— in which bonten!rindou is afflicted about the idea of you finally leaving him.
genre. angst.
contains. gn!reader, profanities, possible ooc and language errors.
word count. 1.9k.
note. i was feeling unsatisfied with my other angst, decided to try writing the same genre again and tbh i kinda like this one better. this idea was sparked by @uuden!
You slammed the door behind you, leaving your embodied frustration alone inside his home and you breathed in deep to gather whatever distress that still lingered, except that your exhale didn’t carry it out. So you tried again for the second time and funnily enough, you felt worse, since it finally brought out the heated and bitter tears in your eyes, along with the spiteful emotion only Haitani Rindou could trigger out of you.
You didn’t know how long you stood outside his apartment, composing yourself and at the same time regretting your actions. But both of you knew you were the right one in this dispute, as you ironically always were, and Rindou once again carelessly bent some rules to make himself appear so.
You were mumbling in your sleep, the exhaustion of joining him with his nightly activities was finally catching up to you and Wakasa laughed again underneath his breath when you repeated your words.
“Hmm…Waka mine…hmm…”
He’s yours all right. And he doesn’t plan on leaving you, ever, even though he’s usually chill to you and it entertains him now that in your unconscious state, your suppressed possessiveness of him comes out.
“Hmm…loves me…”
Wakasa does, he truly does. You were one of the people who could easily decipher his enigmatic actions and he loves that for you. You were effortless in doing it too, and everything about you is so beautifully natural. You fascinate him like the refreshing, cool water in the heat of a summer, the entertaining croaks of the crickets in a cold, silent night, the warm tea that he drinks when he’s facing a difficult time. It’s that simple and majestic in one. And you were that to him and more. You are his person. You are his.
He grinned, a rare sight to be honest, at his own silliness that only you could bring about while you pouted some more in your sleep. Your brows furrowed in annoyance to whoever you’re talking to and he chuckled quietly again because who knew you would have a jealousy streak on you, and it was all for him, “Hmm…go away…mine…”
Deciding that he already had his fair share of amusement, he murmured in your ear, slowly waking you up, “Love you too, you idiot.”
AAAAAA OKAY WAKASA SELF-INDULGENCE AGAIN! i need more content and i saw that i was dethroned as the top poster for imaushi wakasa so i told myself i’m gonna post a wakasa timestamp everyday to keep my respectful place /hj i’m so in love with wakasa as you all can tell ;_; not proofread!
— in which shinichiro takes care of you when you’re sick.
genre. fluff.
contains. gn!reader, cursing, grammatical errors.
word count. 2.0k.
note. my first time writing for shinichiro! i emptied my fluff gun with this one so i hope this makes your heart burst…because mine figuratively did lmao. also, i know this is somebody else’s request but i guess i’m hitting two birds with one stone so…happiest birthday to my wife, @baji-san! :D
requested.
Walking home alone, you felt the exhaustion of the day seep more into your bones. The pounding inside your head seems like a punishment with every step you take and you feel terribly cold even though the weather’s really warm.
You can’t wait to see your bed, to bury yourself into the comfort of your blanket and to sleep the fatigue away when you hear the familiar sound of a roaring engine. You stopped in your tracks to check if your assumption is true and oh my, how true it was.
You let out a childish giggle when you realized what you just said: a terrible cheesy pick-up line meant to make him laugh.
“Get it Waka?” You asked, though you didn’t hear any response. “If you were a baker, I’d let you fill my buns with cream.”
You chuckled again without much care, for it was smart of you to imagine him as a baker who’s going to fill your buns with his cream. It played so vividly on your mind inducing happy tears to stream on the sides of your face and leaving you wheezing out of pure delight. “Waka, promise me! You have to become a baker now!”
Wakasa, who still has the same impassive expression, ignored your fourth horrible attempt at being cute. It straightaway halted your teasing, making you wonder if he was somehow upset with you.
With that in mind, you lurched up from your comfortable position which was laying on his lap to give him a discouraged pout. His eyes then zeroed in on your frown and Wakasa knew he had reached your limits for the day.
“Hey.”
You looked up to him with a sullen face, suddenly having the urge to hide away because of his annoying aloofness when a painful flick was forced on your forehead. “Ouch! What was that for?!”
“Don’t sulk. I like the one where you said I’ll be your homework you’d slam on the table to do all night long, but fucking stop with the awful pick-up lines. You don’t even need them.”
excuse any mistakes! i really, really love writing wakasa hahahaha i’m such a simp <3
taglist. @ranspuppyboy, @baji-san and @manjiroarchiviste.
— in which bonten!takeomi has some frustrations to let out.
genre. smut, fluff towards the end. MDNI.
contains. fem!reader, portrayed as wakasa’s younger sister, timeskip characters, explicit content, profanities, probably ooc, and bad writing as per usual.
word count. 4.3k lmfao.
note. i kinda imagined reader would be similar with waka in terms of appearance, if anyone’s concerned about that hehe. i didn't know how to end this, so lmk your thoughts!
requested.
He was damned.
Takeomi knew he was ever since he got into this notorious lifestyle. It’s the kind of life where one wrong move could lead to his blood dripping to the floor, or maybe from going southwards to his very much eager… appendage.
His jaw clenched. Once he narrowed his eyes, he sent a handful of death daggers to the person standing in front of him he could only label as the fucking bane of his existence.
“Akashi-san, I’m not a child,” you hissed.
He scoffed. Was it Akashi-san now and not Take-nii?
