#tokyo sweets

[useyourimagination2020]

パリジェンヌ, 武蔵小金井

[mychemicalraymance]

8:30 commuter after the world ends

[animeglitch]

[girlrindou]

rindou bday art i couldn’t post while i was shadowbanned T_T

[soubi122]

Afterglow

First timeline Hanma Shuji.

Warnings: smut, cherry popping, unprotected sex, fingering, prostitution, mentions of blood, slight dubcon, breeding kink if you squint, slight obsession, abuse/violence, slight angst, fluff at the end. MDNI - respectfully, GO AWAY!

Sitting in a large private room with a round table at a restaurant, Hanma Shuji could only smirk as the man in front of him begged him for forgiveness. “Please…I can pay it back. I will give all my earnings, just don't take my sister.” The man cried. His pleas fell on deaf ears. “You shouldn't bet what you don’t have.” Hanma laughed. The rest of the men laughed as well at the man’s pathetic attempt to keep the reaper from taking what he’s owed. “Toman will be collecting shortly…” He pauses and looks past the man and at the doorway behind him. His golden iris glowed with excitement at what or should we say who walked through the door. The innocent little dove that had no clue what was happening just so happened to be you. “(B/N), I got your text…what’s going on?” You question softly with a bit of worry on your tongue. Hanma’s mischievous giggle made you look up in his direction, it sent a small chill down his spine - you were radiating in pure innocence. The look of horror on your brother’s face when he noticed the reaper’s eyes land on your figure became noticeable.

Apparently, your brother put you down as collateral for a bet he couldn’t afford to lose. Did he win? Of course not. “Ohh…That’s quite fucked up. Putting your little sister up.❤️” The tall lanky male said with a wicked chuckle and smile, he began to walk towards you both. You thought you heard wrong, did he just say that your brother put you up, up for what?! “W-what is he talking about?” You ask as your body begins to tremble. “Are they forcing you to do something? If so, we can figure it out - I’ll get another job and pay-'' The tall male’s hand covered your mouth, muffling your words. Your brother couldn’t even look you in the eye. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry.” He said and was too ashamed of what he just did. He wanted to protest but he had no right, he put you in this position and single handley sold you off to Toman.

Looking down at the hand that kept you from speaking, you noticed the large tattoo on it. It read punishment (罰), the irony in seeing this only made your heart drop. You were going to be punished for someone else’s mistake. “Now, wave goodbye to your dear brother.” The man said and grabbed your wrist with his left hand and made you wave. Reading the tattoo on his left hand, you see that it reads sin (罪). The gears began to turn slowly inside your head. It made you nauseous - Hanma Shuji was the one taking you. He was known as the most ruthless and heartless person ever. You’ve heard the stories about Toman. Murder, extortion, fraud, gambling and expanding their territory into prostitution - he was all part of it.  

After kicking your brother out and registering you as Toman’s property - he leads you towards the back of the building and lets you know you are getting escorted to your new ‘home’. Before the car arrived, your eyes were shifting every now and then between the doorway and Hanma. Despite the way people described him, it did him no justice - yes he was a monster but he was very handsome too. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with rounded specs. You were staring a little too long at him that he got the wrong idea. Before you could even think about asking him a question, he spoke curtly. “Don’t even try it, a pretty thing like you needs to be in one piece for your assessment.” That twisted smile on his face had your knees shaking. He thought you were going to beg him to release you or that you were going to try and make a run for it. 

Once the car arrived, he threw you in the back seat rather forcefully. You gasped and landed almost face first into the leather seats, with your ass hanging in the air - he got quite the view. When you managed to adjust yourself and the car began to pull away from the building, you spotted your older brother slouching on the street. He looked broken yet glad… The sight of him like this made your chest hurt. You began to cry when the anger bubbled over. You were angry at him and felt sorry for him. Did you not make enough to keep a roof over your heads? Why didn’t he come to you sooner instead of going to Toman? The thoughts were racing inside your head and your hands were trembling. Hanma startled you when he spoke. “Don’t you dare feel bad for him. He’s the reason you’re in this position. And the reason you will be raped over and over by men who don’t give a shit about you and your brother’s debt.” That maniacal tone made your blood run cold. He was right. You were sold off and will have to use your body to pay back every cent with interest.

The rest of the car ride remained quiet until you arrived at an office building. “Come on sweetheart…time to assess your worth.” His words only made the pain in your chest worse. Based on the building, it looked like a private practice office but there were a lot of Toman’s underlings with other women. Some of the women had bruises on their faces or gauze wrapped around what you could only assume were wounds. Faint sounds of coughing and sneezing made you almost forget that you were at an irregular doctor’s office…ohhhh. This is what he meant by assessment, you were going to be given a complete physical. Walking down the hall, The comments along the way amongst the other men were sickening. ‘You think we'll be able to fuck her?’ ‘Fuck, I want to eat her out.’ ‘Look at the tits on her…she’ll sell very nicely.’ ‘I wonder what pricing Kisaki  will have on her.’ More and more these cruel comments made your body tremble. Hanma remained behind you with a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from running. It would be foolish to even try. Your vision began to get blurry as tears welled in your eyes, the life you knew was over.

Hanma pulled you into one of the examination rooms and you were met with a doctor, he looked…well, normal except he had a cast on his arm. Soon his normal appearance became distorted when he smiled - the disturbing smile on his face made you pause. Hanma nudged you. “Come on now sweetheart….it’s just protocol. We need to assess our new merchandise.❤️” That fucked up playful tone made a chill run down your spine. He made you step forward and he closed the door behind him. “Ah, you’re the new girl, welcome.” His tone was heavy and you could also feel him looking through your clothes. You turned to look at Hanma and he only smirked at you, he was going to be here the entire time this man put his hands on you. 

You were instructed to take your clothes off, you figured you were going to get a gown but the doctor said no. They needed to assess all of you. In nothing but your undergarments, you tried to cover yourself as best as possible but Hanma flashed you a look of disapproval. “What are you going to do to me?” You ask the doctor and stand in place. The doctor took out his clipboard and began taking notes, shifting his gaze between you and the clipboard, he didn’t answer your question. “Stand up straight and let your hands fall to your sides.” He said almost sweetly. When you hesitated, you saw Hanma walk towards your direction, his eyebrows were furrowed and his golden eyes were burning into you. His hands reached to grip yours and forcefully set them in place. It hurt, your wrists were turning red from the amount of force he was using. “Sorry dollface, Kisaki hates wasting time.” That faux apologetic tone made you sick. 

“He’ll need to take your measurements - you see, he broke my arm last week.” The doctor says smiling and hands Hanma the fabric measuring tape. His cold hands made your breath hitch. It made him chuckle and he continued brushing your skin teasingly just to get you to react. When he got to measuring your bust, he first palmed your breasts and made you gasp. Oh that sound of innocence, could you be…? “I’m guessing you’re a(n) [X] cup.” He says smirking and rubs his thumbs over the cups of your bra. The blush on your face only widened his smirk. He was right, how the hell could he have guessed by just touching them like that? He was making butterflies in your stomach, the first man to touch you was your executioner. “We need exact measurements, Shuji.” The doctor said and cleared his throat. Huffing, Hanma continued and his guess was correct. Hanma leans in and whispers in your ear. “He’s going to ask you some…intimate questions, better answer truthfully if you know what’s good for you.” That poison honied tone made your legs quiver. 

Stepping back, Hanma leans against the wall across from you with a smirk on his face. It felt like you were a teenager with a parent at a clinic and the doctor asks the question. “Now then, let us continue. Please discard the rest of your clothing and take a seat on the exam table.” The doctors says, for a moment you felt your brain short-circuit and froze. He wanted you to do what? "M-my underwear too?" You stutter but Hanma was quick to click his tongue. Looking over at him, you noticed his expression was rather annoyed. Not wanting to test his patience, you begin to unclasp your bra and keep your eyes glued to the floor. The cool air made you shiver and of course, your nipples hardened - causing Hanma to hum and bite his lip. You were so exposed. Once you were completely nude and sat on the exam table, the doctor asks the following questions:

Does your family have a history of cancer or any other fatal diseases?

Do you exercise? 

What is your diet like?

Do you smoke or drink?

Do you suffer from any back or joint pain?

Are you sexually active? 

Have you ever been pregnant?

Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?

Have you ever taken two or more partners at once?

Do you partake in oral sex?

He kind of threw all these questions at you all at once. You were struggling to keep up with everything and were turning red from the last questions. “Umm…no.” You say quietly and keep your eyes glued to the floor. Hanma’s face lit up a bit, this couldn’t possibly be true - you a virgin? All the women who have walked through these doors have been deflowered and some even pollinated before. “Ohh?” His coy tone made you squirm on the table. To have the chance at breaking in a virgin, he’s wanted to do this for years but all previous women had their cherries popped already. The doctor walks over with his stethoscope and places the cold medal on your chest to listen to your heartbeat - he was careful not to inappropriately touch your breasts. Of course your heart rate was abnormal. He then told you to sit up straight and placed the diaphragm on your back to listen to your lungs. “Deep breaths in and out please.” The way your chest would slowly rise and fall was making Hanma eager to get to the next part. The doctor continued his physical, he waved the ophthalmoscope over each eye and used the otoscope to check your ears. "All right, open your mouth." Following his instructions, you opened your mouth and he shoved a flat wooden stick down your throat. It made you gag almost instantly. "Hmm, we can work on your gag reflex." Gag reflex? Is this why he asked you if you partake in oral sex? They were planning on making you a prostitute? 

He was carefully checking the surface of your skin for any flaws or abnormalities and then stepped away to take notes. Charting every detail about you and your body - they really graded women like they grade meat. "Now lay back and Shuji will finish the examination. Again, with my arm being broken, I wouldn't be able to complete it." The doctor says and smiles at you before taking a seat by the edge of the table. Before you knew it, Hanma was already next to you and he gently pushed you back. The doctor explained what he needed to do and what to feel for, they needed to give you a rather crude breast exam. The delight in Hanma's face had your legs trembling. "Arm over your head, dollface." He said in a low tone, you complied with the right arm first and he proceeded to slowly but firmly touch you. His cold hands made your breath hitch and the way your legs kept squirming - it made him smirk and keep eye contact with you. Starting from the center, he was making his way around and cleared you of any lumps. He could see the way your lips parted and could hear those shaky moans. Were you perhaps enjoying this? Now the left breast, same routine and he cleared you. The doctor took notes and told him to check your abdomen. Just when you thought he was done with the breast exam, next thing you know his fingers were rubbing your nipples. "Gotta check your sensitivity." He says and gives them a light pinch. The sweetest moan escaped your lips and oh he enjoyed it. 

"You see… We do a very thorough assessment…" He said and kept rolling them between his fingers. The sick pleasure that was being injected into your veins had you biting your lip and refusing to give him more reasons to tease you. Try as you might, you were falling apart - failing to hold back your whimpers. "The higher quality you are, the more expensive you'll be." The glossy look in your eyes had his member twitching. Your blushing and innocent face stirred something in him, he wanted nothing more than to corrupt you. He's had a taste of some merchandise before, but they were just that - nothing more. They didn't captivate him, they flaunted their experience and skills in bed. It didn't make him come back for more but you… you got him all sorts of fucked up from the moment you walked through that door.

Hanma was just about to lean in to bite your chest until the doctor cleared his throat. "Like you said, Kisaki hates wasting time, please allow me to finish up the assessment and I'll-" His words were cut off by a loud moan. When the doctor peered over to see what was going on, he noticed that the reaper had a mouth full and was enjoying himself to the merchandise. The doctor sighs and begins to walk away before pausing at the doorway and looking back. “Try not to break her, Kisaki wants to make the money back as quickly as possible - the higher her grade, the more we can sell her for.” With that the doctor exited the room and left you at the hands of the reaper. 

“Now then sweetheart… you can be honest with me.” He says playfully and nibbles on your skin - leaving pink marks behind. “You’ve had a cock between your legs before, yeah?” He coos in your ear and trails his hand south to your honey pot. Your hand was trying to hold on to something, anything, to suppress the lustful sensations. Refusing to answer his question, you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut. Bad idea, this only made Hanma want to break you even more. Without warning, he slapped your pussy and it made you quickly snap your legs closed, catching his hand in between. “Ohh… your thighs have quite the muscles.❤️” He giggled like a mad man and tried prying them open with one hand but failed. “...please, don’t.” It’s the first time you’ve addressed him at all. Leaning in to gently glide his tongue on your bottom lip, he whispered - “Your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, dollface. Now be a good girl and open your legs for me.” His words were cold and yet they made you melt on the spot. Who could resist those beautiful golden eyes, and those black and gold strands of hair? There was something stirring up inside of you, something dark. 

