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Chapter 1: OLD

Word count: 4.8k

Character(s): Goro Majima, Arika Namikawa (OC)

Story Summary

Goro Majima has been a slave to Sagawa for longer than he cared to admit in an attempt to buy his way back into the fold, to no avail. The bastard was never a man of his word but that doesn't discourage Majima from working his ass off until he gets what he wants. Until then, he has been cautiously navigating a civvy life that has kept him sane for the last year and a half by making life in Sotenbori feel a little less bleak and lonely. It's not until a brutal incident occurs that incites a chain of events that disrupts the false sense of peace he'd once sought solace in.

This forces him and the woman that he loves, Arika Namikawa, to become brutally honest with one another about the secrets they've kept throughout the course of their relationship. From there, they must decide whether or not the skeletons in the other's closet are too much to stomach and if not, where do they go from there?

See disclaimers and warnings here or blog description. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

Before you begin, please note that this is a full rewrite from the test chapters posted a couple of years back. Also, the canon story takes place in 88, but this fic begins in 89. Not many of the canon y0 events have happened yet or will never happen at all.

Spring ‘89

Fssssssss.

This was the first taste of tobacco he was able to allow himself since before coming in today. Gratifying wasn’t even the word. Since The Grand was dropped into his lap, Majima had come to depend on his smokes more than he ever depended on anything in his life. He couldn’t help himself. The buzz helped him coast through the day. He leaned on the roof’s rusted balustrade for support, scanning the world below him as he lost himself in thought.

He believed this about most of his shifts but today was certainly his least favorite of them all. He was serious this time! It was the worst by far.

Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Flaking hostesses, kitchen disasters, missing vintages– these were among just a few of The Grand’s list of issues today. Usually he got away with an incident or two per shift but he wasn’t used to this rapid fire shit.

It was ridiculous.

That was why this cigarette tasted so good. It was his little reward to himself for not losing his mind and begging to be tossed back in the hole or a real prison. He had goals and dying in a cell wasn’t among them.

But fuck was it tempting sometimes.

Getting away from the chaos, sucking at a nicotine stick and counting the bird droppings was usually enough to rewind his tape. All he needed was ten minutes alone… He’d be fine then.

Just ten minutes.

That was all.

He watched his smoke disappear against the murky, gray sky. He thought the weather was just perfect for the day he was having. Stiff wind, overcast sky and a slight chill caressing his fingertips.

It was warm just yesterday.

His eye trailed down from the sky back down to the hustle and bustle below, making eye contact with an unpleasantly familiar face: Sagawa’s laziest watchdog.

Sotenbori, his cell.

He bounced from a small cage to an even bigger one every day that he left home for work. There was only one place in this forsaken town that he could shut his eye and pretend that wasn’t true, even if only until he walked out of that door once more.

He couldn’t help but count the hours until he could make it. Just four more hours and he could cosplay as a free man.

Four.

He was right in the middle of taking in a celebratory puff when he heard the door behind him swing open. It escaped him along with one of the deepest of sighs. At least he was almost done with his smoke.

“Ain’t that a bitch…” he muttered to himself.

Great. Another issue to present itself.

There was only one person in the whole damn building with balls big enough to interrupt his breaks on a day like today and he never did it without cause.

It irked him beyond belief but he’d deal with it because the math was really quite simple. If his breaks weren’t interrupted, shit didn’t get done. If shit didn’t get done, no one got paid. If no one got paid, he’d have no staff. If he had no staff, he didn’t make quota. If he didn’t make quota, he didn’t get out… Everything went blank in his mind after that.

He had to get out.

He grunted out an inquisitive huh but he never turned around. He would finish this cigarette yet. Just one more big drag. He could do it.

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” the man bowed at his back before continuing, “but just a moment ago, Meiko-san was injured.”

“Injured?!” he repeated, finally facing the short man. “The hell is with these women today?”

It was clear in the floor manager’s face that he agreed with the sentiment but his opinions often took the backseat. That was why Majima liked him so much.

“While headed over to greet a new table, she stumbled down the stairs and twisted her ankle. It would seem that her heel was caught on a loose nosing strip.” he said. “She doesn’t seem to need any significant medical attention as far as I’m aware. However, I still thought it best to send her home for the day.”

“Ya made the right call. Can’t have girls limpin’ around on the floor.” Majima stamped out his cigarette after finishing his final drag. “It’s gonna be a bitch missin’ out on those sales though… She’s the best we had on the roster tonight.”

The man nodded. “I’ll make some calls to see what I can do to sidestep that loss of sales, then.”

Majima walked toward the door, “Guess I’ll join ya… We ought to get maintenance to look at the step though. We can’t afford a customer bustin’ ass on ‘em tonight too.”

“Of course, sir.”

Annnd one more issue resolved.

It was only four more hours until the curtains would close for the evening and he couldn’t help but wonder how many more incidents would present themselves just to mock his irritation.

No matter.

He was short one girl, a popular one at that and ¥300M or so shy of Sagawa’s newest quota but this too, he would figure out. He didn’t care how many shitty asses he had to kiss or how many muddy boots he had to lick.

He would figure it out. Proudly. Just like he’d always done when the goalpost was moved.

Just like he’d done these last three years.

CLOSE.

“Ya really saved our asses tonight Kanae-chan, fillin’ in for Meiko-chan like ya did.” Majima clapped the chalk dust off his hands after writing her earnings on the board.

The beautiful woman smiled, ducking her head with an air of humbleness. “I did what I could, sir.”

“You were really on fire tonight,” he said.

She brought a hand up to her face to hide her smile, pretending as if she wasn’t eating up the praise but Majima and every other woman in the room knew better.

“Enough, boss. You’re embarrassing me.”

“That goes for the rest of you too. We did some damn good work tonight.” he said, scanning the dozen faces scattered around the room. “That said, if ya got the time tonight, run downstairs and grab yourselves a shift-cap drink on me. Nitta, make sure everyone else knows to have them something too before they leave tonight.”

Scattered cheers and clapping filled the room as Majima made his way through it for the door.

“Yes, sir.” the man said. “But are you not having one as well?”

“Not tonight. I’ve got somewhere I need to be.” he said, twisting the knob. “But y’all have fun for me, alright?”

Majima was in a rush and he knew full well that joining them for one drink would have easily turned into a late night chat session. With his motivations being what they were to run The Grand, he generally didn’t mind wasting time or energy into team building. The more his staff enjoyed him, the harder they’d work to impress him. Tonight though, he was on the hunt for something in particular– the plug for the void inside of him.

And he knew exactly where to find it.

All it’d take was a little aimless walking through here and there, a cab going exactly where he directed it, a bit more walking and a couple of stops at the convenience store along the way before he arrived at the place where he’d find himself a warm meal, a cold beer and a good nut to take the load off… For his troubles, see.

He jogged up a set of old iron steps with a bag of sweets in tow, rummaged through his pocket for his keys and then let himself into apartment 6-B.

The long haired man kicked his shoes off, locking the door behind him. “I’m home!” he called loudly.

He could hear the hardwood clicking, settling beneath sock-clad feet. “Oh, hey! Welcome back, Goro.”

Warmth seeped into the void that’d weighed him down all day. He loved to hear that phrase. He was home.

About time.

Of course, this wasn’t his home. He was only a visitor but he never felt like one here. He felt at home.

A young woman with soft, tawny skin bathed in warm lighting, dressed comfortably in a long burgundy sweater came from around the corner and met him at the door. Her light brown eyes had a sparkle to them and had a way of smiling even before her mouth did. A couple wrinkles appeared along the bridge of her nubian nose as her full lips spread into a broad smile.

This never got old.

He always felt as if she’d stunned him to death, took away his ability to breath but when she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a tender kiss to his lips, it was like she breathed life into him once again. He wasn’t sure what it was about her today but she was glowing, more so than usual.

“Arika,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Mindful of the silver sticks in her hair, holding the high bun together, Goro pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as he squeezed the woman into him.

She smelled so sweet, floral even.

As if she could hear the barrage of compliments swirling around in his mind, she squeezed him. He’d have liked to think that she was thanking him.

“You know, you could have called me.” she was muffled by his chest but she continued. “I was worried you weren’t going to show.”

Once more, he kissed her crown and then her forehead and then finally, her lips before whispering to her, brows needled together apologetically. “Forgive me, yeah? I even brought ya treats.”

With hesitation, he released her so that he could hand off the bag from his convenience store run. She nodded her head with a cute giggle upon seeing a couple of her favorite snacks inside. It made his heart flutter.

“Fine, you’ve worn me down!”

“You’re too easy, sweetheart. You let an ice pop and a bag of chips whittle you down just like that?”

She furrowed her brows. “You prefer me pouty?”

“You’re so cute and sweet when you are.”

“You’re a freak, Goro Majima.”

“Hey, now.” he chuckled, squishing her face. “I thought you liked freaks.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint but I’ve chosen the route of forgiveness today. It’s like you read my mind that I wanted these. Now I’m in a better mood.”

“You weren’t before?” he asked, releasing her.

“You gonna shower? I can heat dinner for you while you’re doing that.” She said, abruptly turning away from him, grabbing his hand to have him follow her through the narrow entryway.

He heard the mention of dinner but his eye was feasting upon a different kind of meal as she walked ahead of him. Beneath that sweater, she hadn’t been wearing much else. The realization made him bite his lip.

“Ari-chan, you bathed without me?” he groaned. “I’m hurt.”

When they reached the kitchen, she fumbled through the wooden drawers beneath the counter until she found her box of matches. “Oh, no way! You’re not gonna guilt me this time, Goro. Honestly, you barely even caught me awake but I tried to wait until you showed up to eat.”

“You could wait on me to eat, but not to bathe?” he asked, tilting his head at her as he slipped out of his black coat.

“Listen, you showed up two hours later than your usual late!” she snickered. “Give me a break. I had a long day and needed to wash it off.”

“I could’ve washed it off for you.” he said, his voice flirtatious and she smirked when she picked up on it.

“Perhaps, I’ll make it up to you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt before nodding toward the stove. “How long we got?”

Arika tried her best not to stare at the muscular man nearly baring it all in her kitchen. She should’ve been used to this by now. “Fifteen minutes, give or take. I need to get the table ready and everything.” she said, lifting the lid.

“Alright, guess I’ll get to it then.” he said, turning on his heels toward the bathroom down the hall but he was stopped by the stern purr of his name.

He smirked back at her then chuckled before tilting his head back as she tiptoed behind him and gently worked at removing his eyepatch, hair tie and gold chain.

“Showering with a ponytail isn’t good for your scalp.” she started and he mouthed the rest of the words along with her, “It needs to breathe, Goro.”

A shudder came over him as his hair fell in a curtain across his bare shoulders.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, ma’am. Thank you.” he said sarcastically, quickly stealing a kiss along with the items she’d just removed.

Arika watched as the hannya on his back grew further and further until it disappeared behind the bathroom door. There was a repetitive popping noise behind her. She turned to investigate only realizing that she’d forgotten that she was reheating dinner and the pot was beginning to boil over.

“Aw, shit!” she hissed, running over to turn down the flame.

Lathering up the foam in his hair, he took in those floral notes that he’d picked up on Arika not that long ago. He turned his back to the stream beating down on him and peeked down at the bottle of shampoo before the soap started to trail down to his brow.

Rose water, camellia and honey.

He pursed his lips and nodded as he smoothed his hair back, rinsing it. He liked this new stuff! It had a nice cooling effect that really tingled the scalp. It smelled nice and… other things he’d never once thought about when washing his hair before trying his hand at the play-domestic life.

Crazy how much a woman can change a man in just over a year or so, huh. He thought.

Dangerous shit.

Goro thought back to the night he approached her in that karaoke bar. She stood out in a room whether she wanted to or not. She was unique looking– It wasn’t often he met women with big curly hair, dark skin and eyes like those. Not naturally anyway. He’d have been lying if he said that wasn’t part of what made him do a double take when he spotted her but there was something else entirely that he couldn’t quite place which really drew him in.

He thought she was beautiful the moment he got a good look at her but a pretty girl was nisoku-sanmon– a dime a dozen, especially in his line of work.

There was something in her eyes that made him want to dig deeper. He’d learned everything there was to know about her and yet, that intrigue still hasn’t gone away. He still hadn’t gotten to the bottom of it.

Whatever it was.

And he’d completely fallen for the woman in the process.

Like a fool.

Before this, he’d grown weary of his life in Sotenbori– aimlessly dancing like a suited monkey for Sagawa to turn The Grand around and bring in more money than either of them knew what to do with. He’d hit his quota already but the old bastard went back on his word more times than Majima could count. Then, demanding more as his reward for working so hard before.

Deep down, he couldn’t even blame him. After all, who would willingly put down their fattest cash cow without good reason.

And to the boys in charge, wanting back in the game was hardly a good reason.

Besides the notoriety, what did he really have to show for the blood, sweat and tears he’d poured into getting The Grand off the ground?

No, really?

He wasn’t rolling in dough. He pinched himself just to top off the funds for his quota. He didn’t feel fulfilled. Seeing The Grand thrive was not for him to feel proud of, it was for him to be reminded that that was all he was good for.

Until his relationship with Arika, he wasn’t sure he’d ever really taste a slice of happiness again and even that was conditional.

So long as neither of them knew the other existed, he could come here and play pretend. He could play the role of the honest, hardworking man of the house while she was the supporting, loving and not to mention attractive woman on his arm. He could lock the door behind him and pretend that if he just stopped showing up at work, everything would be okay until he could find something new. They would make ends meet with her salary for a while and then soon, he’d get back on his feet.

He could pretend that everything outside of apartment 6-B was the way that it was because it was optional. He made it that way because this was the life he chose for himself.

This was his escape away from the hell uniquely tailored for him.

So, he wasted time running in circles until he shook off Sagawa’s stupid lackeys and he kept up the appearance of a single man to everyone who wasn’t her to keep anyone from sniffing out the little sliver of paradiso he’d found.

Just hair away from crossing Sotenbori lines. Oh, so dangerously close.

He’d keep being cautious though, so that he could keep playing pretend, keep taking showers that felt like self-imposed spa services, keep having dinner made for him, keep having some of the best sex of his life and no one would be any the wiser.

Goro exited the shower and grabbed the white towel from the warming rack to dry himself off enough to slide on his underpants. He draped the towel over his head and went to the living room where he’d find Arika kneeling at the wenge low table, flipping through a magazine.

Just as she said she would, she’d set up the table for dinner. All he needed to do was join her.

The hotpot had been boiling atop a portable double butane stove. The cast iron skillet was already heating up next to it, just waiting for the pretty cuts of marbled beef below. There were little porcelain bowls of veggies, soup and rice at each place setting with an ice cold glass of foamy beer to top it all off.

Glee lit up his eye as he scanned the table. He’d never tire of having a home cooked meal prepared by a beautiful lady who loved him.

Sagawa be damned.

He kneeled in his usual spot to her right and grabbed his lacquered chopsticks. “Smells good, Arika-chan. I’m gonna be sure to enjoy this.”

“Please do.” she smiled, grabbing her own.

He could’ve forgotten about the day he had if it weren’t for her asking about it over dinner. That shower and this meal was nearly enough to wipe his memory of it all. Afterwards, he took initiative to help with the dishes while she cleaned the table and the floor around it, the usual routine.

Once she was done with her part, she stretched out onto the floor instead of the tan couch and stared up at the ceiling.

“It still blows me away that ya know how to cook like that.” he sighed, rinsing his final dish. “You could be a grandma hidin’ in a 20-somethin’s body for all I know. And yer pops taught ya that?”

Her feet had been propped up high on the arm of the sofa and one arm was stretched out at her side while her other hand traced at her pink lips.

Something wasn’t right.

Goro approached her as he dried his hands on a towel.

“Oi, ya payin’ attention to me woman?”

His damp black hair fell in front of his face as he looked down at her before he brushed it back with his fingertips. Arika’s sweater had risen above her hips, exposing a bit of her soft, rounded belly. Just as he’d expected earlier, she’d been wearing nothing beneath it but a pair of fine mesh panties. He felt himself hardening at the realization and the moment their eyes met, gravity forced him to his knees.

Fuck me, he thought.

He meant that two ways.

He’d have pounced on her right then and there had it not been for the fact that she seemed so far away despite being mere inches apart.

He stretched out onto the floor as close as he could without his semi poking her. That could wait. He had to get to the bottom of something.

A subtle smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he pressed at her baby hairs with his thumb and watched them curl back up. “Ari-chan…”

“Hm?” she hummed, meeting his gentle gaze.

“You notice ya got real quiet toward the end of dinner?” he asked. “Somethin’ ya wanna talk about?”

Arika’s eyes swelled with tears and his heart immediately started racing. He sat up at her side and looked down at her, whatever arousal he’d felt before was replaced entirely with concern and confusion. Had he done something wrong?

“O-oi, Ari-chan? What’s the matter? You cryin’?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears raced down the sides of her face.

He always got so panicky any time he found himself a crying woman but he felt he was doubly so now. “T-talk to me, Ari-chan. Don’t ya dare say yer fine or it’s nothin’!”

Her palms were shaking when they reached up to cover her face. The tears were really flowing now.

Alright, looks like I’ll be playin’ the guessin’ game til I can get her to open up.

“Ya upset with me?”

She shook her head.

“Somethin’ happen at work?”

He could see that she tried to swallow the sobs that were threatening to spill from her but instead they turned into unpleasant squeaks as she nodded.

“Ya get fired or somethin’?”

“N-no.” she managed.

“That old dude try somethin’ with ya?”

She shook her head as she attempted to regulate her breathing. She was coming around. Goro rubbed at her belly, patiently waiting on her to regain her composure all the while whispering the occasional word of comfort.

“It was the kids…” she said through a shaky sigh. “They um… They learned a bad word today.”

He knew precisely where this story was headed but he’d let her be the one to tell it. Arika’s entire body trembled as she finally released a heavy wail. He wondered if she’d held this in all day.

On weekdays from the early morning hours to some time in the evening, Arika worked as a nanny for an affluent family in uptown Osaka. Her resume boasted all manner of families since high school but her most hirable quality always seemed to be that she was bilingual: Japanese and English, on account of her African American mother and Japanese father.

With her background and her degree in English, the Hanada family, like others before them, hired her to teach their children English while also helping instill Japanese values into them. The parents respected her and the kids adored her but even so, it took some time to get them to see her as Japanese and not a foreigner despite Japan being her only home.

Goro let out a sigh as he stretched back out at her side and returned to thumbing the curls just above her forehead. It had a calming effect for both of them. “So, what’d they say to ya?”

She shook her head, “It wasn’t what they said to me. It was what their school friends said to them.”

She blew into her hand, summoning the courage to retell the story aloud and once she had it, she let go.

Arika, with the help of the family’s chauffeur, often saw the kids to and from school or special weekend club meetings in place of the parents. It wasn’t uncommon for her to interact with staff, the parents of their friends or even other nannies. Today, after kendo, the boy she cared for ran over to her in tears. He told her that one of his clubmates said that he wasn’t allowed to play with someone being raised by a kuronbo. Clearly parroting the words of some adult in his life. That wasn’t exactly the type of word a child picked up from tv or the radio.

“What the fuck?!” he fumed. “Yer just as Japanese as the rest of us goddamn bastards!”

He wiped the tears away from her face, doing his best to remain gentle despite the fury raging inside of him.

“And?” he said, “Ya tell yer bosses?”

“I didn’t need to.” she said with a bitter smile. “Sho-kun told them himself right before I left for the day. They, of course, apologized profusely and sent me home with a bonus that I can only describe as more than generous… I’d hate to say it was hush money but… Who the hell would I even want to tell that story to? It’s more embarrassing for me now just having to repeat it to you.”

“Ari-chan, I’m sorry.” he said, then pressed gentle pecks to her puffy eyes. “Folks really oughta watch the shit they spew ‘round kids.”

“No kidding.” she sighed, relieved at the release of pressure in her chest.

Goro turned to lie on his back, joining her in her staring contest with the ceiling. This was far from the first time she’d told him about the rude things people said to her on account of her being mixed. Hell, it wasn’t his first time hearing the word in general. When they first started dating, he’d sit there in silence and let her wallow in whatever she was feeling. He thought the silence would help but over time, he’d learned that she wasn’t one to dwell on things. This was simply the reality of her life as shitty as it was.

All he could do was help her move on.

“Actually, on the topic a’ rude kids,” he began. “On my way to work today, I came across this little girl outside a’ the arcade and the little runt kept callin’ me sir!”

There was a silence that filled the room before Arika scoffed and belted out a belly laugh. She rolled onto her side, tear stained face lit up with amusement as she met his small smile with a big one of her own.

This was more like it.

“Of course because ‘sir’ is quite possibly the cruelest slur of them all.” she teased.

“Hell, it is when you’re only 24 years old!” he whined. “Shit made me feel like a relic!”

She listened to him recount his interaction with the child and his quest for red chestnut the squirrel, losing her mind with laughter the more he explained his frustration at the kid’s politeness.

“O-oi! The hell’s so funny?!” he growled against her ear as he playfully pounced on her.

“That explains why you had so many coins in your coat pocket! I noticed it when I hung it up for you… Wow, I’m under the gaze of a celebrity right now. Majima-san, UFOCatcher National Champion!”

“Watch your lip. It’s Goro-chan UFOCatcher National Champion.” he said, pinning her wrists to the floor. “I’m the best damn crane operator ya’ve ever seen.”

“You did a really sweet thing today, Goro.” she said. “And you’ve met a kid that clearly respects her elders. That’s a rarer quality these days, I hear.”

Feigning shock, he hung his mouth open and his eye widened before he assaulted her belly with his fingertips. “ELDERS?! You callin’ me a geezer now too!?”

“O-of course I’m not! You’re only a year older than me. So that’d make me a geezer too!” she laughed as she wiggled vigorously beneath his tickling fingers. “It’s no one else’s fault you’ve got such an old spirit, Go-RO!”

“Haaaah?!” he halted his attack on her belly to press his forehead firmly against hers. “Wanna say that shit to my face?”

“Relax, relaaax. It’s okay. I’m actually into older men.”

“Oi! Alright,” he said, stealing a peck from her lips. “That’s enough outta you, woman.”

He stole another and then another too until the laughing ceased and the couple found themselves sensually locking lips. Their hands roamed each other’s body, gasping between the grinding of lower halves, silently praying that the other would relieve them of what little clothing kept their warm skin apart. Goro Majima always knew what it took to diffuse his woman. Now, it was time for his woman to diffuse him.

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite. Reblogs always appreciated.

#sins of the father #goro majima #arika namikawa #finally

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kulemiwrites · 8 days

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 | 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

18.3k words. Slowburn. Romantic elements. Smut. 18+

PART I | 5.1k

Nishikiyama is a regular at your club and he's quite popular amongst your coworkers. He tends to be at the center of all the hot gossip backstage and now, so are you. Word is, you're the latest notch on his bedpost and more than privy to his secret talent. Are the rumors true?

PART 2 | 5.2k

You make up your mind on what to do about Nishikiyama's after hours invitation.

PART 3 | 7.9k | SMUT

After having one too many at the bar, Nishikiyama takes care of you... and then he takes care of you some more.

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #im always kinda bad at figuring out what categories to put things in- if you read this and determine it's not slowburn please let me know #bc im a little unsure about using that term #anyway- im glad to finally be done with this fic but wow was it hard to get used to writing xreader stuff again 😬#i feel like nothing made sense 😭#IS THIS WHOLE THING GIBBERISH!? WHO KNOWS! hahaha

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kulemiwrites · 8 days

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐓. 𝟑| 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

Part: iii of iii

Genre: Romance, SMUT

Rating: 18+

Word count: 7.9k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

You can find Part 2 HERE. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

After having one too many at the bar, Nishikiyama takes care of you... and then he takes care of you some more.

Nishiki could feel the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he watched you sway in your seat to the music, a jazzy cover of some pop song that’s been played to death by him and everyone else in the country for that matter. He’s always enjoyed that song but now, he’s got a specific memory he’d like to attach to it. You, with your eyes closed, head tilted back exposing the length of your neck, rolling your bare shoulders to melody. Just like him, you’d grown quite tipsy and toasty and slipped out of your jacket. He’d done you the favor of hanging it up on the coat rack with the excuse of needing to finally do the same for his own but while he sat there mulling over every inch of your perfect skin, he had to be honest with himself; it was entirely selfish.

