I'm curious but why do you think fujimotos a bad person 😶🌫️ no hate but isn't that the chainsaw man author guy? Did he do sum fucked shit or is it just like a personal assersion of him as a person
honestly for me it doesn't have to be the greatest fic of all time or have the most complex characters i still think that it was good and i always will idk i just got me
but anyway i was wondering things like what does sanzu do when he found the bodies? Kill himself too? And what about the rest of bonten? Do they just disband or sum??
this honestly isn't something that i ever thought about, but it's a good question. in a timeline where i finished it, it definitely would've ended with the death and nothing after that but??
okay so. Mikey's death would obviously leave everything in disarray. Sanzu is expected to assume his position as the leader bc he's second in command, right? Well that's not happening bc Sanzu has his own issues to hammer out. He never wanted to be the leader, he wanted to follow Mikey sooooo.....? On top of that everyone thinks he's crazy so they're not going to listen to him regardless. Sanzu becomes a shell of a person. He's instantly broken and it just gets worse and worse. I was writing him to have been "in love" with Mikey (which i don't think i clarified) so just imagine someone with substance abuse and emotional regulation issues losing the person they love? Definitely isolates himself from anyone who could be of any help and becomes more self-destructive than he already is? I think he dies, but not from a direct suicide. It's passive. He's going through the motions as his life falls apart. Between stints in jail, it could be an enemy gang member or his own subordinates catching him while he's down. It could be an overdose. It could be drunk driving. It could be a broken heart. The one thing it can't be is a surprise to anyone close to him. Hell, maybe he does kill himself.
Bonten, as an organization, crumbles slowly. It's like an extinction. It doesn't end with Mikey, but it falls apart and rots without him. Kakucho is number 3, but he doesn't bother. Everyone knows it's over, but the news is slow to leak as the higher-ranked members secure themselves before disappearing with their money and lives. They never tell anyone, they just leave. No one knows where the execs are; probably america. It's a slow realization. Things function like normal for a while, then people with direct lines to execs start to notice. It flows down the chain of command over weeks. Other leaders step up but are quickly dismissed or killed. Those execs escaped, so some followed suit because they sensed danger. The flesh of bonten cannibalizes itself without the structure of its bones.
Then, the government wants to present its own win against the bonten boogey man. By the time even the most inconsequential bonten errand boy has found out, the government announces the death of the leader. Large public arrests to distract from the execs still being at large. The 24 hour news cycle is hit with this for a week, then it's over. No one knows or cares about the girl they held hostage and brutalized. They're not looking for those big, important guys. They're getting the small fries and giving themselves medals for it. Then everything is back to normal. Sanzu's death maybe gets thirty minutes of coverage on the news.
As an aside: the moment they find out that Mikey is dead, they hit that conference for 5 hours straight, deciding what to do and how to divvy up that money. No time for grief when you have to make yourself scarce asap. Plus, i don't get the impression that they care too much and are ready to move on to the next chapter of their lives.
They leave that man's body where it is, manage things for a couple more days, then leave one at a time. They don't say where they're going, but the Haitanis go together no matter what. Sanzu never leaves Japan.
Just like the other anon i think ur content is the first dark content i ever read and im so glad it was u. The first thing i read was the mbfc series and it was mind blowing, life changing... about that, is there anything u wanna say? Something u wanna add? I need to get closure cuz it was probably the best thing i ever read and definitely one of my favorites and i think it will forever be.
I reread it just to respond to this cuz im truly trying to see where people are coming from with liking it so much. I’ll admit it’s not as horrible as I expected… but to be fair the bar was in hell 😪
I was right to call it “a lot of brutality for the sake of brutality” cuz that’s exactly what it is. Do I think that’s a crime? No. Is it antithetical to who I am as a writer now? Yes. Cuz that shit also sucked (NO HATE). I see what I was trying to do tho… and Im empathic to my cause (horniness)!!!
But okay ill tell u where i think i was going with the different characters
Off rip… sorry to Mochi and his fans. Not a hot guy. So he was always going to be an aloof bg character. I don’t care for him and I wasn’t going to pretend to.
tw// mentions of rape, kidnapping, mental health issues, and violence
Mikey was definitely experiencing some type of psychosis, which is obvious. I think I really wanted to explore his rapidly declining mental health and what that would look like in such an environment but i did not have the skills or patience to do that. I would've never been able to explain his extreme violence or mood swings with the direction i was going... yk? Like my horny fanfic was never going to have room for that, but I really wanted it too. At the time I just didn't have the capacity to sit down and actually write complex characters or relationships. SO I don't really have an explanation for his character today. He created false memories of mc saving him during a suicide attempt when it was really Sanzu. He's got mounting resentment towards Sanzu and weird, unearned admiration for mc. He's just going insane.