With your legs quivering, you slowly spread your legs open for him. “Good girl…” Lithe fingers slid down to your core and he just about moaned when he felt your slick. Whimpering, you barely manage to speak as his finger prods your entrance. “S-stop, please! I’ve never done this before!” Hanma couldn’t help but mock you and shove his finger inside you without warning, making you squeal and grip his bicep. The sensation was so foreign you didn’t know what to do. Just one finger and she’s practically crying? He thinks to himself and slowly explores your cavern. “You really are a virgin, huh?” He whispers into your lips and forces you into a kiss. Panting and moaning, you returned his kiss - it felt like you were in a daze. He was poisoning you and you were giving into him, might as well enjoy it before you get thrown to sharks. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tried your hardest to at least make this as pleasurable as possible - for both of you. Caught off guard by the return of affection, he grinned and slid another digit inside your warmth. He could feel your walls clamping down on and pulsing at his sudden actions. Moaning into his kisses, you felt the way his long fingers stretched you out and your hips slightly grind into them. The sinful motions only continued as his thumb traced circles on your bundle of nerves. “...ngh…ah-it feels…” You say and try to adjust to the sensation of something being inside you. “This is nothing compared to what’s next, dollface.” Hanma chuckled and quickened his pace. Your sweet voice had him high in the clouds, so inexperienced and so sweet, he needed to sink into you. To feel your warmth, your tight walls and your release. 

"Fuck…you're so wet, practically dripping - tell me pretty girl, have you ever touched yourself?" He asks and nuzzles his face into your neck. "You've never played with this pretty pussy before? Hmm?" For a moment, you thought his voice alone was going to send you into overdrive. Shaking your head no, you confess that you've never been touched before. Poor thing, you've never experienced a hand, a finger, a tongue or a cock between your legs. The reaper couldn't have that now could he? Without warning he stopped and stood up straight, gazing down at you with his amber eyes. The way he towered over you, you thought he got turned off by your confession but it did quite the opposite. You set him on fire. 

He walked away and you closed your eyes thinking he was done with you. That is until you felt him on the other edge of the examination table, he gripped your ankles and yanked you closer to the edge of the table. Your surprised squeak made him smile. He removed his glasses and tossed them aside. The sound of his zipper made your heart skip a beat. Was he going to pop your cherry? The heavy contact from his length hitting your core made you flinch. “I want you to see the moment I deflower you…now sit up.” Hanma demanded, those gold irises reflected nothing but malice and desire. Looking down, you see how flushed his tip was, it was oozing precum and you swore you were going to die if he put it in you. “W-will it fit?” You ask innocently. For a moment the world stopped, Hanma felt infatuated with your innocence and couldn’t bear the thought of another man taking your first time. “I’ll make it fit, sweetheart.” He replies sweetly and rubs his tip against your clit as he unbuttons his shirt. His warmth and the slick was making your head fuzzy - you knew this was wrong but you wanted it.

Sitting up, you wrap your arms loosely around his neck and brace yourself. Looking up at him, Hanma noticed the tears that lined your eyes, you were worried and scared. Such a sweet expression. “I said I want you to see it…look down (Y/N).” Oh he said your name and a chill ran down your spine. Following his orders, you look down and see his cock throbbing, it makes your mouth salivate - this was really happening. Hanma reeled his hips back and lined himself up with your slit. His breath hitched when his tip prodded your entrance, your breath caught in your throat as you felt a burning stretch - you were too tight. Tears began to stream down your face as you watched him peirce you. He only had the tip in and you were already crying. “Ngh…it’s too big…it hurts.” You whimper and pant as his cock bullies its way inside you. Your words fell on deaf ears, Hanma was too busy drinking in your expression of distress and looking at how his length slowly disappeared inside you. “Keep watching, dollface. You’ll see how I make it fit.” He says and continues forcing his way in. He noticed how your legs trembled and how your tears streamed down your face. For you not to fight back…you might be able to take more of the things he wants to do to you.

As much as it burned, you couldn’t help but feel arousal in seeing how his fat cock split you open. You were becoming a lewd mess. This man, the devil’s incarnate, had you losing more than your innocence, he was making you lose your sanity. Could you ever look at yourself the same ever again? When he managed to bottom out, you felt a throbbing sensation inside you - you thought you were going to pass out. Hanma was panting and snickering like a mad man at how fucking good you felt. “See baby? I told you I’d fit.” He coos and presses his forehead against yours. Looking up at him, you see how the look in his eyes softened just a bit, could this be a sign of kindness? 

When your walls finally settled on his shape, Hanma slowly reeled his hips back and leaned back ever so slightly to take in the view. To his delight, there were light traces of blood on his shaft - you were a virgin and an obedient one at that. Doe eyes, pouty lips, flushed cheeks, all features that made him want to ruin you until you can no longer function without him. Grabbing you by the back of your neck with one hand and gipping your hip with the other, he pulled you in close and seared you with his gaze. Your eyes reflected nothing but obedience and reverence. He loved it. God or the Devil put you on his path for a reason, that reason was for him to get a taste of heaven - knowing that he will never actually get there after he departs this world, it was a rather kind gesture from the gods. When he thrusted into you, he felt your walls spasm around his length. Your core was pulling him in and refusing to let go of his cock, he struggled to pull away - he didn’t want to leave your warmth even for a second. 

Your soft moans had him in a daze and he kept his slow pace. The pain was beginning to subsite and pleasure started to creep up on you. With how close he was, your clit was getting some friction and you wanted more of this foreign sensation. “Sh-Shuji…I want more.” You whimper and pout at him. Saying his name like that, oh you have no idea what you just did to him. Crashing his lips into you, he devoured you and picked up his pace. Hanma couldn’t care less about your now ruined state - all he wanted was to fill you up and make you cry around his cock. Everything was getting hazy, you felt as if your body was going numb with each thrust of his hips. The air was being snatched from your lungs when he kept hitting that golden spot inside you that you didn’t even know existed. For it being your first time, you were taking him so well he thought that you were made for him. 

Leaning back on your elbows, you took in the view before you - when you should have felt fear and disgust, you felt bliss. Your mind was muddled in sin and you couldn’t help it, something about him just made you trust him and give in to him. His husky moans and breaths kept you in the clouds. He could have killed you on the spot and you would have died happy. Why on earth do you feel this happy when your life is over after this? Sensing your conflict, Hanma presses your legs further back, making his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust. “Ahn…I feel something coming, I-” Your moan cuts your sentence short. Your purity was being tainted and he was the cause of it all. 

Hanma was rather kind for breaking you in, had it been left to a client - they would have scarred you in a way where you would never feel pleasure again. “Get used to this position, sweetheart. You’ll be on your back to make back the money that is owed.” He pants between words and digs his fingernails into your plush thighs. Even though his words were cruel, you didn’t care at all - you were glad it was him. Maybe a little too glad as the soft smile on your lips and glossy look in your eyes sent him into overdrive. He expected you to cry at any moment or freeze in fear but you looked divine and accepted your fate without question. Perhaps he was fucking you stupid but loved the look on your face. It was now etched in his mind. 

“Shit…I’m close, gonna fill you up pretty girl.” He pants and places both hands on your hips to steady himself. Sitting up, wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him in - resting your chin on his shoulder. Those siren-like moans were now in his ear and he couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Your cries of his name and god’s name kept echoing in his ear along with incoherent babbles that sounded like you were going to come undone at any second. Your thighs were beginning to shake and you bit down on his collarbone, making him wince and pound into you harder. The moment you felt your first orgasm, your body trembled and your release was pure bliss. You didn’t think it was possible to feel this good for your first time, especially after it being taken by the reaper himself. Feeling your cunt clench around him and feeling your juices drip down his thighs, Hanma reached his high and spilled his seed deep in your womb. It wouldn’t stop, he kept feeling his cum splurt inside you and he wanted to just keep you filled up until your belly was swollen. 

Both of you stayed still, panting and trying to regain some sort of consciousness, the afterglow was too good. “...Shuji.” You whisper and his ears perk up at the sound of your voice. “Hmm?” He hums in response and rests his forehead on your shoulder. “Will you still visit me when I’m taken away?” You ask him innocently and pray that he says yes. I know they say that you will never forget your first time but this was on a whole other level. It felt like you fell for him, even though you knew this would probably be a one time thing, perhaps even the last time you’d ever see him again. He fucked up your mental state, you got a taste of ecstacy and now you wanted to keep staying high in clouds and dancing with the devil. The low chuckle made your chest ache, he didn’t answer your question and told you to clean yourself up, he only wanted to pop your cherry - nothing more and nothing less. 

He left the room after cleaning himself up, not even looking back at you - he didn’t even give you the chance to savor his handsome face before he left. The soreness between your legs was beginning to creep up on you. After cleaning yourself up, the doctor walked back in and gave you a pill to swallow, of course - Hanma fucked you raw and you didn’t even think about the consequences that would bring. “If your period is late, please let us know immediately.” The doctor says and tells you to follow him. Slowly walking, you felt Hanma’s seed drip little by little, he really did fill you up. 

The doctor informed you of the rest of the procedure and how you will be staying at a…well for lack of a better word, whore house for now on but you were not to render services until the assessment was completed. When that is done, they will be changing your name and you will be given a complete breakdown of all the pricing that will be placed on your body. It kind of was a blur to you. 

After they dropped you off at your new home, you were welcomed by the staff and not so welcomed by the other women there. They were not happy about competing with another pretty face. Especially when they overheard that Hanma Shuji took a liking to you and popped your cherry. It meant that you were going to be worth more than they are and your ‘workspace’ would be much nicer than theirs. 

The first few days were hard. The days were short but the nights were long, you could hear the women servicing other men and it only made you nervous. Yet there was warmth that built up inside your chest just thinking about the reaper. Remaining in that room at night didn’t make it any better. Anyone could have walked through that door and you would have no choice but to surrender yourself to them. You were stuck doing laundry and cleanup duty for other rooms, you needed to be useful for something after all. To be fair, you preferred this but it wasn’t going to pay off the debit any sooner.

Finally after a month, the house mother walked in and threw you some lingerie to wear, “Your services are needed at 22:00, get cleaned up and get ready, babydoll.” She said and reminded you to put on a performance for your guest in order to get extra tips. She also gave you a warning, if the client left unsatisfied - you’d be doing some ‘unsavory’ services in the feature. You knew she didn’t mean clean up duty.

Feeling anxious, you quickly did as you were told - cleaning up the room, cleansing yourself and getting ready. The whole time you felt like you were going to pass out. You could feel your teeth chatter when everything was done and you looked at the clock, it was almost time…it read 21:57. The sound of the doorknob turning made your heart almost jump out of your chest. Your eyes darted to the figure at the door and it was your house mother. Oh thank goodness, you were praying that she’d tell you that they canceled. “Babydoll, your guest is downstairs - they have a rather peculiar request. Here…”  She says and tosses you a blindfold. Oh no, was the person some kind of old pervert? Or perhaps some guy with a fetish? Maybe this was for the best - you didn’t want to see his face, it would most likely haunt you. 

A knock on the door made your squeak and the house mother quickly fixed you up while telling the guest to come in. “I hope she is to your liking, enjoy.”  She says coyly and you could her walk away, followed by the sound of the door closing. The room remained silent and you sat there with your heart in your throat. It was too quiet so you decided to break the ice, “W-welcome, I will be taking care of you tonight, sir.” Your voice is soft and has a tinge of skittishness to it. The man said nothing. The room still remained quiet and you felt as if you were going to vomit. Standing there in silence while unable to see what’s in front of you was overwhelming. A few more seconds of silence and finally you hear him move. His footsteps came closer, you could feel his presence - he was right in front of you. 

