#hostess club in 4

[eurofox]

It's not a Yakuza game if there isn't at least one part that is not fun at all, incredibly tedious and you just want it over with.

[vinomino]

Mess: Monsters in Human Flesh

Falling from grace with the flames. A mess.

Featuring: Takiishi.C x f!reader

Contents: NSFW MDNI, incest, angst, bigbrother!Takiishi x lilsis!Reader, broken/toxic family, alcoholism, prostitution, corruption, animal abuse&death(not by rdr or takiishi), slight yandere!reader&takiishi, murder threat(from rdr), fingering, masturbation, virgin!reader, virginity loss, blood, period mention, blood licking, oralm!receiving, biting, voyeurism, creampie, crazy dark incest smut, not beta read

WC: 9.7k

a/n: for the moots that were interested, I don’t think anyone else will bother to read this

@ Read at your own discretion

Born from the same womb. 

“No– I don’t know.” You sob into your knees, snot sticks to the tissue. “Why don’t I understand myself– sniff –something’s wrong with me.” Mascara runs down both of your cheeks. 

Chika sits beside you and rubs his hand along your back. The touch sends a burning sensation through you. He doesn’t say anything. The mattress springs creak when you bring your feet onto the bed frame. 

“I…” you throw the tissue away and grab a new unstained one, “...Do you think I’m messed up, Nii-chan?” Turning to see him, his face remains stoic. 

He looks upon you with something deeper than love, something filthier and meaner, something pure and purer– as pure as the driven snow. However, he no longer remembers when it started. When protection and loyalty morphed into hunger and desire. You’re no longer his baby sister. 

The neon lights from the ceilings make him glow and his red-ombre hair is lit further on fire. Takiishi, bored, leaves the club Endo invited him to. The hostesses continued servicing the Noroshi members who drank the night away, some were already red-faced. Hostess #1 wore a blue mini-dress and a lot of makeup. Hostess #2 had on a coral red top and a black miniskirt, her makeup was less dramatic. Hostess #3 went for a more natural look, trying to appeal to those who prefer more innocent women, she seemed to be buzzing around the fastest, a tell-tale sign of a desperate need for cash. A sleazy nightlife, not even a fat stack of cash was needed to invite one of them back to a hotel room.

The club wasn’t low-class, though. Endo would never spend money on a random place on a crappy street. Speaking of the black-haired man, he’s sitting on a sofa surrounded by a few of his favorite girls. Girls who would do anything he’d ask for a few ¥10,000 bills. Shrugging his jacket on, he pushes his way out of a room full of sweaty bodies towards the entrance. Hostess #4, in a long-sleeved dress, slides past him, and Takiishi stops dead in his tracks. He calls out to her, “Hey.” Her heels clack against the tile and she turns to see who called out to her with a smile, “Yes, is there anything you need?” 

An amateur, even Takiishi who doesn’t frequent these places often was able to tell. “What perfume are you wearing?” He watches her eyes widen with surprise, but she answers quickly enough to deter his interest. To his disappointment, it’s not the perfume you wear, but it smells similar. He knows since went along with you to buy it and you use it religiously. A knock-off? Maybe he’s missing you too much, smelling you on women who have zero resemblance. For a split second, your face overlaps her face. Now his insides stir, they cling to the front of his skin, trying to wrap themselves around this stranger. No touch policy, but it doesn’t apply to him, just as it doesn’t apply to Endo. And he must satiate his thirst. 

His manicured nail pushes the top of her lip up, revealing her canine, it could hardly be called a canine, dull and soft around the tip. The hostess has a nervous look in her eyes, her blush extends all the way down to her neck. She glances at the manager, to her surprise, the uptight woman only nods her head and goes back to counting bills. Takiishi tilts his head, eyeing her down, and he trails his sights as low as the dress allows him to. She gives herself up, following Takiishi to a nearby hotel. “This one?” Her mouth is slightly parted as she peers up at the tall upscale building. 

“Yeah, follow me.” He holds her by the wrist and she nods. 

Takiishi doesn’t think of himself as a big spender, but he finds it disgusting to stay in a run-down motel, and waking up next to a bug makes him itch at the thought. Money isn’t a problem for him, so he’ll do as he pleases. The lady at the front desk politely gives him a list of available rooms, one-night prices that reach higher than both women’s salaries. The hostess shifts between her heels, trying to secretly peer at Takiishi, the man who took a liking to her. She makes small talk during the elevator ride, asking him what he prefers to be called, complimenting his nails, sweet talking like the sisters back in the club taught her. 

“Takiishi, right? Are there any honorifics you want me to use?” 

“Just Takiishi is fine.” 

He reads the number on the screen increasing, he taps his shoe waiting to reach their floor, and wonders if she’ll make a face if he asks her to call him “Nii-chan”, like the way you do. As he shuts the door behind him, taking his jacket off and throwing it on an armchair, he instructs her, “No kissing and no marks.” If Takiishi tastes something different than what he thinks you’ll taste like, this fantasy would shatter apart. He can’t feel any need to learn her name either. She nods, stepping out of her heels. Takiishi tugged his shirt off in one go and sat down on the edge of the bed. The room wasn’t too cold or too hot, but he felt ice melting on him. He watches the hostess undress, she strips down to her birthday suit and walks up to him. Running his hands up her sides, she lets out a shaky exhale, a moan comes out of her– the same octave as your voice and it fuels him. His delusion grows stronger by the second. 

Some of her parts are eerily similar to yours, but the closer he looks the more differences he finds. Upon closer inspection, her perfume is more warmer than yours, she holds onto his shoulders to steady herself as he inhales in the crook of her neck. In this position he can’t see her face, he stops his vision and slides his fingers against her folds. His eyelashes tickle her neck, but she can’t feel it as his fingers nudge their way into her. She gasps, shakes, and her belly trembles.

“Tak–iishi–” she whimpered. 

Would you whimper too? A smile creeps onto his face, he questions how much he’d need to do to make you whimper as well. Takiishi zones out, his mind overrides his senses with sinful visions of you.

The hostess he was fingering, fumbled around— lightly gripping him about, trying her best not to leave any marks on his skin. She cries out when she cums, a light sheen coats his digits when he withdraws them out of her cunt. Grabbing her hips, he slots her between his legs and brings his fingers to her mouth. She licks them clean, making sure to stare into his eyes while she does so. Something she was advised to do to win brownie points. The shade of her lips resembles yours, when you finish taking a shower and come out with a clean face. For a moment, he thought about kissing the hostess. “Get on your hands and knees.” He says it slowly with no rush. She does so, planting her palms on the plush of the silk sheets. When Takiishi pushes his pants down, he tells himself that he’s taking you instead of some random hostess from a club. 

She does what he expects, and performs to sell her services, but he doesn’t care if it feels good to her, he doesn’t care if it feels bad either. His brain releases signals throughout his body, giving him the satisfaction of reaching a peak. Placing his hand on the middle of her chest, he presses his forehead into her back and questions if your heart would beat this fast for him. If you would join him down in hell— it steals his soul away. 

Tying the condom, he tosses it into the bin and fixes his pants up. “You can stay as long as you want,” Takiishi simply says while pulling out his wallet and leaving a few ¥10,000 bills on the table. She lifts her head off the mattress, muttering out alright, and doesn’t pry into it. Some customers want no lingering feelings. He leaves the room and the hotel like nothing happened, but whatever’s brewing inside him continues. 

The next day, Endo tries to dig into Takiishi’s night. 

“You left with a girl, didn’t you? Takiishi, that’s not like you.” The tattooed man grins in his seat. “So, I asked around, Yuko Shitara, a new girl, just employed. What caught your eye?” Endo leans in, “C’mon, Takiishi, I’m dying to know. Well, she is cute, but most of them are. Haha, it’s kinda like their job to be cute. If you’re open to it, we should have a threesome with that Yuko girl.” He laughs, hits the back of the chair, and strands of his hair fall into his face. 

“Stop talking. I’m not going to have a threesome with you.” Takiishi drinks the rest of his coffee and gets up. 

“Leaving so soon?” Endo rests his chin on his hand while he watches Takiishi stroll off. The man did what he pleased anyway, that’s what drew Endo to him so much– he’s a real god. 

Stepping out of the campus building, you spot Chika sitting on a bench scrolling on his phone. The tree provides him shade, casting a shadow over his figure. Your face lights up as you beeline straight towards him. “Chika-nii! Are you here to pick me up?” You smile when he looks up. “Yeah.” Chika stands up and takes your bag off your shoulder, “I’ll walk you home, I have nothing else to do.” You giggle and wrap your arms around his, “Thank you, Nii-chan.” He walks you back to the house he left— the house you still remain at. 

It looks more crummy than when he was here last time, you know that. “The recent storm damaged the roof a bit, if you’re wondering why it’s like that.” You laugh and open the front door. It’s been a while since he actually went inside his childhood home, and it was even more gross than he probably remembered. There’s a big black trash bag in the kitchen corner filled with beer bottles, so many that it makes you feel revolted. A few cans litter the counters and tables, and there's a stench of malt in the air. You’re surprised that there hasn’t been a bug infestation yet. “Sorry, I’ve been asking Dad to throw them out, but he just ignores me.” You start to feel awkward, fiddling with your fingers. Chika notices, he always does. Your eyes widened when you felt him pat your head, “Don’t apologize, I know it’s not your fault.” You think back to the day he left, Dad was screaming his throat out at him and threw all his stuff out into the street, calling him a bunch of names. 

“Let’s go to my room, it’s cleaner.” You lead him back to his old room. 

Inside, Chika places your bag down and takes a seat on his old rug. It’s much more worn down due to the years. You sit on the other side of the table and lean your arms on it. Licking your lips first, you begin talking to him, “Dad only comes back home a few days. So, it’s fine if you stay longer today, he never comes back on Mondays. I don’t know where he even goes, it kinda gets lonely sometimes. I tried bringing in a cat, but he said if he saw it again he’d kill it,” you rub the corner of your mouth, “I thought he was just being a prick, so I ignored him. He’s a nutjob, there’s something wrong with him now. He could’ve just told me again, to take it out–” You let out a sob. “He didn’t need to kill it, it didn’t do anything wrong.” Burying your face into your arms, you cry, an innocent creature that was depending on you died because of your ignorance. All you can feel is regret and an underlying rage towards the perpetrator. 

Your head stays low when Chika stands up and sits beside you. He comforts you in the way he always does, so he doesn’t speak. When you lift to sit up, you wipe your tears with your sleeve, Chika places a hand on your shoulder and pushes you to lean against him. With your body resting against his sturdy frame, you take long deep breaths. 

“Chika-nii, I’m scared…” 

“Why?”

“What if he kills me too?” 

Screwing your eyes locked shut to wipe your memory of your dad throwing the helpless animal against a wall, you start hearing his voice again. You stupid girl. I told you to take that out! You never listen! You’ll end up dead just like your brother! Remember this is all your fault. When you reopen your eyes, your vision is a pale blue. There’s a stillness in the room. The rug is scratchy when you run your palm over it. There’s a light citrus scent traveling through the air from the open wax melt on the desk, a slip of sun shines vertically directly against the wooden door, and the sound of your heartbeat intensifies. A tear meanders a path to the tip of your nose before falling and splattering on your leg. The skin around your nails is fraying from your nerves. Flexing your toes, they’re tightly confined within a squeezing cotton. You note that the bottom of your socks is dirty, the washing machine has been broken for weeks, and no one makes any effort to get it fixed. 

“He won’t.” Chika grips your shoulder more tightly. 

You let out a quick exhale. 

“Can you help me with something?” 

Chika lowers his eyes to meet yours. “What do you need?” 

Clutching yourself, you watch Chika shovel a hole in the backyard. The dirt piles up on the side as the hole gets bigger, when it’s deep enough he pauses and stares at the white plastic bag. “I thought, if I put it in a black bag, it wouldn’t go to heaven. White’s better isn’t it?” You explain, trying to ease the silence. He nods, “It’s better.” Holding the bag in his hands, it dips in the middle. The coffin of a poor creature; once living. It crinkles when he places it at the very bottom of the pit. Chika steps out of the three-foot hole and picks the shovel up, he begins filling it back up. You step closer and rest your body against his back as he does so. The internal music of your big brother dulls everything else. The muscles in his shoulders ripple along your cheek when he packs the soil down. It doesn’t take long for the hole to be filled, but it’ll take longer for the hole in you to leave. 

“Why’d you leave?” You lean on the doorframe watching Chika wash his hands clean. 

“I had to, you know that. You were there.” He dries his hands with a paper towel. 

The hallway was in disarray, objects were scattered along the ground, and there was angry screaming. “You, You! Just stand there!” Dad points a finger at you trying to stop what he was doing. Chika’s door is nearly ripped off its hinge, everything is being taken out and thrown onto the sidewalk. His clothes, his laptop, his sheets, his mirror, and anything that wasn’t screwed into a wall. You can see him toss all of it out without a shred of care, biting at your nails, you hope Chika got your text message warning about what’s going on. “So, now you come home! Is this place a hotel where you can come and go as you please?! Spoiled brat! Joining gangs?! Who’s son, are you?! Fuck off, you’re so stupid! I let this go for too long…You son of a bitch!” You cover your eyes as he continues to spew insults at Chika, coming closer to the front door you can see Chika standing in the road, a few feet away from Dad, and he doesn’t even bother to talk back. The mirror is shattered and pieces lay all over the cement. Chika is no longer looking at Dad, but instead, at you. He smiles. 

“I didn’t raise you to be a gang member!” 

Gritting your teeth, you can’t take it anymore, “You didn’t raise either of us!” 

“You shut up! You’re just a useless daughter, who can’t even make a decent pot of rice! Didn’t I tell you to stand back?! Are you going against me too?!” You flinch backward when he storms towards you. 

“Old man!” Chika gets his attention, “I’ll leave.” 

Dad’s rapidly breathing, “Yeah…yeah. Yeah, you better!” The rage on his face is gone and he waves his hand around, “Whatever.” He strides past you and into the kitchen where he takes another swing of beer. Your face cringes up when you see him walk towards the fridge and start kicking it. Curses continue out as he beats the metal object, the condiments on the door fall off and roll on the floor. He kicks a ketchup bottle into the living room. Tearing your eyes away from the scene you look back at Chika. Scrambling towards him, you step over the items, “Nii-chan, he’ll be over it in a few hours. I’ll help you bring your stuff back up. You got into a fight again, I’ll get the first aid kit. He’s mad he didn’t get a bonus, I think. I don’t know how many he’s had, but I know he’ll leave soon–” 

“No, I need to leave,” he speaks like it wouldn’t mean anything to you. 

“What. Why? What do you mean leave? Where’re you going to go? Are you leaving me here? Chika-nii. You said you’d always be by my side. What do you mean leave? You can’t, you can’t go.” You weakly grip his shirt. 

“I’m going to leave this house. I can find another place to stay.” 

“That means you’re going to leave me!” 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

You cry. It was already hard enough, but with the idea of Chika being gone, it’ll be unbearable. 

“Then, I want to go with you.” 

He shakes his head, “No, you need to finish high school.” 

“I don’t care! I want to leave with you! I hate it here!” 

You hate the tiny house. You hate the broken plates. You hate the missing knobs. You hate the desolate fridge. You hate the packed shelves. You hate the angry father. You hate the missing tiles. You hate the bottles. You hate the absent family picture. You hate the cans. You hate the cold water. You hate the tip-toeing. You’ll hate the missing sibling. 

“But you, you left me here.” Bending your neck, you harshly swallow. 

Chika walks to you and presses his palm into your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

Sniffling, “It’s fine. He doesn’t even bother to look at me anymore. I just, I just hate that you didn’t come to find me sooner. I was worried, I was so worried about you. I thought something bad happened to you, I couldn’t sleep, or do anything.” You lock eyes with him as he caresses the side of your face, his fingertips touch the hairs on the base of your neck. His nails scrape your scalp and his thumb strokes your skin. “I’m glad though, that you got out of here. I really am glad.” You force a smile. 

Chika stared at you, his eyes felt more soft, but it didn’t look like he was staring at your eyes, rather slightly above. 

Looking around, you see the sun would set soon. “You should stay, I don’t want to be alone tonight. Will you stay the night, Nii-chan?” 

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll stay.” 

Laying on Chika’s old mattress, you shuffle. The room no longer contains any part of him— replaced by you. It started getting unbearable being alone, so you wandered into Chika’s room seeking comfort and spent more days in it than your room. It didn’t take long for your stuff to start being kept in his room and it didn’t take much longer for you to permanently move into his old room, since you knew he wasn’t coming back. 

It’s a twin-sized bed, there isn’t much space, but you and Chika make do with it. A distant, yet familiar sensation. Your shoulders are pressed against each other, he's outgrown the bed, so his feet hang over the edge. Turning onto your side, you curl up. You caress his features with your eyes, his eyelashes, the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the shape of his chin. Your fingers itch to reach out and touch him. Tormented by the past, present, and future, you lie in silence. Not much time passes until you stir again– unraveling to curl up again. 

“Can’t sleep?” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

“No.” Because there’s an uncertainty and you’re never at peace in this house. “I’m thinking about moving out too.” 

“Where are you going to go? Do you have the money?” He asks. 

“Somewhere I can still commute to college and…I’ll get a loan. I don’t want to stay here. Sometimes I can’t take it.” 

“Don’t get a loan, I’ll give you the money.” 

“You have enough?” You never dug into his personal life, you don’t know what he does, who his friends are, or where he even lives. Chika lays next to you, but he’s miles away. 

“I have more than enough.” 

“I feel bad if I ask you though.” 

“Don’t be, it’s my job to take care of you.” 

You let out a little laugh. “Thank you.” 

Night comes and goes, when Takiishi opens his eyes again, the room is bright. He turns his neck and sees you, bare-faced as the sun drifts over your cheekbones. Bringing his arm up, he moves the back of his knuckles along the bone, he feels the sun heat his hand. It’s Tuesday. Takiishi sits up, the bed squeaks, and he debates about waking you up. You look at peace for the first time since he picked you up. It’s true he felt regret about leaving you behind and not coming back to see you for so long. Takiishi left because he could no longer deal with his father and hoped his leaving would ease the man up and lessen the hatred you see. He never wanted to leave without you, but taking you with him would pull you into his life of violence and you were smart. Smart and dedicated enough to graduate, and get into a good college– he’s seen your exam scores, and they were well above average. 

Takiishi wanted you to get an education, get a degree, and go further in life. He didn’t want you involved in his dirty doings, you were still innocent and strong. He’s seen what girls become when they drop out of high school– when they weren’t born into a good family and choose to run away. He’s the only guardian in your life, the only person who’s listed on your emergency contact list and he’ll be damned if you become tangled in that kind of life. You’re a good girl, going to a good college, getting a good bachelor’s in something most can’t. You deserve a clean life. 

At the same time, he desires you. There’s something about you that taunts him— tells him he must conform, to stay in line. If he thinks about it for long, he’ll end up with the answer. Your blood flows through his veins. You share 50% of each parent– you share the same parents. The same mother. The same father. You’re more similar to him than you know. Nothing he can do could possibly change his DNA. Your last name is evidence of that– Takiishi. It’s deeper than leaves and branches, its roots wrapped around one another, embedded until the end arrives. 

You shift, starting to wake up. Your eyes open, Takiishi sees a reflection of himself. 

“G’morning…” Your voice is raspy. 

“Good morning.” 

He walks you back to campus, hands in his pockets as you card into the building and disappear from his sight. College students stride past him and he stays for a few minutes before leaving. That night, he’s back at the same club with Endo. “Takiishi, it’s not like you to go back to a club on a weekday.” The black-haired man had bumped into Takiishi and decided to follow him until they stopped at a familiar entrance. “The one we went to Sunday?” Endo is further perplexed by the Takiishi’s silence. 

“Is it about that Yuko girl? Do you actually like her?” 

“Somewhat.” 

Endo greets the manager as they head in. She looks up and asks if they are looking for anything in particular. It’s a random Tuesday night, so she was not expected to see Endo and Takiishi. Endo asks her about Yuko Shitara and tells her about Takiishi’s interest. The manager nods and tells them that she’ll be in soon and will direct her to see them. 

Takiishi situates himself down on the cushion in the empty room– a VIP room, private and padded. 

“I’ve never seen you get this interested in a girl before.” Endo sits on another sofa, laying his arms out. “Does she remind you of someone?” He probes wanting to know more. But Takiishi does not answer. He pulls out his wallet and the first thing he sees when he opens it, isn’t a card– it’s a picture of you. Young, fresh, and soft-cheeked. Staring up at the camera with wide eyes– eyes the same color as the ones he’s using to look at the photo. Your mouth is stained a dark red from berries, he doesn’t remember what you were eating, but the juice of the fruit was in every crease of your lips. The photograph was no bigger than a business card and behind it was his driver’s license. Takiishi was the one who took the photograph, it captured your natural expression since he caught you off guard. An old camera he stumbled across in a box deep in the basement. He thinks about how free you were back then with no responsibilities and laughing the days away. 

A tightening occurs in his chest and Takiishi questions if he failed you– let down little you. These desires erode him, but it’s not as if he declares he has justice in him. He spent his teenage years beating his peers into a pile, doing everything but the good. And all you see in him is good. Takiishi wants to ask you if you can’t see him in a bad light because of your connection to him– why do you continue to defend him? What are your thoughts on blood, does it tie you to him together while also dividing you away from him? For the first time, he asks himself if these feelings will ever go away. 

