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#mikey sano x reader
joonipertree · 7 months
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Imagine being Mikey's girlfriend and having so many teenagers giving you respect as if you're the leader of the number one biker gang in Tokyo.
Imagine how confused everyone in your school is when a group of bulky, testosterone filled, aggressive high schoolers come and bow at a 90° angle. You're staring with reddened cheeks because ???????????
But they're off to go to class without a word, muttering to themselves. Your classmates and friends are like: "dude what the fuck happened?" and you're like "I don't even know."
Then some fuckers come and offer to hold your bag for you? To get you lunch? Someone gave you their bento? And everyone starts noticing how it's only the delinquents that do it. Mostly the ones wearing the Tokyo Manji uniform.
If there's a Toman member in class, you bet your ass they'd threaten the teacher for you. Like "They got that answer right!!" and you're like "no!!! I didn't!!!"
You're so scared your teachers were gonna give you detention. Or call your parents to let them know their child had a gaggle of delinquents doing their bidding.
God, imagine if they call you a title. Like "princess" or something. I can't even think of a title suited for this. But like something cringey that gets you annoyed and the clueless people around you start having even weirder theories.
Biggest one? You're the Yakuza's daughter.
IMAGINE!!!! IF SOME OF THE TOMAN INNER CIRCLE WERE THERE SJSNSNSJKSKWKA
I'm imagining Baji and chifuyu laughing their ass off in the corner, on the floor, gasping for air. And when you notice them, you run and ask if they had anything to do with this.
Baji wishes and chifuyu was growing purple from lack of oxygen. You kicked at them and wacked them with your book. WHICH MADE THINGS WORSE BECAUSE YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS ARE SEEING U BEAT UP GANG MEMBERS. YOURE A RAGING MONSTER IN THEIR EYES NOW.
If the toman members see this, do you think they'd be afraid of you? They'd be shaking in their boots at someone most likely half their size and that couldn't even win an arm wrestling match.
You'd ask Baji and chifuyu to tell them to stop. They would very loudly call you princess and run away cackling.
I'm pretty sure in highschool, the inner circle go to the same school. I don't remember but Takemitchy, Hakkai and Chifuyu go to the same school right?
If you think Takemitchy would help, chifuyu convinced him not to. Anyone else there is just someone you couldn't get a hold of. And you just ended up ignoring the delinquents and going about your day. Which just made you look like even more of a gang leader, walking down a hallway with a blank stare while people around you bowed.
Some non delinquents call you princess and you're telling them that "no, it's a prank. A sick joke that my boyfriend is playing on me."
People realise very quickly why you were being treated like royalty when the school day ended.
Because lo and behold, The Invincible Mikey was standing at the gate, leaning against his infamous bike as he waited for you. People just stopped and stared, not bothering leaving the vicinity, out of curiosity and maybe fear.
You see Mikey and start stomping towards him, everyone holding their breath because 'the yakuzas daughter was going head to head with the captain of the Tokyo Manji Gang.'
But Mikey was smiling brightly, arms open for a hug as he made grabby hands at you.
You came close and kicked him on the shin.
I honestly can't imagine everyone's reaction. Stunned silence. It's a sense of doom I think. A sense of 'rest in peace'. But also, the utter shock and respect you'd just accumulated from your peers in a second. You had some mad fucking balls to do that shit. Even full grown adults wouldn't do something like that to Sano Manjiro. People were ready to join your followers and praise you.
The kick was weak by the way, Mikey didn't even flinch. He just looked confused and then you ranted to him about your day and suddenly he was fully relying on his Babu to hold him up. Because my god, was he laughing his ass off. He couldn't breathe.
If Ken-chin was with him, let's be honest he would be, the man would also be on his knees dying of laughter. Just...imagine every Toman member that's part of the inner circle.... laughing vehemently at you for this.
With grumbles and glares, you try walking home by yourself but Mikey is quick to pull you back into his arms. His laughter hadn't stopped but he was leaning on you now.
