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your last dime // k. nahoya

notes. i don’t have a daddy kink but some characters…… oh and this ended up being a little soft. iffy about the smut but what else is new

wc. 6.7k

cw. fem! sushi chef! reader. one sided rivalry, one-sided pining, light bickering, rough sex, finger sucking, semi-public sex, daddy kink, degradation, condescending praise. descriptions of food. bitch used as degradation

summary. you hate nahoya with a passion and he has no idea why. you both were agreeable when you first met, but then you started ignoring him, which is a shame because he thinks you’re pretty

tagging. @touyasghosty thank you for hosting such a sexy collab! ‘m smooching your brain <3 @kazuwhora @ryuugot @bxnten thank you for beta reading <333 @messxworld @tokyoredlightdistrict & @shibuyawardnetwork

Nahoya doesn’t know what stick is up your ass, but you can be annoying as fuck and bitchy. He hasn’t even known you long enough to receive this loathing you have over him.

You moved into the old leasing space next to their shop two weeks ago. Him and Souya brought a welcome basket and introduced themselves. The both of you had an okay meeting, a handshake and pleasantries were exchanged, and nothing grating could have happened to rub you the wrong way, but somehow something did, and Nahoya has no idea what that is.

Every time your eyes land on his pink curls, they twitch. A glance at his curved lids, and your jaw locks. His smile causes a set of brows to knit together and crease. His heavier footsteps compared to Souya’s careful gait makes your shoulders tense. You hear him laugh and your eyes narrow into slits. You look at him like he’s a pile of dirty dishes and he fucking hates it.

But you only treat him this way.

Not Souya. No, never Souya. He gets none of your fury. He gets treated like an angel instead. Charming smile, cute teeth, twinkling eyes, and an even sweeter tone of voice that slides out of your throat like honey when you greet him.

While Nahoya gets your cold, aloof back, left out of the conversation like a third wheel, standing stupidly behind Souya as the both of you have delightful chatter and he stares longingly at you.

Nahoya didn’t hate you at first. He thought you were cute even. Heavy lashes that fluttered gently, soft, pink lips that rose to a lovely smile, bright eyes that looked at him so clearly he got lost in them for a second before the dulcet chime of his name snapped him out of his reverie and made his heart skip a beat.

You looked like Aphrodite incarnate. But you turned into Medusa in a matter of time and cast your hate on him as if he were Poseidon, and Nahoya truly has no idea why.

As he gazes at your glowing form, eyes that were once kind to him directed at his brother now, a giggle bubbling in your chest that makes your body tremor, his finger on the front counter taps into the wood faster, more harshly.

Nahoya decides that he won’t get held up by you anymore. If that’s how you wanna play, then fine. He’ll join your little game.

You’re dead to him too.

—

Well that was the plan at least.

It’s ironic, funny, and a little annoying all in one how the universe decides to spite him. The both of you are in a room stock full of ingredients. He came here to take storage, and you were asked by Souya to get him some more onions.

It would be laughable. If only the door didn’t slam shut with just a slight breeze of the wind. If only the click of the lock didn’t echo in the empty space and alarm you both. The old wood is too weak to hold itself open, and the knob doesn’t turn as it should. That was something Souya has been nagging him to look into, and he’s paying for his negligence here.

How fucking hilarious.

Nahoya can’t help the little snicker that leaves his mouth, and you whip your head to him, zooming in on that insufferable grin. “Don’t fuckin’ chuckle. This is your fault. Souya said the storage room door needed to be fixed, but you’ve been sitting on your ass. Not doing a damn thing.”

It’s always ‘Souya this, Souya that.’ Nahoya really can’t stop the chuckles that break from his chest.

“Take some fucking responsibility for your actions!”

Shaking his head and wiping some tears from the corner of his eyes, Nahoya calmly tells you, “Relax. Screaming won’t do any good if we’re still stuck in here, doll.”

Your teeth grind at the pet name, and you don’t listen, you just want more time to lash out.

You turn, walking up to him, steps heavy the closer you get until you’re finally in his face. A sharp, pointed finger pokes at his chest with each word that leaves your mouth.

“And I said, that this was your fault. We wouldn’t be in here, or trapped for that matter, if you actually fixed the damn door.” The glare you throw at him is vicious, eyebrows knit together, lids narrowed and sharp as a cat’s.

There’s a fire burning in your eyes that makes dark, dark pupils glow. Nahoya can see himself in them again just like at your first encounter, and it’s been so long since he was able to glance into your eyes head-on like this—it’s been so long since he’s had your undivided attention—that his stomach churns and his heart quickens.

He’s always found you, even more so your eyes, pretty. They’re genuine, clear, attentive to whoever's caught their fancy.

Then you raise your head higher, and they catch onto the light. It makes your irises shine and glaze over in a way that reminds Nahoya of freshly painted pottery pieces fresh out of a kiln.

“What?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion, brows lowering in that endearing way people do when they are utterly clueless, and your eyes soften, glaze over a touch more.

The gesture is so cute that Nahoya’s stomach bubbles over with arousal, and his pants are starting to feel a little tight.

He opens his mouth to talk, but you sigh and cross your arms over your chest. “Well?” and his mouth doesn’t move again because your forearms are pushing your soft tits up.

Instead he gulps the pool of saliva in his mouth like a lesser man, and his eyes trail up from your chest until it lands on your soft, glossy lips that are in a pout already.

Shit, he wants to kiss you.

Your eyes scrunch more when you realize he isn’t looking at you anymore. No, his eyes are too low, and there’s a hazy sheen to them that makes goosebumps trickle along your skin.

What is he looking at? Do you have something on your face? Your mouth? Your cheeks?

In the next few seconds, his eyes dart up to yours and a shiver wracks your spine. Their intensity makes you feel small. So, so small and meek. As if you aren’t around the same height anymore, like he’s towering over you—as if you’re being hunted.

He looks like he wants something.

Why does it feel like he’s on the verge of taking it whether you like it or not, that you have to coil your muscles and put your guard up?

His hand slowly moves. It brushes your cheek, and you’re so surprised by the motion that you flinch back, but his hand stops right there.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want to.” It stays frozen, his voice a low, calm rumble.

You consider the current state of things. Nahoya’s shift in demeanor, the growing tension between you two that’s starting to make your stomach tingle, and the thick air hanging heavy in the room. It spreads to every nook and cranny, and invades your mind.

Nahoya inches closer before he’s back to brushing against your cheek, finally cupping it. You move in, transfixed by the gentle hold of his hand. It’s so faint, so warm that your heart races and your breathing slows with the serene touch. When you inhale, a whiff of crisp cologne invades your senses, and it’s addicting how nice it smells. You feel a little hazy as Nahoya traces his thumb over your lips, the gloss smudges a little around the plump edges.

Then he moves that same hand to the back of your head and pulls you in, slowly still.

Your lips touch softly, and a buzz starts at your mouth and travels throughout your body, raking down your fingers and toes, traveling through bones and tissue.

The thing about kissing Nahoya is that he’s not gentle at all, despite the soft way he reeled you in. He bumps his mouth against yours, sucks your tongue, bites your lips, and traces his tongue around for pleasure. Completely rough and wanton, and he fights for dominance. His tongue is merciless as he tastes all of you, like he can’t get enough. The pink muscle licks and prods over the same areas over and over again, his hand tilts your head slightly to get more access, to get down your throat.

Now there’s a fog entering your mind, making it fuzzy, and you completely forget your argument earlier as your legs grow weak.

It gets thrown out the window when his other hand traces down your back and squeezes at your ass. A tiny moan squeaks out of your mouth and your hands grip onto his work uniform. The hand behind your head moves lower when he feels your kiss get rougher. Jackpot.

They’re both playing with the supple flesh of your ass as you keen into his mouth. It feels so good, it’s starting to be the only thing you care about right now.

More. You want more, and Nahoya gives you exactly that as his knee presses between your legs.

They wobble when his hands move to your hips to slide them against his thigh, and the friction is so heavenly, your clit rubs against your panties from under your skirt, the gush of your slick so loud and sloppy that Nahoya groans and you buck your hips, cumming within the next few seconds.

The hands on his shirt claw into the rustling fabric, and he feels you shake, feels your pussy flutter even through the thin barrier of your panties as his pants get soaked in your juices.

“Fuck, doll.” His pant leg is soaked to the calf. He lets your mouth go to see you lean back and pant heavy breaths of air leaving your swollen, red lips.

You look really good right now, eyebrows knit, hazy eyes, shaky legs, heaving chest, panties a slippery mess, and Nahoya’s dick twitches imagining how it’d feel to sink his dick into your gummy walls—to see you creaming on him.

But first, he wants to feel your little hole wrapped around his fingers.

Bringing his hand down to your panties, he pushes them down, sliding two digits into your pulsing, squelchy hole, you start to squirm right away. Especially when he pushes the flat of his palm right against your sensitive nub so it rubs the tiny thing while he swirls his fingers.

“You’re a mess down here.” He hums.

You tremble and lean forwards, hands clawing at his wrist as you sob, “Nahoya, it‘s sensitive. ‘s too soon.” But all you do is push him closer to your sweet spot this way, and when his fingers get there, he grinds them against you, scraping your walls with the nubs of his fingertips.

Your pussy drools sticky cum, throbbing again. He knows you’re close, but he slides them out and steps back. With shaky legs, you gaze up at him full of want, disappointment. Confused on why he stopped.

His hands fumble with his pants, and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. You gape when his fat dick springs out, oozing a string of precum down the shaft.

Fuck he’s big.

He aligns the fat mushroom tip against your small hole, it flutters against the large, blunt head. His precum beads against your soft, pink folds.

“Nahoya, ‘s not gonna fit.” You’re whining, but your hands grasp his length, eager to test his girth, test how thick he is towards the base that both of your hands can’t fit around; your walls pulse at the discovery.

“I’ll just do the tip. Promise.”

Your lips purse for a second before you remove your hands. “Okay.”

He rubs your clit with the pad of his thumb as a little reward and you keen. He finally pushes in. The stretch is a little painful at first, but the drag of his cock against your velvety walls makes your toes curl, and Nahoya’s thumb still rubbing circles into your clit makes your hips buck.

“Nahoya, put it in. I want the whole thing.” He twitches at your words and groans, but he obliges. God, you’re so fucking greedy already. Slowly, he makes his way inside, one centimeter at a time.

By the halfway mark, your juices froth and bubble around the edges of his shaft, and his thumb rubs faster. The band of pleasure in your tummy is getting tighter, makes your cunt tingle and pulse.

Nahoya’s stomach is getting tight with pleasure too and his dick is twitching a fast tempo. You feel so warm and mushy, walls trapping and sucking his cock.

He can’t help how he pushes more of his shaft into soft, velvety walls. His dick feels like it’s gonna melt, and his head nearly lolls at the heavenly feeling of your cunt, pillowy folds parting for him.

“Wait. Nahoya. Wait. Wait wait wa-”

The knob starts to rattle, and you both freeze.

“Huh? Must be locked again.” A knock echoes through the room. “Is anyone inside?”

“Souya!”

The knob rattles harder and his voice sounds closer. “Were you in here this whole time? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Yeah, the door closed on us.”

“Us?”

“Nahoya’s in here too.”

“He is? Okay hang tight. I’m getting the keys.” Souya’s footsteps fade off.

Nahoya’s dick twitches. He wants to keep going despite the lack of time and Souya being on his way to finding you two like this.

He promises that he can get you to cum once, maybe twice before Souya’s back. It doesn't even matter to him if he cums, he just wants to feel your gummy walls clamp on him, feel you cream on his cock, sticky juices oozing out of your twitchy hole.

And he can do all of that for you, he just needs to ram his dick in, the full length of it, tilt his hips and swivel them around so it hits all of your sweet spots, and rub your clit for good measure.

If he doesn’t stop the first time you cum, he promises he can make you cum a second time within seconds, and make you squirt.

He can make you feel so good, if you just let him.

His heart races, dick pulsing madly in your cunt, stomach drawing taut with pleasure at the image of you creaming all over his cock. Eyes rolled back, mouth parted open to expose your pink tongue sticking out, and most of all, your pretty pussy oozing out milky cum down his shaft while transparent slick gushes onto his stomach.

Shit, the image alone is enough to make him cum. But you push him back and out of you, and Nahoya’s stomach plummets straight into a dark void.

You fix and tidy yourself up the best you can, which is remarkable because you actually look like you weren’t just fucking. Dusting off your shirt and skirt, pulling your panties back up, moving strands of your hair back to its original place, and rubbing your lips together to set your lip gloss again. Then you turn your gaze on him, cock hard, twitching and exposed as he stands there stupidly gaping at you.

It’s cold again, your eyes are narrowed into slits, and they’re dull with indifference. How can someone’s arousal, desire, emotions just flip like that?

“You should hide that or take care of it. Souya will be back soon.”

Nahoya shuts his mouth, lips folding over in discontent for a second before he’s hurriedly pulling up his pants and boxers until they’re on again, dick tucked into his waistband because it’s not settling down.

His lips move—

“Okay! I got them. Just give me a second.” But Souya comes barreling into the door and it rattles again as he fiddles with the lock.

You move right up to the frame and wait.

Within seconds, light shines in the dim room and the door creaks open. Opening up your arms, you hug Souya and slump your body on his, breathing out a sigh.

He looks a little confused as he rubs your back. “What were you both doing in here?”

You don’t give him an answer, pulling back and grasping his hand.

“…Huh?” you walk out with him in tow, and by the swish of your skirt does Nahoya see your sticky slick plastered between your thighs.

It still runs when you turn the corner, and the sight has Nahoya’s dick throbbing and his stomach burning, but his heart is icy and a little dull.

He gets left behind once again.

And see, from that day on, you have been running through his mind like a fucking pop song.

Nahoya tries to get on your good side, tries to understand why you hate him in the first place. He really does, but you don’t make it any easier.

Now, when he puts in effort, you ignore him more strongly. You don’t even spare him a glance or acknowledge his presence when he’s in the room.

When he comes over, you busy yourself with the customers, or practice your knife skills and prepare your lunch or dinner menu. Whenever you come over, you head straight for Souya, even when Nahoya greets you at the front.

It stings a little having you completely ignore him. He thought you got a little closer in the storage room, but no, things went back to the way they were earlier, but worse.

It’s almost like that incident didn’t even happen in the first place.

And despite all of that, he hates that he can’t hate you. He hates that he can’t get you out of his mind. He hates that he’s the only one hung up on your relationship, trying to make it better so you can go back to being on speaking terms.

He still gets hard when he thinks about that day, and his heart still beats furiously in his chest when he sees you. Especially when you’re focused on preparing your menu, or sharpening your sushi and sashimi knives.

The way you so elegantly handle them, or the poise that you have when you arrange your sushi platters.

Just like now.

He came over to talk, only to get ignored again, so he took a seat at your sushi bar to watch you prepare. This has become his new favorite interest now. When he watches you, he can tell you love doing this, your job.

Experienced hands quickly slide your knives, each and every one of them, against the knife sharpener. The shiing of metal against metal echoes in the quiet restaurant, and there’s a beautiful, shiny glint to your knives.

You must clean them really well.

Knives are easy to rust and dull after some use, Nahoya knows first hand. Restaurants depend on their kitchen and utensils. If a chef doesn’t take good care of their instruments, then they’re not an actual one in the first place. Chefs who love their job and the food they make don’t skip over any corners.

There’s a little tradition and legacy he guesses when it concerns managing a restaurant and cooking food. That is something he can see right now, while you’re prepping.

You have a little routine.

Your knives get sharpened first and foremost. You place them one by one in a line from smallest to biggest gently, making sure they don’t clack or clink onto the wooden bar; making sure that you don’t just drop them down.

“Why do you sharpen your knives first? Wouldn’t it be easier to get all of your ingredients together, so you don’t have to run around for them later?”

You paused at the last knife you were about to set down, turning it this way and that. Then your eyes softened and your grip on the handle changed into one of a gentle cradle.

“My mentor told me that knives are like an Itamae’s soul. We should cherish them for the joy they give to us and our customers.” You ran a finger over a flat side of the blade. “They’re why our cuisine is beautiful, why our ingredients can be gracefully cut and sliced, why we can perform our skills. Because sushi making is an art just as much as it is food, and I think other types of cuisine are more forms of art.”

