#bonten mikey x reader

[inkykeiji]

you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: here’s my halloween piece, only half a month late! still, i hope you can enjoy it! as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: alice in wonderland

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public sex/exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, size difference, biting/marking, blood, minimal prep, rough sex, teasing, begging, dacryphilia, humiliation, a lil bit of degradation, drugs, toxic relationship

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try. He’s the motherfucking Boss. And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 

The music is loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with it, bleeding with it, flashes of neon pouring over the frosted mosaics of glass and marble. 

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event. 

There are people everywhere, scattered across every surface, crystal glasses filled with expensive liqour and cocktail concoctions glittering in their palms. You barely know any of them. 

They’re all supposed business partners, allies and associates, ‘friends’ of your Daddy. Not that it matters all that much to you; they aren’t allowed to say a word to you anyway. 

Your eyes scan the expanse of the club, on the hunt for a familiar face. Takeomi is in the corner, obnoxiously blowing smoke into some of the higher end girls’ faces. He’s really taking his role of The Caterpillar earnestly. 

Good. You told him it suited him.

At your request (AKA at Mikey’s demand), the top members of Bonten have dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters, donning an impressive group costume. You’ve been taking the whole thing pretty seriously—beginning your extensive planning in August, drafting up designs and taking everyone’s precise measurements to have each outfit custom made to their exact frames—which means the rest of Bonten has been taking the whole thing pretty seriously, too. 

Not that any of them mind. 

What Mikey’s little angel wants, Mikey’s little angel gets. It’s standard protocol, really; you’re merely an extension of the Boss and thus must be treated as an extension of the Boss, and Mikey’s best men have no issues complying. 

Sighing, you rest your chin in your palms, sombreness souring your features. An ache, dull and dense, settles in the pit of your chest. It’s a desolate sort of longing, a gentle but constant gnawing that cannot be sated by anyone or anything other than it’s creator, something that weights your lungs and heavies your heart and stalls your breath, a vital part missing.

You miss Mikey.

You miss Mikey, but you know this ‘event’ really does have some sort of business significance; that, while it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and high on Halloween night, it also serves as the grounds for some sort of meeting or negotiation or proposition—you can never be sure which, with Bonten. 

You aren’t allowed to know. You’re lucky to be here at all.

But you miss Mikey.

You shouldn’t be selfish. You know you shouldn’t be selfish; he’s already stretched so thin between so many obligations and obituaries, and you shouldn’t add to that strain. You won’t add to that strain. You’ll sit here, pretty and perfect like his precious little princess should be, and you’ll wait, patiently, until Daddy has a moment to spare you. 

He always finds a moment to spare, no matter how many duties and commitments he has. He always finds a space for you in his day, even if he has to carve it out with his bare hands.

So you mustn’t be greedy. You will be good. For him, you’ll do anything, no matter how difficult. 

“No frowning, miss Alice,” Sanzu chastises through a stretched grin, wide and carved into his cheeks—a smile so sharp, so sinister it puts the true Cheshire Cat to disgrace. 

He swims into your vision, teeth glinting with teals and fuchsias, an intricately wrapped box in his palms. Tugging on the ribbon a little, he unboxes it to reveal a wealth of small confections, individually wrapped in colourful foils.  

“Look, your favourite kitty brought you some chocolate.”

That brightens your mood a little—a sugar fiend, just like your Daddy is—and your mouth drops open expectantly, cute tongue unfurling in invitation. 

Sanzu rolls his eyes but places a truffle on your tongue anyway, pressing it down on the slick muscle and forcing your lips to close around his first knuckle to suck the treat free from him, laughing at the way your face twists.

Pervert. 

His nails taste like blood—not that you’ve come to expect any less—but the rusty copper is quickly eradicated by sugar, a content little hum vibrating around the melting chocolate.

“Good, huh?” Sanzu asks around his own chocolate, shuffling a gold box of expensive Italian truffles in his palm as he picks through them, confections jumping perilously with the motion, shimmering wrappers catching in the flashing neon strobes. “They’re imported.”

“Where’d you get those?” you ask through strings of caramel and cocoa, welding to your molars. 

“A little Halloween treat courtesy of Mikey,” he says dutifully, jostling the box in emphasis. “And an apology, for taking longer than expected.” 

Warmth blooms in your chest, swelling with your heart and stretching your ribs. The last few remnants of displeasure fade from your face, giving way to a small smile.

How very Mikey of him, to send his second in command armed with artisan chocolates and a short, sweet explanation; something he knew would make you smile, something he knew would alleviate some of your impatience, a reassurance that he misses you too, that he’ll be back soon, that he’s thinking of you. 

“There’s our pretty girl,” Sanzu teases, but his own grin has softened a little, the glint in his eyes dulled to a twinkle. “No more pouting, ‘kay? Your trusty Cheshire Cat will be by your side until your Hatter returns.”

Ah. A polite way of saying that you’re stuck with him until Mikey’s finished his work, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

That takes longer than either of you expect, though, Sanzu’s plan of entertaining you by leading you, hand-in-hand, around the club to assess each Bonten member’s costume not nearly as lengthy as he had anticipated. 

Because it only takes a mere twenty minutes or so to examine all of them, with you near instantaneously deciding that the Haitanis have won the make-believe costume contest you and Sanzu had been holding between yourselves. 

Sanzu had agreed—everyone looks impeccable in their custom-made costumes, tailored specifically to them at your behest, but no one had any hope of eclipsing the Haitanis in their form-fitted pinstriped suits, each stitch and thread molded flawlessly to their frames, perfectly pressed collars embroidered with Dee and Dum in shimmery purple thread, powder blue bowties immaculately symmetrical around their tattooed necks. 

Now you’re back at the bar, Sanzu’s shaky fingers sifting through the box of truffles as he searches for something, anything, to distract him from the way the blood in his veins is beginning to dry up, the way his capillaries are withering, brittle and thirsty, the way his skin is beginning to itch.

Because he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Not yet, anyway.

No narcotics when he’s chaperoning you; that’s a hard rule. That’s a rule that’s been sewn into the tissues of his brain so tightly it’s interwoven with his synapses. That’s an execution rule; a one time only rule—breaking that rule will get him fucking killed. 

But you’re both starting to become a little bit restless. 

“Come on,” you’re begging, word dragged across your tongue in a petulant whine. “Just one more chocolate?”

“I said no,” Sanzu snaps, eyes hard. “Mikey said three. Mikey’s the Boss. Whatever Mikey says goes; Mikey’s girl, Mikey’s rules!” 

“You’re no fun,” you huff, forehead scrunching with a pout. 

“Yeah, and that’s why he sticks me with you,” Sanzu says, though he sounds almost proud, as if it’s an honour to babysit you, a title of high esteem. “Because I can resist your tricks.”

“My charms,” you correct.

“Whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s all semantics. Point is, I know how to say no to you, unlike a few certain someones.” 

Unimpressed ice blue eyes sweep across the venue, hovering pointedly on the faces of his colleagues—Kakucho, the Dormouse; Kokonoi, the White Rabbit; Rindou, Tweedle-Dum.

Your eyes follow his, and you smirk to yourself. Kakucho is the easiest out of those three; Kokonoi sometimes deceives you, allowing you to do as you please only to tattle to Mikey later, and Rindou always demands some sort of payment, claiming it’s only fair that you give him something he wants in return. 

Turning back, you’re about to respond, something bratty and bitter simmering on your tongue, when a pair of hands and a smooth voice cuts you off. 

You’d know that touch, that tone, anywhere.

“Pray, tell me, Miss Alice,” Mikey murmurs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, palms curling around your hips and pulling you back toward his chest. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“Because it can produce a few notes,” you answer dutifully, head tipping back against his shoulder to glance at him through the corner of your eye. “Though they are very flat.”

“Correct,” he responds. “My, what a smart little girl you are.”

It’s soaked in condescension, compliment drawled out through a supercilious smirk, breath wafting across your face sweltering and saccharine. 

“Do I get a reward, Mister Hatter?” you ask, sweeter than sugarcane, batting eyelashes framing hopeful, dewy eyes. 

A hum vibrates on his tongue, onyx gaze apathetic and appraising as it glides across your features slowly, thoroughly, pulling each of your thoughts apart and putting them back together again. 

Your head rolls to the side, over his protruding collarbone, to stare at him more resolutely. And God, it’s the way you’re looking up at him, eyes glazed with dedication, with devoutness, like you want to fucking devour him. 

Like you want him to devour you. 

Hips pushing back, you rub your ass into his cock in inconspicuous little motions, lashes fluttering a little, back arched in a perfect curve and tits on full display. 

From this angle, there’s no way he can’t see right down your dress; there’s no way he can’t see the red lace of your bra straining against supple skin as your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, no way he doesn’t notice the very tips of your nipples, cheekily peeking out from beneath the delicate material with each swell of your breasts. 

Bony fingers flex on your waist, and he huffs out a smirk.

His ebony pupils are enormous, blown wide and gaping, gnawing away at the whites of his eyes. 

He’s high. 

It’s evident in the milky film of artificial ecstasy lacquering his gaze, doped up and hazy, but it does nothing to dilute the potent love he has for you, melting his stare to something soft and sticky, pouring past his lashes.

He’s feeling good tonight.

“I think I know what my little girl wants,” one hand flattens against your stomach, holding you flush to his body as the other slides up your ribs to cup your breast, filling his palm with it and kneading, slow and deliberate, simply enjoying the feeling of you. “And it is very naughty of her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm,” he hums, head drooping to nose along the curve of your neck. “Really.”

His lips brush along your skin as he speaks, his voice barely more than a gentle vibration along the column of your throat, and you whimper a little, fingers curling around his wrist and pressing him closer.

“A-And what’s that?”

“Aw, can’t you guess?” he tuts his tongue. “And I thought you were smart. Must’ve been mistaken. Where’s my smart little girl gone now?”

Grip firm on your waist, his hips rut forward, hard cock prodding at you through the layers of tulle. A discontented little sound vibrates in your throat as you squirm a little—and oh, he knows what you’re whining about, greedy girl, knows that you can barely feel his cock through the thick petticoat, knows you want more—and he presses his hips further forward, grinding harder into your ass.

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—” 

“What?” he shoves again, stronger this time, teeth nipping at the skin below your ear. “Hm?”

“Your cock is hard,” you nearly whine, pushing back against him in a pitiful little wiggle, desperate for more friction. 

“And who’s fault is that, huh?” 

The hand massaging your breast gives a final squeeze before his fingers find your nipple, pinching it through the material of your dress and bra, then rubbing the heel of his thumb over it in hard, rhythmic motions. 

“Is your pussy wet?” he huffs the question into your ear, his hot breath procuring shivers. “I bet it is, naughty girl. Daddy wants to feel it.”

“Please, please,” your hips buck a little, punctuating your pleads, chest pressing into his touch.

“Please? Please what?”

“Touch me, Daddy, touch me, touch me.”

Slender hands slip beneath the puffy layers of lace, calloused fingertips rough as they skim up your smooth thighs, outlining the silk ruffles of the bloomers he bought you specifically for this costume. 

Your hips twitch slightly, legs spreading instinctively as his fingers trail along the scrunched hem to the apex of your thighs, pressing two into the rapidly dampening material. Pensively, they caress your slit through the material, prodding your hole just a little before rubbing two slow, hard circles into your clit.

“Christ,” he breathes out, curse splintering at the end. “You’re so fucking wet baby, and I’ve barely done anything yet.”

His palm flattens against you, all four fingers dipping into your core nearly to the first knuckle and then curling, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit, and your pelvis cants reflexively, almost as if you’re attempting to draw his fingertips further in. 

“How are you this wet already, huh?” he keens, voice straining beneath his own desire. “Been thinking naughty thoughts?”

“Jus’want your cock,” you slur out honestly, hips gyrating in pathetic little circles, an embarrassing attempt to follow his touch. 

“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes, eh?” he rolls your clit between his thumb and his forefinger, nonchalantly toying with it as he mulls. “Just my cock?” 

“Uh-huh,” you nod blearily. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

“Cute,” Mikey spits, the compliment sheathed in venom, “how utterly stupid just the thought of my cock makes you.” 

His fingers clamp down on the swollen nub and tug, your whole body jolting with the pain, a yelp hitching in your chest. 

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in response, holding you close, holding you still as he humps away at you, sloppy and uneven.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, fingers tweaking your clit in rhythmic motions, sparks of pleasure chased by shocks of pain. “You’re so fucking easy for your Daddy, aren’t you? So quick to get soaked for him, so quick to get ready for him, such a good little slut for him, yeah?” 

His voice is gravelly, letters wispy around the edges despite fact that he’s nearly shouting over music. Another rush of heat surges between your thighs, and he laughs, dark and dangerous. 

Your clit throbs in his touch, the silk of your panties drenched all the way through, aiding his fingers in their slippery motions—several small, fast S gestures, followed by a few firm strokes of your slit, fingertips gliding over your folds with ease. You’re so soaked, whole cunt now outlined by the shimmery material, molding to your folds and enabling him to feel every dip, every bump, every crevice, another chuckle dripping from his lips as your little hole clenches around nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, thighs squeezing together tightly as you attempt to fuck his fingers. “Daddy, I—I can’t—I need—” 

“Shh,” he hushes you, lips caressing the curve of your ear. “I know, baby. Daddy knows what you need.” 

A palm wraps around your wrist as Mikey mutters something about going somewhere a little more private, pulling you along behind him and leading you toward those purple velvet VIP couches, empty and roped off in a darkened corner. 

“What are we—” you begin as Mikey collapses heavily on the couch, knees spread wide open, hips shifting up slightly as he forces his feet even further apart, getting comfortable. 

C’mere, his lips mime, voice drowning in heavy bass, his chin jutting in the general direction of his straining cock, yearning against pin-striped pants. 

Strong hands curl around your hips and yank you backward, the abrupt motion punching a sound of surprise from your chest as you tumble into his lap, spine pressed tight to his sternum. 

The hinges of his jaw hook over your shoulder, a crude way of keeping you from squirming as he manhandles you into straddling his thighs, hard cock pressing into your core. 

“Holy fuck,” he pants out, the curse damp against your skin. “You’re so wet I can feel you leaking through my pants.”

“Daddy,” you say, and although it’s meant to be a warning, it comes out as a whine, stringy and petulant.  

Because it already feels so good, and he’s already so hard, and you just can’t help but rock your hips back, slow and firm, whimpering a bit as the head of his cock glides over your clit, teasing as the slick, swollen little nub jumps beneath the dull pressure. 

He laughs a little, nothing more than a deep, dark rumbling within his ribs, reverberating against your back.

“You’re so fucking nasty, baby,” he chides lowly, though you can hear the self-satisfied smirk sewn into his voice, tinged with sadism, as he rolls his hips up twice, grinding his cock into your drenched core. “You’re so fucking needy, baby, trying to get yourself off in the middle of this crowded club.”