Sanzu is having complicated feelings towards Mikey that he takes out on mc. He's lowkey mad that he's being replaced by some random girl he snatched out of her home... and then on top of that he's upset because Mikey isn't what he wanted him to be. Mikey is rotting away under his own flesh and is not really the all-powerful king figure that Sanzu crafted in his mind. He wants Mikey to love him, and he wants Mikey to stand in his power. He wants to kill this girl, but by the time he realizes that, it's too late and Mikey would probably go more insane without her? It's just a bad look for the version of Manjirou that exists in his mind. Sanzu is functionally a glorified caretaker for a man on suicide watch. This is his 1 to 1 and only him and mc know how bad it is. Now, did I have the tools to write that 3 years ago? No.
Kakucho was always supposed to be a dirty, scheming liar who lies and schemes. On that little shopping trip, he makes a point to say that mc won't get away with wearing baggy clothes. He means that for himself, but he's convinced her of his goodness so she follows what he says. They don't give a fuck what she wears. He does. I REMEMBER THINKING THAT WHEN WRITING IT! They're all rapists and kidnappers... they can take her clothes off at will... why would they give a fuck what she wears? THEY DON'T!!! Kakucho is testing what he can and can't make her do voluntarily, like buying a dress he likes. He's also convinced of his own goodness, but he knows exactly who he is. He's not going to force himself on this woman the same way others do, he's going to groom her... and cheat on his girlfriend that he has outside of this, bc this is not a permanent reality for him the way it is for mc. He can go home and pretend this shit isn't happening. She can't.
That's all i got rn... uhhh idk. Those other dudes were evil too. But uhmmmmmm i dont remember anything meaningful about them. mc was never making it out alive tho...
Memories Before Final Curtain [SERIES FIC FEAT. BONTEN]
Synopsis: If you had to describe the world in one word it'd be absurd. Truth: Bad things can happen to anyone, but good people aren't always looking over their shoulders. Now, maybe you aren't the best person, but you've tried to be good enough. A life of forced servitude shouldn't have been karma for your positive effort, but it was. These are your memories from that time.
Warnings: Suicide, Noncon/Rape, Drugs, Guns, Knives, Violence, Burns, Blood, Abuse, Broken Bones, Rindō is misogyistic [will be updated as needed, warnings will also be featured in chapters]
Ik I can’t tell u how to feel about your work, but youre one of my fav writers so i have to glaze. Your writing brings the characters to life and it’s so easy to immerse yourself in the story. I also think your ability to write character dynamics is unmatched. It makes you want more of these interactions. Im saying this as someone who didn’t even read actual dark content before I stumbled across your blog. I wanted to turn away at certain scenes but I just couldn’t stop reading. Your writing makes it so easy to sympathize with the reader and despise the men who brutalize her. You write the men to be likable and charming but you never let the audience forget that they’re genuinely terrible ppl. Your writing is very balanced and raw and very few ppl are able to do what u do 💝
Tl;dr your writing is genuinely amazing and you deserve a lot more credit than you give yourself
Also your sanzu cucking reader fic changed my brain chemistry
tw// vore
im going to eat u. thank you sooooo much!!! i try to make them realistically evil and not just caricatures of what i think a yakuza is? hell, im not too sweet on men in general... so it's not hard for me to write an evil one.
like, i've noticed that people can have so many faces, especially men. if there's anything i've learned, it's that there are 24 hours in a day and a man will make use of all of them (sidenote: i made this observation about a kpop boy on twt and got jumped for it... mind u it was conjecture. god forbid a bitch has a thought). i dont know if im scared or impressed most of the time? a man can do so much bullshit behind your back and be a whole different person and then play in your face like shits sweet. hell, he could do bullshit in front of your face and you still wouldn't know. i think that's the thesis of tbap.
koko said he was an accountant, but what if mc asked what the hell he was constantly accounting for? would she not be in this situation? did she ever think about what kind of accounting job makes this kind of money and has all this work at home? who the hell is his boss? there's no office parties? no work friends? like what if she asked more questions? what if she had means of her own instead of depending on him?
so many decisions could've been made along the way to protect mc and that's true for a lot women in real life. not all men are prolific gang members, but there are women around the world stuck in loveless situations or starting from zero because of putting all her eggs in the basket of a man. the only thing mc has going for her rn is the fact that she's child free lmaoooooooo.