The sudden hard slap to your face made you yelp and he threw you off balance, making you stumble back onto the bed. You froze in place, what the hell was this? He started to pant. The stinging sensation on your cheek intensified when another harsh slap landed on your face. However, you couldn’t retaliate - for your sake, there was no way. You were warned about this. As long as he doesn’t punch you or cause your skin to break, you were to take it. Many of the girls shared stories with you about how sometimes they would get terrifying men and would often have to take a beating from them. They were all done within the limits of the rules - even though the women protested, nothing was ever done as they were high paying clients. If the money rolled in, they had to pretty much roll with the punches. Tears were beginning to soak through the blindfold, it hurt so much. 

You could hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper, was he going to fuck you now? But your ears picked up on the slight skin slapping sounds, he was getting off to his abuse. A third slap in the same spot made you scream in pain, the taste of blood was now in your mouth. He busted your lip. When you heard a whipping sound, you instinctively scream again in fear of your life - this was going beyond the service of a prostitute. A loud crash and the sound of charging footsteps could be heard, followed by a heavy thud. Freezing in place, you dared not to move, you could have gotten in trouble by not being cooperative with your guest. You felt the bed dip as if someone was kneeling on it and climbing over you. Every fiber in you was screaming for you to run or fight back. 

When the person lifted your blindfold, your vision was blurry and trying to adjust to the light. A maniacal chuckle echoes in your ears. “Rough first day, sweetheart?” That voice… You wipe your eyes and your vision focuses on him. Golden eyes, black and gold tresses with round specs, it was him. “Shuji?” The soft tone in your voice made a shiver run down his spine, you still sounded innocent. Looking down you see the asshole who slapped you was face down on the ground with his pants around his ankles. Apparently, Hanma walked in unannounced and was going to request your services. However, when the house mother said you just started servicing your first client, he pretty much didn’t give a flying fuck and made a beeline to your room and kicked the door open at the exact moment he heard your scream. 

The house mother gasped when she saw the client on the floor. “What the hell happened?” She questioned the reaper and glared at him. It wasn’t like Hanma to interrupt the girls during service. “Nothing, he broke the rules so I broke his nose.” He retorts. “By the way, she is no longer of service to this house.” Wait, what? “Oh dear…we had a queue lined up for her.” The house mother sighs and doesn’t question her boss any further. 

Wiping the blood off your lip, Hanma explains to you that your debt has been paid by an anonymous donor. You were set free from this shitty life. The sound of another man’s voice by the doorway made you both turn around. “So…this is the little bird you’ve been surly about?” A man with blond, neat cut hair says while examining you. You recognized him as Toman’s top brass, Kisaki Tetta. The girls would talk about him, he would rarely come by but only for VIP clients - he’d never indulge in the land of milk and honey. Kisaki was personally here to see who caught the eye of the reaper. You immediately stood up and bowed. “Thank you sir.” You say not wanting to seem rude. “Thank Hanma…he’s the one who paid your debt.” He scoffed and began to walk away with a smirk on his face. There was a tinge of regret of letting Hanma release you from your debt, you would have pulled in quite a lot of money. The plan is always to give the girls a list of fees different from their actual market pricing. That way Toman keeps them around a little longer while profiting off their suffering. 

“Oi, asshole! You weren’t supposed to tell her!” Hanma laughed and pulled you in from your waist. The reaper couldn’t get you out of his head, the moment he felt the afterglow - he had to backaway, there was something there and refused to accept it. It made sense as to why he refused to look at you one last time before he left that day. Even while working and blooding up faces, stacking bodies and sleeping with other women - he couldn’t get your innocent face out of his head. It was maddening. When he realized that you etched yourself into his mind - he cut a deal with Kisaki. You were going to be Hanma’s…personal assistant. He was refusing to let you go again and refused to have another man touch you. Hence the delay in your services at the whore house. 

In tears you thanked him, for once in his life he felt like he did something good - something that wasn’t for benefit. Right? Actually no, scratch that, it was all for his benefit. That night he took you home and made you cry more tears, only they were of pleasure and bliss. You were his and only his.

END

tags: @anxious-chick

[aspureasamelody]

Seeing everyone dressed up as bunnies is so cute, I had to revisit it before the year of the rabbit was over

Look as Zakuro and Minto cuddling together in the corner!

[theghooligan]

rindou’s audacity should never be questioned. my nasty little meow meow.

[hanayumi]

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤-𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝

— bonten!sano manjirou x fem!reader x sanzu haruchiyo 🔞

part 2 of brittle to the bone || prev.

if mikey is harsh, imposing, unyielding, then haruchiyo is just that with playful charisma superimposed over cruelty.

wc. ~9k

tags/warnings noncon, predator/prey dynamics, yandere undertones, knifeplay, mild bloodplay, forced infidelity, self-harm, degradation, overstim, mind break, mentions of gunplay, minor character death(s)

notes he’s very mean

snapshot;

Soft. Soft.

Haruchiyo parrots the word in his mind. Almost as if within it holds the secrets to the universe — and that if he keeps saying it, keeps feeling the weight of this single featherlight syllable on his tongue, that it’ll give him a revelation of sorts.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

∗

Be good.

‘Be good’ — by which Mikey meant, you suppose, no speaking to others in the compound, no leaving the house, no stepping inside anywhere but the bedroom, bathroom, living room, and kitchen… all the places that you’ve been wandering in-between for years without ever going outside. Is there anything else?

Well, you can’t bother yourself to remember. It’s not like you can do anything in here that’ll piss him off anyway. The time you’ve had to spend alone has started to blur into an impalpable being — an amalgamation, of sorts — warping and slowing your perception of reality to a tenth of a millisecond whenever Mikey isn’t around to monopolise your attention.

…I’ll reward you like a good little bitch when I get back. Can you do that for me?

Don’t leave the penthouse. Don’t enter rooms you don’t know. Don’t speak to anyone other than Haruchiyo. It should be pretty simple. Yeah, you can definitely do that for him. You can be good. You can. You’ll show him.

(As long as Haruchiyo doesn’t kill you before you get a chance to.)

You close your eyes, an image of the man with roseate hair floating into your memory. His lilting voice, the rattling of his pills, the way he kissed your hand after introducing himself and the way he smirked when Mikey made his announcement. A prickling chill runs down your spine like cold water. 

You clench a bundle of the sheets into your face, burrowing into the lingering scent of Mikey, and decide that you hate the way Haruchiyo speaks. In a slow, condescending drawl, smirk bared, revealing the carious fangs of a seasoned predator, the narrowed slits of his eyes scrutinising (for what, you have no idea) as if he thinks of your life as even more insignificant and disposable as the dirt between his shoes. 

There’s another thing, too. Something that fills your little heart with enormous anxiety and forces you on simmering coals within his presence, even now when you’re all safe and sound in this room with its four white walls and thick, locked door.

You can read that grin like an open book.

He thinks that your relationship with his boss has an expiry date. That it’s only a matter of time before you’re disposed of, too. That, without question, you were only there as a form of stress relief, your sole purpose being to tend to his boss’ every need. An emotional outlet, of sorts.

(You hate it because you know he’s right.)

But you don’t tell him that, don’t want to offer him the satisfaction — instead you scamper from his gaze, always slipping out of a room just as he enters it, going as far as to strategically plan out your daily activities to ensure that you wouldn’t be catching any glint nor shadow of that vibrant pink.

And for the most part, it’s working. And even if it didn’t, he has a funny way of looking at everything and anything as if it were leagues beneath him, so much so that you find it easy to simply duck your head and deem yourself unworthy of staying in his presence any longer than you already have. It’s weird, how simple it is to evade him — how predictable, easy, like child’s play. When he has just about given you as much attention as one would to a stray twig obstructing a sidewalk.

So, just like every other nagging worry, you stuff Bonten’s-Number-Two-Sanzu-Haruchiyo away in a cabinet for safe-keeping.

Time without Mikey also means that you’ll at least get a bit more time to yourself (albeit a large portion of it would be spent calculating how to avoid the man he left in his place). 

You’re using it wisely, you think — alternating between counting the grooves in the ceiling to toying with the strands of velvet rug in the middle of the too-spacious bedroom, to daydreaming until sprawling scenery of the outside-world blooms behind your eyelids… okay. So you haven’t been able to get anything truly productive done. So what? The word ‘productive’ feels alien in your mind — almost as if there’s something fundamentally cursed about its three syllables, as if it belonged in a realm unattainable to someone like you. You haven’t had to worry about being pro-duc-tive in years. It was always Mikey, Mikey, Mikey.

At some point, you think dismally, I’ll have to get up. But now is not the time. So you count, and count, until you feel your consciousness slipping away, and your eyelids droop, and you sink into a deep, dreamless sleep. Sleep that blunts the ache of isolation and the burning of your bruises, tip-toeing featherlight over your skin like a reminder of the person who left them. 

(Mikey doesn’t leave sticky notes on the fridge telling you to remember to brush your teeth and comb your hair. Everything he gives you comes from himself: his flesh and bone, his pain, his heart, his bruises.)

When time meanders forward, and inevitably touches upon evening, and you stir from sleep feeling an unbearable feeling of emptiness in your stomach (almost as if a large cavity was drilled into your abdomen), you shake the drowsiness away starting to feel an oncoming panic that Haruchiyo somewhere somehow found a way to sneak something into your breakfa— oh. That’s right.

You didn’t even have breakfast.

Your gut howls in agony. Reluctantly, you unwrap the self-made cocoon of blankets, preparing the mental artillery required to slip out the bedroom. 

Haruchiyo seems to be missing from the kitchen, which is a good thing, a pleasant thing — though you aren’t stupid to assume that he is shirking his duties as your ‘guardian’. Living in a sprawling penthouse with just two people, minus the seclusion, leaves you enjoying an overwhelming sense of privacy most of the time. But now? Now it feels like there’s bear traps under every tile in the floor, shuriken blades concealing themselves behind every groove in the ceiling (there were about 200 that you counted before dozing off).

It takes a few furtive glances down the corridor and you (fruitlessly) keep a knife within arm’s reach (‘I don’t know why I’m doing this it’s not like I’m even capable of wielding a knife’), but you get to work quickly, preparing a decent meal the only way you know how. The purple blemishes lining the expanse of your neck and thighs still throb in protest when you move, although now it’s become a dull, persistent, guileless ache. You’re all alone, since it appears that your housekeeper is nowhere to be found — got scared away, maybe?

Come to think of it, staff don’t stay for very long around the Bonten building (either that or the numbers are endless; every day you see a new face), and you were always too busy to pay attention to anything but the hulking man demanding your attention.

Even so, something about that particular woman made the word ‘bold’ pop up in your mind in thick, underlined letters.

She’s been around for a few weeks now, looking to be about the same age as you (maybe a little older?), and always wore her black hair pinned back neatly, revealing youthful and bright eyes. She isn’t permitted to stay long — no longer than when she finishes up cleaning and cooking food that’ll last the next few days — and neither of you know each other’s names. Though she did offer you the most sympathetic of smiles when the smell of good food left you poking your head into the kitchen. You think of it sometimes, when you’re lying in bed sleepless.

It’s been a long time since I’ve done this on my own, you frown, wiping sweat from your brow. Not that you haven’t cooked before, you have — you just can’t remember when. Your fingers curl feebly around the vegetable peeler, strips of potato skin falling onto the cutting board like ribbons. How long has it been, since you’ve put so much care into something other than Mikey? Again, you’re reminded of how much of your time that he eats up on the regular, like a blackhole both in his presence and absence; like a mechanical heart that your empty cavity of a ribcage can’t pump blood without. The thought alone should petrify you.

Don’t think about that.

There you go again, fretting over things that can’t be fretted about. You stubbornly follow the woman’s phantom movements from what little you gleaned from watching her from afar, guiding your hands over a boiling stove. The sizzles generating at the bottom of the metal pot reminds you of firecrackers. If your memory serves you well, there should be extra seasoning in the top cabinet. And you have to remember to work fast, too, just in case Haruchiyo decides to stick his head out in curiosity.

One by one, along with those forbidden thoughts, the various base ingredients are banished into the pot. Minutes later, you taste the thick broth with a spoon and damn, you realise, this actually tastes kind of good. This actually feels kind of good.