Then your eyes darted up to Nahoya. The bright sheen and the light quiver of them intoxicating. Excited. Thrilled. That’s how you feel talking about your food, your art. And Nahoya can understand the sentiment. That warm, mushy feeling in his heart when a customer slurps down his and Souya’s ramen is unmatched to any other feeling he’s had.

(Well, except for the fluttering of his heart when he first met you.)

“Don’t you feel that way with your ramen? How your customers get happier after eating your food? The work you put into crafting each bowl?”

Nahoya’s hands twitch on the bar, and his stomach erupts into butterflies, where they fly up to his heart and the tiny thing flutters. Yeah, you really do love what you’re doing. If you can put your dislike aside to talk about your craft with him, then you must enjoy it dearly. And if you can share that joy with Nahoya, then you must really like cooking.

Nahoya likes that. How you both have the same passion over food. He could spend an eternity at your side talking with you about it.

(And maybe he should.)

“Yeah, it is.”

A small quirk of your lips, and a crinkle of your eyes as dark pupils sparkle over with tiny dots of stars make their way onto your face, and Nahoya’s heart stutters in on itself.

“Then you know what I’m talking about.”

His mouth parts open a sliver and his fingers buzz. They want to reach up—out towards you.

Nahoya wants—

“Nahoya! We need to get the shop ready.” Souya peeks his head in from the entrance.

His heart drops again, having to put a stop to this conversation, having to put a stop to his moment with you.

He stares into your bright, bright eyes a second more before he stands up and makes his way out, suppressing the urge to turn around to take one more glance at you as he hears your feet shuffle around your kitchen.

—

After that day, you start talking little by little with him more.

When he greets you from the front counter, you return it. When he wants to join your conversations with Souya, you let him. You slowly warm up to Nahoya, and when he visits your shop while it’s closed and he’s free, you don’t shoo him out or ignore his presence any longer.

He’s been happier these days. Talking with you is fun, he gets a serotonin boost when you have conversations, and they’re about all kinds of things. Like what types of food you like, your favorite ingredients or dishes, ideas for new menus. When the conversation turns away from food, you talk about your other hobbies and interests.

It’s wonderful. Nahoya yearned for days like these to come about under the stew of his mutual hatred to you, and ever since they have, he’s been on cloud nine—top of the world. Maybe he can start asking you out, or at least drop some obvious hints. He’s been subtle about his feelings, but they’re not taking effect.

This is why he’s at your shop once again, watching as you align sashimi along your cutting board.

Nahoya’s heart thrums in his chest at the almost thrillful glint of your eyes as you prepare sashimi. He knows that feeling. He gets the same way when he arrives to the shop early with Souya to think up a special.

Nimble fingers cradle a roll of sashimi as your knife skillfully cuts them into thin strips. Deft digits arrange sushi platters full of rice, avocado, seafood, radishes, and other ingredients next.

You have pretty hands.

The nails are cut short and buffed down, and the skin of your hands look smooth and soft, maybe a little rough from all the knife handling, but it’s nothing Nahoya can’t handle.

They’d probably look equally as pretty wrapped around his dick. He wants to feel your nails scratch marks on his back. He wants them gripping crescents into his skin. God, he wants you again. He misses the tight squeeze of your cunt and the warm cradle of your gummy walls.

He has been plagued with visions of you writhing and whining on his cock every night since that incident, and he can feel his pants tightening as you compress and slide your hands up and down a thick roll of sushi. It looks too meaty to be considered just rice, seafood, and radishes.

“Nahoya, why are you here again?”

His eyes snap up to you. “Why can’t I? There something wrong with me being here? Am I distracting you?”

You sigh before placing the roll down and picking up your sushi knife, hand gripped tight on the handle while the other curls over the sushi. “Not at all.”

Nahoya hums. “Good.”

The sound of your knife cutting clean through the rolls before clacking into the wooden board echo throughout the shop. He takes a glance around, really looks at the interior.

“Your parents must be proud of you.” They must be because there’s a homely, cozy feel to the shop.

It was a simple compliment. An off the hand remark with positive connotations.

But you didn’t take it that way.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You stand up straight from your slightly hunched over form. “Am I not qualified enough to be called a sushi chef?”

Your eyes feel cold on him, just like they were that day. “Do you think my parents payed for all this?”

Nahoya’s blood runs cold and his heart plummets from the clouds. He doesn’t know what landmine he just triggered, but he meant nothing bad by it.

“Tell me, Nahoya. What do you mean by that?” Your arms cross over your chest, resting above your uniform, and your head tilts in challenge. “I’m waiting.”

His heart spikes and his hands clench. “I meant that your parents must be proud of how much you’ve accomplished.”

He stares into your eyes with genuine honesty, but you only click your tongue and sneer. “Fuck you.”

You storm off into the back. Nahoya has half a mind following after you, pushing open the door to slip inside before you have the chance to close it.

The door clicks shut. He doesn’t lock the door, but he does stand in front of it.

“I don’t know what impression I gave off to make you mad at me, but that wasn’t my intention.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Sure.”

His teeth bite down and his jaw feels tight. “Why are you mad at me anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Nahoya’s eyebrows knit together. “Yeah, I would.”

“Well that’s something for me to decide, and I think…” you mock the notion of tapping your chin in thought. “No.”

Anger rises in his blood. “God, why are you such a fucking bitch.”

“I don’t know, Nahoya. Why are you such a fucking asshole.”

“For what? I didn’t do a fucking thing to you.”

“Yes, you did. You’re just an idiot for not knowing.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

“No, that’s something you should reflect on. Wrack your tiny, little pea brain all you can for it. I’m pretty sure even you can come up with something.” Your venomous tone drips mock pity, and it’s getting to him.

“I can’t reflect on something I don’t know what I did.”

“Well that’s too bad then.” Your lips pout and lower in a frown, but your eyes are beady with loathing. “Guess you’ll never know.”

His anger starts to boil over, chest thudding and heart twisting with the ugly fury that encompasses him, but despite that, as he watches your eyes harden into a glare and narrow, he finds his dick twitching in his pants.

You’re such a bitch, but you’re so fucking sexy when you’re mad. It’s the same reason he couldn’t fully hate you before, he just wanted to fuck you every time you yelled at him or narrowed your eyes in a cold stare.

The glare you’re giving him right now makes his head spin. The aloof, detached look on your face makes lust pool in his stomach. He wants to fuck you. Nahoya wants to fuck you stupid, fuck you into a blabbering, sobbing mess—fuck the attitude straight outta you.

He nearly groans with the image his mind provides for him.

“Well? Cat got your tongue?” He does groan with the sharp edge laced to your voice.

“No, you got my fuckin’ tongue.”

Your mouth drops a peep, brows scrunching in confusion, and Nahoya takes that chance to reel you in.

He smacks his lips into yours, nibbling and sucking on the plump flesh. He feels you shiver, hands clutching at his shirt, pulling him in closer, and he groans.

His hands are desperate rubbing up your sides, your back, down to your ass where he cups them and kneads the doughy flesh. He pulls down your pants and goes back to your ass. Soft skin molds under his touch and he gives it a smack, you moan into the kiss, biting at his lips that makes him groan deep in his chest.

He rubs and squeezes the voluptuous skin, sliding his hand down to where your thighs meet your ass, pressing two fingers inside the fat of your inner thighs, brushing against your plush folds. They’re wet, soaking, and a squelch resounds when his knuckle nudges against it.

You have a thong on. Fuck.

Nahoya pulls back. “Soaking wet. And after all that yapping earlier. Course a bitch like you got excited.”

You moan and squeeze your thighs together.

Nahoya smirks. “Yeah, a slut indeed.”

He pulls your panties down, trailing his fingers over your drooling slit, thumb catching onto your clit where he swatches it back and forth. Your knees tremble and your hands clutch his shirt tighter.

“N- Nahoya.”

His fingers stop, and your hips twitch from the loss of feeling. “Try calling me something else.”

“Sir?”

Nahoya stays quiet as half-lidded eyes stare into yours, dark and brimming with lust. His smile tilts up just a smidge. “Not quite.”

Your mouth parts open, pupils dilating, voice wobbling as you say, “D… daddy.”

Nahoya plunges two fingers inside your pulsing hole, and you have to lean on him, lest you stumble. His voice sounds deep and rich against your ear. “That’s good, princess.”

You shiver a little more strongly this time, your walls flutter on his scissoring fingers, and more creamy slick drips down his fingers.

“No one’s made you call them daddy before?”

Your shoulders twitch from hearing the word alone, and Nahoya’s dick jumps, imagining what you’d sound like moaning it, whimpering the name, or whining for him.

You look down and shake your head, hair falling around you, casting a shadow over your face, slightly hiding it from view.

“See, I don’t get that. You look fuckin’ adorable saying it for me.”

Your pussy throbs.

“You like that, doll? Like it when daddy’s fingers are inside of you. Like it when you call me daddy?” burying your head into his shoulder, you nod.

His fingers work into you faster, brushing against that one spot that has you seeing stars, thumb circling against your clit. Your eyebrows knit together, forehead scrunching, dulcet voice whimpering, “Daddy daddy daddy.” Before you’re cumming, fingers clawing at his shirt, body trembling against his.

Obscene drops of cum plop onto the floor, glide like thick molasses down his hand, and your walls clamp on his fingers so tight that he can only imagine how your tiny cunt would take all of him.

While you catch your breath and recover, Nahoya works on his belt. Everything is leading up to that day in the storage room, and he couldn’t be any more thrilled. But it’s while he’s stroking his dick, fat cockhead resting against your twitching hole that he remembers something.

“Ah shit. I don’t have condoms on me.”

You push your hips against his. The tip sinks in a smidge and the feeling of your gummy walls cradling just his tip is enough to make him shiver, eyes rolling in his head.

“Oh fuck.”

“Put it in me, daddy. ‘m on the pill.” And you latch your arms around his shoulders.

“Well, fuck. You got that, princess.” He slowly pushes the rest of him inside, and when he bottoms out at the hilt, he groans. You’re so tight, hole stretched out and twitching around his shaft.

Ah, fuck. He reaches an arm back and switches the lock on the door.

Nahoya starts slow, sliding himself out then back in. His tip kisses your cervix with each stroke, cockhead nudging against your sweet spot. Your cunt squeezes him with each stroke out, wanton over the loss of his dick. The shaft gleams with your cum, coated in the shiny slick, and it only provides more lube for him to slide back inside.

Like this a slow and deep pace forms. Drops of slick slide down his shaft and wet his balls that slap into the globes of your ass. Your hips buck up and grind with each thrust to the hilt. Your cunt pulses when his cock throbs, and you’re so fucking tight, velvety walls hugging him with such a grip that it makes his stomach tighten, band of pleasure stretched taut.

You bring a hand down to your clit and rub circles into it, eyes rolled to the top of your head, drool peeking out the corners of your lips.

Pretty soon your juices have his pelvis soaked, loud squelches and smacks of your pussy lips hitting his hips, and after a few more strokes, you come undone.

Your cunt clamps down on him as creamy slick seeps out around the ring his shaft, walls fluttering trying to milk him dry, but Nahoya doesn’t want to cum yet. Not until he feels you squirt, so when you remove your hand, he replaces it with his thumb, rubbing your puffy clit further, pace quickening to the point he’s rutting into you.

You squeal, “Stop! ‘s too much.” And tug at his hair which only makes him groan, stomach and balls tightening. Your body convulses, hole spasming as your eyes roll back, tongue slipping out the expanse of your mouth.

Your cunt squeezes Nahoya’s cock in a vice grip. He pulses once more before his balls snap up and ropes of white paint your walls, his finger never stops on your taut nub, and you gush slick all over his abdomen.

By the time you come down from your second orgasm, Drops of your cum drip from Nahoya’s stomach, soft lines of his abs soaked with your slick, and fat droplets of thick sperm ooze from around your hole, plopping onto the floor and staining it with the mess of your other fluids.

Nahoya and you both catch your breath, his knees are shaky and your legs are trembling, turned into jelly, but his dick twitches when you squeeze down on him.

“Fuck. Watch it, princess.” But you don’t stop clamping down on him, and he groans, hips bucking into yours from how your gummy walls hug his sensitive cock, pulsing and throbbing, sucking him in like a vacuum, as if he hasn’t already emptied his load into you.

“You’re a fucking vixen, do you know that?” His hands grip your hips tight, rolling them in circles and grinding figure-eights into his, but your puffy clit throbs in wanting.

“Tell me why you were so mad at me.”

Your lips pout and fold over, and your eyebrows furrow. A minute passes before you step back, pulling your cunt away from him. “You said I was probably a spoiled rich girl.”

Nahoya pauses. “I never said that.”

Your mouth purses and anger rises in your chest. “Yes, you did, Nahoya! Don’t lie. You thought I was some rich girl that learned how to make sushi for fun, didn’t you? That I wasn’t taking my job seriously. Even though I’ve been busting my ass with my own hard-earned money trying to run everything.”

Your voice breaks off into sobs, and you turn your back on him, trying to hide yourself, but he’s being reminded of the bitter memories of your cold back. Only this time, it’s trembling and shaking, small and hunched in, not straight and tall and confident like he’s seen.

“Just because my parents are a little well-off doesn’t mean I’m spoiled. I’m working hard for my dreams too. Don’t discredit my efforts for my parents' social standing.”

Nahoya wracks his mind, searching through his past conversations. When did he ever discredit your cooking skills? He’s only thought good things about you.

“Nahoya, she’s at it again.”

“What?”

“Our cousin. She begged 10k off Uncle. Said she wanted to start up a restaurant.”

“But she’s never taken classes, or has any knowledge in business management. What a fucking spoiled brat. That’s what she is.”

Oh.

Nahoya remembers that conversation. He also remembers how the door creaked open a bit before closing, the bell chiming which distracted them both.

They thought a customer arrived or was hesitant on entering, so he went outside to check, but no one was there. He also remembers how cold your stare turned when you came in later and shifted your eyes to him, the edges red and puffy.

That must have been you at the door, and you must have overheard them and misunderstood. The pieces are starting to click together.

So this was all just a big misunderstanding.

He leans over your shoulder to peek into your face, but your arms cover you from view.

He kisses his teeth. “Can I talk to ya, doll? I think you got a misunderstanding.”

“nhm.” You shake your head and bury your face further into the cradle of your inner elbow.

“Doll, let me just talk to ya for a little.” He reaches a hand towards you, but you slap him away.

Nahoya doesn’t budge. His mouth parts open, tongue trailing along his teeth. He wonders if he has to force you to listen because you’re being a fucking brat right now. A childish one who won’t have a proper conversation. Instead, hiding yourself away to lick at your wounds.

He grabs a fistful of hair and yanks you up to see your mascara ruined and fat droplets of tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, eyes hazy and feverish.

His dick rises to full mast.

“You kiddin’ me? You got upset over something as small as that? You ignored me over somethin’ so stupid? I wasn’t talking about you that day, I was talking to Souya about our cousin.”

“Your cousin?”

“Yeah, our fucking spoiled cousin who begs her parents for money to do stupid shit she doesn’t commit herself to.”

Your mouth opens and closes for a few seconds before you take a deep breath, eyes softening into regret. “‘m-”

His grip on your hair gets a little tighter. “That wasn’t very nice, doll.” But he lets go.

Placing his hand on your shoulder, he turns you back to him. That same hand roams to your cheek, brushing against it before his thumb strokes the delicate skin.

Your eyes shift again, full of arousal. You look at him so prettily, pupils dilated and shining, mouth parted open a sliver. All doe-eyed and precious as his thumb ghosts to a corner of your lips, rubbing the plump flesh.

Then it slides inside your warm mouth, and you can taste yourself. This was the same hand he fingered you with. “Do you hate daddy now, princess?”

“Nuh-uh.” And your cute little fucked out head shakes before you start sucking on his fingers, transfixed with the soft yet dominating handle.

Nahoya’s breath hitches and his dick pulses. Fuck. You’re so fucking cute.

He’s gonna ruin you. Wreck your cunt, mold your walls to his dick, whatever it is so you can keep being like this the whole night. He’ll fuck you silly.

