Anime/Manga second account (main is @zaptrapp). Being my hyperfixated self rn. May write some fic or post some art here. Aot/Tokyo Revengers/Death Note
A/N: Hey besties! I was recently asked whether I write for Hanma, so thought I’d finally write some for him enjoy! <3
Sure, he’s a ruthless, maniac higher up criminal who hurts people for a living, but hey! You’re his pretty baby so that’s not your problem to worry about!
Your job is to keep being the cutie you are, sit on Hanma’s lap and accommodate his needs. He makes you accompany him everywhere. With a pretty doll like you clinging onto him, he walks in to his casinos and clubs with pride.
“You wouldn’t want daddy to get lonely without you hm?” He’ll mumble deeply against your cheeks whenever you’re reluctant to enter his murky and disreputable clubs.
He’ll pin you against the seats of his luxury sports car and coo at you persuasively for hours to make you give in if he has to.
He’s got in trouble with Kisaki many times for arriving late to clubs because of his “persuasion” with you in cars 😳
Obsessed with kissing you - no warning whatever, you’ll suddenly feel a cold hand curl around your neck and pull you forwards until you find your lips on his.
You can always taste the mints and cigarettes on his tongue while he desperately starts lapping it against yours, but if you gag or pull away, he’ll just tilt his head and chuckle, you’re like this cute, amusing pet to him.
For some reason, he enjoys patronising you. If you don’t like something, his long pale fingers will caress your cheek with his an intense gaze fixed on you, “Aww is it too much for your tiny brain to handle?” He’ll coo at you, peppering kisses onto your cheeks.
Also no matter how high this man goes up in the underworld, his dirty jokes always prevail. You‘ll be sitting in his lap, absentmindedly playing with his fingers, “you want them inside you huh?” he asks, and then you feel his laughter vibrate through his and your body.
Softer moments are when you’re lying in a soft bed in a grand hotel, with a tall, handsome fully suited Hanma walking in with a lovesick grin, taking a seat on the side of the bed, “c’mere doll” he’ll say in his deep demanding tone, patting his lap and beckoning you with his tatted hands, watching you shuffle into his lap. Then he pulls out latest designer earrings, dangling it in front of you but then pulling it backwards, demanding a kiss first.
Sometimes when you steal his glasses, or anything annoying, he‘ll simply chuckle at your antics and stop you by pinching your cheeks, or grabbing you by your blouse and pulling you into his embrace.
Btw biting him won’t work because he’s definitely the type to grin mischievously, accepting it as a competition, before biting you back :p
Tags: MDNI, arranged marriage, hurt but no comfort (no i wanna cry for some reason, I'm not sorry), graphic representation and descriptions of miscarriage, angst, toxic relationship, trophy wife, voice messages, pregnant reader, sexual assault, abandonment, asshole father, descriptions of panic attacks, Toman and it's business, mentions of infidelity, pregnancy tests, crying, too many tears
🏷️: @r1nf4iry @ambrodias @suhweetdreams
WHY DO I NOT SEE ONE ANGST ARRANGED MARRIAGE PREGNANT FIC ON TOKYO REV?!- LIKE- I NEED ANGST AND I SHALL MAKE SOME OF MY OWN IF THERE'S A LACK OF IT. YOU GONNA CRY FOSHO. Not proofread btw.
Part 2? I think I want one.
Warmth.
Warmth runs down your legs, stirring you awake from the dreamless sleep you were basking in.
Pure panic floods into your being when you sit up, feeling for the switch of the lamp. Once light streams into your eyes, you feel your lungs closing in.
Blood.
Dark, red blood streaking pristine white sheets.
Red bleeds into your vision, your brain pausing, unwilling to accept the situation.
"What is it, Y/n? Why have you-"
Comes the groggy voice of your husband, stopping once he sees the crestfallen expression on your face, his eyes following your line of sight just to be greeted by the all-familiar, tangy, coppery smell of blood.
"Get up, Y/n. Get up! We need to go to the hospital, you get me? We can't sit here like this!"
Cursing under his breath when you made no move to get up, you find yourself being hoisted up in Hanma's arms, being held to his chest as he carries you to the garage. If this was any other situation, you'd be delighted by the fact that your husband was making some sort of contact with you, blushing at the closeness.
But no.
You couldn't believe it.
You refused to believe it.
Your ears buzzed with static, and a single tear escaped your blurry eyes.
The pain in your belly had been reduced to a dull ache, a hole beginning to grow in place of your heart.
You refused to believe it.
Why was this happening? Why was the only good thing in your life being taken away like this?
Why, why, why?
Isn't everyone supposed to deserve happiness?
The next thing you could grasp was the glaring white tiled walls, the obnoxious smell of phenyl and the urgent shouts as you were lowered on to the stretcher by a blood covered Hanma.
A sense of hopelessness fills you, holding you hostage as you were steered into the ICU, and the last thing you remember before being knocked out by the sting of anaesthesia being Hanma's desolate gold eyes.
You're confused when you find yourself attached to tubes and an IV drip, and your hand immediately goes to your stomach.
Your throat tightens, threating to choke up as salty rivulets of your tears leak, falling on your bleached hospital gown, soaking onto them. Fingers dig into your now deflated belly, and you sob.
Sob as you claw at your stomach, trying to find a reason to be proven wrong.
Sob as you pull off the thin sheets off you and pry at your skin, finding for something, anything, anything left of your baby.
So it wasn't a bad dream afterall.
Your heavy head falls back on the pillow with a wail, immediately soaking up the dampness on your cheeks.