Right. Now that he had a chance to look at you — really look at you, his eyes fell down to your white blouse that seemed delicate enough to appear professional, yet to him it’s flimsy enough he could see the dainty lace embroidering your bra.
His gaze traveled lower to the black skirt that hugged your hips, and his mind immediately betrayed him. Those waist and thighs, hidden by a fabric he’s certain would feel immaculate underneath his palms, were a vise he would gladly have his neck choked with.
It reached just above your knees. Your calves that were sinfully exposed and weren’t hindered by some branded stockings had looked so smooth, and Takeomi wondered if you shaved them or if it was naturally that way. He silently cursed and averted his gaze, and they somehow settled on your high-end brand-covered feet.
You had worn black and pointy stilettos today. Deadly as those things were, and painfully sexy. They suited you and your annoying, looking-for-a-death-wish thing you’ve got going on at that moment.
“I didn’t say you are one,” he gruffed, voice strained. “I said you shouldn’t wander in these halls like you aren’t worried about these men looking at you like you’re a piece of meat.”
“And you aren’t looking at me like one right now?”
His glare shot up to your face, his jaw ticked from being caught ogling. You looked so much like your brother — lazy eyelids and thin lips, but at the same time, different. There was more emotion in your face than Wakasa’s usual laidback one: more fire, more grit, more taunting.
And Takeomi swore, if you open that mouth of yours again, those lips which were coated with a light sheen of gloss, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up in this room until it’s time for you to go home.
“I don’t look at you that way,” he argued. But who was he fooling? As he had pointed out, you were the fucking bane of his existence. The ghost of his wet dreams as though he was a premature teen who hasn't tasted a woman’s pleasure yet.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to look nor think of you like he did, and yet, he fucking did.
Goddamn.
“How long are you gonna treat me like this?” You almost hurled a stapler at him when he didn’t answer. Perhaps immerse yourself all the more with his you’re-still-a-kid-in-my-eyes perspective. “I’m a 30-year old woman, for fuck’s sake! I can do whatever I want!”
“Not when you’re wearing those clothes.”
The appalment on your face could have shook him off from his stance. To be fair, there was nothing wrong with your clothes. It seemed prim and proper and respectable enough. It’s just his brain was thinking of many dishonorable things with it.
He didn’t know you would come to the Bonten headquarters today. He had his schedule planned out, meeting after meeting — your usual routine for a crime syndicate advisor. He was walking to the elevator to his office peacefully as one could imagine in a hotel full of rageful bastards when he saw a bunch of men snickering nearby the metal doors and heard your name slip up from one of their disgusting lips.
“Would absolutely fuck her until she’s raw and begging for mercy,” they snickered. It didn’t sit well in his gut. It immediately fired up a possessiveness he didn’t know he had, but he blamed it for the reason that you’re his close friend’s younger sister which was why he felt the urge to protect you.
But now that you’re standing in front of him, looking like the wild and passionate sex yourself they made obscene statements with, maybe what you really needed was to be protected from him.
Hell, he had to get out of here. Away from you.
“I’m gonna take you home and you’re gonna change out of those clothes,” he demanded. He stepped towards the door, not waiting at all for your sure as hell snarky response, “And you’re gonna stay at home until I tell you to.”
You crossed your arms at him. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“And you’re really telling me you’re not a kid?”
“I’m not,” you ground out, face twisting into irritation.
Takeomi paused by the doorway, hand clasping the knob before giving your tense form a well-heated look. Your breath hitched. “Then be a good girl instead and follow my orders.”
You found out moments later, much to your disdain, that he drove his car like the perfect gentleman. One hand on the wheel and the other under his chin. The song in his speakers played a slow beat, the singer’s voice raspy and suggestive — it’s stimulating.
Maybe it was because this was the first time he drove you to your house. Usually, it would be his driver or any one of his men taking you home. And even if you did sit in a single car, it wouldn’t be the two of you alone. There would always be someone accompanying you two.
God, you couldn’t think straight at all. The words ‘good girl’ and the way he had said it made you immediately compliant. And the scent — his scent — was everywhere. From the very lush, constricting space of his car to the man himself sitting beside you. It was deep. Manly. Musky. As if somebody had sex prior.
The abrupt thought grated your nerves.
Once you entered the garage of your luxurious apartment, you breathed a tired sigh that may as well be ten years worth of exhaustion. “You could’ve just dropped me upfront,” you grumbled.
“I could,” was all he replied. He parked on a VIP spot — a spot named after him making you wonder why he did such a thing, and turned off the car. He unlocked the doors and got up from his seat.
You already knew what he’s going to do.
Cursing him underneath your breath, you opened your car door and followed him to the elevator. You put your floor number as he waited patiently behind you, and you could feel his stare burning holes at the back of your head.
You fought the urge to shiver from its intensity.
Entering the empty cabin once it arrived, he stepped in, pressing the door button to close. Once more, you were crowded by his deliciously suffocating aura, and you nervously shifted your heels.
He tensed.
Your mouth parted.
You swallowed, as if the air was thick with unsaid tension. The simple knowledge he’s on edge around you sizzled under your skin, gripping your chest with force making you breathless.
The whole way up to your floor, he was silent. If it was all the more possible, he became more brooding, more ominous — which didn’t help the nerves you have to instinctively attune to him when he’s around.
You reached your apartment door, entered the passcode and wrenched it open. If you thought he would go away now to leave you alone like a kid being sent to a corner, you were wrong. He entered the room as if he owned it, and gracious heavens, he had fitted so perfectly at a standstill in your doorway.