FOOTNOTES

itamae means “in front of the board” and it is also the title used for a sushi chef.

nahoya didn’t know this but you looked at him all starry-eyed too during that first meeting. souya saw all of this and wondered when the two of you would patch things up.

he found out when he came over, just as the two of you left your back room, clothes and hair rustled, nahoya’s shirt was on backwards, your uniform was buttoned up unevenly, you were breathless, and your lips were swollen red.

souya teased nahoya about it the whole night, but he didn’t care bc the both of you called each other before you fell asleep and ended up talking for hours.

souya had trouble sleeping that night bc of your giggling, Nahoya’s chuckling, and your excited chatter.

taglist. @festive i’m going back n tagging ppl on my taglist form so let me know if you wanna be taken off viva! i feel like you’re not interested in tr anymore but rather genshin or twisted wonderland 🥲 @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @ray-lol

LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo's underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

taglist form

status: incomplete

CHAPTER ONE -- this week

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

TBA...

general taglist: @touyasghosty @novaresque @sano-obsessed @sugusshi @rxmera @islascafe @haitanihime @adeptiixiao @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @zuuki @daiserenade @hanmascult @4leafcloverwithawhitecraneforyou @kazufuyusluv @imkumichan @aces-high @marism @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @obsessiontoanime @prettyiolanthe @rinsie @blvebcrry @r-xochitl @savagemickey03 @lundabean @crown5 @kuroolv @shizunxie @senjuasuna @portfolio-of-dreams (IM SORRY 😭😭)

reblogs always appreciated ^.^

Seguir leyendo

⊱ i need him back ; hanma shuji x reader

warning: hurt no comfort, major character death, descriptions of death and grief, descriptions of kisaki's death, petnames (babe), lots of blood, descriptions of a dead body

summary: shuji just wants tetta back wc: ~1.7k

a/n: i like it sad and painful so here you go

minors dni // 18 +

A scream startled you out of a deep sleep.

It wasn’t the first time you were awoken like this and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Especially this time of the year, it always happened more frequently, almost nightly. The way the skies grew darker and the snow fell, the way it swirled around in the wind and muffled every sound, covering everything in soft white. It all made his nightmares worse, made him remember more. 

“Shuji baby, it’s ok I’m right here.” You gently wrapped your arm around him, pulling him down into the warm bed. His body trembled, it trembled like this every single time. 

“S-sorry for wakin’ you, babe. I just…”

“I know. No need for sorries, 'k?” 

He tried to calm his breathing, tried to slow his racing heart, tried to focus on anything else. He settled his head into the pillows and stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the shadows cast by the moonlight reflecting off the snow. Snow that had been steadily drifting down from the sky all night, just like it had that day. He tried to calm his nerves, tried to settle into the warmth and reassurance of you, of your arm wrapped around him. 

Shuji closed his eyes, trying to fall back into sleep, but he couldn’t escape the memories: Kisaki bloody and broken in the middle of the road. How many years had it been? He lost track. No, he forced himself to lose track, he forced himself to stop counting the minutes, the hours, the days, the years. But there he was, every time he fucking closed his eyes, every single time. Blood had never bothered him, not until it was pouring from the person who had meant more than anything to him, that he would have killed anyone for, that he would have followed to the ends of the earth. 

“Shuji, baby, it’s ok.” Your whispered words dragged him back from the dizzying visions. “Wanna talk about it?” 

He always talked about it. How many times had he gone over it with you? Over and over and over. You must have been able to see it just as well as he did. The sickening images of his broken body, of the blood pooling around him, of the terrified look on his face.

But still, you sat with him and listened. No matter how many times he cried and yelled and screamed. No matter how drunk he was, no matter how angry, no matter how much of an absolute wreck he was. You always listened over and over, lightly touching him, pulling him close, letting him lose himself in your arms.

“He just…” Shuji couldn’t hold back his tears any longer. He always felt fucking weak, fucking pathetic, crying in your arms over the loss of his best friend. 

“I know, baby I know.” Sometimes it was all you could say. Tonight seemed to be one of those nights, and you felt useless. God what the hell could you say? ‘Shuji I know he’s gone but he loved you.’ ‘I know he’s gone but every moment you spent together was a moment he wasn’t alone, was a moment he was happy. You did that Shuji, you did that for him and he loved you.’ None of it would help though. None of it could ever bring Tetta back. 

“I was so close. Just around the corner. If I had just moved faster. If I had just -“ a sob stopped him mid-sentence. A sob that broke you, broke you every time. Every time you saw the invincible Hanma Shuji, the Reaper, the man with sin and punishment on his hands, cry hysterically. He loved Tetta and he was gone and that was it.

“He was so young. He wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this. Not like this.” Broken words between tears. “We were supposed to run Tokyo together. We were supposed to be on top. The two of us.”

You pulled him closer to you and placed a kiss on his head as he buried his face in your chest, trying to fight off the desperation to see him again, to see his smile, his laugh. He remembered the first time he made him laugh. A real laugh. Shuji had felt like he won a prize — finally accomplished something. Something more than beating faces in. Making a sad, lonely boy laugh. He secretly made it his mission to see him laugh every fucking day - every day for the rest of their lives. He failed. He fucking failed. And here he was in the arms of his lover, falling to pieces for the millionth time, dying to see Kisaki Tetta’s smile.

“He… he would have loved you. Ya know? He would have.” He nuzzled his face harder into your chest, like somehow the warmth and beat of your heart could make him forget Tetta was gone.

“I would have loved him too. I do love him.” You did, of course, how could you not?  He had made every single moment of the short time they spent together seem like yesterday. As if tomorrow you could walk into your living room to see them sitting on the couch laughing at some stupid joke. A joke you would never understand but you’d laugh anyway because they were happy. Because seeing them together was everything you wanted. It was what you dreamed about most nights - the man you loved and a man you had never met laughing with each other.

“I love him so much.” A choked whisper, muffled even further by the fabric of your shirt.

“He loved you.” You ran your fingers through his hair, you wished you could take his pain away, wished you could make him forget like he was desperate to. 

“I never told him. I never did.”

Why would he have though? They were young, they were too young to truly grasp exactly what they were doing - the repercussions of the fighting, the manipulation, the murder. They were too young to tell each other how much they cared. They were children and it had all ended too soon. 

“Sometimes…” his arms gripped you tighter. “Sometimes I wish it were me.” It wasn’t the first time he had expressed it, it wouldn’t be the last. And every single time you knew how much he meant it. How badly he wanted to switch places. How badly he wanted to be the one broken and dying in the middle of the street, confused and begging someone, anyone, to not let him die. To not let him die alone, die unloved, die scared. 

Every single emotion Tetta must have went through, every single thought as his pain drifted away and his body went numb, as his pleas for life fell silent on his lips, as his eyes, desperate to see anything more than the searing pain and fear, could find no one until his vision left him. Shuji wanted to go back and take them all away.

“Do you think he looked for me? Do you think he thought of me?” Another kiss on his head, thumb wiping away the tears. Tears that had completely soaked through your shirt.

“How could he have not thought of you?” You were certain, how could Tetta not have looked for the person he trusted, for the person who had stood by him? For the person who knew him better than anyone ever had? But fuck, fuck was it hard to hold Shuji’s trembling body and tell him 'your best friend looked for you as he lay dying.' Because that meant Tetta never found him, that meant Tetta had to go through it as he had gone through most of his life — alone and in pain. You knew Shuji knew. How could he not? The fear of death that had contorted Tetta's face had seared itself in Shuji’s mind.

“He looked for me.” Another sob, his body heaving. “He needed me. He fucking needed me and I was too busy fucking around with Draken to even think about him.”

“You couldn’t have -“

“No. I should have known. I should have fuckin’ known. I knew everything. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen. His plans always worked one way or another. His plan was perfect. He wasn’t supposed to die.” Shuji's trembling worsened, his breathing became more labored, the words he spoke only making the pain harder to bare.

“Tetta was perfect. He was so fuckin’ smart. He didn’t need me like I needed him.” He said it louder than he wanted to. Words he kept to himself, words he hated to admit. How much he had needed Tetta, how much he still needed him years later. Shuji, even after all this time, still couldn’t see himself without Tetta, still couldn’t imagine his life alone.

“He could have been here with us right now. He could have. He should be. This is where he belongs. Not dead.” His grip tightened even more, to the point of pain, to the point that perhaps you could feel even the slightest amount of pain he felt. Maybe that was what he wanted, to push his pain onto you. A burden you would happily bear for Shuji. 

“He was baby, he was perfect and brilliant. I know.” Your own tears welled up, your own voice wavering.

“I want him back, I need him back.” He pulled away from you. Pulled away from the only comfort in his life. Pulled away and curled up in a ball, tucking his face into his knees.

You laid there and stared at the ceiling, giving him space but dying to comfort him more. Dying to wrap your arms around him and just fall back to sleep.

“This… this will hurt forever wont it? Being stuck here without him.” It would, it would always hurt. He would always see him like that, always see Kisaki Tetta’s twisted limbs, bloody face, wide eyed stare into nothingness, crumpled in the middle of the street as snow drifted down, as snow slowly began to cover everything. A death shroud. Snow would always be death to him now. Snow would always be pain and despair and death.

“He was alone. He was always alone.”

tags: @bxnten @virtue-and-beneviolence @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

NEW MAGIC WAND | SANZU H.

sanzu haruchiyo x fem!reader

summary: sanzu haruchiyo liked to think he was a patient man, but even the most patient of men finally snap.

warnings: yandere!haruchiyo, soft dom!haruchiyo, service dom!haruchiyo, obsessive and possessive behavior, implied stalking, manipulation, dubcon, slight somno, mirror sex, oral sex (m->f), overstimulation, dumbification, praise, brief implied baby trapping, squirting, implied character death (not reader or haruchiyo), pet names (pretty girl, princess, babygirl, baby), slight manhandling, pretty graphic descriptions of violence at one or two points

wordcount: 4.5k

notes: for @arozaur's hide n seek collab !! ^.^

You were supposed to come back.

Sanzu stared down at his phone, grip around it so tight that he swore it was going to shatter in his hand. His lungs were burning as he looked at the smiling picture of you and your new boyfriend, unable to tear his eyes off of it, his blood ran hot for all of the wrong reasons, he couldn’t think straight his mind felt fuzzy as rage began to sweep through each and every cell of his body.

Boyfriend, blood roared in his ears, his jaw tightened, teeth grinding together painfully. Not a fuckin’ boyfriend, he’s your fucking boyfriend, he’s just a leech, taking advantage of your naivety. A fuckin-

“Sanzu,” Rindou’s voice drew him from his thoughts and Sanzu turned a dark glare on him.

“The fuck do you want?” he spit out, Rindou’s gaze sharpened.

“Stop sitting here sulking and do something about it if you’re so fuckin’ shitty over this girl,” Rindou said, “We don’t want you here if you’re just gonna sit here and kill the mood.”

And Sanzu had half a mind to bash Rindou’s face into the table and he probably would have had his words not set off a string of thoughts that had him staring blankly ahead, mind whirring. 

Do something about it. 

---

“He cheated on me, and my friends they all-” you were shaking in the door of his apartment, lips wobbling, eyes wet, and Sanzu could only stand there, staring at you in shock because a part of him couldn’t believe that you were actually standing in front of him. “I-I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go.”

And Sanzu opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, and you clearly took it the wrong way. 

“... I’m sorry. I should go,” you were backing away and panic shot through him immediately, his hand darted out, wrapping around your wrist as he tugged you back toward him.

“No,” he said, “No, s’okay, baby, you know you can always come to me.”

His breath caught as the pet name slipped from his lips before he could stop. Did he push too far too quickly? Need to be careful, don’t ruin this chance. But relief swept through him when your face only crumbled at the pet name and he for a second, he could have sworn that he had caught an expression of longing sweep across your face.

He found himself proven correct by the next words that left for your lips, “I missed you so much,” your voice wavered, “So, so much, you have no idea. Never should’ve left you, I-”

Sanzu moved before his mind could catch up, your words clouding his thoughts as he tugged you into his apartment, letting the door shut behind you--because this was all he fucking wanted. His hands were shaky as he leaned in close, pressing his lips to yours for the first time in three months, trembling fingers coming up to cup your face as he let out a soft whimper against your lips, running his thumb over your cheekbone. He could feel your wet tears staining his face and how your lips clung to his like a lifeline, your hands curling around the cloth of his shirt, holding him close, and Sanzu swore that everything was right in the world again at that moment.

He pulled back, lips brushing yours, “He never deserved you,” he said, voice little over a breath as he wiped away the tears streaming down your face, “You’re so good, too good, too good for anyone, he never deserved you, you only deserve the best.”

You shook your head and he hated how the glassy-eyed expression you were giving him made his blood run hot, “Haru-”

He bit back the moan that nearly escaped his lips at the sound of you saying his name, Haru, Haru, Haru, he could listen to you say his name forever and never get tired of it, it was the sweetest song his ears had ever heard. He had hated his name until he met you and it suddenly became his favorite word every time it spilled from your lips.

“My pretty girl,” Sanzu murmured, bringing your face back closer to his, pressing his lips to your forehead and then your nose and then to each of your cheeks, “The prettiest girl, my perfect baby, he didn’t deserve you.”

“I just don’t understand,” you sobbed, throwing yourself forward into his arms and Sanzu caught you, arms wrapped tight around your waist as you flung yours around his shoulders. He brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face into the crook of his neck and Sanzu let out a shaky breath, eyes wide. “I did everything right, I-I gave it my all and he was so good, he never showed any sign of this I didn’t expect it, I..”

Your voice trailed off as Sanzu got lost in his own thoughts.

Love you, love you, love you, god he fucking loved you and he missed you, he missed you so, so, so, so much. He missed holding you in his arms, he missed being the one you ran to whenever you were upset, he missed kissing you, he missed your scent, your taste, the way you felt against him, he missed everything about you, he missed you so much it hurt.

“... must be somethin’ wrong with me, Haru, I-”

Sanzu’s grip around you tightened, how dare-

“Don’t you ever say that,” Sanzu hissed, pulling you away from him so he could look you in the eye, he softened at the teary-eyed look you directed at him, bringing one hand to your face to cup your cheek, “You’re so perfect, princess.”

You shook your head and rage darkened his mind and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from tightening his grip around your face. He would kill him. He would kill him. He would kill him so fucking brutally that nobody would be able to identify his remains, strip the skin from his muscles and the muscles from his bones, he would tear him apart because nobody had any right to make his perfect girl feel so awful about herself. Nobody. He would kill anyone that did.

He would kill him.

“Let me show you,” he breathed out, “Babygirl, let me show you.”

“Haru, I dunno,” you were shaking your head but your hands tightened around the cloth of his shirt and he ran his thumb over your cheek, mouth drying as your eyes fluttered shut, instinctively leaning into his touch. 

“Please,” Sanzu murmured, bringing his other hand back to your face, tilting your head up so that you were looking at him, your eyes met his again and Sanzu swore that the entire world could be burning around him and he wouldn’t even notice because all that matter was you--you and your pretty eyes and hypnotic voice, god he had been deprived of it so long, for too long, Sanzu was sure he couldn’t live without you.

He brought his lips back down to yours and his breath shook against your lips as your hands came up, one hand slipping behind his head and the other coming up to cup the side of his neck to hold him close as you deepened the kiss, tongue darted out to swipe at his bottom lip.

And Sanzu couldn’t breathe, he felt like he was on cloud nine, his hands slid down from your face to your thighs, lifting you and you gasped into his mouth. Sanzu all but whimpered when your legs wrapped around his waist, arms tightening around his shoulders. Closer, he needed you closer, he couldn’t get close enough to you. 

He was barely thinking straight as he brought you through his apartment, mind hazy, drunk off of the taste of you. He laid you back on his bed, pulling off of you, and Sanzu felt dizzy as you reached out for him, a whine slipping from your lips as he pulled away.

This was all he wanted, all he had ever wanted was for you to want him, need him, as much as he needed you. But you didn’t, you never fucking did. He was always too much--too clingy, too protective, too smothering. You always wanted to go out, do things without him, and it wasn’t fair because all he wanted was you.