Omg do not listen to that bum ass anon. Your series is some of the best shit I’ve read on here. They want what u have
lols thanks ilysm. it was rude asl but i thought it was funny. like none of my writing has ever been that good for anyone to be like "write smt else." so i laughed out loud??? cuz why me bro??? im barely understanding proper punctuation...
but fr, i fw u for putting up with my bisexual gang member fetishization series. a lot of people would be scared here, but ur a soldier. if i actually finish it, i'll try not to disappoint.
rambling semi-related (if u squint) nonsense below the cut and in the tags bc i wanna talk and don't feel like making a separate post.
disappointing as it may be, i was changing before i left for a year and i've definitely changed after being gone and "following my dreams" or whtvr. my writing was never really good, but i understand that being good wasn't the point for a lot of people. a lot of people just wanted the extreme violence, which is a niche that me and a few others filled, and that's fine, but i always used writing fics as a way to dissect my own experiences in some ways???
i was an introvert until like? last year... but i've always had an interest in humans, their relationships, why people are the way they are, and little intricate details about what can really build or destroy a person. i like people so much that i can't really do the cruelty and extreme violence part without the build-up anymore bc it feels like a betrayal of myself creatively, and bc im incredibly selfish and evil :(
like its cool and fun to have little bit of an audience, but ik id be writing weird bad fanfic at 24 years old regardless. i was still writing filler chapters for tbap and other random stuff when i was away, it just never got posted. i also think writing work like this is antithetical to my own #feminism? but don't ask me to elaborate on that cuz idkkkk???? so the least i could do is give things context and a proper story. i have to write character-driven stories or i'll die bc i don't care about the plot or having hella sex that much. i can only do character studies these days.
all i can think about is how much i love people and so it's all i can write about. also im a fujoshi. i've always been a fujoshi. and i believe in having as many boyfriends as you can handle. and they should all kiss. bc im a fujoshi.
The hammer of Yakuza justice doesn’t usually come down on the prostitutes they claim to protect, but it’s just your luck that you’ll die by it. It’s rare, but it happens. If lightning could strike you right now, it probably would, so God can let you know he hates you the most. But it can’t because you’re in an unfamiliar bathroom being drowned in the tub for something you didn’t do. You're always being dealt a shitty hand.
“Nothing?” He says as he pulls your head from under the water. He holds your arms tight against your back with one strong hand. Your bare stomach heaves against the side of the tub as you gasp for air. You shake your head, then you’re back under. You’ve told this man over and over again that you have no clue about any stolen money.
It’s been four full days of him torturing you. Rindou? That was his name.
You have not eaten, you’ve been trapped in a dark closet, you've been beaten up so bad you’ve vomited up stomach acid and have been pissing out blood, and he’s broken all of your fingers. If you knew anything, any of those points would’ve been a good one to come out and say it, but seeing as you don’t… You can’t. Still, being drowned like this is practically a relief after having your fingers bent and broken in ways you’d never considered a possibility. The relief doesn’t stop you from thrashing violently against him. When you think of kicking at him for the first time, he puts his whole weight on your right leg like a threat to break it too. He’s a fucking brute.
He pulls you back up after a minute. You can’t tell if you’re crying or just screaming when he presses his torso against your fucked up hands. It might be completely unintentional, but it’s the worst part of all of this, and you’re in no position to run. You try to pull away from him, and there’s no give; your leg under his doesn’t budge.
“You didn’t do it.” He’s talking to himself more than to you.
/////
You’re wet and naked on this bathroom floor, propped against the bathtub. It’s been this way for thirty minutes. He, Rindou, sits next to you on the floor as he smokes a cigarette in his ugly three-piece suit. It’s been quiet the entire time. You cannot read his expression. The few times you’d seen him before this, he wore that same bored expression.
“I don’t know what to do with you.” He doesn’t bother looking at you. The acrid smoke is starting to fill the room and burn your nostrils.
“Send me home.” Your throat is raw from all the screaming and crying of the past few days, and your bulging lips don’t help you sound any clearer. You wish he’d realized earlier.
“You don’t have a home. That’s why you work in the brothel.” He’s correct. You don’t say anything. He takes a long drag. “You definitely can’t work there anymore after what I’ve done, either.”
You haven’t seen yourself, but you’re sure he’s not lying. Your eyes are terribly swollen, and you’ve been tasting blood in your mouth for a while. You can’t imagine the damage he’s done. Everything hurts.
“Welp…” He pushes himself up with a grunt and the cigarette between his lips. He stands above you, a hand on your head. “How long have you been a prostitute?”
Fuck. You roll your eyes at him and turn away.
He snatches your attention back by your hair. You can see his hard-on through blurred vision. It makes sense that a Bonten exec is a weird pervert who gets hard from something like this. They probably all are.
“I’m not supposed to, but…” He starts to undo his belt. The leather smacks your nose, and he doesn’t bother apologizing. “If you’re any good, I’ll let you live.”
“I’m innocent, though?” You crane your neck up more to look at him. He’s a vague blur of purple hair and pale skin. He shrugs. Yakuza politics definitely don’t care about killing innocent prostitutes. There’s only one logical choice since you’re not ready to die.