Like a husband arriving home to his sweet wife.
“What?” You managed to croak out.
“What the fuck is that?”
“What the fuck is what?”
He brisk-walked from your doorway to the adjacent living room, and lifted what appeared to be a men’s shirt from the armrest of the couch.
Uh-oh.
“Whose is this?”
You fixed him a look. “No one you should care about.”
Takeomi’s face hardened. He bit his lip from lashing out his anger, and your eyes followed the gesture. He sneered your name, irritation laced in its letters, “Whose the fuck is this?”
But you only raised your brow, crossed your arms, and leaned onto one sexy hip. I don’t need to tell you.
“You can leave now, Akashi-san,” you ordered instead.
Well, fuck. Aren’t you the most frustrating woman he had ever encountered?
He stormed across the room and stood in front of you, clutching the dirty rag that was the stranger’s shirt in his hand. “Does your brother know about this?” He fumed.
You held his angry eyes with your unbothered ones, “Onii-san knows.”
Fucking hell.
“Don’t invite him again,” he growled.
“Who? Wakasa-nii-san?” You asked. Takeomi’s short patience was wearing thin. Which was why he threw the filthy material to the floor and gripped your shoulders with his large hands before he could even stop himself.
“This boy you’re fucking,” he spat out. Your slender shoulders felt so soft, he couldn’t willingly pull away. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you. So he moved closer. “You are done with him.”
You stood, proud; challenging him with a look that called out to his primal instincts. He could feel a stirring in his pants, that was very much instinctual. Oh, how he wanted to debauch those rousing glare.
His hold on you tightened.
“Or what?” You haughtily asked. “I need to be pleased like you men need to be pleased.”
You really were testing him.
Takeomi’s angry expression became a smolder, and he pushed you towards a wall, his chest laying flat on your torso. Its warmth and massiveness felt so delicious you couldn’t form a coherent thought.
“And did he please you?” He drawled. His face hovered over yours, breath fanning your rapidly warming cheeks. The rush of desire brought by his closeness was immediate. You shivered. “Answer me.”
You opened your mouth to say something when you felt his leg slowly pushing itself in between your thighs. It robbed you of your speech, the bitchy sentiment you ought to respond died on the tip of your tongue as the organ inside your ribcage skipped a beat.
His knowing eyes glimmered, and you helplessly fought for your snarkiness to come back. Your arms hung limply by your sides, and your neck somehow arched in order to reach his lips.
Your breaths were mingled, becoming one. They tangled in the very air you take, and you swore, you could moan just by it alone.
His soft lips glided over yours when you squirmed from the thick anticipation, and you gasped. You couldn’t help it, not when his eyes had looked darker with more thirst than ever. He let out a shaky breath and pressed his body closer and harsher to you.
“You’re a fucking menace,” he ground out before his mouth took yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Groaning from the back of his throat, he let go of your shoulders to trail them to your wrists to pull them up above your head, and you moaned in an instant — albeit helplessly.
His thigh that was steadily fixated between your legs started to move, rubbing your core so delectably your back arched. Your breasts swelled and heaved, and you knew he could feel the tingling sensation flooding through them only he could satisfy.
One of his hands removed their grip on your wrists, holding them with one large palm as the other roughly felt your tit, focusing his fingers where your pert nipple should be.
“Akashi-san,” you cried out. He continued his torture with his lips on your ear, on your jaw down to your neck — all messy kisses, nips and bites, and you felt powerful from the laborous breathing he casually let out. You wiggled out of his hold which froze Takeomi in his place, although you were quick to say, “Clothes. Too expensive.”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” he rasped before he’s on you again. He undid the back zipper of your flimsy blouse with his free hand. The heat of his palm seared you as he spanned your back, making you tremble and you keened his name once more.
He fisted the obstructive fabric, yanked it down and now you’re left with a piece of your lingerie as your blouse fell softly to the floor. “You wear this to work?” He observed the racy underwear you had worn that day to which you breathlessly nodded. “Every day?”
You whispered on his lips, “It makes me feel sexy.”
With renewed vigor, he invaded your mouth again you were absolutely sure they’d bruise. You couldn’t — wouldn’t complain, though. You’ve been waiting to be kissed by this man for years. From the time you’ve become a legal adult to the time you’ve worked under the same organization as him — it was everything you wanted, and all the more needed.
And now that you have, you wouldn’t waste a single moment not to.
You couldn’t exactly remember what happened. All you had noticed was the sudden softness on your back. His masculine weight pushed you down to the mattress. His coat and button shirt had come off, and now you’re skin to skin with your nipple getting sucked so rakishly into his mouth.
He rolled, tweaked and lavished one with his tongue as his long fingers did the same to the other. His heated gaze was on you, and you had the audacity to feel embarrassed.
My god, he looked as if he was a man starved.
Takeomi’s mouth trailed across your feverish skin, uncouthly passing by your stomach and navel while he rolled your skirt downwards off your legs. He licked his lips once he saw the thin material hiding your womanhood, and before you could slip your heels off your feet, he abruptly grabbed your ankle. “Keep them on,” he demanded as he left an open kiss to your lower leg, tasting your skin with his tongue.
“I didn’t peg you for someone who fucks a woman still with their shoes on,” you breathed, teasing him. But that was only because he’s dragging you to the edge of the bed, the flat portion of your heels sat on his shoulders while he parted your legs and his handsome, scarred face awaiting in between.
What a sensual sight.