Yeah… yeah no, maybe you’re starting to get the hang of it. Maybe it’ll actually turn out okay after all — the next two days, your isolation, this makeshift stew. Not as good as the woman’s, but you reckon she’d give you a pass for trying. It’s only been a few days tops, but you cave and sigh; you kinda miss her presence. It gave you something to mull over amidst constant chao—

“What the hell are you doing?”

Your blood freezes.

At the doorway, Haruchiyo looks dishevelled, pissed, a single olive eye twitching. Your legs caramelise into a thick hardness, rooting you to the ground. The pot continues to sizzle above the flame. Since when did he…

“C-cooking?” you begin warily, glancing for the nearest exit, trying to keep an impervious look on your face even though every second that slips by a silent fear creeps up on you like a chokehold. You flinch as he stalks closer with the air of a forensic inspector, looking over the mess that is the kitchen, the wildly strewn pots and pans and utensils — all because you panicked and couldn’t find the ones you were looking for.

(Around the counter? No—that will take too much time. What if you shoved your way past him? No, god no—are you stupid? He’d catch you immediately—)

“You’re dumber than I thought,” he snarls, his mouth donning that prized scowl, leaning forward before you can react and jabbing a finger at the cutting board. “You don’t even know how to handle a fucking knife?”

“Wha—huh?”

You blink; the pellets of onion, potato and carrot lie limply on the scuffed wood. Misshapen little pieces, some thick and some way too thin. Your hands lie frozen in time, one grasping at a chunk of orange and the other gradually growing slick around the knife.

He clicks his tongue in disdain.

“At this rate, you’re going to kill yourself before I do.” Haruchiyo and the long tendons of his fingers pry the weighted blade out of the comfort of your hands. Insistently, in a way that tells you he’s mad—oh god he’s mad— but strikingly, without a touch of malice. Is he mad? Is he sober? He won’t turn it—the knife—on you—right? Your breath hitches.

“Mikey would maim me to a pulp if you succeeded in that little stunt,” he arches a brow, as if using Mikey’s name in such a manner left a bitter taste in his mouth. For some reason, blood rushes to your ears as you watch the man in an unbuttoned suit hunch over the cutting board. You give him space to examine the ingredients, biting your tongue in shame. “If you wanted food you could’ve just said so.”

You could’ve just said so.

Something doesn’t feel quite right about his words, but you’re too relieved to dwell on it. You are graced with a sliver of respite, a moment’s peace; at least you know Haruchiyo has no intentions of killing you. He can’t. Probably.

The silky-smooth incisions he makes on the vegetables and meat send a tremor down your spine, each chop bouncing around in your eardrums. He’s helping you and yet, you almost feel bad for wanting to run. You don’t want to know where he learnt to wield a blade like a razorlike extension of his fingers.

“You know a lot,” you whisper, biting your lip afterwards, minutes in when the aimless hovering becomes too much to bear. What the hell are you doing, trying to make small talk? 

“I know enough,” he shoots back, long lashes fluttering like large silver fans as he turns around to squint at you. He likes to look at you as if you were some ancient vase excavated from the earth, you realise. Or like a fossil. As if you originated from a completely different time from him.

Nothing much of a conversation passes between the two of you after that; you awkwardly go through the motions, trying your best to stay away. He mutters some weird cantation under his breath as he sections off the potatoes from the carrots, moves them over to a plate as he readies the meat.

It’s almost faelike, how systematic of a man he is. How quick he is to catch on, requiring minimal instructions from you, despite seeming like a person of inferior culinary calibre.

When he’s done, Haruchiyo pats his hands on his thighs, breathing a sigh. His gaze mulls over the piping stew still bubbling with the newly-added ingredients, before plucking itself away and landing on the door to the study just a distance from the kitchen (his hiding place; his deep cavernous den). Just before he saunters to the room, twisting a hand on the door knob, he says, “I don’t cook, so don’t expect me to.” 

(You didn’t.)

It was a brief encounter.

In the early dusk, long after your meal, you hear him crawl out of the study like an emerging creature of the night, and when you’re halfway through turning over a page in a novel (a dusty old one that you found hiding inside the drawers of the bedside table) you hear the sound of cutlery scraping against ceramic, echoing from where the kitchen must be.

It’s strange, the gladness that washes over you — you hadn’t really expected him to react, let alone try your cooking. Come to think of it, you weren’t even sure that he ate in the first place. (He said he doesn’t cook, but he knows the ‘correct’ way to use a knife? Odd.) You frown, none of the words on the page construing a decipherable meaning to you.

Maybe, just maybe, sharing the same space with Haruchiyo won’t be so bad after all (now that you know he eats and sleeps like a human being, is normal-functioning in most aspects of his physical body).

With this thought in mind, you carry on business as usual in your small corner of the house, lightly pondering which part of Japan Mikey has found himself embroiled in.

At nightfall, your ears unwillingly pick up loud thuds down the hallway, and you triple-check that the door is locked before climbing into the soft covers, stifling a shiver. Regardless of whether he’s been oddly tame or not, it’ll take a while to get used to this — the strange, unexplainable things that go bump in the night. 

The bed… feels emptier. Desolate. Something feels odd, like the calm before the storm. It’s just your imagination. You close your eyes, falling asleep imagining Mikey’s arm around your hip. Ironically, you can’t seem to sleep well without him.

∗

What is this?

He’s felt like this before, of that he’s certain. A longass time ago. Judging from the huge blip in his memory when Haruchiyo tries to recall, it must’ve been eons since then. Eons and eons and then some, back when inactive volcanoes still spat real, smouldering lava — he’s sure it’s been that long.

It’s curious, and it amazes him more than it disgusts him. He should be disgusted, the logical part of his brain adds; he should have just minded his business and carried on as usual. He should have let you cut yourself in that dangerous manner (what’s a tiny cut going to do, add another notch to the scar-ridden pole?) — let you experience what it’s like to live life with an impish brain. 

He wasn’t intending to interrupt. Ten, fifteen minutes must’ve ticked by, with him standing there in silence (you are quite the careless one). He couldn’t push down the onslaught of annoyance at the way you bent over backwards to reach the top shelf — are you trying to make his job difficult on purpose? Haruchiyo is a lawless beast, sure, but even beasts have their master’s orders to abide by, along with a special place in hell for those who don’t obey orders. Maybe that was your goal — maybe you wanted him gone. Maybe deep down you’re a spy sent to eliminate Bonten from the inside.

That is how he almost relished in pure excitement, at the promise of bloodshed regardless of how minor.

And yet, and yet, when he saw the flat silver falling just millimeters short of slicing into your soft digits, something compelled him to step in. (To help? Or to finish the job? No, he knows why. It was to chase this surreal, abstract feeling.)

Soft. Soft.

Haruchiyo parrots the word in his mind. Almost as if within it holds the secrets to the universe — and that if he keeps saying it, keeps feeling the weight of this single featherlight syllable on his tongue, that it’ll give him a revelation of sorts.

Your skin looked soft and your hand was soft and he can’t help but wonder if every inch of you down to your bones is soft.

He wonders how you had the time to teach yourself how to cook. Or if you’d already known before you were brought here (in any case you didn’t look very experienced). If the flavourful explosion in his mouth attests to his boss’ favourite dish. Comfort food, his brain supplies. What is that? He never understood the little nuances that people sprinkled in their vocabulary, though the terms lingered in his head like pesky flies. (If it’s shit, it’s just shit, right?)

He’d been so used to the staleness served at dilapidated bars that he’d forgotten almost completely what it means to have a proper meal. If it wasn’t stale or nasty it was too fancy for him to stuff down his throat — he has always been a picky eater, wanted things to be just right, but somehow the smell alone was enough to entice him out of the study.

And when he took the first bite, something strange happened. A feeling akin to warmth flooded his veins. (It’s amazing, isn’t it? It was like poison. His head started spinning and his mind morphed into a jumbled maze of thoughts; so deeply entrenched in its twists and turns he was, left palm slowly running across hedged walls, groping for an exit. Or trying to find whatever treasure, salvation, lied in the middle.) It never ever struck Haruchiyo that you might’ve snuck something extra into the food to incite this wild reaction in him. No— you’re too innocent for that. Kind. Warm. Trusting. Soft…

Not once did you knock on the door. Not that he expected you to. Not that he wanted you to. (You’re stupid but not that stupid.)

He must’ve been in there for hours, oscillating between the fabric of time and space, consciousness and unconsciousness blurring into one. 

Flashes — funny things, like trusting someone, like cutting his fingers by accident as a kid, sitting outside the doctor’s office (“What are they going to do to me?” a young boy with flaxen hair whispered. “They will put you in stitches. It will not hurt. Just a few pricks, nothing more,” someone whispered back… who?) — materialise before his consciousness often. Uninvited. Unwarranted.

When he is awake they come to him like blessings, like offerings to a long-forgotten deity. When he is asleep they take on the sparkle and sheen of a fairytale — so blurry and blinding that he could never hope to brush his fingertips across such an ethereal feeling in his mortal life.

Because a common thread was that these recollections (or fairytales, or glimpses into the ether, or as he personally likes to call them, fever dreams) never lasted long.

The feeling always, always chose to leave last — that silent poking and prodding going on without his consent, shady dealings happening at the edges of his conscience that scream at him to mourn for a past innocence, something that he has no chance of ever recovering. Memory, in this way, comes like slippery eels in the palm of his hand: if he’s lucky, he’ll catch one. If he isn’t, oh well.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts, plastering his spine to the back of chair in hopes of relieving the pain throbbing behind his eyelids. Defeat tastes acrid, bitter, on Haruchiyo’s tongue; it’s no use fighting the waves of agony strobing like a heat wave.

His arm adeptly loses feeling and the metal spoon crashes down onto the plate. It’s empty now, and his stomach is somewhat filled. Yet this shitty-ass migraine chooses to latch onto his brain like a leech. God. Can’t you just—I don’t know—let me off? This one, goddamn time, Haruchiyo curses. He’s pissed. He’s sure he left an extra stockpile of that good stuff somewhere…

Old habits die hard, but it’s difficult to dwell on it when all he can feel is gratefulness for his own foresight. Mikey finds ways to avoid him a lot when he doesn’t feel like entertaining his highs, kinda like throwing a bone to stave off a dog’s abundant energy. But for the most part, he lets Haruchiyo do his own thing — lets him chew on the proverbial bone to his heart’s desire. Thus, once again, Haruchiyo finds himself with a fistful of pills. (It’s the only way he knows to curb the pain.)

He’d really meant to pounce on you by now, he thinks, as he swallows another. Gulp. He meant to already sink his claws into your neck, the same way Mikey does. Gulp.

But he can’t. Right now he can’t even stand straight his head hurts so bad. As if something from within him wanted to turn his body inside out, displaying his innards.

And, fuck, when the itch resurfaces again like an old friend, there’s little he can do to stop it. (When has he ever been the type to argue with instinct, after all? If anything… he is a slave to it. It’s understandable. Mikey’ll forgive him. He’s too used to running free, veins pulsing at the first whiff of prey. It doesn’t do anyone good to cage a wild animal.)

Haruchiyo and his dimmed gemstone eyes, clouded over with a drug-filled haze — a comfortable, fitted collar around his neck and the leash held firmly within his grasp. A slave. A weapon to his own instinct. Nature proclaims that it’s law for predators to hunt prey. How many girls has he killed? How many that look like you and how many just to satisfy this instinct of purging prey.

Haruchiyo has lost count at this point. Everything blurs and twists into one: pill-shaped candy, the boy with pale hair, the warmth of the food that felt like a paperweight on his tongue… you clutching the tip of your finger, thick blood gushing out. (The ‘what-if’ that would’ve happened if he hadn’t interfered.)

Deeper and deeper, he starts to feel dizzy, as if he were plummeting down a rabbit hole. He stumbles from the kitchen and into the living room, heads towards the noise that made his ears prick up like a predator groping for blood. Thirst. He’s unbearably thirsty.

It’s not you— is that you? He goes rigid; blinks away hysteria. It’s you.

All he can think of is you— all he can think is, Mikey will forgive him.

∗

At an abandoned dock two cities away a figure sits patiently, embroiled in a decrepit darkness. Moonlight creeps across his hunched back like vines over a wall. Dark bangs fall messily across his face with some strands still matted in a sticky substance. Sweat, or blood. Mikey scrunches up his nose. If you were here, he wouldn’t have to worry about cleaning himself up.