///
Your knees hurt against the tile and your mouth aches around his dick that you purposefully lodge into the back of your throat. You gag around him, drool spills over and onto your thighs. He tastes salty.
“Watch your teeth.” He asserts as you bob your head up and down his length. It’s not as easy as he makes it sound; you’re doing this bullshit with no hands; you barely have control as is.
You groan around his length and continue as you are, trying to mind your teeth. It’s not enough. He yanks you off of him and kicks you in the stomach hard enough for stomach acid to find its way up. You swallow it back down.
“Didn’t I just tell you to watch your teeth?” That same cigarette rests between his lips as he scolds you. “Use your hands too.”
He’s got to know he’s dead wrong for this, but presumably a man like him doesn’t care. Crying in front of him won't work either, so you just accept the defeat with dead eyes. Lifting your arm to use a hand is painful. All of this is painful. You slowly wrap a handful of broken fingers around him, whimpering and wincing as they move. They don’t lie flat against him, and they collide with each other at weird angles. He chuckles at the sight of your agony like he’s proud of himself.
You start on him with your mouth for a second time, and he asserts that it’s better. Your lips crash against your fingers as you do your best to suck him off. Even the slightest graze feels like a jolt of electricity through your body, but he’s moaning softly.
He fucks into your mouth, dragging himself against broken fingers, you can’t move too much. Wet sounds spill over along with more saliva. Multiple times, he crushes your hand between his pelvis and your chin, and you can only whine and take it. In the end, it’ll be worth it if you can get out of here.
The ashes from his cigarette rain down on you as he uses your face and hand like a fleshlight. You jolt at each burn, and you do eventually start to tear up, but it doesn’t matter.
The ordeal only lasts about five minutes before he’s pulled out of your mouth and releases all over your face. You recoil as it gets in your eye. He laughs. It burns like it always does when men do this.
“That was fun.” He sounds delighted as he redresses himself. “Sucks that I’m a liar.” Through blurry eyes, you watch as he opens his suit jacket and pulls something out of a hidden inner pocket.
You know the muzzle of a gun when it’s to your forehead, the silver-haired man has done this to you before, too.
Hii! I hope I don't bother u with this, but is there a way to still read Kokonoi's story from Memories Before Final Curtain? I'm so glad you're back and that you're doing well <33 take care!!
Took me an entire day for me to figure out what u were talking abt and uhhh… i think its kinda gone forever??? I thought it was private so I checked… and it’s not??? I might have just deleted it at some point but I wouldn’t remember bc it was 3 years ago :(
This might sound super weird and i know we dont know each others but hearing u r having a good day rlly rlly warms my heart and i hope u have plenty more!
Not weird at all!!!! Ur literally so sweet!!! Thank you!!!
Haiiiiiiiii!!!!!! I finished a biiiiiig big project that would literally dox me if I talked about it here and I’m so sad I cant spill… I’ve been so good! I even had a good day today!!! I spent all day shopping with my home girls and almost breaking my ankles in heels!!! Hope you’re well too xoxoxo
TW: Smut at the end, sexual favors used as insurance?, lots of saliva, abuse, no dirty talk, this was proofread in a dream, horribly proofread...
A/N: Let this be my contribution to feminism. Kokonoi, you will die and go to hell. All of Bonten, actually. Better yet, all men, actually. I was gonna bundle this in with the next chapter, but that would take another week to write and I already lowkey spoiled this one so... That one can just be a surprise. I missed you guys. Sorry I don't really respond to asks, but I fw yall too and I appreciate yall.
You wake up in an empty bed, still exhausted. There's a gun that wasn't there last night sitting on the nightstand. Probably Haruchiyo's. You pay it no mind. Last night's commotion took a toll on your body with all the running back and forth you did to ensure everyone was fine. It's rare that Hajime does not bother with going through your morning routine together, but the voices downstairs suggest that he has better things to do. You do all your getting ready for the day alone for the first time in a while.
As you start to make your way downstairs, the sight of Ran and Haruchiyo sitting seiza style with Mikey standing between them stops you in your tracks. It’s like he’s presenting them to the other men who stand there silently. You tiptoe back up and crouch behind the bars to observe, not quite catching what he says to them. Ran and Haruchiyo's heads hang low to not look at any of the men in front of them. The sight of everyone standing while they’re sitting like statues makes your stomach turn, but you can’t look away. Whatever this is, it’s clear that there's a punishment for last night on the horizon. The room is now completely silent as you watch from your side view.
“Okay, then.” Mikey takes a deep breath. “Vote.” He spreads his arms and gestures to the two men kneeling on either side of him. Haruchiyo and Ran do not raise their heads to see, but you watch for them.
