normal, dark ring of black taking over the longer he touches you. You’re sure you’re similarly spent when you moan his name and he groans. “Fuck, baby. Want this Alpha cock in here?” His large hand smoothed over the supple skin of your lower belly, when you wiggle yourself against him, basically grinding onto his leg. “Needy, huh.” He licks his lips. “Fine, join. Can count us even after that.”

At that the other noiret grins, and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift move of agreement. Shiu’s hands already roam back over every bit of exposed skin. “And I get first turns.” The large fingers mindlessly playing with your nipple pinches you, when grayish eyes find you beneath him. “Get up.” With just a quick motion, you force your sluggish body up and onto fours— and fight the urge to force your head down yet again. That’s what would feel right.

“That-” Shiu’s hard too, you notice quite happily, when you grind back against him to find another thick, heavy bulge in his pants that heats your cunt. “That’s it.” You mewl, have no choice to. As you look back over your shoulder, he takes a moment to study you where you’re so much smaller beneath him. Omega’s always are, but these two are big even among other Alpha’s— more slick sticks your panties to the shape of your cunny. Your body’s entirely sticky with sweat, neck and throat aching and radiating heat all over you.

Your tongue melts in your mouth, when you look back and Fushiguro’s stripped down entirely— shredded body towering over you as well. He squeezes a rough ring around the flushed, pulsing head of his cock. “Uh, ugh-ah, daddy, daddy, daddy- Please? Please.”

“Who are you calling daddy?” The general asks sternly, but there’s no malice there. He’s amused as he peels the panties over the curve of your ass and down ever so slowly, letting your wet folds drip all over his fingers as he plays around in them. The touch makes you stagger forward, arms almost giving in— and you whine something unintelligible into the covers. “Fu~ck, you smell so sweet. Little Omega bitch in heat- ugh.”

A heavy hand lands on the swell of your ass, and stings so bad. With another spank your pussy clenches around nothing, and by the third you’re basically begging and your cunny’s sucking his fingers in. “A-daddy, please. Hurts. Uh-pu-lease. Need Alpha inside. Quickly, please. I-it hurts.” Another hand pets your crown for a few seconds, before he grabs a fistful of hair and pulls your head up. Your mouth hangs open, and your tongue drops out at the sight of the hard, veiny cock before you.

It’s flushed a sweet sort of pink, nothing like you can already tell Fushiguro is— but drool still gathers in globs, looking at the precum glistening on him. “Gonna open your pretty, little mouth wide for me, pet?” As he strokes himself, the man behind you starts toying his fingers around your holes, and smears your slick all over until you’re entirely sloppy. Then chuckles, throwing his head back with a grunt.

“Fuck, forgot how hard I get- with Omega’s.” The slick sounds of your pussy, and both men's hands stroking their swollen cocks makes everything so loud. Wet and needy and animalistic— your own whining drowning out your thoughts. You just want more. More touch, please. Shiu spits onto your holes without hesitation and slaps his thick, hot cockhead against you a few times, before placing one hand on the middle of your back to force you in place. “Don’t run away from me- jus-t take it.”

“O-oh-fu-ugh.” He pushes inside with more of his weight, thick thighs pressing up against the inside of yours when you spread wider, and almost get pushed over. If not for Toji holding you up and rubbing himself along your cheek and lips too, impatiently stroking himself.

The head’s already big, stings on the way in. Enough to hurt, enough to make you tear up. He’s just so thick and glowing hot to the touch— basically pulsing inside you. You can feel his heartbeat through the skin as the head pops in with a lot of pressure. Your throat starts making noises despite you. “A-agh, ugh agh, da-I- ca— um-hnggg.”

“My turn,” Toji grunts after a bit, hooking a finger in your cheek to open your mouth more and coach your tongue out. “That’s- a good cockslut— open wide.” You do, letting spit drip as you relax your jaw and wrap your lips around him, filling up your mouth too much. You’ve never been so needy. The choking and the taste only make your eyes want to roll back in your skull, giving yourself over to them. You don’t want to do anything except give yourself over, struggling to make enough space between your legs to allow Shiu closer.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby, uhh-fuck.”

He’s still going slow, necessity, as each inch of his fat cock gets stuffed inside you, using his fingers to push more into your comparatively tiny cunt— and each bit deeper he goes, the more you feel like melting. It hurts, hurts and aches and bulges your stomach; and Fushiguro pushes deeper and bulges your throat- and it hurts- It does. But you can’t stop. You reach your arms out to wrap around the man’s glutes and pull him closer into your face, drool dripping down your chin. “Mh-mhm mhhuh.”

With his tongue trapped between his teeth, he grins. “Hah, you’re talking a lot for someone with their mouth stuffed— Does that feel good? You like choking on Alpha cock?” Your teary eyes try to focus on him, but you can’t, just cling on harder as the cock inside you kisses your cervix and he’s still not done. It aches so much, stretching you much wider than you’re meant to go. But it does, it does, it does. You don’t want to stop. “A little longer, that’s it, a little more~”

Instead you try to hollow your cheeks around him as he sits too deep in your throat, and fight the urge to squirm when your breath starts to pinch. Your body worms, you cry around them, and slick drips down your thighs like syrup. When Shiu bottoms out, it actually makes you gag, feeling so full and spent— and you squirm as Fushiguro keeps you. “Mh-hh- hck.” Your mouth aches as your lungs start to scream, and vision goes blurry.

Shiu pulls back before the other man does, groaning at the sight of sloppy, milky slick coating his cock, then slides back into your warmth just as fast, forcing your body to stretch again to make room. T-too big. “Let her- hh- up, she’s turning blue.” As you’re basically about to pass out, you get pulled off of him and gag violently, before taking sniveling, painful breaths again. You barely get the chance to breathe before your chin is lifted again, and he tilts your face left and right.

Your mouth drops open again, and tongue squirms around nothing. “More? You want more, greedy slut?” He smiles again, but more genuinely impressed this time— and hums. “Such a good, little Omega.” You can’t help it, you shiver and moan when he lets you back at his cock. And Shiu pulls back again only to fuck back into you, forcing you open as he builds a rhythm.

“She liked that one. She’s trying to clench my dick off.” He moans, and his unoccupied hand swipes some wetness dripping down your leg to circle it around your puckered hole instead. “You think she can take two?”

The cock gets stuffed back into your throat, but he pulls back faster now, instead using your head to fuck himself into you as he groans. “‘Nuh uh, she can’t. She’s too tiny— L-ook, you’re already -fuck- bulgin’ er.” He watches your lips struggle to wrap around him as he fucks your throat— only stopping for a moment to wipe some of the spit off your face. “She likes it so much though, look at that. You’re just a dumb, cocksleeve bitch, right? Want Alpha cocks to fill you?”

You can’t answer. Your brain’s all scrambled from the heat, a cloudy, pillowy feeling sitting over everything else. It feels so, so good. Being stretched to your limit, getting used. Your pussy clenches uselessly around the too-big invasion, getting bounced against Shiu’s thighs with a noisy ‘pap, pap, pap’. If you could think, you’d agree though. The pressure of his cock grinding into your sensitive insides, basically lifting you off your knees as he grabs your hips to jackhammer into you deeper, it’s all too much.

“Close?”

You’re drowning in your own arousal. After a few more seconds of getting used for all your worth, the expanding, pulsing pressure in your stomach grows too tight— and your toes curl uselessly as you cum without warning. It shatters inside you as you fail to clench around the thick length in you, instead dropping though your arms as you pull off of the cock in your throat to tremble through your orgasm. “Ah-hgh- ugh ah da-Alpha, Alpha, ahh ah agh! St-hngh~” You cry. Thick tears, spit and snot get wiped into the covers as you try to catch your breath, while still being fucked into.

You can’t stop shaking. Even then, Shiu’s cock keeps forcing the head against your cervix and making your eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, fuck- too tight— shit, I was this close, hah.” When he slips out for a second, you collapse entirely, aching immediately at the emptiness inside you. Your tits are sores, but everything else is burning so hot you feel like you might go up in flames.

It’s Fushiguro who picks you up by your arms and pulls you into his chest after a while, holding your pathetic, naked body like a ragdoll. “So cute now that you’re all flushed, cumming like that. But you’re not done, are you?” His fingers squeeze either side of your cheeks to bring your mouth to his, kissing on you until you respond and let his tongue melt against yours.

Your head’s still spinning, but a different kind of heat grows now in the base of your neck, desperate and needy. Your hand reaches to get more, more skin, pulling at the short hair at the back of his head- you moan into the kiss. Tongues and spit mixing as it slides down your throat and he towers over you, cock bouncing against your stomach. When he pulls back, long lashes brush yours, and you whimper when the touch goes.

Shiu’s staring. You can’t tell what expression he has, but it’s enough to make Fushiguro frown and lift his lip. “Fuck off. I get protective when they whine like that, s’all. She’s sweet when she’s cryin’ all baby like.” He instead focuses on pinching and toying with your puffy nipples, rubbing each side with rough fingertips, then hooks his chin over your head to look past you. “Wanna try the two of us at once?”

Instinct gets the better of you, and you’re already nodding against his pecs before you can think. “Two, two- w-want, please. Mhm, want Alphas.” It makes both men laugh, hands sliding all over you as you stick your ass out and Shiu spits on his hand. His cock’s still coated with wet, a white, creamy layer around the base of his cock as he strokes the head a few times. You’re seeing double, and your tongue feels like molten candy. But still you keep drooling and nodding. “Want, want you, wanna have- m-more, please.”

He then grabs your hips to yank you back against his hips, letting his cock push on your ass as his wet fingers curl inside your puckered hole, and stretch it out with two fingers. “She’s already fucked out of her mind, poor thing.”

“Mhm, agh- Alp- daddy, daddy— s’ sensitive- please, please, please~”

Fushiguro’s face blanks, before he takes a deep breath and groans low and gravelly, and grabs you by the neck. “Ugh, she’s- her scent is everywhere. Little bitch in heat moaning like it’s her job.” He buries his nose right where the most sensitive, burning part of your neck is, making you crumple, and kissing along the shell of his ear where you can reach. The fingers inside you, the pressure and heat of the two cocks against you— everything’s making you crazy. You’re losing your mind, trying to hang on to him as he licks over the glands. “Want daddy, baby?”

Your head bobs like it’s disconnected from your longing, arching body. And you almost cum again on the spot when sharp canines drag over that spot. You just might.

A low growling sound makes you open your eyes. Shiu’s hand is between the face and your neck, much to the other man’s dismay. “I told you not to bite ‘er. Don’t care how much she begs- she’s not ours to bite.” There’s a moment of silence between them, before Fushiguro sucks his teeth in annoyance, before grabbing his cock instead.

“She is mine.” His large hand wraps around your arm, and pulls— but your other shoulder is still clamped in Shiu’s palm. Almost painfully tight, as a muscle twitches in his jaw. And the tension between them is making you clam up, but your body’s still aching too hard.

“Share, please,” you sweeten your voice as you press your lips to Shiu’s knuckles, then present yourself a little more and shake your ass against him. “Please, daddy? Want to be full.” It doesn’t take long for that same flush to travel back up his chest and cheeks, and his irises to get wider and darker again. “Full of Alpha cum, t-take all of you.” It’s with that that he wraps an arm around you entirely and pulls you up against his chest, placing his cock between your legs as he lifts your knees. “Ack- agh.” You mewl, and Fushiguro leans in for another kiss.

Briefer, but no less messy.

Shiu’s quick to press his own kisses to your throat, letting his stubble rub over your scent glands— with your pussy clenching in response. He rolls his hips against you a few times, then lines up with your ass as he groans. “Hold her legs.” You take a deep breath, and close your eyes as the cock presses to your ass, slick enough to push in with minimal effort. “Uhuh, there’s a good Omega.” As he does though, the space in your body is so full, you’re struggling to breathe. It aches enough to make you wilt and bloom all at once.

And then Fushiguro takes over on your pussy, and you cry out. Your hot cheeks are coated with tears, and your clit thumps with all the blood. It’s too much. You can feel both of them slide into you with painful precision, wetness spilling all over as you break out in cold sweats. But it- it feels so good. Fushiguro slips in a few inches at once, making your legs shake— before you dig your nails into his shoulder and your vision goes black. “Oh- fuck-f-fuck, cu-mming~ Agh- uhh nghn, oh god.”

The two men slide you down until you’re so full it feels like your insides are moved aside to make room. Like you’re about to tear in two, squished between two hot, solid bodies. Before Shiu groans into your hair, and lifts you up to slide you back down. And again, and again. Bounced on the two of them while slick drips out of you, and you’re creaming around them both. “That’s a- ugh- pretty girl.” Your orgasm barely pitters out before you’re cumming again, and you’re getting kissed on as you’re crying.

Not a single thought makes it though you. You’re clinging on for dear life. Only the heat between the three of you as you melt into a puddle.

You’re fucked until you can’t even feel your legs, let alone hear how you’re mewling and crying— like you might dissolve. But you do feel it when a tongue laves over your neck, and the cock pulsing inside you starts jack-hammering into you harder than before. Everything feels so- good- that you’re probably drawing blood into his shoulders, and the tongue becomes teeth. One second you’re floating, and the next the pressure grows too much— teeth break skin, and your pleasure becomes mind-numbing.

Fushiguro’s teeth sink into your shoulder deeper as he breathes you in, fucks his cock into your guts with the intent to stay. And the other man grunts, squeezing you tighter. But without thinking, he follows suit to bite down on the other side of your neck, letting you shake through yet another orgasm when the hot blood runs down your collar. You’re entirely spent, so there’s not one part of you that still feels the way Shiu speeds up inside your ass, before groaning out your name as he licks along the wound.

“Fuck, gonna- knot my girl. Fuck- ugh, ughuh— my baby, mine. Mine.”

It feels like you’re stuffed further than you ever thought possible, face dropping into Fushiguro’s chest when they slow down, and ropes of hot cum drip out of you despite the knots. Wasting it in a way that you’d savor, if you had any energy left. Instead you can only barely breathe, and rub your nose into your Alpha’s chest. It feels good. You wanna go again.

“Uh— my bad. I got carried away.” One of them sighs after a while, the rumbling of his voice rocking you to sleep.

“Yea…” The other responds, only the slightest bit guilty. “…Guess Suguru will have to learn how to share.” His large hand smoothes over your cheek, before stubble and soft lips kiss over the mark he’s made.

“But I don’t think I wanna share.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[iwasei]

HELLO

where my baddies at

[iwasei]

Monsters: Mikey Sano x Reader x Izana Kurokawa

Chapter 1: Warning Signals

Pairing: Mikey Sano x Fem Reader × Izana Kurokawa

series summary: your grievous sin was Emma standing up for you to her brothers. And now you’re going to pay the heavy price for destroying their perfect family dynamic.

chapter summary: being friends with Emma Sano is nice, until you get on the wrong side of the Sano brothers.

chapter warning: dark content, 18+, misogyny, alcohol mention, sex mention, r*pe mention, brief religious mentions, reader is called a whore/slut, slutshaming, sexual assault, noncon to dubcon, public initimacy, fingering (fem recieving), dacryphilia, gaslighting, manipulation, mentions of vomitting, victim blaming, destructive thoughts, mention of violence (towards reader)

wc: 9k +

masterlist||moodboard||chapter 2

KNOWING how big both the TENJUKU and TOMAN fraternities were on campus, it was a bit awkward being friends with the youngest sister of two of the most popular guys in this school. 

Anywhere you two went, she would always be the center of attention. You didn't really mind being in her shadow because as long as you have her, you’ll be fine. People called you a lost puppy, riding on Emma’s cocktails just to get by in university.

They didn’t know how you both have self-care days where you would paint your nails, wear facial masks and watch “Mean Girls” or “Clueless” on her laptop because you weren’t allowed to watch it when you were young. Or how the both of you always have study dates with hot coffee and exchanging annotated notes so that you both remain at the top of your game. They don’t know about the secrets you both share and the trust you both have for each other.

You don’t have to explain anything to anyone.

Emma is a pretty satisfied girl. Her college tuition is paid for in full and her time here has always been smooth. As far as you knew, she grew up being loved by all three of her brothers and they doted on her to the point she thinks they spoiled her.

-You don’t think they spoiled her -okay maybe a little with the way she spends money, but everyone has a vice-

You could tell she knew what familial love is with how sweet and kind she was to you when you opened up about your family troubles.

The only issue is that her two brothers, Mikey and Izana, have been at each other's necks for some years now. Mostly Izana inciting violence at Mikey and Mikey retailiating; it’s the number one concern in the Sano household the way those two fight and argue.

From what Emma told you, Izana’s provocative nature was the gasoline to Mikey’s volatile mental state, akin to fire. Even the littlest of things that no one would bat an eye for could incite a bloody brawl between them. And as they grew older, more people were involved in their petty rivalry, since neither Emma nor Shinichiro agreed to take their side.

Despite the looming hostility, Mikey decided to throw in the towel and agree for a truce. At first, Emma couldn’t believe it. Until two weeks had passed and they hadn’t fought once.

"They haven't gotten along at a stretch like this, I tell ya!" Emma had said excitedly while selecting what she would wear that day. You let out a small smile as she tossed multiple clothes on her large bed. Being the youngest had its perks, like how her oldest brother, Shinichiro paid for her to have the biggest room in one of the dorms all to herself.

You heard that on the front, he had one of the biggest Motorcycle brands and behind all of that, his real business was handling the black dragons, one of the biggest gangs in Japan.

You wonder how Emma feels about her brothers' lifestyle, but judging from her huge wardrobe and expensive jewelry, you don't think it bothers her too much.

Not like you cared either. To you, she was just Emma. Nothing more or less.

The blonde haired girl swiftly turns to you with two options in her hand, a pink sequined dress and a white halter crop top and a pink mini skirt with ruffles at the bottom. "I need to look really good today, which one says 'I'm so happy my brothers are not at each other's necks for once?' " She asked animatedly.

You've never seen her this happy since you met her, unless Draken was involved and somehow it made you happier too. It must be nice to be so close to your family members all the time and be able to mend your relationship with them.

You've never had that. You don't think of your family much. You don't wish to either, ever since your father cursed you out for rejecting a marriage proposal from one of his friends to pursue higher education and your mother stayed quiet, complicit -not like you would blame her for it. The first time you ever went against your father’s old fashioned ideals after years of obedience was met with immediate punishment.

Ironic.

You don’t regret it, though. Because you wouldn’t have met Emma.

"The second one is a better choice." You said with a smile, gazing at her with adoration in your eyes. “The skirt ruffles makes your legs look good. Pair it with the white strap heels and you’re good.”

The blonde broke out into a wider grin, the clothes pooling at her sides as she rested a hand on her hips. “Look at you giving me fashion advice.” She teased lightheartedly. “I feel like a proud mother growing up!”

“I learned from the best.”

You both fall into a comfortable silence and you take that time to admire her. You’ve always thought Emma was gorgeous, from her bright smile, to the twinkling of her eyes when she’s mischievous, to her enthusiasm for life in general. It was a no-brainer that guys would gravitate towards Emma and try their luck into dating her. Eventually the threat of her brothers or the threat of her equally terrifying friends with benefits who just happened to be the vice president of Toman, Ken Ryugi, would be enough to back off.

“So have you picked your outfit for the party?”

You’re snapped out of the trance-like state to see Emma standing in front of you, her body so close, you could smell her vivienne westwood. “Me?” You asked her, your tone laced with confusion. “I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

“And why is that?”

You paused, trying to organize your thoughts on how to break this to her without ruining her mood tonight. “I don’t think…” you took a deep breath before saying. “Your brothers would want me there.”

There’s a shift in her look, so minor but you could pick out the way her smile faltered. You both knew that her brothers could be… weird around you. It was something Emma couldn’t understand for the life of her.

Izana was usually very displeased with your presence and makes it very well known he doesn't want you there with snide remarks and forgetting your own order. His friends, for the fear of him, wouldn't speak to you either. It took Emma angrily yelling at him for him to be civil towards you. But the second she turned her back, Izana would go back to his usual self, being rude and peppering it with little acts of violence like pushing your hand so that your drink spilled all over the floor and even pushed your laptop bag to the ground, destroying the device you saved money to buy for months.

Mikey was on the other end of the spectrum. He would ignore your very presence and talk to everyone else but you and the rest followed suit. You’ve tried to at least make small talk with him, anything but he would talk over you. You heard from other people that he’s the nice brother and he’s usually so easy going- you’ve seen it with your very eyes the way he interacts with Emma’s other friends, Hinata and Senju.

And it was a shame really. You may or may not have had a crush on him from the first time you saw him. 

Only some guy named Takemitchi would try and explain that they don't hate you. It was surprising, considering that you knew people like Hakkai - whom you attended the same confirmation class and high school with- and even he made no effort to at least speak with you whenever you came to the frat house or met on the road.

You stopped bothering to make either of the Sano brothers like you, so long as they let Emma keep hanging out with you. It was obvious that they hold some animosity for you when you’ve done nothing to them.

You like peace and you wouldn’t want to cause a scene in the party.

“Nonsense!”

Before you could say anything, Emma pulled you up by your arm and dragged you off the bed towards her closet. “That’s a load of bullshit. There’s no way I’m leaving my best friend to rot in her room when there’s a Sano party going on.”

“But-”

“Nope!” She cut you off stubbornly, before pulling out some clothes from her closet, trying to match them with your skin tone. Satisfied with the outfit she picked, she puts the clothes in your arms and practically shoves you into her bathroom.

“EMMA-”

“Don’t Emma me, (name). You’re going to take a shower and by the time you’re out, I should be back with a makeup kit that suits you.” You tried to speak again but she silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “We’re going to be the hottest girls at that party, whether they like it or not.”

“But these look very short-”

“Sorry, can’t hear you, bye!”

You sighed when Emma shut the bathroom door in your face, locking it so that you would do what she said.

There was no winning with Emma when she made her mind up. Might as well follow through with it.

YOU had no idea how big this party would be.

You've come to the Toman frat house before with Emma to see Mikey and Draken once, and admired how large and spacious the three story building was. Now imagine that large of a space being cramped up with nearly the whole school's population.

Somewhat, you’re grateful that the blue outfit Emma lent you was as short as it was. The house was so hot, you could faint from how stuffy it was.

You hold on tightly onto Emma's hand, intertwined with each other as the both of you push through the big crowd, ignoring the sweaty, drunk patrons as you headed for the stairs. She, being used to parties like this, was able to navigate through the raging crowd with some form of ease.

After a few more squeezes, you both finally make it to the stairs.

As you both climbed up, you could see different people, all having fun in their own way. You're rarely invited to parties, so this was still more of a nouveau experience for you. A girl is asking for a light, a tiny blunt in between her teeth until another person lights it up for her. You see some guy shotgunning another girl, before melting into a hot kiss, tongue melding with each other. Someone else is drowning shot after shot and a couple is practically dry humping for everyone to see, a poor excuse to dance with the music.

The obscene sight surprisingly doesn’t disgust you, knowing your background, it just makes you curious. How would it feel to try one of those things? Smoking? Drinking? Making out with someone? Emma had told you about her own experiences; as long as you took it easy, it could be fun. Her first time with anything was with Draken and he was always gentle with her, plus her brothers were fine with it, even making sure whatever she took wasn’t laced with anything.

However, you were taught differently. That your body is a temple that you should keep clean for God and doing any of these things will sully you.

You didn’t believe that as much as you did when you were younger, but you didn’t want to test your luck either in case it ended up being true. Or look like a complete moron when you start coughing in front of everyone.

You tried as much as possible not to make it obvious that you're staring, but that failed when you caught the attention of a tall silhouette smoking. Sharp golden eyes stared you down and you instantly looked away, not wanting to get in trouble with some random guy.

You've heard rumors about Toman or Tenjuku guys absolutely beating anyone up for just staring at them wrong. You don't want to be victim number seventy-five this year.

Finally, you both reached your destination; a room on the second floor where Mikey had asked Emma to meet him. The ground floor was always the place where non-members stayed, trashed and partied. The first is accessible to all members of Toman (and now, Tenjuku) to hang out, have a private party and smoke. The second floor is only for executives and their girls or sisters.

You're a bit worried for yourself as Emma spoke to the person guarding the door. Mikey never said YOU could come along with Emma. You're no executive. You're no girlfriend of their executives and you are definitely not related to any of them. You had told Emma to leave you on the ground floor but she insisted that no one would be angry with your presence.

You've suspected that Emma has been trying to hook you up with someone in either of the fraternities. She was always insistent that you at least get to know them.

"(Name) come on."

Without waiting for your protest, Emma yanked you into the rather pristine room that housed the executives. Your eyes drank in the sight briefly, thanking God that it wasn't filthy or smelly as you had imagined it. The execs were all playing a game of poker, with an orange haired girl -Hinata Tachibana, his girlfriend, perched on Takemitchi's lap, laughing at his bad luck.

Emma's eyes quickly scanned around the room for a brief moment until she saw her two brothers sitting side by side, both engrossed in the game. Mikey’s blonde hair is tousled, like he’s been running his hand through it repeatedly. His baggy white shirt is unbuttoned half way and slips down his shoulder, revealing a black tank top and large jean trousers. Izana is different, white hair falling across his handsome face, leather jacket discarded on the back rest of the chair, leaving him in only a tight red shirt and tighter leather jeans, various chains and accessories hanging from his neck. Two earrings dangle from his ears- you can’t remember the name or significance.

‘They’re really good looking. Really-’

Without a warning, she lets go of your poor arm and jumps on top of Mikey and Izana, tackling them into a hug. Cards fly as she squeezes them hard, to which they discard their initial anger of losing their deck and hugging her back.

"Emma, next time give us a warning, will you?" Mikey pouted. You thought it looked cute, but immediately discarded that stupid thought. The guy hates your guts, don’t think he’s hot. "You ruined my game."

"As if you weren't losing dipshit." Izana teased, his face more relaxed than you’re used to seeing. "She did you a favor. You were down to 100 chips."

"You were down to 50. Who's the loser?"

"Still you."

You could see a smile tug at the corner of her lips lift up as she stands up. "Finally glad that two of you aren't strangling each other for once." She said triumphantly, hands on her hips. Her voice has a pep to it. "Last time both of you were in the same room, it didn't end well."

"Doesn't mean I'm not thinking about it." Izana scoffed. Suddenly, his purple eyes left his sister's face and trailed onto you who just stood a few feet away, awkwardly. You watched in real time as his smile fell, his features darkening the moment he locked gazes with you.

Dear God.

"What is SHE doing here?"

His harsh tone made everyone in the room shift their attention towards you. Your blood ran hot with embarrassment, feeling Izana’s purple eyes scan you up and down in disgust while everyone else just looks at you. Mikey’s gaze burned holes into you as well, silently asking you what the fuck you were doing here.

It was obvious. They never wanted you here. This entire thing was a mistake from the beginning.

"I-I'm glad I could walk with you all the way here, Emma" you stuttered, lying through your teeth. You didn't like the way both brothers were staring at you, like they could walk over to you and wring your neck at any moment. "I'll go join the party downstairs now, so I guess I'll see you soon-"

Pulling away from her brothers abruptly, the blonde girl rushed over to you and grabbed your arm, halting your attempt at running away as she dragged you back in place. You cursed underneath your breath at Emma’s desperate attempt to try to get you to stay.

“Hold on, now (name). I’ll talk to them” Emma whispered reassuringly, before turning to her brothers and increasing her voice in full volume. "She's here with me, is there a problem?”

There was a tense silence in the room as everyone stared at you. Mikey's tone was ice cold as he directed his angry gaze at you, dark eyes scanning down your body. You shuddered when his gaze settled on your legs just briefly before snapping back at Emma’s face.

"Emma. When I sent you that text, I specifically said you should come ALONE."

"Come on Mikey. This is ridiculous." Emma plead your case. You don't realize you're shaking until your friend squeezed your hand gently in an attempt to calm you down and you squeezed back, wanting this to be over as soon as possible. "Why would I leave her downstairs?"

"Because that’s where all the sluts like her stay."

Your eyes widened the second the words left his mouth. The shock was soon replaced by embarrassment as Izana looked at you with a snarl on his face, continuing his verbal assault on you. "Why are you looking shocked? Your ass is practically hanging out of that thing you call a skirt and that top?” His eyes fixate onto your cleavage, something dark crossing his face as he spits out “You're inviting unwanted attention with the way your tits are spilling out."

You suddenly felt naked in the simple white top and jean skirt you wore. Your free hand reached for the skirt to try and pull it down, anything to cover your shame.

"Izana!”

Emma started to reprimand her brother when Mikey cut in. "He's right Emma. I don't like the way she dresses either and I've been biting my tongue for a long while. I don't want you to start looking cheap and used."

“Excuse me? Mikey, are you crazy?”

“Come on Emma, look at your friend. One wrong move and she’ll flash her panties. She’s dressed like a prostitute in the red light district-”

Each word seemed to stab you in the heart multiple times. You quickly averted your eyes to the ground as he continued to berate you about your looks, tearing down your confidence bit by bit with each word until you're reduced into nothing but nerves and silent tears. Everyone was staring at you now, scrutinizing gazes drinking in the sight of your exposed flesh.

Unwanted attention.

"... just saying, next time, she shouldn't dress like this if she wants to tag along with you."

“THAT IS ENOUGH."

Emma’s voice rang through the entire room, anger evident in her tone. The two brothers sat there in silence, stunned at the kind of tone Emma had just used on them right now, as if they’ve never heard or seen her this angry in their life before. You could feel her tremble violently, her grip on your hand tightening as fury radiated from her body.

You were sure she’s holding back things to say with how badly she is shaking. Like she doesn’t want to say anything that she might regret saying. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it immediately, as if biting her words back.

"We're leaving."

“EMMA-”

“Oh come ON-”

Emma threw an arm around you and guided you out of the room amidst her brothers yelling at her to come back. Your friend is gentle with you, hiding your teary face from prying eyes as she leads you through the stairs. The loud music was enough to mask your uncontrolled sobbing, but it didn’t stop people with prying eyes from turning their gazes towards you, wondering what the hell happened to you.