Your pussy tingled with excitement. It throbbed and pulsed as if your heartbeat was now between your legs and not in your chest. God, this man was about to bury his face in the place where you need him the most. “Please,” you found yourself begging.
He didn’t answer, however. Instead, he eagerly swooped in, mouth latching onto your engorged clit as his tongue flicked it every now and then. He moved his jaw as if you’re the one telling him to do it, but his eyes — those eyes that were now a molten pool of heavy desire — locked in on yours, and you knew he had his mind in ruining you for another man.
As if he didn’t already when you first saw him.
He ate you out, endlessly. Using his fingers when his tongue felt strained, but it wasn’t enough for him to stop giving you pleasure. Even when you begged him to do so because something felt like coming out, he didn’t. He kept going at it, on and on, and you came and came until you’re arching your back and crying afterwards, your own sweat sticking to your skin, you thought how he’s such an absolute meanie in bed.
“Oh my god,” you panted. “You’re a jackass.”
“I would rather accept thank you, but you’re welcome,” he devilishly grinned.
His erection was still the same — hard and huge. You haven’t even touched him yet, and here you were, accusing him of being a jackass. Surely, you could return him the favor?
You grabbed him by his nape, pulling him up to your face to kiss him, tasting your own self on his mouth. The tanginess of your own essence in between your lips was something you knew you could get addicted to. It was that salaciously sweet and liberating.
You kissed him until you didn’t know how to breathe oxygen but him. Your fingers fumbled for his belt, and the sound of it unbuckling made you whimper a ‘Hurry’ as he struggled to get naked himself.
You pulled away out of a sudden which confused him, before inelegantly tugging his arm pushing him to his back to your pillows.
He flopped down, mouth parted and eyes hooded.
“My turn,” you greedily said. You straddled him, using his wide shoulders as your leverage. One of your hands held his cock right by the opening of your pussy, slobbering his tip with your wetness as you teased him by moving your hips back and forth, not totally taking him all the way in.
He smacked your ass, “Don’t play with it.”
You chuckled, gaze leering. “Oh, I’m not gonna play with it.” You held his stare as you slowly sunk down on him, too hung up on the need to feel him to ask if he even wanted a condom. Your eyelids fluttered as the pain and pleasure shot right in your womb from feeling so full — full of him that you jerked on instinct, inciting a gasp and groan from your throats.
“Move,” he grunted. “Fucking move, or I swear I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk.”
The thought made your pussy clench.
And Takeomi felt it around his dick.
He breathed to pace himself, scared that he might hurt you from the intensity of his lechery. Although, the look in your eyes was clear as if you’re deeply asking for it.
Try me.
His eyes narrowed, and you smiled. Throwing your hair to the side, you moved — slow and painstakingly agonizing, as your hips leisurely rolled on his pelvis. He threw his head back.
Your walls were snug, so warm and tight, and Takeomi thought he must have done something good in his previous life to have a splendid pussy riding him so ardently.
“Faster,” he grunted after letting you have your fun. He caressed your lower back, tenderly, before giving your body a forceful push that clearly said what and how he wanted it. “Go wild,” he moaned.
His moan was enough for you to lose your composure, but when he said those words exactly the way he did, your pussy yearned to obey him. You settled your palms on the milky skin of his shoulders as you rode him for all that you have, for all that you would be, throwing the smallest reservations you still had to the wind.
He wrapped his strong arms around you, and you fell forward with your tits bouncing heavily up and down his face. He kissed the valley between them as he met your lewd pace worthy of his own. “Fuck,” he cursed.
Your arms snaked around his head, nails scraping his scalp as a muffled groan could be heard from where he’s burying himself in your chest. You could care less if you were all sweaty from his earlier attacks, you would make sure he got imprinted under your skin no one else could really come close with.
“Akashi-san,” you cried out. “Akashi-san…”
You said his name over and over, similar to the way he panted your name, as if doing so would hold the two of you back from saying something that shouldn’t be spoken out loud. It brought the emotion you’ve been hiding away for years from him to slowly come to the surface.
It was apparent in your eyes, you knew. When he flipped you to your back and drove his cock so deep it earned him a grateful whimper, yet the tender way you had grasped his face with your hands and kissed him so softly, you knew that it was there in your eyes.
He stuttered your name. The jerky motion of his hips paused for a moment before getting rougher. He kissed you then, languidly on the lips then delicately with his tongue, reaching all the places that he could all the while branding you as his with his harsh hips.
The contrasting sensations he was unleashing over your body were consistently piling up to push you over that edge, you clawed at his chest, “Akashi-san…”
“Cum,” you heard him command, and just like a puppet being strung by her puppeteer, you obeyed.
You came — hard and fast. Your legs quivered from the shock of having an intense orgasm, but he only kept pounding into you that you could feel again the build up of another one, “Ah, fuck…”
It was simultaneous. When you climaxed for the second time, his cock throbbed and swelled from how tighter you’ve gotten, and suddenly he’s pulling out his shaft to spurt thick white ropes of cum to your chest and stomach.
He groaned.
The scene before him was enough to last him a lifetime of jack-off material.
Your skin was shining with sweat, chest heaving to catch your shaky breath. There were his strings of cum painted on your torso, and Takeomi swore, out of all the things he could list for this jack-off material of his, it was your face that got him suddenly aware of what he did.
He had fucked you.
“What?”
“I have somewhere else to be,” he coughed out. He stood up from his kneeling between your legs, and limply walked to his forgotten pieces of clothes.
“Oh, fuck you, Takeomi.”
