• Men that would have you sit between his legs and lean back against his chest so you can relax while his thick fingers work on you and your soaked pussy<3
• Men that spit into his palm before rubbing it all over your swollen folds, smearing it down to your entrance until it drips. The mess so obscene it makes that sticky shlick—shlick—shlick every time he moves his fingers.
• Men that slap your pussy, just to watch you jolt from the sting, then do it again to hear how embarrassingly wet you are for him.
• Men that switch up his words for you—“pretty girl” when you’re needy and clinging to him, “my love” when you’re soft and fluttering around his fingers, and “slut” when you’re begging for him to ruin you.
• Encourage you to squirt. Knows exactly when you need his thumb pressed to your clit, or his fingers curling deep inside, or both at once until you’re crying.
• Men that don’t stop even when your thighs shake, finger fucking you through your orgasm, watching the way your body convulses and your voice breaks for him. Loves how messy you get, how desperate, how loud.
• Men that groan when your squirt drenches him, because he made you do that
• And when you’re spent and trembling, he slows, slips his fingers out just to suck them clean, moaning about how sweet you taste before grabbing your chin and kissing you deep. Making sure you taste yourself on his tongue.
barely holding it together on the sidewalk, heels in your hand and eyes glossy from too many drinks. the night is loud — laughter, clinking glasses, someone singing off-key behind you — but everything feels like it’s underwater.
and then there's someone in front of you.
someone tall. all in black. white-blond hair, dark eyes, a glint of silver in his ear. calm expression that doesn't match the chaos around you.
you blink slowly. “who are you?”
he stares at you. deadpan.
you point a shaky finger. “you’re hot. but you don’t look like my boyfriend.”
his eye twitches.
“you’re drunk,” mikey mutters, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
you gasp — scandalized. “how do you know me?!”
“you’re my girlfriend,” he says flatly.
“liar,” you squint at him. “my boyfriend doesn’t scowl like that. he smiles at me. like this—” you flash your teeth in a crooked grin, tipsy and far too confident.
mikey sighs, stepping closer. “you tried to kiss a bartender, y/n.”
“i did not,” you pout. “he had glitter on his face. i thought he was a fairy.”
“you told him you’d trade your phone for a ride on his back.”
you freeze.
“…was he gonna say yes?”
“get over here.”
he doesn’t wait. just loops an arm around your waist and lifts you up like you weigh nothing, tossing you into the backseat of the black car parked at the curb. you squeak, landing in plush leather as the door shuts behind him.
“manjiroooo,” you groan, flopping onto his chest like a ragdoll.
he hums lowly, letting you cling. “what am i gonna do with you?”
“feed me.”
“you threw up your last meal.”
“because it was spicy and i don’t like spice!” you say dramatically. “you know this. you should’ve protected me.”
“you said you loved wasabi.”
“i was lying!”
he chuckles. actually chuckles.
his hand comes up to brush your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering at the back of your neck. you blink slowly against his shoulder, your words slurring into sleep.
“…you’re warm,” you mumble.
mikey leans in, lips grazing your temple.
“next time you’re drinking, i’m chaining you to me.”
“is that your new kink?”
he groans. “just shut up and sleep, brat.”
and as your breathing evens out, arms still wrapped lazily around him, mikey glances at your peaceful face and thinks —
yeah. he’d carry your drunk ass a thousand times over.
as long as you come home to him.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
SANZU
you’re wobbling in your heels.
like really wobbling. cartoon-character-on-ice kind of wobbling.
sanzu watches from across the room, half amused, half exasperated. he told you not to take another shot. he literally pulled the glass away from your hand at one point. but then some giggling friend of yours handed you another one while he was on a call and now.
now you’re drunk.
you’re so drunk you don’t even notice him approaching.
"baby," he says, catching you by the waist before you can tip forward and faceplant into a couch, "what did i say about the tequila?"
you blink up at him.
pause.
your brows furrow. you lean in a little, squinting.
“…who are you?”
sanzu blinks. “what?”
“you’re really pretty,” you slur, poking his chest with one finger. “but i have a boyfriend. he’s scary. he kills people.”
he snorts. “yeah? what’s he look like?”
“pink hair. sharp teeth. eyes like a lazy cat. talks too much sometimes but i love him.”
he tries to hold it in—he really does—but a laugh bursts out before he can stop it. “wow. sounds hot.”
“he is,” you nod solemnly. then you lean closer, all whispery and secretive. “his name is… haruchiyo. but everyone call him sanzu. you can't tell anyone.”
“your secret’s safe with me.”
you sway again and he steadies you with both hands on your waist. you stare up at him, suspicious.
“…wait a minute,” you whisper, narrowing your eyes. “you look like him.”
“maybe i am him.”
you gasp, scandalized. “no, you’re not. he wouldn’t wear a shirt like that.”
he looks down at his black button-up. “…i wear this all the time.”
you ignore him, gently smacking his chest. “nope. nice try, imposter.”
sanzu just sighs and lifts you into his arms. bridal-style. effortlessly.
you squeak. “hey—stranger danger!”
“you’re so lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, carrying you out of the venue like a man on a mission. “your scary boyfriend would’ve murdered me by now.”
you squint at his face one more time, like it’s just starting to click.
“…wait. are you my scary boyfriend?”
“finally.”
you stare at him.
then giggle.
then pass out on his shoulder.
he sighs again. but it’s fond this time.
“dumbass,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against your forehead. “don’t ever change.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
KAKUCHO
you’re swaying in place when kakucho opens the penthouse door.
mascara a little smudged. shoes in your hand. clutch barely zipped. and your smile? way too wide to be sober.
“hiiiiii,” you slur, waving like you’re meeting a stranger. “whoa… you’re really hot.”
kakucho’s brow twitches. “you’re drunk.”
“mmmaybe.” you hiccup, then squint at him. “wait. do i know you?”
he blinks. “you don’t remember me?”
you take a cautious step forward, wobbling. your eyes trail over the expensive dress shirt clinging to his chest, the familiar scar on his face — but your brain is still foggy and floating somewhere between tequila shots and karaoke.
“you kinda look like my boyfriend,” you mutter.
“do i?”
you nod solemnly. “but he’s mean sometimes. really serious. you look nice.”
he deadpans. “glad to know i’ve got a nicer twin.”
you gasp, like it’s a revelation. “are you the good twin? can you kiss better too?”
“baby.”
“ohmygod, you sound just like him,” you whisper, poking his chest. “are you two, like, related?”
kakucho sighs through his nose and steps forward, gently looping an arm around your waist before you stumble into the damn wall. “i am him.”
you pause, peering up at him with bleary confusion. “…huh?”
he leans down, brushing your hair back from your face, voice low. “you’re really drunk, sweetheart. let’s get you to bed.”
you blink once. twice.
then your mouth drops open in realization.
“kakuchoooo!” you squeal, throwing your arms around him like you haven’t seen him in months. “my boyfriend!! i missed you soooo much!!”
he stifles a laugh, catching you easily.