No, no, this wasn't happening.
It had to be in your head.
It was all in your head, right? This was nothing but a nightmare and you're going to wake up from it soon enough and find yourself alone on your bed.
It had to.
There was no way your little blessing would be stolen, right?
Wrong.
Just then, the door is turned open to reveal a blank Hanma, dark circles painting the underside of his eyes. Other than that, there was no indication whether he cried or not.
He probably didn't. He was used to this, right?
Blood and gore was his everyday thing. He wouldn't be fazed by something as small as this.
Right.
He says nothing and sinks into the sofa with a sigh, still dressed in the same blood-streaked clothes from yesterday.
The brown stains confirmed your worst fears.
You turn to the other side of the wall and clamp your teeth on the pillow, muffling the wails begging to be listened, to be heard. You didn't care about the drool or the dampness collecting on it.
All that was left was pain.
Endless, bone-numbing pain, pain like no other.
Your husband lay there, doing nothing, taking even breaths of air and left his eyes to zero on the ceiling, looking heavenward, as if staring at it would bring his heir back.
When you could cry no more, you slowly shift to the other side and wipe a slow hand over the remnants of your tears.
Daring to open your mouth, you mutter:
"Go home, Hanma. Get changed. I'll take care of myself."
He slaps a wrist over his eyes and replies with a derisive "No."
"Atleast one of us needs to be in shape to complete the procedures so that I can be discharged. Go home, Hanma."
Go home, Hanma. You don't need a wife who can't even give you a heir.
Truth be told, you didn't want him to leave. But you didn't exactly feel like meeting your husband's gaze after what had transpired within the matter of a mere, few hours.
The only thing tying you down to him was gone.
There was no purpose of being a wife anymore.
Not anymore.
He didn't have to care for you anymore. Or force himself to care for you.
He was free again.
He would simply forget, because he could. Simply because he could afford to. He was a man. What would he know about loosing a child?
Apparently, nothing, as he promptly gets up, walks to the door and goes out, without looking back.
Within a few minutes after he leaves, a nurse comes in, helps you sit up and speaks to you in soothing tones, about the rest of the procedures and tells you to have strength, telling you that she understands.
You bite back a scoff; what would she know?
What would she know about all the emotions you felt when the lines on the test read positive?
What would she know about the way your heart bloomed when Hanma eased your sandals away the other night and massaged your aching, swollen feet?
What would she know about all the extra care he began to take, even going as far to make small talk and ask you about your day?
What would she know about the way your heart sped up when his rough palms would slither over your stomach, cupping it as he pressed against your back everytime you went to sleep? About all the loving whispers of how beautiful you were as you carried his baby for him, about all the times he sneaked into the shower and made gentle love to you?
What would she know?
Nothing.
Nothing, as she leaves you be and you cry again.
Cry because of how helpless you were. Cry because you couldn't do anything to get your baby back. Cry because you were all alone, cry because nothing would ever be the same anymore.
After a while, the door opens again and he comes in, changed and a bit more composed, the strain from last night wiped off his face. A nurse also comes in, and hands him a pad. He signs it, doesn't grace her with his words and nods at her.
The nurse brings you a tray of food, helping you sit up and suggests you to eat before you were discharged. You longingly stare at Hanma, expecting him to come feed you from his own hands, like he used to.
When you used to be pregnant.
The thought makes you choke, and tears pool.
A call buzzing from one of Hanma's pockets make him stand up, before glancing at your face hidden by the nurse and leaves.
Your eyes burn. And you sob again, because that was the only thing you could do. The only thing you could afford.
"I'm sorry."
Says the nurse, bowing to you and she too leaves, giving you space.
The ride back home is silent.
You don't dare to breathe or utter a single syllable as the driveway opens, accomodating his sleek black Ashton Martin. He turns off the car and gets out, coming over to your side and opens the door for you to get down by habit.
He knows, and he knows that you know it too, that he did that out of pure habit.
It doesn't mean anything.
You settle on the sofa, staring at the walls as if to prove something. Hanma walks to your shared bedroom and throws it shut.
The door opens after a while and he emerges out, dressed in his suit. His business suit.
He leaves again, back to the way he came from, and this time, he doesn't spare you a glance.
So this is what he was going to do, huh?
Pretend as if nothing happened? Pretend as if you didn't exist, before you got pregnant?
Was that all you were? Someone who warms his bed every night? Was that all you ever were?
You couldn't even contain your miserable howls of sorrow, the walls of the lonely mansion you resided echoing them, almost like a cruel joke as you lamented about the loss of your baby, your gift; a gift you were blessed enough to carry, until you weren't and it was taken away from you.
You're numb for the next few months. Everyday passes slowly, yet every memory of the days passed is a blur, and you remember nothing.
You were married to Hanma Shuji not out of love, but out of plans of extension and growing Toman.
You were basically pushed to marry him because your father insisted you to, and brought you up to be the best trophy wife for one of the high ranking executives of Toman.
And you were a good wife.
You waited for him every night till he came back, prepared food for him though he would come very late in the night, for your hard-working husband, the one who put food across your table.
Since the day you lost your child, nothing was the same.
You were sure that he blamed you for the loss.
That explains it right? That explains why he didn't come home for days and why he stopped talking to you altogether.
Not that you had a connection to begin with.
He talked to you only when he wanted something. Never took you out. Never introduced you as his wife. Never stayed after fulfilling his desires.
Never treated you as his wife.
He would state what he wanted and just....left.