You are, you are, another little sound escaping your lips as you rut back against him, already beginning to speed up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit in quick little strokes.

“It’s really precious, y’know, how pathetically eager you are for me,” he murmurs, notes of fondness negating the sting the insult should bring, words gone melty and sweet. “But you gotta stop humping Daddy for a moment, so he can get his cock out and give you what you really want.” 

A disgruntled little whine sounds in your throat, motions stuttering a little as you attempt to stop moving. But it all feels so incredible, greedily unable to quell your hips completely as they rotate in messy little circles, tummy starting to ripple with each graze of his blunt head against your clit.

“Hey,” he warns, sharp and stern, a palm colliding with your bare thigh and leaving a burning handprint seared in its wake, the impact of the slap loud enough to draw a few pairs of eyes. “Don’t get bratty with me, or you won’t get anything at all, you understand?”

Your head’s nodding before the words are even finished leaving his lips—yes, Daddy, of course, Daddy, brats don’t deserve to be filled by Daddy’s cock—desperate to be good for him, to be the best for him.

Because you know he isn’t fucking around; Mikey’s threats are never empty threats, each and every word plucked from his brain with superlative care, heavy and infused with meaning.

It’s terrifying and tantilizing, how easily and instantly he can switch from one mode to the other: from playful to imposing, from Daddy to Leader, a pleasant shiver skittering up your spine, your hole clenching and pulsing as your stomach plummets, gut weighted with a tingling pressure.

It’s a bit of a task, freeing his cock and manoeuvring yourself as you try to inconspicuously sink down on it, but you both manage, your fluffy petticoat of crinoline and tulle providing a decent amount of privacy. 

A hiss slips through the gaps of your gritted teeth as it begins to tear you in two, cute little hole stinging as it strains around his cock, struggling to accommodate his girth, delicate skin splitting itself open for him. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” he breathes lowly, voice vibrating against your ear. “There you go, good girl.” 

An airy little moan spills from your lips as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix, and you melt back into him, skull knocking against his shoulder, eyes slipped shut. 

“Feel better, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble out dreamily. “S’good, S’right.”

“It feels right, huh?” he chuckles a little, thumbs rubbing fond circles into your hips, his hands all the way up your skirt, slipped beneath the frills and fluff, forearms buried in your dress. “You like it when Daddy fills you up?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Stretches me out real good, makes me feel all stuffed ‘n full.” 

Whole, complete, one. Like everything feels as it’s supposed to again.

And it hurts, because it always hurts, because he’s too thick and you’re never prepped enough, never patient enough, core split open on his cock and little hole aching as it attempts to adjust to him, but it’s so fucking perfect, too. Your cunt spasms around him, hips twitching a little in desperation—like you’re trying to suck him in further, like you’re trying to bury him deeper—and he groans, fingers flexing as he holds you still, nails gorging on your flesh.

“Eager, are we?” 

“S’not my fault,” you mewl, back arching a little as you attempt to push your hips back, squirming a bit in his strong grip. “Need you, Daddy.”

“Is that so?”

Grasp tightening, his hips thrust up, grinding the head of his cock into your cervix in slow, hard motions—back and forth, back and forth, inspiring a dull pang throbbing in your gut. 

Gasping sharply, your hips jerk back in response, automatic and instinctual, pulling a hoarse groan from his chest. 

His clutch turns to near bone crushing, a fractured little cry sticking in your throat, and he forces you to hold still for a moment, muscles in his thighs gone rigid and stiff as his hips press up further and tug you down, frozen, revelling in the way your cunt pulses around him, as if it’s whining for him.

“M-Mikey,” you echo its sentiments, his name a sulky plead on your tongue, brows knit together and lips jutted in a pout. 

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“You know,” you huff out, wriggling a little in his palms, feebly trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.  

Scalding embarrassment pricks your cheeks and you whimper, fidgeting in his grasp again, head shaking in defiance.

“Come on,” he chides, but there are notes of amusement infusing his tone. “Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it.” 

Sharp teeth sink into your shoulder suddenly, your half-formed response strangled by a gasp, Mikey’s jaw tensing as he burrows his teeth further into your flesh, piercing through tissues and snapping capillaries until copper explodes in his mouth. 

He holds it for a moment, all thirty-two of his teeth latched in your skin, ensuring he leaves a full, detailed outline of his mouth etched into you—a signature of sorts—before his tongue flattens against the wound, dragging over it in a single wide lick and sealing it with blood-tinged saliva. A gentle exhale wafts over the bite, cool against the searing pain, and you shudder, chills erupting across your flesh.

“You’re a big girl,” he coaxes over your whimpering, the encouragement steeped in condescension. “I know you can do it. Use your big girl words and tell Daddy what you want.”

Your eyes squeeze shut against the burn of humiliation, lids crinkling at the corners, the softest hiccup catching in your throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“I—I wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” you push the stubborn words from your tongue, trembling and breathy.

“Yeah?” he asks, bloodied tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. “How bad?”

“So bad,” you bleat out, striving to bounce on his cock under the firm restraint of his hands, dewdrops of annoyance clinging to your lashes, glittering in the beams of magenta and teal as you blink rapidly.

“Hm,” he muses to himself, nonchalant as he readjusts his grip, hands constringing, completely halting your pathetic little movements. “It doesn’t seem like you want it all that badly.”

“Daddy,” the word leaves your lips in a whine, scrunched and petulant through your pout, body thrashing beneath his strong grip. “Come on—” 

“Are you sure you wanna be such a naughty little whore in front of all of these people?”

Your body stops its writhing, his words like a slap to the face.

It’s a bit of a shock, to hear it spoken aloud so bluntly, cut and dry and honest, and it sends a torrent of sparks fizzing through your chest to collect dense and tight in your tummy. 

Shame and revulsion sets your skin aflame, the cinders in your gut flaring in response, an intoxicating combination. 

“Yes—”

“Huh? What was that?” he shouts theatrically in your ear. “I couldn’t really hear you over the music.”

“Y-Yes,” you repeat, trying to steady your hiccuping voice, to be stern and resolute, even as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

“Really?” he breathes, and he sounds astonished, he sounds appalled. “You’re so fucking sleazy, baby. I wonder what all these people would think, if they knew how truly filthy my little girl is...”

“Manjirou,” you weep out his birth name, whole face saturated in frustration.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he chuckles out the word, and it’s vicious. “Graduated to using my full name, now, have you?” he licks at the steadily oozing bite, mopping up more blood with his tongue. “Christ, you do really want it.” 

“I do!” you cry out, struggling against his grasp again, hips bucking in wild, erratic motions. “I do, I do, please, let me ride your cock, please.” 

“What if I made you sit, still and straight like the good little girl I know you want to be, on my hard cock for the rest of the night? Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”

You know he won’t, know he’d never be able to, because he’s just as addicted to you as you are to him, just as desperate, just as eager, just as needy; because even as he holds you motionless, he can’t quite halt the delicate jerk of his hips, rolling up into your core; because you know he wants this just as badly as you do, gets off on the depravity just as much as you do.

Even so, the mere thought of being teased like this, of being forced to hold such a degrading position, is still enough to inspire a rush of agitated tears to flood your eyes, vision gone bleary with despairing desire and rendering the club a bleary haze of glowing neons. 

“No, Daddy, no, I—I just want to ride you, please, Daddy, I c-can’t—” 

You’re nearly wailing now, head thrown back dramatically as your neck twists into an uncomfortable knot, anguished as you try to bury your face in his throat, looking for solace. Your chest stutters as you stammer out half-finished pleads, gone garbled with spit, and Mikey smiles.

You’re starting to cause a scene. 

It’s exactly what he wanted.

“Okay, baby, okay, okay,” he’s pacifying as he feels hot tears soak into his neck, a choked sob catching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”  

And finally, finally his grasp loosens, stiff fingers gone lax, massaging lopsided circles into the rapidly developing bruises left in the shape of their prints. 

“Go ahead, angel,” he urges, nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the congealing bite. “Ride Daddy’s cock.” 

Then he’s slumping back, settling into the couch cushions and spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing the soles of his boots into the waxed floor for stability and leverage. 

His hands stay on your waist, a gentle guidance, but he allows you to set the pace—a rare occurrence—patient as your hips work up a steady rhythm of quick, shallow gyrations, each swivel dragging his cock against your favourite spot.

And God, you’re so cute when you use his cock to make yourself feel good. It’s a shame that he can’t see your face in this position, can’t see the way your lashes flutter and frame the rolling whites of your eyes or the way your features scrunch so delicately; a shame he can’t hear your gorgeous noises, all your sweet little gasps and pitiful little whines consumed by the blaring music. 

But he can see how your back is bowing, spine forced into a near perfect arc by your building pleasure, bending just a hint more with each brush of his cock; he can feel your palms clutching his knees, nails digging little crescents into his shins and using them for support as your movements accelerate, as you fuck yourself harder, faster, better.

And he lets you have your fun for a little, lays back all languid and lazy and watches through lidded eyes as you play with yourself and use his cock like it’s your favourite toy—because, well, it is—but eventually it just isn’t enough and you need Daddy’s help. 

Just like he knew it wouldn’t be. Just like you always do.

Not that he minds one bit.

Yes, it isn’t enough, because it never is, because you can never manage anything more than teasing yourself when left entirely to your own devices, spritzing kerosene on the dull smouldering in the pit of your stomach as the head of his cock brushes up against that engorged spot inside of you, not nearly hard enough or fast enough to have you anywhere close to creaming on him, merely enough to have your clit throbbing, swollen and neglected. 

He knows you’re beginning to get restless when your hips turn sloppy, tempo starting to falter as your motions stutter, and then you’re looking over your shoulder at him with a beseeching pout, glazed eyes begging him to do something!

So he does. 

He’s straightening up in a split second, hands around your waist tightening as he yanks you back toward his chest, chin hooking over your clavicle again and grinding the sharp bone into your skin.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, mocking and mean. “Can’t even get herself off without her Daddy’s help.” 

“I can’t, I can’t,” you wail over the roar of EDM, head shaking in accentuation. “Need you, need you to do it for me.”

“Of course you do, angel,” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s common knowledge. “But that’s okay—Daddy will make it feel good.” 

That’s the only warning you’re given before his hips are ramming up, rapid and rough and downright ruthless, the abrupt motion slamming a high-pitched yelp from your throat, so pure and genuine and full of lust that it rises above the music, breaks through the heavy bass beat, gathering a handful of glances from a few nearby party-goers. 

So much for being inconspicuous. 

You should’ve known that that just isn’t Mikey’s style. 

They lose interest just as quickly as they gained it, though, going back to their drinks and their drugs, unconcerned. What the Boss does at his own club is none of their business, even if it is on display for the whole venue to see. 

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.   

“Everyone can see you, you know,” voracious black eyes scan the balcony space. “Everyone can see you being such a good little whore for your Daddy.” 

The thought of being watched, of being caught, inspires a whole flock of butterflies to flit around in your tummy, another surge of heat gushing between your thighs, and Mikey laughs. Oh, he felt that. 

Because he’s right; if anyone dared to look a little closer, a little longer, cared to paid a smidge of more attention to the two of you, hidden on one of the velvet couches wedged in the corner of the VIP section with your hips rocking and Mikey’s hands buried in the lace and tulle of your skirt, they’d know exactly what the two of you are doing.

But it doesn’t matter; you don’t care. Neither does he. Why should either of you?

“Do you—Do you think they like it?” you question, and Christ, it’s so precious, that pathetic hope ringing high and clear in your voice. “Do you think they like watching me bounce on their Boss’s cock?”

“Fuck,” the curse fragments in his throat, sharp and pitchy, and he coughs on the shards. “I know they do, sweetheart.”

“Do you think they’re g-gonna go home and touch themselves to the thought of me—of us?”

“Aw,” Mikey coos out in a chuckle, breathless and condescending. “It’s cute that you think they aren’t already jerking off to you on a regular basis.”

Of course they are, you silly little stupid thing; how could they not be? With all the sweet, short little dresses he buys you to prance and twirl around in—the ones with the sweetheart necklines that dip just a hint too low, teasing the swell of your breasts with each of your gentle inhales; the ones with the rippling hems that end just a touch too high, swishing and swaying and flashing with each of your movements, riding up and fanning out to gift them with teasing little glimpses of the lace and satin underneath. 

“You think I don’t know what my—ah, Christ—what my men think of you? How my men think of you?” He tongues a little at the bite, using his front teeth to scrape off a few half-formed scabs, blood rushing to pool in their place. “You think I don’t see the way they look at you?” 

A whine stammers in your throat, your back arching a little more as your cunt quivers around his cock, that drove of butterflies sending your stomach swooping, the organ tensing, tying itself into thick knots pulled tight and taut with each plunge of his cock. 

Mikey laughs again, the sound nothing more than a deep, dense vibration rumbling within his ribs, seeping into your back and sending tingles up your spine. 

“Would you like to see the way they look at you?” 

“H-Huh?” 

Oh, how adorably fucked out you already are, mind gone dumb and numb to everything but him, but his voice and his touch and his steadily driving cock; oh, how adorably easy it is to make you this fucking idiotic. 

“Look over there,” he presses his cheek into yours, forcing your head to turn and follow his gaze. 

Across the club, Rindou sits with an elbow resting on the edge of the bar, a glass dangling from his fingertips. His eyes are cavernous, carnivorous, a smirk smearing across his face as your stare meets his, heavy lids framing a leering look. 

Using a shoulder, he nudges his brother’s stomach, jutting his chin toward you and his Boss in indication when Ran looks down in question, redirecting his attention. 

Now they’re both watching you, with doped up violet eyes and identical sleazy smiles, toothless and worming.

It makes you want to scrub and scratch at your skin, their gazes painting you in a thick coat of grime, body soiled by their lust and left feeling dirty, feeling gross, a strong shiver crawling across your flesh.

Your head jerks reflexively, desperate to hide from their lechery, skull knocking against Mikey’s hard enough to send thorns of pain searing through your temple. 

A yelp cracks in your throat, and Mikey snorts, seemingly unfazed. 

“Aw,” Mikey tuts in false admonishment. “Don’t get shy now. Look at them. Look at them while you ride my cock.”

“M-Mikey—” your eyes shut tightly, a pitiful attempt to escape their invasive eyes, head shaking in little judders.

“C’mon,” he goads, forcing you to face their stare. “You want them all to see, right? How good my little girl is? How pretty my little girl is?”

Peeking through your lashes, you squint at the Haitanis, features teetering on the verge of a wince, as if you’re expecting them to physically strike you. 

They’re still looking at you, wide and unblinking, speaking out of the side of their mouths in laughs and murmurs to one another. 

