- The moment you step into his bathroom for a hot shower, you realize there’s only one bottle of body wash in there.
- You pick it up for a closer look—only to find it’s a 13-in-1 men’s body wash.
- Yes, you read that right. Thirteen-in-one.
- It claims to function as body wash, shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, toothpaste, mouthwash, eye drops, moisturizer, protein powder, sports drink, toilet cleaner, floor disinfectant, and laundry detergent.
- You stare in disbelief. Everything after "mouthwash" has clearly crossed the line from bath products. How the hell does Kiryu use this stuff without his face melting off? And yet, his skin and hair are flawless.
- There’s no way you’re putting that on your body, so you end up just rinsing off with water.
- After the shower, since Kiryu doesn’t own any women’s pajamas, you borrow his clothes.
- His clothes, like the man himself, carry a faint woody scent. But the thought that they were probably washed with that 13-in-1 abomination makes your skin itch uncontrollably.
"Didn’t you just shower?" Kiryu asks, watching you scratch yourself like a madman.
You shoot him a glare. "It’s because your house doesn’t have a single normal bottle of body wash!"
Kiryu blinks, genuinely confused by your anger. "That body wash works fine. I’ve always used that brand."
"I don’t care! Tomorrow, you’re buying proper body wash and shampoo, or I’m never coming over again!" you snap.
Kiryu frowns, deep in thought for a few seconds, as if seriously considering your demand.
"...But," he says slowly, "there’s still a lot left in that bottle. Buying new ones would be wasteful."
"Wasteful my ass!" You nearly jump in frustration. "That thing isn’t meant for human use! Where the hell did you even buy that chemical weapon?!"
"Donki," he answers honestly. "It was on sale—buy one, get one free."
"..." You cover your face and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. This man’s brain has definitely been fried by that 13-in-1 body wash.
"Listen, Kazuma," you say, "normal people don’t use body wash that can also clean toilets. Understand?"
He falls silent, his gaze drifting toward the bathroom as if reminiscing about his years of bathing with the stuff. Finally, he nods. "...Fine. I’ll buy new ones tomorrow."
Nishikiyama Akira
- Nishiki is a man of refinement—just look at his silky, well-maintained hair.
- Unlike someone, Nishiki would never stoop to using 2-in-1 shampoo. Instead, he owns separate bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and hair mask.
- Lathering, rinsing, treating—he approaches each step with meticulous care, spending a full hour on his hair. Drying it takes another thirty minutes, and he even applies hair oil beforehand to prevent split ends.
Knowing you’d be staying at Nishiki’s place tonight, you secretly wore a set of black lace lingerie—his favorite. Your plan was to "accidentally" let your clothes slip after he finished showering, just to see his stunned reaction.
But Nishiki’s shower takes forever.
"Deep-cleansing shampoo → scalp massage (5 min) → hair mask (30 min) → body wash → exfoliation → cold water to close pores..."
—His routine is like some kind of sacred ritual.
You wait on the couch, listening to the sound of running water and the clinking of bottles from the bathroom, until you eventually doze off.
In your half-asleep state, you feel someone gently lifting you by your back and knees. When you open your eyes, Nishiki is looking down at you, his skin carrying the faint scent of his expensive body wash.
"...Why’d you fall asleep here?" he murmurs, his voice softer than usual.
Still groggy, you try to answer, but he effortlessly carries you to bed. His arms are warm, his chest pressed against your cheek, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
As he tucks you in, you struggle to wake up and execute your "surprise plan," but he wraps the blankets tightly around you. "Just sleep. " he says, ruffling your hair. As he pulls his hand back, his fingers brush against the lace strap peeking out from your collar—
—He definitely noticed.
But the next second, the bedside lamp clicks off. In the darkness, you hear him chuckle. "I won’t take so long tomorrow."
Aoki Ryo
- Aoki is your boss, but your relationship is... well, complicated.
- You explore each other’s bodies like lovers—in empty offices late at night, in hotel rooms, leaving scorching marks with fingertips and lips. But when morning comes, he reverts to the composed Governor of Tokyo, and you’re just another subordinate, as if last night’s intimacy never happened.
- Not that you mind. In fact, you were the one who proposed keeping things this way—dramatic relationships are too much trouble. All you want is someone to satisfy your needs when you’re lonely, nothing more.
- No good morning texts, no constant togetherness, no endless empty promises.
- No debts, no obligations—just mutual warmth when needed, nothing beyond that.
- Usually, you meet at hotels, but tonight, Aoki invites you to his place for dinner, and you end up staying over.
After an intense session, your skin sticky with sweat, you push off his damp chest, grab the shirt he discarded earlier, and head to the bathroom barefoot.
Aoki’s bathroom is spacious and minimalist, the marble countertop gleaming under cold light. You turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your flushed face—but when you look up, you freeze.
On the sink sits a brand-new bottle of makeup remover.
Not just that—next to it is a lineup of your usual high-end skincare products. You never told him what brands you use. A fluffy new towel is neatly folded nearby, complete with a headband for washing your face. There’s even an unopened toothbrush in a cup that matches his—as if this home had always reserved a space for you.
Your throat tightens. Oh hell no. This is way too much.
The water keeps running, but you’re rooted in place. The mirror reflects the marks on your neck—the ones he left earlier with near-desperate intensity. Suddenly, you recall his uncharacteristic silence tonight, the slight tremble in his fingers when he gripped your wrists—
—Turns out, in this game, someone has unknowingly crossed the line.
"What’s wrong?"
Aoki’s voice comes from behind. His bangs, still damp with sweat, fall over his forehead, and his usually sharp gaze is softer now.
"...When did you prepare all this?" you ask, forcing calm into your voice.
Aoki glances at the items on the sink and shrugs. "Just bought them randomly."
"Liar. These are all my usual brands." You call out his flimsy excuse without mercy. "For a relationship like ours, this stuff is unnecessary, don’t you think?"
If you’d gone to a hotel, all traces would’ve vanished by dawn. Makeup remover, skincare, matching toothbrush cups—none of this fits your arrangement.
"I know," he cuts in, his fingers brushing your cheek. "We take what we need. No interference."
His thumb grazes your lower lip, but his eyes are terrifyingly calm. "But how I arrange my home is my business."
You suddenly realize—this man is pushing boundaries, inch by inch, dissolving the unspoken rules between you.
God, he’s latched onto you. This is getting troublesome.
As his lips crush against yours, the thought coils tight in your chest: You’ll never shake him off now.
Majima Goro
- This is your first time staying at his place, and his bathroom is normal—at least compared to Kiryu’s "13-in-1 biochemical weapon" and Nishiki’s shrine to haircare.
- The shelves are neatly stocked with body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, all labels facing outward. Surprisingly tidy.
- But when you open the closet to look for pajamas, your entire body locks up.
- There are several sets of women’s sleepwear—understandable, since Majima is popular with women.
- But what the hell is that neon pink snakeskin tube dress doing there? And that ridiculous blonde wig next to it?
- You hold up the dress. The size... there’s no way this is for an average woman.
- No no no... this is all wrong. Even for cosplay, what woman would willingly wear something this tacky? Which means only one possibility...
- Oh god. Is Majima actually...? Are you just a cover to hide his real sexuality?!
The bathroom door suddenly slides open. Majima pokes his head out, hair still dripping. "Find the pajamas? I bought some new ones for you—"
He spots the snakeskin dress in your hands and pauses. Then he sighs. "Ah... you found out, huh?"
You hold up the dress accusingly. "What the hell is this?"
"Oh, that? I wore it to mess with Kiryu-chan," Majima answers casually.
"...Mess with Kiryu?" you repeat slowly, your mind conjuring images of Kiryu facing off against a blonde-wigged, neon-clad Majima. You shake your head violently to erase that atrocious picture.
"Yep!" Majima steps closer, steam still rising from his body. "Back then, he’d just gotten outta prison, and I wanted to see if he’d lost his edge. But he refused to fight me no matter what! So I had to get creative—bought this outfit, slapped on the wig, and posed as a hostess to lure him to a cabaret club. The look on his face when he saw me? Priceless."
You imagine Kiryu’s expression upon encountering a full-glam Majima and feel a pang of sympathy for the legendary "Dragon of Dojima."
"So... you’re not into cross-dressing or anything...?" you ask hesitantly.
Majima blinks, then bursts out laughing. "Wait, that’s why you were so pissed just now?"
You roll your eyes. "Who the hell dresses up as a hostess just to pick a fight...?"
"Heh." Majima suddenly grins, his eye glinting with mischief. "I’ve got even better ones."
He rummages through the closet and pulls out a police uniform and a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in front of you with a playful smirk. "Whaddya say? Wanna go for round two?"
As you stare at his eager expression, it suddenly makes sense why Kiryu avoids him—this man’s dedication to messing around is downright terrifying.
Bonus: Akiyama Shun!
- Akiyama’s old house lmao
I’m not a big fan of writing, but I was STARVING, so I had to cook for myself
Summary: reader wakes up in the middle of the night with the bed empty, only to find majima unable to sleep, smoking a cigarette in the bathroom (w/c: 624)
Warnings: 2nd pov cigarette smoking, use of pet names (sweet cheeks x2, hun, doll), use of daddy sarcastically, slight angst? but ultimately fluff, established relationship
A/n: I wrote this months ago, yakuza 0/post yakuza 0 majima, divider by @chrisssiren
Any time after midnight and before 6 am are the peak times of mental destruction, relationship turning points, and “fuck, I don’t wanna go to work tomorrow” ‘s.
Surprisingly enough, tonight was not one of those nights. In fact, you were fast asleep and in the arms of your trusty boyfriend, Majima Goro.
In a bustling city like Osaka, it’s hard to get some sleep. But, it’s even harder to get back into it after waking up at 3 am. Especially when you find yourself in a fetal position you have no recollection of getting into.
On instinct, you follow the subconscious voice in your head screaming for sleep. Not before the instinct to reach out to your boyfriend, of course.
You reach your arm out to his side of the bed. Patting once, patting twice, and the third pat to the sheets (empty of boyfriend) forces your eyes open.
“Huff… goro? You went out?” You force out a hoarse and confused sound from your throat.
The little light open in the bathroom indicates there’s some sort of answer to the lack of other-human in your bed. Against your agonizing slumber you get up.
The sound of feet tapping against the floor knock majima out of his thoughts. He pays it no mind till you’re in the bathroom. He shuts his eyes as he let his head press into the cold tile of the bathroom.
“Why are you up?” You cross your arms and lean against the door.
“Whyre you up?” He quips back with a drag of his cigarette.
You sit next to him on the ground, pouting. “Aww I don’t know… maybe I missed my boyfriend and my body woke me up after sensing you weren’t there?
He blows out some smoke and snorts. “I doubt it honey, go back to bed ‘fore daddy makes ya.” He smirks. But there’s a tired, somber look in his eyes.
“Talk to me.” Determination mixed with concern lace your voice as you ask whilst your knees.