The venom in your words was enough to halt him from his steps. You’ve never called him Takeomi before. It used to be Take-nii, and then Akashi-san. Never Takeomi.
Not even when he had his tongue wolfishly lapping up your juices.
Not even when he had his dick sheathed in by your heavenly pussy.
You sat completely naked in the center of your bed. Your bare, cum-covered tits were a free view for him to ogle and admire. But it was your lavender eyes that had him frozen in his place.
They looked so angry, so hurt. He could only swallow the large amount of guilt forming in his chest.
“You know, don’t you?” Your voice was cold, silent. Accusation seeping through. “You’ve always known.”
Takeomi turned his back around, but didn’t make a step forward to exit the room. He simply didn’t want to see you all vulnerable and exposed like you did with him with your body just then.
“I do.”
“Then why did you?”
He knew you were pertaining to what had just happened. But, he was a coward. He never liked confrontations. So, he gruffed out instead, “Don’t go back to the office today.”
Anger flared across your cheeks. “Why did you do it?”
“What do you want me to say?” He spun around. His expression darkened once more when he was gifted by your naked body, but was immediately shaken off by the blatant pain in your expression. “Your brother said you’re off-limits.”
“I think it’s a little too late for that.”
“What do you want from me?” He stood there in the middle of your room downright in his birthday suit. He never felt ashamed being naked in front of a beautiful woman before, but when it came to the matters of the heart — his heart, he couldn’t help but feel too exposed. “I can’t love you,” he added, hoping you would just push him away.
“You’re just telling yourself that,” you whispered. You turned away from him and eyed the drawn curtains of your window. Your meek actions rattled something inside his chest. “Well, aren’t you in a hurry?”
If he stepped even an inch outside your door, Takeomi felt he would really lose you then. He had always known how you feel about him all these years. They were usually followed by your brother’s listless stare on the side of his face whenever you would dare come close to him. So what if he moronically thought Wakasa didn’t approve?
But now that he thought about it, how true was that, really? Did he ever hear Wakasa saying you couldn’t be taken by someone like him?
Was it all on his mind, then?
With a frustrated sigh, he sat back down on the bed near your bedside table to pull out some clean tissues. “Let me clean you up,” he grumbled.
“Don’t have to. Gonna take a shower after you leave,” you mumbled. Takeomi’s initial thought right then was how annoyingly confusing you and your brother were — how the two of you could drive him into madness with just your evasiveness.
“Listen,” he started. “I don’t think Waka would approve of me touching you, uhh, inappropriately.”
“He already knows.”
“What do you mean he already knows?” Stupefied, he turned to you but you only shrugged.
“We made a bet.”
A bet? A fucking bet? “On what grounds?” He gritted out.
You rolled your eyes at him, amusement slowly lighting up your face. “On whether you would ask me out or fuck me first.”
What the actual hell.
“He said you’re too much of a horndog to get into my pants first, so I think he won.”
He shook his head, not entirely surprised something like this would happen at all. The two of you have always been… remarkable. “You two are the craziest siblings,” he remarked.
You lifted one shoulder and beam at him. “We’re a tad bit shy if we’re compared to yours.”
“True,” he agreed, slowly crawling back to sit beside you, “but you love me for it.”
He was testing the waters, he knew.
And he wasn’t at all disappointed.
“I do,” you sighed, weary but honest. “Do you?”
Your brows were furrowed in concern, seeming so lost and hopeless, and he almost asked you to punch some long-awaited sense at him.
“Unfortunately,” he murmured. With that, he kissed you on your lips before pulling away to ask, “How much did you bet Wakasa?”
If its not to much to ask can I get Benkei and what type hes attracted to. And can it be a fem
Have a nice day or night 💚
hi nonnie !! it’s kind of hard for me to grasp benkei’s personality bcos of the uhh lack of content lmfao (ironic that i could hc wakasa easily huh) but i’m gonna tell you how i see benkei because he deserves the recognition !! i just hope i did okay jfjsjsjf tysm for asking nonnie !! i like talking about the first gen black dragons so much ;_; also excuse my grammar ahshshsh
ARASHI “BENKEI” KEIZO
I think Benkei is greatly attracted to girls who are soft and caring. Someone who does things with utter dedication, similar to him who’s loyal to his values, but not necessarily timid in consideration of his line of work. Although, he would like to see her with a grit every now and then, even if she suddenly possessed a sharp tongue when she’s standing her ground in an argument, but he would be complacent knowing that she can fend for herself without his help. He loves it even more when she acts like a warm mother figure to everyone — always fussing over this, fussing over that — that he finds it amusing when she notices the little details that nobody can. Though he really doesn’t mind being smothered over because it only means she looks after him deeply enough to make his life easier and to be honest, as long as she’s not being rude about those habits, Benkei would only set his eyes on her.
contains. gn!reader, manga spoilers, smoking, profanities, definitely ooc and bad as bollocks writing.
word count. 2.7k.
note. i really suck at titles. anyway, this is the shin angst i’ve been wanting to write. not that this is a new idea or anything. this also isn’t as painful as i would like it to be haha. hi, @mochi-coffee!
Shinichiro had sat with people, listened to people, gave his own piece of advice to people, but never had he been the one to sit in their place talking about his problems.
“Shin, why do you smoke?”
That was a question he had heard a multiple of times. He didn’t look like one who would smoke, really. Many assumed it was purely because he wanted to look and act cool, but not once did he become honest to himself, or anyone for that matter, about his knowingly bad habit.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Was what he would reply usually. Because for him, isn’t it damn well obvious? He would smoke, of course, whenever he felt stressed; if he felt the need to inhale a drag and release it into the air as though it would help him loosen up before determinedly marching on to an imaginative war.