You’d been four deep of Daisuke’s newest signature cocktail and he wasn’t sure what you were feeling more, the alcohol or the music but one thing was for certain, you definitely didn’t feel him ogling you. And he was grateful for that fact. He just couldn’t help himself and he felt kind of guilty about it especially when you seemed so disarmed and unaware of the unsavory thoughts permeating his mind but not guilty enough to stop them.

On the other hand, you’d appeared to have mellowed out quite a bit since you first arrived and while he wanted to take the credit since he’d offered a shoulder and ear, he knew the effects of Daisuke’s mixing. He’d drunk a few of what you had before being granted his bottle and it all hit him at once. Hence why he tried to encourage you to slow down and swap to water like he’d done by glass number two but his plea fell on deaf ears.

You didn’t toss them back like this at the club and it made him wonder if you often drank like this in your off time or if you were drinking your stress away or even nerves. If it was the latter, he wished you’d let him help with that instead.

He’d wondered for what felt like ages what you tasted like, how you kept yourself, what got you going and how wet you got. He’d fisted his dick after leaving your club more times than he could count. Having seen you so stressed out lately had been working him into a frenzy.

Worked-up women always tasted the best.

He could never figure out when was the right time to make his move on you though since you’d never shown him any indication that you were into him. Usually, that was a breath of fresh air but on nights like tonight, he was desperate for a sign.

Inviting you out tonight was never about making a move on you but he did think to himself that if he saw the opportunity, he wouldn’t pass it up. After all, he’d waited a year and four months for ‘the right time’. However, if your slurred rant about some idols he’d never heard of was anything to go by, you were too sloshed to be making any sort of decisions aside from what you’d like to eat to sober up.

Now that he knew he could steal you away from that club, he’d come up with a new approach. Something nicer than this. Perhaps, he’d even work up the nerve to use the word “date” when extending the invitation.

As if you’d heard that thought, you looked at him with a glazed over expression. You were gorgeous but your eyes were so glassy, you looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He looked over to Daisuke who’d been washing dishes on the opposite end of the bar and waved him over.

“You’re not looking too hot, ____.” he whispered to you. “Daisuke, can we get her one of your nasty sober bombs and some pickled veggies or something?”

“Must you insult my concoction?” Daisuke sighed, drying his hands.

“Your ‘concoction’ is gross as hell and you know it.”

“Whatever.” the older man sighed playfully, rolling his eyes before gliding along the bar for the ingredients.

You frowned. “Why are you getting me something you call ‘gross as hell’?”

“Because you’re drunk and it’s getting late.” he said, looking at his watch. “Remind me what city did you say you lived in again?”

“Nerima,” you said, tonging your straw.

“Good luck finding a taxi that runs all the way over there that doesn’t cost you an arm and a leg and your spleen.” Daisuke chuckled, placing an orange tinted cocktail in front of you.

You shrugged, “It’s fine, I’ll just take the train.”

“When’s the last train?” Nishiki asked.

“12:30.”

Fuck.

“And the next one?”

“After five.”

Double fuck.

He didn’t mind covering your taxi fare but he knew that at this location at this hour, not only would it be difficult to hail a cab but the drivers would gouge you once they took you where you needed to go. He felt guilty. He should’ve asked you all of that the moment you sat down but he was so stunned that most of the things he’d even planned to ask you were wiped from his memory as if you’d pressed a button. You were in no condition to figure it out on your own. He’d never have forgiven himself if something happened to you. From then it was decided that making sure you made it home safely was his responsibility and sobering you up was the first step.

Almost as if his thoughts willed it, Daisuke placed a plate of pickled veggies and a bowl of soba in front of you.

“And a water, too,” he ordered.

“No problem.” his friend nodded, placing a glass of water on the counter not long after.

You stared at the spread in front of you as if you were confused and if he weren’t so worried, he might’ve found it cute. He grabbed the orange cocktail, stirred it with the spoon the bartender left on a napkin for you then handed it over.

“Here, start with this first.” he said.

You looked at him with curious glass eyes, “What’s this?”

“I’d say don’t think too much about it but you’re a lady– listen, it’s not very good but it’ll sober you up pretty fast. Just toss it back and if you have to burp, burp. Don’t worry about manners. It’s turmeric, ginger, soda water and some other weird shit he’s tossed in there. It helps if you pinch your nose.”

You seemed to register his words moments after he said them which was all the more reason for you to drink the damn thing. Thankfully, you didn’t fight him on it unlike a certain stubborn friend of his. Pinching your nose, you took a sip.

“No, ____, trust me. It’s worse if you do it that way.” he laughed. “Just rip the bandaid.”

Clenching your brows, you lifted the glass and took big gulps of it until it was empty then you shoved it into his hand and clenched at your chest.

“I’m so sorry.” he smiled apologetically. “Pretty bad, huh?”

You nodded before letting out a loud belch. His eyes widened at both the sound and your almost surprised expression before tossing his head back and laughing.

“That happens.” he said, pressing his hand to your back. “You don't need me to help, do you?”

You laughed, swiping his arm away. “Knock it off, Nishikiyama-san. I’m not a baby.”

“Geez, don’t be so feisty.” he chuckled then pushed your food closer to you. “Alright, now eat up and make sure you drink all your water, okay?”

You nodded and immediately began to dig in. The two of you sat in silence for a while as you worked on the small meal in front of you until you suddenly spoke up.

“Nishikiyama-san?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry that I let myself drink so much and now you’re having to take care of me.” you said.

You were too precious.

He really could eat you up… He’d be lying to himself and the fire that’s been roaring inside him since he pressed his hand to your warm skin if he told him that he meant that figuratively this time.

“Don’t mention it, _____. At this point, I’m practically returning an overdue favor. Just how many times have you helped me or my drunk friends sober up?”

“It’s my job.”

“No,” he said, placing a new cigarette into his mouth and lighting it. “Your job is to let me get wasted, take my money then push me out so that you can repeat the process for the next guy… The fact that you care so much is what keeps me coming back.”

“Nishikiyama-san…”

“So,” he exhaled, watching as his smoke danced up to the ceiling. “Once you’re sober enough to tell me how many fingers I’m holding up, how do you wanna do this? He closes up shop at 3 but he lets me stay after hours til I’m good all the time. We could stay til around time for the trains to start running again.”

He watched you slurp up a noodle before washing it back with some water, “Oh I don’t want to be a bother.”

Nishiki waved his hand, “You’re not. He’s a good buddy of mine. He gave me a key to the place. I’ll just lock up when we’re done. He leaves when he’s ready. Don’t let his polite speaking fool you, that guy does not care once he flips that sign around.”

“I can hear you, Nishikiyama.” Daisuke said from behind you where he’d been wiping down a table.

“If you’re going to eavesdrop on my conversation, at least cosign for me.” he groaned.

Daisuke chuckled, tossing his towel over his shoulder before coming to stand behind you and Nishiki’s chairs. “I’m not so sure about ‘me not caring’ once I’m closed but… I do trust Nishikiyama. So, if you need to seek refuge here until it’s safe for you to go home, I truly don’t mind.”

“Thanks.” he said sarcastically before the other man wacked him with the towel as he walked away. “The hell was that for?”

“Because I felt like it.”

Nishiki turned his attention back to you, who’d been finishing up the last of the warm noodles. “I would’ve suggested a ramen shop I know but…”

“Honestly, Nishikiyama-san,” you said, pushing the bowl away from you. “I’m getting sort of sleepy. I’m not sure how much longer I can stay awake here.”

He turned toward the empty bar behind you, “Want me to pull those tables out and let you stretch out on the banquette back there? He’s got some blankets in the storage room.”

You twisted in your seat then pressed your palms together as you lifted your shoulders. He wasn’t sure if you realized that you’d done the same with your breasts but he wasn’t complaining.

“I’m… sorry.” you said, gritting your teeth.

“What’s up?”

“I’m not sure if I’m comfortable with that.” you said in an apologetic tone.

That was fair.

“Okay,” he said, but he wasn’t sure how much more comfortable you’d be with his second proposition. “Then, how about I take you home once you’ve finished your food and had a bit more water?”

He watched you think it over and when it took a moment too long, he opened his mouth to offer up a taxi. He knew it’d be expensive but he’d spent far more on you. He just wasn’t sure if he trusted you running off in a car with some strange man this late at night after you’ve had this much to drink but you interrupted him.

“Okay.” you said in a small voice.

He could feel your hesitation. He wanted to give you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder but he considered if maybe being touched right now would be the least reassuring thing to do. Instead, he rested onto the counter as close to you as he could without entering your bubble and looked deep into your glossy eyes.

“I promise to take you straight home, alright? No pit stops. I won’t suggest anything weird.” he said quietly, not wanting his friend to hear what was meant for your ears alone. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“About me not getting into your pants?” you said with a confused look.

He nearly spat with laughter, “What? No, about me wanting to help you unwind. You feel pretty relaxed now, right?”

You nodded and he smiled.

“Then, I guess my job here is done. Mission accomplished.” he said, patting himself down for his wallet forgetting that it was in his coat near the entrance.

“I see…” you said. “Then, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” he said, getting out of his seat. “But you’re still slurring a bit. So, let’s wait it out a bit more. I’m gonna settle the tab. Finish up the last of your food for me, alright?”

“Alright.”

You would have never imagined in all this time after hearing such stories about the man that he was so attentive. Had you not witnessed it firsthand, you weren’t even sure you would have believed it if someone had told you since his behavior tonight was such a stark contrast to what you’d heard about him leading up to this. This wasn’t just about him making you eat bar foods and the most rancid drink you’ve ever had in your life to help you sober up. Anyone would do that, you thought.

No one really wanted to deal with a drunk.

It was everything following that that made your head spin and made you feel higher than whatever buzz the Hitonomi Special ever could. It was the careful way he helped you out of your seat once you were finished, the gentleness in which he slipped your jacket back onto your arms, the way he offered the muscular arm that you could feel through his coat to hang on to as you walked down the hall, to the elevator, out the door and down the sidewalk to his car.

It was how he opened the door to his car for you and offered his hand for you to hold, then placed the other at your head out of caution to keep you from thumping yourself when you lowered inside.

It was the way he kneeled beside you to click your seatbelt in place and when you laughed and told him that you were perfectly capable of doing it yourself, it was the soft way he smiled at you as he patted the top of your head and whispered, “I know you are.”

The drive had been mostly silent aside from you offering him directions and for good reason. While you’d enjoyed the hell out of yourself tonight, you’d been fighting a losing battle since cocktail number three and though you were pretty much sober now, it seemed the damage had already been done.

You always knew that you thought Nishikiyama was a handsome man but the more you got to know him tonight as _____, the woman and not the hostess, you had to come to terms with the fact that you’d been lying to yourself for a very, very long time. You didn’t want to be one of those girls that started to get involved with one of her customers. You didn’t see anything wrong with it– Shit happened, but you heard stories and you never wanted to be the main character of one of your own.

Tonight, though, after feeling the rush of bonding with him on a different level, learning how much you really had in common and of course, after evil cocktail number three, you felt drawn to his mouth. You hung on to his every word. Every time you watched him take a sip of his drink and pull back to reveal wet, pink lips, you felt a pair of your own growing wetter.

The fourth cocktail was a mistake– you hoped that you would have had enough to make you stop these salacious thoughts but instead, it seemed to have worked like an aphrodisiac and now, even after the alcohol had gone, you were still fighting with your rampant imagination. Those rumors had found their way to the forefront of your mind and the thoughts you’d forced yourself not to think about were marching about.

Loud and proud.

You should have been ashamed of yourself. All the man had wanted was to treat you to a couple of drinks because you’d been having a rough go of it at work and here you were thinking about whether or not he was truly as talented as they say.

“And so, was it a left or right turn here?” he asked, breaking the silent streak.

“Huh?”

“You said to turn at the intersection, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Left or right.”

“Oh, sorry.” you chuckled out nervously. “It’s right.”

“Got it.” he said, cutting the wheel to the right.

You couldn’t help but notice how big and pretty his hands were with the moonlight dancing across them. He maneuvered the steering wheel so delicately. Nishikiyama looked over at you, briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Falling asleep over there?”

“A little.” you lied.

“Sorry,” he laughed. “I’d tell you to rest up but I sorta need you to get there.”

“I know.” you smiled, “We’re close though. It’s just down this street and then you’re going to turn left in between the alley of those two brick buildings.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He followed your instructions and then slowed once he got in between the buildings before looking at you.

“Uh, straight through here?”

“No, actually you can just let me out here. I’ll walk the rest of the way.” you said, rubbing at the chill on your shins.

Nishikiyama slowed to a stop and hesitated before putting the car in park. “How long of a walk is it?”

“Maybe a few minutes.”

“I can’t drop you off any closer than this?” he asked. “Want me to walk with you at least?”

“It’s okay.”

He watched you carefully, his brown eyes glistening. The moon shone into the car just right, kissing the side of his face and showing off just how beautiful of a man he really was. You could see the gears in his mind working and it was as if you could see him come to the conclusion that you weren’t comfortable with him knowing where you lived before he nodded.

“I’ve got a nosy neighbor, I–”

“It’s okay. Will you be safe?” he asked.

You nodded. Gosh, why didn’t everyone talk about this side of him? It was always Nishikiyama the stud but this protectiveness was so much more attractive than whatever playboy picture everyone had been painting of him.

“I will.” you smiled. “Oh, so hey. Will I see you at the club or were you serious about not coming anymore?”

He opened his mouth to speak but then he immediately shut it and rummaged through his armrest for a pen and paper before scribbling something down and handing it to you.

“Call me and we’ll go from there. I want to see you again and I prefer the next time not to be at a dingy little club.”

You stared at the paper and your heart began to pound.

“O-Okay.” you said, before slipping the paper into your purse. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime.” he smiled before unclicking your seatbelt.

While you slid your seatbelt back up, he unclicked his own then reached over your lap to open your door. Your heart began to do as it had done right before you saw him for the first time tonight, pounded so loud that you could hear it ringing in your ears. Every single thought you’d had about him tonight plagued your mind, in rapid succession.

That faint sensual scent of his cologne still hadn’t worn off after all this time. His silky hair framed his face flatteringly as he tilted his head at you, high cheekbones lifted as he bid you goodnight with nothing but a smile while leaning on the armrest separating you. He was so close and yet, your desirous body longed for him to be even closer. He wasn’t asking for it but you couldn’t fight against your thoughts any longer.

You pressed your hands to either side of his stubbly face and you could see when his eyes went wide before you slotted your lips between his. Nishikiyama’s mouth was stiff against yours. It was as if you were practicing kissing with a Nishikiyama sized doll until he chuckled against your lips as he brought his hands to your shoulders and gently peeled you away.

“____, I’m flattered, really.” he said before inhaling sharply. “But, you’re drunk.”

“Don’t.” you said. “I’m not. Not anymore.”

Nishikiyama scanned your face like he always did but this time it was clear that he was trying to make a decision. After all, he’d known you’d sobered up. He wouldn’t let you leave unless you had. He took his own bottom lip into his mouth as he stared at and traced yours with his thumb, breath growing more and more erratic by the second. His gaze darted from your eyes to your lips and from your lips back to your eyes again. His dark brows needled together and a weak moan slipped past his lips before by seizing yours.

His lips were hungry against yours.

He kissed you as if he were desperate for it or something, if not for his track record, you might have wondered if it’d been a while but instead it seemed like something else entirely. Had it not been for the way his tongue slipped into your mouth, you might’ve continued to think about it– get to the bottom of it but instead it seemed he’d hit a mental reset button with his exploration. While your tongues tied and drool rolled down your chin, you started to notice that Nishikiyama’s tongue seemed to go on and when you sucked at it you’d confirmed what you’d begun to suspect.

His tongue was quite long.

As if you’d both choreographed it, each of you reached a hand beneath the fabric covering the other’s chest and let out breathy chuckles against each other’s lips before continuing the passionate tongue twisting affair. While the pads of his fingers ghosted over your nipple, you slipped your hand down to snatch his tucked shirt out of his pants before snaking your own nimble fingers beneath the fabric and raked your nails along his tight abdomen. Nishikiyama let out a growl then broke from your lips to kiss wildly at your chin and along your jaw as he palmed the warm mound in his hand.

You leaned onto the arm rest to give yourself enough leverage to repeat to him what he’d done to you: plush lips, prickly chin, sharp jaw and then you began to kiss and lick at his neck. He gasped, tilting his head back, allowing you more of him and you gleefully accepted the invitation by sucking at his bobbing Adam's apple. A long, pathetic and shaky sigh escaped his lips as he stroked your head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” he muttered. “_____.”

He grabbed a handful of your hair, a commanding move and yet still so tender when he pulled you back to look into your eyes. “Close. The fucking. Door.”

“Ok-ay.” you managed through a gulp.

While you reached for the door, his hand had made its way to your knee and slowly began to creep up your thigh. He was slow and deliberate, wanting to give you plenty of opportunity to stop him before things escalated any further. Instead you joined him in watching as he slowly bunched the fabric beneath his thumb, even offering yourself to him by spreading your legs more so that he had no obstructions when his fingertips came to reach what you both wanted to be touched most.

Nishiki stopped just an inch short of your womanhood. The heat emanating from you was so much warmer than the skin just below it and he fought the urge to dig in. He glanced up from your lap to meet your gaze, propositioning you with nothing but a quirked brow.

“Please.” you sighed out desperately.

Delaying you would have simply been denying himself. He lacked the discipline for that anyway. Now that you’ve placed yourself on the offering place, it would have been impolite not to graciously accept.

A shudder rippled through him when he found that you’d completely soaked through your panties. He didn’t even need to lift them to get a gauge. You had told on yourself.

Oh, sweet fucking girl.

He skimmed your pretty face, wondering how long you’d been sitting next to him with this viscous mess seeping through your underwear.

Nishiki’s fingers glided over your panties with ease as he rubbed at you, taking in the lewd cacophony of arousal trapped beneath fabric– panting and moaning. Each time you’d buck into his hand, he’d feel a sliver of his sanity slip away from him.

He thought back to those nights when he’d returned home to his lonely apartment after seeing you– you in your form-fitting dresses and leg accentuating heels, looking as if someone had poured you into them. He wanted to drink you down until there was nothing left. He’d think that night after night when his hand tugged viciously at his angry cock, wet and weeping for none other than you.

He’d imagined the melody you’d sing but his fantasies had done you a severe injustice and he almost wanted to apologize for it.

Yeah, fantasy would never compare to the real thing. He screwed his eyes shut and mentally recorded you on cassette for him to come back to any time after tonight. He’d never allow himself to forget.

“Mm, Nishikiyama-san…” you moaned, your hand finding its way into his hair as you threw your head back into your seat.

Every pant passing through his parted lips was contributing to his fogging windows but he couldn’t help but find himself breathless while watching you lose yourself to him.

Finally…

The realization stunned him into inertia.

The location wasn’t ideal. Truly, he felt he afforded you much more dignity than this, but seeing you sprawled out in his passenger seat like a centerfold– legs and lips parted, jacket and dress strap half slung off your rising and falling shoulder with a tit exposed, he was slowly convincing himself that you were right where you belonged.

Finally, he had you and he’s never found a better use for his car until now.

He savored every moment and if he was having one more wet dream about you, at least he wouldn’t wake up disappointed.

Hooking the soaked fabric with his thumb, he slid it over and ever so slowly slipped his middle fingers between your puffy lips. A groan came from deep within him– The situation was far more dire than he’d realized and he’d refused to believe that you were this responsive from a bit of kissing.

Really, just how long had this nectar been seeping into your panties?

The way you’d crashed into him made him believe that all of those times you’d stare at him in the bar with far away eyes, there was something filthy swimming around behind them but he was just to blind to see it at the time.

It pained him to think, he’d nearly let you go home in this condition.

You had a good poker face. Even after getting a little drunk. He commended you for that but it fired him up thinking of all the other times this might have happened right under his nose while he had no clue.

He traced your slippery folds, dipping a pad into your entrance but never fully slipping inside. He didn’t care how much you whined for it.

The lewd schloping of Nishikiyama’s fingers playing around in your slick filled the air beneath your heavy breaths. He glided along your heat with a feather light touch and you ached for him to apply more pressure. Each time you’d attempt to roll into him to help yourself against his touch, he’d ease up.

He was taunting you.

Teasing you.

Your nails bit into the foam on the door’s armrest as you let out a frustrated groan.

He leaned over the armrest enough to wrap his free arm around your back, nestling his face in the slope of your neck as he kissed his way up to your ear. With just a sliver of his fingerpad against your slit, you could feel your muscles pathetically contracting– begging for something, anything to fill you.

“Not very satisfying, is it?” he whispered as he tongued the shell of your ear.

The bastard– he knew what he was doing?

Of course he knew what he was doing. You might have made the first move but you were at his mercy now. You were like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

You shook your head.

“No?” he sang quietly against your earlobe. “Hmm, then, how should I take care of you?”

He broke away from the attention he was giving your ear to look you in the eye. The moon cast its gracious light on a man with the face of an angel but he wore the smile of the devil himself. If you have fought against your whining you might have been stunned into silence.

“Nothing?” he teased, now pinching your chin with his free hand as he lingered dangerously close to your face. “C’mon, you didn’t get this wet by being a good girl. Talk to me, sweet thing.”

You tried to lunge forward and capture his pillowy lips in another kiss, an attempt to physically communicate how badly you needed him but he dipped back, evading you then smirked at your desperation.

“Ah, ah.” he tsked, fingers circling your opening. “I want you to say it, babe.”

“Ugh.” you rolled your eyes and sighed, “Please, Nishikiyama-san. I need more.”

“Hmm~ more?” he cooed, “More of what? Pressure?”

He slid his fingers along your folds with added force, avoiding your clitoris. Still, the sensation was far more gratifying than what he’d been doing before and you're sure your cries told him that. He tilted his head back as he lifted yours, looking down his nose at you while he studied your expressions with a gaping mouth.

“Mm, better, huh?”

You nodded.

“But is that enough to get you off?” he asked, that wicked grin spreading across his lips once more.

It wasn’t.

He knew that it wasn’t.

Nishikiyama, the bastard.

The devil.

You rolled into his hand and once again, he lightly pulled away.

“It’s not, huh?”

“No, please!” you cried. “I need them inside me.”

“That’s more like it.”

He slid his middle fingers along your pussy once again, gathering up more of your slick. This time he lazily rolled over your clit before making his way back down to your eagerly awaiting hole.

“I guess I have been kinda cruel, huh? After all, it’s not like I can just send a pretty girl home like this.” he said, then pressed both fingers inside you to the knuckle.

“Ah!”

“It’s bad form.”

You could feel the relief washing over your features as his fingers reached deep within you, stretching you out. He smiled before finally pulling you in for a kiss, sucking and nibbling at your lips as he slowly dragged from knuckle to tip and tip to knuckle over and over again. Your moans tumbled into his mouth.

He’d barely given you a chance to breathe.

His fingers reached into a part of you that you’d never been able to reach on your own. You snatched at his shirt, not knowing if you wanted him to back off of you or come closer. You couldn’t keep up.

Your mind was in a haze.

Nishikiyama angled his fingers inside of you and the movement that followed made you jolt.

“Oh, my fucking–”

“Mmhm, there she is. Nice and honest. I like that.” he whispered, “I’ve found your spot, haven’t I?”

You sank your nails into his forearm as he hastened the pace of his fingers, “Yes!”

You were on fire.

You felt like you were going to combust.

You didn’t know if it was due to the heat building up inside of the car or because of the heat building up inside of you. This was all so overwhelming but exciting and equally as confusing.

There you were, legs trembling apart further and further by the second. Your body was shaking in the passenger seat of none other than Akira Nishikiyama’s car, in the still of the night just feet away from your apartment. The transition from not knowing whether or not the man even found you attractive to having him knuckles deep inside you was one that you would ruminate on for ages.

Truly, how did you even get here?

Did you not hear yourself explaining to him the horrible shit you’d have to deal with simply because people thought this had been happening all along? Now that you really had messed around with him, you couldn’t imagine what people would say if they found out.

Right as you felt your mind slipping, the silk ribbon that had been tied so tightly inside of you slowly began to unravel itself.

Loop by loop.

“Hey,” he whispered against your neck as you tossed your head back. “How about you hop in the backseat with me and let me really take care of you, hm?”