Like he always did.
So, why were you staying? Why were you the only one trying? Why were you the only one putting effort into sewing the last of the threads back together, when there was no relationship to fix to begin with?
Why, why, why?
Faded red lip stick stains were on his neck when he returned home one night, and you immediately lost whatever energy you had to greet him.
It almost gave you a heart attack. And of course Hanma didn't care to see that.
That night, it took you everything not to burst out crying as he laid on the other side of your shared bed.
You don't know what happened, but after that, Hanma would come home with a slight tint of lipstick on his lips, wearing the scent of another woman, atleast once or thrice in a week.
And each time, something inside you broke.
If he was doing this purposefully, it was working.
It was definitely working, because one day, you decided you had enough.
Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity, right? Then why was your husband hell-bent on destroying you? Wasn't loosing your child sacrifice enough?
Y/n would physically break if this continued.
This was it then.
Her hands were shaking and wobbly when she pulled out the laptop he'd gifted her on her birthday, or rather, left on the kitchen counter with a note which said "For your birthday" and nothing else.
"How to get a divorce from an adulterous husband"
You never thought that you'd see a day like this.
Any dreams of a rosy future, lots of children, a caring husband and a happy family was defenestrated the moment you were married to Hanma Shuji.
But any wife was to be treated with some amount of respect, right?
Wrong.
I mean, atleast to Hanma, who apparently thought that you were nothing but a trophy wife, someone he was entitled to protect and possess.
Someone whom he was simply tied to by meaningless words and vows.
Someone who would never leave despite what he did.
Or so he thought, until you did.
Hanma twists the door knob open, his expensive leather shoes clicking on the marble surface as he walks in and closes the door behind him.
He hadn't noticed it was dark and almost knocked into the vase next to the entrance if not for his quick reflexes.
Strange.
The house was silent.
Something was not right.
The one time he came early, you weren't around.
You usually texted him, informing about your whereabouts, or telling him where you were.
He switches on the lights and puts his bag on the counter, like he always did.
Only this time, there was a bundle of papers and the phone he gave you because "using that old phone wouldn't do well for his image".
More specifically, a bundle of divorce papers.
Upon opening your unlocked phone out of sheer curiosity and shock, he finds a single voice message.
A single voice message of 4 minutes, 56 seconds and nothing else.
Your voice plays in the empty mansion when he presses the button.
"There's no other way to say this...but I think I finally had enough. I can't do this anymore, whatever this was."
He breaths heavily, and a phantom weight settles on his limbs.
"I'm so tired, Hanma. I couldn't take it anymore. I just couldn't....
But thank you for providing for me from the past two years. I know about your cheating, and I don't really mind. I just wish you'd told me beforehand, so that I could be ready...
I made it easier for the both of us and got a divorce."
Hanma couldn't believe his ears. She was kidding right? She'd come back to him, she had to.
"I've already signed it, the rest is upto you. You know what disappoints me the most? It took me a miscarriage to realise that you will never want me. Or accept me for that matter. But it's okay...I don't know what the baby meant to you-"
She chokes up in the middle, and he hears her count to three before her voice continues.
"-but to me, it meant the whole world. I shouldn't have stayed silent for so long that night, and woken you up. Maybe, then, maybe, I'd still have her. It's all my fault. It was all mine."
He hears your shuddering breath, and could almost see your red eyes.
"It was foolish of me to believe that I'd have a family of my own. But to what it was worth, thank you for making me a mother, even if it was for five and a half months. I was finally able to find myself. I waited for you, every night, wanting to know you, talk to you, learn more about you, but you didn't let me in. It was your choice, yes, but I really, really wish that you were a little kinder to me. I know I wasn't your choice, or your type, but it wouldn't hurt you to be a little kinder to your poor little wife, would it?"
Sharp intakes of breath is what he hears, from the source of sound.
"I thought...I thought that one day, there will be atleast one moment where you'd stop, and pick me up. One moment where you'd finally accept me, take me in your arms and...h-hold me."
Soft, full-blown sobs fill his ear. A vivid affliction is heard in the woman's dismal sobs.
"H-hold me as if you wanted me. Hold me as I cried for our baby, for the little life I failed to bring into this world. I wish you took some pity on this woman who'd just lost her child and provide her some...comfort. I'd never known material comfort till I was married to you. I've not known comfort of any form, for that matter. I really hoped that for once, I could have a good life, but of course, fate didn't want me to have that. Now, the idea of comfort has become so far-fetched that I've settled for getting away from this sham of a marriage. I don't know if this means anything, but you were my first. I'll never forget it. I'll never forget how you left me alone on our bed and didn't even bother asking me if I was okay. But it's okay, right?"
Hanma was beyond overwhelmed. He was so caught up in his world that he forgot about the woman he pulled into this world, one who never belonged to it.
"I wish you would've stayed...I really, really do. I hated how that nurse looked at me, so pitifully, like I was some abandoned puppy. Like I didn't have a home. It hurt. It hurt so much. It felt like I was being ripped apart into pieces. You know, I waited for you. Always waited for you, hoping that one day, one day, you'd want me. You'd shower me with your gentle touch and make love to me. That one day, you would want me as much I wanted you. I really, really did."
It doesn't register to him that he was crying until the taste of salt fills his empty stomach.
"You didn't. That's okay. Because in the end, you thought me that I was the only one I needed. That's good, right? I learnt something from you."
His breath wavers.
"You remember last year's New Year party? The one where you got me that black dress? The one where you termed me as a 'stupid wench who can't take care of herself'?"
