#loud mikey is best mikey

[glitterslag]

btw it's extremely important for sydcarmy to be silly together bc carmy's never had someone to do shenanigans with before

[clover-the-awesomest]

Me when I actively try to enjoy a video game (Specifically Sonic games) and keep dying over and over again:

i drew a silly!!! >:)))

he's a bit of a gamer, dare i say

[bookshelf-dust]

gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him. 

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms. 

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.” 

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name. 

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house. 

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear. 

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand. 

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink. 

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!” 

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?” 

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes. 

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction. 

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go. 

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over. 

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff. 

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. “Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front. 

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words. 

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips. 

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps. 

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags. 

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it. 

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle. 

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.” 

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either. 

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids. 

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station. 

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort. 

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on. 

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face. 

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more. 

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye. 

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise. 

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work. 

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful. 

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you. 

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable. 

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years. 

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong. 

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard. 

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin. 

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you. 

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together. 

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves. 

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment. 

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost. 

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous. 

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug. 

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with. 

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter. 

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat. 

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say. 

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. 

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor. 

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly. 

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?” 

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm. 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad. 

It works. 

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping. 

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart. 

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

[wolfiesmoon]

The greatest gift

it's the most wonderful time of the year as they like to say so how about you recieve the best gift from santa on top of that 😈

this is suggestive perhaps??

Characters featured: mikey, hanma, baji, mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ Mikey

You were joking when you asked for "Mikey" for christmas. You thought Hina and Emma knew you were joking.

So why the hell was Mikey currently tied up with a christmas ribbon and sitting under the christmas tree in your house, staring back at you with a slight smile?

"Merry christmas."

"I- HUH?!" you quickly covered your mouth, not wanting to be too loud at midnight. "Mikey, why are you in my house?" you whisper yelled.

"Emma and Hina jumped me." was his comically simple response. Well, it would be comically simple if Mikey didn't scare the living crap out of you just a few moments ago.

"That- That doesn't explain anything!" at this point, you've given up with trying to be quiet.

"I can't tell you anything more. I have no idea what's happening either."

"How are you so calm about this anyways?" you walked closer to him, inspecting the tag on the ribbon that said "Merry christmas from Emma and Hina".

"Now that I think of it, it is pretty weird to be kidnapped by your sister."

You're not even going to ask how they managed to get him in here without the keys.

"Well, uhhh... how about I unwrap you...?" you offered awkwardly after a small silence.

"Are you sure you want to do that? You'll unleash the true present by doing that." something... strange flashed behind his dark eyes.

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. ♡"

₊˚⊹♡ Hanma

"Merry christmas. ♡" you froze at the sound of his voice.

You were woken up by some weird noise downstairs, quietly walking down to investigate the source. You even took a knife from the kitchen just in case.

But instead of a robber or kidnapper, what you found was Hanma Shuji tied up in a big red ribbon. Smiling at you.

"Don't you merry christmas me." you didn't know what to say or do. You were scared out of your mind just now and that combined with the strange sight in front of you made you at a loss of... anything, really.

"Woah, that's a big knife... What were you going to do with that?˜" he sounded more amused than anything.

"You little... I don't... What is even happening?" you dropped the knife on the ground.

"Someone told me that you want 'Hanma Shuji' for christmas."

"Well, you know what I thought I was going to get for christmas? Kidnapped, that's what!" you yelled, not even caring about how loud you are right now.

"Hahahah, how amusing!" he laughed, seeming very satisfied.

"You won't be saying that after the things I will do to you. You know you can't escape when you're tied up, right?" a smirk crossed your face suddenly. A sense of boldness overtook you.

"Oooh, aren't you bold. ♡" his smile only widened.

₊˚⊹♡ Baji

"No way." you had to do a double take when you saw what you thought you saw.

Turns out this christmas is more interesting than you thought it would be. A present from Toman ended up being Baji Keisuke in the flesh.

"Mmmf!" he's probably telling you to free him right now, which admittedly, is hard to do when your mouth is gagged.

"Wow, this is like, the best present I ever got. I gotta thank the boys later." you walked closer to him, kneeling down and inspecting him in all his tied up glory.

Baji looked half angry half embarrased, and honestly that just made you want to tease him more. You kissed his cheek, smiling cheekily.

"Hmmf..." you laughed a little at his face.

"Mmmf! Hmmm!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll let you out. But that doesn't mean that I'm done with you just yet." you smiled, taking the bow of the ribbon into your hands to untie it.

"Mmm..?!"

₊˚⊹♡ Mitsuya

"Me and Mana have a surprise for you." Luna ran up to you all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you placed your hands on your knees to get closer to Luna's height.

"Wait till christmas." that was Luna's only response before running off to continue playing with Mana.

"Hmmm..." you hummed, a bit confused.

.

"Was this... Luna and Mana's gift?" you looked at the comically large christmas present under the tree. What in the world did those two give you?

You carefully removed the lid of the box, worried about the contents. Only to find Mitsuya inside.

"I- What the hell?" Luna and Mana sure are some evil children.

"I don't know either. Hakkai approached me just now and said "sorry" before wrapping me up and putting me in this box with no further explanation." his eyes never left yours.

"I think I know who's idea this was..." you stepped inside the box, sitting directly across from him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your little sisters told me something about a surprise for christmas..."

"Oh my god. That explains... a lot." he looked as if he just made a big realisation. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight.

You pecked his lips all of a sudden, making him jump slightly. "Tell them thank you later."

"Shouldn't you be thanking them?" he smiled.

"No, I'm sure you'll be the one thanking them tommorow." His eyes widened at your mischevious smirk.

an early christmas present for my mikey, hanma, baji and mitsuya babes 💕

i want to make sure yall are well fed with that christmas dinner this year

[married-to-google-translater]

Yandere Bonten Manjiro "Mikey" Sano with pregnant reader

Mikey wants a family almost desperately.

However, he would never dare to say it out loud.

At this point, Mikey would have lost a lot of important people.

He wouldn't want to lose any more...

The pregnancy may not have been planned...

Unless you had shown bad behavior, in which case baby trapping would be the best solution.

Oh Mikey would get REALLY overprotective when he heard you were pregnant.

Records of overprotection will be broken during your pregnancy.

You couldn't be alone for a moment and he would be with you almost all the time.

Anyone who even looked at you the wrong way would disappear.

Mikey would get you everything you need and fulfill your pregnancy cravings to the best of his ability.

Poor Sanzu might even have to run to the store in the wee hours of the morning because you want pickles.

This would be a good way to get revenge for your kidnapping~

Mikey would be really overprotective of your future child.

He knows his job would be dangerous.

Mikey doesn't want to lose any more people he loves.

It would be best if the birth went without any problems.

Otherwise, Mikey would probably die from mentally stress.

And this man is already pretty dead inside...

[inkykeiji]

you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

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

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

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

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

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

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event. 

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

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

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

Good. You told him it suited him.

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

Not that any of them mind. 

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

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

You miss Mikey.

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

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

But you miss Mikey.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pervert. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My charms,” you correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you want him to devour you. 

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

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

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

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

He’s high. 

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

He’s feeling good tonight.

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

“A-And what’s that?”

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

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

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—” 

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

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

“And who’s fault is that, huh?” 

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

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

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

“Please? Please what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feel better, princess?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eager, are we?” 

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

“Is that so?”

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

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

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

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

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

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

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re starting to cause a scene. 

It’s exactly what he wanted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not that he minds one bit.

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

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

So he does. 

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

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

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

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

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

So much for being inconspicuous. 

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

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

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H-Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Kokonoi is looking at you. 

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

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

“How can you tell?” 

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

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

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants. 

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

The short adventure's of Bonten's no4: the door

Bonten x f reader

Warnings: slight manga spoilers, suggestive content, 18+

Summary: You're Bonten's first female member, their skilled and deadly no4. So surely you can have one peaceful day off right? Just to unpack your new apartment?

---------------------------------------------------

The door

A fresh start.

Today is the day, the day you're moving into your new apartment. You even took the day off work to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible today. Today is going to be perfect. 

Walking around your new apartment, you can't help but admire it. This place really is perfect for you and decorated just how you like it. But the best feature is the door, you spared no expense when getting a new door installed, with this one being the best. It's practically impossible to pick the lock, it's too heavy to be kicked down and even came with a small camera so you can watch when there's movement outside. So basically it's bonten proof. This place really is perfect and you have the whole day to unpack and get yourself settled in.

Meanwhile

All of bonten aside from Mikey and you were forced to attend Koko's latesr financial meeting. It never seemed to end. Everytime they thought Koko was about to finish he'd then start going on and on about something else. They were all sick of it. But just as Koko was about to start ranting (something to do with people leaving the lights on) Sanzu spoke up.

"Hey isn't today the day y/n get's her new apartment?"

And with that it's already decided between them, time to check in on their dear y/n and her new place. After all, seeing you is much more interesting then this meeting.

-

You were just starting to unpack the kitchen boxes when you heard it. Someone trying to open the door...

Sneaking across the apartment as quietly as you can, you grab a bat before heading towards the door and checking the camera. Only to find Sanzu attempting to pick the lock as the other's watched. You drop the bat with a sigh and call out to them.

"Hey what are you guys doing here!?"

They all look startled for a moment, wondering where the voice is coming from and how you knew they were there. Seeing their shocked faces was pretty amusing at least.

"We came to surprise you!"

Of course Ran is the one to answer, grinning at where he thinks the camera is (he's off by a few cm).

"By breaking into my apartment!?"

"Attempted break in, Sanzu isn't done yet!"

Rindou cheerfully calls out. He's about to say something else when Sanzu suddenly curses, saying he can't get the door open and giving it a kick to let his frustrations out. 

They all pause in shock for a moment as you grin from your side of the door. And decide to have some fun with them, sweetly you call out

"You guys could've just knocked or rang the bell"

Sanzu immediately knocks after, impatient to get inside.

"Are you going to let us in now?"

"Nope ♡"

Having the power to mess with them like how they always mess with you really is fun.

Suddenly loud banging is heard against the door as Sanzu repeatedly kicks and hits at it, demanding you let them in. 

"No thanks, I'm busy!"

Ran calls out next, asking what you're busy with and if they can help you with it, trying to sweet talk his way inside. But he's just interrupted by Sanzu again.

"Open this door right now!" If you do it now then we'll go easy on you but the longer you leave us out here the worse it'll be for you! Open up little bunny or the big bad wolves will blow your house down!"

"I'm pretty sure the wolves blow the pigs house down not a bunny's and the answer is no!"

You hear a few of the guy's stifling their laughter at your response. But judging by the amount of banging against your door after that, Sanzu didn't like it so much.

Everything suddenly goes quiet. 

Peering at the camera you see Sanzu shuffling around for something in his pocket as the other's watch with various expressions. Until he pulls out his gun with a triumphant laugh and points it at your door.

He wouldn't! .....would he?

Luckily Kakucho snatches the gun from him before Sanzu makes the whole neighbourhood aware of their presence. Sanzu looks ready to fight him for daring to touch his gun, but then Ran murmurs something you can't hear and they all leave. Finally leaving you to continue on with your unpacking, that door really is great!

*frantic knocking on the door*

Or so you thought, just as you make your way back to the kitchen you're called back to the door again. Sighing, you check the camera's. Immediately spotting Rindou knocking on your door while Takeomi lays on the floor???

Rindou looks at the door frantically and knocks like a crazy person, he seems actually upset?

"Y/n quick! We need your help, it's a medical emergency! Open the door and help us, Takeomi is dying!"

Takeomi lies still on the floor with his eyes closed, you can't tell if he's breathing or not. But you don't see any obvious injuries...

"What's he dying from?"

Rindou looks startled by your question  probably expecting you to just rush out instead of questioning what's actually going on. You roll your eyes at this, of course you didn't get to the position of no4 without questioning things and being cautious first.

"Uhm uhhhh old age?"

You don't even get the chance to reply to that answer because as soon as the words leave Rindou's mouth, Takeomi is off the floor and angrily running at Rindou, cursing him for saying that. Rindou laughs and runs off, making Takeomi chase him and leaving you and your door alone again. 

-

You spend the next 20 minutes making good progress with unpacking the kitchen, until you hear it again. Knocking on your door. This time the knocking is calm and doesn't last for too long, it sounds almost formal.

Checking the camera, this time you see Koko standing outside. Calling his name, you ask him why he's here.