Dressed in matching pin-striped suits and thick suspenders, Rindou has discarded his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly up his forearms to his elbows, first few buttons of his shirt popped undone, revealing a defined collarbone. 

Predictably, Ran is still the perfect picture of poise and elegance, not a single hair out of place, suit jacket square on his shoulders and flawlessly tailored to his body, each stitch outlining his edges.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

Whatever it is they’re saying to each other, they’re clearly enjoying themselves, amusement playing in glassy irises as Ran rests a hand around Rindou’s neck, slim fingers pressing into plush muscle. His younger brother instantly relaxes into his touch, mollifying back against his stomach and hooking an arm around his thigh, hugging it to his ribs. 

And it’s the way they’re looking at you, as if they’re peeling the clothes from your body and the skin from your bones and peering into the depths of your soul to dance with your demons and devour your secrets; as if they’re singeing your expression into their minds, the sight of your features saturated in perturbation and pleasure branded into the tissues of their brains, carved into the walls of their skulls, ensuring they’ll never forget.

Everything feels overexposed as they pry you apart bit by bit, heady mix of hedonism and humiliation hazing over your brain.

Mikey’s hips slow to a drag, thighs tensing and soles of his boots skidding across marble as he expertly angles his hips and presses up, rubbing the head of his cock over your g-spot in slow, controlled motions—back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again. 

And the moan that claws at your throat is almost obnoxious, is definitely embarrassing, which means Mikey needs to fuck at least three more from your chest, grunting a little with the effort as his cockhead jabs against that plush spot, hard and precise.

A whine that sounds suspiciously like his title, tangled in spit and weighted with shame, spills from your lips, and you nestle your face against his own even as your hips jolt, desperate for comfort, desperate for cover.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he nuzzles your damp cheek. “I know you do. I can feel it.”

It’s true, he can—you’re sure he can, with the way your straining little hole keeps pulsing around his length, another stream of heat cascading down his shaft, viscous and wet and so, so much, to pool in the folds of his balls, to stain the waistband of his pants and the velvet of the couch.

But you know he likes it just as much as you do. 

Because you’re both so fucking naughty, so fucking nasty, but the depravity just works to heighten it all, makes it that much better, amplifying every touch and brush and tease and fondle and making it all feel so fucking good, even as Mikey’s pace eases into something unhurried, his thrusts turned languid but powerful.

So you join in, you rise to his challenge, a sick little game the two of you play, a sick little game you force others to participate in—because you’re fucking untouchable.

“Do you think their cocks are hard, Daddy?” you ask, the question dripping with syrup as you roll your hips backwards, slow and purposeful, returning the Haitanis’ smouldering stare through fanned lashes, unblinking and tenacious. 

“Ah, f-fuck,” Mikey’s cock jolts, rhythm stammering for a moment before he regains his composure. “Yeah, baby, I bet they’re wishing they were me right now.”

You bet they are, too, mouths stopped moving and gazes gleaming with want, lips parted with uneven exhales pushed from their heaving chests, entirely enchanted by your movements.

It’s the most affected and authentic you’ve ever seen them before, and it sends a thrill of power shooting through your body, blood left fizzing in its wake. 

One of them reaches into their pocket, groping around blindly for their phone, not daring to spare a second of their attention away from you, and Mikey snarls, nose scrunched in disgust and lip curled in a sneer, baring gritted teeth.

Because that’s too much, that’s crossing a line, and Mikey swiftly redirects your face, effectively hiding your expression from the Haitanis’ hungry eyes. 

Mikey’s always liked to show off. Mikey’s never liked to share.

He swaps shoulders quickly, the defined hinges of his jaw clasped firmly over your collarbone, and smushes his face flush to yours again, skin clammy with sweat. 

“And look over there,” he steers your gaze toward the other side of the club, where Kokonoi sits with a smattering of men surrounding a tall cocktail table, littered with crystal glasses and white lines. 

The men around the table are laughing about something, sloshing liquor and cutting powder into thick, fat stripes, but Kokonoi isn’t paying attention to any of it. 

No. Kokonoi is looking at you. 

His eyes snap away when they meet your own, head whipping forward with such speed and such force it’s a marvel he doesn’t instantly give himself whiplash. A deep laugh rumbles in Mikey’s throat in response, something dark, something decadent. 

“He’s gonna go home and touch himself to you, too,” he says. “He might not even make it before he goes home; might end up jerking his cock in a bathroom stall or the front seat of his car.” 

“How can you tell?” 

“Well, look at him,” Mikey snorts. “He’s so hard he’s about to burst outta his pants.”

Following the line of Kokonoi’s body, your gaze travels downward, to the straining lump in his white pants. His hips shift a little uncomfortably as his thighs tense, hands curled into fists on his knees as he steadily trains his stare forward at the wall opposite of him, throat bobbing with a thick swallow.

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

The thought of Koko rushing to his car to collapse in the driver’s seat, head tipped back against the headrest and hand shoved down his pants as his palm rubs frantically at his hard cock, or hastening to the washroom to lock himself in a stall, forehead pressed tightly to the rickety door and panting out stuttered, half-stifled whimpers hotly against his upper lip as he hurriedly relieves the problem you’ve created, is almost too much to bear, stomach clenching in time with the throbbing of your cunt, a torrid pressure building and burning in your gut. 

The sudden acceleration of Mikey’s thrusts snaps you out of that tangle of thoughts, effectively drawing every ounce of your attention back to him.

A mewl pries past your lips, sharp and high and cracking at the end, whole spine arching as Mikey resumes his assault on your favourite spot, cockhead driving hard and fast against plush flesh. 

“They can look all they want, but you’re mine.” His fingers tighten, his grasp rigid and unbreakable, the words nothing more than a snarl spit in your ear, wet and harsh. “I won’t fuckin’ share.” 

“Never, never, never,” you babble in time with the bouncing on his lap, head nodding in sloppy motions with each repetition of the word. 

“Never,” he growls, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sloppily, excess spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he breaks the skin for the second time tonight and sucks hard, drawing blood from the string of tiny wounds.

It has another cry escaping your throat, whole face crinkling in a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain, head instinctually thrown back against your Daddy, automatically giving him more room to work. Drops of watered down blood drool down your back and Mikey takes a moment to admire them, mesmerised by the way they shimmer in the strobing lights of the club, before he licks at them with the tip of his tongue, leaving crude strokes of fresh spit in their wake.

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try.

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 

He’s really fucking you now, vicious and vigorous, your entire body juddering in his lap as his hips piston up, cockhead pounding against that sensitive mound of tissue buried deep within you. 

Each thrust shoves another shattered sound from your tongue, splintered moans of his name and his title pouring past your lips in a jagged stream. 

The knot your stomach has twisted itself into strains under the building pressure, growing heavier and heavier with each jackhammer into you, stretched taut and stiff and ready to snap. 

It’s all so much, the ogling eyes and the ramming of his cock and the tightening in your belly, every muscle in your body coiled and aching for the ecstasy that comes with release. Your breath mangles with the mewls shoved from your lips with every slam up, sticking to your throat and you cough, wheezing past the splinters.  It’s all too much, and—!

“M’gonna, m’gonna cum, Daddy!” you gasp, tears dotting the corners of your eyes, sparkling in spidery lashes.  

“Yeah, baby?” he breathes, voice dropping to a ragged rasp. “You gonna cream all over Daddy’s cock? Huh? Make a mess on my cock surrounded by all of Daddy’s closest and most esteemed colleagues?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nearly sob out, palms curling over his wrists, nails clawing at the delicate skin, desperate for an anchor. 

“My dirty fucking girl,” he hisses out, sharp breath stinging your cheek. “Such a good—Ah—good little slut for me, aren’t you?” 

You can no longer respond, rendered stupid from the ardor, potent pleasure corroding your brain and gnawing through your synapses. It’s downright intoxicating, it’s fucking insatiable, it’s simultaneously immense and insufficient, way too much yet not nearly enough, because you need more, you need more, unintelligible pleads shattering on your tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, gush all over Daddy, make a pretty mess on his lap for him. Show everyone in this Goddamn club how gorgeous you look cumming for me.” 

And so you do, ever your Daddy’s best girl, body eager to obey its owner as your cunt convulses around him, copious amounts of slick cascading down his shaft to drench his thighs, sticky and sharp and so fucking sick as he continues to bounce you in his lap. 

The spasming of your cute little hole draws the sweetest whine from the back of his throat, panted out against the curve of your ear, and another bout of warmth rushes to the apex of your thighs, earning you a shuddered little curse, the exhale sweltering against your sweaty skin.

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy. 

Three more pumps of his hips and he’s following, thrusts stuttering as he fucks up messily into you, cock throbbing almost violently and stuffing you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Strong hands hold you firmly in place, cockhead pressed flush to your cervix as he spills himself into you, as he forces you to take every fucking ounce of what he’s giving you. 

And you love it, you love it, you love it, you’re telling him, sentiments pouring from your mouth in a jumbled stream, singular and continuous until your lungs run out of air, voice cutting off with a squeak. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikey’s murmuring into your skin in response, lips leaving smears of sugary saliva just below your earlobe. 

He allows you to sit on him for a moment, chest heaving against your back with ragged breaths, sweaty forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. Tilting your head, your rest your cheek on the back of his skull, eyes slipping shut as your own heart begins to calm, cunt still pulsating irregularly around his shaft, almost as if it’s attempting to squeeze a few more drops out of him, his cock acting as a crude plug, keeping most of his cum buried inside of you.

Finally, his head lifts, pressing a tender kiss to the blood-encrusted bite glittering on your shoulder. 

“Go get cleaned up in the washroom,” he mutters gently, pressing another string of kisses along your jaw. “Don’t wipe away any of Daddy’s cum; let it soak into your panties real nice and good, let them get really wet, and then snap a few pictures and send them to me. Can you do that for me, angel?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you slur out, nodding in loose, liquid movements. 

“Good,” he pats your thigh twice. “Now, go.” 

A small noise of affirmation sounds in your throat, head still nodding as Mikey helps you stand between his spread thighs, hands on your waist keeping you upright while you wobble on unsteady legs. 

And the noise that you make as his cum and your slick surges out of you—something caught somewhere between a mewl and a whine, turned on and disappointed simultaneously—is the cutest thing he’s ever heard, a muted coo slipping from his own lips as your hands wrap around his, using them to further stable yourself. 

He holds you for a moment or two longer, making sure you’re sturdy and your knees won’t suddenly give out, before giving you one final squeeze and releasing you, smirking a little as he watches you teeter away on rickety feet. 

Initially, his plan was to have you capture a few naughty photos for him—pretty little things to stash away in his phone for later use, during the nights he’s forced to spend away from you, sitting in expensive cars or laying in lush hotel beds—and force you to wear the gluey, cum-drenched undies for the remainder of the party. 

But then his phone is buzzing, and he’s unlocking it to find your cunt perfectly outlined by thin silk as it sticks to your folds, little clit and hole contoured and accentuated by the slick, shining fabric, soiled by a large, irregular patch of wetness, and oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait until you arrive home to fuck you again. 

No, he needs to fuck you now, a sudden burst of adrenaline buzzing through his veins, little sparks and minuscule explosions that have him up and moving in under a second, cock already beginning to fill with life again.

Sheer, potent power permeates the atmosphere around him, trembling off his body in sharp bolts; dense, heavy, cracking with electricity. 

The way the crowd instantly parts for him is awe-inspiring, their gleaming eyes full of terror and worship, hastily tripping over their own toes and ankles to move from his path as he strides toward the washroom, desperate to not be stung by his brilliance, desperate to get as close to the currents as possible without being scathed. 

You’re just exiting the restroom by the time he reaches you, breath punched from your lungs as he backs you into a tiled corner, trapped between the cold wall and his scorching form, his hands splayed wide on either side of your shoulders.

“We gotta go,” he’s nearly panting out as he shoves his forehead against yours, eyes closed and noses nudging, straining cock grinding unceremoniously into your hip. “We gotta go, now.”  

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants. 

[cheesus-doodles]

Is it just an incredibly expensive party dress she is trying out or is it really for something else? Bonten Mikey seems to know at least :) Find out in Chapter 3 of Going Home (my Time Leaper darling AU)!

Another amazingly stunning piece by @purarupu ! Thank you again for the incredible work, blows my mind everytime I see it :D Been a while since this was done but just found the opportunity to post this given I commissioned this with Going Home in mind.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Sano 'Mikey' Manjirou - "While You Count Sheep"

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In which while your boss naps away on the sofa in his office, you sneak in and take off some of his workload in secret as usual. Or; In which even after years of being the loyal secretary to the head of Bonten, "Mikey", you still find yourself taking on more work than necessary if only to let the man sleep a few more minutes.

                                                                                                   

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The door opens with the near-silent click of the latch sliding back with the turn of the handle. [Name] pauses his movements after taking a single step inside the room; his keen ears picking up the sound of his boss sluggishly shifting about in his sleep. He keeps his body still even after the sound movement ceases; it would be a bother if he were caught. Once he was sure the sleeping man had fallen back into the vice grip of rem sleep, [Name] fully entered the room and softly shut the door behind him before directing his attention toward the large desk in the center of the room.

Letting out a quiet huff, he sat himself in the well-cushioned office chair and lowered its height; making sure to keep a mental note of its original position for when he eventually made his exit. He looked over the various collections of paperwork that held themselves together with paperclips of various colors. The normal clutter that frequently occupied the desk was more organized than usual, which, while slightly reassuring, was also alarming. It was almost as if Mikey had done it on purpose to make it easier for him…

Although, the thought of the majorly depressed, nearly sleepless boss of his knowing about his secretive escapades wasn't all that off-putting now that he thought about it. Mikey was someone who had nearly a sixth sense for danger and [Name] doubted that he would allow himself to sleep when he was unaware of his surroundings. The man had more trust issues than he had seen in anybody in his entire lifetime, but he was sure that it was warranted, even if he had no idea of the snow-white-haired man's past.

[Name] shook his head as he moved on to the next collection of papers, already having completed three while he took an occasional glance at his boss's sleeping form. 

Perhaps, after he had finished a good two-thirds of this paperwork, he would try his hand at finding another healthy recipe that Mikey would like. The panda-eyed man's health was another one of his priorities. Even if it was Sanzu who usually takes care of that, [Name] couldn't help but want to pitch in as well. He was, after all, the second closest person to the head of Bonten out of all of its executives and employees.

“Hm…”  

The quiet slurred hum of the sleeping man to his left drew [Name]’s attention for a moment.

He quietly observed the thin man's relaxed expression with interest. Ghostly pale skin that seemed almost white at times, thin black brows that told of his original hair color, long black lashes that lay atop the apples of his cheeks and deep and heavy bags that hung under his eyes. The man resembled an apparition more than he did a human being.

[Name] huffed once again, eyes trailing back to the task at hand as he made a mental note to ask Sanzu to add Vitamin D supplements to Mikey's list of needed medications. 