"O-one of your...f-friends assaulted me."
Hanma stops breathing, altogether, breathing only when you speak again.
"When I tried to tell and explain to you you, you wouldn't even hear what I had to say. Am I that pathetic, Hanma, that I didn't deserve a chance to explain? Who else could I go to? You were the only one I knew, and the only one who would care about my dignity. You didn't care enough, I guess, because you left the moment your phone rang. Kisaki dragged me to the side and asked me where you were and why my eyes were red. I wanted to save face and lied that you had went to fetch some drinks. I am not oblivious to what you do, Hanma, but the least you could do was tell me, tell me so that I could stop expecting."
By this time, Hanma was struggling to breathe, to find coherency in his thoughts, scrambling for control.
"Thank you for teaching me that I could avoid making a single sound and still be able to cry. I learnt how to silent cry and keep my pain to myself."
His hands were sifting through his head, hands labelled "punishment" and "sin" tore at his dual-toned hair.
"Please don't look for me. I want to be able to move on and not look back again. Maybe, I can finally find myself. I don't know. But please, don't look for me. This is the last request I ask of you. I will never come back into your life ever again. I p-promise."
"I've kept the ring in the box on your nightstand. I've not left anything which belongs to me, so if they're left behind....just burn it. It's upto you. Discard it. Just don't look for me. That is all I ask of you...
I hope you have a good life, Hanma Shuji, and find someone who cares and is actually enough for you. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a heir."
No, no, no.
Lies.
These were all lies, right?
She'd come back and laugh in his face, tell him that it was a mean joke, right?
"I really hope you find someone better, someone who isn't me."
No.
"Goodbye."
Each of your words ring in his head.
"Fuck."
He curses.
"Fuck. She really left, didn't she? She really must've hated me. How couldn't she, I was such a self-centered motherfucker. I'm a cruel bastard to have left her like that. I deserve this to happen, clg course-"
He curses, pulling, tugging at his hair as pushes off all the contents on the counter smashing to the ground.
Next came your closet. He pulls your closet open and pulls out every article of clothing like a madman, finding for the clothes you wore, to a find a trace of you, however miniscule it was.
He finds none. Just the clothes he had gotten for you and the rather uncomfortable and costly dresses he'd got for you to wear for functions.
He sees the two shirts you loved, which used belonged to him until you took it from him and insisted on wearing them.
All left there for him to do as he pleased.
Your phone rings, signalling him of a notification.
It was a photo memory with a note, making him aware of your beautiful, smiley face, holding his arm as he stood with the most bored out expression a man could muster.
It was a notification reminding him that tonight marked your three year anniversary.
He falls to the ground, not having the energy to stand on his own two feet.
Your words consume him by force.
The words of his sweet, beautiful wife, one whose life he had destroyed with his own bare hands.
The same wife who had now left him in his misery, leaving ruin in her wake, to pick up her own.
MATING press with a breeding kink guys? They are absolutely ruthless in bed, just pounding into you making sure your cunt only knows his dick, loves mating press to much because it's the position where he is burried to the hilt, you still can't believe you aren't pregnant yet. Just wait till they stop you from drinking birth control pills.
—TSUKISHIMA (i know), IWAIZUMI, TOJI, SUKUNA, USHIJIMA (he big big) KUROO, draken, rindou, HANMA
Summary: Kisaki’s life up until now could be summarized with a word: lonely. The only things that keep him going are his extraordinary intellect and her. The ray of sun hitting the lonely, distant, cold moon.
Pairing: Kisaki Tetta x Hinata Tachibana
Warnings: spoilers?, alternative timeline, Takemichi goes back to the past, fan theory, angst, gang violence, bullying, degrading, nerd!kisaki, introspective, character study.
Words count: 3.4k
His tiny nervous hands scribble automatically on the thin paper, like them alone know the answer.
He double-checks the answer written on the last problem, adjusting the enormous glasses on his scrawny face. He’s sure, the two answers to find x^2 must be +1/2 and -1/2. Too easy.
Kisaki’s face detaches from the sheet of paper and his bright greyish eyes focus on the distant clock, right over the chalkboard. Technically he still has half an hour to finish the assignment, but he doesn’t need more time. He checked everything meticulously, plus he doesn’t have any sort of doubt over his answers.
He moves the chair to stand up and reach the teacher’s desk, but somehow the friction within the pavement and his chair’s legs cause a nerve-wrenching sound, making some of his classmates shift their eyes to his direction, giving an intimidating look that brings nothing but trouble. He’s been there, he knows what to expect.
“I’m sorry…” he whispers.
“Ugh, can you at least be silent, pencil neck?”
“Ssh Mimura, don’t talk to him or the four-eyed nerd will think you want to be friends with him.”
Kisaki slowly bows his head and goes straight to hand over his paper to the teacher. He’s not going to clap back to them even if he could. There’s no point in it besides getting in more trouble.
Their fate is also not up to him. Mimura and that other insignificant piece of scum, Usami, will get what they deserve, one day. They’re not particularly brilliant and they don’t put effort into what they study or their assignment. Their after-classes activities consist in doing nothing but wander around the same park, tormenting cats and small animals, or playing soccer with a rusty ball probably snitched from a convenience store. They have no perspective in life, they are already miserable and pointless, but he’s not gonna tell them that. He’s just a pathetic four-eyed nerd, right?
Oh but so brilliant.
“Kisaki-chan, done already? Well, not that I’m surprised.”