"I came to talk to you about urgent work business"

You quickly remind him it's your day off, but that doesn't seem to matter to Koko. Instead he starts telling you about how urgent the business is and how you have to know about it right away, so you need to open the door. But somethings off about him? He seems kind of sad or like he's not really trying?

"Hey Koko, is something wrong?"

You never expected your question to lead to this, but you end up hearing all about how Koko planned a meeting this morning only for everyone to ditch it and for him to get dragged here.

"Sure I wanted to see you too and the new place and maybe even spend some time alone together but I put a lot of work into preparing for that meeting!"

Koko ends up sitting on the other side of the door to you and venting through the door for awhile until he feels better. Then he calmly get's up, thanks you for your time and says he looks forward to seeing you tomorrow then walks off. Once again leaving you alone.

-

You cheer as you finally finish unpacking the kitchen, it took ages but at least you got to finish it in peace. Now on to the living room, but just as you was about to start, it happens again. The door bell rings, telling you you're no longer alone.

This time as you check the camera you see someone you don't immediately recognise. A really big guy in a jacket covering all of his clothes, as well as a hat hiding his face.

"Uhh who is it?"

"Pizza delivery"

"I didn't order a pizza?"

It's definitely another trick to make you open the door, and judging by that guy's height, it's definitely Mochi out there. He pauses before he answers, probably unsure of how to respond to that.

"It's been ordered for you?? An apology pizza! A bunch of cool looking guys ordered it for you!"

"Why aren't you holding a pizza then?"

He quickly walks off after that.

Your stomach growls in protest, damn them for making you think of pizza now. They could've at least brought a real pizza with them!

Not even 5 minutea pass before there's another knock at the door, maybe they actually did come back with pizza? But this time it isn't Mochi standing at your door but Kakucho. He gives the camera a little wave, waving at the exact right spot. You're about to call out and ask what his plan is to get inside but he speaks first.

"We miss you"

You're pretty surprised by this, so say nothing. 

"That's why we came here today, the hq just isn't the same without you there. We all really miss you and just wanted to see you again."

"But you just saw me yesterday?"

"So? You're one of us, we normally see you so often that even just missing a day makes us feel empty. I know the last time we saw your apartment things got pretty messed up but I think the guys all learnt their lesson from that and it won't happen again... I'd really like to see you too."

Maybe letting them in wouldn't be too bad? You realise you've actually missed them too today, sure they get on your nerves but you never feel lonely with them around and it's clear they really do care about you. It was pretty quiet before they came along...

You're about to open the door when you suddenly hear another voice.

"Heyyyy sweetheart, you gonna let us in now?"

Ran Haitani.

Kakucho looks like he's about to speak up again but instead Ran pats him on the back and whispers something to him, making Kakucho walk off with a sad look. 

Ran then grins again, continuing to look at the wrong part of the door as he speaks.

"Just the two of us now, the others all left. So why not open the door for just me? We can have fun together with just the two of us."

"Just the two of us? Please everyone else is probably around the corner, waiting to barge in as soon as I open the door"

Ran's grin fades for just a second before he smiles at the door again, winking.

"You have such an active imagination sweetheart but nope, it's just me. You really think I want the others around to witness this or the sounds I'm going to pull out of you?"

You gulp. Weakly replying that you have no idea what he means, admitting to it or how it makes you feel is much more embarrassing. 

"Oh? I think you know exactly what I mean sweetheart. How you're going to cry out under me as we try out your new bed together. Just open the door. Unless you want the other's to hear? Maybe we could even invit-"

His phone suddenly rings, cutting him off and saving you from your embarrassment as well as the hot feeling overwhelming you.

"......ah....yes.........I understand............ of course boss"

The person on the other end of the line doesn't talk much, making the call just a short one. As soon as it's over, Ran looks back at the door and sighs.

"Maybe next time huh?"

He then walks off.

You lean against the wall for a moment, trying to forget the words he just said and how they make you feel. Maybe you're done with unpacking the rest of the day? Just relaxing seems like a much better way to spend the rest of your day after all that. You walk back into the living room, looking forward to just watching your favourite show and maybe eating some sna- 

"Hey"

You let out a small shriek as you find Mikey sitting on your sofa and eating your snacks as he looks at you curiously. 

"How did you get in here!?"

---------------------------------------------------

Bonus:

Mikey just stares as you freak out and look around to try and figure out how he possibly got in here. Once you finally settle down opposite him on the sofa, he offers you a sweet from the bag he stole from your snack supply.

"Nice place here, quiet when the other's go away"

You find yourself nodding, still in shock upon finding your boss somehow in your apartment. 

"You should still invite them all here at some point though, they can help unpack"

You say nothing, not wanting to voice how bad of an idea it would be for all of them to go through your stuff.... again. Mikey just hums. 

"These are good, you should taste one"

You're not sure how Mikey moves that fast, one minute he's sitting across from you and the next he's pressing his lips against yours. 'Helping' you to taste the 'sweets'. 

So much for your alone time.

Thanks for reading!!!! ♡

Previous chapter Masterlist

[chadobi]

Hi! I saw that you were taking requests and decided to shoot my shot :D

Could I request headcanons for a 2007 Donnie and Raph (separately of course, or either one!) with an S/O that is really girly who likes to dress up in the cutest little outfits and contradicts their personality completely?

Please and thank you!

– 🍡

Hi! So I decide to write this for every guy! I hope that is not a problem 🫶🏻

Leonardo

• At first, he’s confused. You walk in wearing bows, lace, and pink gloss, and he fully expects you to be the sweet, delicate type…

• …and then you call Raph a “discount Vin Diesel” and tell Donnie to “touch grass.”

• He’s horrified the first time you sass Master Splinter under your breath—horrified and deeply intrigued.

• Once he gets used to the contrast, he secretly loves it. You’re this beautiful, soft vision in a frilly dress, and then you open your mouth and it’s pure chaos.

• He’s very protective of you in public—people assume you’re fragile because of how you look, and Leo will gladly step in… until you shut someone down harder than he ever could.

• You soften his edges in the best way. He’s all about control and discipline, and then there you are—batting your lashes and telling him to relax and “stop brooding, you’re not Batman.”

• He’ll never admit it out loud, but he’s obsessed with how confidently you own both your style and your sharp tongue.

Raphael

• He thinks it’s hilarious. You look like you just walked out of a kawaii fashion magazine… and then you threaten to key someone’s bike for looking at you weird.

• The duality? Iconic. He lives for it.

• He teases you constantly—“Nice bow, babe. Gonna kill someone with kindness or stilettos today?”

• But God help anyone who insults your style or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

Donatello

• Whiplash. Pure, unfiltered whiplash. He meets you, thinks, “Ah, a soft and gentle soul,” and then you drop a sarcastic bomb on him like it’s nothing.

• He’s awkward at first—doesn’t know how to balance your sugar-sweet appearance with your cutting humor.

• But he quickly becomes fascinated. You’re unpredictable and refreshing, and he loves trying to figure you out.

• Loves how you tease him with biting wit but still bring him homemade snacks in a heart-shaped box.

• If you ever show up in his lab wearing something pastel and say something savage like “Are you done pretending to be God yet?” he might short-circuit a little.

• He’s definitely taken aback when you stand up for him with zero hesitation—you’re small and sparkly and ruthless.

• He secretly keeps a picture of you in your cutest outfit taped to his screen and labeled “Absolute Weapon.”

Michelangelo

• He’s OBSESSED. He thinks you’re the coolest person alive.

• He constantly calls you his “Barbie with a bite.”

• Mikey is all in—matching accessories? Couple outfits? Let’s go.

• He loves your energy. You’re sweet-looking, but your mouth is sharp enough to cut diamonds, and he thinks it’s hot.

• He will 100% hype you up while you roast someone in the most polite voice possible.

•“Babe just ended someone’s ego while wearing glitter lip gloss. I’m in love.”

• He gets giddy when you call him your “favorite dumbass” while kissing his cheek. He knows it’s love.

• Also? He totally brags about you. All the time. “Yeah, my girl could destroy your self-esteem and look cute doing it. Stay jealous.” le or thinks you’re weak because of it. Raph will go feral and hold your purse while you handle it yourself.

• He doesn’t fully understand the effort you put into looking cute, but he appreciates it. Especially when you wear his color.

• Honestly, he’s a sucker for the fact that you could destroy someone verbally and still look like a living doll. Power couple energy.

[puprdou]

hihi is it possible u make hcs of fanboy!shinichiro x model!reader who's his partner (preferrably fluff with a bit of smut) hope ure having a good day/night🤍🤍

haihaii yeah i can do that! m not gonna specify gender,, hope thats okay—n thank you! i actually have had a rlly good day^^ hope u enjoy oomfie :3

fanboy!shinichiro who had been shown you by one of his best friends, takeomi, and immediately fell in love. it was like from those corny romance movies—from old fairytales, but, this once, he knew it was real. it wasn’t like those crushes he had on those 20 girls.. (who were stupid to reject such a man i mean HELLO???)

fanboy!shinichiro who, when going to your meet and greet not too long after finding you from takeomi, tried to be smooth. it did not work, or go that way, at all, obviously. he ended up stuttering out every word, flushing like an idiot, with a crowd lined up behind him getting upset at him taking so long.

fanboy!shinichiro who, someone managed to land your phone number at that meet and greet. he didn’t know it yet, but that would be the beginning of this poor man’s first relationship; which was, admittedly, quite pathetic. unfortunately, his friends were the ones to break it to you about his poor flirting skills and his past with women.

fanboy!shinichiro who, after you two became a couple, showed you off like crazy. everywhere he went, everybody knew that he had you, as his partner. he told quite literally everyone he knows, and some people he doesn’t, that your his girlfriend. they didn’t believe him at all.

fanboy!shinichiro who, after they didn’t believe him, had to call you up just to prove that you were his partner, telling you to come to d&d motors, not particularly regarding your busy schedule as a model solely so that he can prove it to them. but how could you deny him when he sounded so sulky?

fanboy!shinichiro who drives you to all of your photoshoots, and stays there until they’re over. he doesn’t care how long it takes, he has nothing much to do anyways, other than his shop. after all, his siblings are now all grown-up, they don’t need him to take care of them anymore.. (he cries about it sometimes that they don’t need him and are all grown up)

fanboy!shinichiro who is the first person to get any kind of merch of yours. photocards? have them, and signed. clothes? in his closet. anything, and everything, i mean everything, he has seen and owns it. fanart? cool, he’s liking, reposting, bookmarking, and saving it to his gallery. photos of you? cool, more to add to the album.

fanboy!shinichiro who gets pouty on every date he takes you on, thanks to the crowd of people who end up showing up just to ask for a photo or an autograph, and take up half the time of the entire date just to talk with their favorite celebrity.

fanboy!shinichiro who gets anxious and sad at the thought that you might not like him at some point in the future. i mean, he’s just a regular guy, girls seemingly don’t like him based off of his track record, there’s nothing special about him. he needs your constant reassurance and love to feel like a good boyfriend.

fanboy!shinichiro who, when the first time you both had sex together, was on cloud nine. he was desperately rutting his hips into you, panting with flushed cheeks, feeling like he was in heaven being buried into your tight heat, nails scratching at his back.

fanboy!shinichiro who, after seeing you in the stuff you’re assigned to wear for shoots, will fuck you like a madman in a nearby closet or his car, cause he can’t simply wait to get home to bury himself inside of you.

fanboy!shinichiro who is the most sensitive; you would even argue subby, when your mouth is latched onto his cock. his hand will be fisted into your messy locks of hair, needily rutting his hips into your mouth as loud moans echoed in the otherwise quiet room.

fanboy!shinichiro who, just like his little brother, mikey, will play with little hot wheels and toy motorcycles along your bare body after a long night, making those stupid little engine sounds as he lays on your chest, acting like a little kid as if he hadn’t just stuffed his cum inside your tummy.

© 2025 𝐏𝐔𝐏𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔, all rights reserved. please do not copy, modify, steal or translate my works onto other social media platforms.

