*this post was commissioned | find other ateez aus here
warnings: suggestive themes (no strings attached situation), hp themed au but we ignore jkrowling <3
something crawls across your desk
round and dark and you don’t have to look twice to know what it is
part of you wants to turn and look over your shoulder where you are painfully aware of the fact that san is eyeing you up
he’s always sat at the back of potions - while you sat diligently in the front and part of you suspects its a strategical ploy on his end
actually, you don’t expect, he has told you many times before that the view is just better from back there
it’s sleazy and you should scoff at the attempt of bad flirtation
but it’s hard for you to hate it as much as maybe the rest of your gryffindor housemates might
because
you like san
but
you aren’t about to let anyone in school know
so instead of looking behind you, you take your wand and flick the spider off the corner of your desk
it falls - disappearing in a little cloud of smoke midair
san’s always said he prefers them to snakes, he knows his whole houses deal with snakes slithers back to the ancestral wizards and bloodlines - but arachnids are so much cooler in his opinion
you don’t like bugs or snakes or anything that likes the cover of darkness
the only exception funny enough is …… well……… san
“so did you get a date to the deathday party?”
you break from thought and turn to your friend
“huh - we don’t need a date for deathday parties. it’s just halloween basically.”
“but it’s so much more fun to have someone to cuddle up to while the ghosts do all their prancing around….like what if you get scared and your boyfriend just……..”
she clasps her hands around herself
“holds you~”
you roll your eyes and close your textbook
you pull your worksheet out and get up to place it on the professors desk
they smile and wave their hand to let you know you’re free to go, you say bye to your friend who grumbles in response that you’re abandoning them
and as you walk down the rows of students - you reach the back of the room
you don’t pause when you reach out for the door, but you feel the same gaze that’s been burning through you since san transferred here last year
you thought you’d be disgusted with it by now
but you’ve come to enjoy the slight, hot sting
“so, about that deathday party?”
you groan
you don’t want to talk about stupid trivial school events right now
with sans lips against your neck and your back against the cool walls of the greenery
instead of an answer you just tilt his head back up, gripping under his jaw and letting your mouth find his in an attempt to kiss him, of course, but to stop him from asking anymore questions
san kind of gets your point and his hands slip from under your robes lower
until they’re pressing into the skin of your hip and then
his teeth sink into your lower lip and you pull back
“hey - i said don’t do tha-”
“do you want to go to the deathday party with me?”
you give him a blank stare
you hope he gets the point of it too, but with the way he hasn’t gone back to touching you, it’s clear he’s waiting for an actual verbal response
“you know we can’t just show up to a party together.”
“why not?”
his hands leave your skin and your uniform falls back into place, he moves a little but still remains standing between your knees
the sudden retreat of full contact makes you upset and you hook your foot around his to tug him forward
instead of tipping over and into you, he puts a hand flat on your thigh
“seriously, why not? are you scared that people will be mad about it.”
“no - you know that isn’t the reason.”
“then what is?”
you sit up and want to tell him the real answer
the one that has been bubbling in the back of your mind these past couple of weeks
it had really just been for fun, a thrilling and almost wholly self-serving reason
when you let san, a slytherin who was barely managing to pass half his classes, and notoriously known for being quite uninterested in studies, magical morality, or any of the things you held so near and dear to your heart
corner you in the history section of the library
the books ruffling their pages on their own to hide the sound that came out of your mouth when he’d bit down into your skin for the first time
really you had just wanted to do something reckless
because you were well on your way to being perfectly clean cut in every other manner
but now - if you were to be completely truthful with him - you couldn’t just say
“the reason is because im just using you. you mean nothing to me.”
because through all the sneaking around in tight corners
using disappearing spells to hide from teaches and classmates
finding yourselves alone in that room of his
far down the twisting halls of the slytherin dungeon
you had fallen for all the charms of a person you had told yourself you should loathe
but san’s embarrassingly bad flirting, desperate manner of scratching to be as close as possible to you, loud and attention hungry attitude
had spun tight around you
because he was all those things, but through it all - through the bedroom eyes and lips on your thighs
he was one of the most gentle people who had ever laid hands on you
sure, you two could get caught up in a firestorm of young energy that would lead to both of you parting ways with evidence under the layers of your clothes that you’d admire in the mirror of your bathroom for days after
but that’s not what you meant when you described him as gentle
it was his soul, that was at the core, tender
little pretty whispers about your neck, your wrist, your eyes
sometimes when you were just talking there was the righteousness that people said he lacked laced through each, carefully chosen word
he could seem like a wreck of a person to everyone, even his own friends
but you’d somehow managed to catch the moments
of him that were most vulnerable
soft gaze that waits with manner to know if you are comfortable and safe with him, poetic words about the shadows of your bodies, there was even a mark of true faithfulness
when you two had almost gotten caught by a angry upperclassman
and san had let you escape before turning himself in and being slapped loud and hard and echoing
“who was with you?”
the angry voice had barked and san had stood with his hands clasped in each other, knuckles white
“no one. i was alone.”
so now when he asks you what the reason is that you don’t just want to let the world know
why you don’t want to make a statement
that this fling isn’t just that shallow pleasure seeking adventure you had intended it to start as and end as
but that it’s two people - that really fit each other like puzzle pieces
you can only think of the real answer
which is
“im scared. im scared that you don’t mean it as much as i do.”
you don’t mutter those words, you just keep quiet again instead and san finally slips completely away from you
he grabs his robe, hands curling around the green collar
“saying nothing is enough of an answer.”
you slide off the table and try to stop him
but your hand doesn’t leave your side and your knees are weak
and you’re worried that too much noise will make someone curious come looking
so you just watch him weave through the plants, until he’s gone.
he’s really gone.
the days seem to start going backwards ….. even though the dates get closer and closer to the end of the month
maybe its you that starts to function on some kind of made up timeline? because everywhere and everyone you look
is somehow san
the couples sitting in the courtyard sharing food, notes, kisses - they’re you and san
the solitary roaming owls circling the sky with letters in tow - all the letters you imagine rain down
and when you pick one up it says his name, written with the pen strokes that you’ve seen flipping through his textbooks
even the spells that leave your lips while you practice just turn to chants of his name
but he doesn’t …. come back like you wait for. he’s not in the classes you share. he’s not waiting in the secret corners you’ve both chosen.
he’s nowhere and yet everywhere for you.
the night of the deathday celebration - the entire school is buzzing
not only are the ghosts all out to chatter and reminisce about their time as the living
but the students are rushing up and down between the houses in costumes and masks
you shove your face into your pillow and snap your fingers, commanding the door to your room to shut
only to be knocked on a moment later
you shout your roommates name, telling them to get it
you’re in no mood to celebrate. you just want to fall deeper and deeper into your bed until you’ve completely disappeared from view
you hear the scurrying of footsteps, laughter, and conversation and then suddenly a hand grabs your shoulder and flips you over
“get up! we’re going to the party!”
your roommate gleams with a grin and you politely, but harshly refuse
“but your date will be so sad if you don’t show up!”
you spring up at the word date. a part of your stomach flips and you think - is there anyway it could be him?
your friend takes your shift in expression as a positive sign, whisking you up and out of bed - putting something that feels like a headband on your head - and pushing you toward the door
you haven’t seen san for a week
even though you feel as if the thought of him has more than tortured you every hour of every day
so even with the chances being slim, you feel your shoulders tense and a nervousness seep in through your veins
did he really come all the way to the gryffindor tower? is he finally coming back? did he tell my friends he-
but you look up when you get to the hall and instead of san you see
kim hongjoong
he’s standing beside mingi, who is twirling your roommate around and giggling in unison with them
“i-”
you start and hongjoong extends his hand
“your friend said you wanted to ask me to the party, but didn’t have the time. but ill gladly take you if you’d like.”
you stare at his palm
then back at him and the pretty prince’s costume he has on
he’s actually exactly what you should want
he’s in the top ten students of the ravenclaw house, he took OWLs early, he has been interning at the ministry of magic since he was a fourth year
he’s clean cut, gentlemanly, quiet spoken, and just - perfect
like you
but your stomach flips again, in a bad way, in a way that’s telling you
no you don’t want to go to this party with him, but to refuse him to his face is somehow even worse than just giving in
so you put your hand in his with a fabricated smile, that somehow is enough to convince everyone else.
until you hear mingi let out a sound of surprise, you turn and look at him - fully expecting him to read through your fake happiness
but instead he points the floor
“spider!”
you turn and see the spider
“sa-”
hongjoong crushes it with his shoe - hand still holding yours
“got it, should we head to the party?”
so you end up in a familiar place with an unfamiliar persons hands on your waist
dancing in the low light of the slytherin dungeons dorm
which has been transformed with pumpkin lighting and live music where every time the beat drops a bolt of electricity sparks from every corner
the ghosts, always fond of the cold and the dark, had chosen this as the venue for the deathday party
and although the headmaster and professors were looking grim about the prospect of the dorms being absolutely trashed
everyone else was having a blast
drinking spiked candy corn punch and pressing closer than mandated by the rules
prefects were running around casting spells to push people from each other, but they were just snapping back into each other like magnets
and in the shadows and heat of everyone else you can’t help but think about san again
you are looking at hongjoong, you are trying to focus on something he is saying about the music
but the wires of your mind are tangling and twisting and turning his hands on your waist into sans and his eyes into sans and his lips into sans-
it takes you a moment because you’re so dazed
to realize the lips you’re dreaming about aren’t kissing you, but hongjoong is
you pull back in horror and he mumbles an apology - but you turn, sensing something daunting
when you see - against the wall - staring right at you is the gaze that’s been on you for so long that you can never mistake it for another
“san!”
you gasp, and your hands drop from hongjoong’s shoulders, fast enough to watch san turn and disappear through the doors
“san?”
hongjoong repeats
“the slytherin? why are you-”
you rush toward him, pushing past the bodies that all seem to meld into one and other
the electricity zaps just as the door closes and it makes you jump and when you push it back open
the sound and the crowd shrinks
and you are looking down a dark, cold hall
you take your wand out and spark a small light from the tip - “san?” you call his name
legs shaking, voice a small tremble
there’s no answer
you keep going - subjecting yourself to the deeper parts of the dungeon until you think you’ve walked almost the entire hall and in front of you is a wall
something crawls up the side of your leg and you freeze
“san?”
you breathe again - but there’s no response and the feeling keeps coming up your skin, up your clothes, up and onto your neck and then
just as you think you can feel it begin to crawl up to your lips
it disappears and you turn because something like a flame starts to bloom from the center of your back
and when you do
it’s san
a spider crawls across his cheek, disappearing into smoke on him too
you don’t want to settle your breathing yet
you feel like you’ve been bounded to the spot you’re standing in
“you could have just told me there was someone else.”
“there isn’t.”
“i saw it - you can’t just -”
he starts, voice dropping until you think there’s only one thing you can say that would prove to him that it’s him
“i want to be with you.”
his eyes, long and overcasted with pain, widen
“being without you is like being without myself”
you stumble over the words - unfamiliar with this feeling of anxiety that has never grasped you so fully
“it’s stupid to be scared of you leaving me, but i am more terrified that i won’t have you at all to begin with.”
he is searing through you with the gaze
but the flame that used to burn hot with desire is now a cool, blue fire
that is scoping you out, weighing your words in his mind
until he presses his lips to yours and you lean back against the wall to let your hands find his neck
“i won’t leave you.”
he breathes into your skin
his scent floating around you and comforting you in the dark as you drop your wand and the only light you two had is gone
“you might even get sick of me and ask me too, but i won’t because i love you.”
you want to laugh at that
not because it is funny but because he must be insane
to think you’d ever get sick of him
even a week without him has left you suffering in withdrawl, for the first time it’s you who san can’t keep up with
as you kiss him back harder and lick into the roof of his mouth and pull your hands under his shirt
and he has to nearly stop you from undressing him there - because you just want to devour this moment over and over
until the taste of him is ingrained in your memory and you can recall what its like to have his pulse against your tongue even if a million miles separate you
san returns the sentiment, his hands itch too to find the places he adores most but even still
the entire school is a hallway away, so is the headmaster
so he lets you kiss him again, mark the side of his jawline and get your hands down to his belt before he mutters that he knows a shortcut to his room from here
you and san don’t return to the party
but the house ghosts saw you
and in the morning when san is walking down the gryffindor hall from your dorm
everyone knows very damn well why he’s there
the shock the questions the side eyes are all what you expected
but they don’t compare to the comfort that comes with having him beside you again
sitting with him at the top of the tower, legs swinging over the side, his smile in your neck
“i think its kinda cool that our anniversary is on halloween”
he comments one day as you’re sitting in his lap in slytherin commons
you turn to look at him
“wait, did you have a costume for the deathday part - what was it? i didn’t see.”
“oh you didn’t notice?”
you shake your head and san plays with your fingers before grinning up at you - long cheshire smile
“i was dressed as your boyfriend. fitting huh?”
you lean forward and he puckers his lips in anticipation, but then yelps when you flick his forehead
“i think you might have been right about that getting sick of you predication.”
Tags/Warnings: noncon drugging (usage of aphrodisiacs), possessive behaviors, possessive sex, dubcon, noncon, PiV sex, oral sex, breeding kink (are we even surprised at this point?), a small amount of angst?, needy reader, stepcest (esque), hardly proofread, no beta (beta? who that, I don't know them), pls help idk how to tag.
Summary: After a particularly rough patch, you are forced to move back with your foster family. You are not planning on staying long though—just enough so you can save up some money and move back on your own. But it seems like your brothers have something else in store for you.
✨Masterlist✨
Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
"I dunno, Emma. I just...I dunno what I'm supposed to do." Shinichiro rubbed his face with his hand, leaving faint grease marks all over his right cheek and chin.
"I don't think what Mikey and Izana did was right, though I understand why they did it. But I don't wanna have her like that...I want her to want it. I want her to want me."
There was a silence on the other end of the phone and Shinichiro quickly checked to see if he still had his sister on the line.
"Then you'll have to do something to show your interest, Shin," Emma finally said with a sigh. "I mean, you can't expect her to read your mind. Although Mikey and Izana's ways of capturing her attention are... unorthodox, at least they are doing somethi-"
"Something that can and will eventually drive her away," Shinichiro cut Emma off, his brows furrowing and a scowl already etched on his face.
"We both know she's not stupid. She'll figure something's fucking wrong and run away like she did five years ago. And I will not go through that again," Shin's scowl deepened as his heart ached at the memory.
"But you won't do anything either and then complain that Mikey and Iza are getting to experience everything that you are not. Honestly, Shinichiro," Emma huffed and the man could hear the banging of pots and pans in the background.
"I just don't wanna lose her," Shin whispered after a long pause, sitting down on a tire and dropping his forehead into the palm of his hand.
"...I know." Emma's tone took a gentler turn. "Look. I think I know how I can help you out. You'll just...you'll just have to trust me, okay?" she asked and Shin's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know if this was because of the prospect of finally having you or because of his concern at what his little sister was planning on doing.
Either way, he was ready to take a risk.
Shinichiro's opportunity presented itself a week later. Emma invited all of them to karaoke and hinted at going to a club afterward, but Shin knew that if things went how the youngest Sano wanted them to, nobody would be seeing any club that night.
He didn't know what Emma had planned but he knew his brothers were in on it. So while the three Sano men were waiting for you to get ready, Shin gently prodded the other two to see if he could find something from them—the most he got was a wide grin from Mikey and an eye-roll from Izana.
Shin was fumbling with his hand, sliding his cup of water from one side of the kitchen table to the other. He felt positively nauseous, and he had half a mind to call everything off, but by the time he reached for his phone, his ears picked up the click-clacking of your heels coming down the stairs.
Shinichiro's head snapped towards the entrance to the kitchen, and his brothers followed suit, three pairs of eager eyes waiting for you to appear.
You finally rounded the corner and Shin's jaw dropped.
"You're not wearing that, are you?" Izana asked, getting up and rounding the table so he could get a better look at your dress.
"Why not?" You responded, leaving your purse on the counter so you could get yourself a glass of water.
"Your ass is almost hanging out!" He shouted and Mikey barked out a loud laugh.
"But it's not, is it now?" You sipped a few times and chucked the rest of the water in the sink before washing the glass.
"It's close enough. You should go change," Izana ordered and you rose your eyebrow at the younger man. Mikey moved your bag to the side and leaned on the table, watching the two of you curiously.
"No. Listen, I don't know where this overly protective brother act came from, but I'm not going to change just because it makes you feel uncomfortable, Iza. I think I look good-"
"You do," Mikey interrupted you, giving you a once over again and nodding his head appreciatively. You looked at the youngest member and smiled, giving him a thankful wave.
"In any case, I'm not changing," you finished, crossing your arms and pushing your breasts up.
Izana's eyes flickered to your cleavage and clearing his throat, he turned towards Shinichiro.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asked, his voice still holding a tone of defiance.
"Nope," Shin said, getting up and grabbing the car keys from the counter. Cheeks still flushed, he headed towards the entrance and stopped next to the coat rack.
Plucking your coat from one of the wooden pegs, he held it out for you so you could put it on. Catching Izana's icy glare, he shrugged his shoulders and turned around.
"I'm going to wait for you guys in the car. Don't take too long, 'kay?" Pulling his pack of cigs out of his pocket, he got one out so he could smoke it outside.
He could feel that tonight was going to be a long night.
And he was right.
People were staring at you the moment you stepped out of the car, and Izana was working overtime to glower at everybody who dared look at you for more than a few seconds at a time.
Shin chucked at his younger brother's antics, but his hands were fisted in his pockets, and every time he saw you smile in the direction of another stranger, his nails dug a little deeper into the calloused skin of his palms.
You finally got to the karaoke bar and headed over to the room that Emma rented for a couple of hours.
The first hour was spent drinking, laughing, and catching up, and once you got to know what your younger sister was up to, she grabbed your hand and dragged you in front of the table, making you sing a duet with her.
The brothers watched you from the sidelines, enjoying the way your hips moved to the beat of the music, and for the first time that night, they could finally appreciate what you were wearing without worrying about prying eyes.
Emma laughed and danced with you, twirling around a couple of times. Finally facing the boys, she nodded towards Mikey once and turned back towards you.
Mikey sighed, elbowing Izana in the ribs, before grabbing his phone from the table and getting up.
"Sorry, I gotta get this," he yelled over the music, pointing briefly at his phone before going outside. Pouting, you nodded before signaling Izana to come sing with you.
The man just shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Come on, Iza, sing with me!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Giving him your microphone, you ran to the station and changed the song to something you knew he would like.
The new song started and Izana's tough facade cracked, revealing a small smile. The two of you started singing, and Emma plopped down next to Shinichiro to watch you perform.
"This is going well," she breathed out, beads of sweat rolling down her temples.
"She looks like she's having fun," Shinichiro said, not breaking the gaze that was fixed on you. His fingers itched to touch you, pull you in his lap, hold you and never let you go.
Emma hummed in agreement. She tapped her foot to the beat, glancing occasionally at the door. Finally, it opened and Mikey entered again, sneaking past you and Izana and sitting next to Emma.
"So?" she asked, sipping from her beer.
"Imma grab Izana and leave in a few minutes." Mikey rolled his eyes, his lower lip jutting slightly.
"Good."
Mikey waited until the song finished to snag his coat and Izana's. He headed towards the two of you and handed his brother the coat.
"What's happening? We're leaving already?" You asked confused, looking from one brother to the other.
"No, no, it's just that Baji got in some trouble, and Izana and I need to go help him out. It shouldn't take long," Mikey explained, gabbing your shoulders and pulling you into a hug.
"Don't miss us too much, 'kay?" his laugh tickled your ear and you patted his back gently.
"Does Baji need help with a fight?" You pulled away from Mikey to look at him pointedly.
"Something like that. But it's nothing serious, promise," Mikey kissed your cheek and letting you go, he clutched Izana’s arm and dragged the grunting man outside.
"And then there were three." You turned around to face your two other siblings. Heading over, you sat next to Shinichiro and grabbed your beer from the table to take a few gulps.
"You guys should sing," you proposed, and Shinichiro shook his head.
"I'm not really feeling like it." He fiddled with his cigarette pack, opening and closing the box.
"You not feeling well, Shin?" You came closer just so you could take a better look at his face, and Shin had to take a sharp intake of air at the sudden feeling of your soft breasts pressing into his arm.
The man fumbled and bumbled an answer that he hoped would make you back off, but you just came closer to hear him better. Your hand came up to feel his forehead for fever and, as he looked down, Shinichiro got a clear view of your breasts in the loose material of your cleavage, which made him even more flustered.
Emma leaned on the couch, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at the two of you with interest. Anybody with eyes could see that the boys, especially Shinichiro, were smitten by you. She was quite surprised that it was taking you so long to notice it.
"Hey, I am feeling in the mood for a cocktail. Do you guys want anything else to drink?" Emma got up and moved towards the phone so she could put in her order.
"I still got my beer. Shin?" You checked with your brother but he mumbled a quiet no and shifted a bit in his seat.
Emma talked with the server and soon enough, the drink was delivered to your room. Coming back with a tequila sunrise, she sat down and set the icy drink in front of her. The three of you talked a few more minutes, catching up with Emma on her relationship, and then, her phone dinged.
She fished it from her purse and with furrowed eyebrows and a deep scowl, she read the message on her screen.
"Uhm, hey, guys? Seems like my boyfriend is not really feeling good," Emma said, her fingers gliding over the screen of her phone to write a response.
"Wasn't he supposed to meet us at the club?" You asked, leaning over Shin's lap to get a better look at her. The man just covered his mouth, avoiding looking down your cleavage again.
"Yea, but I think he ate something bad at work today and his stomach is giving him hell," she clarified and began packing her things.
"You two mind if I leave early?" Emma was already up before she heard your answer. You straighten your back and got up as well, pulling down on the skirt of your dress.
"We can leave as well. Maybe Shin can give you a ride and we can go home afterward." You reached for your purse as well, but Emma stopped you abruptly.
"No, no, you should stay and enjoy yourselves. I think the boys should come back pretty soon, and plus we got three more hours in the room." Emma slid the purse on her shoulder and grabbed the straps tightly. "It would be a pity if all of us would leave now."
"Are you sure?" You stepped forward to pull your younger sister in a hug.
"Positive. I'll give you an update later." Emma kissed your cheek and releasing you from her embrace, she headed towards the door.
"Oh, and you can finish up my drink. I took just a few sips and it's pretty good." Emma added over her shoulder and before you knew it, the door closed behind her, the automatic lock sliding into place.
You sighed and plopped down, stretching your legs in front of you.
"And then, there were two," you joked, bumping your shoulder into Shin's.
"We haven't hanged out in a while. You know, just the two of us," Shinichiro said with a low chuckle, his hands folding on his lap.
"Hmm, I think the last time we did was like three- or was it four years ago? When we bought all those beers and drank in your shop." You smiled fondly at the memory of you and Shinichiro getting buzzed and trying to put together a motorcycle.
"Uhum. Mikey and Izana complained about that for days," Shinichiro laughed, finally relaxing in his seat.
You brought Emma's drink closer and tasted it.
"Hm, this is not bad at all." Your head fell on Shinichiro's shoulder and your eyelids fluttered closed.
"You know, sometimes I can't believe that we're all grown up. Soon enough imma see you guys getting married and having kids. It's wild." Your fingers drew patterns on your thigh, a sad smile adorning your face.
"And you don't see yourself doing all those things?" Shinichiro asked after a long pause.
"I mean, I guess. I just haven't found a person that I can see myself with, you know?" Images with your last partner flooded your brain and you sighed at another failed relationship.
"What if-" Shinichiro cleared his throat and looked at you from the side of his black eyes. "What if the right person has been there all along and you just never thought to give them a chance?"
"... Shinichiro, I'm not hooking up with any of your friends," you snorted, opening your eyes to look at him. Drinking the rest of your cocktail, you set the glass with the remaining ice on the table.
"I wasn't talking about them," Shin chucked as well, even though his jaw clenched at the thought of seeing you with another man.
"Then I don't know who else you might be referring to." You picked a cube of ice and popped it in your mouth so you could chew on it.
"I see you still haven't stopped that bad habit of yours," Shin complained, grabbing the glass and moving it out of your reach.
"Nope. But I'll make you a deal. Imma stop when you stop smoking. What do you say?" Shin pinches your side in retaliation and you squealed, trying and failing to slap his hand away.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. Talking bout cigarettes, imma go have a smoke. I'll be back in 10." And with that, the man left you alone so he could go clear his head. The night was not going at all how we expected it to go.
He had half a mind to call Emma and ask what was all that about, tell her that whatever her plan was, it failed, but he didn't.
Instead, he smoked his cigarette and watched people pass him, and once his mind cleared up, Shinichiro went back inside. Sliding his card in the door of their karaoke booth, he entered and immediately knew something was wrong.
You were breathing heavily, a layer of sweat making your skin glisten in the artificial light. Getting closer, Shin grabbed your chin and flinched at the warmth emanating from your body. Tilting your head back, he saw your pupils blown out and you panted heavily as you, in turn, watched him.
"Shin. My body...it feels so hot," you whined, your hand looking for the glass of ice. Finding it, you grabbed and chucked the remaining ice and water on your chest, the cubes slipping in the material of your cleavage, wetting your dress in the process.
Your nipples hardened at the cold sensation and you let out a wanton moan that made Shin release your face and step away in shock. You quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.
"No, don't leave me, please. Feels so hot. I need you, Shinichiro. Please, please," you begged, shifting on the cushions of the mattress so you could sit on the edge.
"Wha-what happened?" Shin asked, brushing his fingers gently through your hair and feeling the damp strands cling to his skin.
"Dunno. Just started feeling so hot. Feels like my body is burning." Your thighs pressed together and started rubbing each other and Shinichiro's eyes widened.
"W-where does it feel the hottest?" He waited a moment and you released his hand so you could prop your back on the couch. Your legs parted and your dress hiked up, revealing your panties.
Back to front, they were drenched. It was as if somebody made you cum several times without even bothering to take off your underwear.
"Here. So hot, it hurts, Shinichiro," your whine made Shin's cock jump in his pants and for a moment Shinichiro wondered what the hell happened in those 10 minutes he was away.
Was this part of Emma's plan?
As if realizing that you were showing a part of yourself that Shinichiro wasn't supposed to see, you quickly tried to close up your legs, but Shin was faster. His leg came between yours, prying them back open.
"I'm sorry, Shin, I'm sorry. I'm a pervert," you mumbled, covering your face with your hands.
Shinichiro's heart was beating wildly in his chest and his own body warmed up. He felt like his mind was in overdrive, trying to make sense of what was happening and how could he make all your pain go away. Finally, he reached the conclusion that, as your older brother, it was his duty to help you relieve the pain.
The man kneeled between your legs and grabbing your hands, he pulled them gently from your face.
"You're not a pervert, you're just in pain." He kissed the inside of your wrist, feeling your erratic pulse under his chapped lips. "You want your older brother to help you? Want Shin-nii to make the pain go away?"
"Yes, yes, please. Hurts so bad." By now, you had tears in your eyes and your lower lip wobbled in distress. Shin had never seen you this weak and needy and whiny, but it was easily becoming his new favorite addiction.
"Okay, baby, imma help you out. Your big brother's here." He leaned over and pressing his big palms on the outside of your thighs, he glided his hands upwards, pushing the skirt up in the process.
"Wha-whatcha doing?" You asked and big, fat tears were rolling down your cheeks at the feeling of finally being touched like you wanted, no, needed.
"Helping you. You gotta trust me, okay?" Shinichiro grabbed the sides of your panties and yanked them off, and his eyes nearly rolled in the back of his head when he saw strings of your slick connecting your pussy lips to your panties.
"No wonder you're in pain, look at how wet you are." He let out a shuddered breath that incidentally, hit your clit and you keened.
Your panties weren't even off when you suddenly grabbed Shinichiro by the hair and plunged him face-first into your pussy.
Shinichiro's eyes widened and your hips bucked, making his nose rub against your clit. The moans that you were letting out were absolutely pornographic and if Shin had to choose something to listen to for the rest of his life, he would've chosen these exact sounds you were making right now.
His arms came under your thighs, and with a strength you didn't think him cable of, he hoisted them on his shoulders. Overcoming his initial shock, Shin started shaking his head from side to side, rubbing his nose into your clit as his tongue started lapping at your juices.
His fingers dug into your skin and he kissed his way up your pussy, until he got to your clit. Latching to the little nub, he began suckling on it and your grip tightened on his black hair.
"Shin, Shin, imma come, I'm so close, please," you dragged out the last word, your hips not stopping their grinding motion. Your ankles crossed behind Shin's neck and you pulled him even closer, trapping him between your legs.
Shin sucked harder on your clit, and, all of a sudden, he bit it lightly. Your gasp was delicious to hear and with no other further warning, you came.
Shin's arms snaked around your thigh and his thumb found your clit. As the pad of his finger circled your clit, he lowered himself to taste your cum.
"Shin, too much, it's too much," you whimpered, trying to pull him away from your cunt, but he was not budging.
"I want one more, come on, I know you can give me another," Shin's voice was muffed by your folds and all you could see was his mop of black hair and his black eyes, shining as bright as two burning coals.
"Please, Shin-nii, no," you cried out, and Shinichiro's dick twitched in his pants. He was painfully hard by now and he could already feel the precum dampening his boxers.
"Yes, yes, be a good girl for me and come in my mouth," Shin dived tongue first in your pussy, slurping and lapping at your cum like a dog in heat.
He shoved his tongue as deep as he could in your cunt, rubbing your walls and fucking you thoroughly with his wide muscle.
His thumb was still pressed roughly on your clit and the fingers of his other hand were lightly scratching the inside of your thigh, making you shudder in pleasure. The combination of sensations was too much for you to handle.
Your pussy contracted around Shinichiro's tongue and your whole body spasmed. You could barely pull enough air in your burning lungs, your brain too focused on the pleasure overcoming every single cell of your body.
Your body slumped on the couch and your legs slipped off of Shinichiro's shoulders. After what seemed like forever, Shinichiro pulled away from your cunt, half of his handsome face covered in your cum.
You watch with half-lidded eyes how he got up and threw himself on the couch next to you, breathing just as heavily as you were.
"You feeling better?" Shinichiro wheezed, his hand pressed over his heart in an attempt to calm it. He couldn't believe he ate your pussy and drank your cum.
"Is not that painful anymore, but my pussy's burning up." Your words were somewhat slurred and Shin's head fell to the side so he could look at you. You looked godlike in your post-orgasmic haze, and Shin found that he was not satisfied with just eating you up. It was not enough, nothing would ever be enough with you.
"Want your nii-san to help you more?" Shin asked and for the first time that night, your gaze fell on the erection hidden in Shin's pants.
"Wanna help Shin too. Wanna make you feel good too." Like a woman possesses you slid off the couch and crawled between Shinichiro's legs.
"No, you don't have to..." He wanted to continue his train of thought, but your hand was already rubbing the outline of his cock.
Popping the button with unexpected smoothness, you grabbed the zipper and pulled it down slowly. Your hand slipped under Shin's boxers and you dragged them down as much as you could.
And finally, his cock sprang free. Your mouth dropped and your pussy clenched at the sheer size of Shinichiro's cock. It was like nothing you'd ever seen before.
Was it...was it thicker than your wrist?
You grabbed the base and gasped when you saw that your fingertips were not even close to touching each other.
"So big. So, so big, Shin. Gonna feel so good inside." You pointed the tip towards your face and your tongue gave the slit a tentative lick.
"Tastes so good too," you moaned and shoved the head of his dick in your mouth. Your tongue rolled around the head a few times, feeling and pushing down the foreskin before you started sucking.
The man’s whole body trembled like a leaf in the wind and he grabbed the sides of your head, stopping you from going down any further.
"If-if you're gonna suck me off then imma come in your mouth. Do you want my cum in your mouth?" He asked, straining to form coherent sentences.
You shook your head, but didn't let go of Shinichiro's cock. Instead, your tongue slipped under his foreskin and rubbed the underside of his dick and the man swore loudly, his hand skidding into your hair to pull you off roughly.
"Where do you want it?" Shinichiro asked, and you released the tip with a slick pop.
"In my pussy. Want your cum in my pussy, Shin-nii." Grabbing his cock, you traced patterns with his damp tip on your cheek, rubbing his precum into your skin.
"Then come fuck yourself on your big brother's cock," Shin whispered and helped you crawl on his lap.
Your knees straddle his things and your pussy hovered above Shinichiro's cock, teasing him with the prospect of your tight cunt.
Your breaths mingled together and Shin could see that your pupils were still unnaturally large. Again, he wondered what Emma could have slipped in your drink because she must have given you something to make you act this way, but the heat of your body and the closeness of your face quickly blew those thoughts out of Shin's head.
"Shin...kiss me," you ordered and he could only smile. He brushed his lips on yours, teasing you, making you wait for it just like he waited all that time.
"I've waited so long for this," he confessed, and before you could respond, his lips crushed yours, sealing any question you might have had.
His hands, calloused from years of hard work, tangled in your hair, bringing you closer. And even then, you weren't close enough.
Your lips were so soft compared with his and if he struggled, he could taste faint traces of your cocktail and his precum.
Your tongue poked out and licked the lip-gloss off his lips before it tried wiggling into his mouth. Shin opened up for you, allowing you inside. Your tongues rubbed against each other and Shin moaned in your mouth.
One of his hands traveled to the straps of your dress and with a yank, your breasts bounced out. He broke the kiss so he could admire each breast, the tips of his fingers caressing them in reverence.
"Do you know what a fucking tease you are when you go around the house in those sheer little tank tops and everybody can see your tits?" Shinichiro suddenly pinched your nipple in admonishment, the touch contrasting all of his previous ones. "It's as if you're asking to be fucked."
Shinichiro was already breathing hard by now. It was so hard not to come right there and then. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. He had to stuff your pussy with his cum, otherwise, it would all be in vain.
"Do you? Do you wanna get fucked by your brothers? Is that why you wear all those skimpy clothes at home?" Shin groped your breasts, feeling their weight in his palms and pinching the nipples between the knuckles of his fingers.
Your back arched, pushing your tits into his hands, and you gripped Shinichiro's shoulders to steady yourself.
"Answer me," he commanded, rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers roughly.
"No! I never, I would have never..." Your hear shook from side to side, refusing his accusations, but Shinichiro was relentless. He wanted to hear you beg. To know you wanted everything that he was going to give you starting that very moment.
"Oh? Should I stop then? You obviously don't want me." He was being mean, he knew it, but years of pinning had left with little to no patience left.
"No, no, please, Shin-nii, please don't stop. I need you. Hurts without you, please." Your arms snaked around his neck and you drew him forward again. You bump your nose with his and your eyes fluttered close.
"Want you to fuck me," you whispered, whimpering when the tip of his cock poked your folds.
"Hm? I couldn't hear you? What did you say?" He teased, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"I want your cock! Please, please, please," you lowered your hips but Shin was quicker—he held you up, a hand gripping the hair at the base of your skull and the other wound tightly around your waist.
"I don't know if I should give it to you. That's something I should be giving just to my woman." Shin's nose rubbed your chin, breathing in your perfume…or was it your body wash?
"But...but you said you were going to help me," you pouted, your fists hitting Shinichiro's chest lightly. "You liar!"
He huffed and grabbed both your wrist in one of his hands, keeping them locked in front of your chest.
"Well, I guess I could help you out," Shin paused and you stopped struggling to listen to what your older brother was saying. "But only if you agree to be mine." The words barely registered in your head before you found yourself nodding.
"Yeah? You wanna be my woman? My wife?" Shin insisted, waiting to hear you say it.
"Yes! Imma...imma be yours, just yours." Your hips started bucking and your juices were already dripping down on Shinichiro's cock. You could hardly contain yourself anymore.
"Yeah? You're gonna be my pretty lil' bride like you were always supposed to be?" Shin pulled your head back, forcing you to look at him, see just how serious he was being. There was no joking around, not this time. He wanted to make sure that you understood the full significance of your promises because he would make you keep each and every one of them. And yea, he knew it wasn't fair—you weren't in your right head at the moment, some kind of drug coursing to your veins and clouding your judgment, but he'd be damned if he cared. He was finally getting what he wanted, and he wasn't going to back down.
"Yes, gonna marry you, Shin-nii, gonna be your bride, gonna have babies. Your babies, wanna have your babies," you were babbling, concentrating to focus your eyes on Shin's face.
"Fuck," Shin groaned, crashing his mouth into yours. He didn't think much about kids until now, but the thought of you pregnant with his babies made him go absolutely feral.
Still kissing you, he grabbed the base of his cock and positioned it right at your entrance.
"Wanna have my babies? Then fuck yourself on my cock. Make me cum deep inside your pussy. " Shin released you, and without his strong arms holding you up, gravity pulled you down, impaling you on his thick cock in one smooth movement.
The stretch was beyond anything you'd ever felt. Shin didn't bother to finger you, prep you for his cock, so your poor pussy was not ready to accommodate his cock. The pain of his dick bullying its way into your pussy was blinding, almost numbing the lower part of your body, and you absolutely loved it. It made your cunt clench around his dick and before you knew it, your whole body shuddered with the intensity of your third orgasm.
"Did you...just came? Just from that?" Shin was barely containing himself from spilling all of his cum inside of you, especially after he felt your walls spasming around him.
"Too much, hurts, it hurts, Shin," you whined, your arms coming around his neck.
"And yet, you came. You a pain slut or something?" Shin chucked, his hips jerking under you.
""m not!" You cried out, feeling him pull his dick out, only to slam it back inside.
"I think you're lying. I think...fuck, I think my pretty little bride loves pain." He teased, pummeling his dick into your cunt. "Come on, pretty, don't let me do all the work."
"Mean, you're so mean, Shinichiro." You started bouncing on his cock, your breasts jigging in front of his face.
"If I'd be mean I would have left you here all hot and bothered. But no, your big brother decided to help you. Even decided to make you his bride. Wanna know why?" Shin asked, shoving his head between your breasts and started kissing and biting the skin there.
"W-why?" You could barely talk now, focusing too much on fucking Shin.
"Cuz I love you. Loved you since the first day I've seen you. Never stopped loving you one second. Not even when you abandoned us." The man's voice was muffled, but you could still hear each and every word he said.
"I didn-" your sentence ended prematurely in a gasp when Shin roughly bit your tit.
"You did!" He snarled, looking up at you with wide eyes, a crazed obsession burning deep within them.
"You left us! But don't worry, we won't let you leave, ever again," Shin proclaimed, and in a moment of sanity, you wanted to ask what he meant. You wanted to find out who was 'we.'
But Shinichiro picked you up and slammed you on the table. Forcing your legs wide open, he fucked you like a man possessed, and all you could do was moan and hold the table for dear life.
"Gonna come, fill you up with my babies. You wanna have my babies? You gonna get them."
The music had long been silenced and replaced with moans and whimpers and squelching sounds coming from your cunt. There was already a ring of white gathering at the base of Shinichiro's cock and, looking down, his eyes nearly popped when he saw the bulge in your tummy.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Shin was going to come soon. He knew it. There was no way that he was going to last after seeing that.
His hand flew to your clit, and, while he fucked you earnestly, dragging his dick out, only to drive it back inside, he flicked it continuously, not stopping even for one second.
But it was only when you saw the bulge stretching your tummy that you lost yourself, your cunt spasming for what you thought would be the last time that night.
And this time, Shin finally allowed himself to come with you, filling your gaping hole with all of his thick cum.
Collapsing over your sweaty body, Shin's lips searched yours, and finding them, he pulled you in a languid kiss.
It was soft, and slow, and sensual, and it made Shinichiro want to go at it again. But their time in the booth was coming to an end and he would have rather died than have one of the workers from the karaoke bar set their eyes on your naked body.
So gathering you in his arms, Shinichiro started putting you back together piece by piece, and when he considered you were decent enough, he pulled you out of the bar and lead you back to the car.
Dazed and barely connected to reality, you followed him closely and tried to answer all of the questions being thrown at you. You blinked once, twice, and then, you were suddenly in Shinichiro's room, wondering how you got there in the first place. Weren’t you supposed to be at the karaoke bar?