You had never felt this embarrassed in your life. As much as Emma tried to comfort you on your way to her room, their words kept on reverberating in your head. You knew how hard it was to get out of that mindset and now, every confidence you worked for, has crashed down like a pile of cards. Even the way they looked at you made you feel so sick to your stomach.

You've been drilled into as a young child that you're dressed the way you're addressed and because of that, you have always made sure you looked modest enough. You were used to your brothers calling innocent girls whores because of what they wore, that they were asking for it.

And now witnessing it first hand just made you feel so dirty. From the way they looked at you, to how they spoke about your body. It made you ill to the core.

The worst part was how everyone had stared at you. Focusing on the parts that made you look like a whore in Izana’s words like you were a sideshow attraction for them.

The two of you managed to walk back to Emma's room, since hers was closer. Her phone never stopped buzzing all through your journey, even when you got back to her room. You could see the pain in her eyes as she ignored each call, only worsening your guilt. You wished you had stayed back in the dorms instead of ruining her night; she was supposed to be having fun, not walking you back to your room prematurely because you couldn’t take criticism.

"You should pic-"

"No (name)." Emma was quick to assert as she helped you lay down on her queen sized bed, the soft surface. "You don't need to feel pity for them, you're the one they hurt, not the other way around."

You wanted to protest when she fell on the bed beside you, yanking her covers over you both and encasing you in a hug. "You don't have to worry about them. I just want you to feel better." She whispered in your ears, rubbing your back gently. "You looked good tonight."

You could only nod in response at Emma's affirmation, wanting to so badly believe her. You want to believe what Emma thinks about you but you just can’t when you feel like abject filth. Your lips began to wobble, tears rolling down your cheeks once again as their words rang in your ears.

Months of unpacking that trauma, flushed down the drain by a single action.

Emma didn't say anything in response to your fresh tears, she only hugged you tight and rubbed circles on your back to soothe you until you cried yourself to sleep.

   “YOU'RE the one that is fucking wrong!”

You woke up with a start on hearing Emma’s harsh tone echo throughout the room.

You opened your eyes groggily, rolling the covers down a little bit to see what was going on. She was standing at the open door, changed into her pink nightgown, her hair cascading down her shoulder as she argued with someone in the hallways. You push the covers a little further to see who she was talking to, catching a glimpse of a blond haired male standing in the hallways, blocking the only source of light filtering into the room with his body.

“Don’t yell at me, I’m still your older brother.”

‘Mikey?’

You perk up at his voice, instantly awake hearing his irritated tone. What was Mikey even doing in the female dorms by this time of the night? You glance at Emma’s digital clock on her nightstand that reads 00:00am. By now, no male student is supposed to be here, but knowing how influential Mikey is, he might have bribed the security to let him in.

His quiet sigh interrupted your thoughts and you turned your attention back to them, wondering what was going on. He started talking again, taking a tone much softer than before. “You’ve changed Emma. You blow me off to spend time with a stranger-”

“She is not a strang-”

“She is to me. You have enough friends Emma, what do you need this one for? What’s so fucking special about her?” His voice grows harsh again as he goes off a tangent about you. “You’re gonna get tired of her Emma. She’s a new thing but sooner or later you’ll get sick of her.”

Your heart broke at Mikey’s words. Is that what he thinks of you? This was supposed to be the easy going guy on campus that helped girls cross the street and everyone liked?

What did you ever do to him?

“Stop it!” Emma hissed underneath her breath, trying to keep her voice down but drive her point across simultaneously. “Stop talking about (name) like she’s a pet or a fucking toy Mikey. I care for her and I won’t stand you talking shit about her.”

“Em for fuck sake, just get dressed and get your ass back to the party.” Your jaw nearly dropped at how he’s quick to switch topics, ignoring what she just said. “Draken’s waiting downstairs and Izana’s gonna be pissed if you don’t come back.”

“You’re gonna ignore everything I just said right now, huh?”

“Em-”

“You and Izana can go fuck yourselves.”

“You can’t be seriou-”

Emma didn’t let him finish when she slammed the door in his face, turning the key as fast as possible. Her body sagged on the door, a quiet ‘god’ escaping her lips. Her silhouette stayed in that position for two full minutes before she walked to the bed again.

In silence, she laid beside you, wrapping an arm around your body and dragging the blankets over you both once again. You felt safe.

   THE next few days after the party were eventful.

Emma had spent them with you, hanging out in the library to study and going to your work place after a hard day at school, just sitting and talking with you when there was no customer around. You ended up in your dorm room or hers afterwards, eating the snacks you both got from shops around the school.

It was nice. Emma was usually busy with other things, so having her with you all the time seems so perfect. You enjoy the quality time you spend with her, really.

But guilt wouldn’t let you do so.

She had isolated herself from her friend group affiliated with either of her brothers, ignoring their pleas to at least talk to either Mikey or Izana. Hinata or Senju would try to walk up to her on her way to class and Emma would outright ignore them. In a span of days, you’ve seen countless plushies, perfumes, expensive jewelry thrown into the dustbin, either from Mikey or Izana at the back of her dorm- their apology ripped letters ripped to shreds.

You had taken the time to piece one from Izana together and felt your heart bleed at his begging for them to “please work it out. We may not be siblings by blood but you’ll always be my little sister” and Mikey’s “Em I’m sorry for everything. Please let’s talk, I’ll listen to you.”

Your brothers had never done anything like that before. Usually, they would tell you to suck it up or even laugh at you for being too ‘sensitive’.

Then and there, you decided to talk to either of the Sano brothers in hopes you would mend their relationship. A naïve part of you thinks that this is the right thing for you to do; Emma has done so much for you, it’s time to return the favor.

You hadn’t told Emma what you planned on doing, knowing very well that it would make the poor girl far more furious than she was already. She would tell you that you have nothing to apologize for and get angry with you for suggesting to make peace with them, claiming you did nothing wrong.

The last thing you want is to escalate the issue. You just wanted Emma’s happiness.

You gripped the strap of your tote bag firmly, your eyes fixated on Mikey’s Chevrolet that was outside your department, possibly waiting for Emma to come out so that he would talk to her. Gathering all your courage, you walked towards the car and gently knock on the passenger’s seat tinted window to get his attention.

It wound down immediately, revealing the blonde haired man staring back at you with an annoyed expression.

“Are you trying to break my window?”

His rude tone made you instantly regret even trying to talk to him. Unfortunately for you, the decision was made and you stuck to it. ‘The letters, remember the letters’ You whispered to yourself. “I’m sorry Mikey I didn’t mean-”

“Manjiro.”

You blink twice at his interruption, trying to make sense of what was going on. “Huh?”

“Only my friends call me Mikey and as far I’m concerned, you aren’t one of them.”

There it is. That same attitude of that night. It almost made you angry with the way he was talking to you. You had every right to just curse him out and walk away from him - he was the one consistently harassing you, not the other way around, so who does he think he is?

Instead, you took a deep breath, thinking about just being the bigger person and how you want to make peace with him, so that everything returned to normal. “Okay, I’m sorry about your window Manjiro.” You added politely. “Can we talk?”

He narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously and you expected him to roll up his window and just drive away after that.

“Get in.”

You were shocked, but that quickly wore off when he opened the door for you to enter. You settled in quickly, snapping the seatbelt on after closing the door behind you.

There’s tense silence between the two of you as the car moved towards a more secluded part of the campus. You anxiously looked at your lap while he drove, wondering how you were going to start the conversation with him without instantly setting him off. Your gaze eventually drifted up to his face; from his half-lidded dark eyes to his straight nose, down to his soft pink lips. You could see the resemblance between him and Emma, from their facial structure to genuinely good skin -not to mention they were both attractive. Despite his height, you knew a large amount of girls that crushed on him religiously. You’re not sure if anyone succeeded with him though since you don’t really do campus gossip and try to stay in the background.

The car stops, bringing you back to reality. You realized that he had parked behind an abandoned class far behind the rest of the school. According to the university’s history, this was the first ever lecture hall that was built for the school, and eventually they decided not to renovate it as a remembrance from their little beginnings.

Or they didn’t want to spend any money on it.

Mikey switched the engine off, completely silencing the environment between the two of you. It is then that the realization hits you. You’re all alone with one of the most dangerous guys in this school, in a place where no one could hear you even if you scream. The thought makes you nervous, hoping to high heavens that Manjiro doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Well?” He asked, breaking the ice between the two of you. Mikey leaned back on the driver’s seat, turning to look at you. “You wanted to talk? Start talking.”

‘Okay. I can do this’ You whispered gently, exhaling through your lips. You can do this. “Mike- I-i mean Manjiro, I know it’s awkward, after everything that happened at the party and now it’s all a mess.” You cringed at the way you’re jumbling your words, this was not how it was meant to go. “We still haven’t resolved things yet-”

“We?”

You’re taken aback by his shocked tone as if he didn’t remember what both he and Izana had said to you, but when he doesn’t elaborate further, you take matters into your own hands. “Yes. You both said some unsavory things to me that hurt me that day, and it made Emma mad.” You paced yourself, not wanting to start rambling again. “I also want to apologize for disrupting your party by taking those words to heart and if I have offended you in any way, please forgive me.”

There’s an unreadable expression on his face, as if he’s slowly processing all the words you had just said. You watched his reaction morph from surprise to blankness, nothing on his face, which scared you more than any other expression.

“Get out of my car.”

What?

You quickly turned to the man, trying to understand what you had done wrong. This wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go in your head. You expected that Manjiro would be civil enough to at least apologize for his actions too or talk, not this.  “Wait, Manjiro, what did I say wrong-”

“You don’t even realize you’re the problem!” You nearly jump out of your skin when you see the way his once annoyed expression had changed into something far more ugly, eyes blown out, face red with hot fury as he spat at you.

“Em can never fucking shut up about how I need to apologize to you whenever I try to talk to her! It’s always about you, you, you! So what I called you a slut? Was I wrong? Look at what you wore at that party.” he snapped at you, before sneering at your clothes right now; a blue zip up cropped sweater showing off a little mid-riff and a layered skirt that stopped at your thigh, coupled with a pair of white knee high socks. “And look at what you’re wearing right now. Just look at how short that skirt is. Might as well show your ass off to the campus”

You instantly started to feel self-conscious at his disgusted look, trying to drag down your skirt to cover the space between your thighs and socks. The action only seemed to fuel his anger. “Oh? You didn’t know when you dressed up like a common whore this morning, huh?”

“I thought it was cute-” You felt so stupid, uttering those words, but before you could say anything else, Mikey cut you off. “Cute? Oh you’re cute alright, just as cute as those cocksluts on porn sites with cum all over their faces. That’s how cute you are.”

You want to cry at how insultive and insensitive his words are. You weren’t even showing off much skin and he is just calling you a slut through and through. 

“I’m not a slut-” your voice trembled, but just like arguing with your father, it’s no use. He let out a loud scoff, his gaze flickering from your face to your lap, settling between your legs. “Really? As far as I’ve heard, you’re used product. That pussy is probably loosened up from all the cock you’ve taken.”

“I’m not that kind of gir-”

“I’ll only believe it if you let me touch your pussy..”

“Excuse me?”

“Let me feel how tight you are. Then I’ll believe you.”

You don’t like where this is taking you to. You see Mikey pressing something on his key and the locks click, trapping you in the ventilated car with him. You try to pry the door open or undo the latch, only to discover that it was stuck and that there was no way to go out. Your heart starts hammering loudly in your chest, dread filling your veins when you realized how alone and utterly fucked you are.

“Manjiro open the door or I’ll- I’ll-” 

“Or you’ll what?” He spat back, dangling the keys before your very eyes before putting it somewhere you couldn’t see. “You wanna open the door so bad? Get the key from me then.”

You’re quick to react, lunging forward in an attempt to snatch the key for him. He easily resisted you grabbing at his body while laughing at your repeated screams to let you out. It was like the more you begged and pleaded for him to let you go, the more he liked whatever game he was playing.

“THIS ISN’T FUNN- MANJIRO!”

Your screaming did nothing to deter him from practically jumping on you and pinning your arms against your chest with one firm hand, a leg separating your thighs. You twisted and turned, trying to fight your way out of his tight grip but to no avail. He was heavy and stronger than you had imagined, holding onto you like you weighed nothing at all.

His other hand reached underneath your skirt, skimming through your panties, making you squirm in your position at the feeling. Panic rises against your chest as he pushes the crotch part aside, revealing your pussy. “Wait! Wait, please-” you try to reason with him as he traces through a streak of your hairy vulva, curling a strand in one finger before moving to your clit.

“You don’t shave?” His tone is so casual, like he isn’t doing something very abhorrent and wrong right now. His question is left hanging in the air as his finger starts to slowly circle around your clit.

You’ve never been touched before. You’ve never touched yourself there either. You grew up in a household that taught you that anyone who isn’t your husband touching you is wrong. Your body is a temple to be kept for your husband.

So when Mikey’s slow and sensual movement against your clit begins, your body nearly seizes up with sensitivity. A loud gasp escapes your lips, followed by heavy breathing, your body shuddering with something unfamiliar and electric, sending signals that you didn’t know how to respond.

He strokes you faster, rubbing your sensitive nub in circles that has your eyes glazing over and your hips moving to feel more of his touches, wetting his car seat and your skirt with arousal. Mikey watched with interest the way you closed your eyes tight, your head lolled towards the side as your chest rises and falls, quiet ‘oh’ leaving your lips. He started to take it a step further, leaning over to your neck and trails kisses from your pulse point, to your jawline. He moved up to your ear and his long tongue darted towards the shell, licking it.

“Manjiro-” You gasped at the foreign wetness, with each flick of his tongue, sending pleasurable shivers down your body to your very core. Encouraged by your somewhat positive response, he continues licking your earlobe, his teeth occasionally grazing the shell as his fingers progressively leaves your clit, gathering your slick between his two fingers and tracing the outline of your hole.

“Shit” he groaned, feeling how soaked you were. “You’re so wet right now, I could just slide in that pussy of yours with ease.”

You wanted to protest when you felt two thick fingers inch into your unused hole. You wanted to push him off you and run out of the car until you were far away from him. Every part of your mind, your heart, everything in you wants Mikey OFF you as he forces your hole to accept his fingers.

And yet, you couldn’t even scream, you couldn’t claw at his face to scratch his eyes out for doing this to you. No. Instead, you’re arching your back and breathing his name into his ears over and over again, your hands clenched tightly in his grip as his fingers stretched your pussy out. All you do is tear up and let this sick pervert lick the salt rolling down your cheeks off, before going back to kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You’re so pretty when you cry f’me. Come on, keep making those noises.” 

He curled up his fingers, experimentally looking for that spot as the burn graduated to a pleasurable stretch, repeated moans leaving your lips. He fingered you, progressively increasing his speed and pleasure overriding your senses as he circled his thumb over your poor nub, simultaneously with him curling up your g-spot.

Your body responded to his touches, lips kissing up and down your neck, licking your pulse point before sinking his teeth and mouth on it, making you gasp loudly.

Everything was too much. Your pussy tightened around his fingers, thighs trembling as he brought you closer to the edge. His lips left your neck and kissed up to your jaw, then the corner of your lips, pumping into you faster until you started to spasm.

“M-manjiro I-i feel, I feel- waitwaitwait- hngh-”

You arched your back uncomfortably with a strangled cry, soaking his fingers as your vision went blinding white. Your body trembled as he fucks and kisses you through your orgasm, shaking in his grasp until you fall limp on the chair, well spent.

You’re catching your breath as his fingers slid out of your pussy, a string of your cum connecting them. Manjiro looked at his soaked fingers with interest, before popping them in his mouth and humming to himself in approval. The sight feels so wrong to look at and you can’t find the strength to look away as he licked his fingers clean of your musky taste.

You don’t say anything when he let go of your wrists and adjusted your panties so that it covered your pussy. The blonde haired man climbed back to his seat, starting up the engine of his car again.

He doesn’t say anything when you start sobbing.

   “I GOT the food for you.”

You didn’t respond to Manjiro, hanging your face as tears rolled down your face. It’s the position you had assumed since he climbed off your body, something he couldn’t get you out. He thought that maybe if he got you some food, maybe you’ll ease up and eat.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Kissing his teeth, he entered back into the driver's seat before closing the door behind him, tossing the food at the back seat. You could tell from the way he was muttering underneath his breath that he was growing more annoyed with you. “Honestly, I don’t know why the hell you’re crying. You’re still a virgin.”

You didn’t know what else to expect from him. That he would even offer you a shred of apology for what he did? The way his words are so callous, lacking any form of tact in the way he’s brushing off what he just did tore you apart.

Emma had painted this man as someone who would hang the moon and stars for her. Someone she knew she could call if anything was going to happen to her, who would fight through hell and back for her safety. She had told you of how he beat up anyone that touched her wrongly and how he would try to make her forget anything unpleasant. To Emma, Mikey was her knight in shining armor, her hero.

But when you turn to look at him through your teary gaze, watching him rev up his car engine with a nonchalant expression on his face, all you see is a monster.

You felt sick.

“I’m going to tell Emma.”

Your voice was quiet, hoarse from all the sobbing but the anger was evident. There was no way you were going to let him get away scott free. You knew that the police would be as good as useless because you’ll have no evidence by the time you manage to file a complaint. The school authorities won’t help you either as Shinichiro Sano was one of their biggest benefactors and everyone in the faculty loved Manjiro despite his tendency to be disrespectful.

But if you told Emma, you know she’ll believe you. Even if the entire world was against you and for him, you would still be able to get her to take your side and stand with you.

You’re sure name dropping his little sister would make him scared at the very least. Mikey loved her to death, she had this perfect image of her sweet older brother that he has to uphold at the very least.

“Call her then.”

Without skipping a beat, he dropped his own phone straight onto your lap before continuing to focus on the road. Eyes wide, you turned your head to Mikey to see any form of reaction, even him flinching slightly.

Nothing.

Your mouth hung open at how he just blankly stared at the road ahead of him, his grip on the steering wheel normal as he drove you back to campus. As if he’s innocent, like he didn’t force his fingers into your panties and violate your purity. His nonchalance irritates you; it’s as if he doesn’t care what you say or do to him.

“How-” you questioned him, wondering where the hell he dropped his humanity? Any other person would have reacted; begging you, threatening you or even giving a flimsy apology. “-you’re not even scared-”

“Why should I?” He shrugs his shoulders. “You never once said no.”

“That’s not how it works!”

“Then how does it work?” He cuts you short, taking a right turn to park outside of your faculty building. He puts the car in park before turning to face you. “You walk up to my car to ask me if we could talk. When I told you to get out, you didn‘t leave. You never told me to stop and you didn’t struggle. You know what you did instead?”

“Sto-”

“Ah ah- Manjiro” he mocked you in a high pitched voice, making you cover your ears in humiliation, not wanting to hear anything from him. You wanted to throw up, ruin his car. You want the ground to swallow you whole, anything that would take him far away from you. “Ah, mmh Manjiro, mmh mhhh ah ah- you moan like a pornstar by the way. Almost like you enjoyed being treated like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you felt was bile rise up to your throat. A part of you nagged that he had a point; you never said anything that sounded like ‘stop’ or ‘no’ and how you positively responded to his touches. ‘You even orgasmed.’ A gnarly disgusting voice bubbles up in your head, in defense of Mikey. ‘It was obvious you enjoyed it. Every second of it.’

You tried to deny it. Try to block out that voice as you attempt to remember everything you were told about assault. You’re fighting a war in your head, against the intrusive voices as you picked up the phone to tell Emma. ‘She’ll believe me. She’ll believe me-’

“Face it. You enjoy being taken advantage of.”

Those words were the final nail to the coffin. The phone lies in your limp hand, finger just above Emma’s line to call her. Everything that led up to this point involved your choices. To stay in his car. Not fighting harder. Never screaming no or stop.

You let him sully your temple.

Mikey spared you one more look, dark eyes scanning every inch of your crumpled form. You don’t see the twitch of his lips or him struggling not to smile or laugh at your predicament that he caused. Instead, he slides the device out of your hand, placing it back in the middle of his car before grasping your hand in his.

“Alright, stop crying.” he soothed in mock sympathy, thumb tracing over the back of your palm. “I’ll take you shopping and buy you new clothes, hmm? And I’ll buy you anything else you want. Okay?”

You should have known better to believe him. After everything he has done to you, from consistently insulting you, to assaulting you and then making you feel guilty for giving him the opportunity to do so.

And yet, you’re nodding along with him, agreeing with him and letting his warmth engulf you. “Okay.” You said in a small voice, your free hand grasping the hem of your skirt tightly.

“Look at me.”

You felt another hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look at his face, dark eyes peering at your face. “I don’t like that look on your face.” You wince as his fingers tightened around your jaw, your heart hammering against your chest when he commanded you once again. “Smile.”

You don’t know what else to do. With Mikey, it’s like going to a war knowing fully well you would lose.

And so you do as you’re told. Your lips lifted at the corners forcefully and you gave your best smile. He returned it with a smile of his own, genuine to the point his eyes dilated.

“Good girl.”

Your mouth went dry at his statement when he withdrew from your body and unlocked the door for you. Deciding not to ponder on it, you reach for the handle to leave. You had a class in an hour’s time and you were supposed to meet up with Emma beforehand to return her laptop that you borrowed for your project.

“Wait.”

You paused in your tracks, your hand hovering above the door handle. What else does he want from you? “Your makeup is ruined. Fix it before Emma sees you. You don’t want to give her the wrong idea that I hurt you.”

Bile rose in your throat once again at his words, but you hold yourself from doing anything that would set him off. You only nodded in response before opening the door and exiting the car. Tears threatened to escape your eyes as you hurried off to class, your throat burning with anger as you gripped both your tote bag and the food he had gotten for you, hard. Your body shook with each step feeling the intensity of his dark eyes burning into you.

“Smile. (Name).” you started whispering his words to yourself as you enter your department, pushing back your hatred and disgust for yourself to the furthest corner of your mind. “Just smile.”

Ending scene:

Mikey never tore his gaze from you as you disappeared into the building. Dark eyes watched as your ass bounced in that jean skirt you had worn today, nearly reviving the boner he had prior. He had to admit, notwithstanding his absolute disgust for you, you were a sight for sore eyes - pretty, naive, inexperienced.

A people pleaser to add the cherry on top.

He’s never been with an inexperienced girl before. Not even when he lost his virginity in high school. It didn’t hurt that you also had the sexiest thighs he’s ever seen either.

You weren’t as stupid as he thought -far from it. Mikey knew your strategy; picking your battles carefully. You’re rightfully afraid of both him and Izana. You were even more afraid of losing face with Emma, the only friend you managed to make here, which is why you came to him because you felt guilty for making her mad at them.

How you thought that would solve anything, though, was beyond his understanding. All your actions pointed at was that you are a big suck up with little self-respect.

He and Izana were perhaps worried for nothing. If played right, they could have you underneath their thumb like they do with the rest of Emma’s other friends. All this was to keep an eye on their little sister in the long run. Personally, if you had stayed in your lane, you wouldn’t be a target.

Once you entered your department, Mikey picked up his phone, went straight to his contacts and searched “Takemichi’s pervert friend”. It rang for a few seconds until someone picked it up.

“What now?” A male voice grumbled. “Why do you call me at the worst times Mikey? I’m in the middle of something important.”

‘Yeah. Fucking some girl in a closet is so important. Idiot.’

“I need a favour from you. A big one. I’ll pay you for it.”

The line shuffled a little bit, before quieting down. Mikey could hear a girl muttering something about fucking her quick before class starts, but the blond could care less. “Alright, I’m listening.” He muttered through the phone. “I owe Takemitchi one for covering for me last semester. What can I do for you?”

“You’re the R.A of (name)’s dorm room, right? I need a copy of her room key.”

Another pause from the other end again. “Mikey, I know you want her far away from Emma, but aren’t you doing too much?” The man chastised. “Planning on getting her expelled? The organized beating last month wasn’t enough?”

Mikey groaned. Izana had sent some girls to your room to fuck you up as a warning, hoping you would get the message. Unfortunately, they weren’t as effective because you still showed up to lectures the next day with a swollen face and a limp and Emma just ended up fussing over you. “You know that was all Izana’s idea. Look, I just need it. I’m not getting her expelled or anything.”

“What exactly do you want them for then?”

“None of your fucking business” Mikey hissed rudely. “Are you gonna name your price or do I ask someone else Makoto?”

The silence was almost deafening before Makoto said “5k” defeated.

Mikey looked at the building again before looking at his watch. He had to attend his criminology lecture by 3pm since he had a presentation today and it was already 1:30pm. The frat member he gave his presentation to edit must be waiting for him at the coffee shop.

Izana would just have to wait until after the class to talk about what their next line of action would be towards their common enemy.

“Deal. Make two copies.”

series taglist (special thanks to): @honeybleed @manjibunny @reiners-milkbiddies @izanaki707 @rukiaslvr @ilovetwodmen @bbykoo-7 @tenjikusstuff4 @cockonoi @koffeenoe2 @kodzukein @lostsomewhereinthegarden @cashout-princess @aliyxh-o @kay-bear200 @iluv-ace @vixensbrainrotts @missgab @urmomsksk @sweeytheart

monica's after notes: i hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm actually feeling ill today so i might not respond quickly. for those who are seeing this for the first time, if you like it please reblog and comment and drop me a follow! note that i do not condone any action potrayed here.

next update is on friday and trust things get even more interesting and twisted.

[iwasei]

more gojo with curse!darling please! i lobe this concept<3

JJK ! IMAGINE

Gojo Satoru x curse!darling

AN: I've been thinking about this for days. part 1, part 3

TW: abduction and captivity, mild condescension, mild coercion, NSFW hints, some descriptions of darling, but nothing too specific

He kept you like one would a stray cat. Leaving you be as you found places of comfort around his apartment, hiding when you wanted to be left alone – which was almost always. You hadn’t warmed up to him yet. Understandably so.

He’d set out food for you, locking the door with spells when leaving – scoffing out a laugh after coming home only to find the dish still on the table. He keeps forgetting you don’t eat. You may look it, but you’re not exactly human.

But you are getting thinner, unfortunately. Suppose his apartment isn’t ideal hunting ground for a curse. And as you’ve gotten weaker, you’ve become wilder – primitive in a way – hissing at him when he gets too close – feeling vulnerable. 

You’re very cute.

But, cute or not, he doesn’t want to starve you. He isn’t cruel. So he walks and wonders what it is that you would find appetizing. 

Watching your behavior – how you sneak around his apartment looting – like a crow – collecting shiny objects to deck yourself in. Stealing all his rings, chains, watches, belt buckles, manchets, any gold or silver-rimmed glasses, and anything else you can use as jewelry – old coins, can tabs, all the silverware – along with everything else you deem pretty – fabrics, flowers, decorations, all his silk shirts. 

You rob anything and everything of value, making a nest of it all in the tub. 

His theory is that the bathroom is the shiniest place in the house and, therefore, where you feel you most belong. You sleep there despite him having given you a room – coveting all your findings.

He’s never really thought about how a curse can have such behaviorism. It’s not too odd to keep tamed ones as pets, but still, he’s never thought about why one would aside from utilizing them in combat. But you weren’t made for such intents and purposes. You were… just fascinating to have. Not far off from being an exotic pet.

But even for a curse, you’re unusual.

It’s not fear or death you thrive on. It’s… something a lot more innocent, actually – which is probably why you have no malicious instincts to hurt him – not that you could if you tried. But he can tell… you don’t want to be a curse, do you? In fact, those few times he has nicknamed you curse, you’ve scowled at him a little more than usual. 

No, what you desire is devotion – to be worshipped. 

What you want is to be a god.

Quite like him, actually. You like having your ego stroked. 

It’s your pride that needs feeding, and he can only asses that it feasts on people’s mad desire for you – of which he has plenty to give.

But you reject it. “I won’t rely on the pity of a filthy jujutsu sorcerer. I’d rather starve.” You tell him with a sneer, curling yourself up with folded arms upon your chest – pouting with eyes closed, drowned in your treasure bath as though everything wasn’t nicking your skin, trying to ignore him.

He slants his head to the side, crouched down beside you with his arms resting on the tub, a smirk on his face – playing cute as he reaches a slim finger out to touch your cheek. “Won’t you let a filthy jujutsu sorcerer worship you a bit? Trust me, a curse has never made me feel so weak before. Don’t you think I’d make for the best beggar?” 

You grimace, brows deepening into a vexed frown without opening your eyes, but you don’t flinch away. “I won’t be patronized. You keep playing with me like I’m your toy.”

“Maybe a little,” He chuckles softly. You’re such an honest and expressive little curse. “But I do think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen~”

“Naturally.” You reply simply, the furrow in your brow softening, but you don’t offer much more.

“Come on, pretty curse.” He drawls. “Let me help you before you waste away.”

You scoff. “Tch- foolish, selfish man… you really are such an ugly thing to behold.” The furl returns, but still, you keep your eyes locked. “Do you honestly think that your rancid touch is going to save me?” Then you laugh – harshly and mockingly. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. A goddess requires offerings left at her shrine, not the filthy touch of the peasants that leave them.” Your nose scrunches suggestively. “You should consider it a blessing to even be allowed to look at me.”

Vain and stubborn, he thinks. You are the curse of beauty. But still, he's never experienced rejection before.

Suppose he has to try a little harder…

He soon finds himself courting you. Trying to make you comfortable.

He starts giving you gifts – first, silver silk bedsheets that lure you into sleeping in your bed instead of the bathtub, along with other changes that make your room more appealing – ornate wallpaper, canopy drapes surrounding the bed, and a smaller chandelier for the ceiling. Happy to see you abandon your former treasure in the tub in favor of your new dwelling.