“Sensei, may I go to the toilet?” whispers with a thin, trembling voice.
“All right, but don’t run in the corridors.”
“Yeah don’t run, Kisaki-chan. You’ll break your tiny frail legs.” Scoffs Mimura. Others chuckle right after him.
Kisaki doesn’t want to stay a minute more in that classroom. As much as math is his favorite class to attend and likes to study he hates going to school. Mostly because of his peers. Always there to judge and be mean to him.
He did nothing wrong to them, so why do they dislike him? Why do they cut him out of their groups? Not that they would be the best company for him. He really doesn’t understand, and he’s not stupid, he knows he’s a prodigy. And he assumed everyone liked a prodigy like him. He doesn’t seem to understand people. Numbers are much easier to understand than people. He likes them, they speak to him as true friends would.
He also likes quiet places, quiet activities.
He likes to think alone. He likes a good book, puzzle games, math problems.
He likes to look at plants, even grow them, like that Pacific Wisteria hanging structure he installed in his back garden. Even his mother sketched a smile while looking at them. He liked his mother when he was younger. When she loved him as a mother would. Now she looks like the ghost of her mother, silently wandering in the house, doing the minimum effort to feed him and keep everything in order, and then off to work or wherever she goes during the day. Of his father he can say nothing at all, God knows where he is now. Kisaki is just aware of the emails with the same amount of money he sends once a month. Would he like him? From the one pictures his mother once made of him, he resembled him. A pair of cold grey eyes with glasses. He is a fine man.
He likes the taste of salted caramel ice cream. And he especially likes her…
But then again he hates everything else. He hates dogs that bark too much, he hates mint flavored things, he hates to sweat. He hates unrequited, messy things that don’t follow a plan, stupid people, mean people. He hates mean people so much.
A silent tear sheds from his eye, followed by many others “Oh no…”
He also hates crying in front of those mean people. He knows he’s a weak-looking kid, but damn he doesn’t want to make it that obvious!
“Kisaki-kun?”
This voice…
“Oh no, no…” whispers to himself. He can’t show himself like this. He quickly rubs the end of his blouse over his eyes, sniffing violently.
“Are you ok?” the voice is coming closer with a little jingling sound following the steps.
“Yes, thank you, Tachibana.”
“It doesn’t seem so. You’re…”
Kisaki stiffens his shoulders as she carefully poses a hand on his right one. He turns to look at her with red swollen eyes.
“What happened.” She sounds angrier than ever.
“Nothing really. The usual.” Says monotone, shifting balance with his feet.
“I don’t believe you, Kisaki-kun.” She puts on a pouty face.
“F-fine. You don’t have to worry about me anyway…”
“But you’re my friend. I worry for people I care about.”
See, this is why he likes her. Nobody worries about him, not even his parents.
He is alone with his numbers that never fail to reassure him. When he feels anxious he resorts to them.
For example: he still has 2 hours to finish the day and then off to cram school. The same goes for Hinata Tachibana, whose class is at the end of the corridor, approximately 30 meters from his. She’s always the first to exit school because she is the first to reach the school’s exit. In cram school there are 20 desks, but not so many people. 16, to be exact. Hinata reaches the class first for obvious reasons, and she usually sits next to the window, second row. Depending on Mizuki’s presence at cram school, which varies from day to day (usually on Friday there’s a 70% of probability for her to come, depending on her health issues) there’s a free desk next to her, second row, which Kisaki always, 100% of times, aims for.
That’s what keeps him going. Yes, to better his skills at cram school. But a huge part of him knows cram school would be completely different without her presence to light him up. He has a friend there. Someone that cares for him. And that’s too important for him to let it slip from his hands.
He cares for her too.
“That’s nice to hear... I do too.” Says him avoiding her eye contact, almost whispering into the wind the last part. He would love to scream he really likes her. That he would do anything for her. But has he the guts to do that? Has he the guts to really do anything for her?
“Well then tell me, who said what about you?”
“How do you know anyone said anything?”
“What?”
“Uhm…”
“I mean, in my class, there’s Mimura’s best friend… sometimes he comes to pay a visit. I hear them talk.” She blushes, scratching the side of her neck.
“Oh.”
“But don’t worry, I got you covered.”
“Don’t bother, if they find out you’re friend with me they’re going to pick on you too.”
“I can handle them. I do karate, you know?”
“Y-yes. That’s so cool Hinata…” he feels like his heart is in his throat, going to explode.
Of course he knows that. He knows everything there is to know about her already.
She chuckles, spinning around him and then looking back. The same jingle scratches the back of his brain so pleasantly every time she makes a step.
“I knew you cared about me too. See you at cram school?”
Kisaki’s bright eyes become possibly brighter. For once, he feels invincible.
“Of course. See you later, Hinata.”
Later that afternoon Kisaki finds himself sitting right where he wanted to, head bowed and nose immersed into the advanced math book.
It is summer and the window of the classroom is slightly open, letting a nice breeze surround the class.
That way he can feel Hinata’s peachy perfume on him, invading his nostrils and making his head light.
From time to time he shifts his eyes on her, just to remember how she looks like, to imprint her figure deep down in his mind.
“Uhh!” Hinata’s buff makes his head rise immediately from the surprise.
“I’m having troubles with this exercise…” she says almost talking to herself. She then looks at Kisaki with a doubtful expression, nodding at the book.
“Kisaki-kun, can I ask you to help me out? I can see you’ve already done that one.” Points out, blushing.
Kisaki’s heart stops. Never in a million years he thought she would ever ask him for advice.