You wanted to ask your brother what exactly was wrong with you because there must have been something going on with your body, but all rational thoughts were chucked out the window the moment you felt Shin’s hands dragging across your thighs and arms, helping your undress.
That night Shinichiro fucked you three more times, each session ending up with him balls deep in your cunt, pumping his sperm deep inside your pussy. And the only reason why the man stopped fucking you was because he saw you falling asleep under him, and he couldn't have his baby too overworked.
So Shinichiro allowed your pussy to milk him one last time before he gathered you in his arms, allowing you some well-deserved rest.
The man didn't want to fall asleep, too afraid that if he were to wake up the next morning, he'd discover that everything was nothing but a delusional dream. But his lids grew heavy and before he knew it, he was sinking into a satisfied slumber.
The next morning, Shinichiro woke up with a smile. Keeping his eyes closed, he patted the bed, searching for your so he could bring it into his embrace.
But the bed was empty, and the sheets were cold and suddenly awake, Shin jumped out of his bed. With the world blurry around him, he ran out of his room, still as naked as had been when he fell asleep last night.
Bursting into your room, he saw the bed made and the doors to your closet wide open and Shinichiro's heart, for the second time in his life, shattered.
AN: I feel like this chapter is all over the place. I kinda like how the smut turned out, but I know I could have done better overall. 😭 I am thinking of editing this once I have some time, but that's probably just wishful thinking on my part. Regarding the updates, they will be a bit slower, due to several personal reasons (aka my job and my health are constant pains in my ass) so please 🐻 with me (hehe). As always, your comments are more than welcomed and I would love to know what you thought of this chapter. ❤ Where do you think the reader disappeared off to? Is reader going to come back?
includes, fem!reader, breeding, pregnancy, parenting with Suguru
an, i really liked this silly short fic i wrote on my old blog so i decided to repost it on here🫶
wc, 1.3k | MDNI 18+
It comes on a random day in August. It comes while he is washing dishes and you are drying them. It comes out of nowhere.
“I think I want kids.”
Your husband doesn’t meet your gaze while he says this aloud and continues on to his duties. You inspect his side profile which is fairly relaxed and holds a ghost of a smile that you nearly miss—has he gone ill?
You question him after a brief moment of silence that results from shock, “but you said they were annoying and that you didn’t like them.”
Suguru scrubs the white plate with soap, clearing it from any filth before running water over it to rid it of suds. He hands you the dish and you dry it using a small towel with steady hands.
“Yeah, I know.” He replies, “but I think if it’s with you I’ll like it more. You know—parenting and all that.”
He washes the last plate and you dry it when he passes it over to you. Doing chores like this was not uncommon—the two of you did everything as a team, you did everything together.
And so that’s why you say to your husband, “I think I’ll like it more with you, too,” because you know you’ll have him alongside you with every step of parenthood.
-
Suguru is insatiable when it comes to making love. He can never get enough and he is always left wanting more of only you. He is even more so now that the two of you are trying to conceive a child.
He takes you on the kitchen counters, with him in between your legs and your back against the cool marble. He takes you from behind in the shower, with your tits pressed against the wet tiled walls and his strong hands guiding your hips towards his pelvis. He takes you where he likes to take you most, on the shared bed of your apartment, and from there he leaves you questioning how he will make love to you on that night.
And as much as he loves loving you every night, he loves cumming inside you even more. Suguru fills you up with his seed every single time, it’s absurd. He pumps you full of his cum until it leaks out of you and pools all over the bed sheets underneath you. But not to worry, he’ll quickly use his fingers to push what’s left, all back inside you. “Don’t want it to go to waste,” he informs you.
And Suguru is so insatiable that sometimes he tries to convince you for another round with the familiar phrase, “one more time? Just in case.”
You know full well that he doesn’t want to do it again ‘just in case’. Nonetheless, you always end up agreeing anyway—equally excited as him to share pleasure with one another.
-
Your husband thinks motherhood looks good on you. With your heavy belly and your ample breasts and your numerous stretch marks. Sometimes you find him admiring you with a doting smile from the bed while you’re getting dressed in the mornings.
“How is my wife so beautiful?” Suguru asks with his arms behind his head and his long hair strewn underneath him.
You come to lay in his arms after having decided that you’d rather not do anything for the day and he kneads your aching limbs and rubs your swollen belly. He kisses you with so much love and whispers the sweetest words to you.
In the quietness of your apartment, while snow falls out your window, you admit to him, “I’m scared.”
He hums against your skin, stroking your belly as your baby kicks you from within on occasion. “Everything will be okay.” He assures you and squeezes your hand for security. “You will be okay.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just do.” And oddly enough, with such simple words, it eases your anxiety. Suguru will be right beside you, after all.
-
“Do you think our baby will have my eyes or yours?” Suguru asks on the night of New Years.
You turn to look at him, fireworks high above him and illuminating his face. He’s admiring the show above him with his arms leaning against the railing on the hill.
You inspect your lover and his pretty eyes—how they turn into crescents whenever he smiles and how hard they get whenever he grows serious. How soft they turn whenever he looks at you.
How they tell so much.
You go to move a long stray hair from his face and he turns to look at you questioningly. The people from below cheer for the new year.
“I think they’ll have your eyes.”
-
You have your baby in the beginning of spring—a season that symbolizes birth and youth. It’s fitting and Suguru tells you that it’s some kind of 'sign'. But you’re positive it’s just because he got you pregnant nine months earlier during the fall.
The birth is far from painless. It leaves you crying and leaves you writhing in agony. Your baby is merciless when you push her out of your womb.
But you come to find that it’s all worth it when you see your husband and her together.
Suguru holds her tiny body in his large hands with teary eyes and a small smile. He looks down at her adoringly before he glances at you with equal adoration. He adjusts her so that he carries her with a singular arm and he reaches out to caress your cheek, thanking you silently. “She’s as pretty as her mother.”
-
Like washing dishes, you and your husband take on parenting as a team.
You take turns to watch her when she cries in the late hours of night. You change her diaper and give her baths together. Taking care of your daughter is a group effort and neither of you feel as if one is putting in more effort than the other. And in this way, both of you are content and the house is peaceful.
However peaceful, it is far from quiet.
It’s odd how such a small person can change so much in a household. Your daughter is loud—crying and babbling and disrupting the silence in your small apartment.
But when it is quiet, when your daughter is asleep on Suguru’s chest with you resting on his side, you find that you miss her babbling and her cries.
And it seems that Suguru agrees because he whispers to you impatiently, “when will she wake up?”
-
Your daughter has Suguru’s eyes—expressive and telling. They upturn into crescents when she smiles and they waver so much whenever she’s on the verge of crying.
Suguru denies this, he thinks that he’s not as expressive with his emotions. But his eyes waver the same way as hers when she has her first birthday. “When did she get so big?”
-
Your husband sits on the bench at the edge of the park with the stroller, watching as you pull out your tired daughter from the small swing.
You approach him with her already sleeping in your arms and you ask him, “what’s on your mind?”
You hand your toddler to him and he squats down to place her in the stroller carefully so she doesn’t wake. He adjusts her head and her arms before he stands back up to face you. “I was right back then.”
“Right about what?”
He steps towards you and cups your cheek. Suguru looks at you like he is appreciating your existence and every little thing about you. He thinks that there is nothing he could do to fully repay you for what you’ve given him—a family.
Suguru's lips upturn to a smile before he places a chaste kiss on your lips. “I like this a lot more when it’s with you.”
synopsis, getou suguru offers you a more ‘up close and personal’ study of the human body
includes, inexperiencedfem!reader, nudemodel!getou, handjobs/blowjobs, kinda public sex, porn w plot, pet names like 'baby' and 'pretty girl'
MDNI 18+ | wc, 4.6k
an, idk how i feel abt this yet…Hmm…
The beauty Getou Suguru holds is indescribable. Though there are some words that can suffice.
Breathtaking, yes. Stunning, yes. Godly, yes. However, those words just do not seem to be… Enough. They are not enough to describe how beautiful Suguru is. You’ve come to believe that there is no word that exists that can truly capture the entirety of Suguru and his beauty.
Sometimes you think he’s not real—that he’s too much of a masterpiece to be an actual person. There’s not a thing about him that is out of place, not even that strand of hair that always hangs past his eye.
His bottom lip is fuller than the top and the lines underneath his eyes are deep and short. Overall Suguru’s face is chiseled, though his long, raven hair somehow makes his features look more delicate, softer. But his side profile is strong and sharp, with the downward slope of his nose and the protuberance of his chin.
You want to stare at him all day, admire him all day.
And thankfully, you can, because he just so happens to be a nude model for your drawing class.
Not fully nude, your professor was adamant on him keeping his ‘part’ hidden. So, he kept his intimates covered with a white blanket or sometimes he left his boxer briefs on, but he was nude enough. Nude enough where you could see every crevice, every vein, every patch of hair.
It drives you insane and leaves you hot and bothered throughout every class. It was hard not to be, what with the occasional suggestive pose your professor would have him do and with his ridiculously robust body…
Suguru is built as if the Greeks themselves sculpted him from marble. Like he was carefully and perfectly carved by the most skilled of hands.
With a prominent, hard line that starts at the top of his chest and ends right above his belly button, that must have been developed from constant abdominal exercises.
His rounded and full ass that's seemingly plush. Thighs, thick with muscle and lean, perhaps from running. The large and bulging pectoral muscles he’s graced with, could perhaps elicit jealousy from Hercules himself. His broad shoulders and ridiculously defined back muscles, that would shift even from the slightest of movements. And his arms—oh, his arms… They’re beefy and strong and whenever he flexes them to pose—god. You’re quite certain being held by him would feel heavenly.
But Suguru is not overly muscular—not to the point where he’s scary, no. Like most things about him, his physique is just right. Perfect, even.
Oddly enough, as much as you like admiring him when he’s naked, you think that you like him even more when he’s clothed.
Once, before your class began, he came in wearing a tight black shirt and you could see the way his muscles strained against the fabric of his clothes—how they looked as if they could rip apart his shirt at any given moment. That tight black shirt fit his body so, so well. And the dark jeans he wore… How his thighs pressed against the fabric underneath and when he’d bend, the fabric would strain and stretch.
You think about that moment a lot whenever you’re glancing at him past your large sketchbook during classes.
Truth be told, you almost love drawing Suguru more than you do staring at him. You love shading the shadows of the deep crevices in between muscles and outlining his lean build. You’ve drawn him so many times in so many different poses that you think you have memorized how your pencil strokes and glides across the paper whenever you go to draw him.
You’ve even drawn him on your own personal time—at home or in other classes as doodles on the corners of your papers. He was so… So mesmerizing, how could you not draw him constantly? If you were honest with yourself, which you’re not, Getou Suguru was your muse.
But of course, you’ve never actually spoken with the man before… You found him rather intimidating and honestly, what was there to say to him? ‘Hey, you have a great body, I think about it all the time.’ Or ‘I like to draw you in my free time.’ As if he would not be weirded out by that.
And so, you’ve kept your musings and your admiration to yourself from afar and that for you, was enough. Because just having the privilege to see him, a living masterpiece, weekly for the semester was more than you could ask for.
“You know, I think out of everyone in the class, you draw me the best.”
You nearly jump out of your skin when the voice from close behind you reaches your ears. You drop your pencils that you had been putting away in surprise and whip behind you, bumping into your easel in the process.
But he’s quicker than you thought.
Suguru steps closer to you and his long, refined arm reaches behind you to grab onto one of the wooden legs, stopping its fall.
Suddenly you’re staring straight at the bare chest of the man you’ve been admiring for weeks. Suguru wears a white towel that’s wrapped around his waist securely, but his chest is out for full display and you’re staring right at it. His cologne reaches your nostrils and you find that Suguru smells like the earth and the air after rain and a hint of amber. He smells good.
He places your easel back in place and steps back. “Careful now.”
Oh god.
“I-I—” You’re quick to stop yourself from saying anything else when you hear yourself stutter. You hope he doesn’t think you’re stupid now, but whose to say?
Suguru’s full lips form into a smirk as he quirks a brow. “Shy?”
All you can do is stare. You’ve never seen him this close before and it makes your heart want to leap out of your chest with the way it’s beating so fast.
You gaze into his eyes—they’re deep and dark and somehow, you’re able to find the mischievousness they hold. They lure you in like a black hole and you find yourself getting lost in the void.
You probably look like a weirdo; just staring up at him silently with wide eyes and a mouth that’s agape.
Suguru tilts his head to the side, his long hair following and brushing past his shoulder. “You okay?”
You’ve never heard Suguru speak this close, either. His voice is rich and is smooth like honey and his words effortlessly roll off his tongue. He’s clear and concise and his adam’s apple bobs up and down as he speaks.
You cough awkwardly and finally tear your gaze elsewhere from his eyes. “You just scared me is all…”
And as if you couldn’t be more flustered, Suguru smiles. He smiles and your heart flutters and you nearly pass out because it’s so, so pretty—so charming. He's an eye smiler too, so his eyes upturn into crescents and the pocket of fat under his eyes becomes more prominent. This kills you even more.
He moves to sit on your chair and you tense. “My bad,” he says. But he doesn’t sound apologetic at all.
Suguru sits in your chair, leaning against the backrest and lets his forearms rest on the armrests. His legs spread out in front of him, which makes the towel on him shift and reveal a bit of his thigh. Suguru looks at ease, like he doesn’t care that the slit on his towel might rise higher and could accidentally uncover his most intimate part.
He looks up at you, with wide eyes that feign innocence and raised brows. He looks at you as if he’s unaware how he’s making you act—making you feel. Though you have a gnawing feeling that he knows full well what he’s doing. His knee nudges you and that is when you realize that you’re standing in between his powerful legs. You feel your cheeks warm and you manage to stammer as you step back from him, “oh! I’m sorry—”
He smiles with his lips and eyes again. “It’s okay, you can stay there if you want.”
You exhale through your mouth and you scope the surroundings of your class. Two remaining students are nearly out the door, and neither seem to be paying attention to either of you. Your professor had left long ago and so you’re left with the dreaded realization; it’s just you and Suguru left.
Which you found odd because he was always the first to leave after the session. He’d get up from his spot in the middle of the room and head to change and that was it. You wouldn’t see him again until next class. And so you ask him cautiously, unsurely, “um, so… What do you want?”
He chuckles lightly and rests the side of his head on his fist. “What? I can’t come and compliment your art?”
You lift a shoulder hesitantly. “It’s just… You don’t usually talk or compliment any other students.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I don’t like theirs. I like yours.” Suguru moves in the chair to lean close to where your easel and sketchbook stands, his muscles shifting as he moves. You try your best not to blatantly check out his body.
His elbows rests on the edge of his thighs and the rest of his arms hang off in between his legs. You watch him closely, how his eyes narrow as he inspects the new drawing of him you drew.
For some reason, you find yourself more nervous having him look at your art rather than your own professor and classmates.
You shift your weight from one foot to the other, unsure how to respond to his comment as you didn’t want to disrespect the other art students.
“You draw so well.” Suguru compliments while his gaze is still trained on your sketch. “I mean, look at that—it’s like looking at a picture. You’re so talented…” he trails off and glances at you and you realize he’s asking for your name. You give him what he’s asking for with no hesitation.
“[Name]…” He says it slowly, lets it roll off his tongue and linger in the air like he’s savoring it.
“[Name].” And he says it again, quickly and surely this time around, as if he has finished engraving it in his brain. Suguru tilts his head up to look at you and when he offers you another smile, it’s with his pearly white teeth. “Pretty name.”
You never were one to stutter. But the man who sits in front of you has somehow gotten you to stammer and stumble over your words. Perhaps it was the raw confidence he exuded (that you were not used to) or perhaps it was the simple fact that he was actually talking to you—the man you’ve had a mini crush on since the semester started.
“T-thank you, Getou.”
“No need for formalities. You can call me by my first name. I'll let you.”
There’s an awkward silence that follows as you’re not quite sure how to reply. But it’s interrupted when Suguru reaches for your personal sketchbook.
“Wha—hey, don’t!” You try to take it from his grasp, however, it’s too late. He’s flipping through the pages already, admiring your sketches. Most of which was of him.
“You like drawing me, huh?”
You want to die.
You don’t say anything at first as you’re trying to make out the meaning of his tone and his expression. You fiddle with your fingers. “... I’m sorry… Are you—are you weirded out?”
“Hell no. Kinda flattered, honestly.” He glances up at you. “Having such a pretty girl use me as her muse is all I want in life.”
You find that Suguru leaves you speechless often because again, you have no idea what to say. And he laughs lightly at this, honestly he finds your awkwardness cute.
His attention goes back to the sketchbook he holds. “Damn. You’re great. Really great.” Suguru compliments while he closely inspects each page.
“I’m not that great… I’m still a student and I’m still learning, so…” You trail off, inspecting the drawings he holds in his hands. The finicky artist within you begins to pick out the littlest details and you cannot stop yourself from ranting. “Like, look how I drew your arm in this—it’s crooked. And I don’t know, it just looks weird overall.”
You flip to the next page. “And with this one, I messed up on some of your proportions. See how one leg is longer than the other?” You pause and glance at Suguru, only to find him staring at you already with a small smile. You cough awkwardly.
“You’re probably the only one who notices these things.” Suguru comments.
You shake your head and take your sketchbook from him. “No, trust me. Other people notice—especially art students… And art professors.”
Suguru hums and leans back in your chair, inspecting you as you stuff your sketchbook back in your bag. You find it difficult trying to ignore his burning stare.
“If you want… You could draw my body some more—you know, for practice. An up close and personal body study. It’d just be the two of us.” He suggests lowly, as if there’s anyone else in the room to hear you both. As if he’s shielding his words from the world. “I’ll do any pose you want me to do.”
You feel your entire face burn and his suggestion alone returns your dreaded stutter. “O-oh—I, um…”
Suguru only grins. “Think about it. Yeah?” He stands and turns to leave before you can say goodbye.
—--
The sudden and continuous attention from Suguru everytime class would end, flustered you to no end.
He’d come over to you after class, a towel wrapped around his waist or clad merely in his boxer briefs, and inspect your drawing of him. Suguru would compliment you rather loudly, garnering the unwanted attention of your other classmates, and god, you wanted to shrink as small as possible whenever their jealous stares burned into your figure.
Suguru’s looks and mysterious demeanor was quite intriguing to the other art students (you wouldn’t be surprised if he had other admirers) and so, the unexpected attention he was giving you did not go unnoticed.
For a while, it goes on like this. Suguru coming up to you and complimenting your art and you, stuttering and thanking him awkwardly. You don’t really take his offer, or even mention it again.
That is until you get a low grade on one of your assignments. Your professor told you that the drawing ‘could be better’ and you cried the entire day. The worst part was that you actually thought that piece was one of your best and so hearing that it wasn’t, made you contemplate quitting.
At first, of course, before you realized you had a chance to practice and get better.
You’re as stiff as a board when you go to greet him at the end of a class, while he’s getting off the floor. “Hey.”
Suguru grins widely and abruptly when his eyes meet yours, like you’ve just made his week. “Hey there, pretty.” He stands and dusts his bare knees. “This is the first time you’ve come up to me.”
You suck in a breath and avert your gaze from his lower half. “Well, I was wondering… Is that offer from you still—still on the table?”
He cocks his head to the side as his smile changes into a smirk. “Always is, for you.”
You nod and scratch your neck. “Okay, well… Fridays the class is open and no one really comes in so… Do you wanna meet then?”
Suguru steps towards you and leans close to your ear. “I can’t wait”
——
You anticipated that the personal drawing session with Suguru would involve awkward silence and merely drawing practice. You’d ask him to position himself and then you’d draw him—that’s it. Maybe he’d critique you a bit, but that would be the end.
You did not anticipate… This.
“It’s okay, you can touch it.”
You palm his large bulge through his boxer briefs hesitatingly and you feel him twitch. You look up at him questingly, asking for permission to continue, and he nods in approval with a conniving smirk. You cup him from below, his heavy balls in your hand and you suck in a breath because you can feel how big he is.
It began with him undressing his white button up and his black slacks, leaving him with only his underwear. It followed with him asking a question about whether you’ve ever drawn private parts before. To which you answered no and Suguru, slutty little Suguru, asked—“do you want to draw mine?”
And so, it continues here.
As you’re feeling him up, clothed cock heavy and full in your hand, he asks you. He asks you the question that makes you nearly faint.
“You wanna see it?”
You look around the empty class—no one would come in around this time, it was getting late and usually there were no art lectures on Fridays. Though, you still couldn’t help the nervousness that ate away at you. “… What if someone comes in?” You question quietly.
He smiles, showing his white teeth. “They can watch.”
This does not lessen your anxiety but for whatever reason, you swallow hard before you nod hesitatingly, your cheeks becoming warm at his words.
Suguru looks down at you, with his lids heavy and his eyes cloudy. He guides your hand towards his boxer briefs that sit low on his hips and he whispers, his voice husky and sensual, “why don’t you take these off for me?”
Who are you to deny a god?
Using both of your hands, you slip a finger under his underwear, and you feel his smooth skin on your fingertips. You roll his boxer briefs down his thighs slowly as your heart bangs loudly against your chest.
You admit sheepishly, “I’ve never done this before…”
“Yeah?” Suguru asks, with a hint of excitement in his tone. “Let me guide you through it, then.”
When his boxer briefs reach his mid thigh, his cock springs free and slaps his abdomen as it’s released from its confines.
You stare in awe at it as it’s the only thing you can manage to do.
Suguru is big. He’s huge—maybe a bit larger than the ones you’ve seen in pornos. His skin is flushed and his tip is a pretty red color. There’s a rather thick vein that runs along the underside of him, along with two thin ones that are on the top. He sports a small, thin happy trail and he hangs prettily in the air, throbbing and heavy, waiting to be attended to.
Suguru’s cock looms over your face intimidatingly so. You think that like Suguru, his cock is just as perfect.
“Touch it.”
You look up at the man who stands above you, his hair unkempt and down, his face stoic yet evidently flustered. His voice is authoritative and it makes your stomach churn. You think you’ve discovered something new about yourself.
Slowly, unsurely, you reach a trembling hand towards his member and wrap your hand around him. Suguru sucks in a breath.
He’s so hard and so girthy, it’s absurd. You can’t even wrap your entire hand around him.
Chewing on your lip, you give his girthy cock a squeeze at the base and he lets out a low hum that comes from deep in his throat. You pause and look up at him, to inspect how his eyebrows knit together and how his eyes shut in pleasure.
He looks like debauchery personified.
But he’s quick to shake his head when he notices your grip on him loosen. “Do it again,” Suguru instructs.
With no hesitation, you do as he says, eager to please him. Wrapping your hand around his cock once more and tightening your grip. He’s just so heavy and hot in your hand and—
Suguru lets out a long, guttural groan from your actions and the sound reaches your cunt. You shift in your chair, feeling your own wetness pool in your underwear. You grind your inner thighs together, hoping to incite some friction.
You ask him while you’re squeezing him periodically, “d-does it feel good?”
Suguru chuckles lightly and his hand comes to rest behind your neck. “Yeah,” he says breathily. “It feels so good, baby.”
Suguru’s chest heaves and his breathing becomes more ragged. He thrusts his hips slightly towards your face and it’s evident he wants more.
“Why don’t you stroke me a little bit, hm?”
“Stroke—”
He doesn’t let you finish. “Like this.” Suguru wraps his large hand around yours, guiding you to go up and down his length. And though it is you who is unraveling him, it is he, who controls your speed and every movement of yours. He makes you start with long, languid strokes, from the base all the way to his tip.
“Mmmh,” he moans and lets his head fall back, his hand letting go of yours. You continue to move your hand in the pace he began with. “Like That… Shit. Just like that—good girl.”
Suguru throbs in your hand and whenever you reach his tip, his precum dribbles and coats your palm. As you’re stroking him languidly, squeezing him periodically, you coat his cock with his own warmth. The sounds of squelching and Suguru’s low groans overtake the classroom.
The sounds are absolutely lewd, though somehow you feel no shame. If there were anyone outside hearing the two of you, you think that you wouldn't even care anymore with that way Suguru is reacting.
“Ohh, fuuck. Yeah,” he groans lowly. His grip behind your neck tightens a bit but you’re far from alarmed. His head tips back and he swallows, making his adam’s apple bob.
You reach your free hand and caress his hard abdominal muscles, feeling the dips and ridges of his six pack. You reach farther up and feel the protruding of his pectoral muscle and cup the underside of it.
“You’re so pretty, Suguru…”
He gasps and his eyes widen when your fingers nudge his nipple and your hot breath fans the slit of his dick. “[Name].” His voice comes out strained, pleading.
You bite your lip to hide your smirk and quickly flick his nipple once more with your pointer finger while your other hand quickens the strokes around him. Perhaps you've gotten the hang of it. You ask him innocently, “yes? What is it?”
“[Name].”
You’re not quite sure where this sudden burst of friskiness comes from, but you welcome and take advantage of it. You tug on his cock rather harshly and blow into his slit as your other hand presses a firm finger against his obviously sensitive nipple.
Suguru groans long and loud and it is music to your ears. His head falls forward with shut eyes and his hand behind you cradles your head. Sweat slides down his abs, his muscles glistening from the lights above.
You think then, that there really are no words that could describe the beauty of Getou Suguru.
“Fu—I’m gonna—“ He interrupts himself with a grunt and forcefully tugs away your hands when you blow into him again.
He looks down at you with drawn eyebrows and a clenched jaw. You smile and he scoffs, an amused smirk playing on his lips. Suguru thinks that he likes seeing you like this.
“Having fun, are you?" He asks. You raise a brow and he exhales. "Open that pretty mouth.”
You do as he says and with that he praises you, “good girl.”
"Tongue out." He instructs.
You listen to him and you find that you quite like having him order you around.
Suguru cups your jaw with a large hand, his thumb caressing your cheek as he slaps the tip of his cock on your wet muscle while stroking it at a fast pace.
“Just sit pretty for me, baby. Yeah?” He hisses through his teeth as he tugs on his cock. “You can do that, right? Just watch me.”
You watch as Suguru jerks himself to a sweet release. His muscles tighten and his groans become more drawn out, his eyes fluttering shut on occasion. His teeth sink onto his bottom lip and fuck, he looks so, so good.
You take a mental picture of him right now. You can draw him like this later.
He mumbles, “so pretty—you’re so pretty.”
You grasp onto his hard thigh for leverage, letting him do as he wishes with you. Watching how his large hand wraps and tugs on his girthy, long cock. Watching how his face contorts into pure ecstasy with each stroke. Watching as he pleasures himself.
“M’Gonna cum,” he moans. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in your pretty mouth. You gonna let me?”
You nod enthusiastically—god, it’s all you want. You want to taste him, to have him come undone right in front of you. To have the image of him at his highest point of pleasure engraved in your mind.
“[Name].” He whimpers. “Fuuuck… Fuck, I’m cumming, I—!” He groans, deeply and languidly, as he lets himself go.
As he’s coating your tongue with his hot ropes of cum, you take it upon yourself to lean forward and wrap your lips around his pretty, red tip—sucking him lightly and drawing more of his warmth into your mouth to taste. Suguru is a bit salty and a tad bitter but you find yourself swallowing all he gives you.
He watches you with his mouth agape and his pupils blown. His head spins and all he can feel, all he knows, is your warm mouth engulfing his length and your tongue massaging the underside of his throbbing cock. You’re suckling onto him like he’s a fucking lollipop and it drives him insane; it makes him nearly fall to his knees.
And the look you give him—oh… The way you’re looking up at him with teary, wide eyes and your hollowed cheeks. Suguru might just cum again.
When you take more of him inside your mouth, he tugs you back from behind your neck and sucks in a breath through his teeth from being overstimulated. “S-stopstopstop—fuck,” he grunts.
You let go of his cock with a pop and he steps back against a table, his hand coming down onto it to hold himself up. His legs wobble and his knees feel so weak.
It was insane to him. How much of an impact you had on him—how you were merely sitting pretty for him as he was stroking himself and just by the sight of you alone was enough to make him cum harder than he has before.
Suguru's body is clad with sweat and he's quite sure he looks like a mess.
You look at one another, chests heaving and gazes foggy with lust. Your lips are swollen and a bit of Suguru's cum coats your chin and falls into your lap.
It’s then when you feel the oncoming bashfulness creep into you. Suddenly you cannot meet his gaze anymore nor can you look at his naked form.
You think to yourself, did you really just do that? You suck in your bottom lip into your mouth, tasting more of his warmth.
“Hey.” Suguru’s groggy voice garners your attention and you glance at him, only to find him smiling lazily at you. “Wanna head to my place? We can practice more there.”
synopsis: you’d do anything in order to save your failing grades. even if it meant fucking your professor that you’ve been crushing on since your first day.
warnings: teacher x student (gojo in his mid 30s, reader in her early 20s), cervix fucking, gagging, dumbification, fingering, virginity loss, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, a bit of praise, degradation, squirting, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, dacryphilia, nonconsensual filming, use of pet names, manipulation, gaslighting, power dynamics, gojo is a real jerk, gojo is so mean.
a/n: this is very self-indulgent cus i am horny for professor gojo i had to post this again lol i didn’t proofread this btw
Gojo Satoru is such a great professor. Though his teachings might be unorthodox but that's what you like—no—love about him. He is a fun teacher who always keeps his students entertained during his class, including you. Gojo never fails to keep his lectures interesting and intriguing. The way he teaches makes you even more invested in the subject. You're trying hard to impress Professor Gojo Satoru not because you have some sort of crush on him—but because you want to be noticed for your performance.
Okay, maybe you do have a big crush on him and you're also showing great performance for him to notice you. Honestly, you weren't ashamed about the fact that you touched yourself to the thought of him. When you were alone in your dorm room and Nobara was staying at her girlfriend's apartment for the weekend, you couldn't stop and touched yourself late in the evening.
Not only Gojo is an exceptional teacher, but he's also extremely handsome. Most women and men from your class are enthralled by the ethereal beauty of Gojo. Even other teachers admit how his face looks as if it was carved by the gods themselves. Maybe Gojo isn't even human but a deity or something. He's also compassionate, considerate, friendly, kind of a goofball, and cares a lot about his students. Gojo is the kind of teacher who still accepts a late assignment because he understands the struggles of being a college student; work and projects never end.
On the other hand, Gojo noticed your increase in participation in his class since the start of the semester. You're an intelligent student, he won't deny that. However, when you started attending his class, you were quiet and rarely participates and he started to think you were bored of his class. Since Gojo doesn't want his students to get bored, he made his teachings more entertaining and interesting. Slowly, you started raising your hands more often and speaking up.
So far, your performance in his class is superb, he considers you as his favorite student. This may be the first time he had a favorite since favoritism isn't his thing. But your development throughout the semester made you stand out from the others, which made it even more interesting for Gojo. There's no doubt that you dominate most of your classes. Your scores are high, your performances are also on top, and you have consistent class participation. To Gojo, you are the perfect student that a teacher could ask for. Although, there's only one thing that he's asking himself and that is: what would it be like to break you?
Today is the day that you will be receiving your scores for an important test.
There's a hint of anxiousness and frustration in you but knowing that you studied hard and stayed up all night long to get a high grade, surely you'll get one. But as soon as you received your paper from Professor Gojo, he gave you a disappointed look before saying, "you could've done better, Y/N."
Your eyes widen and let out a gulp before looking at the score of your paper. A failing score that you never once encountered. You shake your head before wiping your eyes and staring back at the questions and then your answers again. You raise one eyebrow, wondering why it's wrong when you got the answer right.
There's some sort of mistake here.
Your seatmate looks at your paper before raising an eyebrow. "Huh? The most intelligent student in our class got a failing grade?" Then, lets out a snicker.
"N-no! There's been a mistake," you shoot him a glare before you stand up from your seat and walk toward Professor Gojo, who is now planning to start his lecture for the day. "Professor, is there any chance you can recheck this? I think there's been a mistake since it says here that I got the answer wrong when it clearly stated in the textbook that—"
"Woah, okay, calm down, Y/N." Gojo lets out a chuckle and put both of his hands on top of your shoulder, which made you look up at him.
He's so tall that the top of your head is only up to his shoulders. Sometimes your neck hurts just by looking up at him to see his face. Gojo took your paper from your hand before examining your answers.
"There's no mistake, Y/N. The computer checked your answers and it says that your score is only… err… 73. Bummer." That was loud enough for the whole class to hear. You heard chuckles from your classmates, which made you look down out of embarrassment. "Well, you know how computers are; they make our jobs easier and never get anything wrong so there's no mistake in your paper."
Gojo shoves your paper back to you before guiding you back to your seat with both of his hands still on top of your shoulders. You didn't say anything and sit back down.
This is the first time you've received a failing grade for this semester. The last time you got a failing grade was when you were still in high school but that was acceptable for you since you didn't study at that time. But you studied hard to prepare for this test and yet you still got a failing grade? This is unacceptable in this situation. Now, you're going to doubt your abilities again and blame yourself for not doing enough to get a high grade.
"Come on, Y/N. It's not that bad getting a failing grade. Saying that there's been a mistake in your paper because you got a failing grade seems egoistic, don't you think?" Your seatmate gives you an unpleasant look.
As much as you tried to keep yourself from yelling at them, you couldn't. So, you did what you had to do.
"Look, I'm not egoistic, okay?! It's unacceptable that I got a failing grade because you don't know how hard I studied for this fucking test!" You yell at the top of your lungs which echoes throughout the entire classroom.
The other students look at you with surprised looks. Their eyes widen and their lips slightly part as a reaction to your sudden outburst. They never saw you snap at someone like this. You were known for being tolerant and patient and you rarely get angry at someone. Seeing you like this is like a phenomenon for them.
"Y/N." You hear someone call your name, making you groan.
"What?" you ask.
There's a hint of annoyance in your voice but as soon as you saw Gojo walking toward you without any smile of amusement on his face, a shiver went through your spine as you gulp. Even the other students were scared for you because they had—you had—never seen Gojo being this serious.
"I know you're the best in every class you're in but just because you received a failing grade in one goddamn test, doesn't mean you have to be so self-centered." Gojo brings his face closer to yours, making you gulp. "Remember, a student's character is what I observe the most. You can be the most intelligent, but I don't give a shit. If you're gonna have this bitchy attitude, I can fail you anytime I want. Is that clear?"
"But—"
"Is that clear, Miss L/N?" Gojo asks again and you couldn't do anything but nod.
"Yes, sir," you reply in a whisper tone.
"Good girl," he smirks and whispers to your ear.
When your ears finally heard the bell, indicating that class is finally over, you picked up your notebooks and pens and shove them into your bag. You have to tell the recent tea about your class to your friends, Yuuji Itadori, Nobara Kugisaki, and Megumi Fushiguro. You can already see their faces looking as shocked as ever.
As you're about to walk out of class, Gojo suddenly calls out your name, making you immediately stop in your tracks. You can already feel your heart racing faster even though you have no clue what he's about to say to you. You do have an idea that it's about your sudden outburst in class.
"Yes, professor?" you ask as you try to hide your nervousness. "Look, I'm so sorry about my… outburst earlier. That was very unprofessional of me. I'm sorry and I won't let it—"
"It's alright, Y/N." Gojo chuckles and walks toward you. "I know that receiving this kind of grade might be hard for you, but it's part of being a student, you know?"
"I know," you sigh. "It's just that… I never received a failing grade before so this is an unfamiliar feeling for me. I feel like I'm not doing enough."
The man puts one hand on your shoulder and smiles at you.
"Don't think of that, Y/N. You're doing everything you can and it's more than enough," he says. "Don't be so hard on yourself, ya got that? Take it from your extremely handsome professor who gives bad advice but this might be the best one that I gave yet." He chuckles, making you smile.
"Thanks for cheering me up, Professor." you smiled.
"Well, you know me, it's what I do." He winks before turning his back against you and continues to clean his desk. "Oh, and sorry about earlier. Got too carried away but on the plus side, you get to see the cooler side of your dear professor."
"You mean scarier side." The both of you chuckle.
For the rest of the month, your struggle with receiving one bad grade turned into two, then three, then four, but five was your last straw. You knew something was going on here and it's not the computer's fault. You studied ten times harder and yet you still get unacceptable grades in your case. You struggle with keeping up with the lectures but now you're also struggling with dealing with it mentally and emotionally.
If you aren't the smartest kid with high scores in class, then what are you? All your life you've been studying hard to receive praise, but no one was willing to give that to you except for Gojo Satoru, your sweet Professor. Now that you're failing tests over tests, he would often give you a disappointed look and would give you advice.
When it came to the third failing grade you got, you requested Gojo to rescan and recheck your paper. Unfortunately, the result was still the same.
"You didn't think I was sabotaging your grades, did you? Y/N, you know you're my favorite student. I would never do that to you." That's what he told you after that.
Your roommate, Nobara, is worried about your state. She worries about the sleepless nights that you've spent studying, for the constant stress and anxiety consuming you, even going to animal shelters aren't enough to cheer your spirits and you love animals! When Nobara heard about your case, she confronted Professor Gojo. Even though she tried to convince him to recheck your test (which she did), the results are the same. It's clear that you're failing and you can't accept it.
Meanwhile, in Gojo's case, he's hiding the fact that he's amused by your reactions.
Now you're on your way to Gojo's office to confront him about your case and ask him if you can do anything to save your failing grades. You can't come home to a family gathering with your grades looking like this.
"Please, Professor! Is there anything I can do to save my grades? My family will be disappointed in me," you plead. Almost feeling like you could cry. "I really can't accept this even though I want to. I just can't. Please, Professor. I'll do anything."
"Anything, huh?" Gojo takes his gaze away from you before he smirks. "Have you ever touched yourself just by thinking about me?"
Your eyes widen at his question that came out of nowhere. You have, you aren't ashamed of that but admitting that you did to the person that you thought of while touching yourself is difficult and… absurd.
"Uhm… Professor, this is unprofessional. I—"
"Bullshit, Y/N. I know you have a crush on me. Those little skirts that you wear every time you come to class and every time you cross your legs after I call you a good girl, I know you want me, Y/N." Gojo comes closer to your ear, making you feel his hot breath that sends shivers down your spine. "And I happen to see you touching yourself when I went to your dorm…"
"Professor—"
"Satoru," he says. "You'll call me Satoru when we're alone, okay?" he asks and you nod.
"Tell me you want me, Y/N." Satoru leans in closer and closer until you couldn't help but sit on the couch adjacent to his desk. "I bet you have no idea that I want you too, right?"
"Satoru… this isn't right…" you whispered as your breaths grow rapid.
"Do you want me, Y/N?"
"I… I want you, Satoru…" you mumble, followed by a gulp.
You can't say no. You really couldn't since you've always wanted him. You've always wanted Satoru to touch you, to crave for you, and to make you feel his warmth. Satoru is the only person you gave you what you wanted the most; the feeling of being praised and enough. You've always wanted him, and now that you have him, you can't back out now.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks in a whisper tone.
When you nodded, Satoru didn't hesitate to press his lips roughly against yours, making you whimper. His hands wander along your body, your shoulders, your waist, then down to your legs, caressing your thighs gently covered in thigh-high socks. Satoru lifts your skirt as he strokes his long fingers along your legs. His tongue parts your lips, allowing it to sneak inside your mouth, swirling and writhing against yours.
Satoru's lips left yours and went to shower kisses and licks along your neck. Your intoxicating scent is making him more aroused, making him push his body even closer to yours like it's going to make your scent cling to him. Satoru's hands continue to explore your body, cupping your tits in the palm of his hand made you release a whimper.
"Better stay quiet, sweetheart. Don't want others to hear you moaning, right?" Satoru whispers against your ears, making you feel his hot breath touch your skin. "Or do you want that? Tell me, Y/N, do you want others to hear you moaning like a slut? Want them to know that you're fucking your professor? Is that what you want?"
Satoru pulls away from the crook of your neck and stares at your face. His cerulean blue eyes stare deeply into yours until you felt his hands slowly creeping up to your neck until he aggressively held your jaw to make you look at him.