Then he gifts you other pretty articles – clothes and such that actually fit you – patterned silks and lace. He attempts to give you clothes you can use to cover up more of yourself, but you seem partial to wearing less – most comfortable in just an elegant kimono you can easily discard on the floor than you are in the many layers of a dress. You’re confusing like that – walking around his apartment half-naked but hissing and scowling at him when he stares.

It’s more the jewelry you enjoy wearing – tiaras, earrings, necklaces, body chains, rings for your fingers and toes, bracelets for your wrists and ankles – everything in abundance. Jingling when you step about.

You seem healthier after receiving his presents. Also, a bit less skeptical – now engaging in conversation with him – although often about what his next gifts will be and if he can buy you diamonds and rubies for you to bead your hair.

“I’m not giving you anything, princess.” He laughs one day, eyes bright and smiling, watching the puzzlement befall your face before the spread of horror that soon followed after hearing his next words. “In fact, I’m gonna start taking things away.”

“You wouldn’t-” Your voice had dropped into something so weak it was adorable, no longer having that strident overconfidence you’d built up. It makes him feel almost bad watching your face drain and become so distressed like a spoiled little brat who’d just been told no for the first time.

“Oh- I would.” He grinned like it was all only a cruel joke to him – something just for shits and giggles. “Satoru Gojo giveth and Satoru Gojo taketh away.”

“But-” Your lip wobbles, and he can spot the tears brimming in your eyes already.

He doesn’t let it bother him. Or at least he doesn’t let it show. “I think I’ll start with all your jewelry- how about that necklace you’re wearing right now?” He threatens, pale hand reaching towards your neck to pull your pearls off – but you shrink into a ball on the floor before he has the chance to.

“No, no, no, don’t-” You start sobbing, and he thinks it’s the first time he’s seen a curse be so sad. 

Not to mistake those countless curses he’d made cry and plead for their life, but that wasn’t what you were doing. You were grieving. 

You’re really such a simple thing, aren’t you?

His smile softens into something not so cruel. Crouching down to your level, placing his hand atop your head where you’re bowed and bawling, petting you soothingly. “Okay then, princess. Stop your crying. I’ll let you keep it.”

You raise your head, hopeful. Looking at him with terribly puffy eyes - cheeks streaked with teardrops hanging off your lashes. Looking so pained and vulnerable, it made his heart ache at the sight. 

You don’t say anything but he can tell there’s a question on your lips you’re unable to voice.

“Under one condition.” He answers. 

You flinch when his hand slides from your hair to cup your cheek, holding your chin as he rolls on his feet and places a kiss on your salty lips.

You gasp and allow it for a second but then abruptly push him off – falling back on your butt. “No- you’ll make me filthy.” You rush out. “Beauty is meant to be admired, not reaped. It’s not right. You can’t-”

He watches you blush and stutter and thinks it’s silly how he hasn’t thought about it before. But now it’s become clear. Curses spawn from human fears, after all. It’s not strange that they’re so similar. But still… he’d never think a curse would be afraid of losing her virginity.

“It’s okay, princess.” He coos, setting his knees down softly – crawling forward to where you sit, hiding your face behind small hands decked in too many rings. “I’m not gonna stain you…” He promises, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel like the most desired girl in the world.”

Your breath shivers as he takes your hands and uncovers your face – eyes wide looking at him.

“And after I’m done admiring you, I’ll get you more diamonds and rubies than you can count.”

You swallow – eyes skittering from one of his blue ones to the other. “Really?” It’s below a whisper.

“You bet.” He answers with a smile, flashing you a smirk. “I’ll get you enough to swim in.”

Your nose does a little twitch like it usually does, but this time, it’s not to express disgust. “Do you promise?” You bite your lip – staring at him.

“Let’s make it a binding vow.”

And that’s the arrangement.

You let him admire you in ways you’ve never let anyone else before, but only if he fulfills all your greedy heart’s desires. He doesn’t mind. It’s nice to have something to spend money on that’s worth it.

You’ll lie next to him and he’ll get to study you up close – finding things that betray you – model details that aren’t in line with human imperfections. Missing bone structure, flawless symmetry, hairless skin devoid of any and all accent of mark or spot – just smooth milky texture without a single fault.

He says it’s sad – that the standard for beauty isn’t even achievable, to which you reply that it’s only fair everyone should be subject to the same disappointment, never to achieve perfection like you.

He asks if you think he’s really that ugly. And you say yes.

“Liar.” He accuses. Head propped on his hand, his hair a tousled mess lying in the bed beside you.

You’re looking up at the ceiling but close your eyes insouciantly at his comment. You tip your chin a bit as you speak – lips pouty and proud. “Lies are an ugly trade- in which I don’t partake.”

“Oh, really?” He rolls on top of you and you give a whine. Looking up into his sparkling blues and how his pearly hair falls loose and wispy. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me I’m ugly.” He dares.

“Puh-” You scoff, folding your arms above your puffed chest, looking off to the side, still with eyes closed as though to dismiss him like you so often do. “Men with blue eyes and pink skin look like pigs.”

You sneak a peek with one eye when he doesn’t answer. He’s still looking down at you – still daring you. 

And you continue. Raising a finger to nudge his nose up. “Say oink-oink, piggy.”

He brushes your finger away as he leans in closer. Now with his nose rubbing yours.

“Tell me I’m ugly.” He repeats – his voice dipping low into that serious tone that makes your breath tight and your stomach flurry.

“You’re-” You try but it ends up swallowed, stifled beneath those big worldly blues. “You’re…” You try again but it’s worse than the first time, making you bite your lip. He’s not budging.

You look away. Feeling defeated and mopey because of it.

“You’re not as pretty as me.” You finally sulk.

So cutely grumpy with your pursed lips and vexed brow, he just has to laugh. “Tch- now that we can both agree on.”

And then he forces you to laugh too – beginning to snort like a boar into your ear, placing sloppy kisses to your neck while you scream out that it tickles.

part 1 part 3

tip-jar: Kofi

[iwasei]

VIIIVVIIIIII!!!!

OMG HIIIIIIIII

[iwasei]

seeing all these user and name changes on tumblr is confusing meeeee 😭i forgot my mutuals bro

[iwasei]

i am ALIVE

[iwasei]

time skip! ushijima wakatoshi + fem! reader | mdni | 1,127 words | established relationship, rough sex, creampie, cockwarming, ushi with a clingy girlfriend <3

“you’re just gonna leave like that?” 

hand hovering over the doorknob, wakatoshi stops dead in his tracks at the sound of your voice, surprised to find you standing behind him with your arms folded across your chest and an expression that can only be described as petulant. 

“you didn’t even say goodbye!” you whine. 

ah. he takes a step towards you, and before you have a chance to complain further his hand settles in the crook of your neck. thumb gently rubbing circles into your delicate skin. “my love,” he’s so apologetic, so sincere even though he knows “i’m just going to the store.” you both know you’re just being a brat. but he can’t help it. you look too cute with your eyes closed and lips dramatically puckered, impatiently stomping your feet. his hand slides to cradle your neck as he pulls you towards him and slots his lips gently against yours. and though your attitude might be a bit sour, there’s nothing sweeter than the taste of you on his tongue. 

“kiss me again.” this time it’s just a quick peck, barely touching as he tries to escape your grip. but you’re basically hanging off his neck, still pouting, still not satisfied. “again.” 

“what is this one for?” the way his eyes soften melts your heart a little.

“damages.” you quip. “because you forgot.” 

and you’re gasping as his body crashes against yours, large hands catching you by the waist, guiding your legs around him. “i’m sorry,” close enough to share the air that you breathe before he pays his damages. firm and claiming, “i won’t do it again.” now you’re the one dumbfounded. limbs trembling and limp like jelly as he leaves your home with a soft smile and a promise to be back right away.

wakatoshi has learned that you’re clingy, and he doesn’t really understand. he has never asked anyone to share much with him. and he’s never given much of himself to anyone. and, well, no one has ever asked. until you asked, no, demanded. like the first night you spent together when you shoved your finger in his shoulder just moments after he had turned his back to you and demanded to be held. your hands wrapped around him and face nuzzling into his neck. mumbling something about how he’s so mean to just leave you like that. peppering little kisses down his throat until your breathing deepened. and the realisation that you’ve found comfort in him, his body going rigid at the very thought of disturbing your sleep. the months of back pain before he finally understood that you’d just wanted to be close, feel his skin on your skin, the warmth of his body, that was all the comfort you ever needed.

this unfamiliar feeling of being wanted and desired so greedily. after his morning run, salty with sweat and strands of hair sticking to his forehead. and, still, you make grabby hands from your shared bed, asking for a kiss to start your day, your due. sitting next to the sink, a coy smile on your pretty face, watching him shave because he looks so so handsome when he sticks his jaw out like that. 

perched on top of him, your paws on his chest, pinning him down on the bed as if he’s prey. and the way you’re looking at him with darkened eyes, he just might be. insisting he lets you bite him. “i could just eat you alive.” fingers dig into muscles, squeezing around his pecs.

“then i would be dead and you would be sad about it.”

you scoff, “not if i just have a tiny little bite.” and your gaze turns calculating. “hmm, your thigh.”

“no, i need my thighs.”

“your butt?”

“no.”

ugh. “your cheek then.” wiggling your hips, preening and purring into his ear, mouth grazing over his cheekbone. so determined to get what you want. then sinking your teeth into the plane of his cheek when he doesn’t say no. not deep enough to leave a mark, but long enough so that his skin is slightly red and shiny with your drool. 

you can feel his cock twitch against your clothed pussy as you lick over the bite mark, slowly and with intent. “ah!” you’re gasping and giddy at the thought of flustering him. “you liked that!”

“that’s not-” 

“but you did!” there’s nothing to deny as your hand wraps around his cock. sitting so heavy and pretty against his abs. “are you hard?” he is, and you’re giggling. 

acting so innocent as you move your panties to the side and rub his tip through your soaking folds. then slowly, too slowly, sink down his length, taking as much of him as you can. the flush spreads from his chest, to his face, to the tip of his ears. and he just looks so adorable underneath you. as you make him feel every inch of your pussy, hand still firm around the base. 

gasping every time you go down a bit further. the way your lips part and eyes glaze over makes his balls ache. he lets you toy with him until he’s heard one too many “baby, i can feel you here,” as you drag his hand up to your belly button, “in my tummy.” and he loses all manners, ruthless in the way his hips are rutting up into you. fast enough to make you grab onto his shoulders, and brutal enough to have you drooling on his chest. words long replaced by tiny sobs and some incoherent form of oh my god, ’s too much repeated over and over and over again. helpless against the strength of his grip. 

your little pussy spilling with his cock and cum that it’s all dripping from the sides. and even as you lay on top of him, motionless and sticky and sloppy, you won’t let him pull out, walls tightening around his sensitive length at every attempt. because you need to feel him go soft inside you, to feel so close and so full of him until you doze off in his arms. 

then he finds himself being away from you for the first time. and the silence that should feel peaceful is suffocating. and shaving his face feels pointless when you’re not there to ogle him. the spacious bed feels a little cold and very empty. and he decides to ask. phone in hand, a strange anxious feeling swirling in his stomach, hoping that you’re awake. the relief that washes over him when he hears your voice. his shirt on you and his pillow in your arms, whispering about your day like it’s some great secret. and he learns something about himself that night. maybe he’s also clingy.

thank you for reading! interaction is very much appreciated! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[iwasei]

— 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎𝐙𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐔 !! : baji keisuke.

cw: fem!reader. college au. strangers to friends to lovers trope. baji is a delinquent, still. reader is implied to be rich and rather innocent. ~ fingering. spit. manhandling, slight breeding kink, mating press, raw sex, rough sex, praise.

word count: 4.6k

⠀⠀⠀⠀ . ｡˚ ♡ what happens when the sweet lil honors student decides to be nice and help the failing college student/delinquent out?

when baji makes it into college, it's by the slimmest fucking chance. he barely makes it. but baji's always been one to follow through with what he's set his eyes on doing — so by no means is he going to flunk out of college once he's got in.

he's struggling, though, and it's no help that most of the other students are a little wary of him. there’s nobody around that’s willing to lend him a hand. but that’s warranted, you suppose.

he is after all, a delinquent with a ton of street cred on his back, and has made a name for having a complete lack of hesitation to use his fists to make his way out of any given situation.

he looks it, too — and rumors are always strengthened by appearances.

he's got those wild, sharp eyes and that whetted smile, and he's a big guy. muscles showing through the thin shirts he shows up to classes in, his toned thighs and calves on display at the behest of the tight leather pants he always wears.

the chains and rings he wears, and the booming motorcycle he rides just makes his deadly image more refined — not to mention the fact that he's already picked more than a couple of fights on campus his first semester.

but you see how he tries so hard in class.

you've never spoken to baji keisuke in your life before — but today is the start of the fourth week in a row that you've walked into the library after class, to see baji sitting at one of the tables by himself, surrounded by books as he stares at a printed question sheet with a scowl on his face.

as an honors student, a soft spoken girl that takes her father's car to school every day, and dresses in pastels and skirts, you're the opposite of baji keisuke in every way. you're nervous, and unsure if he'd even listen to you, or just laugh your words off and render you unable to ever meet his eyes again.

but you do it anyway. you walk up to him where he's sitting at his usual table, and clear your throat. "baji?"

and when he looks up, features so sharp and rugged, the pen he's twirling in his hands so tiny compared to his large palm and fingers, your breath catches in your throat — but you speak up anyway. "hi. i'm from your class?" you say, giving him a smile.

"whaddya want?" he asks, after almost a full minute of looking you up and down. you feel nearly insecure as you stand there and wait, wondering if he doesn't like the look of your plaid sweater, your cute boots or your skirt.

you open your mouth to answer him, but he cuts you off — "you wanna hop on my dick or somethin'? because if so, scram."

"no!" you blurt out, feeling your face heat up in an instant. he raises a thick, questioning eyebrow at you then, and you stutter, trying to form your sentences back on your tongue after his embarrassing accusation. "i— i just wanted to know if you'd like some help!"

"huh?" baji grunts, putting his pen down. "what's that mean?"

"with your work!" you say, gesturing to all the books laid out on the table. "you know? i've seen you here a lot recently, working on your homework and stuff. so i just wanted to ask if you wanted some help."

"with my studies?" he asks, like he's still unsure. and when you nod, you see his eyes slowly light up — because even baji knows you’re one of the smartest students. "really? ya wanna tutor me?"

"not for money or anything." you quickly affirm, in case he lands another quip about how he doesn't have money to give you. "just ... as a classmate. as a friend. we could be study partners, if you like."

"study partners, huh." he muses, resting his chin on his fist as he thinks about it. then, he gives you a grin (that automatically makes your heart flutter, because god, you can't deny it — he's hot). "sure."

he pats the chair next to his, offering you a seat, and you take it.

hence, you started on your semester long journey of being baji's study partner, making fast friends with him and finding out that he's a sweet, funny guy alongside the rough, loud personality he's got.

your curiosity on why a gangster like him would try so hard in college, or wish to attend school at all, is satiated when eventually, he tells you about his domestic dreams of building a cozy little life for himself, opening up a pet shop, perhaps expanding it into a vet clinic if he can pass his course and get licensed.

baji’s ambitions are only strange to you for the first half of your time with him. the more you get to know him, the more you realize that his rugged, untamed appearance and personality is all just who he is on the surface level.

apart from how surprisingly cute he is when he’s learning, he's so nice to you — walks with you to class, offers to drive you on his bike to this really good coffee place he knows during breaks, brings you a little gift on your birthday — and by the end of the semester, you're sure you've about fallen in love with him.

and thankfully, with your help, his grades do go up. 

he scores well enough that he manages to pass and secure his spot in college for another year — and though his achievement was not much compared to your top results, he's so happy about it.

"princess," he says (because he calls you princess now) as he flops onto the couch in your bedroom (because somewhere in the midst of the semester, you've also moved your regular study spot from the library to your house). "have i thanked ya properly for all your help yet?"

"what do you mean?" you ask, perched on the edge of your bed, watching him manspread, feeling proud when he shoots a satisfied glance towards the marksheet laying on the couch beside him.

"i mean," he sighs. "i gotta thank you, right? you're savin' my life here."

"by studying with you?" you giggle, and he meets your eyes with a lazy tilt of his head, watching as you smooth your skirt out over your knees. the early winter sun that pools into the room through the window is watery — but the light catches in his bright gaze anyway, increasing the intensity of his stare. "it's okay. you've bought me enough coffee over the days to pay me back, i think."

there's a moment of tense silence, before he gets up from the couch, and walks over to you.

when he stops only a foot away from your seat on the bed, and asks, "is the door locked, princess?" you feel a shiver crawl up your spine — but you nod, assuring him that the door is locked.

and with that, he climbs onto the bed on top of you, pushing you down onto your bed.

your heart jumps, as your back hits the mattress, his hands coming down to dig into the sheets on either side of your head, as he grips them to hold his weight over you.

"can i thank you?" he rasps after a second, voice soft — hovering over you with his lips only inches away from your own. your heart picks up pace, and your pulse hammers in your ears as you fight to keep eye contact with him. as you try to think of an answer.

and well, fuck, you never thought something like this would happen, when you first took pity on the delinquent in your class, and offered to help him with his studies. 

you were just being nice — but as you’d just been thinking of a moment ago, over the course of the time you've known baji, you've found out that he's got so much more to him than his delinquent’s face.

you know he’s gentle with animals, that he works so very hard to be the best he can be, and that he's a loyal friend. you know he likes peyoung yakisoba, and that he secretly reads shoujo manga. you know he prefers your red hair ties over your pink ones. you know the most important thing to him is that his mother is happy (and you know what they say. a man who's good to his mother, will be good to his wife).

you really do like him. so you nod once more, but he sees the hesitation in your eyes, so he asks again. "is this really okay?"

you blink up at him, once or twice, before gathering the courage to ask. "baj— keisuke. do you like me?"

"i do." he replies without a beat missed, gaze bright as he locks it with yours. and just those two words cause your heart to warm up so many degrees, an instant shot of delight — but you ask again. "really?" 

he licks his lips, seeming a little nervous, now, as he hovers over you. "really." he says. his heat spills into you through the minute distance between your bodies, as he collects the words onto his tongue. "i fuckin' love you, princess. never thought i'd be such a sap for someone, but i am. i like you, a lot. i want you."

it's strange — because although you love him, you've never thought he'd return your feelings.

you've always thought and decided that things would end as quickly and smoothly as they'd started. that you'd help him, and he'd receive your help, and that would be that. but now, the situation's changed. in an instant.

a little voice at the back of your head wonders that hey, maybe this is just the delinquent taking his chance with the unassuming, innocent little girl in his class — but you brush the thought aside. you’re not stupid. you know baji’s a good guy.

you swallow, throat going dry as you realize what will happen once you answer. "i like you too, keisuke. in fact, i think i'm in love with you, too."

baji laughs at that, an affectionate little heh, leaving his lungs before he takes in another breath. "can i kiss you, then?"

"you can do whatever you want." you say.

and instantly, he's kissing you. 

it’s almost too quick, his tongue pushing hungrily past your lips and coiling with your own, searing and needy as his hands clutch your waist, crawling under your top to feel up your skin, soft and supple under his calloused grip.

a mewl falls from your lips when his fingers brush against your tits, and he moves his hand back to that spot, giving the soft flesh a squeeze and laughing when you gasp, your body rocking under his. 

your own hands lift up, somewhat unsure, to palm at his muscled chest, tugging experimentally at the hem of his shirt. "take it off," he grunts, into your mouth. "hah, never been touched like this before, have you?"

"haven't." you mumble shyly, and baji's eyes glow dully when he hears it. he yanks the top off of you, and you feel vulnerable as you squirm on your bed, wearing nothing but your skirt and panties as he ravishes you with his eyes. "yeah? gonna show ya how good lil' things like you should be treated, then." he says, placing a hand on your thigh and feeling how you shiver at the touch. 

he doesn't move it before you pull his t-shirt off for him, coaxing you to go ahead and do it, and allowing you to run your eyes over his muscled torso for a bit. then, his hand inches up your thigh as he kisses you again, fingers so large and thick as he makes his way between your legs. "so pretty f'me."

"mm," your face burns again, the same way it had the first time you ever spoke to him, and he'd asked you that embarrassing fucking question — but it's funny, since what he said is now about to come true. in a way. "y—you, too."

"aww, princess thinks i'm pretty?" he coos, and laughs harder when you cover your face with your hands, unable to meet his eyes as he teases you. "fuck, you're so cute. lettin' the gangster boy fuck you after you help him pass in school, eh?"

"i— this wasn't my intention." you whine, but baji cuts you off by pressing a thumb against your clothed clit — and it's even more embarrassing when your body automatically jolts, thighs closing around his arm as you flinch in reaction to the sudden stimulation. "yeah, but ya like how it's goin', mhm?" he grins, showing off those canines again, and fuck. 

"i do," you breathe, as he keeps his thumb over your clit, rubbing little circles into it and making it throb. it's hard to focus when he's doing it, but then he leans in for more kisses, and you've never felt such sweet, yet rough warmth before in your life.

"i know you do." he says it into your mouth, before sliding your panties aside and easing a finger into your cunt. it feels hot, delicious even with just one damn finger, and you moan, the sensation so unexpectedly good. "see? all fuckin' wet 'n i didn't even do much yet."

"please," you kiss him again, curling your hands around his face. "want it already."

"tch, patience, baby." he clicks his tongue, letting just the one finger slide in and out of your slick pussy, and you know he's going to put two in next, and then three, stretching you out just right before he gives you his cock. 

and for something you've never thought about much before, you need it so damn bad. with baji towering over you, body so muscled and toned and hands so hot and good, mouth so skilled at showering you with both kisses and praise, you need him like never before.

the chain on his ripped jeans jingles as he pushes his knee between your legs, opening them wider, before he whispers, just like you’d guessed, that he’s going to give you another finger. his free hand grips your fluffy blanket harder, putting more of his weight onto the mattress and making it creak a little. “move up a little, princess. give me some more room.”

so you get further back onto the bed, and he climbs on after you, letting his pants join his t-shirt on the side of the bed, with your own top — the bold black and grey colours so starkly contrasting your bedsheets as he casts it all aside. 

“ya hear this pussy singin’ for me?” he chuckles, and the way your cunt gushes harder when he slips a third finger in is so good to him, your face flushing with humiliation, he can’t bother prepping you any further before he gives you his cock. 

“she’s beggin’ to have me.” he taunts, loving the way you’re getting so shy and embarrassed, no matter what he does or says. “you do some begging, too, won’t ya? let me hear you.”

and you steel yourself, feeling so full with just his fingers in you, forcing your moans and gasps to be quieter as he curls them in and finds your sweet spots so easily. “want your cock, keisuke. please. need to be filled all up.” he stares at you, doe eyes and swollen lips so pretty as you’re spread out under him, and with a whispered fuck, he pulls his drooling cock out from where it’s been straining under his boxers this whole time.

“see that, princess?” he sighs, relief washing over him as he grips the thick length, allowing himself a few pumps with his fist. “this cock? ‘s all yours.”

baji’s fucking huge — as he grabs your wrist and guides your hand to touch him, you feel the hot, stiff length of him up, and you really don’t know how you’re going to take it. 

but you will — oh, god, you will, because you haven’t even felt him yet but you know he’s going to send you to heaven with just his cock.

“want it,” you plead. “I’ll take it for you. if it’s all mine, then give it to me. please.”

“shit,” he groans, when you run your fingers softly down his cock and back up, smearing the precum collecting at his tip onto your fingers as you go. “for someone that hasn’t done any of this, you’re fuckin’ good with your words.”

“‘m a smart girl,” you give him a smile, and his lips are tugged into yet another grin when he sees it. “smart girls know what to say.”

“yeah, yeah you fuckin’ do.” he assures you, before he tugs the panties off you and throws them onto the floor behind, grabbing you by the back of your thighs and pushing them up, your skirt splaying out on your stomach as he folds you in half and reveals your glistening pussy to him.

“let’s keep this skirt on, yeah?” he asks, eyes on your cunt, on your little hole that he’s about to fill right up. “y’look pretty with it on.”

“anything.” you beg, eyes fluttering shut before you open them again, watching as baji’s hair falls in curtains around his face, his brows scrunching together as he frowns in focus, lining his cock up with your cunt. “just want you to fuck me.”

“alright, alright, baby.” he grunts, voice going heavier, as he finally pushes his cock in. first, it’s just the head — and you think the stretch is manageable, that you can take him well enough.

but then he rolls his hips, forces your cunt open and makes you take all of him in, and fuck.

“keisuke! no— no, not so much at once!” you cry, and he’s barely able to answer, with the way your pussy sucks him in so well despite your protest, warm and wet and so god damn tight. 

“you’re fine,” he stutters, nails digging harshly into the plush skin of your thighs as he pushes himself balls deep into you, bending you further so your knees are pressed against your chest. “you’re just fine, princess, fuck. look at ya. pussy so pretty all stuffed.”

he stays still for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, razor eyes going soft and almost dreamy as he feels your walls cling to him, so deliciously hot. when he nudges his tip to your cervix, you flutter around him, and he hisses, precum drooling into you furiously.

you whimper as the pain dissipates and blooms into saccharine pleasure, the rough grip he’s got on you and the thickness of his cock in your little cunt, together with the praise he’s showering you with — it’s enough to make you cum in almost one go.

“you got this,” he pants, pulling out just a little before he pushes in again, the wavy tousles of his hair bouncing lightly with every move. “your pussy’s fine.”

you open your mouth to reply, but no sound comes out, the moan catching in your throat and your eyes rolling back into your head as he finally starts moving. the messy squelching of your cunt with his thrusts would embarrass you, if he weren’t throwing stars into your vision with each slap of his pelvis against your clit. “k—keisuke!”

“shhh,” he exhales, gritting his teeth as he steadily increases his pace, building his way up to his own high. you’ll cum hard enough, even if he doesn’t try too hard, he knows — his cock is big, he knows how to fuck good, and you’re an inexperienced little thing.

a sweet, beautiful, inexperienced little thing. 

he watches keenly, biting his lip as he goes back and forth, watching your pretty face, eyes wild with pleasure as you watch how his length sinks into you, and then out, and then back in again.

“c-can i,” he groans, waiting for you to look up and meet his eyes before he continues. “go faster, princess?”

“mhm!” you cry without hesitation despite yourself, so eager to please — so needy to have more, more, more.

and god, he's going to cum, he can feel it as he takes his pace even further — your little pussy's just too tight, too hot 'n wet, it's enough to send a man straight to seventh fucking heaven.

he knows already that you'll be fine even if he gets a little rougher than intended — he sees how your eyes are rolling back, how your sweet lips are stretching into a dopey, open-mouthed smile with each hard hit of his cock at your cervix.

you want it, want it all — you're innocent and pure but god you're a devilish little thing at heart.

he'd treat you nicely, be gentle and take things slow like how he'd planned to do at the start, but you want it so bad, he wants it so bad, and there's just no stopping it.

“open that mouth wider for me baby,” he rasps, and you do it instantly, making him laugh as he gathers a ball of saliva on his tongue and spits it out, watching with a heavy throb of his cock as it lands right on your cute, pink lil tongue. “swallow f'me? hah, atta girl~”

and with that, he gives you the first mean thrust of his cock into your cunt — the squelch of your cunt is loud, only second to your moan and third to the grunt baji can't help but let out, when he feels just how tight your pussy is gripping him.

“relax, princess,” he huffs, the muscled panes of his chest pressing against your tits as he buries himself as far inside you as he can go, before pulling back out and going back in again — filling your lovely little room with the lewdest sounds—

the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin, your fucked out whines with each roll of his hips, and the messy sounds of your pussy along with the breathy groans he's spilling into your ear; it's so, so fucking good.

you're stuffed, and as baji whispers hoarsely with his lips against your cheek that he's gonna cum, you moan again, telling him you're gonna cum too, and you don't know what you're begging for anymore but you beg, “please, please, please, please— mmph!”

and he's kissing you again, muscled body trapping you in place as he pounds into you relentlessly, now in short quick thrusts that offer your sweet, gummy spots another kind of kiss after kiss with his fat tip.

“let me cum in you, princess? can't — can't fuckin' pull out, 's too good,” he groans into your mouth, and fuck, you've never felt this good and this loved and this full before in your entire damn life.

“inside, kei, inside.” you agree, voice all high and breathless, your words falling right onto his tongue as they tangle together when he deepens the kiss. “want your cum in me, kei, please.”

and it's not the hug of your velvet walls around his cock, or the plush, warm feel of your pretty body under his, or the claw of your fingers at his back and his arms that undo him— 

but it's the way your voice calls out his name so cutely, saying kei, as you ask him to breed you full, that makes him cum.

the band in his lower stomach tightens and then snaps — and with a low, ravenous growl into your mouth, he cums. “f—fuck.”

his cum is hot, thick, filling your pussy with white and coating his cock in a milky film as he keeps thrusting in and out of you, refusing to slow down even as your own orgasm washes over you and your tiny little cunt clenches even tighter around him, making it almost impossible for him to move.

“mmm, kei! fuck, cumming, fuck, fuck, so good!” you babble, tongue lolling out from your mouth that's parted in your effort to catch your breath, and he'd laugh, chide your language, but you feel so good he's been rendered speechless.

his own mouth is open in silent curses, breath catching in his throat as he fucks his cum deep into you, feeling how your pussy flutters obediently, eating it all right up. 

he listens to your cries of pleasure, head falling onto your chest, his cheek squished against your tits as he breathes you in, basking in the hot bliss you're giving him as he smacks his hips into yours sloppily, such a wet mess forming between your bodies — your skirt is soaked.

“fuck, princess, i love ya,” he hisses, as you milk him through. “this pussy's mine and only mine, alright?”

“mhm,” you nod, and he grins, vision cloudy as he looks down at your pretty face. “all yours, kei.”

“can't take that back after ya said it, alright?” he breathes out, hot over your chest. “tell me ya love me, baby.”