If you crawled into that backseat there would be no turning back. No more ‘nothing has ever happened’ between the two of you. Reality was beginning to set it. The moment you started to consider if perhaps you might regret this, you thought maybe you should quit now while you were ahead. But as Nishikiyama’s fingers tapped against that spot inside of you as if he was sending you a message in morse code, you knew that you were fighting a losing battle.

“Yes,” you gasped, a pleasure current surging through your body. “Yes, yes! Oh, fuck! I’m c– Nishiki–”

As beautiful as you sounded in a frenzied state, shouting his name while your pussy snugly contracted around his digits, he couldn’t have you drawing any undue attention and cutting your little party short. He did his best to silence you with another kiss, at the very least allow you to pour sobs into him.

He wasn’t going to stop thrusting his fingers inside of you until your convulsing body settled calmly back into its seat. Until then, his job was not yet done and he was rewarded for that diligence by you arching off of your seat once more and him feeling his hand being coated in warm fluid.

You squirted for him.

Oh, now you were just begging him to lose his shit.

He felt himself spilling drool against your mouth but he couldn’t help himself. He was thrilled. Finally, he’d get to satisfy his craving. He was absolutely certain you would satiate his palate.

He’s dreamt of this.

Once you’d calmed down, he slowed his plunging fingers, slipping them out and broke away from your lips.

You sat there, panting– eyes fluttering in a daze as you looked around the car. At the foggy windows, at him.

His sweet _____ was a disheveled marvel after she came, he thought, taking you in.

A pretty little wreck and all because of him.

Absolutely stunning.

He wondered just how many people you allowed to see this side of you then felt heat rising up inside of him. Much different to the heat of passion and desire he’d been feeling just a moment ago.

No, this was different.

Suddenly he had this desire to protect this image of you, lock it away so no other could see what he’d seen tonight ever again. To think you had the audacity to be with anyone before him– to think you not wait for him to come for you and show you a pleasure you might have never known possible– He had to make sure you knew better by the time this was over with. Akira wouldn’t let you leave until you knew that no one else would make you feel the way he could.

He had to hypnotize you so that the only man you’d ever want would be himself.

“Come back to me, babe.” he said, stunning you out of your euphoric daze. “Climb on back. I’ve got you.”

“Oh, okay.”

Nishiki didn’t waste too much time joining you in the back once he’d pushed both seats up to capacity, ensuring the most space possible. While kissing you passionately, he helped you out of your jacket and dress then took a moment to hang them up with his coat. When he returned to you, he recaptured your lips with the same fervor as before as he wrapped his arms around you, guiding you back until your skin kissed the cool leather.

“Comfy?” he asked, nibbling at your jawline as he hovered over you, dark silk strands tickling your face.

You nodded.

His heart was pounding at his chest and his fingers felt like could cramp just from the anticipation as he settled himself between your legs. He’d begun to kneel onto the floor on the back driver’s side, it was a little snug but nothing could keep him from his mission right now. He stretched your legs out as far as they could go, caressing them with his gentle hands as he slipped them beneath your ass to finally remove the barrier that’d been keeping him apart from the place he’d been eager to meet face to face for longer than he cared to admit.

The moon cast its spotlight right on your beautiful body, confirming what he’d already known to be true. You were just as breathtaking out of clothes as you were in them, if not more so. This was your most natural state after all and here you were baring it all for him. He couldn’t have been more grateful to bear witness to this sight.

“Ohh, fuck, _____.” he said, his voice deep, reverberating off the windows as he slipped his balmy hands beneath your thighs until he’d hooked them under your knees to pry your legs open further.

His cock was leaking in his pants, absolutely sobbing with need at the sight of your glossy folds. You were perfect. Dangerously so. You were the incarnation of sin. Your pussy was the forbidden fruit and nothing in this universe could stop Akira from having a taste of it.

He wanted to say something reassuring to you– ask you if you were ready for him but he had tunnel vision and he couldn’t contain his drool to his mouth. All he could think about was putting an end to the mystery: what did _____ taste like?

He couldn’t help the obscene moan that came out of him when he dragged his flattened tongue along your pussy.

Fucking exquisite, mind-alteringly so.

He knew you could never disappoint him. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and gave you a squeeze at the thought.

Speaking of disappointment, he knew that he’d had big shoes to fill tonight. All those blabbing girls who never learned not to kiss and tell had filled your head with who knows how many lovely little fantasies.

He never went into these things caring about protecting this arbitrary reputation. Nishiki enjoyed performing oral on women. He might’ve preferred it to penetrative sex sometimes– diving between the legs of beautiful women, tasting their most intimate of places, hearing the lovely sounds they made as they came undone by him, it gave him a high more potent than any drug. Even so, the skill came from practice rather than a desire to push himself for the sake of any one partner.

Tonight though, he was in competition with himself. He had to outdo whatever you thought possible of him. He wouldn’t pry himself away until your brain turned to mush or you were practically begging him to stop– whichever came first.

The figure 8’s Nishikiyama made with his tongue sent shockwaves through your already spent body. He fought against your thighs, threatening to tighten around his head by digging his fingers into the meat and keeping them pried open.

All of the prior neglect of your clitoris he’d done in the front seat, he’d begun to make up for tenfold as he made out with it. Passionately sucking and licking as if apologizing to it for not showing it such love and tenderness before. He’d alternate between that and darting his long tongue along your heat, shooting past one hole and damn near touching another.

A pornographic sound would escape him after every other gesture and you had to wonder: just who exactly was receiving the pleasure here?

You were sensitive from the first orgasm. Your legs were becoming weaker with every nudge of his nose against your clit. Soon, you were certain you’d been more limp than the soba you were sucking down at the bar not that long ago. He was devouring you, an incubus bent on taking your soul down to hell with him, one sloppy slurp at a time– and goodness was he fucking sloppy.

Just when you’d thought that the silky little bow had been neatly tied back up inside of you, Nishikiyama’s dancing muscle caught itself in the strands and the only way to get him out was to unravel it once again.

You felt that same warning from before that something electrifying was coming and you were trying to scoot away but he simply wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer.

“Uh-uh, babe.” he said, the words were in his throat and they vibrated against your pussy. “Don’t run from it.”

His grip was tight when he darted the point of his tongue past your slit, burying his face even deeper into your warmth. He was reminding you once again that you were but meager prey trapped in the spider’s web. The more you thrashed around, the more you got caught– the worse you’d make things for yourself.

You brushed his hair back from his face and your sticky mess that glistened over it. He was so pretty there between your legs, long eyelashes fluttering over high cheekbones as he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. It was if he’d found his own taste of euphoria in your gaping hole. He rocked your body into him, forcing you to fuck yourself on his tongue.

This was too much. It was all too fucking much.

You nearly screamed when you threw your head back into the seat.

He pulled off of you with a kiss and panted, “You’re so fucking hot, babe. You’re about to cum again already?”

“I am.”

Nishikiyama let out a clipped huff before frantically working at the buttons of his shirt.

Tossed, then forgotten.

The buckle of his belt and then the fasteners of his pants quickly followed.

“_____.” he whispered, “You’re gonna make me cum too at this rate. How about we cum together?”

“Okay.” you nodded, spreading your legs wider, offering yourself on a silver platter for him to take however he’d like.

You didn’t care.

You’d deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

You watched him frantically pull his dick out his pants, you couldn’t see much of it with him kneeling in front of the set but you did spot the curve that you could just taste. You were certain it’d feel glorious knocking against that same spot he’d hit within you just a bit earlier.

You’d expected him to climb onto the seat with you, line himself up at your entrance and pound you until the car started rocking. Instead though, he spit in his hand before wrapping his fingers around his cock with a soft gasp then leaning back in return to his sloppy kisses and tongue fucking.

Nishiki wanted so badly to time his orgasm with yours but the slightest sound you made made his dick twitch with the threat of shooting his load all over himself. In any other circumstance, the idea of getting cum stains stuck in his carpet or on his leather sounded like more of a pain than it was worth but hell, he’d planned on getting a car detail soon anyway. Why not get his money’s worth?

He had to stop touching himself more times than he could count. He didn’t put in all this work just to cum before you. He needed you back on brink, just teering over the edge like you were a moment ago.

He wrapped both arms around you again, now reveling in the feeling of your warm skin against his. He inhaled you in though he’d pressed his face so far against you that he was nearly suffocating himself. He seesawed between assaulting your sopping passage with his incisive muscle as he’d done before or swiping at your hard clit.

“Mm, shit, Nishikiyama-san!” you cried, grabbing at his hair, in what seemed to be a greedy attempt to pull him closer but he was already as close he could be. He couldn’t help but chuckle against you and allow you to guide him where you needed him most.

“Hm, you getting close again for me?” he managed between kisses.

You let out a whine of affirmation and his right hand immediately wrapped itself back around his twitching dick.

When he looked up at you, you were grabbing a tit with one hand and biting into the palm of another trying desperately to silence yourself but you were doing a pathetic job at it, which meant that he was doing his well. Watching you toss your head back and all but introduce him to your neighbors with the way you nearly shouted his name was enough to bring him there ten times over.

This night was one for the memory bank for sure.

“Come for me, babe. I’m right there with you.” he whispered before sucking at your clit.

“Fuck!”

He could hear your toes cracking behind him, your thighs were closing around his head and he felt a sting at his scalp from the way you pulled at his hair. He matched the stroke of his member with the rock of your body against his face and finally…

Finally…

He tried his best to keep working you over with his tongue but a euphoria worked it’s way through him that made every muscle in his body fall listless as he panted and sobbed and moaned against your pussy. Warm streams of semen had shot their way up his chest, against the back of your leg and he was too lost in nirvana to care how much had found its way onto the seat and floor. Finally, Akira Nishikiyama had gotten a taste of his favorite girl in town and for once, he was the one left with mush for a brain.

He let out a long trembling sigh, savoring the pleasure like rolling a fine wine over the palate and then he crawled up to nestle himself between your legs. He hoped you didn’t mind the mess. He’d clean you up in a moment but now, he had to have one final taste of you.

Nishiki swiped the sweat from your upper lip with his thumb, smiling at how cute your spent face was. He pinched your chin and tilted your gaze to meet his then pulled you into a long, languid kiss.

“Guess it’s not a rumor anymore, is it?”

~𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗~

Fic based on the screenshots in this post

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #rgg smut #yakuza smut #akira nishikiyama smut #waaaaaaaaaaaaaaah i cant believe i wrote so many words just to bring one little headcanon to life hahahaha #this thang is looooong out of all the pages 12 of them was smut LMAO i went back and counted

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kulemiwrites · 11 days

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐓. 𝟸| 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

Part: ii of iii

Genre: Romance, Eventual Smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5.2k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

You can find Part 1 HERE. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

You make up your mind on what to do about Nishikiyama's after hours invitation.

You knew what your answer was long before you stripped out of your clothes and stepped into the locker room’s lukewarm shower. You convinced yourself that you “just needed to think it over more” as the suds slid down your body and then the drain. You pretended that you weren’t really sure about it as you dried, then lathered yourself up in smell-good cream. By the time you pulled your jacket over your shoulders to cover the thin straps of your comfy dress and gave yourself one final touch up in the full body mirror before heading out of the back door, it was practically a done deal.

Rushing to the curb of Senryo Avenue, you dug into your bulky crossbody for the business card and the folded yen notes that he squeezed into your hand with a pat and a wink just before parting ways.

“Your cab fare for the night.” he told you, pink lips gently curved up upward. “Either to get home from work or to go have a couple of drinks on me.”

The taxi’s door opened and you hurried to it, having a one-sided race with the couple rushing hand in hand down the sidewalk. You lowered yourself inside, forgetting to duck and banged your head.

“Ah,” the driver sucked air through his teeth, “Please do be careful, Miss.”

“R-right,.” you sighed, grimacing as you rubbed at your head. You wondered if you would wind up at the bar talking to Nishikiyama with a giant, cartoonish knot at the center of your forehead. Was that head thump your sign to turn tail and head straight home? After all, if he’d seen you like that, you might’ve just lost your highest paying customer! Right?

Right?

“Where are we headed this evening?”

Without even a second’s hesitation, your arm extended toward the driver so that you could hand him the business card.

Dammit. Betrayed by your own reflexes.

“This address, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course.”

The driver passed the card back to you shortly and you began tracing its thick edges with your thumbs. Originally, you looked out of the window to admire the beautiful grit of the scenery but eventually your mind had begun to wander.

Just what were you doing going out to meet a customer? This one, especially. You’d usually decline offers to meet after hours. Sure, he had been nice enough but if anyone happened to see the two of you out together, the treatment you were receiving at work was sure to get worse. Just the thought was enough to make your stomach flip with anxiety.

That was, until you thought about the feeling of his big, warm hand above yours when he’d given you cab fare tonight and how could you forget his smile? That damned smile.

You weren’t kookoo over him like the others were. No, but not even you could deny how attractive the man was… Not enough to make you lose sight of yourself or anything. Of course not but well, you did have eyes.

That thought reminded you of your state of dress. You had only packed an outfit that was comfortable enough to wear on your commute back home, certainly nothing to wear on a night out on the town, especially not next to him. When he was at the club, he’d been wearing a maroon suit with a patterned black and gold shirt and a silver pendant. He was gorgeous. You supposed he usually was. You’ve seen the way the girls you worked with go out after work when they went bar hopping. You could understand why he’d have been drawn to any one of them– they fit, tonight you were just…

It wasn’t as if this was a date or anything but you thought that any reasonable person would be concerned about how they’d be perceived. You worried you’d stick out like a sore thumb if you got too close.

“Miss? Miss?” the driver said firmly, snapping you out of your daze.

“Huh?”

“It would seem that we have arrived.” he chuckled out awkwardly.

“Oh,” you nodded, unfolding then counting the notes. “So we have. Thank you so much, sir.”

“No problem at all.”

You handed him the cash and hurriedly exited the cab, this time being mindful of your head. Fighting with the strap of your bag, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes. The bar was on this side of town? You read the Ginza address on the card and you weren’t even sure what you expected but you knew you didn’t picture him inviting you here!

People passed your stiff daze dressed in vibrant, stunning clothes, many of them holding large, luxury brand shopping bags at their sides as they chatted amongst themselves. They must have been at this for hours. You were right, you weren’t at all dressed for the occasion if these strangers were anything to go by.

The sidewalk was clean, garbage cans beneath every tall zelkova tree wrapped in lights that lined the curb. The buildings were neat brick and stone and glass almost completely bare of gaudy posters advertising seedy back alley shops, just tidy little sandwich boards here and there. Even the barkers were different, meeker.

It was like a different world compared to the ever classy Kamurocho.

You read the column of business signs on the midrise building before you until you spotted the name that matched the one on the business card. According to the sign, the bar was situated somewhere on the first floor. You nodded to yourself and slid the card back inside of your purse then started toward the building.

The closer you got to the frosted door though, you felt a heaviness in your legs and when your fingers wrapped around that gilded handle, you couldn’t even bring yourself to pull. Your arm instead went limp and suddenly the hustle and bustle of the city behind you was drowned out by the beat of your heart thumping in your ears. You felt the muscles in your face contort, those in your forehead working the hardest with deep brow furrows.

Oh?

You were nervous.

But how could you be nervous?

“It’s only Nishikiyama-san,” you mumbled to yourself. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

It was your job to drink with him. You didn’t want to be arrogant but one must remind themselves that the man paid for your time. It might have been after hours but this was no different than what you’d done mere hours ago. It was just a couple of drinks! How bad could it be?

You’d drink. Chat. Go home.

Was there really any reason to be noodle-armed and lead-legged outside in the cold? Worst case scenario, he’d invited you there to see if he could convince you to work at a club he’s got dealings with or something. He’d never given you the poacher-vibe before but you couldn’t be too careful. It wasn’t uncommon for his type to pull stunts like that with hostesses.

You’d drink. Say no. Go home.

Releasing one, long stuttering breath, you straightened your posture then found the strength to pull the weighty door. You navigated your way through the ornate ground level of the building until you could find a directory to point you in the direction of the bar. You had the option of stairs or an elevator but you opted for the stairs simply to prolong the amount of time it took to get you there.

At the top of the stairs, you spotted the bar in the middle of the corridor thanks to the sign that hung above it. Hitonomi written elegantly in black kanji through the stem of a gold-lit martini glass.

You could feel the lead legs returning but you persisted until you reached the manual sliding door. Affording yourself one more deep breath, you slid the door quietly and slipped inside.

Funky jazz tunes greeted you, easing you into the mellow atmosphere. Two tall, vivid money trees framed the white frosted door and on the wall just ahead of you was an oversized painting of a silhouette of what could have been a woman looking down at something, but you couldn’t be sure. There was a metal abstract divider acting as a partition to separate the gap between the entrance and the main dining room. You continued along the deep red carpet, noting its subtle diamond pattern until you passed the divider.

You could see why someone like Nishikiyama would find this a nice place to unwind. At this location, it fit the bill for the luxurious outing that he seems to pride himself on being able to afford but it was still modest enough to fly under the radar– perhaps it didn’t exactly catch the attention of the types that went to places for the sake of being able to say that they’ve been… People like Nishikiyama himself.

It had a warmth about it that wasn’t the slightest bit intimidating. It was quite cozy in fact, perhaps even a bit more intimate than what you’d imagined on your way here, what with the tight seating and dim lighting.

The bar was just to the left of the entrance and you’d spotted him there in an instant.

Nishikiyama was dead center, smoking one of his usual Cabins as he stared up at the bartender with the same parted-lipped, amused expression he gave you when you were in the middle of an anecdote. Smoke was forced out of his nose as he blew a raspberry in what seemed like an attempt to stifle laughter. Then, he tossed back his head, hair flying back with him as he laughed heartily before pointing his smoking hand at the bartender and chuckling out something that you couldn’t make out with the distance.

His maroon coat had been hanging behind him on the royal blue bucket barstool and he’d had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbows. He brushed his hair back from his face, allowing more of his side profile.

He really was so–

“I don’t recall seeing you around here before.” the bartender’s gruff voice said, interrupting your thoughts and you’re grateful that he had.

Nishikiyama had been about to take a sip of whatever he’d been drinking as his delayed reaction turned his attention to you but once he spotted you, he lowered the glass and smiled. It seemed as if his eyes had a bit of a twinkle in them when he noticed you, much different from the look he often gave you at the club.

He rested his chin on his fist. “She’s with me.”

A flurry of microexpressions that you couldn’t quite read crossed the other man’s face, “Of course. Well, welcome, Miss…” he trailed off.

You and Nishikiyama answered him with your name in unison which for some reason made the man chuckle as he looked at the other before returning his attention to you.

“_____-san, then? What’ll you have this evening?”

Nishikiyama looked at you, his expression one of geniality as he placed a menu in your hand. “Whatever you want, okay? Don’t be shy. It’s my treat.”

You skimmed the menu.

You’d have hoped it was his treat! The prices at this place were nothing to sneeze at. You felt almost duped by the atmosphere– there was nothing inviting about the potential tab! If you didn’t regularly run his pockets you might have questioned if he could actually afford casually drinking at a place like this or if it was simply posturing to impress you.

But… Why would he want to do that anyway?

You ordered your usual drink of choice. Depending on how the night went, you might venture out and try one of the signature cocktails later.

“Of course. Just a moment.” the bartender said with a bow.

“C’mon, get comfy. Or do you see somewhere else you wanna sit?” Nishikiyama turned to face the fairly empty bar before shifting his attention to you, “Want some privacy?”

You were used to being out in the middle of a mostly packed room, in the light where everyone could see you. It wasn’t as if you were afraid of him or anything but somehow, sitting in one of those darker corners made you nervous beyond belief. It made you feel as though this would turn into something you weren’t prepared for it to be.

Privacy felt intimidating.

You shook your head. “I’ll just join you here at the bar.”

“Suit yourself.” he said as he slid himself off of the bar stool with a soft grunt.

“Left or right?”

“Huh?”

He stood in front of you as he gestured with his thumbs. “Which side do you want to sit on?”

Has he always been that tall? More importantly, he smelled good at the club but why did he seem to smell even better now? You shook the thoughts from your mind and frowned.

“Oh, I don’t know! You pick.”

He smiled as he pressed his palm to the top of your head and used it to gently maneuver you back slightly, “Then, I’ll sit you on my good side.” he said, then slid out the seat to the left of his.

The bartender sat your drink at your newly assigned seat then Nishikiyama waited until you sat down so that he could push you in before returning to his own.

Cheers!

“So, you think the left is your good side?” you asked, lightly swirling your drink in its glass. “I’d have thought someone like you would believe all your sides are good.”

“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or calling me a cocky dick.” he chuckled, finally taking a sip of his drink.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “I’m just saying that, having sat on both sides of you, I don't think you have a bad side.”

He folded his arms on the bar then stuck his neck out to you so that only you could hear what he was saying, “Listen, _____, I know you’ve heard a lot of stuff about me but let’s get one thing clear: I am not easy. Alright?”

You could feel horror twist your face. Did he really? Was he? Did?

“What?”

“Butter me up all you want, but you’re not getting into my pants.”

Your entire body had begun to heat up from bottom to top. You could feel it radiating off your ears even. “I never– I don’t want to get into your pants!” you nearly shouted, drawing the attention of the bartender, who did an awful impression of a guy who hadn’t heard anything when he clearly did.

“That so?” Nishikiyama wiggled his eyebrows and smiled, “Say it louder so the people in the bar across the way can hear it too.”

The realization crashed down on you like a tsunami, you’d already begun to sweat. “Oh, you were joking.”

He scoffed as he placed his cigarette back in his mouth, “Of course I was joking. Don’t make it so easy for me to tease you. I won't let up so quickly next time.”

You let out a heavy breath. “You scared me! I really thought you thought I was coming onto you or something.”

He stared at the bar then mumbled, “Would that be such a bad thing?”

He didn’t look directly at you when he said it so you couldn’t read his expression, nor could you decode his tone but you assumed it must have been another one of his jokes. He had told you not to make it so easy. So, you decided to not take it seriously. Instead, you brought your hand to your mouth and laughed a bit as you swung your foot at his under the bar.

“What are you saying, Nishikiyama-san?”

He blew a breath out of his nose and there was a tiny curl to his lips before he tossed back the last of his liquor.

“Hey man, I think I’m good on these.” he spoke abruptly to the bartender. “It’s definitely a good cocktail.”

The other man wiped his hand on a towel before taking his empty glass. “But is it good enough for the menu?”

“I’d say it is.” he said. “Maybe make it a little stronger though and add a dry vermouth or something?”

“Ah… vermouth. Okay, just one more. Last one, then I’ll give you your bottle..” the bartender said, rubbing his hands together.

Nishikiyama groaned, laying his forehead onto his forearms. “You said that last time!”

“Quit your whining! It’s free booze!”

“Who cares if it’s free! Let me drink what I came for, dammit.” He turned to you with a slightly pouty expression, you’d never seen him look like this before but it sort of stunned you that he could make such cute faces. “The guy forces me to be his taste test dummy every time I stop by and he holds my keep bottle hostage.”

“You have a keep bottle?” you asked.

“Of course I do.” he said. “You’d never know it with the way this guy acts though.”

You laughed. “You’re really giving him a hard time.”

“Ahh, he’ll be fine.” he said, plucking away his cigarette ashes. “We’re usually worse than this but….”

“Oh?” you sipped your drink. “Well, don’t let me stop you from having fun.”

“Who said you were stopping anything? The night is young.” he asked, leaning back onto his chair as he traced his lip with his propped hand. “If anything, I’d say the same to you. Loosen up a little. I thought getting you out of that damn club would help you relax but if anything, you seem more tense.”

“I do?”

“Work’s been stressing you out these days, hasn’t it?” he asked, giving the bartender an acknowledging nod when he heard him place a new glass beside him.

His chocolate eyes scanned your face as if he’d been searching for something before finally settling on yours. As lovely as the rest of him was, there was something about the way he looked at you that always made you feel a tad uneasy. It wasn’t as if you disliked it, on the contrary, you just found it difficult to maintain eye contact for very long. If there was one thing you could say about Akira Nishikiyama, when you had his undivided attention, he made it known.

Anyone would feel as if they’re under threat of melting and losing their composure. Right?

Right?

Your brows tightened at the thought, and the feeling, “Is it really that obvious?”

He brushed his knuckles gently against the sleeve of your jacket and feigned offense, “C’mon! I know you try your best to play it up and all, but no matter how good you are at your job, there’s bound to be someone there that’s paying enough attention to spot the cracks.”

“And that someone is you?”

“Of course!” He smiled a big, goofy grin before taking a sip of his drink and nodding at the bartender. “This one’s the winner.”