“Haru, I’m going out with my friends tonight… No, Haru, it’s just a girl’s night..”

“Haru, I can do this on my own.”

“Haru, I don’t need your help with this, I’ve got it.”

“Haru, please, I need space.”

“Haru, I think we need to take a break.”

“Haru,” your voice in the present knocked him out of the memories of the past, before you had left him. His eyes met yours, and the anger that had been brewing again disappeared when he saw the pleading look in your eyes, “What’re you doin’, Haru? I want-”

“Shh,” he murmured, kneeling on the floor by the edge of the bed where he had laid you, working on slipping off the pretty heels you had on your feet, once he had placed them on the floor by the foot of the bed, he pressed his lips to your ankle, “Gonna take my time with you tonight, princess. Make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Haru,” your voice came out as a whimper and Sanzu nearly moaned against your skin as he trailed slow, wet kisses up your calf, to your knee, all the way up to your thigh, mapping out every inch of your skin in reach of him. He let out another shaky breath, palms smoothed over your outer thigh, running up and down your skin slowly as he pulled back to look at you, taking in the pretty skirt and matching top you had on.

“The prettiest girl,” Sanzu whispered, “you’re the prettiest girl, look at you, baby, so fuckin’ pretty.”

You shook your head and Sanzu inhaled sharply, the anger returning with a vengeance and he only barely pushed it to the side. His eyes darted over to the left, taking in the mirror set up on his wall and for a moment, he could only stare, absorbed in the image of you splayed out on his bed, chest rising and falling rapidly. This was where you belonged, in his apartment, in his bed. 

But then he caught sight of the gleam of your tears in the reflection and forced himself back to what he was doing. He reached up, fingers curling around your jaw gently to turn your head to face the mirror, “Watch,” he said quietly, “want you to watch yourself, see how perfect you are, yeah?”

“Haru,” you went to look away but Sanzu’s grip tightened on your jaw.

“Look,” he repeated again, voice low, and you swallowed thickly, once he was satisfied that you weren’t going to turn your head away, Sanzu dipped back down, hands sliding down your body to hook around the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down over your hips and pulling them off of your legs.

“Haru, I don’t wanna watch,” you said and Sanzu glanced up from where he was entranced by the way your pretty lace panties sat on your body, hugging your skin. 

You were still looking in the mirror, Sanzu nearly cooed at how obedient you were.

“Trust me, princess,” he murmured, kissing your inner thigh, “Just watch.” 

Without another word, Sanzu slid your panties off, stuffing them in his pocket before leaning back down, relishing in how your entire body shivered as he kissed up your inner thigh, closer and closer to your heat. He inhaled deeply, letting out a low moan at your scent, hands wrapping around your thighs to tug you closer to him so he could bury his face into your cunt.

Sanzu groaned, eyes fluttering shut at your familiar taste, tongue diving deep between your folds, dipping inside your entrance. He had missed it, fuck he had missed it so fucking much, he was addicted to the taste of you more than any drug. Distantly, he heard the loud whines spilling from your lips--his name over and over and over and over again and it had his head feeling light.

Tastes so good, he was moaning against you like a fucking whore, tongue sliding between your folds, flicking over your clit, so fuckin’ good, Sanzu was sure he could spend the rest of life buried between your thighs, hearing your moans and whimpers as he indulged on you. 

His gaze flicked up, looking up at you through his lashes and Sanzu let out another hum against you, tongue swirling around your clit, sucking it lightly into his mouth as he watched you fist the bedsheets, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping down around his head. And it didn’t take long for him to have you sobbing his name, hips stuttering against his face; Sanzu lapped up every drop of you like a starved man but he just couldn’t get enough.

Distantly, he could hear you pleading for him to hold on, to give you a second to recover but your words only went in one ear and out the other because he was far too lost in the taste of you. He groaned, sucking your clit hard again before pushing his tongue inside of you, almost whimpering when he felt your walls contract around it, spasming at the stimulation. Your hand reached down to tug at his hair and try to pull him away but it only spurred him on even more.

He moaned into you again, feeling your legs tense around his head, noting the way your body was twitching and jerking, the way your pleas for him to stop were quickly returning to high-pitch cries of his name. He fucked his tongue in and out of you faster, desperate to hear you scream his name, to feel you cum all over his tongue again.

And you did, god you did, screamed his name so loud that he was sure the Haitanis next door could hear you, body thrashing beneath him as he brought you to your second high so quickly, too quickly. He inhaled deeply through his nose, drinking up all of your release, not willing to let a single drop go to waste. His eyes flickered to the side, toward the mirror and Sanzu’s body shuddered when he caught sight of your slack jaw and half-rolled back eyes as you came down from your orgasm, body still twitching as he dragged his tongue between your folds. 

He pulled off of you, shifting up your body, kissing up your bare skin. He slid your top over your body, biting down on his bottom lip at the sight of your nippes hard through the thin cloth. Anger hit him again--you wore this for him. 

He forced it away, instead pulling your shirt off of you n letting out a shaky breath at the sight of you bare and fucked out beneath him, where you belonged, where you belonged, where you fuckin’ belonged.

He trailed his lips up your chest, flicking his tongue over your nipple before dragging it up to your neck, teeth grazing your skin, lips massaging bruises into your pretty skin. He groaned against your skin, grinding his clothed cock against your thigh before kissing up to your jaw, sucking behind your ear. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl, look at yourself, baby,” he murmured, nudging his nose against the side of your face before looking at you through the mirror, catching your glazed over eyes and swollen lips. He nearly moaned when your unfocused gaze met his through the reflection. “Want you to say it for me, babygirl.” 

“Huh?” he barely caught the confused noise that you let out and he turned his face back into your skin, pressing his lip against your cheek once, twice, three times.

“Prettiest girl in the whole world, wanna hear you say it, baby,” he told you and you only blinked, “S’okay, you don’t have to say it right now, but you will if you wanna cum again, alright?” 

Your brows furrowed, slowly registering his words as Sanzu worked at the buckle of his belt, not even bothering to pull it off fully before unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out, letting out a soft grunt of relief now that he wasn’t restrained in his slacks. 

“Cum… again?” you hesitated, and your voice sounded so weak and confused that it made him bite back another moan. So fuckin’ perfect, specially when you’re all fucked out pretty for him. “H-Haru, I-I dunno if I can cum again?” 

Sanzu only cooed at you, kissing all around your swollen lips, “Sure you can, baby, gonna fuck you so good, alright?” 

“H-Haru, I dunno, ‘s so sensitive-” you began again but Sanzu only silenced you by pressing his lips to yours, bringing one of his hands down to lazily pump his cock, parting your thighs with one of his knees. He pulled his lips from yours as he brought his tip to your pretty pussy, letting it rub against your clit and sink between your folds. He watched raptly as your entire body spasmed, head tilting back and jaw going slack again at the stimulation, “Haru, I-”

With one swift motion, Sanzu sunk himself deep into you, eyes knocking back at the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing his cock. “Fuck, fuck, baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight, made fuckin’ perfect for me, yeah?” 

You didn’t respond, only loud moans and whimpers meeting his ear as he grabbed one of your thighs, pressing the limp limb up against your chest so he could bully his cock even deeper into you.

You were, he gasped into your neck, forehead pressed against your skin as he tried to control himself, so fuckin’ perfect for him, made for him. You were fuckin’ made for him, he was the only one that could have you. The only fuckin’ one, he’d kill anyone else that tried.

“Say it, baby,” he drew his hips back and rolled them into yours, your body jerking beneath him, cunt contracting around his cock so tight that it nearly had him cumming on the spot, a low, broken moan slipped from his lips, “Fuck, fuck, careful, baby, don’t do that.”

You only let out a half sob, eyes dazed and unfocused, you tried to turn your head back to look at him but Sanzu only nudged his nose back against your face, making sure you were still looking in the mirror, “Look at yourself, baby, look how pretty you are, all for me, yeah?” 

Smeared makeup, tears streaming down your face, swollen lips and glassy eyes, Sanzu Haruchiyo knew you were the most beautiful fucking creature to walk this earth. And you were all fucking his. 

“Mm, a-all for you,” your words were practically a slur and it made him light-headed. All for him, all for him, all for him, he snapped his hips against yours, eyes rolling back at the way your walls desperately tried to suck him in.

So fuckin’ tight, his perfect fuckin’ pussy, “Prettiest girl in the whole world,” he gasped into your skin, picking up the pace of his hips, fingers bruising your thigh as he presses your leg harder into your chest, “Say it.” 

You sobbed and Sanzu’s mind went blank when he felt your walls clamp down around him, an obscene moan slipping from his lips as you came around his cock without warning, his hips stuttered and it took all of his self-control to stop himself from cumming with you.

“P-p-p-prettiest girl in the world!” you cried out, “‘m the prettiest girl in the world, your pretty girl, ‘m your pretty girl, Haru.”

“Yeah you are,” Sanzu groaned, “My pretty fuckin’ girl, nobody else can have you. Nobody else can make you feel s’fuckin’ good.”

“Nobody else can have me, ‘m all yours, only one that can make me feel good,” you babbled. “All yours, all yours.”

Sanzu let out another moan, “All fuckin’ mine,” he bit down on your skin, his free hand grabbing your other thigh and bringing it to the same position as the one already pressed to your chest, folding you in half so he could fuck himself deeper inside of you.

You laid limp beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly and lips parted and Sanzu almost cooed at the tears streaming down your face from the overstimulation and the drool pooling at the corner of your lips. His pretty baby, he thought as he leaned in, licking up the drool beginning to drip down the side of your cheek, fucking you faster, deeper, harder, his eyes nearly rolled back with every thrust.

He grunted as his grip tightened around your thighs, as you laid there, jaw slack and tits bouncing pretty with every snap of his hips--his pretty doll, his to use, his to fuckin’ ruin. 

You barely even made a sound other than another soft whimper when he felt your cunt spasm around him again, release squirting around his cock and staining his dark slacks and dress shirt and Sanzu’s entire body shook, a loud moan of your name spilling from his lips as he finished deep inside of you, vision flashing white and lips parting, breath hot and heavy against your neck.

You didn’t even react and Sanzu groaned as he pushed himself off of you, hissing as his cock slipped out of your cunt. He paused as he took in your slack expression, pretty baby couldn’t handle his cock, his chest swelled as leaned down to press a few kisses to your lips, blood running hot when you failed to react again. 

Fuck.

His eyes drifted down to the mess between your legs, looking down with lidded eyes as his cum seeped out of your wrecked cunt. Inhaling sharply, he gathered the cum that had leaked out with his fingers and pushed it back deep inside of you.

Can’t leave him if…

He swallowed thickly at the thought, eyes going dark but he pulled his fingers out from you after a few moments, intent on undressing and laying with you. He let out a breath as he rose to his feet, body still reeling from the intense orgasm. Unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it in the bin next to his closet, and then doing the same with his slacks. 

He paused as he caught sight of the rumpled pile of clothes on the floor near his bed, eyes narrowing in on the bloodstains.

Oops, he thought to himself, kicking the clothes beneath his bed and out of sight if you happened to wake up and wander around after he fell asleep. 

Slipping back into bed with you, shifting you around to help you under the bedsheets with him, you stirred for a moment, and Sanzu’s mouth went dry as you blinked up at him blearily, eyes droopy and exhaustion set in your features. “Missed you,” you repeated again before yawning and letting your eyes shut as you leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around you as you drifted off to sleep.

His eyes didn’t leave your sleeping form, unable to draw his gaze away from how you slept so soundly curled in his arms, face nuzzled to his chest, body half-slung on top of him. Your breath was steady and your expression was nothing short of peaceful, letting out soft hums as you occasionally tried to shift closer to him.

He loved you.

God, he loved you so much that it hurt, there was no one in the world that could compare, he knew it. He brought his fingers up to your hair, brushing a stray hair from your face and his chest felt warm when another content sigh left your lips, as if you knew even in your sleep it was his touch.

He had missed you and for a second, the anger almost returned. Because you had left him, you had left him when all he had ever done was try to love you and-

He let out a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, careful not to shift too much so he didn’t wake you up. 

It’s okay, he said to himself, it’s okay because you learned your lesson. 

He stroked your hair gently, watching the small smile on your lips with dark eyes. You knew better now--Sanzu was the only one that would be there for you when you needed it, the only one that loved you enough not to leave. Sanzu was your pillar and it was about time you finally realized it, even if it did take a little pushing on his part.

It wasn’t his fault though, really, he thought to himself as he wiped away your smeared makeup with his thumb. He had only made one little threat and your boyfriend--ex, he reminded himself gleefully--had rolled over immediately, finding a whore to bring to where he was supposed to bring you for your two-month anniversary date.

If he had really loved you, loved you like how Sanzu did, he would have chosen you no matter what else was at stake. Sanzu would have, and to him, it was just even more proof that the leech didn’t deserve you. He hadn’t expected it to turn out as well as it had, though. He had been planning on bumping into you over the next few days--a welcome, familiar face after your friends dropped you and your boyfriend cheated on you. 

It didn’t matter, Sanzu thought again, tilting his head down to press his lips to the top of your head, he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow anyway. 

Sanzu liked to think he was a man of his word, for the most part, anyway. And yes, he had promised to let the man’s parents and younger siblings live if found a way to ruin his relationship with you, but Sanzu made no such promises about his own life--no one got to hurt his girl and live to see the next day, he’s not the first and he most certainly won’t be the last to meet a brutal end for making that mistake. 

Not that you knew that of course.

And he smiled again, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head, sleeping blissfully unaware of the dark thoughts running through Sanzu’s head. 

You’d stay with him this time, he thought to himself, arms tightening around you as you shifted again in your sleep, he’d make sure of it, one way or another. 

---

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LITTLE DARK AGE

haitani ran x fem!reader x haitani rindou

summary: eight years later, you finally return to tokyo and find yourself caught in the middle of a violent gang war between the two most ruthless criminal organizations of tokyo’s underworld, forced to choose between blood and love.

genre: bonten timeskip, angst, forbidden romance, childhood friends -> strangers -> lovers, 18+ MDNI

warnings: fem!reader, gang violence, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, explicit smut, polyamory, profanity, MCD, unedited, MTBA

chapter warnings: disassociation, class discrimination, mentions of suicide and mass death

taglist closed — but if ur someone who actively reblogs n leaves feedback i might just find a spot for u

previous chapter -> masterlist -> next chapter

CHAPTER Ⅶ. AND YOU'LL NEVER BE PURE AGAIN

FOURTEEN YEARS EARLIER.

“Do we really have to go?” Rindou murmured, tugging at the ends of his suit jacket uncomfortably, glancing back at you. Your shoulders slumped as you fixed your dress in the mirror, a pout tugging at your lips.

“I mean, you don’t have to but I just don’t wanna go to this stupid event alone,” you said, giving both of the brothers a sullen look as they shared a look with one another. 

“Whether the boys go with you or not, you won’t be alone,” Miss Yua chided as she brushed your hair, “Don’t be dramatic, your uncle will be attending with you.”

“Uncle Ichirou will be off with Mister Sugawara the entire night, he’s not even driving there with us! He will not be with me, I’ll be off on my own dealing with the creepy Sugawara boys,” you said loudly and let out a sharp cry as Miss Yua smacked the top of your head with the brush, clicking her tongue. “What was that for! They are creepy! They’re always hanging around me and being touchy when I tell them not to, and they’re mean, they always call me names.”

“They what?” Ran asked, voice low, and you missed the dark look that he shared with Rindou as your eyes fluttered shut, letting Miss Yua finish up pinning your hair. 

“You heard me, Ran!” you said, turning around once Miss Yua let her hands drop from your head. “They’re just so awful, don’t make me go alone, please.”

You puffed your lip out, looking up at Ran, “Pretty please,” you asked, widening your eyes and letting your bottom lip tremble. Ran rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead hard, you let out a yelp, flinching back.

“Stop with that stupid face,” he muttered, you gaped at him.

“Ran, don’t be mean,” Rindou said and you straightened, pleased that he came to your defense, “She can’t help it, it’s her natural face.”