“i love you,” you gasp, as he slows down, bringing his hips to a stop against yours and letting go of your thighs so you can tangle them around his waist again. “i love you so, so much, kei, you don't know.”

“hey,” he chuckles, getting pulled into you as he tries to give you a peck on the cheek. “i love you so much, m'kay?”

“no, i love you more.” you pout, and he nips at your bottom lip, teasing the tender flesh with his sharp teeth. “this ain't a competition, princess. i love you the most.”

“mmm,” you huff, knowing that you both should really get up and clean things up, if you're done — but he feels so nice, so warm and heavy and comforting on top of you, and you want to stay like this forever. “sure. i'll let that go, for now.”

baji only cackles fondly at that, giving your swollen lips a kiss and then another on your teary cheek, before laying back with a satiated sigh. “so what are we now? still just friends? study partners, even though you've effectively hopped on my dick now?”

you feel your face get hot at his words, giving his shoulder a gentle slap as you pout again. “no, what you are now is mine. all mine.”

and there's a little pause, before he lets out another chuckle. “bloody hell, you really do fuckin' know what to say.”

“of course.” you smile. “anyway, study sesh at your place tomorrow? same time?”

“hah, what fucking study sesh when the semester just closed, hm?” he grins, and your eyes twinkle as you reply — “mmm, i don't know. a study sesh like the one we just had, maybe.”

and his grin widens, canines flashing as he laughs. “can't say no to that, princess — you're on fire. and by the way, you're mine, too.”

“mhm.” you reach up, tangle your fingers in the thick, dark locks of his hair and pull him in for yet another kiss, smiling at how he shuts his eyes so cutely just before your lips meet. “i know ♡♡ .”

[iwasei]

Synopsis // Y/n has always been a faceless girl. Insignificant, unimportant, a background character in her own life. Someone who will never do or be anything worth mentioning. She lives her life like a shadow, lurking but never moving unless other's do it first. All that changes when Ran Haitani becomes seemingly obsessed with her. So much for a peaceful freshmen year. How will she handle this flamboyant playboy and her own insecurities?

Genre // Angst, fluff, smut

Warnings // Non-consensual acts, stalking, nudity, sex, oral (f & m), descriptive sexual content, bullying, depression, smoking, drugs, degradation, kidnapping, violence, emotional abuse, codependency, (adult) underaged drinking, parties, yandere tendencies.

Rating // Not meant for underage consumption, 18+ only.

Extra // Fanart || Playlist

Dull Index

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//: 46 (Finale)

Sanzu's route

//: 1

All rights belong to @mizumellon, the author and creator of this story, all the characters except for ones created by me belong to their rightful owner, Mr. Ken Wakui. Do not post or share my content on other platforms, ask for permission beforehand. Thank you.

[iwasei]

The Hand That Feeds

Commission for the lovely @tink2kagome I hope you like it bby! <;33 Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 5.3k tw: a/b/o, non/extreme dub-con, smut, murder/minor character death, human trafficking, blood, yandere vibes

Measured footsteps echo across the concrete floor of the old, decommissioned factory. Iwaizumi Hajime, features set in a scowl, eyes the line of men forced to their knees before him. 

Five in total; thin, filthy, their faces bruised and bloodied courtesy of the soldiers standing at their backs, the last alone dares to meet his eye. Iwaizumi figures him for the leader, the oldest of the bunch by at least a decade.

Walking forward, he comes to a stop before him and drops into a low crouch.

The acrid stench of Beta fear permeates the air, blocking out almost all else. Yet the man doesn’t break the stare, even as his hands begin to tremble.

“I’ll ask only once,” Iwaizumi says, his voice cold and clipped. Impatient. “Where’s the Omega?”

The man swallows. Licks his lips nervously. “Gone. We lost her during the transport, she escaped. Didn’t– she didn’t understand that we were trying to help her.”

Iwa sighs, the muscle in his jaw tightening. 

He doesn’t have time for this. In a single, ruthless motion, he whips his gun from its holster by his thigh and pulls the trigger.

The Beta, a bullet between his eyes, slumps to the floor – dead before he hits the ground. 

He turns his attention to the next in line, quaking now as Iwaizumi steps in front of him and firmly digs the barrel of his gun against his forehead. “That Omega’s at least six hours into heat. She isn’t running anywhere.”

And true to his word, Iwa doesn’t ask again. 

“She’s long go–” 

Another ringing shot. Another dead body – blood and brain matter splattered across the concrete floor and the unflinching soldier stood behind him.

He has his orders from above; capture and retrieval first and foremost, but they’ll want captives to interrogate and make an example of. This wasn’t a simple snatch and grab, the plan too sophisticated, too many working parts to be solely the efforts of these five. Other Omegas are at risk, and the Commission cannot allow that. 

Iwaizumi has his orders, yes. 

He also has his priorities. 

The third does not sob when the muzzle of Iwa’s gun turns on him. Staring resolutely at the dusty floor, his shoulders rise and fall with a resigned sense of finality. “We’re dead men anyway.”

Under other circumstances, Iwa might be tempted to find the defiance in the face of death almost admirable. As it stands, though–

He lowers his pistol, fires it again. This time, the shot ripping through the Beta’s thigh rather than his head.

He screams, howling in agony as the bullet hits bone, and it’s purely due to the soldier seizing him by the shoulders that he’s kept upright at all. 

“Stop! Please–”

The cry doesn’t come from the injured Beta. Iwa’s head snaps to see the last in the line stumbling to his feet, flinching when the soldiers instinctively turn, guns trained on the perceived threat. Only by the fingers he lifts do they stay their hands. 

“They’re lying. I’ll… I’ll take you to her if you promise you won’t kill them,” he stutters, shaking off the hand that desperately tries to pull him back down. “No more killing, please.”

He’s short, no older than nineteen or so, his frame lithe in a way that borders on soft, and it takes a minute for Iwa to notice that the scent that surrounds him isn’t quite right. 

Not a Beta, as he’d first assumed. An Omega on scent blockers. His eyes narrow, but he agrees with a short jerk of his chin, following with two of his men as the teen leads them down into the maze-like complex.

Groups like these operate under the assumption that they’re helping the Omegas they steal. That a life in fucking squallor, hungry and fighting for scraps, defenceless against any Alpha who might look their way is better than being trapped under the Commission’s thumb. 

They think themselves white knights. Liberators. 

That hypocrisy begins to fall apart the moment they stop in front of a locked, windowless room. 

“I-I don’t have the key, I’m sorry,” the kid mutters, eyes flickering between Iwa and the soldiers, looking half terrified that they’ll lash out and hurt him over the revelation. “The others hid it when they knew you were closing in.”

Iwaizumi’s patience runs thin. 

“Move,” he growls, barely pausing long enough for one of his men to tug the nervous Omega out of the way before using his full bodyweight to kick at the door. The metal groans loudly in response. Gritting his teeth, the vein in his temple jumping, Iwaizumi kicks out a second time.

This time, the lock splinters, the door ripping from its hinges under the force of the blow. The very moment the door gives way, he’s hit by the smell of an Omega in heat. Simmering and heady, sweet and so fucking tempting, it washes over him in a heavenly wave that’d drive lesser Alphas to their knees.

His pupils dilate, heart spiking as the mouthwatering aroma curls around his throat like a noose, overwhelming his senses. Behind his lips, his teeth itch to sink into supple flesh, to mark. Claim.

Even his soldiers stiffen, the sharp intake of air behind him evidence that they’re not as unaffected as they’re trained to be. 

Still, nothing can prepare him for the sight that awaits him when he finally crosses the threshold.

The room is barren save for an old, worn out mattress, a few blankets and an IV hooked up to your shivering, half clothed form. And it’s rage that he feels, pulsing hotly through his veins as your eyes struggle to open, a pained noise leaving your lips. 

“It’s only a mild sedative, we– we had to, her heat–”

But Iwa’s beyond listening. Beyond caring. They’ve taken you. Touched you. Drugged you. 

Dropping to a knee beside you, olive eyes are quick to assess your condition. 

There’s an Omega’s heat and then there’s this. 

Your skin’s pallid, sweat slicked, yet it burns beneath his fingertips when they brush along your neck to check your thready pulse. Drifting between consciousness, you whimper like a kicked puppy in shallow, trembling breaths – the noise ripping at the fraying threads of his self control.

“Take the Omega,” he snaps, tugging out the IV in your arm with as much gentleness as he can manage. “Kill the others.”

You flinch, crying out incoherently when he scoops you up, cradling you to his chest. That lovely, Omega scent wrapping around him like a cocoon. It calms the roaring beast that lurks in his blood somewhat, and Iwa cannot resist dropping his nose to the crown of your head and inhaling deeply, relishing in it.

Home, he thinks, clutching you tighter against him. 

—

They talk about you as if you don’t exist.

Your behaviour, any outbursts. How many days it is until your next heat, that’s all they truly care about. Not you, and certainly not your happiness.

Physically speaking, you’re the healthiest you’ve ever been. Years have passed since the days of starving, of having to hide yourself like a stowaway and steal what you could in order to survive. 

Your hands are no longer calloused and rough, nor your fingernails brittle. Your hair shines and bounces with movement. Even your skin carries a healthy glow. 

Not for your own sake, of course. Nobody wants a sickly, underfed Omega. 

Even with the scars of silvery bite marks on your neck, you still carry some use. Sure, the Commission can’t sell you off to the highest bidder to be mated, they won’t breed you, but the rights to an Omega – even for a few hours – is still a prize worth fighting for, and the Commission knows how to leverage that all too well. 

The soldiers, the higher ups, anyone whose pockets run as deep as their generosity can earn the privilege of fucking an Omega in heat. Out of it, too. 

There’s a new Doctor today, a tall, wiry man with glasses and dispassionate, hazel eyes. Bare as the day you were born, you stand stiff as a rod whilst he appraises you, making notes on his clipboard, occasionally telling you to turn this way or that. 

In the years that you’ve been here, you’ve lost count of how many people have seen you naked, yet under his piercing, analytical gaze, your skin crawls. It’s an effort not to shrink away when he touches you, not to cover yourself with your arms to preserve what little dignity you have left. 

When he notices the smattering of bruises along your throat, the corners of the Doctor’s lips twitch downwards, and he shoots your handler a raised eyebrow. 

She shrugs, the back of her knuckle trailing slowly down your cheek, “The Captain was a touch overeager. He has been duly reprimanded.”

He hums, a short, dissatisfied noise, but makes no other comment. Bruises will heal, after all. 

You’re not one of the prized ones anyway.

—

He’s been watching you for weeks now.

No doubt you think yourself quite the adept little thief, stealing away after the lights of the factory shut off and the last whistle blows. But you’re not as stealthy as you think, and Oikawa would know the scent of an Omega anywhere.

Knows yours now by heart, etched into his very being. 

It becomes somewhat of a game between you two. Whatever he can spare, he’ll leave as a gift, lying in wait for you to crawl out from your secret hidey-hole and steal it away. Mostly it’s rations, sometimes some clothes or a spare blanket. Once, after he’d noticed you creeping around in bare feet mid-winter, a pair of socks. 

(Threadbare and scratchy, but better than nothing, no?) 

Not every night, even you’d get suspicious then, but enough that you keep cautiously coming back. 

And if Alphas are hunters by nature, Omegas are most certainly prey. Watching you stay low, every footfall so carefully placed as you glance furtively around for your mysterious benefactor – or anyone else who might stumble across you – serves as an endless source of entertainment for the man. 

You really are too cute when you think you’re being sneaky. 

“She’s going to get caught,” Iwaizumi mutters beside him one night, having followed him up to the rafters.

The implication of his statement isn’t lost on the brunet. Omegas are rare enough as it is, Omegas running free from the Commission are practically unheard of. Did you slip from their grasp, he wonders, or run off before they ever had a chance to test you in the first place? How long have you been out here, fending for yourself?

“You know what she is,” he continues when Oikawa remains silent. “You keep encouraging her to come back like this and you know what’ll happen.”

Of course, Iwa might just be pissed because this time it was half of his rations he’d left for their lovely little Omega friend. 

Oikawa glances towards him, mouth curling into a knowing smirk, “Would you rather we gave her nothing? You know what she is, Iwa,” he says, parroting his words back at him. “Are we supposed to turn our backs on a poor, defenceless, unmated Omega? Let her starve?”

The glower he receives is answer enough. 

Satisfied, Oikawa returns to his vigil, following you with rapt attention as you spy the hidden food, your face brightening in a moment of sheer, unguarded relief. The rations are hardly more than bread, dried out protein and vegetables – a half portion at that – but you look at it as if it’s heaven on earth, taking a quick nibble of the bread before stuffing the remainder into the pockets of your coat. Oikawa’s coat once upon a time, before he’d left it for you to find. 

Pride thrums through his veins, that baser part of himself preening at the sight. An Alpha’s job is to provide for his Omega, is it not?

“You can’t keep doing this,” Iwa grunts out eventually. “She’s going to get caught one way or the other, either by security, the floor managers, or some other Alpha sniffing after her.”

And there’s enough of an edge in his tone that Oikawa shoots him a curious look, only to find that his attention’s back to being wholly fixed upon you, darting for the exit now that your boon is safely stashed away. 

“Oh?” he quirks an eyebrow, wicked delight tugging at his lips. “And what are you suggesting then?”

You might be light on your feet, nimble and quick, but you’re no match for two Alphas in their prime. 

The deal they propose is simple enough; they’ll give you food, a warm place to sleep, supplies, and in return you won’t run. They won’t hurt you, won’t so much as touch you – at least, not in the way that you’re afraid of – but there’ll be no more night time raids. No more running around on your own. 

They’ll keep you hidden from other Alphas and the Commission. Safe, so long as you stay put and do what they tell you. 

And it’s so abundantly clear from the set of your jaw, the wariness in your eyes as they dart between the pair that you don’t trust either one of them. 

Lucky for them, whether you trust them or not is irrelevant. You’re in no position to bite the hand that feeds.

—

The plan had always been to wait for your first heat.

Slowly work to build your trust, to show you that you’d find no better Alphas to take care of you. By the time it swung around, you’d either offer yourself to them willingly, or they’d wait until your heat truly took ahold of you, and you begged for their knots. 

Iwaizumi could kid himself and say that it was for practicality’s sake. The other workers might not have noticed your scent before, the faint traces that lingered in the room after your nightly break-ins, but having an Omega in such close quarters is a different story.

Their clothes carry notes of warm honey and spice, it seeps from behind the locked door of their room. The others have noticed, their curiosity kept at bay only due to the two Alphas who guard you zealously. 

Violently, in one case.

When your heat sets in, though, and that inviting scent of yours blossoms and spreads throughout the complex, he and Oikawa won’t have a choice but to fight off any who come seeking you out. And they will come, hungry and driven rabid with want. Desperate to sink their cocks into a warm, needy Omega. 

And while the higher ups usually pay little attention to what they do beyond the hours they slave away on the factory floor, a brawl like that certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed. A claiming bite would keep anyone from separating you, even if you were discovered.

Mating you, claiming you before any of that happens is simply pragmatic, but it’d be a lie to say that was the sole reason behind their decision, or even the driving one.

It sings through his blood, the call of like to like. 

There’s a reason Oikawa crawls into the bunk behind you after you’ve fallen asleep to hold you against him, why Iwaizumi himself cannot truly breathe easy until he has you in his sights, safe and sound and tucked away from anyone who’d try to take you from them.

You’re their Omega. 

They planned to wait, to ease you into the bond as gently as they could, but the day the Commission comes looking for you that choice is taken out of their hands. 

“She’s asleep,” Oikawa says, already taking his place on the bed beside you, carefully shifting you into his lap – gazing at you with such blatant adoration that Iwaizumi feels his chest tighten in response. “We’ll do it now. She’ll understand.”

You don’t, and the Commission rips you from them regardless.

—

“If I may, sir?” the woman, whose name Oikawa’s already forgotten, interrupts his perusal of the contract. 

From the crisp, knee length pencil skirt and matching jacket to the slicked back ponytail, there’s not so much as a hair out of place in her appearance. Pretty and bland, a carbon fucking copy of the women the Commission has employed at their various Omega compounds. Not Alpha enough to command any real respect, and lacking in the natural allure of an Omega, she’s merely a shadow of what the Commission can truly offer. 

Oikawa smiles, a genial thing, and sets down his fountain tip pen, gesturing for her to continue. “Of course,” he replies, “speak your mind.”

The woman nods. Swallows, as she carefully mulls over how best to phrase her concern. “I don’t mean to overstep, or to question your… choice in the matter. It’s just that, well, you understand that the Omega you’ve selected has already been mated? She won’t be able to take another’s bite.”

He understands her concern. Truly, he does. 

At his rank, with the importance his name now carries, Oikawa could have his pick, he needn’t be limited to choosing an Omega already bound to another. He could have his own; a fresh faced, untouched jewel, his for the taking.

His smile sharpens. “I’m aware.”

The woman blinks, clearly taken aback by his answer. Quick to remember herself, though, she snaps her mouth shut and offers another gracious nod. “Of course, sir. My apologies. If you’re satisfied then with the contract, we can have her ready and delivered first thing tomorrow.”

He’s waited years for this. Rose from less than nothing to claw his way up the ranks of the Commission by any means necessary, all for the sake of hunting down his lost– stolen Omega. 

He can wait ‘til morning. 

—

Consciousness drifts just out of reach.

There are voices speaking, but it’s like you’re underwater, the words garbled and thick, lost to the ocean that keep you. A pleasant warmth flutters over your skin, dancing along your arms, your cheek, the curve of your throat. As nice as it is, it pales in comparison to the kindling in your blood, the warm, pulsing ache that settles into your core and grows and grows with each passing moment. 

Is it seconds, or hours? 

Thinking hurts, easier just to sleep. Rest, in that lovely, soothing warmth.

… 

……… No. 

No, it’s hotter now. Uncomfortable. You squirm, a low, breathy whine slipping from parted lips, and there’s that sensation again, that feather-light caress at your jaw. 

“You coming back to us, baby?” The voice is deep and rough. You recognize it, though you can’t pull the threads together to remember from where. It stokes the flames inside of you, the fire licking hotter, searing–

Or maybe that’s the scent that accompanies it, deep and rich, like home. Smells so good, you wanna chase after it, bury yourself in it and let it lull you back to sleep. 

The ache between your legs worsens, harder now to ignore. You can sleep when it stops hurting. 

Another whimper, and a soft, pretty laugh sounds on your other side. “Poor thing. It hurts, doesn’t it?” A new voice, this time, sparking that same vague, frustrating sense of familiarity. 

Your eyelids are too heavy to lift, but you manage a shallow nod. 

The voice coos, “Let us take care of you. You want that, don’t you, Omega?”

“Oikawa–” the first cuts in, and your body jostles, the surface you’re lying on – a bed, maybe? Soft and silky, you might actually enjoy the feel of it if every cell in your body wasn’t screaming at you with a desperate, aching want – displaced under a new weight. 

“You need your mates to make you feel better.” It doesn’t sound like a question, yet you find yourself nodding anyway, biting down on your lip to stifle another pained cry. “Good girl, now open your eyes for me.”

Good girl. The praise makes you shiver. It’s an effort, forcing your lids to comply, but eventually you manage. Your vision swims, fuzzy and out of focus, and it takes a few blinks for clarity to settle in.

Gazing down at you from above, you’re met with a familiar, toothy grin. 

Oikawa Tooru. 

And despite the aching, gnawing need inside of you, the fire that burns, seething through your blood, urging you to submit and beg for the Alpha – your mate – to ease your suffering, you still have enough lucidity to recognize the panic that lances at your heart.

“No,” the word slips from your tongue. Your limbs aren’t strong enough to cooperate when you try to scramble away from him, not that there’s any space between you and the headboard to allow for that.

“… When?” your voice is hoarse. Hollow. It’s not that you weren’t aware that the Commission was in the business of selling off prime Omegas to the highest bidder, merely that you never thought it was something that might happen to you.

You were used goods. Useful enough as stress relief, a warm hole to fuck after a long, tiring day, but any Alpha worth their salt wants an Omega they can claim and conquer for their own. The ugly, twin scars on either side of your neck make that an impossibility. 

“Tomorrow,” the Doctor replies bluntly. “Once I clear you medically, you’ll return to your room for the night, and in the morning they’ll transfer you.”

Sitting on the edge of the sheet lined examination table, staring at nothing in particular your mind slowly processes the information. “Why are you telling me this?” 

He’s not usually so forthright, but perhaps that has something to do with the mysterious absence of your handler tonight.

He doesn’t hold you in suspense, shrugging easily. “Because I’m offering you a choice. A way out, if you want it.”

“Oh.” A heavy silence settles between you. Then, swallowing, you ask, “Do… do you know who–” 

Why that’s the first question you have, why it even matters when your freedom’s just been dangled in front of you like a carrot, you can’t say. Only that it does.

And if the Doctor finds it strange, he gives no outward indication. “My understanding is that you’re to be gifted to a young General in the First Army. Iwaizumi Hajime, I believe.”

“No?” he parrots back, settling back on the thighs that straddle you to shrug off his shirt, revealing the taut, golden planes of his chest. He’s so much bigger now than he used to be, muscles where there used to be only skin and bones. 

Years playing the Commission’s lap dog have treated him well, you think bitterly. 

“No, it doesn’t hurt, or no, you don’t want your mates to help you?”

He trails a possessive hand from your throat down the valley of your breasts, coming to a stop just above your navel. And try as you might to hold it back, a keening whine escapes you, the skin beneath his touch igniting like liquid fire.

At the apex of your thighs, thick, viscous slick begins to pool.

More, the Omega within you begs, more. 

“Are you sure?” Oikawa croons, nostrils flaring as your shameful little secret makes itself known. 

“Enough.” 

Your attention darts to your left, where you find your other captor – mate, your subconscious supplies, your gut clenching at the thought – closing in, impatience written across his features. 

Impatience edged with hunger, as olive eyes roam greedily over the bare flesh on display before him. “Enough teasing. I’m the one who brought her home.”

He says it like it’s supposed to mean something. And perhaps it does, because Oikawa sighs, bending down to nip at your mating gland, chuckling lightly when you shiver and whine beneath him. Nevertheless, he lifts himself off of you, settling on the other side of the bed with a half hearted mutter of “Killjoy,” to make room for the stockier Alpha to take his place.

And your heart stutters in your chest when Iwaizumi licks his lips and takes a knee upon the bed. Already, you can see the tenting in his pants, evidence of his own rising need as he coaxes your chin up, forces you to meet that simmering, predatory stare. 

“I killed for you today, little Omega,” he says, neither a condemnation nor a brag. Merely a statement of fact. 

He’d done so before, back in the days before their teeth had bloodied your neck and shackled you to them. He’d looked at you much the same, that day. Eyes too dark, frightening in their intensity.

You should’ve run back then. 

You should’ve run the day Oikawa’s hand caught at your wrist, and you learned that nothing – not even the food you stole to abate the gnawing, endless hunger – ever came for free.

And yet you’re near crippled by the pang of shameless need that surges when large hands take you by the waist, rolling you over and shifting you onto all fours. 

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, your body sings as he grips your hips, the fabric of his pants the sole barrier between his quickly hardening cock and your wet, needy cunt.

His palms stroke at heated skin. “You’re gonna be good for us, Omega.”

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to stem the tears that well up and blur your vision. “N-no,” you gasp, biting down on the shuddering whine that follows a moment later when Iwa ruts his hips against your pussy, completely unbothered about the traitorous slick that leaves a wet patch on the front of his uniform. 

Not enough, you need more. Need to be filled, need to be fucked–

You’d crawl if you could, if your trembling arms would support you, if it weren’t for Oikawa, whose hands cup flushed, feverish cheeks, arcing your throat up.

The soft clinking of Iwaizumi unbuckling his belt sounds behind you. 

Oikawa’s thumb drags along your bottom lip, dipping into the wet heat of your mouth and holding you there. “Such a needy little thing.”

Iwa’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along your slicked entrance and your hips buck, chasing the friction. It’s all the warning you get.

Oikawa grins over your shoulder, the grip Iwa has on your hips tightens and in one snarling thrust, Iwaizumi slams his cock home. 

The pain is heaven, the stretch a bliss that wracks your body in waves, the lewd, breathy moan that leaves you near pornographic as your pussy tightens, squeezing deliciously around the sudden intrusion.

And Iwaizumi swears behind you. Curses absolute filth, blunt nails digging crescent shaped marks into your soft skin as he holds you there, grinds his cock deeper, lets you feel it throb and twitch insistently inside of you.

A perfect fit. 

You shudder, every last thought eddying from your mind. 

There’s nothing but you and the Alpha, your mate, and the drag of his dick along your sensitive inner walls as his hips draw back to plunge his fat, heavy cock into your sopping heat. Even Oikawa, fingers still in your mouth, watching with pupils blown wide and a flush creeping along his chest, fades into the background in the wake of quaking, wanton relief. 

At least until those fingers are replaced with the flushed, glistening tip of his own erection, smearing pre along your lips like a gloss until they part with a whining moan and he can force the head of it into your mouth.

Your tongue curls around it, lapping obediently at the salty skin. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, biting down on his bottom lip. “Such a good little Omega.”

Distantly, there’s a twisting in your stomach, a warning bell chiming in some vacated back corner of your mind, but it may as well be a whisper, lost to the cacophony of heady pleasure that pulls at the very seams of your soul.

You rock your hips backwards, desperate to meet the fervid thrusts as you do your best to suck and gag on the cock now steadily filling your mouth. Slick gushes from your cunt, coating Iwa’s dick, dripping from his balls to make a mess on the sheets below – adding to the lewd symphony of grunts and skin papping against skin.

You’re beyond shame, beyond sense. Nothing else matters but your mates and the delicious stretch of being split in two. 

And you’ve been fucked by Alphas before, used in and out of heats for glorified stress relief, but nothing like this. Your whole body hums, electrified and oversensitive. 

More, more, more, you wordlessly beg.

Your mates are nothing if not obliging. 

Stuffed to the brim – Iwa behind you, mindlessly pumping into your guts with an animal pace, and Oikawa, one hand fisting at your hair, using your mouth like his own little fucktoy to a chorus of choked, garbled moans and whimpers – the scent of your own arousal thickens in the air.

Pleasure burns and coils inside of you, every snap of their hips driving you closer to a brink you can’t comprehend. The world could burst into flames around you and you’d go down singing sweetly for them.

His grip holding you tight, Oikawa bullies his cock deeper, bucking now into your spasming throat while he coos and snarls in fervent delight. And as your eyes, glistening with unshed tears, glassy and glazed, stare imploringly up at him, Iwa hits that small bundle of nerves deep inside your pussy and you scream around his length.

Your pussy tightens, convulsing as pleasure explodes inside of you like a thousand fireworks going off at once. The bond between you pulls taut, and you feel them–

That rabid mania, the hot, ravenous pleasure that courses through their veins, urging them to take, take, take–

Your eyes roll back into your head, eyelashes fluttering, and you try to submit yourself entirely to ecstasy. 

It should be perfect, it should be enough, but the fire within you’s only been stoked, not extinguished and the unshed tears now fall in glistening streams as you sob in desperate want.

“Please,” you beg when Oikawa pulls back to allow you to breathe, “I need–”

You can’t force the words out. You don’t have to.

“He’s right,” Iwa growls, reaching around to rub rough circles at your throbbing clit, “You are a needy fuckin’ thing.”

He’s jackrabbiting into you now, driving his cock balls deep with each sloppy, frenzied thrust. Your mouth now free, Oikawa having momentarily decided to take a back seat and watch, there’s nothing to smother the whorish moans that fill the room as his knot swells, fucked as deep inside of you as it’ll go. 

At the mercy of his brutal pace, his fingers still coaxing at your clit, you’re helpless to do anything but collapse against the sheets and hold on for dear life, your cunt fluttering around him.

But it’s the soft, whimpering cry of his name that finally pushes him over the edge.

Stilling with a snarl, white hot ribbons of cum spurt from Iwa’s cock, coating your insides. Pulsing, as the waves of his end wash over you both.

Eventually his knot’ll swell down, enough for you two to separate, and that familiar, gnawing ache will set in once more, begging to be satisfied. 

You have another mate yet to cum, days of your heat remaining, but for now you let your mate pull you into sweaty, strong arms, let him nose at the mark he left on your neck and tell you what a good job you did, taking your Alpha’s knot.

For now, that’s enough.

[iwasei]

BACK TO US — h. shuji

𖨆♡𖨆 hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ thrown into an arrange marriage with toman’s second man, you slowly come to find that not even your lost memories will stop him from getting what he wants. and what he wants is not you.

cw. amnesia, adultery, gaslighting, cheating, explicit smut, consensual filming, emotional abuse, MDNI

╳  playlist                                  ╳ masterlist

#2: loving you is chaos

“If we are to be together in marriage, I need you to follow these three rules.” 

Your head snapped up to meet those astonishing gold eyes. It was barely a few hours after the reception, and your feet were aching from standing in those high heels for the whole day. The apples of your cheeks were also sore from pulling one too many fake smiles, and in the presence of no other than the man you would now call ‘husband’, you wished he would tear those unnerving eyes from you so that you could let your expression fall. Let your lips turn down in apathy to give your aching facial muscles some relief. 

Shuji did not wait for you to retort, setting his Rolex down on the vanity table and unbuckling his belt.

You tensed at the sound of metal hitting metal, your breath lodged in the back of your throat.

It couldn’t be… there was no way he wanted to fuck you after fooling around with some other girl, did he? 

Your husband had swiped away at the errant lipstick mark when he noticed you glancing at him, but you could still sense it like an indelible ink imprint on the side of his face; drawing your attention to it every time he spoke to you. Just like now. 

You tore your gaze away from his lithe figure and those broad shoulders, ignoring how those tufts of black-blonde hair falling softly across his forehead made him seem more susceptible—more human—when his reputation as a reaper of death preceded him. He was casually undressing in front of you, and you didn’t know where to look; settling on scrolling through your phone while he unbuttoned his white dress shirt. The Instagram photo you took of the ceremony—the one with you in your white wedding gown—had already garnered a few thousand likes. 