The way one sinewy hand was on your waist while the other was tangled in your hair...made it very clear what you guys were to each other.
It was a collective 'oh.....oh' moment.
Mikey peppered many apologetic kisses on your cheeks and you whined about how embarrassing it was and how people were watching. Unbeknownst to you, Mikey had slyly made eye contact with anyone staring and glared daggers at them.
Ken-chin then decided to stand in front of the two of you and throw daggers at the on lookers for him.
And as much as you wanted to push away, you leant into his kisses and let him give you one on the nose and forehead. He tasted sweet on your lips too and your arms were around his neck, pulling away to stop the boy from going overboard like he always did.
"I'll treat you to lunch to make up for it?" Mikey whisperer gently, eyes soft and lovesick.
"Promise to call a meeting and tell everyone to stop?"
Mikey snorted, "Yes princess."
The punch on his arm was a lot harder. Mikey made an exaggerated pained expression, snickering to himself as he pulled you in close.
"It's not like it's a lie, though. You should be treated like royalty and have everyone do your bidding."
The blush that rose on your cheeks made his heart flutter.
"Only you can....treat me like that."
Oh he's not letting go of you any time soon.
Bonus: Later on, when you meet Baji and Chifuyu...they call you princess and burst out laughing. You promptly throw both of your shoes at them.
I also feel like if the Haitani brothers caught wind of this, it'd just be the worst for you. They are the snarkiest motherfuckers.
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mynewblackdress · 8 months
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Title: Helping Hand
Pairing: Manjiro x Reader
Summary: You come to the leader of Toman to help you with your stalker problem| Genre: Fluff| Warning: Mention of stalking | Words: 3.8K
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‘Ex-excuse me, Sano-san?’ 
You didn’t feel particularly good about what you were about to do, but given the circumstances, you felt you were left without other options. 
You felt too self-aware and nervous to look directly at him, but you could tell he slightly turned his head to look at you even without looking.
‘Did you say something?’ asked the short blond-haired leader of Toman, and you almost yelped. You wanted to talk to him, but it still caused you great anguish that he replied, forcing you to go on with your plan, ‘Uh, I…I…well, you see…’
The boy remained patient for an admirably long moment while you struggled to find the right words before he suddenly stepped closer to you. 
‘Oi! You should look at me when you’re talking to me. I might feel disrespected otherwise,’ he said, sounding beyond casual. Still, the possibility that you might offend a known gang leader was enough threat on its own.
You straightened yourself to your full height and looked at the boy around your age who wore a strangely disinterested look on his face.
Sano Manjiro, the leader of Toman, and the boy, you came to find on a school day forcing yourself to run late, perhaps even skip, watched you with a pair of the most alluring and sad dark eyes you had ever seen. 
You saw him around before. You knew how he looked when you found him, of course, but seeing his eyes this close caught you off guard. 
They’re pretty, though; you thought something about their nostalgia speaking to you.
Suddenly, he chuckled, ‘What’s the matter?’ he closed his eyes, and a lazy but pretty grin pulled across his face while he teased you, ‘Forgot what you were going to say?’ 
You felt your face catch fire at his words, and your eyes widened, realizing how silly you must have looked. You were already nervous, but now on top of all that, you also felt beyond embarrassed. 
You slightly bowed and yelled, ‘I’M SORRY!’
When you looked back up, he was still there with his hands in his pocket, looking somewhat amused, which didn’t help your face that continued to feel all too warm or the fluttering inside your stomach. 
You were never good when it came to talking to handsome boys. If it was possible, you would have avoided this interaction completely, but you just couldn’t. 
‘You’re kinda awkward, huh?’ he asked, and you closed your eyes, fighting the mortifying feeling of embarrassment that he would say something like that out loud to you. 
It was true. But still! 
‘Yeah,’ you admitted quietly before you finally said, ‘I would like to ask for your help.’
Mikey’s leisure posture didn’t change, but you could see the corners of his lips falling a tiny bit, minimizing his smile, ‘Go on then.’