Wouldn’t that reason be as obvious as it gets?
“No, tell me.” You looked at him, curiosity sitting subtly in your expression, and in those awaiting gaze, he could slowly feel his defenses coming down like a layer of his skin was being peeled off one by one. He shied away, afraid there would be nothing left but the well-hidden vulnerable boy cowering underneath it all.
“If I told you, you would just make fun of me.” Brushing it off with a grunt, he bit the foamy end of his cigarette as he busy his hands by tinkering the greasy engine in front of him. “But you have to admit, I look cool, aren’t I?” He teased.
Although, before he could go on to a new topic — any topic at all that would seem interesting enough for you to leave him to his own antics, you sighed and pulled yourself up from sitting on your chair to sit beside him on the floor. “Then, do you mind if I take one?”
Shinichiro’s hand stilled from their movements, disinterested face warping into utter wariness, and the cig that was burning between his lips almost stung his skin. “What?” He finally squawked.
“Oh, shut up. As if I couldn’t do it.” With that, you snatched the stick from his mouth, pinching the end with your thumb and forefinger like a complete amateur. “I just have to inhale it, right?” You mumbled, “and my life is all gonna be fine.”
He watched you place the cigarette between your lips. The thing he was just puffing right there at the opening of your mouth, and he couldn’t stop gawking when you took a breath out of it — too captivated by the image of you looking directly at him as if you’re seizing his reaction to your smoking.
And he must admit, you looked absolutely sinful right then.
Once inhaled, you forgot to breathe it out and hacked out the remnants of the smoke from your throat. Tears started to build up at the corner of your eyes as you handed him back his tab.
“Idiot,” he laughed, pointing a finger to your cawing face. “You don’t do it like that.”
“Ack! That’s horrible, Shin!”
“I didn’t tell you to do it, though!”
“Yeah, but you didn’t stop me either!”
“I know I should have!” Still, even in his budding guilt, he was feeling too funny and amused that you would smoke just as you did. He didn’t smoke that well either when he first started, but you made it look so hypnotizing that he couldn’t push himself to berate you from doing it.
He looked back to the stick that was now in his hand, debating if he should man up and put it back in his lips, knowing it did touch your own. “Well, is your life all sunshines and rainbows now?” He asked.
You went silent on him, however, so he lifted his hand to put the cigarette back in its place all the while staring back at your eyes. As he took in the nicotine-filled smoke, your gaze stayed where they were, right back at his.
“How come you make it look so effortless?” You suddenly mused out loud.
“I’ve been smoking for years,” he shrugged.
“You still haven’t told me why you smoke in the first place.” Grumbling his way, Shinichiro knew there’s more to this than why you merely tried it. “Tell me, Shin.”
Your huge eyes felt urging, so he took another drag and then another while he pondered for an excusable reason aside from the well-concealed truth.
“Eh, I just felt like it,” he grinned after a moment of ponderance. There was the immediate scoff, accompanied with the rolling of eyes which compelled a chuckle out of him. He wondered out loud, “Why are you so curious, though?”
“Because I heard people do it whenever they feel sad.”
Those simple words hit him like a truck. He didn’t expect your reply to his query would be that. Anything but that. But honestly, he didn’t expect anything at all. He swallowed. “Is that so?”
It was just a few words strung together to make a statement. A foolish concept, really. Your opinion about smoking seemed childish yet valid, but all the more, it was that simple.
Yes, he admitted to himself. He was sad. Of all people, Sano Shinichiro was sad.
Chuckling without his heart on it, he put out the cig on his ashtray, and turned back to repairing the engine in front of him with even more intent. “That’s one good reason,” he acceded.
He sounded evasive, he knew. But he couldn’t let it be known to the world, much less to you, that he actually felt… sad.
Sad. Damn, what a word.
You wordlessly creeped even closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder in the process and deeply sighed. “I think they’re right. I’m feeling sad. That’s why I wanted to have one.”
“What happened?” His words came in a rush. A rapid bloom of protectiveness emerged from his own being as he looked down at your calm expression that seemed miserable just then.
You were definitely, frightfully close. He could simply lean down and take your lips with his if he only inched closer. You had your eyes wide open as you looked over the open bike in front of him, but there was a certain emptiness in them, as if your days had been really rough as of late.
“Why are you sad, Shin?” You asked him once more.
“So damn persistent,” he mumbled. Although, this could be the right time to be honest about it. No one was in his shop, a totally rare occurrence since it’s always packed with his former gang members, and usually Manjiro and Emma would play along the large space, giving him that warm homey feeling.
But alongside that cozy feeling came a surge of year-accumulated anger and frustration.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to be an older brother to Emma and Manjiro. No, very far from it. Shinichiro was grateful they were their siblings. He wouldn’t have it otherwise, and that was the absolute truth he would carry until his very last breath.
Emma was undeniably the most precious girl. She came to them, all meek and shy, but now she would never let Manjiro act all mighty around her. She now has the guts to chastise him even, particularly when he’s being rowdier than usual. She would also help her big brothers and grandfather by cleaning their rooms and cooking them meals, and Shinichiro felt his life become easier with that.