"You better keep quiet if you don't want them to find out you're a slut for your professor," Satoru leans closer to your lips and press his against yours in a gentle manner. "God, you don't know long I waited for this," he whispers against your lips.
"Professor… S-Satoru, you didn't lock the door," you whisper. "What if someone walks in?" you stare up at his eyes.
"Oh? Then we'll give them a show," he smirks before kissing your neck again. "Let them watch, Y/N. Let them see how you're such a slut for me."
This time, Satoru's fingers slowly unbuttons your shirt, exposing your bra. The cold air inside Satoru's office sends shivers along your spine when you felt it touch your exposed chest. Your breaths become more shallow as Satoru continues to suck your neck, leaving hickeys for others to see.
You're gonna have to wear a turtle neck tomorrow if you don't want others to see your hickeys given to you by your dear professor.
"Wait. Wait, Satoru." you protests and push him away from you, which made him back away.
"What is it?" he asks.
"I—I haven't… done this before." you mumble and look away from him and hide your flustered face using the back of your palm.
Satoru's eyes widen when your words echo inside his ears.
"You're a virgin?" he asks. You nod.
He can almost feel himself cum just by hearing that. Does this mean he gets to ruin and break you? Does this mean he's able to corrupt your sweet mind by fucking you dumb and filling you to the brim? Just by thinking that makes him want to rip every cloth clinging to your body right now, bend you over his desk, and fuck you mercilessly. Turns out Suguru is right when he said, "I bet that student of yours is a virgin".
He better treat him a drink later then.
"Don't worry," he whispers. "I'll do all the work."
Satoru removes your shirt and unclasps your bra as he continues to shower your neck with kisses, down to your collarbone, making you look up so he can have more access to your neck. You bite your lower lip to prevent yourself from releasing moans and whimpers.
Satoru's kisses lower down to your chest until his lips sucks one of your nipples, making you whimper. His other hand massages your other breast. Now you're half-naked on your professor's couch as he sucks your nipples, which made your body hot and your pussy throb. As Satoru continues to ravage your tits, he can already feel himself getting hard inside his pants. As much as he wants to fill you up, he also wants to take his time ravaging every part of your body.
"Ahh… feels good…" you moan, forgetting that you're still inside your professor's office and the door is still unlocked.
Satoru doesn't have any classes and is currently on his break for the moment. You, on the other hand, still have another class taught by Suguru Getou. Also another class that you're very active on. You've never been absent in any of his classes. Now he's gonna wonder where you are. But that is the least of your worries now that Satoru is taking of your skirt.
"Oh, you're all soaked for me, huh?" Satoru looks up at you then to your panties that are now soaked with your juices.
His fingers glide along your slit, making let out a moan. Your eyes widen when you realized you had moaned a bit louder that someone from outside could hear it. Your hands immediately cover your mouth but Satoru continues to play with your still covered cunt.
"Nghh… Satoru, please…" you whimper against his touch but he didn't pay attention to your pleas.
Satoru's fingers pull your panties down until it reaches your ankles, revealing your dripping cunt that is now aching for him.
"Holy shit. You're dripping wet for me," he chuckles then stares at your flustered state. You're wearing nothing but your black thigh-high socks that Satoru didn't bother removing. He thinks it added to your sexiness and he isn't wrong.
Satoru's tongue met your wet slit, slowly licking it from bottom to the top. Your hand went to cover your mouth so you could muffle your moans while the other grips his hair. Satoru holds the back of your thighs, making it rest on his shoulder as he devours your cunt aggressively as if it's his last meal. The lewd slurping made by Satoru filled the room while you try your best to muffle your moans, but as soon as he plunges in one finger while he continues to lick and suck your pussy, you lost it.
"Ahh! Fuck…" you moan, which made the man stop and pulls away from your throbbing, dripping pussy. "'m sorry. 'm sorry, sir… didn't mean to—didn't mean to moan."
"I really can't trust you, can I? I told you to keep quiet, right?" Satoru asks and you nod. His hands reach down to your panties and curls it into a ball before making you open your mouth, pushing your panties inside to muffle your moans. "There. Better keep quiet, sweetheart."
Satoru continues to lick your pussy while he fingers you. His tongue alternated between licking, lapping, and sucking your cunt while his finger moves in and out of you. You want to scream his name; want to tell him to make you cum; and want to tell him to fill you up but you can't because of the fabric stopping you from doing so. The only thing you could do is to grip his hair and curl your toes.
"Fuck, you taste so fucking good. So fucking good," he moans and continues to lap your cunt.
Your breathing becomes more shallow as you can feel yourself getting closer and closer into climax. Satoru inserts another finger inside of you while he sucks your clit, making you bit the fabric inside of your mouth. He can already feel your walls tightening, clenching around his fingers, meaning you're getting closer to cumming. Satoru pulls away from licking your cunt and pulls your panties out of your mouth. He presses his lips roughly against yours while three of his fingers move in and out in a rapid pace inside your cunt, creating lewd squelching noises.
Satoru pulls away from the kiss and immediately covers your mouth to prevent you from moaning loudly. You couldn't do anything but pant against him while he kisses your neck. Satoru removes his hand from your mouth but he didn't stop from fingering you.
"Bite on my shoulders, baby, c'mon. You don't want others to come in and see you like this, right?"
You didn't hesitate to bite him on his shoulders to muffle your moans. His fingers move so fast inside of you that you bit so hard, making Satoru wince but he didn't complain as his fingers continue to torture you.
"Satoru… stop—stop, I'm going to—"
"What? You gonna cum? Then do it. Don't hold back." he whispers.
"N-no… I think I'm gonna—fuck—please, Satoru… stop. I'm gonna—" you try to muffle your moans and one of your hands try to stop him from moving his fingers but he didn't. Instead, his fingers got a bit faster. "I'm gonna pee—Satoru, stop!"
Instead of stopping, Satoru smirks and carries on fingering you. You couldn't do anything and just bit his shoulders again to muffle your moans and whimpers. Tears roll down to your cheeks because of the stimulation Satoru is giving you. He knew you were getting close but he kept going until you releas all over his fingers, making you let out a hoarse cry. You were panting so hard and your temple, your neck, your forehead, your body is soaked with your sweat while Satoru's fingers is covered with your juices.
"You did so good for me, Y/N," Satoru whispers on the crook of your neck while you pant and try to catch your breath. The air is hot between the two of you. Sweat dripping down your forehead, down your temple, even your chest is covered with sweat that is clinging to Satoru's shirt.
"I—I didn't know I could…" you pant.
"What? Didn't know you can squirt?" Satoru smirks before giving you a kiss on your forehead despite being covered in sweat. He didn't mind it. "Do you think you can do it again for me?"
You gulp before replying.
"I don't know. 'm tired, 'Toru. Don't think I can—can cum again."
"Why don't you make me cum then?" he smirks. Satoru pulls out his phone and places it on the sofa.
Satoru guides you down until your face meets his bulge. You look up at him before unzipping his pants and pulling it down. You gulp before your hands slowly takes down his boxer that is covering his hard cock. As soon as you did, Satoru's cock sprung free, slapping against his abdomen. A prominent vein runs along the underside of his cock. Its pink tip is throbbing and releasing precum, making you gulp at the sight of how huge he is.
"Go on, sweetheart. Make me cum," he mumbles before getting comfortable on the couch. Both of his arms are spread on the backrest, his cerulean eyes stares down at you as if it's glowing at the sight of seeing you on your knees in front of his cock.
You lean closer and part your lips, lolling your tongue out. Slowly, you lick the tip of Satoru's cock, tasting his cum that coated your tongue. Your action made Satoru bring his head back, resting it on the backrest as he puts one of his hands on your head, gripping your hair. His breathing became shallow while you continue to lick the length of his cock.
Satoru stares down at you, servicing him then to his phone beside him. A smirk crept on his lips before he grabs his phone then opening the camera application, capturing your image of licking cock. Satoru takes a couple more before filming the way you take his cock, making him inhale sharply.
You were oblivious about Satoru filming you. You got tired of licking his length then, slowly, you take in every inch of his hard cock. You try your best not to gag because of how big he is. Your eyes start to produce tears again but you still carry on taking it all. Satoru couldn't help but moan at the feeling of your hot tongue swirling against his length, but he didn't bother covering his mouth with his free hands.
His right hand is holding his phone, filming the sight of you bobbing your head up and down while the other is on the back of your head, gripping your hair and guiding you to take him inside your mouth. When you stare up at Satoru, still continuing to bob your head up and down, your eyes meet his cellphone camera. Satoru smirks at how you look up at him.
Surely he won't share this with anyone else, right?
Well, he actually did. After saving the video, Satoru immediately sent it to Suguru, who is currently teaching.
Satoru put his phone down before he pushes the back of your head so hard, that you were forced to take everything in him. Your nose is buried on his pubic hair and his balls are making contact with your chin, making you gag and a spurt of saliva gushes down the sides of your lips. The tip of Satoru's cock is hitting the back of your throat that you couldn't help but gag again.
"Ahh… fuck. You're taking it all," he chuckles. His fingers curl your hair behind your head, gripping it so tight that you closed your eyes because of the pain stinging your scalp. "Ever wonder how your classmates are going to react when they see the top student fucking her professor? They're gonna start thinking that—fuck—that you're fucking your professor so you can get high grades."
Satoru's words made your heart race when you realize that there's a chance he's going to leak the photos and videos he took earlier. God, he might've already done it. You couldn't do anything but sniff and cry below him as your mind wonders the outcome of Satoru leaking the videos. You're so ruined. Your reputation, your dignity, even your future career might be ruined because of his actions.
His hands grips your hair from behind as he pushes your head and taking it back, making you take his cock in and out of your mouth. Satoru's breathing becomes shallow once more, feeling your hot tongue swirl around his length and the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat that made him moan. He couldn't help it.
"So good… so fucking good," he moans as he continues to bob your head. Satoru's moans and lewd noises fill the room, that you only wish that others won't hear it from outside.
Satoru couldn't help but pick up the pace. The way his hand pushes your head to make you take him became faster, much harder, that he's basically fucking your throat. Your jaw is aching and you're trying your best to not gag against his cock. Tears continue to fall down as he fucks your throat in a merciless pace that his balls are slapping against your chin.
He can already feel himself getting closer into climax. His breathing became shallow, chest going up and down in a rapid pace, while he tries not to moan by biting his lips so hard that blood started to come out of his lips.
"Fuck… fuck, I'm gonna cum. Oh, god—fuck." he moans and as you were about to pull away, Satoru uses his hand to push the back of your head, forcing you to take every inch of him. You couldn't do anything but swallow your professor's cum.
When Satoru pushes your head away, you take his cock out of your mouth that is now covered with your saliva. His fingers wipe away the saliva and cum beside your lips before he grips your jaw to make you look at him.
Satoru couldn't help but smirk at the sight of you kneeling for him, taking his cock, and looking so ruined and helpless. Now he knows what it's like to break you; to ruin you. Tears continue to fall down your cheeks and he realizes that it's not because of his cock gagging you anymore.
"You cryin'?" he asks, the smirk still not disappearing his face. He lets out a chuckle before letting go of your jaw. "God, you look so pretty when you cry."
"So—you're so mean, 'Toru," you sniff.
"Well, being nice and friendly all the time is a bit boring, don't you think?" he chuckles. "Now, bend on the desk like the good girl you are."
"But someone could hear," you mumble.
"Class isn't over in 40 minutes, sweetheart. If you don't wanna get caught, you better keep your mouth shut while I fuck you hard." he smirks before ordering you to bend on the desk again.
You did as Satoru told you. You make your way to his desk and bend your upper body over while your ass is up. Satoru caresses your ass, squeezing it against the palm of his hands, making you moan. The white-haired man stares at you with a disapproving look in his face.
Satoru pumps his cock in his palm before pushing it inside of you. The man couldn't help but moan at the feeling of your tight cunt clenching around his length that he had to cover his mouth with his hand to prevent himself from moaning loud. You, on the other hand, bit your lips as Satoru continues to push his cock inside of you. Tears fall down to your cheeks and you couldn't help but squirm against Satoru.
"Oh, fuck. You're clenching around me, sweetheart," Satoru chuckles, followed by a quiet moan. He leans in and his chest is now against your back as he whispers to you. "You know, as much as I wanna take this slow, someone could come in and see you like this. Might as well make this quick, yeah?" he chuckles before thrusting hard in you.
"Ah! Fuck…!" you shriek, making your eyes widen and immediately cover your mouth when you realized what you had done. "'m sorry, 'm sorry, sir…" you mumble.
Satoru squeezes your cheeks together before whispering in your ear. "I told you not to make a sound, didn't I? God, you're such a fucking brat. Never thought my best student would be this disobedient." Satoru's hot breath sends shivers down your spine.
The man uses his right hand to cover your mouth while he pounds in and out of you in a slow yet hard pace. Every thrust is slow yet it would reach deep inside you. Satoru tries his best to prevent himself from moaning as his thrusts become harder, faster, and deeper.
"Mmph!" You moan against his hand.
"Fuck, fuck! 'm sorry, I couldn't hold it, sweetheart." Just then, Satoru's hands hold both of your hips and thrusts his cock so deep inside you, reaching your cervix that you can see a marked bulge inside your abdomen.
You're small compared to Satoru, that your legs dangles as while he continues to fuck you from behind.
Satoru's thrusts mercilessly inside of you, balls slapping against your ass, creating lewd noises that filled the room while you try not to moan at the top of your lungs. You bit your lip so hard that blood starts to spill out and drip down your chin. It hurts so much that you used your hands to cover your mouth, muffling your moans.
"Ngh! 'Toru, 'toru! Hurts… it hurts…" you whine in a muffled tone but that doesn't stop you from chanting his name again and again. "Oh, god. Oh, god. Sir…! Aah!"
Because of your whining, Satoru grips your hair and pulls you to him, your back is now against his chest and his head on the crook of you neck as he drills his cock inside of you. Your back arched against his, showing his bulge inside of your abdomen every time he thrusts inside. Satoru's hand covered your mouth but it still wasn't enough to stop you from moaning.
The head of his cock keeps hitting on that sweet spot of yours each time his hips would meet yours. You close your eyes tight and tears fall down your cheeks as you can feel yourself getting closer and closer into reaching your climax again.
"Shit—you're clenching around me. You gonna cum? Come on, then, cum for me. Cum on this cock, baby." Satoru doesn't stop thrusting as he whispers those words to you.
You're so close into reaching your orgasm, so close that you can practically see stars until Satoru thrusted so deep, which finally made you cum around his cock. The man quickly pulls out and pumps his cock, his cum is now on your back.
"You don't think I'm done yet, do you?" he smirks before manhandling you and turning you around. He picked up your panties on the floor, curls it into a ball and shoves it inside your mouth. Satoru made you lie on your back on his desk and put both of your legs on his shoulder before thrusting into you again.
"Mmph!" you wince and close your eyes tightly.
Satoru didn't waste a time and continues to fuck you in a merciless pace. Your body is going go give up any minute now because you came so many times and Satoru's not yet finished with you. You don't even think that he gave you a break.
"Nggh! Mmph! 'Toru!"
It hurts! He's so big, I can't take it anymore!
Satoru chuckles at the sight of you being fucked dumb by his cock and he's not going to let this moment pass without capturing it. Satoru picks up his phone on the shaking table beside you and opens the camera app and starts filming you as he fucks your aching pussy.
When you realized what he's doing, you turn your head to the sides in hopes of not capturing your face. But Satoru grips your jaw and turns your head to his direction as he continues to film you.
"God, Y/N, you're such a slut for me. What would the entire university think if I—fuck—if I shared this to everyone, huh?" he chuckles while you cry beneath him.
Using his other hand, Satoru holds both of your wrists and places it on top of your head to stop you from squirming so much against him. The camera of his phone left your face then turns to the lewd sight of his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy.
Satoru puts the phone down and uses his free hand to rub your aching clit while still pumping his cock inside you. You shriek and arch your back because of the overstimulation. Satoru's touch made you cum so hard that it spills against his abdomen. Your try to catch your breathing while Satoru pulls out and pumps his cock again, spilling his cum all over your stomach.
"You did good for me, sweetheart," he mumbles before giving you a kiss on your forehead. "Now, let's clean you up." he says and takes the box of tissue sitting on his desk.
Satoru gently cleans his cum on your stomach, on your back, then your aching cunt. He removes your panties from your mouth before giving you a passionate kiss. You kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck.
"I wasn't too rough, was I?" he asks.
"Uhm, I—I like it when you're rough," you mumble, making him smile.
Just when you're about to kiss him again, you heard the door suddenly open, making your eyes widen, but that wasn't Satoru's reaction, no. In fact, a smirk grows on his face when he sees the person coming in.
"God, Satoru, you're such a whore. Done, already?" Your other professor with long, raven-hair tied in man bun walks in. Professor Getou Suguru.
"Perfect timing, Suguru. We're just about to start again." Satoru chuckles, which made your eyes widen as you look at your professors.
"What?" you mumble but was ignored by both men.
"Count me in then," Suguru says before loosening his tie.
Tags/Warnings: chubby!Reader, Bully!Gojo, Bully!Geto, pwp, smut, noncon, dubcon, verbal bullying, face fucking, oral, PiV sex, spit roasting, a smidge of anal play, masturbation, kissing, fondling, dacryphilia, possessiveness, jealousy, threats.
✨Masterlist✨
Nobody thought of Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru as bullies.
Sure, they might have been arrogant and a bit mean, but they were the golden duo of your school. Rich, smart, handsome, and seemingly perfect, the two were loved and adored by students and teachers alike.
So naturally, the mean comments they threw around were nothing more but innocent teasing. The pushes and shoves were playful at most, or at least that's what everyone used to say.
But you…you knew better.
You didn't remember when or how it all started. You just knew that one day, you had become the focus of most of their "good-natured" teasing.
Nobody batted an eye at their newly found interest—although it seemed like an obsession more than anything—and as time passed, their small insults easily led to more physical things—which was how you ended up in an empty classroom, pinned to the wall, with Gojo's lean body molded to yours. His hips were thrusting his hard cock into your soft belly and his big hands were digging into the fat flesh of your ass.
Geto was seated on the teacher's desk, a few feet away from the two of you, watching how his friend molest you, lazily pulling at his cock.
"I wanna see her tits," he said, shuffling on the hardwood to make himself more comfortable.
"Tsk. Fine." Gojo pulled away and your hands instantly went to your chest, trying to cover it, but he pried your arms away and, with a chuckle, ripped your blouse open. Buttons flew in all directions, one even hitting Geto in the cheek and making him frown.
"Careful now," he admonished, but his eyes were already focusing on your breasts. Gojo rolled his eyes, but quickly turned to the task at hand—he grabbed the cups of your white bra and pulled them down, forcing your tits to bounce out for Geto to enjoy.
"Fuck. Now that's more like it." he nodded appreciatively, his hand resuming the jerking motion on his thick cock.
"Hear that, fatty? Geto likes your tits. Why don't you get closer so he can get a better look?" Gojo smirked at the way you flinched and roughly pulled you off the wall, pushing you towards the teacher's desk.
As if reading Gojo's mind, Geto's foot slid off the chair in front of him, and you were shoved on it, almost falling off if not for Geto, who grabbed your elbow to steady you.
You were kneeling on the small chair, your body slotted between the brunette's muscular thighs. Gojo put a hand in the middle of your back and pushed you forward, forcing you to bend at the waist and fall face first in his friend's lap.
With your ass high up in the air and your tits pressed on Geto's thick thighs, your lips were just inches away from his uncut dick.
Gojo flipped your skirt and started kneading your fat ass, his eyes so heavily lidded the blue was barely perceptible.
"God you're such a slut, whoring yourself for us," Gojo pulled your panties to the side and licked his lips at the sigh of your juicy pussy.
"I'm not," you shouted, tears burning your eyes and a deep blush flushing your cheeks. You wanted to turn your head and glare at the man behind you, but Geto grabbed your hair, keeping you in place.
"Eyes on me, pretty," Geto said, tapping the tip of his cock on your cheek twice.
Gojo snickered and rolled his eyes, his fingers slipping under your panties and rubbing your folds. Geto had always tried to play the good guy of the two when in reality, he was just as bad as he was—if not worse.
Two of Gojo's long fingers wiggled in your cunt, setting a slow, teasing pace. You gasped at the intrusion and Geto took the opportunity to place the head of his cock on your lower lip.
"Lick," he ordered and when you whimpered in refusal, Gojo smacked one of your ass cheeks hard, making it bounce and jiggle.
"Stop whining. I saw you deep-throating that ice pop during lunch. Who the fuck gave you that anyway?" Gojo asked and smacked you again when you refused to answer.
"It was that boy, Ichigo. I think he has a little crush on our little bunny." For anybody who didn't know him, Geto's laugh was easygoing, playful even, but Gojo could easily see his friend's eye twitch in annoyance.
"Oh? Who on Earth would he have a crush on her? Is he blind or just plain stupid," Gojo said, a sadistic grin pulling the corner of his lip when he felt your body flinch again at his insults.
"Who knows. But even stupid monkeys learn their place once they are beaten up a bit." Geto chucked and your stomach dropped at the thought of poor Ichigo ganged up and beaten to a pulp by these two thugs.
"No! Please don't hurt him," you cried out, wiggling even more to get out of their grasp.
Hearing your words and seeing the concern you had for this random fucking boy made something in Geto flip. The light in his eyes flickered out, but the smile stayed glued to his face, like a poorly made mask of clay.
"Uh-oh! Now you're gonna get it," Gojo sing-sang, his eyes sparkling in delight, contrasting Geto's lifeless gaze.
Geto steadied his grip on your hair, and pulled roughly, craning your head so you were forced to face his dead eyes and cold smile. A shiver of fear shook your body and your pussy tightened around Gojo's fingers, who hadn't stopped pumping into your cunt for one second since they pushed you on the chair.
"Why? Do you like him?" Geto asked, and you wanted to shake your head but his grip on your hair didn't allow any room for movement.
"No, I don't! But he's always so nice t-" Geto's cock roughly slapped your cheek, making you stop dead in your tracks and following suit, Gojo delivered another painful hit on your ass.
"You wanna say we're not nice to you? How ungrateful," Geto tutted and Gojo's eyes flickered towards his friend—he had to be careful when Geto got like this. After all, he didn't want his friend to ruin their favourite toy.
"Nobody would look twice at you if we wouldn't hang out with you." Geto yanked your hair and when you gasped in pain, he shoved his cock into your mouth.
"But since you think we're so mean with you...then lemme show you what mean really looks like." Geto's hips snapped up, making you choke with his cock.
Tears immediately gathered on your lower lashline, falling one after the other on your cheeks as the tip of Geto's cock hit the back of your throat.
Gojo tsked lightly, his fingers stilling and pulling out to concentrate on your clit instead. He didn't plan on being this rough with you today, but he couldn't help but feel like you had been asking for it—after all, you did know just how possessive they could get over you.
"Do you think those ugly bitches would be friends with you if they didn't want to get close to us?" Geto pushed your head down, forcing more than half of his cock into your mouth. You tried covering your teeth with your lips just like he had taught you, but it was impossible to do so when he was forcefully bobbing your head so fast over his cock.
"Do you think these pathetic boys would wanna fuck you if they didn't know you are our whore?" he continued, slowly losing his composure, the model student image he was trying so hard to upkeep in front of everybody crumbling away in the face of his searing jealousy.
You gurgled around his cock, trying to protest, tears and snot and drool dripping down his cock and tickling his balls.
Gojo slowly unbuckled his pants, pulling down his zipper and fishing out his hard cock out of his boxers. Collecting some of your slick in his hand, he rubbed himself up and down a couple of times and then aligned his member with your entrance, slowly sinking it in and making your body shudder at the stretch.
"Fuck yea. For a whiny little bitch you sure have a tight lil' cunt," Gojo moaned, fucking into your pussy, gaining more speed with each rut of his hips.
"She's got the best pussy. That's why she's our little pain slut. Isn't that right?" Geto asked, knowing that you won't be able to answer him, not when more and more of his cock was being forced down your throat.
That didn't mean you didn't try—you garbled around Geto's dick, trying to tell them to stop, but the man only shivered in delight at the sensation of your throat vibrating around his cock.
Finally, he shoved all of his cock down your throat and held you there, making sure your nose was buried in his pubes so you could smell his musky scent.
While Geto was making sure you choke with his cock, Gojo was pounding you from behind, his fingers digging into your plush hips. Your tummy was jiggling at the power of his thrusts and you couldn't help but start whining in pain. Your hands began hitting Geto's thighs, and you even tried to scratch and pinch the man, but the only response you got was a bone-chilling laugh.
Only when Geto noticed each one of your hits reducing in strength and your eyes fluttering rapidly did he pull you off of his cock. You coughed and sputtered, trying to take in as much air as you could, your drool connecting your puffy lips to his glossy cock.
"Now, now, don't fall asleep on me. You still haven't made me cum," Geto teased, patting your head while you cried over his cock, struggling to breathe.
Gojo was now languidly fucking you, watching the scene from above and shaking his head in a faux disapproving manner.
"Now, if you promise you'll be good and stop talking to that boy Ichigo, imma let you suck my dick all on your own. What do you say?" Geto bargained, but all three of you knew that no matter what you said, you were not going to talk to Ichigo from there on.
Feeling like you couldn't talk anymore, all you could do was nod, and Geto let out a relieved breath, a real smile gracing his lips once more.
"That's my girl," he said, caressing your face and tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear.
"Our. You mean our girl," Gojo corrected and the two men locked eyes. His cock stilled inside you and your body tensed. There was a silent moment before Geto nodded in agreement, the easygoing smile still stuck on his plump lips.
"Sorry. It slipped out. Our girl," he moved his dark gaze to your tear-stricken face and his eyes softened just a fraction. "Come on now, if you make us come then maybe we'll let you finish as well."
He patted your head and winked, but you knew his words were just empty threats. They always made you come—in fact, ripping orgasm after orgasm from your tired and overstimulated pussy seemed to be one of their favorite activities.
You croaked out an 'okay', tired of fighting them for the day—you weren't going to win either way, so why bother?
You leaned down and kissed the tip of Geto's cock, pulling down the foreskin so your tongue could lick his head round. Geto's eyelashes fluttered and he watched you closely, his breaths coming out heavy. This was such a big contrast from the throat fucking he forced on you.
Gojo chucked at the love-stricken look Geto had on his face, not realizing he had the same damn look whenever he was alone with you.
He started fucking you, his fat balls swinging and hitting your clit repeatedly, all while his hand kneaded your rolls. Geto's hand came to rest on your head, no longer pushing you down and making you choke on his cock, but allowing you to control the speed with which you sucked on his member.
You nibbled the sides of Geto's cock before going down on him, taking half of his dick in one go. One of your hands tightened around the base and started moving together with the bobbing of your head.
Gojo released your rolls and with a mischievous grin, licked his thumb, making sure it was nice and slick and, pulling at one of your asscheeks, he prodded your ass' tight ring of muscle.
You yelped when his thumb popped in and Geto shushed you, a benevolent expression on his face.
"Just concentrate on sucking my cock," He ordered and you hummed, breathing through your nose and trying to take more of Geto's dick in your mouth so you could make him come and make yourself forget of the unwanted intrusion.
"That's right, that's a good girl. See, you can be good at something if you put your mind to it," Geto teased and Gojo snorted, the rest of his long fingers gripping your ass, watching how the flesh spilled between them.
"The only thing she's good at is being our cumdump," Gojo said, his thumb starting to fuck your ass in tandem with his cock.
You sucked on Geto's dick harder, their insults bringing tears in your eyes and making your stomach tighten uncomfortably. You wanted this to be over so you could run back to your dorm and hide away from them for the weekend, but to do that, you needed to finish them off.
Your hips started bouncing on Gojo's dick and he moaned appreciatively. His other hand traveled from your tummy to your clit and he began flickering it, no doubt repaying your efforts to satisfy him.
"Ah, that's fucking right. I'm so close," he groaned and Geto smirked, his own hips thrusting up unconsciously, looking for his own release.
You let the two men use your body and concentrated on the feeling of Gojo's fingers rubbing on your clit. Each flicker made your mind hazier and your muscles contracted more and more the closer you came to your orgasm.
Gojo pinged your nub and rolled it between his fingers, all while he pulled his thumb out of your ass and that proved to be enough stimulation to make you cream on his cock.
Your pussy spasmed around him, making his hips stutter and you moaned around Geto's dick.
"Fuck," Gojo screamed, his cock jumping in your pussy, shooting shot after shot of cum and painting your cervix white. He grabbed his balls and squeezed, making sure he emptied every last drop in his favourite cumdump before he slowly pulled out and fell on a chair behind him.
Geto pulled you off his dick and ordered you to jerk him off, which you promptly did, glad to have a break from sucking cock.
"Shit, close your eyes and open your mouth," he said with a sense of urgency and you obeyed, his hand coming over yours and helping you masturbate his flushed member.
It didn't last long until you felt ropes of hot cum hit your cheeks and forehead. A shot of cum hit your tongue and you closed your mouth, making a show of swallowing Geto's cum.
"Good girl," Geto breathed out a laugh and caught you when he felt you slump on the chair, ready to melt and be one with the floor.
He hoisted you up and pulled you in his arms and kissed your temple gently, making sure not to wipe his cum off your face.
You looked so damn pretty, tears, and snot, and drool and cum mixing on your face and dripping down your tits.
Your arms rounded his neck, holding Geto like a lifeline, and Gojo got up from his seat so he could come closer and hug you from behind.
You were trapped between the two and you wanted to hide your face in Geto's neck, but quickly remembered the spanking you got the last time you soiled their uniforms with their cum.
The three of you stayed there for a few minutes, neither daring to break the silence. The contrast between all of their insults and manhandling and whatever this was made your head swim and you didn't want to think about what it all meant.
You tried staying still, but your face and pussy felt grossly overused and dirty and you just wanted to get home and sleep, so you shifted a bit, jolting the two back to reality.
"Come on, let's take you back to your dorm." Geto said, pushing Gojo away and making him pout. He parted from you with a peck on your head and you wanted to pull away from Geto, but he promptly stopped you.
The brunette grabbed your chin and tilted your head so you could look up at him, and with a gentle smile, he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe up your face. Once cleaned, he leaned in and kissed you, tasting himself on your lips and moaning at the perversity of all of it.
Gojo watched the two of you kiss, the pang of jealousy getting more intense with each second that passed. Not being able to keep up the pretense, he ripped your body away from Geto, turning you and making your head spin. His lips crashed into yours and Geto huffed lightly, shaking his head at his friend's antics.
He allowed the two of you to kiss for a few minutes, taking the chance to shrug the school jacket off his back and fold it in his lap for you to wear on your way out.
Once Gojo was done with you, Geto dressed you up in his jacket, packing your torn shirt into his bag so he could add it to his little collection.
The two lead you to your dorm and you rushed into your room, relieved by the two-day break you were getting from the two. The door closed quickly behind you and the two men headed to their own dorm, throwing each other looks and smiling mischievously, a copy of your room's key safely tucked in Gojo's pocket—it was truly incredible the things money could buy, and in this case, they bought him full-time access to your room.
And they couldn't wait to see your face fall when the doors to your safe haven would unlock, only to reveal your two bullies.
pairings. hitto kakucho x fem!reader, haitani ran x fem!reader
cw. aftermath of divorce, suicide ideations, mentions of illnesses, mentions of pregnancy, explicit smut, heavy angst, mentions of food, mentions of past sexual assault, suggestive content
╳ playlist ╳ masterlist
#7 — in loving memory (part 1)
Time was immeasurable and it slowly trickled by with the speed of dripping molasses.
At least, that was what it seemed like to Ran Haitani.
Like how you discarded him, time circled around his lax form, the ceiling spinning in circles from one too many shots he had ingested. The days bled into nightfall, and it blurred into weeks. Soon, it was close to a month since he last saw you in that makeshift hospital room.
In this travesty that made up the love story between you and Kakucho, he was the villain that marked a pivotal chapter in both your marriage. The heinous bad guy that stole the princess from her rightful prince. Bitterly, he scoffed. His thoughts were distracted as he swirled the amber liquid in his shot glass that not even the sight of the half-naked woman dozing off next to him after a full night of exertion could lift his mood.
She was just another distraction.
A pretty face to blur yours out. A warm body to keep him company through the lonely nights when his guard was down.
Once upon a time, he was starting to get used to the fact that he was somebody you could have love. And now…
Now, you wouldn't even speak to him.
Your mother was no help, either. She told him that you had cut all contact with the family and practically dropped off the face of the earth. The other Bonten executives (minus Kakucho who was still knee-deep in his mission), had absolutely no idea where you were.
Where are you hiding, Y/N? His lips pulled into a sneer. Where did you go? The woman stirred next to him, momentarily halting his sardonic thoughts when he felt her press soft kisses onto his bare chest.
“Haitani-san.”
She shifted so that she was straddling his lap. Ran had to admit she was gorgeous, but the main reason why he had picked her up from the selection of whores in the brothel wasn’t because of her good looks or even passable efforts in bed. Her pretty fingers splayed across his abdomen, a delicate silver bracelet adorning her right wrist made something in his chest tightened.
Hands that looked exactly like yours.
Ran was a goner when she skimmed those pretty palms over his chest, past his tattoos, smoothing down his toned stomach and straight to his stirring cock.
So far gone that he almost didn’t hear his phone ring.
“One second,” he grunted against her lips. Reaching for his phone, he didn’t look at the screen, too focused on how those familiar hands rubbed up and down his thighs, before grasping the base of his cock and pumping lightly.
Clearing his throat, he spoke into the receiver. “Hello?”
There was static silence on the other end and his ears pricked, a trickle of suspicion making him almost end the call before he heard it.
A soft exhale.
To anyone else, it would’ve been written off as a weird prank call, but Ran sensed with every fibre of his being who it was on the other end. His hunch was further proven correct when an errant sniffle caught his attention. He flicked the whore’s wandering hands away from his lap, every muscle in his body taut with tension.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
The silence pervaded. The woman was now on her knees in front of him, plump lips ghosting over his weeping tip. Trying in vain to steal his attention back to her no matter how many times he batted her advances away.
“Ran.”
His heart sank all the way to his stomach. Pushing the other woman aside, he stood up from the bed, ignoring her muted cry of indignation.
“Y/N.”
You didn’t answer him. You didn’t have to.
He knew you were crying; knew it like he knew the back of his hand or that the sun was bright or that night would always replace day. As much as he tried so hard to deny it, Haitani Ran knew you.
Which was why he was cognizant of the fact that for you to call him after all that he had done, it meant something terrible had happened.
“Where are you?” he exhaled quickly. “We’re all worried sick—your mother hasn’t heard from you. What happened? Are you still in Shanghai?”
Another bout of quiet greeted him. He felt a soft touch on his back and he turned around with a glare, telling the whore without words to stop it before he cut his generosity short and kicked her back out to the streets where she belonged.
She shrank back, suitably chastised and wrapped the blankets around her naked breasts.
“C-can’t,” you whimpered, and he held his breath. “C-can’t tell you where I am.”
“Are you hurt?”
Something that sounded like a choked sob. Ran pressed the phone harder to his ear, growing more desperate by the second. “Baby, please. You have to use your words, okay? Please just tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you. I want to put this all behind, okay? You—” he swallowed hard. “You’re still my good friend and I care for you, Y/N. Just tell me where you are and I’ll take you home.”
A hitched breath and he could just picture you pressing the heel of your palm against your mouth to stop from sobbing. You were always someone who hid your true emotions in favour of never making anyone else uncomfortable, and in this instance, Ran hated how much you were tormenting him by never letting others past your defences.
“Y/N, I’m not fuckin’ around—”
“I’m sorry,” your muffled whisper was filled with pain. “For everything. For leading you on. For hurting you. I’m so sorry, Ran.”
Sensing that this conversation was coming to a close, Ran quickly slipped on his white-button down, pushing his lilac bangs from his face. “Don’t you dare put the phone down on me, L/N Y/N. I’m coming for you whether you like it or not—”
“Thank you for being my friend.” His blood ran cold at the implications of what you were trying to tell him. It sounded as if… no. He could never think that.
You weren’t going to do it—you were not going to pull a Kakucho and end your life. Not if he could help it. “I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I once thought I did, Haitani Ran. Goodbye.”
“Baby—”
The dial tone rang like a siren in his ears, your call leaving him with more questions than answers. His thoughts crashed all around him, and he almost forgot he had company over when he slammed the phone onto a nearby desk, cursing under his breath. Your face swam in his mind and he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down before he did something stupid.
“Haitani-san?”
Snapping his gaze to the wide-eyed woman, he scoffed.
“You’re still here?” In his most biting tone, he gestured at the door, lilac eyes flat and unyielding. “Well? You waiting for me to roll out the red carpet or something? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Tokyo’s skyline has never looked this beautiful.
Truly, Kakucho couldn’t have picked a better time to fly back to his homeland, every passing second filling him with anticipation for when he would walk on Japanese soil again. From the sunbeams bouncing off the glinting sea to the sprawling patchwork of roads, skyscrapers and houses alike unfurling below him, it all beckoned him back home with arms wide open.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be touching down Narita airport in a few more minutes. Please make sure to fasten your seatbelts and lift your trays back to its original position…”
A smiling stewardess passed by, her calm voice chiming for the passengers in first class to pass her any unused headphones. She stopped by Kakucho’s seat and he gave her a small smile.
“Kojiro-san, do you need anything else before we suspend our in-flight services?”
“No, thank you,” he said, and bowed his head slightly. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Ah,” she flashed her pearly whites. “Are you excited to meet your family?”
Kakucho tried to not let his expression fall. “Yes,” he lied smoothly, the action easy enough to pass off after weeks of pretending to be someone he was not.
In Shanghai, he was known as Tanaka Kojiro, a Japanese businessman born in Guangzhou who had a deal to make with a rival company; a man who was Choi Li Yan’s lover whose father happened to be the leader of the Blood Phoenixes a.k.a his primary target for the whole mission.
After weeks of wearing another man’s story, name and witnessing more bloodshed than he was accustomed to, Kakucho was more than ready to return to himself.
“I can’t wait to see them.”
Once she disappeared, the scarred man exhaled, sinking back into his plush seat. Mikey didn’t have to go all out and get him a first class spot for a three hour flight. But then again, the head of Bonten could be generous when he wanted if someone exceeded his expectations.
Not only had Kakucho came back in one piece, but Bonten now had a foothold in Shanghai, a city Takeomi deemed a fuckin’ pain in the ass to even consider as part of their expansion plans. The right people were dead and an operations team was set up there to handle exports of a latest strand of ecstasy that had the potential to boost their organisation’s returns by tenfold.
In short, he would soon be swimming in more money than he knew what to do with.
Perhaps, Kakucho mused, he could finally go on a quiet holiday alone to catch up on some reading. Or, sleep. Whichever struck his fancy first.
Soon, the plane had touched down and he was greeted by a familiar black sedan. A head of platinum blonde hair bobbed out from the tinted interior and made his way towards him down the private jet stretch. The leader of Bonten welcomed him back with a pat on his shoulder.
“Kaku-chan.” It had been so long since someone called by his real name. Those bottomless eyes studied his face, catching on new faded scars and a few bruises that he tried hard to hide with some spare concealer to not alert the airline staff. “You look well.”
“So do you, Mikey-san,” Kakucho retorted and lifted his eyes to the distance where a fleet of sports cars signified the upper echelons of Bonten waiting to greet him for his victory. Like a war hero welcomed back to his homeland, his fellow executives thumped his back, drawing him into raucous hugs, and even Takeomi clasped his face, shaking him lightly with an unlit cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. Everyone was there—except for one.
“Where’s Ran?”
He noted how the Kokonoi’s expression became uneasy. It was a fleeting sheen of perturbation that disappeared from his sharp eyes the moment Kakucho paid it more attention.
“Koko?”
“He’s not here,” the other man cleared his throat. “He’s in the countryside.”
Kakucho wanted to prod deeper, questions of whether it was a mission on the tip of his tongue, but Mochi had dragged him to his car, and later, to his club where the men were unwinding in the strobbing VIP room.