You took a deep breath and stuttered over your explanation, wishing you had written it down last night when it occurred to you, you could ask the Invincible Mikey for help. 
The truth was a few months ago, one of your neighbors took an unhealthy interest in you, and the situation had only escalated since then. 
It started innocently enough, with the boy simply walking you to and from school, attempting to be friendly. You didn’t mind back then and were even thrilled you might have gained a new friend, but things quickly spiraled as he started to make you uncomfortable with his comments about your body and asking you out. You wouldn’t mind him as a friend, but you weren’t interested in anything else. He seemed alright at first, but there were a number of reasons why he wasn’t your type. 
Initially, you tried to be polite, but with time, you even clearly stated your reasons. It came out rather nervously due to your personality, but at least for once, you stood your ground. However, it seemed like he couldn’t take the hint, and later, he ended up full-on ignoring your protests. 
‘If you give me more time, I’ll change your mind,’ he said with confidence, making you sick to your stomach since you didn’t want him to try any more than he already did.
You were an anxious person who tried to avoid conflicts and anything too uncomfortable to deal with. So, it seemed natural for you to try and stop interacting with him when you rejected his advances. It would be too awkward otherwise. 
However, he seemed to disagree. He tried to walk you to and from school and seemed to catch you whenever you went grocery shopping or ran some other errands. 
At first, it was uncomfortable and annoying, but it quickly became creepy. He was pressuring you all the time, talking about how pretty you were and how much he liked looking at you, and a lot of other things that, with the way he was looking at you and how he always seemed to catch you when you went somewhere, were beyond scary. 
It wasn’t just that you were shy or anything like that. Every time on point when the boy showed up, you felt your stomach sink and nausea take over while he smiled at you. 
Your family tried to calm you down, claiming you didn’t understand how having a crush felt or worked and that you were overacting, making you feel even worse about the whole situation. 
On top of that, your neighbor was two years older and objectively somewhat good-looking, so it seemed like every other person you confided in thought you should give in and start dating him. 
‘It’s not like you have a shot at anyone else right now, right?’ asked one of your classmates, which shocked and hurt you so badly that you stopped talking about it together.
Perhaps, you just didn’t stress out about how severe the situation was, but you still felt upset and betrayed that no one seemed to see it as you did.
Of course, it all sounded innocent on the outside because none of those people were in your shoes.
You felt incredibly alone while dealing with all of this, constantly stressed whenever he found you somewhere smiling and acting all nice and sweet while all you could think about was to run. Only to later doubt yourself and wonder if you really weren’t just being too harsh on him. 
Needless to say, you weren’t in a good place mentally, and your anxiety was running all-time high because of all of this. 
You hit your sort of breaking point when he touched you the other day and tried to kiss you, telling you he waited enough for you to be ready and that he wanted to date you already.
You froze, feeling the weight of absolute panic that entered your body and was about to tear you in half. You were never more scared in your entire life, and rightfully so. 
Your only salvation was that before he could do anything, there was a commotion nearby. Your reflexes kicked in, forcing you to break free from his hold and run home. You drenched yourself that day while crying in the shower feeling hopeless and alone like you never did in your entire life. It was soul-crushing, really.
You barely ate that evening, and when your parents asked about it, you stated you weren’t feeling too well, fearing if you confessed what happened, they would just brush it off again, further breaking your heart and trust. 
It was impossible to fall asleep that night, so you spent hours trying to come up with a plan until you remembered your classmate, who never showed up for class and just so happened to be a gang leader. You were unclear about what exactly it meant to be a part of a gang while still underage, apart from getting into fights and skipping school. However, since Mikey’s sister Emma was still spending time with him and doing a better job in staying in school, it wouldn’t be so horrible. 
You were also suffering from sleep deprivation, so last night, the idea seemed really good.
Out of other options, you took all the money your frugal self has saved so far, packed your lunch, and went on a hunt for a certain blond-haired delinquent.  