Rindou is his brother's keeper. His decision to stand behind Ran isn’t shocking. No one bats an eye when he’s the first to move. Kakucho votes the same, trailing right behind Rindou. If he didn’t, what would it mean to be “like a brother” to him? Rindou and Kakucho aren’t easy liars, and they can’t fake anything very well. Rindou’s nervous. He’s cracking his knuckles behind his back. Kakucho bumps him, whispers into his ear, and then he stops. Like brothers.
Hajime stands behind Haruchiyo with dejection written all over his face. He is fonder of him than he’s willing to say out loud. An obvious decision. He entrusts you to the pink-haired man for a reason. He shakes his head and looks down at Haruchiyo, who does not spare a glance for him or any of the other men.
Mochizuki goes behind Ran. Right. It’s increasingly obvious that while Haruchiyo is Bonten's number two, Ran has the most social capital. Being second in command doesn’t matter in a popularity contest where no one likes you. But what did Haruchiyo do to be so disliked?
Takeomi is the last to vote. He taps his foot silently. Haruchiyo raises his head to look at him. It’s Haruchiyo’s loss either way. One vote from Takeomi isn’t going to spare him from whatever is to come as a result of this vote. Still, not even a sympathy vote—Takeomi stands behind Ran.
“Are you serious?” Hajime seethes, and for a moment, you think he’s taking Haruchiyo’s loss too hard, but then you realize he’s speaking to Takeomi directly. “You’re a piece of shit.”
“He’d learn something if he lost a finger.” Takeomi shrugs. Hajime scoffs and rests a reassuring hand on Haruchiyo’s head.
For you, it happens in slow motion—Mikey drops to his knees and tilts Haruchiyo's head up by his chin. He observes him, looking deep into his eyes like they might kiss, but instead his hand falls from Haruchiyo’s chin and into his own waistband. Slid from under his shirt, a black, metal gun. The clinking of the metal must sound too familiar; Ran looks up with an urgency. When Mikey presses his pistol into Haruchiyo’s hand, you finally get it. He helps him, gently guiding his hand to his head, and presses the muzzle to his temple. They don’t break eye contact once. Haruchiyo doesn’t falter, he doesn’t shake, he doesn’t cry. You can tell he meant what he said last night and truly believes in this.
Ran does not. “No.” He loudly objects and shakes his head, just as it seems Haruchiyo is going to pull the trigger. Everything gets eerily frozen. But in that stillness, Mikey turns to Ran. “I don't think he needs to die. It’s going too far.” He lowers his voice and puts on a stoic face, but the urgency seeps through. Mikey has his back to you, so you don’t know what kind of expression Ran is facing.
Haruchiyo doesn’t move an inch as Ran makes a case for his life. He faces forward, unwavering—gun muzzle still flush to his own temple, blank. Hajime pets his pink mullet and chews on his bottom lip.
“This is supposed to be a punishment for both of you.”
“I understand and I apologize for speaking out of turn, but…” He stutters in the search for the right words, then regains his composure quicker than he lost it. “I- We need him. He’s our second in command, and he gets good results, and he’s hard-working and...” He looks back down, humbling himself and speaking with care. “He’s been working on his sobriety; it would be a shame to lose him when he’s doing so well.”
“Okay, he’s doing great. You all are.” Mikey’s shoulders lift and drop sharply. “He’s the only one with a drug problem in the first place.”
“Right, but—”
“Your nose is broken.” Mikey cuts him off. Ran’s bruising across his nose and under his eyes is notably darker than last night.
“He has fake teeth because of me.”
“He pulled his gun on you last night.”
“He never pointed it at me, only my car, because I had his keys and broke his phone.”
“And what do you suggest the punishment be? Fifteen more years of this for the rest of us?”
“Respectfully, no one here has anything to do with matters between me and him, but I understand you all getting frustrated.” Ran’s hands rub the fabric of his sweatpants. “It brings the team down, but I don’t think we should choose one of us to die as our first punishment. This time, our injuries and humiliation are enough. Next time…” He doesn’t say anything, but you know his answer is on his lips. He’s simply hesitant to speak, but he manages. “Kill us both.” He looks directly at Mikey when he says it, but he flinches, knowingly.
“What?!” Rindou can’t hold his tongue anymore. “Are you fucking stupid?” He moves to slap Ran, only to be caught by Kakucho. Ran doesn’t see what you do, because he only looks at Mikey, but he knows.
Mikey holds his hand up to stop Rindou’s commotion. “I’ll let him walk out of here, but if anything like this happens again, I’m killing both of you.”
“Got it.”
Mikey turns away and slides the gun from Haruchiyo's hand, unfreezing him. “You can all go.” But no one moves very fast.
“Wha— You’re not going to tell them to stay away from each other?” Irritation is written all over Rindou's face.