“you saw me this morning,” he mumbles into your hair, but the way his hand rubs circles on your back gives him away — soft. patient. relieved you made it home safe.
you sigh dramatically against his chest. “i was scared you wouldn’t love me anymore ‘cause i wore that short dress.”
he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “you looked beautiful.”
“really?”
“really.”
you smile so wide it makes his chest ache, even as you sway again.
“‘m sleepy…”
“then let’s get you to bed,” he says, scooping you up effortlessly.
you wrap your arms around his neck, cheek pressed to his shoulder, voice muffled. “you’re the best boyfriend in the world…”
he presses a kiss to your forehead, chuckling softly.
“yeah,” he murmurs, “even when you don’t remember me.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
TAKEOMI
you’re absolutely wasted.
not tipsy. not a little buzzed. wasted.
takeomi finds you outside the bar, sitting on the sidewalk with your heels off, feet bare, and a bag of chips in your lap that you definitely stole from someone inside. your friends had texted him to come pick you up — and good thing too, because you look seconds away from face-planting into the asphalt.
“baby,” he calls gently, crouching down in front of you.
you blink up at him, squinting under the streetlight. your mouth opens slightly.
“…do i know you?”
takeomi blinks. “are you serious?”
you lean back a little. “are you hitting on me?” you gasp suddenly. “wait—i have a boyfriend!”
“yeah,” he sighs. “me.”
you narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “prove it.”
he sighs again, but there’s a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you always make me late by stealing my hair gel in the morning and hiding it in your bra.”
you gasp again, scandalized. “how do you know that?!”
“because you tell me every single time.”
“that sounds like something i’d do,” you mutter, nodding.
he reaches for your bag of chips and tosses it aside before gently helping you up. you wobble against his chest and bury your face into his jacket, sighing dramatically. “you smell like my boyfriend.”
“probably because i am your boyfriend.”
you pause.
“…oh.”
takeomi wraps an arm around your waist and leads you to his car, holding your shoes in one hand while you mutter something about him being suspiciously handsome. he just shakes his head with a laugh, brushing his lips against your temple as he opens the door.
“let’s get you home, pretty girl.”
you blink up at him again, swaying slightly.
“…hey.”
“yeah?”
you point a finger at his chest, dead serious. “if my boyfriend finds out you kissed me, he’s gonna kill you.”
he sighs. “i’ll take my chances.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
KOKONOI
you’re swaying.
not from music. not from happiness. just… swaying.
your heels are clumsy against the pavement, arms flailing slightly as you stumble toward the black car parked outside the club. you barely register the man who steps out of it — tall, lean, dressed in an expensive black coat and even more expensive glare.
“jesus,” he mutters, eyes locking on you. “you’re wasted.”
you stop walking.
tilt your head.
squint.
“…huh?” you blink, swaying again. “who’re you?”
kokonoi hajime just stands there. lips parting slightly.
you don’t know him.
your boyfriend — the man who held your hair back when you were sick, who tucked hundred-thousand-yen gifts in your purse like loose change, who loves you more than life itself — and you don’t even recognize him.
“you don’t even know me?” he asks, voice quiet.
you frown. “…are you hot?”
he chokes.
“what?”
you take another unsteady step forward. “are you, like, my type or something?” you poke a finger into his chest, clearly unaware you’re messing with one of bonten’s top executives. “you’re kinda pretty. do i know you from somewhere?”
his jaw tightens — not in anger, but something else.
god, you’re so drunk. flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, wobbling in your cute dress like you haven’t slept in days.
he exhales slowly and slips his coat off, draping it over your shoulders without a word.
“i’m your boyfriend,” he says, pulling you close so you don’t tip over. “kokonoi. hajime. remember now?”
you stare at him. long and slow.
“…no,” you whisper. “but i like your voice.”
he closes his eyes for a second like he’s praying for strength.
“come on,” he sighs, wrapping an arm around your waist. “let’s get you home.”
you hum softly against him, cuddling into his side like instinct. “you smell nice.”
“i should,” he mutters. “you bought me the cologne.”
“…i did?” you blink up at him, awed. “that was so nice of me.”
slumped against the backseat of a sleek black car, your cheek is pressed against the window, fogging up the glass with every hot exhale. the city lights blur into hazy halos as you mumble incoherent things about ramen, frogs, and how the bartender definitely had a crush on you.
mochizuki kanji is sitting beside you — arms crossed, jaw clenched — watching you spiral deeper into drunken chaos with a look that’s a mix of what the fuck am i gonna do with you and i’d kill anyone who touches you.
he’s calm, quiet. only ever speaks when it matters. but right now, he’s biting the inside of his cheek because you — the love of his life — have just looked him in the eye and slurred:
“you’re not my boyfriend.”
he blinks. “…what?”
you squint at him like your vision’s lagging. “you’re not him. he’s taller. angrier. his eyebrows are… madder.”
kanji raises an eyebrow. “madder?”
you poke his chest. “and he smells like cigarettes and laundry softener. you smell like… like a man i don’t know.”
he stares at you. speechless.
then you dramatically flop sideways, landing right against him with a whine. “i want kanjiii,” you say, sniffling, like a child who lost her toy. “he’s my big scary boyfriend. he growls when he talks.”
“i am kanji.”
“liar.” you squint again. “kanji’s nose is more punchable.”
he exhales, presses his fingers to the bridge of his very punchable nose, and fights the urge to laugh or scream.
“…you’re drunk.”
“nooo.” you hiccup. “you’re just impersonating him. is this a bonten thing? secret twins?”
he leans forward, his voice lowering. “baby, i swear to god—”
“see? that’s how he sounds!” you gasp like you cracked the case. “do it again.”
mochi’s eye twitches.
you’re fully sprawled across him now, clinging to the lapel of his coat like a lost little puppy. he adjusts your seatbelt with one hand, sighing, then brushes your hair away from your face with the other.
“i’m taking you home. and tomorrow, when you wake up with a hangover, i’m gonna remind you how you called me an imposter.”
you giggle. “you sound hot when you’re mad.”
he mutters under his breath, “so i am your boyfriend?”
“…hm. jury’s still out.” you poke his cheek. “i’ll decide when i’m sober.”
kanji leans back in the seat, groaning. “you’re so lucky i love you.”
you yawn and nuzzle into his side, half-asleep already. “my boyfriend loves me too…”
he glances down. your arms are wrapped around him now. soft breaths tickling his neck. and he knows you won’t remember a damn thing in the morning.
but he smiles anyway.
“yeah, he really does.”
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
RAN
you’re tipsy. no— scratch that.
you’re gone.
ran knows it the second you stumble out of the bar, heels in hand, mascara a little smudged, smile big and dizzy as you scan the street like it’s moving. it’s not. you are.
“there you are,” ran drawls, slipping his phone into his pocket, voice low and lazy as ever. “i’ve been looking everywhere, baby.”
you squint at him.
you squint at him.
and then you take a step back, blinking. “…sorry, do i know you?”
ran freezes.
“…what?”