‘That’s not cool of him at all,’ said Mikey as you managed to stumble over your words explaining what was happening. Of course, you gave him a much shorter version of it all. And in your frantic retelling, you might have even watered it down a bit. 
You finally stopped talking and forced your eyes to lift up to his face as you found it impossible to look at his expressions while discussing those events. 
Your eyes widened, and you were left stunned by the ice-cold look on his face. It was so bizarrely different from the relaxed and bored one from before. It was an exceptional look that spoke volumes on its own. 
Danger 
‘If you told him to stop and leave you alone, he should have. I have a sister, and if someone threatened her this way, I would have killed them.’
 You were left speechless listening to the firm and cold way he delivered those words and felt something snap inside you. 
A pathetic soft sob broke from your mouth. 
You covered your mouth while tears started to rush out of your eyes. The whole harassment had been going on for so long, and no one seemed too concerned about it. Not your family or friends, yet this boy, who was supposed to be a scary and mean delinquent, appeared to have no problem taking your side and showing you the compassion you desperately needed.
Your insides were torn between going through the pain you endured for so long and feeling warm relief over his kindness.
‘Come on,’ he spoke with a much gentle voice now, almost like he was talking to a child, ‘No need to cry for a jerk like that.’
He stepped closer, and while tears ran down your cheeks, he leaned forward and grinned right at your face. Your vision was blurry, but you could still make out his radiating smile. Even if you couldn’t see it properly and were a mess, you still couldn’t help but think it was rather beautiful. 
‘He doesn’t deserve your tears, yeah?’
You started to brush your face and speak, only to eventually nod as you felt it would take far longer for you to be able to sound coherent again. You just couldn’t help yourself. Until then, everyone seemed so dismissive of what was going on. 
Mikey barely knew you and immediately chose to take your side on all of this. It was a bit overwhelming for you, to say the least. 
‘Mikey-kun, sorry it took so long, but they-AAAA!’ 
You immediately stopped crying, startled by the yelling, and looked behind Mikey at another blond-haired boy you weren’t familiar with, who was looking and pointing directly at you with shock written all over him. 
‘Hm?’ Mikey turned back to the boy with seemingly disinterest before he said, ‘Takemitchy, you kept me waiting for so long.’
The other blond finally dropped his hand but remained looking at you with his eyes wide, ‘W-what are you doing, Mikey-kun?’
‘Ah, this awkward girl here wants me to beat up her stalker, so he’ll leave her alone,’ he said. You were stunned he could speak so casually about it, as if girls all over town came to him and asked him for his services. 
I hope not, you found yourself thinking with a sour taste inside your mouth. You were surprised you cared. It wasn’t like you would wish your situation on anyone, and if someone unfortunate did end up in it, you hoped they had options to be helped and saved. You also hoped that option wasn’t the blond who you wished would only help you.
‘She’s kinda cute though, right?’ he asked next, causing your eyes to widen and your cheeks to get warm again, ‘Cries just like you.’
‘Oi!’ complained the other boy but remained looking between you and Mikey, somewhat panicked, confusing you even more. Did he know you or something?
You were puzzled and a bit freaked out about why he was staring at you like that before Mikey turned back to face you and let out a relieved sigh, ‘You done with the waterfalls, huh?’
‘Y-yeah,’ you said and brushed your cheeks some more before you started to search your school bag for a wallet, ‘I don’t have a lot, but here.’
‘Keep it,’ he said, and your hand paused mid-air with your wallet inside it. 
The corner of his mouth pulled into another smile, ‘I have subordinates to give me money. I would feel pretty bad if I took yours. Though, I have a request.’
‘Anything,’ you said before you could properly think about your words and blushed even harder when Mikey chuckled and then pulled the corner of your lips into a lazy smirk. Your neighbor smiled at you a lot, which often caused your belly to react, but you couldn’t help but think it was nothing similar to the strangely sweet warmth you felt now. It was still awkward and slightly out of your comfort zone, but not in a way; you wished to run as far away as you could from the boy. Quite the opposite, actually.