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Reader! who refuses to have quiet sex and needs music 24/7 x !Bonten men

Bonten x Reader Who Listens to Music 24/7, Including During Sex

♡ NSFW, fem reader, implied soft and rough sex + aftercare ♡

Characters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, Mochi, Takeomi, Ran, Rindou, Kokonoi

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Mikey

🍥 Installs soundproof walls in the bedroom incase you want to play the music a little too loud

🍥 Doesn't mind the music because he knows that he's pretty quiet during sex, aside from the rare gasp or moan you can pull out of him

🍥 Catches himself humming some of the songs you play while doing aftercare

Sanzu

🌸 Type of boyfriend to snatch your headphones off because you're not paying enough attention to him

🌸 Has probably threatened to cut or break your headphones before

🌸 Doesn't mind music during sex (despite saying that he hates it), but will playfully thrust on beat just to irritate you

Kakucho

🩷 He noticed how much you listened to music during the day and always has a bluetooth speaker ready in the bedroom for when you come in

🩷 Makes sure it's the right volume because he still wants to be able to hear all the sweet noises you make

🩷 Changes the music to something softer after you're done so you can be relaxed while he cleans you up

Mochi

🍡 He likes your little obsession with music, he thinks it's cute that you're so dedicated to finding the perfect songs for every occasion

🍡 He doesn't mind music in the bedroom, but good luck hearing it over the sound of the bed squeaking and damn near breaking

🍡 Sex is never really quiet with him, so eventually you stop needing the music all together

Takeomi

🚬 Scolds you for having your headphones up too loud and tells you that you're going to blow out your eardrums

🚬 Turns the music you put on to the highest volume so no one can hear the noises you make (hypocrite 🙄)

🚬 You both have your habits, he smokes after sex and you listen to music, most of the time he'll go outside to smoke but sometimes he'll stay in to listen to the music you play

Ran

💜 Hates when you play music too loud because it always wakes him up (or a lyric will catch him off guard)

💜 Will turn off the music you put on during sex because the only thing you need to be listening to is his voice and the sound of his dick rearranging your guts

💜 Most of the time you'll be fucked too dumb to notice anyway, so it's all good

Rindou

🎧 Listens to music with you and adds songs to your playlists + sends you music he thinks you'll like

🎧 Always finds the best songs to get you in the mood, probably has a playlist of sex songs on his phone

🎧 Whispers provocative song lyrics in your ear when he knows you're close just to tease you

Kokonoi

💵 Buys you multiple pairs of your favorite headphones so you'll always have a backup if one breaks

💵 Not really that interested in your music tastes but will absolutely judge you when you listen to something he considers strange

💵 Takes turns picking what music to play during sex, though he always ends up changing it to something more soothing by the second round

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Taglist

@arlerts-angel @i-literally-cant-with-this @trevengersprincess @giugiette @katkusuo @happy-trenchcoated-impala @darkstarlight82 @reiners-milkbiddies @manji-hoe @southside-otaku @xxchthonicreaturexx @evergreen-endo @hanmaslilslut @dystop4in14nd @mysouleaten @mdsbabygirl @eroticdarling

[leossmoonn]

do u think you could write something for mikey humping the bed while eating out the reader ☺️

18+ under the cut - includes: fem anatomy

not edited so lmk if i made mistakes lol

just thinking about giving you head makes mike hard. thinking about how you respond to his actions, how wet and needy you get for him. he reminisces about your pussy gushing around his fingers as he perfectly hits that spot. he daydreams about how loud you can get if you’re alone while he sucks on clit. sometimes his thoughts of you gets so bad, he needs to excuse himself at work and relieve himself in the bathroom or a closet.

but today he held off. he wanted to get off while eating you out. so when you got home and abby was at vanessa’s, mike practically grabbed you and ran with you to the bedroom. now you’re sprawled out on his bed, chest heaving up and down. one of your hands tugging at his hair and the other hand gripping the sheets next to you. your thighs are enclosed on his face and you’re always afraid you’ll suffocate him, but he has one hand on your thigh, keeping it close, causing the scruff of his facial hair to burn on your skin as he moves his head.

from the moment he pushed his fingers into you and felt how wet you were, he’d be searching for a release. his cock throbs at every little gasp you make. pre cum spurts and wets his briefs as you grab his hair, bucking your hips up and pushing his face further into you. the way you moan his name as his tongue flicks your clit make him moan into your skin.

mike looks up at you, his cock twitching in his underwear. you just look so perfect with your head tilted up, eyes screwed shut and lips parted. there’s a certain glow you get when he eats you out. he can’t help but admire you. without really thinking about it, he starts to rut his hips against his mattress. it’s like his body has a mind of its own, but he doesn’t stop.

it doesn’t take him long to come. he focuses on the sound of your wetness moving around his fingers as he pumps inside of you. your juices are soon seeping out of your folds, dripping along the side of his hand and wetting the bed. you begin to move your hips along his face, essentially riding him as you begin to get close. your moans become erratic and you feel like you can barely breathe.

“mike, don’t stop, don’t stop!” you push him on further. “i’m close. fuck, mike. i’m gonna come.”

his name tumbling out your mouth is the last straw for him. he tries to keep silent and keep focused on pleasuring you, wanting to give you the best experience up until you start to push him away and tell him it’s too much. but if anything, him moaning and groaning makes it all the better for you.

you’ve been feeling the bed move since he’s started. hearing him pant and whimper made you throb around his fingers. butterflies erupt in your stomach as you realize what he was doing. all of it ultimately brings you closer to your release. you like to think that he’s not only eating you out because you like it, but because he loves it so much and it brings him just as much pleasure as it brings you.

your thighs squeeze around his ears one last time and soon you’re pushing him away as it becomes too painful for you to stand anymore stimulation. mike slowly raises his head, the bottom of his face glistening with you. you look down at his waist, seeing the tip of his dick peeking out. there’s cum on the bed and along his stomach.

“s-sorry,” he says, a little embarrassed. he always tried to save himself for fucking you, but he just couldn’t wait this time. you don’t hold it against him. you smile and take him by the hand, wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck. “i thought it was pretty hot,” you whisper into his ear.

he can’t help but blush. “well, everything about you is hot, so i couldn’t help it.”

you grin and kiss his cheek. “maybe next time you eat me out, i can help you at the same time.”

he gulps and nods, eyes widening at the idea. “i’d like that a lot.”

[izanacore]

“loml” | shinichiro sano x reader

one-shot 𓂃⋆.˚

synopsis: y/n was on her way to becoming a doctor, focused on her studies and determined to make it through med school. then came shinichiro sano—persistent, annoying, and completely smitten with her. she never knew that behind his easygoing nature, he was running out of time. with only a few months left to live, all he wanted was to love her while he still could.

characters: shinichiro sano, fem!reader, manjiro “mikey” sano

warnings: major character death, terminal illness, grief, heavy angst, emotional distress, and mourning.

notes: thought of this out of nowhere to and now i’m crying? or i’m just shallow? idk! btw shin and y/n are in the same age. shin is still in college, well, y’know. cause he keep failing while y/n was already in her med school lol. lmk ur thoughts abt this fic pls pls!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

y/n sat in the farthest corner of the library, her head down, shoulders trembling as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. she failed.

her.

the girl who always had her shit together. the girl who spent sleepless nights perfecting every detail of her report. the girl who never let herself slip—because she couldn’t. not when this was her final year of med school. not when she had worked too damn hard to get here.

but none of that mattered now. because despite everything, despite the effort, despite the sacrifices—she still failed.

“y/n!!!”

her body stiffened. not now, please not now.

a loud shhhh!! echoed through the library as the librarian snapped, “shinichiro, if you’re gonna run your loud mouth one more time, i swear i will ban you from coming here forever!”

“i’m sorry!! i’m sorry! please, you know this is the only way i can approach the love of my life!” shinichiro whined dramatically, completely unbothered by the glares thrown his way.

right. the love of his life. y/n l/n.

y/n rolled her puffy eyes, pressing her temples. she didn’t have the patience for this today. shinichiro had been chasing after her for who knows how long, but she had never entertained him. strictly no boyfriend—that was her rule. she had no time for distractions, no space for unnecessary chaos in her already exhausting life.

especially not with a guy like him. a gang member. loud, reckless, completely unserious about his future. how could she, someone who wanted a peaceful life, ever consider someone like that?

yet, despite her best efforts, shinichiro never seemed to get the hint.

she heard him before she saw him, his voice carrying over from the entrance.

“y/n!!” a quiet shout escaped from him.

y/n squeezed her eyes shut. she could not deal with him right now.

shinichiro spotted her instantly and, as always, made a beeline for her table, plopping down beside her with a grin too bright for a place like this. “y/n, i got you pancakes,” he whispered conspiratorially, sliding a small bag under the table. food is not even allowed in the library, but she was really exhausted to even lecture him for that.

y/n barely looked at it, but before she could even protest, shinichiro had already shoved it into her bag. as if she had a choice.

he had been waiting for her after class earlier, as he always did, but today, he saw something he wasn’t expecting—y/n, on the verge of tears.

before he could call out to her, she was gone.

and so, shinichiro had done what he did best: he ran to the nearest store to grab her comfort food. the pancakes she always ate when she was stressed. the ones she once offhandedly mentioned made her feel a little better.

now, here she was, ignoring him completely, head dropping onto the table with a dull thud.

shinichiro’s eyes widened. “oi, you’re gonna hurt yourself!” he quickly placed his palm on the table right under where she was banging her head.

but y/n, in true stubborn fashion, didn’t stop. she just kept going.

except now, instead of the table, she was bumping her head against his palm.

shinichiro let out a small laugh. what a stubborn girl.

“what happened, love?” he asked softly.

y/n froze, then slowly lifted her head to glare at him. “don’t call me love.”

shinichiro pouted. “oh? then what do you want me to call you? baby? babe—”

“y/n.”

“are you sure you don’t want—”

“yes.”

shinichiro sighed dramatically but then smiled. “alright, alright. i’ll just call you by your name then. after all, it’s better than all those call signs. your name is pretty. like you.”

y/n shot him a look, unimpressed. “but I wanted to be called ‘love’ though. can you?” shinichiro grinned, testing his luck.

y/n ignored him entirely.

instead, she let out a long sigh and muttered, “i just… i did everything for this report. for a whole week. i barely slept just to get it done. and it’s still not enough?”

shinichiro stilled.

a whole week?

“who’s that professor?” him acting tough, as if he can threaten her professor. “i’ll make sure to teach him a lesson.”

y/n let out a small chuckle despite herself.

as much as shinichiro annoyed the hell out of her, he always found a way to make her laugh. to listen. to be there.

she would never say it out loud—god forbid his ego get any bigger—but deep down, she appreciated him.

she just… couldn’t give him what he wanted.

not now.

because if she could barely make time for herself, how could she ever make time for a relationship?

the walk home was slow—agonizingly so.

not because it was far. not because y/n was tired.

but because shinichiro, stubborn as ever, refused to let her walk home alone. again.

“either i take you home, or you’re walking with me.” his voice was final, leaving no room for argument.

but of course, she could argue. she could tell him to leave her alone, to stop hovering, to just go about his own damn business.

except she knew shinichiro.

and shinichiro wasn’t the type to listen.

so, she had walked. and shinichiro? he had followed.

on his motorbike.

at a walking pace.

which, as expected, led to honking, yelling, and a whole lot of pissed-off drivers.

but shinichiro? completely unfazed.

y/n sighed, defeated. because shinichiro sano is already causing traffic. “just take me home already!”

and that was how she ended up on the back of his bike, arms stiff wrapped around him as he drove her home.

when they finally reached her house, shinichiro hopped off first, carefully helping y/n remove her helmet. she rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal her mother’s beaming face.

“thank you, shin, for bringing our y/n home safely again.” her mom practically gushed. then, with a knowing smirk, she added, “how did your day go? did she give you a hard time today?”

y/n scoffed, crossing her arms. “uh, mom? shouldn’t you be asking that question to me? i’m your child, not him.”

her mother barely spared her a glance. “and? if you can’t value your friends, then i will.” she turned back to shinichiro, smiling warmly. “he is the only friend you have. or, well… soon-to-be boyfriend.”

her eyebrows wiggled suggestively.

y/n felt her soul leave her body.

“mom!”

her mother only laughed, stepping aside to let her in. “come inside, shin. have dinner with us.”

shinichiro scratched the back of his neck, suddenly sheepish. “oh, it’s okay, ms. l/n, y/n might—”

“pfft.” y/n cut him off. “just get your ass inside. it’s not like you aren’t here almost every day anyway.”

her mother clapped her hands together. “see? and i told you to call me m/n.”

shinichiro chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “hehe… sorry.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

by the time dinner started, y/n barely had to lift a finger to keep the conversation going.

her dad and shinichiro? practically best friends at this point.

they were both obsessed with motorcycles, so naturally, any time shinichiro came over, the two would spend hours geeking out over bike models, engines, and parts y/n didn’t even pretend to understand.

tonight was no different.

but y/n didn’t mind.

she sat there, quietly observing as her father laughed at something shinichiro said, her mother chiming in with a playful remark.

they were… happy.

and for some reason, the sight of it—her family laughing, talking, feeling whole—made something tighten in her chest.

because deep down, she knew.

she had always known.

without shinichiro, she probably wouldn’t even be here right now, sitting at the dinner table. she’d be locked away in her room, drowning in textbooks, pushing herself to exhaustion.

but tonight…

tonight, she ate with them.

and it was nice.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

after dinner, y/n walked shinichiro to the gate, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame.