You gasped dramatically as Ran and Rindou burst into laughter, “Rindou!” you complained, shooting him a withering look, “you guys are the worst! At least my face isn’t as stupid as your hair!”

Ran only grinned at you, his hand falling from the top of your head to your shoulder, squeezing gently. You looked back up at him, eyes meeting his lavender ones and you almost smiled at the light look in his eyes, one that you still hadn’t gotten used to seeing over the past few months. 

“Don’t be dumb, ‘course we’ll come with you,” he murmured and a warm feeling settled in your chest as Ran looked down at you, hand lingering on your shoulder. You felt your face begin to heat up and you looked away.

“... I don’t actually think your hair is stupid,” you muttered, and Rindou snorted, nudging your shoulder.

“Yeah, we know that from how often you force us to sit down so you can brush it,” he said and you whipped toward him, scowling.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it! You’re practically sitting there half-asleep and drooling by the time I’m done, Rindou!” you said and Rindou gaped at you.

“I do not! Take that back!” 

“You do too!” 

Miss Yua clicked her tongue sharply and the two of you quieted down, turning to look at her. Her eyes were trained on you and Rindou gave you a severe side-eye as you tried to shift behind him to step out of her gaze.

“Go to Ayato,” Miss Yua pointed her long finger at you, flicking the air, “He will-”

“Miss Yua!” you complained, watching as she raised her eyebrows at the interruption, “I do not need to be lectured about behavior by Mister Ayato this time! If anything, Rindou and Ran should be going to see him! This is their first time at an event like this!”

“Way to throw us under the bus,” Rindou muttered and you giggled, he only glared at you from beneath his long bangs. 

“Go,” Miss Yua said, and it wasn’t up for argument so your shoulders dropped and you pouted, ignoring the way that Rindou snorted as you turned on your heel and walked away.

“How do the two of you even see under this mop of hair? And what is this dye-job?” you heard Miss Yua snap as you made your way down the hall toward Mister Ayato’s office, “Next week the two of you will be dragged to the stylist down the street whether you like it or not. Understood?”

Miss Yua’s voice became muffled as you turned down the hall, distantly hearing Rindou and Ran muttering their agreement before your eyes fell upon Mister Ayato fiddling with a hunting knife on his desk. He placed it down once he saw you approach, you eyed it curiously, never having seen it before, “What’s that from?” 

“My brother’s,” Mister Ayato said simply, walking around the desk to step toward you, “he gave it to me a few days before he passed away.”

You blinked, “You had a brother?” you asked quietly. A brother that passed away like… your throat felt swollen. It’s been a good amount of time since you’ve thought deeply about your parents and little sister, the Haitanis were always sure to keep your mind off of it but…

“I did, he was ten years older than me, died when I was in my early teens,” Mister Ayato said, and you stared at him, waiting for him to explain. He patted your head, “Gang violence.”

… but you’d never be able to forget the pain.

“Oh,” you said, “Like-“

“No,” he responded before you could finish, “Not like the boys’ little delinquent groups, actual gang violence.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking up as Mister Ayato sighed deeply, a strange look in his eyes.

“Look out for them tonight,” he said quietly and your brows furrowed in confusion, “This event is going to have a lot of dangerous people, don’t let them do anything that would put a target on their backs.”

You stared at him, “A target?”

Mister Ayato’s face twisted, as if he were trying to figure out how to explain, “You… you are in a unique position. Your uncle is a powerful man, amongst the people that will be at tonight’s event, you will be untouchable. The boys do not have that same luxury, do you understand? You will have to use your status to protect them.”

An ill-feeling settled in your stomach, “They might be in danger?” your voice wavered.

You knew your uncle was involved with shady stuff. You’ve known it since the week of the trial but you didn’t think… You weren’t thinking, why would you want to bring Rindou and Ran around these people? You were too focused on your distaste of the Sugawara boys, you weren’t thinking about others who might be attending the event.

Mister Ayato shook his head, “I didn’t say that. There’s no inherent danger in simply attending the event and I doubt that they change their minds now, just make sure they don’t do anything to bring unwelcome attention, and if they do…”

“If they do, I will take it off of them,” you said firmly, nodding your head, “I understand.”

Mister Ayato eyed you for a minute before letting out another heavy breath, “I wish that your uncle didn’t demand your presence at these events,” he murmured, “he should wait until you’re older.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Mister Ayato only waved you off, “Go, Akira will drive you and the boys to the event. Be sure to stay with them.”

You nodded, walking back toward the door, pausing before turning to look back at the older man over your shoulder, “Mister Ayato?” he raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue, “uncle Ichirou doesn’t really tell me what goes on at these events but I know it's more than just a party.”

It wasn’t a question but Mister Ayato looked perturbed, he wouldn’t meet your eye. You frowned.

“It’s not for you to worry about now,” Mister Ayato murmured and you opened your mouth to protest but Mister Ayato gave you a stern look, one that had you faltering, “Go, Akira is waiting.”

--

“Do not do anything rash at this event for whatever reason, do you understand?”

Rindou’s fists were clenched tight at his side as he watched a group of boys his and Ran’s age leer in your direction as you gleefully spoke to an older woman that Rindou didn’t recognize--it was hard to remember Miss Yua’s words as you shifted uncomfortably, bright smile temporarily fading as you met eyes with one of the boys. He and Ran lingered near you, silently snacking on some of the cheese and crackers that had been set up on a nearby table. 

They had been like this for twenty minutes now, standing back while you talked to the older woman, trying to ignore the unwelcome stares of the boys halfway across the room. Rindou didn’t have to ask to know they were the Sugawara boys that you had been bitching about before you all left the penthouse--they were the only other kids their age at the event, dressed in clothes that Ran and Rindou couldn’t have even dreamt of being in the vicinity of three years ago.

Rindou tugged uncomfortably at his own suit jacket, shifting on his feet. He hadn’t been able to adapt as well to the new lifestyle as Ran did--though that shouldn’t have been much of a surprise to him, everything came naturally easy to Ran and that included shifting from a survivalist lifestyle to a luxurious one. The new expensive clothes that you, and now Ran, donned like a second skin felt like a silly costume on him, one that he couldn’t quite get used to. 

“Should we do something?” Rindou asked, watching as another smile wavered on your face at a particularly loud comment. “She’s uncomfortable.”

Ran’s lips twitched down, eyes dark with irritation and a sort of helplessness that Rindou hated seeing on his brother’s face. 

“We can’t,” he said and Rindou’s jaw was tight as he forced his gaze away from Ran and back onto you, a feeling akin to relief sweeping through him when he noticed you bidding goodbye to the older woman and walking back toward them.

And Rindou felt warm when he noticed the smile on your face become wider and more genuine as you drew closer to them. 

“Rindou,” you said and Rindou gave you a questioning look, “Wanna dance with me?” 

Rindou’s face heated up immediately, eyes wide as he looked between you and the dancefloor, taking a step back. Next to him, Ran snorted and grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place before shoving him forward toward you, “Go on, don’t let the princess down.” 

Rindou stumbled forward into you, barely catching himself. He shot Ran a betrayed look but you had already grabbed his hand, “Ran, you’ll dance with me next?” you asked gleefully. Rindou watched as Ran winked at you.

“Of course,” he said, grinning, but Rindou knew from the look in his brother’s eyes that Ran would be long gone before the song was over. 

You didn’t give him the chance to protest, instead only dragging him toward the dance floor, smiling bright as you took his hands into yours. Rindou was sure his face was on fire and he didn’t know why--because it was just you. And I mean, yeah, Rindou didn’t really like entertaining conversation or hanging out with anybody but you or Ran--he wasn’t the most sociable or friendly but he’d never been one to get flustered and-

You moved closer to him, Rindou leaned back. You glared, Rindou looked away.

“I can’t dance with you if you’re holding me three feet away, Rindou!” you said.

And Rindou’s mouth was dry, eyes trained on the wall behind you instead of looking down at you and your pretty dress and your pretty face. Not pretty, Rindou thought viciously as you wrapped your arms loose around his neck, pointedly looking at the hands dangling at his side and he reluctantly placed his hands at your waist, letting you lead him in time with soft music because Rindou had no idea how to dance and you knew it, and he knew it, and Ran knew it from how amused he looked, and if Rindou had to bet, anyone that looked in your direction would be able to tell from how stiff he moved. 

“Why ya so tense?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips and Rindou scowled, pointedly looking away.

“I am not,” he said and he hated how petulant he sounded because you obviously noticed it from how you tried to smother a laugh. He couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed because your eyes were light and you were happy and Rindou supposed that he could deal with the ego blow if it made you laugh.

“You totally are,” you giggled, leaning in close, and Rindou’s eyes widened as he leaned back instantly.

“Why are you getting so close?” he asked, flustered, sure that his face was burning red. 

“Why are you getting so nervous?” you countered, and Rindou hated how you didn’t even look bothered at the proximity because he didn’t even know why he was thrown off by it--it’s not like this was the first time you’ve ever been this close to him so he wasn’t sure why it was affecting him like this. He hated it. 

He looked back in the direction of Ran, panicked, but the panic dissolved when he caught the strange expression on Ran’s face--Ran hadn’t even seemed to notice that Rindou was looking at him, despite the fact that Ran was staring at you and Rindou, and the grin that had been on Ran’s face had fallen into a more conflicted expression that Rindou couldn’t quite decipher, which was odd because Rindou could usually read Ran pretty easily. 

But Rindou didn’t get the chance to try to figure out what had changed because you were grabbing his arm to spin yourself beneath it and Rindou was focused on not making a fool of himself in front of all of your uncle’s rich friends and colleagues.

But you only laughed, a bright carefree laugh that had Rindou’s chest feeling light and tight at the same time, and Rindou couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as you finished spinning and leaned close to him, arms snug around his shoulders and smiling up at him before resting your head on his chest. 

And Rindou couldn’t breathe, his eyes were wide and his hands were almost trembling on your waist as you spoke, “I’m really glad you ‘n Ran came, Rin,” you said, and Rindou usually hated when people shortened his name but somehow when it was falling off of your lips, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. “It would have been dreadfully boring had I been alone ‘n I’m sure those dumb boys would have tried something by now, so thank you, I know this isn’t exactly your scene.”

Your scene, he thought to himself, glancing around at the gilded walls and antiques decorating the room, thousand-dollar paintings lining the walls. That’s putting it lightly.

“You don’t need to thank us,” he murmured, “We wouldn’t just leave you here.”

“Even so, I still want to thank you,” you smiled, looking up at him with such a sincere look in your eyes that it had Rindou tongue-tied, only able to nod in response.

“If I had known we were allowed to bring any old lowlife, I would’ve brought the whore that was eyeing me up on the way over here to make this shitty event less awful,” an unfamiliar voice said and Rindou stiffened, eyes darting over to where one of the boys--one with dark hair and darker eyes, was now standing much closer to where he was dancing with you, eyeing the two of you distastefully.

You didn’t pause in your movements, instead bringing Rindou’s arm up for another spin, “I am not surprised you’d have to stoop to whores for company, Sakuya, nobody would willingly spend time with you unless they were paid.”

Rindou choked on air and one of the boys standing near Sakuya snorted, trying to muffle it with his hand as Sakuya shot him a dirty look.

Rindou eyed the boy from the corner of his eye--Sugawara Sakuya, he recognized, you had warned him and Ran about him and his brothers on the way over. Sakuya was the oldest son--seventeen, a year older than Ran, three years older than you--and he was also the most vocal and aggressive when it came to tormenting and bothering you.

“Rich coming from the girl whose only friends are street rats that only stay around because they need shelter,” Sakuya said coldly and Rindou watched as your expression dropped and your feet faltered, a hurt look spreading across your face.

And Rindou’s ears rung, his blood ran hot and it took all of his self-control not to launch himself forward and rip Sakuya’s head off. Instead, his grip only tightened on you, shifting you behind him so he could step forward.

There’s five of them, five of them and one of him, and he has to protect you. He won’t win—maybe? How well trained are they? He didn’t know, you had mentioned that they were trained in some sort of martial arts but not how skilled. 

“What’s going on?” Rindou nearly relaxed at Ran’s familiar voice coming from behind the two of you, stepping in front of you and next to Rindou.

Okay, it’ll be fine. They wouldn’t beat him and Ran together.

“What? Are you gonna say I’m wrong?” Sakuya scoffed, stepping forward closer to Ran, and Rindou felt anxious when he noticed the dark look in Ran’s eyes, one that promised blood and violence if Sakuya continued. Dread pooled in Rindou’s gut as Sakuya started speaking again, “You think everyone here doesn’t know you’re using her for her money… or are you using her for something else too?”

Rindou’s mouth was dry at the connotation and he could barely even think over the blood roaring in his ears. This fucking-

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Rindou spit out as Ran’s hand twitched at his side, “You have no fuckin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

Sakuya’s eyes snapped toward Rindou, a combined look of disgust and fury twisted onto his face.

“Who do you think you are?” Sakuya said, voice low as he walked closer to Rindou. Rindou tensed, Ran’s fist tightened as he shifted you further behind the two of them as Sakuya drew closer. “You have some nerve even looking in our direction, much less speaking. Know your place.”

“Our place?” Ran asked, eyes aflame and Sakuya only scoffed.

“You can wear all the fancy shit you want but it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll always be street rats. You don’t belong here,” Sakuya spat and Rindou’s jaw clenched at the comment, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. Ran took a step forward, eyes dark, fist tight.

Fuck, this was going to get-

Rindou’s eyes widened when he felt you fling his hand off of your arm, pushing forward past him and Ran to stand chest to chest with Sakuya, “Bold coming from the son of a family that gets the majority of their money from my uncle. You would have nothing without us, you have some nerve coming to my family to talk about wealth, know your place.”

Murmurs broke out around the group of you but Rindou couldn’t focus on anything other than you—my family, you had said and the words bounced around in his head over and over again, my family, my family, my family.

Rindou bit the inside of his cheek, trying to calm himself down. He glanced at Ran, taking how his brother’s eyes were wide and trained on you.

Sakuya spluttered, “Excuse m-“

“You heard me,” you interrupted, “Get out of my sight, just looking at you makes me ill.”

Rindou gaped, Ran gaped, Sakuya gaped before fury washed over his face. He stepped forward, fist clenched but Ran and Rindou were there first, grabbing his wrists and holding him in place.

“I would listen to her,” Ran didn’t make any sort of explicit threat but the dark undertone was there—listen to her or we’ll make you.

But Sakuya didn’t look deterred—at least not until a new voice spoke up, “Sakuya, father told us not to antagonize the guests,” a new voice said and Rindou’s gaze darted behind the older boy to a younger one with dark hair and cold eyes that made Rindou feel distinctly uncomfortable.

“Kenji, mind your fuckin business,” Sakuya spit out but even as he said that, he ripped his arms from Ran and Rindou’s arms and stepped away, brushing at his sleeves. “Whatever, a pair of filthy street rats aren’t worth the trouble anyway—gonna catch something if we stay around them any longer.”

Rindou bristled but didn’t say anything as they walked away, not now, he reminded himself over and over and over again. He frowned when he caught sight of the younger boy, Kenji, eyeing you curiously before following after his brother.

You tugged at his and Ran’s wrist immediately and they followed along quietly, pulling them away from prying eyes and toward the stairs that led to the upper floor. You didn’t say anything until you opened the doors to the balcony. The cool night air hit him hard, washing the anger away as the distant sounds of the party became muted.

You leaned against the railing, looking up at the night sky instead of at them, Rindou’s feet moved on his own as he joined you at the railing, Ran lingered back. Rindou tried to shoot him a look but only got ignored. 

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, “They’re despicable. I should have said something sooner.”

“You shouldn’t have done that,” was all Ran said in response, “Gotten so nasty with them on our behalf, it could have-”

Rindou remembered Miss Yua’s warning, how their actions could have backlash on you, he felt sick.

You only rose your chin, “Don’t be silly, I’ll always defend you guys. I don’t care who it’s against!” you said firmly, and Rindou’s face was so hot that he swore he was on the verge of setting himself on fire. “Even Uncle Ichirou!” 

“Even who?” 