Manjiro. Good heavens, that little rascal. He’s a force of nature to begin with. His little brother looked up to him, saying he would beat his ass once he grew older, and that it would be him who’s the strongest Sano of all. It was adorable when he was younger. But, he’s still a kid who was very much growing up and thinks they’re eternally invincible, and Shinichiro was somehow afraid he wouldn’t be able to talk some sense to his ever so self-glorifying brother once he has a mind of his own.
And Izana, his non-blood related family. He took his time knowing him once he found out Emma had an older brother. He taught him his ways and he was adamantly good about it, and even though he was rejected for not speaking out the truth about their families, Shinichiro still treated and considered him like one of his own.
Hell, he even has an aspiring dream of Mikey and Izana inheriting his gang, Black Dragon.
That was how much he loved his family, and he wouldn’t change it any other way.
So, the real question, why in the goddamn world was he sad for?
“I guess I wanted to hate my parents.”
His wandering thoughts became words before he could fathom it. It left a bitter taste in his mouth as if the intricate sentence itself was a bile he shouldn’t puke out. Nevertheless, it was born now into his reality just as he had silently feared.
He swallowed back the build up of repulsive acid in his throat, refusing to show any vulnerability now because who was he to complain? This was the life that was given to him. As a young kid who lost both of his parents, it’s always been him — the eldest brother looking out for his younger siblings.
Not once did anyone ask how he was. Sure, there were his gang members. But Shinichiro separated the two before it could even crash and collide, and now it felt as if he had been living a dual life.
It has been so hard, and he was doing it all alone with a cheery smile on his face. He couldn’t be seen shedding a tear. As a man, that’s a sign of weakness. Even though he bawled his eyes out for every rejection he had, a tear born of his own helplessness wasn’t something he should flaunt since he’s known as the guy who has it all together.
To fuck with that notion.
“I guess I wanted to blame them for dying so early,” he followed with more conviction. “I wanted to blame them for leaving me the responsibility of a parent when I shouldn’t be in the first place.”
He suddenly felt you move away from his shoulder, and Shinichiro realized just then the horrible crudeness of his selfish words. Fuck, they’re gonna think I’m ungrateful.
He shouldn’t have said it. He shouldn’t have put life into those nasty thoughts that appeared as though he hated being a Sano after all this time.
But what he regretted the most was that he shouldn’t have thought about hating his parents in the first place.
His mother died of an illness. No one could avoid dying from a fatal ailment. Much less his father who died in an accident.
Shinichiro merely felt it was unfair.
He felt a warm touch settling on top of his larded hand. Your hand that had looked so small gave him a rush of relief, much like a silent admonition that what he felt was very much valid.
“You think I’m awful just about now, don’t you?”
“No,” came your quick response. Your disagreement was soft, tender; but enough for Shinichiro to give up those walls he built around himself, as futile as it was when he’s around you, and his throat closed up from the hot tears that started to well in his eyes.
“I’m sorry for feeling like this,” he croaked. His hands balled up into fists, to remind him he’s a man and a man doesn’t cry about his problems in front of the person he likes. And yet, your hold on his knuckles didn’t let go. “I’m sad because I feel like I’m still not enough. That I will never be enough. For them.”
“Oh, Shin, you’re more than what they needed.” You pulled him towards you, embracing him as if your life depended on it if you didn’t embrace this wounded man at that moment. “You’re a wonderful brother to have, Shin-chan.”
He snorted, demeaningly. “You think so?”
“I know so,” you almost vowed, willing him to believe you. “I know so because they told me all the bad things you’re excellent at, and that only means they love you so much they’re willing to exploit all your atrocious traits.”
“More like make my life a living hell,” he mumbled. “What did they tell you?”
“That you couldn’t go a day without a cola and the reason why your farts stink, and that sometimes you say my name in your sleep.”
He jumped right away from your embrace upon hearing that. The once heavy burden in his chest was now replaced with a million monkeys beating the life out of his poor heart as he sweated out, “I wasn’t!”
“Nah, of course, you don’t. I was just teasing.”
Shinichiro prayed you somehow didn’t. But the smile adorning your face was too vague and incomprehensible that he coughed out his nerves upon being jested so easily. He reached out for another cigarette from the pack on the side table, and mumbled, “And you? What’s the reason behind that first smoke?”
You stretched like a relaxed starfish on the chair beside him, “Hmm, I’m okay now.”
“What? Just like that?” Accusation seeped in his deep voice.
“Yep,” you replied. You didn’t want to tell him you had been losing sleep over him, talking his name in your own dreams yourself, and worrying about him at the most random times even when you know you shouldn’t. Not when he just exposed his heart about his own struggles out in the open.
It was a moment that called for understanding, and not one of confessing.
Nevertheless, you wanted to tell him he could lean on you for all the times he would feel miserable. Although, you felt like he knew that already as he smiled at you, silent gratitude shining in his ebony gaze, and you threw back a comforting and understanding smile to him.
What you truly wanted to tell him though was that you wanted to know him more — his habits, his thoughts, his heart. You wanted to be the different one from all the friends he deemed trustworthy enough to get a proper glimpse of his life. You wanted to be a person he would feel comfortable exposing his real self, and not the one where he would put up a facade in order to appease people.
You wanted to be that person.
As much as you wanted him to be yours.
But then again, this wasn’t the right time to lay your heart on the line. Right now, this was all about him.
You knew, deep down your gut, there would come a — may heavens bless his enthusiastic soul — romantic time to tell Shinichiro how much you like him.
That determination aside, you eyed the burning stick fitting snugly in his mouth again, observed how he puffed and huffed, and contemplated if you should snatch it away.