Nights like these were rare—nights where Mikey gave them free rein to do whatever they wanted. Fuck whoever they wanted. Snort illegal substances and drown themselves in alcoholic fumes until they couldn't lift their heads. These were his best men. And when they brought back a big cut of money that had the yen signs in Koko’s head pinging like pinballs, who was he to tell them that they couldn't indulge?
Which was why when a gorgeous blonde approached him, he didn’t say ‘no’. Didn’t push her away when she straddled his lap, her cherry-red lips brushing his ear, whispering everything she wanted to do to him. The men hooted and hollered, Mochi paying for his first lap dance back home, and he went all in—tucking bands into the thin strands of her neon pink bra and thong. Feeling himself hardened under her gyrating hips.
He truly wanted to give into the need; it had been too far long since he had felt a woman’s walls clinging to his cock. The last time…
No.
Kakucho shook off the thoughts of you, greedily drinking in the woman’s curves and how he could inhale her perfume from the hollow of her neck. You were out of sight, out of mind. He shouldn’t even be giving a damn about his ex-wife in the first place. Not when a very willing and gorgeous woman was about to let him fuck her.
“Kaku-san,” she breathed his name and his dick jumped in anticipation. “Touch me.”
He did—running his hands down her shapely curves, gripping the globes of her ass, so close to their lips touching when she was wrenched from his lap. In hazy elation fuelled by alcohol, a familiar face notched with a glare was staring down at him. He was instantly sobered, feeling like someone had kneed him in the gut at the sight of the man who had once stolen the love of his life away from him.
“Ran,” he slurred, unsteadily getting to his feet. “Fuckin’—whad’ya-hic-doing here?”
Before he could move forward, whether to grip the lapels of Ran’s suit in anger for being sorely cockblocked or to clasp his shoulder in a warm greeting of a truce, he was dragged out of the VIP room. Down the stairs, past the pulsating dance floor, and straight into an alley where the thumping music and rowdy voices dimmed into the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his laboured breathing.
“Haitani—”
“Shut up.”
Kakucho instantly froze at the vitriol in his tone. Caution alarms in his mind warned him that Ran was up to no good. “Where are we going—?”
“You need to see Y/N.”
Flat, unemotional. Ran’s monotonous voice did little to assuage the flutter your name could bring. But Kakucho ignored that little lurch in his heart, scoffing lightly.
“Are you here to gloat?”
A chill pervaded around both men. Ran’s shoulders were tight, his frown deep.
“No. It’s not what you think it is.”
Bonten’s number 3 turned his stony gaze to his comrade, the lack of emotion in those heterochromatic eyes making Ran falter. The only time he had ever seen Kakucho look this unmoving was when he was about to make a kill. “Whatever is going on between you and Y/N—I don’t fucking care. Keep me out of it.”
“Kakucho, listen—” Ran tried to grip his bicep to hold him back, but the raven-haired man was faster. He whipped out his Glock, pointing it right at the Bonten tattoo on his throat.
Son of a bitch. It wasn’t enough that Haitani Ran had taken away the one good thing he had in this life. He also had to make it a fucking sport to rub it in his face. But, Kakucho was not the same heartbroken man from before; he had found his worth from this mission. How his true purpose in life was to serve Mikey before anyone else.
A slave doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need to be burdened by these pesky emotions. All he needed was to do his job well. The gun dug deeper into Ran’s neck. A slave had no need for love.
Ran gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Kaku-chan—”
“She’s your fucking wife now,” he spat. “Your problem. Not mine. Don’t ever say her name around me again, Haitani.”
Kakucho stowed his gun back into his coat pocket, and turned around, about to walk away when Ran’s next words staked him to one spot.
“We never got married.”
He paused, muddled mind going over the implications of Ran’s statement. If his comrade hadn’t married you… then what happened?
There was one piece of the puzzle that Kakucho could never figure out—and that was why you had flown all the way to Shanghai to find him. The one time he could evade Choi Li Yan’s clutches long enough to call you from a public phone booth was also the only time your phone had ever disconnected.
Minus the messages and efforts to win you back after Okinawa after your accident, you had never once switched off your phone to his calls. Always ready to hear from him. You were never one to cut off the communication lines and that thought alone was perturbing.
But, he never got a chance to ask Ran what he meant. The taller man had slinked into the shadows, disappearing back into the club.
For the next few days, he failed to show up for meetings. Even Rindou had no explanation for what was going on with his brother. The tension between the executives had gotten bad enough that Ran’s words at the club still haunted his thoughts and Kakucho broke his self-imposed rule to not reach out to you. Trying everything he could to get a hold of you and confirm everything that Haitani had told him.
But, it seemed as if you had dropped off the face of the earth.
For starters, the home that he had left in your name was back on the market, his lawyer telling him that you had passed up on the rights to the upscale penthouse. He still tried your phone, but it always ended on a click.
One time, he got desperate enough to drive past your parent’s house, but the thought of their judgemental gaze on him was enough to deter that thought. Y/N, where are you?
The morbid curiosity eventually caved him in, and he didn’t care how he would be perceived—all he needed was to know that you were safe.
He eyed the little terrace house with its wooden gates and weathered beams. The first ever home he had been welcomed into after his marriage to you. The heels of his sandals made crisp clicks on the cobblestone pavement as he made his way to the front door.
Kakucho knocked on the chipped wood, and when your mother appeared at the door, he almost teared up at the sight of her face, the lines of it so familiar to yours. How can I still not be over her?
Your mother’s shock melted into disbelief and she clasped her hands in front of her stained apron, faltering when she mustered the courage to look him in the eyes.
“Kaku-chan. What’re you doing here?”
“I-I came to ask if Y/N was okay,” he made up a lie on the spot. “The monthly alimony money I sent was declined on her end and I came to check up if everything was good with her.”
The effect was immediate. Your mother’s face crumpled, and her eyes scintillated with fresh tears.
Kakucho had always held his ex-mother-in-law in high regard as a strong woman who took no shit from anyone. It was where you got your headstrong attitude and boldness. Seeing her sniff and dash at her tears like a heartbroken little girl set off pangs of worry in his chest and he took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed.
“We don’t know. Y/N has not contacted us for almost two months.”
Kakucho’s heart sank at her next words. “The last we heard, she was in Shanghai.” Your mother swallowed hard, bunching the apron in her fists. Hopelessness was written in every crevice on her lined face. “She mentioned wanting to meet you there to tell you that her memories were back. Did you see her?”
Your mother was eager now, trying to glean any semblance of your well-being from the shell shocked man.
“Is my Y/N okay?”
You have to remember who I am! I was your wife! We were married for three years and then I had the accident and—
Kakucho’s head was spinning. He mumbled something under his breath and staggered away from the door. Your mother called his name once, twice, three times, but he didn’t respond. Locked in replaying your wet eyes and his careless words. How you had begged for him to come back and he had been forced to dismiss you to not blow his cover.
The guilt mingled with bile in the back of his throat and he numbed himself to the cresting wave of panic as he drove straight to Kokonoi’s penthouse. Took himself up the lift and knocked on the lavish, ivory door. When Koko answered him in a rich, maroon-velvet bathrobe, fresh out of his shower, Kakucho didn’t even apologize. He waltzed past the stunned treasurer, and stayer rooted in the middle of the large foyer with his head bent low.
“Kakuc—”
“Are my wife’s memories back?”
The silence resonated loudly in the cavernous white room. Kakucho lifted his eyes up to catch the flicker of uncertainty in Koko’s sharp ones.
“Well?” he muttered hoarsely. “When were you going to tell me? Why is everyone keeping me in the dark?”
“I didn’t know if it was my place—”
“Bullshit,” Kakucho growled, advancing towards the shorter man with malice in his steps. Despite him being one of the strongest fighters in Bonten, Koko could still hold himself against him. The silver-haired treasurer didn’t back down, matching his glare with a frown of his own.
“Kaku-chan. You practically escaped Tokyo to never see your wife. Pardon me if I didn’t tell you about her well-being when it is clear you didn’t want to hear about her ever again.”
Koko’s words felt like a slap. He stayed mute, staring at the shine of his sandals. “Help me find her.”
From his periphery, the other man shook his head. “If you want to find her, I’m not the one you should be talking to.” Kakucho pieced two and two together from Koko’s implicit words. Ran. He needed to find Ran if he wanted to find you.
Rindou had mentioned that the older Haitani was somewhere in the countryside and Kakucho wracked his brains for the name of the prefecture, eventually texting the youngest brother for the name on a pretense of a work-related question.
Barely even a minute later, Rindou texted back: He’s in Yakushima.
A memory tugged in his mind. Of your words you told him in a different lifetime. We should go to Yakushima; my grandma has a holiday home there.
The more he ruminated on it, the more it made sense. You had wanted to escape the city, and which better place to do it than the very tip of Japan where it would take five hours just to reach that tiny island by plane? That would also explain Ran’s prolonged disappearance.
Flights to Yakushima were scattered during the day, and he booked the earliest one that would depart in four hours. Koko hovered around while he was busy typing on his phone, and once done, Kakucho glanced at him. “I’ll be leaving for Yakushima. Get someone to cover for me, please.”
Hajime opened his mouth, but no words escaped. The look on Kakucho’s face made it abundantly clear that he was not to be deterred. Leaving the shell-shocked treasurer spluttering, he left the pristine penthouse and trudged back to his car. Having packed just the essentials from his hotel room, he departed for the airport a little over a few days since he had arrived back. This time, rather than to abandon you, it was to see you again.
Worry compressed like a heavy weight in his chest. This was not like you. The woman he knew would never have left her parents hanging without a word of her whereabouts. Even the lie he concocted on the spot—that you were not accepting his alimony money—was true when he reviewed his banking statements again.
Your phone was disconnected, your accounts were all frozen. It was like you had ceased to exist.
And that was one thought that made him shiver. This was not like you.
He had to find out the truth before it was too late. Whatever the truth was as long as he could make sure you were safe.
That was the least he could do as someone you used to call a husband. Call it his last duty to you, but he would fulfill it no matter what it took.
Which was how he found himself right in the heart of Yakushima. The cold, mountain air did little to assuage his nerves and as he drove the rented car down winding roads, he found himself thinking what it would be like to see you again.
Did you change? Were you well?
Those thoughts swirled in his mind and he found himself unable to think straight. Every flutter of his nerves went right to his jaded heart. He didn't know if he should apologize. After all, what could a man say to an ex-wife that he was forced to dismiss during one of the most important missions in his life?
Kakucho was afraid. More than that, he was nervous of your reception to him. He was so entrenched in his hesitation that he stayed idle on the narrow path that led up to your grandmother’s home. The eggshell white walls and quaint door which meant a world to you as a sanctuary where you grew up in was forlorn amongst the mountainous backdrop. A rolling mist, thick and cold, seemed to engulf the road, enough to conceal his car.
He killed the lights and engine, contemplating if he should even bother to reveal himself to you.
If someone were to ask him to list the top three things he never expected to see on a remote stretch of road leading to the famed peaks, it would be a three-legged goat. Or something asinine like a cow drenched in ketchup. The third thing? Ran Haitani exiting your home.
He saw you then, in all your glory, still beautiful despite the drawn out pinch on your expression; the shapeless knitted cardigan that seemed to drown your precious curves from his eyes. Kakucho watched with bated breath as Ran spoke to you, low and terse, his mouth moving but no formed words that could reach back towards him. There was a minute silence when you didn’t respond, and eventually, you nodded.
His comrade’s next move was to pat your head, the action more sibling-like than amorous. You smiled at him, though something in that minute quirk of your lips spoke volumes of an emptiness that could not be filled—not even by Haitani Ran’s signature grin.
Kakucho watched as Ran’s car drove past his, and then, he studied you for a few moments, feeling more and more like a creep every second he spent drinking in your face. Like you had appeared from the depths of his memory—a most precious mirage—he could not tear his eyes from you.
Not even when you pitched your head forward to the frame and your face scrunched up in sobs. He wanted to run to you—to hold you close to his heart. But, a deep rooted fear kept him nailed to the seat of this beaten up Volkswagen.
The tears rolled like dew drops down your face, and he ached to wipe them away. To kiss them one by one until he could patch up your remorse and grief with just his devotion.
A sharp rap on the window startled him, and Kakucho glanced up to find Ran waving.
He rolled the window down, darting his gaze back to the door, but you had already disappeared back into the house.
“I knew you would come.” Not a gloat or even a hint of smugness. Just open honesty that welcomed his impulsive decisions. “Go on. Y/N would be relieved to see you.”
He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, and managed to ask in a hoarse voice, “And you? What about you and her?”
Ran shook his head, and never in his life had Kakucho been this relieved to see a slump in the older Haitani’s broad shoulders; the dejection on his face. “I’ve made my peace with it. She will never choose me, Kaku-chan. She’s in love with you. And I respect you and her too much to even come in between.” Hanging his head, he murmured, “So, forgive me. I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance when it’s clear you two belong to each other.”
Like the spilling of golden light in his mind’s eyes—a pouring of yellow yolk sunshine—Ran gestured to the downbeat home, every line in his face filled with regret and acceptance.
“Go. She needs you.”
The cold, rainy night exacerbated the tremble in your hands.
It was to be expected. Hitting your head twice in a span of a few months had reduced your motor skills to the shell of what it once was. On some days, the shakes were so bad, your cup of water went crashing to the ground, or the chopsticks you held could barely find purchase in your bowl of rice and you had to patiently wait it out until the tremors subsided.
The doctor you visited declared that it was a side effect of your amnesia—and considering that you had plummeted down a low slope without causing any harm to your baby girl—it was a miracle that only your motor skills were slightly impaired.
Usually, it was imperceptible—controllable—but something about looking up into the face of your past brought the shuddering lapse of composure back to your frozen fingers.
Ran’s smile was soft, and as much as you hated to admit it, you had missed it. You had missed him.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” You ached to bring him into your embrace. But, you were wary of your position in his life. How you had been the one to push him away and break his heart. The last thing you wanted was to lead him on.
When you made the call to your old friend, you hadn’t expected Ran to track you, nor did you anticipate him showing up out of the blue to greet you with a bag full of groceries and a grin.
And admittedly, you had teared up. It was good to do nothing but sit at your rickety kitchen table and catch up with your old friend. Ran remained respectful to never push beyond what you were comfortable with, and despite the awkwardness that lingered from your previous confrontation, it quickly melted into genial bantering.
That was before the old cardigan you wore parted slightly to reveal the merest hint of a baby bump; concealed underneath a ratty black t-shirt that once belonged to the man who did this.
After that… Ran went ballistic.
“Why didn't you tell anyone you were pregnant?” He was glaring at you, nostrils flaring. The word incensed could barely cover up how he looked like right now.
You opened your mouth, only to be promptly cut off by Ran’s next tirade. “It’s that bastard’s isn’t it? He fucking broke your heart in Shanghai and you didn’t tell him you were carrying his baby, didn’t you?” When you didn’t answer him, he grasped your arm, shaking you lightly. “Didn’t you, Y/N?”
“I didn’t know,” you gasped in a strained tone. Ran released you, taking one step back. “I didn’t know I was pregnant.”
A smothering silence. He broke it with a low, “God,” and pinched the bridge of his nose. He leveled a glare at you that at once made you feel both glad he was angry on your behalf and terrified at the same time.
“What am I gonna do with you, Y/N?”
Your hands shook and he noticed; frowning when you tried to conceal them in the lapels of your cardigan.
“Y/N—“
“I think you should leave.” Soft, yet like steel. Ran found he could not defy your words and mutely nodded.
You lingered by the door, staring at the rain-slickened road long after Ran’s car had disappeared around the corner. The little neighbourhood you had found a home in was small if not quaint.
While you had never been much of a country lover, you couldn’t deny that this was a good spot. Using the rest of the alimony that Kakucho had sent before you froze your accounts, you settled down into this little cozy cottage that had once belonged to your late grandmother.
The prefectures here were different compared to Tokyo; where the grind and perpetual bustling was the norm in the city, here in the quiet of the country, you could take a breather. At least until your attention returned to the loaded grenade laying on your kitchen table: a check for close to half a million yen burned its presence in the back of your mind. Along with the memory of Ran’s lilac eyes flashing when he handed you the piece of paper.
“I can’t take this,” you had whispered. He shoved the inked slip into your hand with a firm countenance.
“Your baby needs it,” he took in a deep breath and gave you a strained smile. “You need this money, Y/N.”
The memory of his words came back and you lost grip on your emotions, sobbing quietly with your head pressed to the wooden frame and your palm smothering your cries. Amidst the pattering of rain, your wails were buried and hushed, giving you just enough time to tighten the thick cardigan around your swollen belly and clasp your arms around your trembling form, gathering your composure.
Tea. You needed some tea. Swiping at your wet eyes, you mentally closed the door on the loneliness and pressing despair, shuffling back into the kitchen to put on the kettle.
“Kiku, are you asleep?” you mumbled, rubbing your stomach in an attempt to bond with your three month old unborn baby. “Your uncle Ran was here. You remember him? He was the one I was about to marry before my memories came back. You would love him and your uncle Rindou—they’re both really great guys.”
Someone once told you that motherhood was a mental illness. It corroded all common sense and filled one with determination so strong to see their baby safe that they would do anything to make that reality happen.
Which was why you never told your parents. You didn’t want them to sway your mind—to tell you that it would be foolish to bring a dead man’s child into the world. That you would be better off without your little chrysanthemum flower in your life.
It didn’t matter that Ran wouldn’t tell you if Kakucho was dead or alive. It didn’t matter that you were slowly running out of money. As reckless as it was, all you cared about was seeing your daughter’s face. To hold a piece of Kakucho in any way that you could.
Your heart squeezed, as it always did, at the mention of his name.
Even by some miracle that he survived a suicide mission, you doubted he would return for you. He had made it abundantly clear that he never wanted you in his life for another second. And upon countless hours of ruminating and reflecting, you came to the realization that you didn’t need him.
He was never going to choose you and the baby. Bonten was his life and nothing—you gripped the kettle handle tighter—nothing could sway him from the glory and the money when he put his mind to it.
Your marriage was a mistake on your part; an advantage for him to have a woman to warm his bed and dote on him, where he gave into her material wants but never her emotional needs. None of his words after the accident mattered—it was his actions before the entire tragedy that you paid attention to.
And after flaying your memories raw, you arrived at the conclusion that Kakucho loved you, but he never respected your time or efforts. You were nothing but a dot in the bigger operations of growing power and dark money. A trophy wife of little consequence.
You held onto your small bump as the water boiled, lost in your recollections. So far gone in your mind that you did not hear the knock. A flash of lightning arced outside the windows and you cringed back from the grimy glass, backing away. Another knock and you whipped your head to the door, suddenly terrified. Had Ran come back to cajole you back to Tokyo again?
There was no way you would do it. That old life you had—one of extravagance, neglect and lonliness—would never be yours again. You were just starting to lick your wounds and heal from the double whammy of your divorce and the uncertainty of Kakucho’s safety. You couldn’t go back to concrete walls and pulsing sidewalks and streets that screamed his name.
You just couldn’t do it.
Heart in your throat, you padded to the door. Gripping the handle, you unlocked the bolt and slowly drew it open.
“Ran? Look, I told you, I will not go back—”
The words died on your tongue.
There, in front of you, rain drops hanging from his bangs and incongruous eyes fixed on you, was the man of your dreams and nightmares. A gust fell past your lax mouth, your entire body freezing.
Unconsciously, you drew the cardigan closer around your body and stared up into his composed face. The face you once loved with every fiber of your soul. Eyes that once owned your heart.
Those same orbs staring at you as if he wanted to crumple to his knees and beg for your forgiveness.
“Y/N—”
“No.” You didn’t know why you were quick to dismiss him, but you were already backing away from the threshold, trembling palms clasped to your chest as you fought back the nausea threatening to bring you under. “N-no. I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.” He took a step forward and you thrust your hand out, screeching at him.
“Don’t come closer!”
Every syllable that flew from your callous lips was coated with fear. You stared at him with bulging, wide eyes, unable to believe that he was here. Standing in front of you and looking just as he did the day he left you. Your womb pulsed, a tender ache that couldn’t quite mask the terror filling your chest with ice.
You didn’t know what to say; how you should react. Instead, you stayed stock-still, letting his presence crash into you. The scent of his pine cologne, fresh and clean, wafted to your senses, and despite the distance between your shell shocked body and his, you couldn’t help but feel his warmth radiating from where you stood. Reminding you that he was alive.
“Kaku—”
“I’m sorry,” he looked like he wanted to cry. “Angel, please. Forgive me. For everything I did. Everything I said. I was on a mission and I had to pretend—”
“No.”
This time, your words were not coated with angst. But, defeat.
Kakucho snapped his mouth closed, staring at you with anguish in those beloved eyes.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. I can’t do this.” You swallowed thickly. “Please. I… I don’t know how to react. I didn’t think you would be… you would…”
Your cheeks were wet, and you didn’t notice it until those salty, traitorous tracks slipped into your mouth.
“Please. Leave.” You had to press your palms together to keep them from shaking. “I tried so hard to forget about you, Kaku. About all the things I did to you; I can’t… I can’t even stand the thought of what I did. I can’t. I just can’t do this.”
Shocking you, he retorted, “No.” He took a firm step towards you, and you smothered a gasp at how easily he bore down on you. It wasn’t rational, but you were afraid of him. Afraid of opening your eyes to find that it was only a dream. Not a dream, your fragile mind amended. A nightmare.
You couldn’t bear it if you came to find out that he was nothing but a figment of imagination that your broken mind conjured up. It would probably kill you when morning came.
But, no matter how many times you blinked the tears from your eyes, there he was. Still staring at you like he loved you. Still waiting for you to make the first move and return back into his arms.
You couldn’t do it. After everything you had done—everything he had done—there was no fight left in you to even battle for this marriage. Of what was left of it. So broken were you that you forgot about the biggest elephant in the room that a flimsy cardigan could never hide. One that would come to light when he traced his eyes down your body where the traitorous fabric had parted.
Gaping right at your swollen belly.
“Shit.” He looked like he was about to hyperventilate. His cheeks leached of color, and he took a step back. “Shit. You’re… you’re…”
The tears came in full force, slamming into you and there was nothing you could do but sob. “Please,” you could barely gasp out. “You h-have to go. I’m nothing but bad news to you, Kaku. It’s best if you leave before it’s too late.”
He was quiet for a few minutes. You could hear the cogs in his mind turning. “Did Ran do this? Is that why he visited?” Kakucho was growing more irate with that idea; that someone as precious as you had to deal with such immense heartbreak. “Did he fucking knock you up and leave you high and dry? Is that it? Answer me.”
You flinched as though he had slapped you.
“Kaku—”
“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll skin him alive. I can go and get him right now and make sure he takes care of you, I’ll—”
“Kaku, no. Ran and I never went that far,” you forced the next words past your frozen tongue.
“It’s yours.”
The rest of his tirade died an unnatural death. The silence was so stifling you could hear your own ragged breathing.
In contrast, Kakucho was stone. He barely even moved; even blinked. Fixated on your face which told no lie. How could you when you couldn’t keep your eyes on him? Could not even staunch the tears from flowing freely down your face?
“Shanghai.” He whispered, and you whipped your head up. “Were you… when I told you all those horrible things…?”
Words failed him, and it did the same for you. You could only nod.
Pain, fresh and hot, bloomed across his face. And before you could crack the silence, he backed away. Turned around and took one step further away from you. Keeping an ocean of agony between you two. A part of you couldn’t blame him. He was free to go. It was you who had to bear this burden; this was your punishment and your redemption.
Mutely, you watched him disappear down the sidewalk, into the shadowy mists where an engine started. And where he drove away without another word.
Of all the scenarios you had ran through your mind, this was the most plausible. Kakucho was never ready for children; he had told you all throughout your marriage that he never wanted them and he kept on delaying the inevitable; that he was not prepared for the emotional load of nurturing a human being.
And you didn’t blame him.
All you could do was wonder how this could’ve happened. Once upon a time, you had some of him, and when he made you his, you had most of him.
And now… now you had nothing left of him.
Nothing except the baby you were carrying in your miserable womb; destined to never know a father who didn’t even want her in the first place.
You had thought you were over it; that you could take any retribution he gave you because it’s what you deserved. It was you who severed this marriage, who acted unthinkingly to destroy a good man’s soul and heart.
You were just paying your dues now. This was karma in its most purest form.
And you forced yourself to swallow the truth like a bitter pill, letting it coat the back of your throat to mingle with the salt of your tears.
The night dragged on with no reprieve.
You could barely even find sleep, staring up at the ceiling spinning in your periphery. Unable to hold onto your sanity, your dry eyes blinked back an ache that mimicked your raw throat. For once, you had exhausted all of your cries.
Some days, you wondered if it was possible to dehydrate yourself from the countless tears you had shed. You hiccuped back a dry sob and sat up, swaddled in your blankets. Tired eyes circled towards the garish green numbers of your clock, finding it a little past one in the morning. You needed your rest; your baby needed the rest.
But try as you might, you could not fall asleep. And so, you pushed the sheets aside to shuffle out of the small bedroom, the cold air touching the skin of your exposed thighs causing them to erupt in goosebumps. You shivered, tender nipples pebbling under the worn black cotton.
Sitting yourself on the rickety couch, you recalled summers spent with your grandma where you watched her rheumy eyes fix onto yours with such warmth and love. It made you tear up just at that thought. Touching the spot she would always sit on, you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling equally as long to stabilise your emotions. In some ways, your grandmother was the last person to ever genuinely love you for who you were.
Not in disappointment like your parents did. Not even in anticipation for a reciprocal of your emotions like Ran did.
Or, even the mutually beneficial dynamic of yours and Kakucho’s marriage.
And a part of you, that little girl who always yearned for love, wondered if you could ever be adored unconditionally ever again.
You must’ve dozed off on the couch, because the next time you roused back into consciousness was to a faint knock on the door. It couldn’t have been later than two in the morning and you slowly stood to your feet, ambling to the front, only to hesitate and stall; hand on the knob.
“Who is it?” you stuttered, unsure if you should even be answering any strange visits at such a late hour.
A pause. “It’s me.”
Your heart sank and you fought back a whimper. Kakucho just wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t he? He was determined to worm his way back into your life, and it was your choice to accept his attempts. You didn’t even know why he was doing this—wasn’t it him who said he never wanted to see you again?
Despite the fact that you didn’t blame him, you were hard-pressed to understand why he wouldn’t take the hint.
“Kaku, please.” Your voice was hoarse and broken. “I don’t want to do this now.”
From your position against the door, you could hear him sigh. There was a shuffle and a low thump, like a forehead pressing against the wood. Clothes rustling and a short exhale, located somewhere at your waist indicated that he had slid to his knees, and you could just envision his back pressed to the door.
“I’ll just talk, okay? You can choose to listen. I won’t force you to,” his muffled despondency slammed into you like a collision of regret. You mimicked his movements, sliding your back down the door, knees bunched under your chin.
Not even making sure you were listening to him, Kakucho continued. “You probably hate me. And yourself. I understand. I wasn’t kind to you and the way how we ended things… I detested every single second that I had to put you in pain. I know it wasn’t your fault, but for a moment, I hated you.”
Your heart squeezed at his admittance. The tremble was back in your hands.
“I hated how easily you forgot about me. I know I wasn’t—” a hitched breath. “—I wasn’t a good husband. I treated you horribly. I always took you for granted that you would be there for me. Without thinking about what you needed. What you needed was a husband beside you and… and I couldn’t even do that.
“So, you can curse me out and hate me all you want, Y/N. But, we have a child together. A baby. I want to… I want to be a good father. For her or him. I won’t abandon them the way how I was forced to be separated from my family. I’ve already lost so much in this life and I can’t bear the thought of losing the two of you.”
Your palms pressed to your mouth to smother the sobs. Unable to control yourself, your head knocked back against the wood gently, your shoulders shaking with restrained cries.
“You gave me so much during our marriage. Your time, your love. And all I was so focused on was to make more money so I could provide without knowing how I was needed in other ways. I truly am sorry—for all the nights I left you sleeping alone. For all the dinners you prepared for me but you had to eat alone. For all the missed dates and anniversaries I forgot. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had to do this all by yourself. I can understand now why you would’ve forgotten me; I guess I never made a big impact in your life, huh?”
A soft exhale that sounded like a chuckle. “I meant every word I said in that letter, my love. I love you—still am in love with you. I…” you heard a choked sob. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you even if you don’t want me the way I want you.”
Despite your best efforts at not alerting him to your cries, you couldn’t hold back a shaky sob. Your heart was tearing cleanly into two, and you cradled your belly, praying for the strength to finally push him out of your life. To keep him safe from your brokenness and wreckage. You were nothing but the shell of the woman you were before; a nobody with memories you struggled to piece on the daily. There was nothing a man like him needed from you.
Kakucho was kind, loyal and everything a woman could dream of. He deserved far better and you would be doing him a huge disservice if you let him stay by your side. His underlings would see him as a cuckold husband; a man who let his fellow executive play with his wife without him even doing anything. The shame would be immense and insurmountable to his reputation. A disloyal and cheating wife had no place in a yakuza’s plans.
Since the day you put his ring on, you vowed that you would give your life up for him. Your parents had called you a fool for how you had agreed to this marriage; worried that Kakucho would hurt you once his true occupation came to light. That was why your mother was all for Ran courting you; she didn’t know that he and Kakucho were cut from the same cloth. She didn't know his true nature because you didn’t tell her.
It was nobody’s fault but your own.
You had broken Kakucho’s heart and you deserved to pay it back with the pain tenfold.
Even if it meant you could never accept his apology nor give him yours. It wasn’t fair, but it was right. It was right and logical to push him out of your life so he could find someone better. Someone whose face didn’t remind him of her sins. Someone who would love him fully for every part of him: the good, bad and the ugly while making peace with all his best parts.
Not you. Not ever you.
“Love?” his voice was soft and coaxing. “Come on. Talk to me.”
All you could choke out in your fugue of tears was, “You should go.”
You envisioned his eyes squeezing shut, his head falling forward in defeat. “Do you want me to go?”
No, your heart screamed. I want you here, I want you in my arms. I want to raise our baby with you but I can’t—I can’t! I hurt you too much and you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who won’t be resentful of you; who can serve you better than I did. You only deserve the best. And I’m not it.
“I want you to be happy,” you said, tears pooling down your chin and staining his shirt. “I want you to be with someone who has not hurt you. And I’m not that person, Kakucho. I did so many bad things and… and I know you don’t deserve it. You deserve someone better than me.”
He didn’t reply and you shakily continued. “Even when you were with that Choi woman, I saw how happy you could’ve been without me. How much different your life would be. And I know it’s selfish of me to want to have you by my side when I gave you nothing. With how I broke your heart and… and pushed you to the edge of taking your life. I—” the dam broke and you sobbed, hard and unrestrained, every cry pierced through with agony at the memory of how you had crumpled in the torment of your foolish actions. How you had nearly caused a good man to kill himself.
There was another rustle. From the other end of the door, Kakucho was on his knees, his palms pressed to the wood that was a barrier from both your bodies ever touching. His entire soul screamed with the urge to embrace you in his arms.
“Love. Will you not even let me hold you?” It was pathetic to beg at your door. Unbecoming of the third most dangerous man in Japan. But for you, he would happily yearn and plead on his knees if it meant the love of his life would take him back.
“I can’t,” you choked out, dashing at your tears. “I’m sorry, Kakucho. My conscience won’t let you do that.”
A stuttered exhale. “So, what now? I should leave? You want me to go and you want to raise our baby without me? Are you this cruel to do this to me? You know I wanted nothing more than to have a family with you right? You know that, right? Do you know how much I regretted never having the chance to build a proper home with you?”
You stared brokenly at the cracks on the eggshell white walls. “Is this it? Is this just about the baby?”
“No!” he vehemently yelled and you flinched. “Of course it's not just about the baby! I don’t care about anything you did, my love! I don’t care that you hurt me or that you think I don’t deserve you. I love you and that’s fucking enough reason for me to want to give this a chance.”
“Kakucho, listen to yourself,” you whispered harshly. “You’re saying all these because you feel guilty, but you don’t have to do this. I forgave you for everything you did and said. Before our marriage, after it. I just can’t forgive myself.”
“But, I forgive you.”
His words crashed into you like a trainwreck. You expelled another heavy sob.
“I forgive you, my love. Everything you did—that was not you. You lost your memories for fuck’s sake. I don’t blame you so you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t have to carry this burden all alone. I’m here. I’ve always been here. I will never leave you alone for another second to fight on your own. I’ll always be here. I love you. Remember? Those three squeezes? Please. Tell me you remember.”
There was no reply. Kakucho’s heart sank. It truly was dawning on him that you would never take him back. That you would never forgive yourself or him for things that spiraled your marriage out of both your controls.
Don’t let me lose her again, he begged inwardly. Don’t let this be the last time I get to see her.
One second, he was begging on his knees, and the next, your door flew wide open. He almost went toppling to the ground if you hadn't caught him in your arms on time. Kakucho held onto you like a man who was gripping onto his last lifeline. He felt exactly like you had remembered. Exactly like your dreams and your past memories that you couldn’t help but to sob heavily into his chest.
Kakucho was crying, too, full-bodied sobs that shook his great shoulders.
“Of course, I remember,” you wept ardently. “I could never forget you.”
“Angel, fuck, angel,” he moaned, bringing you into his lap, face buried in your hair. “Fuck. Fuck. My baby, my angel. My angel.”
You couldn’t contain your wails, your whole face wet with salty tears, soaking the front of his shirt.
“Ssh, my love, ssh,” he cooed, rubbing circles into your shaking shoulders. “I’m here now. I’m here, okay? I’m yours always and forever, Y/N.”
“Don’t leave me,” you whispered more to yourself, but he heard your pain and yearning loud and clear. “Please don’t disappear again. Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he reassured, lifting your swollen face to meet his leaking eyes. “I won’t. Promise.”
Your entire body was touched with a livewire when his lips met yours. You jerked and shook, trembles of pleasure rather than pain this time wracking through your body. You kissed him back passionately, letting him capture your face in his large palms; let his thumbs wipe away your tears. He groaned when your fingers fisted his hair, holding him steady while he left you gasping for air over and over again.
“Wait,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Can’t risk you catching a cold.”
With his sheer strength, he lifted you into his embrace, your thighs coming to wrap around his defined waist. He nudged a discrete bundle you hadn’t noticed past the threshold before he closed the door behind you with a firm kick.
“What’s that?” you whispered, and he looked at you with a fleeting expression of sheepishness.
“Clothes for the baby. There weren't many spots open so I drove around until I found an old thrift store that was just about to close. They had some old baby books, too—pregnancy guides and stuff. I bought them all. Also, food. I didn’t know what you were craving so I just got as many chocolates and snacks as I could and—mmph.”
You smothered his words with a searing kiss, pouring out all your intent and gratitude into that single gesture. Parting from him, you breathed out, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”
Kakucho dipped his head forward, catching your lips with his again. You melted into the kiss, heart soaring in jubilation. “I love you,” he whispered between every meeting of hungry mouths, your tongues melding to one another; locked in a dance of desperation.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back. A bloom of pink dusted across his cheeks and he groaned when you cupped his face, your lips touching his jaw, forehead and down the length of his perfect nose. Making sure to graze the entire length of his scar; to show your devotion and remorse to him in any way you knew how to.
He manoevoured the both of you to the bedroom, careful to make sure you were safe in his arms as he brought you through the tiny door frame. Your body bounced lightly on the mattress, the breath knocked out of you. Kakucho stole the air from your lungs again when he gently pressed his lips to yours. There was no hesitation or regret; just pure need fuelled by desperation to feel each other’s skin pressed hotly against the other.
It felt like forever since your husband dipped his tongue in your mouth. Or, when he slipped a warm, calloused palm under your shirt to run his fingers down your side. That scratchy, warm sensation from roughened skin that drew goosebumps all over your arms.
Kakucho muted your senseless babbles with more hot kisses—so that all you had left were soft moans that beckoned him to take this a step further. To claim you as his again. Like a devotee at your altar, he bent his knee between your thighs, slowly lowering his body until his chest was flush with yours.
He wasted no time; gently devastating the last vestiges of your heartbreak even further by pressing soft kisses on your parted mouth. Down the delicate column of your neck. On your collarbone, in between your breasts. You gasped, your whole world crumbling into pleasure when he shifted lower down the bed to place those same heated stamps on your belly and right on your pubic bone.
His perfect lips skimmed across the exposed skin of your thighs spilling out from the innocent white panties you had worn to sleep.
Kakucho dragged his palms up your calves, skin rasping against skin; leaving you whimpering his name. He dipped his head down, pressing the barest, fleeting kisses along the band of your underwear, smirking at your twitching hips.
“Someone’s impatient.”
His warmth leached into you past the flimsy cotton and your breath caught. “Don’t make me wait, my love.”
Kakucho hummed in pleasure and approval at your eagerness, stilling your squirming hips with his larger palms on your hips. Trailing those devastating kisses down your mound, right to your honeyed seam waiting for his tongue or fingers to pleasure you.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured against your twitching, still-clothed clit. You gasped and looked away, face burning. “Don’t get all shy with me now.”
Like on the night he made love to you in the gardens, the same night of your precious baby girl’s conception, he mouthed and suckled your folds through the material, getting you to squirm and moan. You covered your face, embarrassed at your reactions, but he gently grasped your wrist, prying your hands away, needing to see your expressions.
“Don’t hide from me; I want to see you, my love.”
There was a brief moment when you thought that the only thing keeping you spiralling from your destructive thoughts was the way how he curled his thumbs into the hem of your underwear, peeling it down the expanse of your legs, and discarding it over his shoulder. Or, perhaps, the way how he peppered kisses onto your inner thighs, growing increasingly closer to where you needed him the most.
You almost sobbed out loud from how keyed up your body was for him that even his tongue parting through your folds already had you seeing white. Kakucho was gentle yet greedy for your taste, tongue drawing maddening patterns on your clit; incessantly sucking and mouthing of your folds that it edged you towards the sheer cliff of a searing release.
“A-ah—Kaku—!”
His calloused, rough fingers twined with yours, grounding you as his mouth brought you up the highest peak of ecstasy.
One hand slowly pushed the hem of your t-shirt up your ribs, massaging the curve of your baby bump as he continued eating you out. His own hips were out of control, grinding into the bed and he thought—god, you’re going to kill him. You with your mess of hair that settled like a halo around you and your swollen lips whispering his name like a prayer. Kakucho was a sinner through and through, but with your nectar on his tongue, he supposes this is what heaven tastes like.
It’s sticky and warm, fused with love and your honeyed cries. That same flavour that coats your own tongue when he leans up and tangles his lips with yours. Shaky hands press down your sides, lifting the hem of his shirt off your body. He loves it that despite all the horrors you endured, you still chose to carry a piece of him in such a tangible way. Kakucho has seen you in all your various stages of glory, but nothing could compare to the sight of your swollen belly, holding a combination of both his and your love deep in your body.
For a second, he faltered, forgetting the fire raging in his bones to press his face to your stomach, his cheek right where he envisioned his baby’s head would be. No words were shared when he feathered soft kisses on the crown of your belly, rubbing the rising curve with trembling palms. Daddy is here, he murmured into your skin. I won’t leave you and your mama ever again.
He ghosted his fingers over the marks he left on your thighs, trailing his kisses up the line of your body—leaving a path of warmth that culminated in pouring a moan of your name back into your mouth.
You welcomed him with arms wrapped around his waist, ghosting your palms over the expanse of his back, feeling the ridges of old scars. You kissed him right on his Bonten tattoo, over a small birth mark at the base of his neck. Sealing your love over his imperfections because to you, Kakucho was perfect.
“Kiss me,” he rasped, pitching his head forward, knocking your foreheads together before your lips found each other in a messy but relieved tangle.
You whimpered, feeling the ache you had tried to ignore for weeks on end raising its impatient eyes. Begging for the void deep in you to be filled with his love and affection again. “Kaku… I need you.”