“You’re not just saying that?” he asked, hopefulness in his voice.

Nishikiyama scoffed, “Since when was I the type to spare your feelings?”

“Dammit, you’re right.” The man’s face lit up as he whipped out his notepad and walked through the door behind the bar.

You traced your finger around the rim of your glass absentmindedly until you heard him snap his fingers at you. “Back to me, princess.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve gotta know though,” he asked. “What’s got the best hostess in town bogged down?”

Taking in a long, sharp breath, you thought about what could have possibly given him any indication that something may have been wrong with you. Had you not been doing your job properly?

“What makes you think anything has me ‘bogged down’?” you asked.

“Plenty of things.”

“Like?”

“When certain girls sit in our section, you seem like you tone yourself down– like you’re trying not to upstage them or something.”

He was right. “That’s silly.”

“You’re tense as hell when you’re next to me but you’re limp as a noodle next to any other man in my party.” he said, studying your face then his lips curled into a smile. “Which means, either one: there’s something going on backstage where I’m concerned or, two: you’ve fallen for me.”

He was… partially correct. “Alright,” you laughed. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves.”

Nishikiyama’s smile melted into something more serious as he placed his hand on the back of your chair and turned you so that you had no choice but to face him.

“But, I think the thing that bothered me the most– what made me invite you out tonight so that I could get to the bottom of it, is that your eyes aren’t shining the same.”

He was so close to you as he looked into your eyes as if he was checking one final time to confirm his suspicions and while he did that, you lost yourself in him. You could see every pore, line and bit of stubble coming in. You should’ve been upset by this closeness, frustrated that he was in your bubble. Instead, you were fascinated that he’d been watching you so closely for who knows how long when all you’d thought you were to him was the girl that poured his drinks and talked to him while he was bored. You wondered if any other customers saw you like this or if this was all him. Before you could even finish that thought, you wondered if you even cared if other customers saw you like this. Part of you wanted it to be unique to him…

“Huh…” he huffed, then flashed those pearly whites. “Cat got your tongue?”

You blinked out of your daze and shook your head, “Sorry, I’m just a little surprised you pay that much attention to your hostesses.”

“I don’t.” he said, finally settling back into his seat to take a drink of his cocktail. “I pay attention to you.”

What the hell? Your heart skipped a beat– None of your customers have ever made your heart skip a beat. You didn’t allow it. You kept each of your customers at an arm's length specifically so that they couldn’t get too close but even doing that couldn’t keep Nishikiyama from seeing through you.

And why would he even care to see through you?

“Me?” was all that you could really manage.

He nodded, “So, again, I ask... What’s the problem?”

You fixated on the candle on the wooden bartop as you contemplated what to say next.

You were conflicted. He’d pretty much hit the nail on the head. He was still your customer. So, you weren’t quite sure how wise it would be to open up. Sure, he noticed a couple of things but his impression of you and your club was what kept the lights on. He was no small spender. Losing his patronage could prove detrimental… But, it was perhaps for that reason that you considered if maybe honesty was indeed the best policy.

After all, he had noticed all those things even when you’d been trying your best to hide it. Maybe if it continued on like this, he would decide he’d rather go for someone else that could better keep it together. You winced when you felt the pang in your chest brought on by that thought.

While this entire situation brought on a bunch of undue, (unspoken) ire, you’d known in reality that it was misplaced. You were simply frustrated and though it was his fault. It wasn’t his fault. Deep down you wondered, if you’d lost him as a patron, wouldn’t you have actually been devastated?

Current events aside, the truth was, Nishikiyama was one of your favorite patrons– even after you closed your eyes and removed his bottomless wallet.

But you weren’t allowed to admit that– Policy and all.

“Hmm?” he hummed, tapping his pointer finger on the bar in your line of vision.

When you glanced at him, he tilted his concerned face at you. It was hard to conjure up a lie when he watched you like that. You wound your shoulders and silently prayed to whomever may be listening that opening your mouth wouldn’t backfire.

“So, uh, do you remember earlier…when I mentioned that there are rumors going around about you?” you asked, playing in the condensation on your glass.

He nodded, a ghost of a smirk kissing his lips.

“Well,” you sighed. “I’m… also, included in the mix.”

“How do you mean?”

You frowned, not sure if he was messing with you or if he genuinely needed you to spell it out for him but his face betrayed nothing.

“People are thinking that you and I have hooked up, Nishikiyama-san.” you said bluntly.

Nishikiyama was silent for a while, his eyes bouncing between yours before he inhaled sharply and then went for his drink. Still, his expression told you nothing.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with that. So, you stopped looking to him for indicators on whether what you were saying was okay or not and just kept talking hoping that maybe he’d stop you if he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“I’ve denied it, of course.” you clarified, “I didn’t want people getting the wrong impression of you– or me, but… It doesn’t really seem to matter what I say because they all prefer sensationalism and getting good gossip out of it rather than the actual truth. At first, they were just whispering about it like, ‘Oh, do you think they–’ but then, the more you showed up and the more you requested me, they took that as their proof that we had. That’s when they started telling me about you. I guess thinking that it would upset me or get me to crack but, I don’t care what you do in your personal life.”

He seemed to have flinched a bit at your final sentence but still he didn’t say anything. Instead, he finished up the last of his cocktail.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry.”

Nishikiyama smiled a barely there smile at you then waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. Go on. Let it out.”

“Oh, uh, just that…” you’d sort of forgotten what you’d said last.

He seemed to be able to tell.

“They tried to get you to crack…” he said, pushing his empty glass away from him then reclined back into the blue chair.

“Right, and I suppose that since I never came out with a story of my own to satisfy their lust for gossip, they started to assume I was lying. The cattiness has always been there– It’s a part of the culture but… Then, they just got mean.”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, childish stuff too. Like, notes in my locker, writing stuff on my mirror between customers so I’d see it when I got back, hiding my clothes after shift showers. That sort of thing.”

Nishikiyama had gone from being totally unreadable to mildly upset to something resembling guilt.

“All of that over some fucking rumors that they started?”

You smiled sheepishly as you nudged him with your fist, “What can I say, you’re a popular guy.”

He shook his head while pinching the bridge of his nose and released a long shaky sigh. Nothing but the jazz from the speakers behind you filled the gap. He tilted his head back, running both his hands through his hair as he stared up at the pendant lights hanging from the ceiling.

He seemed stressed.

Should you not have told him?

“You know,” he began. “____, when I saw that you were worn out in the beginning, I’d hoped that it was a money issue. So, I started spending even more than I needed to, just to make sure you were covered. Even if I didn’t touch half the shit they brought to our table. I thought I was helping you… But to think that all this time, I’ve been the reason for your trouble all along–”

“You’re not.”

“I am, though. I am.” he said, his gaze went so deep you felt as if he was peering into your soul. “Listen, I’m… I’m sorry about all of that. If I’d known that all of that was happening, I would’ve just stayed away from the damn club.”

“I wouldn’t have wanted that!” you said, reaching for his wrist. “I love it when you come around and I’m not just saying that… I’m off the clock, so.”

He chuckled, “And I lo– I enjoy your company, you know? But not at that cost.”

You sighed, it felt good getting it all off of your chest but it brought you no joy that he blamed himself for any of this. After all, he’d never cut your bra with scissors and left the pieces in a toilet for you to find later. His only crime was that he’d been too sought after for his own good– that and well, perhaps, whatever it is he truly does for a living but that’s a different conversation.

“So, where do we go from here?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I’ve been flirting with the idea of leaving and going to a new club.”

He hummed, placing a cigarette in his mouth. You grabbed his lighter from the bar and he leaned toward you so that you could light it for him.

“Alright,” he exhaled. “We’ll go to a new club, then.”

“We?” you laughed.

Nishikiyama beamed, “What? You didn’t think I was just going to lose out on a drinking buddy over this, did you?”

“What was all that about ‘staying away from the club’?”

“Yeah, that club!” he said. “If you go somewhere else, you’re starting out on a clean slate!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “And what happens when I start there and you show up and find that you’ve hooked up with 10 of those girls?”

“Oi, oi. Just who do you think I am anyway?” he said with a faux shocked expression.

“You’re going to get me bullied out of every hostess gig in Kamurocho at this rate, Nishikiyama-san.”

“You’re going a little insane with this hypothetical situation, ____.” he teased. “But, alright, fine. Then, what’s the alternative? Say I don’t come to the club anymore–”

“Why do you keep suggesting that?”

He held up his finger at you. “And I don’t follow you to whatever new club you end up at, are you saying that that’s it? I won’t be drinking with you anymore?”

He seemed to be so fixated on that.

“We’re drinking together right now, aren’t we?” you smiled. “We’re not bound to any dingy little club.”

The corners of his eyes lifted, and there was a very subtle scrunch just below the bridge of his nose as his pink lips curled. There was something so tender about his expression and you weren’t sure if it was the drink you’d nearly finished or if he’d worked some weird magic on you that made parts of you flutter.

“Then, I guess we shouldn’t let the night go to waste.” he said.

“The night is young.”

Part 3💛

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #another 5k words about how pretty nishiki is but the reader is too scared 2 look at the woman in the mirror and admit what she already know #PLEASE JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY I BEG #im sorry if reader is frustrating to anyone- she frustrated me too <3 we're in this together <3 <3 <3 *holding your hand and swingin*#it's gonna turn around I SWEAR!#confía en mí 🩷

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kulemiwrites · 16 days

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𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏| 𝐀𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐚

Part: i of iii

Genre: Romance, Eventual Smut

Rating: 18+

Word count: 5.1k

Character(s): Akira Nishikiyama, fem!Reader

Warning: Do not read if the idea of an f/o having previous partners or you being the object of envy is upsetting to you. Also, this is not an established relationship fic. Too long for tumblr? Read on AO3

There were names that you became familiar with after spending any amount of time in the Kamurocho nightlife. Some were names of people to watch out for- bad news, dangerous, some of the last people in town you’d want to cross paths with. Some were known for simply throwing their weight around- flashing their cash, accompanied by muscle, having a pissy fit whenever they didn’t quite get their way. There were also the names of the guy or gal you went to when you really needed to know something or to have something done. Or perhaps they just had a bit of a… reputation– word got around about them. Depending on who you spoke to in town, Akira Nishikiyama could have fit into any one of those categories.

You’d never seen much of his violent side but you knew perfectly well how capable he was of it. He’d offered a hand to security once when a customer got a tad too “friendly” with you. He never quite threw a tantrum but he wasn’t above spilling a wad of cash on the podium to get ahead of the line when there was a wait. However, there was one thing you couldn’t deny without a shadow of a doubt: Nishikiyama had quite the reputation.

He wasn’t the most popular with men from what you could tell. Even the men he’d come into the club with seemed to give him a bit of a hard time. Sometimes he seemed to take it in stride. Other times, through the fury in his sharp brown glare you could see that there seemed to be a silent promise of a brawl outside once the session was over.

The women however, fell over themselves to get to him. You couldn’t say that you didn’t see the appeal. He was handsome– beyond handsome, sometimes when you sat with him and watched him lower his defenses enough to smile and laugh, he was quite beautiful even. His hair had more volume than some of the girls in the dressing room. He was no slouch either. Every single one of his suits were designer– you didn’t know which designers but after being in this business for long enough, you could tell the difference between a tailored, brand name suit and a shoddy, discount shop suit trying to pass itself off as one. There was never even a speck of dirt on his shiny leather shoes.

And he always smelled absolutely divine-- Fresh. Woody. Something, something, sensual masculinity. You didn’t know the right words but it alone was captivating. Even you could find yourself lost in that aroma and unconsciously bow over hoping for more.

There was a draw to him.

However, it wasn’t just his good looks that had the girls dying to swarm him like flies to honey. He had charm, too. It was hard to miss, especially when he routinely surrounded himself with charmless buffoons.

He stood out and he made it seem effortless.

Nishikiyama had been your regular for a year, at least. Perhaps you’d been seeing him for longer but you only decided to start paying attention to how often he would request you when your coworkers began to complain. When he first began visiting the club, infrequently, every couple months or so, he’d take any girl he’d been sat with but after seeing you a few times, he seemed to increase his visits– how often he saw you.

He’d begun to show up about once or twice a week, each time with a different ensemble of men in his entourage– familiar faces but never quite the exact same group. If he was the first to arrive, which he typically was, you were requested. He’d take no one else. It mattered none to him that you were busy. If he couldn’t bri– pay to have you reassigned from whoever you were serving originally, he’d take a placeholder and wait until you were available. Either way, he’d see you before the night was over.

He wasn’t the most patient about it but still, he’d wait, craning his neck around the room until you made your way over to him.

This behavior of his had begun to cause a bit of a stir in the dressing room and in the beginning you’d done your best to ignore it but you were now at your wits end.

There were…rumors about Akira Nishikiyama and many of them circulated in the dressing room then made their way out into the streets of Kamurocho. Then, vice versa. It wasn’t as if you wanted to hear them. You never even asked but the information always managed to find its way to you somehow; be it an overheard conversation or someone giddily whispering over your shoulder what they’d just “found out”. In their minds, they thought it to be vital information for you.

After all, you were allegedly Nishikiyama’s “favorite”.

Some of the rumors were silly, nothing that anyone should have bothered to concern themselves with. Things like: A friend of a friend had given him her number and he’d never called her! What a jerk, right? Or, he’d dated some college girl a few summers ago and then suddenly broke it off and ever since she’d been telling everyone that she wants him back. Whose business was that anyway? Then, there were other things you would hear, that, even though you pretended not to care, it did perk your ears juuust a little.

There was a hostess that used to work with you a couple months ago who quit- reasons unknown. Word in the dressing room was that they had a bit of a “thing” together– a one night stand. She wouldn’t stop bringing it up whenever he showed up and requested you instead of her. Essentially, every time he showed up... You supposed it was meant to make you jealous but in reality, it only made you question why he’d go after such a bratty girl to begin with.

You questioned his taste, sure, but, jealous? Of course not.

You had another coworker who alleged to have hooked up with him too but she’d only mentioned it once or twice after going out drinking with the others after work. The rest did the legwork for her.

At the risk of making the man sound a tad promiscuous, there were quite a few different stories going around about him. All from different women. And although the stories all started differently, they typically ended the same way: Nishikiyama-kun went down on me and gave me the best orgasm of my life.

Again, it wasn’t as if you wanted to know these things but hearing that same conclusion time and time again did make you slightly curious. You had to admit. Could he really be that good? Then, you’d mentally kick yourself anytime you found the thought circulating in your mind. He was your regular– you shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts even in absolute jest.

One had to maintain a level of professionalism here.

His notoriety amongst the ladies and his proclivity for you, though, had begun to make work a little unbearable. Where you once fell under the radar, you were now under the spotlight– right there with Nishikiyama and his wagging tongue. The gossip had gone from simply being about him and various faceless women in town to being about you, specifically.

And so, you became an object of resentment and envy.

In their minds, if you’d been hooking up with the man after hours, why not just come clean like the others? Also, you were raking it in when he stopped by! That had to go against some sort of guideline. You had to answer to managers on multiple occasions that, no, you were not having casual sex with a customer and yes, you did understand that went against club policy. The ladies couldn’t understand why the hell he would be giving you so much attention if you weren’t selling the goods on the side. You knew deep down the managers didn’t really care as it was bringing in a hefty, steady flow of cash but they were posturing to keep the others happy.

You got it from both ends and it pissed you off immensely because there wasn’t the slightest bit of truth to any of it.

In fact, the infamous “Nishikiyama-kun~” hadn’t come on to you once since he’d started requesting you all that time ago. Things were no different with him than they were with the rest of your customers and you were sure that your coworkers knew that as they tended to stand around and seethe and stare as you worked if they weren’t paired off with you.

You were the friendly hostess– the one that customers could count on to help cheer them up after a rough day. The listening ear, the shoulder to cry on. You were the one who lifted their spirits and made them laugh. That was your role. You weren’t quite equipped to play the seductress that they were all accusing you of being. Whenever your clients had their moods lifted high enough and were leaning in for something a little more playful, or romantic in nature, you called in reinforcements.

Even so, he’d always seemed to go at your pace. Never once have you ever had to pass him off to someone else and it sort of begged the question: What gives? If he was such a casanova picking up girls here and over yonder, why the hell hasn’t he ever tried anything with you? Were you not his type or something? It wasn’t as if you wanted him to hit on you– Gosh, anything but! But…

Well, you’d at least like the courtesy of shooting him down.

After everything you’d heard about the guy from the others, you thought, well, it’d just be polite!

“______!” the floor manager shouted your name, startling you as you reapplied your lipstick in the mirror.

The crimson had smeared past your lip line and down your chin. You looked up at him, making cold eye contact with his reflection in the mirror. You could see him biting back a smile as he pressed his palms together.

“Yeah?”

“One of your regulars is here to see you,” he said.

You cleaned the smeared lipstick, continuing to look up at him. “Alright, who is it?” But you didn’t really need to ask, you had a hunch.

“Nishikiyama-sama.” he said curtly.

“I see.” you said, fixing the neckline of your dress. “Let him know I’ll be out in a bit.”

The man bowed, “Of course.”

The woman at the vanity next to yours, a veteran at the club, shot you a dirty look. “‘Of course’.” she echoed.

You were so exhausted with the catty attitudes but you tried to at least respect the hierarchy of the place, as much as it pained you. So, you lifted yourself from the stool to excuse yourself and meet with your client. Before turning, you scanned your vanity for things that he’d previously gifted you with and decided on wearing them instead. So, you swapped the emerald and gold necklace for the pearl pendant he’d brought you last week. You spritzed yourself with the perfume from last month and slipped on the bracelet from the beginning of it all. You passed over your reflection one last time before heading toward the velvet curtains.

Perhaps it was a little embarrassing to say but Nishiki felt at home whenever he’d come to this place. The drinks were a bit watered down and overpriced but the food wasn’t bad and the service was phenomenal. He didn’t always feel that way though. In fact, it took more than a few tries to get it right and usually, he gave up on a place when it failed to satisfy him the first time. After all, every 10 paces, there’s another hostess club with the same damn drink menu with the same damn food with the same damn tropes of women to pawn off to the men willing to waste their time and money.

But not every single one of those clubs had a girl like you in it.

To say you were cute would have been an absolute understatement but that wasn’t what kept him coming back. Kamurocho was the land of beautiful women. It was the way you did your job. You suspected that he had money– he saw you size him up when you first greeted him but you never tried to upsell him on anything. If you were attracted to him, he sure as hell couldn’t tell. You never pushed yourself up on him or puffed out your chest, grabbed onto him or played in his hair like the treatment he’s used to at these sorts of places. You simply filled his drink, kept him company and looked absolutely stunning doing it.

Sometimes, you helped him relax– other times, you were the reason that he couldn’t but he’d never let you see him sweat…

Sure, he did have nights when he wanted to go out and have a cute girl go all out flirting with him every once in a while but he had other places for that. This place was where he went to take it easy or schmooze or both and he’d sing its praises (and yours) to anyone that’d listen. Hence why he brought so many people here– that and, he did have days where… and he couldn’t explain it but he just had a strong desire to hear your voice and see you, admire your smile and laugh, eyes and when you wouldn’t notice, your figure.

Tonight was one of those nights, the desire to just have you near him was so unbelievably strong but he feared his party this evening wasn’t the most hometrained. They just might’ve blown his cover if he wasn’t careful enough.

He sat back against the teal, chenille banquette, arms stretched along the back while his right leg crossed loosely over the left, foot rocking above his knee. He’d been smirking as his two old buddies from middle school debated inappropriately about what they would and wouldn’t do in bed. He reached forward and grabbed his lit cigarette from the ashtray as the conversation pivoted to oral sex. These guys were absolute goobers with no game at all. He hoped they’d stop by the time the girls arrived to keep them company or else they’d just start telling on themselves.

This should be good. He thought, right eye narrowing a bit as he softly hollowed his cheeks on inhale.

“I just don’t get how guys can stomach it for that long. A couple of licks and I’m over it.” his buddy Miura with a wife and two kids said.

Muira was a loyal friend but he wasn’t so much as a husband and to hear he was also a selfish lover, Nishiki could see why things turned out the way they did. He released his smoke and chuckled.

“‘A couple licks’?” he repeated incredulously.

His other friend, Takagi, folded his arm over his rounded belly and smiled proudly, “I do just enough to get ‘em wet then I stick it in.”

Nishiki’s eyes widened. He shook his head as he rubbed at his bottom lip with his cigarette wielding hand. “You guys are horrific. I don’t even want to imagine the horror stories those poor girls are going back and telling their friends about you.”

Miura clicked his tongue, “Who cares what stories they tell. I know what really happened!”

Nishiki raised a brow at his friend and teased, “What, that you didn’t make them cum?”

“That’s not true!” the man denied, his face quickly growing red. “I’ve made loads of ladies cum! I always make them cum! Every single one of them!”

“Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Two Licks I’m Out.” Nishiki laughed.

Takagi rested his arms on his knees and stared at their friend with a look of concern. “Say, Miura, why you making it sound like you get so much pussy or somethin’ anyway? I’m really thinkin’ of tellin’ your wife at this point. I mean, think of the kids.”

“She’s the one that started screwin’ that damn rice farmer!”

“Awww.” Nishiki and Takagi said in false sympathy. Muira had long forgotten he’d drunkenly admitted to his wife finding out about his regular cheating and agreeing to stay together for the sake of the kids but she would be stepping out in the meantime. Neither of them felt bad for him.

Great friend, horrible husband.

Your voice, as lovely as the last he’d heard it– two nights ago to be exact, cut into his banter with his friends and he tried to make sure he wasn’t too responsive when he turned to meet it. He was glad you didn’t have a stethoscope attached to his chest or otherwise you’d hear his heart playing blast beats.

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” you chirped, your hands clasped in between your thighs as you bowed deeply.

You were wearing that cute, knee length dress you’d just bought last week. He remembered you being so excited about it when you described it to him. He was subtle about his eyes when they scanned you from top to bottom before you swiped your pretty, manicured hands beneath your perfect ass to pull your dress taut before taking your usual seat beside him. He softly took his bottom lip in between his teeth and tilted his head to the side as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Fuck, you looked amazing tonight. You looked amazing every night but tonight you had a certain glow about you. He could just eat you up…

Figuratively, of course.

“It’s alright.” he said, finally releasing his lip and noting that a couple of unfortunate girls have paired off with his friends. “You’re a popular girl. That’s what I get for going after the best in the house, right?”

You gave him a polite smile and fumbled with your hands which were still in your lap as your eyes darted in between your coworkers. You’d never gone for flattery but usually you’d at least brush him off with a laugh. Instead, he sensed tension and this wasn’t the first time.

He removed his arms from behind the booth, positioning his clasped hands into the lap of his spread legs. He wasn’t even sure why he’d done it just that he was compelled to do it.

“So, Nish–”

“By the way–”

You both spoke, interrupting one another. You giggled, so precious, then offered him the floor. Nishiki searched your face before leaning in, you smelled amazing. Familiar. He knew that he’d smelled this scent before but this wasn’t what you typically smelled like. At least, he didn’t remember you smelling like this the other night. He should have remembered. When did you change perfumes? Wait, was this the one he’d gotten you and if so, why did it smell better now than when he smelled it at the store?

“Nishikiyama-san?” you said, when he continued to subtly hover over to you saying nothing. “Are you okay?”

Shit. He needed to get himself together. He was better than this.

“Sorry, I just noticed that you…” he mumbled, rubbing the tip of his nose as he realized he was at risk of losing his ‘flying under the radar’ game with a comment like this. “smell different.”

He watched you beam as you tucked your chin into your shoulder, bringing your manicured fingers to your chest, “You noticed! I didn’t think you would.”

“And why wouldn’t I?” he asked, folding his arms across his own chest playfully. You were the only damn girl in the place he paid any attention to. He’d notice if you plucked/waxed your eyebrows, if you dyed your hair or even if the color painted on your fucking toes was different since he’d last saw you.

You were his favorite.

You teased your hair, eyes dancing between his, “I don’t know. Most guys give us gifts and don’t remember that they’ve given them to us. Some people give gifts just to win favor or out of feelings of obligation– Or shut certain people up.”

Your voice lowered, and you rocked yourself in his direction to whisper that last part. He laughed. He usually hated workplace gossip when he went to these places but he’d listen to you tell him who was getting new tatami mats for their house if that’s what you had on your chest that day.