But you aren’t. And the thought is enough to wind a bunch of thorns around his chest.

The cylindrical shape feels strange as heck against the insides of his mouth. He’s poked his tongue through the barrel a few times before, out of pure curiosity, like a cat toying with a ball of yarn trapped in its mitts. But the taste? Well, it’s just as he expected it to be — bland. Flavourless. Unappealing. Just as unappealing as life without you.

(The fuck? Takeomi called me all the way here just to deal with this?)

Then again, he did take a longer time than usual to exterminate the local pest populace. Mikey doesn’t know if this particular thorn in his side is exceptionally formidable, or if he is exceptionally off his game today. (Huh — no, that can’t be it. It’s not as if he saw hostile figures blurring into two then three then four like a cheap ninja trick, even as he struck them down unfazed; not as if, after the tenth one the blood got too heavy for him to focus, and everywhere he turned, intrusive images of your skin plagued his psyche like a disease… no, that can’t be it.)

(…Right? Right. No way.)

He’s miserable. He wants to go home. He wants to hold you and he wants to make you taste the barrel of the gun as he is now — make you run your tongue along its concave shape and ask if you can taste the gunmetal on your teeth and call you pathetic when you start trembling like you always do. Would you let him? (Of course you would. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.) You are obedient, Mikey likes that about you, and you’re always willing to go along with his whims — though, he frowns, it’s mostly because you’re scared. Probably.

Somewhere in the dark a rat squeaks, scuttles into a crack, leaving the timid cry resonating within jagged walls. It reminds him of yo— he throws his head back and gives a long, hard groan, one that spirals in the stillness. 

Okay that’s it. He clutches his head. I’m getting out of here.

“Oi. Come, Senju,” he calls monotonously, not waiting up before hopping down, setting his course deeper towards the direction of darkness. A barely audible pair of footsteps follow close behind. But Mikey’s thoughts are occupied; he thinks about the flat surface of the gun and what colour it’d make your skin turn, and he thinks about Haruchiyo sitting faithfully in the penthouse, doing his job. (He’s a little worried, and that’s an understatement.)

Mikey sighs, nose breathing in the musty, oppressive smell of the sea.

One more day and he’ll be back where he was with you; one more day and he’ll be home. But at the very least, he thinks, this little business venture has turned out to be the tiniest bit amusing. His first time exploring Japan in months and he’s already got himself a souvenir to take home.

∗

It’s… raining.

A fine, feathery, bountiful rain that’s only noticeable from ripples of water cascading soundlessly on the full-length window, and floating umbrellas shielding commuters from the downpour hundreds and hundreds of floors below.

From your bird’s-eye view, they all but resemble dewdrops of microscopic colour, so far away that you can barely tell they’re alive. You press your palm flat against the glass, feeling the heat of your own skin absorb the cool surface, feeling the tiny vibration brought forth by the morning raindrops on the other side.

How long has it been? Since you’ve been on that other side?

A backdrop of grey paints the city. A familiar view, but one that you’ve never quite gotten used to. It’s quiet. Way too quiet, at that.

Where is Haruchiyo?

The chill spreads to the tip of your toes when they meet the marbled flooring. You slip off the couch, contemplating the merit in searching for a man you would otherwise do triple somersaults to avoid. Is this a good idea? You chew on your lip. It’s not. But where is he?

You’ve been feeling uneasy for the whole morning. Earlier there’d been a crash (multiple) coming from the hallway, and besides making you drop your book it also brought with it a nauseating wave of anxiety. Not that you expected Haruchiyo to be quiet at all times, goodness no (last night was a test of your patience), but there was a certain instinct imbued into you that made the hairs on your forearms stand on end whenever things were a hint out of the ordinary.

A certain intuition that came part and parcel with living with dangerous, scheming people.

Why is he grunting like that?

(That was a grunt, right? No… no, it definitely was.)

There was the sound of something sharp, like metal, grating against the floor — what was that? You scurry over to press your ear to the door, listening hard for anomalies, trying to conjure up hypotheses in your brain that don’t equal to Haruchiyo throwing a messy fit or getting ready to jump you or — well, kill you.

A clunk. Several thumps. A knife, maybe? Or he could be moving furniture, or, or—he could be practicing with his rumoured katana (you’ve never seen it but heard people talk about it in hushed whispers) — there’s no way to know for sure. All these unidentified sounds send seismic fear rippling through you.

With Mikey there was no need to question anything, because it was only a matter of time until you found out. But now that you’re alone — alone and defenceless and the most vulnerable you’ve ever been since you were fresh out the womb — it strikes a waning courage in your steps as you venture into the unknown, sweaty palms encircling the cool metal door knob, trying your hardest to stifle the click it makes when it unlocks.

Slowly, you tiptoe over to the source of the sound. Because it couldn’t hurt to just take a peek. Right? Just to check in. Just to be safe. Just to make sure he isn’t putting funny stuff inside your cupboards.

And. Well. If you were being honest, being Mikey’s little pet must’ve changed you a lot.

Complacency that thickened your skin, artificial layers of cosmetics over baby-smooth doll fabric. The false sense of protection under Mikey’s invisible iron fist comes with its own, hefty price. It must have gotten to you somehow. It must have done something to build up that liquid courage in your veins, in its own twisted way, surely, because—because no sooner than when you poke your head through the doorway into the living room do you see it.

See them.

You stare at the pile of grisly red organs splattering the cold hard floor; stare at death itself.

And, on top of it, as if crowned the victor, no one but Haruchiyo hunches leisurely over the grisly mound of flesh. Cleaning the mess behind his fingertips with his tongue. Eyeing his handiwork. The glinting edge of the tiny scalpel in his hand still dripping with scarlet, sharp edge pointed towards god knows what’s left of that person ohgod—

Your gut drops to the floor in horror. That uniform. That’s her. That’s the woman. Shit—fuck. What was once a sweet young woman is now a mangled corpse by the hands of Haruchiyo. Something… something is terribly wrong. She doesn’t look like she’s been dead for minutes. No, her eyes are far too cold. Like gaping holes. There is blood from her mouth, no, there is blood everywhere —

Haruchiyo hums, his rosier-than-cotton-candy hair dip-dyed in scarlet. Drip, drip. “Looks like… ah, I’ve roused the attention of our reclusive little rabbit.”

It’s the same man who’d grasped your hand in a courteous gesture just the day before, who’d saved you from slicing your fingers, the same goddamn murderer who’s just got his hands on the only person in years to address you like a regular human being. Idiot. You’ve done it this time. You’re a fucking dumbass. He’s a murderer, murderer — he’s going to kill you.

You’re next.

“What’s wrong, little bunny?” His grin only widens at your stupor, your slow, petrified jaw hanging agape. “You look scared. Do I make you feel scared?”

Your legs won’t budge; you whimper.

Run. Runrunrun — your body is screaming at you, imploring you to hurry the fuck up and run for your goddamn life, but you don’t. Pleas fall on deaf ears. Your body is caught in a bear trap, forcing you to take in the gruesome scene before you. There is so, so much blood. More than you’ve ever seen in your life. And all of it, all of it, is hers. 

Just the other day she greeted you with her usual warm smile. Just the other day she was a living, breathing human, who ate and slept and radiated heat.

“Your face tells me you want to run,” he trills, eyes narrowing into slits. “Gonna run away?”

His tone is shrill as a sharpened blade, deranged, with every word mounting into maniacal glee. “Run with your little tail tucked between your cute thighs, back to your big, strong Mikey?”

Bloodshot and unfocused eyes zero in on your face and his body convulses like a zombie erecting from the dead, joints creaking like bars of scaffold. Slowly, assuredly, he rises to one knee, he points the scalpel at his own collarbone, and wait, wait, why is he— 

“Look here, little bunny,” he coos, a big wide smile twisting the scars on his mouth; his wrist twitches, yanks, the blade following suit, dipping obediently into his own flesh. His own skin. His own blood that leaks pure sparkling scarlet from a thin crevice. 

A scream tears through the room, one you can only feel is yours from the vibrations ringing in your hollow throat — he doesn’t wince. Sheer horror sends your body flying back, hands clasped tight in front of your face to shield you from the deep dark red. This is a nightmare. This can’t be real. Red is matted to pink strands of hair, red is glittering across his mouth like the snout of a beast, red is slowly advancing across the carpet. Wake up. You tremble, whimper. This is bad this is bad this is bad.

A cackle rips into the air, one with a chilling, blood-curdling echo bouncing off the walls, and no sooner than when he takes a step forward does the impenetrable cement in your veins crack. 

Fight or flight.

You turn and bolt, feeling the weight of your numb appendages carrying you as far as possible, away from that—that sickening blood, that red crawling ever so closely towards you like hot, molten lava—

You race, stumble, dive into Mikey’s room (Idiot! Mikey isn’t even here! The exit — you have to get to the exit!), managing to grab a spare key off the counter before fleeing like a bat out of hell towards the front door, salvation, the only way out.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

But then your back’s hitting the wall as you scramble to flee, jolts of the impact swelling up your spine as you hurtle into a dodge when Haruchiyo lunges, bloodied fingertips snatching your wrist and pulling pulling yanking, until the keys crash to the ground with a deafening clatter, until you’ve been sucked into the floor with a scream clawing at your throat, until you’re submerged limb by limb into that deep deep red that you hate.

“NO no no no no, letmego, letmeg—”

“Shh, shh!”

The cool tip of the blade drags along your cheek, thinly scraping against the surface, slicing into half the wet tracks that tears have left on your face so that slivered carmine wells up through the broken skin. His body has no right being this warm, pressed up against you, your knees and arms already going slick with blood. It’s over. He’s caught you.

Your eyes stay screwed shut amidst the barrage of hot tears bursting behind your eyelids. He has you pinned down for good, you realise, a strained whimper fighting its way in the back of your throat. There is no escape. The pain is real. You can feel the slim thread of blood rolling down your cheek, mixing with the tears — only for him to lean closer, lapping up the traces of it with a satisfied chuckle.

His saliva leaves a slimy, wet sensation on your skin. It’s the worst feeling you’ve ever felt in your life.

“Please… I won’t tell anyone… I won’t tell Mikey— please, just let me go…”

“Ah ah ah.” The man — Sanzu Haruchiyo — hushes you again, a finger on your lip, his shuddering breath fanning erratically on your face, his voice fading into yet another hysterical chuckle. But it’s deep, breathy, and taunting, thrumming loudly in his chest, and sending a tremor through your very soul. “I think you’re forgetting a teensy, tiny fact, little bunny— Mikey’s not here.”

Your nose fills with iron when he is this close. Haruchiyo’s eyes — those bulging, green masses of insanity — shift and convulse as if you were faced with the mouth of an abyss. His grip on your wrists tightens to an agonising degree the more you plead and squirm, leaving you with no choice but to hold your breath, hoping desperately that someone will come to your rescue.

Where is Mikey? 

You’re going to die here. You’re going to die here… and there’s nothing you can do about it. Pushed up against this psycho killer, who’s just murdered a person innocent of all crime, an outsider who shouldn’t even have been here. Is this how you find closure? From someone other than Mikey? 

Manjiro… the thought is enough to shoot a terrible pain in your heart, something unwarranted like denial, like indescribable terror, like—like regret. 

I never told him I love him.

Twin dilated pupils absorb the sight of your writhing, suffering form, shuddering in their sockets from unmatched euphoria.

“Why don’t we play a little?”

∗

Truth be told, Haruchiyo doesn’t know what time of day it is, what day it is, and all he remembers is feeling fatigued with an indescribable, insatiable hunger. He thinks he’s never felt so dissatisfied in his entire life.

But this… this is nothing short of a feast, isn’t it?

“You…” he begins, seething through his ultra-wide grin. “You’re a huge slut!”

His hands, not knowing where to touch, land greedily on every inch of your traitorous skin. Groping, taking, as if the gates to heaven inexplicably opened; a creature of hell, he is — a pitch-black entity descending upon a fine-feathered angel. He can’t stop himself, not when you’re so helpless to fend him off.

“If I had known… that you would be going around getting wet at every man touching your little pussy like this…” He bites back a laugh, the scarred edges of his mouth contorting. 