Kakucho’s thrusts were deep and slow, savoring every inch of your gummy walls taking him so perfectly. His nose buried in the crook of your neck, your fingers in his hair and your thighs wrapped around his waist—there was no telling where you started or where he ended. Like two jagged pieces melding together once again, he was your homecoming and you were his oasis.
You traced the strong slants of the muscles down his arms, lacing your fingers with his. Every kiss of his cock against your cervix left you unravelling, nothing but the soft squelches of your pussy unfurling and your heavy breathing filling the room.
“Kaku, m’close,” you gasped, feeling his mouth on your sensitive nipples; swirling his tongue over the throbbing peak. He was too far gone; suckling your tits as if he hoped milk would come out of them, leaving your nipples puffy and coated with his saliva.
His hips stuttered and he nodded, squeezing your palm three times. “I'm close too. C-cum for me.”
You couldn’t deny him, not when a cry of his name slipped past your lips and he drowned you with just a kiss; swallowing the cries of your orgasm and spilling his hot seed into you. He stayed still in your twitching hole, thick cum leaking out and dripping down your puffy folds.
Kakucho pressed one more kiss onto your neck before he gathered you in his arms. With his cock softening inside you, he was content to tuck your head into the crook of his shoulder, your walls warming him up. A layer of warmth engulfed you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open; still not believing that he was not a figment of imagination your broken mind concocted.
“Go to sleep, angel,” he whispered into your hair. The fear that if you woke up the next morning and he wouldn't be there flared through you again. “I won’t leave,” he promised, a silent answer to your worries. “I’ll be here with you, Y/N.”
His soft kiss on your temple was the last thing you felt before you exhaled a quiet, “I love you,” and closed your eyes.
“I love you, too.”
Morning arrived, piercing bright and nudging you awake.
You groaned softly, nuzzling your face into a soft material that was nothing like your ex-husband’s chest.
At the memory of Kakucho, you bolted up from the bed, only to find the space next to you empty. You sat still, dumb with grief. Had it all just been a dream? Your mind couldn’t be that cruel. You skimmed over the dark marks on your thighs with shaky fingers. No. It wasn’t a dream.
The smell of eggs and butter reached over to you and you gingerly sat up, gathering the covers close to your body as you ambled out of the bedroom and to a sight that had you almost sobbing with relief.
Kakucho was standing in the middle of your kitchen, an apron tied around his bare chest, the rise of his black sweatpants hanging low. He was studying a slip of paper in his grasp that you recognized as Ran’s check for you.
“I was going to tear it up.”
Your sudden voice startled him and he whipped around, setting the conspicuous paper back on the table with a guilty expression. Moving closer to him, you stood up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. He tittered, a blush warming his cheeks, but wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer to his chest. You rested your head there, enjoying the thrum of his heartbeat underneath your cheek.
“It’s fine,” he eventually mumbled in a voice still rough from sleep. “Ran gave it to you. It’s your money—you can use it however you want.”
“Why’re you so kind?” you managed to whisper, not registering how he was slowly peeling the thick blanket from your body until it fell to the ground and you were left naked as the day you were born. Touching your bare back that opened up to him like the spine of a well-loved book, you shivered at the hot press of his fingers on your sensitive skin. You giggled when he trailed his lips down your neck, to your collarbone; massaging your distended stomach and bringing relief to the swollen muscles.
“Because I love you.” He said it with no preamble. No hesitation.
The force of his honesty made you shake, and there was no way to hide the slip-up of your composure.
“Y/N? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you stuttered, squeezing your eyes close. Through chattering teeth, you managed to get out, “Sometimes I get shakes and I c-can’t control them.”
Kakucho made a sound of consternation in the back of his throat. “Have you seen the doctor about this?”
You didn’t dare shake your head. But, this was your ex-husband. He knew you like the back of his own hand. His answering sigh ruffled the loose strands of your hair. “I'll search around for a trusted local doctor, okay? You need physiotherapy after what you went through, my love.”
When you didn’t answer him, he shook you lightly. “Earth to Y/N?”
“Why do you love me when I’m this broken?”
You didn’t mean for that question to slip out. It just did, and now, you couldn’t take it back. Every beat of your heart remained tender to his affliction, and you wondered why did he return to you. Granted, Kakucho had a kind heart, but you doubted that he would ever let himself be walked on or even taken advantage of like how you unknowingly did to him.
It left you miserable, clinging onto him with your cheek smushed to his left pec, dreading his answer.
“Why do you love me when I’m this broken?”
You peeled your eyes from the ground and onto those incongruous orbs, confused with the change of subject. “Because I just do.”
“There’s your answer,” he hooked his chin over your shoulder, arms vining around your still-trembling frame. “Because I just do.”
The emotions clashed in conflict: happiness, fear, sadness, despair. You were glad he was here with you to work through them; that in his arms, you could finally fall apart. Kakucho held you as you sobbed, letting his pregnant ex-wife drench his shoulder with her tears.
He rubbed your belly, your back, leaving soft kisses on the nape of your neck. Doing everything he could do to fix you up again.
“Don’t cry anymore, love,” he reassured, patting your head. “Don’t cry, okay? You need to eat and replenish your strength. Our baby needs to eat, too.”
You sniffed and nodded, letting him lead you to the couch. Kakucho didn’t even care for your nudity, and the closeness you felt in this moment had delved deeper past sexual territory and into true intimacy. For the first time in so many years, you could look Kakucho in the eyes, bear the beauty of his smile on you, and not feel nervous to be your real and authentic self in front of him.
Even if you clumsily spilled some scrambled eggs to the floor (which he insisted he cleaned up because he wouldn’t let you bend forward too much) or gave a small burp after your meal. It was comfortable. More than that, being with Kakucho felt like you were finally home after months on the road.
His arm around your waist, your head against his broad chest, and both your legs tangled together, you both stayed still in the tranquillity, drinking each other’s presence in.
You didn’t protest when his hands came to rub your belly again, loving how warm and steady they were when they eased the ache from your stretched muscles.
“Is it a baby boy or girl?”
“A girl,” you hummed. Feeling him stiffen, you place your hand on his, chuckling softly. “I had the exact same reaction, too.” The spark of mirth you felt soon dissipated and you let out a sigh. “When the doctor told me she was a girl, for a minute, I was so afraid, I couldn’t even move.”
You laced your fingers with his, squeezing his palm thrice. “Then, I thought about it and I realized it was perfect. I thought that if you were there with me, you would’ve been so happy. Don’t ask me why, but I think having a daughter would bring out the best in you.”
Kakucho exhaled and nuzzle your neck, melting into your warmth. “You’re right,” a short pause, “I am happy.”
You swivelled your head back to look at him, his smile bright and contagious. “I wouldn’t have cared either way, love. As long as I get to do this with you, I’m happy.”
Sighing, your shoulders unlocked, drunk on his body heat and attention. “M’glad you feel the same way.”
His touches on your belly were now riddled with remorse. “If you were pregnant in Shanghai, it means our little girl took a tumble with you during—“ he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
The reality that you could have almost lost your baby from that sharp fall you suffered during that ill-fated engagement party was not lost on you. You sensed Kakucho reeling from that bit of news, still in disbelief that his baby was safe after everything you’ve been through. You concluded this miracle in the best way you knew how.
“She’s a fighter. Just like her daddy.”
You didn’t have to look at him to sense his blush. Kakucho chortled quietly, taking your reasoning in stride. A beat of silence passed, and then he nudged you slightly, cheek rubbing into your neck. “Do you wanna talk about everything?”
Alluding to the first fight you both had which set the fates into motion. The one that caused you to storm off and get into an accident that wiped him out of your memories.
You swallowed and peeled your eyes to the floor. Kakucho remained patient, waiting for you to open up to him. Always present and kind.
“I… I was upset that I never really knew you.” The moment you shared that admittance, you sniffed. “Y-you were always so distant and unaware of my emotions I thought… I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
He didn’t interject, letting you cleanse yourself off these heavy feelings without falling into a defensive mode.
“And then, for those last few months when I never saw you, I thought you—” you needed to tell him the truth—all of it and nothing that can be left to chance— “I thought that you were cheating on me.”
Kakucho didn’t say anything. You didn’t dare lift your eyes to meet him, stuck staring at the ground while you waited for him to gather his thoughts.
“You know I never did cheat on you, right?” Mutely, you nodded. “And that I love you?” You hesitated. His arms tightened around you. “And that you’re the only one for me and I would do anything to stay with you?”
He was holding you with such tenderness it made you want to sob. Everything was far too intimate and overwhelming, your heart threatening to burst out from your chest and run a mile up the mountains. No words were shared when you tucked your face into his neck, shaky exhales caressing his skin.
“Why were you so distant?” you whispered. “Why didn’t you ever let me get close to you?”
Kakucho made a sound in the back of his throat, but he didn’t retort. Consternated and withdrawn, his true emotions simmered on the tip of his tongue, unable to boil over because he was afraid. He was terrified that if he told you the real reason, you would walk away. That you would deem him as unsalvageable. Broken goods that were not welcomed in the sanctuary of your home.
“You should rest,” was what he chose to say. You tensed, but he eased some of your concern by pressing a kiss to your temple. “I have some arrangements to do with my underlings and Bonten, but I’ll be back in your arms soon, my love.”
“Arrangements?” you muttered, quietly alarmed at how he couldn’t meet your eyes. “What kind of arrangements?”
“Extra protection,” your ex-husband replied. “Bodyguards, safety measures and plans. I have a lot of enemies, angel, and I wouldn’t put it past them to use you and our baby girl as leverage.”
His words left you cold with shock, and he attempted to warm you back up by rubbing his rough palms up and down your sides. “I’ll be back in a few hours, okay? You just rest. I’ll order some food for you later and you can just grab it from the front door, ‘kay?”
You nodded, suddenly feeling chilly now that his arms were not wrapped around you.
Before he unlaced the apron and moved out of the room to grab the rest of his clothes, you stopped him with a soft call of his name.
Kakucho paused, turning to face you.
“You love me… right?”
His expression softened, and he nodded. “I do. I love you so much, angel.”
It was your turn to relax, shooting him a genuinely tender smile. “Okay. I love you, too, Kaku.”
It was a stretch for Mikey to fly out his underlings to Yakushima, but the Bonten leader didn’t question him when his third put in that strange request.
Kakucho had spent all of last night watching vigilantly over you as you slept in his arms, worn out from the high of the emotions from today. The whole night, he made himself promise that he would protect you with everything he had. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life to make sure you and his daughter were safe—he would do it. Every last breath rattling in his lungs, every last penny he had to his name.
He would give it all up for the both of you.
His unique eyes were hidden behind his favourite Prada shades, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Wafts of nicotine clouds floated around his tense figure, and he kept a keen eye on the runway. Waiting for the discreet jet that would bring his men to him. They had no idea why their boss had summoned them all the way to a little flung island so far from Tokyo, but his best men would never question him.
Just as he would pledge fealty to Mikey, these chosen individuals had promised to do everything in their power to protect their superior.
Kakucho saw it; a dot in the sky. He stubbed out his cigarette with the heel of his sandal and squinted as the metal carrier brought his men towards him. Under sworn threats and Bonten’s connection, the miniscule airport had no choice but to allow Kakucho’s underlings to land using a private jet.
At the sight of him in the distance, one of them raised his voice, and the rest marched quickly to him. Ten men in total. It wasn’t a hefty number, but in the short term, they would do.
Mikey, Sanzu and him had come up with a plan should any of their wives or girlfriends fall pregnant; a series of fail-proof arrangements that would keep their families safe. It started with Mikey himself—if anything were to happen to him, Sanzu would take the lead. And if tragedy were to befall Bonten’s number 2, Kakucho would fill in his shoes. So on and so forth.
In the dark underbelly, every sign of weakness was a flash of exposed veins, and family was the biggest Achilles heel for any men, whether they be feared yakuzas or ordinary civilians. This was the biggest risk any of the big three could bear; the idea that their enemies would find out about their wives and children and use them to destroy Bonten from the inside out.
“Would you shoot your wife in the head if she was a traitor?” Sanzu had once asked Mikey that question when all three of them were out for a rare drinking excursion.
“Sanzu,” Kakucho had scolded, about to steer the conversation back to less reckless waters when Mikey spoke up.
“If she willingly betrayed Bonten, then yes.”
Turning those bottomless onyx eyes to him, Mikey uttered, “And what about you, Kaku-chan? If we found out your wife has been tattling to the enemies, would you end her life?” When he didn’t answer, the head of the most feared organization himself prodded deeper. “What if she gave you up to the police? What would you do?”
With both his superior’s eyes on him, Kakucho gripped his beer can tightly, nearly smashing the flimsy aluminium into two when he said, “Of course. I would kill her with no hesitation.”
“Sir!” every man bowed deeply, waiting for him to dismiss them. Kakucho did so with a grunt, turning to the terrified taxi drivers who were waiting for his next move. “Take them to the address I gave you. And make sure all of them arrive safely.” Not even glancing at them, he fished out a huge wad of cash from the lapels of his thick coat to give to the stunned drivers.
All three of them scrambled back into their vehicles with choruses of “thank you, sir!”. One of his underlings—a man with a teardrop tattoo—nodded genially at him as he passed by Kakucho.
Mikey’s next instruction was for him to set up a base in Yakushima until you gave birth. After that, he was required to return back to Tokyo on his orders.
The next agenda on his itinerary was to establish a legitimate business so Bonten could operate in peace. While Yakushima was not known for its lush provinces or potential business droves, Mikey was startlingly fond of him now since he brought Shanghai into their grasp and gave him leeway he usually would not give to his other executives. This included growing a whole new division at one of the most outback parts of Japan and missing work meetings for almost nine months.
Any of the other men had a right to be jealous. Which was why when Ran called him up at close to midnight, he answered it with a flippant, “Hello?”
He didn’t mean to sound haughty… but then again, Ran didn’t make things any easier with his furious tone.
“Where the fuck were you? I tried your goddamn phone—you know what, nevermind. Listen, is Yoshimoto with you?”
Kakucho tried not to hum in confusion. “Who?”
From across the line, he could hear Ran gnash his teeth. “That bastard with that stupid teardrop tattoo. Did you summon him down to Yakushima?”
For the second time in a few short weeks, a Haitani brother was vexing him from across the phone. First, it was Rindou who told him all about his brother’s dastardly unfair methods of winning your heart and now, the same man who had once tried to steal his title in your life was groaning into the receiver.
“Kakucho. Man with a teardrop tattoo. Stat. Did you see him or not?”
“Yeah,” he muttered defensively. “Why? What’s going on?”
To his surprise, Ran cursed loudly. “Son of a bitch!”
Kakucho gripped the phone harder in his hand, his knuckles pale and tight. “What the fuck is going on, Haitani?”
“Koko received intel that he used to hold ties with the Blood Phoenixes before he moved into Bonten. But, that’s not all.” Ran’s perturbed silence rang loud in the disquiet. “Did your girl ever tell you how he once tried to rape her?”
Kakucho was stunned. Ran could've been speaking gibberish for all he knew.
“Wait—what?”
“That bastard tried to force himself onto Y/N the night of Mochi’s engagement. She didn’t tell you?”
His mind was spinning in circles. “No. S-she didn’t—”
“Where is he?” Ran cut him off.
Kakucho blanched. Shit. “I sent him off to our home with a few other men.” He swallowed thickly. “I sent him to Y/N.”
Ran’s silence on the other end was unnerving, and the scarred man was already backtracking away from the empty office lot, fishing for his keys and gun in his pockets; his heartbeat and thoughts racing a mile a minute.
“I’m getting back up from a nearby prefecture at Fukushima to help you in case things go south. Hold out until then, okay? I’m charting the next private plane and we’ll be there in a few hours.”
The older Haitani’s next words jumped him into motion like a pair of flashing headlamps from an oncoming train.
pairings. hitto kakucho x fem!reader, haitani ran x fem!reader
cw. aftermath of divorce, suicide ideations, mentions of illnesses, mentions of pregnancy, explicit smut, heavy angst, mentions of food, mentions of past sexual assault, suggestive content
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#7 — in loving memory (part 1)
Time was immeasurable and it slowly trickled by with the speed of dripping molasses.
At least, that was what it seemed like to Ran Haitani.
Like how you discarded him, time circled around his lax form, the ceiling spinning in circles from one too many shots he had ingested. The days bled into nightfall, and it blurred into weeks. Soon, it was close to a month since he last saw you in that makeshift hospital room.
In this travesty that made up the love story between you and Kakucho, he was the villain that marked a pivotal chapter in both your marriage. The heinous bad guy that stole the princess from her rightful prince. Bitterly, he scoffed. His thoughts were distracted as he swirled the amber liquid in his shot glass that not even the sight of the half-naked woman dozing off next to him after a full night of exertion could lift his mood.
She was just another distraction.
A pretty face to blur yours out. A warm body to keep him company through the lonely nights when his guard was down.
Once upon a time, he was starting to get used to the fact that he was somebody you could have love. And now…
Now, you wouldn't even speak to him.
Your mother was no help, either. She told him that you had cut all contact with the family and practically dropped off the face of the earth. The other Bonten executives (minus Kakucho who was still knee-deep in his mission), had absolutely no idea where you were.
Where are you hiding, Y/N? His lips pulled into a sneer. Where did you go? The woman stirred next to him, momentarily halting his sardonic thoughts when he felt her press soft kisses onto his bare chest.
“Haitani-san.”
She shifted so that she was straddling his lap. Ran had to admit she was gorgeous, but the main reason why he had picked her up from the selection of whores in the brothel wasn’t because of her good looks or even passable efforts in bed. Her pretty fingers splayed across his abdomen, a delicate silver bracelet adorning her right wrist made something in his chest tightened.
Hands that looked exactly like yours.
Ran was a goner when she skimmed those pretty palms over his chest, past his tattoos, smoothing down his toned stomach and straight to his stirring cock.
So far gone that he almost didn’t hear his phone ring.
“One second,” he grunted against her lips. Reaching for his phone, he didn’t look at the screen, too focused on how those familiar hands rubbed up and down his thighs, before grasping the base of his cock and pumping lightly.
Clearing his throat, he spoke into the receiver. “Hello?”
There was static silence on the other end and his ears pricked, a trickle of suspicion making him almost end the call before he heard it.
A soft exhale.
To anyone else, it would’ve been written off as a weird prank call, but Ran sensed with every fibre of his being who it was on the other end. His hunch was further proven correct when an errant sniffle caught his attention. He flicked the whore’s wandering hands away from his lap, every muscle in his body taut with tension.
“Hello? Who’s this?”
The silence pervaded. The woman was now on her knees in front of him, plump lips ghosting over his weeping tip. Trying in vain to steal his attention back to her no matter how many times he batted her advances away.
“Ran.”
His heart sank all the way to his stomach. Pushing the other woman aside, he stood up from the bed, ignoring her muted cry of indignation.
“Y/N.”
You didn’t answer him. You didn’t have to.
He knew you were crying; knew it like he knew the back of his hand or that the sun was bright or that night would always replace day. As much as he tried so hard to deny it, Haitani Ran knew you.
Which was why he was cognizant of the fact that for you to call him after all that he had done, it meant something terrible had happened.
“Where are you?” he exhaled quickly. “We’re all worried sick—your mother hasn’t heard from you. What happened? Are you still in Shanghai?”
Another bout of quiet greeted him. He felt a soft touch on his back and he turned around with a glare, telling the whore without words to stop it before he cut his generosity short and kicked her back out to the streets where she belonged.
She shrank back, suitably chastised and wrapped the blankets around her naked breasts.
“C-can’t,” you whimpered, and he held his breath. “C-can’t tell you where I am.”
“Are you hurt?”
Something that sounded like a choked sob. Ran pressed the phone harder to his ear, growing more desperate by the second. “Baby, please. You have to use your words, okay? Please just tell me where you are and I’ll come and get you. I want to put this all behind, okay? You—” he swallowed hard. “You’re still my good friend and I care for you, Y/N. Just tell me where you are and I’ll take you home.”
A hitched breath and he could just picture you pressing the heel of your palm against your mouth to stop from sobbing. You were always someone who hid your true emotions in favour of never making anyone else uncomfortable, and in this instance, Ran hated how much you were tormenting him by never letting others past your defences.
“Y/N, I’m not fuckin’ around—”
“I’m sorry,” your muffled whisper was filled with pain. “For everything. For leading you on. For hurting you. I’m so sorry, Ran.”
Sensing that this conversation was coming to a close, Ran quickly slipped on his white-button down, pushing his lilac bangs from his face. “Don’t you dare put the phone down on me, L/N Y/N. I’m coming for you whether you like it or not—”
“Thank you for being my friend.” His blood ran cold at the implications of what you were trying to tell him. It sounded as if… no. He could never think that.
You weren’t going to do it—you were not going to pull a Kakucho and end your life. Not if he could help it. “I hope you find someone who loves you as much as I once thought I did, Haitani Ran. Goodbye.”
“Baby—”
The dial tone rang like a siren in his ears, your call leaving him with more questions than answers. His thoughts crashed all around him, and he almost forgot he had company over when he slammed the phone onto a nearby desk, cursing under his breath. Your face swam in his mind and he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down before he did something stupid.
“Haitani-san?”
Snapping his gaze to the wide-eyed woman, he scoffed.
“You’re still here?” In his most biting tone, he gestured at the door, lilac eyes flat and unyielding. “Well? You waiting for me to roll out the red carpet or something? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
Tokyo’s skyline has never looked this beautiful.
Truly, Kakucho couldn’t have picked a better time to fly back to his homeland, every passing second filling him with anticipation for when he would walk on Japanese soil again. From the sunbeams bouncing off the glinting sea to the sprawling patchwork of roads, skyscrapers and houses alike unfurling below him, it all beckoned him back home with arms wide open.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we will be touching down Narita airport in a few more minutes. Please make sure to fasten your seatbelts and lift your trays back to its original position…”
A smiling stewardess passed by, her calm voice chiming for the passengers in first class to pass her any unused headphones. She stopped by Kakucho’s seat and he gave her a small smile.
“Kojiro-san, do you need anything else before we suspend our in-flight services?”
“No, thank you,” he said, and bowed his head slightly. “I’m ready to go home.”
“Ah,” she flashed her pearly whites. “Are you excited to meet your family?”
Kakucho tried to not let his expression fall. “Yes,” he lied smoothly, the action easy enough to pass off after weeks of pretending to be someone he was not.
In Shanghai, he was known as Tanaka Kojiro, a Japanese businessman born in Guangzhou who had a deal to make with a rival company; a man who was Choi Li Yan’s lover whose father happened to be the leader of the Blood Phoenixes a.k.a his primary target for the whole mission.
After weeks of wearing another man’s story, name and witnessing more bloodshed than he was accustomed to, Kakucho was more than ready to return to himself.
“I can’t wait to see them.”
Once she disappeared, the scarred man exhaled, sinking back into his plush seat. Mikey didn’t have to go all out and get him a first class spot for a three hour flight. But then again, the head of Bonten could be generous when he wanted if someone exceeded his expectations.
Not only had Kakucho came back in one piece, but Bonten now had a foothold in Shanghai, a city Takeomi deemed a fuckin’ pain in the ass to even consider as part of their expansion plans. The right people were dead and an operations team was set up there to handle exports of a latest strand of ecstasy that had the potential to boost their organisation’s returns by tenfold.
In short, he would soon be swimming in more money than he knew what to do with.
Perhaps, Kakucho mused, he could finally go on a quiet holiday alone to catch up on some reading. Or, sleep. Whichever struck his fancy first.
Soon, the plane had touched down and he was greeted by a familiar black sedan. A head of platinum blonde hair bobbed out from the tinted interior and made his way towards him down the private jet stretch. The leader of Bonten welcomed him back with a pat on his shoulder.
“Kaku-chan.” It had been so long since someone called by his real name. Those bottomless eyes studied his face, catching on new faded scars and a few bruises that he tried hard to hide with some spare concealer to not alert the airline staff. “You look well.”
“So do you, Mikey-san,” Kakucho retorted and lifted his eyes to the distance where a fleet of sports cars signified the upper echelons of Bonten waiting to greet him for his victory. Like a war hero welcomed back to his homeland, his fellow executives thumped his back, drawing him into raucous hugs, and even Takeomi clasped his face, shaking him lightly with an unlit cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. Everyone was there—except for one.
“Where’s Ran?”
He noted how the Kokonoi’s expression became uneasy. It was a fleeting sheen of perturbation that disappeared from his sharp eyes the moment Kakucho paid it more attention.
“Koko?”
“He’s not here,” the other man cleared his throat. “He’s in the countryside.”
Kakucho wanted to prod deeper, questions of whether it was a mission on the tip of his tongue, but Mochi had dragged him to his car, and later, to his club where the men were unwinding in the strobbing VIP room.
Nights like these were rare—nights where Mikey gave them free rein to do whatever they wanted. Fuck whoever they wanted. Snort illegal substances and drown themselves in alcoholic fumes until they couldn't lift their heads. These were his best men. And when they brought back a big cut of money that had the yen signs in Koko’s head pinging like pinballs, who was he to tell them that they couldn't indulge?
Which was why when a gorgeous blonde approached him, he didn’t say ‘no’. Didn’t push her away when she straddled his lap, her cherry-red lips brushing his ear, whispering everything she wanted to do to him. The men hooted and hollered, Mochi paying for his first lap dance back home, and he went all in—tucking bands into the thin strands of her neon pink bra and thong. Feeling himself hardened under her gyrating hips.
He truly wanted to give into the need; it had been too far long since he had felt a woman’s walls clinging to his cock. The last time…
No.
Kakucho shook off the thoughts of you, greedily drinking in the woman’s curves and how he could inhale her perfume from the hollow of her neck. You were out of sight, out of mind. He shouldn’t even be giving a damn about his ex-wife in the first place. Not when a very willing and gorgeous woman was about to let him fuck her.
“Kaku-san,” she breathed his name and his dick jumped in anticipation. “Touch me.”
He did—running his hands down her shapely curves, gripping the globes of her ass, so close to their lips touching when she was wrenched from his lap. In hazy elation fuelled by alcohol, a familiar face notched with a glare was staring down at him. He was instantly sobered, feeling like someone had kneed him in the gut at the sight of the man who had once stolen the love of his life away from him.
“Ran,” he slurred, unsteadily getting to his feet. “Fuckin’—whad’ya-hic-doing here?”
Before he could move forward, whether to grip the lapels of Ran’s suit in anger for being sorely cockblocked or to clasp his shoulder in a warm greeting of a truce, he was dragged out of the VIP room. Down the stairs, past the pulsating dance floor, and straight into an alley where the thumping music and rowdy voices dimmed into the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his laboured breathing.
“Haitani—”
“Shut up.”
Kakucho instantly froze at the vitriol in his tone. Caution alarms in his mind warned him that Ran was up to no good. “Where are we going—?”
“You need to see Y/N.”
Flat, unemotional. Ran’s monotonous voice did little to assuage the flutter your name could bring. But Kakucho ignored that little lurch in his heart, scoffing lightly.
“Are you here to gloat?”
A chill pervaded around both men. Ran’s shoulders were tight, his frown deep.
“No. It’s not what you think it is.”
Bonten’s number 3 turned his stony gaze to his comrade, the lack of emotion in those heterochromatic eyes making Ran falter. The only time he had ever seen Kakucho look this unmoving was when he was about to make a kill. “Whatever is going on between you and Y/N—I don’t fucking care. Keep me out of it.”
“Kakucho, listen—” Ran tried to grip his bicep to hold him back, but the raven-haired man was faster. He whipped out his Glock, pointing it right at the Bonten tattoo on his throat.
Son of a bitch. It wasn’t enough that Haitani Ran had taken away the one good thing he had in this life. He also had to make it a fucking sport to rub it in his face. But, Kakucho was not the same heartbroken man from before; he had found his worth from this mission. How his true purpose in life was to serve Mikey before anyone else.
A slave doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need to be burdened by these pesky emotions. All he needed was to do his job well. The gun dug deeper into Ran’s neck. A slave had no need for love.
Ran gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Kaku-chan—”
“She’s your fucking wife now,” he spat. “Your problem. Not mine. Don’t ever say her name around me again, Haitani.”
Kakucho stowed his gun back into his coat pocket, and turned around, about to walk away when Ran’s next words staked him to one spot.
“We never got married.”
He paused, muddled mind going over the implications of Ran’s statement. If his comrade hadn’t married you… then what happened?
There was one piece of the puzzle that Kakucho could never figure out—and that was why you had flown all the way to Shanghai to find him. The one time he could evade Choi Li Yan’s clutches long enough to call you from a public phone booth was also the only time your phone had ever disconnected.
Minus the messages and efforts to win you back after Okinawa after your accident, you had never once switched off your phone to his calls. Always ready to hear from him. You were never one to cut off the communication lines and that thought alone was perturbing.
But, he never got a chance to ask Ran what he meant. The taller man had slinked into the shadows, disappearing back into the club.
For the next few days, he failed to show up for meetings. Even Rindou had no explanation for what was going on with his brother. The tension between the executives had gotten bad enough that Ran’s words at the club still haunted his thoughts and Kakucho broke his self-imposed rule to not reach out to you. Trying everything he could to get a hold of you and confirm everything that Haitani had told him.
But, it seemed as if you had dropped off the face of the earth.
For starters, the home that he had left in your name was back on the market, his lawyer telling him that you had passed up on the rights to the upscale penthouse. He still tried your phone, but it always ended on a click.
One time, he got desperate enough to drive past your parent’s house, but the thought of their judgemental gaze on him was enough to deter that thought. Y/N, where are you?
The morbid curiosity eventually caved him in, and he didn’t care how he would be perceived—all he needed was to know that you were safe.
He eyed the little terrace house with its wooden gates and weathered beams. The first ever home he had been welcomed into after his marriage to you. The heels of his sandals made crisp clicks on the cobblestone pavement as he made his way to the front door.
Kakucho knocked on the chipped wood, and when your mother appeared at the door, he almost teared up at the sight of her face, the lines of it so familiar to yours. How can I still not be over her?
Your mother’s shock melted into disbelief and she clasped her hands in front of her stained apron, faltering when she mustered the courage to look him in the eyes.
“Kaku-chan. What’re you doing here?”
“I-I came to ask if Y/N was okay,” he made up a lie on the spot. “The monthly alimony money I sent was declined on her end and I came to check up if everything was good with her.”
The effect was immediate. Your mother’s face crumpled, and her eyes scintillated with fresh tears.
Kakucho had always held his ex-mother-in-law in high regard as a strong woman who took no shit from anyone. It was where you got your headstrong attitude and boldness. Seeing her sniff and dash at her tears like a heartbroken little girl set off pangs of worry in his chest and he took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed.
“We don’t know. Y/N has not contacted us for almost two months.”
Kakucho’s heart sank at her next words. “The last we heard, she was in Shanghai.” Your mother swallowed hard, bunching the apron in her fists. Hopelessness was written in every crevice on her lined face. “She mentioned wanting to meet you there to tell you that her memories were back. Did you see her?”
Your mother was eager now, trying to glean any semblance of your well-being from the shell shocked man.
“Is my Y/N okay?”
You have to remember who I am! I was your wife! We were married for three years and then I had the accident and—
Kakucho’s head was spinning. He mumbled something under his breath and staggered away from the door. Your mother called his name once, twice, three times, but he didn’t respond. Locked in replaying your wet eyes and his careless words. How you had begged for him to come back and he had been forced to dismiss you to not blow his cover.
The guilt mingled with bile in the back of his throat and he numbed himself to the cresting wave of panic as he drove straight to Kokonoi’s penthouse. Took himself up the lift and knocked on the lavish, ivory door. When Koko answered him in a rich, maroon-velvet bathrobe, fresh out of his shower, Kakucho didn’t even apologize. He waltzed past the stunned treasurer, and stayer rooted in the middle of the large foyer with his head bent low.
“Kakuc—”
“Are my wife’s memories back?”
The silence resonated loudly in the cavernous white room. Kakucho lifted his eyes up to catch the flicker of uncertainty in Koko’s sharp ones.
“Well?” he muttered hoarsely. “When were you going to tell me? Why is everyone keeping me in the dark?”
“I didn’t know if it was my place—”
“Bullshit,” Kakucho growled, advancing towards the shorter man with malice in his steps. Despite him being one of the strongest fighters in Bonten, Koko could still hold himself against him. The silver-haired treasurer didn’t back down, matching his glare with a frown of his own.
“Kaku-chan. You practically escaped Tokyo to never see your wife. Pardon me if I didn’t tell you about her well-being when it is clear you didn’t want to hear about her ever again.”
Koko’s words felt like a slap. He stayed mute, staring at the shine of his sandals. “Help me find her.”
From his periphery, the other man shook his head. “If you want to find her, I’m not the one you should be talking to.” Kakucho pieced two and two together from Koko’s implicit words. Ran. He needed to find Ran if he wanted to find you.
Rindou had mentioned that the older Haitani was somewhere in the countryside and Kakucho wracked his brains for the name of the prefecture, eventually texting the youngest brother for the name on a pretense of a work-related question.
Barely even a minute later, Rindou texted back: He’s in Yakushima.
A memory tugged in his mind. Of your words you told him in a different lifetime. We should go to Yakushima; my grandma has a holiday home there.
The more he ruminated on it, the more it made sense. You had wanted to escape the city, and which better place to do it than the very tip of Japan where it would take five hours just to reach that tiny island by plane? That would also explain Ran’s prolonged disappearance.
Flights to Yakushima were scattered during the day, and he booked the earliest one that would depart in four hours. Koko hovered around while he was busy typing on his phone, and once done, Kakucho glanced at him. “I’ll be leaving for Yakushima. Get someone to cover for me, please.”
Hajime opened his mouth, but no words escaped. The look on Kakucho’s face made it abundantly clear that he was not to be deterred. Leaving the shell-shocked treasurer spluttering, he left the pristine penthouse and trudged back to his car. Having packed just the essentials from his hotel room, he departed for the airport a little over a few days since he had arrived back. This time, rather than to abandon you, it was to see you again.
Worry compressed like a heavy weight in his chest. This was not like you. The woman he knew would never have left her parents hanging without a word of her whereabouts. Even the lie he concocted on the spot—that you were not accepting his alimony money—was true when he reviewed his banking statements again.
Your phone was disconnected, your accounts were all frozen. It was like you had ceased to exist.
And that was one thought that made him shiver. This was not like you.
He had to find out the truth before it was too late. Whatever the truth was as long as he could make sure you were safe.
That was the least he could do as someone you used to call a husband. Call it his last duty to you, but he would fulfill it no matter what it took.
Which was how he found himself right in the heart of Yakushima. The cold, mountain air did little to assuage his nerves and as he drove the rented car down winding roads, he found himself thinking what it would be like to see you again.
Did you change? Were you well?
Those thoughts swirled in his mind and he found himself unable to think straight. Every flutter of his nerves went right to his jaded heart. He didn't know if he should apologize. After all, what could a man say to an ex-wife that he was forced to dismiss during one of the most important missions in his life?
Kakucho was afraid. More than that, he was nervous of your reception to him. He was so entrenched in his hesitation that he stayed idle on the narrow path that led up to your grandmother’s home. The eggshell white walls and quaint door which meant a world to you as a sanctuary where you grew up in was forlorn amongst the mountainous backdrop. A rolling mist, thick and cold, seemed to engulf the road, enough to conceal his car.
He killed the lights and engine, contemplating if he should even bother to reveal himself to you.
If someone were to ask him to list the top three things he never expected to see on a remote stretch of road leading to the famed peaks, it would be a three-legged goat. Or something asinine like a cow drenched in ketchup. The third thing? Ran Haitani exiting your home.
He saw you then, in all your glory, still beautiful despite the drawn out pinch on your expression; the shapeless knitted cardigan that seemed to drown your precious curves from his eyes. Kakucho watched with bated breath as Ran spoke to you, low and terse, his mouth moving but no formed words that could reach back towards him. There was a minute silence when you didn’t respond, and eventually, you nodded.
His comrade’s next move was to pat your head, the action more sibling-like than amorous. You smiled at him, though something in that minute quirk of your lips spoke volumes of an emptiness that could not be filled—not even by Haitani Ran’s signature grin.
Kakucho watched as Ran’s car drove past his, and then, he studied you for a few moments, feeling more and more like a creep every second he spent drinking in your face. Like you had appeared from the depths of his memory—a most precious mirage—he could not tear his eyes from you.
Not even when you pitched your head forward to the frame and your face scrunched up in sobs. He wanted to run to you—to hold you close to his heart. But, a deep rooted fear kept him nailed to the seat of this beaten up Volkswagen.
The tears rolled like dew drops down your face, and he ached to wipe them away. To kiss them one by one until he could patch up your remorse and grief with just his devotion.
A sharp rap on the window startled him, and Kakucho glanced up to find Ran waving.
He rolled the window down, darting his gaze back to the door, but you had already disappeared back into the house.
“I knew you would come.” Not a gloat or even a hint of smugness. Just open honesty that welcomed his impulsive decisions. “Go on. Y/N would be relieved to see you.”
He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, and managed to ask in a hoarse voice, “And you? What about you and her?”
Ran shook his head, and never in his life had Kakucho been this relieved to see a slump in the older Haitani’s broad shoulders; the dejection on his face. “I’ve made my peace with it. She will never choose me, Kaku-chan. She’s in love with you. And I respect you and her too much to even come in between.” Hanging his head, he murmured, “So, forgive me. I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance when it’s clear you two belong to each other.”
Like the spilling of golden light in his mind’s eyes—a pouring of yellow yolk sunshine—Ran gestured to the downbeat home, every line in his face filled with regret and acceptance.
“Go. She needs you.”
The cold, rainy night exacerbated the tremble in your hands.
It was to be expected. Hitting your head twice in a span of a few months had reduced your motor skills to the shell of what it once was. On some days, the shakes were so bad, your cup of water went crashing to the ground, or the chopsticks you held could barely find purchase in your bowl of rice and you had to patiently wait it out until the tremors subsided.
The doctor you visited declared that it was a side effect of your amnesia—and considering that you had plummeted down a low slope without causing any harm to your baby girl—it was a miracle that only your motor skills were slightly impaired.
Usually, it was imperceptible—controllable—but something about looking up into the face of your past brought the shuddering lapse of composure back to your frozen fingers.
Ran’s smile was soft, and as much as you hated to admit it, you had missed it. You had missed him.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” You ached to bring him into your embrace. But, you were wary of your position in his life. How you had been the one to push him away and break his heart. The last thing you wanted was to lead him on.
When you made the call to your old friend, you hadn’t expected Ran to track you, nor did you anticipate him showing up out of the blue to greet you with a bag full of groceries and a grin.
And admittedly, you had teared up. It was good to do nothing but sit at your rickety kitchen table and catch up with your old friend. Ran remained respectful to never push beyond what you were comfortable with, and despite the awkwardness that lingered from your previous confrontation, it quickly melted into genial bantering.
That was before the old cardigan you wore parted slightly to reveal the merest hint of a baby bump; concealed underneath a ratty black t-shirt that once belonged to the man who did this.
After that… Ran went ballistic.
“Why didn't you tell anyone you were pregnant?” He was glaring at you, nostrils flaring. The word incensed could barely cover up how he looked like right now.
You opened your mouth, only to be promptly cut off by Ran’s next tirade. “It’s that bastard’s isn’t it? He fucking broke your heart in Shanghai and you didn’t tell him you were carrying his baby, didn’t you?” When you didn’t answer him, he grasped your arm, shaking you lightly. “Didn’t you, Y/N?”
“I didn’t know,” you gasped in a strained tone. Ran released you, taking one step back. “I didn’t know I was pregnant.”
A smothering silence. He broke it with a low, “God,” and pinched the bridge of his nose. He leveled a glare at you that at once made you feel both glad he was angry on your behalf and terrified at the same time.
“What am I gonna do with you, Y/N?”
Your hands shook and he noticed; frowning when you tried to conceal them in the lapels of your cardigan.
“Y/N—“
“I think you should leave.” Soft, yet like steel. Ran found he could not defy your words and mutely nodded.