Speaking of chests, it wasn’t lost on him that your neckline was sort of plunging. You’d had some of the most gorgeous skin that he’d ever seen, amongst other things– except, he’s not supposed to be seeing it. If he’d been playing this properly, you had no inkling that he was even into you. There’d be no reason for you to suspect that the reason that the sweat beading around his hairline had likely come from the stress of avoiding any undue glances at the valley of your breasts and not the heat of the building.

“You think I don’t notice things, huh?”

He lost.

He snuck a peek but it was perfect– as were you, by the way.

“I got you that necklace, didn’t I?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing the necklace and absolutely nothing else. “Let’s see…”

You hid your folded hands in your lap once again and he reached delicately for the decorated forearm.

“That bracelet….”

You gasped dramatically.

“C’mon, I point that out every time you wear it…” he said, attempting to fight off the sheepish feeling that had been creeping up on him. “The perfume is new, though.”

“That’s because I wore it for the first time just for you tonight.”

His heart skipped a couple of beats and his ears rang. He had to look away. He didn’t really care where his gaze fell but he wanted to make sure he appeared as disinterested as possible. Fuck. The room was spinning, though. He scanned his friends who had long since forgotten his existence just as he’d forgotten theirs. He half rolled his head to crack his neck then stretched his arms back out onto the booth as he called to his friends.

“Miura, Takagi. We’ve been sitting here a while.” he said. “I say we order something.”

“You're paying right, Nishikiyama?” Miura laughed then tapped his hostess with his elbow. “Sweetheart, bring me the most expensive shit you got!”

When he looked at you, you went into your default, robotic menu presentation. He hated doing what he’d just done but he was never sure what to make of the things you said. He was sure you said sweet things like that to any man that came in and gave you gifts. You weren’t the only one he’d given a gift to either but you were the only one that made him feel things when he saw them again– the only one he put thought into while shopping for.

He lowered the menu in your hands and smiled, “You know what I like. Take care of me, yeah?”

You nodded, then turned to raise your hand to call over a server.

Nishiki pulled open the pocket of his maroon jacket to retrieve his pack of cigarettes and lighter then watched as you placed his usual order. He should’ve waited to let you light it for him but he’d gone into a trance. Even when doing something as simple as asking for liquor and greasy food, you looked like a divine being. Simply otherworldly. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off and had been off for some time now.

He blew out a puff of smoke that obscured his view of your side profile and once you were facing him again, it cleared and he could see it clear as day.

There was a crack in your transcendence.

What were you in need of?

How could he relieve you?

—

The usual 90 minute session plus extra hour extension that Nishiki tended to get with you flew by as it always did. His friends had left 30 minutes earlier- Miura, to get back to the wife and kids and Takagi to not risk cutting it close for the last train of the evening. So, there was no longer any need for the other two hostesses that accompanied you during the session. That just left him to spend the remainder of the time alone with you but he had no complaints about that.

He contemplated all evening when or even if, he should bring it up especially since he wasn’t certain at the time. Now that there was no one left but the two of you, it was clear as day. When your coworkers were there, you seemed quite anxious. You seemed to go into a quiet panic when he’d say certain things to you, too– which were never bad but if he had to wager, you must have been worried about them being taken out of context. Now that the girls were gone, you seemed calmer albeit still a bit tense.

He couldn’t just leave it alone.

He wasn’t sure what was going on but he suspected this place had much to do with it. He’d whisk you away if he could, even if only for one night.

“Say,” he said, placing his empty, sweating glass onto the table of chaos. “Where do you take up after hours anyway?”

Your confused expression was one of your cutest ones but he was sure his question was quite clear. You could fool anyone else but he wouldn’t let you try it with him.

“You’ve told me about your hobbies and stuff but you’ve never really told me what you like to do after work. How do you unwind?”

“Uh…” you trailed off and nothing else followed.

You shared a lot about yourself but there tended to be many things that you seemed to prefer to keep private. He wanted to know as much as there was to know about you. He wished that you would become an open book and show him all of your pages, even the unrefined, ripped and scratched out ones that you hid from everyone else.

“Don’t tell me you go home and do nothing?” he teased. “You know, your coworkers go out to hit the bars and clubs right after their shifts are done.”

You stared at him in silence for a moment too long then muttered, “Of course you would know.” as you looked away.

Something in that expression worried him. This time, he couldn’t even hide it if he wanted to. He felt his brows twitch together as he turned toward you on the banquette, resting his forearms on his knees. What the fuck has he done now?

“What do you mean?”

You shrugged, rolling your fingers over your thumb appearing indifferent. “I’ve heard about you…”

Oh. That. He could almost laugh but he didn’t.

He had been your regular for a year and 4 months, occasional client a couple times before that and this is only now coming up? It made his lips curl, his ears perk and his mouth salivate. What was it to you anyway?

What, did you want to know if the rumors were true too?

“Yeah?” he tried his best to contain his smile and so, he licked his lips instead. “And? Tell me… What am I famous for?”

He wanted so badly to tease you for the way your eyes popped then averted. He could feel the heat rising from you just from where he sat. Anywhere else, he might’ve given you a really hard time. But you were working, after all and he wasn’t sure if you realized it but, you two seemingly had an audience of employees pretending to be busy.

“The girls say that you’ve invited them out to hook up and never call them back or something.”

Or something, but something told him you knew the whole story. Cute.

“That’s the scoop, huh? So, I’m a hostess hopper, then?” He tightened his lips as he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Alright, well. Do you want the truth or a lie?”

You scrunched your nose up at him, “I don't care to know your business but if I did, obviously I’d want the truth. What kind of question is that?”

His eyes scanned the room, noting your coworkers staring not-so-subtly as he rubbed his back against the teal seating, “I did recognize at least two girls here that I’ve been with before.”

“‘At least’?”

He nodded, tilting his head as he looked at you with a tired expression. “The thing is though, I didn’t realize they worked here until after it happened. It’s not as if I found them here and asked them out– They just so happened to be where I was. We talked. One thing lead to another–”

You waved a dismissive hand at him, letting him know that he was giving more information than you needed and wanted. “I think I get the jist. I know how hook-ups work, Nishikiyama-san.”

Nishiki straightened his posture and looked you square in the eye. “Just know that I never met them here and invited them out anywhere.”

“You know, Nishikiyama-san, I’m not sure that I really care all that much…” you said scratching your temple. “I’m not even sure why you’re telling me this.”

He had a buzz that helped him gather the confidence to do what he was about to do but he could feel it leaving him as soon his heart began to pound against his chest again.

“Because I want you to understand the difference when I tell you that I won’t pressure you, but if you’re looking for a change of pace once you’re done for the night…” he began, reaching into his wallet to retrieve a business card with an address, number and someone else’s name on it. “I recommend this bar. It’s run by a friend of mine. It’s a really nice place to unwind– never gets crowded. I’ll be headed there some time after this.”

He handed you the card and when you grabbed the other end of it, he continued to hold his end as he scanned your face. “This is what it looks like when I actually invite someone out.”

“Um,” you started. “I’m not promising that I’ll be there but–”

You’re nervous and you’re questioning his intentions. He can see it in your eyes.

“Excuse me sir but your session extension has expired.” a server interrupted but Nishiki ignored him. This was far more important.

“You’ll think about it?” he asked, finally releasing the card with a hopeful smile.

You smiled one final time before standing up out of your seat to do your session closing. “I’ll think about it.”

He rubbed his sweaty palms on his pants and nodded. “That’s all a guy could hope for.”

Part 2

#akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #akira nishikiyama x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader #boy oh boy am i rusty #i have been fighting for my life with this fic LMAO #this one isn't meant to be deep or anything- it's just lighthearted fun! with a hint of work stress #bc i love writing about my faves saving me from work stress #fun fact: this fic happened due to my intentions of rewriting of a one paragraph smutty headcanon #that literally no one but me was meant to see LMAOOO WELP the rewrite got outta control now here we are #also- if you read kuro shiro you might notice a thing or two<3 im a sloot for referencing my own work kjdhfshf #it's all connected~

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kulemiwrites · 2 months

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Booty McTooty

OMG!!!!! I FINALLY GOT BOOTY MCTOOTY'D RIGHT BEFORE I MOVED! i literally thought today like, 'damn, and i never even got booty mctooty'd'

!!!!

AHHHHHHHHH!!!! you just made a dumbass' night! i want you to know that! thank you 💞

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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Aizawa Masato has a staring problem... a headcanon.

He stares at people and things for far longer than he probably should and he's generally quiet while doing so. He doesn't realize when he's doing it unless someone points it out to him. He's always been an opinionated bastard and he can be impulsive when his opinions get the better of him but with the guidance of his aniki, he's learned to keep most of it to himself. That doesn't mean that he won't stare a hole into the person that's making his mind run a million miles a minute. Don't get it wrong- he doesn't only stare when he's upset. He even does it when he's admiring something or someone that has caught his eye. He'll assess it/them in his head and while it may be all compliments up top, his exterior has given the stare-down of a lifetime. It's pretty intimidating. Occasionally, the positive thoughts running through will lift his features into a soft but faint smile but it drops once he finally blinks away. It's much worse when he's moreso trying to search his memory bank in an attempt to figure out why something or someone feels familiar. His brow furrows on full display, jaw clenching and/or inner lip chewing- he appears downright pissed off but nope- he thinks that guy might have actually been in his old middle school rugby club and hey, is that the same breed of dog that his Morinaga has?

Aizawa's staring problem might have started more fights that necessary.

#aizawa masato #masato aizawa #yakuza headcanons

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝐆𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐚 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

Genre/Content Warning: Light Smut, Comfort// cw; no direct mention of any genitals except his, words relating to nausea

Word count: 2.2k

Character(s): Masato Aizawa, gender-unspecified Reader

You get sick while being intimate with Masato and he takes care of you.

Enjoy.

Your nails dug deep into the sweat-sheened koi on his back. It was nearly impossible to get a good grip on him with your slippery hands while he drove into you with impeccable rhythm but you continued to try. You needed to feel his hot skin. Traversing his back, your hands caught waves with each deep roll of his hips. His hard muscle was active in this dance, flexing and bulging beneath taut skin as he thrust into you. When your hands made it to his ass, you impulsively squeezed and he took that as a sign that his cock wasn’t deep enough for you.

“Mmph, mm fuck.” he moaned, hot breath pushing out of his nose and onto your damp skin as he continued to suck a mark along your neck. “Still not enough for you?”

His glutes clenched in your palms as he fucked into you, giving you slightly more of him than he had been before. But you still had more than a quarter of him left to go and your head was already spinning. You sank crescent moons onto his ass while you cried out his name and he chuckled.

“What is it? Hm? Tell me.”

“I need more.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, please!”

“Alright.” he whispered, swiping his tongue across the hickey he had just given you. “But only ‘cause you asked nicely.”

He carefully lifted himself so that he could sit on the backs of his heels, keeping his thighs spread wide while you spread yours even wider above them. His rough hands gripped at your ankles and lifted them above his shoulders, granting himself deeper access. He set a quicker rhythm; his eyes admiring the way your lips fell apart. He anticipated a lovely song to spill from them and when it finally did, his dick twitched inside of you.

“Mmmm, amor. Love how tight you are for me.” he moaned, slipping his hands from your ankles to the backs of your knees. “Nghh, feels so good! Do I feel good inside you?”

“Mmhm!”

He shifted his weight forward, sweaty skin clapping loudly against yours as he slammed into you. He tossed his head back and clenched his eyes shut, trying his best to focus solely on the rhythm he’d set and not the way you were squeezing him. Otherwise, he would be spilling his load inside you. It wasn’t time yet, not yet. He hadn’t treated you nearly enough. While he fought with his composure, something in your stomach announced its displeasure. You were willing to ignore it until he hooked your legs over his shoulders and pushed back on your thighs.

His eyes were still closed when the discomfort spread across your face. He was about ready to fold you in half as he drilled you but something about the pressure against your stomach didn’t sit right with you. The nausea that came with it made your head throb and you needed the grunting man to take pause for a while so that you could gather yourself. You tapped a shaky palm against his chest and he finally looked back down at you.

“Ma-masa–” your voice quivered. “Masa, please.”

“Hm?” he hummed, shallowing his thrusts as he lowered your legs back down to his sides. He let out a shaky breath as he scooped his hands beneath your shoulders and leaned into you, “Was it too deep?”

You shook your head and pushed at his chest, feeling as if you might puke any moment now, “I think I need you to stop.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” He immediately stilled his hips and lifted himself on the palms of his hands to hover over you, reading your expression. “Are you ok? Was I hurting you?”

“That’s not it. I think my stomach is upset or something… I didn’t really notice until you pushed my legs down over my stomach. Suddenly I started to feel nauseous.” you explained, allowing him to wipe at the beads of sweat forming along your forehead with his thumbs.

“I see. I’m sorry.” He pressed an apologetic kiss against your forehead, then reached down to your connection to remove himself from you. “I’m gonna pull out now so, let me know if it hurts you.”

“I’m not saying you have to do that. I think I just need a minute.” You said, grabbing at his wrist to stop him but he carefully swatted your hands away.

“Shh, we can always go back to it later if you’re still feeling up to it.” he said while he fought to stifle a groan as he slipped out of you. “For now, let’s see what we can do to help you feel better.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

Masato took one of your hands in his while his other lifted at your shoulder, guiding you into an upright seat. He reached over the edge of the bed to grab the bedsheet that he had discarded much earlier in the night and used it to cover you up.

“You said you’re feeling nauseous, right?” he asked, bouncing out of the bed to retrieve his underwear from the floor and slipped into them.

“Yeah,” you said, weakly.

He held his hips as he scanned the room for anything that might prove helpful and when he found nothing, he kneeled at your bedside and caressed your cheek. There was an apology in his eyes and though he’d done nothing wrong, you knew that he was riddled with guilt. But of course, he wouldn’t say it aloud. After all, this was about you.

“Stay right there and relax until I come back. Okay? Don’t move a muscle.” he said, kissing you before getting back up on his feet with a grunt. Just as he was about to walk out of the room, he stopped and grabbed the trash bin from the corner and placed it near you just in case.

You listened as his big, bare feet stomped along the hardwood floor behind the door until it tapered off and you hugged the sheet around you. The nausea was beginning to make the room spin and you wanted to lay down but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to move quick enough if the time came. So, you remained upright, resting your heavy head against the headboard.

He left you in the room alone for quite a while. You wondered if perhaps he’d gone to the convenience store until a familiar smell made its way to you. You rolled yourself out of bed to follow it and the smell grew stronger as you got further down the hall. At the end of it, you found Masato pouring something out of a saucepan and into a strainer. On the counter beside him was an empty platter and two tea cups sitting atop matching saucers.

“What are you cooking?” you asked.

Your sudden voice caused him to flinch and spill some of the scolding liquid onto the floor, narrowly missing his toes.

“Amor,” he sighed, setting down the pot and stepping away from his spill. “You scared the hell out of me. You should be in bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t. Don’t worry about it…” he said, now transferring liquid into the tea cups. “Still, why aren’t you in bed resting?”

“You were gone for a while so I got curious.”

“In other words, you missed me” he teased.

“Maybe,” you pouted. “But that’s not what I said.”

“I’m making you something.” he smiled. “You’re probably gonna hate it.”

“Umm, I’m not sure I like the sound of that.” you said, admiring his well-defined back as he reached into the cupboards.

“I don’t like the sound of you being out of bed when you should be resting, but here we are.” he said, pulling out a bottle of honey.

You playfully rolled your eyes and began to waddle over to him until his deep voice stopped you.

“Get back to bed, _____. This thing’s done now. I’ll meet you there, alright?”

“Fine.” you said with another pout and though you didn’t want to be away from him much longer, you knew it was for the best. Standing around wasn’t going to do much for your nausea or the dizziness.

The light cluttering of fine china over heavy footsteps followed you back into the bedroom. Masato placed a teacup at your bedside table along with a platter of plain crackers then helped you back into bed, tucking the sheet around your legs and feet. Then, once he ensured your comfort, he carefully gave you the teacup. You eyed the pale-yellow contents closely and though you could recognize the peppery notes anywhere, you still asked the question:

“This is?”

“Ginger tea.”

“Right…”

“Don’t make that face.” he chuckled, lifting your chin to meet his sweet gaze. “I hate it too but it’s good for you. Let’s see if it’ll settle your stomach.”

You frowned.

He dangled a bottle of honey in front of you. “Relax, I brought along my secret weapon.”

“That’s more like it.” you laugh, taking the bottle from him.

“Be right back.” he said, rushing back out of the door. “Stay there.”

Right as you were finishing administering honey to your tea, he returned with a steaming cup of his own.

“What do you have?” you asked.

“Same thing.” he said, sitting at your side on the bed.

“But you hate ginger.”

He shrugged, grabbing the bottle of honey back from you. “Yeah, but I wasn’t gonna make you drink it alone.”

He proceeded to drown his tea with honey and a part of you wanted to tease him about getting ginger in his cup of honey but you kept the quip to yourself. After all, this was his way of being supportive while you were sick. You weren’t sure if you could do the same if you hated ginger as much as he did. You smiled, admiring him until a reminder of what you had been doing just before started to nag at you. You nudged him with your foot and though he raised a brow in response, his focus was mostly on the honey that he was still pouring.

“Masato?”

“Hm?”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked.

If you needed to gain his full attention, you now had it. He flipped the top of the honey closed, dropped the bottle at his side and began to stir it in all while staring at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. “Why would I be mad at you, amor? It’s not like you forced me to make a cup of it for myself.”

You tilted your head and wondered if the guilt you felt was for nothing considering he didn’t seem remotely close to being on the same page as you. Still, you continued. “Not about the tea. I’m talking about earlier. The sex thing.”

“What about it?” he frowned.

“The fact that we had to stop because of me.” you said, slightly frustrated that you had to spell it out for him.

His expression hardened and his body language was so tense that you felt almost intimidated by him for a moment. It was always impossible to read him whenever he got like this, which was rare since he regularly wore his heart on his sleeve. With the large hand that had first been stirring at his tea, he gripped your knee and finally opened his mouth to speak.

“I wouldn’t betray your trust like that. _____, it doesn't matter to me if I’m two minutes or two seconds away from cumming. I don’t care how fucking amazing you’re making me feel. I’m just grateful that you chose to share your body with me and when you call for a time out, it’s time out and that’s the end of it, alright? You don’t owe me anything... I’d have no right to get mad at you for that. Besides, you’re sick. I just want you to feel better. That’s the only thing that matters to me right now.”

His brown eyes bore into yours and he spoke with a sincerity that tugged in your chest. You didn’t have much that you could say to him in response to relay your appreciation for his understanding toward you. So, you simply offered him a nod and a gentle smile.

“I guess you’re feeling a little guilty about it or something?” he suggested, sipping at his tea then responding to the taste of ginger with a grimace. He obviously hadn’t drowned it out with enough honey. You half expected him to go for the bottle again but he didn’t.

“Yeah, for some reason.”

“If it helps, by the time I got to the kitchen, I had forgotten all about it. The only thing on my mind was: how the hell do I supposed to make ginger tea.”

“I gotta say I’m impressed that you figured it out.”

“Don’t be. I had to Google it.”

You giggled out an ‘I love you’ before sipping at your own.

“I love you too.” he smiled finally, “Now, drink up.”

Exchanging glances at each other while you sipped your tea. You made jokes and laughed when the other’s expression would shrivel in response to the pungent flavor reintroducing itself to your palettes until your cups were empty.

𝚔𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 © 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚎𝚍

#aizawa masato #masato aizawa #aizawa masato x reader #masato aizawa x reader #yakuza fanfic #yakuza smut #rgg fanfic #rgg smut #kulemiwrites

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

Genre/Content Warning: Work-related Angst, Fluff

Word count: 8.7k

Character(s): Masato Aizawa, gender-unspecified Reader

You're caught at your miserable job during a typhoon without an umbrella.

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The rain pelted down against the gray cobblestone, obstructing the view of the cars that lined the street and the row of shops behind them. The dark gray clouds stretching across the sky had been shielding the sunlight all day and now that the sun was setting, evening approached with a quickness. The usually vibrant, ostentatious city was enveloped in monochrome. This week was the start of typhoon season, and the reflection frowning back at you in the window had the great displeasure of working through the worst of it.

On days like today, the name “Restaurante Sol”, ‘sol’ meaning ‘sun’ in Spanish, was nothing short of ironic at best and ludicrous at worst as the place was anything but sunny nor did it serve anything remotely close to Spanish cuisine. In order to maintain an elegant ambiance (and distract from the poorly polished glass and silverware) the lights were kept dim and tired jazz tunes croaked through a set of timeworn overhead speakers. You had been playing a silent game with yourself, a bet on when they were on their final encore. You gave them a solid month more but the thick layer of gray dust surrounding the loose bolts suggested a few weeks max.

Uniforms consisted of stale black and white articles from head to toe; men were to wear their hair slicked back, unless buzzed off and white cotton dress shirts with black ties and vests and a black apron tied at the waist. As for women, their hair had to be tied back in low ponytails, unless cut short, in which case, would need to be pinned behind the ears. They were to dress in white buttoned blouses, black skirts with opaque stockings underneath and a black apron tied at the waist.

In a few words: wholly, utterly uninspired.

Before the most recent change in management, every table was clothed in white and the center boasted beautiful seasonal bouquets that were intricately culled by a local partner, a small-town florist. These days, it was decided that a single, clear candle votive in the center of bare, lacquered dark walnut tables was ‘good enough’. It wasn’t uncommon to have guests complain about the film left behind on the tabletops when they hadn't been polished or cleaned with care, which was often.

There were a few pops of color that came in the form of a swamp green carpet with crude splashes of yellow and orange swirling around in a pattern that no one could ever make sense of. In addition to that, there were a few ‘abstract’ paintings hanging up on the walls which were all made by the owner’s third wife, who was certain that she was the planet’s gift to art. And these ‘statement’ pieces were her gift to Restaurante Sol.

You were to be sure to thank her whenever she decided to grace you all with her presence; her and her rich housewife friends who never ordered from the menu.

Soga, the current manager as of four months ago, might have been the worst thing to ever happen to Restaurante Sol and it wasn’t just because of the lack of flowers and tablecloths. After this many personnel changes, it was an open secret that there was a hefty quarterly bonus for management and it was clear that his business model was based on that fact. His budget cuts could only be described as self-serving. Despite the countless complaints by staff, he continued to skimp on necessities, forcing you and your coworkers to become creative when it came to side work. Setting up for dinner service had been far more strenuous than it had ever been and rushes during service could be a nightmare if you weren’t prepared for anything. You weren’t sure how he got away with it but he did and you were positive that if he had control over the sous chef, the food quality might’ve suffered too.

In truth, you weren’t too fond of most of the others on staff tonight either. The lanky bartender, Watanabe was alright; perhaps a little temperamental but he wasn’t too bad. Your two fellow servers however, generally added to your anxieties and you couldn’t stand it when you had to work with them both at the same time. Yamamoto, the thin-lipped older woman who’d been working there for nearing a decade, never missed an opportunity to micromanage you despite being on the same level as you, albeit far more handsomely paid. Interestingly enough, she’d been offered the role of manager multiple times but she always turned it down. And then there was Akari, a 1st year college girl whose hobbies included ignoring her tables and skipping out on work whenever the opportunity presented itself to blow her money at host clubs. She whined at you to help her whenever she was in the weeds, which was often, regardless of how much you had on your own plate and she insisted on being called ‘Akachan’ much to everyone’s (but especially your) dismay.

It wasn’t as if you hated them, no, that would require far more energy than you could spare. You just… preferred to spend your free moments alone and it would seem that tonight would be yet another night where you would have plenty of it. So, instead of pretending to be amused by Akachan’s latest host club exploits with the others around the bar, you opted to stand at the foggy picture window near the entrance admiring the hideous weather.

It was funny… You were sure to check the weather report before leaving for work this afternoon: warm with cloudy skies and perhaps a few scattered showers here or there.

This might have been the heaviest “shower” you’ve ever seen.

You chuckled bitterly at the thought as you pressed your fingertips against the glass, cool from the air conditioning. Your body heat created a small pool of fog around them, insignificant compared to the fog on the exterior. You squinted passed it, desperately attempting to make out what lay beneath the angry downpour. Turbulence along the curb took the form of a mini river, pushing along what looked to be a crumbled paper cup.