As the daughter of a yakuza boss, your name was mentioned once in an article, and ever since then, your follower count had exploded. And so did your infamy first as L/N Tomio’s daughter and now—Hanma Shuji’s wife. 

Were there guns at the wedding? 

I heard it was a closed door affair. 

You look so pretty, Y/N-san! 

The last comment made you smile. Only for that grin to be shot down when Hanma continued with his ground rules. 

“One—do not seek me out unless I find you first. Two—you are not allowed to kiss me unless I initiate it first to save our face, and three… don’t fall in love with me.” 

I must be an obedient wife. Obedience—that was what you promised him in your vows. To obey and cherish him for the rest of your life. 

“Okay,” your voice was barely above a whisper. 

The man you called ‘husband’ shrugged off his shirt and kicked his pants aside, reaching for his hoodie and dragging it onto his scarred and rippling torso. “May I ask where are you going?” 

He picked up his packet of cigarettes, barely even paying you attention as he tightened the strings of his sweatpants around his narrow waist. 

“No,” Shuji shot back brittly. “No, you may not.” 

The beeping of the monitors and someone’s scratchy breathing greeted you back into consciousness. Your limbs were heavy, and your thoughts as fast as a fly worming through molasses. Prying one eye open, and then the other, your blurry gaze focused on the white ceiling, circling around a water stain that was oddly shaped like a chicken nugget. 

You traced the outlines of the brown blotch, unaware of movement at your feet. 

“You’re awake.” 

A chair was pushed back and your bed slowly rose with a mechanical whir. The nasal prong tickled the back of your nose, and you forced your eyes to focus on the speaker’s face. 

He was tall—unnaturally and frighteningly tall. His hair was swept back with streaks of blonde in them, and a chain earring dangled from his left lobe. There was a frown on his face, and the gleam from his glasses could not mask the exhausted circles under his eyes. 

You raked your gaze down his long torso. He wore a purple pinstriped suit with the tie neatly pressed to the base of his throat, and shiny dress shoes that indicated how wealthy he was to wear such pristine leather. 

“Well? Aren’t you going to speak?”  

There was something wrong with your tongue. You forced it from the roof of your mouth, but it was like sandpaper. A sound that was a cross between a gurgle and moan ripped from the back of your throat and his frown deepened. He disappeared into the other side of the room, your immobolized neck couldn’t keep in your line of sight—and came back with a glass of water and straw. 

Nudging it close to your mouth, you latched onto the plastic straw with a ravenous gasp, drinking down the whole glass in a few seconds. He exhaled a snort, setting the cup back down on the bedside table. “I forgot you needed to rehydrate—my bad, Y/N.” 

You hummed and took in his countenance again. A furrow appeared in your brow and he charted your consternation with an unreadable expression.

“Do you remember me?” 

Slowly, you shook your head. 

“Do you know what year it is?” 

An image of a newspaper headline appeared in your mind, and you recalled you had read it just a few days ago. “2024.” 

The man’s frown deepened. “Yeah. Do you remember how you got here?” 

You struggled to come up with a reason why you were currently bedridden. None came to mind. “I’m sorry—I can’t.” 

“It’s fine,” he muttered, evidently distracted.

“Do you remember the 17th of May, 2024?” He asked about that date as if it was one of importance and you racked your memories, coming up blank. You shook your head. 

The corners of his thin lips twitched and flattened into a line. “Y/N, that was our—”

“Y/N.” 

You both looked towards the door at the same time. A short man with closely cropped hair and beady eyes was taking you in with a twist of his mouth. 

“My girl, are you alright?” 

Behind him, a nurse ran up, panting, “S-Sir, we only allow one visitor at a time—”

He silenced her with a glare. You watched in confusion as she bowed her head and backed off, leaving him to his devices. A name tickled the back of your mind as his features settled in, and it solidified further when he walked over to you, sitting on the opposite end of your bed from the other strange man. 

L/N Tomio. 

Your chest constricted in fear and you whimpered, and if your eyes could flash with a warning to the taller man, it would scream: help me, please!

He cocked his head, glancing back at the stouter figure who was still asking if you remembered him. 

Hanma placed a hand on his father-in-laws shoulder and made his voice as soft as possible. “Otosan. I think Y/N is feeling overwhelmed right now. Could you please wait for me outside?” 

The man called ‘Otosan’ snarled at him, eyes narrowing into slits. “Excuse me? I’m her father, I deserve every right to be here with her while she is—”

“Please.” You spoke for the first time since he entered the room. Your voice scratchy and thin as tissue paper. “You’re scaring me.” 

The older man puffed his chest out, looking like he was about to argue when the other man fluttered his hands, and you caught the two tattoos etched into his skin. Sin and punishment. 

Your eyes widened and you shifted uncomfortably, completely confused as to why a man with such terrifying tattoos was at your beside, quietly reassuring your father that he would keep you safe. But, evidently, whoever he was, he had a sway in the older man’s resolution, and your father spared you one, diminutive look before he stalked out of the room. 

It was like the air came back. You could breathe easier, sagging back into the fluffy pillows and grimacing at your casted leg and arm. 

“My name is Hanma Shuji,” he murmured, knocking you out from your thoughts, and you glanced at him, eyes wide and untrusting. 

“Hanma-san,” you struggled to speak, every word passing your dry lips feeling like you were sustaining a high note. “T-thank you.” 

He sat back down, and without warning, reached for your foot, placing it on his defined thigh and rubbing his knuckles into the arch of your sole. If you could’ve purred, you would. His touch was frighteningly calming, and yet, you didn’t know a single fact about this man. He was caressing you as if he were someone you intimately connected with, but if that was the truth, you would have at least have one core memory with him. 

… Right? 

You shifted through the empty fields of your mind. Nothing. There was nothing you could conjure up about him. 

“Who are you?” 

He stopped massaging your sore foot and sat it back down onto the hard mattress. Those golden eyes remained unscrutable and you marveled at the coloring of his irises, wondering how a person could be born with such unique hues. 

“I am your husband.” 

His words ripped you out from your mindless musings. You gaped at him, mouth going completely lax. 

“Huh?” 

He chuckled at your flummoxed expression and gripped your ankle, soothing his thumb over the jutting bone in gentle circles. “I am your husband, Y/N. Do you find that hard to believe?” 

You did. How could such a magnificent man belong to someone as plain as you? You couldn’t understand this. He looked like the type of man to date skinny models and airbrushed actresses. Not someone as unattractive as you. The insecurities which followed you like a spectre for what felt like half of your life flared into focus again. 

“I… I don’t know,” you uttered truthfully. He chuckled and you found you quite liked that sound. 

“You should rest, okay? I’ll go speak to your father. Do you want him to come in for a bit?” 

You thought it over, and found it quite silly that you had such an adverse reaction to a man who had raised you. I must have lost my mind to think that otosan could hurt me. You nodded, and Hanma rose from his perch on the bed. 

“I’ll go get him. You just rest here, okay? Oh, and I’ll call the nurses in later to help you eat.” 

You could barely utter your thanks in time; Shuji left the room and you settled back into your racing thoughts. The chambers of your heart warmed, as if lit from within with a lantern. Husband. This wonderful man was your husband. 

Whatever genial sensations stirring in your gut soon turned sour when your father walked in. His heavyset brows and dark eyes put you off, but you faked a smile to greet him. 

“Tou-san.” 

“What you did was very, very reckless.” 

Your brow furrowed. “W-what I did?” 

He took in a deep breath. “Running away from Shuji-san like that—jeopardizing this deal. Did you not think of anyone but yourself?” 

His words were like piercing knives, digging right into you. Your wince went by unnoticed and he droned on. “You’re lucky you’re only this hurt. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if something happened that would make it hard for you to carry—”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted his tirade. Tomio’s eyes widened—you had never cut him off before. “But, what are you talking about, oto-san?” 

His chest puffed out, a stern scolding on the tip of his tongue when a deep voice cleared his throat. 

“Otosan. Y/N needs her rest and we shouldn’t overwhelm her,” Hanma placed emphasis on the last word. “We have much to discuss.” 

Tomio spared you one look and stalked towards the door. “Rest well,” was his gruff version of ‘goodbye’. Shuji’s smile was paper thin, but you returned it all the same. 

“Goodnight, Shuji.” 

He froze, hand tightening on the doorknob. A mix of emotions lighted those golden eyes while his face remained impassive. 

You waited until a count of three breaths and he loosened up, returning your bright smile with a tired one of his own. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

“The deal is off.” 

Tomio physically bristled at Hanma’s condescending tone and he would’ve whipped his knife out and plunged it into the bastard’s soft belly if it weren’t for the beeping red light of a CCTV camera overhead. 

“What?” he hissed, fists clenching. “The deal is still on. She’s lost her memories, not become a fuckwit.” 

Hanma regarded the shorter man coolly—disgust written elegantly on the planes of his defined face. “She cannot remember me, or you for that matter. The deal is off, Tomio-san.” 

The marionette string he wrapped around L/N Tomio’s neck was tightening, becoming a chokehold that Hanma almost broke into a smirk when the older man called after his retreating back. 

“Wait. Let’s revised the deal. A 50% cut of the total profit.” 

Toman’s second best deliberated. “Is that all you have to give?” 

“It’s all you will have to take.” He didn’t have to turn around to sense Tomio’s glare hot on his shoulders. “You will give me a grandson and then those territories will be yours.” 

Hanma whirled around, a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You strike a hard bargain, but I’m intrigued.” 

Tomio cut off his smug satisfaction with a glare. “Oh, not so fast. There’s a catch.” 

Hanma was trained to never show his emotions, to always keep them hidden behind a blank screen. But, when Tomio told him to “make my daughter fall in love with you”, he was close to grabbing his gun and shoving it right into his froggy mouth to shoot a bullet down his throat.  

“You want her to fall in love with me?” 

“Yes,” the leader of the Blood Phoenixes sniffed. “Or, are you incapable of doing that?” 

“Why?” Hanma countered, anger broiling in his chest. It made him see red that he wished he could scrub this conversation from the depths of his mind. 

Tomio returned his glare twofold, and for a second, Hanma was sure the older man would drag him back into your room and force him to woo you. “She will conceive faster if she’s in love with you. You get the cut, I get someone to carry on the L/N name. It is a fair tradeoff.” 

Hanma felt like he was swallowing down on glass. “But, I do love her—”

“We both know that’s a lie, son.” 

There was a trace of suspicion on Tomio’s face that sparked panic deep in his gut. He smoothed his brow, plastering on an easy smile. 

“You got me there, old man. Y/N and I just can’t seem to click for a reason. She’s always so uptight around me.” 

The lie flowed easily from his quivering lips. Tomio’s left eye twitched. 

Eventually, he sighed, and his shoulders loosened. A paleness was spreading across his face and he looked completely weather-beaten that Hanma wondered how an old man of his age was still running one of the biggest gangs in Tokyo. 

“She can be difficult, but don’t let it deter you.” He straightened, the brief lapse of fatigue dissipating from his pallor. “Watch out for her, son. And make sure our deal goes through. If anything went south, let it be known that it was all your fault.” 

Your fault. Hanma gritted his teeth but kept on his easy facade. Once Tomio left the building, he fished for his phone, dialling Kisaki’s number. 

“Yeah?” 

“Good news,” Shuji drawled into the receiver, resting his shoulder against the wall while he glanced down at his neatly trimmed nails. There was a bit of blood underneath his middle finger’s nail bed from where he forgot to scrub yesterday night, reminding him of the traitor whose life he extingished with his bare hands. “The old man wants to up our deal to fifty.” 

Kisaki guffawed at the other end and Hanma allowed himself one easy chuckle. “That’s great news. He didn’t give a caveat, did he?” 

At the reminder, his grin fractured the slightest bit. “All I have to do is make the bra—sorry, my wife—fall in love with me. Then, once she’s fat with a child, it’s all ours.” 

“Hmm.” The line crinkled with static. Hanma could tell that Kisaki was in deep thought. “Shuji, don’t fuck this up. You hear me?” 

Kisaki’s doubts triggered his own and he forced a scoff, taming his usual deep voice into a light tilt. “You know I wouldn’t.” 

“Good,” Kisaki hummed. “Because if anything goes wrong, it’s all on you.” 

The line went dead and his smile fell. 

All on him. All his fault. He wanted to crush his latest iPhone into pieces and hurl it across the room. 

Just when he thought he would be free to finally set his sights on the woman he truly loved but was forced to be torn away from, fate would butt in to cockblock his attempts. Ichika was so close to being his; what he needed to do was to convince you that he was nobody to you and that you were right to have no memories of him because he never gave you any. 

The cards that life dealt him were frustrating, but none so than the thought of what he must do next. Making you fall in love him was no easy feat—he had no idea of who you even were beyond your stature as his timid, quiet wife. The last time he remotely even spent a few hours in your presence alone was when he was rutting his thick cock into you, trying to knock you up to secure Toman’s profit on the first month you two became husband and wife.  

He didn’t know the real you—what you loved, what you hated and what you tolerated. You were a blank slate to him and unluckily for the streaked-blonde hair man, he had already slipped up and told you that he was your husband. If he were to scrounge around for information about you, it would trigger your suspicions and solidify Tomio’s hunch that he was unfaithful to you. 

Those thoughts came to halt when a familiar number buzzed on his screen. He sighed and answered the call, pressing the phone to his ear. 

“Baby, I can’t talk right now—”

“I heard about your wife.” 

Your wife. Somehow, those words coming from his lover’s lips exacerbated his guilt. Ichika rarely ever called you by your legal title. She always referred to you as ‘her’ or the ‘other woman’. Hanma came to terms that he had another weight to carry on his shoulders—his girlfriend’s feelings about the whole ordeal. 

“Is it true?” Ichika’s melliflous voice was tinted with glee. “Did she really lose her memories?” 

His throat tightened. The tattoos on his hand tingled and he was filled with an inexplicable need to punch someone until they were bloody and within an inch from death. “Look, sweetheart, I really can’t talk right now.” 

What could he say to her? That he was deeper in this pile of shit than he expected? Hanma never fathomed that your accident would tighten your grip on him. He had left Ichika’s apartment mulling over the fact that divorce was the only option for you and him, and now he had to contend with the fact that he had to win you over to secure an even greater reward. 

It was fucked up. 

It was the price he had to pay for being Kisaki Tetta’s second. 

All for Toman, huh? The taste of bitter defeat coated the back of his tongue. 

“But, baby—”

He hung up on her before he said something stupid and told her the full truth. The fact of the matter was simple: Hanma was in over his head. This accident which he thought would be felicitous to him turned out to be his biggest burden of all. A biting bitterness of guilt coated the back of his throat at the thought of what Ichika would say when he told her the truth—that he would have to pretend to woo his wife after he had already promised her that once you were out of the picture, he would marry her. 

Fate was the cruelest play and he was the unwilling puppet. Like a riptide, the currents dragged him down deeper into the trenches and the more he kicked and flailed, the more likely he was to drown. So, Hanma would do what he did best. 

Forcing himself to keep afloat until he figured out final solution to his problem. 

Harumi Ichika was far from an airhead as Kisaki painted her to be in front of Toman. 

Born with a wooden spoon in her mouth, she struggled throughout her earlier childhood years with an alcoholic mother and an absent father to put food on the table for her ailing grandma and stuck up sister, weathering through numerous odd jobs to scrounge up enough to keep the house afloat. 

The day she met Hanma Shuji was one she would never forget.

It was at her old waitressing job that she spotted the six foot five man, his tattoos and glinting smirk drawing her in. He was one of the more terrifying customers the seedy club served, and as she approached him, she made sure to straighten the ridiculously short skirt they made every girl here wear and put on a dazzling smile. 

What can I get for you gentlemen? He had looked her up and down through a veil of smoke, the strobing club lights illuminating those electrifying gold eyes. 

How about you come and sit on my lap here, sweetheart? 

Growing up, Ichika’s grandmother would tell her about sleazy men and their bad habits. The old woman would sit her down with a stern look on her wizened face and say they only want one thing and one thing only, so you better watch your back out there, Ichi-chan. 

Admittedly, she deduced that he wanted her body and her company, never anticipating how different Hanma Shuji was from other men. He didn’t want a pretty piece of ass or a woman to warm his bed. That would be too simple. What Hanma Shuji wanted was complete subservience in and out of the sheets. 

At first, her headstrong ways had clashed with his and he saw her as a challenge to corrode and claim. There were the nights he made her his over and over again just to prove a point that she belonged to him. Not by his side, but in his possession. The marks on her neck, her thighs, the lavish gifts, the long trips overseas and the promise of marrying her were shallow indications to Hanma Shuji’s real feelings. 

Then, he had given her a job in Toman to continue their discreet affair. Everyone with two eyes could see how in love they both were with each other. It was perfect; the fairytale ending she always had in mind for herself, and Hanma was the prince that would sweep her away from the dull and mundane scenes she called her daily life. Until you came in. 

The day she heard of his engagement to you—an engagement he didn’t even want in the first place—Ichika drank herself into a stupor; she almost drove to the lavish penthouse you were rumored to live in and screamed at the top of her lungs for you to break it off. For you to give Shuji back to her. 

She cried herself to sleep, and for many nights after that, she wished with all of her heart that she could be you. That she would be the one to have Hanma’s protection and devotion for the rest of her life. Ichika wanted to stand by his side until the end of their days, hopelessly adoring the man who saved her from a life of strife and sin. 

You had to ruin everything. Word was that you accepted the engagement without a beat of hesitation and the moment she heard that, Ichika’s lips curled into a sneer. L/N Tomio’s reputation was infamously ruthless and she had little doubt that you were as power-hungry and shallow as daddy dearest. 

The news of the accident was like the breaking apart of stormy clouds for her. Word traveled fast, and she had heard from one of Kisaki’s whores that you had absolutely no recollection of your own husband. While Tomio was scrambling to make the deal stick, he had no idea that his own son-in-law was doing everything he could to sabotage it. 

It appeared to common sense that he should be here with her, but he was running an hour late. Ichika glanced at the clock, her ruby red lips pursed. Hanma was more or less on time for their little rendezvous; even at your wedding, he had stumbled into the storage room at promptly 8:05PM to fuck her against the wall, leaving his seed drooling out of her sated pussy and a bit of her lipstick on the side of his cheek. 

She wondered if you could smell her on him; taste her off his cock. A vile smile spread across her face and she exhaled a chuckle. No matter. You would come to know who was the other party to this marriage. They did always say that three’s a crowd and with the clamoring of forces beyond your control, it was only a matter of time before the screams of adultery got too loud to bear. 

Her doorbell rang, knocking her out from her thoughts. Excitement zinged up her spine. Ichika gasped and bounced off the bed, adjusting the ties of her velvet robe as she rushed towards the door. Like always, Hanma was standing right at her threshold. She didn’t pay attention to the dark circles dragging his brilliant eyes down, or the pinched downturn of his mouth, throwing herself into his arms with an elated sigh. 

“Baby, you’re back—”

“I’m here to ask for a break.” 

Ichika felt like the wind was knocked out of her lungs. She stepped back, keeping a distance from him, craning her neck up to meet his face with a skeptical twist on her mouth. 

“What?” Her tone was flat, disbelieving. 

Hanma sighed, and she noticed the droop of his shoulders, the weariness on his face. 

“Baby—”

“Look, Tomio has put me in a difficult position,” Hanma refused to look at her as he spoke, training his golden gaze to the tips of his shiny dress shoes. “And Kisaki is in support of it. I’m not here to break up completely with you, but I need you to trust me on this, okay?” 

“Trust you?” Doubt flooded her mind, plaguing her with distrust. “Shu, what is going on?” 

He hated when she used that nickname on him. Hanma trailed his eyes up to look at her, a cold glint in them that reminded her of the first time he ruthlessly commanded her to strip in front of his underlings before taking her on the sticky bar table. 

She flinched back from those deadened eyes, the walls she had scarcely erected around him coming up with arming swiftness. 

“I don’t have to tell you everything,” he almost growled, “Just that you need to trust me and keep your head down, okay?” 

His evasiveness was igniting the first tendrils of panic. “Okay. But, could you at least tell me what’s going on?” Her voice petered off into a noticeable whine and he gritted his teeth. 

“I have to make Y/N fall in love with me.” 

It was like someone had straight-up punched her gut. Her breaths rose and fell unsteadily, rapidly blinking as she tried to make heads and tails of what her lover had just said. 

Ichika could feel her throat tightening and the tears smarting in her eyes. Hanma hated it whenever she cried—said he would do anything for her not to break down like a baby. If she squeezed a few tears down her ruddy cheeks, perhaps he would reconsider this ridiculous notion. 

My wife is nothing but a burden, I do not want to be close to her than necessary. That was what he told her, no? Why was he going back against his narrative and painting you as someone worthy of his affection? It did not make any sense, and unfortunately for her, whatever did not sound right in her world was immediately thought of as a nuisance. 

His large palm touched her waist, drawing her towards his chest. She released a sob at the exact moment he pressed a kiss onto the top of her head. “You know I only love you, right?” 

Ichika sniffed, those wide brown eyes of hers that reminded him of Bambi’s were glossed with tears as she looked up into his regretful expression. She fisted the front of his shirt, unwilling to let him go. He was her savior and a getaway from the unending slavery of Kisaki’s grinding thumb, and now, even he was to be taken away from her. 

He touched her puffy cheeks, a half smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “It’s only going to be for the first few months, okay, my love? All I have to do is knock a brat into her and then I’m free to return back to you.” 

The young and pretty secretary swiped at her eyes, pressing her body flush against his with a pathetic sob. “But, I want you here with me.” 

For the first time tonight, Hanma realize what she was wearing. He released a low groan, taking in the sleek velvet robe that clung like a second skin to her curves, and the teasing glimpse of her generous cleavage with lust-imbued eyes. His cock stirred in his slacks, the stress of dealing with the L/N family for the past few days translating into his unmet needs. 

It would be weeks before he could have her pussy again, so why shouldn’t he make it worth it? 

Hanma pushed her against the wall, devouring her soft gasps with insistent lips. The mold of her was familiar, almost like coming home, and he wasted no time in unbuttoning his slacks with one hand, the other busying itself toying with her bare clit. “Such a good little cockslut,” he whispered against her mouth, tasting her desperate whimpers. “Already soaked for me, hmm?” 

She keened when he pushed in one long finger, grazing her sweet spot with such tender familiarity. “A-ah! Shuji, d-don’t tease me—please.” 

“Fuck, I won’t,” he ran his mouth, cock at the ready to slide into her. “I’ll make this good for us, doll.” 

He kept his promise, his cock pounding into her at an intense pace, her tits almost spilled out from the slutty robe. He mouthed at her pulse point, sloppily dipping his tongue into her gasping mouth, and taking what was rightfully his. 

All mine, Hanma’s blood sang. His Ichika; the only woman who made him feel alive. The love of his life. 

Ichika mewled, fisting her small hands in his dual-toned hair and holding on for her life. “S-shuji—bed, please!” she managed to gasp and he pried her from the wall, still slamming her up and down his cock like a cheap cocksleeve as he made his way past the familiar halls and right to a bedroom that he knew like his own. 

Her pink silk sheets would always feature in his wet dreams, but the woman laying on top of them was the ultimate star. She peeled her robe apart, palming at her bare breasts while he continued wrecking her insides. Ichika was close, and Shuji almost didn’t notice her reaching for her phone until she positioned it between their flush bodies. 

“You recording us, doll?” He grunted out, and the thought was so hot, he was almost ready to risk it all and run away with her. Almost. 

The memory of you, lying in the hospital bedroom, belieivng his lies, was his tether. He nearly halted his movements, about to push Ichika onto her hands and knees so he wouldn’t be confronted with the thought of you when she cried out his name. 

“D-daddy, you’re fucking me so g-good.” The tattoo of ‘sin’ appeared in the frame, smoothing down her trembling belly as his deep chuckle resounded around the room. 

“Yeah? Think you can come hard for me, kitten? Mess up my cock?” 

The palm holding her phone was trembling, but Ichika held firm onto the promise of his cum and her release. She gleefully zoomed the camera in on where his cock was pumping in and out of her twitchy hole, already covered with streaks of white from their combined juices. 

“Y-yes,” she whined, “Wanna feel it so deep in me, Daddy. Make sure I can’t forget your cock for weeks.” 

“Fuck—such a dirty little slut.” Hanma was spiralling out of control from her words alone. His grin was damn near maniacal, and anyone who wasn’t used to it would be terrified out of their wits; but not her. Shuji could never scare her because she knew deep down in her very soul that he was not capable of hurting her. 

“Yours,” she keened, and the video was growing blurry, every hard snap of his hips bringing her closer to her unraveling. “I’m close!” 

“Cum for me.” Ichika gasped loudly, almost theateratically, when he rubbed fast circles onto her swollen clit. 

She made sure the camera got the entirety of his debauchery; sure to use this video to its fullest on the loneliest nights when she craved his cock again. Ichika wanted to believe that once he had a taste of her, that he would stay. 

But, the moment she climaxed and so did he, Hanma rolled off her, fixing his slacks back into place. Sparing her one inscrutable look, he patted her head, standing up from these familiar sheets. “I have to go. Y/N expects me to be home soon.” 

Ichika hated the sound of your name; it’s cadence and all its terrible syllables. She wished she could call for a nation-wide ban on its utterance so it would never leave Shuji’s lips again. Then, there was that word that hit her harder than a ton of bricks. ‘Home’. Did he not think of her quaint apartment as his abode? 

After all, who else lurked these halls, ate from her fridge and warmed her bed for months if it wasn’t this enigmatic man before her? Ichika could not fathom his thoughts, but she did not question them. Hanma had his own reasons and despite how much it hurt, she had to accept the fact that he was a married man. 

The golden band on his finger that looked so out of place with the ‘sin’ tattoo etched just at the back of his hand reminded her of that fate. The moment he stepped out of her apartment, she was back to being his side piece, the one he called on nights when Toman and you got too much; when he had to take out his anger towards the world on her willing body. 

“I’ll come back for you,” his whisper was barely audible. “Then I’ll steal you away from here.” 

The regret his words elicited was one Shuji and her had fought about numerous of times before. Questions of if she would follow him after he had divorced you; if she was willing to paint a bullseye on her back just to be his lawfully wedded wife. 

Ichika could never do that. 

She had her own reasons, and while the idea of belonging completely to Hanma Shuji was a dream she could never let herself dwell on, the reality was far more terrifying. 

So, she clamped her lips shut and Shuji took her silence as a ‘no’. But, he was tired of fighting. He was tired of trying to change her mind and win her over. 

“Fine,” he muttered caustically. “I’ll see you at work.”

With heavy eyes and an even heavier heart, she let him slip out her room and down the hall, where the closed door echoed like the breaking of a heart. Ichika bit down on a sob, removing her soiled robe and skimpy underwear to toss it down onto the floor. Her sheets still smelled of his cologne and she buried her face into his pillow, inhaling Shuji’s musk and the last of his presence while wet sobs clogged the back of her throat. 

It was unfair. It was so unfair. 

She wanted to scream to the world, but what good would it do? This dark existence which embroiled her like sticky film was led by the puppet masters like your father who did as they pleased with other people’s emotions and lives. As if people under their thumb were nothing but pawns for their deadly chess game. 

Her poor Shuji. He must hate himself so much right now that she didn’t blame him for his distance. He was probably caught up in the mortifying idea of being stuck with you that he didn’t want to prolong the torture any longer. Best just to get it done and over with like ripping off a bandaid quickly. 

Perhaps, in another life and under different circumstances, she could be with him forever in a safe and unfettered way. Ichika would never have to worry about whether he was miserable being away from her for so long. She would be there with him; doting, caring, willing. She would give him the world, the last of her breath, and even a child if that would complete their dream. In another life, Hanma Shuji would fully belong to her and she to him with no repercussions from Toman or the Blood Phoenixes. 

But, such was her rotten luck that it would never be her life. 

You didn’t believe much in angels, but when they came in the form of a man bearing a bouquet of red roses and his charming smile, you were prone to accept that they walked the earth amongst undeserving human beings like yourself. 

Hanma Shuji was goodness incarnate, and you could taste his sincerity when he shyly passed you those flowers, almost as if he was a school boy admitting his crush. 

Those sweet scented blooms rested on your lap while he fished in his pocket, removing a velvet box. “This was something I got just for you to keep your spirits up.” 

You gingerly took the box with a bright smile. Glancing at him, he encouraged you to open it, stunned to find a diamond necklace nestling in the soft, inky depths. Hanma took the box from you, sitting down on the couch where he was close enough for you to feel his body heat seep into your side. Trying hard not to let shyness get the better of you, you accepted his help to put the pretty piece on, failing to hide a shiver when his calloused fingertips brushed the back of your neck. 

Every grazing touch lingered like an echo of heat, reminding you how unnervingly close to you he was. You were tongue-tied, unable to say anything beyond a kind thank you that drew a grin onto his handsome face. Outside, the skies darkened and lightning arched across the sky, drawing your attention to the disconcerting scene. It roused a subtle shade of terror stirring in your chest and unbeknownst to you, Hanma noticed every flashing emotion on your open face. 

“Shall we make something to eat for dinner?” You startled from his sudden question, and pinning your gaze back onto his, you were opened to a world of warmth and acceptance when he stretched out his hand for you to take. “You need to recover your strength. Let me help you tonight.” 

The chefs he specifically hired for you were nowhere to be found, the penthouse quiet and holding an edge of introspection in the quiet night as he chopped vegetables and you set a pot to boil. He was trying to make you some warm soup, and you needed the nourishing broth to regain your strength. The hospital recommended that you come back once every two weeks for physiotherapy and counselling, but Hanma was adamant against you speaking to a professional. 