You lingered by the door, staring at the rain-slickened road long after Ran’s car had disappeared around the corner. The little neighbourhood you had found a home in was small if not quaint.
While you had never been much of a country lover, you couldn’t deny that this was a good spot. Using the rest of the alimony that Kakucho had sent before you froze your accounts, you settled down into this little cozy cottage that had once belonged to your late grandmother.
The prefectures here were different compared to Tokyo; where the grind and perpetual bustling was the norm in the city, here in the quiet of the country, you could take a breather. At least until your attention returned to the loaded grenade laying on your kitchen table: a check for close to half a million yen burned its presence in the back of your mind. Along with the memory of Ran’s lilac eyes flashing when he handed you the piece of paper.
“I can’t take this,” you had whispered. He shoved the inked slip into your hand with a firm countenance.
“Your baby needs it,” he took in a deep breath and gave you a strained smile. “You need this money, Y/N.”
The memory of his words came back and you lost grip on your emotions, sobbing quietly with your head pressed to the wooden frame and your palm smothering your cries. Amidst the pattering of rain, your wails were buried and hushed, giving you just enough time to tighten the thick cardigan around your swollen belly and clasp your arms around your trembling form, gathering your composure.
Tea. You needed some tea. Swiping at your wet eyes, you mentally closed the door on the loneliness and pressing despair, shuffling back into the kitchen to put on the kettle.
“Kiku, are you asleep?” you mumbled, rubbing your stomach in an attempt to bond with your three month old unborn baby. “Your uncle Ran was here. You remember him? He was the one I was about to marry before my memories came back. You would love him and your uncle Rindou—they’re both really great guys.”
Someone once told you that motherhood was a mental illness. It corroded all common sense and filled one with determination so strong to see their baby safe that they would do anything to make that reality happen.
Which was why you never told your parents. You didn’t want them to sway your mind—to tell you that it would be foolish to bring a dead man’s child into the world. That you would be better off without your little chrysanthemum flower in your life.
It didn’t matter that Ran wouldn’t tell you if Kakucho was dead or alive. It didn’t matter that you were slowly running out of money. As reckless as it was, all you cared about was seeing your daughter’s face. To hold a piece of Kakucho in any way that you could.
Your heart squeezed, as it always did, at the mention of his name.
Even by some miracle that he survived a suicide mission, you doubted he would return for you. He had made it abundantly clear that he never wanted you in his life for another second. And upon countless hours of ruminating and reflecting, you came to the realization that you didn’t need him.
He was never going to choose you and the baby. Bonten was his life and nothing—you gripped the kettle handle tighter—nothing could sway him from the glory and the money when he put his mind to it.
Your marriage was a mistake on your part; an advantage for him to have a woman to warm his bed and dote on him, where he gave into her material wants but never her emotional needs. None of his words after the accident mattered—it was his actions before the entire tragedy that you paid attention to.
And after flaying your memories raw, you arrived at the conclusion that Kakucho loved you, but he never respected your time or efforts. You were nothing but a dot in the bigger operations of growing power and dark money. A trophy wife of little consequence.
You held onto your small bump as the water boiled, lost in your recollections. So far gone in your mind that you did not hear the knock. A flash of lightning arced outside the windows and you cringed back from the grimy glass, backing away. Another knock and you whipped your head to the door, suddenly terrified. Had Ran come back to cajole you back to Tokyo again?
There was no way you would do it. That old life you had—one of extravagance, neglect and lonliness—would never be yours again. You were just starting to lick your wounds and heal from the double whammy of your divorce and the uncertainty of Kakucho’s safety. You couldn’t go back to concrete walls and pulsing sidewalks and streets that screamed his name.
You just couldn’t do it.
Heart in your throat, you padded to the door. Gripping the handle, you unlocked the bolt and slowly drew it open.
“Ran? Look, I told you, I will not go back—”
The words died on your tongue.
There, in front of you, rain drops hanging from his bangs and incongruous eyes fixed on you, was the man of your dreams and nightmares. A gust fell past your lax mouth, your entire body freezing.
Unconsciously, you drew the cardigan closer around your body and stared up into his composed face. The face you once loved with every fiber of your soul. Eyes that once owned your heart.
Those same orbs staring at you as if he wanted to crumple to his knees and beg for your forgiveness.
“Y/N—”
“No.” You didn’t know why you were quick to dismiss him, but you were already backing away from the threshold, trembling palms clasped to your chest as you fought back the nausea threatening to bring you under. “N-no. I thought you were dead.”
“I’m not.” He took a step forward and you thrust your hand out, screeching at him.
“Don’t come closer!”
Every syllable that flew from your callous lips was coated with fear. You stared at him with bulging, wide eyes, unable to believe that he was here. Standing in front of you and looking just as he did the day he left you. Your womb pulsed, a tender ache that couldn’t quite mask the terror filling your chest with ice.
You didn’t know what to say; how you should react. Instead, you stayed stock-still, letting his presence crash into you. The scent of his pine cologne, fresh and clean, wafted to your senses, and despite the distance between your shell shocked body and his, you couldn’t help but feel his warmth radiating from where you stood. Reminding you that he was alive.
“Kaku—”
“I’m sorry,” he looked like he wanted to cry. “Angel, please. Forgive me. For everything I did. Everything I said. I was on a mission and I had to pretend—”
“No.”
This time, your words were not coated with angst. But, defeat.
Kakucho snapped his mouth closed, staring at you with anguish in those beloved eyes.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Not right now. I can’t do this.” You swallowed thickly. “Please. I… I don’t know how to react. I didn’t think you would be… you would…”
Your cheeks were wet, and you didn’t notice it until those salty, traitorous tracks slipped into your mouth.
“Please. Leave.” You had to press your palms together to keep them from shaking. “I tried so hard to forget about you, Kaku. About all the things I did to you; I can’t… I can’t even stand the thought of what I did. I can’t. I just can’t do this.”
Shocking you, he retorted, “No.” He took a firm step towards you, and you smothered a gasp at how easily he bore down on you. It wasn’t rational, but you were afraid of him. Afraid of opening your eyes to find that it was only a dream. Not a dream, your fragile mind amended. A nightmare.
You couldn’t bear it if you came to find out that he was nothing but a figment of imagination that your broken mind conjured up. It would probably kill you when morning came.
But, no matter how many times you blinked the tears from your eyes, there he was. Still staring at you like he loved you. Still waiting for you to make the first move and return back into his arms.
You couldn’t do it. After everything you had done—everything he had done—there was no fight left in you to even battle for this marriage. Of what was left of it. So broken were you that you forgot about the biggest elephant in the room that a flimsy cardigan could never hide. One that would come to light when he traced his eyes down your body where the traitorous fabric had parted.
Gaping right at your swollen belly.
“Shit.” He looked like he was about to hyperventilate. His cheeks leached of color, and he took a step back. “Shit. You’re… you’re…”
The tears came in full force, slamming into you and there was nothing you could do but sob. “Please,” you could barely gasp out. “You h-have to go. I’m nothing but bad news to you, Kaku. It’s best if you leave before it’s too late.”
He was quiet for a few minutes. You could hear the cogs in his mind turning. “Did Ran do this? Is that why he visited?” Kakucho was growing more irate with that idea; that someone as precious as you had to deal with such immense heartbreak. “Did he fucking knock you up and leave you high and dry? Is that it? Answer me.”
You flinched as though he had slapped you.
“Kaku—”
“I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll skin him alive. I can go and get him right now and make sure he takes care of you, I’ll—”
“Kaku, no. Ran and I never went that far,” you forced the next words past your frozen tongue.
“It’s yours.”
The rest of his tirade died an unnatural death. The silence was so stifling you could hear your own ragged breathing.
In contrast, Kakucho was stone. He barely even moved; even blinked. Fixated on your face which told no lie. How could you when you couldn’t keep your eyes on him? Could not even staunch the tears from flowing freely down your face?
“Shanghai.” He whispered, and you whipped your head up. “Were you… when I told you all those horrible things…?”
Words failed him, and it did the same for you. You could only nod.
Pain, fresh and hot, bloomed across his face. And before you could crack the silence, he backed away. Turned around and took one step further away from you. Keeping an ocean of agony between you two. A part of you couldn’t blame him. He was free to go. It was you who had to bear this burden; this was your punishment and your redemption.
Mutely, you watched him disappear down the sidewalk, into the shadowy mists where an engine started. And where he drove away without another word.
Of all the scenarios you had ran through your mind, this was the most plausible. Kakucho was never ready for children; he had told you all throughout your marriage that he never wanted them and he kept on delaying the inevitable; that he was not prepared for the emotional load of nurturing a human being.
And you didn’t blame him.
All you could do was wonder how this could’ve happened. Once upon a time, you had some of him, and when he made you his, you had most of him.
And now… now you had nothing left of him.
Nothing except the baby you were carrying in your miserable womb; destined to never know a father who didn’t even want her in the first place.
You had thought you were over it; that you could take any retribution he gave you because it’s what you deserved. It was you who severed this marriage, who acted unthinkingly to destroy a good man’s soul and heart.
You were just paying your dues now. This was karma in its most purest form.
And you forced yourself to swallow the truth like a bitter pill, letting it coat the back of your throat to mingle with the salt of your tears.
The night dragged on with no reprieve.
You could barely even find sleep, staring up at the ceiling spinning in your periphery. Unable to hold onto your sanity, your dry eyes blinked back an ache that mimicked your raw throat. For once, you had exhausted all of your cries.
Some days, you wondered if it was possible to dehydrate yourself from the countless tears you had shed. You hiccuped back a dry sob and sat up, swaddled in your blankets. Tired eyes circled towards the garish green numbers of your clock, finding it a little past one in the morning. You needed your rest; your baby needed the rest.
But try as you might, you could not fall asleep. And so, you pushed the sheets aside to shuffle out of the small bedroom, the cold air touching the skin of your exposed thighs causing them to erupt in goosebumps. You shivered, tender nipples pebbling under the worn black cotton.
Sitting yourself on the rickety couch, you recalled summers spent with your grandma where you watched her rheumy eyes fix onto yours with such warmth and love. It made you tear up just at that thought. Touching the spot she would always sit on, you closed your eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling equally as long to stabilise your emotions. In some ways, your grandmother was the last person to ever genuinely love you for who you were.
Not in disappointment like your parents did. Not even in anticipation for a reciprocal of your emotions like Ran did.
Or, even the mutually beneficial dynamic of yours and Kakucho’s marriage.
And a part of you, that little girl who always yearned for love, wondered if you could ever be adored unconditionally ever again.
You must’ve dozed off on the couch, because the next time you roused back into consciousness was to a faint knock on the door. It couldn’t have been later than two in the morning and you slowly stood to your feet, ambling to the front, only to hesitate and stall; hand on the knob.
“Who is it?” you stuttered, unsure if you should even be answering any strange visits at such a late hour.
A pause. “It’s me.”
Your heart sank and you fought back a whimper. Kakucho just wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t he? He was determined to worm his way back into your life, and it was your choice to accept his attempts. You didn’t even know why he was doing this—wasn’t it him who said he never wanted to see you again?
Despite the fact that you didn’t blame him, you were hard-pressed to understand why he wouldn’t take the hint.
“Kaku, please.” Your voice was hoarse and broken. “I don’t want to do this now.”
From your position against the door, you could hear him sigh. There was a shuffle and a low thump, like a forehead pressing against the wood. Clothes rustling and a short exhale, located somewhere at your waist indicated that he had slid to his knees, and you could just envision his back pressed to the door.
“I’ll just talk, okay? You can choose to listen. I won’t force you to,” his muffled despondency slammed into you like a collision of regret. You mimicked his movements, sliding your back down the door, knees bunched under your chin.
Not even making sure you were listening to him, Kakucho continued. “You probably hate me. And yourself. I understand. I wasn’t kind to you and the way how we ended things… I detested every single second that I had to put you in pain. I know it wasn’t your fault, but for a moment, I hated you.”
Your heart squeezed at his admittance. The tremble was back in your hands.
“I hated how easily you forgot about me. I know I wasn’t—” a hitched breath. “—I wasn’t a good husband. I treated you horribly. I always took you for granted that you would be there for me. Without thinking about what you needed. What you needed was a husband beside you and… and I couldn’t even do that.
“So, you can curse me out and hate me all you want, Y/N. But, we have a child together. A baby. I want to… I want to be a good father. For her or him. I won’t abandon them the way how I was forced to be separated from my family. I’ve already lost so much in this life and I can’t bear the thought of losing the two of you.”
Your palms pressed to your mouth to smother the sobs. Unable to control yourself, your head knocked back against the wood gently, your shoulders shaking with restrained cries.
“You gave me so much during our marriage. Your time, your love. And all I was so focused on was to make more money so I could provide without knowing how I was needed in other ways. I truly am sorry—for all the nights I left you sleeping alone. For all the dinners you prepared for me but you had to eat alone. For all the missed dates and anniversaries I forgot. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you had to do this all by yourself. I can understand now why you would’ve forgotten me; I guess I never made a big impact in your life, huh?”
A soft exhale that sounded like a chuckle. “I meant every word I said in that letter, my love. I love you—still am in love with you. I…” you heard a choked sob. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you even if you don’t want me the way I want you.”
Despite your best efforts at not alerting him to your cries, you couldn’t hold back a shaky sob. Your heart was tearing cleanly into two, and you cradled your belly, praying for the strength to finally push him out of your life. To keep him safe from your brokenness and wreckage. You were nothing but the shell of the woman you were before; a nobody with memories you struggled to piece on the daily. There was nothing a man like him needed from you.
Kakucho was kind, loyal and everything a woman could dream of. He deserved far better and you would be doing him a huge disservice if you let him stay by your side. His underlings would see him as a cuckold husband; a man who let his fellow executive play with his wife without him even doing anything. The shame would be immense and insurmountable to his reputation. A disloyal and cheating wife had no place in a yakuza’s plans.
Since the day you put his ring on, you vowed that you would give your life up for him. Your parents had called you a fool for how you had agreed to this marriage; worried that Kakucho would hurt you once his true occupation came to light. That was why your mother was all for Ran courting you; she didn’t know that he and Kakucho were cut from the same cloth. She didn't know his true nature because you didn’t tell her.
It was nobody’s fault but your own.
You had broken Kakucho’s heart and you deserved to pay it back with the pain tenfold.
Even if it meant you could never accept his apology nor give him yours. It wasn’t fair, but it was right. It was right and logical to push him out of your life so he could find someone better. Someone whose face didn’t remind him of her sins. Someone who would love him fully for every part of him: the good, bad and the ugly while making peace with all his best parts.
Not you. Not ever you.
“Love?” his voice was soft and coaxing. “Come on. Talk to me.”
All you could choke out in your fugue of tears was, “You should go.”
You envisioned his eyes squeezing shut, his head falling forward in defeat. “Do you want me to go?”
No, your heart screamed. I want you here, I want you in my arms. I want to raise our baby with you but I can’t—I can’t! I hurt you too much and you deserve so much better. You deserve someone who won’t be resentful of you; who can serve you better than I did. You only deserve the best. And I’m not it.
“I want you to be happy,” you said, tears pooling down your chin and staining his shirt. “I want you to be with someone who has not hurt you. And I’m not that person, Kakucho. I did so many bad things and… and I know you don’t deserve it. You deserve someone better than me.”
He didn’t reply and you shakily continued. “Even when you were with that Choi woman, I saw how happy you could’ve been without me. How much different your life would be. And I know it’s selfish of me to want to have you by my side when I gave you nothing. With how I broke your heart and… and pushed you to the edge of taking your life. I—” the dam broke and you sobbed, hard and unrestrained, every cry pierced through with agony at the memory of how you had crumpled in the torment of your foolish actions. How you had nearly caused a good man to kill himself.
There was another rustle. From the other end of the door, Kakucho was on his knees, his palms pressed to the wood that was a barrier from both your bodies ever touching. His entire soul screamed with the urge to embrace you in his arms.
“Love. Will you not even let me hold you?” It was pathetic to beg at your door. Unbecoming of the third most dangerous man in Japan. But for you, he would happily yearn and plead on his knees if it meant the love of his life would take him back.
“I can’t,” you choked out, dashing at your tears. “I’m sorry, Kakucho. My conscience won’t let you do that.”
A stuttered exhale. “So, what now? I should leave? You want me to go and you want to raise our baby without me? Are you this cruel to do this to me? You know I wanted nothing more than to have a family with you right? You know that, right? Do you know how much I regretted never having the chance to build a proper home with you?”
You stared brokenly at the cracks on the eggshell white walls. “Is this it? Is this just about the baby?”
“No!” he vehemently yelled and you flinched. “Of course it's not just about the baby! I don’t care about anything you did, my love! I don’t care that you hurt me or that you think I don’t deserve you. I love you and that’s fucking enough reason for me to want to give this a chance.”
“Kakucho, listen to yourself,” you whispered harshly. “You’re saying all these because you feel guilty, but you don’t have to do this. I forgave you for everything you did and said. Before our marriage, after it. I just can’t forgive myself.”
“But, I forgive you.”
His words crashed into you like a trainwreck. You expelled another heavy sob.
“I forgive you, my love. Everything you did—that was not you. You lost your memories for fuck’s sake. I don’t blame you so you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You don’t have to carry this burden all alone. I’m here. I’ve always been here. I will never leave you alone for another second to fight on your own. I’ll always be here. I love you. Remember? Those three squeezes? Please. Tell me you remember.”
There was no reply. Kakucho’s heart sank. It truly was dawning on him that you would never take him back. That you would never forgive yourself or him for things that spiraled your marriage out of both your controls.
Don’t let me lose her again, he begged inwardly. Don’t let this be the last time I get to see her.
One second, he was begging on his knees, and the next, your door flew wide open. He almost went toppling to the ground if you hadn't caught him in your arms on time. Kakucho held onto you like a man who was gripping onto his last lifeline. He felt exactly like you had remembered. Exactly like your dreams and your past memories that you couldn’t help but to sob heavily into his chest.
Kakucho was crying, too, full-bodied sobs that shook his great shoulders.
“Of course, I remember,” you wept ardently. “I could never forget you.”
“Angel, fuck, angel,” he moaned, bringing you into his lap, face buried in your hair. “Fuck. Fuck. My baby, my angel. My angel.”
You couldn’t contain your wails, your whole face wet with salty tears, soaking the front of his shirt.
“Ssh, my love, ssh,” he cooed, rubbing circles into your shaking shoulders. “I’m here now. I’m here, okay? I’m yours always and forever, Y/N.”
“Don’t leave me,” you whispered more to yourself, but he heard your pain and yearning loud and clear. “Please don’t disappear again. Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” he reassured, lifting your swollen face to meet his leaking eyes. “I won’t. Promise.”
Your entire body was touched with a livewire when his lips met yours. You jerked and shook, trembles of pleasure rather than pain this time wracking through your body. You kissed him back passionately, letting him capture your face in his large palms; let his thumbs wipe away your tears. He groaned when your fingers fisted his hair, holding him steady while he left you gasping for air over and over again.
“Wait,” he mumbled against your mouth. “Can’t risk you catching a cold.”
With his sheer strength, he lifted you into his embrace, your thighs coming to wrap around his defined waist. He nudged a discrete bundle you hadn’t noticed past the threshold before he closed the door behind you with a firm kick.
“What’s that?” you whispered, and he looked at you with a fleeting expression of sheepishness.
“Clothes for the baby. There weren't many spots open so I drove around until I found an old thrift store that was just about to close. They had some old baby books, too—pregnancy guides and stuff. I bought them all. Also, food. I didn’t know what you were craving so I just got as many chocolates and snacks as I could and—mmph.”
You smothered his words with a searing kiss, pouring out all your intent and gratitude into that single gesture. Parting from him, you breathed out, “You’re so perfect, you know that?”
Kakucho dipped his head forward, catching your lips with his again. You melted into the kiss, heart soaring in jubilation. “I love you,” he whispered between every meeting of hungry mouths, your tongues melding to one another; locked in a dance of desperation.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back. A bloom of pink dusted across his cheeks and he groaned when you cupped his face, your lips touching his jaw, forehead and down the length of his perfect nose. Making sure to graze the entire length of his scar; to show your devotion and remorse to him in any way you knew how to.
He manoevoured the both of you to the bedroom, careful to make sure you were safe in his arms as he brought you through the tiny door frame. Your body bounced lightly on the mattress, the breath knocked out of you. Kakucho stole the air from your lungs again when he gently pressed his lips to yours. There was no hesitation or regret; just pure need fuelled by desperation to feel each other’s skin pressed hotly against the other.
It felt like forever since your husband dipped his tongue in your mouth. Or, when he slipped a warm, calloused palm under your shirt to run his fingers down your side. That scratchy, warm sensation from roughened skin that drew goosebumps all over your arms.
Kakucho muted your senseless babbles with more hot kisses—so that all you had left were soft moans that beckoned him to take this a step further. To claim you as his again. Like a devotee at your altar, he bent his knee between your thighs, slowly lowering his body until his chest was flush with yours.
He wasted no time; gently devastating the last vestiges of your heartbreak even further by pressing soft kisses on your parted mouth. Down the delicate column of your neck. On your collarbone, in between your breasts. You gasped, your whole world crumbling into pleasure when he shifted lower down the bed to place those same heated stamps on your belly and right on your pubic bone.
His perfect lips skimmed across the exposed skin of your thighs spilling out from the innocent white panties you had worn to sleep.
Kakucho dragged his palms up your calves, skin rasping against skin; leaving you whimpering his name. He dipped his head down, pressing the barest, fleeting kisses along the band of your underwear, smirking at your twitching hips.
“Someone’s impatient.”
His warmth leached into you past the flimsy cotton and your breath caught. “Don’t make me wait, my love.”
Kakucho hummed in pleasure and approval at your eagerness, stilling your squirming hips with his larger palms on your hips. Trailing those devastating kisses down your mound, right to your honeyed seam waiting for his tongue or fingers to pleasure you.
“Come on, baby,” he murmured against your twitching, still-clothed clit. You gasped and looked away, face burning. “Don’t get all shy with me now.”
Like on the night he made love to you in the gardens, the same night of your precious baby girl’s conception, he mouthed and suckled your folds through the material, getting you to squirm and moan. You covered your face, embarrassed at your reactions, but he gently grasped your wrist, prying your hands away, needing to see your expressions.
“Don’t hide from me; I want to see you, my love.”
There was a brief moment when you thought that the only thing keeping you spiralling from your destructive thoughts was the way how he curled his thumbs into the hem of your underwear, peeling it down the expanse of your legs, and discarding it over his shoulder. Or, perhaps, the way how he peppered kisses onto your inner thighs, growing increasingly closer to where you needed him the most.
You almost sobbed out loud from how keyed up your body was for him that even his tongue parting through your folds already had you seeing white. Kakucho was gentle yet greedy for your taste, tongue drawing maddening patterns on your clit; incessantly sucking and mouthing of your folds that it edged you towards the sheer cliff of a searing release.
“A-ah—Kaku—!”
His calloused, rough fingers twined with yours, grounding you as his mouth brought you up the highest peak of ecstasy.
One hand slowly pushed the hem of your t-shirt up your ribs, massaging the curve of your baby bump as he continued eating you out. His own hips were out of control, grinding into the bed and he thought—god, you’re going to kill him. You with your mess of hair that settled like a halo around you and your swollen lips whispering his name like a prayer. Kakucho was a sinner through and through, but with your nectar on his tongue, he supposes this is what heaven tastes like.
It’s sticky and warm, fused with love and your honeyed cries. That same flavour that coats your own tongue when he leans up and tangles his lips with yours. Shaky hands press down your sides, lifting the hem of his shirt off your body. He loves it that despite all the horrors you endured, you still chose to carry a piece of him in such a tangible way. Kakucho has seen you in all your various stages of glory, but nothing could compare to the sight of your swollen belly, holding a combination of both his and your love deep in your body.
For a second, he faltered, forgetting the fire raging in his bones to press his face to your stomach, his cheek right where he envisioned his baby’s head would be. No words were shared when he feathered soft kisses on the crown of your belly, rubbing the rising curve with trembling palms. Daddy is here, he murmured into your skin. I won’t leave you and your mama ever again.
He ghosted his fingers over the marks he left on your thighs, trailing his kisses up the line of your body—leaving a path of warmth that culminated in pouring a moan of your name back into your mouth.
You welcomed him with arms wrapped around his waist, ghosting your palms over the expanse of his back, feeling the ridges of old scars. You kissed him right on his Bonten tattoo, over a small birth mark at the base of his neck. Sealing your love over his imperfections because to you, Kakucho was perfect.
“Kiss me,” he rasped, pitching his head forward, knocking your foreheads together before your lips found each other in a messy but relieved tangle.
You whimpered, feeling the ache you had tried to ignore for weeks on end raising its impatient eyes. Begging for the void deep in you to be filled with his love and affection again. “Kaku… I need you.”
Kakucho’s thrusts were deep and slow, savoring every inch of your gummy walls taking him so perfectly. His nose buried in the crook of your neck, your fingers in his hair and your thighs wrapped around his waist—there was no telling where you started or where he ended. Like two jagged pieces melding together once again, he was your homecoming and you were his oasis.
You traced the strong slants of the muscles down his arms, lacing your fingers with his. Every kiss of his cock against your cervix left you unravelling, nothing but the soft squelches of your pussy unfurling and your heavy breathing filling the room.
“Kaku, m’close,” you gasped, feeling his mouth on your sensitive nipples; swirling his tongue over the throbbing peak. He was too far gone; suckling your tits as if he hoped milk would come out of them, leaving your nipples puffy and coated with his saliva.
His hips stuttered and he nodded, squeezing your palm three times. “I'm close too. C-cum for me.”
You couldn’t deny him, not when a cry of his name slipped past your lips and he drowned you with just a kiss; swallowing the cries of your orgasm and spilling his hot seed into you. He stayed still in your twitching hole, thick cum leaking out and dripping down your puffy folds.
Kakucho pressed one more kiss onto your neck before he gathered you in his arms. With his cock softening inside you, he was content to tuck your head into the crook of his shoulder, your walls warming him up. A layer of warmth engulfed you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open; still not believing that he was not a figment of imagination your broken mind concocted.
“Go to sleep, angel,” he whispered into your hair. The fear that if you woke up the next morning and he wouldn't be there flared through you again. “I won’t leave,” he promised, a silent answer to your worries. “I’ll be here with you, Y/N.”
His soft kiss on your temple was the last thing you felt before you exhaled a quiet, “I love you,” and closed your eyes.
“I love you, too.”
Morning arrived, piercing bright and nudging you awake.
You groaned softly, nuzzling your face into a soft material that was nothing like your ex-husband’s chest.
At the memory of Kakucho, you bolted up from the bed, only to find the space next to you empty. You sat still, dumb with grief. Had it all just been a dream? Your mind couldn’t be that cruel. You skimmed over the dark marks on your thighs with shaky fingers. No. It wasn’t a dream.
The smell of eggs and butter reached over to you and you gingerly sat up, gathering the covers close to your body as you ambled out of the bedroom and to a sight that had you almost sobbing with relief.
Kakucho was standing in the middle of your kitchen, an apron tied around his bare chest, the rise of his black sweatpants hanging low. He was studying a slip of paper in his grasp that you recognized as Ran’s check for you.
“I was going to tear it up.”
Your sudden voice startled him and he whipped around, setting the conspicuous paper back on the table with a guilty expression. Moving closer to him, you stood up on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. He tittered, a blush warming his cheeks, but wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer to his chest. You rested your head there, enjoying the thrum of his heartbeat underneath your cheek.
“It’s fine,” he eventually mumbled in a voice still rough from sleep. “Ran gave it to you. It’s your money—you can use it however you want.”
“Why’re you so kind?” you managed to whisper, not registering how he was slowly peeling the thick blanket from your body until it fell to the ground and you were left naked as the day you were born. Touching your bare back that opened up to him like the spine of a well-loved book, you shivered at the hot press of his fingers on your sensitive skin. You giggled when he trailed his lips down your neck, to your collarbone; massaging your distended stomach and bringing relief to the swollen muscles.
“Because I love you.” He said it with no preamble. No hesitation.
The force of his honesty made you shake, and there was no way to hide the slip-up of your composure.
“Y/N? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you stuttered, squeezing your eyes close. Through chattering teeth, you managed to get out, “Sometimes I get shakes and I c-can’t control them.”
Kakucho made a sound of consternation in the back of his throat. “Have you seen the doctor about this?”
You didn’t dare shake your head. But, this was your ex-husband. He knew you like the back of his own hand. His answering sigh ruffled the loose strands of your hair. “I'll search around for a trusted local doctor, okay? You need physiotherapy after what you went through, my love.”
When you didn’t answer him, he shook you lightly. “Earth to Y/N?”
“Why do you love me when I’m this broken?”
You didn’t mean for that question to slip out. It just did, and now, you couldn’t take it back. Every beat of your heart remained tender to his affliction, and you wondered why did he return to you. Granted, Kakucho had a kind heart, but you doubted that he would ever let himself be walked on or even taken advantage of like how you unknowingly did to him.
It left you miserable, clinging onto him with your cheek smushed to his left pec, dreading his answer.
“Why do you love me when I’m this broken?”
You peeled your eyes from the ground and onto those incongruous orbs, confused with the change of subject. “Because I just do.”
“There’s your answer,” he hooked his chin over your shoulder, arms vining around your still-trembling frame. “Because I just do.”
The emotions clashed in conflict: happiness, fear, sadness, despair. You were glad he was here with you to work through them; that in his arms, you could finally fall apart. Kakucho held you as you sobbed, letting his pregnant ex-wife drench his shoulder with her tears.
He rubbed your belly, your back, leaving soft kisses on the nape of your neck. Doing everything he could do to fix you up again.
“Don’t cry anymore, love,” he reassured, patting your head. “Don’t cry, okay? You need to eat and replenish your strength. Our baby needs to eat, too.”
You sniffed and nodded, letting him lead you to the couch. Kakucho didn’t even care for your nudity, and the closeness you felt in this moment had delved deeper past sexual territory and into true intimacy. For the first time in so many years, you could look Kakucho in the eyes, bear the beauty of his smile on you, and not feel nervous to be your real and authentic self in front of him.
Even if you clumsily spilled some scrambled eggs to the floor (which he insisted he cleaned up because he wouldn’t let you bend forward too much) or gave a small burp after your meal. It was comfortable. More than that, being with Kakucho felt like you were finally home after months on the road.
His arm around your waist, your head against his broad chest, and both your legs tangled together, you both stayed still in the tranquillity, drinking each other’s presence in.
You didn’t protest when his hands came to rub your belly again, loving how warm and steady they were when they eased the ache from your stretched muscles.
“Is it a baby boy or girl?”
“A girl,” you hummed. Feeling him stiffen, you place your hand on his, chuckling softly. “I had the exact same reaction, too.” The spark of mirth you felt soon dissipated and you let out a sigh. “When the doctor told me she was a girl, for a minute, I was so afraid, I couldn’t even move.”
You laced your fingers with his, squeezing his palm thrice. “Then, I thought about it and I realized it was perfect. I thought that if you were there with me, you would’ve been so happy. Don’t ask me why, but I think having a daughter would bring out the best in you.”
Kakucho exhaled and nuzzle your neck, melting into your warmth. “You’re right,” a short pause, “I am happy.”
You swivelled your head back to look at him, his smile bright and contagious. “I wouldn’t have cared either way, love. As long as I get to do this with you, I’m happy.”
Sighing, your shoulders unlocked, drunk on his body heat and attention. “M’glad you feel the same way.”
His touches on your belly were now riddled with remorse. “If you were pregnant in Shanghai, it means our little girl took a tumble with you during—“ he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
The reality that you could have almost lost your baby from that sharp fall you suffered during that ill-fated engagement party was not lost on you. You sensed Kakucho reeling from that bit of news, still in disbelief that his baby was safe after everything you’ve been through. You concluded this miracle in the best way you knew how.
“She’s a fighter. Just like her daddy.”
You didn’t have to look at him to sense his blush. Kakucho chortled quietly, taking your reasoning in stride. A beat of silence passed, and then he nudged you slightly, cheek rubbing into your neck. “Do you wanna talk about everything?”
Alluding to the first fight you both had which set the fates into motion. The one that caused you to storm off and get into an accident that wiped him out of your memories.
You swallowed and peeled your eyes to the floor. Kakucho remained patient, waiting for you to open up to him. Always present and kind.
“I… I was upset that I never really knew you.” The moment you shared that admittance, you sniffed. “Y-you were always so distant and unaware of my emotions I thought… I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
He didn’t interject, letting you cleanse yourself off these heavy feelings without falling into a defensive mode.
“And then, for those last few months when I never saw you, I thought you—” you needed to tell him the truth—all of it and nothing that can be left to chance— “I thought that you were cheating on me.”
Kakucho didn’t say anything. You didn’t dare lift your eyes to meet him, stuck staring at the ground while you waited for him to gather his thoughts.
“You know I never did cheat on you, right?” Mutely, you nodded. “And that I love you?” You hesitated. His arms tightened around you. “And that you’re the only one for me and I would do anything to stay with you?”
He was holding you with such tenderness it made you want to sob. Everything was far too intimate and overwhelming, your heart threatening to burst out from your chest and run a mile up the mountains. No words were shared when you tucked your face into his neck, shaky exhales caressing his skin.
“Why were you so distant?” you whispered. “Why didn’t you ever let me get close to you?”
Kakucho made a sound in the back of his throat, but he didn’t retort. Consternated and withdrawn, his true emotions simmered on the tip of his tongue, unable to boil over because he was afraid. He was terrified that if he told you the real reason, you would walk away. That you would deem him as unsalvageable. Broken goods that were not welcomed in the sanctuary of your home.
“You should rest,” was what he chose to say. You tensed, but he eased some of your concern by pressing a kiss to your temple. “I have some arrangements to do with my underlings and Bonten, but I’ll be back in your arms soon, my love.”
“Arrangements?” you muttered, quietly alarmed at how he couldn’t meet your eyes. “What kind of arrangements?”
“Extra protection,” your ex-husband replied. “Bodyguards, safety measures and plans. I have a lot of enemies, angel, and I wouldn’t put it past them to use you and our baby girl as leverage.”
His words left you cold with shock, and he attempted to warm you back up by rubbing his rough palms up and down your sides. “I’ll be back in a few hours, okay? You just rest. I’ll order some food for you later and you can just grab it from the front door, ‘kay?”
You nodded, suddenly feeling chilly now that his arms were not wrapped around you.
Before he unlaced the apron and moved out of the room to grab the rest of his clothes, you stopped him with a soft call of his name.
Kakucho paused, turning to face you.
“You love me… right?”
His expression softened, and he nodded. “I do. I love you so much, angel.”
It was your turn to relax, shooting him a genuinely tender smile. “Okay. I love you, too, Kaku.”
It was a stretch for Mikey to fly out his underlings to Yakushima, but the Bonten leader didn’t question him when his third put in that strange request.
Kakucho had spent all of last night watching vigilantly over you as you slept in his arms, worn out from the high of the emotions from today. The whole night, he made himself promise that he would protect you with everything he had. Even if it meant sacrificing his own life to make sure you and his daughter were safe—he would do it. Every last breath rattling in his lungs, every last penny he had to his name.
He would give it all up for the both of you.
His unique eyes were hidden behind his favourite Prada shades, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Wafts of nicotine clouds floated around his tense figure, and he kept a keen eye on the runway. Waiting for the discreet jet that would bring his men to him. They had no idea why their boss had summoned them all the way to a little flung island so far from Tokyo, but his best men would never question him.
Just as he would pledge fealty to Mikey, these chosen individuals had promised to do everything in their power to protect their superior.
Kakucho saw it; a dot in the sky. He stubbed out his cigarette with the heel of his sandal and squinted as the metal carrier brought his men towards him. Under sworn threats and Bonten’s connection, the miniscule airport had no choice but to allow Kakucho’s underlings to land using a private jet.
At the sight of him in the distance, one of them raised his voice, and the rest marched quickly to him. Ten men in total. It wasn’t a hefty number, but in the short term, they would do.
Mikey, Sanzu and him had come up with a plan should any of their wives or girlfriends fall pregnant; a series of fail-proof arrangements that would keep their families safe. It started with Mikey himself—if anything were to happen to him, Sanzu would take the lead. And if tragedy were to befall Bonten’s number 2, Kakucho would fill in his shoes. So on and so forth.
In the dark underbelly, every sign of weakness was a flash of exposed veins, and family was the biggest Achilles heel for any men, whether they be feared yakuzas or ordinary civilians. This was the biggest risk any of the big three could bear; the idea that their enemies would find out about their wives and children and use them to destroy Bonten from the inside out.
“Would you shoot your wife in the head if she was a traitor?” Sanzu had once asked Mikey that question when all three of them were out for a rare drinking excursion.
“Sanzu,” Kakucho had scolded, about to steer the conversation back to less reckless waters when Mikey spoke up.
“If she willingly betrayed Bonten, then yes.”
Turning those bottomless onyx eyes to him, Mikey uttered, “And what about you, Kaku-chan? If we found out your wife has been tattling to the enemies, would you end her life?” When he didn’t answer, the head of the most feared organization himself prodded deeper. “What if she gave you up to the police? What would you do?”
With both his superior’s eyes on him, Kakucho gripped his beer can tightly, nearly smashing the flimsy aluminium into two when he said, “Of course. I would kill her with no hesitation.”
“Sir!” every man bowed deeply, waiting for him to dismiss them. Kakucho did so with a grunt, turning to the terrified taxi drivers who were waiting for his next move. “Take them to the address I gave you. And make sure all of them arrive safely.” Not even glancing at them, he fished out a huge wad of cash from the lapels of his thick coat to give to the stunned drivers.
All three of them scrambled back into their vehicles with choruses of “thank you, sir!”. One of his underlings—a man with a teardrop tattoo—nodded genially at him as he passed by Kakucho.
Mikey’s next instruction was for him to set up a base in Yakushima until you gave birth. After that, he was required to return back to Tokyo on his orders.
The next agenda on his itinerary was to establish a legitimate business so Bonten could operate in peace. While Yakushima was not known for its lush provinces or potential business droves, Mikey was startlingly fond of him now since he brought Shanghai into their grasp and gave him leeway he usually would not give to his other executives. This included growing a whole new division at one of the most outback parts of Japan and missing work meetings for almost nine months.
Any of the other men had a right to be jealous. Which was why when Ran called him up at close to midnight, he answered it with a flippant, “Hello?”
He didn’t mean to sound haughty… but then again, Ran didn’t make things any easier with his furious tone.
“Where the fuck were you? I tried your goddamn phone—you know what, nevermind. Listen, is Yoshimoto with you?”
Kakucho tried not to hum in confusion. “Who?”
From across the line, he could hear Ran gnash his teeth. “That bastard with that stupid teardrop tattoo. Did you summon him down to Yakushima?”
For the second time in a few short weeks, a Haitani brother was vexing him from across the phone. First, it was Rindou who told him all about his brother’s dastardly unfair methods of winning your heart and now, the same man who had once tried to steal his title in your life was groaning into the receiver.
“Kakucho. Man with a teardrop tattoo. Stat. Did you see him or not?”
“Yeah,” he muttered defensively. “Why? What’s going on?”
To his surprise, Ran cursed loudly. “Son of a bitch!”
Kakucho gripped the phone harder in his hand, his knuckles pale and tight. “What the fuck is going on, Haitani?”
“Koko received intel that he used to hold ties with the Blood Phoenixes before he moved into Bonten. But, that’s not all.” Ran’s perturbed silence rang loud in the disquiet. “Did your girl ever tell you how he once tried to rape her?”
Kakucho was stunned. Ran could've been speaking gibberish for all he knew.
“Wait—what?”
“That bastard tried to force himself onto Y/N the night of Mochi’s engagement. She didn’t tell you?”
His mind was spinning in circles. “No. S-she didn’t—”
“Where is he?” Ran cut him off.
Kakucho blanched. Shit. “I sent him off to our home with a few other men.” He swallowed thickly. “I sent him to Y/N.”