“you’re really tall,” you slur, clearly impressed. your finger pokes at his chest, right at the silver chain peeking from his collar. “and you smell expensive.”
he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “you don’t recognize me?”
you tilt your head, swaying. “are you a celebrity?”
ran is trying. really, he is. but the corner of his mouth twitches.
“something like that,” he murmurs, stepping closer to steady you as you wobble. you stare up at him, lips parted, brows furrowed like you’re solving a math problem.
“wait…” you whisper. “do you… have a girlfriend?”
his brows shoot up.
you gasp, dramatic as ever. “because if you don’t—i know a girl who’d be sooo lucky to have you.”
he stares at you for a long, silent moment.
“...you’re trying to flirt with me,” he deadpans.
you nod eagerly. “you’re hot.”
“baby,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “i am your boyfriend.”
you freeze.
pause.
“…you are?”
“yes.”
“…are you sure?”
“you live with me,” he deadpans. “you wear my shirts. i literally dropped you off at this bar three hours ago.”
you gasp again. “wait—you’re ran?!”
ran looks like he’s this close to losing it. “oh my god.”
“i’m so sorry,” you whisper. “you’re so hot i didn’t recognize you.”
“…that’s not even a compliment. it’s a safety hazard.”
you giggle, tipsy and smug now, as you stumble forward into his chest. “well, you’re mine now, right?”
he rolls his eyes, arms wrapping around your waist anyway. “was always yours, drunk idiot.”
“can we get fries?”
“…you don’t even remember dinner, do you?”
“nope!”
he kisses your forehead, groaning like he’s suffering, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him.
“alright,” he murmurs, scooping you up bridal style. “fries and then straight to bed. my bed.”
“ooh,” you giggle. “that hot stranger’s bed?”
“jesus christ,” he mutters, shaking his head.
but he’s smiling the whole way home.
✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦
RINDOU
rindou has seen you in many states. sleepy, grumpy, pouty, clingy. he's even seen you swing a pan at mochi for “looking weird.”
but drunk? drunk you is a different species entirely.
“what the fuck,” he mutters, watching you sway unsteadily in your heels as you stumble out of the bar with your friends. “she said she’d have one drink.”
you spot him leaning against his car, wearing his usual black, his lavender hair tousled and unbothered. but instead of rushing into his arms like you usually do—
you squint.
hard.
“...who are you?” you ask, dead serious.
rindou blinks. “what?”
you point at him accusingly. “you’re hot. are you a stripper?”
“a what—?”
“did my friends send you? for my birthday?? oh my god, you’re my present, aren’t you??” you gasp dramatically, stumbling forward with jazz hands. “stripper boyyyy~!”
rindou grabs your waist before you faceplant into the pavement. “jesus, baby. it’s me. rindou.”
“rindou?” you frown. “nooo, my rindou has sleepy eyes and looks mean but actually buys me cat stickers when i’m sad.”
“that’s literally me.”
you lean in closer, squinting harder. “hmmm. i don’t know. you’re suspiciously hot. too hot. hot with earrings?? hot with a lip ring?! are you even real???”
“what the hell are you even saying,” he says, but he's already pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “get in the car, idiot.”
you gasp. “he even smells like rindou!! what kind of AI technology—”
he physically picks you up bridal-style before you embarrass yourself any further. you're still rambling nonsense about stripper androids as he buckles you into the passenger seat and shuts the door.
rindou sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“should’ve just handcuffed you to the couch tonight,” he mumbles.
“kinky,” you slur from your seat.
he slides into the driver's side, throws you a dry look, and says, “remind me to delete your birthday next year.”
you giggle and flop your head against his shoulder.
“…but you’re cute for a stripper.”
rindou mutters under his breath, “yeah, and you’re dead when you sober up.”
Every time you take a step, their eyes are always on your ass. It’s like a magnet, for their eyes AND for their hands. You never know when you’re getting it slapped.
Tight shorts and mini skirts are their favorite, they love how it exposes your thighs. It’s always so intimate to just stay between them, kissing them while never going too high…
Why choose, when they already have all of it anyways? They’re greedy as fuck, and they certainly won’t be forced to choose between the softest parts of you!
Bonten Members React to Their Girlfriend Being Kidnapped
Manjiro "Mikey" Sano:
The phone call comes in during a particularly mundane Tuesday evening meeting. Mikey sits at the head of the long conference table, his dead eyes staring at nothing as his executives discuss territory disputes and profit margins. The words wash over him like white noise until his personal phone buzzes against the polished wood. Unknown number.
"We have something that belongs to you, Manjiro Sano."
The voice is cocky, confident. Amateur. Mikey's expression doesn't change as the caller continues, describing you in detail - what you're wearing, where they took you from, how easy it was. They want money, territory, immunity. Standard demands from people who don't understand who they're dealing with.
You, meanwhile, sit calmly in the musty warehouse chair they've tied you to, almost feeling sorry for your captors. You've seen what Mikey becomes when his dark impulses take hold, witnessed the cold fury that transforms the usually detached leader into something terrifying. These idiots have no idea they've just signed their own death warrants.
Mikey ends the call without a word, his finger hovering over the hang-up button for a moment longer than necessary. The room falls silent as every executive feels the temperature drop. When he finally looks up, his eyes have changed - there's something awakening in those obsidian depths, something that's been sleeping for far too long.
"Meeting's over," he says quietly, his voice carrying an undertone that makes even Sanzu straighten in his chair. "Kakucho, trace that call. Sanzu, gather everyone. Kokonoi, liquidate whatever you need to for cleanup costs."
He stands slowly, his movements deliberate and predatory. "They took her from the café on Fifth Street at 3:47 PM," he continues, though no one had given him those details yet. He'd memorized your schedule, your routines, every place you might be vulnerable. It was his job to protect you, and he'd failed. The dark impulse that lives in the back of his mind starts to unfurl like smoke.
By the time Bonten mobilizes, it's already too late for your captors. Mikey doesn't just want them dead - he wants them to understand the magnitude of their mistake before they die. The warehouse where they're holding you becomes ground zero for a systematic dismantling of their entire operation. Not just the kidnappers, but their families, their associates, anyone who ever shook hands with them.
You hear the gunshots starting from the perimeter and working inward, methodical and precise. Your captors' confidence evaporates as their communications go dead one by one. When Mikey finally walks through the warehouse door, stepping over the bodies of the men who thought they could guard you, there's blood spattered across his white suit and something ancient and terrible in his smile.
"Did they hurt you?" he asks softly, cutting your restraints with hands that aren't even shaking. When you shake your head, relief flickers across his features for just a moment before the darkness settles back in. He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you past the carnage like it's nothing more than an inconvenience.
Later, as you're safe in his penthouse, Mikey sits in his study staring at surveillance photos of your kidnappers' families. The dark impulse whispers that loose ends create future problems, that mercy is weakness, that anyone connected to this needs to disappear. You find him there at dawn, still deciding, and when you take the photos from his hands and burn them in the fireplace, he lets you. For now, the darkness retreats. But your kidnappers' screams echo in the distance as Sanzu continues his work, and Mikey finds he doesn't mind the sound at all.