The corporate crowd should have been invading the streets by now, scouring for a spot to unwind after a long day of kissing their bosses’ asses. Old, married chumps should be lining up at the door with pretty young college girls who play girlfriend by day and hostess by night, hoping that one more insanely expensive dinner will be enough to earn them a peek at her perky talents. Young street punks should have been on the prowl for their first unsuspecting nobody to shakedown in a back alley.

But at the start of typhoon season, there were no alcoholic salarymen and no pretty women bravely ignoring natto breath. All there was to watch was the occasional umbrella wielding passerby. They were frantic and faceless, probably rushing to the station and Restaurante Sol was the last thing on their minds.

Nothing but ten minutes had passed since you learned that the silver wall clock that hung above the entrance was broken. You knew that because you had a habit of checking your wristwatch against any clock you hadn’t set yourself. Swiping your thumb across the face, you smiled to yourself, watching the second-hand tick away as the one overhead stood still. For the briefest of moments, you– very briefly, considered letting Soga know about the broken clock but quickly decided against it. You wanted to add it to the list of things that were wrong with the place that no one but you seemed to notice.

Besides, this restaurant needed a symbol to really solidify how miserable it was and a broken clock was absolutely perfect. After all, in Restaurante Sol, time always stood still.

During what should have been the peak of the evening, your section was as dead as your will to get out of bed in the mornings. Before hanging out at the window, you busied yourself with yours and Akachan’s side work but now there wasn’t one thing to do to pass the time.

You checked your watch– a single minute had passed since you last checked. If you didn’t find some way to distract yourself from the silence, you would go crazy! Inspired by the frenzied pedestrians, you conjured up a new game: you could count the color of each passing umbrella and whichever color reached 5 first, won.

One, green. One, polka dot. One, purple… Two, green, One blue, One– oh.

Shit.

You spotted an umbrella that was nearly identical to your own and no sooner than you realized did a sinking feeling find its way into your gut and a chill tickled your spine. Your gaze lingered on that familiar umbrella as you recalled passing your own and the jacket that had been left hanging up near the front door for you before you left for work. You studied the dark sky, much darker now than it was when you first acknowledged it.

At this rate, your commute would be downright horrendous. You could picture yourself schlepping through puddles, your hair- an absolute mess, clothes- sodden and clinging to you while you practically swam in your shoes all before you even reached the station. You could call a taxi, but the soul suckers in this town tended to hike up the rates for long distance trips during storms. You didn’t have that kind of money to waste.

“It’s really comin’ down tonight, huh~?” Akachan said in the singsongy way she always did, startling you out of your deep trance as she came up behind you.

Grinding your jaw, you pried your eyes away from the window to face her. “Yeah…”

“The boss’s thinkin’ ‘bout cuttin’ one of us early if things don’t pick up.” she said, whipping her long ponytail over her shoulder so that she could twirl the ends across her thin, manicured fingers while she batted her false lashes at you; and you knew what was coming. “Man~ it’s the third time this week. The weather’s so miserable~! I can’t even bring myself to get all excited ‘bout it.”

You repeated a half-hearted, “Yeah.”

She chewed at her round bottom lip for a moment before she continued, “But, ya know~… I could really use a hot bath an’ nap. Since you left the other day, would ya mind it if I left tonight?”

Fighting back a sigh, you shrugged and turned back to the window. It wasn’t like you were thrilled about rushing home in these conditions anyway. “Go for it.”

“Cool!” she said, turning on her heels to leave.

Now that there was nothing more to possibly ask of you, there was no longer any need for small talk which was just as well.

Yet another ten minutes had gone by. Only seven patrons had come in all evening and not a single one of them belonged to your section. So, you continued to stand at the window. You noticed your reflection staring back at you again and this time your lips were tucked and your jaws were clenched. You tried to loosen your brows but no matter how hard you fought the expression you couldn’t iron out the worry. Regardless, you remained drawn to the window, mesmerized by the rain pelting against it as if it were meant only for you. Perhaps it was a precursor for what you would experience on your way home?

There were a set of fingerprints lingering behind from when you last touched the glass. So, you returned them to their designated place and imagined how the water might have felt if you could reach out and touch it from there. Directly beneath the curve of your hand, you spotted a large figure slinking past a dark colored car. It was too far across the street to make much of it but even so, you couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity you got when you looked directly at it. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned in and your forehead thumped against the cool glass as you fought to focus on it. It didn’t matter though. Just as quickly as the figure appeared, it disappeared, leaving you with a pang of longing in your chest and a cloud of hot breath shrinking on the glass. You stepped back from the window, wrapping a wistful hand around your wristwatch and you could feel your heart pounding.

How did such a bleary figure invoke so much emotion?

As the thought began to settle, the door swung open and the gust of hot air that followed was enough to disorient you but still you felt an excitement. Once you faced it, the odd feeling dissipated. Two patrons had entered: a short, elderly woman and what might have been her grandson. There was no host on staff tonight to greet them. So, they stared expectantly while your disappointment set in. You felt silly; to think for the briefest of moments that he might have shown up here of all places at a time like this was just….

Well, silly.

Using your faint reflection in the window as a mirror, you smoothed your apron and straightened your collar with a heavy sigh. As rotation would have it, this table belonged to you. Great. You hoped it would be the first of many. You didn’t need Soga to have any excuse to send you home as well. Not tonight. Straightening your shoulders, you approached the pair with your best customer service smile.

“Good evening and welcome to Restaurante Sol.” you bowed with clasped hands, “Might there be anyone else joining you this evening?”

“No, dear. Just my grandson and I. Thank you.”

“Splendid. Well, my name is ______. I’ll have the pleasure of serving you this evening. If you don’t mind, please allow me to show you to your seats.”

. . .

The typhoon's unforgiving winds pushed hard at the backs of pedestrians until they had no choice but to filter into the various shops and restaurants along the avenue. Restaurante Sol was one amongst the lucky, meaning that everyone on staff tonight were to remain. Though Akachan made it a point to pout at you whenever you looked in her general vicinity, you were quite happy that it picked up. A full house meant that you were no longer under threat of being thrown out to fend for yourself at the height of chaos by yen-yanking Soga.

By the end of dinner service, the storm seemed to have relented enough that patrons felt safe trying to hurry home again before it got worse but it still wasn’t welcoming for someone as unprepared as you. You were on your final table and as you were headed to the terminal to print their bill, you noticed another team huddle taking place at the bar. You might have ignored it too had not everyone been staring anxiously at the door. Originally, you assumed that perhaps a soigné reservation had just been called in, or maybe an inquiry for a party of 15 or more but even Yamamoto seemed shaken– and she was relatively fearless. After overhearing the word “yakuza'', you decided it might be worth your time to hear what the anxious whispering was about.

“Hey,” you interrupted, handing off a recovered bar mop to Watanabe to butter him up in case he’d fallen into one of his moods. “Something going on?”

Yamamoto’s beady eyes flashed toward the door. “There's a yakuza standing outside of the restaurant… Big, scary looking guy.”

“How do you know he’s yakuza?” you asked plainly.

Her thin, red lips stretched back in a frown, showcasing her fine wrinkles. “You kidding me? You can look at him and tell! If you can’t look at a guy and know he’s bad news by now in this town, you’re in real trouble.”

Ignoring her snarky tone, you looked toward the wooden door now that the window was too foggy to see through but unless the man walked in, there was no point.

“S-should we call the police?” Watanabe asked, clutching tightly at the towel you had just given him.

“And tell them what, exactly? There’s some gangster outside waiting for us to close up so he can shake us down?” Yamamoto mumbled, tucking her delicate hands beneath thin arms.

“That’s exactly what you tell them!” he argued. “You kidding me?!”

“Shh! Be quiet!” Soga interrupted; his expression slightly sour as he joined you at the end of the bar. “Watanabe-san, what on earth would possess you to believe that it is appropriate to raise your voice during dinner service?”

You stared at his flat profile for a moment before questioning him, “Soga-san, did you pay the protection fee?”

His eyes widened, lifting his sparse brows with them. The lines in his forehead showed with prominence. “Of course, I did! I’ve never once missed a payment!” he said, unable to hide his offense.

“Then why’s there some yakuza muscle standing guard outside our door?” the bartender challenged, throwing the towel on the bar. “I say we call the police!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That will only cause a scene and we cannot afford a scandal.” he frowned, “Relax yourself. I’ll take care of it.”

Akachan fell into a giggling fit, covering her mouth as she looked up at the older man. Her brown eyes glimmered with delight. “Sorry, that’s too funny! No offense, Soga-san but that guy’s gonna wipe the floor with ya. Maybe we should leave this one up to the cops. Besides, he could probably be waiting on his boss or something for dinner. S’not like we don’t serve yakuza types here on the regular.”

“Enough.” he huffed; his mind clearly made up. “Disperse. Get back to your tables or finish your side work. There’s no excuse to be standing around doing nothing.”

Funny he would say that considering that was all you were doing before it got busy. You wondered if he was simply trying to distract you all from the action in case there was a scuffle. He wasn’t one for losing face and you were willing to bet that the man had never even been in a fight before. A sadistic excitement filled you and you could tell by the way the others’ heads bobbed as he stepped out of the door, that they felt much the same. Side work be damned.

Was Soga going to get beat up tonight and if so, who was your mysterious hero?

You kept an attentive eye on your watch, counting each minute that he was out there. After about five minutes, he returned paler than usual with his cold eyes fixed upon you and nothing else. The others seemed to have noticed as well because soon you could feel their eyes on you too. The closer he got, the more confusion and perhaps even concern, started to play upon his features until he stood at your side. With his body facing away from the others, he spoke only high enough for you to hear.

“I need to speak with you right this instant.” he muttered.

You shrugged and nodded for him to lead the way, pretending not to notice the passing glances beside you. It was obvious that they were thrilled for you to leave so that the speculative chatter could begin despite no one, not even you, knowing what had just transpired outside that door.

Good ‘ol Restaurante Sol.

Leading you away from prying eyes and into the privacy of an empty breakroom, he carefully locked the door behind you before finally speaking up.

“Are you in trouble of some kind?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly, brows tight as you searched his dark eyes hoping that you might be able to guess what would lead him to such a conclusion. When it finally hit you, there was a chuckle forming in your chest and you fought to keep it there.

“The man out there asked for you… By name. I attempted to throw him off your scent by informing him that you no longer worked here but he laughed and insisted I let you know that he would be waiting for you to get off.” he said, growing slightly more frantic with each word. “You’re aware that I don’t make a habit of getting involved in my employees’ affairs. However, it proves quite bothersome if those affairs happen upon my doorstep… I would prefer it if you didn’t come to any harm. So, if you’d like, you may use the back exit to avo–”

“Soga-san, relax and just… try and describe to me what the guy looked like. I might be able to let you know if it’s cause for concern or not.”

He stroked his naked chin as he recalled the mystery man’s traits. “Well, he was b-big. Very big and tall. He’s got an almost foreign look to him. Oh, but he spoke perfect Japanese so I’m unsure. His voice was deep and he was surprisingly polite… Right, his suit; his suit was white, pinstriped with a purple shirt underneath. I couldn’t tell if he was from one of the local families or not as there was no pin on his lapel. Of course, that was the first thing I looked for–”

“Did he give you a name?” you asked, though, hearing the description alone told you everything that you needed to know. Suddenly, you were reminded of the bleary figure from earlier and that warmth returned. Now there were butterflies fluttering in your belly and you were so giddy, you almost couldn’t hide it.

Shaking his head, he held up a small cola flavored lollipop. “No, but he gave me this… He claimed that you would somehow know what he’s here for if I gave this to you.”

You’re forgetting something.

Soga was hesitant when he passed the candy off to you. You wondered if for a moment, he considered keeping it for himself for some reason. It was all you could do to not snatch it out of his hand.

“I understand. Thank you, Soga-san.” you said, feeling the corners of your eyes lifting for perhaps the first time today.

Not once did he take his eyes off the candy. From the crease in his brow, it was clear that he was trying to understand how something so seemingly insignificant could make you gleam this way.

“Will you be alright?” he asked finally.

Rolling the stick in between the pads of your fingers, you nodded. Your smile becoming more and more pronounced by the second. “I’ll be just fine.”

He stared at you in silence for a moment then returned to his usual pompous air with a sigh, “Fine… Then, close your checks and clean your section. The sooner you can do that, the sooner you can leave. We don’t need those types hanging around. It’ll give the wrong impression.”

You slid the candy into your apron with care before returning to the floor. As you danced about, your eyes would occasionally shoot toward the door in hopes that it would open and you would see him but no dice. While you were watching the door, inquiring eyes were watching you but somehow, it didn’t bother you. Not when you knew that there was a ray of sunlight waiting out in rain just for you. You hasten your pace; you couldn’t delay him any longer.

. . .

You were met with a heavy resistance as you pushed open the door and for a moment, you considered that maybe someone had been leaning on it. However, it was simply the wind welcoming you into its dreadful gale. It showed no sign of relenting, not an ounce of mercy for you or anyone else; and despite standing beneath the safety of the yellow awning, an occasional warm mist would coat you.

Your neck snapped in either direction in search of the man who’d promised to brave these conditions for you. The cola flavored candy was clenched tight between your fingers as if you thought it to be a good luck charm and perhaps it was so as you spotted him just a few shops over. He’d been leaning against the masonry of a loan business that had recently been shut down, protecting himself from the rain beneath black awning. Even from where you stood, you could see a white stick hanging out of his mouth and knowing him, there was a lollipop of his own tucked in his cheek. He was in a daze, lightly kicking at the puddle of water pooling at his feet.

“Masato!” you called for him, waving the candy over your head to catch his attention.

Almost as if the storm wanted you to help you find your way into his arms, it slackened and you thought it was the perfect moment to run toward him. Instead, he called back at you, “_____, hold tight! I’ll meet you over there!”

You waited for him with a smile. Your toes drummed in your shoes while you watched him jog you way. His hands were buried deep within his pockets and his smile bit down on the white stick. With each step, his black hair bounced; perhaps, he’d decided against using his usual mousse or the rain had washed it away. Either way, it was a welcome change. Once he finally reached you, he removed the candy from his mouth and leaned in to press a sticky, cola-flavored kiss upon your lips.

“Good evening, amor.” he whispered, then pressed his sticky lips against your cheek and chuckled out an apology after realizing just how sticky they were.

“Hey there, you.” you said, caressing his stubbly cheek while he hovered in front of you, admiring your eyes. “Did I forget something?”

Straightening his posture, he popped the candy back into his mouth as you waved yours at him. He smiled, biting down on the stick again. “Good job. I’m proud of you for figuring it out.” he said, lightly placing his large hand at the crown of your head.

Masato always kept something sweet in his pockets. It was his vice ever since he gave up smoking years ago. They were generally hard candies or lollipops but every now and then he was fishing out a chiroru chocolate or two. He would always offer you some of what he was snacking on. However, even if you were to decline certain types of candy, he would insist that you take it anyway.

For later, he would say.

There was a box of candies you had stored away in your kitchen; the “for later” collection. Not long ago, you found yourself unintentionally cracking the code when you added a plum candy he’d given you to the box. There were four flavors that were most prominent in the box and they happened to be amongst his favorites. You racked your brain trying to figure out why he would insist on giving away his favorite candies until it hit you. Thinking back on the circumstances in which he gave many of the pieces to you, you realized that each candy had meaning.

What you had pieced together was that chocolate was given to you as a sign of affection, an “I love you” of sorts. He typically gave you green tea flavored candies after an argument or disagreement, an apology almost. When he finally got to see you after a long while (or just a difficult day) he would slip a plum flavored candy into your pocket which you interpreted to mean that he missed you. Cola flavored candies were the hardest to figure out, so you needed to wait on him to give you more in order to piece it together. After some time, you figured out that he’d give you cola flavored candy when you made plans together, it was to serve as a reminder. “Don’t forget.” However, when there were no plans, it meant that you were forgetting something but of course, he wanted you to remember on your own what that something was.

“So,” you smiled, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “What did I forget?”

He carefully slipped the lollipop out of your hand and took the liberty of unwrapping it for you. “Care to take a guess?” he asked.

His deep voice under the sound of pouring rain was like a relaxing massage for the soul or comforting song. Those few, simple words were almost enough to melt away the tension you regularly left the restaurant with from your shoulders. The sweetness of his brown eyes was what really did the job though. You had to break away from them, a bashful smile playing upon your lips.

“My umbrella, maybe.”

“Bingo.” he said softly, pressing the now unwrapped candy against your lips which you happily accepted with an ‘ahn’. “Well, luckily for you I didn’t forget.”

He discarded the wrapper in his pocket then lifted the back of his white coat, presenting the foldable umbrella you’d left behind at his place.

“Thank you, Masato.” you said. “I can always count on you.”

He stared at you for a moment, his forehead wrinkling the longer he looked. Finally, he broke away with a shake of his head. He tucked the umbrella beneath his right arm as he maneuvered out of his coat. Once it was off, leaving him in his well fitted purple shirt, he assumed possession of your work bag then draped the coat over your shoulders. A dark, woody musk lingered off it, his cologne and yet it was still as sweet as the candy pressed against your check.

“If I’d known you didn’t bring a jacket, I would’ve brought a spare along.” he sighed. “It’s typhoon season. You shouldn’t be so careless.”

He ensured that the coat was secure before stepping back and staring out at the rain. Its slack long revoked. He was likely thinking the same as you: this coat, as comfy as it was, and a single umbrella wasn’t going to be enough to keep the both of you dry.

“When was the last time you ate, _____?” he asked, checking his wristwatch. It was a match to the one around your own wrist.

You hesitated to answer, knowing that you skipped lunch today. Food just didn’t taste right when you were there and because of the storm, it was impossible to stop elsewhere for a quick bite. His frown hurt but this had become something of a habit now and though he could empathize, he clearly didn’t approve.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he mumbled, not really expecting an answer. “Let’s take care of that empty stomach then. Are you alright with Cafe Alps? It’s nearby and since they’re open late, we can wait out the storm before we head to the station. Or are you in the mood for something heavier?”

You shook your head, “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind Cafe Alps.”

“Alright…” he said, working at the strap of your umbrella. “We’ll need to get you a spare umbrella and probably a raincoat or something to keep in your locker here.”

“I would have brought something... I just thought it was gonna be a cloudy day.” you pouted, knowing that he was preparing a well-meaning lecture for you. “I mean, that’s what the news said this morning.”

“I hate to say it but,” the umbrella popped open beside him, “the forecasts might not be so trustworthy for a while. You have to make sure you’re prepared no matter what the news says. If you kept spares in your locker, tonight would’ve been a breeze.”

“I know that.” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“Do you really?” he nagged.

Slipping a strong but gentle arm around your shoulder, he pulled you close and you naturally melted into his large frame. His cologne seemed warmer, even more comforting when it lingered directly off of him. You reached for the stick hanging out of your mouth, swirled it across your tongue before slipping it out with an audible pop as you looked up at him.

“You’re real fussy tonight, Masato.”

He chuckled, lightly squeezing at your shoulder, “Oh well. Maybe if you didn’t make me worry so much, I wouldn’t have to be.”

You nodded, slipping the candy back into your mouth. “That’s fair.”

“Let’s get going, amor.”

“‘Kay.”

Lifting the umbrella over your heads, he led you away from the security of the awning. A long silence lingered between you as you carefully strolled along the sidewalk, listening to the rain drum against the umbrella. Whenever a heavy gust would whip at you, you could always count on his protective arm to keep you from staggering against it.

“It’s really coming down tonight, huh?” he said, following a whistle.

Your neck nearly snapped when you looked up at him and after a while, he returned your odd look.

“What?”

Finally realizing that you’d begun to stare, you shook your head. “Nothing. My coworker said the same thing a little while ago. Hearing it again from you just felt weird for some reason.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, swiping his lollipop to the opposite side of his mouth using his tongue alone. “Which one?”

“Akachan.”

“Oh, your favorite little sister, right?”

“Ha ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically.

“Guess not.” he shrugged. “Hey, watch out for this puddle coming up, ok?”

You nodded, “Oh, by the way, you spooked all of my coworkers. They definitely think I’ve got shady yakuza ties now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They all thought you were standing outside waiting for us to close so that you could rob us or something.”

Masato laughed heartily.

“And when my boss came back in after talking to you, he looked like he saw a ghost and kinda made a big deal about speaking to me in private in front of everyone. When we talked, I told him it was fine but I never explained how I knew you.”

“Didn’t need to. It wasn’t his business.”

“I know.” you said, biting through your lollipop. “Oh, but he had me leave as early as I could because he thought letting you stand outside was a bad look.”

“I figured. That’s why I walked down to the loan place afterward. Guess it didn’t matter much in the end but I’m glad I got to meet him. Maybe now he’ll think twice about giving you a hard time.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. He thinks you’re ‘surprisingly polite’.”

“Well, I guess that means I’ll have to come back another day to really shake the place down to get the message across… When’s your next day off?”

You stopped walking for a moment to frown at him.

“Relax, it was a joke.” he laughed, pulling you back into him.

You swatted at his broad chest, “Well, it wasn’t a very good one.”

“Maybe not but I saw you in there.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw you through the window.” he said thoughtfully. “Before he came out, you looked so miserable I almost couldn’t recognize you. I really thought about going in and busting heads for a second… Lately, you’ve been coming home with an expression similar to that and I don’t know… It got to me. When that asshole of a boss of yours came out here, it took every fiber of my being not to bash his face in.”

“Masato…”

“I looked at him and thought, ‘This is the prick that’s been making _____ miserable.’ I was barely listening to anything he was saying. I was just trying to keep myself calm for you… I really wish you would stop going there.”

You reached a crosswalk light and he took that moment of pause to look down and take you in but you did everything except meet his gaze. You chomped away at the hard candy until nothing was left but the stick and then you chewed at that as you processed what had just been said. It was a weekly occurrence by now so you knew what was coming but you were too stubborn to hear it.

“______, you know that I don’t mind taking care of things until you find a new job. You don’t have to keep working there. It’s obvious that you’re not happy. I know you dodge the question every time I–”

“I’m sure it was just the weather… draining me.” you lied, just like you lied to yourself every day to bring yourself into work. You didn’t want to admit outright that you hated the job. Admitting that, even to yourself, felt almost akin to admitting failure. It seemed that no matter where you worked, you were never happy. And that thought left you with the very uncomfortable question: have you crossed the point in which you had to admit that perhaps, you were the problem?

You weren’t brave enough to approach that topic.

So, for now, you would continue to suffer under the hopes that maybe, just maybe it would get better again. Perhaps, all it would take was another change in management.

He didn’t press you on it. He never did and it made you wonder how much longer he would offer his support without you actively looking to make a change.

“I thought you had a work meeting tonight?” you asked, changing the subject and as usual, he didn’t skip a beat.

“I did but something more important came up. So, I decided to tend to that instead.”

“Oh, really? What was it?” you asked, finally meeting his eye.

“This.” he smiled, patting the top of your head with the hand that had been holding onto your shoulder.

The light changed and he was ready to take a step forward, securing his hold on you again until he noticed the mini river raging along the curbside. His brows furrowed as he watched the waters roll, he removed the white stick from his mouth and then he chewed at his inner lip.

“Hold this a sec.” he said, crouching just a bit as he passed the umbrella off to you. “Make sure you’ve got a firm hold of it, alright?”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around the handle. Your knuckles pressed into the plastic while you studied his steeled expression. You weren’t certain what he was thinking until a soft grunt escaped him and he was already cradling you in his arms leaving your legs dangling in the air. You were pressed firmly against his chest and from this seat of leisure, you could see his long, thick legs cautiously striding across the street. His soft dark hair bounced with each step. Occasionally, his focus would shift from the crosswalk to you, checking in to make sure that you were okay.

Once he’d carried you to the other side of the road, he was just about to put you down but something made him hesitate. “Are you alright?” he asked, his breath smelling of the candy he’d just finished. His brown, deep set eyes were gentle when they scanned your features. The corners of his wide mouth lifted into a smile, sending back his deep laugh lines.

It used to be a joke before, that there were hearts in his eyes whenever he looked at you but today there was no other phrase for it and it sent your own heart leaping. You nodded, aiming to look anywhere but those spellbound eyes. Your gaze landed on his muscled chest; and it lingered there until you noticed something subtly off about the color of his shirt. It was hard to see under the moonlight and the curtain of rain obscured the town’s gaudy lights from shining down on you. So, you reached out to touch it, his eyes following your hand and after you felt the damp material clinging against him, they went back to sparkling at you.