“thanks for dinner,” shinichiro said, stretching his arms over his head. “your mom’s cooking is seriously the best. i should come over tomorrow too.”

y/n narrowed her eyes. “nu-uh. you need to stop bribing my mom with your compliments.”

shinichiro grinned. “it’s true, though. but also…” he rubbed his chin in mock thought. “i kinda like eating dinner with you.”

y/n rolled her eyes, but a small chuckle slipped past her lips. “you sneaky bastard. go home already.”

shinichiro laughed, stepping toward his bike. just as he was about to start the engine, y/n called out—

“shin…”

he looked up immediately. “hm?”

she hesitated, then exhaled. “thank you. for eating with us today.” she paused, glancing down. “honestly… if you weren’t here, i probably wouldn’t have eaten with them at all. i would’ve just locked myself in my room and studied until i passed out.”

shinichiro’s teasing demeanor softened.

he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “don’t be too hard on yourself, y/n.” he shot her a playful wink. “you don’t wanna be a patient before you even become a doctor.”

y/n snorted, shaking her head. “silly.”

shinichiro swung a leg over his bike, grinning.

“bye, shin. drive safe.”

“i told you to call me ‘love’!” shinichiro pouted dramatically.

y/n deadpanned. “and i told you, no.”

he chuckled, revved the engine, and drove off.

as the months passed, they only grew closer.

it was the same routine—shinichiro would annoy her, she would complain (or cry) about her studies, and somehow, he was always there. at this point, he spent more time at her house than she did. sometimes, he wasn’t even there for her. he came to see her parents.

just like today.

y/n was jolted awake by the sudden roar of an engine outside. too loud. too early.

it was a sunday. could she not get one day of peace?

groaning, she dragged herself to the window and yanked it open.

“dad! turn that down! it’s too loud!”

her father’s voice rang out from the garage. “sorry, honey!”

before she could retreat back into bed, a familiar voice called out—cheerful, way too awake.

“morning, y/n!!”

shinichiro.

great. it wasn’t even eight a.m., and she already felt exhausted already. she rolled her eyes and slammed the window shut.

stomping down the stairs, she entered the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. her mother, already bustling around, turned to her with a smile.

“oh, y/n, here’s your food,” she said, handing over a plate. then, lifting another tray, she called toward the door, “boys! take a break. breakfast is ready!”

y/n sighed.

another sunday of sharing her parents with shinichiro.

but, truthfully… she didn’t mind.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

exam season hit like a storm.

y/n had spent the past week drowning in notes, textbooks, and last-minute cramming. but none of that mattered now—not when she had overslept, and was now in full panic mode.

“shit, shit, shit.” she scrambled around her room, stuffing books into her bag. she barely had time to brush her hair, let alone walk to campus.

without a second thought, she grabbed her phone and dialed a number.

the line barely rang once before he picked up.

“shin???”

“yes, y/n?”

“are you at uni already??”

“nope. skipped first class. why? miss me?”

“no?! anyway, can you pick me up? i’m so late, and my first exam is in fifteen minutes—”

“be there in five.”

“thank you, thank you!!”

not even five minutes later, she heard the familiar sound of his engine outside. yanking open the door, she rushed down the stairs and out the gate.

shinichiro sat on his bike, one hand resting lazily on the handlebars as he smirked.

“helmet?” he offered.

y/n waved him off. “just go, shin. i’ll be dead if i miss this exam.”

chuckling, he revved the engine. “then hold on tight.”

he was fast.

too fast.

the wind whipped against her face, her hands clutching tightly around his waist. normally, she would be terrified—but not with shinichiro.

for the first time, the speed didn’t scare her.

the morning breeze, the open road, the feeling of freedom—it was thrilling.

without thinking, she threw her head back and yelled, “woooo!!”, forgetting her exams for a while.

shinichiro laughed. “you enjoying yourself there?”

y/n grinned, nodding eagerly. she had never felt this free before.

and, god, it felt so good.

but before she knew it, they had arrived.

the moment they reached the university gates, y/n hopped off the bike, already sprinting toward the entrance.

“thank you, shin!!!” she shouted over her shoulder.

shinichiro smirked, watching her disappear into the crowd.

“good luck, y/n!”

he sighed, glancing at his phone. well, since he was already here…

he might as well go to class.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

hours later, exams were finally over.

y/n stepped out of the classroom, stretching her arms with a sigh of relief. almost instinctively, her eyes scanned the hallway looking for someone.

and there he was.

shinichiro. leaning against the wall, waiting for her.

a bright smile spread across her face. “shin!!!”

he looked up just in time to see her running toward him.

before he could react, y/n threw herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

shinichiro stiffened. what?

his hands hovered awkwardly before finally settling around her waist, pulling her closer.

“…how was your exam?” he asked, voice softer.

y/n tilted her head up, still hugging him. “my professor already checked the papers. i got the highest score!!”

shinichiro’s face lit up. “y/n!! you’re amazing!!”

without thinking, he lifted her off the ground, spinning her in excitement.

laughing, she held onto him tightly, warmth spreading through her chest.

when he finally set her down, she realized people were staring.

it wasn’t every day that the infamous leader of black dragon was seen hugging the top student of their section.

but honestly?

she didn’t care.

y/n grinned. “since you’re my savior today, let’s go on a date.”

shinichiro blinked. “…are you my y/n?”

she frowned. “what?”

“please never take this y/n away from me,” he said dramatically, clutching his chest. “i love this side of her.”

y/n rolled her eyes. “idiot. i know when to be grateful. but if you don’t want my offer, i’ll just celebrate by myself.”

she turned away, but before she could walk off, shinichiro threw an arm around her shoulders.

“let’s go,” he grinned.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

once they were back on his bike, shinichiro glanced over his shoulder.

“where to, ma’am?”

y/n hummed, thinking. “hm… i dunno? surprise me.”

shinichiro smirked.

after grabbing some snacks from the convenience store, shinichiro took a detour. y/n, expecting a usual hangout spot, was surprised when he drove into a hidden pathway surrounded by trees. when they finally stopped, her eyes widened in awe.

before her was a secluded lake, untouched and serene, its surface glimmering under the afternoon sun.

“shin… i didn’t even know this place existed,” she whispered, still mesmerized.

shinichiro simply watched her with a small smile, admiring her with the view before him.

he pulled out a cloth from inside his bike, spreading it on the ground before placing their snacks on top. then, he plopped down and stretched his legs out.

“what do you think?”

y/n turned to him with excitement. “what do i think?! it’s so pretty, shin!!” she wasted no time, sitting beside him.

they ate in comfortable silence, the soft sounds of nature filling the air, until shinichiro suddenly spoke.

“y/n, if you become a doctor, i should be your first patient.”

y/n frowned. “huh? you idiot! why would you want to be a patient?!”

shinichiro shrugged. “i might get sick, y’know. we never know.”

she huffed, crossing her arms. “don’t say things like that! if anything, i don’t want you to be a patient. ever.”

shinichiro chuckled, finding her reaction adorable. then, without a word, he laid down, resting his head on her lap.

she didn’t push him off.

honestly, after months of hanging out like this, she had gotten used to it.

the silence between them was peaceful—until shinichiro spoke again.

“y/n…?”

“hm?”

his voice was soft. “thank you for making me feel alive.”

she blinked, looking down at him in confusion. “uh… you’re welcome?”

shinichiro chuckled at her response but said nothing more.

then, after a brief pause, he smirked. “are you still aware that i’m courting you and still waiting for you?”

y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “yeah, shin. you remind me every single day.”

he grinned. “so, when are you gonna be my girlfriend?”

she hummed, pretending to think. “hmm… probably after i graduate? but i still need to finish my internship, so it’ll take a few months—”

shinichiro bolted upright. “wait. you’re really considering it???”

y/n tilted her head. “uh… yes?”

shinichiro’s jaw dropped. “what?!?!? y/n?!?!?!”

before she could react, he lunged at her, wrapping her in the tightest hug.

“shin…” she laughed, patting his back.

he pulled away, still in shock. “i can’t believe it.” then, standing up, he threw his arms in the air. “y/n is finally gonna be my girlfriend!!!”

“shin!! be quiet!! i didn’t even say yes yet!”

“still!! that’s like a 90% chance now! i started from zero! it was hard!!”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. then, leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

shinichiro froze.

completely stunned, he sat there, unmoving, as y/n laughed at his reaction.

and then, she pulled him into a hug.

resting her head against his chest, she whispered, “you said i make you feel alive… but it’s actually the opposite. you’re the one who brought me life, shin. thank you.”

shinichiro tightened his arms around her, holding her close.

they stayed like that for a while, talking about random things until the sun began to set.

as the sky dimmed, shinichiro stretched. “shall we head back now?”

y/n nodded.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

on the ride home, she found herself staring at the stars above, their glow making the night feel almost magical.

wrapped around shinichiro’s back, she let herself feel everything—the wind, the warmth, the way her heart beat just a little faster whenever she was with him.

when they arrived, y/n stepped off the bike, shinichiro followed. she turned to him with a soft smile.

“thank you for today, shin… honestly, for everything. you make me feel… human.”

shinichiro brushed a strand of hair from her face, his gaze lingering. “have i told you how beautiful you are, y/n?”

she chuckled. “mhm. you always do.”

he hesitated for a moment before asking.

“can… can i kiss you?”

her heart stopped.

but then, she nodded.

shinichiro cupped her cheek, leaning in.

the kiss was gentle, slow—filled with all the feelings neither of them had spoken out loud yet.

when they pulled apart, y/n noticed a tear slipping from shinichiro’s eye.

“shin…” she whispered.

he quickly wiped it away, laughing softly. “sorry, y/n. i’m just… too happy.”

then, rubbing the back of his neck, he muttered, “i never thought i’d get to do that.”

y/n smiled. “you talk like i’m so special.”

shinichiro met her gaze, his voice firm. “but you are.”

her chest tightened. before she knew it, tears pricked her eyes.

she hugged him.

“…now you’re making me cry.”

shinichiro chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back soothingly. pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he sighed. “i should go now, y/n…”

still clinging onto him, she pouted. “why do you sound like you’re going off somewhere, like you’re not coming back?”

he laughed, ruffling her hair. “sorry. okay. see you tomorrow, y/n.”

y/n smirked. “call me ‘love’ now.”

shinichiro blinked. “thought you hated that nickname?”

“i do.” she grinned. “but i only want to hear it from you.”

shinichiro exhaled dramatically. “okay, then. see you tomorrow, my love.”

then, gently, he took her hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

y/n felt her heart melt.

as he walked away, she watched him go—smiling softly, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.

but that promised tomorrow never came.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

it had been months since shinichiro disappeared from her life. months of drowning herself in work, of pushing through the grueling days of her internship at the prestigious university hospital she had fought so hard to get into. neurology had always been her goal, but even that couldn’t numb the ache that settled deep in her chest—the pain shinichiro had left behind.

she had buried herself in studies before he came into her life, and now, she returned to it like a lifeline. if she just kept moving, kept going, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. maybe she wouldn’t have to think about how he had promised her tomorrow, only to vanish without a trace.

but fate was cruel.

the commotion outside her office barely registered at first—just another emergency, another patient fighting for their life. but as she stepped out to assess the situation, her breath caught in her throat.

there, on the stretcher, pale and barely clinging to life, was shinichiro sano.

her world tilted. the sounds around her faded. she watched there standing as the nurses rushed him to the emergency room. the hospital lights flickered above, casting an eerie glow over his unconscious face. his body was weak, almost lifeless.

no, no, no.

“doc, what’s the status of that patient?” she managed to ask one of her seniors, her voice barely above a whisper.

“rare case. he has brain cancer. it’s a miracle he lasted this long—most don’t make it past six months. he was in a coma for three. just transferred here last week.”

her head spun.

three months.

three months ago was the last time she heard from him. the night he held her close, kissed her for the first time like she was his world.

the emergency room light switched off.

the doctor in charge stepped out to speak with the family.

y/n couldn’t hear anything. she didn’t need to. the cries of his family were enough.

she ran.

she didn’t care about protocol, didn’t care about anything except the overwhelming need to reach him.

she pushed open the doors.

his lifeless body lay in front of her.