Haruchiyo Sanzu:
Sanzu is in the middle of "questioning" a traitor when his phone rings. He's got blood under his fingernails and a manic gleam in his eyes that his latest cocktail of pills has only intensified. The interruption annoys him until he hears your voice - scared, trying to sound brave, whispering that you're sorry before the line goes dead.
The silence that follows is deafening. The man tied to the chair in front of him suddenly seems insignificant, forgotten. Sanzu's scarred smile widens into something that would give nightmares to nightmares themselves. Someone has made the catastrophic error of touching what belongs to him, and the pharmaceutical haze in his brain is already cooking up elaborate revenge fantasies.
You know Sanzu better than anyone, know that beneath the pills and the mania is a man whose loyalty burns so bright it's practically radioactive. These kidnappers think they're dealing with just another criminal, but you've seen Sanzu's devotion to Mikey, witnessed the lengths he'll go to for the people he cares about. They have no idea they've just become the target of someone who views torture as an art form.
"Change of plans," Sanzu announces to his men, his voice sing-song and cheerful in a way that makes them all take a step back. "We're going hunting." He leaves the traitor alive - for now. There are more important fish to fry, and his creative juices are already flowing with ideas for what he'll do to the people who dared touch you.
The kidnapper who calls with demands quickly realizes he's made a mistake when Sanzu starts laughing. Not normal laughter - the kind of unhinged cackling that speaks of a mind that's taken a permanent vacation from sanity. "You want money?" Sanzu giggles into the phone. "Oh, I'll give you something much better. I'll give you an experience."
Within hours, Sanzu has tracked down not just your location but the entire family tree of everyone involved. He doesn't just want the kidnappers - he wants their associates, their friends, that guy who sold them coffee that morning. His approach is less surgical strike and more scorched earth, and he's having the time of his life.
When he finally arrives at the abandoned building where they're holding you, he comes alone. Not because he has to, but because he wants this to be personal. You hear him before you see him - that distinctive laugh echoing through the corridors, punctuated by screams and the sound of his katana cutting through flesh and bone.
"Honey, I'm home!" he calls out in a sing-song voice as he carves his way through your captors. The last one tries to use you as a human shield, pressing a gun to your head with shaking hands. Sanzu just tilts his head, considering the tactical challenge with the same expression a child might use when deciding which toy to play with.
"You know what's funny?" he asks conversationally, still grinning that scarred smile. "She's not even scared of you. Look at her face - she's not scared because she knows I'm here." And you aren't scared, because you've seen Sanzu in action, know that his madness has purpose when it comes to protecting what he loves.
The resolution is swift and brutal. Your restraints are cut by bloodied hands, and Sanzu pulls you against his chest, his manic energy settling into something almost gentle. "Did they hurt my precious girl?" he murmurs against your hair, and when you shake your head, his relief is palpable.
As he leads you out of the charnel house he's created, Sanzu is already planning the follow-up. These people had families, friends, associates. His phone is buzzing with locations and intel from his subordinates. The night is young, and his pills are keeping him energized. By dawn, it won't just be your kidnappers who regret their life choices - it'll be anyone who ever knew them.
Kakucho:
Kakucho receives the news while reviewing security footage in Bonten's surveillance center. He's methodical by nature, preferring to analyze situations before acting, but when his subordinate hands him the phone with shaking hands, something cold settles in his chest. The kidnapper's voice is professional, businesslike - they've done their research, know that he's high-ranking enough to make decisions but stable enough to negotiate.
They're wrong about the stable part.
You're sitting in what appears to be an old office building, noting the details that Kakucho trained you to observe - the number of guards, their weapons, exit routes, structural weaknesses. You're not panicking because you know how Kakucho's mind works, how he approaches problems with the patience of a chess grandmaster planning twenty moves ahead. These amateurs grabbed you thinking they'd caught a helpless civilian, but you're Kakucho's girl, which means you're anything but helpless.
Kakucho listens to their demands with growing irritation. They want Bonten to pull out of their territory, want money, want guarantees. They speak like they have leverage, like they don't understand that they've just declared war on someone who's been planning for contingencies since he was a child growing up in the slums.
"I see," Kakucho says quietly when they finish their spiel. His voice is calm, controlled, giving no hint of the volcanic rage building beneath the surface. "And if I refuse?"
"Then your girlfriend dies," comes the confident reply.
Kakucho hangs up without another word. Around him, the surveillance center erupts into controlled chaos as every screen lights up with facial recognition software, traffic cameras, and satellite feeds. He's not just looking for you - he's mapping their entire operation, identifying weaknesses, cataloging every person who's ever associated with them.
"Sir?" one of his technicians asks hesitantly. "Should we inform Mikey?"
"No," Kakucho replies, his fingers flying over multiple keyboards simultaneously. "This is personal."
Within an hour, he has everything. Their real names, their hideouts, their financial records, their family members' addresses, their dental records. Kakucho doesn't just gather intelligence - he weaponizes it. By the time he's ready to move, he knows these people better than they know themselves.
You feel the building shake slightly as the power goes out. Emergency lighting kicks in, casting everything in an eerie red glow. Your captors are getting nervous, their radio communications filled with static and confusion. One by one, their perimeter guards stop checking in. Kakucho isn't announcing his presence - he's systematically dismantling their entire operation from the outside in.
When he finally appears in the doorway of your holding room, he's not alone. Behind him, you can see the evidence of his methodical approach - guards zip-tied and conscious, their weapons confiscated, their escape routes blocked. He's not here to kill everyone; he's here to capture everyone and then decide their fates at his leisure.
"Gentlemen," Kakucho says politely, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the scene. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."
The lead kidnapper tries to maintain his bravado, but his hands are shaking as he points his gun in your direction. "Stay back, or she dies!"
Kakucho tilts his head slightly, considering. "That would be inadvisable," he says conversationally. "You see, I've spent the last hour learning everything about you. Your real names, your families' addresses, your children's schools, your mothers' medical conditions. If anything happens to her, I won't just kill you. I'll systematically destroy every single thing you've ever cared about, and I'll make sure you live to see all of it."
The honesty in his voice is more terrifying than any threat. These men realize they're not dealing with hot-headed revenge - they're facing cold, calculated retribution from someone who has the resources and patience to follow through.
Your rescue is anticlimactic compared to the planning that went into it. Kakucho's men move with surgical precision, and within minutes, you're free and in his arms. He holds you close, his heartbeat finally returning to normal now that you're safe.
"Are you hurt?" he asks softly, his hands gently checking for injuries. When you shake your head, relief floods his features. "Good. Because we have some visitors to interview downstairs."
Takeomi Akashi:
Takeomi is smoking on the balcony of his apartment when the call comes through. He'd been thinking about his inferiority complex again, wondering if he's really cut out for his position in Bonten or if he's just riding coattails. The kidnapper's voice cuts through his self-doubt like a knife, and suddenly every strategic bone in his body snaps to attention.