“Who’s that?” Endo is next to him, focusing on the picture in his wallet, trying to remember if he ever saw the girl in the picture before. He reaches for it and Takiishi grabs his wrist so tightly that it threatens to break his bones. Endo just smiles, amused that he found something that drew such a reaction from Takiishi. 

A knock on the door, Yuka stands there, “You called for me?” She almost says it in disbelief, not expecting to hear from the manager that Takiishi and Endo are waiting for her.

“Alright, enjoy your time, Takiishi.” Endo gets up and promptly leaves, not turning back, and that’s odd of him, but Takiishi doesn’t care. 

He’s left alone with Yuka and she’s filling his glass up. “Would you like to order anything else?” Yuka smiles at him. Takiishi is looking at what she’s wearing and he can’t visualize you wearing her outfit. “Why’d you wear that?” He’s blunt. Yuka’s smile falters, she peers down at what she’s wearing, “Do you not like it?” Takiishi raises his hand and pushes her hair out of her face, “Why’d you choose to wear it?” Yuka hums and thinks about it, “I guess, I just like how it looks. Does it look bad on me?” Do you wear things simply because you like it? Do you wear certain shoes just because? Takiishi can’t stop thinking about you. Nothing special happens, he spends an entire hour listening to her talk about herself and he doesn’t stop her– until he asks her if she has any siblings. 

“Siblings? I have an older sister and a younger brother. Why?” 

“What do you feel about them?” 

“Well, I haven’t talked to my brother in a long time, we’re kind of estranged now. I see my sister from time to time, we get coffee and talk, and sometimes all she talks about are depressing topics. Are you having trouble with your siblings?” 

“Do you love them?” 

Yuka doesn’t respond. Then she scrambles up half answers, “I’m not really sure, it’s difficult, I guess I do love them.” Takiishi stares at the melted ice that’s watering down whatever she poured for him. “Alright.” He gives her cash, pays his bill, and leaves unsatisfied. All her answers made him feel further away from understanding you. Takiishi seeks her out every week or so, sometimes they talk, sometimes they don’t, and sometimes they end up in a hotel room. He has no explanation for it, he doesn’t sense a necessity to understand Yuka, and ironically, even if he goes to her to take his mind off of you– you plague his mind the entire time. 

You ended up moving out into an apartment Chika leased for you. It was surprising how sudden it was, a week after you mentioned it to him, he held out a key to you. Dad wasn’t around, in fact, you haven’t seen him since a week before Chika spent the night at the house. Maybe he finally left and abandoned his children, but Chika told you not to think about it because it didn’t matter anymore. Now, you’re fully settled into the place, with no more cardboard boxes and no more echoing. It’s a place you wouldn’t have been able to afford– dreamed of living in if it wasn’t for Chika. A fuzzy cloud makes space in your stomach, you’re glad that you have Chika– your big brother. 

He was spending the night again, keeping you company by watching movies and playing games with you. You spot his laptop on the dining table, Chika is in the shower, and your curiosity is piqued because you still know very little about him. The screen brightens when you tap the trackpad, it goes to what it was previously on; a bank transaction log. As you scroll, there are normal purchases of clothes, food, and some miscellaneous items. But what stood out to you were the high amounts to a hotel, it repeated every couple of weeks. Why would Chika keep staying at a hotel? 

It left an odd itch in your brain and it didn’t go away when Chika sat down and watched a series with you or when he stayed by you as you did your work. When it got late enough, he left back to his place, and you brewed in the apartment about it. 

Texting your friend, you ask her for an idea why a man would often book a hotel room, and she replies that it’s likely to sleep with someone. If your friend hadn’t answered you, then maybe you wouldn’t have stood across the hotel Chika frequented and waited to see if it was true. The thought of Chika sleeping with a woman sent fireworks down your spine, it was an awful murky feeling that you had no right to feel. Why did it matter to you if Chika spent time with another girl, held her in his arms, and cared for her? It’s unexplainable, the storm of emotions turned you bitter. It was as if you lost your footing in your carefully built world. But if it was true, then what? 

You watch Chika arrive with a girl, enter the building with her, stay for hours with her, and then walk out without the girl hours later. Four hours and twenty-three minutes exactly. Your breathing is erratic– you lost something that belonged to you, but it never was yours to begin with. However, what you feel is real— it burns your logic and direction to ashes. A betrayal from someone you love. A betrayal to what? You don’t know.

Chika gets into a taxi and leaves the street. 

Pulling your hood off, the cold night air scratches the skin on your face. Two hours and sixteen minutes later, the girl walks out of the front doors. From the distance, her appearance is slightly disheveled. Your legs move for you, taking you closer to her until you’re walking directly behind her. She notices because you weren’t trying to hide, she stops and turns towards you, “Is there something you need? You’ve been following me.” Her tone was accusing. 

“That guy, you’ve been seeing Takiishi, right?” 

“Huh? What does it matter to you, are you his girlfriend? Actually, I don’t care, just stop following me.” She quirks her brow and continues walking. Her heels rhythmically click.

“My name’s Takiishi.” 

Her eyes almost pop out of her skull, “You’re his wife?” 

You grab her wrist, grip her shoulders, and drag her into the alleyway. 

“What the hell?! What’s your problem?! Let go–” 

Slamming your palm over her mouth, you shove her against the wall. “If you ever see him again, I’ll kill you. I swear, I’ll find you, I’ll fucking kill you.” You dig your nails into her cheek. “Or I could just kill you here. Do you understand me?” Her squeak is muffled by your hand as her eyes start to water. “Should I just fuck up your face here?” She shakes her head. “If you meet with him again, I’ll find out where you work, where you live, and I’ll slaughter you.” Your brain is rushing from adrenaline. Releasing your hand from her face, she sobs. Her neck has dark purple spots littered all over it and you question if you should kill her now. 

“O-Okay.” She straightens herself up on the wall. 

You step back and she glances at you once before cautiously moving away and hurriedly flagging down a taxi. That was the last you saw of her. 

When you got back to your apartment, you stripped yourself down and tossed away the clothes into the bin. You lay under your blanket and feel nothing. No regret, no anger, no guilt, no betrayal. You had opened a pandora’s box– out spilled these emotions you couldn’t get rid of. Why did you do that? What is Chika to you? Where is your head? 

You didn’t leave bed for the rest of the day. 

When you drift asleep and wake up again you dreamt of Chika. Hot-faced and panting, you felt his skin against yours, his lips on you, and his arms locked around you. It’s so strong, your body shakes with an unquenchable thirst. Morality crumbles and leaves behind nothing. Perhaps, you lost yourself a long time ago and only now realized it. Your thighs twitch and you stare up at the ceiling as you get damper and damper. 

Snaking your hand into your waistband you roll your finger along your clit and gasp. The relief electrifies you, never in your life have you been so winded up. Tears gather up in your eyes as you slip your fingers into yourself and you find yourself wishing they were Chika’s fingers instead. Closing your eyes, you imagine that it wasn’t you touching yourself– it was Chika, you conjure him up. You came hard— your toes curled and your body practically took a screenshot. A bright white layered over your sight as you heaved, chest rapidly rising and falling. A sticky liquid clung to your fingers as you pulled them apart from each other. You don’t think you can ever go back. 

As the weeks progressed, you watched Chika closely, trying to see if there was any change in his behavior. Though, you’re cautious if he caught onto you watching him. Your thoughts have become less muddled. But you wonder why he doesn’t refer to you as his little sister, you wonder why he kept a childhood photo of you in his wallet, and you wonder why he looks at you like that. You know there’s something wrong with you, but you wonder if you two were more similar than you could’ve ever imagined. 

You got invited to a mixer and you couldn’t be less interested. Swirling the soda in the cup around, you couldn’t pick up any changes in Chika, maybe that girl continued to meet up with him. You still don’t have a reason. 

“Hey, what about you?” Someone taps your shoulder. “Do you have anyone you love?” 

Love– you never thought of it. Is what you’re feeling love? People love their families, but you knew this wasn’t normal. You love Chika and you love him romantically. 

“No, I don’t have anyone I love.” 

Everything is wrong— you’re dirty. Siblings don’t love each other like this. You should not want to fuck Chika. It’s taboo– blacked out and everyone at this party would express their disgust. You have to free yourself from this fixation. 

“It’s your first time?” The guy you met now stands at the end of the hotel bed. “Oh, I feel a bit honored then.” 

You never thought of needing to lose your virginity, it was never something that crossed your mind. You had a couple of crushes, but they never worked out, mainly because you still lived with Dad. All you wanted was to get out of that house, the only way was to do it yourself. Get a good job, make enough money, and then be free. Now what? You’re out and Dad is no longer a part of your life and you must rid yourself of this thirst— although you get the awful impression there was no solution to this problem. 

Kissing was easy enough to learn, lips to mouth to tongue, touch touch touch. But you don’t feel anything. When his hand traveled up your thigh, you felt nauseous and gagged. The food in your stomach wanted out. You wanted out. 

“Sorry.” You murmur, pressing your head into the window. Your pinky twitches.

“It’s no problem, I can see how it’s scary.” He continues on the gas. 

“Sorry.” You apologize again when you step out of the car, you can’t bring yourself to say anything else.

He only offers a sympathetic smile, “Have a good night. Take care of yourself.” 

You don’t nod, say or do anything back. When you open your apartment door, you see Chika’s shoes. Dread fills you up. Chika is sitting on the couch, he stares at you when you enter, but you don’t spare him a glance, heading straight to your bed and throwing yourself onto it. You start to cry– hysterically cry like a mad woman. 

Chika tries to talk to you. “What’s wrong, what–” 

“Do you promise to not think badly of me?” 

“I would never think badly of you.” 

“No– you have to promise me, Nii-chan. You have to swear you won’t think I’m a freak.” 

He stares at you, “I promise. I swear.” 

You sit on the edge of the mattress, your feet touching the floor as he hands you another tissue. 

“No, I don’t know.” You sob into your knees, snot sticks to the tissue. “Why don’t I understand myself– sniff –something’s wrong with me.” Mascara runs down both of your cheeks. 

Chika is beside you and rubs his hand along your back. The touch sends a burning sensation through you. He doesn’t say anything. The mattress springs creak when you bring your feet onto the bed frame. 

“I…” you throw the tissue away and grab a new unstained one, “...Do you think I’m messed up, Nii-chan?” Turning to see him, his face remains stoic. 

“Why do you think that?” 

Your nails scrape your meat. “I think, I think I’m in love with you.” You don’t look at him when you say it, you don’t want to see his face of mortification. It made perfect sense that he’d be weirded out, disgusted even at the confession. 

Takiishi looks upon you with something deeper than love, something filthier and meaner, something pure and purer— as pure as the driven snow. However, he no longer remembers when it started. When protection and loyalty morphed into hunger and desire. You’re no longer his baby sister. 

From an outside perspective, he can see why you’re horrified to tell him, but his connection with you runs deeper than blood and bones. He sees you biting down on your lip, Takiishi brings his thumb up and presses it into the plush of your flesh. You instantly look up with confusion, a mix of emotions swimming on your face. He grabs you and presses his lips onto yours, falling on top of you in the process. You squeak out and go big-eyed. 

“What’s so messed up about it?” It had eaten his soul away. 

“Everything…” You murmur while bringing your hand up to caress his jaw. 

The room was unbearably scalding, burning him, stripping him bare. You lay naked beneath him. His fingers melt as he touches your skin, he’s tipped over his boiling point. Takiishi kisses you— kisses you all over. You squirm and twitch. He wants to burn you with him. 

“You trust me right?” 

“I’ll always trust you, Chika-nii.” You warmly smile at him, a smile that used to be missing teeth. 

He promised to be gentle to treat you with the utmost care, your eyes press shut as he pushes himself into your cunt. Despite him working you out, it struggles to accept him, take him in— take his cock. You claw into his shoulders from the discomfort, sobbing his name out. He bends and kisses your cheek, you relax a bit. 

Your cheeks shine when he bottoms out. Takiishi grits his teeth to control himself, because how long had he dreamt about this– to feel you around him? He and you belong as one. You sniffle and writhe, he sees blood. You bled for your first time and he recalls a memory. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shift uncomfortably, holding your skirt down. “I’m bleeding…” You whisper while tears flood your eyes. 

He stops. Glancing around, he decides to take off his Furin jacket. He crouched on the ground and instructed you, “Lift your arms up.” You do and he ties the jacket around your waist, covering your skirt. 

“T-thank you, Nii-chan.” 

“C’mon, there’s a shop nearby,” he takes you by the hand.

All kinds of childhood memories began resurfacing. Taking a digit, he swipes some of the bright blood onto it and sticks it into his mouth, tasting the metallic substance. 

“C-Chika-nii,” you say aghast at what he did. 

“Just focus on relaxing.” 

You nod and even out your breathing, “Y-you can move now…” 

Takiishi does, pulling back his hips and nudging forward, he watches your facade dissipate. You throw your head back and whine. His hands find purchase on your waist, your face turns softer the longer he fucks you. His cock nestles into your pussy and hits your walls. “Nii–hah–” You choke out, eyes parted and staring at where you were connected with him. Takiishi captures a nipple in his mouth, you arch into him and card your fingers through his long hair. His eyelids lowered and he mumbled something into your skin, his forehead pressed into the middle of your chest. Your heartbeat was even faster than Yuka’s. 

He knew you went after him that night when he went to find Yuka again, but was told that she moved away. Some of the hostesses gossiped amongst themselves that she mentioned a crazy wife. While Takiishi doesn’t pride himself on being a genius, he was able to put two and two together, and he knew he was correct when you became more sensitive. But he doesn’t feel a shred of concern for that hostess– he felt validated that your feelings were just as strong as his.

You mewl and quiver when you cum around him, it smolders him. Takiishi followed you, emptying himself into the condom. Your hand rests on his back as he laps the sweat off your skin. “N-Nii-chan…I’m dirty…” You oppose his doing. “You’re not dirty.” 

After that, he stopped praying for mercy.

In your shared bed, you come to it and giggle when your eyes land on Chika. 

“What’s so funny?” 

Your face feels hot as you trail your hand down, “You still left so much inside me, Nii-chan. Feel s’full.” Trailing your polished nail over his chest, you draw a line connecting his fading marks. Your eyes sparkle with amusement when he relaxes into the plush of the mattress, he doesn’t stop you when you press your lips into his skin and suck. When you finish, you can’t help but admire how pretty the spots looked, like stars decorating the sky. 

“Are you satisfied?” Chika wipes your face with the back of his hand. 

“Mhm!” 

“Alright, let’s take a bath now.” 

The water is tepid, it flows around you when you lean back into Chika’s chest. You hum and rest your hand on his knee, he has his arms wrapped around your torso. Nothing felt better than this. So sweet. So blissful. The subtle scent of body wash is present. “Oh, my nail chipped.” You bring it closer to see the damage. Chika takes your hand and pulls it back, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “You can just get them done again.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” You suppose nothing frankly matters, all you need is Chika, and if you’re together with him, you couldn’t care about anything else. 

Fresh clean clothes lay over your frame as you sit on the couch. It’s a different apartment, one big enough for you and him, and you enjoy being around him at all times. The tartness from the cherry explodes over your taste buds, and the stem and pit are discarded in a bowl. “Did you finish?” You see Chika head over towards you, drying his hair. 

“Yeah, what’re you eating?”  

“Cherries. Do you want some?” You hold the half-eaten fruit out to him. 

Chika takes a seat next to you and leans his face in. You let out a light laugh and pressed the cherry to his mouth, the deep red juice flowed into the creases of his lips. He opens to take it in, devouring its body. His eyes bore into yours— you share a breath with him. You can slightly taste the cherry on his tongue when you run yours over his. There’s a string of saliva when you lean back to catch more air. “Nii-chan, let’s go to bed.” You wrap your arms around his neck and he buries his face into you, “Sure.” 

Hands are intertwined under the blanket, it feels intensely warm. Your face hurts from how long you’ve been smiling. 

“Are you happy?” 

“I am. I’m really happy, Chika-nii.” 

“I’ve never seen you smile like this before.” 

Maybe, you’ve never been this immensely at peace before in your life. You grew up more starved than you knew. As Chika pulls you into him, you tell yourself everything is meant to be. 

His fingers tap on the keys and you can hear the clicking if you listen close enough. The tiles dig into your legs as you press your weight into them. Chika has a hand on top of your head, petting you. He sharply inhales and leans into the chair to look down.

“You really like doing this, huh?”

You hum around his cock, the fat tip hitting the back of your throat when you take him deeper. You peer up at him through wet lashes, his face breaks out into a smile. You squirm at the sight from below. Releasing him from your mouth with a lewd pop, you stick your tongue out under the tip and stroke his length. Chika lets out a guttural groan and tilts his head back. After a few pumps, he cums all over your tongue and white ropes spew over your chin. You laugh and use a finger to push all of it into your mouth. “Did I do good, Chika-nii?” His chest rises as he curses. 

Your question if your big brother actually had any friends was answered when you stood in front of Endo. 

“We’re best buds.” The black-haired man laughs. He had tattoos all over his skin.

“Are you sure?” A part of you doesn’t believe him. 

Endo had jumped out in front of you as you were walking down the street and invited you for coffee at a nearby cafe. You were going to ignore him until he started talking about Chika. Crossing your arms, you eye him suspiciously. 

“What? You don’t believe me? I’m kind of hurt. Look here.” Endo takes off his flannel, leaving himself only in a tank top, his arms also covered in ink. He turns around and shows you his shoulder—the exact same tattoo Chika had. You lean in to inspect it— to see if it's really the same. “I designed it.” 

“Really?” 

“Yep, I drew it for Takiishi, him. You guys have the same family name, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, we do. But, how long have you known Chika? I’ve never heard him talk about his friends before.” 

“Since elementary, I’ve been around him for that long. I even transferred to be closer to him, we went to the same middle and high school as well.” 

His answer drew out surprise, Chika had a friend for that long and you had no clue about it. “Seriously? Can you tell me more?” Your eyes sparkle at the opportunity to learn more about your brother.

“What’re you guys doing?” Chika’s voice. 

You and Endo both turn to where it came from. 

“I’m just chatting with your lil sis, didn’t know you even had one.” Endo laughs. 

You pause when you see his expression when he looks at Chika, your smile falters because you know that look all too well. Could you blame Endo though? Even you fell for Chika’s allure. You nearly burst out laughing at the situation, but Chika came here for you. The same sin binds you together. Your relationship with Chika was both the knife and the wound, an endless outpour of extreme love. Endo reminds you of yourself, the admiration and longing in him points a finger into your chest. You almost feel bad for him. 

When Chika grabs your hand and takes you back home, you can sense Endo knows. The way he watches you leave— he might’ve figured out this dirty secret. He might've already knew everything. 

Endo was jealous that someone was able to receive Takiishi’s care and affection. It was beyond what he felt about Takiishi letting Umemiya into his world. The Takiishi he knew wasn’t affected or influenced by anyone, but he kept you hidden. Endo never heard him talk about any siblings— the thought never crossed his mind. Everything Takiishi has done might’ve been for you. 

When Endo saw you for the first time, he recalled the photograph Takiishi kept in his wallet. It felt unbelievable that the man cared about his family. But blood ties people past the grave. You’re eerily similar to Takiishi, it made his skin crawl— he felt like he was standing before Takiishi himself. You were cut from the same cloth as him. He couldn’t get a read on you. To him, Takiishi was a real living god, so what did that make you? 

Confusion courses through his body, the reason doesn’t matter, but he still wants to know. 

The bathroom window was unlocked and Endo shimmied his way into the apartment through it. He’s careful to not make a sound, he steps out into the hallway and picks up noise from the bedroom. What you and Takiishi had going on was not in a way a mortal could understand. He realized he was one big idiot, the rules of mortals don’t apply to gods. No one else can be considered Takiishi’s peer if not for someone who shares blood with him. Endo leaned against the wall, he stood beside the open door. For someone who could come up with words at ease, he was at a loss for them. It was the most difficult thing in his life right now to describe what he was bearing witness to. 

It’s beautiful. 

Incest is frowned upon for normal humans– an eternal paradox. Those who were in power would do it to keep bloodlines pure, gods did it because where else would they find someone equal to them? Beings who did as they pleased. 

A whimper when Chika bites into your neck, only hard enough to leave indents of his canines. His cock batters your insides, turning your brain into a puddle. The bed creaks beneath. “Ch–Chika-nii, I’m gonna–mngh! Nii–” Your mouth falls open as you approach your peak. Chika stills and you express your confusion, “Nii-chan?” 

He breathes and sweat beads along his muscles, “I know you’re there.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. 

“How’d you know? Sorry to interrupt.” Endo steps out. 

Opening your mouth to speak, you moan when Chika harshly thrusts into you. “W-Wait– Chika–” 

“Only pay attention to me.” He turns your face away from Endo and back to him. 

The embarrassment of someone– Endo watching is quickly washed away when Chika hikes your legs over his shoulders and fucks you into the mattress. Your toes curl and you pathetically mewl. Chika’s a monster— a beast and you were no better than him. He dares to love you in the way you longed to be loved. Your big brother always doted on you. Babbling out his name, you weakly submit to him, allowing him to do whatever he wants, you trust Chika after all. He’s always taking care of you, making sure you cum a few times before he does, letting you suck his cock whenever you want, quenching your thirst without hesitation. 