“Uh, I… yes!” says him adjusting his glasses with a finger “Come closer.”
With that Hinata reaches his desk, planting her elbows near him with a pencil in her mouth and the cutest focusing face Kisaki had ever seen before. He starts scribbling on a new piece of paper, pointing out every passage like it’s a lullaby for little babies. Math truly has no secrets for him.
“Now you see here? We need to apply the formula we revised before.”
“Kisaki-kun you’re a genius! Thank you, I’ve finally understood! And sorry if I’ve bothered you. You were so into that exercise before…”
“No problem. It was useful to me too, revising old exercises.”
“Well then great!” giggles Hinata returning to her desk.
The last hour passes by and Kisaki feels happier than ever. The supervising teacher, after completing a round of control on everyone, fixes a flyer on the wall, right next to a giant poster with courtesy formulas written all over.
“Well kids, now you can go home. Remember to give your congratulations to Kisaki-chan!”
Kisaki lifts his head, looking worried for an explanation.
Hinata yeets herself to the flyer while the other kids abruptly reach the exit of the classroom. Nobody congratulated him on his achievement.
“Wow, you’re amazing Kisaki-kun! You placed first in the national mock exams, again!”
Kisaki collects his belongings, smiling timidly at Hinata: “Oh, just by accident.”
“Ooh… so humble.”
“Hina, let’s go.” Hinata’s friend is waiting for her on the doorstep, impatiently.
“Coming!”
Kisaki follows Hinata with his sleepy, emotionless eyes, slowly reaching the exit too. But he stops.
“How can you stand talking to him? He’s creepy.” Hinata’s friend scolds her.
Kisaki is not new to those cruel words. But he truly, deeply wishes to never hear them coming from her.
Please, if there’s a God, don’t let her say those things of me.
“Uh? Why? He’s a good kid.” Replies her seriously. He starts to breathe again, slowly following them.
“Smart kids like him seem heartless to me.”
But he has a heart. Maybe even bigger than all you bunch of idiots who hate on a kid for no good reason besides being quiet and academic.
The gates of the elementary school are getting closer and closer as Kisaki walks behind the two girls silently, watching his shoelaces dangling as he makes a step after another. Those shoelaces are too long, he’s going to stumble on them one day and make an embarrassment of himself, more than he is already.
Hinata and her friend are stationed right outside the gate, talking to each other.
Maybe there’s a thing he likes even more than cram school. His walk back home with her. It’s about 20 minutes from school and they spend it side by side, talking. Well, she does the most talking, Kisaki is afraid of saying things she might not like. If she starts despising him, it’s the end. And if she sees he likes her, like really much, maybe she would be disgusted.
Who would want to be with a boy that creepy, right? Silent with gloomy eyes scanning the surroundings, looking for her. Any detail of her life is precious to him, he treasures it like the rarest math formula.
He stops, clinging over his schoolbag as the girls finish their talk.
Hinata’s friend suddenly shifts her eyes onto him without a word.
“So, see you tomorrow Hina.”
She says it clearly worried. Almost disapproving of her behavior.
Kisaki looks back at her, piercing her soul with his greyish, glistening eyes.
“Bye bye! Kisaki-kun, let’s go!”
Kisaki feels the tip of his fingers tingle, almost as something terrible is going to happen. Suddenly he wants to go back at home as fast as possible. He feels like something wrong is gonna happen.
“Let’s take the short road, shall we?” asks him. There’s a shortcut, crossing a large park, that leads directly to their neighborhood without having to circle around a whole bunch of houses.
“Uh? Okay…” she seems surprised.
They start walking side by side and Kisaki is afraid Hinata will hear his heart pounding faster than normal.
“Kisaki-kun? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“I don’t know why they are so mean to you. You are gentle and caring with me. There’s nothing more a person would ask in a friend.” She dangles her head, knocked out.
“I am used to it. People don’t like my presence, but I can’t do anything about it.”
“Mmm, maybe you should smile more! Sometimes you look spaced out and your mouth frowns. Like you’re really sad. I don’t want to see my friends sad, I would do anything to make them smile!”
He gives her a side-eye, sketching a little tiny smile.
She seems amused, in fact, she laughs “Yes! Like that!”
They both reach the park, Kisaki watching from afar a group of kids with a stick in their hands, poking something in the ground. What are they doing, grouped like that, watching the ground? Uh, people really are amused by anything really. Couldn’t be him, he’s a genius.
“Oh, this is unacceptable.” Grunts Hinata, accelerating towards them.
“Tachibana?”
“They’re bullying a poor little cat…”
True, how could he miss that detail? But what could he do? If he went up to them he would be beaten. He’s a loser no matter what, what’s the point in intervening against them? Hinata couldn’t do much more than him either.
Oh no. Now he sees them. Mimura and his friends. There's no way he's gonna stand up against them.
“It’s no use. You’ll get hurt… we should just go. Ta-Tachibana?”
She isn’t listening anymore; she is already far from him, approaching those morons.
Oh no, this is no good, this is trouble. He would love to make himself tiny like a bug and run away, not seen, right now. But would he do that knowing Hinata could get hurt? It's not a matter of possibility. She will get hurt, 100%. Those brainless idiots do not spare girls. He just knows.
His little legs freeze there, making him unable to take a step further, his heart still pounding like crazy.
“Hey!”
A voice comes from his back. Oh no, it’s one of the boys, it's Usami. No, it's Mimura? No, the voice doesn't match. Shit. They must have seen him, whoever he is, he’s ready to take him and beat the shit out of him.