“Nuthin’ to be talked about sweet cheeks.” He pats your head.
“Bullshit. Dont think petting me will get you off the hook now.” Your tone doesn’t align with your actions. Annoyed people don’t rest their heads on the person who’s annoying them’s shoulder.
“Do you just not wanna talk about it?” Although you wanna pick at his brain, you do have better judgement to be kind and sympathetic. He just nods in response.
“Kay,” you snuggle up into him more, “guess I’ll just sit here till you stop being emo and get back in bed. Or till I fall asleep and you carry me back.” Followed by a huff and a yawn.
“I give it 5 minutes hun.” He scoffs with no bitterness, before his tones turns awfully soft. It’s gentle but a firm “sleep well doll.”
You just doze off on the cold bathroom floor, head on his shoulder. It doesn’t matter that the bed is a few meters away, the real reason to go to sleep every night isn’t a bed. Sometimes, it’s on the bathroom floor smoking a cigarette.
“Mornin’ sweet cheeks, sleep well?” He purrs in complete darkness.
“Do you always flirt with women right when they wake up and can’t see a thing?” You yawn and stretch.
“Nuh uh, just you.” You can’t see but you’re sure he’s smirking.
“Yeah yeah… so why were you smoking a cigarette in the bathroom than go outside like a normal person?
ryuji goda nsfw alphabet!!
cw: nsfw, vaginal sex, handjobs, blowjobs, public sex, !!mentions of cnc, forcefeeding, somnophilia, kidnapping, mind control!!, footjobs.
this fic has a baaaaad case of mischaracterization (in my opinion) 💔
A = Aftercare: ryuji loves taking care of you after sex. he always carries your limp body into the bathroom, cleaning your cum filled pussy with a wet napkin before running a warm bath for you. it feels good, especially after a huge cock like his is drilling into your cunt for an hour straight.
B = Body part: his favorite body part of yours is probably your tits. everytime you ride him cowgirl style, he grabs both of them. kneading them softly, flicking his fingers over your big nipples.
C = Cum: ryuji has a lot of stamina, which is common for a guy as big as him. this means you are almost constantly getting stuffed with his rich cum. once, you both went 4 rounds, your pussy was filled to the brim, cunt dripping, all squelchy and squishy from a mixture of your juices and his release. his cum was everywhere, on the sheets after he pulled out, and when you got up cum literally oozed out your pussy, dripping down your leg and onto the floor. ryuji was proud, meanwhile you were quite embarrassed..
D = Dirty Secret: ryuji had a huge, undisclosed crush on you while attending school with you. one day, you invited him over so you can help with math homework, and he accepted (duh). it was late into the night and you offered him dinner, but he declined, saying he wanted to “finish his homework”. but as soon as you left the room. ryuji started jerking off, finding your dirty underwear in your laundry basket in the corner, rubbing the lacy cloth over his throbbing member. he was sooooo close until he heard your footsteps, he threw your panties somewhere in the room, shoving his throbbing cock in his pants trying to conceal it from you. you never noticed until a day later, you found your panties under your bed, painted with precum..
E = Experience: ryuji is waaaaaaay more experienced than you, having had many hookups as a young man. meanwhile, you’ve never been with anyone other than him. he liked the fact that you were still a virgin, ripe and ready for his cock to break.
F = Favourite Position: he loves fucking you in a mean mating press. having your legs over his muscular shoulders as he brutally pounds into your pussy. he says he likes this particular position because he can drill his cock deeper into your cunt, filling you with his seed so he can increase the chances of you being impregnated with his child. he also likes it because it “feels good”, having your tiny little pussy stretch around his fat cock.
G = Goofy: ryuji really isn’t that goofy during sex. he doesn’t like joking around during a serious time like sex. he likes sex to be sensual, not full of jokes and other nonsense like that.
H = Hair: he keeps his hair regularly trimmed, making sure it isn’t too tangled. surprisingly, his hairy bush is dark coloured, black at that. you love how coarse it is, always stroking it whenever you gave him a blowjob or a handjob.
I = Intimacy: ryuji is very romantic during sex. he always whispers praises at how good your taking his cock, kissing you, holding you close to him, holding you tight as he shoves his dick into your tight, virgin pussy.
J = Jack Off: ryuji loves jacking off, he does it quite often just not when you’re around. once, you caught him stroking his veiny, girthy cock on your lounge, sweet, rich essence dripping out his slit as he moaned and threw his head back. he didn’t notice your ogling till he came. you watched the entire thing like a tv show. you liked being a voyeur to your naughty husband, he noted that he “didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff”.
K = Kink: he has a lottttttt of kinks, bukkake, snow balling, anything with feet (ik), cnc, bondage, force feeding, con somnophilia, kidnapping, mind control, and a lot more.. something about seeing your face, neck, mouth, and titties covered with his seed makes him wanna fuck you all over again. ryuji also loves it when you give him footjobs, seeing your feet rub up and down his leaking length gets him so horny. he likes role playing with you too, pretending to kidnap you and fuck you ruthlessly, no mercy on your pussy. shoving funazushi into your tiny mouth, shoving the food and his fingers down your throat as you choke on the overwhelming amount of stuff in your mouth. hot tears stream down your cheeks as he stuffs more food in your mouth. he loves it, seeing you squirm, trying to run away..
L = Location: his home and public, home more often though. It feels more private, intimate, and secluded.. he bought a vintage minka, situated in the quiet mountains of osaka, it’s your getaway from the city, a gift from him. he only gets it on in public if he’s reaaally horny.
M = Motivation: seeing you in lingerie, completely nude, or masturbate. that’s exactly what gets him going. seeing you stroll around the house in pink, lacy lingerie makes him want to grab you and throw you on the bed and pound your cunt.
N = NO: anything that includes hurting you. he always wants to make sure your safe.
O = Oral: ryuji loves receiving. he’s on the couch, watching you work magic on his dick with lustful, half-lidded eyes. you stroke his pulsating, girthy length, swirling your tongue on his dripping slit. he does eat you out, but you always have initiate that you want him to lick your pussy, but it’s not too often. he just loves getting his dick sucked he sometimes forgets about you! 😞
P = Pace: ryuji is in between. he can be slow and sensual, then he can be fast, beating your pussy with his length. he prefers to be more slow though so he doesn’t hurt you. his cock is big, he is afraid that he might split you in half.
Q = Quickie: this boy loooooooooves quickies. getting his cock sucked in the bathroom of a restaurant is enough to get him horny the entire night.
R = Risk: he doesn’t like stepping out of his comfort zone, unless you want him to. he is reluctant but open to experimenting with you, just as long as he isn’t alone.
S = Stamina: more than 4 rounds, he can last for however long as he can. when he’s in the mood he doesn’t stop, until you want him to.
T = Toy: duh, of course he owns toys. he has a huge collection of vibrators and other toys he likes using on you, seeing if you like them or not. one of your favourites from his collection is the rose toy (lmaooo this was like the 67 of 2023). you especially love how toy latches into your clit, vibrating as the suction intensifies gets you cumming on instant. he likes watching you get off to his collection.
U = Unfair: he teases soooo much, sliding his cock out of your cunt when your close gets him to cackle so easily. you push his chest away from you angrily, pouting as your hand tries to find his cock. he shoves it back into his pants, hiding it from a desperate you. he loves seeing how angry you get just from not having his cock, that shows how much you love him.
V = Volume;: ryuji is very, very loud. his groans are beautiful to listen to, deep and guttural. flicking his nipples with your manicured fingers gets him moaning for more.
W = Wild Card: ryuji loves messing with your clit at the most random times. you could be watching a movie together, and he’ll just strip you nude from the waist down, and you let him. flicking your clit with his rough, calloused fingers is a hobby for him.
X = X-Ray: idk I couldn’t think of anything lmao
Y = Yearning: his sex drive is pretty high, talking about something remotely related to sex gets him so horny. he practically begs for you to suck him off, and it’s so often..