“Your gonna cum?” Chika presses his forehead into yours. His hair falls all round. You quickly nod, too out of it to form words. 

“Hey, you better turn away when she cums. If you don’t I’ll kill you.” 

Endo stood glued in place, he fumbled out something but bent to Chika’s declaration. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn away. “I–” 

“I know.” Chika palms your breast, stopping it from bouncing. 

Your face contorted, it started to become too much. 

“Let go for me.” 

You do. Coming undone around him, you wildly shake. Gasping his name out over and over, your throat goes dry. You cry when he spills himself into you. This was all you ever needed. You’ll love him until your teeth fall out of your gums, indulge his every want to your grave. You know he feels the same way, he kisses your feelings back into your mouth. You felt ready to live again— falling into the burning pit with him.

Endo is the witness to this immoral act, you wonder what he’s thinking. Chika kisses your collarbones. When Endo peeks, your eyes meet his own. He’s crying. No one in this room is sane. 

You think about your Dad again. You think about that cat again. 

You’re no good. 

In your haze, you hug Chika. You remind yourself that nothing can sever your ties with him. You come to terms that you’re messed up. You felt wrong for what you did to that girl who was seeing Chika, but at least she got away. Your heart is sunburnt, but that’s fine, you never needed a pure heart anyways.

“Mom, are you gonna go with Uncle?” A little boy with black hair tugs on your skirt and fresh blues looks up in curiosity at you. He looks exactly like him and that was for the better. 

“Mhm, Dad will take you to the park later.” 

He smiles and fiddles with the fabric before skipping back into the living room and crashing down on the rug to play with his toys. “Mom, can you play with me?” 

“Sure,” you cover the pot and make your way over to him. You pass by the framed picture; you, a baby, Endo, and Chika. The cover of a sinister play. 

“You can be this one!” He hands you a dinosaur figurine. “It’s red, just like Uncle right? I think Uncle’s so cool. He showed me his super awesome kick yesterday.” 

“It is,” you smile and ruffle his hair. He shrieks out a fit of giggles and presses his small body into your side. 

“Mom, can I go with you and Uncle next time?” 

“When it’s the weekend, we can go together. What about Dad?” 

“Hmm,” he taps his tiny finger on his chin, “he can come too.” You laugh and pinch his cheek. 

It’s a facade, but no one else needs to know. Things will be fine like this. The three of you will take it to the grave. You watch the little boy wave the toy in the air. 

To hear, to see, to feel, to smell, to taste, to sense— it’s all part of the human body. In the end, you’re still 206 bones all put together. Does truth matter? Is what you’re doing correct? You’ve long abandoned such thinking. It probably died the moment you confessed to Chika that you loved him. That day you crossed the bridge and could never go back. The blazing inferno swallowed you up— it was a real spectacle. So willing to fall. When you die, you’ll die with a smile. 

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Summary:

Working at Animal Instinct, the city's premiere hostess club for those who like their girls "pawsitively" attractive, may pay the bills but it'll cost your soul. Playing the brainless bunny girl everyone expected you to be, you were prepared to waste your life selling over priced champagne and sham companionship just to afford rent. When your efforts are rewarded with the client from hell, you try to stick to your bubblegum bimbo persona. However, being called boring by some crusty incel with the social skills of a trashcan is not something your pride can let slip by. ...and finding someone who hates society's games as much as him is not something Shigaraki Tomura can let go.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Chapter 1: Dumb Bunny - 3.4k words

TW: Binge drinking, quirk based discrimination

“Omigosh he’s back again!”

Plastered against the glossy black bathroom door, Nyanko’s twisted grimace and bristling tail ill suited her glamorous styling. Rhinestone trimmed claws pawed for purchase as an annoyed shriek hissed between tight teeth. It was fortunate that lilac satin squeezed her willowy frame like a vice. The very dress that transformed her bust line from “average” to “savage” restricted her air intake, keeping her whining to a polite volume.

Twisting the golden cap of your Yves Saint Laurent lipstain back on, you dabbed at your cupid’s bow. “Crusty boy?”

“Yes!” She groaned, pinning her cat ears to her skull. “Mama-san has paired him with twelve different girls in the last month. Boy’s got a heart made of Teflon! Won’t stick to anyone!”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought this club was a kurabu? Isn’t the first pairing long term?”

“His dad is some sort of big deal so he gets special treatment, but mostly it's a mutual hate-hate thing,” Nyanko explained, wagging her finger. “He can’t find a girl he likes and all the girls beg Mama-san to let him try someone else. Even Aru didn’t want him and you know she has thick skin!”

“Quirk~ist,” you sang out, tucking your make-up back in the small, pearled handbag. “Just because she has an armadillo quirk doesn’t mean her soul is armor plated.”

Nyanko’s tabby tail swished. “Why does he keep coming back if he’s never happy?” she demanded, stomping her spike heels.

“I like those.” You nodded to the red bottoms. “The flower lace on the mesh is cute.”

“I know, right!” She twisted this way and that, showing off the shimmering details. “Abe-san got them for me last week. I think he has a foot thing but I’m not complaining.” All at once, her hair bristled. “Wait! Don’t try to change the subject! I’m in a real bind here!”

You popped your lips, smoothing down a stray lock of hair. “Oh? Why?”

“Because I’m one of the few he hasn’t chewed up yet!” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I’m terrified Mama-san will pair me with that creep next!”

“Then quit your job and take Abe-san up on that mistress position. It’s not like he can last more than twenty seconds anyways so you won’t have to do much work.”

Her face fell flat. “Honey, hell’s got your name.”

You kicked off the faux marble tile and strutted over to the petite, raven-haired cutie. A single finger reached out, straightening the curl of her long bob. Patting her shoulder, you flashed her a grin and whispered in her ear. “Then it’s a good thing none of us go by our real names here, isn’t it?” 

She giggled before rolling her eyes towards your new lip color. “Speaking of 'people who just want to take a poor girl away from this place', is that a gift from your one hero client?”

You nodded. “Oshida bought it for me on the paid date. Asked me if he could put some of his cum in it.”

“Guess he’s not as family friendly as his press agent makes him out to be,” she muttered.

“I told him I couldn’t use it if he did because I’d be too addicted to the taste.”

Nyanko flashed you a judgey side eye and pushed open the bathroom door. “How are you that good a liar?”

“Nyanko, what are you talking about?" You plastered on an airy smile. Each word tumbled out wrapped in sweetness. "Everyone knows that bunny girls aren’t smart enough to lie. ♡” 

The words burned bitterly on your tongue.

Nyanko huffed, turning on heel. “I hate you.”

“Hate you more, sweetie,” you teased, following her down the long hall.

Pink tiles with golden veins lead the way to the reception desk. On your right, Animal Instict's main bar buzzed with flirtatious conversation, fake smiles, and exhausted salary men. One of the puppy girls, wrapped in cherry red spandex and ten centimeter black platforms, clung to her elderly client's arm like a fly on garbage. 

"Is Pochi back early from her paid date?" You asked, slipping under the glossy countertop.

"Kiba-san's bunions are acting up," Nyanko whispered, cupping the side of her face. "You know, the bunions that flare up when Pochi wants a fourth helping of foie gras."

You looked the other hostess up and down. Her rosy cheeks glowed as she smoothed her glossy tail across her lap. "She's pounding the champagne again. Her heat cycle must be close."

Nyanko waved her hand. "Don't date the dog if you ain't got the bank."

"Catty of you."

She hissed.

"Ladies," a firm voice warned. "You are on the floor."

You both turned towards a sultry middle-aged woman. Clad in a cocktail dress crafted from delicate golden mesh and rhinestones, her long, peacock plumage glittered every shade from sea green to deep navy in the warm light. She fixed you with a sharp glare before snapping open a fan. Its fluttering teased at her long, fake lashes.

"Yes, Mama-san," you replied in synchrony, bowing your heads to the boss.

She narrowed her eyes, craning her long, graceful neck to inspect your makeup. When it passed muster, she snapped the fan shut. "Honey, Tano-san requested you tonight as Usagi is out with a migraine."

Wow… just going to work his way through the bunny girls, huh? Guy wasn’t even subtle about his fetish.

"Of course," you agreed, bowing again. "Thank you, Mama-san."

Mama-san turned her scrutinizing gaze towards your companion. “Nyanko—” she crooked boney finger— “come with me.”

Nyanko’s ears drooped. “Y-yes, Mama-san…”

Mama-san rapped the cat girl with the lacey fan. “Professionalism.”

Nyanko forced a pained grin before snatching up a hot towel from the stack. “O-Of course!”

You shook your head, selecting a rolled towel of your own and placed it on a silver platter. Then, smearing on an airheaded smile, you followed the leader around the large, gangly money tree. Just past its scraggly leaves, two men came into view.

On the left, dressed in a deep navy sport coat and matching pleated pants stood a solemn faced man in his late sixties. He peered into the entryway’s mirror, fussing with his thinning, silver streaked hair. The wide, rose-gold rolex watch made his wrist look fat and did horrible things for his yellow undertones. When you came into view, he jerked away from his preening. Hungry eyes traced the line of your leg from heel to hem. His thick tongue lapped at the corner of his mouth.

“Tano-san,” your boss guiding you forward. “This is Honey Bunny.”

“It's so good to meet you, Tano-san!” You added a sugar rush bounce to your step. “We hope Usa-chan should feel better soon. I hope it’ll be okay if I take care of you for her until she’s better?”

With a grunt, he took the towel, clumsily groping your fingers along the way.

Mama-san turned to the man on the right. Hiding his face behind a mop of pale blue waves, a surly looking twenty something hunched against the wall. Blazing red eyes stared out from under hairless brows. He tugged at his collar, as if the beautifully tailored Armani three-piece was strangling him. It wasn’t hard to guess how he got the moniker “crusty boy”. Patchy scale peeled from his under eye bags. 

“Shigaraki-san, this is Nyanko-chan.”

Nyanko playfully scratched the air, before speaking out in a voice half an octave higher than her own. “It’s a purr-asure to Meow-chu, Shigaraki-san! I hope we can become good friends!”

He sneered at Nyanko before raking his neck with ratty, broken nails. 

Your coworker smiled so hard you thought her face might tear. “Would mew like a hot towel?”

He plucked the moist terry cloth from her outstretched hand with two fingers. He half-heartedly scrubbed his hands before walking right past her. “Let’s get this over with.”

Nyanko’s tail drooped as she skittered off after her guest. You pressed a coy hand to your lips to hide a grimace.

This was going to be a long night.

One hour into the evening, you would have paid Usa-chan to take her client back. 

At first, you thought Tano simply fumbled his cigarettes due to some nervous condition. However, after the third one in half an hour, you caught beady eyes peering down the front of your dress as you leaned in to light them. He ordered nothing but the cheapest wine on the menu (2.6k yen per glass + the 25% service fee) and nursed his drink like an old woman. Those squirmy hands of his kept “accidentally” brushing against your tail every time he shifted in his seat. Conversation was hard fought and mostly about how much he hated his boss. 

“Are you and Usa-chan related?” he asked for the fifth time that night.

You brushed your long, silky ears back. “Well, I’m a Lop and she’s a Lionhead.”

“Oh. So it’s not the same thing?”

If you smiled any harder your teeth would crack. “I know, right? They sound so similar I always get them confused.” You hoisted the green bottle up. “Here, it looks like you need a refill—”

He quickly covered the glass with his palm. “Let me touch your ears?”

Rot in the gutter, you steaming trash heap.

Hesitant humming accompanied a thoughtful head tilt. “Mama-san kinda sorta told me I’m not supposed to because it’s against club rules or something.” You clicked your tongue and beamed at him. “Makes me sad because I love having my hair brushed. Oh well, right?”

He scooted closer. “You could just ignore her.”

Wide, panicked eyes sold the frantic, high pitched squeak. “Omigosh! But it’d be bad to do that right?”

Rancid breath poured over your bare neck. “I can make being a bad bunny really fun.”

Die.

You laughed, “playfully” shoving his shoulder so hard it pushed him a solid half meter away.  “Oh Tano-san! No wonder Usa-chan loves you so much. You’re so funny!”

…and wringing your floppy neck with your ugly Gucchi tie would be even funnier.

On the other side of the tufted leather booths, Nyanko seemed to fare even worse. 

“So… Shigaraki-san, do you work for your paw-ther?”

“He’s my mentor, not my father.”

“Oh! That’s so neat! So he’s like a father to mew?”

One word grated through gritted teeth. “No.”

Nyanko winced at the harsh tone, her smile shaken for only a moment before she rallied. “Your mentor must be very generous to send you here so Meow-ften.”

“It’s annoying,” he groused, scratching his neck like a dog with fleas. The pungent stench of iron caught on the breeze from the air conditioning. All the women around you wrinkled their sensitive noses.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Nyanko placed one hand on the cream leather next to his thigh and leaned in. A long golden necklace slipped down her décolletage, pointing the eye towards her assets. Pouty lips forced her tongue high against her fangs, playing up an alto’s vocal fry. Delicately, she twirled her hair behind her pointed ear. Dangling diamonds glittered in the dim glow of the teardrop chandelier. Round, golden eyes peered at him from under sooty lashes. “Neh, Shigaraki-san, what kind of girl do mew like?”

The booth squeaked as he scooted away. “Someone real.”

“I’m all nyan-tural,” she purred, letting her free hand trail down her bust.

With a sharp “chcc”, he groped for his cell phone. 

Nyanko cocked her head. “Oh? Nyu like video games?”

“A little,” he muttered, loading up an app. Comic book style red and yellow text exploded across the screen. Four different voices called out: “Hero Center Battle Royale!!!!”.

“Ooooh!” She clapped her hands together. “Which ones do mew like?”

“The ones where the heroes die.”

“Sounds exciting!”

“More exciting than this conversation.”

Fight on, Nyanko-chan!

While your coworker clawed for any hint of mutual interest, Tano leaned back into his seat and manspread until he was pressed against your bare thigh. “Seems like the pretty kitty is having a rough time.”

Awk-ward….

“Really?” You smiled so hard the muscles below your eyes spasmed. “It sounds like she’s having fun learning a lot about a new person to me.”

Face flushed, your patron sipped his wine. “You’re kinda a dumb bunny, aren’t you?”

Yeah… That’s what your university professors thought too. At least, until your grades put you second in your class by only three points. Maybe if they stopped staring at your ears long enough, they would have seen the brain between them.

“Nyanko-chan loves to meet new people,” you chirped back, sitting on quivering hands to avoid throttling your meal ticket.

Tano thumbed his chin. “Wonder if she’s so persistent because she’s gonna go into heat.”

Ew… can you just not?!

"That must be a pain, going into heat.” Beady eyes flashed to you. "You do too, right?"

Gross. Disengage! Disengage!

You tapped your chin. "Huh… I dunno. Maybe bunnies are different or something." 

…cause a three second Google search couldn't have told his horny self that?! Seriously…

Faking a sweet smile you reached for his glass. “Heat or no heat, I think that connecting with others is a reward in and of itself."

And if Tano could connect the dots he would have the decency to GO HOME if he wasn’t going to drink.

He pulled his cup away. "I don't need a refill."

You set the bottle down. "Oh! My bad! I just really wanted to take care of you. You worked really hard after all. You deserve a little rest."

He leaned back into his seat and smiled to himself. "Yeah. Guess I do."

Ugh… Just drunk enough to be a self-centered douchebag, but not enough to get you a sales bonus. This sucked.

He cracked open one eye and glanced at you. "But seriously, aren’t you even a little worried about her or are you just too stupid that to read the room?”

You leaned into your palm, using the thick of your hand to stifle the snarl. “Finding the right fit for every guest can be hard but everyone here loves the challenge.” One ear flopped across your eye. You inhaled, letting the rise of your ribs strain the bust of your gown. “I’m just so glad we have such good chemistry.”

His greasy grin made you nauseated. Greedy eyes drank up your coworker’s long tail and tufted ears. He licked his lips. “Should I offer to save her then? Having two of you around sounds like fun.”

….and entirely defeated the point of coming to the type of classy club where you are supposed to have an intimate, one-on-one conversation with your hostess. Not to mention, you’d have to split the tip. Then again, that assumed this cheapskate didn’t skip it all together.

You bit your cheek until the taste of iron pricked your tongue. Painted lips slipped into a puffy pout. You turned your head, letting tears pool at your lash line. Ducking low to play up the shadows between your cleavage, you pinched his sleeve between two fingers like a schoolgirl tugging on her crush.

“Ah… I suppose it’s true that Tano-san is so cool he could have two women at once.” 

His breath caught in his wrinkled throat.

With a forlorn smile, you glanced down at the connection between you before dropping his sleeve like it shocked you. Your voice pitched high as you hurried out a breathless apology. “Oh! Sorry!” Nervous fingers prodded together as you hid behind one ear. “When I am around a man like you, I-I sometimes just get these instincts...” 

He gulped.

Time to go in for the kill. 

Your eyes danced away from his. “It’s been such a long time since I felt this way, I forgot that it happens. It’s hard, but I’ll try to control myself better.”

Tano reached for your hand, but you pulled it away to bop it into your fist. “Oh! Speaking of instincts, Usa-chan told me once that you negotiated a lot of big contracts for your company. How did you get so good at your job?”

He leaned back into the booth, puffing out his chest. Wrapping one arm over the back of the chair, he crooked his finger at you. “Come a little closer and I’ll be happy to share.”

Ugh… You needed a drink.

“Oh my gosh, Honey-chan he was just the worst!”

Nyanko’s whiskers tickled the side of your neck as she buried her face in your shoulder. You sighed, wrapping your arm around her. The smell of fried food and beer wafted in the summer air. Plump moths collided with the streetlight three paces away. Two wobbly salary men waved. The one wearing a tie on his forehead blew a wet kiss. Your party of three wiggled your fingers and giggled like shy school girls. As soon as they were out of sight, the smiles dropped like corpses on a battlefield.

You patted Nyanko’s shoulder. “There, there. You did what you could.”

She sniffled, fanning her flushed face. You passed her a tissue. She dabbed at her make-up. Flecks of mascara peeled onto pale paper. Another sob wracked her body. “WHAT DOES HE WANT!?” she wailed.

“Seriously,” Pochi scratched her dangling ears. “Mama-san gave him to me last week. He told me ‘your skills need a level up’. What does that even mean?!” She swished her silky black tail. “Let’s see his mummy lips pull three champagne towers in one night!”

“Three? Were you in heat?”

She sneered wide enough to flash her canines. “I faked it.”

You laughed. “Hot, but scary Pochi-sama.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, motioning to Nyanko’s limp body. “Blame Little Miss Crafty Kitten there. For 30,000 yen, she gave me a run down on my tells and I did my make-up and perfume to mimic them. Worth every penny.”

Nyanko’s blank eyes stared at nothing. “I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess. I am a good hostess.”

You gave her a long side eye. “You charged 30,000 yen for that?”

A shaking hand rose into the air. She clenched her thumb and index finger into a ring.

“And I’m the one going to hell?” you teased, handing her off to Pochi. “Here. I forgot something at the club. You two get going before the last train leaves. I’m close enough to walk.”

“Whatever,” Pochi groaned, hugging the crying cat to her chest. “Come on Nyanko. You had too much to drink.”

With a gentle wave, you watched them as they staggered down the sidewalk leaving only Nyanko's miserable whining in their wake. When the last sob slipped into silence, the false feelings melted from your expression. Every hair on your neck bristled. A hard heel thumped on the pavement. Fists clenched to your side, you dashed off into the nearest alleyway. Wrenching off your expensive pumps, you set them on the ground out of reach. Your vision swam blood red, you zeroed in on the filthy dumpster. All at once, a frustrated shriek tore through the night air.

"SCREW YOOOOOUUUUU!”

You slammed your heel down into the dumpster, leaving a dent in the rust.

"SCREW YOU! SCREW THIS JOB! SCREW EVERYTHING!”

Blow after blow rained down on the innocent trash receptacle. 

"DUMB BUNNY MY COTTON FLUFFY TAIL! I HAVE MORE BRAIN CELLS IN MY MANICURE THAN YOU HAVE IN YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY TREE!

Twisted metal groaned under the weight of your fury. Memories of fresh-from-college job interviews flashed through your mind.

"I don't know that you're a good fit for our culture." "You seem really nice but we're only looking for serious candidates." "Oh…. I have another position you can interview for, sweetie."

Judgey stares and smarmy grins seared your brain. Lava hot rage bubbled through your veins as you kicked the dumpster five centimeters off its axis.

"I'D THREATEN TO RAZE THIS WHOLE SOCIETY BUT NONE OF YOU IDIOTS ARE EVEN SMART ENOUGH TO KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RAZE AND RAISE!"

Panting and raspy, you heaved for air in the middle of the pavement. With a final huff you tossed your hair, hiked up your purse, and strutted away.

At the end of the alley, bloodshot scarlet eyes were watching your entire tantrum. Just below them, a ghostly white smile glinted in the flickering amber light.