Kisaki slowly looks back with the will of a god. No, it’s not one of them. He wasn’t in the bunch of those tormenting the cat. Another bully? A cousin of Mimura? Maybe they called for backup? Were they expecting company? He needs to relax in order to think clearly.
“What are you doing here?” asks the kid impertinent. It’s obvious what’s he doing there, he’s shit scared of them.
“W-what do you mean?”
If he had to attack him he would have done it before, when he had the surprise effect on his side. Not that Kisaki himself would stand up against him. He would still be beaten up by this random kid, even though he looks like a total dork himself.
“Aren’t you friend with that girl?”
Kisaki looks at Hinata, her ponytail wiggling up and down as she scolds the group of bullies. He cannot hear what she’s saying. He’s too far.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Well, you should help her, or she’ll get hurt.”
He is so upfront with him. He seems about his age, yet so mature.
“I can’t. Look at me..."
"What about it?"
"I'm weak, we’ll both end up beaten unconscious. Why don’t you do it?”
“Well, I suppose I’m weak too. I tried already being a hero. But I know she needs you right now. From a weak nerd to another… what do you have to lose?”
'What do I have to lose?'
Who is this kid? Why is he talking like he knows him... like he's been there before?
“Be her hero, Kisaki-kun. I’m sure she would appreciate that.”
“How do you…?” How does he know his name? He’s never seen him before. This is getting stranger and stranger, his rationality isn't able to process this conversation. But his instincts are telling him he kid's right.
What does he have to lose? He’s a loser already, right? He’s a mad creepy genius and a loser.
She needs a hero? That's what he has to do in order to not be alone? Be a hero.
He hears her sobbing. Mimura pushes her shoulder to make her lose balance.
“I’m a loser already, if I don’t go up to them I’ll lose her. And I don’t want to be alone.”
"Is it this then? You never wanted to be alone?"
"It's my biggest fear."
The kid suddenly smiles, like he finally understood something he wasn't able to figure out for years. Kisaki feels like a huge weight just shifted from that kid's shoulders. He could see that.
“Kisaki, be brave. Be good.”
“H-hey, punks!” He feels he’s about to vomit. He’s not doing a good impression at all “L-l-leave her alone!”
“Ew, what is this? Kisaki-chan coming to the rescue?!” scoffs Mizuki, a kid with an insane amount of freckles on his nose.
“Kisaki-kun…?” whispers Hinata with tears rolling down her cheeks. The cat escaped, so at least they accomplished something.
Kisaki holds his breath, then spits out everything, hiding his trembling hands in his pockets “Is your life this sad and miserable that your only goal is to torment poor animals and even girls?”
Those kids look at each other questioning what he just said.
“No, my life just got better actually, now I can beat you up too.” Mimura punches Kisaki right in the face, making his glasses fly far.
“Here you go, blind shit. What are you gonna do now?”
Kisaki flinches, breathing deeply with his mouth since his nose drips with blood. He doesn't see much now. But he's focused on Mimura's rotting shit brain.
“Leave us a-alonee.” He snaps from his position, running towards his bully, but the shoelaces betray him, tangling up and making him lose balance and fall on his knees.
They all burst into hysterical laughs, almost resembling hyenas. Mimura comes closer, lowering himself to Kisaki's face "What a fucking loser. Who would ever be your friend? I just hope you're not doing all this to impress the girl there... because I know she is ashamed right now. Always creeping up on her. Stupid incel."
"You know nothing at all." Kisaki feels the rage pumping in his veins, going through every cell of his being. It's automatic, spontaneous: he punches the kid back in the nose. He could perfectly see him from this close. Mimura takes a step back, whining and covering his nose.
“The little shit has guts!” grunts Usami in the back.
"Yeah, he told me even losers like us can stand up and become our own heroes."
“What the fuck is he talking about?"
"Who knows...Let’s make him spit his guts out, eh eh…”
One at a time they all use him as their personal punching bag.
Kisaki never got beaten up that badly. In the end, he feels like he went under a truck.
But eventually, they got bored and went away. Hinata was there, she was still with him, and she helped him reach his home. She expressed gratitude with eyes he has never seen before. She was not ashamed, because he did something good, something different. He showed to her, to himself, he could be a hero.
And that kid? He was the strangest thing that happened to him in a long time. He would love to meet him again. Another loser, like him. They would become friends, he could feel it.
He wouldn’t be alone ever again, alone with his numbers.
Mars - Taiju Shiba brainrot - he's so big he could break you with one hand not just when he's pissed and the only way to calm him down is to milk his giant horse cock 🛐
His back is flushed from the cold water he's rinsing with, "is everything okay?" you ask when you join him in the shower, you know it's not okay from the blood stained clothes he left in the room, "shut the fuck up".
Taiju runs his hand through his hair and his body stiffens when you hug him from behind, "let me help you" you murmur kissing his back.
He turns and grabs you by the neck, leaning you against the cold wall of the shower, "I told you to shut the fuck up if you don't want me to use your mouth for something more useful", his fingers around your neck become firmer as you grab his huge cock in your hands.
You're cautious as you slide it between your hands, slowly up and down, he gets hard quickly and gives you a smirk before pressing his lips to your ear, "go ahead" he intimates leaving your neck and pressing his palms to the tiles, either side of your head.
You slide two drops of soap onto your palm and lather up a bit before grabbing his cock again and sliding down its length, "hold it tighter" he tells you as he adjusts the water making it the temperature he knows you prefer.