You look confused — terrified, but mainly confused. And scared as to why he hasn’t ripped apart your insides yet and god you’re fucking delicious. Your nightdress has long been torn to shreds. Blood — not yours — is splattered everywhere on the marble flooring. Haruchiyo’s obscene groans come like second nature at this point. It’s good, it’s too good — your cries, your shivering, your scent, the way that he can taste how salty your tears are and hear the wetness gathering at his fingers. 

“You’re a damned whore, aren’t you?”

You look stunned, stupefied, as if your little brain can’t comprehend what Haruchiyo wants to do to you, as if the squelching noises coming from between your thighs are a mechanism separate to your conscious body — as if they don’t tell him all he needs to know. 

“S-stop,” you snivel, wrists straining in his grip, though he thinks it couldn’t possibly hurt from the way you can’t help your half-moans, so delicate and frantic, flitting about in his ears like a pair of small butterfly wings. “Stop, please, a-ah, don’t touch me there—”

“Here? Oh, but what if I want to?”

Frankly, this is the most fun that he’s had in ages — your kitten-like mewls and crystalline tears, soft hips twisting fruitlessly and the friction only serving to make his blood rush south, adrenaline sizzling in his veins even more so than when he was in the midst of mutilating that dumb placeholder, that fake…

“You feel so nice and soft inside, little bunny.”

Haruchiyo shoves his fingers past the lips of your cute slit, prodding and poking like it’s his first time touching a virgin. Warm, tender, and suckling on him like a fawn to its mother’s breast… the gentle clasp of your pussy against his fingers feels like nothing short of heaven. God almighty, no wonder Mikey couldn’t keep his hands off of you. His cock becomes erect, the tip becoming sensitive as it strains against precum-soaked fabric.

He watches you squirm, watches as your tits heave with every breath you take. For the first time Haruchiyo is close to you, closer than ever before, to the point where if he brandished the scalpel now there’s no telling whether he’ll lose control and gouge your pretty eyeballs out in a fit of blind lust. Just like he did to so many others before you — just like those other porcelain, fragile, counterfeit dolls. (Except there’s really nothing that comes so close to perfection as the real thing.)

“What do you think is stopping me from killing you, hm?” 

He poses this question in the midst of circling your shining pearl, bringing you closer and closer to climax, coaxing panicked moans out of you as if the realisation just hit you that maybe he will rip apart your insides after all. 

Then, when you whine out instead of replying, Haruchiyo pauses, pressing his weight against your soft body for good measure, keening at your smell. He sighs—

“It’s because torturing you fucking turns me on.”

You used to smell like roses — like Mikey. But the you in this moment smells like sex, sweat, and potent iron, blood from his fresh killing and blood from his own flesh and bone; he has never felt such uncontrollable desire in his life. This is it, he thinks, this is the treasure waiting for him at the end of the maze. 

His lips latch on and suckle on your exposed nipple, tongue circling and biting and lapping hard until it draws cries of pain. His face returns to your neck, a slimy tongue sticking out and coating you with saliva, feeling himself quiver with desire when your entire body convulses. His hard length grinds against your inner thigh like a mad dog, eager to insert itself into your warm and inviting hole. 

But not yet. Just a little more.

He releases your wrists. Sharp nails latch themselves onto your scalp, straining against the roots of your hair to tug you eye-to-eye with his gaze. People like to say that Haruchiyo gets a spine-chilling, deranged gleam in his eyes when he’s in the middle of torturing someone — what do you see this time?

A monster? The devil himself? Or something more divine? Otherworldly? Something like a god?

His teeth sink into his bottom lip; not bad, he credits his brain, eyeing the tremble of your lip and the way tears cascade down your cheeks and jaw and drip onto your breasts, he might just crave to make you worship him. More than anyone else. More than his King; make you become his own private devotee.

“Does Mikey also do this?” Haruchiyo’s gravelly voice whispers filthy vice in your ear. “Does he? Tell me.”

Your back hits the floor. He sticks another finger, two, then three, inside your cunt, wriggling and feeling for the one spot that makes your toes curl and your back arch. Your non-stop whining, your incoherency, your lack of capacity for full sentences, all of it is starting to unravel his control — spilling out like a spool of thread underwater, dispersing never to be reeled in again.

“Tell. Me.” 

“N-no!” you rasp, hips quaking. 

“Liar,” he smiles. You’re a liar. You’re a filthy liar. He saw you. “What does he do to your little clit, huh? Rub, rub. Oh, you feel so soft and slippery here.”

“Stop, please, a-ah! It’s too much, it’s too much…”

“It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay,” he is quick to comfort, fingers speeding up, abusing your tiny nub, as if his ears were blotting out your frantic cries and tearful struggle. So, so sensitive. He almost feels like you’ll break. “Cum all you want. Again and again. We’ve got all day.”

He attaches his lips like a parasite to your cheek, licking at the small cut, sucking every drop of blood that leaks out, all while his fingertips never cease their momentum. You resist and jerk away from his face, only for him to wrench your jaw tightly in place.

“No, I don’t want to cum, I don’t—” You struggle like a rabbit with its hind legs bound, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in a feeble effort to mute your cries of pleasure. “I-I’m gonna—”

You cum without warning; a spray of liquid pools at your entrance, your thighs spasming under him as if charged with electricity. He coos as if to cheer you on. Fuuuck. He’s not done. There’s no way. Droplets of your juices taste like dews on his tongue; so much he wants to do, but he only has two hands. 

As you reel, incapacitated with the afterglow of your orgasm, his palm lets go of your face to wrap around the flushed tip of his cock, giving a few sharp pumps, imagining what it feels like to be buried in your warmth. Well, he won’t have to imagine much longer.

“So pretty, you’d put every other girl to shame,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and another to your lips, silencing your whimpers. “I hated you, god, but turns out you’re good for at least one thing.”

“Let me… let me go…”

“Nah. But did it feel good?” He wants to break you. He wants to see you drowning in so much pleasure that you collapse and black out and crave nothing but his cock.

Your face scrunches up. You’re looking at him, he thinks. Though your expression looks weird, and you’ve stopped struggling.

“Mikey… Mikey’s gonna… he’s gonna be so mad,” you start to hiccup, tears dripping silently onto the marble, bottom lip trembling. Haruchiyo goes still, watching you cry at a loss for words.

He’s confused.

Mikey? Really? At a time like this? And he sees it again. That blatant softness that filters over your eyes — that ickiness. You’re so in love with his King that it’s pathetic.

It hadn’t been obvious before, but it is now. It’s thickening the skin between your heart and the outside world: it’s still there, the veins permeating the layer of visibility just barely, but the pulsing is faint.

And he sneers. Who do you think you are?

“You came because you’re a disloyal whore and you know it. Looks like you didn’t really love him after all, huh?”

At his words, you let out a hurt-filled gasp, as if they made their way into your heart and deposited lashes of agony there. Your mouth hangs open with tears still streaking down your face. The sight makes him want to coo at you.

“Look — you’re all messy and slick down here.”

Before you can tell him to stop, his fingernail scratches your abused clit, hard and fast as if trying to coax another orgasm out of you. Just one more. You can endure it, right? He’s watched Mikey do worse to you. He’s watched Mikey splay your legs open at his mercy and threaten to let every man in the room have their way with you.

Your body thrashes in retaliation but it’s no match for Haruchiyo’s strength, helpless to fight back as he pushes you further and further until you splutter and give a keening cry.

“What would Mikey think if he saw you like this?” he laughs, tuning out your pleas to slow down. “He’d fucking kill you.”

Another spray of your juices — another sharp scream of pleasure. By the third, fourth, your body starts trembling in overstimulation.

“I’m going to make you cum, again and again. Until you regret ever coming here. Make you regret trying to tempt my King.”

Haruchiyo mindlessly nibbles at your ear, before brutish hands reach down to force your legs wider. It’s about time, isn’t it? His cock throbs painfully at the wait.

“No, no, no… you can’t—”

He ignores you, rearranging his hips so they align with yours, gripping your abdomen like a vice as if trying to bruise. More, more, more. All his filthy fantasies start to spill out of the crevices in his brain. All he can do is watch the lavish black rush out in an endless downpour, and he, wrought with an incurable thirst, helps himself to your body, spellbound by the adrenaline you incite in him and the softness and warmth that you—

Ouch. He feels a prick.

From his shoulder, a tiny cut. A warm drop of blood beads at the broken skin. Ah. you’ve got your puny, trembling fingers on the handle of the scalpel.

How clever. A laugh bubbles from his throat.

“Oh, little bunny. Are you sure you want to do that?”

His hand removes itself from your body, snatching the blade out of your grip. You panic and try to retrieve it, but in your moment of desperation he chuckles and slides his cock in, stuffing you with inches of his length at one go, stretching you out like a cushy sleeve. 

You yelp, foal legs kicking at air. Haruchiyo takes the time to tuck the blade away. 

“Stupid, stupid,” he clicks his tongue as you wail in defeat, tiny paws padding at his chest like you want him to pin you down harder — like you crave for him to abuse your little hole until you can’t walk for the rest of the year. “You’re just a little stupid, aren’t you? Gone all mush-brained from me teasing you?”

He wastes no time in bottoming out, leaving the tip brushing against your womb, beating on the squishy walls again and again. His pace is manic, uncaring, straight from the get-go. Nothing can compare to you. Your tight, slick walls accommodate him so lasciviously, so perfectly, that he swears you know what you’re doing. 

“You know what? I’m not even mad. Not when you’re the best fuck I’ve ever had.” His King has an eye for quality, he thinks, adjusting his grip so he can thrust deeper in you.

A mess of blood, cum, tears — a mess that he has made you, forced onto you like ink on a canvas, and he bled a bottomless black. You’re coming around slowly, letting the ink sink into your putty flesh and submitting yourself to the sensation, hips unknowingly rising to meet the timing of his thrusts. That’s more like it, he licks his lips. You’re cute. Obedient. He wouldn’t mind taking you home.

“Hey, hey. Here's—uh—an idea. Why don’t you become my own cocksleeve? I’ll tell Mikey that you—hah—fought real hard, but you just couldn’t resist putting a thick, hard cock inside you. I’ll tell him you couldn’t help it.” 

Haruchiyo chuckles mid-pant, having grown rather fond of you and your insides. He’s heaving like a beast, sweat gathering at his forehead, eyes squeezing shut to ride out this pure bliss. It’s a first for him. Has he been doing sex wrong his whole life?

“After my King disowns you… after he throws you out on the streets… I'll pick you up and give you a home. this little pussy… I’m going to make it my own.”

“Ah, ah— sto— ah…”

You’ve gone stupid for good, now. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, mindless babbling spilling from your lips (he can barely make out Mikey’s name in poor, broken syllables), your breasts bouncing and pussy twitching as it overflows with juices. All words are lost to you in this state. 

And yet you’re still hugging his thickness diligently, just like a custom-made cocksleeve. He really ought to reward you. Haruchiyo reaches down to stimulate your clit and shudders at the feeling of you clenching tighter.

That far-off look in your eyes, your thighs periodically convulsing with spurts of cum spraying out pathetically between your folds — it’s almost too good to be true. You’re spent, brainless, mouth agape and tongue lolling out with drool overflowing from the sides when Haruchiyo finishes in you. He can make out broken parts of your speech: feeble efforts of voicing his name.

Not Mikey’s. His.

“You’re mine to play with now,” he says, throwing his head back in laughter at your pitiful mewls. “What do you think? You don’t have any objections, do you?”

Without thinking, with a heightened lust that betrays all logical thought, he sheathes himself again, all the way to the brim with a heady groan. The cum still potent and thick inside your hole spills out and paints his cock in a hot mess of liquid.

Your mouth opens in a silent scream, eyes glazed over with so much pleasure that you look as if you were far, far above the clouds.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

[useyourimagination2020]

Baku Coffee Roasters, Tokyo

(via グルメ情報誌「おとなの週末Web」)

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

We've seen these poses before but they're now in a new image together! Love the way everyone is looking forwards aside from Ran who's looking at Rindou

[xeniray]

SCREAM & CRY !

synopsis - tr boys who not scared of being vocal during sex.

warnings - twitter links. visuals. sub / dom!f!readers . sub/dom!tr boys , creampie , cervix kissin’ . marking (??) .mention of porno . use / mention of toys . edgin . ( m ) oral . mention to of bondage ( ?? ) .sweet ol’ lovin’ . degradation & praise ( ? ) . use of ‘ pretty, baby , love & bitch ’

☰ KAZUTORA [ one ] [ two ] [ three ]

talking about a fucking baby. he’s whining for his goddamn life. constantly repeating short things to himself. not like he’s scared or anything he just can’t get his words out, and it embarrasses him.