“no… no. this can’t be happening.”

her hands trembled as she reached for him, her breath coming in short gasps.

“shin… wake up. i’m here now, love. i missed you. i missed you so much. just seeing you is enough, so please… please wake up, shin.”

nothing.

“please!”

her sobs echoed through the cold, sterile room as she clung to him, her fingers gripping onto the fabric of his hospital gown like she could somehow pull him back to her.

but shinichiro sano was gone.

the door creaked open.

a familiar voice, shaking.

“are you y/n l/n?”

she looked up to see who she assumed was his brother—mikey, the little brother he always talked about—standing there with red-rimmed eyes.

he stepped forward, hesitantly, his hands trembling as he held out a small box and a folded letter.

“my brother… he wanted you to have this.”

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

the rooftop was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the city below.

y/n sat beside mikey, the weight of the letter heavy in her hands. neither of them spoke for a long time, the grief settling between them like an unbearable storm.

finally, she broke the silence.

“how long?”

mikey exhaled shakily. “we found out last year. he was in a coma since three months ago.”

three months ago.

her heart clenched.

“he woke up last week. we thought he was getting better… he even asked for you the moment he woke up.” mikey let out a small, broken chuckle. “he even asked his friends to find you insisted on transferring here because he found out you were working here. he spent the past week just watching you. sneaking out of his room in a wheelchair just to catch a glimpse of you.”

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat.

“last night, he asked me to grab something from his room, a box specifically. told me to write a letter for him because his arm was too weak to hold a pen. that’s what you’re holding.”

her grip on the letter tightened.

“i told him to tell you about his condition, but he refused. said you were already carrying so much on your shoulder, and he didn’t want to burden you.”

her lips trembled. “he’s an idiot. it would’ve been better if i saw him.”

mikey laughed, but it was hollow, filled with pain. “he really loved you, y/n. even in his last breath, all he did was talk about you.”

tears welled in mikey’s eyes, his voice cracking. “i wanted him to have a long life. a family. kids. he wasn’t the best at a lot of things, but he was good at loving people. and now… now i’ll never get to see that.”

y/n bit back a sob.

why did it have to be him?

why did it have to be shinichiro sano?

the boy who loved so fiercely, so selflessly.

the only one who had ever made her feel alive.

mikey sighed, wiping at his eyes. “i’ll leave you alone now… so you can read it.” he hesitated. “thank you for loving my brother. your love saved him, even if it was just for a little while.”

and then she was alone.

the letter shook in her hands as she slowly unfolded it.

the world felt unbearably silent.

y/n sat alone on the hospital rooftop, the city lights flickering below like dying embers. in her trembling hands was the last thing shinichiro sano left for her—a letter and a small box.

her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper. she wasn’t ready. she’d never be ready.

but she had to read it.

dear y/n,

if you’re reading this, i’m probably off to heaven now (if i am permitted go to heaven! hahaha).

first off, i just wanted to say how beautiful you are. just saw you earlier doing doctor stuff and thought to myself, ‘wow, my girl is really gonna become a doctor now.’ sorry i didn’t get to remind you how beautiful you are these past three months. you’re probably mad at me for disappearing like that. i’m sorry. i didn’t cheat, baby. i promise!! you’re the only one i love!!

but i’m grateful, you know? i got to spend my last day as a normal person on a date with you. you looked so beautiful that day. too bad i won’t get to see more of you anymore.

i was really looking forward to your graduation so i could finally have a proper girlfriend. you know, i had a crush on you since the freshman ceremony. four whole years of loving you from afar. and i only got the courage to approach you in your senior year because… well, i found out i was dying. i wanted to spend the remaining time i have to give you the love you deserve.

sucks, right? but it gave me the push i needed. i wanted you to know how much i loved you, even if i never really stood a chance. i have nothing to lose anyway. a guy like me? with someone like you? i must have been delusional. but somehow, i did it. you became my girlfriend—well, 90% at least, haha. the happiest day of my life was when you said you will be my girlfriend soon. but i got so caught up in that happiness, i forgot i was running out of time.

honestly, i wanted to scream at how unfair the world is. but at the same time, i can’t be too mad. because this sickness gave me the courage to have you, to hold you, even for just a little while.

people say ‘i love you so much i’d die for you,’ but for me? i love you so much that i’d live for you. and you gave me a reason to.

thank you, y/n. thank you for everything. i’m sorry i had to go too soon, but i know my girl is strong. i know you’ll be okay even without me by your side.

did you see the box? it’s an engagement ring.

her breath caught in her throat.

yn’s gaze shifted to the small box beside her. with shaking hands, she opened it.

a ring.

he was going to marry her.

her vision blurred as she forced herself to continue reading.

actually, i was supposed to propose to you on your graduation, not just ask you to be my girlfriend, just because i didn’t want to let you go anymore. i mean, i already know who i wanted to spend the rest of my life with. why not just marry you instead? hahaha.

i accepted the surgery knowing the risks were higher—because if there was even the smallest chance i could live longer, stay with you longer, marry you… i was willing to take it. it gave me hope.

but shit happens, huh? i went into a coma before i even got the chance. i’m sorry i couldn’t put that ring on your finger myself. you deserve a real proposal.

i won’t be around for your graduation now, so i’m giving it to you early.

y/n, take care of yourself, okay? i asked mikey to look out for you. sorry for all the times i stressed you out. but don’t be reckless like me, okay? i want you safe.

just be happy, y/n. even if one day, you forget about me, if it means your heart is at peace, it’s okay.

i loved you more than you’ll ever know. if only i had more time… i would have given you everything.

my princess. my girl. my love.

shit, that sounds nice, doesn’t it? being able to call you mine.

but it won’t happen now.

thank you for everything, y/n. i wish i could hold you one last time.

see you later, love. in another life?

“in another life, shin…”

the paper slipped from her hands as a sob tore from her throat.

y/n clutched the ring, slipping it onto her finger with shaking hands.

“it looks good on me, love, right?” she whispered, her voice breaking.

but no one answered.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

months passed.

graduation day arrived.

a day that was supposed to be the happiest moment of her life was now the loneliest.

after the ceremony, y/n didn’t celebrate. didn’t join her classmates in their laughter and joy.

instead, she went straight to him.

the grave was cold beneath her touch. she placed fresh flowers down, spreading a mat beside his tombstone. on it, she laid out the same snacks they had on their last date. and pancakes. the ones he always brought her.

she took a shaky breath.

“shin, guess what? i graduated with honors.” she forced a laugh. “crazy, right? just months ago, you were waiting outside my classroom then i’ll come to you crying about the lecture that day… and now i’m finally done.”

her fingers traced his name on the tombstone.

“so… are we engaged now?” she smiled softly, holding up her hand. “you were supposed to propose today, and i already have the ring. so i guess that means i said yes.”

the silence stretched on.

her smile faded.

“shin… i miss you.”

her body curled forward as she rested her head against his grave.

“please come back now…” her voice cracked. “you said you’d marry me. so come back… please…”

tears spilled freely, soaking into the stone beneath her.

“i want your arms around me again. i don’t want to forget your voice. your touch. shin, please… it hurts so much.”

she sobbed until her body ached.

until her voice was raw.

until the sun had long set, and all that remained was the hollow echo of her grief.

life went on.

the world kept turning.

but something inside her had shattered the day shinichiro sano died.

and no matter how much time passed… she would never be the same.

his last words haunted her. be happy. be okay.

but how?

how was she supposed to be okay when the love of her life was gone?

when the only person who made her heart feel full was now just a memory?

she let out a trembling breath.

“i love you, shin.”

she kissed the ring on her finger.

“i love you so much. you will always be the love of my life.”

and he was. he always would be.

but now, he was nothing more than a memory—one that haunted her every waking moment, one that left her aching, empty, and irreparably shattered.

because shinichiro sano wasn’t just the love of her life.

he was the loss of her life.

start | alt ending

[2therazor]

smut prompt 8 x tbp era mikey way??!?!??! i feel lile tbp mikey is just so dirty nasty tbh like hes so dom idgaf

ignorance is your new best friend

"Open your legs for me, baby. I wanna see you."

(prompts originally from @delusionisaplace)

anon i could not agree with you more… so here we are!

w/c: 2,210k

content warnings: afab reader, rough sex, dom!mikey, brat reader, reader is a sound techie for the band lol, also mikey is kinda a jerk sorry, angry sex, kinda angst but a happy ending

a/n: (finally writing this like three months later.... oops.. sorry...) not proofread, so there may be some grammatical and mechanical errors. also don't rlly know if I like this one... oh well!

you are responsible for your own media consumption.

mikey had always liked to act oblivious. oblivious to your antics, more so. all day you'd been following him around backstage like a sad dog wanting attention, but still, he paid no mind.

was he ignoring you on purpose? trying to push your buttons? trying to see just how far he could get before you would fall right back into his arms (and bunk) for the night.

you tried not to dwell on it, after all if something was wrong mikey would say something, right? you dragged your feet around backstage to the catering table, picking at the stale sandwiches left behind.

"jesus, what's wrong with you dude?" a voice came from behind you, and from none other than frank, possibly the most nosy friend you've had in your life.

you quickly turned around, trying to hide the empty feeling that mikey was ignoring you. you had been sleeping together for some time but had never really had the "what are we?" conversation. you had kind of hoped it stayed that way though, you were just a sound tech for the band, but had known mikey for years.

shaking your head you murmured, "i'm fine frankie, besides it's not really your business anyways" slowly walking away from the catering table, head down. you loved frank, but you didn't really have the energy to gossip about your tragic sex life at the moment.

before you could walk even three steps away, a foot was placed in front of yours, causing you to look up, face to face with frank.

"you're annoying, you know that right?" his smile wide and as stupid as ever. you really weren't getting out of this one, were you?

surrendering your pride, you take a deep breath in, then sigh. "it's mikey, he's kinda just been ignoring me all day. it's pissing me off, and he won't really tell me why either. i dunno, I just wish he'd talk to me about it instead of acting like I'm some plague-ridden peasant or something."

frank looks at you a moment, studying your expression. for a moment, it looks like he's about to say something. then he just reaches out, puts his hand on your shoulder and calmly says: "it's not you, I promise. mikey just has a lot of things he needs to tell you, but instead of telling you, he likes to pretend his feelings will just magically disappear. but he's kinda a fucking idiot so…" he trails off then slowly pulls you into a hug.

you could probably cry, but whatever deep dark secret frank just shared was way too cryptic. what did he mean it wasn't you? what did he mean mikey had things he needs to tell you? it was all too confusing. god you wish mikey would just grow up and tell you instead of ignoring your advances all day. nonetheless, you let go of frank and wipe a small tear forming in your eye. "thanks frank."

"yeah," he rubs your back a bit. "just don't tell mikey I told you, or you might find my guts by your door tomorrow morning." he grinned, dragging his feet on the concrete behind him.

"five minutes everyone!" a loud voice rings from behind you. sound check was done, now it was time to sit through an hour and a half long show and pine over mikey for most, if not all of it.

you sigh, heading to your side of the stage. this was going to be the longest hour and a half of your extremely short lived life.

the show had come to an end, and you weren't really upset anymore, just very very bitter. you needed to talk to mikey or you would drive yourself insane the rest of the tour. so as soon as he stepped off stage, damp and sweaty hair, you grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him aside.

he glanced down at you, a smug look on his face. "hi.." he started.

"why have you been such a dick today mikey? you've been ignoring me since we got off the tour bus, and you won't even tell me why?"

again, he just looked down at you and smiled cockily. "you like it when I play games though don't you? you love having to beg for my attention," he leaned down so his mouth was in the shell of your ear "you love having to beg for my cock, don't you?"

fuck. he was such a fucking asshole. this is the whole reason he was doing this? to piss you off so you'd fuck him?

"grow the fuck up mikey. if you have something to say to me just say it. we're not 16 anymore, ignoring so i'd fuck you is beyond low."