As he invested himself into ‘his’ work he only vaguely paid mind to the quickly retreating daylight outside the window and the sluggish but certainly not involuntary movement of the sleeping man in the corner of his eye. Six piles of paperwork turned into five. Five turned to four. Four to three and three to two; and was enough for now.

[Name] turned his gaze to the clock that hung above the doorway; 02:37, about six or so hours had passed by in what seemed like seconds. He sighed as he quietly rolled the chair back and stood up; staving off the urge to stretch and pop his joints with the reminder that his boss was still asleep only a couple of feet from him.

His eyes landed on said man and met with a pair of half-lidded, sleepy, abyssal black eyes. He froze, not daring to make even an inch under the near-predatory gaze of the panda-eyed man. Mikey, still half asleep, only stared at him unblinkingly before training his vision on the significantly more organized desk.

“You're done now…?”  

Mikey asked quietly, yet his voice seemed to drown out all of the noise of the outside traffic that poured in from the cracked window.

[Name] only nodded, slowly beginning to make again as he sensed no hostility. He pushed in the office chair and adjusted the height back with one, two, three, and a half pumps of the peddle.

“... tell Sanzu I want dorayaki.”  

The snow-haired man spoke again, adjusting his position on the plush cushions of the sofa and sinking into a relaxed lying position again, the blanket pulled to his chin.

“I'll tell him. I'll see you when you need me again, Sir.”  

[Name] replied, giving a respectful bow and moving to exit the room at a quick but still cautious pace.

As he gently pulled open the door, the quiet voice of Mikey caught his ears again, making him pause in movements.

“[Name]... ”  

He turned his head back to look at his panda-eyed boss, his posture respectful even as the white-haired man wiped the dry bits of crust from the corners of his eyes. How the man who masterminded the movements of Bonten managed to be cute and intimidating at the same time completely baffled him.

“... thank you.”  

Mikey muttered as he flicked his eye crust off somewhere across his room.

[Name] offered a small smile and nod as he exited Mikey's office, quietly closing the door behind him.

It seems that he had been discovered since the beginning. How fun.

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Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[complexparadox1]

The Devil Within

Alright so finally writing for someone other than Kazutora! Bonten Mikey x Fem!Reader. Smutty Angst, no real warnings. Reader is Mikeys ex. Uses of the nickname princess. It's romantic, it's smutty, it's dark! Hope you enjoy!

it was late, far later than you ever would have normally been out and about. Stumbling a bit as you walked home, having had a long night out with some coworkers and having gotten subsequently more than a little tipsy. You steadily stumbled your way towards your apartment, occasional giggles slipping off your lips as your steps faltered and you simply had to laugh at yourself for how clumsy you were.

As the shadows engulfed the streets, a figure watched you from a distance. It was Manjiro, his intense gaze fixed solely on you. He observed the way you stumbled, your laughter filling the night air like a sweet melody. A flicker of concern danced in his otherwise emotionless eyes. He couldn't help but worry for your safety, even though he knew he had no right to be there.

He followed your unsteady steps, his heart pounding with each stumble. He saw the vulnerability in your drunken state, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to imagine a different reality - one where he could protect you, cherish you, and keep you safe from the dangers that surrounded him.

Swiftly and silently, he closed the distance between you. With a muted grace, he reached out, his hand steady as he gently caught you under the arm, preventing you from falling.

"Careful now," his voice, low and tinged with a mix of worry and possessiveness, caressed your ears as he stared into your eyes, his intense gaze piercing through the drunken haze. His touch was firm yet tender, safeguarding you from the darkness that threatened to consume your world.

You looked up surprised to have been steadied. But you hardly even got out the word 'thanks' before recognition dumped over you like ice water. It had been twelve years since you'd last seen Manjiro but you would recognize his familiar onyx eyes anywhere. "J-jiro?" You stuttered out the old nickname you had called him once upon a time, the only thing that your inebriated mind could come up with in the moment as you stared up at him. Blinking hard a few times, not entirely believing he was standing in front of you but he was and you were practically stunned stupid by his presence.

But Manjiro's gaze never wavered even as you uttered his old nickname. Memories flooded his mind, a mix of pain, love, and regret. He could see the surprise in your eyes, the recognition dawning upon you. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression before he regained his stoic composure.

"It's been a long time." he responded, his voice devoid of any warmth or emotion, though his eyes betrayed a hint of longing. As much as he wanted to wrap you in his arms and hold you close, he knew he had no right to. Not anymore.

His grip on your arm tightened slightly, a subtle display of his possessiveness. "You shouldn't be out this late, especially in this state." His tone was commanding, his words veiled with concern. Somehow, despite the darkness that consumed him, he still cared. "You need to go home. I'll escort you." It wasn't a request, but an order. In his mind, there was no other option. He had sworn to keep you safe, even if it meant protecting you from himself.

He looked different now, the white hair, the dark bags under his eyes, how thin he was. He was colder too and that struck you far more than his physical appearance. "I-I was on my way home." You managed to stutter and no sooner had you managed to words that his iron grip had moved from your arm to around your waist and he guided you swiftly towards home. "W-wait, how do you know where I live?" You asked, seeing as he was guiding the both of you in the exact direction of your apartment even though it had been twelve years since you had last seen him and he had certainly never seen where you lived before. Even drunk your mind could still realize that despite barely being able to walk on your own two feet.

Of course Manjiro didn't answer your question, his silence only deepening the mystery surrounding him. As his arm wrapped securely around your waist, guiding you towards your apartment, his touch sent shockwaves through your intoxicated senses. His grip was possessive, yet there was caution in his movements, as if he didn't want to break you. It was a delicate balance between his desire to protect you and the darkness that threatened to consume him.

His gaze remained fixed ahead, avoiding your questioning eyes. "I have my ways," he replied cryptically, his voice tinged with a cold edge. He refused to share the secrets of his criminal empire, the resources and connections that he had at his disposal. It was all part of the dark life he had descended into, a life that he wished to keep separate from you.

As you stumbled along, his presence next to you was both comforting and unnerving. Memories of a time long past flooded your mind, of the love and passion you once shared. But the person walking beside you now was no longer that carefree teenager, but a man trapped in the shadows, filled with sorrow and darkness.

Arriving at your apartment building, he gently guided you towards the entrance. His hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary, his touch electric against your skin. "Get some rest." he whispered, the words hanging heavily in the air. And with that, he turned, disappearing into the night like a specter, leaving you alone with more questions than answers.You didn't even have the time to speak or think to respond he was out of sight. "Stay safe....Jiro." you said quietly, it was always what you had said to him all those years ago when he'd drop you off after a date.

Your words struck with a bitter nostalgia that left your heart and mind reeling. A part of you could almost believe that you'd merely imagined the encounter given your intoxicated state but as you stepped inside your apartment and peeled your jacket off you could still smell the faint traces of his cologne clinging to the fabric like a ghost. The realization that he had been here, that he had shown up sent your heart stuttering out of control. Everyone knew, everyone from the old gang knew what had happened to Mikey. After everything that had happened almost twelve years ago he had gone entirely dark cutting off everyone and anyone. Eventually building up the empire that was the criminal syndicate Bonten. So why? Why here, why now, and why me out of anyone? The questions swirled in your mind so viciously you felt dizzy. You had to move to the toilet to throw up.

As you hung over the toilet, your mind spinning with thoughts and questions, the taste of bile on your tongue, the encounter with Manjiro weighed heavily on your thoughts. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of his presence, leaving you both unsettled and intrigued. The juxtaposition of his current dark and dangerous persona with the memories of his once warm and affectionate self left you with a mixture of conflicting emotions.

The uncertainty gnawed at your insides as you washed your face, trying to shake off the remnants of intoxication and confusion. Could it be possible that he still held some soft spot for you? Or was it merely a chance encounter, an unwelcome reminder of a past life? You couldn't deny that, deep down, a part of you still longed for him, for the version of him that once existed. But you were also aware of the dangers that lurked within the shadows he commanded.

The minutes turned into hours as you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, awake and consumed by memories and unanswered questions. Sleep evaded you, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic vortex. The distinct image of Manjiro's intense gaze burned into your mind, his touch branded upon your skin.

Would you see him again? The idea both terrified and excited you. There was a dangerous allure to his presence, a magnetic pull that transcended reason and logic. And deep down, a part of you craved to unravel the mysteries of this changed man, to understand the darkness that now swirled within him.

But in the midst of your contemplation, exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave. As your eyelids grew heavier, thoughts of Manjiro still clung desperately to your consciousness, weaving through the fabric of your dreams.

Over the next few days you found yourself hyper vigilant. Expecting to see him somewhere, or to find someone tailing you. Obviously if he knew where you lived there had to be someone watching you, right? Though you had no real way to know and if he did you saw no sign of them, and certainly no sign of him.

After a few days an idea struck, although very possibly a foolish one. You made your way back to the same bar you'd been drinking at with your coworkers but this time alone. You ordered drinks, making sure to order the non-alcoholic version although to anyone else it would look as though you were drinking. Eventually after a little while you left the bar with fake stumbled steps. Hoping that perhaps if you recreated the circumstances he would show up again. It was a foolish plan, for a number of reasons.

The first being not knowing what his reaction would be if he did show up presuming you to be drunk considering his previous authoritative tone when he'd said you shouldn't have been out so late in such a state. The other reason being once he realized you had pretended to be drunk to see him again you had no idea how he might react to what was essentially a trap. There was also the possibility he may not show up. Out of the three potential outcomes you were unsure which one was more worrying. But despite this the allure of seeing Manjiro again, even in the midst of uncertainty, drove you forward. With each stumbled step, your heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and fear. The night air chilled your skin, making you shiver as you wove silently through the dimly lit streets.

Your senses were heightened, your eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of his presence. The sound of your own footsteps echoed loudly in your ears, the rhythm matching the pounding in your chest. The city was alive with vibrant energy, yet you couldn't help but feel a sense of isolation, as if you were the only one truly aware of the danger lurking just out of sight.

As you approached your apartment building, a mix of disappointment and relief washed over you. Manjiro was nowhere to be seen. Had he seen through your ploy? Or perhaps he simply hadn't noticed your presence at all? Doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind, but still, a flicker of determination remained.

You repeated this routine over the next few nights, each time hoping for a glimpse of him, a reconnection with the past. Each time, you went through the same charade of appearing intoxicated, stumbling aimlessly through the darkness. And each time, the result remained the same—Manjiro's absence.

But on one fateful night, as you neared the threshold of your apartment, something unexpected happened. A figure emerged from the shadows, larger than life in stature. It was him. Manjiro. The dark bags under his eyes were more pronounced, his gaze steely and emotionless. His presence sent a shiver down your spine.

He approached with purposeful steps, his footsteps echoing with a sense of authority. "Playing games, are we?" His voice, filled with a mix of annoyance and intrigue, reached your ears, sending a surge of conflicting emotions through your veins.

The air between you crackled with tension, an unspoken understanding hanging heavily in the night. You had caught his attention, but what exactly did that mean? What were the implications of your actions, and what would be the consequences of this dangerous game you had played?

You felt your mouth go entirely dry as you heard his voice. But this was what you had wanted. You'd wanted to coax him out, regardless of the consequences. You straightened yourself up a bit, dropping the drunken act that he'd clearly seen through a small nervous smile curled across your lips. "I've always liked games. You know that better than anyone Jiro." It was a different kind of game the two of you were playing now though. Instead of something cute like asking him to pick a number to choose where you would go eat or something sweet and silly this game seemed much more risky. "So...you coming inside?" You asked gesturing to your apartment building. If he had seen through the game of playing drunk and shown up anyways that had to mean something. Whether that was something good or bad though remained to be seen.

Inviting him in was a dangerous gamble. While you'd known Mikey once that was a long time ago when he'd been a much sweeter, gentler boy, kind and loyal to his friends and to Toman. But there was no way to be sure how much of the Mikey you had once known remained in the man that stood before you now.

Manjiro's gaze sharpened as he observed your change in demeanor, his keen eyes dissecting every nuance of your expression. He remained silent for a moment, his emotions impossible to decipher as he contemplated your invitation.

There was a palpable tension in the air, the weight of your shared history and the uncertainty of the present intertwining. Finally, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of Manjiro's lips, a glimpse of the past pulling through the darkness that shrouded him. "Games, huh?" he murmured, his voice laced with both intrigue and caution. "Alright, let's play."

With those words, he strode forward, a predator closing in on its prey. His hand gently took hold of yours, his touch sending a jolt through your entire being. It was possessive, yet tinged with a hint of longing. Without another word, he led you towards the entrance of your apartment building.

As the door swung open, a rush of anticipation coursed through your veins. The two of you stepped inside, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken desires and unresolved tension. The journey upward in the elevator seemed to stretch on indefinitely, silence enveloping you both.

Finally, as you reached your floor, the door opened, and your apartment lay before you like a threshold into the unknown. Manjiro's grip on your hand tightened, his gaze burning with intensity. "Lead the way," he rasped, his voice thick with anticipation.

Inside the apartment, the atmosphere shifted, filled with both an electric tension and a sense of familiarity. The room suffused with the memories of a shared past. Little trinkets here and there that he had gotten for you, even a few you had gotten for him that Draken had returned when Manjiro had broken up with you after Emma's funeral and refused to see you again. Uncertainty lingered, but there was also a glimmer of hope, a faint spark that whispered of the possibility of connection, of finding a sliver of the boy who had once been your everything.

As you faced each other in the intimate space, the lines between friend, lover, and stranger blurred. The past melded with the present, forging a path forward filled with both danger and the promise of something more. You found that now that you were here you were nervous. You had never actually planned what to say during all the planning to try and find him again. "I missed you." The first words to fall off your lips and they weren't a lie. At least you missed the version of him you had once known. But again you did not know exactly how much of your Mikey was even still present anymore. The boy you had fallen in love with seemed such a far cry from the man that stood before you now. So much so that it made your heart ache viciously.

Manjiro's gaze softened, his onyx eyes capturing yours in a potent embrace. There was a flicker of emotion that danced across his features, an echo of the past that hinted at the depths he still held within. It was a fragile moment, suspended in time, where vulnerability and longing intertwined.

A heavy silence settled in the room as Manjiro reached up, his fingertips grazing gently against your cheek. His touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, reminding you of the tenderness that had once existed between you. For a fleeting moment, the hardened exterior that he wore so fiercely seemed to crack, revealing a trace of the boy who had once loved you so fiercely.

"I missed you too," he admitted, his voice carrying a rawness that belied his stoic exterior. It was a confession laced with regret and yearning, an admission of the impact you had left upon his life. Yet behind the whispered words lay a shadow of melancholy, the weight of the darkness that surrounded him daily.