Z = ZZZ: he is knocked out after he’s done fucking you. he cradles you, arms wrapped around your midsection. your head against his strong, hairy chest that is intensely heaving up and down. he sleeps like a baby, your pussy having so much power over him that it literally putting him to sleep. you love it, watching him sleep is so cute^^
a/n: muahahahahahhahahahahahhahahaha.. ryuji is sooooo fine
❀ tags - fluff, angst, gender neutral reader, probably sloppy character analysis, these men all really need therapy, love languages, alcohol/smoking mentions
❀ a/n - of course non-smut requests are welcome!! stares at my college degree on the wall that focused almost entirely on how people's experiences, relationships and environments affect them and their inner wounds/ways they want to be loved... i am so ready to break these down hehehehe (also i learned how to use gradient text are u guys proud of me)
kazuma kiryu ❀ spending time with him
deceptively simple, kiryu feels the most loved when you decide to just exist near him
oftentimes he feels like he's undeserving of company or that his mere presence is a danger to his loved ones, so frankly your insistence on being close to him is going to freak him out at first
he might even start avoiding you in the early stages of a relationship - don't take it personally, it's just that he loves you so much that he's anxious about hurting you
the more and more you stick by him, the more he realizes that he doesn't have to do everything on his own
in fact, he likes not doing everything on his own, a wave of relief every time he remembers that he has someone he trusts and admires deeply at his side
it slowly heals that deep emotional wound he carries that for someone to love him means for them to be hurt
the reason i hesitate to use the word 'quality time' with him is that he doesn't even really need you to be doing something with him
just being in the same room as him, focusing on whatever you both are working on separately
he's never been one to be comfortable expressing himself in words, the silence between the two of you like a warm blanket instead of awkward
i could get into my hc that he's autistic so it's a form of parallel play to him, but i digress
if you look over at him, you'll see that there's a rare soft smile on his lips
wordlessly will walk over to you and pull you flush to his side gently, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead
"i like when you're here," he'll grumble softly to you - which in kiryu-isms, really means 'please stay by my side like this forever'
goro majima ❀ letting him vent/talk about his feelings
oh boy i have so many thoughts about majima and how hard of a time he has accepting love
he's a master at self-sabotage - he doesn't know how to process feelings of love or affection, nor does he really feel that a piece of shit like him deserves it (see: how often he tells others that they'd be better off without him)
so he often chooses to bury his feelings instead of doing something about it
it was much the same when it came to you - he loves you so much, painfully so, but there was always that annoying voice in his head that told him that that you had better things to do than spend time on a mongrel like him
he'll keep his conversations surface-level with you at first, but ask him how he feels about everything and validate what he says
it'll catch him off-guard at first, and he might even try to put up a front and say he doesn't like talking about that sappy shit
but he'll eventually start giving in, going on long rants about all the crap he had to deal with that day or his 'tragic fuckin' backstory' while you listen intently
the more you wrench his ribcage open and force him to expose his real heart to you, the more he starts falling helplessly for you
not only are you letting him acknowledge and let out the emotions he keeps bottled up close to his chest, but you're seeing every ugly, rotten part of him and you still love him
now, that doesn't mean don't hold him accountable when he's kinda being a dick
praising everything he does will just make him feel like you're putting him on a pedestal or seeing some idealized version of himself you made up in your head
which will give his brain an excuse to run out on you before he eventually disappoints you
so don't let him run - from his feelings, from accountability, from you
the mad dog doesn't like to be collared, but for the person who looks past every facade he puts up and lets him just be goro majima - he'll happily put himself on a leash if it's you who's holding it
taiga saejima ❀ giving him physical affection
for most of his life, saejima was treated like a dangerous beast due to his size and that perpetual scowl on his face
it only got worse after the ueno seiwa hit - shackled like a circus tiger as he was dragged from jail to jail, never able to escape whispers of 'the man who slayed eighteen' and 'the stone-cold hitman' that make him sound more like an urban legend monster than a man
saejima has his own pride in his strength, and for the longest time he just accepted that he was the untouchable, scary beast that everyone made him out to be
it's not until you come into his life and start to subjecting him to little casual touches of affection that he realizes how touch-starved he is
grab his hand, cuddle him, catch him off-guard with kisses to his weary face - it makes his chest tighten in a way he doesn't understand just yet
he feels silly that such small, soft things are affecting him this much at first, but every casual little touch you give him makes him feel less like the boogeyman and more like a person
the fact that you trust him enough and feel safe enough to him to attach yourself to him... he feels like he could cry
it takes a while for him to start returning your touches, but when he does he suddenly turns into the biggest teddy bear
every time he holds your cute little face or holds you protectively against his chest at night, he's taught that his hands can do more than just inflicting pain
he'll never, ever admit it out loud but he loves it the most when you hug him, your arms barely able to wrap around his thick torso but trying your best regardless
he can't help but chuckle as he feels your body meld against his, patting your head and wrapping his arm protectively around your shoulders
he knows people would gawk if they saw how cuddly he gets with you, but he can't really bring himself to care
he's not a monster, a beast, stone-cold, or a killer when he's in your arms - just a big, soft tiger
shun akiyama ❀ taking care of his physical needs
akiyama SUCKS at taking care of himself, often relying on other people (i.e. hana-chan's scoldings) to remind him to eat or get his work done
it's not like he's completely helpless, he insists - he at least keeps himself clean and well-groomed
but being homeless for as long as he was, he eventually just forgot how to attend to his needs
even now, with all the money in the world, he's still unlearning how he had to just suppress his hunger pangs when food was an uncertainty and sleeping on a regular schedule when shelter wasn't always guaranteed
his body does it unconsciously now, often attending to his paperwork for hours on end without even noticing that he's hungry or tired
he feels embarrassed when you start slipping him bentos here and there when he's so wrapped up in his work, often giving you an apologetic smile and profuse thank you's
but the fact that you cared enough to notice, and cared even more to go out and get him something to eat makes him remember why he fell for you in the first place
he might protest weakly when you pull him away from his work when you notice his eyes are getting sunken and his body's lagging behind
or roll his eyes with a smirk when you snatch a cigarette from between his lips and smush it in the nearby ashtray, reminding him that he was whining about needing to quit smoking just yesterday
but he's truly, genuinely thankful that you're forcing him to take care of himself, the fact that you're invested enough in his wellbeing to scold him
he'll be damned though if he becomes one of those boyfriends that treats you like his mother, though - he may call himself a bum, but he's not THAT much of a bum
expect to be taken care of in equal measure, akiyama insisting to pay for your meals and run your errands for you to show with his actions, not just his words, how cared for you make him feel
akira nishikiyama ❀ praising him
yeahhh i couldn't not talk about nishiki's inferiority complex and how damaged his self-esteem is
his cool-guy bravado very thinly covers up a mountain of insecurities
he doesn't really feel like he does much of anything right, too pathetic to be a scary yakuza and too cowardly to stand up for himself or what he believes in
so anytime you genuinely praise him and tell him he did a good job with something, the high he gets from it is strong enough that he could probably quit nicotine, he thinks
he preens when you compliment how stylish he looks or how well he styled his hair - he takes a LOT of pride in his appearance, probably one of the few things he doesn't really have insecurities about
he can't help but grin ear to ear when you cheer for him at karaoke, or clap and whoop when he gets a strike at the bowling alley
he admires you so, so much, and that verbal affirmation that you think just as highly of him soothes that little boy inside that never thinks he's good enough for anything or anybody
every time you compliment him, he gets so giddy that he'll grab you by the waist and start pressing kisses all over your face
"i did that for you, baby," he'll claim proudly, his eyes shining with affection
the first time he cried in front of you, he was shocked that you didn't call him a crybaby or told him to man up
you just held him gently and wiped away his tears, whispering that he did the best he could and that you were so proud of him
he absolutely crumbles when he hears that, hugging you close and crying even harder :(
it kills him (in a good way) that even when you see him at his most vulnerable, you don't think he's pathetic or weak, just someone who needs the reassurance and comfort he's been deprived of his whole life
i'm not saying you'll fix him, necessarily - but perhaps the entirety of 1 could have been avoided if someone just told him he was doing a good job
daigo dojima ❀ letting him be weak
from the moment daigo was born a dojima, he was expected to be as strong, proud, and cold as the rest of his family
even when he left the tojo clan after the ryuji incident to not have to carry that expectation anymore, he still had a gang of people who started to follow him and put them on a pedestal as their leader
and now, as the sixth chairman, he has even less opportunities to let his guard down, not with thirty thousand people looking to him as an example and his enemies lurking at all times
daigo's resolve is strong, having long since accepted his lot in life as a leader - but he can't deny that he just gets so exhausted sometimes
so when he can come home to you, who doesn't expect him to be the sixth chairman, a dojima, or hell, even a yakuza, just daigo, is when he feels the most loved
sometimes just lays his head on your lap when it's just the two of you on the couch in the living, the feeling of your fingers threading gently through his jet-black hair and just being able to relax making the stress in his muscles melt away almost instantly
his greatest peace is when you both lay down to sleep at night, holding him in your arms and whispering to him about how hard he works and to get all the rest he needs
he hums softly and nuzzles into the crook of your neck, not saying anything back as he revels in the feeling of your fingernails scraping against his scalp as your digits comb through the tresses of his hair
there's no expectations, no danger, nobody expecting him to make a decision on the spot or suppress his personal feelings for the good of many
just his darling lover who sees him for who he is, feelings and weaknesses and all, and still loves him
he knows that there's a long list of things he has to do tomorrow and put on a strong face again, but for now he lets himself cuddle in your grasp, letting your words and gentle touches soothe him to sleep
ryuji goda ❀ when he gets to show off for you
a very... simple method of affection for a very straightforward man
he's just got some somewhat dated ideas about what it means to be a man in a relationship, and a lot of them revolve around flexing how strong and skilled he is to you
nothing makes him more satisfied than seeing your eyes shine with awe when he helps you move an insanely heavy piece of furniture or when he shows you just how much whiskey he can knock back in one go
it's less of the showing off itself that makes him feel loved - he's confident in his strength and his skills so he needs no reassurance in that department
but your cutely surprised reactions and the fact that you're so openly proud to call him your boyfriend that you'd let him strut his stuff out in public to show the world how cool and strong he is... yeah, that's what makes him happy
he gets so determined to show off for you that he sometimes gets in way over his head about things he usually wouldn't give a shit about
for example, when he tried to get you the cute stuffed animal that you wanted from the ufo catcher
ryuji scoffed and told you to step aside, confident that he would get it first try
until he didn't. and didn't on the second, third, fourth, fifth tries-
he let out a string of colorful curses as he watched the claw uselessly pinch at the round little sparrow, his jaw tensed in concentration as he shoved another coin into the machine's slot
ignores your reassurances that he really didn't need to do this for you, retrying until he eventually gets the damn thing to drop in the hole
he feels stupid until he hands the round bun-chan toy to you, your eyes wide and a smile on your lips
as soon as you hug him with a squealed thank you, he laughs, patting your head and telling you that it wasn't a huge deal
ryuji's not one to usually lie, but your praise and admiration is, unsurprisingly, the BIGGEST deal to him
as he wraps his arms around your waist to walk the streets of sotenbori, showing off both you on his arm and the little plushie he won you, he knows he would move both heaven and earth if it meant it would make you proud to call him your lover
The title of Tojo Clan Patriarch doesn’t mean as much to those on the outskirts of his world. An unfortunate truth that Nishikiyama has had to grapple with.
warnings: f reader, possessive behavior, jealousy, stalking, idk he's just weird in this, age gap (reader is college aged, nishiki is 37), nishiki is (still) a sugar daddy lowkey, reader is a little bit dumb sorry, misogyny, rough sex, hopefully not too ooc, lightly proofread :l
authors notes: damn! this bitch crazy! 11.5k~ words
Nishikiyama used to be much better with women.
He’s not exactly sure what changed, or when it did. Maybe it happened around the time he stopped kissing the asses of his higher-ups. He has no need to sweet talk hostesses into sharing information, nothing gets past him anymore. No need to use his charm to bring around the women for the approval of ugly, narcisstic men. Not when he’s far above them now.
Still, he’s always regarded himself as having a generous bone in his body. Just one.
It’s more of a way to keep up appearances now more than anything. With power and prestige comes money, and with that comes women at his beck and call. When his hand isn’t cutting it, he can go to whichever– whoever interests him that week. He doesn’t even have to wave his cash around; there’s very little that the Nishikiyama family name can’t get him these days.
Though, the title of Tojo Clan Patriarch doesn’t mean as much to those on the outskirts of his world. An unfortunate truth that Nishikiyama has had to grapple with.
Club Shine had been rented out for the night, and while previously these sorts of shows of wealth were reserved for celebrations or milestones, tonight it was only because Nishikiyama didn’t want to bothered during his little free time. More importantly, it was because he could rent it out that he did. What’s the point of money if you won’t spend it? He made the mistake of not caring what music was put on, waving people off when they asked for his preference. Now he’s stuck with some obnoxious new-age pop blaring through the speakers, and the less refined of his men were somehow okay with it.
Yes, he could demand it be changed, or yank the chain of whichever bottom-feeder was closest and have them speak to the owner themselves. His gaze instead drops down to you, nestled right next to him and looking down at your lap. He can’t tell if you’re enjoying the music or not; he has a hard time getting a read on you in general. Is that disinterest on your face? Surely not, if you’re pressed so close against him by choice. The idea that he’s becoming out of touch with women is borderline unsettling to him.
His hand finds its way to your thigh, and he gives it a firm squeeze to grab your attention. You look up at Nishikiyama, he only spares you a glance. As if you were the one trying to get his attention. Your gaze flicks to his wrist. The watch he’s got on his wrist is silver, it matches his tie. Past experience leads you to believe that he’s waiting for you to fawn over the jewlery. You can’t name the brand for the life of you, you’re certainly not in the tax bracket to have even heard of it.