“ f-feel good..” kazutora muttered as he threw his arm across his face. a rose tint covered his cheeks as he looked to the side trying to hide.

he’s so cute. can't even get his words out properly. he’s embarrassed, ready to crawl in a hole and die at this point.

“ baby i f-feel go-“ being cut off as he bucks his hips up. strings of the sticky substance filling your hole. looking down at him he’s covering his face. can’t believe this. not only he could barely say anything, he came so fast and inside you.

you’re not mad, not one bit. it cute when he’s like this.

☰ HAKKAI [ one ] [ two ] [ three ]

acts all big and bold. telling you that he’ll have you crying and begging for his thick dick all fucking night. he’s a terrible liar by the way…

“cant…take it…anymore….” he’s biting on his lips as he’s pumping his dick in your hole. good, you feel so fucking good. so fucking good. he’s in such a high. head thrown back trying to calm himself down.

but god damn. the way you moan? moaning and crying his fucking name each time he thrust inside you. “ hakkai! oh my- fuck..” god you sound so good. music to his damn ears.

mans so drunk on the feeling of you. the way you look each time you feel his tip kiss your cervix. the way you pull him into a kiss to keep your moans down. the way you’re holding onto him, like it’s for bear fucking life. nails digging in his skin.

“ so pretty… my baby ‘s so pretty”

☰ TAKEMICHI [ one ] [ two ] [ three ]

you make him feel like it’s his virgin days again. where he’s taking his fleshlight to make him feel good. sitting in front of the screen watching some random porno. you make him feel like he’s creating his own dream porno.

“ just like that!” ‘michi mewls as he grips onto the chair arm. you look up at him, fluttering your lashes. taking his dick in your mouth. tongue wrappin' around his flushed tip.

“ w-why stop? ‘mon baby!” his high dies down as he looks down. you get up from your knees walking over to the desk.

“ wanna feel good?” you smile at him as you pull out the cockring along with a vibrator. you watch as he shook his head yes. it's like he just saw the best thing in his life.

right as he was getting up from the seat you pushed him back down. he gave a confused look at your small action. that was till he saw the white rope right beside you.

“ wanna hear you say my name, gonna make you feel so good tonight baby “

☰ DRAKEN [ one ] [ two ] [ three ]

always groaning and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. he’s not the subby type of vocal- don’t get me wrong. he can be, be he’s more of the dom type of vocal.

“ can't stop looking at ya’, so god damn beautiful” draken muttered against your skin as he placed a soft kiss on your shoulder blade. one hand groping your tits as he pumped two fingers in and out of ya.

times like this he loves. your back against his chest, skin touching each other. draken literally goes crazy for moments like this. where you can just lay there while he’s making you feel good.

“ come on love, cum for me” he whispered. feeling your clamp down on his fingers you gripped anything that was close to your side, mouth agape as you moan off your oragasm.

“ wanna go again? i just love the way you look when i treat you.”

☰HANMA [ one ] [ two ] [ three ]

same as draken. always moanin' and groanin’ in your ears like it’s nothing. splurging curses in your ear. he makes sure that you know how good you make him feel.

“ fuckin’ bitch, just like that” he hisses as his palm comes in contact with your skin. he wraps his hand around your throat as he gets close to you. kissing your lips he continues to thrust inside you, pace never stopping.

“ stop looking pretty” he slurs as he pulls away from the kiss. “won't be able to stop at it you look at me like that” it doesn’t even fucking matter. hell, keep going till you literally can't take him anymore. hole filled with his hot seed and all.

panting a bit he pulled out of you. looking down at your pussy he watched as the cum leaked, getting on the sheets. he looked back at you who did a sheepish smile. your high starter to die down as you felt hanma move down. you thought he was getting off the bed, till he grabbed your legs pulling you close to him.

“ i just cant stop, you look to pretty. i just gotta break ya “

[webdiggerxxx]

꧁★꧂

[tokyogems]

tried some delicious plain and mint chocolate cat cheesecakes “nyanchi”!

前から気になってたチョコミントチーズケーキ「にゃんチー」。美味しかった！

vlog

[2001hz]

Hajime Sorayama in Tokyo Sweet Gwendoline (2019)

[marsbutterfly]

I think Chifuyu is definitely the sweetest one in the gang when it comes to having sex with you. He would be the type to constantly ask if what he is doing is ok, even when you beg him to be rougher.

He would ghost his fingers through your skin, guiding your hips up and down. He wants to last longer, to make sure you have enough time to properly enjoy yourself but he just can't help it, your insides just feel so good and inviting.

He feels bad so, to make it up to you, he will eat your pussy for an hour. His tongue twirling around your swollen clit as the fingers on his left hand play with the entrance to your cunt. Even though he is focused on his main job, his right hand still scoops a bit of your wetness so he can use it as lubricant while he jerks himself off. By doing so, he makes a mess on the sheets.

When the two of you have gone multiple rounds and he has nothing left to give, he will put his face in between your breasts and tightly hug your waist, he wants nothing more to be close to you after you practically fucked him senseless.

[soubi122]

heyy I have a request!! so I really loved reading bite my tongue! it was great!!! it gave me kinda teenage vibes yk? party, sex and just fun. could u write a rindou x reader smut? yk 18 y/o RI doi with his 16 y/o gf? would that work? tell me if not. so I imagined that the reader has it's first te with rindou on rans house party (tenjiku or kantou manji time-line)!!! it would make my day?!! love u <33 !!!

Hello! Sorry it took so long to respond. Unfortunately, I cannot write minor content, though I know some countries consider 16 to be an adult. I will age the reader up to be 18. 

WARNINGS: alcohol, smut, virgin reader, unprotected sex, sex, f!oral. oh he's is so soft, i really do love him. IT IS CANNON THAT HE IS VERY SWEET/NICE. (pazuribe shibuya event confirmed lol)

They know you love him - one shot - request.

Having a super popular boyfriend makes it difficult to escape the scathing questions that people ask. How good is he in bed? What's he like in bed? Is it big? How long does he last? It was rather annoying and intrusive. Either way you couldn't give them an answer. Regardless of Rindou’s reputation, he was quite the nice guy - unlike the elder Haitani, Rindou was gentle. You’ve yet to lay with him, or better yet, you have yet to lay with anyone. 

Tonight you were going to face those questions again as the Haitani’s were throwing a house party. Of course Tenjiku members were going to be there and you expected quite the crowd. Not to mention the amount of females who were going to be like vultures and circling around your boyfriend. 

“Shion and I will be buying the booze - do you want anything in particular?” Ran asks you while you help Rindou set up the DJ booth and lights. “Hmm…what can your brother handle?” You say teasingly knowing that Rindou was within range. The hard smack of his lips made you both turn around and face Rindou - he was smirking. “I don’t know babe, I’ll have you crawling out of here - you can’t out drink me.” Challenging him for drinks was a mistake, but you had something up your sleeve. They’ve tried a lot of liquor before but you wanted to try something new. “Get me the Añejo Tequila, the one that’s in a twisted bottle and the cap looks like it was dipped in black wax.” You say mischievously. We’ll see who will be crawling by the end of the night. You think to yourself. 

After finally setting up everything, the first wave of people started to flow in. They brought booze and other things to the mix. Amongst them, the number of chicks slowly increased and began to circle around Tenjiku’s men. Before you knew it, the place was crowded and the music was blaring. Haitani parties were always like this - it was the talk of Roppongi. If you weren’t there, then you weren’t cool or important. Kakucho’s nervous smile always made you laugh, he’s the youngest out of all of them and from what you could see - he has zero experience with women. Shion had two girls on his lap and a third pouring booze in his mouth. Mochi and Mucho were in the crowd with their girlfriends. Izana was making conversation with the girls that were flocking around Kakucho, teasing him and also smooth talking to some of them. Ran, of course, had dozens of girls around him, each of them trying their hardest to snatch his attention with their skimpy outfits or pouty lips. 

That left you with Rindou behind the booth. You made your way back and forth between the booth and kitchen. Bringing him drinks and other things he needed. It went on for a few hours, but you never complained. While he was mixing music, he told you to go have fun, just don’t dance with any guys. As much as you liked their parties they threw, it was always hard to enjoy them when he was always behind the booth. “I want to dance with you.” You say in his ear but the crowd kept requesting songs and made it hard for him to leave the booth. “In a little bit. Gotta give the people what they want.” With that he went back to mixing. It made you feel rather ignored. Instead of protesting, you stepped down and went to the kitchen in search of some liquid courage. 

“Aw, did he blow you off?” One of the girls said as you poured yourself a drink. “gOtTa GiVe ThE pEoPlE wHaT tHeY wAnT.” You say mockingly and drink. They bursted into laughter, your friends knew the answer but they weren’t expecting you to mock him in such a childish way. “So…are you planning on getting your cherry popped tonight?” Someone asked. Their question made you giggle, there was no way, he was too busy and by the time the party's over - he always passes out. “The only thing that is going to get popped are my eardrums.” 

Throughout the night you drifted between the crowd and the kitchen, dancing and drinking. As much as you hated to admit it, he was a fucking great dj and played the best songs, sneaking in some of your favorites. Even though you felt as if Rindou wasn’t paying attention to you, his eyes followed you. Each sway of your hips had him mesmerized, he wondered if there was anyone stupid enough to lay a hand on you. Those who got a little close were met with an elbow pushing them away. You kept your distance and knew that Tenjiku’s men wouldn’t hesitate to start a fight. 

There was one song that he played that had people dancing close and sensual. The heat that radiated off of the crowd made you dizzy, they were close and personal. Some were beginning to make out with each other, others were leading each other out of the party or into the bathroom. Even your friends were slowly getting swallowed up by the sounds and their new boy toys. From the looks of it, you were the only one without a dance partner and it made you feel out of place. Yet the pheromones emanating off the crowd had you feeling more than just the effects of the alcohol. 

Everything looked like it was moving in slow motion with the flashing lights. “What's wrong? You look lost.” A familiar voice says right in your ear. Turning around you see the tall figure and signature braids. You chuckle and respond “The DJ needs a break.” You say with a smirk on your face. Ran wrapped his arms around your waist, gently pulling you in and moving to the music with you. He was close but not close enough to feel his heat. You were surprised, it wasn't like Ran to do something this bold with you - especially in front of Rindou. As long as he wasn't touchy with you, you shrugged and said what the hell. You needed a dance partner since your boyfriend was too busy to give you attention. This will surely bring him to her. Ran thinks to himself as he glances at Rindou, he is met with furrowed eyebrows and a glare so heavy that a chill runs down his spine. 

What followed was Ran spinning you around rather frequently while dancing so that almost the whole floor saw your lace panties. Tenjiku's single men, along with others, only titled their heads down a bit to get a better peek at you. The way you giggled and held on to Ran made it look like he was your boyfriend. “Izana… Isn't she Rindou's girlfriend?” Kakucho asks and gets worried about a fight breaking out. Izana laughed and continued to drink, “That's the point… she shouldn't be alone anyways - he's drawing Rindou in.” Ah, so that was the plan. He was doing you both a favor. 

After a few songs, Rindou still didn't come down from the DJ booth. “Ran, I need a break.” You pant and giggle as he continues to move you around. This man was seriously going to give you a workout. “Nuh-uh, you're my dance partner tonight. Besides, Rindou is still busy right?” Ran chuckles and pulls you in, he was close - a little too close. Oops… He thinks to himself when he feels your figure tightly against his. You quickly pulled away from him, this wasn’t an ok thing for him to do - even if you were close friends. Now he knew for sure that Rindou was going to stop the music, however the music continued without interruption. When Ran looked up at the booth he felt a slight sense of panic, Rindou was nowhere in sight. “Finally.” Izana says to Kakucho when he spots Rindou in the crowd. It took him a few minutes to come down from the booth, he needed to set up music so that he wouldn't have to go back up to the booth for a while. 