As the seconds ticked by, a war waged within Manjiro's eyes—a battle between the love he once knew and the hardened, dangerous man he had become. And in the midst of that struggle, a decision was made. He closed the distance between you, his lips hovering near yours, as if seeking permission, seeking solace in a moment of shared vulnerability.

His breath mingled with yours, a fragile connection forged as he cupped your face, his touch gentle yet tinged with desperation. Time seemed to stand still as the world narrowed down to the two of you, the boundaries of past and present dissolving into nothingness. The unspoken promise of passion and recklessness hung unspoken in the air.

In that fragile moment, the weight of both your desires and fears converged, ready to breach the boundaries that had separated you for far too long. And it was up to you to decide: To embrace the intoxicating possibility of rekindling what was lost, or to retreat in the face of the darkness that surrounded Manjiro's existence.

Your lips were all too quick to press against his. There was zero hesitation in this action and

the moment your lips met, a surge of emotions coursed through your veins, intertwining with the flickers of vulnerability that resided in Manjiro. His kiss held a mixture of both hunger and tenderness—a collision of passion and pain. As your fingertips threaded through his hair, he responded with an intensity that mirrored your own, his hands roaming your body with a possessiveness that sent shivers cascading down your spine.

The taste of him was bittersweet, a reminder of the love you had once shared, intertwined with the darkness that now consumed him. His lips moved against yours with a familiarity born of shared history, each kiss a silent plea for understanding and connection. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the vortex of desire and longing.

Unable to contain the mounting passion any longer, Manjiro deepened the kiss, a growl rumbling low in his throat as he pressed you against the nearest surface, his body flush against yours. The heat between you was palpable, a desperate attempt to bridge the vast chasm that had kept you apart for so long.

Clothing became an obstacle, hastily discarded in the pursuit of a desperate, raw connection. Every touch, every caress, was both a rekindling of the past and an exploration of the unknown. The world outside ceased to exist as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of Manjiro's touch, allowing yourself to be consumed by the flames of desire and the tempest that raged within the depths of his gaze.

In that stolen moment, the physical union acted as a conduit—a fleeting bridge that allowed you to glimpse a shattered, vulnerable side of him that he had long kept hidden. But in the midst of the carnal chaos, a sense of urgency hung heavy in the air, as if time itself was slipping through your fingers.

Together, you shared an illicit connection born of equal parts longing and danger—a love story entangled in darkness and desire. And as the world outside ceased to exist, you knew that this moment would forever alter the course of your intertwined destinies.

Quickly, while somehow also feeling agonizingly slow, the layers of fabric that stood between the two of you were stripped away. Leaving you both laid out entirely bare on the couch, his body pressed against yours. Manjiro's lips parted from yours, and the weight of his gaze bore down upon you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and something far more complex. It was a moment, frozen in time, where your vulnerability hung in the air like a delicate thread.

"I love you." The words came out of your mouth in a breathless gasp and he finally pulled his lips away from yours. You could feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh and that sensation coupled with all the others his mere presence elicited had your pussy dripping with slick arousal.

A ripple of emotion coursed through his features as he took in both the words you had spoken and the sight of you, your exposed body laid bare beneath his hungry gaze. The sparkle of obsession flickered within his eyes, a testament to the depths of his devotion and the intoxication he found in your surrender.

His hands traced a path of fire across your skin, a jolt of electricity igniting every nerve ending. The warmth and firmness of his touch pulled forth gasps and moans, each sensation branding itself into your memory. As his fingers caressed your thighs, he met your eyes with a hunger that mirrored your own, his voice heavy with restrained longing.

"I love you too," he whispered, his words reverberating through the room, a fragile confession that resonated with the depths of his being. In that moment, the room seemed to pulse with a molten passion that threatened to consume you both.

With a renewed sense of urgency, Manjiro positioned himself between your legs, the intensity in his gaze never wavering. His movements were guided by a potent mix of desire and possessiveness, each touch and stroke driving both of you to heights of ecstasy.

As his cock pressed against your moist heat, a surge of pleasure coursed through your body. The world seemed to blur and fade away, leaving only the primal connection between your bodies. With a single thrust, he claimed you fully, a seamless union that echoed with the ardor and hunger that flowed between you. A moan left your lips that you were quick to smother into his neck, pressing kisses and bites into his skin to try and mute your pleasured cries. The familiar stretch to accommodate for his size had you practically dizzy both from the pleasure and the familiarity of it.

Your bodies moved as though in synchrony, a dance of passion and urgency that defied the boundaries of time and space. The room filled with the symphony of moans and sighs, mingling with the creaking of the couch beneath your fervent movements.

Lost in the abyss of pleasure, your fingers dug into Manjiro's back, leaving a trail of red scratches, marking him as yours in that frenzied moment of ecstasy. As the waves of pleasure crashed over you both, the intensity of your connection reverberated through the air, a testament to the magnetic pull that had always existed between you.

In that stolen moment, tangled in a web of longing and need, the world ceased to matter. The past and future melded into a singular present, where desire and darkness converged in a dangerous dance. And amidst it all, within the chaos of pleasure, a thread of love remained steadfast, binding your souls together, if only for that moment in time.

Though you tried to muffle your whimpers and moans against his throat it didn't do much to mute the lewd cries of his name that escaped your lips. "J-jiro feels so good, you feel so good. Fuck, nngh f-fuck I missed you." You whimpered, clinging onto him tightly as he pounded into your cunt at a near reckless pace. Manjiro's breath hitched at the sound of his name slipping from your lips, mingling with the symphony of your pleasure-filled cries. The sensation of your nails leaving trails of fire across his back only fueled his own primal desire, each mark serving as a testament to the intensity of your connection. It was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a heady dance of passion and desperation.

Your body awash with dizzying pleasure. The feeling of having him inside of you, having him wrapped in your arms again made you feel high in a way you hadn't in far too long. His movements became fervent, his rhythm relentless as he delved deeper into the abyss of your desire. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, an auditory symphony of your shared ecstasy. With every thrust, the intensity between you soared, pushing you both closer to the precipice of oblivion.

"Fucking hell, princess." he growled, his voice filled with a tempestuous mix of pleasure and longing. It was almost as if his raw desire could not be contained, escaping through every word and gasp that tumbled from his lips. The euphoric haze that surrounded you both grew denser, threatening to consume everything in its wake. "Come on beautiful wanna feel you cum for me." He said with a low growl to his voice, practically demanding it.

As your bodies moved with unrestrained abandon, each collision awakening long-dormant desires, the tension reached its crescendo. The sensations became a torrential storm, building with an unyielding force that had both pleasure and pain intertwining in a tumultuous embrace.

And in that moment, when the world came crashing down around you, all that remained was the fiery connection between Manjiro and yourself. His cock throbbed out its orgasm pumping thick ropes of cum into your slick trembling heat. Your bodies convulsed together, a symphony of shared release that burst through the boundaries of time and space. The savage pleasure surged through your veins, numbing your senses and leaving you breathless in the aftermath.

As your bodies trembled, locked in the embrace of shared post orgasmic bliss, a heavy silence settled over the room. The air seemed to hum with a mix of satisfaction and longing, the remnants of your union lingering like an intoxicating aura. And as you lay there, tangled together in the aftermath of passion, you realized that no matter how much time had passed, the connection you shared with Manjiro would forever burn within you.

Your mind was hazy from the intensity of the pleasure that had been wrought upon your body. You held onto him tightly, burying your face into the crook of his neck and placing gentle kisses against his throat as you tried to catch your breath. "Don't leave me again Jiro, please, please. I don't wanna lose you again." You murmured into his skin, knowing it was far more than likely even if he spent the night he would disappear come morning. He was the leader of a criminal organization, something that posed both a constant danger and was a 24/7 commitment.

Manjiro's breath hitched as your words reverberated against his skin, each plea like a dagger in his already tormented heart. The weight of your love and vulnerability bore down upon him, reminding him of the dark path he had chosen, the burdens he carried, and the danger that surrounded him.

His fingers gently traced patterns along your spine, his touch a bittersweet anchor in a world that threatened to rip you apart. His voice, tinged with a softness that belied his hardened exterior, broke through the heavy silence. "I can't stay princess." he murmured, his tone heavy with resignation. "The path I've chosen is not one that allows for stability or safety."

His words were a painful admission, a reminder of the brutal reality that separated you. But beneath the surface, there was a flicker of longing, a desperate desire to hold onto the fragile moments of connection you shared, even if they came at the cost of his own well-being.

"I... I love you. More than anything," he whispered, his voice filled with a complex mixture of devotion and despair. "But I can't ask you to wait for me. I can't offer you the life you deserve."

He held you tighter, knowing that the pain of letting go would only intensify in the morning. With each passing moment, the weight of his responsibilities and the darkness that consumed him threatened to shatter the delicate bubble of intimacy you had created.

In that poignant moment, Manjiro realized the price he had paid for his choices—the constant yearning for a love he could never fully possess, the constant fear of losing the one thing that could bring him solace. He had already lost so much, too much. "My life, what I've become... It's not a life that allows for stability or happiness. The darkness I'm immersed in is unrelenting, and I don't want to drag you into it any further than I already have."

There was a heaviness in his words, a truth that echoed through the room and settled in the hollow of your chest. He untangled himself from your embrace, a mixture of longing and sorrow etched on his features as he gazed down at you.

"Please understand," he implored, his voice laced with pain. "I'm a danger to you, princess I'm a toxin that poisons everything I touch. It's better if you stay away, find someone who can give you the happiness you deserve."

Despite his words, a flicker of desperation burned within his gaze, a lingering need that refused to be extinguished. It was as if his soul yearned for the solace and love you offered, even if his rational mind knew he couldn't keep it. "Love is not enough to protect you from the demons that reside within me. I can't bear to see you suffer because of my darkness." he whispered, his voice barely above a lament.

As he gathered his clothes and prepared to leave, the weight of his decision hung heavily in the air. It was a bittersweet parting, with both of you acutely aware that regardless of the love that bloomed between you, the path he had chosen meant that your futures were destined to diverge.

With a last lingering glance, Manjiro pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his touch a mixture of tenderness and farewell. Then, like a shadow dissipating in the night, he vanished, leaving you to grapple with the haunting emptiness that his absence brought.

Though his love for you was undeniable, the path he had chosen ensured that the two of you could only exist as star-crossed souls, forever locked in a dance of desire and despair — bound, yet ultimately destined to be torn apart.

[secretcheesecakecat]

[𝙏𝙤 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨]

[Y/n is working as a doctor in Bonten organization and she is Bonten's favorite girl, but Sanzu due to his drugs, he broke all the medicine that she needed in case someone got injured during the robbery, shooting etc.. ]

Mikey! I think you already told Sanzu not to be close to my medicine in the medical room due to his drugs! I told him nicely 100 many times but all he says that Rindou dared him to do it and he is as you can see clinging onto my leg right now feeling sorry!

*Mikey looked at you and the sighed, looking at Sanzu*

Sanzu: Like i said, it's all Rindou's fault! He dared me-!

Rindou: I didn't think you would actually do it dumbass.

Sanzu: Shut up you jellyfish!?

*Ran laughted* Ran: Camon princess, we can buy more stuff. Beside's they are having fun.

Kokonoi: Yes, we can buy more. And we don't have any missions for the next couple of hours.

*Takeomi looked at you and the Sanzu*

Takeomi: Why the fuck do always need to do shit like this-?

*Sanzu pulled out a g"n* Sanzu: Wanna talk old man?

*Mochi from his office, in which he is actually doing his job* Mochi: Can ya'll just shut the hell up!?

[gatitties]

hiii!! can I request some HCs for bonten!Mikey x Mother!Assassin!Reader where Reader and Mikey have a 17 years old secret love child. The scene is Bonten Executives and Assassin!Reader is eating in just yk a local ramen shop and Mikey is asking Reader that he wants to become a father to their child ykyk bcs reader kept it a secret that she was pregnant and raised the child all by herself T__T and when the school called Reader bcs their child stabbed a male student with scissors in their school, Sanzu said "I guess she took her mother's talent. you're in that age too, weren't you?" and reader just went batshit crazy bcs reader doesn't want her child to become like her </3 so reader threw a knife that got stuck in a wooden wall just close enough to make Sanzu's neck bleed a little and after that reader said "If you ever say that again, I'll kill you with the most dullest knife in the world." and then reader left. I WANT TO SEE MIKEY'S AND OTHER EXECUTIVES' REACTION TOO TO THIS HAPPENINGS IF THEY'RE GONNA GO CRAZY TOO OR WHATEVER 🤩🤩 thank u so much!

─Bonten!Mikey x mother!assassin!reader

─Summary: You don't like that your kid looks like you because you don't have the best manners or work

─Warnings: none

─ You weren't proud of your fame as a assassin in the underworld, but work was work.

─ Several years ago you got involved with the leader of Bonten, a one-night stand ended up being something and you started working as an executive for your boyfriend.

─ Although in a 'small accident' you ended up having a child, you weren't sure if Mikey would like to be a father considering his position in society, and despite the fact that you didn't have the best reputation either, you decided to take it on the sly.

─ How you managed to hide your child for seventeen years is a feat knowing the people you associated with, but you were grateful that they didn't poke their noses into your business and that Mikey was a busy man.

─ Of course, you were very lucky during all that time, but it came to an end and he decided to confront you for hiding from him that he had a child.

─ Although you had an argument about that, you reached a halfway point, Mikey wanted to take care of his child and get to know them, however you denied that your little baby knew the dark side of both.

─ Your kid was a little skeptical at first with their 'new' father, but they started to get along after a few months, becoming a relatively normal family if you ignored all the corpses you both carried on your back.

─ Of course, the other executives got to know your kid because it was more difficult to hide that the leader of Bonten was more absent, so now your kid had a few uncles.

─ Now… when they called from school because your 'baby' had fought, rather stabbed another child with scissors, you didn't know how to react, Mikey was the one who took charge of going to school while you stayed at home.

─ At that moment you were all eating, since you had invited them to your house, everyone listened but decided that they had nothing to comment until Sanzu had to open his mouth. "I guess they took their mother's talent, you're in that age too, weren't you?"

─ It took you a few seconds to analyze what the drug addict had dared to say, everyone knew that you didn't like that your kid was involved with the shit they did and you lost it.

─ You grabbed the first sharp object you had at hand, a knife, and you threw it in such a way that Sanzu's neck had a millimeter cut, the knife went past, sticking into the wall. "If you ever say that again, I'll kill you with the dullest knife in the world."

─ The table was silent except for Sanzu's complaints when being lightly treated by Kakucho, everyone looked at each other deciding to shut their mouths knowing that you were upset.

─ The Haitani brothers were trying not to burst out laughing at seeing how you humiliated their co-worker, Mochizuki, Takeomi and Kokonoi were amazed with your aim since they had never seen you doing your job, this scene would definitely be something to talk about if word gets out.