“I’m not a relationship counselor. I don’t care what they do.” Mikey has a sense of humor. You didn’t think they could talk to him, but turns out they’re all free to speak to him whenever and however. They usually just respect his decision, so they don’t speak up. Mikey is not infallible. That’s what this has taught you.
Everyone starts to move with more urgency. Rindou yanks Ran to his feet by his tank top. He couldn’t pretend not to be livid if he tried, despite the mood lightening up. Does he want Haruchiyo to die that badly? When you were all together, you didn’t get that vibe at all.
Haruchiyo stands and watches them from a distance. Hajime pulls him away when Takeomi tries to speak to him. Everyone is arguing, you can’t hear anything clearly from the stairs, but you know Rindou is admonishing Ran to pieces, and Kakucho is trying to moderate. Mochizuki has long disappeared onto the balcony with his cigarette. Mikey watches from his seat on the couch. Perhaps no one can leave until things settle down. This must’ve been a long time coming.
Rindou closes his eyes and lets the frustration wash over him at whatever it is that Ran says to him. Hajime puts his hand on Takeomi's chest, pushing him away from him and Haruchiyo. Takeomi looks confused but does not falter. He throws his hands up and raises his eyebrows as he argues with Hajime. Haruchiyo is like a ragdoll, being easily moved around by Hajime. His back is to you, but you know he’s looking at Ran.
“You did it to hurt him, you asshole!” Hajime moves closer to the stairs as he chews out Takeomi.
Then, above all the anger, Rindou’s voice rings through loud and clear. He’s not yelling but speaking loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Just go with Kokonoi! You like him too, right?” It cuts through the madness like sheers.
Hajime stops dead in his tracks at the bottom of the stairs. If his hair could stand up on its ends, it would. He’s rigid, stiff. He does not pay Takeomi any mind, instead finding Ran with his eyes, who looks shaken by Rindou's words. It’s quiet now.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hajime is simmering with anger through the silence. Rindou looks proud of himself, like he’s handled it all in one go. “Ran? Are you serious?” He asks, but Ran is standing there, wide-eyed and wordless.
“Don’t even joke like that.” Kakucho claps Rindou on the shoulder with an uncomfortable smile on his face. Clearly, he wants everyone to calm down.
They’ve fucked up massively.
“You two, go upstairs.” Hajime turns and points between you and Haruchiyo. So, he’s known this whole time that you were there? “Everyone else, get out.” He snaps his finger and points to the exit. “Now!” He tacks on when no one moves.
Haruchiyo jogs up the stairs, grabbing you on his way. You’re dragged back into your bedroom by a hand holding onto you too tightly. You rub your arm when he lets go.
Haruchiyo picks up the gun that he’d left on the nightstand. “Why didn’t you take it?”
You close your eyes and count in your head. “Eight to one.”
“Smart.” He weighs the gun in his hand for a moment, then laughs to himself. “I don’t think they would’ve killed you, though. Well… not Mikey at least.” The gun goes up and down in his flat palm again, being weighed against his imagination. “Definitely not Mikey.”
“Why definitely?”
“I think he’s having a good day today.” He tucks the gun into his pants and looks at you standing in front of him.
“Is this a good day?”
“He could’ve killed me and Ran himself…” He shrugs. “Usually, these things don’t come down to a vote, and arguments definitely don’t work.”
He’d know better than you, right? You sit down next to him. “So, what are you going to do now?” You look down at your white painted toes.
“Nothing to do with Ran. I hope.”
Thank god.
✮✮✮
The next few days are spent loafing unchained around your gilded cage, while Hajime does his paperwork. It’s you, him, his calculator, and his thick stack of papers at his desk like the old days, but this time, you don’t remind him to take it easy. He doesn’t mind you not being in his line of sight at all times; he’ll occasionally call for you to make sure you’re still there, though.
You think about leaving, of course, but you also think about having nowhere to go and being essentially tortured if you’re caught. Besides, you have something to look forward to. Going out with Rindou and Kakucho tomorrow. You’d hate to have it taken away from you. So, you do what you can, but you’re not sure if he’s still going to let you. The anger of the past few days hasn’t fully worn off. You have an idea.
You crack the door to his office. He pays you no mind as you step in. You set down a glass of ice water for him. He types furiously at his keyboard and still manages to push out a thank you. You can’t bring yourself to sit in the chair across from him, so you sit on his desk, careful not to drop his stack of papers.
“Hajime, I’m tired.” You stroke his hair. “We should sleep.”
“I have one more thing to finish up then I'll meet you in bed. Okay?”
He wasn’t fully lying when he told you he was an accountant. All his papers have numbers, and on random pieces of scrap paper, he’s taken to writing down equations for himself. You have no interest in why or what for. This is definitely what they called that meeting about the other day. Too bad they didn’t get to it.