Next Chapter Expected: June 30th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Taglist: @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @shig-a-shig-ah @castershellwrites @smilinghowever @krystalwithakay @iris-goddess @ss-syche @mortallysparklyfun @meameows @magnificentclodpiezonk @betterfettered @utena-akashiya @ventdavi154 @st4rrust @imaginedheroine @the-lady-writes-what @shiggysimp69 @toughbook @naughteehee

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL’S BEACH ࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

THREE — iv bags and daffodils

"he looks at me like I'm below him. he doesn't say it nor does he act that way but his eyes say it all. patient likes loves power. he craves it" — MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Maya faces a moral dilemma, trying to pick between her livelihood and ethics all while under the watchful eye of the hospital director and her patient, Kurokawa Izana.

chapter warnings: inaccurate depictions of psychiatric hospitals, mentions of alcohol, mentions of depression, drug use, allusions to sex, abuse of authority, power imbalance, unethical use of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of rape, mentions of murder

word count: 4213

moodboard | masterlist | previous | chapter 4

Pretty is what Kurokawa Izana would use to describe Kaneko Maya. She was so pretty. Kaneko Maya was cute, funny, pretty and just Manjiro's type. Had his younger brother not been a depressed little shit right now, Izana would have gotten Ran to gift her to Manjiro. Even if he did now, Izana doubts Manjiro would even do anything. He heard that depression affects the libido. Even before he was admitted into this shitty psychiatric hospital, no matter how many hostess bars he took Manjiro to, how many hookers he called over, how many strip clubs— Manjiro was just bored. For a while, he thought the guy was probably a nervous virgin who only knew how to fight but after a drunken conversation with Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro's childhood friend, he finds out that was in fact not the case. Manjiro was pretty popular with the girls when they were in middle school(due to his shoulder-length blonde hair and girls having a huge thing for pretty boys with the deep voices). Manjiro was 100%, not a virgin and just depressed as hell. "Kakucho" Izana says holding the flip phone against his ear "How's everything going?"

Friday came by pretty quickly as usual. "It's fine as usual. You'll be out on Monday. Are you excited?" Kakucho, his childhood and right-hand man asks

Izana leans back in his shitty bed and stares out the window. It's about 10:30 am, the sun is still rising. "Yeah, about time. If it wasn't for the cute little doctor that gives me company during her night shift, would've gone fuckin' crazy for real"

"That sounds unprofessional" Kakucho mutters in disappointment

Izana laughs. "It's actually not like that. Cute kid, fresh outta uni"

Kakucho laughs. It's rare to hear Kakucho laugh. "I don't believe that one-bit Izana"

"Well, you better. Kaneko Maya, real eye candy" Izana hums and stares up at the white ceiling and starts to ramble about her "talks a lot and y’know I usually hate girls that yap but she's a real cutie. Thinkin' she can fix me and shit. It’s so fuckin’ cute. She's got this little notebook she takes notes on when she talks to me. Nosey as fuck but real cute. Got these blowjob eyes—"

"She's a psychiatrist, she's supposed to be nosey," Kakucho cuts him off before he can get vulgar, simultaneously ignoring the number of times Izana used the word cute to describe his psychiatrist "What did you say her name was again?"

Izana scoffs. "You gonna do a background check on my little doctor Kakucho? This late in too? 'M leavin' Monday"

"It's my job"

Of course, it was. Kakucho was protective. Overprotective at times. It was one of the reasons Izana kept him around. To feel wanted(and because he cared about him but Izana won't say that out loud). "Kaneko Maya. How 'bout ya’ tell me what cha' find when you're done"

"Of course"

And they end the phone call not long after. Izana sits in silence for a while and sighs tiredly. He stares down his left arm with the iv in it. Apparently whatever medication was being given to him was essential to his recovery but he really fuckin' hated it. He felt like actual shit. Tired all the time, sleepy as shit. He hated it. Oh well, he was getting out this Monday anyway. He had been here for 2 months and Maya had only been working here for a month. Perhaps had she been here the whole time the first month would have been more bearable as well. He was leaving Monday anyway. Maybe if Maya was that kind of girl she'd take up the offer of coming to his beach house and maybe she'd even put Manjiro in a good mood with those cute puppy eyes she has. After all, Manjiro has always had a fixation on cute and pretty things and Izana knew him long enough to know that. Izana hears his door click and inwardly sighs in annoyance at whoever was going to enter his room. He glares at the door but his harsh gaze immediately turns into one of surprise when seeing his night shift doctor. "what are you doing here?" He asks, narrowing his eyes at Maya

Maya is wearing her blue scrubs, her white doctor's coat sleeves folded to her elbows. She's got the pager clipped to her belt, the key bracelet thing around her wrist and her ID card securely clipped to the breast pocket on her coat. "wow no hi or good morning or how are you?" Maya asks sarcastically, the door shutting with a click behind her

Her eyes are slightly red and she looks exhausted. Her hair is tied back in a bun with a few curly strands framing her face. "Hi, good morning, how are you?" Izana says sarcastically then changes immediately to a more serious and authoritative tone "You ended your shift 6 hours ago. Go home"

Maya's shift starts from 9 pm to 4 am, she brings the patients dinner because the nurses pushed the job onto her, brings the trays back and down to the kitchen, then comes back up and sticks around as there wasn't much to do unless one of the patients/criminals, needed something which wasn't often. "Yeah... But I fell asleep in the breakroom after my shift and the old man in charge of the morning told me to take his shift and went home before I could say anything" she complained and plopped down on the chair and bolted down on the floor by his bed "I complained to the director but he told me that since I was here anyway I should just take the shift and he'd paid me extra"

Izana can't help but roll his eyes. She really wanted to pay off those loans huh? "I think that's called exploitation" He says

Which is huge coming from Izana considering what he does for a living. "Yeah but... Money" she shrugs "I get to leave at lunchtime though and don't have to come back for the night shift"

"Oh gee! How great!" Izana says sarcastically once again

Izana feels a bit odd being annoyed about the fact that his doctor is being taken advantage of. He's known her for a month and he knows she's kind and these other shitty old people employed here liked to take advantage of her kindness. To make it worse she rarely complained about it. Oh well, at least he gets to see her longer and talk to her for longer. "Haven't seen those before" Izana says looking at the two necklaces she was wearing

One was a gold oval pendant with a delicate border and the outline of a flower in the center of it. The second necklace, also gold, was a small butterfly pendant. Cute. "What's the thing in the center of the coin?" He asks "A rose?"

Maya looks down at her necklace and realizes they are untucked. It was a huge safety hazard considering she could be choked. But Sunshine Grove was a shitty psychiatric hospital and none of the employees really took safety seriously(Maya neither) so they rarely removed jewelry and just kept things like necklaces tucked under their clothes. "Ah~ it's a daffodil," Maya tells him, touching the pendant "my birth flower. My birthday's in March"

Izana chuckles. How cute. "Your birth flower, hm..."

One thing Izana liked about Maya was that she tended to ramble about random things that interested her. "Oh oh have you heard that greek myth story about daffodils?" She asks

Izana would usually be annoyed at this kind of rambling but perhaps Maya had the privilege to just talk. Pretty privilege is what Ran calls it. Izana forgot what he meant since he usually tunes whatever Ran says, out but he figures maybe this is what it is. "So basically there was this guy Narcissus. He was supposedly really good-looking. But he never found anyone that could attract him. He left a long trail of distressed and broken-hearted maidens, and one or two young men fell as well" she giggles a bit then continues the story "Then, one day, he happened to see his own reflection in a pool of water and, thus, discovered the ultimate in unrequited love and fell in love with himself. Obviously, this one-way relationship went nowhere, and Narcissus, unable to draw himself away from the pool, pined away in despair until he finally died of thirst and starvation"

Izana raises a brow. "What?"

"Yeah, and he turned into a daffodil. So another name for daffodils is Narcissus" 

Izana can't help but laugh. What a stupid story. "I'm guessing this shitty story has a moral like all Greek myths"

Maya nods. "I think it was a warning not a moral. Something like ‘love and obsession lie closer together than we think’ or something" 

Oh. Time passes by when Maya rambles. She was honestly the highlight of his day or well, night. But right now it was the day so she was the highlight of his day. He figures that since she's here right now she won't be here tonight and since it was Friday he won't see her till Monday. He’ll stay a while before he leaves on Monday to say goodbye. Time passes by fast and soon comes lunch. "You know doctor, if there's one thing I'll miss about this shitty place it'll be you talking my ear off" Izana says playfully

Maya laughs. "really well—" she pauses taking in his word "what do you mean? I'm still gonna be working here y'know"

"I'm leaving Monday. Getting discharged and will be back to my normal life" He tells her with a grin "what are you gonna miss me?"

He's being playful but the expression on Maya's face makes him confused. Why is she looking at him like that. He watches her pull out the little notebook of her's and flip through the pages. Izana watches as she mutters something to herself and all he hears are little curse. "Hey, doctor... What's wrong?" He asks in confusion

Why was this her reaction? Maya gets up and walks over to where his IV bag was hung up. She looks long and hard at the bag then turns to him. She's standing right next to him. She rarely gets this close. "You're leaving on Monday?" she repeats with a frown “like discharged and going home?”

Izana is starting to get worried and a bit aggravated, not understanding why she's looking at him like that. As far as he knew she knew nothing about him or what he did. So why was she giving him that look? "Doctor. I'd like to know why you're looking at me like that" Izana says slowly

He isn't nervous. Not at all. A man like him isn't nervous. He's concerned. There's a huge difference between the two emotions. He watches Maya take a breath. "Um... Mr. Kurokawa..." She pauses and looks at him nervously "What... What are you here for? What are you admitted here for?"

That question confuses him. Why was she asking him that? Shouldn't she know? "You should know what I'm here for" He tells her lowly, narrowing her eyes at him "You're my—"

"Mr. Kurokawa" Maya says, her voice a bit breathy 

She looks scared almost and it's starting to annoy the hell out of Izana. "Cocaine addiction. Now tell me why you're making that face"

Maya looks nervous, scared and confused. So many different emotions swirl around in her eyes. "So... You're not a convicted criminal?"

He was 100% a criminal but not a convicted one. No one has caught him yet but Maya didn't need to know that. "No and why does that relate to this?"

Maya looks like she might throw up. "You're here for addiction but you're on the fourth floor and not second" She says

"Why should I be on the second floor?" He asks, his voice demanding and angry

Maya sucks in a breath. "second floor is where patients admitted for addiction stay... You're on the fourth floor where the convicted criminals who got off by claiming insanity"

Oh. Oh… Maya chews nervously at her bottom lip. She looks like she might throw up and Izana is pissed. He's fucking pissed. He watches Maya pat her pockets and she pulls out a piece of gauze and then takes his hand. He's about to ask what she's doing but then she puts the gauze pad over the insertion site as gently as she can. She starts to pull it out, increasing pressure as she smoothly withdraws the catheter. Izana stays silent and watches her stick a bandaid to the area. "keep pressure on it for a few minutes" she mumbles and grabs the IV bag

Izana puts his thumb over his wrist where the IV was inserted and watches her. She looked like she was going to be sick and it was pissing him off. What the hell? Maya is about to leave but he stops her. "Doctor... If this is what I think it is..." Izana says slowly

Maya just shakes her head and leaves his room. Izana narrows his eyes, staring at the door. He looks down at his wrist where the IV was just taken out of and was now replaced with a bandage. He stares for a moment longer then pulls out the flip-phone again and calls Kisaki. 

"What's this?" Maya threw the half-empty IV bag onto the hospital director's desk

The hospital director, Doctor Nakamura, narrows his eyes at her. "I don't appreciate you coming in without knocking Doctor Kaneko" He says lowly

Maya wasn't going to back down today. She needed answers. She may be new, she may have just graduated a few months ago but what was wrong was wrong. "Why is Mr Kurokawa on the fourth floor and not the second? He's here for cocaine addiction not for a court order" Maya was going to get her answers today "Why is he being given a sedative and that too, that high of a dose?"

She didn't care about superiority or anything. It didn't matter. Not now when a patient was clearly not being treated for what he came for. This was against the ethics of a doctor. "Doctor Kaneko..." Doctor Nakamura says, grabbing the half-empty IV bag with a dark almost crazed look in his eyes "That man... That man is evil incarnate—"

Maya rubs her temples. "Cocaine addiction does not make a man evil incarnate. You run a psychiatric hospital you can’t say things like that. Whatever it is you did, whatever it is you're doing is wrong" Maya says sternly

This was making her sick. She couldn't believe this. She knew Sunshine Grove was shitty with how they'd push all the work onto her but she didn't think it was so shitty that they'd give a patient a drug they didn't even need. This was disgusting.  "Doctor Kaneko. You don't know what he did. this is much deeper than cocaine addiction"

"He's getting out on Monday! Mr. Kurokawa has been here for 2 months" Maya argues "If he did something so bad, he wouldn't be leaving. He'd be in jail"

Doctor Nakamura doesn't look like he has the patience for this. But Maya doesn't either. What was wrong, was wrong. "Listen Miss Kaneko..." He says slowly, now looking very aggravated, no longer using her proper title "We'll have this conversation on Monday when your shift starts. How about you go home? You must be exhausted"

It wasn't a suggestion but an order. "Unless you want to start looking for another hospital that will hire you, Miss Kaneko"

Maya feels a lump rise in her throat. No. Nonononono. No. She can't lose her job. She can't. She stares at Doctor Nakamura with wide eyes. This wasn't fair. She was trying to do the right thing and— shit. She opens her mouth to say something, to try and argue, to at least give him a threat of reporting him for mistreating Kurokawa Izana but nothing comes out. Maya feels powerless. It was between her livelihood and her morals. Was this what her mother meant? Was this what she meant when she said it was hard to be a doctor? Maya thought psychiatrists were different. She thought... She thought... This wasn't fair. She clenches his fists and lowers her head. "Yes sir" she says in defeat and promptly leaves the office

Maya walks back to the lockrooms with her head down. She feels like shit. She can't believe she gave in that easily. She hates herself. She can't even get herself to go back up to Izana's room and give him an explanation. She's horrible. She's a shit person and she knows that the guilt is gonna make her sick till she throws up. Maya pulls her hair out of the bun and runs her fingers through it angrily as she walks into the locker room without paying attention to her surroundings. stupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupidstupid— "shit!"

Maya looks up at realizes she just had her book main character moment where she bumps into the really hot guy's rock-hard chest. The guy no doubt was very hot. He's a security guard by the looks of the uniform but doesn't look like anyone she's seen on duty before. He has black hair parted in the center, olive-toned skin and heterochromatic eyes, one red and the other silver. But what really caught Maya's eye was the scar on his face. Starting from his left ear, going over the corner of his left(silver) eye then up across his forehead and disappearing into his hairline. Maya stops staring and lowers her gaze. "S-sorry" she stutters out "I wasn't watching where I was going. My bad"

He's tall and oh... Wow, he's well-built. Maya has to will herself to tear her gaze away from his chest. This guy 100% had a fricken six-pack underneath that uniform. "It's fine..." He pauses and looks at her up and down "You look tired Doctor"

Maya laughs nervously. Oh man, this guy was hot. It's almost making her forget about the guilt. Oh wait, nope she remembered it again. "Well, I'm new and you know, these oldies like pushing their work onto the newbies," She says with a shrug "I'm going home right now though... I haven't seen you around though"

The man is staring at her ID card pinned to her coat. "Hm.. Yeah, I am... I'll be taking the night shift from now on. 4th floor. They're just gonna be showing me around today"

Maya's eyes light up. New eye candy for the 4th floor now that Izana was leaving? Okay, maybe that makes her feel a little better. "Oh I work night shifts on the fourth floor too" she gives the man a friendly smile "I'm Doctor Kaneko Maya"

The man nods. Professional but also somewhat friendly. "Hitto Kakucho. I prefer just Kakucho"

Hitto? That was an odd last name. She doesn't think she's ever heard it before. But his odd last name slipped her mind pretty quickly due to the guilt she was feeling and the unholy thoughts about Kakucho that were going through her head. Oh man, he's hot and these contrasting feelings are making her head hurt. "I'll be seeing you on Monday then Doctor" Kakucho says "Get home safe"

Maya nods and Kakucho brushes past her. The locker room is once again engulfed in silence and now all that's left is Maya's guilt. She sighs and texts Chifuyu to ask him to pick her up. 

Maya sits outside in the reception area waiting for Chifuyu to come get her. She usually drives herself but last night Chifuyu insisted on driving her last night. Maya stares at the white tiled floor, sighing for the nth time. She felt like actual shit. The guilt is making her sick. Izana had been given that damn sedative for 2 months. Sometimes she'd administer it to him too. For what? For some messed up reason, she's still yet to find out. Maya feels guilty and gross and just horrible. She wants to cry. She hates this. None of this was fair. Why did it have to be her patient? Had she really just got herself caught up in something stupid all for the sake of money? Shit shit shit Maya really hated herself right now. "fuck~" she whines to herself and leans forward till her forehead touches her knees while she sits in the chair 

She feels like a stupid idiot. She should have just asked Izana what he was here for on the first day instead of trying to be nice and let him open up on his own. Now look where being nice got her. Maya flinches as her phone vibrates. She gets up and grabs her bag off the floor. It was probably Chifuyu. She bids goodbye to the man at the reception and leaves the building at the sight of a black car outside. Except it's not Chifuyu leaning against the car, it's Naoto. Her cheeks flush. Of-fucking-course Chifuyu was trying to play matchmaker. Right now wasn't a good time with how sick she felt. "hey" Naoto says with a small smile

He looks shy and had it not been for her guilt, Maya knows she'd probably be feeling the same way. "H-Hey, did Chifuyu send you?" Maya asks nervously "I'm so sorry"

Naoto shakes his head and opens the passenger seat of his car. "Oh no don't worry. Was on a break anyway. Chifuyu said he was busy and told me to come" 

Maya slides into the passenger seat and after making sure she's sitting comfortably he closes the door. Maya puts her bag on the floor of the car and puts on her seat belt. Naoto gets into the driver's side and starts the car. "I thought you had the night shift, what are you doing here so late?" He asks putting on his seatbelt

"They had a shortage... I'll be getting paid for overtime though so it's fine" Maya says trying to ignore the shitty feeling of guilt that just isn't going away

Oh man, she needed a drink. "You look exhausted. Should get some sleep when I drop you home" Naoto tells her as he pulls out of the parking lot and then out of the front gate of the hospital

"Yeah, I will.... gonna shower and just sleep and..." She pauses and thinks for a moment as they make it onto the main road "Can I ask you something?"

"You just did" Naoto points out with a small laugh and Maya can't help but laugh as well. "I'm kidding, ask away"

She thinks for a moment and tries her best to word her question. Perhaps getting an outside opinion would make her feel better. "You're a police officer, right? H-Has there ever been a time where you had to choose between your job or..." she pauses "Livelihood is a better word... Um... Has there ever been a time when you had to choose between your livelihood and your morals?"

Naoto looks surprised by her question. He keeps his eyes on the road as he answers. "W-well yeah... Have to all the time. Just last month I got called out on duty to arrest a woman for murder..." Naoto recalls then frowns "I asked her why she did it during interrogation she told me it was because the man raped her"

"Oh" Maya mumbles quietly

"You don't understand how badly I wanted to let her go. Murder is wrong but those cases... In those rare cases, even wrong can be right"

Maya takes in the information. She tries to apply it to her situation, to find just where the director was coming from but she couldn't. Kurokawa Izana didn't deserve that treatment. "But I have to say, Maya, if this is about work our situations are different... In other departments, things can be covered up by saying it was a fraud scam or corruption... In the medical department, however," He lowers his tone to "It's negligence of life... murder"

Maya's heart pounds. He was right. She didn't think of that. "Yeah... you're right" she mumbles

A silence washes over the car for a moment till Naoto speaks up again. "If there is something wrong at work, I can help you out" 

It was a nice offer but what was she supposed to say? Where was she supposed to start? Maya feels stupid because she knows she can just tell Naoto but she can't get herself to. She feels stupid and guilty and the feeling doesn't cease even as Naoto drops her off at her place. Maya's shoulder slouch as she unlocks her door. She hates this so much. A shudder passes through her suddenly at the feeling of being watched. Maya looks around for a moment and sees no one. She shakes her head and brushes it off as stress and goes into her home, locking the door behind her.

From the other side of the street, Kisaki Tetta blows out a cloud of smoke and scoffs.

notes: I do NOT condone any of the acts committed in this fic. Next chapter is gonna be my first time ever writing smut so plz, if it's bad I'm sorry 😭

I would also like to point out that I am a criminology major and don’t know much about the medical field, especially psychiatry. Everything written in this fic is not supposed to be accurate but just for the plot.

This is a double update so next chapter is already up. I have also added chapter summaries to the masterlist so go take a look!

I hope you enjoyed reading so far :)

updates are every monday

taglist: @kokonoiscoconut @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 3, Chapter 23

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness? Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 4 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

Okay, this is an extra looooong chapter. But we're finally at the end of Part 3! And the last line in this chapter was written when I first started plotting this fic, over 18 months and 230 000 words ago...so I'm a little excited for you guys to finally read it!

————–

PART 3

Chapter 23

The hostess led Cross and Ranieri through the busy restaurant, and Matt tracked their movements as they weaved between tables, the scent of their mingled colognes getting stronger as they came closer to his and Calina’s corner. He had a brief moment of concern that Cross was headed straight for them - that somehow Cross had discovered that Matt was looking into him, and had come here to confront him-

But then Cross paused at the table behind Matt to greet the couple seated there. Cross obviously knew them well, launching into a recap of his golf game from that morning and laughing with the couple about the new wait staff at the country club. Cross was in his slightly smarmy, exuberant, rich-guy mode - a persona that Matt had started calling his ‘politician guise’. It was a far cry from the real Cross - the cold sociopathic monster who enjoyed torturing people - and the falsity of it grated on Matt.