"that's funny you say that," his hand reaches for your chin pulling it up so it faces him. "because you fall for it every single fucking time" before you can retort, he pulls you in for a kiss. not a tender one either, quickly opening your mouth with his tongue and grabbing you by the waist. your knees are weak, your heart is beating fast. he's right. you fall for it every goddamn time.

he pulls away for a second, setting his bass on a stand. "come with me to the dressing room, we have like 20 minutes max"

annoyed and horny, you oblige, quickly pushing your way past the rest of the sound crew and a few other unrecognizable faces.

as soon as the door swung open, you didn’t even have time to think before mikey pressed his lips against yours. the whole situation was so juvenile. sneaking off to make out, him ignoring you so you’d fuck him. you tried to ignore the pain in your chest as he slid his knee to your core.

you stifled a moan at this, grabbing his hair, pulling him in harder. if he wanted to get you worked up, he was gonna have hell to pay.

“god, you’re so pretty like this.” he breathed heavily into your neck after feverishly breaking the kiss holding you two together.

“are you gonna keep teasing or are you actually gonna get me off mikey?” you pushed your pussy further onto his leg, grinding on him as he casually left marks that everyone would defininintely give you shit for later.

“fuck,” he stuttered, moving his hands to remove your jeans finally.

you smiled lightly, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. you moved your hand to grasp his black locks once again, just to bask in the small noises he made, just for you. a ping of jealously hit your chest, just the thought of him making these sounds for anyone else made you want to fuck him harder.

he swiftly took off your underwear after making a show of taking off your jeans, pressing two fingers inside of you before you even had time to think.

“only i get to see you like this, you’re mine” he whispered in your ear as he worked another finger inside of you, slowly moving his thumb around your clit.

that sentence alone almost had you falling apart on his skilled fingers. you shuddered a breath at his possessiveness, knowing that deep down, no matter whoever the fuck else he was sleeping around with, you were his regardless.

“mikey please” you pleaded with him, not even really sure what you were begging for at this point.

“what baby? what do you want from me?” he spoke softly, genuinely sounding sincere. it broke your heart a little more than it should’ve, honestly.

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but bit your lip as hard as you could trying not to cry.

“shh… it’s okay baby. i’m sorry for being a dick all day, i’ll give you what you want. does that sound okay?” he brought a hand to your cheek, stroking it slowly.

you gulped quietly, nodding your head back at him.

“just- let me eat you out first. please?” he went to kiss your neck again, sucking down another bruise on your skin.

you nodded, trying really hard not to cry this time. he was so caring and sweet, even when you knew he wanted nothing more than to fuck you over the dressing room table.

he picked you up again, your legs wrapping around his hips as he carried you over to the dresser to prop you up.

once he set you down, you looked down at him as he started working you open once again, with his tongue this time. and god did he know how to use his mouth. you briefly locked eyes with him as he worked he licked a stripe up your pussy, occasionally adding a finger. your hand flew to his hair as he added two fingers and worked you open with his tongue. he was absolutely perfect in the dim glow of the dressing room.

“fuck mikey, i-i’m close.” you breathed heavily as he showed no signs of stopping.

“then come. come into my mouth baby, please. please i want you so bad.” he whined.

and just hearing his pleading, your hand gripped his hair tighter as you shook above him. he wasted no time undoing his belt and you couldn’t even register he had too, taken his jeans off as he pressed gentle kisses and lovebites up your thighs.

he grabbed a condom from his discarded jeans, quickly rolling it on and stroking himself a few times. he captured your lips in a kiss, brushing a stray strand of hair from your eyes.

“hey. you’re so beautiful.” he laughed

“yeah yeah,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “are you gonna fuck me now or what?”

“maybe if you’d stop being such a brat.” he was closer to your face now, slowly taking your features in.

“what, are you gonna make me beg again?” you scoffed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“nope. just gonna fuck you until you cry baby.” and with that, he pushed into you, hard.

your breath stuttered as he continued to pound into you at an unforgiving pace, he was really serious about holding that promise, wasn’t he?

“fuck baby, you’re so tight, open your legs… wanna see you,” he grunted as he bit your shoulder lightly.

you moaned again, pushing him in further with your legs.

he didn’t slow down at all, fucking into you at a brutal pace. “tell me you’re mine. tell me you belong to me.”

“fuck, i’m yours mikey. all yours, please,” you whined, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“and who’s the only one that gets to see you like this?” he added, not faltering his pace as he continued to pound into you.

“you, you and no one else mikey-” you felt the tears that you held back earlier, threaten to fall again. you wanted to tell him so badly that you loved him, and you had secretly hoped he had felt the same way about you. sure, you were his during sex but the thought of being his all the time was making you cry.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty when you cry for me baby,” he wiped your tears gently with the back of his palm. “-m, really fucking close baby.” he added as he connected his lips to yours again.

“mikey please come-” you broke the kiss to say, letting more tears fall from your eyes.

“fuck!” he threw his head back as you felt him twitch inside of you. you came shortly after seeing the dark bruises you left on his neck.

after a few minutes of you both recollecting yourselves, mikey pulled out throwing the condom in the trash a few feet away. he slowly inched towards you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“i’m sorry for being an asshole earlier, i just- sometimes i don’t know how to deal with my feelings and-” he blurted out.

“mikey,” you cut him off and said sternly.

“is this you scolding me or?” he started

“god,” you laughed at the absurdity of the situation, running your hand through his hair. “mikey, i like you. and i’m really tired of pretending that i don’t because it genuinely hurts me every time we hook up. i want you, i want to be with you..”

“fuck. i thought you would never say that to me. i thought that maybe if i was just a dick to you my feelings would go away but obviously that was terrible of me.” he caressed your cheek again, looking into your eyes.

“i love you mikey.” you said without thinking, your heart stinging after, scared he wouldn’t say it back.

“i love you too. i’m tired of sneaking around with you, i want to take you out and show you off, you know? i think i’ve been in love with you a little longer than i’d like to admit…” he smiled as he ran a hand through your hair. “i’m still gonna be mad at you for this, just so you know.” you smiled as you pulled him in for another kiss. he returned the kiss, sliding his hand down to your waist. and just like that, your doubts and worries washed away.

[celeste-clearwater-06]

Oh my goodness, I went absolutely *feral* for your Kitchen Window series and would love to send a request! 🐛 - tickle fights With Raph x Reader, I've always pictured Raph being far more ticklish that he lets on and absolutely refuses to admit it at all lol

OUUUH GIRL I HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT FOR TICKLE FICS and also I COMPLETELY agree. ticklish Raphie for the winnn

also I went just a little overboard with this one, I'm such a sucker for raph fics lmao 🩷♥️

ticklish

bayverse! Raphael x gn! reader

desc- (big red is more ticklish than he lets on)

warnings - none!

word count - 1.3k

Most of the nights the boys come home from patrol, they’re exhausted. It’s straight from keeping lookout and impressive parkour across buildings, to coming home and sleeping the day away or lounging about quietly in the lair, with their own respective hobbies.

Not tonight though. Raph knows you’re already waiting for him in his and Mikey’s room. The thought of getting to home to you, paired with something exciting in the air makes he and his brothers rowdy, entering the lair with loud whoops and jumping off of eachother like they’re spiked off of an insane amount of caffeine. The first thing Raph does when he steps inside is strip himself of the gear and weapons wrapped to his body, letting it all drop to the floor like dead weight in the huge living area.

“Aw come on Raph, we just cleaned up this morning,” Leo’s complaints are brushed away with an eye roll.

“Gotta hot date waitin for me,” he makes the promise to pick it up later (even though he most definitely will not).

Raph’s grateful Mikey’s already parked his butt on the couch starting up a game, meaning he and you have the area to yourselves. He shoves his younger brother, just to piss him off a little, and then runs away before he can retaliate.

You’re already sitting on the top bunk, laptop open and smiling at his entrance through the door.

“Hey handsome!”

There’s that gorgeous face.

“How are ya, hot stuff?”

He all but runs over and climbs up the ladder to sit himself next to you.

“I’m great. I missed you.”

Raph grins and moves to pull you up in his lap, kissing the crown of your head.

“Missed you too,” he breathes into your freshly shampooed hair with a sigh.

You hit the play button on a movie neither of you had seen before and snuggle in closer, back pressed against his plastron, and his arms snake around you in a tight hug, chin resting on your head while it hums quietly.

He’s so comfortable, and he knows you are too. But god, is it hard to sit still. Raph’s still got so much leftover energy from patrol. He hates that you’ve already settled in place, and he’s trying to find something to do with his restless hands. So he does what he knows best.

That fucker.

You know what he’s up to when his hands slide down to your hips, grazing over them with a light touch.

“Raphael…”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare…”

“I ain’t doing nothin, babe,”

He emphasizes ‘nothin’ with a poke at your ribs, making you try and leap from between his legs, but it’s too late. Raph pins you with one arm, and uses the other to attack your sides without mercy.

“RAPH, STOP.”

His shit eating grin doesn’t yield, and neither does his tickling, pulling a loud, squealing laugh from your desperately flailing body. Your weak kicking and slapping only eggs him on further, digging his fingertips further into your sides. He tickles everywhere, because unfortunately, everywhere is where you’re ticklish.

This sucks so much. He grabs at your feet, your neck, your armpits. And all you can do is scream like you’re being stabbed, paired with weak, breathless laughing. Just the size difference alone is a struggle, holding your much smaller body down onto his bed. If this weren’t such a common occurrence, you know his brother’s would be rushing in concern with your cries for help, weapons at the ready. Unfortunately, you’re all alone in this one. He finally shows you a little bit of mercy, when you manage to get out that you’re about to pee your pants.

He’s just laughing at your misfortune, even when you slap his chest in annoyance and wipe tears from your eyes.

“You shithead.”

“Yeah but I’m your shithead.” Raphael just leans back against the headboard, arms crossed with that stupid smug face.

“Whatever.”

You know he isn’t half as ticklish as you are. If that, not at all. It’s still worth the effort of jumping on him and prodding at the thick, scaled skin of his collarbone with your much tinier fingers. Your boyfriend just deadpans. “Come on, sweetheart, you know I ain’t ticklish.”

You roll your eyes, and palm his face away from yours, whining.

“You’re so meannn.”

That fact doesn’t keep you from letting him pull you back over next to him and tuck under his arm to keep watching the movie. He kisses your head again, trying to coax you from your pouting. You can practically hear his eyeroll when you don't give in.

“Have it your way, then.”

In reply, you jab a light elbow into his side. And he flinches.

Raph doesn’t flinch, ever. You’re so much smaller than he is, so you know that any hits or shoves against him are all for not, even when you don’t hold back. It’s suspicious, the way his eyes are trained extra firmly on the laptop screen and refusing to meet your squinting eyes.

“You okay?” One of your fingers hovers over the skin between his plastron and carapace.

“Y-yeah, of course- AGH!”

Raphael leaps in the air when you poke him, screaming at a pitch that you’ve never heard from him before. He sounds like a girl.

Bingo.

“I knew it!” You throw an accusing finger in his face

His eyes are pleading, head shaking, while you poise yourself like a wild cat on the hunt, ready to pounce.

“Oh, no, come on babe,” Raph swallows, “I-It’s just a sensitive spot. You don’t gotta do this.”

“Oh, yes, I absolutely do.”

Now this absolute unit can fight just about anyone off. Hell, you saw, with your own eyes, how he and his brothers sent the Kraang back to wherever he came from. He’s nothing but muscle and scar enveloping a big, gentle heart.

But when you jump on him and tickle his sides, like it’s what you were born to do, all that training is utterly useless. He’s laughing, loud, and trying to push your hands off with strength equal to a cooked spaghetti noodle. And boy, do you relish in it. Finally, you get the excitement of holding your boyfriend hostage at your fingertips, dragging them over his sides and pinning one knee down on his chest for extra measure. His laugh is boisterous, broken up with gasps for air and little ‘pleases’ and ‘baby’s’ trying to convince you to stop. It’s all fun and games, until Raphael kicks a huge leg against the mattress for support, and sending him flying off the edge of the bed and disappearing from the top bunk, pulling down one of the knitted blankets with him. You gasp.

“OH SHIT.”

You feel horrible, moving at the speed of light to peek over its edge, seeing him leaning back against his shell and laughing even more now that hes made it to the floor. Once it’s clear that the tears he’s wiping are from joy and not, you waste no time in jumping down onto the floor with him, and straddle his wide waist.

“Oh come on, sweet thing!” He’s trying to romance you away from another tickle attack. Your wide smile is paired with lidded, playful eyes and you lean in just over his snout. Raph swallows thickly. A warm sensation tingles in his gut and it makes his heart race, and pupils widen. Your fingertips are lingering over his skin.

“You better remember this exact moment” his skin shudders at the low whisper of your voice, “In case you decide to try and tickle me again.”