“Your watch is new,” Your mild excitement is rehearsed, and you gesture to the piece. You know better than to touch it. “When did you get it?” At that, Nishikiyama grins. It’s surface level, slight, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. A way of saying good job, rather than thank you, or expressing any feelings of flattery. You could’ve acted more interested, he thinks. This watch cost a pretty penny, afterall. “Last week. Glad you finally noticed it,” He says with a hint of disdain veiled as amusement. “Too busy looking at the floor?” You don’t respond with equal snark, though you consider it. “I just zoned out for a second, sorry.” You really don’t think you have anything to be sorry for.
Nishikiyama snorts, his hand moving from your thigh. His arm settles across your shoulder, and if he were able to pull you any closer he would. “I don’t know how you can zone out. I can barely hear my own thoughts in here.” “Then why are we here?” You ask, and his lips twitch downward. For half a second, it looks like he’s scowling at you. It passes as soon as it comes, and Nishikiyama’s face defaults into a cold, unreadable one. It’s unpleasant all the same. He can’t tell if you’re clueless or just trying to raise his blood pressure.
“Because I rented this place out.” He reminds you, raising a brow slightly. “Would you rather go somewhere else?” He could take you somewhere else, it wouldn’t be a dent in his pockets. Whether his offer is genuine or not, you can’t tell, and so you err on the side of caution in your response. It’s not like you wanted to be here, Nishikiyama only showed up outside your apartment door to demand you get ready. That he had somewhere nice to take you. And the only reason you ever let him know where you lived was because he insisted on walking you home one night. What a gentleman.
Nishikiyama doesn’t really relax when you deny his offer, instead taking a sip of his glass. You’ve taken periodic sips from yours, if only so he doesn’t pester you about it. You have nothing else to focus on but the alcohol you’re pretending to like and Nishikiyama’s probing questions; no conversations from others to overhear and no way to measure time but his watch which is now out of view. You two are the only ones in this booth, in the entire section, actually. Maybe it doesn’t matter, it’s not like there’s anyone in this building that could give you an out; the owner certainly isn’t going to tell a Tojo Clan patriarch to pack up and leave because the club was closing soon.
In the past, you’d disclosed a bit more than you should’ve, moreso to keep up conversation. It didn’t seem like such a bad idea; you doubted some older man with more responsibilities than you could imagine would be so invested in your trivial hobbies and your day-to-day, even if he encouraged your chattiness. It was almost refreshing, you could talk about your grievances with others with little inhibition, it’s not like he cared or kept up with half of it. You got to try some fancy food, he got the company of a cute girl (and sex, the prize of the night). You quickly cut it out when he 1. Began showing up outside of your college campus to pick you up and 2. Pointed out a classmate of yours by name and asked if that was the one you had been ranting about a week prior. So now, your answers tend to be on the more vague side. As vague as you can get without him asking what’s up with you.
This was going to be your last semester anyway, now is as good a time as any to slowly fade from Nishikiyama’s life. Let him get tired of your nonchalance and lose interest. You’ll just be one of the many women he spent his time and disposable cash on. Perhaps he’s already begun to think of you as somewhat of a bore. You’re sure he’s seeing a few other women already, and has a handful more on the backburner. Not that you go out to clubs often enough to catch a glimpse of Nishikyama out with a couple of other women hanging off of him… Now that you think about it, he and other men of his status probably don’t frequent the same clubs and bars you do.
You don’t know how the other women at your college do it. It’s become rather popular (or maybe you keep running in the same few circles over and over), to find a rich man to pay for your tuition and your books. It frees up the time that would be spent working to be spent on partying.
You were apprehensive to even try it, even though the other women in your program talked it up as the greatest thing since sliced bread. It didn’t matter if he was a lawyer, a doctor, married, or a yakuza. The type of man who would be so blase about spending money on a young lady of the night typically had a revolving door of women anyway, rarely did they want any strings attached.
You can’t say you were keen on the idea of finding a man or two to get some money from, as tempting as it was. One of the women in your study group, Amane, always came with a new bag each week. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous, your job as a bartender barely was enough to pay for rent. Maybe a new pair of shoes once in a blue moon. She made it seem so easy, she offered to take you with her to some of the clubs she frequented once. Said she’d hook you up with a guy, she’d recommend you. You turned her down, though the offer always stood.
Turns out, you wouldn’t need to go to a club looking like a lost cat in search of a man; Nishikiyama came to you.
A man you’ve never seen before comes through the front door. He’s yakuza, no doubt, but what business does he have here? Neither you nor the owner have any outstanding debts that you’re aware of. His hair is slicked back, his suit is pristine, and his cologne smells like a mix of cedar and saffron. Expensive, a few hints away from gaudy. None of it matches the rundown nature of the Champion District, run down and grimey. And yet, he’s here anyway.
Contrary to what you might’ve gleaned from his dress, there’s no disdain in his expression when he sits down. He doesn’t seem turned off in any way by the peeling paint or the way the barstools creak when they swivel. He’s accustomed to nicer amenities, but this isn’t foreign to him either. He takes a quick glance at the rest of the bar before he orders.
“The bar I usually go to isn’t open, owner wasn’t feeling well.” He says without your prompting, watching you pour his drink. You don’t know what to say, so you stay quiet. That only lasts so long, because he tries fishing a conversation out of you again. “A friend of mine recommended this place.” You can’t imagine a guy who dresses like this keeps friends that frequent this part of Kamuroucho. You figure you should say something. “Really? Who's your friend?” Oddly enough, he doesn’t answer your question, nor does he say anything when you slide him his glass of whiskey.
He lightly swirls his drink around, staring at the glass, looking for any imperfection. A crack, a fingerprint, anything. He finds none, yet still isn’t satisfied. “Do you offer custom glasses?” You find his question a little jarring, he’s been here for around four minutes and he already wants his own glass? Surely he doesn’t intend on being a regular. “Not that I know of, I’d have to check with the owner.” The man raises a brow, but doesn’t prod further. Still, you feel the need to say something. Anything. “I uh, I just started working here a few weeks ago.”
He seems to accept your answer. His eyes take a sweep of the bar before he speaks again. It’s cramped, there’s only five barstools, including the one he’s sat on. The back wall is covered in advertisements and posters to hide the cracks in the foundation, and behind the bar isn’t much roomier. His gaze settles back onto you. “Are you working here by yourself tonight?” Though he tries, he’s unable to sound friendly or warm. “Yeah,” You nod, unable to think of anything to preoccupy yourself with. The one radio in the bar, nestled in the back on a dusty shelf, is playing one of those trendy EuroPop songs. The man glances at it, then back at you. You get the hint.
“I can change the song, if you want. We have a few CD’s I can put in.” “You can just turn it off.” He says, and you oblige. The man keeps talking, not taking his eyes off of you. “It’s no good that the owner makes a young woman work by herself, especially at night. This isn’t a safe area either.” As you walk back behind the bar in a new silence, he continues. “Are you a college student?” He seems to have his answer before you can respond, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. You’re not sure what gave it away, maybe it was your age, or your choice outfit. “There must have been better jobs you could’ve taken if you needed cash.”
This guy likes to hear himself talk, you decide. You haven’t so much as gotten a word in, and he’s already making assumptions about you. He’s on the mark, yes… but still. You force a polite smile, you’re worried that he can see right through you. “I like this job, it pays well enough.” He scoffs, but doesn’t call you out on your lie. The conversation that ensues feels more like a job interview. You haven’t gotten his name, yet he’s asking all sorts of questions. What you do when you’re not studying, if you like karaoke, where you and your friends go on your days off.
You’re not sure if you should feel flattered or not. Ideally, you don’t want to be on this guy's radar at all. However, since circumstances don’t permit it, you think you should be grateful that he likes you. He’s hardly touched his drink, only taking a sip every now and then between each puff of his cigarette. God, you really need to ask about fixing the ventilation in this place.
“What about a boyfriend? No one waiting for you at home?”
And so has come the dreaded question.
You should just lie. What’s he going to do, call you out on it? He just met you an hour ago. Oh, but what if he does call your bluff? You’re the only person here, the bar owner is gone for the night. You were supposed to handle things yourself. Nobody ever comes in here! The night you’re all alone, some big shot yakuza appears? What if his friends are outside? He’s been really friendly this whole time though, aside from his invasive questions. You should just lie.
“No, I don’t have one.”
You mentally wonder if you’re stupid.
“Really? Could’ve fooled me. A cute girl like you… I would’ve guessed someone had snatched you up by now.” He says, and you can only imagine how many other women he’s fed that line to. You’re too sick with anxiety to feel flattered. That grin on his face looks more smarmy than it does charming.
Looking back, you should have just lied.
If you knew then what you know now, that Nishiki wouldn’t have bothered with you if you had a boyfriend, you would’ve lied. Why would he, when so many other ladies of the night were single and available to him? What ego boost would it be to steal you away from some chump who clearly wasn’t doing so well, if his girlfriend was working in a shady bar? It’d be like stealing candy from a baby, and that’s no fun.
The walk from the club to the car waiting for Nishikiyama (and by extension, you) feels like a blur. No pleasantries are exchanged between him and anyone else. The only one who even noticed you two leaving was a man who kept coming up to the booth you sat in with Nishikiyama, periodically offering to fetch his patriarch another drink as if he was some server. For all the work he put in to get the patriarch’s attention and good graces, Nishikiyama couldn’t be bothered to so much as glance his way. You’re ushered (pigeoned) into the backseat, Nishikiyama following you while another yakuza closes the car door shut, blocking out the one-sided conversation that was just happening.
The silence that follows on the drive is refreshing after spending the better part of the night listening to dance music. Neither you nor Nishiki make any moves to close the distance between you two. In fact, NIshikiyama doesn’t look any less tense than he did in the car. You look out of the window, at all the people passing by and the neon lights dimmed by the near-black tint of the car windows. Before your mind can wander very far, Nishikiyama tugs on its leash to get your attention.
“Hey,” A calloused hand finds its way to your thigh. Nishiki has been inching closer whilst you weren’t looking, but he’s just far enough away that he has to outstretch his arm to get a grip on you. “Why don’t we go for karaoke, I’ll let you pick any song you want.” He thinks it an olive branch; clearly you had been bothered about something tonight. He’s seen you livelier at the convenience store. While he’s willing to let your near apathy tonight go and regard it as a fluke, he’d like for you to get back to being energetic sometime before the night ends.
For a reason that he doesn’t like, it feels as though you tossed a wet blanket at him when you decline. Your perceived impertinence makes Nishikiyama’s blood hot. Does he need to balance a dog biscuit on his nose for you to pay attention to him? Before he can offer to take you somewhere else, you toss another wet blanket at him in the form of a curt “I want to go home.”