“What about you? Look, your shoulder is getting drenched!” you panicked, the stick from your lollipop accidentally slipped from your mouth. You shifted the umbrella to offer him more coverage but he immediately corrected your hand, keeping it exactly the way you held it before.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, why not?” you argued.

He met your frustration with another gentle smile and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Because I don’t get sick. I’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t true. It was the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, if you were put on the stand to testify as much, you could rattle off exactly five recent instances where he’d gotten sick; and despite his stubborn refusal, you’d taken it upon yourself to care for him until he recovered.

Your face twisted at the thought and before you could fix your mouth to argue with him, he cradled your head and leaned into you for a sweet kiss. With your bottom lip caught in between his, you wondered if he could taste the artificial cola on your lips the way that you could taste it on him. Masato pressed his tongue into your mouth, a single swipe of it against yours before he abruptly stopped as if remembering something.

Perhaps that you were still caught out in the middle of a storm?

Even so, before he showed up to save you, the thought alone of being caught in this weather was enough to drain you mentally. But now, in his arms, with his lips tenderly pressed against yours, you thought that you could stay this way for hours.

With one more soft peck, he parted from your lips and sighed. Then, he pressed another against the tip of your nose. At some point, your fingers had begun to clutch at his damp shirt and when you realized that, you slowly released him. There was no way you could avoid those eyes now. While you sat there, staring back at him, his smile from before returned this time shaped more so by arrogance.

“So? What was it that you were gonna say?”

You shook your head.

Was that it? Who knew that all it took to shut you up was a cola flavored kiss?

The bottoms of his pant legs were totally soaked by the time he put you back down on your own dry feet. He took back the umbrella, made sure that his coat was still properly draped over your shoulder then he wrapped his arm around you again. You could still feel the dampness of his shirt lingering on your fingertips and the concern from before returned. You reached for the lapels of his coat, prepared to slip it off until he stopped you.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, tugging it back down.

“Don’t you think you should take back your coat at least?”

“What for? So, it can get wet too?”

“I mean, your shirt’s so–”

“Listen, I appreciate that you’re worried but right now, all I need is for you to keep walking with me. The cafe’s just a couple more blocks away. If we get there quickly, everything’ll be fine. Alright?” he said, maneuvering the umbrella back into its original position before his decision to carry you across the street bridal style. “Come.”

The argument was solid enough but still, Masato’s insistence on keeping you safe from even a drop of rain came at the expense of his silk shirt and calfskin oxfords. You couldn’t fight the guilt that crept up every time you thought about it; and if– no, when he inevitably caught a cold from wandering around town soaked from head to toe, you knew you’d have a hard time forgiving yourself. Be that as it may, moping or arguing him down about it wouldn’t change his mind or dry him any sooner. Once you accepted that, your arms dropped back down to your sides and you allowed yourself to melt into him once more. He must have felt your hesitance slip away because he chuckled out his gratitude and went on to inquire about the day you had.

You told him all the usual things: how you went into your shift with inadequate supplies needed to complete your side work and so you were left needing to improvise by the time rush came, how the boss’ decision to cut all of the dining room attendants from the floor early led to chaos is the dish room and how you were berated by the line cooks when they thought you’d left a plate on the expo for a second longer than they needed to be.

He told you all the usual things: how, even though he’d never worked in a restaurant before, he can empathize with your frustration, how your boss was just as inadequate as the supplies he offered you and how much he really wanted to catch that one line cook in a back alley someday to see if he still talks as tough. It didn’t matter that much of this conversation was under threat of sounding like a broken record at this point. His support was one song that you didn’t mind listening to on repeat. It was the reason why you were able to fight on and face that place yet another day.

The rain was far less harsh by the time you reached Nakamichi Street, he joked that the storm wanted to lure you into a false sense of security so that you would believe that it was safe to head straight to the station, only to start up again; and worse than before. The safest bet was to stick to the plan and now that you could see the sign shining above Cafe Alps, it was like finding the light at the end of the tunnel. Masato removed his arm from around your shoulders and smiled to himself when you unconsciously pouted at the loss of his affection.

He took your hand, guiding it up to his umbrella-wielding one. “Take this and get us a table. I’ll meet you there in about 15 minutes, okay?”

“Wha– Where are you going?” you asked, brow rising as you watched him duck from underneath the safety of the umbrella.

“Since the rain’s not too bad now, I’m gonna stop by Don Quijote for a few things.” he said, then immediately jogged off before calling back, “Did you need anything?”

“N-no!” you called. “Just... Don’t spend too much time out here in the rain!”

Without looking back, he waved a hand up above his head and watching him shrink away was like watching the sunset once more.

. . .

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, head jerking toward the door every time you heard the bell above it ring. Eventually, that bell would ring and it would be him walking through that door. So, you kept glancing until it finally was. His eyes scanned the cafe for you and once he spotted you, he lit up. On his march toward you, you quickly registered his change of clothes: a black V-neck tee, some dark jeans and black sneakers. At his side was an umbrella and a plastic bag, where you could imagine his purple and white ensemble had been stored.

“Well, hello there.” you smiled.

“Didn’t get too lonely without me, did you?”

“I think I managed ok.”

“Oh yeah? Damn, and here I was in a rush to get back to you too.”

“Don’t pout. It was a joke. So, I see you did some shopping.” you said, nodding at the plastic bag.

He looked down at himself as if it was news to him, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I had to. My feet were soaked and so was my shirt. Do you like it?”

Your eyes lingered on the gold chain resting beautifully against his warm olive skin then admired the way the material of his shirt clung to his chest and arms as he lowered himself into his seat. The shirt teased you with his physique, showing you some of his best assets yet still not showing enough. You imagined for a moment, the rain getting this shirt wet too; how the drenched material would hug him and would leave him with no choice but to take it off as well.

“It suits you.” you said in a nonchalant tone as if you weren’t mentally undressing him.

“You think so? I’m glad.” he said, sliding the bag beneath his seat. “You didn’t order anything?”

“No, I wanted to wait on you.”

“How thoughtful.” he smiled, “So, what are we gonna get?”

You shrugged, rubbing your hands together. “I’m not sure I have much of an appetite but I know you’re not going to accept that so…”

“You’re right about that.”

“I think I’ll start off with a coffee for now to warm me up. It’s so chilly here compared to outside.”

“I like the way you think.” he said, waving over a waiter.

Your decision to warm up with a cup of coffee inspired him to order himself a latte with heaps of flavored syrup and though he wasn’t quite hungry either, you knew that he could always make room for dessert. So, after your insistence on repaying him for his valiance, he ordered a strawberry parfait as well.

The sweet treat wasn’t on the table for all of thirty seconds before he started to dig in. There was a gentleness in his expression each time he went for a spoonful that wasn’t dissimilar to the way he looked at you. That was how you knew that he was truly enjoying himself. You smiled at him, hunched over the table in a seat that was almost too small for him with a smear of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth. Had the table not been a factor, you wouldn’t have hesitated to kiss it away. Instead, you were forced to settle for wiping it away with your thumb and as if he had been reading your mind, he pressed a kiss against your knuckles before you pulled away.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” he swallowed down his mouthful, then pushed the stemmed glass to the center of the table. “Wanna share it with me?”

You shook your head, stirring at your lukewarm coffee. “Oh, no. It’s alright. Don’t worry.”

“You sure? Looks to me like you really want some.”

You giggled, “No, I was just thinking about how happy you look eating it. I imagine it must be pretty good.”

He licked his lips and smiled at you, scooping up a far less generous spoonful that he’d been before. “I think it’s just because I’m in good company.”

“Geez, c’mon. Masato, don’t be sappy.” you laughed, waving a dismissive hand at him.

“It’s true. Stuff like this tastes so much better when you’re eating with someone you love. Here, have a small bite.” he said, guiding the spoon toward your mouth. “Come on.”

You’ve had parfaits here before but you were never the biggest fan. The moment the bit he fed you landed on your tongue; your mouth filled with drool. The strawberries were nice and sweet but something about the cream really packed a punch. It was indescribable and your palette mourned the loss of it the moment you swallowed it down. It left you questioning yourself: had the staff changed recently or was this truly the effect of being here with him tonight?

“Good, isn’t it?”

Your enthusiastic nod elicited a soft chuckle from him as he helped himself to another bite. “I’m glad. Here, let’s finish it together.” he said, preparing a second spoonful for you.

As much as you hated the idea of making him share what was supposed to be a gift of gratitude, there was something about lovingly being fed one of his favorite treats that felt almost wrong to refuse. Just like the candies in the “for later” box. So, you were sure to open your mouth and graciously accept each bite, enjoying the way those brown eyes would glisten as your lips wrapped around the spoon. Perhaps it was simply the bright bar lights beaming down overhead but you preferred to believe that was his affection shining back at you and your cheeks burned at the thought. No matter what the weather, a simple smile from Masato was just as warming as bathing in sunlight. And that was a feeling that you never wanted to end.

#masato aizawa #aizawa masato #masato aizawa x reader #aizawa masato x reader #yakuza 5 #yakuza fanfic #yakuza x reader #rgg x reader #kulemiwrites

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒|𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Masato's hands and lovely things that he does with them.

cw; fingering, oral sex (recieving), reader has a vagina

His Hands

◈ Masato loves to play the hand comparison game with the person he’s with. It doesn't matter how many times he’s seen the disparity between them, it has the same effect. It fires up his protective nature and then it turns him on. The order is subject to change. His hands are huge, for lack of a better word, as well as strong. His coverage and grip are… insane.

◈ His hands are often calloused from training with his bokken (if not with his actual katana) despite him wrapping them beforehand. He’s got a habit of compulsively washing his hands and since he doesn’t know what moisturizer is, they’re often very dry. He generally needs someone to make him use hand lotion (squeeze a dollop of lotion in his hands and smack them together)- otherwise it never crosses his mind to do so.

◈ Despite this, when flexed, his hands have an almost elegant look to them. Though his fingers are on the thicker side, they’re long and his fingernails are naturally well-shaped. Since his hands are often balled into fists, he keeps his nails decently trimmed as he hates the feeling of his nails biting into his palms. However, every so often when his stress levels are high, he unconsciously finds himself biting at them. Sometimes leaving them feeling a little jagged.

◈ Not only are his muscles well defined but so are his veins. The veins traveling from his forearms down to his knuckles are a sight to behold. The slightest movement in his arm/hands will make them dance. As a man that spends a great deal of time building his body, he finds himself twisting his wrists just to marvel at them himself and when he notices someone checking them out, he discreetly flexes to make them even more visible. What can he say? He’s proud of himself.

◈ Along his hands and arms, one may spot more than a few scratches and cuts spread across his skin. Some scars are so old that he can’t recall when he got them and others are more recent. He doesn’t care about them and most of the time, forget that they’re there unless he’s been asked about them.

What He Does With Them

◈ Being as well endowed as he is, he can’t really get away with entering his lover the second the mood strikes. In some ways, he’s grateful for that because it’s taught him a level of patience and restraint that he’d never really known himself to be capable of. In other ways, it’s afforded him an opportunity to become better acquainted with his partner’s body and their needs. Something he recognizes that he might have missed if he’d been able to selfishly forego foreplay.

◈ Just as he appreciates his own body, he adores that of his partner- much more gently of course. He’s found someone that’s willing to share something so delicate and intimate with him, what’s not to love? He (mostly) silently praises their body from top to bottom, paying extra special attention to the parts that they’re most sensitive and insecure about.

◈ He’s never understood men that can choose between breasts and ass and he’s especially never understood men who prefer one type to another. For example, his personal belief is: Breasts at every size deserve to be in his mouth. He’s never going to miss an opportunity to have a pair of breasts in his hands!

❖ Breasts on the smaller side are sweet and he enjoys watching the way nipples react to his fingertips when he traces them. He loves to drag his tongue around them, leaving them damp so that when blows cool air onto them, they harden and the person they’re attached to shiver with gooseflesh.

❖ Mid-sized breasts with a nice bounce to them –and he will make them bounce– will always have a home in the palms of his hands. He’ll remark that they were made to fit in his hands alone and how can that be disputed when they fit his palms so perfectly? Seeing unaroused nipples on a pair of perfectly rounded breasts is almost an invitation to his mouth.

❖ When he’s paired up with a pair of breasts that are practically spilling out of his hands, he might actually, quite possibly, literally drool before he can even rain kisses down on them. Then, he’ll lick up the mess he’s made and start giving them the attention that they deserve all while praising the gorgeous pair. (Don’t matter how many times he’s seen them.)

◈ There are many, many times when he wants to play around with his s/o but he’s too impatient to yet undress them. He takes to hiking up their shirt just enough to slip his rough hand beneath it to rub at the smooth skin of their stomach before his fingertips creep their way into their bottoms (or beneath their dress/skirt) and run them along the material of their underwear. He presses his lips against theirs, and while his eyes are shut tight, he imagines what their underthings look like based on the feel of the material.

◈ Even when he does have the patience to undress his s/o, no matter how much he loves to see them in the nude, there’s something even more erotic about playing with them while they’re in nothing but their underwear. He’ll strip them out of each layer in a pace that’s frustratingly slow until they’re just a couple articles shy of baring their all to him then he showers their body with kisses. He chases his trail of warm kisses with the rough pads of his fingers until he’s got them squirming beneath his touch.

◈ It’s after he’s slipped a finger or two between those slick lips and gotten a feel of the wetness awaiting him that he really begins to misbehave. Realistically, there’s no part of his partner that he believes doesn’t belong in his mouth. Of course, their arousal is really no different. They’re like a little bee and he’s grateful for all the honey they’ve provided him. He’s got a sweet tooth, so naturally, he’d like to stack something sweet on top of something even sweeter. He takes their hand and guides it down to introduce them to their own arousal and when they’re coated, he brings them back up to his mouth for a taste- all while looking at them with the heaviest, most passionate of bedroom eyes.

◈ Even after he’s sucked away the dollop of honey from their fingertips, he’s still craving more of their sweetness. Slowly removing their fingers from his mouth, the huff of air from his nose hits the coating of his saliva and sends chills across their arm. A ghost of a smile graces his lips when he notices, then he holds their arm in place as he presses loving kisses against their palm, then their wrist, along their forearm until he’s reached their trembling shoulder. He whispers sweet words to them as he guides their arm up to drape over his shoulder then he takes his own hand to the back of their neck and swipes his thumb across their nape.

◈ Caressing their neck, or cusping the back of their head, he looks into their eyes. Even if there’s something that he can’t bring his lips to say, his eyes will tell all. He presses a gentle kiss onto their forehead, a sign of sweet affection to remind them that behind these hungry eyes is a man that adores them. Then, he leans in again to latch his lips onto their neck. His hands ghost along their figure, pulling them close to him, as close as they can get- they can feel him hard against them. He kisses along their neck until his hands are parked firmly beneath their ass and he gives them a gentle squeeze. They can feel a smile against their skin just before he whispers his thoughts to them. This is where he lets them know how much he wants them, they can feel as much pressed against them, however there is much work to do before he can even think about doing something about it.

◈ He never misses a chance to show off his strength, even to his partner. If he’s got plans for them in a room different from where the fun initially started, he effortlessly scoops them up into his arms. Encouraging them to wrap their legs around him, then he carries them off to where he wants them.

◈ Once it’s time to stop the teasing and he’s ready to make them feel good, whether that’s while pinned against a wall, stretched out on the floor, propped up a table or comfortably in bed, he’s going to be sure he’s got access to their lips. He looks at them with heavy lidded eyes, lips parted as he slowly brings a thick finger into his mouth to wet with his tongue– though he knows that they’re wet enough to forgo additional lubrication. He lowers his hand again and the amount of time it takes for him to make contact is agonizing. This, of course, is by design.

◈ He sticks his hand beneath their panties, still uninterested in removing them and comments on the warmth of their pussy. The pad of his finger just barely brushes against their swollen bud and they gasp; he smirks, knowing full well that he intends to neglect that part of them until he’s had his fun teasing them. He traces their slick folds, searching their expression, anticipating its melt when he presses into them. When his finger enters and their mouth falls open, he seizes their lips in a hungry kiss, eager to swallow down their moans.

◈ Being that his fingers are as thick and long as they are, having two of them nearly equates to the feeling of being filled with a cock (minus the full girth). He’s aware of this, so he takes his time and prepares his partner well before he introduces a second (or third).

◈ Masato enjoys a good makeout session; be it in the middle of the day while his lover is going about household chores, just before he leaves for work, or right before bed but especially when he’s got them whining and writhing beneath him. While he’s stroking their walls, he’s got his tongue entangled with theirs. And when he’s stimulating them so much that it’s impossible for them to keep up with the rhythm of his lips and they simply must break away, his nostrils flare as he swallows a groan of his own. Once his cock has painfully reminded him of its presence and he’s fighting his need for friction, he takes to kissing and suckling at their neck, collarbone, shoulder– whatever is most accessible.

◈ His mind is swimming with things to say but he generally keeps them to himself, not wanting his deep voice to drown out the pretty song that they’re singing for him. However, just as he would when he’s fucking them with his dick, he’s sure to check in every so often to make sure he’s on track:

❥- ”Are you feeling good, ____?”

❥- ”How does it feel when I do this? Want me to keep doing that?”

❥- ”Am I going too fast/slow?

❥- ”Is this gentle enough/too rough?”

◈ Sometimes though, he’s so unbelievably horny that he sort of loses the ability to filter himself and he says whatever comes to mind. This is especially true when he’s feeling particularly possessive. He becomes quite the tease:

❥- ”Ah, you hear that? The way my fingers are sloshing around inside of you? Que delícia.”

❥- ”_____, are you really falling apart just from a couple of fingers?”

❥- “If you can barely take this, do you really think you can handle getting filled by a cock like mine? Haha, no, I don’t think you can.”

◈ Masato learns quickly and he’s eager to please, always. Nothing gets past him. Even if he’s in the middle of doing one thing, the second his partner moans out a suggestion (or if they’re playing that game, an order) he’s on it. Immediately. He’s so attentive, the transition is generally flawless.

◈ When he’s not intentionally neglecting their clitoris, he’s experimental; circular motions, swiping, tapping, whatever threatens to get his baby off best. He loves when he’s teased with his orgasm. If he’s at the cusp and they deny it of him, he gets chills and his toes curl. He likes to repay them in kind but the look in their eyes when they’re begging for ecstasy is too much for him to ignore. He’s too soft on them. He can’t find it in his heart to do anything less than spoil them. By the time they’re clawing deep welts into his back, he’s already given them an apologetic kiss and moaning about how sorry he is but they’re so cute when they pout at him.

◈ He’s got a few tricks for getting his lover off and none of them leave their clit out of the equation. He’s saved its affections for last as it tends to be the sweetest. Of course, he never, ever misses dessert. Sliding down to his belly or bending down to his knees, he’s finding his way down to plant his face in between their thighs. With his fingers, massaging their deepest, most intimate of places, he’s kissing and lapping away at their clit until their thighs are clasped around his head. And he stays there until they ride it out (preferably against his face) before he slips his fingers out of them.

◈ It doesn't matter how many times he’s seen them cum, nothing ever prepares him for how beautiful they are aglow with bliss. And it shows by the way his eyes glisten with love as he takes them in. He licks their juices away from his lips before asking for a kiss and then he kisses them deeply. He mutters against their lips of how badly he needs them, how he can’t handle another second without their touch. He takes their hand and places it firmly onto his neglected arousal, he reminds them that it’s theirs and he silently hopes that they’re ready to take responsibility for what they’ve made of him.

#aizawa masato #masato aizawa #rgg smut #yakuza smut #smut headcanons #yakuza 5 #kulemiwrites

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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#16. Baker's Man

Sweetheart Bites, Aizawa's favorite pastry shop in Kamurocho has sent out an announcement revealing their newest roll cake: The Tiramisu Cutie (with a free coffee in any size of the customer's choosing!) Not interested in missing the opportunity to be the first to get a taste of that fluffy cake and creamy filling, he hurries to the junction of Theatre Ave and Taihei Blvd to claim his place in line. Outside, he finds the owner of Sweetheart Bites and she's been smoking, despite telling Masato that she quit years ago. He takes this as a sign that something is horribly wrong and when he questions her, his suspicions are confirmed– the shop is down all but one pair of hands and Yua has caved under the pressure. With nothing but the fleeting memories of watching his late mother bake in his youth and a single high-school summer’s worth of customer service experience under his belt, Aizawa offers up his assistance to save Sweetheart Bites! Or, rather, prevent his friend from having a total meltdown over a temporary problem.

Modeled after the RGG series’ substories, there are are two versions of this scenario to choose from:

[x] Aizawa shows grace and promise in the kitchen as well as practiced restraint behind the counter as he’s berated by customers.

[x] Aizawa proves that he’s no patisserie (probably for good reason) nor is he the picture of perfect customer service.

Art by the wonderfully talented @orangenottangerine; thank you so much for allowing me to commission you for this beautiful piece! You hit the nail on the head; I couldn't be happier and I appreciate your hard work!

#aizawa masato #masato aizawa #yakuza 5 #kulemiwrites #orangenottangerine #Yakuza 6: Become Legend!#ryugagotoku #yakuza fanart

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝙃𝙊, 𝙃𝙊... 𝙊𝙃? | 𝙆𝙖𝙯𝙪𝙢𝙖 𝙆𝙞𝙧𝙮𝙪

Genre: CHRISTMAS SMUT

Rating: 18+

Word count: 874

Character(s): Kiryu Kazuma, fem!Reader

Enjoy!

Back when you first presented the idea of dressing up as Santa for the kids to Kazuma, you couldn’t quite get a read on him to figure out how he felt about it. He simply responded with a hum as he sliced his daikon; his expression never betrayed him.

Initially, you chalked it up to you ‘disturbing’ him while he prepared dinner but the topic never once came up again.

You weren’t sure why that was but you didn’t think it was necessary to press him on it.

Expenses at the orphanage did tend to rise toward the end of the year and there had been the recent construction of the headmaster’s quarters detached from the main building, allowing the growing children more space with the two rooms and also allowing the two of you the privacy you needed as the married couple running the place.

If he’d only thought of it as yet another expense, you could understand that. But as much as your relationship often required you to behave as such, you were no mind reader. You wished that he would have expressed those feelings to you instead of leaving you in the dark about it.

You bit your tongue, though and left it alone.

So, when you entered the bedroom that morning and found him standing in front of the mirror short only of a white beard and fake glasses, head slightly tilted as he secured the waist belt in place, you let out an unpleasant screech that confused the hell out of him.

…Wasn’t this what you wanted him to wear? Why were you choking back laughter?

Did it look weird?

And what was it he was supposed to say again? Ho ho… ho? Or something to that effect, right?

It was a genuine question! Why were you making fun of him?

When you explained to him that you weren’t teasing but instead just excited to see the look on the kids’ faces when he appeared in his Santa suit with a sack of gifts hoisted over his shoulder, the corners of his eyes lifted in a smile. He took a few strides toward you to pull you into a grateful kiss, a kiss that silently described the joy he felt having someone by his side that loved to make his kids as happy as he did.

He never intended for the kiss to transition into something as hot and heavy as it did but once he had your tongue entwined with his, he couldn’t stop.

The kids were still at school which meant you had the entire property to yourself for the next six hours but all you needed was your bedroom and the next thirty minutes to an hour of uninterrupted alone time.

It didn’t take long before the Santa suit was tossed in a heap on the floor, leaving him in nothing but the hat and a pair of socks, stretched out in the bed as you slowly slid your warm mouth up the length of his cock, parting with a soft ‘pop’ that made him sigh with pleasure and twitch with delight.

You were so skillful with your mouth and hands but he didn’t think he could take not being inside of you a second longer.

With an offer of his hands, he assisted your climbing of him and you did so with an impatience that was sexy in it’s own right. You lined his engorged head with your sopping wet slit and the lingering temperature of you alone was enough to curl his toes; he ground his head into the pillow, red cap slipping off, lips parted as a soft moan escaped him and you froze– demanding that the hat was to stay on.

You could see the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he gulped down his groan. He had no interest in delaying his entry any further. He carefully fixed the hat on his head then looked to you with pleading eyes, ready to be rewarded for following your orders without delay and you obliged him.

You slid down onto him with greedy force and he gasped, eyes squeezed shut as he gripped your ass with a greediness to match. He held you still for a moment and from his brow furrows and the bite on his lip, you wondered if he’d almost come just then.