A quick kiss to his nose is a stark contrast to the seductive tone you put on. Raph’s face heats up. You don’t tickle him, just stand and turn, and climb back up the ladder to his bunk. His incredulous stare twists into a playful grin, watching your hips sway with each step. He throws the blanket off, and hurries up behind you with a different plan in mind ;)

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

YAYYY MY FIRST REQUEST WOOHOOOO

Sorry this one took me a little while to roll out, I had to get some inspiration back in me after the kitchen window burned me out a little 😭

I HOPE THIS MET YOUR EXPECTATIONS, AND THANK YOU FOR SUCH A CUTE REQUEST, I LOVED ITTT

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[brights-place]

[Tokyo Revengers] Souya Kawata x Reader

1K 5 Part Special: 1 , 2 , 3 ,4 ,5 (You are here) Warnings: Fluff, cursing, SMOOCH

A/N: YOOO IT'S THE LAST PARTY YAYAYAYA!! Thank you for the people who continued to read and request my work along with the people who read my stories aha go check it out here and I hope you all enjoy this last part! ──★ ˙ ̟ My Wattpad🐇 !!

Summary: Little summary here for the last part you and souya were on a date and got surprised to see Nahouya and the other division captains enter the restaurant and welcoming themselves to join the dinner after nahouya decided to mess with his brother

Souya and you have been dating for awhile and every now and then nahouya would mess with his younger brother who would get annoyed at the fact Nahouya would just be pestering him.

So when you and nahouya were at a resturant booth of a local diner rambling and talking about the recent things they saw at the aquarium the door of the diner got opened as rowdy voices were heard and one kf them were oh so famillar to Souya who froze eyes snapping over to see his brother and friends entering the resturant in toman uniforms grinning and chatting while getting take iut as regular customers looked away to avert eye contact.

Souya was one of them as he turned back to you as you blinked blinking “Whats wrong?” “Code Peach” Souya sighed as he still held his usual angry expression you loved so much.

You paused before stiffling a laugh at how your boyfriend looked while sounded annoyed that his brother would pester you two again even as a joke. A hand slammed down on the table as a cherry vocie was heard “No way!” A grinning mikey smiled at the duo “You two on a date?” “Y-Yeah!” You said sweatdropping at Mikey is random exclamation.

Draken sighed apologizing to you as he was holding a plastic bag of food they just got. Nahouya popped by soon after from beside Mikey grinning like always but staring at his younger brother eyebrows wiggling “OoOoOh~?” “Aniki” Souya frowned at Nahouya he continued to smile.

You giggled at the interaction as the other toman guys were joking around and crowding around the two on a date as One was embaressed the other was just genuinley chatting with them as a lovely voluminous curly peach-colored hair male with a wide grin that masks his eyes teased his brother and snatching a dumpling from his brothers plate as Souya hir his brothers arm with his usual angry face.

Mitsuya and Draken being the best went over and got to drag the others away leaving souya and you too finally be alone. The rest of the time it was just a flustered Souya who was holiding his head in his hands apologizing quietly with his usual angry expression as your lips twitched at how cute he looked.

Even when you left the diner after dinner he was holding your hand and trying to apologize yet was cut off by you kissing his cheek as his eyes widened and sparkled slightly.

The irk mark slightly disappearing while he blushed staring at you befote yoy bursted into a light giggle cupping his face. For a moment his angry face was gone, his lips twitching up as you pecked eachothers lips lightly before pulling away.

A soft smile reached your lips staring at souya who stared at you for a moment as you blinked at him confused before souya said something that made you flush.

“I cherish you”

Souya whispered blinking at you as if you were an undiscivered constellation that hooked him in as you laughed softly kissing him again once more before the two of you freezing from a loud yell from afar

“YEAHH MAKE SURE MY SISTER IN LAW IS PAMPERED SOUYA! AND FOR FUCKS SAKES DONT BE A PUSSY”

An angry face once returned on souya is face as he snapped his head tk see Nahouya cackling on his motorbike with the other toman members either stiffling a laugh or a Smirk at the cute scene they just saw as he snapped his head to his brother flipping him off.

Yup… perfect date (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ©brights-place 2025 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[ambitiouspotions]

THE LAST STRAW | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — mikey has pushed you to your breaking point

word count — 4.6k

warnings — angst, addiction, suggestive speech, domestic dispute/heated argument, police involvement, mikey’s death

author’s note — *cough* anyways

mikey was late; that was the first annoyance you had encountered tonight. you sat at a table near the bar as you and your friends took turns taking shots as more people filtered in to come and send you their birthday praises. you had on one of those ridiculous sashes and tiaras to accompany your fringe skirt and sequined top. that outfit was the last thing you thought you would find yourself in, but your friends insisted that you looked like a shining gem. they insisted that you had been working too hard and needed to let loose for a night, and they were right you had been working too hard and entirely too much.

the moment richie and tiffany entered you looked at them with pleading eyes hoping they knew where your elusive boyfriend was. your only desire now was that when, or if, mikey did show up he wouldn't be riding the high of a lifetime off of unlabeled painkillers. you hated when he gave you that smug look that only accompanied him when he had taken his sweet release.

richie went to the bar, ordered them drinks, and chatted with the bartender, like mikey he always knew everyone. probably why they always made good friends, both of them chatty, boisterous, and friendly.

you had been frequently checking your phone in hopes that you had missed some call or text explaining where he was. the sad fact was that this wasn't uncommon; it was almost second nature, but you thought after begging him to be on time he would've followed through.

“hey, sweets,” tiffany said comfortingly as she took a seat next to you, nursing a cup of iced water. she was in the early stages of her pregnancy, but still wanted to be there for your birthday. tiffany had been the reason you had met mikey in the first place. she had invited you to richie’s birthday bar crawl so many years ago, and mikey was of course there. you couldn't keep your eyes off of him, and for once in his life, he realized that having a steady girlfriend might not be a bad thing. mikey was a loud roar, but you seemed to bring him down to a low growl. mikey and you had been virtually inseparable since the moment you connected, and richie was proud that his wife was able to find someone for his best friend.

“hey tiffy, you feeling any better?” you questioned, taking into account the dark circles under her eyes. the quirky blonde seemed to have lost some of her spunk due to her pregnant state.

“no, but tonight isn't about me. it’s about you,” she pulled you in close, placing her cheek against yours as she embraced you, making a faint smooching noise. “i know mikey isn't here yet, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be smiling; it’s not about him tonight.”

she was reinforcing that narrative well. it was your birthday. a night where you could finally relax without worrying about deadlines at work, wanting to strangle the patrons of the beef, or having any real responsibility.

“can i still be pissed he's not here and pissed that your baby makes you feel like shit?” you jest, rubbing her stomach lovingly.

“you can be pissed after you have a good time tonight,” tiffany kissed your cheek.

mikey came in, greeting your friends at the closest table near the door. he was looking for you; spotting that glitter tiara you were sporting was easy enough. he was fiddling with his hair as he inched closer through the crowded bar. he was in his normal clothing attire, a shirt from the restaurant and jeans. he didn't shave, his stubble present and rough.

tiffany waved him down, though upon seeing him your expression dropped. that look. it was there. that smirk when he finally laid eyes on you made your skin crawl.

“hey! my birthday girl!” mikey exclaimed, taking you into his arms. he pressed large kisses against your temple, smoothing over your hair. not only was he late, but he was high. now you wanted to get through the night; you didn't want to enjoy it; you wanted it to end. “sorry i was late; the meat guy got behind on his deliveries.”

you knew it was a lie. it was saturday night, and the meat shipment came every monday morning. he knew you'd be too embarrassed to out him in public.

you put on that fake smile that had been plaguing all of your photos together over the last two years. “it’s fine,” you assured him, leaning into his side, keeping that sweet act up in front of everyone who came to celebrate your birthday.

so like every night you wanted to compromise, more like coerce yourself into agreeing that your peace and sanity would only come from ignoring mikey's drug-induced state. even that logic was thrown out of the window when mikey's famous storytelling surfaced.

your group of friends gathered around, pulling up extra chairs from the other tables as mikey talked. he was always good at talking and making a memorable impression. you were sitting in his lap with his chin on your shoulder, being entirely too loud disregarding the fact that he was so close to your ear.

one of your coworkers, rachel, from the office, had been recounting the time of the annual halloween party. rachel had teased that you were the ‘fox’ of the office and that party had people on their toes seeing that you could get fixed up. she meant it in good fun, but mikey took it a step further.

“oh, hell, speaking of foxes, this thing, miss birthday girl, drives me crazy,” he insisted, with only one of his arms around your waist as he waved his free hand to talk. he lifted his head, situating you further into his lap. he didn't mind rachel's story, if anything it was another opportunity to brag. you, on the other hand, were trying to shimmy out of his lap to reach for the oversized fishbowl margarita hat richie and tiffany had purchased you as your birthday gift. the way mikey started talking only proved that you needed to be tipsy to contain your annoyance.

“she's a total smokeshow,” mikey finally understood the hint, letting you stand as he playfully slapped your ass as you stood. he was commenting like you weren't standing in front of him. you were now wedged between tiffany and rachel as you took a long sip of your drink. tiffany was rubbing your lower back as mikey continued to speak. mikey's eyes wandered around to everyone at the table, barely looking at you.

“this one time for valentine's day i got her those little panties with my name on the back of them. holy fuck,” mikey began again, as richie started laughing. you swallowed hard. suddenly your stomach was churning, you couldn't even continue to drink. you knew this story; you lived it. that stupid red thong with thick silver rhinestone letters across the band. with richie laughing that means he already told him one of the most embarrassing moments of your sex life. now, mikey was about to reveal it to your friends and coworkers in a public bar.

“mikey,” you interjected before he could continue on his tangent. it wasn't rude, but your tone of voice was more serious than it had been. he never shut his mouth when he was high. mikey's filter was long gone the moment he took those painkillers before arriving.

“what? no, it was funny,” mikey brushed you off. “y/n, had them on while i was hittin’ it, ya know, maybe it was more of a lil’ gift to myself, watching that ass bounce should be considered a fuckin’ crime, ya get me?” he took a beer bottle from richie's hand, leaning back in his chair casually.

“no, mikey, come on,” you gave a nervous laugh, setting your jumbo fruity drink behind you.

was he really going to keep continuing? he was going to push aside two warnings without a care.

he ignored you this time, looking at one of your male coworkers, aaron, on the other side of the table who was enjoying the other stories mikey had spouted so far. “okay, so i was convinced i could actually have a piece of cake for valentine's, right? like, man, you feel me right, that ass on valentine's day? yes, please,” he rambled, causing aaron to agree with a belly laugh and nod.

“okay, okay, you definitely understand. so i spit in my hand while i'm railin’ her and i'm trying’ to push my–”

“hey,” tiffany blurted out. “michael, i think you need to pick a different story. there are other people in this bar other than just us.” she didn't want to outwardly say that he was the cause of some of the awkward looks from your other co-workers, much less how embarrassed you were.

“tiff it isn't even that bad,” mikey claimed, taking a swig of his beer, and shaking his hand to remove the condensation after. “yeah, so i barely even put two fingers in her ass and she started screamin’. ‘bear, what the hell?! you gotta give me some warning!’” he was making an awful impression of your voice only adding to more of your embarrassment. he was telling this to people you worked with, and even at events like this when you weren't always professional to each other it was out of line.

you were now looking down at your heels; wondering how much longer you had until you would break. tiffany was tugging at the waistband of your skirt trying to remind you that she was there as she glared at richie for still laughing. more of a deathly, sharp stare that spoke ‘why would you keep laughing with the asshole who is making my friend upset?’

“i was tryin’ to take my fingers back out when she was tryin’ to pull away and she puked, fuckin’ everywhere.”

“yep, i threw up, are you done now?” your tone was snappy causing mikey's head to whip back to your sparkly figure.

“no, i wasn't done,” he was testing you, acting like he was the innocent party in this situation.

you were going to say something else, but due to the sudden tension between you and mikey more people only began to become more uncomfortable. suddenly a group of your coworkers that had carpooled together were affectionately patting your arm and bidding you goodbye. just like that the group was dwindling and you could do nothing other than watch them go. at least now they wouldn't be subjected to potential arguments, other stories, or mikey's erratic behavior.

tiffany was looking at you like she had seen a ghost.

“um, since we are going to brunch tomorrow, i think i better turn in too. i don't want to be too hungover to enjoy our rich girl shit,” your banter with tiffany was less playful than it usually sounded. you didn't want to keep standing in the bar with less and less of your friends who were simply too embarrassed to leave. you needed to get home.