You're being held in what looks like a repurposed restaurant, complete with old booth seating and a broken neon sign. Your captors clearly think they're clever - they've chosen someone connected to Bonten but not important enough to trigger an all-out war. They don't realize that Takeomi's role as advisor means he has access to every piece of intelligence Bonten has ever collected, every favor they're owed, every pressure point they can exploit.
Takeomi listens to their demands with the patience of a man who's spent years being underestimated. They want information - Bonten's operations schedules, territory maps, financial records. They think the advisor will be more willing to negotiate than the executioners. They're about to learn why Mikey keeps Takeomi around despite his self-perceived mediocrity.
"Interesting proposal," Takeomi says calmly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "Tell me, how long do you think it took me to identify all of you from your voice patterns and background noise?"
There's a pause on the other end. These aren't complete amateurs - they've done some homework. But they've made the fatal error of assuming that Takeomi's strategic mind is limited to gang politics.
"Twenty-three minutes," Takeomi continues, checking his watch. "That's how long it took me to run your voices through our recognition software, identify the acoustics of your location, and cross-reference it with recently abandoned commercial properties in your price range. You're in the old Sakura Family Restaurant on Nakamura Street. You've got four men, two vehicles, and about six hours before the building's owner shows up for his weekly inspection."
You can't help but smile despite your situation. This is Takeomi at his best - the man who turned strategic thinking into an art form, who can see six steps ahead while everyone else is still figuring out the current move. Your captors are beginning to realize they've made a significant miscalculation.
Takeomi doesn't mobilize Bonten's usual heavy hitters. Instead, he makes a series of phone calls to people who owe him favors - legitimate businessmen, corrupt officials, even a few rival gang members who respect his reputation for fair dealing. By the time he hangs up, your kidnappers' world is quietly falling apart.
Their bank accounts freeze. Their vehicles get towed for "parking violations." Their families receive visits from social services for "anonymous tips." The building's owner gets an "emergency call" about a gas leak and shows up with fire department officials. Takeomi doesn't just rescue you - he orchestrates a symphony of inconveniences that leaves your captors with nowhere to run.
When the restaurant door opens, it's not Takeomi who walks in first - it's a fire marshal demanding an immediate evacuation due to "dangerous gas levels." Your kidnappers are faced with the choice of fleeing immediately or risking arrest, and in their panic, they choose flight over fight.
You find yourself being "evacuated" directly into Takeomi's waiting car, while your former captors scatter into the arms of plainclothes officers who just happened to be in the area. No shots fired, no bodies to dispose of, no heat on Bonten. Just a perfectly orchestrated rescue that removes the problem without creating new ones.
"Sometimes," Takeomi says quietly as he lights another cigarette, "the best strategy is making your enemies defeat themselves." He looks at you with something approaching pride. "Though I have to admit, this was motivated by more than just strategic thinking."
You lean against his shoulder as he drives, appreciating the elegant simplicity of his approach. While other Bonten members would have painted the streets red, Takeomi dismantled your kidnappers' lives with nothing more than paperwork and phone calls. It's a different kind of power, but no less effective.
Ran Haitani:
Ran is in the middle of a massage when his phone buzzes with an unknown number. He almost doesn't answer - his schedule is packed with expensive relaxation, and he's been looking forward to this appointment for weeks. But something about the persistence of the ringing makes him gesture for the masseuse to pause.
"Ran Haitani," he answers lazily, not bothering to hide his irritation at the interruption.
"We have your girlfriend," comes the response, and suddenly Ran's entire demeanor shifts. The whimsical smile fades from his face, replaced by something much more dangerous.
You're sitting in what appears to be an upscale office building, which already tells you something about your captors' resources and connections. They're not street-level thugs - they're organized, professional, and they've clearly done their research on Bonten's structure. They know that targeting an executive's girlfriend sends a message without directly challenging Mikey's authority.
What they don't know is that Ran's lazy, carefree attitude is a carefully cultivated mask. Underneath the whimsical exterior is a calculating predator who's been running Roppongi since he was a teenager. These people have just made the mistake of disturbing his peace, and Ran takes his comfort very seriously.
"How inconvenient," Ran says into the phone, his voice maintaining its casual tone even as his free hand starts texting rapid instructions to his subordinates. "I was having such a lovely day."
The kidnapper launches into their prepared speech about demands and consequences, but Ran isn't really listening. He's already identified the background noise - air conditioning units, traffic patterns, the specific echo that comes from a building with marble floors and high ceilings. Roppongi is his territory, and he knows every upscale building in the district.
"I'll have to call you back," Ran interrupts politely. "I need to finish my massage first. These appointments are so hard to reschedule."
He hangs up before they can respond, then looks at his masseuse with an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short. Something urgent has come up."
You're not surprised when the building's fire alarm starts going off twenty minutes later. This is exactly the kind of psychological warfare Ran excels at - he doesn't announce his presence with guns blazing. Instead, he creates chaos and confusion, forcing his enemies to react to his timeline rather than their own.
The evacuation is orderly at first, but it quickly becomes apparent that this isn't a standard fire drill. The elevators shut down, emergency exits mysteriously jam, and security cameras loop footage from earlier in the day. Your captors realize they're trapped in their own stronghold with nowhere to run.
Ran appears in your holding room like he's arriving for a casual business meeting, adjusting his cufflinks with the same attention he'd give to ordering wine. Behind him, you can hear the sounds of his men systematically working through the building, but there's no screaming, no gunshots - just the efficient handling of a minor inconvenience.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," he says to you with a genuine smile, as if your kidnappers aren't even worth acknowledging. "Traffic was murder."
The lead kidnapper tries to maintain control of the situation, but his hand is shaking as he points his weapon at Ran. "Stay back! We'll kill her!"
Ran glances at him with mild interest, like he's examining an unusual insect. "How terribly predictable," he sighs. "Do you know what happens to people who interrupt my spa days?"
There's something almost hypnotic about Ran's presence - the way he moves with liquid grace, the casual confidence that comes from never having lost a fight that mattered. Your captors are realizing that they're not dealing with a hot-headed gangster but with something much more dangerous - a apex predator who's been pretending to be domesticated.
The resolution comes swiftly. Ran doesn't dirty his hands personally - that's what subordinates are for - but he orchestrates the takedown with the same aesthetic appreciation he applies to everything else. Your captors are subdued with minimal fuss, their organization dismantled with the efficiency of a well-run business.
As Ran unties your restraints, he checks his watch with a disappointed expression. "We've missed our dinner reservation," he observes. "I suppose we'll have to settle for room service."
Rindo Haitani:
Rindo gets the call while he's in the middle of debugging a security system. His technical expertise has made him invaluable to Bonten's operations, and he's completely absorbed in the digital puzzle when his phone starts ringing. He almost sends it to voicemail before he notices it's not coming through his usual encrypted channels.
"Yeah?" he answers absently, still typing code with one hand.
"We have something you want back," the voice says, and every line of code disappears from Rindo's mind as your voice comes through the background, calling his name before being cut off.