When his eyes fluttered open again, his hardened expression melted into something desperate as he lifted himself into a seated position, balancing himself up with a palm pressed firm slightly behind him. His second palm caressed your cheek as he pulled you into a soft kiss where, against your lips he’d whisper out his need for you to ride him.

Hums of approval slipped past his lips as you began to wind your hips against him, helping yourself over and over to each and every inch of him.

As your rhythm grew more and more erratic, he removed the hand from your cheek to place it at the band of his bouncing red cap, eyes taking you in, mouth agape in disbelief of the intense pleasure he was feeling. If this hat was what motivated you to ride him like this, he wouldn’t dare interrupt you.

#kiryu kazuma #kazuma kiryu #kazuma kiryu x reader #kiryu kazuma x reader #rgg smut #yakuza smut #smut #ryu ga gotoku

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗖𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗲 𝗝𝗮𝗿 | 𝗦𝗵𝘂𝗻 𝗔𝗸𝗶𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮

Genre: CHRISTMAS SMUT

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1, 235

Character(s): Akiyama Shun, fem!Reader

Enjoy!

The look on Shun’s face when you dared him to wear a Santa costume to the Sky Finance Christmas party he was hosting at New Serena was one of nonchalance and it was clear that he was unimpressed.

That was your dare?

Ha, he thought you were better than that but it’s cute. Sure, ok. He’d do your little dare, he chuckled but only if you agreed to wear a Mrs. Claus costume beside him.

Simple enough, right?

It was only natural that you would accept and he assured you that you needn’t worry your pretty little head about your costume as he would take the liberty of providing them. All that was left was for you to shake on it.

And you did shake on it.

But what the hell were you thinking believing that Shun Akiyama would fight fairly?

When the evening of the party arrived, you were stressed as you’d been the last to arrive. Complications at the office, you explained to Elven Hana as she handed you a box that she informed you she was tasked with giving you despite being clueless about its contents.

He spotted you from the bar, all comfy in his Santa costume, white beard sitting on the counter as he brought his cigarette to his goofily curled lips. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Upon opening the box, you almost couldn’t believe your eyes… Almost.

That bastard, you spat through gritted teeth as you quickly opted to ring his cell. He answered but pretended to have a poor reception as you chewed him out for the game he was trying to play and of course, before he would hang up in your face with a chuckle, the ‘bad reception’ cleared miraculously enough for him to remind you that you shook on it… like an idiot.

You did and you were a woman of your word at the end of the day.

You shook on an agreement without knowing all the terms; a rookie mistake. You were smarter than that but you were silly enough to trust a man that loved to get under your skin. You had no choice but to honor the terms of your mistake.

Naturally.

You changed into your costume– today, Mrs. Claus was dressed in competition for the number spot on the naughty list but you looked amazing.

Your breasts were accented well in the top and your midsection was mostly covered in a sheer material while your thighs were practically on full display and unluckily for you, you chose to wear a thong under your office attire that morning.

You chewed your lip as you considered the wicked truth; the slightest bend would likely expose the cookie jar and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that Santa might not like that very much…

Shun was expecting you to chicken out.

Surely he wasn’t really keen on the idea of you prancing around in practically nothing amongst some of his closest friends and acquaintances, right? You recalled the guests you’d spotted on the way in; hostesses dressed skimpily in their most festive ensembles and securing your red cap, you decided to join them in solidarity.

You’d get your revenge.

You studied yourself one last time in the mirror, making your adjustments and tucking this and that before you entered the bar with a deep breath.

It was almost as if time stood still and the only one conscious of it was you- not a single word was said.

When he noticed the sudden silence, he followed everyone’s line of vision and when his gaze landed on you, he choked harshly from the drag he’d taken from his cigarette. Once he’d survived his coughing fit and everyone returned to what they were doing before your racy appearance, he quickly approached you, demanding to know why the hell you’d walk out there dressed like that.

Oh? You played coy, were you… not supposed to be? Was that not the dare?

That might have been the first time you ever stumped him in your response to his antics and you bite back a laugh of victory as you slipped past him to socialize.

For hours, you did everything except give him the time of day even when you felt his eyes burning into the back of your head. It was clear to you when you snuck a peek at his empty seat before stepping out to the fire escape that it had been eating at him.

He followed you out and when he didn’t see you, he stomped up a flight to find you in Sky Finance and there you stood, directly behind the door with a cocked brow and folded arms- ready to chew him out if he thought he was going to come up there to lecture you for playing his game better than he did but he did no such thing.

He took a few slow steps toward you and there was a glint in his eye that you hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

Shun grabbed your wrists and roughly pressed you against the door; chest first. His cigarette breath was hot on the back of your neck as he leaned into you, the white ball of his red hat dangling against your nose as he licked and whispered in your ear.

He needed you to know how insanely hot you were, how if this was revenge- you won fair and square, how he’s never wanted anything as badly as he wanted you in that moment and he begged that Mrs. Claus found it in herself to forgive Santa and let him stick his hand in the cookie jar, it wouldn’t take long.

When you arched back into him, he was rock solid beneath his red pants. You took one of his hands and placed it onto a breast and he impatiently ripped the flimsy material to tease your bare nipple.

You lock the door just as he dropped his pants and shook off his thick velvet coat.

You wiggled your ass as he lifted the poor excuse for a skirt and snatched your thong aside before wetting the tips of his fingers with saliva to coat himself enough to provide ease for his rushed entry and when he slammed inside of you, he let out the neediest moan you’d ever heard from him.

Your cheek was pressed against the cold door while he sucked at the nape of your neck and palmed at your breast.

His thrusts were rapid- they were starved- they were eager.

So eager, in fact, that he seemed to either disregard or perhaps was egged on by the sounds of your thighs and knees slamming against the door.

Your thong became nothing more than a strap of fabric littered on the floor and his nails bit deep into your hip while he fought for stability with his other sweaty palm, shifting from the wall to the door knob. He gripped at your hair, nearly snatching off your own red cap and he moaned into your ear.

He loved you. You were so incredibly sexy but you already knew that, didn’t you? Did you see what you made of him? Did you like what you’ve made of him?

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer but he knew better.

Mrs. Claus always came first.

#akiyama shun #shun akiyama #yakuza 5 #yakuza 4 #rgg smut #yakuza smut #smut #akiyama shun x reader #shun akiyama x reader

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝗔 𝗧𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 | 𝗔𝗸𝗶𝗿𝗮 𝗡𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗸𝗶𝘆𝗮𝗺𝗮

Genre: CHRISTMAS SMUT

Rating: 18+

Word count: 1720

Character(s): Nishikiyama Akira, fem!Reader

Enjoy!

Christmas for the couple, if done, should only ever be done in style. That was what Akira believed.

At his age, as a man of his status, having someone who simply looked good on his arm didn’t mean nearly as much as it did when he was a young punk trying to make it. He’d realized some time ago that choosing the right person filled a void that vapid beauty and luxury goods never could. However, at this point of his life, he’d become accustomed to a particular lifestyle that portrayed an image he had no intentions of dissolving.

When you first made it official, he was very upfront about what it meant to be his– he took very good care of himself and he would spare no expense when it came to taking care of you as well. You understood and initially you enjoyed the pampering but after some time, even you had to admit that the spending and indulgence was beyond excessive.

You weren’t sure you were comfortable accepting so much, all the time and when you presented those feelings to him, he agreed to tone it down for you but there had to be a compromise. You had to allow him to spend as much as he wanted on special occasions.

That was why Christmas came to be one of his favorite times of the year; it was when he could spoil you to his heart’s content and there was nothing you could really do about it. It was what you’d agreed to after all. The week before Christmas, you were handed some cash and asked to spruce the place up for the season however you saw fit. All he asked was that you made sure to buy him a Santa Claus hat.

No, really, and not one of the ones made of cheap, blended red fabric with white fibers glued around the band either because they looked awful and caught onto his hair. He wanted a nice one made of smooth velvet with plush white faux fur, one with some give that didn’t cut off the blood circulation in his head.

You see, he was feeling particularly festive this year and you’d been a very good girl which was why, with his red cap secured on his head, he planned to drag you to a number of exclusive shops in the Tokyo metropolitan area. Then after, when his Christmas to-do list was checked from top to bottom, he wanted to see you in a certain dress wearing a certain pair of shoes while you sipped wine at a certain restaurant while he multitasked between listening to you catch him up on the details of your life and fantasizing about how he wanted to do a certain thing to you.

A couple days later, when he returned to the newly holiday-fied home, you gave him the hat you spent far too much time comparing against others, hoping he’d be satisfied. When he kissed the tip of your nose in observation of the mistletoe and asked you to meet him in the bedroom, you’d know you’d done well.

There, he met you with two large, sleek, black boxes hugged against his chest and a black garment bag tossed over his shoulder; one box contained an elegant red cocktail dress and the other held a gorgeous white fur coat– he’d out done himself but he wasn’t done by a long shot, he assured you. In the garment bag was a bespoke suit that complimented your dress well. You could tell from the excitement in his eyes that he’d put a lot of thought into these outfits and was absolutely thrilled with the result.

Handing you some bills from his wallet, he’d given you a new list of tasks: the morning of Christmas Eve, go to the salon and have your hair and nails done however you’d like, return home and fill the tub with your favorite salts to relax before getting dolled up for him because there was a lame party he was duty-bound to attend where he was certain that the only highlight would be having you on his arm, keeping him company.

The evening of the party arrived and he couldn’t have been more pleased with himself. You looked as if someone had poured you into your dress and he simply couldn’t look away, let alone keep his hands to himself.

A highlight, indeed.

You were introduced to blurred face after blurred face and once you found yourself feeling overwhelmed, he pulled you aside to give you the deepest of kisses and a mischievous offer of ‘real fun’. When you nodded, he snuck you out of the banquet hall and into the awaiting black car where he reached into coat pocket to retrieve his Santa hat as he ordered the chauffeur to drive you to the shopping district that he’d been waiting to take you to for months– he ignored your protests and whining.

This was what you agreed to, remember?

You wouldn’t keep Santa from spreading the holiday cheer, would you?

After you’d shopped, he had his chauffeur deliver your many bags and boxes of designer this and that to the house while a local taxi drove you to the nice restaurant with the window seat that he’d reserved nearly a year in advance.

You made merry and flirted and after a few glasses of red, he finally whispered that you were the most delicious thing he’d seen all evening and it was that admission that seemed to shift the tone of the evening. The moment you finished your meals, you skipped dessert and he went straight for the check.

He needed to be home with you, immediately. There was one other thing that he’d planned for that evening but nothing was more important than getting a taste of the thing he’d been quietly salivating over all day.

After a steamy make out session in the back of the car, you’d already shed your coat and lost a few hair pins.

Akira didn’t even give you a chance to remove your heels as you reached the threshold before he pressed you against the archway and shoved his tongue into your mouth.

It was in observation of the mistletoe, you see…

Pressing his erection against you and gasping through kisses, he told you how drool-worthy you were in that red dress and how reminiscent it was of a gift bow and how he just couldn’t wait to unwrap you tonight.

He’d been a good Santa, hadn’t he? Santa deserved a gift or two as well, didn't he?

All he wanted this Christmas was a taste of you.

Could he have it?

Just a taste?

When you moaned out your consent, his hands crept up your back until they reached the zipper. He broke away from your lips to suck at your neckline, continuing to nip at the skin he was slowly exposing as he dragged the zipper further and further down until he was on his knees before you and your dress was pooled around your feet.

There wasn’t a word said aloud but the way he looked up at you as he tossed aside his coat and loosed his tie spoke volumes. He turned his attention from you to the loosening of his cufflinks and unbuttoning of his shirt.

Biting back a smirk, he took his precious time with them and you wished he wouldn’t but he didn’t touch you until he’d finished with them. When he looked back up at you, he licked his lips as he shimmied his shirt off his shoulders and then asked with a faux coy voice if you were waiting on him for something. Before you could say a word, he smacked your thighs and spat out something smug along the lines of, of course you were.

And as much as he wanted to play the tease, he was certain that he wanted this even more than you did.

He wasted no more time and began peppering kisses across your thighs, occasionally nudging his nose at the place covered by your panties, smirking cockily each time it coaxed a moan out of you. He slipped his fingers beneath the fabric hugging your hips then hooked them down until they joined the puddle of clothes at your feet.

He complimented the erotic scent coming from between your legs and then playfully berated you for whining out of embarrassment.

Why would you be embarrassed? There was no sweeter parfum.

He cautiously parted your legs enough to spread your lips before swiping his tongue against your swelling bud and he groaned out his desire for more. He pressed greedy kisses against your sex and while you grew unsteady on your feet, he worked at completely immobilizing you until you were practically leaning on him for support.

Once you were doubled over, hands gripped around his red capped head, he carefully hooked your legs over his shoulders, lifted and held you there against the archway while he sloppily licked and sucked at you.

You cried out his name and he mumbled against your clit that if you wanted him to spoil you any further, you had to tell him all about how good Santa’s making you feel. When you opted to moan quietly instead, he parted from your heat and you clicked your tongue in annoyance.

You didn’t like that, did you? He teased you. Perhaps, you should learn to obey more?

He lowered you back down to stand on your own wobbly feet and with a raw smack against your ass he commanded you to bed. He secured his cap before he sank down onto the bed then gestured with a finger for you to crawl up over him.

Akira guided your weight onto his face, hooked your thighs in place so that you’d have nowhere to run and alternated between swirling his tongue around your bud to tonging your slit. His saliva and your juices trickled from the corners of his mouth and down his neck as the room echoed with your songs of praise and his most vulgar slurping and smacking.

He didn’t recall you leaving out a platter of milk and cookies to thank him for his hard work and dedication this Christmas but as it turns out this was his preferred dessert of choice.

#nishikiyama akira x reader #akira nishikiyama #nishikiyama akira #ryu ga gotoku #akira nishikiyama x reader #smut #rgg smut #nishikiyama x reader #nishiki x reader #nishiki

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kulemiwrites · 2 years

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𝐒𝐚𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐚-𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐢 (𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐔 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬)

◈EARLY YEARS | Education of Self◈

Saejima was a great student himself, usually scoring highly on his exams, very courteous to staff and while he didn’t take shit from his fellow classmates, he was generally kind to everyone. For a while there, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to be until he’d met his favorite teacher during his third year of junior high– an elderly man in his final year of teaching . He had a heart of gold and Saejima admired him.

Many of the man’s teaching’s didn’t stop at the classroom door at the end of the school day- much of it he still recalls and uses in his day to day as an adult. Before the school year came to a close, the teacher suddenly passed away despite being the picture of health (even in his old age). Saejima was devastated. He hadn’t yet decided but he often found himself comparing the teaching styles of his high school educators to that of his late teacher and it was then that he realized the respect he’d gained for the profession.

By the time he was in his third year of high school, he had his eye on a few colleges that he hoped to get into and he’d been learning as much as he could, wherever he could about prefectural examinations for when the time came and when it did, he couldn’t have been more prepared. The exams were roughly what he expected and he successfully passed them without a hair out of place then he went on to complete his one year internship at his designated school with ease.

◈EARLY YEARS | Level, Prefecture and Students◈

Dressed in uncomfortable suit and tie combinations with his black hair cut short above his ears and brushed out of his face, he kept a polite smile on his lips as he just tried his best to get through the days.

His first year as a tenured educator in Kansai proved to be far more strenuous than he ever predicted it could be. Not even the extensive training he had to under-go before being assigned his first group of elementary school third years could prepare him for the hell he went through that first year. Since he was a new teacher with few to no connections, he was assigned to an underfunded school with a reputation of having ‘hopeless children’ and the only warning he had was the whispers he heard over the years of working toward his certification- educator hopefuls wishing to never wind up there.

The first few months was a constant cycle of: enduring disrespect, attempting to teach, pausing to cautiously scold, enduring more disrespect, bargaining, allowing tantrums, seeking assistance from his seniors, basking in the moments of peace, only to endure more disrespect while attempting to teach as chaos ensued behind him.

It was slowly breaking him down. He had moments when he wondered if he’d done all of his education and training for nothing. He doubted if he even wanted to return the following year but one night, the gentle smile of his late junior high teacher appeared in his mind and it was as if a light bulb flashed in his head. He sat down in the apartment he still shared with his younger sister as he formulated a plan he referred to in his head as, ‘What Would Sensei Do?’.

The reason he looked up to his old teacher so much was because he was a genuinely kind man who was patient and understanding while still silently commanding respect from his students. He didn’t tolerate poor behavior but he never dignified it with a response. For the kids acting out for attention, being actively ignored while others weren’t tended to discourage them and when they decided to behave themselves, he treated them just as he did the others. He never penalized the good students for the behavior of the bad, and he never held the poor behavior of the bad kids against them. Most important of all, he loved his students and never gave up on them. That was the type of teacher Saejima wanted to be.

Saejima swapped his ill fitted suits for a comfier range of polos and chinos to allow him to move about the same as his students and he cut his hair just an inch or so shorter. Feeling more relaxed, brought about a calming peace within him and when he slid the classroom door open that morning, his students could feel his energy and it resonated with them without them even realizing it.

Of course, there were the occasional bad actor every now and then but for the most part, he came to have a great handle on his class. He became more confident about dissuading his students from poor behavior and it kept them in line. Anyone walking into the class after his transformation versus before might have thought that he had a new class all together.

◈GENERAL | Teaching Style◈

The most important thing to Saejima isn’t to get through his lesson plan but to make sure that each and every one of his students comprehends what’s been taught. He’s gotten scolded by his higher ups for being further behind in his lesson plan than he should because he slowed down to give every student an opportunity to catch up first before moving forward but he didn’t care. In fact, he continued to do so and that determination reflected well in his students' grades.

Learning is a game that Saejima was always very good at but he understands that not every student is and so he used that knowledge to inspire him to take the time to get to know every single student’s learning style and interact with them accordingly.

He understood that for many students, asking questions is embarrassing but he created incentives to encourage asking questions which in turn made his classes more interactive. Each and every year, the other teachers are impressed by this.

◈GENERAL | Discipline◈

Over the years, he tried out different disciplinary methods, even mimicking the tried and true methods of the man that inspired him into this but eventually he came into his own. He’s got a look that he gives to his misbehaving students, a silent stare that freezes them into submission and once the others are out for recess he invites the student(s) in question to stick behind so he can talk to them. He never accuses his students of anything. Rather, he asks them if they’re ok, if they have anything they want to talk about and the like. He believes that behind every misbehaving child is a story and if he’s gentle enough in his approach, he might be able to find out what that story is. This worked well for him in all his years as a teacher, even when he moved over to junior high.

◈GENERAL | Parents◈

Saejima knows that there are protocols that are in place for dealing with parents, but he follows his own methods. He doesn’t back down to parents unless he is the one in the wrong, in which case, he apologizes and makes moves to modify his behavior. He doesn’t allow parents to bully him into anything and as the years went on, he garnered a reputation for having the least parental interference issues. He became the person that other teachers bring along to sit in on meetings with parents.

◈INVOLVEMENT | Souji (in this context; class cleaning)◈

It would be easy to step out of the room while the students tended to the cleaning but he’s a ‘lead-by-example’ type of teacher. Besides, he enjoys souji because it allows him even more time to put down the book and get to know his students more. In his elementary school teaching days especially, he did what he could to make cleaning more enjoyable for everyone, something to look forward to since it’s mandatory.

He’s created silly songs for mopping, sweeping or wiping that students continued to recite even if he wasn’t the one to initiate it. He made games out of floor scrubbing; having students stack the desks and chairs against the wall so that there's a large ‘racetrack’. With zokin (dustrag) laid flat beneath their palms, he joins the contenders on their hands and knees and races from one wall to the next as they scrub the floors. It’s a riot and the racer that wins gets to opt out of souji the following day if they so choose. He’s gone home with a sore back more times than he’d like, but hearing the giggles and shrieks of excitement makes it worth every day.

◈INVOLVEMENT | Lunches◈

At the beginning of every school year, he has his students tell him a few things about themselves including three of their favorite foods. This was something he’d begun to do at the start of his career as a teacher when he noticed the kids that came to school without their own lunches or were pickier eaters and couldn’t eat what the school provided. He silently made note of the students who routinely went without lunch so that he could make sure they ate regardless of the circumstances.

When he sees that said student(s) are sitting empty handed, he will plop down the items he brought for them but to help save face, he always frames it as him being too full to finish it himself or simply he brought too much. It went undetected at the elementary school but the junior high students he did this for were wise enough to catch on and they were always grateful to him for it, even if they didn’t say it..

◈INVOLVEMENT | Club Activities◈

It wasn’t until he began to teach at junior high that he realized how much fun he was missing out on when he coached the rugby club at his school. He sponsored the math club at the elementary school but to him, there was nothing like getting a group of young boys that he could whip into shape by mentoring them. He didn’t get to do extracurricular activities when he was in school himself so this gave him a second opportunity to to experience that.

He often wound up working at schools that weren’t very well funded and held students from poorer families but he never wanted that to get in the way of his kids’ experiences, often going into his own pocket to fund the club from time to time. He came to look at his team as the sons he never had and every year was always difficult for him when he had to say goodbye to the departing third years. He’d cry and they’d tease him for being a big softie despite his mean face.

◈INVOLVEMENT | Favorites◈

As much as he tries his best not to, he’s human and not unsusceptible to having favorites. He wants all of his students to succeed and he does love them all as much as he should as an educator but there are times where students scale the wall and land themselves directly into his heart. These are the students he’s usually hardest on. So, a lot of times these students believe that he hates them or at the very least don’t like them as much as the others when it’s the complete opposite. Aside from that, he tries his best to make sure he doesn’t show any favoritism. If he thinks to give one student something, unless it is an item they earned from their own merit, he’ll give the rest of the class the same or something of equal value.

◈OTHER FACULTY AND STAFF | Relationships and the Teacher’s Lounge◈

Every time he finds himself out shopping for home, he almost always finds something that he takes to leave in the lounge for the other faculty to enjoy. If he notices that a friend’s favorite item is low, he takes it upon himself to make sure it’s stocked up again the next day. He never says that it’s him though nor does he let anyone else see him do it. He just likes to see the look of surprise when his colleagues find that their favorite canned coffee is back.

Sometimes, Saejima falls asleep in the lounge and since the majority of the faculty can agree that he’s a pretty swell guy, they tend to leave him about his business. They usually bet on which of his one-liners he’ll say once he wakes up. ‘If anyone asks, I was jus’ thinkin’ with my eyes closed.’ ‘Hm, if ya heard snorin’ it wasn’t me.’ ‘I was jus’ keepin’ this spot warm for ya.’ Each with a chuckle.

As mentioned before, Saejima becomes the one that other teachers lean on in case of a Terror Parent Emergency but that’s not all his good for in the eyes of his fellow faculty. When there’s downtime and he finds himself alone with another teacher, he often finds himself offering a listening ear to their problems, be it personal or professional and he tends to give great advice. Oftentimes, when newer teachers are having trouble with their students, other teachers refer them to him and he’s always eager to help.

Just like having favorite students, he’s not above having favorite colleagues. In this case however, he’s able to make drinking buddies out of them. When it’s been a particularly stressful day of class or there’s possibly one too many meetings or both, he’ll usually be the first to offer at least a round of drinks to ‘get rid of the stank’ of a rough day.

It’s not unlikely that Saejima would find his future spouse amongst the faculty at but just like with his favorite students, they might not even know that he likes them at first since he treats everyone exactly the same. He’d be sort of shy about work crushes too because he fears possible rejection might bring about an air of awkwardness to the lounge that no one needs.

◈LATER YEARS | Reputation & Legacy◈

He went from being the teacher that could barely get his elementary school class under control to being one of the most well-liked and well-respected junior high teachers in the district. Many of the students call him something akin to the ‘Scary Bear’ because although he looks mean he’s really kind-hearted. Students that have never taken his class are happy to interact with him in any capacity just to experience it. Other teachers like to pick his brain and take pages out of his book to apply to their own classrooms.

There have been teachers who have met him that hold animosity and envy against him for the reputation he has. He takes it in stride though and never walks away from an opportunity to help support them when they need him to, regardless of their feelings against him.

Once he retired from teaching, he still wanted to be involved in education in some capacity. It didn't matter if that meant serving on a district board or perhaps by taking on a more administrative role. Essentially, his retirement sort of meant nothing.

Just as his late teacher inspired him to become who he is, there are generations of kids who grew into what he inspired them to be regardless of profession. He loves to see it.

#saejima taiga #taiga saejima #ryugagotoku #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #yakuza headcanons #rgg headcanons

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