Ran’s silence on the other end was unnerving, and the scarred man was already backtracking away from the empty office lot, fishing for his keys and gun in his pockets; his heartbeat and thoughts racing a mile a minute.
“I’m getting back up from a nearby prefecture at Fukushima to help you in case things go south. Hold out until then, okay? I’m charting the next private plane and we’ll be there in a few hours.”
The older Haitani’s next words jumped him into motion like a pair of flashing headlamps from an oncoming train.
tw. fem!reader, fwb turn lovers, tones throughout of sex, f!oral, like literal word vomit of sweet fluff and smut, softest dom! izana w/sub!reader
wc. 1.9k
an. thanks anon, i just fell into a trap of another day being in love with izana, i blame my crotch or whatever <3
[5:33 AM]
it’s early, too fucking early to be awake right now—the birds haven’t even spoke their first syllable but you have; several times.
“izana, please” you beg, fist balling the sheets under you, eyes fluttering close every time he dives back between your legs, a short hum follows his lips—izana kurokawa; a short summary of him; he’s a devastating hurricane.
“come on angel, i know you can beg better than that” he leans up, propping his chin on his hand as the other one slides against your flesh laying its placement on your stomach, “what’s with the face?” he asks, curiosity flickers in his orbs, amusement taunts the edges of his smile.
“i called you to fuck me n-not this, god” you moan again, for what feels like the hundredth time tonight—today; you can’t remember what time it actually is.
“do you remember when we first met?” izana questions, drawing small circles on your stomach, trying hard not to be distracted by your clenching hole in his line of sight.
“i try to forget, actually” you laugh, and izana drops his eyes in disapproval, “yeah guess so, probably fucked the memory outta you that night” he smirks when you open your mouth to speak but don’t, feeding his ego well tonight.
izana looks into your eyes again, maybe searching for warmth, or just a simple twinkle in your eyes and he can tell you how he feels but alas; there is none but tears feeding into the rims from the overstimulation, his fingers working their way back into your weeping cunt without a second thought.
he destroys everything in his path, izana leaves like the waves washing back to the internal darkness, he never stays long yet he wishes for a day when he can wash ashore; a reason to stay permanently.
why can’t that be with you?
“kiss me” izana whispers, crawling away from your cunt for once, taking both hands; the hands he’s took lives with to cup your face, crashing his lips with yours and he devours everything you have to offer him and yet he yearns for more than just a lust filled cry of his name.
[2:13 PM]
izana remembers the warmth that laid beside him earlier, the mattress settled back to its former state now, your touch had melted from his skin. he raises a finger up to trace his lips, thinking about how they brushed every fiber on your body.
he drops the limb, what feels like pity grows in his stomach, at the age he is doing this so freely, sleeping with strangers, lovers of the past or unknown names and faces; he’s too damn old.
he reaches for his phone, sifting through the multiple messages from kakucho, calls from clients and then finally he’s found you, a message you’d opened but never replied back to him.
izana feels hopeless now, but he has no one to blame but himself; why did he say friends with benefits again? he can’t remember, or care too; no— he thought he’d get attached.
and fuck was he right.
[7:30 PM]
“izana, what’s up?” you answer quickly, loud background noises crackle the phone, izana swallows playing with the strings of his sweats, he hesitates tripping on what words to say “come over” he finally speaks up, grimacing at how nervous he is.
“i can’t fuck tonight, sorry” you maneuver the phone from your hand to your shoulder, leveling it closer to your ear as you listen to silence on the other end, izana stares up at the ceiling— “w-we don’t have to do that, just wanna—” izana struggles to carry his voice onward wondering if you get the hint.
“maybe another night, yeah?” the dial tone meets with izana when you hang up, not even able to say a word back, he drags his eyes to his cock—not really in the mood but he just wants to take his mind off of you.
but that’s kinda hard, as he fists his cock—hand slowly gripping at the length, fingers coming up to toy with the sensitive head, and his thoughts drift to you.
the way you’d sit between his legs, pumping his pretty cock within your smaller hands, doe like eyes flickering up to meet his disheveled gaze, no matter how many times izana said it was just sex, it fucking wasn’t.
izana bends down to drip a coat of spit on his cock, eyes glimmering close and he lets his imagination run its course, he always loves dragging his nails across your scalp while you lazily hold him in your mouth, tongue slipping to both sides of his girth and your ass in the background shaking and swaying.
he feels lost, pleasure rushing through his veins as he strokes harder, white knocking at the back of his eyes and izana leaves curses under his breath when unknowingly he spurts pretty white ribbons on his stomach.
another night without you here, another day spent with his confession tied among the stars and izana dwindles from the blissful high to only be met with an insufferable loneliness casted in the black eerie sky.
[10:31 PM]
izana paces the living room, hands tucked into his pockets—the sounds of his bare feet padding against the wooden floors cease his thoughts for a brief moment.
he wonders if he’s going insane, never experiencing these unacquainted feelings before, izana thought spending time between legs would take only his pleasure not his fucking mind.
he wants to know what you’re doing, if you even think about him when he’s not fucking your pussy—he remembers when there was a time before all this, when he’d listen to your half lidded moans begging and crying for him, hard slaps against your ass, calling you filthy names.
how did it turn from never wanting to see your face while his cock was buried into your cunt to hovering over your face while his hips rock into you, soft lips placed neatly on your warm cheeks.
izana leans against a wall, dropping down till the cold wooden floor bites back at his bottom, curling himself into a ball, he shuts his eyes and welcomes the darkness. lights twinkle in his vision and of course—you. contrasting the blackness of his life, whether you wanted that or not.
[11:31 PM]
“izana it’s late” you sigh, walking into his bedroom and sitting down on the bed, izana stands in front of you, carding through his milky hair. “i know” he turns to you, leaning down slowly till his breath fans over your face.
“don’t you want this pretty pussy stuffed?” he questions, raising his hand to your lips, tracing his digit on your pouting lip “always want that from you” you whisper, allowing his finger to dip into your mouth.
“suck” he pushes the digit further in your mouth, shivers settling in his spine every time he thinks about spilling the words from his lips, lungs turning blue when he holds his breath feeling your tongue wrap around his finger.
“no teasin’ tonight i can’t stay long” you mumble, fluttering your lashes up at him, izana stills, his gut twisting “stay the night then cause i wanna take my time” izana pulls his finger from your mouth, pushing your back against the bed.
he ghosts over your face, violet pupils casting a sneer as he crawls down, fingers hooking under your pants and rolling them off your legs—nails digging into the plush of your inner thighs as he spreads them open, curses leaving his throat.
“i want you to cum on my tongue” izana murmurs, laying his tongue flat through your folds, you nod softly running your hands through his hair and yanking him harder on your heat “you only cum for me” izana darts his eyes up, venom dripping from them.
is it possible now to tell you or is it bad timing? you’re so vulnerable right now, pure as untouched snow, soft as the richest silk—voices ranging from a sultry moan to a mere whimper, izana twirls his tongue around your puffy clit, fingers plunging into your hole.
“i’m so close” your voice breaks his thoughts, flickering his eyes to your heaving chest, nipples shining through the thin fabric as they bounce, izana groans feeling your thighs knock against his cheeks, thick fingers dragging through your gummy walls.
“say i can only make you cum” izana utters, circling his warm muscle on your bundle of nerves, fingers curling and the waves begin to crash, heavy at first flooding against your body till they flow through you, a strong undertow while your orgasm washes against you—izana, he’s so mesmerized—he’s captivated, allured into your body arching clouding the room with broken cries.
“y-you only make me cum” your voice drives a dagger in his heart, it’s so easy for you to say something when he’s making you cum. “want you” he rises from your heat, bending your leg and throwing it over his hip, pulling down his sweats, tossing his shirt and yanking at yours.
izana drops a breath, glancing at his cock splitting you open and bends down to your level brushing his lips on yours “pussy so messy” he groans, pushing in and juices coat his balls at the amount of slick dripping from your hole. your hands wrap around his neck, moving your hips with his.
time feels so frozen, izana just wants this to last forever—all this time he’s took for granted, leaving you in radio silence, ignoring your subtle hints of something else and now that’s he’s on the receiving end, it feels like he’s swallowing agony knowing you’ll be gone soon.
“izana” your words chirp in his ear but he pays no mind, still thrusting inside you, cock stretching your hole with every stroke. “izana” you say his name again, but he’s on the edge, drowning in self pity—head above the waters of despair, barely staying afloat.
what is life afterwards when you’re not in it? his heart throbs, cock sending jolts of bliss through his soul, “izana” you’ve said his name again, but he can’t stand to hear it—knowing it’ll be the last time.
“why are you crying?” he finally turns to you, salty tears running down his face, raising his hand to touch his warm cheeks “i-i don’t know” he sits up on his knees, covering his face with his hands as he sobs, “i love you so much” he chokes out, chest tugged in sharp pains.
he feels your arms wrap around him, face nudging through his hands “i know you do” your voice is so delicate, lips finding his cheeks and kissing the wetness away, izana pulls his hands away, looking at you and awaiting the torture.
[12:01 AM]
“say it again” izana whines, locking lips with yours and slowly rocking his hips, gasps leaving his throat when his sensitive cockhead brushes against your spongy walls.
“i love you” izana heart pounds at the words, smiling as he presses his forehead against yours “i’ll never get tired of hearing that” he whispers, tracing his fingers amongst the sheets till he finds your fingers, intertwining them with his.
“i know” you laugh softly, gripping his fingers, izana rolls his hips inciting another moan from your lips, “stay with me forever?” he questions, chest fluttering with caged butterflies, “always” you whisper back.
a new day with izana as the clock struck another minute to the time, and another day izana has gained being in love with you.
⊱Public sex featuring: Hanma, Ran, Sanzu, Kisaki x fem!reader
Warnings: explicit, smut, 18+, dark content, fem!reader, voyeurism, public sex, violence, blood, painful sex, cnc, dubcon (just to be safe), dead bodies mentioned, petnames (probably most of them) wc: ~1.3k
a/n: another post sitting in my drafts for too long. Barely edited, just throwing it up here. Also most generic Hanma ever but it’s my gosh darn fantasy too. 😔
notes. i don’t have a daddy kink but some characters…… oh and this ended up being a little soft. iffy about the smut but what else is new
wc. 6.7k
cw. fem! sushi chef! reader. one sided rivalry, one-sided pining, light bickering, rough sex, finger sucking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, degradation, condescending praise. descriptions of food. bitch used as degradation
summary. you hate nahoya with a passion and he has no idea why. you both were agreeable when you first met, but then you started ignoring him, which is a shame because he thinks you’re pretty
tagging. @touyasghosty thank you for hosting such a sexy collab! ‘m smooching your brain <3 @kazuwhora @ryuugot @bxnten thank you for beta reading <333 @messxworld @tokyoredlightdistrict & @shibuyawardnetwork
Nahoya doesn’t know what stick is up your ass, but you can be annoying as fuck and bitchy. He hasn’t even known you long enough to receive this loathing you have over him.
You moved into the old leasing space next to their shop two weeks ago. Him and Souya brought a welcome basket and introduced themselves. The both of you had an okay meeting, a handshake and pleasantries were exchanged, and nothing grating could have happened to rub you the wrong way, but somehow something did, and Nahoya has no idea what that is.
Every time your eyes land on his pink curls, they twitch. A glance at his curved lids, and your jaw locks. His smile causes a set of brows to knit together and crease. His heavier footsteps compared to Souya’s careful gait makes your shoulders tense. You hear him laugh and your eyes narrow into slits. You look at him like he’s a pile of dirty dishes and he fucking hates it.
But you only treat him this way.
Not Souya. No, never Souya. He gets none of your fury. He gets treated like an angel instead. Charming smile, cute teeth, twinkling eyes, and an even sweeter tone of voice that slides out of your throat like honey when you greet him.
While Nahoya gets your cold, aloof back, left out of the conversation like a third wheel, standing stupidly behind Souya as the both of you have delightful chatter and he stares longingly at you.
Nahoya didn’t hate you at first. He thought you were cute even. Heavy lashes that fluttered gently, soft, pink lips that rose to a lovely smile, bright eyes that looked at him so clearly he got lost in them for a second before the dulcet chime of his name snapped him out of his reverie and made his heart skip a beat.
You looked like Aphrodite incarnate. But you turned into Medusa in a matter of time and cast your hate on him as if he were Poseidon, and Nahoya truly has no idea why.
As he gazes at your glowing form, eyes that were once kind to him directed at his brother now, a giggle bubbling in your chest that makes your body tremor, his finger on the front counter taps into the wood faster, more harshly.
Nahoya decides that he won’t get held up by you anymore. If that’s how you wanna play, then fine. He’ll join your little game.
You’re dead to him too.
—
Well that was the plan at least.
It’s ironic, funny, and a little annoying all in one how the universe decides to spite him. The both of you are in a room stock full of ingredients. He came here to take storage, and you were asked by Souya to get him some more onions.
It would be laughable. If only the door didn’t slam shut with just a slight breeze of the wind. If only the click of the lock didn’t echo in the empty space and alarm you both. The old wood is too weak to hold itself open, and the knob doesn’t turn as it should. That was something Souya has been nagging him to look into, and he’s paying for his negligence here.
How fucking hilarious.
Nahoya can’t help the little snicker that leaves his mouth, and you whip your head to him, zooming in on that insufferable grin. “Don’t fuckin’ chuckle. This is your fault. Souya said the storage room door needed to be fixed, but you’ve been sitting on your ass. Not doing a damn thing.”
It’s always ‘Souya this, Souya that.’ Nahoya really can’t stop the chuckles that break from his chest.
“Take some fucking responsibility for your actions!”
Shaking his head and wiping some tears from the corner of his eyes, Nahoya calmly tells you, “Relax. Screaming won’t do any good if we’re still stuck in here, doll.”
Your teeth grind at the pet name, and you don’t listen, you just want more time to lash out.
You turn, walking up to him, steps heavy the closer you get until you’re finally in his face. A sharp, pointed finger pokes at his chest with each word that leaves your mouth.
“And I said, that this was your fault. We wouldn’t be in here, or trapped for that matter, if you actually fixed the damn door.” The glare you throw at him is vicious, eyebrows knit together, lids narrowed and sharp as a cat’s.
There’s a fire burning in your eyes that makes dark, dark pupils glow. Nahoya can see himself in them again just like at your first encounter, and it’s been so long since he was able to glance into your eyes head-on like this—it’s been so long since he’s had your undivided attention—that his stomach churns and his heart quickens.
He’s always found you, even more so your eyes, pretty. They’re genuine, clear, attentive to whoever's caught their fancy.
Then you raise your head higher, and they catch onto the light. It makes your irises shine and glaze over in a way that reminds Nahoya of freshly painted pottery pieces fresh out of a kiln.
“What?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion, brows lowering in that endearing way people do when they are utterly clueless, and your eyes soften, glaze over a touch more.
The gesture is so cute that Nahoya’s stomach bubbles over with arousal, and his pants are starting to feel a little tight.
He opens his mouth to talk, but you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. “Well?” and his mouth doesn’t move again because your forearms are pushing your soft tits up.
Instead he gulps the pool of saliva in his mouth like a lesser man, and his eyes trail up from your chest until it lands on your soft, glossy lips that are in a pout already.
Shit, he wants to kiss you.
Your eyes scrunch more when you realize he isn’t looking at you anymore. No, his eyes are too low, and there’s a hazy sheen to them that makes goosebumps trickle along your skin.
What is he looking at? Do you have something on your face? Your mouth? Your cheeks?
In the next few seconds, his eyes dart up to yours and a shiver wracks your spine. Their intensity makes you feel small. So, so small and meek. As if you aren’t around the same height anymore, like he’s towering over you—as if you’re being hunted.
He looks like he wants something.
Why does it feel like he’s on the verge of taking it whether you like it or not, that you have to coil your muscles and put your guard up?
His hand slowly moves. It brushes your cheek, and you’re so surprised by the motion that you flinch back, but his hand stops right there.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t want to.” It stays frozen, his voice a low, calm rumble.
You consider the current state of things. Nahoya’s shift in demeanor, the growing tension between you two that’s starting to make your stomach tingle, and the thick air hanging heavy in the room. It spreads to every nook and cranny, and invades your mind.
Nahoya inches closer before he’s back to brushing against your cheek, finally cupping it. You move in, transfixed by the gentle hold of his hand. It’s so faint, so warm that your heart races and your breathing slows with the serene touch. When you inhale, a whiff of crisp cologne invades your senses, and it’s addicting how nice it smells. You feel a little hazy as Nahoya traces his thumb over your lips, the gloss smudges a little around the plump edges.
Then he moves that same hand to the back of your head and pulls you in, slowly still.
Your lips touch softly, and a buzz starts at your mouth and travels throughout your body, raking down your fingers and toes, traveling through bones and tissue.
The thing about kissing Nahoya is that he’s not gentle at all, despite the soft way he reeled you in. He bumps his mouth against yours, sucks your tongue, bites your lips, and traces his tongue around for pleasure. Completely rough and wanton, and he fights for dominance. His tongue is merciless as he tastes all of you, like he can’t get enough. The pink muscle licks and prods over the same areas over and over again, his hand tilts your head slightly to get more access, to get down your throat.
Now there’s a fog entering your mind, making it fuzzy, and you completely forget your argument earlier as your legs grow weak.
It gets thrown out the window when his other hand traces down your back and squeezes at your ass. A tiny moan squeaks out of your mouth and your hands grip onto his work uniform. The hand behind your head moves lower when he feels your kiss get rougher. Jackpot.
They’re both playing with the supple flesh of your ass as you keen into his mouth. It feels so good, it’s starting to be the only thing you care about right now.
More. You want more, and Nahoya gives you exactly that as his knee presses between your legs.
They wobble when his hands move to your hips to slide them against his thigh, and the friction is so heavenly, your clit rubs against your panties from under your skirt, the gush of your slick so loud and sloppy that Nahoya groans and you buck your hips, cumming within the next few seconds.
The hands on his shirt claw into the rustling fabric, and he feels you shake, feels your pussy flutter even through the thin barrier of your panties as his pants get soaked in your juices.
“Fuck, doll.” His pant leg is soaked to the calf. He lets your mouth go to see you lean back and pant heavy breaths of air leaving your swollen, red lips.
You look really good right now, eyebrows knit, hazy eyes, shaky legs, heaving chest, panties a slippery mess, and Nahoya’s dick twitches imagining how it’d feel to sink his dick into your gummy walls—to see you creaming on him.
But first, he wants to feel your little hole wrapped around his fingers.
Bringing his hand down to your panties, he pushes them down, sliding two digits into your pulsing, squelchy hole, you start to squirm right away. Especially when he pushes the flat of his palm right against your sensitive nub so it rubs the tiny thing while he swirls his fingers.
“You’re a mess down here.” He hums.
You tremble and lean forwards, hands clawing at his wrist as you sob, “Nahoya, it‘s sensitive. ‘s too soon.” But all you do is push him closer to your sweet spot this way, and when his fingers get there, he grinds them against you, scraping your walls with the nubs of his fingertips.
Your pussy drools sticky cum, throbbing again. He knows you’re close, but he slides them out and steps back. With shaky legs, you gaze up at him full of want, disappointment. Confused on why he stopped.
His hands fumble with his pants, and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. You gape when his fat dick springs out, oozing a string of precum down the shaft.
Fuck he’s big.
He aligns the fat mushroom tip against your small hole, it flutters against the large, blunt head. His precum beads against your soft, pink folds.
“Nahoya, ‘s not gonna fit.” You’re whining, but your hands grasp his length, eager to test his girth, test how thick he is towards the base that both of your hands can’t fit around; your walls pulse at the discovery.
“I’ll just do the tip. Promise.”
Your lips purse for a second before you remove your hands. “Okay.”
He rubs your clit with the pad of his thumb as a little reward and you keen. He finally pushes in. The stretch is a little painful at first, but the drag of his cock against your velvety walls makes your toes curl, and Nahoya’s thumb still rubbing circles into your clit makes your hips buck.
“Nahoya, put it in. I want the whole thing.” He twitches at your words and groans, but he obliges. God, you’re so fucking greedy already. Slowly, he makes his way inside, one centimeter at a time.
By the halfway mark, your juices froth and bubble around the edges of his shaft, and his thumb rubs faster. The band of pleasure in your tummy is getting tighter, makes your cunt tingle and pulse.
Nahoya’s stomach is getting tight with pleasure too and his dick is twitching a fast tempo. You feel so warm and mushy, walls trapping and sucking his cock.
He can’t help how he pushes more of his shaft into soft, velvety walls. His dick feels like it’s gonna melt, and his head nearly lolls at the heavenly feeling of your cunt, pillowy folds parting for him.
“Wait. Nahoya. Wait. Wait wait wa-”
The knob starts to rattle, and you both freeze.
“Huh? Must be locked again.” A knock echoes through the room. “Is anyone inside?”
“Souya!”
The knob rattles harder and his voice sounds closer. “Were you in here this whole time? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Yeah, the door closed on us.”
“Us?”
“Nahoya’s in here too.”
“He is? Okay hang tight. I’m getting the keys.” Souya’s footsteps fade off.
Nahoya’s dick twitches. He wants to keep going despite the lack of time and Souya being on his way to finding you two like this.
He promises that he can get you to cum once, maybe twice before Souya’s back. It doesn't even matter to him if he cums, he just wants to feel your gummy walls clamp on him, feel you cream on his cock, sticky juices oozing out of your twitchy hole.
And he can do all of that for you, he just needs to ram his dick in, the full length of it, tilt his hips and swivel them around so it hits all of your sweet spots, and rub your clit for good measure.
If he doesn’t stop the first time you cum, he promises he can make you cum a second time within seconds, and make you squirt.
He can make you feel so good, if you just let him.
His heart races, dick pulsing madly in your cunt, stomach drawing taut with pleasure at the image of you creaming all over his cock. Eyes rolled back, mouth parted open to expose your pink tongue sticking out, and most of all, your pretty pussy oozing out milky cum down his shaft while transparent slick gushes onto his stomach.
Shit, the image alone is enough to make him cum. But you push him back and out of you, and Nahoya’s stomach plummets straight into a dark void.
You fix and tidy yourself up the best you can, which is remarkable because you actually look like you weren’t just fucking. Dusting off your shirt and skirt, pulling your panties back up, moving strands of your hair back to its original place, and rubbing your lips together to set your lip gloss again. Then you turn your gaze on him, cock hard, twitching and exposed as he stands there stupidly gaping at you.
It’s cold again, your eyes are narrowed into slits, and they’re dull with indifference. How can someone’s arousal, desire, emotions just flip like that?
“You should hide that or take care of it. Souya will be back soon.”
Nahoya shuts his mouth, lips folding over in discontent for a second before he’s hurriedly pulling up his pants and boxers until they’re on again, dick tucked into his waistband because it’s not settling down.
His lips move—
“Okay! I got them. Just give me a second.” But Souya comes barreling into the door and it rattles again as he fiddles with the lock.
You move right up to the frame and wait.
Within seconds, light shines in the dim room and the door creaks open. Opening up your arms, you hug Souya and slump your body on his, breathing out a sigh.
He looks a little confused as he rubs your back. “What were you both doing in here?”
You don’t give him an answer, pulling back and grasping his hand.
“…Huh?” you walk out with him in tow, and by the swish of your skirt does Nahoya see your sticky slick plastered between your thighs.
It still runs when you turn the corner, and the sight has Nahoya’s dick throbbing and his stomach burning, but his heart is icy and a little dull.
He gets left behind once again.
And see, from that day on, you have been running through his mind like a fucking pop song.
Nahoya tries to get on your good side, tries to understand why you hate him in the first place. He really does, but you don’t make it any easier.
Now, when he puts in effort, you ignore him more strongly. You don’t even spare him a glance or acknowledge his presence when he’s in the room.
When he comes over, you busy yourself with the customers, or practice your knife skills and prepare your lunch or dinner menu. Whenever you come over, you head straight for Souya, even when Nahoya greets you at the front.
It stings a little having you completely ignore him. He thought you got a little closer in the storage room, but no, things went back to the way they were earlier, but worse.
It’s almost like that incident didn’t even happen in the first place.
And despite all of that, he hates that he can’t hate you. He hates that he can’t get you out of his mind. He hates that he’s the only one hung up on your relationship, trying to make it better so you can go back to being on speaking terms.
He still gets hard when he thinks about that day, and his heart still beats furiously in his chest when he sees you. Especially when you’re focused on preparing your menu, or sharpening your sushi and sashimi knives.
The way you so elegantly handle them, or the poise that you have when you arrange your sushi platters.
Just like now.
He came over to talk, only to get ignored again, so he took a seat at your sushi bar to watch you prepare. This has become his new favorite interest now. When he watches you, he can tell you love doing this, your job.
Experienced hands quickly slide your knives, each and every one of them, against the knife sharpener. The shiing of metal against metal echoes in the quiet restaurant, and there’s a beautiful, shiny glint to your knives.
You must clean them really well.
Knives are easy to rust and dull after some use, Nahoya knows first hand. Restaurants depend on their kitchen and utensils. If a chef doesn’t take good care of their instruments, then they’re not an actual one in the first place. Chefs who love their job and the food they make don’t skip over any corners.
There’s a little tradition and legacy he guesses when it concerns managing a restaurant and cooking food. That is something he can see right now, while you’re prepping.
You have a little routine.
Your knives get sharpened first and foremost. You place them one by one in a line from smallest to biggest gently, making sure they don’t clack or clink onto the wooden bar; making sure that you don’t just drop them down.
“Why do you sharpen your knives first? Wouldn’t it be easier to get all of your ingredients together, so you don’t have to run around for them later?”
You paused at the last knife you were about to set down, turning it this way and that. Then your eyes softened and your grip on the handle changed into one of a gentle cradle.
“My mentor told me that knives are like an Itamae’s soul. We should cherish them for the joy they give to us and our customers.” You ran a finger over a flat side of the blade. “They’re why our cuisine is beautiful, why our ingredients can be gracefully cut and sliced, why we can perform our skills. Because sushi making is an art just as much as it is food, and I think other types of cuisine are more forms of art.”
Then your eyes darted up to Nahoya. The bright sheen and the light quiver of them intoxicating. Excited. Thrilled. That’s how you feel talking about your food, your art. And Nahoya can understand the sentiment. That warm, mushy feeling in his heart when a customer slurps down his and Souya’s ramen is unmatched to any other feeling he’s had.
(Well, except for the fluttering of his heart when he first met you.)
“Don’t you feel that way with your ramen? How your customers get happier after eating your food? The work you put into crafting each bowl?”
Nahoya’s hands twitch on the bar, and his stomach erupts into butterflies, where they fly up to his heart and the tiny thing flutters. Yeah, you really do love what you’re doing. If you can put your dislike aside to talk about your craft with him, then you must enjoy it dearly. And if you can share that joy with Nahoya, then you must really like cooking.
Nahoya likes that. How you both have the same passion over food. He could spend an eternity at your side talking with you about it.
(And maybe he should.)
“Yeah, it is.”
A small quirk of your lips, and a crinkle of your eyes as dark pupils sparkle over with tiny dots of stars make their way onto your face, and Nahoya’s heart stutters in on itself.
“Then you know what I’m talking about.”
His mouth parts open a sliver and his fingers buzz. They want to reach up—out towards you.
Nahoya wants—
“Nahoya! We need to get the shop ready.” Souya peeks his head in from the entrance.
His heart drops again, having to put a stop to this conversation, having to put a stop to his moment with you.
He stares into your bright, bright eyes a second more before he stands up and makes his way out, suppressing the urge to turn around to take one more glance at you as he hears your feet shuffle around your kitchen.
—
After that day, you start talking little by little with him more.
When he greets you from the front counter, you return it. When he wants to join your conversations with Souya, you let him. You slowly warm up to Nahoya, and when he visits your shop while it’s closed and he’s free, you don’t shoo him out or ignore his presence any longer.
He’s been happier these days. Talking with you is fun, he gets a serotonin boost when you have conversations, and they’re about all kinds of things. Like what types of food you like, your favorite ingredients or dishes, ideas for new menus. When the conversation turns away from food, you talk about your other hobbies and interests.
It’s wonderful. Nahoya yearned for days like these to come about under the stew of his mutual hatred to you, and ever since they have, he’s been on cloud nine—top of the world. Maybe he can start asking you out, or at least drop some obvious hints. He’s been subtle about his feelings, but they’re not taking effect.
This is why he’s at your shop once again, watching as you align sashimi along your cutting board.
Nahoya’s heart thrums in his chest at the almost thrillful glint of your eyes as you prepare sashimi. He knows that feeling. He gets the same way when he arrives to the shop early with Souya to think up a special.
Nimble fingers cradle a roll of sashimi as your knife skillfully cuts them into thin strips. Deft digits arrange sushi platters full of rice, avocado, seafood, radishes, and other ingredients next.
You have pretty hands.
The nails are cut short and buffed down, and the skin of your hands look smooth and soft, maybe a little rough from all the knife handling, but it’s nothing Nahoya can’t handle.
They’d probably look equally as pretty wrapped around his dick. He wants to feel your nails scratch marks on his back. He wants them gripping crescents into his skin. God, he wants you again. He misses the tight squeeze of your cunt and the warm cradle of your gummy walls.
He has been plagued with visions of you writhing and whining on his cock every night since that incident, and he can feel his pants tightening as you compress and slide your hands up and down a thick roll of sushi. It looks too meaty to be considered just rice, seafood, and radishes.
“Nahoya, why are you here again?”
His eyes snap up to you. “Why can’t I? There something wrong with me being here? Am I distracting you?”
You sigh before placing the roll down and picking up your sushi knife, hand gripped tight on the handle while the other curls over the sushi. “Not at all.”
Nahoya hums. “Good.”
The sound of your knife cutting clean through the rolls before clacking into the wooden board echo throughout the shop. He takes a glance around, really looks at the interior.
“Your parents must be proud of you.” They must be because there’s a homely, cozy feel to the shop.
It was a simple compliment. An off the hand remark with positive connotations.
But you didn’t take it that way.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You stand up straight from your slightly hunched over form. “Am I not qualified enough to be called a sushi chef?”
Your eyes feel cold on him, just like they were that day. “Do you think my parents payed for all this?”
Nahoya’s blood runs cold and his heart plummets from the clouds. He doesn’t know what landmine he just triggered, but he meant nothing bad by it.
“Tell me, Nahoya. What do you mean by that?” Your arms cross over your chest, resting above your uniform, and your head tilts in challenge. “I’m waiting.”
His heart spikes and his hands clench. “I meant that your parents must be proud of how much you’ve accomplished.”
He stares into your eyes with genuine honesty, but you only click your tongue and sneer. “Fuck you.”
You storm off into the back. Nahoya has half a mind following after you, pushing open the door to slip inside before you have the chance to close it.
The door clicks shut. He doesn’t lock the door, but he does stand in front of it.
“I don’t know what impression I gave off to make you mad at me, but that wasn’t my intention.”
You scoff, “Yeah. Sure.”
His teeth bite down and his jaw feels tight. “Why are you mad at me anyway?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Nahoya’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, I would.”
“Well that’s something for me to decide, and I think…” you mock the notion of tapping your chin in thought. “No.”
Anger rises in his blood. “God, why are you such a fucking bitch.”
“I don’t know, Nahoya. Why are you such a fucking asshole.”
“For what? I didn’t do a fucking thing to you.”
“Yes, you did. You’re just an idiot for not knowing.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
“No, that’s something you should reflect on. Wrack your tiny, little pea brain all you can for it. I’m pretty sure even you can come up with something.” Your venomous tone drips mock pity, and it’s getting to him.
“I can’t reflect on something I don’t know what I did.”
“Well that’s too bad then.” Your lips pout and lower in a frown, but your eyes are beady with loathing. “Guess you’ll never know.”
His anger starts to boil over, chest thudding and heart twisting with the ugly fury that encompasses him, but despite that, as he watches your eyes harden into a glare and narrow, he finds his dick twitching in his pants.
You’re such a bitch, but you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad. It’s the same reason he couldn’t fully hate you before, he just wanted to fuck you every time you yelled at him or narrowed your eyes in a cold stare.
The glare you’re giving him right now makes his head spin. The aloof, detached look on your face makes lust pool in his stomach. He wants to fuck you. Nahoya wants to fuck you stupid, fuck you into a blabbering, sobbing mess—fuck the attitude straight outta you.
He nearly groans with the image his mind provides for him.
“Well? Cat got your tongue?” He does groan with the sharp edge laced to your voice.
“No, you got my fuckin’ tongue.”
Your mouth drops a peep, brows scrunching in confusion, and Nahoya takes that chance to reel you in.
He smacks his lips into yours, nibbling and sucking on the plump flesh. He feels you shiver, hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him in closer, and he groans.
His hands are desperate rubbing up your sides, your back, down to your ass where he cups them and kneads the doughy flesh. He pulls down your pants and goes back to your ass. Soft skin molds under his touch and he gives it a smack, you moan into the kiss, biting at his lips that makes him groan deep in his chest.
He rubs and squeezes the voluptuous skin, sliding his hand down to where your thighs meet your ass, pressing two fingers inside the fat of your inner thighs, brushing against your plush folds. They’re wet, soaking, and a squelch resounds when his knuckle nudges against it.
You have a thong on. Fuck.
Nahoya pulls back. “Soaking wet. And after all that yapping earlier. Course a bitch like you got excited.”
You moan and squeeze your thighs together.
Nahoya smirks. “Yeah, a slut indeed.”
He pulls your panties down, trailing his fingers over your drooling slit, thumb catching onto your clit where he swatches it back and forth. Your knees tremble and your hands clutch his shirt tighter.
“N- Nahoya.”
His fingers stop, and your hips twitch from the loss of feeling. “Try calling me something else.”
“Sir?”
Nahoya stays quiet as half-lidded eyes stare into yours, dark and brimming with lust. His smile tilts up just a smidge. “Not quite.”
Your mouth parts open, pupils dilating, voice wobbling as you say, “D… daddy.”
Nahoya plunges two fingers inside your pulsing hole, and you have to lean on him, lest you stumble. His voice sounds deep and rich against your ear. “That’s good, princess.”
You shiver a little more strongly this time, your walls flutter on his scissoring fingers, and more creamy slick drips down his fingers.
“No one’s made you call them daddy before?”
Your shoulders twitch from hearing the word alone, and Nahoya’s dick jumps, imagining what you’d sound like moaning it, whimpering the name, or whining for him.
You look down and shake your head, hair falling around you, casting a shadow over your face, slightly hiding it from view.
“See, I don’t get that. You look fuckin’ adorable saying it for me.”
Your pussy throbs.
“You like that, doll? Like it when daddy’s fingers are inside of you. Like it when you call me daddy?” burying your head into his shoulder, you nod.
His fingers work into you faster, brushing against that one spot that has you seeing stars, thumb circling against your clit. Your eyebrows knit together, forehead scrunching, dulcet voice whimpering, “Daddy daddy daddy.” Before you’re cumming, fingers clawing at his shirt, body trembling against his.
Obscene drops of cum plop onto the floor, glide like thick molasses down his hand, and your walls clamp on his fingers so tight that he can only imagine how your tiny cunt would take all of him.
While you catch your breath and recover, Nahoya works on his belt. Everything is leading up to that day in the storage room, and he couldn’t be any more thrilled. But it’s while he’s stroking his dick, fat cockhead resting against your twitching hole that he remembers something.
“Ah shit. I don’t have condoms on me.”
You push your hips against his. The tip sinks in a smidge and the feeling of your gummy walls cradling just his tip is enough to make him shiver, eyes rolling in his head.
“Oh fuck.”
“Put it in me, daddy. ‘m on the pill.” And you latch your arms around his shoulders.
“Well, fuck. You got that, princess.” He slowly pushes the rest of him inside, and when he bottoms out at the hilt, he groans. You’re so tight, hole stretched out and twitching around his shaft.
Ah, fuck. He reaches an arm back and switches the lock on the door.
Nahoya starts slow, sliding himself out then back in. His tip kisses your cervix with each stroke, cockhead nudging against your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes him with each stroke out, wanton over the loss of his dick. The shaft gleams with your cum, coated in the shiny slick, and it only provides more lube for him to slide back inside.
Like this a slow and deep pace forms. Drops of slick slide down his shaft and wet his balls that slap into the globes of your ass. Your hips buck up and grind with each thrust to the hilt. Your cunt pulses when his cock throbs, and you’re so fucking tight, velvety walls hugging him with such a grip that it makes his stomach tighten, band of pleasure stretched taut.
You bring a hand down to your clit and rub circles into it, eyes rolled to the top of your head, drool peeking out the corners of your lips.
Pretty soon your juices have his pelvis soaked, loud squelches and smacks of your pussy lips hitting his hips, and after a few more strokes, you come undone.
Your cunt clamps down on him as creamy slick seeps out around the ring his shaft, walls fluttering trying to milk him dry, but Nahoya doesn’t want to cum yet. Not until he feels you squirt, so when you remove your hand, he replaces it with his thumb, rubbing your puffy clit further, pace quickening to the point he’s rutting into you.
You squeal, “Stop! ‘s too much.” And tug at his hair which only makes him groan, stomach and balls tightening. Your body convulses, hole spasming as your eyes roll back, tongue slipping out the expanse of your mouth.
Your cunt squeezes Nahoya’s cock in a vice grip. He pulses once more before his balls snap up and ropes of white paint your walls, his finger never stops on your taut nub, and you gush slick all over his abdomen.
By the time you come down from your second orgasm, Drops of your cum drip from Nahoya’s stomach, soft lines of his abs soaked with your slick, and fat droplets of thick sperm ooze from around your hole, plopping onto the floor and staining it with the mess of your other fluids.
Nahoya and you both catch your breath, his knees are shaky and your legs are trembling, turned into jelly, but his dick twitches when you squeeze down on him.
“Fuck. Watch it, princess.” But you don’t stop clamping down on him, and he groans, hips bucking into yours from how your gummy walls hug his sensitive cock, pulsing and throbbing, sucking him in like a vacuum, as if he hasn’t already emptied his load into you.
“You’re a fucking vixen, do you know that?” His hands grip your hips tight, rolling them in circles and grinding figure-eights into his, but your puffy clit throbs in wanting.
“Tell me why you were so mad at me.”
Your lips pout and fold over, and your eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before you step back, pulling your cunt away from him. “You said I was probably a spoiled rich girl.”
Nahoya pauses. “I never said that.”
Your mouth purses and anger rises in your chest. “Yes, you did, Nahoya! Don’t lie. You thought I was some rich girl that learned how to make sushi for fun, didn’t you? That I wasn’t taking my job seriously. Even though I’ve been busting my ass with my own hard-earned money trying to run everything.”
Your voice breaks off into sobs, and you turn your back on him, trying to hide yourself, but he’s being reminded of the bitter memories of your cold back. Only this time, it’s trembling and shaking, small and hunched in, not straight and tall and confident like he’s seen.
“Just because my parents are a little well-off doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. I’m working hard for my dreams too. Don’t discredit my efforts for my parents' social standing.”
Nahoya wracks his mind, searching through his past conversations. When did he ever discredit your cooking skills? He’s only thought good things about you.
“Nahoya, she’s at it again.”
“What?”
“Our cousin. She begged 10k off Uncle. Said she wanted to start up a restaurant.”
“But she’s never taken classes, or has any knowledge in business management. What a fucking spoiled brat. That’s what she is.”
Oh.
Nahoya remembers that conversation. He also remembers how the door creaked open a bit before closing, the bell chiming which distracted them both.
They thought a customer arrived or was hesitant on entering, so he went outside to check, but no one was there. He also remembers how cold your stare turned when you came in later and shifted your eyes to him, the edges red and puffy.
That must have been you at the door, and you must have overheard them and misunderstood. The pieces are starting to click together.
So this was all just a big misunderstanding.
He leans over your shoulder to peek into your face, but your arms cover you from view.
He kisses his teeth. “Can I talk to ya, doll? I think you got a misunderstanding.”
“nhm.” You shake your head and bury your face further into the cradle of your inner elbow.