Well, that’s not exactly what you said. You were neither curt nor flippant; you had sprinkled in a “sorry”, plastered on a sweet smile and glanced away shyly. It made him want to throw up in his mouth. Nishikiyama had once gotten you drunk and willing enough that you’d talked around him in circles, going at length about your grievances with a particular professor and your neighbors in the shitbox of an apartment complex you lived in. Your words, not his. Not the intended outcome, though he can’t say it was unwelcome. In his effort to get you to connect with him again like that again, you’ve only begun to pull away in the last few weeks. What gives?
It wasn’t a boyfriend, although Nishikiyama almost wishes it was. A tangible person to blame your ficklness on, someone he could cut out from the picture to redirect your focus. No, he’s done his research, far too much, and deduced that there was no other man trying to whisk you away. He’s listened in on tapped phone conversations and staked outside of your frequent spots (namely Cafe Alps) to see if you’d be meeting someone there. You never were, which only served to frustrate him. The idea that the rift between you two is internal doesn’t sit well with Nishikiyama at all.
He knows he shouldn’t argue, but he can’t help himself. You’re practically dangling yourself in front of him, taking two steps back everytime he takes one step forward. How can he not get irked by your behavior? He’s doesn’t even have to give you a choice in the matter, he could have the driver lock the doors and drive you both somewhere far more secluded until you decide to play nice. Nishikiyama is being on his best behavior right now and you’re disregarding all of it.
“What, you have something better to do?” Nishikiyama scoffs, brows furrowed. He looks at you, gauging your expression for anything that give something away. He isn’t even sure what he’s looking for, which just irritates him further. What could there be that you’d rather do? Who could there be who can offer you more than him? Nobody, he knows that. Don’t you? His fingers tap on the top of his knee. “I’m taking you out, you can show some more appreciation.” Nishikiyama says, and it almost sounds like a sneer. You’d be stupid to pass this opportunity up.
Briefly deciding to change tactics, he relaxes his face out of the scowl that it tends to default to lately. “You need to loosen up; girls your age should be more lively.” A smile graces his features as he continues, “One night out won’t kill you.” He squeezes your thigh again, and his expression nearly falls as you gingerly brush his hand off of your leg.
You look at him, put off by that expression he’s making. It doesn’t look natural in the slightest and it’s having the opposite effect of disarming you. “I told you, I have a test the day after tomorrow, I want to study for it before I take it.” Nishikiyama lets out a bark of laughter, though he isn’t the slightest bit amused by your reasoning. It’s forced, a way to mask his bubbling irritation. You’re more clueless than he thought. He’s been giving you more money than you know what to do with, you’ve already paid for this semester and all of your books. To you, the money is life changing. To him, it’s practically pennies.
“And then what? What are you going to do when you finally get your degree?” He finally meets your gaze, looking down at you with an expression that teeters the line between condescending and disbelieving. As if you’re some child telling your future plan to become president of the world. “I’ll get a job?” The answer is so obvious to you, the fact that you even have to clarify it for him makes you unsure. Nishikiyama laughs again, this time sounding like he really found what you said to be funny. You’re stupid, he thinks. Stupider than he was at your age.
A job. A regular job. Is that all you see for yourself? Are you blind to the opportunity you’re being presented with? Was this your attempt at being humble? Nishikiyama would be angrier with you if he didn’t find your line of thinking so ridiculous. “Really? Is that all? You aren’t seeing the bigger picture?”
You don’t respond, and Nishikiyama is getting increasingly bothered since you won’t continue the conversation. It lulls into a silence that is only barely tolerable; it’s near stifling. Nishikiyama’s hand rests on his thigh, and you can see a cut on where his pinky connects to his palm. It’s small, the skin broken and scraped. You can’t remember if he had that earlier at the club or not. In the dim light of the car, it looks like there’s blood. Not actively bleeding, but it could at the slightest irritation.
You reach into your purse, more of a handbag. Nishikiyama had bought you that as well; surprised you with it just as you were leaving work one night. You pull out one of the few bandaids tucked into your bag, ones you keep just in case your shoes start digging into your heel. Nishikiyama, feigning total disinterest, continues looking out of the car window. It isn’t until he feels your hand on his that his attention snaps back to you.
Is this it? Are you finally crossing the line of (semi) public sex? Making up for your attitude with a handjob? He’d been attempting to ease you into the prospect for a while now, with little to no success. This was the time young women are supposed to be a little more wild and daring afterall, save the prudish modesty for the salesman you’ll marry down the line. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s got it on with someone in the back of this taxi. Your touch is firm, surprisingly so. What, do you plan on having him by the balls? Your hand is gone before he can even imagine what it feels like between his legs.
Nishikiyama stares down at the bandaid you’ve applied onto his hand. The newfound pressure makes him aware that he even had an injury at all. His lips purse, and he finally meets your gaze, none too pleased.
“I don’t need that.”
“You shouldn’t leave it uncovered.”
“It’s fine.”
“It might get infected.”
Nishikiyama isn’t sure how much he believes you, and you don’t exactly believe your own words. It’s more of an ego thing, on both ends of course. You don’t want your help to be discarded, Nishikiyama doesn’t want you treating him like he needs your assistance. He hates it when you do that, when you try to be helpful. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in his throat everytime, it all feels too genuine. Too real. In theory he’d take in all he can get and more, in practice it makes his stomach hurt. Moreso that it feels like you’re slipping out of his fingers more and more with each night out.
Part of him doesn’t know what he’s getting so worked up for. She’s disposable, he tells himself. But damn it if things were going to end, it’d be on his terms, not yours.
When the taxi comes to the edge of the Champion District, Nishikiyama makes a point to get out to open the door for you. He tries not to think about the dirt and pebbles staining the soles of his shoes. When you step out, he takes a firm hold of your arm before letting you slink back into the dark alleys of the district. He leans in, ensuring that you’ll listen this time.
“Next time, I’d like us to spend a bit more time with each other.”
It isn’t a request or a plea, it edges the line of a demand. To that, you only acknowledge he even said anything at all before taking your leave. Something polite, something nice, something that makes him wonder if you even understood that he wasn’t too happy with you right now. Something that feels condescending to Nishikiyama, but he only watches you go in stewing silence.
Shaking him off is going to be harder than you initially thought.
-
Nishikiyama hasn’t seen you in a week.
Five days, to be exact. Five days and a little over thirteen hours; round that up and it’s a week. You haven’t called him, he knows you called a few other people. But not him. The tap on the phone he bought you is a blessing and a curse, he wishes he didn’t have to see the outgoing calls you make to other people.
He rounds one of the many corners of the Champion District, slightly regretting wearing such a nice suit as he maneuvers around the puddles of grime water. He has many like it, and can easily get another, but he wore his favorite today, just to see you. It wouldn’t be a good look if he came with dirt flecked onto his white pants. Tch, not his fault that you insist upon working and living in the armpit of Kamurocho. He really needs to get you out of here. He makes a mental note to take you apartment hunting with him sometime, he’ll force the keys of your new place into your hand if he has to.
While he has a multitude of reservations about plopping you into his own home (one being that it’s almost unfurnished aside from the bare essentials, no amount of expensive paintings or useless decor was making him feel less empty inside, so he tossed everything out), somewhere closer and less grimey would be convenient…
As he nears Shellac, he stops in the alley when he hears voices. Yours, thank God, and another man’s. His brow furrows, he peeks from behind the wall of another establishment to see who it is. It’s not the bar owner, Nishikiyama long ruled that old bag of lentils out as a potential rival. The man’s outfit is normal looking enough that he doubts it’s a member of one of the petty gangs that have sprouted up lately. His words have a slight slur, though he can stand on his own, so no reason for you to be out there with him.
He isn’t a boyfriend, Nishikiyama would’ve known about it. Not that he would 100% discount the possibility that you’re the type of girl to have a roster; nothing is certain when it comes to people, of course. But, it would be out of character for you. Yet, there you are, letting this guy chat you up. And you’re laughing. Not that fake giggle that women do when they don’t know how to respond, where they cover their mouth and put a hand on the poor chump's shoulder. No, you’re laughing at whatever unfunny joke that guy just told.
He stands in the dark corner for a few minutes longer. It shouldn’t matter, it doesn’t matter; but you’re wearing the necklace that Nishikiyama bought you and laughing at another man’s poor attempt at humor. Even with the pendant of the necklace tucked into your shirt, the chain is recognizable to Nishikiyama. What, didn’t you like the diamond? Didn’t you like the color pink? Did you not want to show it off? He makes another mental note to take you shopping with him next time. Maybe you’d wisen up if you saw just how much money his gifts cost.
As soon as the man leaves, he comes out from hiding to confront you. Nishikiyama is almost physically unable to play it cool. His gait is smooth only from careful rehearsal and calculation, twitching hands begging to be curled into fists shoved into his suit pockets. No, not now. Not here. He prepares a rehearsed greeting, though the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “Who the hell was that?”
You look surprised to see him, yet that deer-caught-in-headlights look that he’s anticipating isn’t there. He almost wishes it was, just so he could prove himself right. Why is it making his chest hurt? He saw an ad the other day in the newspaper encouraging people to quit smoking. Some health risks that Nishikiyama didn’t read. Maybe all those packs are catching up to him. Maybe it’s his age.
“He’s a customer. I was just seeing him out.” “You’re closing up?” You nod, and Nishikiyama glances at the bar. The neon lights on the outside are shut off, and it doesn’t seem like any of the lights are on inside. You are closing up, even if it’s half an hour earlier than you normally do. The owner isn’t anywhere to be seen. You must be trying to go home early. He wonders if you were trying to avoid seeing him tonight.
“Is he a friend of yours?” “He’s a customer.” He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you. “I know that.” Nishikiyama says through gritted teeth. He’s not stupid. He pauses, trying to figure out how to get the most straightforward answer from you. “Do you like him?” “He’s a nice person.” Nishikiyama’s eyes narrow in annoyance. God, he hates it when you do that, being all roundabout. Who raised you? You don’t break eye contact like he expected, instead waiting on him to respond. He’s silent for a few more seconds, wondering if you’ll explain away what he just saw. Wondering if you’ll crack first in a game that only he’s playing.
Nishiki breaks first, forcing a scoff. “Well, I’m sure he’s real nice to you.” He says, trying and failing to sound dismissive. Whatever string of words comes out of your mouth goes through one ear and out the other. All Nishikiyama can think of is the mess that’d ensue if the bullet he put between that guy's eyes got traced back to the Tojo Clan. He can’t believe you, he can’t believe himself.
He stares at your face, trying to figure something out. When he can’t immediately point out any signs of deception, any sign that you liked another man’s attention more than you let on, his grimace deepens. You keep talking, not breaking eye contact. Please stop looking at him. “I have to be nice to the regulars, it’s bad business for the owner if I drive them all off.” No you don’t, you don’t have to be nice to anyone. Not even him, he really doesn’t deserve it.
You must have noticed his growing displeasure, that’s a first. Perhaps his poker face isn’t as good as he thought. Perhaps you’ve begun to know him more than he’d like you to. You reach for his hand, and against his reflexes, he lets you take it. His mouth twitches into a sneer, he wants to hate you. He wants to feel angry, to feel vindicated in his earlier assessments. Your hand is much softer, neither calloused nor stained in blood. Don’t do that, don’t hold his hand. He’s not some kid, he doesn’t need this. “But I’m free for the rest of tonight, we should go out.”