Rindou’s eyes widened at the sound of an unfamiliar male voice from behind the three of them, he watched as your mouth dropped open as you turned around to face the man that Rindou recognized from pictures as your uncle. You looked thrown off for a second before steeling your shoulders, “Even from you!” 

And Rindou tensed, waiting for your uncle to get angry but instead his expression only softened, if only barely, a fond look in his eyes as he looked down at you. 

“I hope they deserve your loyalty,” he murmured as if the two of them weren’t standing right there. Rindou shifted uncomfortably as your uncle’s gaze landed on him, a contemplative expression on his face. “I’ll speak to Sugawara about his boys. They were out of line approaching you as they did. Don’t stay up here too long, people will talk.”

Your shoulders slumped, “It’s stuffy in there and I hate all of them.”

Your uncle clicked his tongue, “Get used to it, this will be your life when you take over Izanagi from me,” he chided.

“I’m not taking over Izanagi!” you said firmly, “I’m going to make my own company and outdo yours, you’ll see!” 

Your uncle raised his eyebrows, an amused smile twitching at his lips before nodding, “Of course,” he said and you looked disgruntled at his tone but your uncle didn’t wait for another response, turning on his heel to walk back toward the event. 

You slumped as soon as he was out of sight, tossing a petulant look in the direction of where he disappeared to, “I will,” you muttered before letting out a loud, exhausted sigh, leaning back onto the railing and looking back up at the sky.  

For a few moments, none of you spoke, instead just basking in the silence of the night and the distant chatter of the party. It was peaceful--genuinely peaceful and Rindou didn’t often get to experience genuine peace like that so he shut his eyes and enjoyed it, letting out a soft breath at the feeling of the light breeze cooling his skin and running through his hair, your arm brushing against his. 

You broke the peace with a loud shout that startled him, his eyes flew open, watching as you pointed toward the sky, “Look! A shooting star! Make a wish, make a wish!” 

“Shooting stars are bullshit,” Ran said immediately.

“Make a wish!” you demanded and Rindou watched as you shut your eyes, looking up at the sky, a smile on your lips and your hands interlocked. His throat felt tight and he couldn’t tear his eyes off of you to make his own wish.

“What’d you guys wish for?” you asked after a moment and Rindou’s gaze darted back up when you reopened your eyes, looking at the sky.

“We can’t tell you, you idiot!” Ran said, “then it doesn’t come true,”

“I thought you said shooting stars are bullshit!” you accused, pointing at Ran and Ran spluttered, looking away.

Rindou took one last long look at your bright smile and Ran’s reddening face, a tight feeling on his throat as he looked back up at the sky, making his wish.

I don’t want this to end.

---

PRESENT.

You couldn’t breathe, it felt like your throat was stuffed with dust, your tongue was sandpaper. Your eyes were open and your vision was dark and blurry. 

Everything was silent.

What had happened?

You couldn’t move, something was on top of you, the lower half of your body was stuck—you couldn’t see and you couldn’t breathe and you couldn’t hear anything.

Something was wrong, you should hear something—you were at the auction, people were here and then-

And then what?

Your breath quickened, your throat burned. You couldn’t remember. Think, you told yourself, you had to th-

“Ah, shit! Takuya, I’m running late to the meeting, i-what do you mean you’re not at Suvala HQ? Who the fuck is there representing us? …. Damn it, Takuya, this looks so bad on us, we-“

“Y/n?” you looked up at the new voice, a smile pulling at your lips as you recognize the man standing in front of you.

“Hm? Oh! Hey, Takuya, I’ll talk to you when we get to the building, be there in 15, okay? … yeah, see you. Gunter! What’s up?”

You couldn’t see anything. Your eyes were opened, you knew they were opened so why? You craned your neck up, wincing at the pain, your heart was erratic in your chest. 

Your face was wet, you could feel something warm dripping down your forehead into your eyes—blood, you realized what had been obscuring your vision. You lifted an arm, gasping in pain as your entire body screamed and ached in protest. You wiped the blood from your face, cringing as it smeared across your skin.

You gagged at the thick scent of iron, of garlic—garlic, the explosion, Hanma, Hanma had thrown himself over you. And Rindou, Rindou was in there and Ran you didn’t know where Ran was.

You wiped more frantically, trying to blink away the spots and blood staining your vision. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, the remnants of the explosion—the smoke, the fire, it reeked, you couldn’t think over the smell it was consuming you just like it had-

“Shouldn’t you be at the meeting?” Gunter Krüger grinned at you, “Here, I grabbed an extra coffee for Felix, was gonna meet him and Adie at the office, you take it. Don’t tell him it was his though, yeah?”

You laughed, taking the coffee from him and a small sip, “Yeah, my uncle’s secretary held me up on the phone at the apartment. I’m running late, bad look, I know,” you told him, “Wanna walk with me over?”

“Yeah, let’s go, it’s a short walk. I can cover for you so it doesn’t look as bad,” Gunter offered as the two of you walked down the street toward the large glass building in the near distance, “Say that I needed help and it took longer than it should have.”

“Don’t tell Felix,” you winked, “but you’re definitely the better brother.”

Gunter burst into laughter, “You say that until Felix saves your ass from one of those board meetings again.”

“True,” you agreed, “This should be the last one though.”

Gunter glanced at you, interested, “The decision’s being made today?” he asked and your smile fell, knowing damn well that the decision being made was not in your favor.

“Yeah, the dec-” but you weren’t even able to finish your sentence, eyes wide and voice faltering as an explosion rocked the very ground you were standing on, sending you and Gunter both careening to the ground.

You had to get up. Your arms trembled as you tried to push yourself up off of the ground. You couldn’t push up, whatever was blocking the lower half of your body was too heavy for you to push off. Panic began to flood through you, the scent of blood got stronger, the air got thicker. You couldn’t breathe.

You lifted your head up, neck aching but you could make out figures--or not figures? You couldn’t tell. 

Not figures, you realized, grimacing at the debris scattered all over the auction hall, broken seats, remnants of the stage, the balcony near the stage. Your eyes darted around, mouth drying when you caught sight of Hanma Shuji laying unmoving several feet away, body half-covered with debris, evidently having been blown off of you during the blast.

You tried to call his name but it felt as if there were ashes stuffed down your throat, your chest felt tight when you noticed the blood pooling beneath him and you tried to push yourself to your feet again, arms shaking violently but you let out a sharp gasp as your body fell limp to the ground as you failed again.

Get up, you begged yourself, get up.

“Y/n, get up!” your ears were ringing and your eyes were wide, the pavement was cool against your cheek but the air was hot around you, uncomfortably so. What the fuck had happened? You could barely breathe, think, much less rise to your feet. 

But someone grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet, your eyes drifted behind you, falling on Gunter pulling you to your feet, “We gotta get out of here, t-the building, Suvala it-”

“There are people in there,” you gasped but you could barely hear yourself, looking around at the screaming pedestrians, at the familiar building collapsing in on itself in the near distance, “Felix and Adie, Gunter they’re in the building, we-”

You pulled away from him, stumbling forward to run toward Suvala Headquarters, eyes blurring and throat burning, the only thought circling through your head being to get to your friends.

The pressure was pulled off of you and your eyes widened, you tried to push yourself up but a gasp was ripped from your throat as a hand fisted your hair, yanking you to your feet. You winced, pain shooting through you, you could taste blood in your mouth and you could still barely see. 

Your vision was blurry and spotted as you tried to look around, figure out what was going on--the front half of the auction hall was decimated--the explosion came from below, the other side of the building probably. Hanma had mentioned the storeroom was over there--someone had rigged it to explode? The phosphorus? The phosphorus wasn’t even supposed to be in the building, so how-

Hanma, your eyes darted around, he had covered you, you had to-

The grip on your hair tightened, your eyes widened and your lips parted to let out a cry of pain but nothing came out. You felt nauseous as your head was yanked back, turning it to the side, and your eyes fell upon the bloody, scarred face of Sanzu Haruchiyo, pink hair matted to his forehead and cheeks, eyes wild. His lips were moving--he was speaking.

He was speaking?

You couldn’t hear him? 

Panic began to swell as your eyes widened, as you looked around--you couldn’t hear anything. You should hear something--screaming, the aftermath of the explosion, the building collapsing in—but it was all silent, your stomach dropped, your heart caved in.

Sanzu’s grip tightened on your hair, something sharp pressed against your neck and you gasped as you were forced back down onto your knees, grimacing as a sharp piece of wood dug into your calf, throat burning uncomfortably.

Your knees hit the ground hard, tearing holes into the cloth of your pants as Gunter crashed into you from behind, preventing you from getting any closer to the building. His hands curled around your bicep, holding you in place as you tried to scramble back to your feet.

“Gunter let me go! Let me go! Felix is fucking in there, Felix and Adie, we-”

“If you go in there, you’ll die,” he shouted but his words were barely registering, you couldn’t tear your eyes off of the building, over the billowing thick, white smoke that was expanding over the street and the sky about Suvala Headquarters, the fire that was spreading to nearby buildings, a park full of children. You tried to push him off, his grip tightened, “We have to get out of here.”

“Felix and Adie-”

“They’re dead,” Gunter roared, and you could hear his voice crack. His wife, his brother, they- “If the explosion didn’t kill them, the smoke and fire did--do you smell that?”

Sharp pungent, like garlic--you couldn’t breathe, you barely even think but you were able to recognize what it might mean. Phosphorus? There was no way-

“We need to get out of here--the fire’s just going to keep spreading, we can’t let that shit touch us,” Gunter was tugging you to your feet, dragging you away, and you watched--you couldn’t bring yourself to cooperate as you watched a group of teachers desperately try to evacuate a nearby elementary school, as civilians ran into the building and ultimately to their deaths trying to help.

The smoke was toxic, the fire was spreading faster than people could run-

The fire, your eyes darted around, the smoke was rising on the other side of the room, fire spreading. You had to get out of here.

You tried to tug at Sanzu Haruchiyo’s wrist, “Fire,” you tried to say but you couldn’t hear yourself, you didn’t know if he could hear you, you didn’t even know if the words were coming out correctly, “We have to get out of here, the fire-”

The grip on your hair tightened, shutting you up, you inhaled sharply as something sharp dug harder into your neck--a knife?

Your head felt fuzzy and you would have swayed were it not for Sanzu holding you up, your eyes drifted around, vision doubled and you caught sight of Hanma on his hands and knees, something puncturing his side, blood dribbling from his mouth and smeared across his face but he was alive and as much as the man might cause you discomfort, you were relieved because you were pretty sure he had saved your life.

He was saying something, you could see his lips moving but you couldn’t hear and you couldn’t quite make out the words through the movements of his lips. He was angry, spitting out words, gaze directed toward you and Sanzu. 

You couldn’t breathe, everything hurt--the people, there were so many people in the auction hall. You tried to look around but Sanzu yanked your head back again, you grit your teeth. Your lungs burned and you couldn’t-

-breathe. You couldn’t breathe. Gunter was dragging you by the wrist away from the building, People were slamming into you, desperate to get away, some were trying to run in the opposite direction, yelling for who you assumed were loved ones that were supposed to be in the area.

You felt sick, you couldn’t breathe, you could barely even think, the only thing that kept you going was the hand wrapped around your wrist. He was talking to you but you could barely hear him over the screams and the fire roaring and spreading in the distance. 

What had happened? Phosphorus, that had to be intentional, who would target Suvala? Y-

“I’ll handle it.”

You felt cold, which was strange because the heat of the explosion and the fire should have been overwhelming. There were more people--someone was helping Hanma to his feet and you could only barely recognize Mina. Relief swept through you like a tidal wave, he was okay. Your lips parted to say something but no words left your mouth.

There was someone on the ground next to them, Mina was holding him by the neck.

Kokonoi? You recognized, blood drenching his white hair--he was hit in the head during the explosion. His eyes were unfocused as they fell on you, dazed, blood dribbled from his nose and his lip was split. He had been punched too, you realized, eyeing Mina’s bruised fist.

You felt the knife that Sanzu had at your throat press deeper, Mina’s face twisted, he yelled something, his grip on Kokonoi’s throat tightened. 

A stand-off, you realized, catching sight of the man that had interrupted Ran and Rindou from interrogating you, Kakucho, looking between you and Sanzu and Mina and Kokonoi warily, as if unsure what to do. He held out a hand toward Sanzu, lips moving and you wanted to scream because you couldn’t hear and you didn’t know what they were saying or how you could help.

You could never help, everything that went wrong was always your fault. You never should have come back to Tokyo and-

“I never should have asked you for help!” you screamed at the phone that was laying on the ground of your apartment a few feet away, your uncle was silent on the other end. You pulled at your hair, sobs and dry heaves wracking your body, the news played in the background. “I didn’t mean like this, you know I didn’t mean this!”

“There is no risk of this being pointed back at you. It’s all under control.”

“That’s not what I’m fucking worried about!” 

Mina was shouting, his grip on Kokonoi’s throat was tightening. You could read his lips now but the words weren’t registering in your head--I’ll snap his fucking neck if you don’t let her go. 

“Investigations on the tragedy at Munich point toward a lack of continuity in safety inspections leading to a massive gas line leak.” 

Sanzu shook you violently, blood dribbled down your neck, the knife cut deeper into your skin.

“Nearly six thousand killed in the horrific gas pipe leak at the Suvala office in Munich.”

You had to get out of the auction hall, your hands were trembling, the floor creaked dangerously, the fire was spreading to the walls behind you and it was hot, it was so hot that you felt cold. If you stayed any longer, the smoke and the heat, it would cause irreparable damage. 

“Phosphorus munitions involved in the devastating incident at Munich? Eyewitnesses claim so! What isn’t the government telling us? Why are they trying to brush this off as a gas pipe leak?”

“Have to get out,” you gasped but you still couldn’t hear yourself and you felt sick, you brought a hand up to your ear, desperately trying to blink back the tears that formed when you felt the blood. “The smoke is toxic, the fire-”

“You will get on that stage and announce the merging of Suvala and Izanami. I do not care for your personal feelings on the matter, y/n. I gave you what you asked for, the means of how it happened is inconsequential now. Take advantage of the opportunity or be swallowed by those who will.”

Your body was snapped to the side, your vision went black, pain shot through your head, you reeled trying to figure out what had happened. Your head, Sanzu bashed your head into the debris of the chairs.

“In light of recent events, I, l/n y/n, founder and chief executive of Izanami Connect, will take it upon myself to step in for Chairman Krüger after the tragedy in Munich as previous negotiations dictated. As I move to bring the company under Izanami’s wing, I will take steps to ensure a disaster like this will never occur again. I swear to do right by all of the families affected by this tragedy.”

Your shoulder hit the ground hard, a gasp ripped from your chest, pain ricocheted through your body so intense that it had you blacking out for a second, vision spotty and head fuzzy. Your arms trembled as you tried to push yourself up only to crash back toward the ground. You turned your head to the side, still trying to figure out what was going on.

Your mouth dried as you caught sight of Rindou grabbing Sanzu by the collar, driving his fist into his face over and over and over again and your lips parted to call out for him, eyes blurring with tears because he was alive, he was fucking alive and that all that mattered because the last time-

“L/n-san, I’m so sorry for your loss. I know you were close to both of the Krüger brothers. Chairman Krüger in the explosion and now Gunter… It must be so hard.”

The last time none of them survived. 

Or, well. 

You supposed one actually did. You felt sick. Gunter is alive.

Kakucho rushed toward Rindou, trying to pull him off of Sanzu and someone grabbed your arm hard, yanking you back to your feet. You turned your head, eyes wide, but relaxed when you realized it was Mina, he was looking over you, speaking to you, but you couldn’t hear. You shook your head, trying to focus on his lips but you were seeing double, triple, you couldn’t focus.

Mina seemed to realize, instead only wrapping an arm around your waist to help steady you before motioning for Hanma to follow, fleeing the auction hall and you wanted to scream, tell Rindou to get the fuck out of there but you could barely breathe, your vision was going spotty again as Mina jostled you around, the pain becoming too much for your body to handle before it finally gave out on you.

--- 

You weren’t sure how long it took for you to come back to but your entire body ached and burned when you did. You grimaced at the light, wincing as you tried to push yourself up to figure out where the fuck you were. 

“Careful,” a familiar, gruff voice murmured, “You got fucked up back there, take it easy.”