You tried to question him, but he evaded your curiosity. You swallowed your questions and went with anything he wanted because if there was one thing you could not bear, it would be to disappoint your husband. He was so kind and sweet to you, and he always acted on your best intentions. If he did not want you speaking to a shrink because he felt that it would overwhelm you as he claimed, then you would let your memories return back naturally. 

Long arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly to his chest. A soft ember glow, like that of a close dying flame lit you from within, and you did not hesitate to rest your head onto his defined pecs, glancing up at him through your eyelashes. “How worried were you when I got into that accident?” 

A chuckle rumbled against your back. He was tall—so much taller compared to you that not even your forehead touched his shoulder. “Incredibly worried. I couldn’t even sleep that night, my love.” 

You made a sound of consternation in the back of your throat and a look of pain flitted across your face. It sobered him up and he gripped your chin, turning you around so he could gaze deeply into your eyes. As much as Hanma’s presence dazzled you, looking away was not an option. He held you firmly in the palm of his hand, moving close to skim a quick kiss to your pouting lips. 

“Please don’t ever do that again to me, okay, my love?” 

You hummed, inundated with guilt that you had made your poor husband suffer from your condition. There was nothing in the world you despised more than making Hanma feel sorrow over you, and your heart squeezed at the reminder of how the anxiety of your condition must’ve lingered like a dark cloud over his happiness. 

“I will never do that to you again,” you whispered, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, patting your cheek softly. An implicit good girl for your quick obedience. 

“I know you will never do that, so you don’t have to feel mortified or bad, my love.”

My love. That sweet nickname warmed something in you, and the delight spread across your face, echoing the warmth in those honey gold eyes. If you could, you would stare into them for weeks. They shifted color in the light; turning bright gold in the mornings when he gazed at you from across the hospital room; a burnished amber during moments like this when there was not much light to showcase their brilliance. You were enthralled by those pretty orbs, and if he caught you staring at him, he did not say much, continuing to set the table while you spooned the thick broth into those expensive Le Creuset bowls. 

“Thank you for the meal,” you muttered. 

“Thank you for the meal,” he echoed. You both ate in relative quiet, interspersed by the falling of rain like a rushing whisper onto the world beyond this tiny, comfortable bubble. 

Your thoughts wandered back to the shiny necklace and you touched it, gratitude fluttering in your chest like a soft marshmallow cloud that enveloped you in fuzzy feelings, comfort spreading from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes. 

“You’re smiling.” 

You looked at him fondly, and reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. He did not wrap his fingers around your palm, nor did he pull them away. There was an inexplicable look on his face, one that would worry you if you did not already know how much your husband adored you. 

“Of course I am.” His fingers twitched in your gentle grasp, a minute spasm, but he still did not hold your hand back. 

“After all, I have so much to be thankful for.” 

Before he could give a robotic reply that he felt the same way, his phone rang.

Your eyes darted to the cellular device on the table, blinking slowly when you noticed the name on his screen. The silence stretched on between you two, borne from the shock of that contact name buzzing incessantly in between your frozen bodies.

My Ichika ❤️

tagging (open): @soushswag @euryale16 @grindouse

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[iwasei]

BACK TO US — h. shuji

𖨆♡𖨆 hanma shuji x fem!reader

╰┈➤ thrown into an arrange marriage with toman’s second man, you slowly come to find that not even your lost memories will stop him from getting what he wants. and what he wants is not you.

cw. canon typical violence, implied child abuse, explicit smut, dubcon, mentions of babies, mentions of murder, injuries, emotional abuse, emotional neglect, manipulation, daddy kink, adultery, MDNI

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#1: “i’m begging you please say something”

Growing up, people would often tell you how fathers were a little girl’s first love. 

That he was her superhero; the one she ran to crying for scraped knees, bruised hearts and bad nightmares. And he would never hurt her—be a strong paradigm of what a man was to show her the love she deserved. 

You never had a father like that. 

Yours was brutal, ruthless at home and during work. 

You see, unlike many other little girls in the world whose daddies were accountants, doctors or even white collar men, your father ran one of the most dangerous underground organisations in all of Japan.

You couldn’t run to him for ouchies or nightmares because he was your biggest one. 

Every single time he spoke to you, or even looked at you, you would be reminded of the failure you are. That his sole heir was not a boy, as he wanted, but a frail little girl your even frailer mother gave him before her untimely death. 

You never saw him much during the day, even less at night. He would ship you off to faceless women—nannies, he called them—raising you up on a strict diet of etiquette, submission and knowing your place in the world. 

Always underneath a man’s feet. Always three steps behind them.  

The day you turned twenty-one, he called you from your room and downstairs to the kitchen where a group of unsmiling men, dressed to the nines in sleek black suits stood circling him. There was a glint in his eye, one of malice and mayhem you came to know quite well whenever he shot you down or told you that you were too much. That you were not needed nor wanted in his life. 

“Oto-san,” you greeted him. Never with ‘Tou-san’, or, heaven forbid, ‘Tou-chan.’

You were always formal with him, giving him the respect he earned as one of the most ruthless man in all of Japan. 

“There is a man you are to marry,” he said, expression barely rippling with joy, love or whatever the fuck a father was supposed to feel when his one and only daughter was about to become a wife. “And you are to respect him and be a good girl. He wants an heir and I need a grandson since there is no one left to take over me after I’m dead.” The air in the room blew over colder than a snowy morning. 

Those men he employed—terrifying and with more kill counts than their numerous tattoos—shrank back from his aura as if he were a demon sent straight from hell. The consequences of not having a male heir was drilled into you since the day you first got your period. 

An upheaval—a power struggle would take place in his organization and everything you grew up with would be gone.

The quiet penthouse in your name, the luxuries that replaced a father’s love. Blown into the wind. 

You bowed your head. “Of course, oto-san. I shall do my best.” 

“No,” his retort was icy and sharp. “You have to be the best. This man—Hanma Shuji—he is Kisaki Tetta’s right hand man and the second most important figure in Toman.”

Toman. The name rippled through you with recognition. A dangerous gang, even more unhinged than the syndicate your father managed. To have a deal with Toman was to be extended opportunities and riches far beyond your wildest dreams. A part of you saw it for what it was—a barter. Your hand in exchange for the Blood Phoenixes contacts and prosperous dealings with meth. A grandson in exchange for an empire.

Your french-tipped nails dug into your palm and you nodded again. “I will not fail you, tou-san.” 

On the day of your marriage, Hanma Shuji did not even look at you. He sat, bored and obstinate, in the middle of the temple, the wedding vows recited in an almost bored tone. Halfway during the ceremony, he went missing, and when he returned, you shifted a blind eye to the smell of cheap perfume on his collar, and the faint lipstick mark on the side of his mouth. 

He did not ask you any questions about yourself, nor did you try to even supply him with any information. Content to be his shiny trophy wife hanging off his arm in the season’s latest dress and spike-thin high heels, a fake smile stretching over her glossed lips. 

You did not delude yourself with the idea that he would love you. There was nothing a man like him needed from a woman like you beyond to fill your womb with his seed and give you a son so your father would finally relinquish one half of his fertile underworld territory for Toman to feed upon. 

Tonight, he was drunk again. The smell of whiskey heavy on his breath, he pushed your head down into the pillows to muffle your cry of protest, lifting your hips up with sloppy large palms and mounting you like a stallion would to his unwilling mare. You bit down on your lower lip to stifle a pitiful sob when his thick cock pushed through you with no prep, settling into the hilt as the burn ravaged your tender insides. 

“Heard you were ovulating today,” he murmured, and you shivered when the tattoo of ‘Sin’ on the back of his hand stretched over your lower belly. “Guess I gotta breed you like a bitch to keep your old man happy, huh?” 

You didn't reply and he didn’t care. Hanma rutted his hips back and forth into you, not even caring for your pleasure when he took what he had bought with his time; sacrificing a night of fucking his favorite toy in turn for gracing you with his presence. You half-wished he would leave, already counting down the seconds before he would cum and abandon you in these cold sheets, closing the penthouse door and returning weeks later when you were about to ovulate again. 

The man you called ‘husband’ was rarely home. Toman took up most of his time and efforts leaving him with barely any to spare for a woman who was his wife in nothing but her title. 

Despite his abject neglect and cold nature, you had full access to his credit card and accounts, filling the void deep in you with shopping sprees, fancy things and spa days to seek out even a sliver of human touch and connection. It eased you, somewhat—living this half life of regrets and empty luxury. You were free to spend your time however you wanted. Everything was handed to you on a silver platter and all you needed to do was wave your fingers and it would appear right in front of you. 

Again, you did not delude yourself that he did this out of love for you. It was to fulfill his part of the deal to take care of you; to at least show some semblance of his authority as your husband by looking after your material needs. 

In these two months since your fateful marriage to him, a deeper need stirred in you. Irrational as it was, you often wondered—daydreamed, even—how it would be like for him to finally love you.

You didn’t ask for much—maybe for him to stay home once in awhile and have dinner with you. Or, to show you more attention than what he was required to do during those galas and parties that Toman threw on a weekly basis. You wished to see him for who he was beyond the glitz and glamor. Beyond the infamous reaper of death that stood at a frightening six foot five. To see him as someone you could maybe one day be friends with. 

As you said; you didn’t ask for much. 

“Shuji-san,” you raised your head, trying to get his attention. His languid thrusts ceased and you felt his stare burning into the back of your neck. 

“What?” He was irritated that you had stopped him when he was so close to an orgasm—his fingers twitching minutely around your waist, about to chastise you for your disobedience. 

The words tangled on the tip of your tongue. “C-can I… can I turn around and f-face you?” 

Instead of enthusiastically agreeing as a man would that his wife wanted to be more intimate with him, Hanma pressed your face back into the pillows with a derisive scoff. 

“Shut up,” he simply said and continued with his cruel rutting. 

“A-ah—Shuji-san!” the burn was too much; both in your dejected heart and your unwilling cunt. “Stop!” 

He didn’t listen you. 

Oh god, oh god, it hurts. Your chest ached with mortification, your entire being felt as if it was doused in flames that would not stop licking at you, reminding you how helpless you were. How pathetic you were that you could not even make a man who was sworn to be by your side for forever fall in love with you. 

Were you that despicable? Was there not even a hint of kindness you deserved? 

His cock bruised you like a battering ram, but none so much than the memories of the miserable life you led. 

The empty bed, your hefty diamond ring on your left hand that held no weight. The hollow smiles of the women employed to take care of you as your husband spent countless nights in someone else’s arms. His unending disdain for you and the reluctance to even spend time with his own legal spouse. 

And you had tried. God, did you try. 

You spent hours waiting for a text back from him to answer if he would be coming home for dinner; shooing the chefs out of the penthouse and encouraging them to go back home early to spend time with their families just so you could try and cook him a meal. 

He never even showed up, and you sat alone at the grand table, tears rolling down your face as you forced yourself to finish your bland pasta. 

The countless pictures of you in lacy lingerie that you sent in an attempt to entice a man who had the full right over your body so that he would hopefully—mercifully, give you a drop of attention—went unread. 

 You had tried. And you were tired of trying. 

“Please,” your muffled wails grew louder, both in desperation and dejection. “Please—it hurts!” 

Hanma Shuji was ruthless, but tonight, you would see how far that cruelty extended. “C-Can’t anymore—please, s-stop…”

Unbidden, a voice in your head cried out: Run. Run and never look back. 

After sixty days of trying to tolerate the disdain and scorn from the only man who had promised before the heavens and your father to love and protect you, your patience at withstanding his mistreatment snapped. 

With strength you did not know you possessed, you pushed him off you, leveraging on his drunken stupor to evade his hold; grabbing your thin nightrobe, you dashed at your tears and picked up your Porshe keys, slipping out of the luxurious but empty penthouse to run straight into the lifts. 

“Brat!” he roared and you flinched, holding back your gasp when he staggered out of the door, and towards you. Punching the elevator buttons wildly, you prayed with all of your soul to be released from him. 

Mama… please. Help me. 

“Don’t you dare leave me, Y/N!” he roared, bloodshot eyes flashing manically. You choked on the fear. Help me! 

The doors closed on his outstretched hand and you could’ve cried with relief. But, you had no time to waste. 

There was no doubt he would send his men after you; there was no doubt he would tell your father and you would be duly punished for your rebellion. 

You had to take this chance and leave this empty, unfulfilling life. 

The elevator door opened and you pushed your legs as fast as they could go, frantically pressing the unlock button until a soft beep alerted you to Hanma’s Jaguar a short distance away. You opened the door, throwing yourself into the dark interior and started the car. 

“Y/N!” Glancing up in fright, he was gaining traction on you, sweatpants sloppily pulled up, dual-tone hair in a disarray. His sneer was terrifying, and even from your perch in a tinted car, you could make out the gruesome embossment of ‘sin’ and ‘punishment’ across his clenching hands.

You thought that your husband might actually kill you. 

Gunning the engine, you hauled the lightweight sportscar past the garage doors and down into the open highway. Breath lodged in your throat, you were blissfully unaware of how fast you were racing down the roads, only focusing on one thing. Not even noticing the heavy rain pelting outside the window or your rationale screening at you to slow down. 

Finally free of Hanma, you could let the tears fall, your hands trembling violently on the steering wheel. You didn’t dare look back at the swanky penthouse he kept you hostage in—played off the fact that those highbeam lights in your mirror were from other drivers and not the men he sent to retrieve you. 

But, every show had to come to an end. 

Every running sentence had to be halted by a full stop. 

Tragically, yours was not because of your husband, or even from your misdoing. It literally came from a blind spot. 

The flashing lights should’ve told you something was wrong; the tires skidding with a sickening wet squelch on the road should have warned you to stop moving, to seek inertia rather than escape. A resounding horn that shattered your ears and the bright engulfing lights of a truck came barelling into you. 

The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was the small pinetree shaped air freshener that hung from his rearview mirror. 

The next—a shattering crash that cloaked you in darkness. 

Hanma Shuji was having an awful night.

First, it started with Kisaki berating him for letting one of their captives die too early before vital information about a rival gang could be shared. Then, his phone beeped with the reminder that you would be fertile tonight and he had to make good on his deal with Tomio the Bastard to get his useless daughter pregnant. But, the fucking cherry on top of this entire ordeal was what waited for him at the hospital. 

Despite his reputaiton as one of the most ruthless men in all of Japan, second only to Kisaki Tetta himself, L/N Tomio was unperturbed, standing in broad fluorescent lighting while his men barricaded him in a half circle. Keeping him safe from prying eyes and any threats of law enforcers bearing down on them. At the sight of his son-in-law, Tomio’s expression hardened and he straightened, staring Hanma down the bridge of his nose which was quite a feet, considering the other man towered at least two heads over him. 

Greatness demanded subservience and in this murky world, every sign of respect was scrutinized with an eagle eye. He bowed low to his father-in-law, back folded and awaiting his greeting. 

“Son.” 

Hanma was given the green light to return to his full height. He plastered on an expression of sobering regret, keeping his hands in his pockets while his father-in-law gritted his teeth, trying to find the words to break this tense silence. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

An expletive was good. It meant that Tomio was still level-headed. Caution alarms would only ring in Shuji’s head once the great leader of the Blood Phoenixes was utterly silent. 

“Otosan,” he injected as much regret into his voice as he could. “I humbly apologize. Y/N and I got into a fight and she stormed away from me before I could explain myself. I am truly sorry I had to interrupt your evening.” 

Tomio did not reply to him. In some ways, Shuji could hardly believe you two were related. You were terribly quiet; always with lowered eyes and fidgety hands that spoke volumes of an insecurity not even a wardrobe full of designer goods could elevate. Whenever you spoke to him, you made sure to keep your voice demure and mellow, free of sharp edges and vices—your gaze trained to the floor. Your father was the polar opposite—everything about him was tough as nails.

From the scar running down his right eye to the perpetual sneer on his face, there was nothing that indicated you were his daughter besides the shape of your noses. 

She’s her mama’s daughter, Tomio once told him during the night of his engagement to you. It’s because of Y/N that I lost the love of my life.

“A fight?” Tomio narrowed his beady eyes. “What are you prattling on about? My Y/N would never show a shred of resistance.”

The corners of Hanma’s mouth twitched. He lowered his head again. “It was a misunderstanding and I tried to go after her, but…” he trailed off, feeling Tomio’s hot stare on his face. Cataloguing it for a hint of remorse, ready to flay him alive if he did not give his daughter the solemnity she deserved. 

Before the tense silence could be punctuated with more thinly veiled accusations, a doctor ambled over to them. His tired eyes and dark circles indicated the rough night your situation had landed him in, and he bowed stiffly to Tomio, no doubt recognising him from the papers. 

“L/N-san. Hanma-san. We regret to inform you that Y/N had to be put in a medically-induced coma.” 

Shuji could feel Tomio growing irate.

“What? Why? What happened to her?” 

The doctor flickered his eyes towards a CCTV above, as if to check he still had the protection of legal security at his back. “She suffered a hairline fracture on her ribs, a broken collarbone and some swelling in her brain. There was no choice but for us to keep her unconscious to prevent anymore rupturing of the blood vessels.” He nodded at Hanma, “We will be keeping a close eye on her, Hanma-san. I have nurses monitoring her 24 hours around the clock and we’re giving her as much oxygen as we can to counter the effects.”

With those solemn words, he bowed again and backtracked into the operation room. 

Hearing the effects of your accident stirred a tiny tremor of guilt in Hanma. He trailed his glare to the linoleum floors, mouth heavy and unable to believe he had failed in such a simple task. The only thing he had to do today was drain his balls in you, call it a night and go back to the office to wrap up some paperwork. Maybe he might’ve even stopped by Ichika’s apartment for a second round and sleep the next day away. 

But, no—he had to visit the nearest bar to pump himself full of alcohol. He had to linger in your presence while pure, unadulterated rage simmered in his chest. He had to be triggered by your teary eyes. If there was one thing he could blame himself with, it would be his lack of focus and discipline on completing a task. 

Kisaki always said that he could be a greater leader if he put his mind to it. His first Herculean effort at proving himself right was to marry Tomio’s brat and secure her father’s line. Give her a few sons and we can call the treaty even, Tetta murmured in a faraway voice the night he informed Hanma of his fate. 

A fucking breeding stallion. That was what Kisaki alluded him to be. Nothing good but to pump his seed into some spoiled brat while her father lorded lush territories and promises of high returns over Toman’s head. 

If Hanma was still drunk, he would’ve reached for his Glock and made your father eat lead. Unfortunately, that would just goad Kisaki on even further into punishing him, and as much as he loved petty revenge, he preferred it if his balls were still intact. 

One glare from Tomio sobered him up from that thought. The Blood Phoenixes were infamous for their brutal torture methods, and despite how he enjoyed an occasional bloodbath, even Shuji was terrified by how far they took things. Mutilated limbs, gouged out eyes and broken jaws was just the tip of the macabre iceberg when it came to dealing with this gang. 

“Watch over her, Shuji, or so help me, I will fucking break every single bone in your body.” 

He nodded. Your father spared the operation theatre one lingering look before he turned around, his men falling into line behind him. Hanma reached for the packet of cigarettes he always kept by his side, about to light one up when an elderly nurse clicked her tongue. He shot her a lazy smirk and peeled himself from the wall, sauntering out into the gardens to enjoy his white stick. 

As he smoked, he recounted your odd request. Can I face you? 

Hanma Shuji was far from a sentimental man, but he could sense a world of pain you heaped onto that simple question. The flutter of guilt that tickled his ribs earlier became a tight ball underneath his heart. Yes, it was true he resented you for this marriage—it wasn’t even his choice in the first place and he had made it well known that if given the chance, he would’ve bolted from this union without a second glance back. 

But, weren’t you in the same boat as him? Your father had basically strongarmed you into marrying him or else he would squander your inheritance money away. The both of you were more similar than he thought. And he couldn't understand why he had treated you with such hostility. 

Perhaps, that simple request was because you wanted to get to know him better. Admittedly, he never gave you many chances to see the real him. It was always under some guise of an event or party that you could remain by his side. The woman he called ‘wife’ was shrouded in mystery. Hanma didn’t even know what your favorite flowers were; the revelation disquieting him when he passed by a vending machine selling bouquets. 

Husbands were supposed to at least know the basics of their wives, right? 

Her favorite dish, flower and color. 

But, Shuji couldn’t conjure up any answers for information as simple as that. His mind was locked away on the memories of your teary eyes and heaving gasps, begging him to stop—fuck, why didn’t he stop? He treated you like one of his work tasks to cross off his list. Marry you, give you a baby, reap the rewards from the Blood Phoenixes. 

Nothing was in black and white when it came to his relationship with your father, and for a brief second, Hanma wondered what would happen if he delivered the divorce papers straight to you. Would you scream? Cry? Be passive? 

Maybe you might even squash that foolish notion of being his friend when he passed you the pen to sign your name on the dotted line. 

He crushed his cigarette under his shoe and clicked his tongue. Kisaki would skin him alive if he even brought up the dreaded ‘D’ word. 

The head of Toman would surely revoke his request for a legal separation, never mind that your injuries may hinder you from falling pregnant. Surely with the extent of your disabilities, you would not be in prime shape to carry a child—that crossed out your one advantage in this marriage. 

I fucking hate this. You were his ball and chain, and Hanma wished he could storm into the room and smother your broken form with a pillow if only it could ease the guilt eroding away at his facade. The guilt of letting Kisaki down—an emotion he wished he could wash away with more alcohol, but unfortunately for him, he was stuck with babysitting duty. 

The doctor told him that your condition was stable and that he could visit the next morning. Thank fucking god. He didn’t know how long he could linger around this hospital, pulling a fake long face everytime some kindly nurse glanced his way. 

His phone beeped with a message and he glanced down at the screen.

My Ichika ❤: Where are you? 

Another message. 

My Ichika ❤: I miss you, Daddy. 

Hanma’s heart doubled in speed when he clicked open the attachment she sent with her last message. The little plunging red bralette he bought for her could barely cover up her nipples, those pretty buds he loved tugging with his teeth to elicit her moans already pebbling underneath the lacy material. She had smartly left her face out of the picture, keeping the lines of her body the main focus. 

His mouth went dry at the sight of her red-painted nails teasing the band of her fire engine hued panties, the cute little bow pinched between her thumb and forefinger. 

Hanma felt his cock stir, and the orgasm you had cruelly ripped away from him before your little temper tantrum reared its head. He needed to be buried in her; he needed to feel Ichika’s warm walls around him. 

Fuck it. He glanced at your room. The doctor did say no visitors were allowed until the next morning. Hanma just had to be discreet. Pocketing his phone, he made sure to linger at the lip of your door, touching his palm to the cool wood and turning around with a dejected sigh. 

The facade worked. A nurse walking past gave him a smile of pity. He returned her gesture with a nod, eyes cast low to the ground. 

Once he was far away from your ward, Hanma whipped his phone back out.

Get ready for me, pretty girl. Daddy’s coming home. 

The sheets were stained with his sweat and his girlfriend’s cum, her body a snug fit on top of his as they both caught their breaths. 

“You’re so tense,” her breathy whisper caressed the shell of his ear and Hanma fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

A pretty one, but not exactly the brightest tool in the shed. 

Harumi Ichika, Kisaki’s dedicated secretary and a lifelong employee of Toman spread her bare, shapely legs and he settled in between them with a hum. 

“Anyone would be if they had to go after a stupid brat,” he sniffed. Her pretty red nails scratched his chest lightly and numbed some of the irritation he felt at how this night was going. As your husband, Shuji had to put up a front that he was concerned for your wellbeing, and he had no doubt he would be spending hours in the hospital bored out of his wits so that word of your mistreatment did not reach your father. 

After all, he had a deal to make good on, and had to keep up pretences. 

Her pretty brown eyes appraised him, and that mole on her left breast begged for his lips to touch it. Just as he was about to roll her on top of him so he could cheekily mouth at her nipples, a knock on the door jarred him from the fog of lust. She tightened her hold on him, and he threw the blanket over her, the migraine he nursed for half of the night spiking back up at knowledge of who would be on the other end. 

“Come in.” 

Bald and stocky, Kisaki’s top bodyguard pried the door opened. 

“Hanma-san,” Iroto bowed his head, averting his eyes out of respect to not leer at his superior’s lover and her bare, naked body entwined in the sheets. 

The taste of heavenly respite turned sour on his tongue and Hanma’s fingers twitched, aching to grab his trusty gun and lodge a bullet into this bastard’s head for interrupting his precious time with Ichika. 

“This better be good.” His low tone spoke volumes of his deadly intent. 

Iroto bowed his head once more. Another beat of silence and Hanma’s fingers twitched again. 

“Your wife, sir,” his words tightened the band of dread in the reaper’s chest. “She is awake.” 

Ah. So you finally decided to join the world of the living. Good. At least he could count on Kisaki not mauling him from one end of the room to the other based on this latest development. 

“But there seems to a problem.” 

Hanma’s thoughts skidded to a halt and beside him, Ichika’s shoulders grew tighter. He raised one perfectly groomed brow. “Oh. What problem is there? She is awake, is she not? Don’t tell me—“ he giggled with no mirth. “She’s fucking lost her wits.” 

Iroto paled and the joking edge in his tone dwindled into apprehension when his subordinate struggled with the next bit of news. “We’ve just received word from the doctors,” another pause. “Your wife has lost all her memories.” 

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[iwasei]

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

taglist form is on masterlist!

wordcount: 4k

masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER Ⅰ. I’M GOING BACK TO 505 

Keep reading

[iwasei]

CROSSING LINES — h. kakucho

𖨆♡𖨆 kakucho x fem!reader

╰┈➤ the life of a tokyo underground fighter is simple—do anything for the money, talk with your fists and never ever cross a line with your fellow brothers-in-the-ring. especially when it comes to their little sisters. kakucho was a pro at doing everything but the latter.

# explicit smut, reader is draken’s younger half sister, kaku and draken are friends but rivals in the ring, reader is a ballet teacher, mirror sex, car sex, creampies, forbidden relationships, blood, injuries, canon typical violence, language, full nelson sex position, heartbreak, angst, petnames (angel, love, darlin’), betrayal, barely edited

: ̗̀➛ 13.5k words

he's staring from across the ring again.

with his fall of midnight blue hair, a scar rifting down his face, and eyes that were of two different hues, you shouldn't be encouraging him. you shouldn't be making eyes at him—big, doe-like glances that told him an entire universe of truth when you wanted to keep this morsel of anticipation for yourself.

you had half a mind to think that your brother's friend and fellow fighter had the hots for you, but unfortunately, things were never that easy.

"hey, kaku! quit your dreamin' and get back to training," the easy drawl of one very annoyed wakasa imaushi broke the trance.

he snapped his eyes from you and glanced down at the bottle of water in his bandage-wrapped hand. "yeah, yeah. don't get testy with me, old man."

you stifled a laugh, eyes roving over to where draken was stretching, his dragon tattoo gleaming on the side of his neck from the combination of sweat and fluorescent lighting. ever since you were a teen, you would always accompany your brother during one of his many matches.

ken ryuguji, or draken, as he was known in the ring, was a force of nature to be dealt with.

never one to contend with losing, your brother's determination was as strong as his right hook.

half brother, you amended before you could make the same slip of the tongue and be faced with his sour expression.

draken hated any reminder of his mother's infidelity, and unfortunately for you, your very presence was the biggest one in the room. still, he reluctantly took you in after his mom and your pops died and raised you up on a steady diet of awkward affection and overprotectiveness that hindered you from ever truly stepping into his world.

you knew that if your brother even had a whiff of your attraction to bonten's third-best fighter, he would ban you from ever entering the ring. sure they were friends and hung out together sparring or whatever macho shit these underground fighters did on the weekend.

but, kaku was still very much his opponent, and any fraternizing with enemies was a huge no-no in ken ryuguji’s book.

as it was, kakucho was prepping for his final match of the night, and the investors were already casting bets, many of them in your brother's favor. the rules were simple—do enough damage to incapacitate your enemies but never enough to leave them dead on the floor.

the bell rang and you watched, interested but mildly detached as the handsome scarred fighter went toe to toe with your indomitable brother. kakucho struck first, and draken parried him with a swift kick to his side, sending the other man skidding across the floor.

not one to be outdone, kakucho grinned, the feral expression sending a shiver down your spine before he lunged right at your brother and roundhouse kicked him to the ground.

a scuffle ensued and you held your breath, fists bunching around the flimsy material of the skirt you had worn straight after your ballet session. yes, it earned you a few jeers from your brother's friends, but one glance from ken was enough to falter any of their obscene thoughts and intentions towards you.

or so you hoped.

it was not enough to tame the ball of tension in your belly when draken emerged victorious from the fight, or when you noticed kakucho sending you one fleeting look before he was brought in for swift treatment to tend to his busted lip and bleeding gash on his right thigh. the sound of fifty over men hooting and yelling out your brother's name rattled your bones. you flocked to him, only to be nudged aside for takemitchy to tend to his wounds.

observing how askew you were in these grimy walls, your brother grimaced and gestured towards the direction of the parking lot. "why don't you wait for me outside there? i'll be out in a bit."

you nodded, sending him one quick smile, and chirped, "okay!"

not even feeling offended that he had brushed you off, you made your way to the parking lot, shivering a little when you remembered you left your jacket back in your studio. cursing yourself for your forgetfulness, you stood by the curb, stamping your feet to ward off the cold and huddling close to your brother's bike.

a few of the fighters streamed past you, greeting you cordially and you responded with curt nods. this was one of the fastest fights you had ever encountered, and it was either kakucho really was a terrible shot or he was biding his time before the big game next month to study draken's moves before he faced him again in an even bigger ring with higher stakes.

you waited and waited and waited, but draken still did not come to see you. he must've forgotten about me. this wasn't the first time something like this has happened and you sighed, about to hitch your bag higher up your shoulder when a deep, low voice called out to you.

