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Sweet Wife - Sweet Life ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Being Bonten!Sanzu Haruchiyo’s wife is no easy work at all. Especially in days like this one.

Here you are, all dolled up as you enter Bonten’s headquarters. Your makeup is light but flawless, expensive gold jewelry adorning your neck, with the perfect pair of long earrings to match. A white tube top hugs your curves, and a long pastel pink skirt accentuates your body just right.

You were being sweet—after finishing work, you decided to come pick up your husband. Along the way, you brought some baked goods from the bakery down the street, because you know how much all the executives adore a sweet treat from time to time.

You’re riding the elevator with a few more employees, but one man is giving you goosebumps with the way his stare lingers on your body. You try to brush it off—surely, it’s nothing, right?

He smirks at you just as the elevator doors open. You quicken your pace as you step out, but then you feel it—a small slap on your ass.

Your body goes still. A soft gasp escapes your lips.

Just as you’re about to turn around and slap the shameless stranger, a swift movement flashes past you. The man’s body is slammed into the wall beside you, and your husband stands there, a crazed expression twisting his face. The diamond-shaped scars stretch with his sinister grin as the victim squirms under his grasp.

Yes—victim. That’s what you call them. Because no one truly knows how crazy your sweet, innocent, loving husband gets about you.

“And here I was wondering why my dear wife was late,” Haruchiyo sneers, voice sharp with malice as he leans closer to the man, who’s now struggling to breathe under his grip.

“I’m sorry, Haru… I didn’t know I’d be bringing along some trash,” you giggle innocently, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Haru, baby, can you throw him away already? I brought some baked goods, and honestly, I cannot wait to eat them at your desk.” You let out a small huff and pout slightly.

“Anything for you, baby.” He gives you a sinister smile, then turns back to the man. “Did you hear that? My wife is hungry. And you dared to touch her with your filthy hands.” He lands a punch—maybe two—and you swear you hear a small cracking sound from the man’s skull.

“Take him to one of the warehouses,” your husband orders flatly. A few men step forward and drag the unconscious body away.

With that mess cleaned up, Haruchiyo turns back to you, expression softening into something only you ever get to see.

“Aww, how’s my little menace today? Had a fun day at work?” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you toward his office.

“I see you brought some sweets… Why don’t you give me a taste or two?” He leans down, lips brushing yours in a kiss. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, teasing, while his hand slides up to your ass, making you gasp from the sudden touch.

“Haru!!” you squeal, laughing. “You’re unbelievable.”

You giggle as he gives you that wild, adoring smile.

Haruchiyo Sanzu may be a ruthless criminal—but in this bitter, sour world, even he needed a sweet little thing like you to give him the sugar rush his twisted heart craved.

PS: Would you like to see more of Sanzu's wife? She is just a little menace.

I'm still not sure how to format my works T_T, my apologies.

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Making banners for fics is so hard. I don't how y'all do it... or those png lines somethings...😭.

Please bear with the ugly ahh aesthetic on the posts.

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Some things never change... ˿ˇ˕ ★ ˞ˊ˿

wc: idk again writing: still wack Michael Kaiser:hell yeah

Just a little sth for the Kaiser lovers or haters. Enjoy!

Michael Kaiser was a lot of things.

A worldwide football star. Charismatic enough to walk into a room and own it. Hell, even a manipulative bastard when he wanted to be. But one thing Michael Kaiser absolutely was not?

Patient enough to not burn Twitter to the ground, along with every Yoichi supporter breathing on the app.

After the NEL League officially ended and new changes reshaped the world of football—and the lives of its newly crowned strikers—you’d think something good might finally settle into Michael’s life as well.

Yeah, no. Not even close.

Here he was, Michael Kaiser, the almighty, world-class striker, standing barefoot on his very expensive designer sofa in his very expensive penthouse apartment. His hair was still damp from a long, exhausting practice session, and a psychology book sat open in his hands, unread. Next to him, tucked close and effortlessly soft, was his girlfriend—you—the only person he truly believed might understand him.

And here you were, curled up beside your boyfriend, head resting on his shoulder, wrapped in the warmth of his skin and the lingering scent of his beauty products—something floral, something tropical, something with a hint of roses, something that is just him.

You loved moments like this. Loved him. Truly, you did. But what you currently loved just a little bit more? The absolute chaos happening on Twitter right now.

Some fans of the world of football’s hottest topic right now, Isagi Yoichi, and currently Kaisers’ worst nightmare, are eating him up in those silly Twitter posts, and you just can’t help but catch some of the smoke too.

You tried to hold it in, but another giggle slipped out. Your screen was filled with another ridiculous tweet—this time, a zoomed-in shot of Kaiser grabbing Yoichi’s chin, his thumb brushing over Yoichi's bottom lip - honestly goddamn, during a post-match standoff, the caption screaming:

“‘I came here to meet you’ — UM HELLO?? KAISER WANTS HIM SO BAD 😭😭😭”

You practically wheezed, clutching your stomach as you scrolled. And then—oh God—another edit: a photo of Michael with clown makeup photoshopped onto his face, complete with the clown wig. The caption? Brutal.