He wants to laugh. Now you’re offering to spend time with him? You didn’t roll the ball into his court, you placed it right into his hands like an idiot. You probably think you’re doing Nishikiyama a favor. Oh sure, offer to spend time with the guy who holds your livelihood in his hands. Does it make you feel better? Does it make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand? You’re nowhere near as smart as you think you are, you know. Better he reject you now before you get the chance to do it. That’ll show you; you have a lot of nerve getting chummy with another man, then crawling back to him to appease him.
He looks down at your hands, having already made up his mind despite wanting to pretend otherwise. You’re too nice for your own good. It wouldn’t be good business for the owner if you chased off his customers, no. He doesn’t know why you feel like you owe the bar owner anything, perhaps a byproduct of your niceness. He glances at the purse you’ve got on your shoulder, it’s not one he bought for you. You don’t want the nice one to get dirty, as if Nishikiyama wouldn’t replace it for you if he saw a single mark on it. There’s a keychain dangling from it, the kind you get from gachapon machines. How childish.
He doesn’t know the name of the one you have, he doesn’t know the name of any of them. He’s seen the mascot a few times, on poster boards when he was trying to win toys from the arcade for Yuko. It was a decent distraction from the rest of his life at first, though he was quick to bribe whatever teenager was working behind the desk to just let him buy whatever plushie looked cutest. That was a long time ago, though, those stuffed animals are shoved into a box collecting dust in his closet now. He had no reason to ever step in that arcade again. The kids would probably be scared away by the big bad yakuza if he did.
Yuko would’ve liked having a keychain like that. It’s just her style.
Finally, Nishikiyama looks back at you. His face isn’t scrunched into a scowl anymore, and if you didn’t know better you might have thought he looked rather resigned. To what, you didn’t know. He takes a firm grasp of one of your hands before speaking.
“Come on, let’s go.”
-
You didn’t need to be a clinical psychologist to know that Nishikiyama used sex as a form of stress relief.
You’ve gotten used to laying beneath him, arms collapsed and Nishikiyama holding your hips up while he pounds into you from behind. Every now and then, you make an occasional noise to let him know that yes, he’s doing a great job. It’s frustrating, he’s going at such a pace that you’re on the cusp of actually getting anywhere. He’s inattentive, rough, and constantly stealing glances at himself in the hotel mirror to see if he still looks good as the years have gone by. No wonder a guy like him would prefer to subject women to his idea of good sex, rather than just buy a fleshlight.
His clothes were discarded onto the floor, yours being torn off haphazardly. He’d torn off your top with enough force that one of the buttons had fallen off entirely. Bitemarks, some deeper than others, line your neck and shoulders. He’s being noticeably rougher tonight, though Nishikiyama was never particularly gentle to begin with. There’s an occasional slap or tug of your hair to let you know that yes, there is a human behind you, not just some aggressive fuck-machine. His fingernails dig into your skin, and he’s far less concerned with your pleasure than usual. Whatever floats his boat, you suppose. Just when you think you might have something, that it’s starting to feel good, Nishikiyama’s hips stutter into you even faster before the warmth of his body is quickly removed. He finishes across your back, and you stifle a noise at the feeling of his cum splattering against your skin. You still haven’t gotten used to it.
When he’s done, you’re too sore to do much of anything. Nishikyama seems rather proud of his performance, smirking to himself. It soon fades into an almost neutral expression and he flips you onto your back so that he can see your face. He’s a little out of breath, face and ears red and palms sweaty. Nishikiyama, with what you hesitate to describe as carefulness, slots himself on top of you like a puzzle piece. Arms on either side of your head to support his weight, some of his slicked back hair begins to fall across his face.
You look up at him, unsure of what to make of his expression. His brows aren’t furrowed, though the frown lines are still present from years of maintaining such a sour expression. There’s a brief pause as you both take each other in. “How’d your test go?”
“Huh?”
“Your test. Last week.” He reminds you. You hadn't thought he’d remember. “Oh, I did good. I passed.” You’re surprised he’s even asking about that, did he run out of conversation topics. “Your studying paid off, then.” He murmurs, his gaze dropping to your neck. He dips down, pressing kisses against your jawline absentmindedly. He’s being oddly gentle, you can’t say it’s unwelcome. Just… unexpected. Whether this is more for him or for yourself, you aren’t sure.
Your arms come to wrap around his neck, one of your hands finding its way into his hair. At that, the tension in his muscles dissipates, but only by a fraction. Even more of his weight is pressed on you. It’s odd, dare you say jarring to see this man threaten to unravel like this. You can’t say you’re opposed to it, though. Unsure of what to do with your hand, you run it through his hair a few times. That earns you a noise of contentment from him, confirming your suspicion that this is more for him than it is you.
Soon enough, he starts back up, and you spread your legs a little further to make room for him. The sex is slow, you’re trapped between Nishikiyama and the mattress. There isn’t an inch of space between you two, legs entangled and his mouth on your neck. Sweat sticks the two of you together, binding his body to yours. It’s incredibly intimate, more than you expected or are comfortable with. Nishikiyama mumbles something you don’t catch under his breath, though you could have mistaken a moan for actual words. You stay relatively quiet as well, an odd sense of foreboding pooling in your abdomen rather than the typical arousal.
-
Nishikiyama leans back in his office chair, his thumb gently running over the photo in his hand. It was a photo of you in highschool, alongside others who are presumably your friends. So you were a popular girl, he’s almost a little jealous. Had you two been in school at the same time, would you have ever looked his way? When he’s done staring at your face, he moves on to the next photo in the stack. He’s not sure when this one was taken, presumably in between you graduating highschool and enrolling into college.
It’s of a similar nature, you being surrounded by a group of friends. You’re in the middle, looking as cute as a button. He grasps the edge of the photo, and with some force, tears off the sides so that only you remain. You had promised earlier in the week that you’d give him a call when you were free, a call he was still waiting on. Looking at old photos was a fun way to pass the time however, and he laps up any information he can gleam just from a picture. They do speak a thousand words, afterall.
Having a bunch of men that do his bidding without question or hesitation sure does come in handy; though this was the one time he couldn’t delegate rudimentary tasks to them. What, demand one of them to take photo albums and old keepsakes of some young woman? What kind of image does that paint? A patriarch that’s also some skirt-chasing pervert? No, as undignified as it was, Nishikiyama went to the lengths to build his collection himself. Only a small portion was in his office, small things like chapsticks and the pens you were partial to, things he can stow in drawers and out of sight. More personal things were kept in the privacy of his home; ranging from undergarments to your old phone.
You’re the woman he’s spent the longest time with thus far. He tells himself that it’s convenience, even though it’s a pain in the ass to walk to and from the Champion District to visit Shellac to make sure he’s your only customer of the night. It’s partially because you haven’t offered your services to anyone else either; whether it be because you feel like you owe Nishikiyama some loyalty because of how much he pays or if it’s your roundabout way of wanting exclusivity. As nice as the latter sounds, Nishikiyama forces himself to go with the former reasoning. That’s just as good too, isn’t it?
He’s never expected any of the women he frequents to be loyal. Most of them are, since they technically are on his payroll. A lot are opportunists, and he can’t say he hates them for it. They’ve got some brain behind those tits, he’ll give them that. Perhaps you are too, Nishikiyama wouldn’t know. He snatched you up long before some lower level yakuza could flash some bills in your face and show you a good time. Then again, you were a bit too prudish for the new money man’s taste anyway.
Those thoughts are quickly pushed away. No, you aren’t like that. You’re a smart girl, you’re working hard to get your little degree. Dense as a doorknob? Sometimes. But you have enough sense to not overly misstep. You don’t have time for some hot blooded youngster, not when you have a Tojo Clan Patriarch’s arm to dangle yourself off of. At the rate Nishikiyama is going, should everything work out, he’ll be the fourth chairman.
He can imagine it now, all of Kamuroucho in the palm of his hand. He really ought to arrange for you to come to the Tojo Clan Headquarters one day, if only so you could marvel at his portrait. Girls your age are into older guys, more experienced guys, right? Guys with money, the type of man that could spoil them rotten. He knows he shouldn’t discount you, knows that women can lie and act cruelly in ways some men can’t fathom. Feelings can be fickle, but the answer is obvious, isn’t it?
Yes, of course you’ll come back to him. He’s financially well-off, more than any college sweetheart of yours could ever hope to be. He’s handsome, he wears the finest of suits, and he’s got hundreds of men that he keeps in check, at his beck and call. Whatever little boyfriend you may get on the side probably could buy you a bottle of wine, but Nishikiyama could rent— no, buy an entire club for you, and all of their stock. If you asked for it, it would be done.
Nishikiyama has to refrain from laughing at himself. How ridiculous, getting so wound up over the possibility that you’d leave him for another man. You wouldn’t do that, you can’t do that. He hasn’t even realized that his leg has been bouncing nervously for the last ten minutes. Just when were you going to call? He had been warned against coming off as too desperate, given advice in off handed comments in his past. He has no one to confide in these days, perhaps he didn’t ten years ago either. Kiryu never had any solid advice when it came to women, what Nishikiyama saw as stiff and awkward lone wolf behavior came off as some sort of dreamy bad-boy type to women. He can get a similar fawning behavior by waving some bills around, dangling a carrot in a cute girl's face, but it’ll never go past that.
And can he go to Reina? Reina, who sits behind the bar of Serena waiting on Nishikiyama like an abandoned puppy? He used to not be able to look at her, that was so long ago now that he can hardly place the overwhelming shame that came with seeing her. She still dotes on him on the few nights a month he swings by, and each time something like pity stirs in his gut. Just looking at her makes him depressed. He can’t ask anyone in the Tojo Clan, what a moronic idea. Not that he has any friends there anyway, only the dogs beneath him and the pigs beside him. Sometimes, he thinks they’re laughing at him. Mocking him.
Their day will come.
He sets the photos aside for now, reaching for a phone of his like a bad habit. He bites his thumb nail idly, chewing on the keratin while looking through your call log. Every conversation he’s had a chance to listen in on, you never mention him. Wouldn’t you want to brag to your friends? He’s going to be ill if he sits through another two hour phone call of you and some other bird reviewing a textbook just to see if his name will pop up in conversation. Your voice combined with the monotonous reading is almost enough to put him to sleep; sometimes he pretends you’re talking to him if your study partner goes quiet for long enough.
He continues chewing on his fingernail, waiting for his phone to begin ringing at any moment. Are you with some other guy, is that why you aren’t calling? Have one of your friends tried to set you up on a date? What if–
“Gack—!!” Nishikiyama drops the phone, staring in disbelief at his thumb. Shit, he bit his nail right off. “Fuck!” He peels the removed nail from between his teeth, gawking at it. Fucking gross.