"you kenny's little sister?"

you turned around to find bonten's number three staring at you, a bandage wrapped around his injured thigh and his abs gleaming underneath his loose jacket. trying hard not to stare at his incredibly fit body and the defined 'v' that teasingly led down to the half-hard bulge hidden by the loose, black cotton.

tearing your eyes from him, you cleared your throat, staring at the tips of your swollen toes. "y-yeah."

kakucho frowned, and he turned his head slightly at the closed doors and back to you. "he's still strategizing in there with his trainer. maybe i can take you back home first?"

you blinked. while the offer sounded tempting, draken would tear you a new one if he found out about any of the fighters stepping close to you. even if he was one of your brother's good friends. as if he read your thoughts, kakucho exhaled a laugh. "it's alright. i won't tell your brother about this and you can trust me. he'll probably be glad i'm here to take you home because it's getting kinda late."

he was right; it was close to one in the morning and you had practice the next day.

you had a choice: either you could stand out here in a cold parking lot, waiting on your brother, or you spend some time with his attractive but relatively unknown friend.

i guess it wouldn't hurt to follow him. you accepted and kakucho led you to his beaten-up honda, opening the door for you first. you stepped in, the smell of pine and musky sweat was the first thing that greeted your nostrils. it didn't bother you much, having been used to the olfactory assault as a hazard of being siblings with one of the top underground fighters in tokyo. you were just glad that there was no undercurrent of blood in the air.

kakucho sat next to you, depositing his gym bag in the backseat. the ride was fairly silent, and you fidgeted in your seat.

"so," he hummed, trying to start a conversation. "draken tells us you're a ballerina."

you nodded. "yeah. been running my own studio for the past five years."

kakucho changed the gears, and you shouldn't have found such a simple action so enticing. but he was proving to be a big temptation. out of all your brother's friends, kaku was the most gentle and approachable. he would often shoot you small smiles whenever he saw lingering around the ring. he was a comfortable presence, even now in the darkened interior of the car when you were close enough to brush your arm against his.

his unfairly defined arm with stacks of muscles that seemed to pull your attention when he shifted the gears again.

"why ballet, though?"

you chuckled softly, staring out at the passing scenery. "i guess i've always loved the way how it seemed so... fluid, y'know? it's kinda like fighting for you. whenever i'm on the floor, i get so lost in my own movements and become one with the flow that time seems to pass by a little faster and i'm so much happier without a damn care in the world—" catching yourself on the verge of rambling, you snapped your mouth shut. "s-sorry. i tend to get a little passionate when it comes to the things i like."

"don't worry about it," he hummed, briefly gracing you with a half smile. "i find it cute."

cute. oh shit. your heartbeat shouldn't have kicked up a notch, but it did and you lapsed into a prickly quiet.

kakucho glanced at you again. "did i say something wrong?"

"n-no!" you burst out, frantically trying to tame your spill of words. "it's just that... i don't know. thought you would laugh at me or something."

he didn't reply beyond a short exhale that sounded like a muffled chuckle.

"so. why fighting?" you countered.

"same reason as you," he murmured, catching your eye again briefly as he smoothly shifted the car into third gear. "it frees my mind from shit. i don't have to think much when i'm in the ring and i can just be in the moment."

"i'm still surprised that many of you can form coherent sentences after getting knocked in the head one too many times."

he pretended to wince. "ouch. what a burn. but, you're not wrong."

your giggle tugged his smile wider. "ken is always going on about how i shouldn't talk too loud because his brain is already so affected from all the punches he took that it rattles sometimes when i get shrilly."

"i assume that happens quite a lot in your household?"

he ignored your affronted expression with a wry chuckle. kakucho never did strike you as a man with a sense of humor, and you were pleasantly finding yourself wrong.

"i'll give you this—at least you're smarter than my brother."

snatches of light from the streetlamps passing by illuminated the high perch of his cheekbones and the full shape of his lower lip.

"i can see why kenny kept you far away from us," kakucho mused, "i'm sure someone from the ring would try to risk a beating and ask you out on a date."

you warmed at his praise and cleared your throat, glancing down at your feet. "nah. i think he just doesn't like me that much."

it was kakucho's turn to frown. "why would you say that? he's your brother, isn't he?"

"half," you clarified. "same mom, different dad."

kakucho nodded. "ah, that makes more sense. you're way prettier than him."

giving him a look, you said the first thing on your mind. "you know i can tell when someone is trying to sweet-talk their way into getting something from me, right?"

kakucho side-eyed you. "i just genuinely wanted to get to know you."

"why?"

the scenery outside came to a stop, your apartment complex looming right in front of his headlights.

kakucho turns to you, nodding. "we're here."

"you still haven't answered my question," you remarked with narrow eyes. wondering what game he was playing.

as sincere as ever, he grinned. "don't look so suspicious, y/n. i told you—just wanted to get to know you better."

even with a busted lip and a large scar running down his milky left eye, he was insanely attractive, and it was unfair really how he could wind you up with just a soft smile.

"go on, it's late and kenny told us you have practice tomorrow."

unbuckling your seatbelt, you pouted. "seems unfair that you know so much about me when i know next to nothing about you, kaku."

he leaned forward, and you held your breath. gentle fingers swiped at your cheek, and he flushed when you went completely still. "e-eyelash. here." he showed you the fine hair on the pad of his thumb and brought it closer to your face. "i heard it's good for making wishes. you wanna give it a go?"

your stomach flipped. you closed your eyes, humming softly, and opened them again to blow the lash off his skin where it fluttered into the darkness of the car.

"don't tell me what you wished for, if not it wouldn't come true."

you snorted, giving him a fond look. "like i would do something as amateurish as that."

his smile seemed to glow in the half-light. "goodnight, y/n. i guess i'll see you around."

"yeah," you didn't mean for your voice to grow softer, but something about the atmosphere demanded it. "i'll see you around, too, kaku. thanks for the ride back."

when you closed the door on him, he had to lean into the beaten-up leather for a few seconds, the gentle warmth of your breath on his thumb still replaying in his mind.

kakucho had always known something was special about you, and after years of watching his good friend's sister on the sidelines, it almost felt surreal to be sharing a space with the woman he couldn't keep his attention away from.

tonight was a calculated bet on his end and one that paid off in your favor, because for the first time, he could finally fan the flames of his long-time crush on you. goddamn, he really was a suicidal bastard. draken would crush him like a fly if he knew the things kakucho wanted to do to you.

but, no matter, he would have what he needed from you soon. all he had to do was earn your trust.

—

he was staring at you again.

this time, without the enclosed space of the ring and the dim lighting that cast him in a halo of mystery, it felt almost foreign to see kakucho in broad daylight.

your smile widened when he entered your empty studio, bearing two cups of coffee and a crooked grin.

"was passing by the area so i thought i'd drop in." he handed you your order—an americano with less sugar—and you took it wearily. how did he know your exact order?

"draken told us once you hate sugar," he commented, taking a sip from his cup, eyeing you over the paper rim. "that's fine, right?"

easing your weariness, you nodded and flashed him a grateful smile.

"so, this is where you do your magic?"

"if you mean falling on my ass a few times trying to perfect a pirouette, then you're right," you joked, "magical indeed."

he wished you wouldn't make such self-deprecating jokes about yourself when he had watched you dancing for the past 15 minutes like a creep in the corner. the graceful sway of your limbs, the arch of your feet as you took into the air and seemed to suspend in time; falling back onto your tiptoes with such ease and poise. it enthralled him, kept him rapt with attention.

"don't doubt yourself—you're good."

you stared at him, wondering why kakucho was suddenly here. raking your eyes down his fit form dressed in loose sweatpants and black tshirt, you warmed at the thought of leaning forward and planting your lips right on his cheek, traveling down south towards his mouth and molding your body flush to his...

"—earth to y/n?" you blinked and the spell was broken. unable to meet his eyes, you couldn't believe that you had daydreamed about kissing your brother's friend.

you were starting to see kakucho in a different light now, and you wondered when did this exactly happen. sure, he was attractive and yes, he had a god-like physique. but, for all the years that you had frequented the dim ring, you hadn't exactly paid attention to him this way.

when he grew his hair out, you shyly studied him from your perch on the other end of the room, wondering how it would feel like to run your fingers through those luscious midnight blue locks. and when he was proving to be quite a force in the ring, you often found yourself wondering if he was okay; if he was healing well after sustaining any injuries.

it hit you then—your crush on kakucho was finally given wings, and you were half-afraid of coming back to the ground.

you leaned in closer and he did the same, flickering his gaze right to your lips and back to your eyes. gravity seemed to lose its grip and there was nothing you could do to stop this onward collision of his mouth on yours.

kakucho kissed you chastely, the taste of coffee strong on his mouth. your eyes fluttered close, breathing lodged in the back of your throat. his lips were warm and slightly chapped, molding perfectly with yours that it seemed like it was meant to be. he tilted his head to the right, slotting his lips tenderly with yours and you moaned into his mouth.

he took it as a sign to set his coffee cup down and press himself closer to you, your back meeting the cool wooden floor. you had never kissed someone like this—where it was passionate, breathtaking, and agonizing all at the same time.

your skin crawled with anticipation and you nervously sank your fingers in his hair, pulling him almost on top of you. kakucho's weight should've smothered you, but it felt like a blanket of warmth, protection from the cold of the floor seeping through your thin workout clothes.

he peeled back long enough to place another soft stamp at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek and neck, right in the hollow above your collarbone. your core ached almost pitifully and you let him maneuver you astride his toned thighs, taking off your shirt first, then your bra; fingering the hem of your leggings. waiting for you to give him the green light.

imperceptibly, you nodded.

you didn’t utter a single protest when his fingers glided down your sides, as if to memorize your frame. his kisses were desperate this time, laced with something deeper and frenzied than the chaste ones he gave you before. you're unraveling for him, rocking your core against the hefty bulge straining against his sweatpants while he greedily plucked your stiff nipples with calloused fingers.

trembling hands roam the expanse of his broad chest and he kindly sat up for you to tug the shirt over his head. his skin was a canvas covered in scars and barely fading bruises, a testament to the hard occupation he chose.

there was once a point in time where he would've never let anyone see him this vulnerable, but with your gaze circling his every mark and laceration, he found that he liked your eyes on him. he liked the warmth spreading from your fingers that grazed his skin—found it ecstatic how your lips chased after those touches like you were trying to compete with yourself to show him the most devotion.

kakucho found he liked the sight of your belly spilling past the tight waistband—loved it even more when your bare legs came to view and he could trace the swell of your clit through your seamless underwear. you don't question him when he leaned forward, lips distracting you as he removed your underwear and tossed it somewhere across the room.

the cool air made you shiver and he was quick to warm you up. those large, roughened palms glided down your back, raising you off his lap for a split second so he could release his cock from the confines of his sweatpants. you gulped at the sight of him—easily seven inches, and completely girthy—you wondered if you could even take him in the place.

"go on," his voice was rough from arousal, "touch it, princess."

you grasped the base of his hefty cock, tentatively stroking your palms up and down the pulsing flesh. he hissed, tossing his head back and you couldn't resist fluttering kisses down the length of his neck, pumping him at the same time.

through the mirror, you admired how much smaller you were than him. how he was all hulking muscles and defined lines, cock a stiff mast leaking pre onto your wrists.

you twisted your body, raising your hips to finger your eager cunt. his eyes latched onto your lewd display, and he shuddered. "god, so fuckin' pretty," his deep voice caused shivers to run down your spine. "come on beautiful, give me that pussy."

the strain in his voice sparked heat somewhere deep in your lower belly and you removed your slick fingers, smearing your juices all over his cockhead before sinking yourself down on his length, one tantalizing inch at a time.

"fuck," he hissed, those beautiful eyes going glassy. "you're so wet, baby."

"kaku," you whined, unable to get him halfway in you. "s'too big!"

"i got you." his thumb rubbed circles around your clit, getting your cunt to bloom and drip around his length. he eased you down to the hilt and you cried out, feeling fuller than you ever did before. you ground down on his cock, hips rocking enticingly, and didn't miss how he was hungrily staring at the sway of your breasts.

raising himself onto his forearms, his mouth busied itself suckling and nipping the plush fat of your tits. you were growing steadily more delirious, the pleasure uncoiling like a rope of heat down your spine, settling right at your navel where his tip seemed to touch.

your knees were bruising on the hard floor, but you didn't care—too focused on your joint pleasures. kakucho's grip on your hips was unyielding, jostling your core over his as if he was fucking up a cocksleeve.

the sight that unfurled before you was dizzying; the strain in his arm muscles that flexed with every roll of your hips, your breasts jiggling salaciously in the mirror. you experimented by snaking one hand down your body to strum your clit, earning his moan of appreciation.

"i can see your pussy taking me so well, baby." you looked back, staring into his eyes from the opposite mirror’s reflection.

it was like being stuck in a kaleidoscope of refracted images; all around you, the doubles of your bodies moving in perfect synch filled your mind with woozy glee. you glanced down at him, at his parted lips and heavy lids, feeling the coil in your belly tighten.

"kaku, m'close," you managed to gasp out. his grip turned bruising, and you barely had time to hold on before he was thrusting into you with the ferocity of an untamed bull. every sharp slap of skin on skin echoed throughout the empty studio, the squelches of your pussy taking him amplified back to your heated ears.

"gonna cum," he panted, "c-can i cum in you?"

"yes," you whimpered, almost breaking at the mental image of his hot cock pulsing cum into you. "fill me up, please."

he didn't need to be told twice. your orgasm didn't break as much as it shattered and you cried out his name, pumping and swiveling your hips furiously over his drooling cock.

kakucho followed you over the edge, thumb rubbing furious circles on your clit, prolonging your pleasure. you screamed out his name, almost blacking out from shudders tearing apart your body; nearly losing all grip on reality when ropes of his hot cum filled you up to the brim.

as if your limbs lost their function, you slumped onto his chest, breathing hard. kakucho and you both stayed silent in the afterglow, his arms locked around you and your cheek right against his heartbeat.

"i can't believe this happened," you murmured, and there was a fraction of a second when you felt him tense. he rolled you off him, sitting up. silence pervaded and you watched in mute apprehension as he slipped on his shirt and tugged his sweatpants back into place.

"kaku?"

he barely looked at you, humming, "i have to go. i'm late for training."

you stared at him in confusion. he was acting as if none of this had happened. if it weren't for the sated glow in your body and the hot trickles of his cum leaking out of your puffy pussy, you were sure this must've all just been a dream.

kakucho didn't look at you, ducking his head down awkwardly and hurrying out of the studio, leaving you alone.

you picked up after the pieces, forcing yourself to stand and dress slowly.

ignoring the sting in your eyes, you limped towards the exit, killing the lights and tossing the half-full coffee cup into the bin before returning back to your empty apartment.

—

you don't look up much from your lap when you visited the ring again.

eyes peeled to your toes, you fidgeted with your phone, conspicuous to not raise your eyes in case you met his. instead, you kept your ears peeled, wary for the first sounds of him so you could stand up and dash back into draken's car, sitting it out while your brother wrapped up his training for today.

"—can't lose to toman again."

"—i know, i know... kakucho... need intel—"

your ears prickled and you slowly sidled to your feet, edging towards the dark corner where those voices came from. your brother was in the ring, practicing his moves on a blonde-haired man with a burn mark on his face, face completely stony with concentration. there wasn't even an iota of attention on you.

discreetly, you melted into the shadows so that you could listen in. it was two pairs of voices—one gruffer and the other one raspier like he had spent years chainsmoking. "he better hurry it up," the gruffer one said. "our investors are losing interest and if 10% of them pull out, bonten is done for."

"they won't," the raspier one made a bet. "once we find out how to defeat—"

"eavesdropping is rude."

you almost yelped if it were not for a large palm slapping over your mouth. "ssh," the familiar voice breathed in your ear. "takeomi and mochi are in a bad mood—you don't want to get in between that, princess."

he pried you away from the dark corner and out of the underground arena, down the grimy hall, and into a storage room where a single bulb circled overhead, casting fractured shadows all over his rueful face. "princess—"

"stop calling me that."

he winced but didn't provoke you further. you could barely look at him, preferring to stare at a spot over his shoulder.

"are you really going to ignore me when i'm standing right in front of you?"

you fixed him with flat, unemotional eyes, throwing back the words he used on you when he had left you all alone in the studio, reeling over his sudden change of heart. "i'm late for training."

"hey—" he grasped your arm, holding you firmly. "look, i just wanted to apologize—"

"there's nothing you need to say, kaku." your voice was flinty, mimicking the reproachful ice in your gaze. "and i really am going to be late. so if you excuse me—"

"i was overwhelmed," his words rushed out like an uncapped fountain pen, staining the paper-thin doubts between you both with remorse. "i... i've always had a crush on you, y/n. for the longest of time. i just got scared and did the first thing i could think of which was to run away. i'm sorry i did that, it wasn't fair to you." you dared to meet his incongruous eyes, finding them alight with apprehension and regret. "can i make it up to you?"

you lifted your chin, looking at him down your nose which was a feat in itself considering that he was a good head taller than you. "take me out for dinner."

the tension seeped out from his mouth to relax it into a grin. "is that all?"

"and dessert," you sniffed. "afterward, you have to send me home before midnight so draken doesn't suspect a thing."

kakucho tilted his head to side, boyishly charming when he chuckled and nodded. "of course. shall we leave now?"

you glanced down at your sweatpants and tank top, suddenly feeling underdressed in front of him. "um, i didn't exactly plan to dress up for a date."

"neither did i," he admitted, gesturing to his distressed jeans and ratty black tshirt. "i guess nobu is out of the question."

you snorted, and despite the chill that still existed between you two, reached for his hand, twining your fingers together and smoothing your thumb over his bruised knuckles. "i guess so. where do you have in mind?"

he tightened his grip on your hand and tugged you closer to his side. "come on. i know a good spot."

you let him lead you away from the arena, into his car which now smelled like pine and freshly done laundry. he took you to the edge of town for some good drive-thru sushi and stopped the car at a vantage point, one that overlooked the entire city.

there was no longer a beat of awkwardness when you both ate, drank, and talked about nothing and everything all at once. it was easy to be with him, to laugh at his lame jokes, sit in silence, and delve deeper into parts of your soul you would've never let anyone see.

he told you all about his childhood in the orphanage; how he was raised with neglect and forlornness that shaped him to look for validation and a family that he never had. the story of when he met izana, and how the silver-haired man took him in, trained him up, and gave him a home when no one would even look twice at a half-blind, scarred teenage boy was one that filled you with a rush of bittersweet emotions.

bitter because kakucho was such a kind soul who did not deserve the cards life had dealt him and sweet because, despite all that he endured, he was still here, fighting for his chance at happiness every single day.

in turn, you told him stories about your eccentric mother and goofy father, how they both passed on and you had lost all hope of anyone remembering you when a towering teen with a dragon tattoo lumbered into the orphanage and told them you were going home with him.

looking down at the maze of lights and darkness sprawled underneath your feet, you couldn't help but think of how it perfectly resembled your budding relationship with kakucho. there were still many shadows lingering from the lack of brightness in this poorer region of the city, and yet, glimmering lights hovered at the periphery, reminding you of a silver lining.

that there was hope to be found even in such dire circumstances.

kakucho's hand found itself on your thigh, and somehow, you had clambered onto his lap, forehead pressed to his and your lips barely ghosting his parted mouth.

"you drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, and your soft laughter stirred the loose midnight blue strands around his face. kakucho kissed you at the same moment you slipped your hands underneath his t-shirt, running them down his muscles. his tongue dipped into your mouth when you popped his jeans open, dragging down the zipper tooth by tooth, the sound of metal teeth and your harsh breathing loud in the quiet.

his lips were warm in the crook of your neck and you didn't miss the tremble in his hands when he glided them down your back, feeling you up with gentle squeezes to your ass and quick kneads to your hips.

you took his hand, guiding it to the buzzing spot between your thighs; wrapping your fingers around his index one, teaching him the exact pressure to rub your clit with. kakucho was a quick learner and you soon let go of his hand, mouth falling open in silent moans when he slipped one finger and then two into your aching heat, curling them upwards to graze your golden spot while his thumb ran circles around your clit with the pressure you loved.

your own shaky digits pushed his long bangs from his face, mouth sealing over his and moving up his cheek, smoothing short kisses along the ridges of his scar and over his eyes, feeling the long lashes tickle the pink of your lips.

kakucho never stopped fingering you, keeping your toes curled and back arched in preparation for his cock. he kissed you soundly, twining his tongue with yours to render your cute babbles mute, before dragging your hips over his own, sinking you down onto his cock.

the first tendrils of steam were starting to form on the windows, caused by the heat sparking and fogging up between your writhing bodies. kakucho latched his mouth around your pert nipples, sucking and licking heartily as you grind down on his cock like the first time you took his big girth, whimpering and moaning his name.

"so sweet," he breathed, "you're fucking yourself dumb on my cock, baby." you lifted your torso slightly, nails digging into the headrest as you pumped your hips, trying to take him deeper. he indulged you with a thumb to your clit, rubbing along as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. he seized at your biting kisses along his throat, wanting to mark him with enough vigor like how he was claiming you as his own.

it was implicitly in the eagerness of his kisses, how your walls molded around the shape of him. every pore in your body was crying out for kakucho, and your aching pussy screamed out the loudest. your toes curled, the car rocking vigorously from his hips increasing their punishing pace, needing to find a release from the torment your body caged him in.

"god—ride me good, baby," he groaned into the shell of your ear. "wanna feel you fuckin' squirting all over me, darling."

his words coupled with his fingers milking your nipples were enough to get you choking on the first strings of your orgasm. your hands scrambled to find purchase on something—in his hair, leaving prints through the condensation on the windows—but it seemed that no matter how tightly you held onto him, it was not enough to satiate the painful lust thrumming through your body like a serrated knife.

he mouthed your tender nubs and you fell apart with a cry of his name. like a bubble bursting, your release brought with it a rush of wetness that coated his lower belly and your thighs. leaving you completely spent.

he chuckled tiredly, gathering your wetness with two fingers and bringing it to your lips, watching with rapt attention as you suckled off your own gush from his skin.

"did so good for me," he nosed your hair, pressing soft kisses along the hairline. "good girl."

you melted into his praise and embrace, going completely limp. sometime later when he woke you up from your light doze, he cleaned you up, making sure to press chaste kisses onto your lips to remind you of how well you did for him.

he never did take you out for dessert, but the warm glow you got from his cum pooling in your hastily pulled-up panties was enough of a treat to keep you satisfied.

—

the days counting down to draken and kakucho's rematch lingered in the back of your mind.

engaged in this delicate dance, your hands were tied. from dawn to dusk, you would pretend to be the good little sister, supporting her brother from the fringe of dark rings. but, when night came, you would succumb to the temptation of kakucho's lips and steady hands.

endless hours were spent in between his threadbare sheets, your face in the crook of his neck, each breath shared between you two synchronized to the ticking of a clock that counted down your departure from his bed. these were your favorite hours; where the embrace of night chipped away at his hard stares and intimidating stature to reveal tired eyes and crooked smiles, only for your eyes. his voice, deep and menacing in the ring to thwart his opponents became husky and warm in your presence, whispering sweet nothings and revealing more bits and pieces of his life before you.

there were days when you got a little bold—a little too needy for him—that you would slip away into darkened halls and grimy corners to press your body and mouth against his while your brother was in the ring, oblivious to your escapades.

tonight, you weren't here as draken's little sister, but kaku's favorite girl as you stood by the sidelines, watching him warm up in the ring. your brother was called away out of town for some business with toman's investors and you were free tonight to watch your lover circle the ring with mochi. he had introduced you to izana a little while back, who was wary of you at first, but immediately warmed up to you when kaku claimed you were his good luck charm.

the other fighters were milling around, throwing half-hearted fists and jokes at each other, that you almost didn't hear izana's soft hum.

"terrifying, isn't he?" you looked into orchid-colored eyes that held an edge of mirth. izana sat down next to you, offering a can of beer. you had never drank much in front of your brother, but with him out of sight, there was little that would stop you from indulging in a cold one to satiate your curiosity. you sipped on the bitter liquid, nodding.

"he's so focused."

izana hummed. "when he told me he wanted to pursue underground fighting, i told him he was stupid. and that he was only going to get hurt. glad to see he's still in one piece."

you laughed at the older man's words, missing his wry smile. "you know... kaku doesn't let just anyone sit on the sidelines and watch him train." that piqued your interest. "he's always been iffy about that part of him."

"oh? what would he do if someone were to stop by and watch him?"

"beat them up," izana chirped, frost white bangs falling into his face. he pushed them back and tossed you an easy grin. "told ya—he's terrifying."

you paused and took stock of the surroundings; how the other men were giving him a wide berth and you were the only soul brave enough to sit cross-legged on the floor, watching his every move. it warmed something in you and you leaned back, hiding a small smile behind your beer can.

"i like watching him train."

"i think he likes that, too."

you were both interrupted when kaku stepped out of the boxing ring, and walked over to you both, muscles gleaming and swelling from the sweat and exertion. "'zana. thought you were in yokohama for tonight?"

"i was, just wanted to swing by."

his mismatched eyes landed on you and you warmed when he came over, leaning down to pat your head. "dinner, later?"

"okay," you chirped. izana tittered and stood up, turning around with a little wave.

"i'll leave you two lovebirds to it."

kaku's cheeks reddened from his best friend's words but he took his spot next to you, stealing your beer can and taking a swig from it.

"alcohol dehydrates your muscles, y'know," you said in a mock-disapproving tone.

"yeah?" kaku gave you his boyish grin that always had the power to weaken you in the knees, setting the can back down. “how 'bout you let me sip on your kisses instead to rehydrate?"

you warmed from his corny words, scoffing. "romantic."

he discreetly took your hand, squeezing it once. "i have a match tomorrow and draken's still out of town, so..."

he didn't have to ask twice. you laced your fingers with his. "yeah. i'll be there, baby."

"good," he said, and then slyly glanced in the direction of the tiny closet room you both made your own, he tugged you up, boldly slipping an arm around your shoulders. the other men darted their glances at both of you but didn't dare to say anything. if they did, kakucho would make sure it was the last time they breathed.

"come on, pretty. my arms hurt like a bitch and i'm sure your kisses would be the perfect remedy."

—

the atmosphere in the darkened room was euphoric.

hundreds of eyes, lungs, and minds were eagerly awaiting the latest match between kakucho and inupi, their breaths bated.

dressed in a long trench coat and shades to hide your eyes, you inconspicuously darted to the side room where the fighters were getting ready. slipping into the dingy room, you passed by various shirtless men who were finishing up with their training, head bowed low and keeping a lookout for a familiar mop of midnight blue hair.

you found him at the back strategizing with izana and mochi. he lifted his head, smiling when he noticed you standing awkwardly to the side. "guys, we're done here. see you after the match."

the men filed away, mochi giving you one curious look. izana patted your shoulder, muttering don't wind him up too much with a wicked smirk that you chose to ignore. once the room was clear, you sauntered up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "good luck," you murmured and leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

he snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. "thanks, angel. g'na need it."

you brushed your fingers down his cheek, feeling the slight rough stubble under your smooth pads. kakucho lifted your hand to his face, kissing your pulse point, and taking a moment to breathe in your sweet perfume.

"mhm. you know they say it's bad luck to have sex before a big game?"

you giggled when he skittered his fingers down your side, feeling you up. "hmm. is it? i never knew. in that case..." you stood on your tiptoes, making sure to brush a soft kiss under his ear. "here's a little motivation—i'm not wearing anything underneath this coat."

kakucho's breath hitched, and you swore you could feel his cock jump to attention against your lower belly. "fuck," he hissed under his breath, peeling back the lapel of your thick outerwear to find your shoulders bare. "you damn vixen."

you batted his wandering hands away, shrugging the lapels back in place. "ah-ah. this is your reward, remember? you can't have it now."

he groaned, pitching his head forward to knock his forehead gently against yours. "you're gonna be the death of me someday, darlin'."

you squeezed his biceps, placing one more kiss onto his perfectly shaped lips. "go get em', tiger. i'll be cheering on for you."

kakucho smiled against your lips, nodding. "see you on the other side later, baby."

you left him with one last lingering look, walking back to your seat. a few seconds later, the lights dimmed and the crowd grew even more raucous.

the announcer stepped forward, a man with a wild pink mullet and diamond-shaped scars on both corners of his mouth. "are you ready for destruction tonight?" he screamed into the microphone and the crowd responded with equal bloodlust. the pounding, jeering, and shrieking were all getting to you, and you suddenly felt a little too frail around the edges; worry for kakucho eclipsing any other emotion.

"tonight, hailing from yokohama—six foot one, with muscles that would put a god to shame and a grappling hook that could shatter his opponents' bones—hitto kakucho!"

the crowd went wild; screaming out his name, the electricity that sparks going off on the tip of your tongue. kakucho emerged from the shadows, shrugging off his robe, mean stare egging the odds towards him.

"and on the other side—lethal and mighty with a hook that would send anyone heading towards hell—inui seishu!"

draken's friend and long-time confidant from toman materialized from the other side, clenched bandaged fists and burn marks threatening under the fluorescent light.

"ladies and gentlemen—let the fight begin!"

a bell rang and the fight happened in one single second. kakucho lunged towards inui, kicking him hard in the sternum and the blonde faltered, skidding back onto his heels. catching himself in time, he slammed a hard fist into the side of kakucho's head, knocking him backwards.

like a vulture, inui descended on his incapacitated prey, but your lover was faster. kakucho deflected his blow, rolling onto his back and bringing inui down to the ground together with him.

gaining the upper hand, kakucho pinned the smaller but no less dangerous man to the mat, raining down precise punches that made sickening crunch sounds reverberate across the walls.