“No shit,” you muttered, looking at Mina, wincing as your neck shrieked in pain in response to the movement, “Where are we?”

“A safe house,” a new voice said and your gaze drifted to the other side of you, where Hanma Shuji was laying on a bed, shirt rolled up as a middle-aged woman worked on stitching up a wound on his side. Amber eyes watched you curiously, “You’re already up.”

“No shit,” you repeated and Hanma snorted in amusement. “Where’s everybody else? Kawaragi? The guys she was with?”

Hanma looked away. Your eyes turned to Mina, whose lips were pressed together tight before he spoke, “Haven’t heard from her. Apparently, she was supposed to be where the bombs went off, doubt she made it out.”

Oh, something familiar and unwelcome squeezed at your chest. You pushed it away. Stop, you barely even knew her. 

“Bombs? Plural?” you narrowed in, trying to remember if there was more than one explosion but your mind was being torn to shreds and you couldn’t focus enough to remember. 

“Mm,” Mina agreed, “There were two explosions--a smaller one, which we assume was a grenade or something of the sort that set off the phosphorus munitions. Fucking lucky that the majority of it was being held in another warehouse otherwise we’d be melted right now.”

You felt ill. You opened your mouth to speak but paused when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye: Hanma waving away the nurse carelessly, teeth grit as he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shirt back down, “C’mon, Sugawara wanted to talk to us when you woke up.” 

Mina looked between you and Hanma, a protest on his lips but Hanma simply ignored him, holding a hand out toward you.

“Why?” you asked warily, dread pooling in your gut. 

Hanma shrugged, “Didn’t explain,” he said simply, glancing down at his hand pointedly. Reluctantly, you took his hand, letting him help you to your feet and hook an arm around your waist to help you walk steady.

Mina rose to his feet, eyes narrowed. A mocking smile curled to Hanma’s lips, “Relax, I’ll bring her right back,” he cooed and Mina’s eye twitched, he stepped forward.

You shook your head and he frowned but stepped back, the wary expression not leaving his face, “I’ll be back,” you told him as Hanma started moving toward the exit of the room, not giving Mina any time to respond. As the two of you walked down the tiled floors of the hall outside the room, a dry comment rose to your lips, “Thought Sugawara said he’d bet his life the weapons weren’t at the auction hall.”

The mocking smile on Hanma’s face shifted into a crueler one, a playful look in his eyes that you weren’t quite sure how you felt about, as he looked down at you, “Maybe we should hold him to that, yeah?” 

You forced yourself not to let your eyes widen at the statement as Hanma pulled you down another hall toward a large open room, letting go of you as soon as you got in sight of the others in the room. No showing weakness, you understood as he forced himself not to wince with every step--he had been leaning on you for help as much as he had been helping you, you realized with a frown.

You shook your head, focusing on keeping yourself steady instead of Hanma Shuji so you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of the other executives of Sugawara’s organization.

Your uncle was here, you noticed the grim look on his face and frowned. He refused to meet your eyes and an unsettling feeling took over--the woman from the meeting, Alyona, was standing next to him and on her other side, looking down at something you couldn’t quite see from where you were standing was Sugawara. 

He smiled bright when he saw you and Hanma, “Shuji, y/n, there you are! We’ve been waiting. I’m glad you’re okay, I heard the explosion was pretty bad.”

Pretty bad, your ears rung as you stared at him, certain that you must not have heard him correctly. Three-quarters of the people in that auction hall were probably killed. And he’s-

“It’s a shame it didn’t take out any of the Bonten executives though,” he frowned, and your eyes narrowed--how did he know that already? You glanced at Hanma but his expression was also tight and you could see the confusion spotting his eyes, “But! It’s not all bad news because we managed to get our hands on one of their executives anyway!” 

Tunneled. Your vision tunneled and the sound around you muted. 

Got our hands on one? But…

Your eyes drifted to the center of attention of the rest of the room, the figure tied on the ground, and at once, your entire world fell apart--the breath ripped from your lungs, the air around you became oppressive and suffocating, everything crumbled in a matter of seconds. 

Ran.

---

WORDCOUNT: 8K

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK VERY MUCH APPRECIATED !!

high enough | haitani r.

haitani ran x fem!reader

summary: ran didn't know why he kept coming back to you when he knew the risks involved--or he supposed he did, he just wasn't willing to confront it yet.

warnings: sub!reader, dom!ran, bonten timeline, unprotected sex, a bit of gentle manhandling, mentions of gang violence and wealth disparities, angst + hurt/comfort undertones (? kind of i guess)

notes: ty teepot n eris n (eventually) kat for betaing sobs @sakusins @kxeyas @sano-obsessed

y'all this piece might be the one im most proud of i s2g i actually love how it turned out

He didn’t know why he was here. The air was cold against his skin, bitter on his tongue and the sky was dark, the only thing illuminating the street around him was the distant, flickering street lamps. Sirens and gunshots resounded through the air--a few streets away, he pinpointed, too close to you.

He should move you out of this area, but as soon as the thought raced through his head, he felt distinctly uncomfortable. He shouldn’t care this much. He shouldn’t care at all, really. You were a nobody--a random girl he had met at a bar a few months back that he used to relieve the stress that being a Bonten executive weighed on him.

But if you were a nobody, then why did he keep coming back?

It was easy for him to rationalize if he ignored a few important points. Sleeping around put him more at risk in regards to dangerous situations--fuck around with the wrong person and he might just be ending the night with a bullet lodged in his skull or a knife cutting open his neck. Sticking to one person, at the very least, lowered those chances. 

But even as the thoughts ran through his head, he knew that it wasn’t so simple. Sticking with one person brought other risks--risks of leaking sensitive information, risks of enemies pinpointing a possible weakness. It brought vulnerabilities that he just wasn’t quite able to accept because it would ruin any possible rationalization he might have to come back to you so often.

A particularly loud gunshot caught his attention, narrowed eyes shifting down the street toward where it came from, fingers drifting to curl around the loaded gun holstered at his waist. You lived in one of the shittier parts of the city--an area caught in the crossfires of the brutal, ongoing gang war between Bonten and its rivals.

It was dangerous for him to be here, the logical part of his brain reminded himself. There were hits on his head with bounties that would put oligarchs to shame, coming to this part of town with no back up, no one knowing where he was, no plan in case things went wrong, it was as good as a death wish and yet he found himself at your doorstep every other night. 

He was playing a dangerous game, a game of Russian roulette that he knew would end with him losing but he couldn’t bring himself to stop pulling the trigger. 

Go back to the apartment, he told himself but even as the thought raced through him he was pulling the trigger yet again--fist rising to knock heavily on your door. 

It was late--well past two in the morning but you were a night owl, you were usually up til the sun rose and slept well into the afternoon. And a part of him wondered if he had any hand in your odd sleeping schedule, he was sure that it hadn’t been this fucked before the two of you met but the thought conjured a warm feeling in his chest that he wasn’t willing to try to decipher. 

He waited a few moments before his chest began to curl anxiously. 

Why weren’t you answering?

His nails dug into his palm as he considered what to do--knock again? leave? 

He brought his fist back up against the door, knuckles rapping hard and rapidly against the wood. A series of worst case scenarios began to flood his mind--what if they realized what you were to him? 

You weren’t anything to him, he tried to argue back immediately but the sinking feeling in his chest was proof enough that you did mean something to him. 

His throat felt like it was closing up, the air around him becoming heavy, suffocating, he couldn’t breathe--images of you limp and bloody on the other side of the door flashing through his head, tied up and scared, wounded and unable to move, dead. He ignored the way his hands shook as he took a step back, preparing to kick in the door himself just so he could make sure you were alright.

But he didn’t have to. Just as he was about to drive his foot into the door, it unlocked from the other side and a numbing sense of relief swept through him as his eyes fell upon you standing in the doorframe, eyes sleepy and confused and trained on him. 

He could breathe again. 

Another blank.

Your nightgown hung off your shoulders as you brought a hand up to rub at your left eye, a yawn slipping past your lips, “Ran,” you murmured, “I didn’t think you were coming tonight, I would’ve stayed up. ‘m sorry. How long were you waiting?”

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” his voice was colder than he intended for it to be and he hated the way your lips tugged down, and he hated himself for being this way, “I can go.”

“No,” you reached out, your smaller hand grabbing his and he stiffened instantly. Your hand dropped back to your side when you noticed his reaction, “Come in, it’s late, you looked exhausted.”

Ran opened his mouth to protest but didn’t get the chance, “Please,” you said quietly and Ran faltered, eyes unable to meet yours.

It’s late, whatever is going on down the street is getting closer--it isn’t smart for him to be wandering around in this area with the Bonten tattoo branding his throat, he rationalized as he stepped into your home. 

“You need to be more careful,” Ran said as you shut the door behind him, relocking the door with a flimsy chain that even Kokonoi Hajime would be able to kick down if he wanted to. He would have to get it replaced with a stronger one. “What if it wasn’t me behind that door?” 

Your lips pulled up into a soft smile that did something to his heart that he did not like. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, “I’m not one to linger on ‘what ifs’,” you told him. Ran looked down at the floor, unsure of how you could live so carefree in such a dangerous area. “You should go change out of that, I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

You didn’t wait for a response, walking in the opposite direction. He only stared after you for a moment, lips turned down, eyes heavy as you disappeared from sight. And Ran tried to pretend that he didn’t know the way through your home like the back of his hand, despite the confusing twists and turns of your hallways, ones that most people would end up getting lost in. He tried to pretend he didn’t recognize every little ding in the wall, every little stain in the wallpaper; he tried to pretend that he didn’t know which floorboards to step over, the ones that were worn out due to storms and the passage of time that you couldn’t quite afford to get redone. 

His shoulders were tense and stiff as he pushed open the door to your bedroom and he still continued to pretend--he pretended that the clothes tucked away in one of your drawers weren’t ones that he had ended up leaving during one of his nights staying over, ones you washed and cleaned despite the fact that you could barely afford detergent and your washing machine was on its last legs, even if it meant taking out some of your own clothes to tuck his away safely in your dresser. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, purple and black strands falling loose around his face. He let out a heavy breath, chest tight as he unbuttoned the red-stained shirt and tossed into the bin next to your dresser--casually, too casually, like he would in his own apartment. 

He felt ill. 

His eyes caught the cracked mirror resting against the wall by your dresser and his lips twisted even further down when he noticed the bruises lining the left side of his body—almost hidden, but not quite, by the dark tattoos decorating his skin. 

You would notice, you always did.

He hesitated as he reached for one of the cloth undershirts of his that you had stored in your dresser, an uncomfortable feeling stirring in his chest. What was he doing? He shouldn’t be doing this. 

He shouldn’t be doing this.

But it was addicting, you were addicting, you brought him a type of high that no amount of drugs or alcohol could hope to give him and he couldn’t bring himself to give it up, give you up. Even if he did know deep down it would be for the best; even if he knew it could get him killed, get you killed. 

A shattering of glass, a shriek, the trigger was pulled again, this time by his invisible opponent. 

Ran was moving in an instant, tearing out of your room without a second to waste. His shoes slammed against the floorboards, his lungs burned, his eyes were wide and he felt the world collapsing around him. Ran was fast, he knew that, he’d always been the fastest in whatever gang he was in--Tenjiku, Rokuhara Tandai, Kanto Manji, Bonten, no one could ever keep up with him--but in that moment he swore that time must have been against him, his feet felt like they were dragging against the floor, sinking in quicksand, it was like he was trying to run through waist-deep water and the tide kept pulling him back, preventing him from getting to you. 

His heart was in his throat as he turned the corner into the kitchen, gun in hand--he hadn’t even noticed he had pulled it from where it had been strapped to his waist. 

His heart was beating in his chest so loud that he was sure you could hear it, his eyes were wild as his gaze darted around, trying to figure out what had happened until his gaze fell upon you on the floor, eyes wide and trained on the gun in his hands.

You were on your hands and knees, glass shattered beneath you that you were trying to pick up with your bare hands, water pooling below you. His heart rate slowly calmed down once he realized what had happened--you dropped the glass. The raised gun fell to his side, his shoulders relaxed.

He could breathe again.

Another blank. 

You gave him a small, apologetic smile, “‘m sorry,” you said again, and he hated when you apologized--especially to him, “the glass slipped.”

You were unbothered by the gun in his hand, relaxed even, and Ran wondered if that had to do with the fact that you were used to guns and violence considering the part of the city you lived in. Or was it that you just trusted him that much? The latter thought made that warm feeling in his chest return. He pushed it away. 

He couldn’t move as he watched you clean up the glass, his feet were glued to the floor, holding him in place even as his mind told him to move forward and help you so you don’t end up cutting your hands. 

He didn’t understand you. He wasn’t sure if he ever would. He didn’t know why you kept willingly letting him into your home. You knew who he was, what he did--you had to, even if he had never explicitly told you. Everybody knew what the tattoo branding his throat meant, and the area you lived in leaned heavily toward Bonten’s enemies and they had received plenty of intel that their rivals were using civilians as their eyes and ears to keep an eye on Bonten’s movements without risking their own men. 

You knew who he was, what he did, you knew the risks that came with associating with him and yet every night he found himself at your doorstep, you opened your home, your arms, your bed for him. You took him, you gave him something to look forward to after long grueling days of blood and pain instead of drowning himself in drugs and alcohol trying and failing to forget old memories and what he had turned into, what he had dragged Rindou into. 

It had never been enough, no matter what he took, no matter how much he drank, the memories haunted him, fear consumed him--fear of what could happen to him, to his few remaining friends, to Rindou. 

It had never been enough--not until he met you at least, and all thoughts of trying to deny how much you meant to him disappeared as he watched you chat easily about your day at work. Your words went in one ear and out the other as his mind raced. You had become important to him quickly, too important, too quick. You had become the light to his darkness, your home a sort of sanctuary that he had never had experienced until he met you. 

You were good to him--too good. Sometimes he wondered if he was ruining you, a poison that was slowly eating away at your health, an acid corroding your happiness, your stability, your future; and sometimes he wondered if this was just a cruel, elaborate ploy from his enemies, showing him what love was like and then ripping it away.

His world stilled, his vision tunneled onto you.  

Showing him what?

Anxiety began to twist in his stomach, curl through his limbs, ice cold fear began to spread through his body and that familiar fight or flight feeling took hold as his breath quickened. Every instinct told him to run, protect himself--weakness, vulnerabilities, they weren’t allowed in his line of work. Every weakness brought disaster, every vulnerability brought death. He had seen it time and time again with friends and enemies alike. 

You’ll get yourself killed, you’ll get her killed, and he was about to turn on his heel--flee your home in an effort to protect himself and the one thing that might bring him genuine happiness--but then you looked at him as you stood from the floor, tossing the shattered glass into the garbage can, and you smiled, and Ran was selfish. God, he was so fucking selfish because instead of turning on his heel and leaving--making the choice that ensure you weren’t targetted by his enemies in attempts to get to him--he moved forward.

You let out a soft hum of surprise as Ran brought his hands to your face, large palms cupping your cheeks, fingers tracing your skin, toying with your hair and you inhaled sharply when he pressed his lips to yours, gently at first, his lips moving slow in time with yours, a special dance that only the two of you knew.

He knew that it was wrong, that he was risking your safety for his own selfish desires, but Ran couldn’t stop himself. He tilted your head up, one hand sliding behind your head, fingers entangled with your hair to hold you impossibly closer, and he could feel your fingers trembling from where they were wrapped around his forearms, he could feel the way your eyes fluttered shut as you relaxed into his touch.

And Ran thought it was sickening how you could be so at ease with someone like him, so willing to give into him, so happy to give into him. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t deserve you, he was selfish and inherently cruel and he was undeserving of your love when there were so many better men out there that could treat you better than he could, give you the stability and safety that you deserved.

But unfortunately for them, and unfortunately for you, Haitani Ran was not a good man--a good man would have let you go so that you could make the best of your life, would have given you the means to get out of this shitty area so you could live a life free of crime and danger. But Ran was not a good man, and instead of pushing you away like he should, his grip tightened. 