“CAN YOU BELIEVE FUMBLING THE BADDIE NESS SO BAD LMFAO 💀💀”

Your laughter was loud and breathless now, and it earned you a pointed glance from the man himself.

“Not again,” he muttered, snapping his book shut with a sigh.

“Can you not read what these clowns have to say? Why does it matter?” he asked, his voice stinged with a hint of irritation. Without warning, he wrapped his arms around your waist, easily lifting you off the sofa and into his lap like you weighed nothing.

“But Mihya,” you grinned, eyes gleaming, “according to the fans, you’re down bad.”, you burts laughing in his face.

Before you could even finish the hell of an entertainment you were having, his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you in as your lips crashed together in a kiss that was heated and possessive. He bit your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp.

“Maybe I should just throw away your phone,” he murmured against your lips. “It’s been messing with your head.”

You reached up, threading your fingers into his hair, gently brushing through the damp strands before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Why are you mad about this?” you teased. “I should be mad at you for having so many boyfriends out there in Japan.”

Kaiser scoffed under his breath. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, holding you closer as his hand slid up your back, tucking you perfectly against the crook of his neck. This—having you close, warm and real—this was what grounded him.

“I should stop entertaining all of you shitty clowns,” he grumbled.

“Excuse you—”

He cut you off with a quick kiss, a small but affectionate gesture that left you quiet and smiling.

These were the moments you adored most. Everything else—the league, the internet, the noise—could change. But this? Your love for each other? It stayed the same. Strong. Unshaken. Warm.

And maybe, Michael thought, that was okay.

Maybe you loving him was enough.

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Longing melodies in Roppongi : ̗̀➛

wc:idk writing? -WACK RINDOU? HELL YEAH!!!

The club was busy and buzzing with people. Dancing, drinking, and flickering lights melting into different hues onto the walls. The smell of alcohol mixing with expensive perfumes and the music guiding people’s bodies to sway to the beat.

You’re here because of your friend’s pleas to go out for once instead of going home directly from work. Don’t get me wrong. You love parties and you love the atmosphere, especially here in Roppongi where the nights come alive by the form of amazing new melodies and alcohol that hits your senses just right. Out of all of them though, you find yourself drawn to this specific club, where the weekends are occupied by newer artists who are looking to make a name for themselves and their music. You’ve even heard that the owner of the club is sometimes seen to play his music here, and the people are hooked.

So here you are, near the bar, waiting for yet another cocktail, giddy to feel the sweet alcohol running through your system so you can get a little bit more into the mood and less to worry about what your stressful job has in store for you tomorrow. The bar is well-polished and is shining brightly under the lights going and bouncing through every surface in the club interior. Lots of different alcohol on the shelves and the bartenders are well-skilled, know how to hold a show for the crowd—flipping glasses, twirling the alcohol like it’s the main star, and snarling some playful remarks with the customers. Uniforms well-fitted and alcohol well-served. Truly one of the best clubs in Roppongi.

The moment you receive your cocktail, you almost down it in one shot, the sweet, savoury taste of juice and intoxicating liquid dances on your buds. Suddenly, the music stills quietly and the lights dim a little, focusing on the main stage in front of a big, shiny DJ booth, and the only sound is of people murmuring and the soft click of low heels against the polished floors.

A man gets on the stage. He is quite tall, you think, and that pale turquoise shirt, along with a few unbuttoned buttons on his collar down to his chest, is teasing parts of his figure just right. But God… that lavender hair, messy locks sliding down his neck with an accent of black along the edges.

You get up from the bar stool in a swift motion and push your way through the crowd. Reaching close to the DJ booth, you can see the man so much clearer, and God, is he pretty! Lavender eyes hazy, maybe from the slight intoxication, long fingers reaching for the vinyl and some of the controls on the booth. You notice gentle waves of ink flowing on the skin of his left arm. But that’s not all. The moment the melody slides from his fingers, the whole club erupts in cheers. The style of the music is a little rough, but it holds something refined.

People dancing around you and lights flashing brighter. You lose yourself in a dance as well, enjoying this perfect, strange music from this perfect stranger.

After a few more songs, he finishes his set, downing a glass of what looked like whiskey and thanked the crowd. Your breath stills for a second—his voice so soothing yet carrying a little edge. You let out a whine of displeasure the moment he announces the next artist that will be taking over for the rest of the night, and you could swear that he chuckled at your reaction. Eyes locking in with yours, making you go a little weak in the knees, you admit.

Your legs start to move before you could think, going towards his direction, eyes scanning for him through the crowd, bumping into the people in the process. And as you look away for a second, he is… gone?