"kakucho, kakucho!" the crowd screamed and you held onto the edge of your seat, breathless with worry and anticipation. the thrum of bloodlust, the rivulets of sanguine running down each man's face contributed to the electrified state of the room. as if there was a sacrifice to be demanded, a ritual to complete.

you gulped, eyes never tearing off kakucho who pulled his opponent into a full nelson. his fists landed on inui's exposed belly and your heart twisted in your chest, elation filling your entire lungs when the blonde man choked and spewed out blood.

now, for the death blow.

kakucho maneuvered both their bodies onto the mat and with one raised fist—triumphant—he slammed it straight into inui's face, knocking the other man out cold.

the announcer staggered back into the ring, sneering at kakucho in jubiliation. he picked up the mic. "and the winner for tonight—hitto kakucho!"

—

"baby, slow down, fuck—"

with his larger frame pinning you down in the backseat of his car and his lips devouring your moans, kakucho was ravenous, high off his win against the previously undefeatable inupi.

your tits were all but squished to his defined chest, his fingers making quick work of the belt holding your coat together.

"s-stop," you gasped out and he stilled.

"baby? something wrong?"

you pushed him back to straddle his lap, fingers twining in his hair. "take me home, kaku. wanna fuck you there."

he groaned, nibbling on your lower lip. "fuck, okay. but my house is far from here, love."

you ground your hips against his obvious bulge, desperate to have him, but too mortified to do it here where anyone from draken's team could see you both. "c-can't have you here, baby. they might tell kenny."

at your brother's name, he instantly sobered. "shit. okay, okay. you said he's out of town?"

you nodded, feverishly pressing your lips to the hollow of his neck. "he won't be back till tomorrow afternoon."

"fuck," he darted his eyes from your lips to the outside windshield. debating inwardly on the merits of defiling draken's baby sister in his own home. "okay," he finally decided. "one night."

he nudged you back into the front seat and clambered after you, setting the car in motion. one hand on your thigh, he drove you back to the same home where he had visited ages ago for nintendo games and pizza, the route still fresh in his mind.

the lights of the tiny apartment were off, and the entire space still looked as it did five years ago. the only difference was the nuances of your touch on the decor—a flower pot here, a woman's magazine there, your ballet flats by the door.

you didn't let him admire the space too much, slamming the door closed and frantically sealing your body into the crooks of his. kakucho moaned, finishing what you started in the back of his car by tugging at the flimsy belt. your coat fell open and he sucked in a sharp breath.

god, you hadn't been lying about going completely commando underneath that trench coat.

nipples puckered from the cool air, your freshly shaved pussy already glistening with wetness, you were a sight in the dim hallway light spilling past the blinds. one that had his head spinning in circles and his blood rushing south.

you took his larger hands in yours, pressing them to your chest where he could feel the quick thrum of your heart.

"i was so worried you were going to get hurt," you mumbled softly. the hard edge he always put on for the world fractured and he smiled.

"you should give me more credit, baby." he lifted you up into his arms, pinning you right to the wall. your coat fell down in a heap, leaving you in just your heels. "i'm strong, remember?"

his lips smothered your gasp and you rocked your core needily over the clothed bulge, the ache you held back for the whole evening coming to a boil.

kakucho had no patience to tease you. he wrenched the band of his sweatpants and underwear down, cock lightly slapping against your lower belly, already leaking pre.

despite this position he put you in, there was nothing but gentleness when he slipped his length into your waiting walls. the both of you cried out in ecstasy, the mutual sensation of being filled and held wildly intoxicating. his hair was a mess from your fingers, and your lips were bruised from his kisses.

he moved in you like a dream, a dance as old as time. the cold wall against your back was nothing compared to the sound of skin slapping on skin, quickly leading you to your high.

your harshed breaths were second to his own labored gasps, your toes curling in the periphery, his cock finding its way to mold into your walls with such ease it was like you were made for him. his kisses, usually bruising and intense, were whisper soft and it hit you—there was no way in your wildest dreams you would envision a man making love to you while he had you folded up against the wall.

"kaku," you stammered, heat rushing right to your face. "i want you to—" you broke off with a squeal when the head of his cock hit your sweet spot.

"yeah?" he muttered gruffly, bangs falling into his face that you brushed aside with shaky fingers. "what do you want, angel?"

you hid your face in the crook of his neck, desperately shy even when he was already balls deep in you. "can you put me in the same position you p-put inupi in? the one where..." you trailed off, completely floundering when it came to making your sexual requests known.

but, kakucho heard you.

he hauled you into his arms, cock still nestled in your tight heat as he stumbled into the closest room. which so happened to be draken's.

it was filthy—borderline insane—that you were fucking your brother's friend and rival in his own bed. kakucho laid you down on the firm mattress, the springs squeaking in protest when his larger frame smothered you to the surface. he pulled you into his embrace, your back to his chest, and gentler this time, hitched your legs around his arms, your arms flailing at the side as he pulled you into the same position he had once brutally pinned inupi in.

his cock was an even more delicious stretch from this angle, your entire swollen clit and folds exposed to the cold air of the room.

it made you feel helpless. it made you feel so damn submissive to his wills.

his pace was languid, easing you into the full spread that this position left you in. your head lolled back onto his shoulder, your fingers wrapped around his wrists to anchor yourself from the overwhelming pleasure. it surged like a fire deep in you, rescinding the last of your hesitation and common sense to leave your hips squirming to meet his every hard rut.

kakucho's lips were pressed to your ear, his chin perched on your sweaty forehead and you could plainly hear every deep, reverberating moan coming and low cuss in that husky, sinful voice.

"fuck, baby. g'na make me cum, fuck—" he groaned, one hand grabbing your neck and the other steadily holding you open for him. "touch your pretty pussy, baby. wanna see you playing with yourself."

you did as he commanded, rubbing tight circles on your clit as his cock continued destroying your insides from this delicious angle. your ceaseless whines made no sense to either of you, and your eyes rolled back into your head; exposing the glimmer of white.

he was on a high from your expressions, studying the scrunch in your brow, the light sheen of sweat that coated your trembling form. he moved the hand around your neck to pluck and pinch your nipples, loving how that simple move coupled with your frantic frigging was already getting your cute cunt to spasm around his dick.

"that's it, baby," he moaned, "love it when you're like this for me. i love you."

his confession slipped out at the very same moment the orgasm that was building in you broke. you cried out his name, clit throbbing hard—and spilled all over his cock.

your wetness gushed out to dribble over his balls and he seized, your release pushing him into a strong one of his own. he fucked every drop of his seed into you until a ring of white adorned the base of his cock; needing to make sure not a single trickle was wasted.

his strength never faltered; holding you open as he pushed you both to the point of overstimulation. your hips stuttered and your nipples were tender when he played with them again, trying to get you back to the edge.

"come on, love," he panted, "give me one more, yeah?"

the filthiest, deepest moan caressed the shell of your ear when you whined i can't!

"yes you can," he slipped his free hand to the centre of your thighs, using two fingers to draw erratic circles on your clit. "you can give me another one. be a good girl for me, pretty. can you do that?"

you wanted to—with every fiber of your being, you wanted to please him. so you took the agony, the stabs of pleasure that soon turned painful as your body worked itself to another bone-shattering release. he was with you every second of the way, pacing you, whispering his filthy encouragement that you were already poised at the edge, every nerve in your body humming from the oversensitivity.

"kakucho!" he shivered at how primal his name sounded coming from your fucked out mouth, kissing your damp cheek as his own body wound up painfully from the intense wrecking pleasure.

if your first release was shattering, the second one completely decimated you.

your cunt pulsed, thighs tensing and your entire being seized, your self-control careening down the edge. it was ecstatic how your walls were squeezing him tightly, and he expelled out a deep moan, the cacophony of wet squelches, your breathy whines, and his rumbling groans filling your brother's room.

"fuck—good girl. good fucking girl, such a good girl for me."

utterly fucked out and sweaty, you went limp in his arms. kakucho pulled his raw and red cock from your swollen depths, careful to roll you gently to your side. you were already out cold, mouth hanging open, eyes blissfully closed, murmuring in your unconsciousness. a bubble of pride swelled in him, and he tucked you closer to his side, careful to make sure your juices don't stain draken's comforter.

he should feel sick, downright guilty to the bone that he had defiled ken's little sister in his bed. but, all he felt was the pressing warmth of your smaller palm on his chest, your breath stirring the loose strands of his sweaty hair. completely at peace.

and with that, kakucho succumbed to sleep, blissfully dreaming of nothing while he had everything he needed right in his arms.

—

like all things that start in darkness and secrecy, it's only a matter of time before they come into the light.

what was supposed to be a glowing morning where you spent hours languishing in kakucho's arms was shattered by a door slamming closed.

one second, there was the weight of him under you, and the next, you went sprawling to the floor, the impact knocking you wide awake to a sight that jolted you like a strike of lightning.

draken, tall and seething, completely red in the face, grabbing your lover by the shoulders and slamming him against the nearest wall.

the last vestiges of sleep were quickly doused away and you shrieked for your brother to stop. he pushed you aside with a loud roar and you went tumbling back to the ground, hastily tugging the small blanket around your form to offer you some semblance of modesty.

kakucho's mismatched eyes were wide with fright, and he didn't retaliate when draken socked him in the gut, wheezing and sputtering, arms raised high to protect his face.

"ken-nii! stop!"

draken whirled around to face you, a vein throbbing on his forehead. "you fucking traitor!"

you flinched at his words, but your minute distraction was enough for kakucho to grapple your brother's shoulders, twisting his body and pinning the similarly tall man to the floor. his fists didn't rain down, nor did it look like he wanted to harm draken.

instead, he was restraining your brother, taking on the defensive.

"ken—fuck—ken! listen, i didn't mean it—"

draken thrashed in his grasp like a desperate fish out of the water, and he roared out, "you bastard! son of of a bitch! i'll kill you for touching her!"

"please, please—listen! i love her, i love your sister—"

"fucking bullshit!" draken spat, catching your eyes with so much vitriol in his gaze you flinched. "and you—are you that stupid, huh? he wanted this to happen! he told me after our fight that he was going to fuck you and break your heart to get back at toman. fuck—are you listening to me, y/n?”

you stood stock still. the whole bloodthirsty atmosphere in the room went cold. draken pushed kakucho off him, averting his eyes from the other man's naked form to glare at the wall instead. kakucho picked up his shirt and sweatpants, shoving them on haphazardly as he fought to make amends.

"i never meant it, i didn't—"

"is it true?" your words, soft as a whisper, hit him even harder than draken's fists.

he stayed rooted to the spot, unable to retract his careless words. kakucho didn't deny nor confirm your prodding question, and from his pale cheeks to his gaping mouth, you took it as a 'yes'.

your eyes filled with tears, and you suddenly felt too exposed. like a throbbing wound under scrutiny.

"get out," you choked when his silence became too loud.

kakucho took one step towards you, but you easily evaded his limp touch. he glanced at draken who had thunderclouds on his face, nostrils flaring and baring his teeth at him.

he had severely overstayed his welcome in the ryuguji household. possibly for forever.

he left at the same moment you expelled a shaky sob. the front door clicked shut and your brother turned to you, about to continue his chastisement when he noticed the stream of unending tears cascading down your face. draken’s eyes widened, his entire stance faltering.

"y/n—"

you turned on your heel and slinked back into your own room.

despite you going through the trouble of dropping the blanket and stuffing it under the door crack, your brother could still make out the muffled sobs, the stuttered wails. all he could do was curse his own stupidity for not keeping a better eye on you.

your door remained resolutely shut for the next two days.

—

the only comfort you could find in the wake of kakucho's betrayal was dancing.

though you were often riddled with past memories of the scarred fighter, you sought solace in the familiar motions of flaring skirts, limbs, and late nights perfecting your moves in the studio.

it was where you could finally let your guard down, sometimes even cry when the music touched a piece of your soul you found was still raw.

though you scrubbed his contact from your phone, there were times when you wondered if he would reach out to you. if he ever would consider chasing after you to make amends.

but, he never did, and you saw it plainly for what it was.

treason. a betrayal of your trust.

you stayed away from your brother's world, no longer hanging out on the fringes and trying to connect with him in any meager way you knew how. whenever draken was home, you didn't ask him about his fights or nitpick on his injuries as you once did.

content to stay quiet in your own shell, you would fix dinner, wash up, and then go back into your room before he could even gruffly clear his throat and ask about your day. those rare meals you both had together were filled with a gloomy silence, one that you didn't try to break with various funny recollections of your student's antics or any anecdotes that passed your mind. unlike what you did before, desperate for a glimpse of acceptance from your brother.

draken tried to talk to you. he would clear his throat, tell you about his upcoming matches and you would listlessly nod, eyes cast down to the table. he would ramble, and then stop, petering off when he noticed you weren't listening.

one day, he even brought up kakucho's name and the mention of their rematch, but a single look at your crestfallen expression numbed any efforts to finish that thought.

you would spend more time in the studio, sometimes leaving at three in the morning if it meant you could evade your brother's presence and any lingering curiosity about his world of underground fighting.

sometimes, when the memories got too hard to deal with, the only thing you could retreat into was dancing and when that got tiring, your fake smiles for your students would drop and you would spend hours just staring at your swollen toes, curled up against the studio’s walls.

the music and lights were low in the empty space, and you were completely lost in your thoughts that you didn't sense a presence by the door.

when it did sink into you that you were not alone, you raised your head, eyes growing wide at who it was.

dressed in a black hoodie and frayed jeans, the first signs of a black eye in the hollow of his right socket and a split lip marked kakucho's silhouette in your studio's doorway.

you gingerly untucked your feet and stood up.

his eyes were sunken and red-rimmed, a five o'clock shadow on his chin. it didn't look like he was faring any better than you with how lean his frame had gotten and how heavy his shoulders were, slumping forward as if to curl upon his whole chest.

"hey," his voice was hoarse, edged with exhaustion. "i tried calling your phone, but it couldn't go through. so—"

"yes, because i blocked you." the ice in your tone that was never there in all those moments you spent together scared even you. kakucho flinched and dropped his gaze, jamming his hands into his pockets to hide their trembling.

"i guess i deserved that."

those late-night scenarios where you imagined meeting him again—the words you would say, the accusations you would hurl towards him—fell mute. you were tongue-tied, grasping at straws, unable to unravel your thoughts.

the only thing that was ringing in your mind was—"why're you here?" you whispered, though, in the wide room, it sounded more like an inquisition.

he lifted his eyes, pinning them on yours. tears were brimming in his lash line along with the red of fatigue and misery. he opened his mouth, closed it, then made a strangled sound in the back of his throat that was almost a whimper.

"i wanted to apologize—"

"i won't accept it so you can save your breath." you turned away from the look of pure pain on his face, crossing your arms to hide how badly your entire body was shaking. "there is nothing to say. please. just go."

"no." he stunned you with his earnest desperation. "there is so much for me to say and i want to start by apologizing. i never meant to rope you into my shit, but bonten was losing investors and—"

"so you decided to use me as leverage to get to ken?" you deduced in a soft voice. your nails were digging so hard into your palms, they almost pierced the skin. "that is cruel. even for you, kakucho."

his full name on your lips coupled with your wavering stare made him falter, and he let the impact of his deeds wash over him. he was an idiot—more than that, he was an asshole. you didn't deserve his transgressions and sins. you were too kind, and loving and this world did nothing but chew up that same kindness and spit it out in your face.

much like what he did.

"y/n—"

"was any of it real?"

he was stunned to find you crying, and as much as he wanted to reach out to you, scoop you into his arms and wipe those tears away, he was at a loss. a coward and enabler through and through.

"what—?"

"us," you clarified in a thick voice, your lacrymose eyes welling with anguish. "was any of it real?"

"baby, you know it was—"

"then why did you do it?" you whispered, clamping your teeth down on your lower lip to muffle an errant sob. "why did you pretend to be someone you were not to get to my brother?"

he took a step forward, every line on his face crumpled with despair. "love, i was serious about us. about you. even if i started out with that intention initially it all changed because of you."

you shook your head, unlodging a few more tears that dripped onto the front of your tank top. "i don't believe that. i don't think i can."

he swallowed hard. "it's true. y/n i meant what i said—i love you. i really do. please—" kakucho's voice was feathery light, whispy with fractured hope that you would finally listen to him. "believe me. i was serious about us."

you closed your eyes, unclenching your fists. drops of blood beaded and dripped down your wrists and he made a sound of consternation. before you could react, he reached forward, grasping your hands gently in his. you watched, mute with disbelief when he pulled out his handkerchief and dotted away the sanguine streams, tutting under his breath.

"don't hurt yourself like this, baby," the sadness was unmissable in his tone. "i can't bear to see you like this."

your sobs stuttered out like the first rush of a flood and he caught you in time, holding you tightly to his chest, rubbing your back with reassuring strokes.

"i'm sorry," he choked out. "i'm so sorry for everything i did, sweetheart. it will not happen again, okay?"

you blubbered into his shirt, staining it with your tears, but he didn't mind. he shushed you, cooed that everything was going to be alright and you believed him. you believed him because he was standing right in front of you, flaying his heart open to get you to trust him again.

he sat down on the hard ground, pulling you on top of his lap and you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, hiccuping back more useless sobs.

the both of you sat in the resounding quiet, unable to do anything but hold onto each other like you were both each other's buoys in the middle of a stormy ocean. once you calmed down, he pressed a kiss to your hair, swiping away the tears on your wet cheeks and tightening his grip on you.

"draken beat my ass during training today," he murmured throatily and you chuckled.

"i guess big bro does care for me."

kakucho hummed, "he does. he really does."

you paused, unable to believe what you were hearing. kakucho sensed your curiosity and continued. "ken is a lot like us—lost with no family, but the only difference is that he now has you. and trust me, he's glad you're here. so cut your nii-san some slack, okay?"

"not you asking me to be nice to my brother when he got us into this mess in the first place," you grumbled dryly.

kakucho snorted. "what can i say—i hate seeing my girl sad for any reason."

you warmed, sniffing back the last of your tears. "so i'm your girl now?"

"mhm hmm," he lifted your face to meet his eyes, and you nearly went breathless at his soft smile. "my number one girl."

"yeah?" you grinned, feeling the tears of your heart mend once more from his gentle beam. "is that a forever position?"

kakucho pinched your cheek, his own face reddening. "yeah," he finally admitted. "you got the job, baby."

in his arms, you finally relaxed, and the sleepless nights you endured came crashing onto you, making your bone-weariness and relief more apparent. "good to hear. i'm reporting in right now for duty."

your lips touched his and kakucho swore his entire chest almost burst from the sheer relief and gratitude of your forgiveness.

—

draken wasn't exactly happy when he saw you walking into the arena, hand in hand with kakucho, but after you reassured him that you would be rooting for his win, he loosened up.

the day of the rematch was here, and as much as you tried to remain a neutral party to not show your bias toward either your brother or lover, the whispers swirling around you were hard to ignore.

isn't that ken's little sister?

and she’s dating kakucho, too?

she's his half-sister—makes sense that she wouldn't know who to root for.

can she be trusted?

god, i wouldn't know what to do in her position.

you tuned them all out, sitting right in the front in between the two regions to show you were fully neutral. izana sauntered towards you and took the empty seat on your left where kaku would be making his entrance.

"nervous?" the white-haired man goaded. you fixed him with a look.

"they're not going to kill each other, are they?"

izana shrugged. "knowing kaku, he wouldn't want to hurt your brother if it meant he would be hurting you."

"and ken wouldn't hurt him too much because i'll get upset," you surmised.

izana raised one thin brow. "glad to see they're on the same page when it comes to the common denominator—you."

your cheeks warmed, and you ignored his ribbing. the crowd was filling in and you were getting antsy, bouncing your legs and darting your eyes left to right to gauge where the investors would be watching. they stood a little to the side—men in rich suits and heavy rings glinting off their fingers, smoking imported cigars.

you despised their very presence—wanted to do nothing more than spit in their smug faces at how they forced these poor men to fight on the regular just for their entertainment.

izana seemed to have caught a whiff of your dark thoughts and sighed. "there's nothing you can do about them, y/n. kaku and draken have a contract and they need to fulfill it."

"doesn't mean it isn't right," you argued.

he sighed again. "at least there's a rule for them not to kill each other. i can't imagine what would happen if that were the case."

your blood ran cold with the insinuation. glancing at him, your voice was strained with nerves. "'zana, they wouldn't do that, right? change up the rules before a big fight?"

before izana could retort, the lights dimmed and the doors slammed shut with finality. a booming bass thrummed under the soles of your shoes and spotlights swung wildly around the growing crowd, gathering in the middle of the ring. a man with a purple mullet stepped out this time, and you recognized him from kaku's team.

rindou haitani gave the crowd a smirk, lifting the mic to his parted mouth. "ladies and gentlemen, the night you have been waiting for—today, toman and bonten's best will be going toe-to-toe in the fight of the century!"

the screams and jeers were loud enough to shake the floors. you bunched your hands on your lap, frozen to the plastic seat.

"on the left—oil greasers beware, he will come after your gears faster than you can say 'fucking hell'—ryuguji ken!"

draken's tattoo shone like a glare under the light, his narrowed eyes and puffed-out chest an intimidating sight even from where you sat.

"and on the right—a lean fighting machine with more hit counts than an assassin—hitto kakucho!"

your lover appeared, the same mean mug that echoed draken's stoic expression. the crowd cheered even louder, hungry for violence.

the bell rang, nearly jolting you from your seat and the two men descended upon each other faster than flies on rotting meat. blurry fists and swift kicks echoed around the ring, and from somewhere to the right, one of the men was already bleeding, the ground stained with bright red.

it was draken, who swiped at his broken nose, lunging at kakucho who parried with a fist into his sternum. you hadn't realized you were gripping izana's arm until he hissed under his breath at how hard your sharp nails were stabbing into his skin.

one quick glance at the investors told you that they were completely enraptured by the show. beside them, a man you recognized as draken's best friend and the head of bonten—sano manjiro. he was whispering under his breath, furiously shaking his head and you could sense the tension rolling off his shoulders.

"'zana—"

izana noticed his adopted brother's stance and stiffened. "y/n, i think—"

"kill him! kill him! kill him!” the crowd jeered, and you turned back to the ring, taut with fear at what was unfurling. kakucho was straddling your brother's lap, fists landing into his face like he was shaping dough. draken struggled, but ultimately, he was no match for kakucho's strength.

your brother was out cold, and your lover stood, ready to be declared a winner when a voice over the speaker boomed, "finish him! kill him now, number three."

you froze, and when you lifted your head, he was staring at you, completely perplexed. mikey was grappling with one of the investors, causing a commotion outside of the ring.

kakucho didn't stop to assess the damage; he swooped out of the lines to back his leader up. chaos exploded around and izana hauled you to your fret, shielding you with his body as the crowd stampeded and swarmed around the impromptu fight happening beyond the show.

rindou was trying to calm the crowd down to no avail. these people were doped up on all sorts of substances and demanded death. you broke izana's hold on you, sparing draken one swift look to find that he was instantly being treated by medical personnel. your momentary relief didn’t last for long. you shifted your attention back to kakucho who was in the fray.

"—i won't let you kill him!"

"manjiro—!"

the crowd surged forward and you elbowed your way through the throng, desperate to reach him.

you found him in a bloody fistfight with one of the investors, his lips split and blood caking one half of his face.

"kakucho!" you screamed, but your voice was drowned out by the sounds of over hundreds of people begging for a kill.

BANG!

the whole hall went silent. up on the ring, smoking glock in hand, rindou haitani glared at the rowdy throng, his voice booming across the halls like the crack of a whip. "the show's over, folks. collect your winnings and get out."

they didn't need to be told twice. the crowd finally thinned long enough for you to reach kakucho. he was on the ground, hands pressed to his side and you gasped at the bleeding wound. "help! help! we need medical attention here!" someone yelled. it was manjiro, his platinum blond bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat.

someone pushed you aside and you stumbled back, in time to notice two nurses dressed in white and carrying a stretcher hauling your lover back into the ward for swift treatment. you followed after them, unable to keep your eyes off kakucho's injured form.

they barred you from entering as they treated both your brother and your boyfriend, and you would've had a meltdown if it wasn't for izana's steady hand on your arm. kakucho's best friend brought you back down to the seats, whispering that everything was going to be okay—that the only bad thing now was for them to find new investors. they were safe. they would heal.

you let his words crash into you, nodding along.

the minutes slipped into hours and you raised your head when the door to the medical bay slammed open. you rushed in without a second to spare, past the tired nurses and straight to the two occupied beds. draken's condition was stable, the bandages around his face hiding the bruises that would form soon on the pale skin.

kakucho, on the other hand, was in the worst state.

"someone stabbed him." a voice behind you made you whirl and you came face to face with the head of bonten himself. his tired eyes and platinum blonde hair marked draken's boyhood best friend, the man that he would follow to the ends of the earth. and it wasn't hard to see why.

mikey had a gentleness about him that belied the stern seriousness bubbling underneath. with his charisma and charms, it was easy to see why many men would appoint him as the head of one of tokyo's most notorious fighting clubs.

you sat straighter. "who did it?”

"he's indisposed," mikey retorted, his thin lips pressed into a firm line when he raked his gaze over his childhood friend and third-best fighter. "you need to let them rest, y/n."

surprising him with your stubborness, you shook your head. "no. i'll be here. you can sort out that mess outside; i won't leave."

mikey looked like he didn't want to defy you and briefly nodded. he left you alone, and when he did, you sat beside kakucho, taking his hand.

his broad chest was smeared with blood, some of it marring the pristine white blanket. his hair was matted to his face with sweat and dirt, and you winced at the sight of a large laceration just underneath his right temple that was hastily patched up.

unbidden, tears sprang in your eyes and you cried softly, unable to believe that you had almost lost him in a short span of a few minutes.

"angel." his hoarse voice shocked you into action and you sprang to your feet, hands fluttering, confused as to what should you do first. did you have to call the doctors back in? did he need more medical attention? was he in pain?

his fingers twined with yours, bringing them to his heart with some difficulty. exhaustion caked every line on his face and his smile was laced with pain.

"don't cry, pretty—i hate being the reason that you cry."

you muffled a sob, pressing your face into his shoulder, wrapping your arm loosely around his neck. "kaku, i—"

"it's okay," he reassured, rubbing your back. "i was the idiot who went into that whole mess. but i'm fine now. see?" you lifted your head to find him grinning widely. your sweet, strong kakucho.

"all better."

you choked back a giggle and leaned forward, giving him a soft kiss his forehead. he lifted his face, catching your lips and you both kissed deeply for a few minutes, the whole room melting away beyond the point of your mouths slotted sweetly against the other.

"oi. get a room, both of you."

you broke off the kiss to find draken giving you an exhausted smirk finally back in the world of the living. "ken-nii!"

this time, your brother was the next victim to your smothering hug and he grunted a choke, patting your back awkwardly. "yeah, yeah. i'm fine, pipsqueak."

you lifted your head, about to chastise him when he slid his gaze to the other man next to him. "hurts like a bitch, eh?"

kakucho could only force out an exhaled laughter.

"inupi and i were thinking of leaving this mess behind. starting up our own business." there was a pause when you held your breath, unable to believe draken's kindness. "you want in?"

kakucho flittered his gaze to you and then back to your brother. what draken was doing was beyond both your comprehensions; he was giving your lover a way out of this life. a chance to start fresh without putting themselves through violence just to keep food on the table.

unbeknownst to you, kakucho was making this decision not for him, but for the woman he loved. something about watching you break down, crying your heart out for someone as unworthy as him had made his chest twinge, and if he wanted to last the distance with you, he sensed that he would have to make a choice.

and for the first time in his life, he chose something other than the dark world of underground fighting, illegal money and broken fists.

he chose happiness, the gentle breath of a new morning, the promise of a forever.

he chose you.

"yeah," he gave your brother an easy grin, and took your outstretched hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "count me in, ryuguji."

—

he was staring at you again.

this time not from across the dingy ring but at the threshold of your cozy studio.

you welcomed his bright smile and kiss, wrapping your arm around his waist after you put the finishing touches on closing your studio for the week.

"long day?"

you nodded, expelling a dramatic sigh. "i'm glad the weekend is here."

kakucho flicked your nose, laughing at your irritated huff. "i'm just relieved i finally have time to take you out on a date, pretty."

between your classes and his new job at d&d motors, the both of you barely had time to spend with one another. it was hard adjusting after his life in the ring, but kakucho was making good progress.

it seemed as if the wish you made in his car with the loose eyelash came true.

that everyone was finally safe and sound.

he traded bruised knuckles for grease-stained fingers and put his strength to good use—working alongside your brother and inupi after the crackdown on their old illegal ring to repair motorbikes and service vehicles in a small shop lot just down the street from your studio.

sometimes, you would visit them, bento boxes in hand to remind them to have lunch. other times, draken and kakucho would trade turns picking you up from classes and driving you home.

it was an easy life, one without mindless violence that tore apart relationships and homes.

you could finally see draken smile without remorse. walk home in the dark of night with his shoulders swinging and gait unhurried. you noticed that kakucho slept better, no longer afraid that this would be the last night he would spend in peace.

and you could finally have both of them safe.

safe from the ring, safe from violence and bloodthirsty men who traded their pain for money.

they no longer needed to put their life on the line and kakucho could finally hold your hand in broad daylight; give you a peck on the cheek if he felt like it, and bring you flowers without risking your safety and your brother's disapproval.

what started as the crossing of lines that should've never intersected—worlds that should've never even touched in the first place—brought all three of you to a much greener side.

sometimes, you would look at the scars on kakucho's body and silently regret all those years he had to fight to amount to something worthy. sometimes, you would catch draken with a faraway look in his eyes, quietly ruminating over a past memory you didn't dare disturb him from.

but other times, you counted your blessings twice; that those old lacerations on their physique and soul would remain just that.

not open bleeding wounds.

just scars.

THE END.

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own

[iwasei]

oh to be eddies little corrupted punk gf and give pretty prep nancy head while eddie watches and nancy mocks, "you ever teach her manners, munson? never had someone drool on me so much." hearing eddies dark chuckle and his soft reply, "my girl likes it messy. be sweet to her, wheeler."

[iwasei]

u don’t understand i have to bite u