Your hands tighten on his thick girth and work him well, "fuck, like this" he moans making your pussy twitch. His eyes lock into yours as you lace your thigh to his hips and slide down his cock, his tip tickling your clit and your tight hole but you don't slide it in.
"Is this what you want?" he asks with a grin on his face, you nod with a flushed face and Taiju grabs you by the hips and holds you up, pinned to the wall. He slides you back and forth on his thick shaft making you squirm in his hands, your clit is being stimulated rapidly until you come, "mmh it feels so good" you groan when when he starts to slide you onto his cock.
"Now be a good girl, and let me use you, my little fucktoy" he smirks when he feels you tighten around his cock, your first orgasm yet to subside.
As Taiju begins to slide you onto his cock you feel your cervix being kissed by the thick tip of his cock, and your hips begin to move with his. You don't even realize that he's stopped moving, that you're the only one who's doing the moving, you milk his big cock with your cunt while his hands roughly grope your ass. "Daddy, I'm going to cum again" you murmur trying to ride him faster, you squeeze tighter against him, your pussy imprisoning his cock as you continue to move on him.
His fingers sink into the flesh of your ass and he starts to fuck you faster, he leans you against the wall and takes to slam his hips against yours, eyes rolling as you come the second time.
Taiju doesn't stop pressing you against the tiles, his hips have gotten greedier, he pushes against you quickly. "Fuck" he grunts as you start to suck on his neck, his thrusts becoming more frantic and he quickly empties between swear words.
Your hands are still laced behind his neck when he puts you down, your body still pressed against his, the vein on his forehead pulses as you run your hands down his torso, "please use me again" you ask in an almost shy voice.
"I'm about to ruin you, babygirl" he murmurs wide eyed as he turns you over, pressing your face against the cold stone tiles.
Summary: Hanma Shuji's life was boring, dull. What's the point of fighting if you already know how it's gonna end?
Warnings: spoilers from the manga, a bit graphic.
Notes: angst, introspective, strangers to bet friends, chaotic duo.
Words count: 701
Imagine your life being always the same. You already know what’s going to happen tomorrow, the number of cigarettes you’re gonna lit, how it’s gonna end, the way you’ll crawl to sleep in your bed with bruises on your face and aching hands.
Hanma Shuji’s life was exactly that boring. So dull. It had no taste at the not-so-mature age of 16, no color, no excitement whatsoever. Others would tell otherwise, of course. Being a loner fighting in the streets, making yourself known to the best gangs of Tokyo, that’s impressive.
“Hanma, you’re literally Kabukicho’s Reaper, that’s the coolest thing ever!”
“Hanma-san, how can you fight so many people at once?”
“Shuuuji… would you like your cock sucked? After all, you won again today.”
All those titles and honorifics, Shinigami, The Reaper, Shinjuku’s Zombie, just made him smile a bit as how silly they sounded to him.
If only all those morons knew…
What’s the point of fighting if you already know how it’s gonna end?
That was until Hanma met Kisaki Tetta. With him it was different.
That boy was built differently. Hanma was a “kind soul” at heart, he knew that if he wanted to he could have crushed him in a blink of an eye, but he didn’t want to until he had listened to that boy’s requests. Average height for 13 years old, scrawny, not even great at fighting, bad eyesight. Where was he hoping to go like that?
“Hanma, be my pawn. You’ll help me become the greatest delinquent of Tokyo.”
It was not a matter of fighting power or looks. Kisaki was giving off a weird vibe. And Hanma was all about weird vibes.
The weirder the merrier. Everything thrilling and unexpected was a joy for him, and Kisaki gave himself to him as the best present ever. He didn’t see that coming!
All those hours of scheming, plotting to destroy people's lives, to cause chaos between gangs, to break teeth! Hanma felt reborn after years of boredom, of letting himself go.
“With you, my dull life became a circus! I see colors, Kisaki!”
The future kept changing, and for once he liked being in the shadows, away from the center of attention. That’s what Kisaki taught him. He loved being his tool, being used.
“Hanma you freak, do you know I’m only using you because of your… gifts?”
Hanma always smiled at that statement. Whether that was true or not he didn’t care much. He liked Kisaki, as long as he wanted him by his side he was happy.
“I know, the moon can’t shine on its own.” His abilities were useful for the greater purpose of another being. Just like the Sun’s light hitting the Moon to let her shine.
After a while, he saw that sentiment change. Kisaki laughed with him, was interested in his opinion, stuck more around.
And Hanma grew fond of his friend. Yes, friend. Hanma was sure to call him like that and was even surer to be loved back. In all those years he never saw anyone looking and treating him like Kisaki did.
As embarrassing as it sounds hearing it from Hanma, he was happy to have found someone. For once.
But everything must come to an end. It’s just how life goes, Hanma knew that. He was not new to death, damn.
But for once he thought it wouldn’t happen to him, again.
“What a grand way to die…”
How long since, in all those years of traveling back and forward in time, he shed a tear for someone else? He couldn’t tell.
He didn’t imagine it was going to end like that. He didn’t see that in the many futures he went. Kisaki was always there, conquering his bright future.
What went wrong this time? A plot against him? Something that they didn’t calculate, perhaps?
No.
Bad luck. Wrong place, wrong time. Fate.
Just fate, fooling even the biggest fool of them all.
“Hey, Kisaki… are you gonna leave me alone?”
Kisaki’s corpse was laying on the ground, so badly ripped apart and broken that Hanma was feeling nauseous looking at it.
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