─ The tension in the room didn't go away until you saw your boyfriend and kid appear at the door, although now it was your turn to give your child a talk for having done that.

─ Mikey smiled when he found out what you had done, he wasn't angry about his child's attitude, he simply asked if they had won the fight or not (the result was obvious but he wanted to check it).

─ No one dared to comment on what happened that day and you punished your kid for a week.

[highpri3stess]

Mikey: You said you like Sanzu right

Me: ... um yes?

Mikey: You're considering dating him right?

Me: ... yeah?

*Mikey slips a card into my palm*

Mikey: Here's my therapist's card.

Me: What the fu-

Mikey: *closes my palm while staring me dead in the eye*

Mikey: You'll thank me later

[itjazzbicch]

The Grim Future

Pairing:  KindaSoft!Bonten Mikey x TimeLeaper!Fem Reader 

Summary: Making a promise to Mikey twelve years ago, thinking their dreams and futures are now secured, the reader leaps back into the future, finding out that things didn't go to plan like she thought it would...

Warnings:  MANGA SPOILERS! Swearing, Reader has a panic attack, Some kissing (Doesn't get heavier than that), flashbacks! (they are italicized!)

(also the gif in the text means it's a time skip to the future! I just wanted it to look cool lol)

Word Count: 1.6k 

"Stay by my side, Y/N. Guide me and when I start to drift away, keep me on the right path."

Mikey needed a good friend to be by his side considering the lives that we chose to live. I was more than willing to be that friend for him.

"I will always be by your side, Mikey," Wrapping arms, I laid my shoulder on his head, softly interlocking hands, "I will never leave you and make sure we live the best lives we can."

*ding*

In a quick flash, I had no idea where I was. My eyes wandered to see that I was in an elevator. Freezing as I realized two men were standing next to me. One with short purple hair slicked to the side. The other with a mullet, both in suits.

They looked so familiar, the elevator continued to ding while I was retracing my memories, trying to remember where I'd seen them from, then the Valhalla fight popped into my mind.

Ran and Rindou?

Why the hell was I with them? Where the hell were we? Looking down at my shaking hands, I was in a red dress and heels. I never used to dress this way. What was going on?

I thought that my last conversation with Mikey saved our future, that when I came back to the future, everything would be perfect.

But, something was wrong with all of this.

"Quiet today, princess," Ran's voice confirmed my assumption as to who they were and since I didn't know what was happening, I only said:

"I just zoned out a little."

When he turned to me, a smirk on his face, I noticed the tattoo on his throat. Izana? That's what it looked like. Izana's earrings.

"You keep calling her princess and the boss is going to kick your ass," Rindou chuckled at him, seeing his face and noticing that he had the same tattoo.

The boss? I was still a part of a gang that Ran and Rindou joined too?

When the elevator finally stopped, I stayed quiet and followed along. I wasn't sure where we were either, but we had to have been in a skyscraper considering how far up we were. Ran and Rindou lead me to two huge doors, opening to see a wall of windows, high in the sky, some guy with pink hair at the window.

His reflection showed scars along his mouth, feeling heavy anxiety as I realized that it was Sanzu.

Next to him was a desk, someone sitting in it with their back turned, standing as Rindou stepped up and said:

"We took care of everything you asked for, Mikey."

Mikey?!

I was shaking, seeing the tattoo they all had on the back of his neck as he rose from the chair, turning and mumbling:

"Good."

Mikey looked like a shell of his former self, with circles under his eyes, and seemed to be emotionless. How did things end up like this?

Not knowing anything, I could only stay quiet and nod along with them as I learned that Mikey lead a gang, Bonten. The deadliest, most infamous in the country considering all the activities they were talking about.

While they weren't paying attention, I was able to keep my phone hidden, looking up some things about the gang, and all the things I saw from the news and police had me ready to curl up and cry. 

Thankfully, Mikey dismissed everyone, I thought that I had to leave too. I needed to. I needed to find Chifuyu. Draken. Someone from the old gang, even if they didn't know that I was a time leaper like Chifuyu and Draken did.

Walking in heels while shaking like a leaf was already killing my feet, let alone when I was suddenly stopped, Mikey's hand pulling me back:

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry," I swallowed, trying to think of an excuse, "We all had a long talk so, I figured you'd want some time to yourself."

Shaking his head, he pulled me back, sitting me on his lap, learning more as he whispered, "You're second in command and my girl. You're the only one who can do what they want."

His girl? Second in command? I was a part of all this?!

I tried my best to hide my quick breaths. The more I learned, the harder it was to breathe, the quicker my heart raced, unable to hide my shaking.

"Today stressful?" Squeezing my hip, he felt my shaking; swallowing another breath, I only nodded, chest hurting from shooting blood pressure as he turned my head to face him, "It's okay."

Overwhelmed couldn't even describe how I felt when his lips met mine, lazy in his kiss, and with my eyes closed, attempting to process everything, I could feel the Mikey that I last remembered, letting him guide me to straddle him, but pulling back because I needed to breathe.

Opening my eyes slowly, seeing his face up close, all the marks and features that he didn't have before showed that these past twelve years, a lot of bad things happened.

Not knowing, tears were rolling down my cheeks.

I failed. I failed miserably. Things weren't supposed to be like this. I was supposed to keep Mikey on a good path. Not be a part of a real criminal organization.

The longer I stared into his eyes, the more I started crying and he couldn't ignore it:

"Did something happen today? Why are you crying?"

He was kind enough to clean my cheeks, but I was choking on my words, throat tightening from holding back my cries:

"I-I'm j-just, stressed. Bathroom?"

Looking around, I needed to be alone. Thankfully, he understood, pointing to a door and I rushed in, locked the door, and tried my hardest to keep my cries low.

Scrolling through my contacts, no numbers were saved at all. Panicking, sliding my finger quicker and harder, I was trying to see if I recognized Chifuyu's number, but it wasn't there.

Breathing and thinking for a second, I finally remembered, but when I called, it wasn't in service anymore.

"Shit!" Throwing my phone, I was breaking down, not wanting to be too loud because I'm sure that my behavior was suspicious to everyone.

Splashing some water over my face, I tried to look at the positives of this situation. I had to have connections, I could make some time for myself and try to find Chifuyu in person. I just needed the time to sit and think.

Unfortunately, I didn't have that time, knocks on the bathroom door:

"Y/N?"

At least he was caring and checking on me. It seemed that I was the only person he cared about. Hurrying to dry my face, I opened the door, apologizing again:

"I'm sorry. You know that I let my emotions get the best of me sometimes."

"I know, baby," He sighed, standing closer as I shut the door so that my back was against the door, his whisper making my anxiety shoot up again, "But I know that you're hiding something from me."

I loved Mikey, and I wanted to make our futures better so that we could be truly happy, but I couldn't tell him the truth, especially not now.

The silence was the scariest thing I've heard, only making me more scared as I had to lie:

"I'm not, Mikey."

His eyes were dark like a bottomless pit. Not able to tell if he believed me or not. As much as I wanted to cry again, I held it in, just hugging him and asking nervously:

Can we just go lay down and cuddle or something? I think that I just need some sleep."

"Alright," Clinging to his arm, I followed him into the same building, realizing that it was some kind of penthouse.

It was nice and the bedroom was huge, heading into a walk-in closet to see that I was very spoiled. That closet could pass as a clothes store, but I saw Mikey's side and took one of his shirts and found some shorts.

He was already in bed when I came back, failing at suppressing my anxiousness again as I crawled into the massive bed. I'd never actually cuddled with Mikey before, not in my memories at least.

Obviously, we had done things in this future considering he held and kissed me like it was an everyday thing. I tried to be as normal as I could be, scooting to him and he latched an arm over me, my head resting against his chest.

"Hey, Mikey..." All of this was so confusing and terrifying to me, but there was one thing that I did know.

"Hm?" His hum was a sleepy one, but he was paying attention, thankfully not able to notice the tears flowing down my cheeks again when I whispered to him:

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," He yawned, squeezing me tiredly, my heart nearly exploding when I heard an old tone he'd make when he was smiling, "I love you too."

The next thing I heard was his snoring. He needed the sleep. So, I stayed as still as I could, till I knew he was in a deep sleep. Once he was, I sat up carefully and held him in my arms, playing with his hair softly because he had a small smile on his face when I did it.

All night long, I stayed up thinking, strategizing, and trying to realize where I went wrong. I cried in silence the entire time too. Even as the sun came up, I held him in my arms, my promise falling upon his momentarily deaf ears:

"I'm gonna fix this, Mikey. Our dream will come true. I don't care what it takes." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome

[akkkkollle]

Hello Chris,

I have a challenge for you. What if you did every kink/fetish in one thingy ( I don't know on what you call it story ? fanfic ? )............ummm if you decide to do my challenge could you maybe make it about Mikey please.

Thanks

🥀Pairing: Toman!, Kanto!, Bonten!Mikey × M!Reader.

🥀Words: 3200+.

🥀Notes: First of all, I'm sorry that a whole month has passed, I just didn't have the strength to finish writing this. Secondly, not all the kinks and fetishes here (I would go crazy) are just well-known and common here, and I couldn't write it all with one Mikey, so enjoy the three versions. I apologize again. All warnings will be in front of the parts.

Toman!Mikey. 

CW/TW: attention, voyeurism(?), dressing up, daddy kink, 69, face setting, feminization, fingering, praise, mirror sex, overexcitation, breast play, rimming, soft sex.

- Come on, baby, be careful. - you whisper, covering the marble skin of Mikey with kisses. - Show me how good you feel, come on. 

He whimpers, still jerking his hand along the trunk of his penis. His hand slides aimlessly over the oiled trunk, fingering the sperm from three past orgasms. 

His head is slightly tilted to the side, allowing you to kiss him wherever you want. His white hair is loose, and some white strands are stuck to his face or neck due to sweat. A few tears slide down his red face, rolling down his neck or torso, drawing transparent paths. 

- If you come again, I'll reward you, do you want, baby? - you ask, noticing his tired face. 

- Yes, Daddy... - he whines, speeding up the movement to finally catch his pleasure again. 

Your hand descends on his chest and strokes his nipple through the transparent underwear worn on him. His legs twitch when he feels it, causing the panties hanging on his foot to almost fall off. 

-Yes what, babe? - he whimpers when he hears your question and swallows. 

- I want to my... My p-pussy feel good of you, please. he says sheepishly as you rub his nipple harder, making him cum with a loud moan. 

He relaxes and his body wearily plops down on you. You cover his face with kisses while he winces at it. He gets off you, letting you lie down. He just awkwardly purses his lips, looking at your smiling face. But still leans over you, hanging his face over your clothed bulge, and his ass in front of your face. 

Your hands gently slide over his pumped ass while he tries to pull out your cock with trembling hands. You squeeze his skin, making him whine, and his trembling hands clumsily try to undo your belt. When he finally does, he quickly pulls off the elastic band of your underwear, exposing your hard cock, which accidentally hits him in the face. You laugh lightly while he rubs his cheek for a few seconds. 

His tongue licks your trunk from top to bottom, in parallel slightly pressing his tongue on the wreaths along your trunk. You mumble with pleasure, licking your lips, and then his balls and part of the skin between them and the anus. He moans, taking the head of your penis into his mouth, sending a slight vibration through it. He whimpers, feeling your tongue on his rim, while you press his trembling hips as close to your face as possible. He tries very hard to please you, even though he is overexcited from his recent orgasm. 

He lets out a surprised exclamation when he feels you tear off his upper half of his body, literally sitting him on your face. He leans on your torso, squeezing it, forming red traces of his palms. He whimpers your name, feeling your tongue inside him. 

- D-daddy, don't, pleaaase..! - he whimpers, feeling a new approaching orgasm. 

You pull his hips away for a few seconds, thrusting two fingers inside, pulling out a new stream of words from him.

-But you wanted your pussy to feel good, didn't you, baby? - he whines with memories and presses his hips closer, wanting to feel your tongue in him again. - What an impatient doll. 

You stick your tongue inside while your fingers are inside. He screams with excitement, which is about to spill out, and literally. His hands shake as he squeezes your skin, leaving scratches on your torso. 

His face is absolutely red. Saliva runs down your chin mixed with your precum. His lips are bitten from how he tried to restrain his sounds earlier. There are still unshed tears in the corners of his eyes. There are a few light hickeys and bites on his neck that you did to tease him. And his chest is still wearing white transparent underwear, with several colors in the places where the nipples are.

A loud moan rushes through the room, and then you feel a white substance spreading over your chest. His hands tremble treacherously and eventually they slide down your body in different directions, causing his body to plop down on your hip with heavy breathing. 

You gently stand up, taking his hips off of you and turning his body over so that his legs lie behind him. He whines when you stroke his head while he's still lying on your trousers. He suddenly licks your base, from which you grab his hair, pulling out a quiet moan from him. 

- I want you to feel good too, Daddy. - he whispers, pressing his cheek to your cock, and then licking again. - And since it's not my ass... More precisely, pussy, then my mouth will fit...

- Heh, caring today? - he whispers a quiet "I love you" and takes your cock in his mouth, moving up and down, from which you mumble contentedly.

Kanto!Mikey.

CW/TW: size difference, marking, fetish on clothes, sir kink, food, gag, humiliation with praise, denial of orgasm, sensory deprivation, semi public, deep throat.

The sound of guttural moans reverberates through the room while your hand moves his body on his penis, he only squeezes the sofa on either side of you. He feels your cock poking into the back of his throat, and then you twitch in his mouth. 

He raises his tear-stained gaze to your face thrown back. He slowly slides his gaze over your body when his gaze allows it. He feels himself twitching at the sight of you. He always loved you in a gang uniform, and no matter then or now, you always looked too sexy in it. Your big, tall and toned body always towered over him and he constantly imagined as if you were his boss and not he was yours. 

He accidentally licks your head when you stop pushing his head for a second and he suddenly feels his mouth filling with your sperm. He swallows quickly, looking at you again. You slowly lower your gaze to him while breathing heavily. And God, he was ready to cum just from that. 

-Lie on the table, good boy. - you whisper. 

He immediately obeys, lying down on the table. You hover over his small body and he immediately looks at your hand, noticing what you are holding. 

- Why did you bring this here? - he blushes a little. 

- I just love whipped cream... - he says. 

You grin as you spread cream on your finger and lick it off. You mumble contentedly. The blonde makes a surprised sound when he feels you spreading cream on his body, especially on sensitive areas. 

- W-what are you... - he whispers. 

-Me?- you ask, licking his neck, covered with cream. 

- That is, sir... What are you doing, s-sir? - he whispers, stuttering at the end as you suck a hickey into his neck. 

-Well, you were a lustful bitch before, so at least I'll eat that way. You've already eaten yours, haven't you? - he whimpers, still feeling the taste of your sperm in his stomach. 