After a few moments of inane chatter, Cross and Ranieri moved on, heading for the back of the restaurant where the VIP section resided, separated from the rest of the public by a locked door.

“Will you be able to hear what’s going on in there?” Calina asked quietly.

Matt shook his head. “I doubt it. There’s soundproofing in the walls.”

“Soundproofing? In an already private room? That just screams shady, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. I’m going to have to get closer - I can only pick up indistinct murmurs from here.”

“While you do that, I’ll contact Anya.”

“Anya? Why?”

“Because I think Ranieri’s presence here ties everything together.”

———

After the initial shock of seeing Ranieri had worn off, Calina realised that it shouldn’t have been a shock at all. It made complete sense. “We always suspected that the man behind the fear pheromone was the one who activated me to kill Governor Benson.”

Matt nodded. “In order to guarantee the supply of Arsonium for the pheromone.”

“Right. Aminev was the Red Room employee who dosed me for that assassination attempt, and Anya mentioned that she’d found his name in Ranieri’s laptop - Ranieri was looking for him after he defected from Volkov’s group. I’m guessing he found him - either he sent Aminev to Cross, knowing that he’d pay through the nose for a Black Widow to control, or Aminev told Ranieri about Cross.”

“Either way, Ranieri’s obviously decided to get into bed with another sociopath looking for power.”

“We need to find out what he’s telling Cross about the Widows and Volkov’s work.”

Matt nodded again, looking grim. “Agreed.” He gave Calina a quick kiss on the cheek and set off to do just that.

Calina watched Matt head for the restroom two doors down from the private VIP room, and hoped he’d be able to hear what Cross and Ranieri were up to from there.

Because this whole thing was giving her a really bad feeling.

The moment she’d set eyes on Ranieri, a pit of anxiety had opened up in her gut. It was the collision of her two worlds - her present with Matt, and her past with the Widows - and she knew it could only portend disaster for the future. Cross was powerful enough as it was, with all his wealth and influence and the fear pheromone he was using to blackmail key figures in the city. Add in mind-control serum or another Black Widow assassin to that mix and he could very possibly take over the world.

Calina grabbed her phone from her purse and sent off a message to Anya, updating her about Cross’ involvement in the serum, and the unexpected appearance of Ranieri. She’d call the other Widow later and give her more details, but she knew Anya would be intrigued enough by her quick missive to start digging and confirm Calina’s theory.

Meanwhile…she’d wait.

She was used to it. So many of her past missions were exercises in patience. In biding her time watching her marks, and waiting for the right moment to strike. But back then there were no idle thoughts to distract her, and definitely no fears or worries for her partner on the job.

This felt different. Her head was spinning with worry for what this new complication meant. And worry for Matt, who was becoming obsessed with taking down Cross.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait - and worry - for long. Ten minutes later, Matt emerged from his stake-out in the restroom and made his way back to her.

She smiled at him - an almost involuntary reflex now whenever she saw him. She’d asked him once, if he could sense that. They’d been lying in bed, her head on his chest, his fingers trailing up and down her bare back as they filled each other in on their day. “I caught my reflection in the window today when you walked in,” she’d told him, recounting the moment he’d met her at the coffee shop around the corner from his office. “I was smiling like an idiot, for all the world to see.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he’d replied.

“No, just strange. Considering the way I was raised.”

“Well I like that you smile like an idiot when you see me.”

She laughed. Then tilted her head up to look at him. “But can you tell? When you walk into a room, can you sense that I’m smiling at you?”

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed his thumb over her lips. “I don’t need to sense these move to know you’re happy to see me. I know in other ways.”

She’d spent the rest of the night trying to elicit what those ‘other ways’ were, using all her feminine tricks and wiles to cajole the secret from him, but he didn’t budge.

At this moment though, if he sensed she was happy to see him, he didn’t let on. There was no smile on his face as he approached their table. In fact, there was a stiffness to his gait that wasn’t there before, and his stubbled jaw was clenched.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I need to go. They’re leaving through a back entrance, and I don’t want to lose this chance to find out what they’re up to.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home later. Be careful.”

She went to put her hand on his, where it rested on his cane, but he pulled away from her touch. “I need to go,” he repeated, and strode for the door.

The bad feeling in Calina’s gut grew stronger.

And it didn’t let up over the next several hours, as Matt followed Cross and Ranieri all over the city, and she was left to pace his living room floor alone.

He eventually returned as dawn was starting to break across the sky. Calina was napping on the couch, exhaustion and worry leading to a fretful, interrupted sleep. As his key turned in the door, she sat upright and called out. “Matt, are you okay?”

He didn’t look okay. He trudged into the living room, footfalls heavy and slow, and collapsed on to the chair opposite her. His 5 o’clock shadow had darkened into scruff and the suit he’d worn to dinner last night was rumpled and creased. He rubbed his hands over his face then massaged his temples, as if fighting off a headache.

“Matt,” she said again, softer this time. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Hours and hours of fucking nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

Matt sighed and let his head fall back against the chair. “I caught up with Cross and Ranieri after they left the restaurant, and tailed them to a club on the upper east side - an exclusive members-only club that was harder for me to get into than fucking Fort Knox.”

“But you managed right? I mean, you’re Daredevil, a few locked doors are nothing to you,” she tried to make her comment light, to help counteract the air of anger and frustration that seemed to simmer beneath Matt’s weary state.

It didn’t work. Matt just continued to recap his night in the same flat, bitter tone. “I eventually managed to find a way on to the roof that wasn’t guarded by a camera or security guard, but I couldn’t hear anything of use - it was too loud and packed with other people to make out Cross and Ranieri’s conversation. They left the club after a couple of hours, and split up. I followed Ranieri to the Waldorf, but he went straight to his room. He didn’t meet up with anyone else.”

Calina did the math in her head, and realised that several hours were still unaccounted for in Matt’s story. He never came home for his Daredevil suit to go out patrolling…so what did he do instead?

“Then what?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone practically all night, Matt.”

Matt sat forward, dangled his hands between his legs and stared at the floor. “I needed to think.”

Calina swallowed, suddenly more worried than she’d been all night. Matt’s voice as he said those words…his whole demeanour…

Something was really wrong.

“What did you need to think about?”

Matt clasped his hands together and squeezed until his flesh went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if hesitating to answer.

“Matt, what’s going on?”

He took a deep breath and lifted his head in her direction. “Does the name ‘Eliise’ mean anything to you?”

Calina frowned, thrown by the unexpected question. Then the blood drained from her face as she realised how he would have heard that name. “It was my alias in Italy, when I was going after Ranieri. He recognised me in the restaurant, didn’t he?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out you were really fucking memorable. I mean, he was a little disappointed you’d changed your hair and weren’t showing as much leg as before, but he took great delight in describing his night with you to Cross.”

Calina exhaled in relief, glad her real identity as a Widow hadn’t been blown. “So he was bragging to look like a big shot in front of his new associate, so what?”

“It wasn’t baseless bragging. He was regaling Cross in lurid detail about all the ways he'd fucked you. And he wasn’t lying. I could practically feel his heartbeat through that bathroom wall, and he believed every single word of what he said.”

“Wait…are you saying you think I slept with him? That I had sex with him in Italy behind your back?”

“He wasn’t lying, Calina,” Matt repeated, through clenched teeth.

“Neither was I! I told you exactly what happened during that mission!”

“Like you told me exactly what happened to the man you killed across the hall?”

Calina reeled back, as if the words were a physical blow. “So I’m always going to be a liar in your eyes, is that it? Despite the fact that I’ve been honest and open with you every single day since then? Despite the fact that you claim to love me? Doesn’t that afford me the benefit of the doubt at the very least!?”

Matt jumped to his feet. “Yes! Of course it does! That’s why I’ve been wrestling with this all night! I couldn’t reconcile what you told me with-”

“With what Ranieri said? You believed a complete stranger over me?”

“No, not blindly. But you’re asking me to ignore everything my senses are telling me-”

“Yes! Because your senses aren’t infallible, Matt. All of your goddam trust issues stem from the fact that you’ve been lied to again and again by the people you're close to, which means you can’t always tell when someone’s being honest!”

“So now you’re throwing my past back at me? I just want the truth, Calina! What happened in Italy?”

Calina didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed her cell from the coffee table and dialled a number.

“What are you doing?” Matt asked, as the sound of the phone ringing filled the air between them.

“Well, you obviously won’t believe anything I tell you, so I’m getting someone impartial to give you the truth.”

At that moment, Anya picked up the phone, sounding wide awake despite the hour. “Calina? I’ve been looking into this Cross and Ranieri thing, and I may have found something. They-”

“Not now, Anya,” Calina interrupted. “I need you to speak to Matt.”

“Okay…about what?"

“Tell him about Italy. About the serum I injected Ranieri with - and what it does.”

“Um, it’s a modified sedative. Designed to render a mark unconscious while also allowing for hypnotic suggestions to be implanted.”

“And what suggestions did you implant while Ranieri was unconscious?” Calina asked.

“That, um, you had sex with him.”

“Did I actually have sex with him?”

“No! Of course not. Calina, what’s this about? What’s-”

“I’ll tell you later.” Calina hung up the phone and looked at Matt. He stood with his hands on his hips, head bowed. “Satisfied?”

At Calina’s question, he lifted his head. Shook it once. “Calina, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t give a shit.” She shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed her purse and stalked towards the door.

Matt caught her hand before she could yank it open. “Wait, don’t leave. We need to talk about this. I’m so sorry for-”

“For what? For doubting me? Not trusting me? Or for thinking I'm the kind of person who would cheat on you, and lie to your face about it?”

“Callie-”

“No. I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”

“Go? Go where? Please don’t disappear on me again.”

“Right now, I’m going to my apartment across the hall to get some sleep. Don’t follow me. Don’t call me.”

Matt squeezed her hand. Brought it to his lips and pressed a desperate kiss to the back of it. “Please, sweetheart-”

“No. I need some space, Matt. Just let me go.”

“I don’t think I can ever let you go, sweetheart,” Matt whispered against her skin. “But I’ll give you some space.” He dropped her hand and stepped to the side.

Calina walked through the door and didn’t look back.

———

Matt hit the punching bag with all his strength, the smack of flesh meeting leather creating a satisfying sound that rang out in the empty gym.

The pain that came a moment later was satisfying in a different way.

Matt had foregone the hand wraps and gloves for a reason. He’d come straight to Fogwell’s after the fight with Calina, wanting to take out all his anger and frustration on the training equipment…and wanting to punish himself in the process.

He couldn’t believe how thoroughly he’d fucked things up tonight.

No, that was wrong. He could believe it. It was one of his core personality traits, after all: the ability to sabotage every good thing in his life.

Like his relationship with Karen. He’d fucked that up because he couldn’t stay away from the toxic pull of Elektra. He’d fucked up his career and his friendship with Foggy because he couldn’t find the right balance between Matt Murdock and Daredevil.

He really thought he’d turned a corner this year. He’d mended the rift with Foggy, found friendship again with Karen, and had rebuilt the law firm with their help…but now he’d gone and fucked everything up with Calina. Because he couldn’t trust her.

No, that was wrong too. He couldn’t trust his trust in her.

Because he knew that she hadn’t lied to him about Italy. He knew she wasn’t the type of person who could be unfaithful. He knew there must be some explanation for why Ranieri believed the things that he did.

As soon as he’d heard the smarmy Italian telling Cross about ‘Eliise’, Matt had shook his head in disbelief. He knew it must be Calina he was referring to - the timing and location of the encounter fit with the Widow’s mission, and he seemed so sure he recognised Calina, despite the change in her appearance - but Matt couldn’t believe the story he was spinning about them sleeping together. He didn’t believe it. He knew that it had to be a lie, despite what his senses were telling him.

But as the night wore on, and he had little to do but sit on a cold, concrete rooftop as Cross and Ranieri’s conversation was lost to the din of the nightclub below, insidious thoughts started to creep into Matt’s mind.

What if…?

What if Calina had lied to him? She’d done it before, after all. She’d kept the secret of her identity for months. She’d killed people, and kept that from him.

What if sleeping with Ranieri was vital to her mission to take down Volkov? He knew how strong and overwhelming the Widows’ drive for freedom had been. They would have stopped at nothing to get out from under Volkov’s thumb. Would Calina have stopped at sleeping with a mark? She’d done that before in the past, as well…

Matt had hated the thoughts as they’d formed in his head. He’d screwed his eyes shut and pulled at the strands of his hair, as if he could physically banish them. He didn’t like that even a tiny part of him could think so ill of the woman he loved.

But he couldn’t seem to shake those thoughts. They took root over the course of the night, and he spent hours walking the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, wrestling with them. Trying to conquer them with the truths that he was sure of: Calina was a good person. She’d vowed to be honest with him. She loved him, and wouldn’t betray him.

But those wretched, malignant doubts just wouldn’t go away.

And look where they’d gotten him - pummelling his fists bloody and raw because he’d hurt Calina. Because he’d ruined things between them.

Why couldn’t he have trusted his initial instinct that Ranieri was lying?

Why couldn’t he have trusted his belief in Calina?

Matt yelled in frustration as he hit the bag so hard it swung away from him, a wordless shout of anger and pain that echoed off the crumbling walls of the gym. He caught the bag as it came back, and rested his forehead against the leather, panting with exertion. Warm blood trickled from the split skin over his knuckles, and he could feel the burn of inflammation in his shoulder where he must have pulled a muscle.

But the pain didn’t help. The self-flagellation wasn’t lessening any of his guilt.

And he was at real risk of doing damage to himself that wouldn’t heal with an icepack and a few bandages. He scoffed at the irony as he cleaned off the blood from his hands and the sweat from his brow. He never used to worry about himself in that way. Not before Calina. Not before he started to see a future for himself, with her.

He just didn’t know if that future existed now.

———

Calina couldn’t sleep.

She wasn’t surprised. Sleep had never come easily to her in this new post-Widow’s life. Not unless she was next to Matt…

Matt.

She sighed and rolled on to her back, staring vacantly at the ceiling over her bed. She wished she could cry or yell or hit something to get rid of this…numbness…that she felt. She’d left his apartment in a hurry, feeling like she was on the verge of breaking down, but when she reached her own bedroom just moments later, a wave of numbness had descended, until she was left like this - feeling empty, detached from her own emotions.

As if they were too big, too devastating to bear, and her mind was protecting her from them.

Or maybe it just meant that she was done. That she knew it was over between her and Matt, and her pragmatic side had decided that there was no point in wallowing in grief and pain over the loss.

No. The thought of it really and truly being over between her and Matt caused a sharp stab of pain through her heart.

A response at last. 

Because she loved him. 

Which was its own curse. Because it meant that she knew him. She knew his past and the way it had shaped who he was today. She knew why he’d reacted the way he had tonight…and a small part of her even sympathised with his struggle to believe her.

Hence, the curse. She should be allowed to be angry. To feel betrayed by his doubts. To hate him as much as she loved him.

But instead she was...numb.

So numb, the sound of a knock at the door barely elicited a reaction, even though it was probably Matt ignoring her wishes. “I said I needed space, Matt,” she called out as she dragged herself out of bed.

“We’re not Matt, so open up,” was the response.

Frowning, Calina opened the door to find Anya and Katya standing in the hall - along with a very unexpected addition. “What are you doing here so early?”

Anya pushed passed her into the living room. “After that weird phone call, we had to come and see what was happening.”

Katya rolled her eyes. “Tactful, Anya. We’re not just here out of curiosity. We came to see how you were. We figured you and Matt had an argument.”

“Is that why you brought a dog?” Calina asked, pointing to the puppy in Katya’s arms. “For comfort?"

"Comfort?"

"Yeah. I read that petting a dog lowers cortisol levels, and can boost dopamine and serotonin neurotransmitters in the brain.”

Katya looked down at the squirming mass of fur in her arms. “That would have been a good idea, actually. But, no, we’re dog-sitting Nika and didn’t want to leave her in the house while everyone else is too pre-occupied with what’s happening over Wakanda to watch her.”

“Wait, whose dog is she? And what’s happening in Wakanda?” Calina sat on the edge of the sofa and looked up at the Widows, glad there were a couple of mysteries to uncover that would take her mind off Matt.

Katya let the puppy down to explore and joined Calina on the couch. “She belongs to Yelena. She picked her up from the pound last week.”

Calina smiled. “That’s great. She said she always wanted a dog - I just thought she was planning to wait until all the Widows’ stuff was sorted.”

“Nope. She just decided that she’ll still do all the ‘Widows’ stuff’ and leave us to look after the dog while she’s gone.”

“Where is she now?”

“In Helsinki with Sonya. They’re freeing Ana - do you remember her?”

Calina had the vague recollection of an older, blonde girl who was a couple of cohorts ahead of her in the Red Room. “Not really.”

“Well, we found her in a mansion in the Finnish countryside, so Yelena flew out there last night.”

“That’s good that you guys found someone else.”

“Speaking of finding something,” Anya said. “I was looking into Cross and Ranieri like you asked-”

“That can wait until later,” Katya interrupted. “Tell us what happened with Matt.”

Calina groaned and sank back into the couch. The puppy took it as her cue to jump up on her lap. She managed the leap with no problem, and Calina could tell she was going to be big once she reached her true size. She looked like a cross between a husky and a German shepherd, and her fur was thick and soft when Calina sank her fingers into it. She continued to pet the dog as she explained the events of last night.

“So, thank you, Anya,” she said at the end of the tale. “For being so thorough in your description of my fake sexcapade with Ranieri that he’s never forgotten that night.”

Anya winced. “Sorry.”

Calina shook her head. “No, it’s not your fault. This was probably always destined to happen - Matt finds it hard to trust people, and I have a history of lying to him. What’s that phrase? ’Irreconcilable differences’?”

“I don’t believe that,” Katya said. “You’re not irreconcilable. You’ll get past this, just like your other..hurdles.”

Calina laughed at the word 'hurdle', which felt like a massive understatement. “I’m not so sure this time.” Her voice broke, and she could feel the barrier around her emotions start to break down, the numbness start to wear off, so she quickly changed the subject before the tears followed. “But enough about that. Tell me what you found, Anya.”

Anya didn’t have to be asked twice. She launched into a detailed explanation of how she searched Ranieri’s emails and his entire internet footprint via a software program she'd designed which utilised AI…until Katya had to beg her to get to the point. “Please, just give us the bullet point summary!”

“Okay, fine. It turns out Ranieri and Cross were boarded together at the same school in Switzerland for a brief period - before Ranieri was expelled for drug use, and Cross’ family emigrated to New York.”

“So they’ve known each other all this time?” Calina asked.

Anya shrugged. “It’s unclear how friendly they were for most of it, but their communications  definitely increased over the past couple of years. It looks like Ranieri was hustling on the side with Cross. He liked being in league with Volkov, but he had no loyalty, and he wasn’t as fanatical about the mission as Volkov was. He was in it for the money and power, and he saw no problem with stealing from Volkov to help him get in with another powerful man.”

“So he was the one that sent Aminev to Cross. He basically gave his old school friend a Black Widow assassin,” Katya added.

“That was the plan,” Anya clarified. “But Aminev got greedy. He was supposed to just hand over the tech to Cross, but he set himself up as the middle-man instead, getting paid to control Calina on behalf of Cross. But he fucked that up and got himself killed instead.”

“It’s a wonder Cross trusted Ranieri after that,” Calina mused. Cross didn’t seem the type to suffer incompetence in his associates.

“It didn’t matter. Ranieri had already done enough to secure his place in Cross’ inner circle.”

“How?” Calina asked.

“By giving him an old Red Room formulation. It had been superseded by the mind control serum, so Ranieri figured Volkov wouldn’t notice when the last remaining vials went missing.”

“What was the formulation?” Katya asked.

Calina had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what it was. “It was the fear pheromone, wasn’t it?”

Anya nodded. “A rudimentary version compared to what’s on the streets now. But yes.”

“So it all started with Ranieri,” Katya said, shaking her head in disbelief. “He gave Cross the idea of the fear pheromone, the basic formula to improve upon, and he even tried to guarantee his supply of the main ingredient - Arsonium Bromide - by giving him a Black Widow. That slimy, inbred piece of Italian trash started this whole thing.”

“Well, technically, the Red Room started it all,” Anya countered. “They came up with the fear pheromone in the first place.”

Calina let out a bitter laugh. “Of course it all started with them. All the pain that Cross caused with his experiments to perfect the pheromone, all the lives he ruined and the people he killed…it all stems back to the Red Room. To us. This is our legacy.”

Katya scowled at her. “What are you talking about? This isn’t on us. This is on Dreykov, and Volkov and all those other assholes in the Red Room. Our legacy will be stopping Cross - we're going to help you and Matt take him down.”

Calina nodded. She knew Katya was right. She and the other Widows were as much victims as those Cross had experimented on. They weren’t culpable. She was just feeling extra resentful and scathing about her past and her association with the Red Room this morning.

For obvious reasons.

And she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to work with Matt again on this, or anything else, but she appreciated her sisters' support. “Thanks, guys. For finding all this out, and for coming to check on me this morning. And for letting me pet the dog - I think it helped.” She smoothed her hand over one floppy ear and scratched behind it. The puppy immediately rolled over and offered her stomach for extra pets. Calina laughed and complied. 