You swiftly did.
Grinning in triumph as he fussed over the slightly broken stick and how cigarettes nowadays were expensive, you tried, out of good fun, to inhale the nicotine and exhale it properly than the last time.
“You’re getting quite good at this,” Shinichiro remarked in a slight surprise.
“I learned from the best,” you shrugged.
“You shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad.”
“Hah! You should know, Shin. You should know. This thing’s gonna be the reason why you’re floating transparently in the air and looking over at us like a creepy ghost.”
“That’s the goal,” he snickered as you passed him back his deathly stick. “I wouldn’t ghost over you, though.”
“I know,” you beamed. “Because I won’t let you die that easily.”
It was a blissful memory to hold dear, you were certain of it. You willingly offered Shinichiro his usual brand of cigarettes and the lighter he used as you easily sat down by his bleak tombstone a year after his death.
Funny, you never did have that chance to tell him how you feel, after all.
“I’m feeling sad today, Shin. Mind if I have one of your cigs?”
[ 21:01 ] — this is a fem!reader timestamp, dedicated to a moot.
To this day, you’ve never been able to understand how your grumpy boyfriend of a few months could turn you into a putty mush with his warm gentleness.
You found one of his little notes, yet again, hidden inside one of your pants’ pockets. It was decorated with a little doodle on the front: an illustration of yourself owning tiny angel wings, and beside it, his own poorly drawn self with the face of his devil mask holding a tiny heart which appeared as if he was offering it only to you.
Seriously, you mused. Why does he have to be this cute? The immediate grin blooming across your face was so wide that you had to stop yourself from gushing like a complete fool, giggling outside the door of your apartment as if it was sugar rush coming from premium quality chocolates, and not over some measly sketch.
— with hanagaki takemichi, sendou atsushi (akkun) and yamamoto takuya.
contains. gn!reader and bad grammar.
word count. 1.2k.
note. i didn’t want to include takemichi at first because i can’t see him with anyone else other than hina (maybe i did portray her in this one lol) and wow, i didn’t know it was very hard to write headcanons. also, i didn’t age them up because akkun and takuya have limited information about their future selves in the manga. i hope i did okay!
hi nonnie! idk if someone already did this, i really hope not lmao. i made this gn!reader btw and excuse any grammatical errors haha i didn’t proofread this... tysm for requesting <3
BAJI KEISUKE
I imagine Baji liking someone who also has a mischievous streak like he does. Someone who will be comfortable with his playful personality, who will get along with his crazy ideas; say, throwing eggs at a stranger’s house at midnight simply because it’s hilarious to him. But also someone who’s grounded, who will hold him back in case he goes overboard — which by the way, most often times than not. Although, he is very much willing to listen to their sensible reasons whenever that happens. He falls harder when they can get along with his with friends, when they can weather the storm that is Toman, when they can accept them being in a gang; and when they possess the much needed patience in teaching him certain stuff academic-wise. What gets him to confess though is when they can make his mom laugh, with utter sincerity and ease, that I just see him being bold about his romantic advances the next day.
MATSUNO CHIFUYU
I think Chifuyu will fancy a person who is extremely passionate. The type who can ramble on and on, and he will just listen, absorb whatever it is since seeing them enthusiastic also gets him excited. He admires them even more when they can put those said words into action, the result being just as exactly as what they had described and he would be filled with wonder because they did manage to execute. It wasn’t as though he didn’t believe in them, he did — he does, but their unreserved dedication is something he is impressed with each and every time. He revels in that certain moment when they thank him for his help, for his support, that he feels as though he is the best man alive for being their number one cheerleader. It makes his heart race and his own cheeks to burn, all the while stuttering out a little ‘You’re welcome, I really love you’ inside his head.
Ran kept on staring at the most lethal eyes he have ever encountered and that’s him speaking out of pure honesty. Those eyes menacingly watched him — every lift of his finger, every rise of his breath and even the very blink of his droopy eyes — like it knows his true intentions.
He assumed that those intentions were to hurt you, to inflict pain on your body and to leave you alone after having done it. Ran mused some more, tilting his head out of habit and those eyes instantly flared up at him.
“Come home already,” Nahoya grumbled and you snorted at your end, hearing the Smiley whining at you just because he misses you. This wasn’t something new at all, usually whenever you work during the night and he has to stay home, wrapped up in blankets like a good little househusband, he pouts at you.
“Come home,” he said again. “Come home, come home…”
“I’ll be home soon,” you brushed him off, busying your hands with work and focusing on it. Your phone was between your ear and shoulder and you heard some rustling before a deep, weary sigh.
“…I miss you,” he grunted. “I don’t see you as much as I wanted, you know?”
— in which mikey silently lets you know how much you’re worth.
genre. fluff.
contains. gn!reader, possibly ooc and language errors as usual.
word count. 1.3k.
note. i thought this was just gonna be another timestamp bcos my lame ass can only do short drabbles lgmfjkf but i somehow got carried away and continued writing it as one-shot. inspired by a certain song and lmao it’s so old but i suddenly remembered how good the song was and tbh, i really think mikey would fall asleep to it.
requested.
Your mind went into a familiar state of ease as you sat down on the ground by the riverside with the blonde boy closely following you. You recognized the peaceful rhythm of your heart caused by his well-known charismatic presence, followed by the thrilling pulse that was ever so present in your bloodstream whenever he observed you, and the strange attunement you have to his improper wishes that put you outside of your bedroom again, late at night, in the first place.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
origamiaround
baratheonpilled