“Okay.”
✮✮✮
Hajime kisses up your neck, successfully stirring you from your light sleep. His weight on yours is a familiar and unwelcome one. A lamp is on, and you can see his long, messy, white hair in the dim light through tired eyes. His body is warm; his lips are soft. You hoped that if you fell asleep, you could avoid this, but it’s been a while since the last time. Now you have to play ball to make up for it and show him why he should let you go out tomorrow.
You throw the blankets off you. He catches your lips. You catch his right back, pulling him in with a hand on his neck. Strong, desperate hands grip your body, pawing at you like an animal through your night gown.
For all the flak those other guys give Hajime for being effeminate, they should see what you have to deal with. Well-manicured nails, soft hands, and a defined personal style—yet he’s still a man. Fully capable of hurting you and intent on doing so. That outward facade of polish and cleanness doesn’t defeat the innards marred by all the grime of being a man. Hajime is no different. He was never safe.
The strap of your night gown tears when he pulls at it. He pays it no mind, pushing the fabric out of the way to squeeze your breast. He’s not gentle like he once was. He doesn’t bother apologizing for your gown. You don’t care. You grind against his thigh that sits right between your legs, whining into his mouth. You can feel his smile grow against your lips before he pulls away to latch onto your free breast. His tongue savors the sensitive tissue. His teeth graze against your nerves, causing you to moan loudly. You’re not performing for your reward. The way your back arches off the bed is entirely unintentional, and your nipples are more sensitive than usual. He takes it as an opportunity to slide his arm under your back and pull you up, only releasing you from his mouth to slide your night gown all the way off. He throws it to the ground.
Your throat starts to feel tight as he gently lays you back down on your pillow. As he slides your panties down and discards them, your stomach sinks into your back. You want to tell him to get the fuck off you, but you have to play his game. His fingertips kiss your heat. The sensation keeps you grounded. You realize you’ve been looking at the ceiling, which he hates. You drag your eyes down to him.
The way the shadows cast him—despite being undeniably beautiful—he looks evil. The glimmer in his eye is that of a predator who’s been waiting. That smile he gives when your eyes lock with his—that of a man winning his own sick game. His fingers stop short of entering you dry; something he has never done. Instead, they slide up to your clit, rubbing deep circles. You jolt at the new attention.
“Hajime…” You breathe out as he leans over to kiss you. His efforts don’t stop when he locks you down under him, tongue in your mouth. Your legs spread wide to make room for him to touch you more. You can’t deny it feels good.
He sucks on your tongue before pulling away. He playfully scoffs at your squirming, hovering above your face as he looks down on you, his possession. His hand leaves, your pleasure is gone, but now you’re aware of the sticky, wet feeling between your legs. He presents his hand between your faces, and it smells of your sweetness. He makes sure you look deep into your eyes as he licks his middle and ring finger. His tongue pokes between them, makes them glossy with spit. A seductive look in his eyes tells you he hasn’t tasted you enough. He closes his lips around those digits only to pull them back out with a wet pop.
Those wet fingers grip your face, coaxing your jaw open. You wait with an open, knowing mouth. His grip is firm as a line of drool falls from his mouth to yours. You catch it on your tongue much like you used to. He licks into your mouth with one rough swipe that catches at the back of your teeth before letting you swallow. His smile as he watches is wicked. There’s a budding headache starting at your temples.
He sits back, sliding those two wet fingers into you with ease. You let out not a moan but a squeak at the sensation. You go rigid for a moment, then force yourself to relax as your eyes well with tears. If you look up, he can’t see, right? His fingers work inside you, you close your legs around him, trapping his wrist, but he’s unstoppable.
“Relax.” He speaks softly, placing his free hand on your stomach.
You nod up at the ceiling. If you look at him too soon, the tears will surely start running. You open your legs for him. Hajime inside of you like this is pleasant in a way that turns your stomach. He still knows what he’s doing. Your body was his playground for the entirety of your relationship; it’s ridiculous to think his touch would stop holding weight because your affection has faded.
His thumb works against your clit, and you almost try to run from it, but you stay where you are. Your hands come down to push him away. The deep circles he rubs into your nerves feel too good. Your feet kick against nothing. You’d rather not give him the satisfaction, even in a situation like this. He snickers at your resistance.
You haven’t felt this type of pleasure in some time. Hajime has never been too concerned with himself; always a giver. He gives and gives to you. Fingering you, rubbing your clit, and reminding you of who he was—who he is—to you. It doesn’t take long. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you become stiff. There’s a flash of heat. Your toes curl. While whining out in reluctant pleasure, you toss your head to the side in disagreement. This time he’s out-right laughing at you.