His hands slid down your body, wrapping around your thighs to lift you and you gasped into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist and arms circling his shoulders. You pulled back slightly, lips parting to speak but Ran didn’t give you the chance, leaning in again to capture your lips with his, tongue tracing the inside of your bottom lip. 

He knew you were probably confused, he could practically predict the question on your tongue--Ran had never been one to display affection like this, the most he kissed you was when he was half-drunk on your pussy and not thinking straight, and he didn’t want to answer the question you were bound to ask. He wasn’t ready to verbally admit the conclusion he had come to--verbally admitting it made it real, and Ran wasn’t ready to face the consequences of it being real. 

And it was unfair to you, he knew it was. He kept you in limbo, wondering each night if he would show up, wondering what you really meant to him, and you deserved better than that, better than him. 

His grip tightened on your thighs and you let out a soft moan into his mouth, your arms fell from around his shoulders, delicate hands coming up to his cheeks instead. Ran’s eyes slid shut as your fingers traced his cheekbones, nails drawing gentle patterns on his skin. And you always did this and he was quite sure he would never be used to it. His breath shuddered against your lips and he tried to hide it by kissing you deeper, his tongue running against yours, tasting the mint on your breath. You had always touched him softly, from the first night up until now, and it was another thing he would never understand because Ran was rarely ever gentle with you--he tried, he swore he tried but soft touches to your skin would always turn into bruising, borderline painful grips as he desperately tried to fuck away the pain and fear and stress that laid so heavy on his shoulders. 

But it didn’t matter how many unintentional bruises he left on your hips and thighs, ones that caused his chest to swell up with guilt when he woke up before you the next morning to slip out before you could try to convince him to stay, you would always cup his face gently the next time you saw him, tracing your fingers over his scars and tattoos, showing him a type of tenderness that he had never experienced in his entire life before you.

His throat felt tight as the slow kiss began to shift into a far more needy one, his teeth nearly clashing with yours as he leaned in closer, stepping from around the kitchen counter to lead you down the narrow halls toward your room. And yeah, he had to admit that it was harder to pretend that he didn’t know all of the little nooks and crannies of your home when he kept his lips pressed to yours, not even bothering to look where he was walking as he brought you back to your room.

“Ran,” you gasped against his lips, “What’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, Ran pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck, making your words melt into soft moans next to his ear as his teeth grazed your skin and his lips massaged bruises on your neck. Ran let out a groan into your skin as one of your hands slid behind his head, intertwining with his hair, nails scratching his scalp as he laid you back on your bed.

And it was crazy, really--your bed creaked underneath the two of you, the mattress dipped, and he knew his bed back at his own apartment was objectively exponentially more comfortable than yours but he had never felt more at home, never slept better than when he was laid up with you in yours.

He dragged his lips back up your skin to your lips, arms braced on either side of your head, body heavy on top of yours. Your legs tightened around his waist and Ran bit back another groan as he rolled his hips against yours, feeling you whimper against his lips.

He carried his weight on one arm as he brought his other down between your bodies, and then between your thighs to slide your panties off. He smiled against your lips when he wasn’t met with the pretty silk panties he was used to. 

“Thought you weren’t expecting me to show up?” he murmured against your lips and you giggled, eyes bright as you looked at him and the warm feeling in his chest grew and he couldn't even bring himself to push it away this time.

“I was still hopin’ you would,” you said, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips that had him dizzy and reeling. His throat was tight as your lips left his, head falling back against the pillow and he couldn’t stop himself from chasing your lips, pressing them hard against yours with a type of desperation that he didn’t know he had in him.

As if you could sense the turmoil within him, which you probably could if he were being honest, you matched his intensity. Lips slipping against his messily, hands sliding across his shoulders, smoothing out over his skin, tracing his tattoos and making his body shudder, and Ran fumbled to undo his button and unzip his slacks, brows furrowing in frustration.

A curse slipped from his lips as he failed to undo the button again, but he paused as he felt your hands cup his cheeks, lifting his face to force him to look at you.

“Relax,” you said quietly, voice smooth and gentle and at once, all of his frustrations seemed to fade away, “There’s no rush, we’ve got all the time in the world, Ran.”

Ran’s breath was shaky as your hands drifted down his body, undoing the buttons with ease and he let out a moan as your fingers slid up and down his cock, hips bucking into your hand as you freed him from his pants. 

There were a million words on his lips—telling you that you didn’t have all the time in the world, that there were so many risks, so many dangers, that he was sorry for dragging you into this life and that he was sorry for not being a good enough man to let you go. 

But nothing left his lips—he did not voice his fears, he did not apologize, instead he kissed you more intensely, holding the side of your face hard, hoping to convey all that he couldn't speak aloud through his actions.

Your fingers wrapped around his cock gently, languid strokes that had him gasping against your lips, eyes fluttering shut. 

He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging it, and his eyes slid back open, meeting yours, questioning.

You gave him a small smile, and it was all of the answer he needed. He reached down with one hand, a large hand wrapping around your thigh and lifting it, pressing it up against your chest and hooking your leg around his shoulder and then repeating the process with your other leg. 

His jaw clenched as the tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, slipping against the slick and sliding between your folds. He bit back a low groan as you gasped but couldn’t hold back the moan that fell from his lips as he began to push his cock into you at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your legs were trembling on either side of his head, chest heaving and your nails were digging into his bicep as you tried to control yourself but the fluttering of your walls gave you away. Heavy pants escaped your lips as he bottomed out into you—walls contracting and squeezing him so good that it nearly had him whimpering.

And he watched as you braced yourself for the hard, heavy thrusts you were used to—the ones that would knock your breath out of your lungs and have you dumb and drooling into the mattress by the time he was done with you; that would have him out of breath and sweating, thighs tense and shaking as he emptied his load into you for the third or fourth time of the night.

But this time was different—slow, deep strokes that had your jaw slack and eyes half-rolled back. He could feel every inch of your walls as your cunt tightened and fluttered around his cock. Each roll of his hips had your thighs twitching and trembling and your toes curling as Ran let out shaky breath while he turned his head to the side, pressing his lips against your ankle as he continued the steady pace.

Each drag of his cock against your walls had his arms tensing and flexing on either side of your head, shaky groans that he couldn’t quite hold back spilling from his lips as your cunt clung to him like a lifeline—wrapped around his cock so tight that each slow roll of his hips had his eyes knocking back.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped into your skin as he buried his face into your neck again, “Feel so good.”

And you were letting out barely intelligible babbles, begging him to fuck you faster, harder, but Ran couldn’t bring himself to do it—the new pace unlocking something primal within him, a warm unfamiliar feeling that had heat pooling in his lower stomach and spreading across his body like a wildfire.

He forced himself to pull his face from the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against yours again, and he inhaled sharply through his nose as your babbles for more shifted into high pitched whines and desperate moans. 

His lips brushed yours, breath mingling and creating a dizzying sensation that had him light headed. His eyes traced your face, hips stilling against yours as he watched your eyes water, glassy and unfocused and barely trained on his face, lips wet and swollen. 

You were beautiful—you were always beautiful but right now….

He brought one hand to cup the side of your face, watching as you instinctually leaned into his touch, eyes lidded and glossy, filled with a sort of intense love and trust that had never been directed toward him his entire life. You looked at him as if he weren’t Haitani Ran, a wanted criminal, a gang executive, a murderer and a liar and a coward.

Or maybe you looked at him like that because he was Haitani Ran.  

His throat felt tight, his heart felt heavy.

“I love you,” he breathed out before he could stop himself and he watched as your eyes widened, if only slightly, but he didn’t give you the chance to let his words register, instead leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips as he began to rock his hips into you again.

He fucked himself deep, deep into you—as if he couldn’t get close enough—his slow place gradually shifting into a faster one. Your walls clung to his cock and he was letting out low groans into your mouth as he felt your cunt spasm around him.

You were close, he could feel it in the way your hips were rolling up to meet his, he could hear it in the way your moans were becoming breathy as your voice shook, in how your arms were wrapping tight around his shoulders, trying to hold him as close as possible.

“‘m gunna cum,” you sobbed against his lips, “‘m gonna cum, Ran, I-“

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence, one particularly sharp thrust of his hips had your jaw going slack and your eyes rolling back, body spasming beneath his. Ran let out a low groan, lips pressed to your jaw as the feeling of your walls contracting tight around him pushed him right over the edge—mind hot and fuzzy as he spilled his cum deep inside of you.

He panted against your skin, body heavy on top of yours as you went limp beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly as you tried to recover from your high.

Ran let out a hiss as he let his cock slip out of you, rolling onto his back to pull you onto his chest. Your eyes were tired and droopy as you looked up at him and Ran let out a soft hum, bringing one hand up to cup your head as the other traced patterns on your skin.

“Ran…” your voice was soft, shaky, you still sounded half out of it but there was a question in your eyes that made him anxious.

“Go to sleep,” he murmured.

“Will you be here when I wake up this time?” your eyes were sad, your lips wobbled, and Ran’s heart was in his throat as he looked down at you.

The words spilled from his lips before he could consider what they meant, “I will.”

And he supposed the relief and adoration on your face was worth the fact that he would have to confront questions that even just the thought of made him sick and fearful. But you rested your head back down against his chest, eyes fluttering shut and breath evening out and Ran knew he wouldn’t have the heart to go back on his word—not with you.

He toyed with your hair as you slept soundly on his chest, his own eyes slowly drooping shut as exhaustion took hold. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the top of your head once before letting his head drop back against the pillow, and as he slowly allowed himself to drift off to sleep to the sound of gunshots and shouting in the distance, he couldn’t help but wonder how many blanks were left.

—-

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⊱ a midsummer night's dream ; madarame shion x fem!reader

warnings: explicit, 18+, dark content, somnophilia, public sex, exhibitionism, fingering, alcohol consumption, oral (f!receiving), creampie, petnames (princess, baby)

summary: finding you asleep and in his arms after a long day of drinking on the beach, shion just cant wait to take advantage wc: 1.4k

a/n: my entry for @meowdarame's summer of love collab

18 + // MINORS DNI // DARK CONTENT

“Princess… you awake?” It was late, the sky was dark, but the beach you had fallen asleep on was bathed in the pale light from the full moon. The calming sound of the waves crashing into the shore along with the amount of margaritas you had been drinking in the heat all day had you in a deep sleep. Shion, on the other hand, was still wide awake. The beach had emptied out hours ago and your drunken giggles had died down shortly after. As soon as your head had hit Shion’s chest you were out, the sound of his heartbeat filled the gaps in the crashing of waves, sending you deep into the comfort of sleep.

“You really asleep?” Shion’s voice was low, quiet, but he pushed into your arm gently, seeing if he could make you stir. Fortunately for him, you really were in as deep a sleep as he had hoped you were. He smiled as he caressed your cheek - he loved watching you sleep, he loved seeing the way your chest would rise and fall. He loved it when you mumbled, he liked to imagine what you were dreaming of and loved pretending it was him. Especially when those mumbles were more like whines than words. When those mumbles you made were closer to the cute noises you made when he was stretching you with his thick cock than the cute mumbles of his sleeping girlfriend.

With a delicacy that was seemingly uncharacteristic of Shion, he slowly moved you off of his chest and laid you down on the blanket next to him. He tilted his head and brushed his unruly blond hair out of his face. “Sure you’re not fakin’ it?” He waited a little longer for your response than he had wanted to, his eyes lingered too long on the way your pretty mouth parted. He slid a finger ever so gently in between your lips. He didn’t try to hide the stupid smile that crossed his face when he dipped his finger a little further into your mouth without even the slightest reaction from you.

“No, baby, guess you aren’t fakin' at all.”

Shion took another glance around the beach, making sure you two were as alone as he needed you to be. A few people off in the distance, their laughs reached you, but were almost completely muffled by the sounds of the sea. The lights in the houses that dotted the street had long since gone out. 

“You look so pretty today, baby. Ya know that?” He dragged his hand down from your lips, to your chest, the pink bikini he had helped you pick out before your trip was barely covering you, and, as he had planned, was easily pushed to the side. He twirled his finger, still wet from your lips, around your exposed nipple. The little noise that left your mouth went straight to his cock. He wanted to play with you as long as he could, but the longer Shion kept his eyes on you, the longer he twirled your nipple in his fingers, the more he found it harder and harder to just play.

“Guess you really did have too much to drink, baby.” He took another quick look around, only to be met with the same group that was just a little too far away to visibly make out; soon, his calloused hands spread your legs. He slowly slid your shorts off, and he pressed his hand against the heat of your pussy, pressing the fabric of your bikini bottom into you. Another gasp left your lips and Shion groaned in response. “Fuck baby, you sure you ain’t awake?” He ran his finger up and down, circling you your clit, applying a little more pressure with every movement. “Think I can get a lil taste?” He spoke louder than before, laughing at himself. “Think I can taste this pretty little pussy of yours baby? Bet she tastes real good.” He pushed your bathing suit over to the side, revealing your soaked cunt, strings of arousal clinging to the fabric. “Bet you taste as pretty as you look.” He spread your lips softly, admiring the way your cunt shimmered in the moonlight, the way your puffy clit looked, just begging to be sucked on, he was sure of it. He swiped his thumb through his own lips, coating it in saliva, and rubbed at the swollen bundle of nerves. Your body twitched, but your breathing remains steady, as steady as it had the whole time. He took a hesitant lick, just barely touching you. After receiving no response, he went in for another, this time longer, tasting your sweet cunt a little more. He pulled away and licked his lips, looking up at your peaceful body. “Ok ok, if you insist, princess.” He wrapped his lips around your clit and swirled his tongue in patterns, gently sucking. He was quickly palming his cock through his bathing suit, he was throbbing, dying to shove himself into you, but he just needed to taste you a little more. He kept saying it over and over in his head, just a little more– he wanted to feel your clit twitching under his tongue as he made you cum in your sleep. Much to his surprise he quickly brought your sleeping body to climax, your pussy clenching around the finger he had slid into you, your clit twitching in his mouth. He groaned at the sensation, thankful he had stopped stroking his cock. “Fuck baby, almost made me make a mess in my swim trunks.” He made quick work of the tiny strings that held your bottoms together. Then moved up your body slowly, hovering just above you, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your breaths had slowly fallen back to normal.

“Almost wish you were awake.” He pressed hips lips to your neck softly, every second he risked waking you. Any movement might be the one to disturb you and it was the last thing he wanted. “But you just look too pretty when you sleep, princess. Just too pretty.”

His cock was quickly out of his shorts and pressed against your entrance. He knew how slowly he had to go to even have a shot at not waking you. His fat cock, pushing centimeter by centimeter, into your still dripping pussy, still twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Shion couldn’t believe how well he held himself together, taking it as slow as he could, no matter how badly his cock throbbed, how much his own body twitched, he just couldn’t wake you. He stifled his groan when his hips finally met yours, seemingly hours after he had first started to sink into your tight cunt. 

“Should let you get this drunk more often, baby, takin’ me so good.” Perhaps he said it too loudly, but the only reaction from you was a shift of your body and a tilt of your head. “Gonna start moving now, baby. Think you can take it, I know how hard it is when you’re awake.” He started moving slowly, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in. “S’fuckin tight baby, fuck.” His head dropped down as he picked up speed, his hair falling in his eyes, sticking to his damp skin. “S’good princess. Being s’good for me.” A few more deep thrusts and he was biting his lip hard, holding back his groans as his body started trembling, filling your sleeping body to the brim. 

He hovered above you a little longer, letting his breathing even out, watching the way your eyes moved slightly under your lids. “Wonder what you’re dreaming about, baby. Can’t be nearly as good as this.” 

He quickly had you back to your original state, bikini tied back on and in the right place, shorts back where they had started. 

Shion had finally fallen back down next to you as you started to somehow finally wake. “Shion?” Your eyes fluttered open. “Shion, it’s chilly.” 

“Shh baby, let’s get you home. Nice and warm in bed.” He ran a finger down your cheek. “I’ll carry you to the car and everything.” You nodded, still half lost in sleep, as Shion lifted you.

“Thank you, baby.” You pressed a kiss to his bare chest as you snuggled your head against him and let yourself fall back to sleep. All Shion could do was smile and wave to the group of people that had somehow drifted down the beach just a little too close to the two of you.