“Doll, let me just talk to ya for a little.” He reaches a hand towards you, but you slap him away.
Nahoya doesn’t budge. His mouth parts open, tongue trailing along his teeth. He wonders if he has to force you to listen because you’re being a fucking brat right now. A childish one who won’t have a proper conversation. Instead, hiding yourself away to lick at your wounds.
He grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you up to see your mascara ruined and fat droplets of tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, eyes hazy and feverish.
His dick rises to full mast.
“You kiddin’ me? You got upset over something as small as that? You ignored me over somethin’ so stupid? I wasn’t talking about you that day, I was talking to Souya about our cousin.”
“Your cousin?”
“Yeah, our fucking spoiled cousin who begs her parents for money to do stupid shit she doesn’t commit herself to.”
Your mouth opens and closes for a few seconds before you take a deep breath, eyes softening into regret. “‘m-”
His grip on your hair gets a little tighter. “That wasn’t very nice, doll.” But he lets go.
Placing his hand on your shoulder, he turns you back to him. That same hand roams to your cheek, brushing against it before his thumb strokes the delicate skin.
Your eyes shift again, full of arousal. You look at him so prettily, pupils dilated and shining, mouth parted open a sliver. All doe-eyed and precious as his thumb ghosts to a corner of your lips, rubbing the plump flesh.
Then it slides inside your warm mouth, and you can taste yourself. This was the same hand he fingered you with. “Do you hate daddy now, princess?”
“Nuh-uh.” And your cute little fucked out head shakes before you start sucking on his fingers, transfixed with the soft yet dominating handle.
Nahoya’s breath hitches and his dick pulses. Fuck. You’re so fucking cute.
He’s gonna ruin you. Wreck your cunt, mold your walls to his dick, whatever it is so you can keep being like this the whole night. He’ll fuck you silly.
FOOTNOTES
itamae means “in front of the board” and it is also the title used for a sushi chef.
nahoya didn’t know this but you looked at him all starry-eyed too during that first meeting. souya saw all of this and wondered when the two of you would patch things up.
he found out when he came over, just as the two of you left your back room, clothes and hair rustled, nahoya’s shirt was on backwards, your uniform was buttoned up unevenly, you were breathless, and your lips were swollen red.
souya teased nahoya about it the whole night, but he didn’t care bc the both of you called each other before you fell asleep and ended up talking for hours.
souya had trouble sleeping that night bc of your giggling, Nahoya’s chuckling, and your excited chatter.
taglist. @festive i’m going back n tagging ppl on my taglist form so let me know if you wanna be taken off viva! i feel like you’re not interested in tr anymore but rather genshin or twisted wonderland 🥲 @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ray-lol
Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sex, oral sex, gun play (mikey's part), throat fucking (ran's part), mention of drugs (haruchiyo’s part), mentions of violence, bonten men after a good or bad fight, blood, degradation, use of pet names, and hints of angst. Minors do not interact.
◢S. MANJIRO
HIGH ON THE ADRENALINE. Sano Manjiro, upon arriving at your shared penthouse in the dead of night was very much awake. Mind buzzing and refusing to keep up with the stillness of the evening, he made his way to the bedroom where you were snoring softly on the bed—wearing nothing but his shirt and panties. Stirring you back to the conscious world by peppering kisses on your nape, Manjiro was not only high on the adrenaline after a brawl that ended on Bonten’s favor, his craving for your pussy intensified after seeing you willingly spread your legs despite the visible specks of blood on his face under the night light. But when Bonten loses, retreating with their tails tucked in between their legs and teeth clenched for the thirst of revenge, Manjiro Sano was FRUSTRATED BEYOND RELIEF. And sadly, there weren't enough heads to shoot and your cunt was all he could defile when his knuckles were aching. Waking up to his cock lodged into your mouth, your lover had his gun pointed to your head while his free hand fisted your hair to keep you in place. Those soulless black eyes brimming with annoyance glared at your pretty face when he was met with resistance.
“What’s the matter? Can’t even suck this cock properly now? Better do it right or you’re fucking joining those body bags when I’m through with you, angel.”
◢S. HARUCHIYO
ELATED. A happy Haruchiyo was a giver. Lovingly eating your cunt on the couch while the rain patters outside. The weight of his gun light after executing a rival gang to the point they were dwindling. Plus, Mikey had praised his efficiency and swiftness, escaping the area with nothing but an empty gun. Indeed, it was a great day and he wasn’t afraid to show it by pampering his gorgeous baby. The idea of drowning in your juices and dying by that was the best way to die indeed—until your pink-haired lover came home one day in silence with his brows pinched harshly, his blood on the suit he wore. He acts ALMOST LIKE A STRANGER. Having changed his bandages, Haruchiyo was quick to shoo you away. This wasn’t new, you were used to his cold behavior whenever he lost to a fight. Nursing his wounds and pride. Barely answering your questions or saying nothing at all. Sometimes you wished he would yell or even bite back whenever you asked excessively. Anything to hear his voice instead of him avoiding you like you did not matter at all—finding solace in his old friends, drugs and alcohol.
“Huh? I don’t care—why don’t you ask your friends to accompany you to that shitty restaurant? Baby, I’ve been fucking shot. What makes you think I’ve got the time and energy to take you out?”
◢KAKUCHO
SILENTLY OVERJOYED. Getting work done and finishing off a bunch of bastards before ten in the evening had Kakucho in a great mood. Even when his fists were slightly aching, the smile on his face upon entering the apartment and seeing you cooking dinner was heartwarming. He was indeed thrilled at the thought of spending more time with his pretty baby, including burying his thick cock into your tight heat while your tits bounced in front of his face. Shooting his load on your supple breasts and inside your pussy was the highlight of his day—not that he’ll ever admit that to his colleagues who often teased him for being whipped over pussy. But then again, who wouldn't be? However, there was a brutal side to a man like Kakucho, a side often hidden in the dark. A RUTHLESSLY BRUTAL side that came out to play whenever he was highly stressed out. It came to no surprise, not even to you, as he had your head pinned down against the pillows to muffle your cries while he railed you from behind for almost four hours now as if he didn’t get shot in the arm. The new bandages you placed were now slowly soaked, his wound slightly opened. But he never cared. Never stopping despite how much you’ve cummed, soiling the sheets with your juices for the sake of emptying his balls into you. Brows furrowed and teeth clenched, Kakucho wondered what would break first—the bed or your back.
“Angel, your pussy’s so tight. What? Can’t take it anymore? Nonsense. You love this cock, don’t ‘ya?”
◢H. RAN
CELEBRATES. The first destination he goes to after a brawl was the club. Lucky customers and regulars having the chance to drink free alcohol. His hand wrapped around your waist while the other held his glass of whiskey. The expensive cigar he often indulges on after a good fight on his smirking lips that was lightly bleeding after taking a punch there. But nothing could ruin his mood tonight and seeing you dance sensually under the strobe lights only for him was making his cock twitch. What a good girl you were to let him fuck you in the VIP section, moaning his name while the music blasted outside. Rindou drinking next to you two, enjoying the show of your pussy lips being spread apart by his older brother’s cock. Ran was grinning the entire time, even on a tiring day, being UNFORGIVINGLY HARSH as he pistoned his hips, cock bullying into your mouth. Chin slick with his cum and your own saliva dripping down onto the carpet. The sound of you gurgling around his length is disgustingly obscene whereas Ran was indifferent, taking another drag of his cigarette to rid of the bitter taste of defeat and the memory of Mikey glaring at him to fix his shit.
“Had a fuckin’ awful day, love. Would become better if I get to kill those fuckers… or fuck this pussy right in front of those losers before shooting them straight in the eye. You’d lemme do that, yeah?”
◢H. RINDOU
EXPECTED TO WIN. Rindou wasn't a famed Haitani for nothing. Even if gone were the days he often fought hand-to-hand combat, he was still adept on using his fists like he was good at shooting. So beating up the guys who decided to trash one of Bonten’s bars for a second of thrill, Rindou was back on his seat and accepting the glass of wine from you. You were quick to see the small cut on his finger, ready to pull out the band-aid you always got ready from your purse only to be stopped by your boyfriend. It was just a cut, he said softly. You wished he wouldn't sulk the next time he lost to a fight, but you could never tell fate. The following week, Rindou returned home with a BROODING look on his face. Word traveled fast and you didn’t have to ask him what happened, having heard from Ran that his younger brother was shamelessly beaten up by a rival gang who jumped him while on a mission. Needless to say, Rindou wasn't in a swell mood. Immediately hitting the variety of alcohol he had stocked up, your boyfriend slowly made his way to you and ordered you stripped. The shirt that was stained with his specks of blood was removed, revealing the bruises he sustained. His dark tone leaves no room for confused looks or delay. Even when you offered to patch him up first.
“Either you strip right now or I’ll tear that nightgown off of you. Don’t make me fucking repeat myself again, doll. That pussy is all I need right now.”
now that the weather is finally better i’m skating again / getting into roller blading i’m purely thinking about gross and sleezy skater eren
content + trigger warnings: the reader is kind of a crybaby, eren isn’t very nice to the reader, mentions of catcalling, fingering, oral (receiving), mentions of the reader scraping their knee (no blood or graphic detail), implied eren is lowkey a manwhore, corruption, squirting, overstimmulation
skater eren who’s been chasing after you for almost a full month now when usually he gets bored after a week if he’s not getting anything out of it
skater eren making pervy comments every time you pass him and his gross group of friends that have nothing better to do except loiter around the skate park all day, hollering and asking if you’re coming over to his place tonight
skater eren always managing to get you in make out sessions behind the bathrooms or in his bedroom before you leave just as things start heating up, leaving him to go and beg other girls for nudes or a quickie just to calm back down
skater eren teasing you for crying when you lose your balance on your roller skates, just barely scraping up your knees, nothing serious at all, but he still offers to patch you up and kiss it better if it means you’ll give him a kiss in return
cw: hate fucking. size kink. implied breeding. power imbalance. slight unrequited love. mentions of birth control. oral. m and f receiving. Fingering. Fingers in mouth. Finger sucking. lmk if I missed anything.
an: minors dni. no beta just cuz lol. first time writing 4 nanami pls don’t look, close ur eyes!
NEIGHBOR NEXT DOOR: TOJI FUSHIGURO
“D’ya go around fuckin’ all your neighbors—hah—or, am I the exception?” You breathe through clenched teeth, long nails digging into the white sheets. “I Could ask you the same thing, yeah?” He hums, his thumb sways across your lips, and smudges the already ruined lipstick toward your cheek. “Open up, will ya?” the grin that tugs at the corner of his scarred lip is wicked, despite that, you continue to follow his directions with a smile on your face—not a single thought behind those pretty eyes. Your mouths wide open, He pushes his deft digits into your mouth till you gag around them, they’re coated in your adhesive saliva. You swirl your tongue around, lapping at his digits like you normally would with a lollipop. Rumpled lips wrap around your perky nipple. The cold air hits your tits when he pulls back and you gasp at the sudden change of temperature. “You’re on the pill, right?” He chides, with a smile. It’s a stupid question, you think, considering he’s already balls deep into you. He asked a question. you nod. You’re gonna give him an answer. “Then you won’t mind if I fill up yer pussy full of my cum, yeah?” He’s vile. Filthy, even. You’re not the first to experience his avidity nor will you be the last. He asked a question, you can’t give him an answer—yet.
ONE-SIDED HATE: GOJO SATORU
You hate him. You swear you hate him, the veins running down your neck pulse in annoyance when he’s around you. Your eyes slit and your body goes tense when he speaks or looks at you for a snub minute. Insufferable, he’s insufferable. Despite the hate that seems to seep deep into your bones and bloom like rooted sunflowers, you can’t help but admire the way his cock pierces your cervix with each thrust. Frosted, white hair clings to his forehead and the signature smirks tugs at his upper lips, “thought ya said you didn’t like me?” He chides, “sloppy lil’ cunt clearly says otherwise, dontcha’ think?” Soft pads of his fingers push back the hood of your clit, tender and sensitive—It trembles under his touch. Sticky slick clings to his cock and small beads slide down his shaft. You slap a hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle your moans, you couldn’t possibly boost his ego—It’s already high enough as it is. Chuckling, he grasps your much smaller hand, your walls flutter around his cock—heavy-lidded azure eyes peer down on you. your body rocks forward as his cock dives into you at a spry pace, your walls clasp around his length—tightly. He smiles, he has the audacity to smile as he watches your pussy squelch while viscid cum dribbles down the sheets.
FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS: GETO SUGURU
Friends. Just friends—nothing more, nothing less. Friends who happen to be a bit closer than friends should—sharing nudes, lingering touches, passionate kisses sown on each other’s bodies. Geto Suguru is mesmerized—glossy, smooth lips wrap around his tip. Warm but sticky hands palm at his shaft, you’re perfect. You know exactly how to rile him up, you know exactly how to use that pretty mouth of yours—you’ve known him since you were both children, after all. It's engraved into you—All of him—He’s engraved into you. The goosebumps that blemish when you run your tongue over his slit, the way his eyes screw shut when you fondle his heavy, fat balls that are covered in pre and your drool. “fuckk” his lips slip, curving upwards into a smile. His vast, calloused hand caresses your cheek, it’s intimate—much more so than you’d like. “Geto, you close?” You croak, throat sore from the grith of his cock. “jus’ a lil bit- fuck, longer.” He pants. Exaggerated, definitely exaggerated. One rapid thrust and white liquid surges down your windpipe, blocking the oxygen that tries to worm into your lungs. He could’ve at least given you a warning, You think.
WORKPLACE ROMANCE: NANAMI KENTO 
This is unprofessional—He knows that. Initially, he had invited you over for a drink or two, considering you were new and you would be working under him. He had no ill intentions, so how did you end up in his bed? Moreover, you’re naked and tangled in his sheets. Your eyes are fixed on his, you can’t help but smile. It’s cute—how hesitant he is, you mean. You can’t tell if he’s actually uncertain, he looks more spaced out than uncertain. you wrap your arms around his neck and gently guide him over your form, “you’re taking too long.” Your breath caresses his neck. Those four words gave him the push he needed, this wasn’t necessarily bad. Two firm hands spread your legs, gently caressing your inner thigh. Warmth radiated from the point of contact, it spread throughout your entire body like spilled oil. He’s face to face with your bare cunt, it’s pretty, he thinks. He’d be a fool to not take the chance given. You squirm in his grasp, his wet tongue licks up your slit, spreading your puffy folds and zapping electricity down your spine. His tongue circles around your clit, before flicking at it. Two thick fingers invade your pussy, your thighs flex when they curl within your velvet walls. “Fuck! s’ so good!” You whimper, eyes screwed shut in pleasure. Nanami is skilled. he has you unraveling on his tongue, pussy squelching and begging for more. He pulls his fingers out, they’re decorated in your cum. He pops them into his mouth, savoring your taste on his tongue.
okay, i'm here like i promised! gonna drop some kakucho thoughts this time!! kakucho crying from being inside you, like he can't get enough of you. he can't stop himself from not fucking you. and it becomes even harder when you wrap your legs around him, pulling him even closer. the feeling is so overwhelming that he can't help but let a few "i love you"s slip from his lips. goshhhh i'm only soft for him 😩
Omg yes Fi. He would. He definitely would. It's always hard love and soft sex with kaku. Also tagging @lalunanymph & enjoy <3
꒰𝟑:𝟎𝟏 𝐀.𝐌꒱ ~ 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎
➜ CW :: afab-reader, soft sex, unprotexted sex, established relationship, husband! Kakucho,creampie, aftercare, bodyworship, explicit smut, pleasure dom Kakucho, sub reader, Kakucho being a gentleman like always.
“Oh dear!”, Kakucho buzzes watching your glistening skin underneath him as you squirm while his sturdy hands wrap around your slim biceps. His pace slows down, chest swelling to take in deep breaths before his hands slide under the valley of your waist. “Fuck, you always feel so good baby”, he coos; he his face pressed onto your chest sending shivers all over your body, adorning your skin with goosebumps.
You shift your gaze on him only to find him scooping himself up as he cups your knees to spread your legs.Your body jolts as he starts to thrust with deep strokes along with longer pauses; he's exhausted, his muscles must be aching but he couldn't care less about it. All he wants to see your cheery tainted cheeks as he fills you up.
Scarlet gaze traces down to your face as you arch in euphoric shots of pleasures feeling his cock hit you sweet spot. “Ohhh fuck”, you curse as he keeps thrusting, now even faster. “Baby, you feel so good”, he whispers hovering over your body rubbing his cheek against yours. You feel his scar lacing your temples while his lips takes yours sucking them meticulously.
Mind clouded, hands desperately gripping the sheets as trails of muffled moans keeps falling from your mouth. You feel his breath against your mouth,his burning stare on you as he kisses your forehead. “Love you”, he whispers against your ears while you curl your legs around his torso. “Wh-wait”, he mumbles hands tensing, heartbeat racing as you pull him closer to wrap your hands around his nape. His cheeks heat up as your lips part :
“cum inside me —please!!”, you plead gaining his surprised dancing eyebrows. “You sure?”, his voice is husky,bold before he goes for final thrust.
“Ummhmmm”, you nod unable to form a proper ‘yes’ since he's already moving his his hips. He finds it cute when you can't seem to form proper words, not because he's been fucking you mercilessly, pulling out four orgasms in a row but because you're too shy to ask for more. “Ohh ngghmh ... ’m close,close”, you shudder as his thick load of cum coats your walls.
You pant heavily catching up with your breath. His lips tug up in a smile as he swiftly rolls you over without pulling out. “Oh my god!”, you squeal in utmost surprise making him chuckle. He tucks your loose sticky hair strands behind your earlobes making you shut your eyes. “Wh-at?”, you ask smiling like an idoit knowing what he might say. “I love you, love you so much!”, he mumbles. You've heard it so many times yet it still gives you a swarms of butterflies. You bury your face in the cave of his neckline smiling and conveying,“Love you too dear” while his fingers roam over your back.
warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, Dark Content, monster fucking, hanma has devilish features (fangs, long tongue, horns), mentions of death, character death (not y/n), blood, technically dubcon cause y/n is under the influence but y/n is into it, mentions of collaring, humiliation and heavy degradation (skank, slut, whore, bitch), exhibitionism, biting, blood play, spit play, rough sex, choking, objectification, squirting, fucking to the point of passing out.
note: This piece was written for @semisgroupie heaven and hell collab and it is hella late I am so sorry-- it was also heavily inspired by the TR theory that Hanma may or may not be a shinigami. I won't say much more than that cause it involved heavy TR spoilers but it's one of my favourite theories and @t-roki has an excellent PowerPoint on it if you ever need some proof LMFAO. I've never really written anything like this, like this aggressive, so I hope I did a good job! As always, feedback, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3
A shinigami's purpose was simple. Bring death onto humans who seemed to be asking for it. There was usually a rhyme or reason as to why a Shinigami was hunting a specific human. Maybe they made a deal with the devil they couldn’t quite meet. Maybe they were playing with fire and didn’t understand that it would bring unwanted attention. Maybe it was simply just their time, leaving one of the many undertakers to finish the job for those stubborn humans who had a date with death.
There were rules to follow, and laws set in place. Even the darkest beings known to man followed principles so things could run smoothly.
All of them but Shuji Hanma.
Chaos. All he wanted was chaos, always. It pumped through his body and seemed to flood through each vein and nerve of the humanoid form he was given when coming to earth. Hanma didn’t follow any strict path. Didn’t seek out specific humans who needed to go. No, he sought out chaos.
A group of teens fighting fist to fist? He found himself in the middle of it, encouraging one to pull the knife that sat in his pocket while breaking the jaw of another with his fist. A man with a revengeful plan? Hanma found himself befriending him, playing the role of “the devil on his shoulder” while leading him down the path of utter destruction.
Hanma didn’t like following the rules, he sought out chaos, and needed to feel the rush of adrenaline that came along with the absolute fear that flashed on people’s faces right before he ended their sad lives. He needed that thrill, needed to hear the screams of the damned and feel their blood splatter across his cheeks as he delivered the final blow.
Everything else just seemed incredibly and utterly boring.
Smearing his bruised knuckle over his busted lip to pick up crusted blood, Hanma’s eyes were still dilated as he stared at the body he had just crumpled in the alleyway. This kill was a bit sloppier than usual, some asshole in the wrong place at the wrong time. The shinigami found himself more irritable today than usual, and this man just so happened to bump his freshly lit cigarette right from his tattooed hand. He didn’t even have a chance to apologize before Hanma had him by the throat.
And yet despite the fresh metallic taste of blood that now lingered on his tongue Hanma still wasn’t fulfilled. There was still this pit forming in his chest, leaving him empty, hungry for something more. His desire for chaos sometimes took longer to fulfil, only something really horrific enough to fill that void–
But sometimes the answer was something much simpler. Sometimes all Shuji needed was a nice, warm hole to unload his desire’s into. That became painfully clear to him when he stumbled from the alleyway, leaning against the dingy brick walls and catching a glimpse of you through the window of the bar across the street.
Although the tacky lights reflected off the glass, blurring out your eyes Hanma saw everything he needed to as you leaned against the bar. Pretty body, heeled foot gently swaying before the tip of your toe tapped the ground, the way the tip of your finger circled the rim of your glass, collecting what Hanma assumed was sugar before you pressed the sweet substance between your glossed lips.
Oh, yea, this was a hunger Hanma was sure that only you could fill.
He fixed himself up, to the best of his ability that is, using the handkerchief in his pocket to wipe away crusted blood from his knuckles before running his hands between his unruly gold and black locks. Although he despised shitty bar lights he was grateful for them now, so the blood that stained his clothes wasn’t as noticeable as he approached you.
He licked his lips when he stood over a head taller than you, his spine chilling with excitement as he leaned down beside you. It was cute that you were so unaware of the monster that loomed over you, his overwhelming presence enough to make some people flee the counter. He only caught your attention when his elbow brushed your own, your eyes lazily travelling up to meet his gaze.
Glassy, wide and innocent, lonely, curious.
Just Hanma’s type.
“Your glasses are broken.” You stated simply, voice laced with a soft hiccup. Hanma licked his canines with an amused huff, pulling the familiar gold frames from his face to check the damage. He was so caught up in you, how your lipstick was a bit smeared and how your hand tensed up around your glass to notice that the bridge of his glasses was indeed broken.
“Good thing I already got a good look at you~” He finally spoke, holding back yet another amused look when his voice alone had your eyes widening a bit, back straightening so you could lean in closer to him. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asked as he rested his chin on his palm, so his face could be only inches from yours. You gave him a meek little nod, his eyes staying glued to yours as he called the bartender over with a simple flick of his wrist.
“Are you here alone?”
“Mhm, wanted to have a little fun.”
That made the corner of his lips twitch “Do you usually have fun alone?”
“No, but the people I usually run into make it fun. Will you?”
Yea, you would fulfil his desires just fine, especially with the way your lashes batted at him, how your fingertips left your glass just to playfully brush over his arm.
“I sure as hell will.”
“What’s your name?”
“Just call me Shuji.”
You were basically asking for it.
It took about ten minutes tops for him to get you to down your last drink, having you leaning up against him nice and pretty before he easily led you out of the bar. He said he was ‘bringing you back to his place’, but the two of you made it as far as that same alleyway with the dead body until Hanma had you pinned against the brick wall.
The two of you had kissed the whole way out, your pretty fingernails clawing away at his black button-up, pulling it free from the confines of the belt it was tucked into. Your teeth were sinking into his bottom lip when he finally grabbed you by the throat and pressed you into the brick, lips turning into a grin when you whined so needily, nails seeming to cling onto him tighter.
“Pretty desperate for a taste of the devil.” He muttered it under his breath, his hand tightening up around your throat so he could watch the subtle panic start to swim in your gaze.
This was routine for him. Once he had his victims secluded, in a corner, so eager to submit themselves despite the clear safety risk, he revealed his intentions, fangs springing free and nails growing sharper, black at the ends.
It was usually when his horns pierced through the flesh of his forehead that people truly started to tremble, their pulse growing fast and skin growing cold right under his claws.
But as he stared down at you, pointed tongue licking a protruding fang and a droplet of blood rolling down his temple due to the newly exposed horn, you didn’t scream. You didn’t run, you didn’t thrash, didn’t cry.
You just continued to stare with those pretty wide eyes, swimming in a hazy gloss. If anything the dim lighting gave way to the curiosity that now pooled over, your fingers making their way to his wrist, the pad of your pretty ring finger seeming to trace over the ‘sin” insignia there.
“Are you a monster?” You asked, not a single shake or tremor in your tone. It remained soft, slurred even.
It made his cock twitch, eyes narrowing a bit before an amused little laugh bubbled between his lips.
“Did you not hear me, skank? I’m The Devil.”
And that he was, a devil disguised in human flesh, a devil designed to feed off the endless chaos that came from human idiocy, and a devil who needed to sometimes blow a load in the prettiest thing he could get his hands on.
One of his nails snagged under the hem of your dress, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the flimsy material ripped with ease. Your thighs and tummy were exposed, goosebumps rising along your bikini line as his nails traced the lace that lined your panties, focusing on the little bow that sat above your covered pussy.
“Are you scared?” His voice was in a hum, hand tightening up around your throat so your lashes would flutter, so those fat tears in your lashes would finally fall.
He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or pissed when you shook your head no, lower lip becoming tucked between your teeth as your back arched a bit, hips pressing into his teasing touch just enough that his nails pierced the fabric of your panties. He made sure to swipe downwards when he ripped the garment off, enjoying the precious sound of your yelp when his nail grazed your clit.
You would be scared, he was sure of it.
“Cute pussy.” He murmured, keeping a hand firmly planted on your neck as he bent down, and got eye to eye with your cunt. Despite the darkness, he could see how your body reacted to his closeness, how your lower lips were already covered in a layer of arousal, how they fluttered when his hot breath fanned over the little patch of hair you had. His pointed tongue slithered free and ran past your folds, pleased with how your clit was already pulsing with excitement.
“Please…” You whimpered, and when Hanma looked back up at you he was excited to finally see the panic flash over your gaze, the cold sweat you’d develop once you realize you’re about to be used by a monster.
But instead, he was met with desperation, the plea being nothing but genuine as your hips pushed up and off the wall, closer to his face as if beckoning him.
“P-Please, Shuji~”
“Damn, you’re a crazy whore, aren’t ya…” He merely chuckled, standing back up at full height. Curiosity got the better of him and he released the hold on your neck. Maybe this was all some sort of act. You were bound to run, and that would make this fun. A little chase always made these interactions so much more entertaining.
But you didn’t run, in fact as soon as he released your neck you just let out a breath little mewl, lashes lowered as you pushed your tiny frame up against his. He was even more stunned when your fingers began to fiddle with his belt, heavy muscles struggling to undo the thick golden buckle.
“Fuck me.” You said it through a pout, eyes lifting to his horns before back to his piercing gaze.
Hanma was no incubus, he didn’t have the ability to seduce unsuspecting female humans and fuck them until death. He was used to the fight, the fear. Used to taking, forcing submission.
And yet here you were, lips slicked with drool as you finally freed his cock, stared at it with glossed over eyes like it was the most delicious thing you’ve ever seen.
“I think I’m gonna keep you.” Hanma decided, impatience running its course as his right mind snapped back into him. Your little hands were swatted away as he took hold of the fat of your thighs, uncaring that his nails broke the flesh when he hiked up your leg uncomfortably high. You were basically balancing on your tiptoes as he swiped his cockhead through your dampened lips, a dangerously low groan escaping him when you continued to plead in babbles, practically crying for him to put it in. “Keep ya as my cute lil human pet. A sweet fuck toy. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya bitch?”
You would have agreed, but his cock silenced you, all the air leaving your chest in a gasp when he pushed all the way in with one thrust. His hips were flushed against yours, his cat-like eyes dilating at the way your head swung back, at how your lips hung open in a silent scream and how your little fingers dug harshly into his shoulder blades.
That's a pretty face he’d never get tired of seeing.
“Yeaaaaa, m’gunna leash ya up real quick.” He snickered, his lips smothering yours as he started with a ruthless pace. Hanma didn’t know gentle, his hips slapped against yours, cock head bruising up against your sweet cervix and fucking your walls raw. Your little pussy was bubbling at the speed, walls throbbing in a painfully pleasurable way as you cried into his mouth. His tongue slithered down into your throat, claiming every inch of you as his cock showed no mercy, heavy balls slapping against you almost as harshly as his thrusts. You gagged, tears spilling from your eyes when he slowly pulled away.
Strings of drool connected the two of you, and if you weren’t so dumbed out by his cock you would have licked up the strands before they snapped back against your chin, making your face even messier than it already was. He grinned, before latching his lips around your pulse point. You let out a shaky sob as his teeth sunk into you, piercing the flesh so he could finally have a taste of your sweet, sweet blood.
He didn’t let a drop go to waste, going as far as to give the wound a harsh suck before popping off the fresh bite with an obnoxious smack of his lips. There, his mark, teeth indents glistening in spit. His mark to prove you were now his. To use as he pleased, to fuck how he pleased.
Wasn’t that just so thrilling to him?
When your pussy started to flutter around him, your moans getting stuck behind hiccups Hanma hummed in amusement, sin hand gripping your jaw to hold your fucked out face closer to his. Not that you could make eye contact, your eyes were rolled back into your skull, head empty except for the full feeling his cock was able to bring each time it threatened to break past your limits. “Needa cum, my pretty little pet? Gunna cum from being fucked like a slut?”
He takes your groan as a yes, and also takes it as an opportunity to push your cheeks closer together with his hand. He spits directly into your open mouth, some of the drool splatting onto the corner of your lip. He laughs when your pussy flutters again, amusement making his own cock twitch.
Although his pleasure is always top priority, Hanma wants to know how it feels when you break apart on his cock, deciding that that’ll be the deciding factor whether he’ll actually keep you, or slit your throat as soon as this is over. So his hand slithers its way down your body, down towards your clit. You’re so responsive to him, body arched and eyes finally coming to him as soon as his fingertips add just a pinch of pressure to your clit. “O-Oh–! Shuji!” You sob, legs threatening to give out had it not been for his hold on you.
“Fuuuuck–” Hanma moans in response, pleasantly pleased with how you milk his cock tighter with each stroke to your clit. He switches between tapping the sweet bud to rubbing tight circles into it, the actions having you fall apart quickly as you shudder, the bricks behind you certainly leaving your shoulders scratched and bruised from all the thrashing.
“C’mon pet, cum f’me, milk my fuckin cock like a good little bitch.” He’s gritting the words out himself, not used to losing this much of his own self-control from something as simple as human pussy. But you were just so addictive, the feeling of your velvet walls squeezing almost as pleasurable as the looks he always saw before taking someone's last breath.
It was the slap he left on your clit that finally made you unravel, the high-pitched whine you release before your whole body tensed making Hanma’s eye widen. Your arousal is nothing but sloppy as it soaks Hanma’s abdomen, just adding to the blood that already stained his clothes earlier. He’s laughing again, loudly this time as he shoves his sullen fingers into your open mouth, watching with utter glee as you suck off your own filth from his flesh as a real dog should.
“That’s a good pet~♡” He speaks between laughter, allowing himself to continue with rough, messy thrusts so he can fill up. His cum is hot and thick when it finally bursts from him, leaving a pretty little bulge in your tummy that makes him lick his lips. He didn’t even notice you had passed out until he slowly started to slip out of you, watching you go limp and almost hit the dirty pavement. You’re easy to carry, trembles still racking your body as you cling to him even in this state of unconsciousness. He lets his fingers fiddle with your pussy a bit longer, eyes unable to tear away from your raw little cunt, how perfect it looks leaking his seed.
“Round two when you wake up, pet~” He hums before the shinigami vanishes from the alleyway, his new toy held securely in his arms.
oops ! wrong number <3 | hanma shuji & ryuguji ken
summary: i’ll think of one tomorrow it’s 2:45 i need to sleep -> hanma fucks u n sends a video to ur step brother, who ur also fucking
warnings: mean!hanma, fem!reader, step bro!draken, stepcest, noncon filming, degradation/humiliation, choking, brief impact play, dumbification, somno (hanma fucks u til u pass out n then keeps goin), pet names (baby, princess) unedited and written at 2 am
not doing a full tag list but @sakusins @t-roki @sano-obsessed @scandescent @bokuroskitten @wakasasucker @akihaya @manjiroscum @kisakiapologist
draken frowned as he looked down at his phone, taking in the unknown number and half tempted to ignore, figuring it to be some sort of troll. he sighed as he looked back up, eyes darting around as he tried to figure out where the fuck you were and why you were so late. you had told him to be there at two to pick you up from the mall with your friends, and you knew how much he hated waiting around and he had half a mind to go in there looking for you because it was nearly thirty minutes past two and he wanted to get back home.
his lips twisted down further as he looked back at the notification, brows furrowing as a second attachment came in after the first, finally deciding to open up the thread with the new number, taking in the sight of the two videos.
he hesitated for a split second before clicking on the first, leaning back on his bike and getting comfortable as he eyed the screen suspiciously. for a second, nothing happened—the screen remained black and the there was no noise, and just as draken was about to turn the video off, he finally heard rustling and a voice.
“hey, hey, hey,” the voice was male, familiar, something akin to dread started to pool in his gut. “stop fuckin squirmin.”
a soft whine, an even more familiar voice, met draken’s ears in response. he sat back up straight, now on high alert, lips pressed together and grip tight on his phone as he stared down at the still black screen.
no. there was no way.
“-ji, what’re you doin?” but your voice was unmistakable, the soft lit that always had draken’s blood running hot, the eerily familiar whimper that edged at the end of your sentence.
“ken, c’mon stop teasin.”
“relax, baby,” the male voice cooed—so familiar that it made draken sick to his stomach but he couldn’t quite place from where, “want you to smile pretty for me, ‘kay?”
“huh?” he heard you ask before the dark screen finally shifted, he frowned at the sudden light and as the camera focused in on your face, on your swollen, puffy lips, on the drool staining your cheeks, on your smeared make up and glassy eyes.
and then on the tattooed hand wrapped around your throat, holding you up in view of the camera. sin, stared draken right in the eye and immediately draken’s blood ran hot, his ears were ringing as he stared down at the video, fingers twitching to turn it off but he couldn’t fucking bring himself to.
what the fuck?
“shuji, what’re you doin?” your voice was half slurred, your expression dazed, and draken knew better than anyone that you were already half fucked out on his cock, having rendered you to that state himself countless times before.
you were-
“say hi to your big brother, baby,” hanma shuji’s voice was mocking and draken could only watch as his face dipped into view of the camera when you didn’t register his words, biting down hard on your shoulder—right over a mark that draken had left on you several nights ago.
-fucking hanma shuji?
draken felt bile rise to his throat as familiar, high pitch moan hit his ears, as your body jolted forward toward the camera as hanma rocked his hips into you, as your jaw went slack and your teary eyes rolled back.
“i said say hi,” hanma repeated, voice lower, less mocking and more of a threat, and another whimper ripped from your throat.
“h-h-h-hiii, ken-nii,” you stuttered and slurred over your words, another gasp pulling from your lips as hanma rolled his hips against yours.
“ken-nii,” hanma mocked, “you’re a dirty little bitch, arent ya? fuckin’ your own step brother?”
draken felt his throat close up at his words, fury racing through him as he tried to figure out how exactly hanma had managed to figure that out before irritation took over the fury. of course he figured it out, eyes tracing the marks draken had left on your body—marks that he never would have left if he had known you were fucking whoring yourself out to any available cock.
tears spilled over your cheeks, “n-n-no! ‘m no-“
hanma’s grip on your throat tightened, cutting you off, a broken cry escaped your lips at the same time as a resounding slap met draken’s ear, hanma bringing his free hand down on your ass hard, “you lyin’ to me now, baby?” he cooed and you shook your head immediately as best as you could with the hand around your neck, “‘s what i thought, be a good girl f’me ‘n i’ll consider not sending him this, yeah?”
your eyes shot open immediately, even in your fucked out state, alarm bells went off. draken’s lip curled up into a snarl as he watched you claw at hanma’s wrist, only trying to stop with the threat of draken finding out.
“no! you cant tell him, shuji! he’ll be so mad at me, put the camera away, i don’t-“
“shhh,” hanma chuckled and draken’s vision went red as he watched hanma nudge his nose against the side of your head, biting down on your ear lobe and tugging it gently, watched as your voice faltered and another soft whine slipped from your lips in response, “relax, baby, you’re gunna cum for me one more time, alright? n then i won’t send it, deal?”
“again?” you sobbed, “shuji ‘s been so many times ‘m so sensitive, i don’ think i can-“
hanma clicked his tongue, “gonna give me another, i’ll fuck you all fuckin’ day if i gotta.”
hanma didn’t wait for a response and draken nearly clicked off the video as hanma propped his phone up on what seemed to be a table next to the couch two of you were on—giving draken full sight of your bare body on all fours in front of hanma shuji, who was practically fully dressed behind you.
turn it off, he told himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it as hanma’s other hand—punishment—gripped your hip hard. he pulled you up by the neck as he snapped his hips into you, laughing when a shaky cry of his name left your lips.
“so between you n me,” hanma grinned wildly as he pulled you up more so that your back was flush against his chest, and draken couldn’t look away from your slack expression—the lidded eyes you could barely hold open, the drool sliding down your swollen, parted lips to your chin, dripping down your neck. “who fucks ya better? me or your brother?
draken hated how his ears perked up at the question, how his eyes immediately narrowed on the screen. a gurgle of protest escapes your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks faster.
“c’mon, baby, just say it. we both know it’s not him, you wouldn’t’ve come to me if he was fuckin you right,” hanma mocked, “bet he treats you like a glass doll, doesn’t know his precious lil princess just wants to be bent over n fucked like a whore, yeah?”
and draken hated that he was right. and he hated that you nodded.
“‘s you, shuji, s’good, s’good, so so so so good,” a barely coherent string of babbles left your lips and hanma let out another loud laugh, eyes dancing with mirth as he looked up to the camera, letting go of your neck to let your body fall against the couch as he grabbed your hips with both hands.
and draken could only watch as he picked up the pace of his hips, dragging your body back to meet his with every thrust, your weak moans meeting his ears and his eyes trained on your slack jaw and knocked back eyes.
“hear that, ken,” hanma mocked and blood roared in draken’s ears as the rage hit him again now that hanma was directly addressing him through the camera, “cant even properly satisfy your pretty lil step sister, how’s it feel that she has to run to me to get fucked right? bet you’ve never seen her like this, have you?”
draken’s stomach churned as sin slid up your body to grab your hair, yanking your upper body back off the couch to bring your face back in view of the camera.
“have you?” hanma goaded and draken hated how hanma already knew the answer if the cocky grin on his face had anything to say about it—he had never seen you like that before. hanma let go of your hair again, letting you drop back limp to the cushions, grabbing your hip to resume the brutal pace, “aw, you tappin out on me, baby?” hanma cooed and draken watched as you didn’t respond, not with a moan or movement, “too bad.”
hanma didn’t make any move to stop though, if anything, taking the opportunity to fuck you harder, faster, and draken’s mouth was dry as he watched hanma fuck your unconscious form.
“gonna fill her up,” hanma panted and draken had half a mind to turn the audio down so he didn’t have to hear his irritating fucking voice, “gonna stuff her full of my cum n then send her right back to you, n you’re not even gonna know til a few days later when i send this to ya.”
hanma let out another breathless laugh, one that dissolved into an obscene moan as his hips stuttered against your ass before stilling against you.
the video cut off and draken’s body moved on automatic as he clicked on the second one, mind numbing anger sweeping through him as the video loaded, showing your unconscious form laying face down on the couch. he watched as the camera drifted down your body to your ruined cunt, he watched as hanma shuji spread your pussy lips, giving draken full view of hanma’s thick cum leaking out of your cunt.
he couldn’t tear his eyes away as hanma scooped up the leaking cum with two fingers and stuffed it right back into your hole before the video cut off yet again.
his grip on his phone was so tight that it was a miracle he hadn’t broken it yet, and he looked up for a second, vision red as he caught sight of you making your way toward him and his bike, smiling widely and waving.