You're being held in what looks like a tech startup's abandoned office space - all glass walls and modern furniture that nobody bothered to remove. Your captors clearly think they're being clever by choosing a location that plays to their target's strengths. They don't realize that putting a Haitani brother in a building full of computers and electronic systems is like handing a master key to a locksmith.
Rindo's response is immediate and multifaceted. While the kidnapper is still making their demands, he's already tracing the call, hacking into nearby surveillance systems, and accessing building schematics. His fingers fly across multiple keyboards as he turns the entire city into his personal monitoring network.
"Interesting choice of location," Rindo says casually, interrupting the kidnapper's rehearsed speech. "Tell me, did you guys bother to check if that building's smart home system was still connected to the internet?"
There's a pause, then the sound of someone frantically checking their surroundings. You can't help but smile - these people clearly don't understand who they're dealing with. Rindo doesn't just use technology; he speaks to it like a native language.
Within minutes, Rindo has complete control over the building's systems. The lights start flickering in patterns, the air conditioning cycles through extreme temperatures, elevator music begins playing from hidden speakers throughout the building. Your captors are getting increasingly agitated as their environment becomes actively hostile.
"Stop playing games!" the lead kidnapper shouts into his phone, but Rindo just laughs.
"Games? This isn't a game," Rindo replies, his voice taking on the same dangerous edge his brother gets when someone interrupts his fun. "This is me showing you exactly how fucked you are."
You watch as every screen in the building suddenly displays the same message: photos of each kidnapper alongside their real names, addresses, criminal records, and bank account information. Rindo hasn't just identified them - he's doxxed them in real-time, broadcasting their details to every law enforcement database in the country.
The psychological pressure is incredible. Your captors realize they're not just being rescued from - they're being hunted by someone who can manipulate their environment like a god toying with mortals. Door locks engage and disengage randomly, phones receive calls from numbers that don't exist, and security cameras track their movements with mechanical precision.
When Rindo finally arrives with his team, it's almost anticlimactic. Your kidnappers are huddled together in the center of the room, too paranoid to touch anything electronic. The building has become a digital haunted house with Rindo as the ghost in the machine.
"Thanks for keeping her company," Rindo says cheerfully as his men secure the scene. "Though I have to say, your hospitality could use some work."
He cuts your restraints with hands that are rock-steady despite the adrenaline, his usual impulsive energy focused into laser-sharp concentration. "You okay?" he asks softly, his eyes checking you for any signs of harm.
When you nod, relief floods his features, and some of his usual reckless energy returns. "Good," he grins, already pulling out his phone to start documenting the night's events. "Because I've got some really interesting footage to show Ran. He's never going to believe what these idiots tried to pull."
Hajime Kokonoi:
Kokonoi is reviewing quarterly profit reports when his secretary buzzes in with an urgent call. He's in the middle of calculating the return on investment for their latest money laundering operation, and the interruption makes him scowl at the phone display showing an unknown number.
"This better be important," he answers curtly, not looking up from his spreadsheets.
"We have your girlfriend, and if you want her back alive, you'll transfer fifty million yen to the account I'm about to give you."
The pen in Kokonoi's hand snaps. Not from pressure - from the sudden, violent tremor that runs through his entire body. Fifty million. These amateurs think they can put a price on you like you're a commodity to be traded. They have no idea that to Kokonoi, you're literally priceless.
You're sitting in what appears to be a storage facility, surrounded by boxes and industrial shelving. Your captors clearly chose this location for its anonymity, but you can see the wheels turning in their leader's head as he calculates potential profits. They think they've captured a revenue stream, but they've actually just declared war on someone who can buy and sell governments.
Kokonoi's voice, when he responds, is deadly calm. "Fifty million," he repeats thoughtfully. "That's an interesting number. Tell me, do you have any idea what my monthly income is?"
The kidnapper launches into their prepared script about consequences and deadlines, but Kokonoi is already working his phone with surgical precision. He's not just transferring money - he's tracking it, identifying every account it touches, mapping the entire financial network these people use.
"I'll need an hour to liquidate some assets," Kokonoi says smoothly, playing along while his fingers dance across his laptop keyboard. "Fifty million is pocket change, but I like to maintain proper cash flow."
What your captors don't realize is that Kokonoi doesn't just have money - he has access to financial systems that most people don't even know exist. Within thirty minutes, he's identified their bank accounts, their real identities, their families' financial records, and every business they've ever been associated with.
The psychological warfare begins subtly. Credit cards start getting declined. Bank accounts temporarily freeze for "security reviews." Mortgage payments mysteriously bounce. Kokonoi isn't just attacking the kidnappers - he's systematically dismantling the financial stability of everyone in their network.
"I've sent the money," Kokonoi announces into the phone exactly one hour later. "Check your account."
They do, and find not fifty million yen, but fifty yen - less than fifty cents. Along with a detailed breakdown of how he's seized all their assets, identified their families, and acquired controlling interests in every business they've ever worked for.
"You wanted to play with money," Kokonoi says, his voice still perfectly professional. "Let me show you what real financial power looks like."
You watch as your captors' phones start buzzing with notifications - eviction notices, foreclosure warnings, terminated employment, canceled insurance policies. Kokonoi hasn't just refused to pay the ransom; he's economically devastated everyone involved in taking you.
When he finally arrives to collect you, he comes alone and unarmed. He doesn't need weapons when he's already destroyed his enemies' entire way of life. Your former captors are too busy trying to understand how they've lost everything to put up much resistance.
"Are you hurt?" he asks gently as he cuts your restraints, his hands shaking slightly despite his outward calm. When you shake your head, he pulls you into a fierce embrace.
"Good," he murmurs against your hair. "Because I may have gotten a little carried away with the revenge. Their great-grandchildren are going to be poor."