“Speaking of the dog, why don’t you come with us while we take her for a walk. Clear your head a bit.”

Calina nodded. “Sounds good.”

Some fresh air and a playful puppy sounded infinitely better than wallowing in her bed alone for the rest of the day. 

———

As Matt left the gym, the sun was high in the sky and the working day was starting for his fellow New Yorkers. The traffic on the streets was growing, and the sound of shutters being raised on storefronts drowned out the chorus of birdsong.

Matt checked the time on his watch. He could head to the office...but he wasn't sure he was in the right head space for work this morning. And he didn't feel like going back to his apartment - not when Calina's absence would be palpable. Not when the air would still hold her scent - that would be more of a torment than a comfort right now.

So he walked. For hours. Aimlessly. Down tree-lined streets and across concrete avenues shaded by high rise buildings. He walked, concentrating on the feel of the ground beneath his feet and the steady beat of his heart, trying not to think about the fight with Calina. About how he could gain her forgiveness. About the possibility that he might never do so.

He walked…and eventually found himself outside Clinton church. For the second time in just over 24 hours.

God, had it only been a day?

Everything felt so different now. Not just in terms of the shock invasion from above, but the tumult in his own life. Yesterday he was planning to introduce his mother to the love of his life. Yesterday he felt such a sense of hope and optimism.

But now…

It was all gone.

“Matthew?” 

Speaking of his mother…

“Maggie,” he replied.

Something in his voice must have worried her. Or maybe she caught sight of the blood staining the bandages over his hands. Either way, she came rushing over. “What’s wrong. What happened?” She took hold of his arm and guided him down the steps to the rectory attached to the church. He took a seat at the small kitchen table while she fussed over him, removing his bandages and cleaning his damaged skin with warm water.

It was strange. This church, the people in it - Maggie, Father Lantom - were the source of so much of the betrayal that had shaped him. And yet he still returned to it. Again and again. 

Was it a form of masochism?

Or was he subconsciously searching for answers? For an explanation.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Maggie paused in the act of washing his wounds. “What?”

“Why did you let me believe I was all alone in the world?”

“Oh, Matthew.” Maggie dropped the cloth she’d been using and took the seat next to him. “I- I was so young when I had you. And I was so confused. I thought I was betraying God-”

“I’m not talking about that,” he bit out. “I know you were young. I know about the post partum depression. I don’t blame you for any of that. I want to know about later. When my Dad died, afterwards, my whole life…you let me believe I was alone. You lied to me. Father Lantom lied to me. I- I just need to know why.”

“Why are you asking this now? I thought you’d found it in your heart to forgive us.”

Matt laughed. “So did I. And maybe I have forgiven you. But the damage was done regardless.”

“What damage? You said everything you’ve been through led you to becoming Daredevil, and that you were content with that.”

“With that part of my life, yes. But the rest of my life? No so much.”

“What are you talking about. Tell me what happened.”

Matt sprang up from the chair and poked a finger in his chest. “I happened! I fucked it all up with Calina, because I couldn’t trust her. Because I couldn’t banish these thoughts that she was lying to me. Betraying me. Because that’s what I’m used to. That’s what I expect from the people who claim to care about me, and its ruining my fucking life!”

Matt turned away and gripped the edges of the sink, head bowed, as he tried to get hold of his rage. He could feel Maggie approach, then tentatively lay a hand on his shoulder. He fought the urge to shrug off her comfort, but a part of him didn’t want to undo all the progress they’d made together.

He didn’t want to do or say something in anger that would ruin this relationship too. But he was just so goddam frustrated! He could feel years of resentment bubbling up to the surface.

Maggie must have sensed it, because she finally gave him the answers he craved. “When your father was alive,” she said, in a faltering voice, “I convinced myself that coming to you, and telling you the truth would just hurt you. Confuse you too much. Then, after he died, I convinced my self that it would do more harm than good. Eventually…I realised the truth.”

“Which was?”

“I’m a coward, Matthew. I was too scared to face you, and own up to the biggest mistake of my life. To save myself from that, I hurt you instead. And I’m so, so sorry for that.” She pressed on his arm, getting him to turn and face her. When he did, she reached up to take his face in her hands. “But you, Matthew Murdock, are not a coward. You are the bravest man I’ve ever known. And the strongest. It takes both to be able to love someone - it isn’t something that weak people do.”

“I do love Calina. So much. But I just don't know how to give her that last little piece of my trust.”

“My dear boy, that’s where the courage comes into play. It’s a leap of faith to give over your heart and your trust to someone else, never knowing for sure if they’ll keep them safe. You just have to be brave and jump. I have a feeling that Calina won’t squander those gifts.”

“But will she trust me with her heart now? After the things I accused her of…”

“Only she can decide that. But you need to go and find out. Fight for her. Don’t just hole yourself up hitting bags of sand - figure out a way to win her back instead.”

Matt nodded. And then, because he was feeling so drained and emotional, and because she was standing so close, he gave in to the impulse to drop his head down to her shoulder. Maggie froze for a fraction of a second before wrapping her arms around him. He hooked one arm around her waist…and they were hugging.

His first ever hug from his mother.

He could feel in the slight tremble in her frame how much it meant to her. It meant just as much to him.

And he knew he needed to let it go. All of the resentment. All of the anger at her betrayal. Father Lantom’s lies. Even Elektra and Stick's offences against him. Everything.

He needed to truly forgive and move on - for his sake, for Maggie’s, and for Calina most of all.

Because he wanted to be a better man for her.

After a few long moments, he stepped away from the embrace. “Thanks Maggie. I, um, should get going, I guess.”

“To Calina?” she asked, in a slightly bossy tone.

“Yes,” he laughed. “To Calina.”

“Good.”

Matt stepped back out into the bright spring morning, feeling a renewed sense of hope. He wouldn’t let things end with Calina this way. He wouldn’t let things end at all. He loved her. And he knew she loved him. He just had to convince her to give him another chance.

And he was a lawyer - convincing people was one of the things he did best.

He set off back in the direction of this apartment, already mentally composing his speech to Calina. His grovelling, heartfelt and earnest declaration that would hopefully persuade her to take him back. In fact, he was concentrating so hard on what he would say to her, that he missed the first warning signs that something was wrong in the city.

Very, very wrong.

But then he heard the first scream. His head jerked up at the sound trying to pinpoint the location. That’s when another scream rang out, from a different direction. Then the sounds of multiple cars crashing all over the city. A plane going down in the distance...

And beneath all that noise, and chaos…a terrible, eerie silence was growing in the world. As if thousands of heartbeats and breaths and voices were just…disappearing. Being snuffed out at once.

That horrible absence grew and grew, and with it, Matt’s fear. He started running, that same urge from yesterday overtaking him - the desperate need to get to Calina. He barrelled past other pedestrians on the street, those who were rooted in place, looking around in terror. He felt himself run through flakes of…something. Too warm to be snow. Too insubstantial to be leaves or bits of paper floating in the air. He didn’t stop to figure it out, he just kept running.

Until suddenly, he started to feel...strange.

As if the ground was no longer beneath his feet. As if the air was no longer brushing against his skin. As if all his senses were dulled. He staggered to a halt, and grasped his chest, as if to reassure himself he was still…him. But his hand vanished before it could make contact.

There was no pain. No sensation to it at all. He    w a      s                   

j               u                       s                           t

                                    

 c             o                          

                                                         m

                                                                                    i

                                                                                           n

                                                             g              

 

 a       

                  p

                                                        a

                                                                                                      r

                                                                                                                                          

t…

————–

END OF PART 3

————–

Well, for those of you who aren't familiar with Avenger's Infinity War...the BLIP just happened! And I don't actually know for sure if Matt was blipped in canon or not, but in my story he was.

Poor guy!

Find out how he deals with it here...

Part 4, chapter 1

Tag list: @hollandorks @stilldreaming666 @sio-ina-bottle @tearoseart-blog @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy @chezagnes

If you’d like to be added - let me know!

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

IV. “Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.  

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors. 

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists. 

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.   

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied. 

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view. 

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels. 

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside. 

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.   

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters. 

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.  

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips. 

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk. 

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.” 

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes. 

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs. 

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa. 

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved to see if the Mandalorian needed attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?” 

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress. 

“No. Thank you, I–” 

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan. 

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?” 

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots. 

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain. 

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the doorway to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.  

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven. 

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—to let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really. 

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue. 

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being was suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven? 

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.  

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.” 

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”  

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light. 

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room. 

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage. 

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that. 

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity. 

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless. 

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”  

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he said, taking the holo-puck from his pocket and activating its profile. "I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.” 

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off. 

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.” 

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?” 

“Yes, there are a few he favors.” 

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.” 

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?  

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day? 

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it. 

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her. 

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil. 

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words. 

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.   

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.” 

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.” 

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, his hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy. 

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.     

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front-line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid. 

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest. 

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!” 

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.” 

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.” 

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here. 

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container. 

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–sure, that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working. 

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs. 

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.” 

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”  

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.” 

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…? 

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby. 

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof. 

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked. 

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning. 

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it. 

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.    

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor. 

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.” 

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line. 

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?” 

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt. 

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session. 

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder. 

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man. 

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.” 

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all. 

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head. 

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear, which made interrogation that much harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.     

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”  

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device. 

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time. 

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?” 

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.  

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr? It might take him a while to break out, by the way."

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

[berylcups]

Yandere Files: Ghiaccio X Foreign Reader

CW: stalking, imprisonment, death (mentioned), jealousy, hostess clubs, masturbation, phone sex(is it if it’s one sided?),immigration, outercourse, mild toxicity

Notes: just a disclaimer- I have no idea how immigration works in Italy or how it works across other countries but I thought it would be a good point of conflict for Ghia to act up to. Also- Ghiaccio was a tough nut to crack. (No pun intended 👀) He’s not very sexually motivated as a character he seems so I had to really try hard with this one! I hope it’s not too OOC and you ice fuckers like it though~🩵Beryl

Minors DNI

Y/N has been living in Napoli Italy for about 4 and a half years now. It’s tough living on their own but it’s worth it. They’re in college for design and work a job that they love. They work in a nice cafe as a hostess and it pays ridiculously well! The only catch is… there’s a lot of mafia activity. Y/N hears and sees things they aren’t supposed to- but that’s okay because they look the other way.

Now this was a special kind of cafe. It took heavy inspiration from the east for its heavily…attentive service. Hostesses would be pouring wine for their guests, lighting their cigarettes/cigars, sitting with them, conversing, laughing at their jokes, stroking their ego, and even joining them on drinks - non alcoholic of course! We can’t have the staff getting tipsy on the job!

Melone being the creep that he is, surveyed this place out for good mothers for BabyFace. But he also really likes the atmosphere so he got his other teammates to go along. Even Sorbet and Gelato! The two had no interest in the women but they enjoyed being pampered by them. But Ghiaccio… he didn’t really like it. Why would he want some host/hostess to be bugging him every 5 minutes??? He doesn’t get it! That’s until he met Y/N of course.

Aesthetics didn’t mean much to the man but he thought they were very gorgeous- it didn’t matter how tall or small, thick or thin, light or dark they were. He was enamored by their open mindedness and that they were willing to just actively listen to him. They gave their full attention to this man, and gave out intelligent thought out answers-to the best of their language capabilities.

“Oh uh sorry… what was the correct name for that pasta again? Shit. I can’t remember! It looks like little corkscrews. Like the part of the wine bottle opener you use to screw into the cork .” Y/N struggled trying to find the name.

“I believe the one you’re looking for is fusilli.” He replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yes! That’s the one! Thank you Ghiaccio. Well I had the fusilli alla checca the other day and I was surprised. I really liked it despite me not liking cheese very much. I’m glad I listened to you.” They said cheerfully.

He couldn’t help but smirk from having his ego stroked like that. Of course he’s right! He knows everything about Italy and its wonderful culture.

“Sigh… I’m really gonna miss it here.” They said looking down at their coffee with a sad smile.

Ghiaccio nearly spits out his coffee. “What?!” He yelled. “ I mean- what do you mean by that?” He lowered his voice trying not to cause a scene.

“Well as you know I’m graduating from _____ University in a few weeks… and my Visa is almost up. I only have about 3 months left before I have to go back home to _______.” They said gloomily. “I really don’t want to leave because I love it here so much.”

“Go apply for a permanent residency! They should take you in since you've been here almost 5 years.” He replied.

“I wish I could…but my mom is waiting for me at home and I’m all she has. And the wait time for the documents will take longer than I am allowed here legally.” They signed sadly. “Well… let’s not let this ruin our time together! We still have 3 months. Let’s make the best of it right Ghia?” They chirped trying to bring the mood back up.

He wanted to shake them by their shoulders and tell them that’s not good enough and they can’t just leave him but he can’t just have an outburst. It will scare them away! He has to think of a plan to keep Y/N here with him. PERMANENTLY.

“Yeah, you’re right Y/N. Let’s just enjoy the time we have left.” He said, faking a small smile.

He was seething inside. How DARE they try to leave him. Of ALL PEOPLE it had to be Y/N to turn their back on him?! Not on his watch! He was going to use his resources and connections to make sure that Y/N doesn’t leave the country of Italy ever.

————————————————

Now that he’s smitten with you, some of your regulars stopped showing up. You wonder why? It’s starting to worry you a little bit financially. You have to make sure that you have enough money for the trip home!

“I wonder why people are showing up less and less… am I not doing good enough?” You asked dejectedly.

“No of course not! Their wives/husbands probably found out that they were hanging out here and probably put them on a tight leash.” Ghiaccio lied.

Anytime he’d see one of the patrons get a little too flirty or handys with you he’d corner them in the back alley and beat them with an inch of their lives. Or worse, do what he does best-freeze them till they shatter like glass.

While you’re still here he follows you everywhere and you are too distracted by everyday life to notice it. Oh! He just happens to be near your university! How about a ride home in his nice car? It beats taking public transport. Or when you happen to run into him at the grocery store? How about he gives you a quick ride back home so you don’t have to carry all those heavy groceries home? He’s so thoughtful!

When he’s home alone , or on a mission he’s always thinking of you . He’s sexually frustrated because when he furiously masturbates his hand isn’t enough anymore . He wants to feel your hand around his cock instead or better yet your warm hole.

He calls you often at odd hours of the night just to check in with you. You two have long deep discussions about random things like how English is just ridiculous, or learning about your culture and food, your hobbies, his hobbies, just about everything! In person he’s usually the one talking but on the phone you’re the one who’s doing most of the talking. When he talks he sounds winded, strained? Like there’s repetitive smacking sounds going on in the background. He says he’s just “multitasking “ but with what?

He knows you love your job-he gets it. But… he can’t stand the idea of another pair of eager balls or a thirsty pussy near you. He doesn’t wanna take your joy away but he doesn’t want to live in a constant state of anxiety! You're his! So he’s a straight forward man, so he’s gonna confess his feelings to you when he’s certain that he has a chance. You clearly pay more attention to him, your eyes light up when he comes in through those doors. You eagerly sit in his lap and listen to his usual complaints of the day.

“Aww I’m so sorry that happened. What a douche! He should have known better, you were right to stand up for yourself. You have a reputation to uphold. Is there anything I can do to make it better for you?” You cooed.

“Just having you around is enough to turn my day around.” He said, softening his tone.

“Aww~ Ghia! You’re too sweet. You’re the one I’m gonna miss the most.” You sighed. “Hey… I’m not really supposed to ask this because this could jeopardize my job but…do you wanna go out sometime?” You whispered. “I really really like you and I’ll regret not telling you how I feel before I have to go home… if you’re okay with long distance relationships that is- I understand if you don’t it’s not that easy and I promise I’ll visit as much as pos-“

He put a finger up to your lips to stop your nervous rambling “ of course Y/N. I was honestly going to ask you myself.”he confessed. “As far as long distance goes, we’ll make it work.” He lied, he had his plans in order to make sure you’ll never leave.

He agreed to a long distance relationship because that’s not what he had planned at all. He already got a hold of your passport and other legal documents when you were outside of your home at university. He made sure they were absolutely destroyed. He has Melone currently making him a perfect fake permanent residency card for you. Now you’re NOT going ANYWHERE.

On the days that you’re free he takes you to historic places close by and acts like a more in depth tour guide to you. He hopes this will make you want to stay even more and it’s working. He’ll show you all the best restaurants- not that touristy shit or the Michelin star nonsense. Just real authentic Italian cuisine!

He likes to drive the scenic routes and show you all the lesser known beaches, forests, parks, vineyards, etc. The lesser known the better, so he has the privacy he needs to mercilessly fuck you into the back of his car. He apologized for your first time with him being on top of the back of an uncomfortable car but he just couldn’t help himself. You looked so good with the nice outfit you were wearing!

He’s very athletic so likes to pick you up against the wall as he’s fucking you. He’s all about hard and fast. He’s gonna want to bite at your neck and leave tons of bite marks and hickies all over your body. He wants everyone to know that you’re taken and not available for anything outside your job. He doesn’t cum just once he goes at around 4-5 times with a very insane fast refractory period.

He’s not big on foreplay but he has a fixation outercourse. Watching his cock slip through your folds/ass drives him feral. But he’s not selfish, whatever you want he’ll give to you- within reason. He loves you but he’s very impatient!

He has an obsession with boobs. 👀 big boobs, small boobs, no boobs , pecs… all boobs are good boobs to this tit lover. He likes to use his cold hands and watch the nipples harden and hear you whine that he’s too cold 🥶 it never fails to get a chuckle out of him to hear you whine for him to stop making you so cold!

When it’s nearly time to go home he plays along and helps you pack up all of what you plan to bring back to your home country. Since you’re only packing sentimental items and necessities, there’s not too many bags. Thankfully they all fit in his trunk.

You crash at his house the night before you leave. Only one teeny tiny problem… you missed your goddamn flight!

“You missed your flight and you lost your passport? You know what this means right Y/N? You’re stuck here in the country .” Ghiaccio said very calmly for a tense situation like this.

“ I’m an illegal now! What will I do???” You cried with tears staining your cheeks.

“ I already took care of the problem myself.” He said calmly. He pulls out a fake permanent residency card. It was as realistic as the real thing. Only thing is your last name is the same as his.

You can’t just stay! You needed to go home! This is wrong! You wanted to argue, but there was just something ominous about his demeanor.

“I love you too much Y/N. I can’t let you leave.” He said eerily calm, taking a step closer to you. Was it the anxiety or did the temperature of the room just drop.

“But… you know I can’t stay. I have to go home.” You whimpered.

He took a firm grip on your shoulders and made intense eye contact.

“Oh Y/N… perhaps you're not really understanding the situation. Allow me to say this in a language you understand: You’re not leaving me or the country..”he spoke in your mother tongue and he did it perfectly.

You can tell he’s mad, and you don’t want him to get worse. He’s a part of Passione, you know this. You’re not dumb! Now’s the time to do what you do best, be obedient and do what he says. After all, Ghiaccio knows best.

Once you accept your fate that you’re stuck here with him: it’s till death do you part. But don’t worry he still treats you as if nothing happened. Just as long as you don’t mention anything about it ☠️ or you’ll end up in the chilly basement for a few days. But it hurts him just as much as hurts you! He loves holding onto you at night as he’s drifting asleep. He’d never lay a hand on you, he just wants to make sure you never ever leave him.

But as long as you leave the past in the past (aka- your home and family!) you have a bright future ahead of you with this loving man! 🥰

[lilyginnyblackv2]

It’s just a weird way of viewing Kazuki, okay? lol

The dudebros over on MAL calling Kazuki a womanizer is so weird. Before the series started and it said in his bio that he “liked women and gambling,” I thought that he might be a womanizer as well and definitely used that term once or twice in regards to him. But by Episode 12? 

Yeah, Kazuki likes women and seems to still go out with them from time to time. But...that’s not the same thing as a womanizer. Womanizers in anime, especially, have a very similar personality type that Kazuki just straight up does not have. That personality type is more like Brock from Pokemon or Gojyo from Saiyuki, where they would ask out every woman they saw to go out with them, date them, kiss them, etc. etc.

Kazuki never does that. Like, the absolute closest we ever see of that is him with the Daycare Moms in Episode 4 when he winks at them, lmao. Outside of that we see him engage in sex to gather intel for work and flirty interactions with Carol and Dorothy (as well as the other women) in Episodes 1 and 7, but nothing necessarily sexual (they are adult entertainers, but probably don’t engage in any actual sexual acts - just the fantasy or illusion of sex, similar to like a stripper, etc.). Carol, Dorothy, and the Fairy Lips is more about the illusion of spending time with pretty ladies, similar to a hostess club type of situation (just with a casino and gambling element to it). 

In Episode 12, we get a very vague description of Kazuki hanging out a woman, which could mean he did engage in sexual acts or he just engaged in something more flirty like the Fairy Lips sort of stuff. None of that is “womanizer” behavior. “Womanizer” has a very negative connotation to it, at least, imo it does, and it makes me think of men who constantly hit on women, which isn’t Kazuki’s actual MO at all.