Just when all hope is seemingly lost, his phone starts to ring. It’s fate, it must be. He’s worked so hard, life is finally offering him some respite. Yes, that must be it. In a clumsy attempt to grab the phone, Nishikiyama ends up on his knees on the floor. The phone had flipped shut when he dropped it, and it’s an arduous task to open it with a bleeding thumb. After fiddling with the device for for what feels like minutes on end (in actuality, being around fifteen seconds); he manages, eagerly pressing the Accept Call button. He’s so relieved, so desperate to finally hear your voice again, he could just cream his pants.
“Ah, yes—“
“Boss! There’s an issue with the collections, the guys’ saying he already got shook down by another family. He’s refusing to pay!”
Nishikiyama’s lips curl into an ugly snarl. His fist hits the ground, his jaw clenched and teeth grinding together. Of course. When has anything ever come to him easily? He only responds after taking a second to accept that the voice on the other end isn’t yours, and that you are in fact, not calling for Nishikiyama to come sweep you away and take you somewhere only he knows.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What guy?”
“Uh, on Taihei Boulevard—“
“So what the fuck are you calling me for?! Can’t you handle this yourself? Do I have to come down there and do everything for you?!” Nishikiyama spits into his phone, and he can practically hear the lackey on the other end flinch. If it was so important, it should have gone through the family captain. What kind of business did these fuckers have trying to call him? Don’t they know he’s busy? He doesn’t wait for a response. He flips his phone shut harder than he needed to, ending the call. “Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it!!”
By the time Nishikiyama is done punching the carpeted floor of his office, his knuckles are red and his thumb hurts even more. He stifles a whine, biting the inside of his cheek. It hurts more than he expected it to; no wonder ripping off fingernails was standard practice during interrogations. He’s almost curled into himself now, laying hunched over on the floor. Weakly, he flips his phone open on the off chance he missed a call from you. He didn’t, but he does see the number of the asswipe who dared to interrupt him.
Ah. That was the family captain.
He can’t take this anymore, he needs to see you, before he really starts losing it.
-
Love is a strange word.
It’s not one he’s necessarily afraid of, if the Nishikiyama from a few years ago met the you of today, he’d happily use it. He’d tell it to you over and over, till you got sick of him. Maybe you’d kiss him to shut him up. Wouldn’t that be nice?
He’s a jaded man, though.
You make him feel small, weak and pliable. Like a dog waiting for table scraps, yet he’s the one paying your bills. Paying for your clothes and your shoes, making sure you look presentable when he takes you to hang off his arm. It should be the other way around, you should be pining for his approval. He didn’t want to meet new people anyway, especially not a woman like you. He hates it, he doesn’t know if he hates you for it.
He wouldn’t describe what he feels for you as love. That’s inappropriate, it almost feels juvenile to say to himself. Love, in the truest sense, is a term mainly reserved for women and their children. An ugly part of him repeats the mantra that it’s a term unbefitting of a man like him, regardless of his many achievements. No, what he feels for you is happenstance. Hormones cloying with each other; such tension is only natural when a man and a woman are often in each other's proximity.
Like is a better word. It’s just a notch above tolerate, it seems like a fair judgement. Nishikiyama would go as far to say that he likes you a lot. He likes the mascot keychains you clip to everything you can, he likes the bandaid you put on his hand a few weeks ago; he put it back on his thumb earlier (albeit with another bandaid ontop to keep it in place). He likes the scent of the hand lotion you use and the sound of your voice. He liked it when you were energetic and taking control of the conversation, something you’ve been doing less of. Parts of you frustrate him to no end, your lack of eagerness to spend money and now that you’re drawing back from him, but in general he does like you.
Love implies trust, something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Is it likely that you’ll align yourself with the ilk that wants him gone, and that you’ll stab him in the back once the occasion arises? No, not really. But you’re young and naive, it’s only by Nishikiyama’s careful ministrations that no one else has gotten to you yet. By nature of your age and ignorance of his reality, you’re susceptible to manipulation. The Tojo Clan isn’t exactly a woman’s world, the last thing he needs is his one respite being swept up and used against him.
On your end as well, Nishikiyama is all too aware that you’re keeping him at arms length. It’s not like he’s exactly let you into his mind, but that’s to be expected. No sensible woman is taking money from a man in exchange for sex assuming that she’s going to get a real, sappy relationship out of it. Perhaps you’re too sensible for your own good. Even in moments when you’re alone, not clinging to him for show, you don’t tell Nishikiyama any more than what he asks of you. You confide very little to him anymore, omitting even the minor things. You’re completely useless.
And here he is, coming to find you anyway. If it’s cold feet you have regarding the lifestyle you’ve dipped your toes into, he supposes he’ll have to deal with that. What you could be so worried about, he doesn’t know. Shouldn’t you feel reassured that he likes you? He could buy out your whole apartment complex if you so much as complained about rising rent costs, if you disliked your boss then the Nishikiyama family could chase him out of business. If you voiced a complaint against someone, they’d disappear on behalf of the Nishikiyama family.
He’ll get an answer from you on that another time, for now, he just has to lay eyes on you. Make sure you’re still there. For his own sake.
Nishikiyama glances at the digital clock on the nightstand, the only light in the room. 2:43 AM. If he fell asleep within the next seventeen minutes, he’d get a solid five hours of sleep.
Hypnogogia begins to set in. Lately, it’s been his favorite thing, an omen of something good to come. He used to prolong going to sleep, putting it off until he physically couldn’t. It was never pleasant, it was like being dunked into freezing water every time he closed his eyes. Sometimes, he’d dream of Yuko. He’d wake up still hearing all those hospital monitors ringing in his ears, the smell of linoleum and cleaning supplies. Other times, it was Yumi; sometimes when he woke up he could still feel the weight of the gun in his hands, and he’d wake up with trembing fingers.
More often than not, he’d dream of Kiryu. Of all the things that he’d done, the things he should’ve done, the things he’d never do. On the worst nights, he’d toss and turn and wake up in a cold sweat. Fear, regret and depression waned into agitation and isolation. Spurred into obsession, no amount of self reassurance or antacids could stop that awful gnawing in his stomach. One time, he’d been so shaken up that he nearly took himself down to the prison to meet with his brother.
He likes to think that he’s made peace with it by now. He doesn’t even have nightmares anymore.
Just as he’s about to cross that line into the realm of sleep, something beside him moves and yanks him out of his limerence. He becomes overly aware of his surroundings now, from the soft whirr of the hotel air conditioner to his own breathing. Feeling around on the nightstand, he flicks on the lamp to see you out of bed, already having your shirt back on and presumably looking for your shorts on the floor. Or maybe it was a skirt, he can’t recall. No, it must have been a skirt. Nishiki pushes that thought away, what you were wearing isn’t as important as what you’re doing.
“Where’re you going?” He asks, sounding more tired than agitated. It’s rare to see the man so casual, for lack of better term. You look at him, and it seems you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep this entire time. You’re caught off guard, and it takes you a second to respond. “I’m going home.” “Why?” “I have a morning class.”
Nishikiyama thinks for a moment. Today is Sunday– no, it’s past midnight, it’s Monday… which means you aren’t lying. He’s well acquainted with your schedule by now, regretfully he can’t accuse you of making things up just to get away from him. Not that he has the energy to go back and forth with you right now. “I’ll drive you there in the morning.” He says, trying to coax you back to bed. “You should get some sleep.” You don’t respond right away, glancing instead at the digital clock by the lamp.
“I’ll wake you up early, just come on.” He’s getting increasingly more irate the longer you stand there, and against your better judgement, you slink back into bed with the man. He shifts closer, pulling the blanket over you as a means of trapping you in. Nishikiyama offers no aprobation when you come to rest at his side. Your skin is cold against his, it sends an odd shiver through him. How long had you been out of bed? He pulls you closer, moving so that his head is angle with your chest. You seem to accept your role as big spoon, and Nishikiyama gets a good earful of your heartbeat.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump
It doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep.
For what it’s worth, you’re a good respite from the misery of being a yakuza. He had been so naive to think that the title of patriarch would make him feel better about himself. No, not when there was still so much work to be done. The men underneath him, eager as they are to please, are borderline incompetent sometimes. On his worst days, he feels like a zookeeper raising chimps. When he talks to you, a feeling that he’s regretfully familiar with washes over him. Like ocean waves hitting jagged rocks, slowly chipping away at them.
He wonders if you feel the same, if he’s as fresh of a breath of air to you as you are to him. He must be, don’t you get sick of those college punks, bound to the whims of their hormones and the sudden rush of freedom that comes with adulthood. The type of guys who will amount to bottom feeder salary men? They don’t know work ethic, not like Nishikiyama does. They couldn’t give you the high life that he knows you must want. It’s a constant reassurance, to have someone in his corner completely divorced from his piteous past. No, he’ll do right by you, if only to make up for where he’s failed before.
He wishes he could know what goes on in that brain of yours. If he had the ability to pick it apart, to analyze every single gyri and sulci, he would. Would you like to pick him apart as well? Are you even interested? Sometimes, he thinks you’re just as jaded as he is. He wants you to be.
He’s called your number twice before actually getting the nerve to leave his office. He gave you the benefit of the doubt the first time it went to voicemail, the second time you didn’t pick up nearly had his teeth shattering out of his skull from how hard his jaw clenched. Wasn’t it too early for you to be asleep? His mind jumps to the possibility that you’re intentionally ignoring him.
No, best he see if you’re at home first. You shouldn’t have been working tonight, and you scantly go out at night unless it’s with him. While it wouldn’t be out of norm for you to be out with friends, he’d expect you to pick up the phone. He’s getting irritated thinking about it, and settles for taking a visit back to the Champion District to see you. Not having the patience to call to be driven there, Nishikiyama snatches his car keys from his desk before heading out of the office.
It isn’t until he parks right outside of the Champion District that he realizes he’s worn white slacks again to this dump. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, taking the keys from the ignition and stuffing them into his pocket. You’ll have to make up for this somehow. His mind drifts to the how as he sidesteps puddles and a drunk man or two. Nishikiyama slithers his way through the district, into the tiny complex and right outside your apartment door.
He knocks.
He knocks again.
…
He knocks a third time, with considerably more force this time.
When there is no answer, his mouth settles into a firm line, the corners of his lips being dragged downwards into a frown. Nishikiyama reaches for the doorknob and rests his hand on it in a death grip. You’re really going to make him break in, aren’t you? You’re a selfish girl.
As he breaks the lock, it takes him back to many years ago. He can still remember the first time he learned to break into a place, the thrill that it came with. The trust it fosters, knowing that he wasn’t doing it alone. It must have been, what, almost twenty years ago? The memory is stomped out quickly, and he moves inside, closing the door behind him and blocking out the only lightsource coming from the hallway. When the lights of your apartment are turned on, there’s no sign of you.