Hajime hovers over your face as you calm down. Your eyes flutter open between deep breaths. He looks so happy and only a little tired; less tired than he was back at his desk.
“Last time could've been like this, too. Kiss me.” He says it right against your lips. You give in without a second thought. His fingers slip out of you, and you mewl into him. You can feel him unbuttoning his pajama top as your mouths are entangled. You push, sitting up into your kiss, your tongue never leaving his. His shirt is gone by the time you reach for him.
With closed eyes and trained hands, you feel over the plains of a familiarly smooth body. Hajimes is not lavishly muscled like his partners, but he’s got everything a man needs to oppress. Big, strong hands to strangle with and a penis to destroy you from within. You feel it, rock hard, standing at attention. It wasn’t like this the last time, not this hard. He must’ve done it on a whim, to break you down.
A soft moan frees itself from his lips at your contact through the fabric of his satin pants. His head finds room in the curve of your shoulder to rest. Both of your breaths are labored. Your hand continues to rub him through his bottoms. He plants kisses on your shoulder. As you near his waistband, he kisses near your ear. Your hand slips in. He bites your lobe. Only for a split second, but the shockwave is sent through your body. He chuckles to himself, whispering your name.
He pulls away from you, not letting you do much besides feeling the stickiness at his tip. He takes off his pants, then lies his naked figure down next to you, expectant. You look over his form, doing your best not to take note of his body but failing. Lithe for a man of his age, almost unmarked by time. Still able to get it up easily. Blood fat and waiting for a mouth to relieve it.
You start to go down on him. His length is a warm weight in your hands, and your mouth opens to take him in. His hand comes down to stop you, gently guiding your sight to him with a hand on your chin. “Don’t worry, just spit.” You bob your head.
Is it fair because he didn’t do it to you? Maybe. Perhaps it's the sleepiness finally kicking in. He wants to get this over with fast. Whatever the case, you do as he says, spitting a glob into your hand and rubbing up and down his length. He bites his bottom lip at your action, unintentionally bucking into your hand with a grunt.
You do a subpar job of making use of your saliva, accepting the consequences as you straddle him. You hold his length under you, hovering for a moment and taking a deep breath. You can tell from the look in his eyes; Hajime loves you in his own fucked up way. You can see how smitten he is in how eagerly he buzzes, waiting for you to sink onto him.
The tip is its own struggle. The start is always the hardest, an unpleasant burning drag, even with all the wetness between both of you. The sting eases as you sink further. He moans every step of the way down; you can see the faint outline of undeveloped muscles flexing as he admires you.
When he’s all the way in, you waste no time. You do your best to ride with weak legs. Up and down is hard, but he appreciates your effort. You mewl at every impact that feels like being dug into. The faster you can get this over with, the better. He must agree, because after a few more ups and downs and a grind or two of your pelvises against his, he takes the reins, pulling you against him and thrusting into you himself. You hate that it feels good.
You pant into his ear as he drives himself into you. Your body is jolted by every impact, despite him not going very hard. He’s taking his time, slow and firm in his movement.
“Fuck—” He cries out. A wet kiss lands on your throat. Then your name is moaned out against your own sweaty and slaver-soaked skin. You return his favor, nibbling his lobe. It sends him into overdrive.
He’s not very kind in how he moves you off of him. You’re tossed off of him and back onto your back. A dark hunger rests in his exhausted eyes. He pushes your legs up to your ears, and you grab them without question. He spits on his own hand, rubs it against his length, then shoves it smooth into you. You yelp. The impact is sharp. In a moment, he’s crushing you under his weight. Your ankles rest on his shoulders, and you can feel the burn all through your legs. He sets a punishing pace.
The lewd sounds of skin against skin and wet sex permeate the air. You start to tear up again. It’s only a matter of time until you’re pregnant the way he wants. Even then, if you escape, you’ll have his baby. Motherhood is already a sacrifice but bearing his child… a different beast. You have to do something.
“Koko. Please no.”
“Shhh.” His hand rests weakly on your throat, a reminder, as he slams into you.
You thought you could do it, but you were wrong. He’s getting too close to what he wants. You start squirming under him. You twist and push and beg. “Koko, wait— Stop.” You’re shut down quicker than you could start. That reminder locks around your throat with a sharpness, pinning you down and forcing you to take it.
He sets a punishing pace as he nears completion. You go limp. Not unconscious, just not fighting. You have to let this happen and figure it out later.
He finishes, punctuating his deed with a few hard thrusts that jolt you against the mattress, then resting inside you. It’s over. He’s done it. Maybe he’ll really let you go outside without him tomorrow. He kisses your cheek.
just wrote a three-page sex scene, and now I kinda feel like God.
Spoiler: mc is learning to use that cat to her advantage. if putting the puss on him is all you can do to assure his happiness and a good mood? whip it out <3
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