[cas-skz]

Enigma Part 4

Song Mingi x (fem)Reader

Series Summary: Song Mingi is a mystery to you. A man with morals, to a certain extent. The method to his madness isn't typical: Violence, threats, and crime. After the first time you encounter him, he's got you locked in. The first encounter, wont be the last.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, Suggestive Content, Language, Use of alcohol, Violence

Word Count: 2k

Written By: @littleforeignaffairs

Part 1 | 2 | 3

Having Tiffany as your mentor is beginning to benefit you.  She’s still a stranger to you, but she’s taking care of you like you see her do with the other girls. The day was long, but fun. Tiffany showed you so much you thought your head was going to explode.  She sent you home around supper hour, but hinted to you that you should come back and see how the night works.

The house is lonesome with Tiffany gone, despite having some of Mingi’s men hanging around you. Even having Mingi in the house would be a little bit of an upgrade. You check yourself out in your mirror, giving yourself a nod of approval. When you walk out your of your bedroom, you’re face to face with one of Mingi’s burliest men.

He gives you a look of disapproval. You poke your cheek with your tongue, rolling your eyes.

“I’m going back to the club to see Tiffany” You try to take a step, but the man doesn’t move. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms over your chest “I can’t go anywhere without you anyway, so why are you stopping me”

The man looks you over, glancing at your outfit of choice. He breathes in sharply through his teeth.

“Not sure the boss would like you going out like that”

“Jesus, what is it with you guys. I’m going to a club" You push past the man “Now hurry up, I’m losing precious drinking time”

Prime time is usually anywhere between 11:30pm and 3am. You manage to arrive before the patrons end up getting too drunk and sloppy. Usually it was perfect for you. Perfect timing to find buyers. But it dawns on you that you’re here for yourself, not to work for Lee. You actually feel a little bit lost. You stay close to the bar, letting men buy you drinks.

It isn’t until the alcohol starts to kick in that you remember what happened the other night. You stare down at your near empty glass, then around at the bar. Tiffany is preoccupied with orders and patrons. You decide to only order your own drinks now, and only receive them from Tiffany.

It’s not quite last call, but you’ve hit your limit. You feel good. Really good. You slide yourself away from the bar and begin roaming around the room. A lot of the men are handsome, wealthy, and presumably lonely. You wonder why Mingi is trying to keep you from working with them.

You make eye contact with one of the men. He already has a hostess with him, but his stare invites you over. Until a tight grip wraps around your wrist, dragging you away.

“Hey”

You struggle against the grip, looking up to the back of the owner. You groan, recognizing the wide shoulders. Mingi half tosses you into an open room, slamming the door behind you both. You rub your wrist, raising a brow at him.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could’ve just said so”

Mingi runs his tongue over his bottom lip, breathing in deeply. His hands land on his hips, accentuating how thin his waist is. You never really had the chance to look over his physique, you two were always busy arguing. You tilt your head slightly, looking him over. You can’t tell if it’s the buzz of the alcohol, but he suddenly appears more attractive.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is stern

You smile softly at him. He watches you closely when you start taking a few steps towards him. His anger dissipates, and confusion washes over his expression. He notices your eyes, slightly glazed. Cheeks, flushed.

“You’re drunk” He murmurs when you stop right under his nose.

“Of course. I’m at a club, why wouldn’t I drink”

“What are you doing here” He repeats. His words are slower this time.

Your eyes glance down at his chest. His dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, showing his skin. You raise your hand up, grazing the tips of your fingers on his chest. Mingi grabs your wrist, gripping it tightly. Your brows bounce up, a conniving smile curling your lips. You lift your chin, bringing your face closer to  his.

“I wanted to see you” You coo

Mingi releases your wrist, practically pushing it away. You can’t help but giggle at his reaction. You sway in front of him, keeping your eyes on his face. Mingi shifts in his stance, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

“Aww” You pout a little, batting your eyelashes. “Is the macho man shy” You walk your fingers over his chest, reaching his bare skin once again.

Mingi pushes your hand away.

“That’s enough”

You place your hands flat on Mingi’s shoulders, gently running them down over his pec. You can feel his chest move quickly, his breathing uneven.

“You ever use these rooms for yourself?”

Mingi’s gaze is difficult to decipher. His eyes are piercing; you feel they’re almost daring you. You wait for him to answer, but he doesn’t give you one. You hands trail down lower, reaching his stomach. His eyes still don’t change.

“If I’m good” You rise up on your tip toes, lowering your voice to a whisper “Will you show me your gun”

Your fingers graze over his crotch. Before you can even get a full feel of what lays in his pants, Mingi has a grip of your wrist once again. He whips you around, pushing you face first into the wall, your arm pinned against your back. You wince, a quiet whine emitting your lips. You feel Mingi’s body hard against your back. The warmth of his breath tickles your neck.

You wriggle in his hold, but he only grips you tighter.

“I said, that’s enough”

His voice sends a shiver through your body. You chew at the inside of your cheek, trying to turn your face to look at him. His free hand grabs your face from under your chin, holding it still. Mingi’s face is close to yours, his lips close to your ear.

“Do you understand”

Your press your lips together tightly and close your eyes. You nod quickly, trying to stifle any sound that may come from you.

“I didn’t hear y-”

“Yes” You interrupt.

You open your eyes carefully, catching a glimpse of Mingi’s face.

Unreadable.

Your stomach knots, his gaze not leaving yours. Your own thoughts begin to disagree with your body’s reactions. Your mind tells you to be afraid of this man, how he treats you. How aggressive he is. But your body, cannot help but feel differently.

The warmth between your legs starts to overwhelm you, and your thoughts begin to run wild. Thinking about Mingi pressing up against you, fucking you against this wall. You know you’re still drunk, these could easily be drunk thoughts. You shift your stance a little, grazing the back of your body over the front of his.

“Mingi” You whisper gently.

His heavy eyes look over you. Your cheeks flush, feeling his stare take you in. He acts angry with you, but when he has you in his hold like this, his eyes could devour you.

“It hurts” Your words come out in a slight whimper.

Mingi’s lips part slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes reach yours again, and you see the change. Mingi lets go of you, stepping back. You stay against the wall, frozen. It takes you a moment to realize Mingi has left the room. You turn in place, now leaning your back against the wall. Your knees feel weak. You start sliding down the wall, but the slam of the door bursting open sends you into a panic.

You half scream from surprise; you’re quickly filled with annoyance seeing one of Mingi’s men.

“Jesus Christ” You groan. You hang your head, lurching over with your hands on your thighs.

The man looks around the room, his own expression twisting into a look of annoyance

“The fuck are you busting doors down for”

The henchman ends up taking you home, at Mingi’s behest.

You lay in bed, feeling drained from your day. The house is quiet; you’re unsure if Tiffany and Mingi have even made it home yet. You let your eyes become heavy, closing slowly. Your mind wanders around the event the occurred less than an hour ago. You run your tongue passed your lips, remembering the firmness of Mingi’s chest against you.

Your hands clench into fists, thinking now of his hips pushed on you, pressing you against the wall. One of your hands strays into your pajamas, the heat radiating on your skin. You spread your legs, allowing your folds to separate. You touch a finger to the tip of your clit, the sensitivity shocking you. Your walls clench around nothing, eager to be touched.

You push two fingers inside yourself, moaning softly at the ease. You move your hand slowly at first, picturing Mingi behind you. You think of him opening his pants just enough to pull his cock out. Him gripping your hips tightly, pulling your ass backwards hard into his pelvis. You want to see his face. That face that’s so hard to decipher. What it looks like when he’s inside you.

You push your fingers up into your soft spot. Your body tenses, and you let out a long sigh. You turn onto your stomach, fingers still pushed inside you. Another sigh passes your lips, this one shaky, when you start to grind your hips over your hand.

Your wetness trickles down your hand, over your wrist. You prop yourself up with an elbow and a leg, allowing your hips to move easier. Mingi fills your thoughts again, thinking if he is home yet. Is he in his room? How does he sleep? Does he sleep without a shirt, or nude? You wonder if he was turned on earlier too. Did he come home and touch himself. Does he ever touch himself?

You feel as though your fingers aren’t doing any justice. You push a third finger inside you, hoping to reach the peak you’ve suddenly become so desperate for. Once again, your thoughts drift to earlier this evening. How easily Mingi can push you around. Your walls clench. A quiet whine vibrating your throat. You have never felt like this with anyone. Mingi has been so unpredictable. Rough, and handsy, but still timid.

“Mingi..” you moan quietly, thinking of how he grabbed your face, demanding you look at him. Your stomach tightens.

You almost hate that these thoughts are coming to mind. But they make you feel so good.

Mingi pinning your arms behind your back. Pushing your face down into his mattress. Fingers from one hand knotting in your hair. His body practically on top of yours, mounting you. His lips right at your ear, grunting. You can’t hold it anymore.

“I’m cumming” You whimper.

You pull your fingers from inside you, rubbing your clit hard. Your muscles tense, pushing your hips forward, and orgasm out. You can't help but moan louder, soaking your bed sheet. You gasp.

“Oooh” moaning again, you never expected that you would squirt.

Your clit feels so sensitive, almost burning from the pleasure. You want to feel it again. You keep your fingers moving, applying more pressure to your swollen bud.

“Please” you whine, no longer being mindful of the volume of your voice.

The sensation begins to peak quickly. Your thighs tense. Stomach tightens. Unconsciously you hold your breath, only hearing your heart pounding in your ears. A shiver runs through your body and you push you hips down as you did before. Your body trembles, feeling the heat pour from you again.

Your body becomes heavy; your muscles now weak. You let yourself fall, laying on the bed once again. Turning slowly, you shift onto your back. You close your eyes, trying to stabilize your breathing. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

The dampness underneath you becomes noticeably cool. Your eyes, heavy with exhaustion, flutter open. You begin to push yourself up on your elbows to sit up, though your body doesn’t cooperate. You have no strength left. The echo of your heart becomes a murmur in your ear, leaving the creak of the hallway the last thing you hear.

[yakuzacanons]

Karaoke And Music Headcanons - Yakuza 1-4 Protagonists Edition

Karaoke is one of my favorite parts of Yakuza and they are genuinely bangers tbh, plus the VAs do a great job so here are some of my thoughts on how our protags are when they go out to karaoke and what they like to listen to.

Kazuma Kiryu

Mostly listens to classic rock. Has a small vinyl collection at Morning Glory tucked away into a corner of his room. However, he rarely listens to music loudly as he does not want to disturb the kids.

Will not dance to music but will bob his head to the beat. Sadly his dancing days are behind him, along with the bubble era. He didn’t mind cutting loose on the dance floor when he was in his early 20′s though.

On the other hand, he loves karaoke. He will usually go by himself and just belt out his favorite songs. It’s honestly a form of stress relief for him. Sometimes he’ll take the kids with him and they all have a blast.

Since he does enjoy singing, he is extremely proud of Haruka for pursuing an idol career. He will never brag about Haruka to others to avoid ruining her chances at success but secretly he is THE proudest dad. Will memorize all the words to anything she sings.

Majima Goro

Mostly listens to pop music. Prefers 80′s and 90′s pop but anything on the radio suits his taste. If it’s catchy, he likes it.

Is very bad at memorizing lyrics so he hums all the time instead. He often gets caught at work humming some jingle to himself. Only knows all the words to his company construction song.

Despite this, he loves writing his own silly songs in his head. Usually they’re rather silly. He loves to annoy Saejima with whatever random tune he’s come up with.

At karaoke, he is good at singing if it’s a song he is somewhat familiar with. If he has never heard it before, he will just improv his way through most of it, cackling to himself. He prefers dancing to singing karaoke.

Saejima Taiga

Like Kiryu, he’s more of a rock guy. Also fond of blues. More of an old school music fan. He’s not up to date on new singers or bands.

He’s very self conscious so he will not play music on speakers or sing out loud. He prefers to wear headphones while listening to music. You might catch him humming VERY quietly to himself, which sounds like a low rumbling almost.

Rarely seen at karaoke but Majima drags him there anyways. Even if neither of them know the words or are good at singing, Majima wants to make up for lost time with his sworn brother.

Very shy when he sings but once he gets going, he has a smooth bassy voice. Prefers to do backup. Great at keeping a beat with a tambourine.

Akiyama Shun

Up to date on all the music trends. Part of the territory with running a hostess club, honestly. He picks up a lot of new music from the girls there.

As an extension of his work, sometimes he takes his hostesses to karaoke as part of their training for after hours dates. They’re all a little intimidated when he does this as he tends to sing better than all of them.

Loves going to karaoke, especially with Hana as she is the only one who can keep up with his energy. They sing a lot of duets.

He’s big on love songs. Akiyama is a romantic and daydreamer at heart so his music taste reflects that. Loves a sappy ballad. Also really into jazz music but he doesn’t talk about it much and prefers to listen to it in the comfort of his home when he’s trying to unwind.

Tanimura Masayoshi

Being able to speak so many languages has given way to Tanimura exploring a lot of world music. He’s really into k-pop lately but will not admit it, even if you ask him. The other cops tease him for it but he and Mei Hua bond over it. He is also fond of rap music.

He’s very shy about singing and will try to avoid karaoke as much as possible. However, if he does get roped into it, he’s a pretty decent singer, albeit he does tend to sing rather softly.

Surprisingly fond of dancing and is kind of good at it. He tries to learn choreography from k-pop or j-pop routines in his spare time as he finds it both entertaining and good exercise. Helps him stay light on his feet.

Usually listens to music with a pair of earbuds and a music app on his phone. Since he’s always on the go, he doesn’t really have any form of music system at his apartment.

Bonus Round! Haruka Sawamura

Despite being an idol, she’s pretty neutral on most pop music. She is partial to girl groups and other girl idols as she looks up to them but she mostly ever listens to them as a means to better understand the industry rather than out of enjoyment.

Actually a metal fan but keeps it under wraps. Listens to music using earbuds and will quietly mouth the lyrics to herself under her breath.

At karaoke though, Haruka will always belt it out. She’s a lot like Kiryu in that way. They have the best jam sessions at karaoke.

She is not shy about singing at all, given her career. However, she is not the showboating type and will never brag or boast about her abilities. She’s very humble and to this day compliments on her singing make her blush.

[hehosts]

FIRST THINGS FIRST: WHO IS WHO?

hatanaka yori 畠中頼 // main character + father to hatanaka kyosuke // the primary protagonist

age: 27+

alias: ren 恋

occupation: #1 host and manager of the host club shining! under the leadership of watanabe goro — romantic type / the king of shining!

ota fusae 太田絃永 // main character + mother to hatanaka kyosuke // a minor antagonist

age: 25+

alias: hina 日南

occupation: #1 hostess and princess of the hostess club the white lotus

watanabe goro 渡辺五楼 // "that man" // main character + boss to hatanaka ren // ?? // steals the identities of others, constantly changing aliases, true allegiance unknown

age: ??

alias: ??

occupation: ren’s boss

hatanaka kyosuke 畠中 恭佑 // main character + son of ren and hina // about to go into first year of primary school

age: almost 6

ito itsuki  純一喜 // secondary main character + employee of ren // person of interest ( genkigang // currently on hiatus )

age: 23+

alias: sho 初

occupation: ren’s #2 host and subordinate, the genki type.

hosts (subject to change or alternation // beta phase):

the rookie: haru - #10, the newest host / can mean “light, sun, male, or spring.” haru is a gender-neutral name.

the angelic type: ringo - #9 / meaning “apple.”

the devilish type: katsu - #8 / meaning “victory.” 

the athletic type: daisuke - #7 / a gender-neutral japanese name meaning “great, big, or help.”

the wild type: sōta - #6 / meaning “sound of the wind” plus “big, thick.”

the gentle type: yūto - #5 / can mean “excellence, gentleness, superiority or permanence with person,” or “soar or fly.”

the artistic type: rōnin - #4 / meaning “drifter or wanderer.”

the intellectual type: satoshi - #3 / meaning “intelligent or sharp.”

the genki type / the prince: shō - #2 / meaning “soar, fly,” or “prize, reward,” occasionally meaning “general” depending on kanji used.

[saiyef]

Spoilers for the Yakuza Series

So, the Like a Dragon: Infinite Wealth Bucket List Trailer dropped some really juicy reveals which longtime Yakuza fans will happily eat up, that being RETURNING CHARACTERS FROM PREVIOUS GAMES! Which is a big deal for the longtime Yakuza fans because, which Yakuza does bring back characters semi-consistently, the series also has a tendency to completely shelve and forget characters from game to game without even a mention (notable examples being the playable characters Tanimura from 4 and Shinada from 5 and longtime recurring character the Florist of Sai who after Yakuza 5 just disappears without any explanation). It’s also a big reason why fans disliked Yakuza 6, with it being touted and marketed as the ‘End of Kiryu’s Story’, it featured very little of Kiryu’s friends he met along his long journey and instead took place in a new city Onomichi and focused more on characters introduced in 6.

We got Kiryu returning to the classic Yakuza series location, the graves of Nishiki, Yumi and Kazama, where he of course meets Date.

Then we have Kiryu walk into Survive Bar and gets a blast from the past through finally meeting the bar’s bartender, Kashiwagi (he actually did go to Survive during Like a Dragon Gaiden but it was right when Kashiwagi was out).

Next, fresh off his surprise reappearance at the end of Like a Dragon Gaiden, Taichi surrounded by gaggle of hostesses. Gaiden reveals Taichi got a job as a firefighter, but it looks like he acquired some major money somehow. Maybe he achieved his childhood dream of becoming a pro-wrestler between 2019 and 2023/2024?

Next, we get Yuya, who RGG Studio has given an actual human-looking face to; after he had previously kept his weirdly-shaped uncanny PS2 modelled head that had his cheeks concaved in.

Then, of course, we have the man, the myth, the legend, Shun Akiyama of Sky Finance (don’t know about you guys, but I personally believe Nick Ogata in 7, who is a character I do like, was created as a fill-in character for Akiyama and Akiyama was originally written to do all the things Nick did in 7, being this enigmatic financier and sheltering Daigo, Majima and Saejima).

And, yet another major surprise, Kaoru Sayama who was major character in Yakuza 2 and famously unceremoniously leaving the series to move to America finally returns to the series after a 14/15 year absence; leaving fans especially flabbergasted considering she became Kiryu’s love interest in 2 and she never even gets talked about (in fact, I’m fairly sure the RGG team tried to pretend that their romance never happened as the recaps of Yakuza 2 put in the sequels to fill in first-time players never mention their romance and the Yakuza 3 character sheet on the start menu which denotes characters’ relationships with each other says “Just friends” with Kiryu and Kaoru). But, based on a teaser where Kiryu tells Ichiban he did in fact propose to someone before, it seems it might have been Kaoru. Plus, it seems that Kaoru is still single (I was thinking she might have been married with kids) and the dub trailer made Kaoru sound bitter about staying loyal to Kiryu.

An Ono Michio keychain. Wondering whose bag it’s on. I think maybe Haruka, Haruto or Hiromi (Kiyomi and Someya’s daughter from 6). Perhaps a hint that we might return to Onomichi and see the old Hirose Clan.

We even get a return of Yuki and Koyuki, who have seemingly kept Club Four Shine going, plus it looks like Saeko and Seong-hui are joining in. Sadly, the story hostesses from 0’s Cabaret Club Czar and Kiwami 2’s Cabaret Club Grand Prix don’t seem to be returning. Yeah, I think that characters that were played by AV actresses (i.e. almost all of the hostesses in the Yakuza series) will not come back; which I’m really disappointed by as I really liked each of the 0 hostess’ substorys. Also, that sadly means that Eri from 7 is probably not coming back as she was also played by an AV actress.

Kiryu also reunites with another old friend from all the way back since Yakuza 1, his old trainer Komaki. Infinite Wealth will stick to the RPG-style battles and job systems, and even before then the games have more-or-less moved past Komaki and other trainer characters teaching you new moves in favour of Kiryu just levelling up a skill tree on the menu, but Kiryu meeting his old master who he owes much of his acquired strength to is still great to see.

And, of course, 1 out of 4 of Kiryu oldest still living friends since 0 (the others being Daigo, Kashiwagi and Majima), Pocket Circuit Fighter; still having that photo of the two of them together that he pulls when singing Baka Mitai in Kiwami 1.

We also hear Haruka in the trailer, who I’m fairly sure was also replaced from her original English voice actor from Yakuza 1 Debi Derryberry, the voice of Jimmy Neutron. I don’t want to get into the whole voice acting controversy but, considering that Bill Farmer reprised his role of Date from Yakuza 1, I feel a little sad that all the characters who first appeared from Yakuza 1 have gotten replaced (Kiryu: Darryl Kurlyo -> Yong Yea, Majima: Mark Hamill -> Matthew Mercer, Kashiwagi: John DiMaggio -> David Hayter and Gary Buster Holmes: Gary Anthony Williams -> Isaac C. Singleton Jr.)

[nonobadcat]

For @oklolnoty

Down the Rabbit Hole - Five Chapters - 20k words - Yandere Shigaraki Tomura x Rabbit Quirk Female Reader

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Whole story TW: Noncon, yandere with kidnapping, severe quirk based discrimination, binge drinking, canon typical threats of violence (reader directed), canon typical death (nonreader directed), oral (give/receive), PnV (doggie), breeding, and expensive designer clothing everywhere.

Rating: 18+ readers only - Minors DNI

Chapter 2: Nomination - 3.4k words

TW: Drinking, quirk discrimination, Incel Tomura being a massive jerk for "reasons", author makes a Javascript joke but only understands html Special thanks to @krystalwithakay for laughing at the aforementioned joke and programming the much more complicated Javascript joke yet to come.