“Ah, fuck,” you sigh in defeat and make your way to the bar where your friends are staying, in hopes to catch sight of the beautiful stranger again.

. . .

The door to the VIP lounge opens, and the scent of expensive cologne and alcohol seeps through. A bunch of laughter and chatter fills the room when Haitani Rindou steps in.

“Great show, RinRin~,” a pink-haired man laughs, legs spread on the leather couch, a glass filled with whatever in hand, and diamond scars forming a smirk on the corners of his mouth. A few more people that scream danger and have similar tattoos, just on different places, laugh along.

Rindou grunts and grabs a cigarette from the pack in his pocket—something he only does after a great set. He lights up the cigarette and leans on the rails as he looks around the club, something he loves doing whenever he has a chance. He loves to see people enjoying his club, his music, his alcohol.

So Rindou wonders—why do you look so sad, when a few minutes ago you were enjoying your night away in the front row? Somehow, it doesn’t sit right with him… can he fix that?

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Feel free to criticize my writing, honestly it would be appreciated. I just love feeding my delusional self with Rindou scenarios hehe.

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𖹭.ᐟ

Bonten!Haitani Ran with a girlfriend who works in cybersecurity.

You see, you have morals. You really do. But when your boyfriend comes home with some scratches and dirt from an almost failed mission because of some dude leaking files to the government about Bonten’s affairs, you can’t just sit there and let your pretty and slightly illegally involved boyfriend get in trouble.

So you do what every committed and reasonable girlfriend does. You erase the files from the government servers, masking it as a hacker attack.

Ran for sure owes you the best night in his club in Roppongi and a few more of those expensive Birkin bags.

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ Just Bonten!Sanzu

Bonten!Sanzu Haruchiyo, who takes you in after finding you on the street—cold and abandoned. Some guy of yours kicked you out of his house or something. He doesn’t really care—or at least that’s what he tells himself.

Sanzu Haruchiyo, who gets high and drunk with you—partying, hugging, maybe a kiss or two. Emotional venting at 2 a.m., thinking it’s all for fun. No strings attached, just someone to keep his bed warm.

Sanzu Haruchiyo, who stares at your lifeless body after Sano Manjiro shot you dead. “You were distracting Sanzu” he said. And yet, there you lay again—cold and abandoned—your blood glistening on the cold warehouse floor.

Haruchiyo, who thought he didn’t care at all. So why does his heart ache, just a little?

Whatever. As long as the king is happy.

⭑.ᐟ

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✮⋆˙ Rindou loves to hold you ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

BestFriend!Rindou, who holds you when your first boyfriend breaks up with you and you’re a crying mess in his arms.

Best Friend!Rindou, who holds you when you start learning the piano. The process is hard, the notes fall too flat, and you just can’t hold your tears back again.

Best Friend!Rindou, who holds you when you win your first big piano competition. This time, you’re happy—happy to hit a big milestone of progress, happy that he is your support in these moments.

Best Friend!Rindou, who holds you on your first official date: a bench in the park, some snacks, maybe a few beers, and a speaker that played music in the background.

Boyfriend!Rindou, who holds you the night before Tenjiku fights Toman. With low, faint music floating through the room, he gives you solace in his arms and the beat of his heart supporting yours.

Boyfriend!Rindou, who wants to hold you when you visit him in juvie. Instead of music, this time the room echoes with the faint crack of his heart whenever he sees your glassy eyes shimmering and your tear stained cheeks.

Boyfriend!Rindou, who finally holds you when he’s out of juvie. Your hair a little longer and fingers a little more slender because of the piano—but still you, and still in his arms.

Fiancé!Rindou, who holds you when you say the memorable “yes.” Even though years have passed and he’s changed, you still stuck with him—even though he’s a well-wanted executive working under Bonten. Now, with a ring on your finger and promises of eternity.

Fiancé!Rindou, who holds you—but now you’ve changed. Your skin more pale than usual. Makeup very faint, just to not reveal your insecurities. Dress fitted just for you. Your eyes closed and your body laid in a bed of bellflowers. Your casket laid low, and the dirt that will cover you—shelter you away from the world.

Fiancé!Rindou, who holds your music sheets in front of your piano. Your wedding theme—the melody that you composed and gave a piece of your soul for, for the day that his was supposed to intertwine with yours.

Rindou, who never holds you again.

Who can only hold you in his memories…

˚ · .

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Just Bonten!Rindou looking to take his mind off things in a bar after a long day. Where the lights are a little low, the alcohol is just the right amount but god there is you and he just can’t get enough.

You on the small stage in the center, a microphone in hand and a dress that hugs your figure just right. Your voice echoing trough the room and gliding on the soft instrumental, eyes filled with glamour and locking onto his for a little while.

In that moment maybe Rindou remembered who he used to be and what he loved. After such a long time he feels like he can hear music again…

And just maybe he feels something more…

♪ ༘⋆

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