In the blink of an eye, Rindou was now standing in front of you - his face was calm, a little too calm. You knew all too well that he was seething on the inside. “Oh, little brother – don’t take my dance partner away…” Ran kept egging him on and you felt a sudden wave of worry when he placed his chin over your shoulder, he was too close to your face. “Ran, don’t tease him like that.” You say and pull away from him, you reach out for Rindou's hand in hopes that he isn't going to start a fight. Gently, he took your hand and pulled you away from the crowd - he was leading you somewhere. “Rin… Wait, where are we going?” You questioned him and struggled to keep up. 

Soon you were pushed through a door and the familiar space felt a little more threatening than welcoming. Strong arms spun you around and now you were facing your boyfriend. Those amethyst eyes were hazy and had a glint of jealousy in them. “It looks like I'm gonna have to claim you right here, right now so that they know you're mine.” His tone was low, his hands were snaking their way around your waist and the heat that radiated off of him was making your core throb. “Wait, Rin…your brother was only keeping me company.” You manage to say before he pushed you on the soft mattress. It didn’t matter, Ran was another man so of course he’d get jealous. The moment he got on top of you, you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared for the worst. 

The gentle kiss on your lips made you open your eyes, Rindou was smiling softly and chuckled. “Babe, I’m not gonna hurt you - I only wanted to take you away to spend time with you.” The sincerity in his voice made you feel warmth in your cheeks and butterflies in your belly. “You’re not mad?” You ask him carefully, you weren’t sure if he was tricking you. The tender kiss he placed on your lips answered your question. The sweet taste of liquor that danced between your tongues had you both panting and roaming your hands around each other. He was taking his time and slowly unbuttoning your shirt. The moment you felt his hand try to go between your legs, you stopped him. “What’s wrong darling?” Your hands were shaking, and your heart was pounding. You hid your face under his chin, you didn’t know how to tell him. 

He pulled away a bit to take a look at your face but you pulled him in and kept hiding your face. “Babe, hey - look at me. What’s wrong?” Rindou asked and managed to get you in front of his face. The worried look on your face made him feel bad for messing with you earlier. He asked you if you were mad at him for what he did or if you were frustrated with him for not paying attention to you during the party. You shook your head no and blushed even harder. “Rindou, I’ve never mentioned it before but I’ve never been touched by someone else nor slept with anyone before.” You whisper and bite your lip, you were expecting him to make fun of you or get turned off by your confession. Rindou snickered and cupped your face, his expression was loving and comforting. “You think I didn’t know? Baby, we’ve been together long enough for me to know you inside and out. Just for the record, I don’t care about that - whether or not you’ve done this before, you’re with me now and that’s all that matters.” Oh sweet baby cthulhu, this man was truly a prince, a king, a fierce god with a gentle soul. 

Looking into his eyes, you could feel a wave of relief wash over you. “A-Are you sure? I thought that-” You barely managed to say before a finger was placed on your lips to shush you. “I already told you, what matters is that you’re with me now. So…can I take care of you?” His words managed to make you let go of your nervousness and fear. With a soft nod, you allowed him to continue. “I promise, I’ll make you feel good. If at any point you want me to stop, just tell me, ok?” He whispered in your ear and began to trail kisses from your cheek to your jawline, and down to your neck. It was giving you goosebumps and making your body tremble beneath him. Soon his kisses trailed down to your chest, leaving open mouth kisses and unhooking your bra and latching on to your nipple. This was nothing like before, you and Rindou never really went beyond kissing, gentle touching over your clothes and dry humping - this was a whole new experience for you. 

You covered your mouth with your hand when you moaned a little too loud. However, Rindou moved your hand away and looked up at you with a devilish grin. “The music is loud enough to cover for us. I want to hear you say my name.” A chill ran down your spine, he was totally a different person. He was sweet and malicious at the same time. He went back to sucking on your nipple and rolling the other hardened bud in his fingers. You could feel the way his tongue licked and swirled your nipple, when he pulled away ever so slightly, he blew on to it. The cooling sensation had you arching your back and panting. Your hips were now rolling into the mattress and you felt your cunt ache - the slick was pooling between your legs. The sensation building up inside you felt like heaven and this was just foreplay. 

Soon his right hand was under your skirt, teasing your pantyline with his fingertips - you clenched in reflex. “Rindou…” You moan his name and feel your heart pounding against your chest, he was so close to touching your honeypot. Having you like this only made him fall for you even more. It was never his goal to take your innocence but he couldn't help having his pride swell up, he was going to pop your sweet cherry. He's heard stories before about how your first always leaves an imprint… he wanted to make sure you will always remember him. 

Once his hand went past that line, he slid a finger through your slit and groaned at how wet you were. “Fuck, darling…” He looked up at you with a mischievous smirk. “I need to taste you, can I do that baby?” He asks and starts to leave open mouth kisses down your chest and belly. Right before pulling your panties down, he looks back up at you and waits for your permission. Your face is dusted in pink and your eyes are hazy, biting your lip you nod a yes. “Use your words pretty girl…” Oh sweet baby Cthulhu… his tone was low and made something feral bloom inside you. This was different from before, he was making you needy and you loved it. “Rin… I want you to taste me.” You pant and grind your hips into his hand. He didn't waste any time and stripped you, those amethyst orbs drank in your bare figure - he basked at how beautiful you looked underneath him. 

Positioning himself between your thighs, he teased you with kisses, slowly getting closer and closer to your core. Your essence was dripping and he couldn't help but feel his member throb under their restraints. Your thighs trembled as he got closer, you could feel his breath fan your cunt and you clenched around nothing. Rindou's tongue took a long and slow swipe between your folds, tasting your honey for the first time had him feeling something he never knew existed. It was ecstasy or maybe even bliss to him. “Ngh… oh god, your tongue… it feels s'good!” You barely manage to say before he rips another moan out of you. Lithe fingers glided through your folds, two fingers prodded your entrance and you felt a jolt of electricity. 

The deeper his fingers went, the tighter you clenched and felt a throbbing sensation around your entrance. The mild stretch was to prepare you for what's to come. Your walls sucked his fingers in and it felt so different from your own hands - curse your small hands for not preparing you better. Once his fingers began to thrust slowly in and out, Rindou focused on your puffy clit and gently teased it with his tongue. There was a tingling sensation that was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach - it was faint but you knew what it was. Knowing what could come next only made you drip even more. Now his whole hand was coated in your essence. 

“You're gonna take me so well baby…” He pants and continues to eat you out as if it were his last meal on earth. His blonde and blue silky strands were now tangled between your fingers. Rindou took his time, thrusting in his fingers sensually to the point where you were begging him to go a little faster. His lips curled into a smile when he felt you grind your hips into him. He was building up your orgasm little by little, giving your body so much love and affection that you didn't know what to even think anymore. All you knew at this point was that you wanted to feel him, feel his cock between your legs and you wanted him to cum inside you. To feel that close to somebody, to feel that close to him - it was all you wanted. 

He could feel how your thighs were beginning to tremble, you were close and as much as he wanted to see you come undone - he stopped. Rindou wanted you to cum on his cock, he wanted to see your pretty face from up top when you hit that perfect O. Pouting and whimpering, you take a moment to catch your breath and ask him why he stopped. “Rindou… I was so close…” The chill that ran down your spine when he sat up and zipped his pants, oh. Oh indeed. His heavy cock sprung out and dripped precum onto your slit. He was panting and pink dusted his face, those glossy orbs of his reflected nothing but love and desire. 

Your lips began to tremble when he stroked himself, earning him more beads of precum that dripped on you. Absentmindedly, you spoke and admired his member. “It’s so…big.” Already having an idea that he was well endowed when innocently teasing him before, you thought you’d be able to handle him. However, actually seeing it made you feel as if you were going to be impaled. Removing the rest of his clothing, your eyes feasted on him - his broad shoulders, those gorgeous tattoos and that perfect V cut… oh it had you in a daze. You didn’t even notice the little drool that began to run down the corner of your mouth. The sound of his chuckle made you snap out of it and you looked up to see the alluring look on his face. “You like what you see, baby?” That low and husky tone made your heart skip a beat.

Leaning in to position himself, he placed a passionate kiss on your lips and cupped your face. Rindou was a true gentleman, he never gave you a reason to mistrust him nor to question his loyalty to you. Pulling away ever so slightly from your lips, he whispered “Tell me if you want me to stop…” Too enthralled in his affection, you didn’t realize this was his warning to you that he was going in. Your breath hitched the moment his tip prodded your core and slowly stretched you out. The burn was getting more and more intense as he pushed past your walls. Screwing your eyes shut, you grip his shoulders and moan in pain. Rindou placed tender kisses on your lips and wiped the tears that trickled down your face. “I know it hurts, baby. Do you want me to stop?” He asked and paused his movements. You kept your eyes closed and shook your head no, you didn’t want to stop half way - you didn’t want to disappoint him. “Hey, hey…look at me.” He says sweetly and smiles. Opening your eyes, you were met with those beautiful amethyst orbs - they were glossy and his face was dusted in pink. For the first time you see him, the real him…

“No… please. I-I can take it.” You pant and bite your lip. What you just said and the way you said it, lit an even greater fire inside him. “Good girl…fuck.” Rindou said and proceeded to bottom out in one thrust. The pressure between your thighs and hip made you dig your nails into his shoulder and back. Shaky breaths were all you could hear along with the sound of your hearts pounding against your chest. “Breathe baby…” Rindou rests his forehead on yours and slowly gives you shallow thrusts. His member was so thick, that you could feel him throb and pulse inside you. Slowly the burn of the stretch subsided and was replaced with gentle waves of pleasure. “Ngh…” You moan and rock your hips with his. “Such a good girl…” He moans and crashes his lips into yours. The fire that burned between you two had you whimpering and moaning louder and louder with each thrust. 

The high you felt here was nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your coil was already tightly wound due to his previous actions. He was making you feel special, as if you were truly the love of his life…wait, love? This is what was happening…you were making love. It wasn’t just sex, it wasn’t just a fling or a one time thing - this was love. You couldn’t help but moan out his name and the next words that rolled off your tongue set his heart on fire. “I love you…I love you…” You repeated those words like a prayer. Rindou buried his face into your neck and quickened his pace, the way his cock would kiss your cervix, it made your eyes roll back into your skull. The sound of your slick and skin colliding started to get louder. Such lewd sounds would make anyone’s core throb. For him to hit sweet spots you didn’t know existed had you writhing beneath him. His husky moans in your ear and his warmth on your body brought you closer to bliss. “Rin-Rindou! Ahn-I’m gonna cum!” You scream and clench around his cock. 

He slowed his pace and proceeded to sit up on his knees, those slow but deep thrusts had you clenching the bed sheets. Your beautiful nude figure captivated him. His hand reached to pinch your nipple, he couldn’t help but touch your tits while they were bouncing. “...so perfect.” He groaned and ran his hands down your waist. True to his own words, he wanted to see you come undone and wanted to have the perfect view for it. The hand that was toying with your nipple traveled south and landed right on your clit. His fingers place pressure and move in circular motions on your puffy bundle of nerves. Rindou had your back arching and your screams could be heard to anyone who was close to this bedroom. Slamming his hips into you, he focused on how your pretty face was filled with pleasure. The way your lips parted and said his name as your coil snapped made him reach his peak. His hips stuttered and his pace got sloppy, thick white ropes filled you to the brim and you felt him throb inside your velvet walls. 

Rindou leaned in and gave you the sweetest kiss, “I love you too.” He chuckles and rolls over to pull you in. His scent made your eyelids heavy and your body felt drained. Both of you were on the verge of falling asleep, well that is until a knock on the door disturbed the peaceful bliss. Rindou yells out loud, a little annoyed. “WHAT?!” What followed was Ran peeking through the doorway with a sheet eating grin. You couldn’t see him as your face was pressed against Rindou’s chest. “The music stopped a little while ago…that is all.” Ran said and closed the door. The sound of what you could only assume were Tenjiku’s men giggling like a bunch of school girls could be heard on the other side of the door. “Oh… OH!” You yell. For a moment you could have sworn your soul left your body. No wonder you two were about to float off into a deep slumber. Rindou proceeded to laugh and snort at the expression on your face. “At least they know you love me…”  He says teasingly and pulls you in for another kiss. 

END

Tags: @anxious-chick