“You have a nomination.”

Plastering the bandage to the back of your bleeding heel, you slipped your pumps back on. Your manager stared down her beak at you. You blinked at her before rising to your full height.

“A nomination? I thought Azuma-san canceled our Thursdays permanently after that fight with his wife?”

“It’s another client.” Blue plumage fluffed as she whipped her fan open. “An important client,” she stressed, narrowing her amber eyes.

“So this is the ‘best bunny behavior’ speech?” Tossing a floppy ear back behind your neck, you pitched your voice an octave higher. “Okay! I’m super duper excited to meet him, Mama-san.”

The fan snapped shut. She cocked her head and beckoned you towards the front desk. You tailed her, watching embroidered folds of black taffeta sway back and forth with every calculated swing of her Coke bottle hips. With all the grace of a prima ballerina, she dipped below the countertop and headed for the towel warmer. “You’ve met him before. Briefly. Last Friday.”

Your eyes rolled to the creamy plaster ceiling as you wracked your brain. “But Usagi is back, right? Wouldn’t Tano-san rather have her?”

“It’s not Tano-san.”

A cold sweat broke on your neck as memories of a tooth-and-nail conversation slammed into you like a loose brick. You staggered under the weighty realization. “Wait… you don’t mean—”

Long tongs placed cozy terry cloth on a small silver platter. Leaning over the counter, she snatched your wrist and foisted the tray into your grip. “I don’t know what you did, but you’re the first hostess he’s asked for by name.” Her glare could cut iron. “His sponsor is very well connected and I’m running out of staff. Do not fail me.”

“Yes, Mama-san,” you agreed, shrinking under her heavy expectations.

Just past the ratty leaves of the money tree, slouched in the center of the entryway, the slender-man of Nyanko’s nightmares looked just as bored as you remembered. Poor posture ruined the flawless lines of his expensive wool suit. Dull eyes and a flat expression looked better suited to a mummy than a man of twenty something. His dry, shrunken lips only enhanced the impression. However, the moment you slid into view, he lifted his chin.

It was hard to contain a confident smirk as red eyes rolled over your outfit from top to bottom. The sight of a real, live bunny girl in a halter neck, sleeveless tuxedo shirt and black leather miniskirt slaughtered most men on sight. Though conservative compared to usual club attire (read: T&A: on display), delicate ruffles drew the eye to pearl buttons trailing between sculpted cleavage. Chunky Mary Jane platforms elongated your legs until they could stop traffic. Add in a flash of thin garter belts holding old-school silk stockings at mid thigh and the entire collection could be classified as a weapon of mass erection.

“Welcome back, Shigaraki-san! ♡” Voice stuffed into a falsetto, you dipped into a bow while holding out the hot towel. “I’m soooooo excited that you requested me!”

Hair bristling silence was your only reply. He lifted the wipe up using only two fingers. With all the enthusiasm of a robot, he washed his hands one digit at a time before replacing the cloth on the tray.

Ouch. Like smacking your forehead against an iceberg.

"Please step this way." You gestured to one of the open booths like a variety show host.

He shuffled past, paying less attention to you than one would pay to a stray soda can laying on the pavement.

You hoisted the brown, leather bound menu. "Would you like me to recommend something? There’s a super taste cham—"

He rested his head on his palm, long fingers denting his cheek. "Cassis Orange."

An error has occurred. See error log for details. Java.lang.NullPointerException Error Log: Shigaraki.drinkorder cannot be defined 0: He is joking 1: He cares ≤ 0

…

…

…

1= True

“Oh, yummy!” you cooed, flagging the bartender for one of the sweet cocktails. “Most guys won’t order that drink because of some weird macho complex.” You leaned into your palm, mimicking his stance. “It’s nice to drink with a man who is confident in himself.”

Unblinking eyes stared you down. “What do you want to drink?”

Sake bomb.

You tapped your chin. “Um… I think my favorite is a mimosa with Dom Pérignon.” The tinkling laugh you faked grated on your own nerves. You glanced away, curling inwards to fake lady-like shyness. “Champagne goes straight to my head though…”

Liar. In this profession, drinking skills made bank. Champagne was pricey. Pricey drinks lead to better bonuses. A little white lie here, a coy seduction there and while he was chasing bubbles for a chance to paw you up, you could rake in the cash.

“—so I should probably stick with something like a—”

Sake bomb.

No. Stick to the brand. Frufru girly-girls drink frufru girly drinks. No man picks the adorable bunny to have her drink him under the table. Way too emasculating.

“—lemon sour.”

SAKE BOMB.

Shigaraki rolled his eyes. “That’s lame.”

Says the guy drinking the cocktail equivalent of a pink polka dot ribbon?!

You scratched your cheek to cover the wince. “Well, it’s what I can manage. After all, it wouldn't be much fun for you if I got all silly and clingy, right?”

Perfect delivery. If that didn’t make him order you a champagne, the man was a eunuch.

He huffed, scratching his neck. “That does sound gross,” he agreed.

Excuse you?! What kind of man comes to a HOSTESS CLUB and says “ew… I hope hot women DON’T cling to me.” What was he?! Afraid of catching cooties?

You flinched into a fake grin. “I-I know, right? I try very hard to manage myself so I’m fun to be around.”

Ugh. You needed a sake bomb.

Shigaraki’s bored stare cut through you like a knife. You whipped your head around, flashing the waiter the sign for a lemon sour. With a deep breath to soothe your ruffled fur, you turned back to your new arch nemesis.

Game on, crusty boy. Let’s show you what max level charm can do!

Sliding smoothly beside him, you dragged one calf up your thigh until your tight little skirt nearly broke public decency laws. His eyes flicked to your legs. You schooled your expression into a peaceful smile more relaxing than a shiatsu massage. 

“So Shigaraki-san, Mama-san mentioned you have a mentor. What is that like?”

“Pretty much the same as anyone with a mentor I guess.”

“What type of things does he teach you?”

“This and that.”

“It sounds like a well rounded education then.”

“I guess.”

Give a girl something to work with, you tight lipped little snot!

“What’s the favorite thing you learned so far?”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes rolling to the ceiling. The edge of his lip twitched upwards for one heartbeat. “Not to judge people at face value. To always assume they’re hiding something.”

You giggled. “Well, that’s good advice. He sounds very wise.”

“He’s done a lot of different things over the years.”

“How eclectic.”

“Eclectic?”

Crap! You let your bimbo face slip. Dial it back. Dial it back.

“Just something I heard Mama-san say once. She says people who have many interests are eclectic.” You raised one finger and put a bubble-gum pop into your words. “I guess that means they have a lot of energy or something since it sounds like electric!”

Perfect. Now he can “well, actually…” you and feel superior. Men love that. Nice save. 

“You’re lying.”

You cocked your head and stared at him with the bald-faced bemusement of a proper airhead. 

He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table. Red eyes bored into yours. “You used the word correctly. You knew what it meant.”

When the waiter set the drinks by your elbow, you could have hugged him. You broke off eye contact with Shigaraki, clasped your hands together, and let out an excited squeal. “Oh my gosh this looks so cool! They cut the orange in the shape of a star. How fancy is that?!”

The deadpan stare continued.

You inhaled to puff your chest before carefully placing the drink before him. Steady hands kept the sunset colored gradient exactly as the bartender had prepared it. Then, you gripped your glass, being sure to twist your wrist and show off baby pink nails with tiny glitter bows.

See crusty boy? Nothing here but an empty headed bunny doll made of rack and back. 

“Toasties?” you asked, holding your cup up for the clink.

Never breaking his gaze, your client lifted his drink with his pinky out and tapped your glass as if the sound repulsed him. He stirred the gradient away before sipping his fruity cocktail.

With a long suck, you drained half the lemon-sweet mixer in one go. “Yummy!” you cooed, licking your lips. “How does yours taste, Shigaraki-san?”

“Apparently, not as good as yours.”

You rubbed the back of your neck. “Ah! How embarrassing. It’s been a long time since I met a guy like you. When I get nervous I drink more.”

Peeling lips cracked into an amused sneer. “Oh really?”

“Being with someone like you is so exciting.” You took another sip, glancing at him from under mascara coated lashes. “It makes it hard to hold back.”

He laughed. “...and therefore you’ll be blowing through your drinks pretty quick, wracking up a big tab at my expense, right?”

“Maybe…” you teased coyly, tracing the rim of your glass with one finger. “I mean, it’s your fault for looking so good.”

He snorted. “How do you say that stuff with a straight face?”

“Huh?” You cocked your head the other way and pointed at your underbust. “Straight lace? No, my corset is a criss cross.” You leaned forward, angling your torso for maximum ‘round mound’ effect. “See? It’s all back and forth.”

Shigaraki looked you up and down, the smile dipping back to a frown. “That’s pretty boring though.”

Boring? Oh screw off. You try holding up a one sided conversation, douchebag!

“You don’t like fashion? But you’re dressed so nice!”

“No, what I don’t like is—” he gestured to all of you. “—this. Whatever this is.”

Hair bristling, you sat back in your seat. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

“The lines are pretty good lies but that—” he waved at the whole of you again “—is messing it up.” 

Your throat tensed, leaving a touch of gravel in your voice. “I’m sorry, but you’re talking too complicated for a stupid bunny girl like me. Can you dumb it down so I can understand?”

Now the grin was back but it was… pointy? Yes. That was the best way to describe it. All sharp lines and shadows like some creepy monster hiding in the closet. 

“I want that.”

You blinked at him. “Come again?” 

He leaned forward. “That. You. The real you. Not the act.”

“Act? I don’t understand—” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t play stupid. I want the girl from the alley.” 

BANG

In an instant you were on your feet, shaking hands flat against the glossy table top. Manicured nails raked the surface until the glass shrieked under your sweaty palms. The room went silent. Dark shadows obscured your face. With a crack, your head snapped up to reveal a mechanical smile.

“Shigaraki-san, I am having difficulty hearing you over all the noise in this room.” You jabbed a thumb over your shoulder towards the back corner. “If we’re going to continue our little chat I think we should move to a private suite. The champagne room is lovely for cozy conversation. There is a 200,000 yen cover charge and the first bottle of Dom Pérignon is included.”

Curious eyes from all corners of the room stared at the show. Good. Now that he was on blast, he’d have to put up to save face or shut up and clamp down on his prying. Your chest burned with bated breath as you awaited his response.

Shigaraki groped into his pocket. With a flick of his wrist, a black, leather wallet arced through the air. Wide eyed, you caught it with both hands. He slid out of his seat and onto his feet.

“Sure. I’m game for a bonus stage.”

You glanced down at the thick billfold only to see a hefty clump of 10,000 yen banknotes sticking out the top. Your mouth ran dry. Shoving the wallet back into his hands, you gestured to the bouncer. He bustled over, tapping his key card to the electronic lock. As Shigaraki strolled past you into the private room, you glanced back at Mama-san. Her inscrutable expression disappeared behind the fluttering fan with a sharp snap.

Welp, hopefully that meant she wouldn’t fire you for what you were about to do.

Beyond the tufted leather door, the two of you entered a shrine to leisure and pleasure. Mirrored walls reflected soft, glittering light from the teardrop chandelier above. Upon plush, red carpet, overstuffed sofas crafted from butter soft, ivory leather begged for only the most pampered backsides. On the far wall, a massive television complete with jumbo speakers and a full karaoke set waited patiently for any party sized two to twenty. Glowing copper trim on the seating matched the metal frame of the oversized coffee table. Shigaraki flopped down on the low-backed loveseat. The waiter carried your chilled champagne in on a silver platter before quickly bowing out of the room.

As the door clicked shut, Shigaraki draped his arms across the back of the sofa and flashed you a sneer. "Got something to say?"

Sashaying across the floor, you smoothed the sofa and took your place next to your guest. Graceful as a swan, you lifted the bottle and sliced the foil with your thumbnail. A few quick twists freed the cork from its wire prison. With a roll of your wrist, his flute dangled between your digits. 

POP

The speeding cork grazed his ear.

Golden bubbles arced from the bottle. When his glass was nearly full, you twisted the flow to a stop. Leaning forward flashed him a glance at your cleavage. A naughty smile hovered just above it. You set the bottle by his elbow and stroked the stem of your glass like a porn actress.

"Fill me up, Shigaraki-san?" you teased.

He flushed.

So crusty boy liked it a little dirty, huh? File that away for future reference.

Your guest sloshed the expensive liquid into your flute. The bottle clanked onto the table. He stared at you with a raised brow.

With a sweet smile, you hoisted your drink. The delicate tinkle of crystal on crystal accompanied a syrupy salute. "Toasties~!" 

You shot the champagne like a middle aged manager whining about his alimony payment. The glass hit the table with a hard CLANK. 

"All right, listen up," you growled. “First, I’ve spent a long time pretending 'Miss Sugar-Tits' is my personality and outing me in front of the clients is a dick move. If my regulars see me act like this—” you whipped your hand across your face “—my happy tail doesn’t get paid and you better believe I am all kinds of nasty when I can’t afford to eat.”

Shigaraki sipped his drink with a vulgar grin.

You crossed your arms and scowled. “Second, what is your deal?! You’re bored with the girls, you barely drink the booze, and you don’t want to talk. Why drag yourself out here night after night just to be a massive jerk to a bunch of women who you are paying to suck up to you?!” You huffed and turned your cheek. “Heck of a fetish if it is one.”

“I need to level up my coercion.”

You blinked. “Excuse me, what?”

Cracked nails scraped his neck “Sensei told me I needed practice handling people I don’t like. Hostesses are top tier at that skill. It was useful to learn but pretty boring until I saw you whaling on that dumpster. Not something I expected from the fluff-for-brains bunny girl you pretend to be.” He folded his hands in front of his face, resting his pointed chin on top. With a smirk he added: “The part about tearing down society was pretty interesting. Do you call that ‘hare razing’?”

You grabbed a floppy ear and shook it at him. “I’m a rabbit, not a hare, douchebag.”

He leaned back into the chair, arms open wide. “Whatever. The point is that I like that version of you much better than the act.”

You snorted. “Well literally everyone else disagrees with you on that one. Trust me.”

“That’s because society values sappy platitudes over the straight truth.”

“And what truth is that?”

He reached for his glass, knocking back the drink like you had only moments ago. Though he wasn’t a particularly tall man, when rose to his feet and leered down at you, you felt oddly small by comparison. Something about the glowing gaze left you rigid in your seat. Your breath hitched. Scarlet eyes burned as they rolled over your face.

“That the game is buggy and needs a hard reset.”

You shifted in your seat, looking away from his searing stare. Shaking hands balled in your lap. Ringing filled your ears. Voices from the past cried out from painful memories.

“No need to push yourself sweetie. We’re just happy to have you be our team mascot.” 

“Aw… look at you trying so hard. How cute.”

“Don’t act like such a prude. We all know how you got this internship.”

Bile bubbled up your throat. You choked it down. A weary scoff puffed from quivering lips. “Not wrong there,” you muttered.

He blew out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it. “I knew you understood.”

Shaking off a prickling at the back of your neck, you forced a laugh. “But I’m just a bunny girl. I can’t do something as grand as change the world.”

Your guest narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue. “Chcc. Boring.” He groped into his pocket, pulling out his phone. One glance at the screen and he shoved it into hiding again. “I have to leave anyway.”

Liquid rage poured through your body. “Excuse you!? What did you just call me ‘Mr. couldn’t-carry-a-conversation-if-it-had-a-handle?!’”

He raised his chin and sneered at you. “You’re boring when you’re like that. I’m just calling it like I see it.”

Sharp nails pricked your palms. “Oh!? Is that so?! Then, pray tell, when am I not boring?”

Shigaraki scoffed. “When you’re the real you.” 

Bristling with fury, you stomped your heel. “Fine! You want the real me?! Screw it.” You jabbed a finger at his face. “You. Me. Paid date. Wednesday at 2 PM. 25,000 yen per hour.”

“Two? Isn’t that early?”

“What’s the matter?” A cruel smirk twisted on your lips. “Ain’t got the stamina?”

He scratched his neck. Red heat crawled across his skin.

You reached towards him, palm out. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

You rolled your eyes. “So I can put my number in it?”

He dragged out the device and tapped in the unlock code. “This better be worth it,” he declared, dropping it in your palm.

“I’m always worth it.” You zeroed in on his texts, stabbing in your number to the recipient line. There were only two words in the message: “crusty boy”. Pressing “send” so hard it nearly cracked the screen, you shoved the phone back in his chest. “What’s your first name?”

He squinted at you suspiciously. “Why?”

You put your hand on one hip. “You want me to spend the entire date calling you ‘Shigaraki-san’?”

After a long pause he muttered, “Tomura.”

You tapped the name into your contacts. “Got it. “I’ll drop you the details later—” Fluttering lashes accompanied a smile more sadistic than seductive. “—Tomura.”

His breath hitched as the warm flush tipped his ears. 

You hummed, craning your neck. 

His lips curled in a feral snarl. Snatching up the door handle, he nodded to the bottle. “It won’t keep. Finish it yourself.”

“How generous—” you licked your lips “—Tomura.”

As the door slammed shut, you giggled and picked up the champagne. 

Maybe you could trade it in for a sake bomb.

Chapter Navigation: 1|2|3|4|5 🐇 Ao3 Mirror

Next Chapter Expected: July 15th, 2023

Expected Completion Date: Mid-Aug 2023

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[my-my-my]

boss 🫡

What about Majima's dream girl?

Looks wise and personality wise?

Take ur sweet time and have a wonderful day 💕

Ohh Majima... a man wrapped up in such complexity!

There are light spoilers for Yakuza 4-5.

Looks wise, it's hard to say. Both Makoto and Mirei are short-haired women, but you could say Makoto was styled after Mirei (since Y0 came after Y5), but who's to say!

I also think he doesn't care about how you dress. This guy used to coordinate Hostess' outfits as a living back in the day!

He has a great eye for what looks good, but that's because it was his job to know what looked good (remember in y0, where he would judge a hostess' outfit and determine what kind of crowd the club associated with?). I honestly don't think he would give a rat's ass about how you dressed unless it was his job to care lol.

Personality-wise... that's another story.

I think he likes headstrong women, women who don't necessarily need him to "save the day". He does like being a protector, but the nature of being one of the top positions in the Yakuza mean his partner would also need to be street smart and savvy to protect themselves when he's not there (like his "disappearance" in Y5-7).

Patience, absolute patience with him. Majima does not talk about his feelings EVER. It would be like pulling teeth. I'd like to say he improves the longer you're with him, but this is where his dream partner would need to be patient with him. He went through a lot of trauma, lost many people close to him - he would not be forthright with his own emotions.

Understanding: Majima experienced so many traumatic events in his life, and understandably - he doesn't navigate or handle them in the most healthiest of ways. Not to say you need to excuse his behaviour when he's absolutely shitty, but the sorts of things he experienced, can be isolating. Having partner that understands, and gives him space, would be important to him, I think.

Honesty: Majima hates liars, passive aggressive people and bullshitters. He essentially grew up with all sorts of assholes, and at the end of the day, he can't stand it. The last thing he needs is a partner who lies to him.

Sense of humour: Majima likes his pranks, quips and snarky remarks, but I noticed that when he's with Saejima, Majima is the one laughing. I think he relaxes the most when people can make him laugh, rather than the other way around. Maybe his partner is a bit silly/goofy, and he finds it endearing. He doesn't have to "entertain" them, like he does with the Tojo Clan.

They would absolutely need to get along with Saejima/Kiryu/Nishida. I think those 3 are some of the most important people in his life (sorry Daigo lol). If you have a problem with the Yakuza life, especially in relation to when Saejima/Daigo and Majima were sent to prison, or in hiding during Y7, then it's a doomed relationship.

But that being said, Majima wouldn't hold it against you - he knows the Yakuza life is a lonely one. His dream partner would accept these sides of him and work with him as he grows into old age and out of the complexities, and often times hideous life, of the Yakuza.

Thanks for your ask anon! Hope this suffices.

[fabiansociety]

all of the sailor moon cabaret clubs in sotenbori get replaced with parking lots in the following decades, and that's very sad

like, the hostess life is grimy and unlovely, but it's also a potent genderflipped metaphor for the grimy and unlovely way the male characters are commodified by the various organized crime families they pledge themselves to, so to see those glamorous and squalid places torn down and replaced with… nothing? storage for unused cars? is a lot

the series has struggled at times to mechanically depict the waning of the yakuza across the game-years, since fighting is such a core element of the series, but the cabaret clubs do a better job of standing in for that. they are *vibrant* in these early games, and mechanically robust — y0's entire cabaret club subplot is easily the best sidequest in the series until the high school detective work in lost judgment — and each subsequent game removes more and more of that, as you move from being a coworker to a favorite client to just someone who trots out the same five lines for the same five responses to bored hostesses out of inertia more than interest.

kiryu's relationship to his own sexuality is… ambiguous, but in the early games he has a legitimate human interest in the women he talks to in the clubs, if the player wants to put in that time. but from 4 onward, the game makes investing that time less and less rewarding, replacing the extensive conversation trees with a card minigame and data point collection, as the clubs disappear from the streets and the wider sex trade dries up, part of the same crackdown on the demimonde that drives the dissolution of the yakuza clans

still. at least none of them get replaced with a goddamn police station, the way the kamurocho don quijote did. better a parking lot than a pig farm.