“yeah, just text me, uh, happy birthday,” tiffany pulled you in tightly. her heart was aching for you.

the moment you and mikey were confined in your apartment you locked yourself in the bathroom. the sequined outfit was rubbing your armpits and hips raw from the rough material.

“ya gettin’ all sexy for me in there?” mikey questioned, lightly knocking on the door as he leaned against the wall. “hey, really though, you mad at me, dolcezza?”

you opened the door as you were twirling the end of your hair to create a loose updo fastened with a claw clip. “you can't be serious,” you scoffed, tying the string of your pajama shorts.

“i can lay some excellent pipe for your birthday, don't worry,” he said, holding your waist and pulling you into his chest, one of his hands resting on the curve of your ass.

what a wonderful and considerate gift, michael.

“you embarrassed me in front of the people i work with,” you knew that wasn't the only reason you were upset; you had a list, but you didn't want to lay into him on your birthday. you wanted to sleep. you didn't even have a buzz from the liquor you consumed to try and lessen your upset. you thought it would be easier to ignore him for the rest of the night.

“don't start, it was funny and you got offended because you're sensitive,” mikey’s nose was buried in your hair as he spoke. your entire body was tense, a sour taste being left in your mouth as he spoke. “and don't get me wrong you're sensitive and i love that about you, but come on, everyone was having a good time except for you.”

“they didn't know what else to do, you were making everyone uncomfortable,” you couldn't believe he dared to try and defend his actions right now. you had pulled away from him, now sitting yourself on the edge of the unmade bed. you were trying your best not to get worked up, but mikey was not de-escalating the situation.

“oh, so i'm the bad guy now? dolcezza, be serious, you're just worked up because i was late and it put you in a bad mood.” mikey was pushing your emotions aside again, still trying to keep up his playful mood. he stood in front of you, his thumbs stuck into his denim pockets.

“you promised me you would be on time,” you were plucking at a loose thread on the grey sheets, kicking your foot nervously. your voice was low, knowing no matter what you said mikey would have an excuse, snarky remark, or some sort of half-assed apology.

“dolcezza,” mikey shrugged, looking to the ceiling. “ya gotta understand i’m busy. the restaurant keeps me held up and—”

“mikey, you were high when you walked in and then you lied to me…you’re still lying to me.”

“no, come on, i was trying to figure out how to get the gas line fixed, and then, fuck, i got stressed okay? i just needed something to take the edge off.”

you didn't know how truthful he was being, but what you did know is that no matter what it ended with him popping a couple of pills.

“i think i’m done,” you confessed, looking through him to the wall behind him.

“what’s that s’pose to mean?” he was scratching the back of his neck, so smug, yet you could tell he was panicking. his breath halted and his eyes were having trouble focusing now.

“i mean i can’t keep pretending like everything is fine when it’s not.”

“maybe you should start talkin’ to me and you wouldn't feel that way.”

you now held your gaze onto mikey, finally being able to pluck the loose thread from the sheets. you were twirling it tightly around your index fingertip, only releasing it when it felt tingly.

“maybe you should start listening,” your eyebrows furrowed. you had done enough talking, you had done enough begging, you had done enough apologizing for the pain he caused. you had kept the peace for long enough.

“oh, y/n, get real,” mikey huffed, taking a step closer. “it’s not my fault.”

“not your fault? mikey, you are delusional if you think none of our problems are your fault.” you stood up, still fiddling with the loose string.

“now i’m delusional?” he asked with a scoff.

“and an asshole,” you added, now feeling the months of pent-up aggression start to take the reins.

“i'm an asshole? only because i'm tired.” mikey retorted, coming into your space. his tall frame was towering over you. “i'm tired of trying to balance everything on my own shoulders while everyone just takes from me! you included!” he was getting heated faster than you could've imagined. he was aching for another pill to cut back from his spitefulness, but that would only add to your argument.

comical. really fucking comical.

“i work a full-time job and still end up working extra shifts for free at that shithole of a restaurant, and then i pull my pants down so you can fuck me. you fuck me twice mikey. the first time to orgasm and the second time to keep fucking me over!” you held two fingers up, waving them wildly in your frantic speech.

“that is fuckin’ low,” he spat, a strand of his bangs falling on his forehead, forcing him to push it back. “even for you, that’s fuckin’ low.” mikey grumbled, rolling his eyes in his fit of annoyance.

“you didn't have an excuse for that one. it must have been true,” you countered, pushing past him to find your phone that you left in the bathroom.

“i'm not done talking,” he argued, blocking the door you were heading towards.

“of course, you aren't,” you whined, holding your temples. “you never shut the hell up when someone asks you to.” you were still trying to get under his arm to enter the bathroom, but he only moved more of his body in the way of the door frame.

“oh, keep bitchin’ at me, sure,” mikey was tense, having to keep his hands shoved in his pockets when he wasn't talking because of how shaky they were. “does it make you feel better when you constantly bitch at me?”

“mikey, let me get my damn phone so i can leave,” you lightly shoved his side, only to be met with him pushing your shoulder in defense. his arms were now crossed over his chest. his hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“you're gonna walk away from me?” he asked in disbelief, though his position in front of the bathroom was unyielding.

“if you would let me get my phone, i would be halfway down the road,” you took a step back, knowing your mother would have enough sense to let you inside if you continuously banged on her door. you decide just to get some extra clothes and leave.

you began to rifle through the dresser drawers. his mouth was slightly agape, finally taking you seriously. he thought this was going to end like it did every other time. you would both have a temper tantrum, one of you would sleep on the couch, and in the morning you would apologize first and he would follow suit with some half-assed promise to do better.

“come on, dolcezza, let’s figure this out,” he said coolly, taking the clothes from your hand and pushing back into the open drawer. you watched the clothing leave your hand. he wasn't going to be in control this time. “we don't need to keep sayin’ things that hurt each other.” suddenly he was the one who wanted to find a solution.

you took to the silent card, seeing the vein on his forehead slightly bulge as you regathered your clothes. that was his least favorite thing you did. you were testing him; it was your turn.

you pulled your purse off the bedpost with your clothes tucked under your arm, walking past him to grab your phone out of the bathroom. mikey was watching your every move. though before you could exit the bathroom he pulled the door shut. you took a step back due to the sudden slam.

“talk to me and i’ll let you out,” mikey insisted, hearing you now begin to pound on the door. he was holding the knob tightly.

you began to kick the bottom of the door, it rattling against the frame and mikey’s strong grasp. “you gotta speak fuckin’ words, christ, i hate when you do that petty shit.”

petty shit? petty shit was holding someone hostage in the bathroom.

you let out frustrated grunts as you occasionally tried to jiggle the doorknob and throw your shoulder against the door. there was no hope mikey would be blocking that door until you gave into his demands, so you decided to play the long game. you sat against the door.

you had the bathroom if you needed it, now you had your phone, and the various finger foods from the bar were sitting nicely in your stomach. you wouldn't need to move for a while.

“one word, that’s it,” mikey’s tone was only progressively becoming more angry. you were pushing every button you knew.

mikey on the other side of the door was spiraling. muttering curses under his breath as he was now aggressively pleading with you to talk to him.

“fuckin’ christ, you make me so pissed when you do this,” mikey spouted, lightly hitting his head against the door. “you're the one that pisses me off the most, you know that?” he questioned spitefully, though even the hurtful phrase only gave you more of an incentive to stay quiet.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, can you just fuckin’ speak?” mikey goaded, now pounding on the door making you scoot to the side wall rather than have your back against the rattling door.

“y/n, why the fuck are you like this? actin’ like fuckin’ carmy,” mikey grunted, now kicking the bottom of the door. you heard a sharp crack, looking to the side seeing the tip of his shoe through the cheap wooden door.

you couldn't deny that he was right. you were acting like his younger brother, “the baby of the family,” but you also didn't care. you were safely contained in the bathroom while mikey escalated his outburst because you were done trying to work things out. you had spent too long agreeing to live within the deception and chaos mikey created.

“fuckin’ pissin’ me off!” he sneered, slamming his palm into the center of the door. “holy shit, really?” mikey asked in disbelief, a faint knocking and mumbling were heard from the front of the apartment. he knew what was happening, but you were oblivious until he started talking again.

“you fuckin’ narc, calling the cops,” he kicked the bottom of the door again. it wasn't you and you knew that, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing. you could only assume your neighbors had gotten sick of the bickering.

you didn't leave the bathroom until one of the officers had announced his presence. you peeked out of the bathroom expecting to also see mikey in the bedroom, but he wasn't there.

“mr. berzatto is outside talking to my partner,” the officer assured you, then continued. “your neighbor mentioned she heard some loud arguing and slamming,” the officer recited the words off of his notepad.

you stopped him with a sigh, already pulling a duffle bag out of the closet. “yeah, i’m just going to leave, he can stay,” you pushed the clothes that were previously in your arms into the bag.

“miss,” the officer paused.

“y/l/n,” you added.

“y/l/n,” the officer adjusted his tone of speaking, “you don’t have to press charges but by law mr. berzatto will be detained tonight and released in the morning.”

you shifted your gaze to the officer. you bit the innard of your cheek, shuffling through some of your other belongings.

“if this is a common occurrence there are outlets to help you.”

you shook your head, only wanting to move past the tangent the officer was going to begin. yes, mikey was stubborn, loud, and difficult, but so were you. unfortunately, those matching traits didn't always click together correctly. you both knew how to set the other off, and tonight was a night that also triggered the neighbors into annoying your neighbors enough with the squabbling.

“officer, as much as i appreciate what you're saying; it isn't like that. we had an argument and we both got too loud,” you explained as you continued to pack anything that would be able to be squashed into your old gym bag.

“speaking strictly as human to human, no one deserves to have a screaming match against their significant other…especially one that ends with an officer standing in your apartment,” he said lingering by the door frame, clearly eyeing the hole in the bathroom door.

“like i said it was completely out of hand, and i'm done anyway, so none of the other neighbors will call you again,” you assured the officer, struggling to zip the top of the bag when you were done stuffing it full.

“how many times have you packed that bag and come back?”

you didn’t answer him. you had threatened to leave mikey more times than you could count, yet you always doubled back. he was so easy to be stuck on because when he wasn't being an asshole or high out of his mind he was cooking for you, letting you talk his ear off, and singing to you mindlessly. there were countless other things you loved about mikey, and they were all things you thought about when you stayed a night at your mother's house as you sulked in your childhood bedroom, but when the officer asked how many times you returned it opened your eyes. you didn't want to return any longer.

the night of your birthday debacle wasn't the last time you saw mikey. after the officer left you spent the entire night packing what your compact car could hold and leaving the invaluables behind to mikey.

the night of your birthday debacle wasn't the last time you saw mikey. you saw him a week later at the beef. he had come out of his office, looking lost the moment richie said you needed to talk to him. you gave him the spare key to the apartment, the check for your half of the rent in an envelope, and a final goodbye.

“why?” mikey had embraced you for the final time. you eyes wandered around his disorganized office, sighing as you saw a picture of the both of you pinned next to a prayer card. “why’d you go?”

“if you're still asking why then it's probably best that i'm gone.” you only patted his back. his embrace was long and slightly uncomfortable.

it hadn't taken you long to get back on your feet. you had so much potential no longer being overshadowed by your demons of a drug-addicted boyfriend in the closet trying to claw their way out into the world. you were more focused and determined to succeed. you weren't exhausted from overworking yourself at a failing restaurant or compromising over a broken relationship.

you found yourself meeting with tiffany less only because richie refused to stop pestering her about you. you, nor tiffany, thought your friendship would be very productive if her husband was sniffing around for information to give mikey.

it also helped you not dwell on the past. tiffany was constantly apologizing after the breakup for introducing you to mikey, but meeting mikey wasn't what you regretted. you regretted being unable to help him. sometimes you felt like you gave up on him, leaving him to cope with his addiction, his crippling finances, and his multitude of other issues, but that wasn't the case. mikey had begun his steady decline long before he met you, and never wanted to help himself.

almost four years later you were staring at your phone in disbelief over the article you had read.

local restaurant owner found dead on state street bridge.

you hadn't thought of him in years, and if you did it was something irrelevant that you could easily brush aside, but reading that he was dead only made every emotion resurface. the closure you gave him was close to nothing because you didn't ever think he deserved it after the embarrassment he caused you. he was gone and would never receive that peace of mind.