You shift your gaze higher, looking at the clock. You quickly grab two pieces out of your pocket. He makes a surprised sound when he feels a soft cloth lying on his eyes, making vision impossible. And then a gag is placed in his mouth, which drowns out almost all his sounds. 

-Listen up, cutie slut. The meeting is due to start in half an hour and it will be very embarrassing if the leaders notice you in this position. So... - you run your finger over his body, almost reaching his penis, from which he twitches slightly, making you giggle. - Be a good whore and bring me to orgasm before that time. And you'd better thank yourself for forbidding them to come in ahead of time. 

He nods, quickly spreading his legs, showing his pre-prepared hole, which makes you smile easily and enter him with a quick jerk. He groans from the unpleasant and unusual intrusion, but immediately jerks his hips, making it clear that you can move. 

You bend over his body, entering deeper into him, forcing him to mindlessly grab the cloak of your white uniform. You continue to lick the cream, pulling out of him muffled moans from your hot tongue sliding over his neck and chest. 

His eyes widen under the blindfold when you both hear sounds from outside. More precisely, someone's voices. 

- Don't worry, there's still a lot of time, as much as 24 minutes, so let's get to work, Manjiro. - he nods, grabbing your shoulders harder and you could have sworn that if he hadn't been gagged, his groan would have been heard throughout the building.

You wrap your arms around the base of his penis, causing him muffled sounds from delaying his orgasm. He whispers something, but because of the gag you couldn't make out the words, but presumably he just wanted to cum. 

Your thrusts become deeper and stronger, your speed decreases, a slight tingling in Manjiro's stomach lets him know that you will come soon. And he shrinks around you when you lick the remaining cream, biting his neck. 

A minute later, you're pulling clothes on the two of you. And then you remove the excess from his face. His face has become less red, but he looks at you with pleading eyes. 

- No, my slut, you wait for the meeting to end. It'll be weird if they see their boss with a tear-stained face, so just calm down. - he sighs, sitting down facing the door, and trying to catch his breath.

Bonten!Mikey.

CW/TW: drugs, strangulation, dom/sub, pleading, playing with blood and knives, body fetish (yandere reader) , bondage, collar, crying, master kink, weapons, sadism, masochism, rough sex, humiliation, spanking, striptease.

Your gaze glides hungrily over the body of the white-haired man as he slowly undresses, twirling his body. He takes off his black T-shirt, slowly pulling it off, exposing his skinny, gorgeous body. His black trousers also fall onto the bed as he slowly pulls his legs out of his trousers. And finally his fingers catch on the elastic of the underwear, only slightly pulling them off, and showing you his pubis. You frown slightly, already wishing that he would finish this little show and have already given himself into your cruel and bloodthirsty hands. So that you can do whatever you want with him, so that he can moan under you like the very last whore, so that you can admire your God under you or above you, it doesn't matter. 

Apparently, he himself becomes impatient and pulls them off with a light movement, exposing his hard little cock. He throws it back somewhere, and then turns around for a second, showing you his back and ass, and then falls between your legs, leaning on your chest with his back. 

-You can. - he whispers, exhaling. 

He makes a surprised sound when he feels his stomach resting on your lap. He already understands what will happen next. Your finger fleetingly slides over his ass, feeling the soft skin. 

- So? Don't you want to apologize, bitch? - he grabs the sheet, crumpling it in his hands.

- I... - he swallows, already feeling the dryness in his throat from the drug that he took earlier. - I'm sorry... Ma-master...

he squeals when your hand rises, and then with great force falls on his ass, causing it to bounce slightly and blush, acquiring a trace of your hand. 

- More specifically. - you whisper briefly. 

-I'm sorry for bothering that idiot to a-annoy you. - he squeals again, already feeling 2 blows on each of his cheeks. 

- Even more specifically. 

- I'm so-sorry for hinting at sex to this g-guy, uh... Flirted with him and touch his dick through his pants when... When I r-realized that he had a boner about my words. - he sighs, preparing for you to hit him again and you do it, he screams again. 

-Fine.Now lie on your back. - on trembling legs, he quickly climbs over you and lies on his back, spreading his legs, realizing that you are already very angry. 

You take off your belt, and then you lift the black-eyed man's hands to the headboard, tying them to the iron bars of the bed. You pull, making sure that the bonds hold his hands tightly. You look at his body while he is trembling with excitement under your gaze. You gently touch his healed scars, they are almost invisible. You catch his gaze constantly returning to the bedside table on the right in impatience, although he is still looking at you. You just laugh lightly, opening the door, making his body tremble, and take out a metal object that glitters under the light of an expensive chandelier in your bedroom. 

He licks his dry lips, feeling the effect of the drug, which will double, and maybe triple his feelings with any physical contact. The harder you touch him, the more pleasure he will get. 

You experimentally slide over the stitched scars, hoping to cut out new ones, but absolutely the same. He twitches, which immediately makes you hit him on the thigh. He sobs, but tries not to twitch, so as not to spoil your game. You carefully begin to carve words on his chest, arms, stomach and thighs that would somehow show people who saw them that he is only yours. You just claimed all your rights to him, and damn, he didn't mind. 

His cock twitches helplessly when you start to carve the last inscription, just on his stomach. So close to his pubis and cock. He just wanted the knife a little lower, but he didn't want to spoil the look of his body for you if you didn't want it on your own. 

He blushes insanely when you lick the metal part of the knife after finishing the "drawing", licking his blood, and then putting the knife on the bedside table, because now it is useless. 

Mikey tries to see what else you want to take from the box under your bed, but you hit him on the thigh again, from which he whispers a quiet apology. 

You take the collar. Black, leather, with several precious stones, collar. His breath seemed to have disappeared. He was so excited that he was ready to cum on the spot. He threw his head back, already extremely wanting it on his neck, and you did it. You tightened the collar matching the black belt on his arms. 

And then he screams and sobs. He feels you entering him with one sharp, deep thrust. He, of course, understood that he would not receive preparation, but he clearly did not expect that this would be the case. He comes right away. 

- Eh? Oh... I'-im sorry, I'm sorry, M-Master, please, I... - he stops when he feels something in his mouth, and then he hears a click. 

- Shut up, slut, or I'll shoot. It would be a loss to lose such a beautiful face, wouldn't it? - he nods easily, tensing slightly when he feels your finger on the trigger. 

You start the movement by pulling out the gun and putting it next to it, it wasn't loaded, so there was nothing to worry about. Your hand falls on his neck, squeezing it, making him whimper, shouting your nickname. 

-P-pleeease, Ma-master, hurry, hurry! - and, of course, you went even slower. 

-The next time I see or hear you doing something like that to someone else, I'll kill both you and him, you're just mine, you little bitch, understand? - he nodded furiously, shrinking around you, making you just roll your eyes.

[oddshroom]

Fσɾɠσƚƚҽɳ Mҽɱσɾιҽʂ | M. Sano

Synopsis: It had be 12 years since the accident, 12 years since he left, and 12 years since you couldn’t remember who he was. 12 years when you found a job for being a receptionist at a company that hid what it truly was, that company being Bonten. The boss of that company looked really tired, with bags under his eyes and white hair. The boss being your ex-lover who remembers you, knowing you can’t remember him.

Warning(s): Slight angst, memory loss, mentions of past violence (towards reader), hospital, implied concussion (not really mentioned), slight fluff

Pairing: Manjiro Sano

Parts: The meeting (Pt. 2)

It has been 12 years since you woke up in the hospital, all you remember being told was that there was a blonde boy who had left you to be treated a the hospital after being attacked severely. The doctors told you that you had a severe case of memory loss, and were unsure of whether or not those memories would return. You wish they would, liking to remember who the said boy was, and who he was to you.

After the diagnosis, they had sent you off to therapy to see if the trauma of your time with him could trigger any memory. It's been 12 years since then and 10 years since you left therapy seeing as it was getting you no where. All you remembered about your time with him was being happy, and that was all you needed.

Now here you are, staring out the window of the hotel room. 12 Years ago...

You remember the first day back from therapy, the first day after your release. Everything from before came rushing back, and for a moment you forgot who you were. All that mattered was remembering that blonde boy who had taken you to get medical attention. After everything you remember you felt relieved to know that he still cared enough to take care of you, that someone would always watch over you. He wasn't some stranger, but just some random stranger to you. Just an old friend. Someone you knew, and someone that made you smile everyday. A feeling of joy and love that filled you at times. But now you doesn't remember.

The those two years were difficult, with memories slowly coming back. You've come to terms with the fact that you will never remember who the boy is and the life you once lived. The only memories you managed to remember were blurred figures, you couldn't continue trying to get the past back, especially when all there was were figures with no face.

The figures weren't the real reason, it was the attack that had led you to this. When you remembered those moment it felt as if the pain had came back with it. All the feelings of helplessness returned and you couldn't help but cry. You didn't want anyone to see you cry but you couldn't stop, no matter how hard you tried. Crying was easy, but doing so again, made it painful to even breath.

It was a different type of painful, like you've suffered something terrible. Something more than just physical injury. That was something that haunted you every night, every day. Even when you closed your eyes you saw it, the faces staring back at you, taunting you.

However remembering that was 10 years ago, you moved on from what happened. You gave trying to figure out what happened afraid the nightmares would come rushing back which was the last thing you wanted on a day like this.

You finally found a well paying job as a receptionist at a company after the constant searching for one. The BT Company, short for Bonten. Today was your interview with the boss himself, you were lucky enough to make it to this point seeing how people that usually get interviewed don't make it pass the 7th person interviewing them.

You found it strange how the interviewing process had worked, especially since there were six people interviewing until you reached the final one, the boss who decides whether or not you have a job. Relentless you were confident that you'd get the job especially since you made it past the last person interviewing you.

'What was his name?...right Sanzu, Haruchiyo', you thought mindlessly while stepping into the elevator. He was a tough one at first, the interview felt more like an interrogation with him taking a picture of you and sending it to the boss. 'He was weird', you thought while pressing the button to the top floor.

The doors opened allowing you to step out.

Looking around you noticed that the floors were all calacatta marble, making you feel small standing beside it. 'Should I really be here? I am way out of there league, everything here is so expensive'. Walking to an office door you heard voices inside talking. Hesitating slightly you raised your fist to knock lightly against the doorframe. As soon as you did the voices stopped.

"The doors open, enter" You heard him call you in. Opening the door you entered to see a man with short white hair back. His face reminded you of someone you knew but you couldn't place who. You stood awkwardly in front of him waiting for him to say something. Eventually he spoke looking at you directly, taking in his features he had dark bags under his eyes and pale skin.

"I assume you're L/n Y/n? I've been expecting you." Your eyes widened as you took the seat across from his desk. Looking down you nodded as his voice continued, "I'm a bit surprised you made it this far without being chewed out". His voice was low, lacked any sort of tone.

You watched as he glanced towards the pink haired man signaling to escort everyone out the room. Soon enough those around you had taken there things and left, even those who had interviewed you days ago.

You cleared your throat nervously before responding "I-", stopping before thinking what to say, you cleared your throat. "I'm here for the job as a receptionist-.", "Why?", the male peered down at you with a dark gaze. "I don't quite understand what you mean by 'why', however all the others who interviewed me gave me a pass to be here, and besides I'm very good with paperwork". The white haired make turned his head looked away from you and towards a doorway. "Come with me" he stated gruffly before moving towards the door opening it to reveal a room filled with files and boxes.

Following behind him you saw a stack of paper in front of him as he flipped through papers. There was a small table next to him covered in papers and folders, and you could faintly hear him mumbling the words to whatever he was doing. Suddenly his back tensed, and he let out a heavy sigh. "Here" He said putting down the papers on the table and pointing to another chair that sat next to his own. With slow steps you walked across the carpeted floor to the chair before sitting down.

"Do you remember anything at all?" He asked quietly.

Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Looking over your facial expression he sighed. "Forget it, don't call me Mr. Sano or boss". He said before walking away. "What do I call you?". "Just call me Mikey", he said. "Kakucho will show you what floor and office you'll work in, in the drawers are a list of numbers that you can use to call".

"I almost forgot to mention, since you're the closet receptionist to this floor you'll bring in my dorayaki and taiyaki". He said as you caught up behind him. 'This guy...'

'He's a total asshole', you thought deadpanning at his request.

"Kakucho will set you on some ground rules for how things work around here, make sure to write it down. You seem like the person to forget things". That was the last thing her said before closing the door.

When you got to your new desk you began to look through the information you already read from your resume. This office was a lot bigger than your apartment as a whole and more spacious too. Turning your head you could see a tall wall with a painting hanging on it. You got up and examined it closer before finding yourself mesmerized by its beauty. "A masterpiece..." you whispered softly to yourself. It wasn't just a portrait of a woman though, it also depicted a small child running down a hill and falling right into water below the painting.

Turning your head back to the desk you pulled out a pen and began working.

'Still the same as always', he thought while watching with tired eyes. 'The same you from twelve years ago, who would've thought I would see you again'. A low laugh left his mouth, however the tone of it was filled with just as much as grief and sadness from the twelve years.

Lifting his hand up he rubbed his chest where his heart should be. Closing his eyes he leaned forward onto his desk. "Y/n why must it be you? Why me?". "You didn't lie when you said you'd always follow me, even if you were to forget me".

A soft smile appeared on his lips hearing their voice. They were everything he wanted, everything that had been taken away in a matter of seconds, everything that came back.

"My lovely Y/n", he said while peering into the camera monitor as you worked.

Grabbing his cell phone he messaged all the people that had interviewed you.

Mikey- ‘Keep them out of trouble and make sure they don’t find out’

Sanzu- ‘Yes boss’

Ran- ‘Isn’t it rare to see Mikey’s lap dog not be high’

Sanzu- ‘I’ll kill you’

Kakucho- Tonight’s meeting is at 11:30

Letting out a set of sighs he was unsure of how he’d keep you from being uninvolved with Bonten.