For all the research and care he’s put into keeping an eye on you, Nishikiyama has never actually been inside your apartment. He’s seen glimpses, looking over your shoulder while you were trying to close the door on him on the nights he escorted you home. If you were anyone else, he’d have sent some of his men inside to scope the place out. That’d be too impersonal for someone like you, too undignified. No, you’re best handled by Nishikiyama directly.
Oh, how he’s fallen. When someone does something he doesn’t like, he gets rid of them. When you do something that grates his nerves, (or rather, it’s what you’re not doing), he’s coming to your home to satisfy himself. He may as well be kneeling at your feet, like a child wondering why his parent isn’t reciprocating affection.
You’re so annoying.
There’s a faint smell of cooking lingering, meat if he had to guess, and some seasoning that he can’t place. The man wasn’t good with ingredients, never did his own cooking. When he looks down at where your shoes are, he lets out a small tsk. A few of your shoes, flats and kitten heels, are kept on the shoe rack. Some pairs he recognizes as ones he bought for you. Others are scattered in the foyer, namely your sneakers and a pair of plain heels. He doesn’t know why you still have them, he ought to throw them away. It’d be doing you a favor. Nishikiyama decides to take his shoes off, it is your home after all. He likes you enough to not bring in the dirt from the ground outside into your home, even if it is your fault that the soles of his shoes have become filthy.
He traipses through your apartment, the run down nature of it bringing up unpleasant memories. What were you doing with the money he gave you? Wasn’t it enough to rent a place in a nicer part of the city? He took you as the frugal type, but this was just ridiculous. At least your place wasn’t a studio… It takes him less than a minute to find your bedroom, denoted by a soft glow coming from under the door. A night light? He supposes he’ll find out when he gets inside.
You’re close, only separated by the wooden door. Nishiki leans against the door, pressing his ear against the paneling. He can’t hear you, you must be asleep. His hand rests on the doorknob, and he closes his eyes to gather himself. He’s just going for a minute, only to see you. To know that you’re still there, that you’ll stay there. The door opens with a painful creak, making him cringe. His eyes are trained on you, and you don’t stir. You must be used to the noises in the night; from here he can hear the beeping of cars and your upstairs neighbor shuffling around. You do have a nightlight, one positioned close to the door and plugged into the socket. Nishikiyama can barely make anything out in the darkness, though, clearly you needed a replacement.
What he can see is another lightsource. He turns on the lamp on your nightstand, illuminating the room in a dim, warm glow. There you are.
With as much care as he can muster, he lowers himself onto your bed, right on top of you. You’ll wake up, you’ll question what he’s doing here, and why. But that can all be answered later. Right now, he needs this. With the majority of his weight supported by his arms, caging you in beneath him, Nishikiyama lowers his head to your chest.
Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump
It’s like music to his ears.
When he’s satisfied with your presence, he crawls over you and into the bed. It’s a tight squeeze, your bed is a twin, and he’s laid between you and the wall. The little space on the bed is already being filled up with heavy textbooks and a particularly large stuffed animal. Some sort of carnival prize, if Nishikiyama had to guess. He wonders if you won that for yourself, or if some guy got it for you? Some summer fling?
Before he can think for too long about it, you stir in your sleep. Nishikiyama perks up, watching you open your eyes. He’d be surprised if you didn’t start shrieking at the realization that there’s a man in your bed, and he lightly cups your mouth with his hand preemptively. He gives you a moment to adjust before speaking lowly. “It’s just me,” He presses your body further against his. “I wanted to see you again.” He whispers, close to your ear. It sends a shiver up your spine in all the worst ways possible.
Your initial thought was that this was some sleep paralysis demon; not that it would explain that it’s talking. Your subconscious fear and avoidance of Nishikiyama manifesting into an odd nightmare; though it’s becoming painfully evident that this is your waking reality. Your initial panicky unease turns into near-petrification. He’s in your apartment, in your bed, trying to make sure you don’t scream. This is so much worse than a nightmare. The only smidgen of relief you’re afforded is that the man still has his clothes on.
When your body doesn’t relax in his arms the way Nishiki had wanted, he turns you so that you’re facing him. You can see him now, chest to chest and with the lamp dimly illuminating his features. He doesn’t look like he’s gotten much sleep over the last few days. He’s always looked a little tired, but it’s really visible now. His hands settle on your head and your back respectively, his hold just a notch away from firm. It takes you far longer than you would’ve liked for you to find your voice, dread washing over you and leaving you a mess of pins and needles. Nishikiyama doesn’t seem so perturbed by the situation, you can’t tell if he’s expecting you to be (rightfully) alarmed or if he’s looking for you to be relieved that he’s with you.
You stare up at him for a while before finally shoving the words out of your mouth, stumbling over a cross of “How did you get in” and “Why are you here” before settling on “What are you doing?”. Nishikiyama doesn’t look at you, his own palms slightly sweaty. “I told you already.” He murmurs, his muscles finally relaxing. He doesn’t think too much, about how sick he is with himself for seeking you out or how he’ll have to deal with you. “Just go back to sleep, you’re fine.”
Did you even know it? That you chiseled your way into his heart? Clawed through the dead tissue and nestled into his chest cavity? He’ll keep you there, kept safe between his ribs. Caged in, if he must. He won’t lose you. Not when he has the means to keep you now. Nishikiyama presses further against you, and he takes a long, satisfactory whiff of your hair. You haven’t spoken to him further yet, maybe it’s a good thing. He knows, not so far deep down, that you’re afraid right now. That’s fine, as a matter of fact it’s expected. Still, nothing that can’t be smoothed over dinner. Nishikiyama had been meaning to go to a new steakhouse that had opened up nearby the family office, now he had the perfect excuse.
Right now, though, all he needed was some sleep.
------
additional authors notes:
this is my first time writing for this guy… hopefully not too ooc, i nearly scrapped this entire thing like forty times because i wasnt able to get him down pact lololol
this took months because i was busy with school and i kept extending it, it ended up being 20 pages on google docs! this time next year, i'll be graduated with my bachelors and i'll probably have even less time to write because ill be working xD
hi!! Do u think u could do (in depth) HCs for their favorite positions? I may or may not be in heat rn…
Thank you for coming back to clarify who you meant by ‘they’. It makes things so much easier for me. I’m sure your heat has died down by now considering how long it took me to answer this request, but hey! Lol.
Please bear in mind that all body text links WILL direct you to a site that provides visual references (read: porn) for each position and while I wrote this in an attempt to keep it as gender neutral as a possible, the references are always M/F.
MASATO AIZAWA
As a well endowed guy, his biggest concern is always his partner’s comfort– first and foremost. He prefers to let them decide the position, or at the very least, dictate the pace. He listens and adapts accordingly. But… Prone positions will forever be the death of him. Logic abandons him and he (and his strokes) are guided by raw instinct. If ever he chooses to fuck his partner in a prone position, they should know that it will be the last positional shift of the session because he will be moaning and groaning and pounding into them until he’s ready to come– which may not take very long. If he gets to cum inside when he’s got them like this, they’re going to hear the phrase, ‘I love you’ so many times it will cease to sound like actual words.
AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (0)
When it comes to penetrative sex, he’s pretty adaptable and is happy and willing to do whatever it is that his partner likes. However, if he was forced to decide, he would probably opt for anything that puts his partner on top! He likes being able to relinquish all control to them and let them use him to their heart's content. Plus, there’s the added benefit of getting to watch their hole greedily swallow his dick over and over and over again until he gets bored of it (which he won’t) and then he can shift his attention to their body or the faces they make. When they tire themselves out, he lures them forward, then wraps his arms around them and picks up where they left off. But… Of course, this is King Munch Akira Nishikiyama that we’re talking about and it’s going to be hell getting him to forgo at least a few minutes of tasting his partner. Truthfully speaking, he could cum untouched. Standing, sitting, kneeling– doesn’t matter to him! As long as he gets to demonstrate his talent, he’s a happy camper.
AKIRA NISHIKIYAMA (K)
If he were to rattle off his favorite positions, almost all of them offer some form of g-spot stimulation because likes to make gooood use of that curve and of those, most of them require taking his s/o from behind. The position he ultimately chooses is heavily dependent on the mood he’s in at the time. The flatiron position is good for when he wants to be as close to them as he can get– kissing their lips, kissing their back, talking dirty, he gets it all! He could use the flatiron position when he’s in one of his moods and wanting to be a little rougher, but why should he when he could shove their head into the sheets and fuck them with their ass up? It’s perfect for hair pulling, perfect for ass smacking. Really, what’s not to love?
KAZUMA KIRYU
He’s a fan of tried and true classics with an extra umph! So, yes, missionary BUT have you ever heard of the CAT method? When he gets to be intimate with a partner, he likes to slow things down and permit himself (and his partner) to just enjoy the feel of one another. CAT helps him get in niiiice and deep while also stimulating them, using a steady rhythm. It’s sexy! It’s intimate! It can be perfect for placing his lips riiight against their ear to whisper the dirty things that only his horniest state of mind can conjure up and it prevents the embarrassment of having to say it while maintaining eye contact! So many wins!
GORO MAJIMA
Truthfully, he’s not very picky. He goes with the flow and doesn’t care about sticking to any one position more than others. However, would he really be The Mad Dog if he didn’t enjoy a little doggy? With his partner laying on their belly, one leg hiked over just so and him straddling their straight leg as he fucks them from behind, saying he enjoys Lazy Dog would be the understatement of the century. He likes what the position provides him visually. After all, having half the perception ability has made him very, very greedy.
TAIGA SAEJIMA
When it’s up to him, he’s almost always going to go for a position that allows him easy access to his partner's legs. Be it a simple legs up variation of missionary or the eagle position. As far as he’s concerned, there’s not much in the world that gets better than having a sexy pair of legs dangling over his shoulders while getting to take in the even sexier faces his partner is making as he splits them time and time again. With positions like this, he’s able to drive in deep while holding their gaze as he kisses and licks their calves. He… may be a little more likely to make out with their legs than their lips when he’s got them like this, but cut the man some slack. He’s in heaven!
Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, threesome, blowjob, oral, doggy style sex
Ask Box: Closed
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You didn't know how you ended up between the Dragon of Dojima and the Mad Dog of Shimano. You were new to town and had decided to explore the city at night. One moment, you were getting harassed by thugs, and the next, two men had beat their asses to a pulp. How that ended with all three of you naked, you had no clue. Not that you were complaining.
Their names were unknown to you. The one with the eyepatch was kneeling on the bed in front of you. Your eyes gazed up at him as his cock hit the back of your throat. Muffled moans fell from your lips. The stoic man was behind you. His large hands firmly gripped your hips as he languidly thrust into you. You could feel yourself stretching and clenching around him.
"Look at you," Eyepatch purred. "Taking it so well~"
You hummed happily as he praised you. You lifted your head. "Is this an acceptable form of payment?"
"It's perfect." The stoic man grunted.
Eyepatch lifted your chin. "Kiryu seems to like it. But just so you know, sweetheart, I take installments."