ᯓ★୭˚ We've all seen the nervous loser Takemichi becomes around Hina even when they're already together, so i just need you to picture the walking disaster he is before you get together. I won't lie, he's not much better even when you finally become a couple, but it's definitely not as bad as it used to be before that. He's sweating and his face is bright red and he's stuttering and tripping over his words, while you're just helping him out with some school subject. He'll move his hand slowly towards your in hopes to hold your hand, but the second he actually touches your hand he jolts he got electrocuted and moves his hand back away. And if you reach out and hold him hand with no comment and no second thought it's over for him. Brain is melting, words stuck in his throat, frozen in place. Give him some time to get used to it, he hasn't had someone actually want him before.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Despite being a genuine person with good intentions, Akkun fumbles bad before you get together. Or at least he thinks so anyway. He gets flustered SO easily. You could just be asking him how his day is going and he'd get all shy and squeamish like "omg they actually wanna know??". And remember how he's a hairdresser in the timeskip? When he finally gets a bit more courage to actually do anything really, he will SO be asking you to style your hair. However you want, in whatever you you picture, he's doing it so carefully and so gently. And with you, he's taking his sweet ass time. I mean, you're here and you're letting him do your hair and you're both happy about that too. That's probably the best way to keep you around for longer in his book. He genuinely loves spending time with you, but he's too shy to tell it to your face.. at least it's obvious, so you'd know even if he can't tell it to you directly yet.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Now i have no idea how or why you even chose Makoto, and he doesn't know either, but best believe he's not playing about you. Maybe some higher power smiled at him for 0.03 seconds and got you to look in his direction or he was a saint in a previous life, or some other ridiculous theory he has on what on earth made you want him. And that only makes him more serious about you. He's down bad and he makes it everybody's problem. He's shameless too. I swear he's doing the corniest fucking things and he thinks he has crazy game. He's flirting with you like there aren't people around, he's holding your hand like it's stuck to his and taking you on ice cream dates (it fell and stained his shirt).. he's doing his best, man. I could also touch on his equally shameless pervert business, but I'd rather not. That stays between him and you, and your unfortunate neighbours.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Ever the sweetest and calmest person to be around, Takuya feels like he's gonna have a heart attack when you're around. He's sweating, he's having heart palpitations, his hands are shaking and somehow he still keeps a relatively neutral face trough it. If you dont know how horribly red he looks. He's pasty pale, so that only makes his blush a bit more concerning if you don't know what exactly makes him so red. Pair that with how he's stuttering and tripping over his words and you could genuinely think he's getting sick. Not gonna lie, if he's actually a bit sick he's gonna milk it as much as he can. Sure, he feels guilty for having you fret and worry about him so much, but he can't help himself. Having you taking care of him so sweetly won't help him with any of the supposed symptoms, but he's having the time of his life. Having you look after him, feeding him, checking his temperature.. Let him have this much, he's gonna return your kindness later.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ You must really have a thing for boy failure nerds if you want Yamagishi, but i understand you. He's too cute for his own good. With these bigass glasses framing his soft face. And with his big wet brown eyes. And his soft hair and silly hairstyle. And his voice. And how much of a dowrk he is UGH. With how painfully cute he is, you're amazed nobody else has tried their chances with him. Maybe his neverending yapping sessions that seems to come up at least three times a day could be a turn off for most people, but that's literally his appeal. Yes, babe, talk to me about the gangs and their leaders again. I wanna listen. That being said, he can also make a great listener too. Everything and anything you say he sucks up like a sponge and uses that information for later. You could be talking about the weirdest fucking thing you're fixating on in that moment and he'd be taking mental notes. He remembers and he makes plans for later. If you've mentioned even just a few cute aquarium videos he's already researching the best aquariums around and what's the best time to take you there, and takes extra money to buy you a cute souvenir from there on top of that. Extra points if you find something matching. On that note, he's a SUCKER for matching with you. It just makes him feel all pink and giddy when he sees you're just as happy to match with him - to want people to associate you with each other so openly. He's a major sap, and still he becomes cherry red if you return his energy even in the slightest. Holding his hand first, fizing his glasses or clothes for him, playing with his hair, hugging him, leaning your head on him... he's painfully easy to fluster, and he's just as achingly cute. You know what you should do, though? Put on your best lipstick as kiss him silly. Leave the lipstick marks all over his face, maybe some on his shirt too. Let them smear. If he has to go somewhere he's gonna wipe it off, but he's not gonna do it well. In the end he's wiped off most of it, but there's still some smears and one or two marks he missed. And he's gonna be walking around like that until someone maybe tells him. And even then he won't feel too ashamed - he somehow bagged you, so what's so wrong with people seeing it?
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Now i know Chifuyu isn't the biggest loser, but that doesn't erase the fact that he reads shoujo religiously and treats it like classified information, and also he let his best friend beat the soul out of him, and he's awkward as hell and.. yeah, he's still kind of a loser. And best believe he's gonna be trying to pull that shoujo stuff on you too. When he gets the balls. Until then, he's daydreaming and staying awake at night, fantasizing about sharing an umbrella to shield you from the rain, catching you when you slip and fall or, what he's most ashamed of, the sick and the beach episode experience. God forbid someone Baji actually finds out about what's he's thinking over so much, he wouldn't let Chifuyu live that down to the day he dies. And in spite of that, the second the opportunity to actually experience that presents itself, he clams up. He's dying on the inside and asking god WHY he put him in that situation now. He won't miss his chances though. Best believe he's making the best of it, even if he's practically dying from embarrassment. And in the end, he actually manages to get one of these - he makes the best shoujo confession he could make by himself. And with the help of a few friends.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Don't let this idiot fool you with his big fat mouth and with his cartman-level obese ego, Shion is the biggest loser to walk around. He's so down bad it isn't even funny, and he knows it damn well. Pray for whoever tries to clown him on that because not only does Shion feel no shame about it, no, it's the opposite - he's proud of himself. Very proud at that. He won't shut up about how perfect you are and what a baddie he bagged. That's a lie. He didn't bag you. YOU bagged him. Threw him over your shoulder ans he just decided he wants to stay there. He knows ut damn well too, but he'll give up on that fuckass haircut before he actually admits it to anyone. You and him know it and that's enough. On that note, he's gonna be showing you off at any and all opportunity given. He's gonna create an opportunity to brag about you himself actually. He won't shut up. He doesn't even know why you decided you want him, but you did and he's gonna take that as a life achievement. He's gonna fuck up at some point, he knows it, and even then he's gonna swallow his pride and actually apologize and try to make it up to you. He won't live it down if you don't forgive him. Def a "my girl is mad at me i hope i die" type.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Is it really a rant about losers if Shinichiro isn't even mentioned? It's a well-known fact, but he's a major simp. The most down-fucking-horrid man to ever walk on earth. You CANNOT beat this man in this. Don't get me wrong, he's kinda emotionally constipated and it doesn't always cone out the right way, it's written on his forehead how smitten he is. He's not used to someone genuinely wanting him the way he wants them, so it takes some time to get used to it. Suddenly he's got a reason to try not to take too many hits when he's in a fight - he wouldn't want to worry his babe too much, no? He's still getting used to someonehe has to keep himself safe for, other than his siblings. On that note, he's be THRILLED if you get along with them well. To be fair, it isn't hard to get then to like you. Though Shinichiro would have to endure some emotional damage at first💀 You'd have two tiny blonde kids asking you if you're really his girlfriend or if he's making you do this somehow.. in the end, they act like they love you more than Shinichiro himself. And honestly? He won't even complain. He totally understands them.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ He thinks he's so mysterious, but Takeomi is the equivalent of that dude that barely shows up to class and you're amazed he's even graduating this year. The second you enter his field of vision he straightens his back from the shrimp pose it's usually in and makes a concious effort to look at least a bit better. While you're talking with him he might pull out a cigarette if you're outside, you know, to soothe his nerves. He can feel himself sweating at the thought of embarrassing himself, and hopefully you won't mind if he smokes? And hopefully it makes him look cooler too.. and honestly, if that's your thing, he probably does look hot smoking. His stink breath after a cigarette isn't as hot, though. He's trying his best to impress you without doing too much, that's his main flirt strategy. Not that it's really noticeable anyway.
𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼
ᯓ★୭˚ Listen. Listen. Benkei has no game. Not if he tries to anyway. He can be real smooth if he's not thinking about it, but the second he realizes he's into you its over between him and his ocassional good tries. I wish i was kidding. The second he tries to sound smooth it's gonna come out the dryest, most awkward way possible. And the way he's staring either at the floor or at your soul isn't really helping that either. Words just aren't really his thing.. on the other hand, he can be real good at being there for you. He can carry your pretty girly bag, he can take your groceries to your home, he can give you a ride to the motorcycle to wherever. He just has to mind his words, because not only is the painfully bad at actual flirting, but also because whenever be tries to tease you it might come out lowk mean. He doesn't mean anything in that way, but his tone and the way he says stuff would make you think otherwise. "Did you just genuinely just fucking do that?" or ".. yea, i guess being an airhead isn't easy on you." yeah no... So he keeps his mouth shut and does his best to impress you with how dependable he is. Until he learns to control his trap at least. Also, he gives me the vibes of someone with a guyliner. He def cakes that shit on, but at least it makes his eyes pop.
Bonten with a reader who is literally a little princess; a girly (something like your tenjiku publication with a hyper feminine reader)
Bonten x Hyper Feminine!Reader
♡ SFW, suggestive, fem reader, fluff, reader likes dresses, skirts, heels, scrunchies, ribbons, bows and all that stuff, reader wears perfume and makeup ♡
-let’s be honest, Mikey had shut down his own emotions a long time ago, what makes you think this man would ever return your feelings?
-when you finally got enough confidence to speak up and confess your feelings to Mikey, he didn’t react at all, said nothing just stared in your eyes lifelessly , surprised?
- he doesn’t give a damn about you nor your feelings, he only keeps you with him for support, nothing else. he doesn’t even have the idea of putting his dick in you, like c’mon
-Mikey knowing your true feelings for him only gives him the opportunity to use you however he pleases,knowing you too damn in love to realize this guy sees you nothing more but a toy, his personal toy
-and if you dare to step back and quit being his lil toy? be prepared for everything because this man haven’t even showed you his full potential of threatening and making anyone’s life miserable and true hell
- so if you confessed your love for Sano Manjiro, there’s no going back. From now on you are his own personal toy
Sanzu Haruchiyo
-The Mad Dog , do I have to explain more than this?
-he is a crazy lunatic who probably has drug addiction and you managed to fall for this guy? are you sane?
-but just like Mikey he does not care about you nor your feelings, and knowing this he is gonna use you , no matter what. He knows damn well that he is a miserable man and a criminal on the top, he cannot treat you how you dreamed
-he's gonna play with you , like c'mon what did you expected from this guy seriously?
-and for your surprise he's a sadist , rather you like it or not he always will find a way to hurt you in any way, especially knowing that you have fallen for him
-and if you every try to leave him? oh boy... this man would gaslight you so damn good he even gives you little challenges , making you do terrible things just to make sure you never again question your own feelings and loyalty for him . because loyalty means everything to him
-don't dream about a healthy relationship with him , because this man's vocabulary does not contain the word healthy
-life with Sanzu is only a passionate game testing how far would you go for him, he is a great fuck tho
Hajime Kokonoi
-first of all you know his love story with Akane, he has eyes for her and only her no matter what! like let's not forget that he's so in love with Akane he even sees her in Inupi
-when you tell him that you have fallen for him Koko laughs it off, he says you are mistaken and you did not fallen for him you just be messing around, because knowing Kokonoi's story , how he became good with money making and everyone sees him only a subject to be used for more money, practically he is used too for his financial skills and Koko thinks that you only want him for his money
-even so you explain that you don't see him as a personal bank, and your feelings are true he cuts you off with his cold logic
-but if its love than it's loyalty too, and like everyone else in Bonten he will turn it against you
-no matter what you do or what you say, Hajime will never take you seriously , he doesn't even like you. He thinks that you are worthless, good with nothing and would never see you like he sees Akane. And believe me he's not scared to remind you that Akane is everything while you are nothing
-you only give him flashbacks about his past, and everything he lost, he even treats you like shit
Haitani Ran
-he laughs, he's so unserious Ran thinks that you just had too much drinks
-but the idea of making you believe he loves you too played too much in this mind, and in the end, he started playing with you
-Ran loves the idea of having you around, watching you being so good and obedient for him like a well trained puppy, it feeds his ego so damn bad
-loves showing you off , at clubs, meetings or anywhere in general, watching others drooling after you it makes him more proud of himself how good he manipulates you, and guess what? you don't even know about it. you think you hit the jackpot but instead you fall into his little game
-oh and trust me you are not the only one into this little game of his, believe me Ran has a bunch of others ladies under his bed sheets
Haitani Rindou
-this guy has no idea what the fuck you are talking about
-not like his brother he doesn't see you as a benefactor or anything. shit he doesn't know how did you fall for him like he was clearly just using you for a good time
-as you confess this guy shuts you down with his cold dry answers , or just simply ignores your whole presence as if you are no longer existing
-he doesn't find any fun in using you nor fucking you at some point. he drops you off just like that. simple
-and trust he does this with everyone, after all he knows what he is doing in bed and he handsome
Takeomi Akashi
-listen, this guy can be your father at this point
-he is such a creep, he only has eyes for younger women in their 20's, like each club he goes to everyone knows when he shows up young chicks can only satisfy him
-when he hears you confessing he thinks that you just messing around, but as soon as he realize you aren't joking he completely changes
-he doesn't want anything serios after all he is in his mid 30's he never was interested in anything serios just a quick fuck and that's all
-he tries to explain that you are too " young" to understand your own feelings and this is only a moment of heat , nothing serios even tho you stand up on your feet and speak up he cuts you off saying he lives longer than you and he knows what you saying
-he still calls you for a round or two
Kakucho Hitto
-he would take it seriously, not like the others. He even would be carried away by the fact that you confessed. I mean he always dreamed about a nice and cozy family but somehow God had others plans for him
-believe me this guy would stalking you, being possessive there's no me time for you , it's only Kakucho time
-he would be tracking you if you ever try to go somewhere without him, oh and let's not forget about his jealousy issues. If you take your eyes of off him he would be thinking you have someone else in your life
-love and loyalty means everything for Kakucho, so if you had the balls to confess to him, babe it's a ride or die because believe me this man would never let you leave him not even having the slightest idea of getting ride of him
-he would use you with your own emotions if it needed
-biggest gaslighter
Hanma Shuji
-biggest womanizer in Tokyo Revengers
-you are one of his toys nothing much, and trust you ain't the only one who falls in love with this man, i mean look at him , he's tall, muscular body, tattoos, good fashion sense , deep voice and the cherry on top this guy knows to fuck, better than anyone in TR
-but somehow you are his favorite toy, he loves to play with you as if you were his little mouse
-he doesn't give two fucks about you, he wants to fuck and loves that you would be doing anything even begging on your knees just to get attention
-he loves when you forget you are a human being, and you even consider yourself as his little toy
-just like Sanzu he is sadistic too, but not as bad as Sanzu, he loves to hurt and abuse you but not really physically more like mentally , he just loves your emotionless face
-and just like Ran, he has other chicks too, but still you are his favorite