𝓐-Aster

[inkykeiji]

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, drugging, noncon, blood, messy rough sex (slapping + biting), hint of mikey at the end, fem!reader words: 650

i literally, genuinely cannot express how badly i want to get absolutely fucked up with bonten rindou + ran. like i am talking super sloppy fucked up, can barely fucking walk fucked up, slurring words in a single continuous stream only interrupted by little bubbles of giggles fucked up.  

it’s become a voracious, all-consuming, downright intoxicating need.

you need them chuckling softly as they hoist you up between the two of them and drag you out to their sleek, souped up mercedes, sharing devious looks over your drooping head, so heavy and full of whatever the hell they’ve stuffed down your throat and shoved up your nose and shot into your veins that your pretty little neck just can’t seem to hold it up. 

you need them shoving you in the backseat, a mess of limbs and sparkles, hem of your slutty little dress already bunched up around your hips and fraying stilettos, now ruined and bloody from being scraped against the concrete, slicing into their leather seats. 

you need them cooing and pouting and spitting in your face because you’re so fucking dumb, you’re so fucking cute, you’re going to be so much fucking fun, aren’t you? 

you need them fucking you raw for hours on end, until the sky turns from star-speckled onyx to strokes of lilac and corals, until their condo is smeared with the gold of the rising sun, as the world flips over then flops right side up again, more drugs tangling in your veins.

you need imprints of each of ran’s hands seared into your cheeks, all five fingers and both palms stinging and raised and etched into soft skin. you need all thirty-two of rindou’s teeth carved into the flesh of your ass, so deep they’ve left grotesque, purplish-grey gouges, so deep they’ve pierced through the skin and left the indents pooling with thick blood. 

you need them stuffing you full of so much cum that it’s drooling from the corners of your mouth and oozing from your abused little hole, dribbling all over your neck and collarbone and chest in stringy dollops infused with your saliva, slathered all over your inner thighs in fat strokes of cream. 

and then, when they’ve had their fun, when they’ve shattered you to bits and stained the shards with themselves, you need them to offer you to their boss, who takes a single look at you and considers just passing you off to his second-in-command, because christ she’s sloppy and you two really did a fucking number on her, who split her lip like that? 

still, mikey’s grateful the terror twins reincarnate will share their spoils with him—real generous of them, you know, they could’ve kept this little doll to themselves and, really, you gotta give her a go, she’s a lot sturdier than she looks, and we just shot her up with another two ounces, and she’s got the prettiest moans i ever heard, mikey, swear to god, cross my heart, and mikey reconsiders.

because then you’re opening your eyes, bleary and blissed out and shimmering so beautifully in the harsh white light of the warehouse, and you’re reaching out for him, cute little grabby hands that claw at nothing as melty murmurs seep from your lips, and oh, he thinks he gets it now. 

because then he’s jumping down from off his wooden crate and stalking toward you, rhythmic slaps of his flip-flops echoing throughout the dense space, and he’s taking your jaw between his thumb and his forefinger, squeezing hard enough to pucker your lips and elicit a sticky little squeal, and he’s leaning close, so close the stench of sugar stings your nose, mixed with something clean and brisk as his breath wafts across your face, and you wanna play with me, precious?

because precious things are meant to be used, after all, aren’t they? 

[cheesus-doodles]

Lovely piece of Bonten Mikey just enjoying some private time alone with you amidst a rainy day, away from the prying eyes of the other Bonten executives.

Commissioned from the talented もちおはぎ(倖) to celebrate the release of the latest chapter of Going Home - Chapter 4!

‎‎

Bonus:

Rest of my commissioned pieces here >>

[xxelfmamaxx]

💞Bonten! Mikey x y/n💞

"You're there..don't do it again.."

(Credits:mtsg_km[Twitter])

[secretcheesecakecat]

*Runs their fingers through Bonten's Mikey's hair as he laid with his head in their lap* This isn't the life that I wanted... *They sighed* But if I could do it all again, I would still chose you. I love you so much Manjiro.

"I know Y/n, you think i wanted all of this?" He said as he look at you with cold eyes. And then his gaze soften as he hold your hand. "I would too." He closed his eyes. "Love you back"

[hanmasghost]

Hi~ would it be alright to request a part 2 of the eldest haitani where he meets mikey again please? It's an interesting concept which I haven't seen before and you've got me hooked

“Eldest Haitani” PT.2

Pt. 1

Authors Note:

Ofc! It’s probably one of my favorite fics I’ve written yet tbh. Also, I’d like to say I’m sorry it’s taken forever for this, summer was not only my break from school, but my break from doing things and thinking all together so I apologize for that. Anywayssss I hope you enjoy! :D

Pronouns: He/Him

Warning(s): none✨

{Reader} shifted awkwardly in his seat as he avoided eye contact with the strongest man in Japan.

Said man not making a sound. The [h/c]ed male, normally unperturbed, felt awkward under the heavy stare of the white haired male. He hasn’t said a single thing since {Reader} had arrived, his brother leaving him at the door to wait outside.

Deciding to just get down to business and avoid making this anymore awkward, {Reader} opened his mouth to speak. But before he could say a word, the male had beat him to it.

“I’d like you to paint me something. About the size, I’d like it to fill the space on the wall behind me, and I don’t have a particular day when I want it to be done.” {Reader} mentally took note of everything the male had said and nodded.

“Okay… well…” {Reader} looked at the wall behind the male again. “That’d be a lot of paint, and I’ll need quite a bit of time. So it’d be pretty pricey.” The male hummed, acknowledging that he indeed knew it would be pretty pricey.

“Alright then. Though first things first, I’d there anything particular you’d like to be included? Or perhaps something you’d want me to avoid adding?” {Reader} asked as he looked the white haired man in the eyes for the first time.

He nodded. The male reached out to the table in between the two, flipping a photo of a man over and sliding it to {Reader}. “I’d like him to be included.” The male said as he watched {Reader} take the photo in hand and observe it, seemingly shocked.

{Reader}’s hands shook ever so slightly. He recognized the man as an old friend. “Shinichiro.” He mumbled, causing the male infront of him to tense. “You know my brother?” {Reader} looked up, making eye contact, and nodded. “He was an old friend of mine.”

The two men sat in silence for what felt like hours. “Mikey yes?” Mikey nodded. {Reader} hummed. “I’ll do it for free.” {Reader} closed his eyes and nodded to himself as he stood up from the lavishly furnished couch.

Mikey didn’t say anything as the male left. He only wished that next time they met it’d be longer.

~

{Reader} silently waited in Rindou’s car, sending his younger brother a message that he was done with the meeting and waiting on him.

Rindou showed up around 30 minutes later, he had a bit of paperwork to do while the meeting occurred. Of course he could’ve just done it the next day, but he assumed the meeting would take longer.

So it really surprised him when he got the message from his older brother telling him he was done and waiting on him. It didn’t surprise him that his brother was resting his head on his palm looking out the car door’s window bouncing his foot up and down. After all, he just had a face to face meeting with the strongest man in Japan.

He decided to not say anything and just started driving {Reader} to his back to his flat. Along the drive Rindou grew worried for his brother as the elder just continued to bounce his leg and look out the window. The look in his brother’s eyes was unrecognizable. His brother looked distanced, distanced away from the world in search of something. Like he was longing for something.

It was a something Rindou had never seen his brother do. And it’s scared him a bit. That being said, Rindou just had to ask, “did something happen? You keep doing that thing.” He pointed to {Reader}’s bouncing leg that hasn’t stopped since he’d gotten in the car.

Without looking away from the window {Reader}, with no hesitation, responded. “He’s Shinichiro’s brother.” Rindou turned his head, wide eyed as he looked at his brother. He had completely forgotten {Reader} had known Shinichiro.

“I see.” Rindou sighed.

“Clearly not, the light says you can go now.” Reader pointed to the stop light infront of them.

Rindou shouted a soft “hey!” towards his brother and focused his eyes back on the road, smiling as he now knows his brother isn’t scared of Mikey or for his life. He just misses someone close to him. Rindou could get that.

“Anywayssss whats he paying you for the painting? It’s gotta be pricey as hell right? I mean that wall is huge!” Rindou randomly asked his brother, changing the topic to something more happy.

“I said I’d do it for free.” {Reader} said nonchalantly, throwing his brother a side glance to watch his reaction.

“Cool, cool- WAIT WHAT?! FOR FREE?! YOU DO REALIZE HOW RICE HE IS RIGHT?! YOU COULD MAKE IT AS EXPENSIVE AS YOU WANT!!” Rindou threw one of his hands in the air, not letting go of the steering wheel as he started to pull up to {Reader}’s flat.

{Reader} shrugged and smiled as he looked away from his brother. Enjoying his little brothers confused shouts.

Rindou continued to loudly question his brothers sanity, even once he parked. Once he was done all he received was a shrug from his older brother has he stepped out of the car.

Rindou rolled down his window and shouted one last thing to his brother. “YOU’RE CRAZY!”

The younger didn’t even receive as much as a flinch, {Reader} just continued on his way to his flat. Not even waving to him. What Rindou didn’t know how ever was he had gotten a small smile from him. One filled with fondness and zero regret.

He truly loved his family.

[lovers-in-love-around-the-world]

Bonten Mikey x reader

Warning- Kidnapping, smoking, violence, weapons, mentions of murder, cursing Pronouns being used are they and them.

Mikey wasnt happy. He hasn't even been in the office for five minutes and he had already had gotten a yellow package.

He went and sat down in his seat and take the package and opens it. He was surprised that it wasn't opened by any of the other Bonten people but he just ignored it.

Once he opened it he saw a tape and a paper. Now he was really confused. Who the hell sent this. He then thought about all the people that would be pissed at his group and things.

He then dumps the items onto his desk. He then put the tape into the TV he had in his office. He then waited for the tape to load onto his TV. While he waited he took the note and started reading it.

Hello,

As you can see in the tape we may have something that you would find important to you. If you want them back we would like one million dollars. we will only give you a week if it's any later I don't mind hurting them. Put the money xxx-xxxx-xxxxx there in a week from today and we will give you the them.

Mikey frowns at this. Now that he thinks about it he hasn't seen you in a while. He thought that maybe you just been at work but you haven't answered any of his messages or anything. His jaw then clenches tighter.

Once he saw the tape loaded he clicked play and saw you. He didn't see anything that he recognized from in the tape. There was also no sound or anything. He then looked back at where you were. He had to make sure you were okay and that they haven't put their filthy hands on you in anyway that would hurt you. He didn't see anything put he could tell that you were drugged up because you weren't moving or struggling.

He finally had enough and turned the TV up. He then went and took the tape out before getting the paper and going out.

He then went to find Sanzu so he can have Sanzu find you and the people who did this. Once he found Sanzu he gave him the note and the tape.

"find where the tape is from and the people." He says before going back to his office. Sanzu weren't able to ask any questions before Mikey had disappeared into his office again. He then looks at the twins before sighing and going and doing his job. He did wonder why this was such a big for him to find. Normally Mikey just threw these away and things but not this one and why?

 ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It's been about two days since Mikey gave Sanzu the assignment of finding the people. Which to the Surprise he was able to and did even more for Mikey and told them to meet them there tomorrow. Mikey thought Sanzu would do that so he was already finding a way to deal with this.

Mikey had find what they should do. He then called all the Bonten to a meeting so they can discuss it. Mikey was sitting at the end of the table while the rests were around the table.

"We are going to meet them tomorrow. Ran and Rindou will meet the people and make sure that they are there. Once you see they are you will Sanzu a sign that they are there. You then will go over and deal with the situation." Mikey explains. No one heard Mikey talk this much for anything but no one can blame him for wanting to make sure that this works and he can get them back.

Mikey has lost so much and wasn't wanting to loss someone else that he loved. He has been missing your touch and your affection that you give him. He needs you back. He was going back into the dark. Everyone could tell.

Everyone nodes and agreed to the plan.

"we will leave at 10 pm." He says. He then gets up and wents back to his office. Everyone looked at each other and sighs.

"Let's hope everything goes well tonight" Ran said before getting up too. Rindou follows him.

 ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was finally 10 pm the next day. Mikey was in the passenger seat while Sanzu was in the driver seat then Ran and Rindou were in the back.

No one was talking and just had music playing in the back. The music wasn't really loud it's more of a soft background noise.

Once they get there Sanzu parked a few feet away while Ran and Rindou get out and head over. Once they got into the alley way they looked around trying to see if they would could see the person that was going to meet them there.

Once they saw two people come over to them.

"Are you the one who we are meeting?" Rindou asked. One of the guys nodes. They both have blacked clothes on with masks to cover their faces from them.

"so where are they?" Ran asked. The other pointed to the car they came from.

"we want to see them before we give you anything" Ran says and crosses his arms.

The one guy looked at the other and nodes his head towards the car. The other one nodes and heads over to the car.

While Sanzu and Mikey were watching the whole thing. Mikey having a fun ready in his hands. He wanted to shoot them in their heads. He wanted to make them be in pain for taking the one thing he has left in his life.

Sanzu had also had a gun in his hands. He was ready to do anything that Mikey wanted him to do to them. Shoot them in the head? Sure. Torture them? Sure. Anything. He doesn't care. As long as it makes Mikey's happy again he will do it.

Once the guy came back dragging you by the arm and puts them in front of them.

Once Ran saw you he gave them a sign with their hands.

"so where's the money?" The guy asks.

While with Sanzu and Mikey they saw the sign. Mikey was the first to get. He was already to murder the guys who took you. The love of his life. The thing that keeps him going. Sanzu then gets out too and follows him while fixing his suit.

Once Mikey gets over to them.

"you won't be getting your money." Sanzu says and points his gun to one of them. The guys look at them two and stared shaking. They weren't expecting this. They knew that they messed up. That they went wrong. They should have done it to someone else and not them.

Before Sanzu did anything. Mikey then walked over to them and grabbed you. Once he had you in his arms he undone the ropes on your arms and the blindfold on your eyes. He then picked you and heads back to the car.

"Do what you want to them. But I want them dead." Mikey says to Sanzu before going to the car. He didn't want you to see what will happen. He did want to kill them with his own hands but he didn't want you to see him like that.

Once he got to the car he opened the back doors and sets you in there before shutting the door and going to the other side and getting in. He then goes over you and pulls you close.

He could feel you shaking. He knew that you were scared he just wished that he stopped this. Done anything to make sure this never happened. He then pecked you head. He then looked back over to see what was going on. He had made sure your back was towards them while he sat towards them. He then felt you put you head in his neck. He was normally the one who did that but this was the one time he let you do this.

All he wanted was to take you home and cuddle you and hold you close. To keep you with him and never let you go. Never let you leave him like this again.

He then heard soft snores coming from you. He knew that you were finally asleep. He would of guessed that you probably haven't slept well.

After a few minutes he heard a few gun shots go off and then Ran, Rindou, and Sanzu come back to the car.

Sanzu getting in the driver seat, Ran sitting in the passenger seat, and Rindou in the back with Mikey and you.

"are they dead?" Mikey asked.

Sanzu cuddles and nodes. "Yes they are." He says before heading back to the work space.

Mikey nodes and looks at you. The whole ride he never took his eyes off you.

Once they got to the work space. Sanzu had opened the door for Mikey. Mikey then grabbed you and carried you inside and headed straight to his office. He had a couch for this reason.

He has spent nights sleeping her so he just got a couch for he can sleep there. He then places you down on the couch and then grabs a blanket and puts it on you. He then lays beside you and holds you.

"I won't let you go. Never again. You will never leave me. Never again. Your mine now and forever" he says before slowly falling asleep with you in his arms. Finally having a good night sleep.

 ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Sorry if this isn't good or if any of the characters don't act like they normally do. I got this from reading fanfictions of the Bonten people and I just had to write it.