You slapped a hand over your mouth while Mikey lectured you, ‘Careful with such things. Someone might get the wrong impression again, and I won’t always have time to beat up your stalkers, okay?’
You dutifully nodded, and the blond-haired boy pointed at the lunch box sticking out of your bag, ‘Share your lunch with me.’ 
You blinked and uncovered your mouth, surprised. 
‘Kenchin cut me off,’ he started to explain as if you knew who that person was, ‘and Takemitchy is already buying me dorayaki-’
‘I am?’ asked the boy behind him, and you uncovered your palm and giggled at his funny antics.
Even if just slightly and for less than a second, but when you did, it seemed his dark eyes lit up with something other than that dark nostalgia they seem to carry constantly.
You tried to give him your wallet anyway, but he didn’t even reach for it, so you ultimately put it back. 
 ‘Of course, you can take it,’ you handed the nearly packed bento into his awaiting palm, ‘I’m not that good of a cook, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.’
He smiled upon accepting it, ‘It smells good, so I have high hopes for it,’ he then put on a very childlike face and said, ‘I’ll be very disappointed if it doesn���t.’
You didn’t like the sound of that and went to tell him, but he suddenly stepped closer to you. Your shoulders touched obviously on purpose, and he tilted his head to be able to speak directly into your ear, ‘Go back to class, Y/N-chan. I’ll come pick you up when I’m done with that guy. Yeah?’
You felt a shiver run through your entire being for some reason. 
Your hand quickly covered your ear and stepped away feeling flushed and warm, unlike never before over his teasing. He had to do it purposefully, knowing it would leave you flustered. But he didn’t touch you; instead, he left you feeling shy, embarrassed, and warm than uncomfortable like your stalker.
Mikey only grinned at you with a look behind his dark eyes you couldn’t read before he walked further down the street, calling for Takemitchy, the other blond-haired boy, to follow, which he did momentary pausing to give you a quick wave, ‘Bye, Y/L/N-san.’
You blinked several times before you turned back to watch them get on Mikey’s bike and drive, leaving you to wonder how he knew your name. You were surprised Mikey knew it since he rarely, if ever, showed up at class, and you were certain you never spoke with one another until today. But for that odd boy to know it as well?
So strange, you thought to yourself before you made your way to your school. Your only sanctuary since your stalker didn’t go there. Yet. 
You almost threw up the one time he mentioned he might transfer even if he wouldn’t be in your class since he was older, but at least he would be able to see you more often during the day. 
The day ended, and you dutifully waited in front of the school building close enough to take refuge there if needed, even if that had never worked before. It didn’t matter if you went home too late or not; it seemed your neighbor always caught up to you. 
Finally, after a while, Mikey showed up on his bike, along with another of your classmates, Ryuguji Ken, who almost never showed up in school either, and the odd boy you only met today, Takemitchi. 
‘Here, it was delicious.’
You took your bento from his hands and stuffed it back into your bag, noting it was empty before you looked at him again. He seemed in a good mood, partly lying over his bike while smiling at you.
You grimaced, ‘Hardly. My relatives always tell me I use too much salt or spice-’
‘You did,’ he chuckled, surprising you, ‘But you also gave me the whole thing instead of sharing and did your best, so it’s fine.’
You knew you were blushing when he said that and looked away so you would calm down a bit. It was hard to watch him when he looked this happy and handsome at you of all people, ‘Y-you don’t know if I really put that much effort into it.’
‘I do,’ he said with confidence and amusement, ‘You seem like the type.’
There was no point in denying it, so you took a deep breath and looked up, ‘W-well, did you manage to…’
‘Your neighbor won’t bother you again,’ he assured with a distant look behind his dark eyes, ‘He’ll stay away from you from now on.’ 
You watched him for a moment, finally letting those words sink in. You didn’t realize how stressed you were while waiting until Mikey finally showed up again. It wasn’t like you could assess his abilities since you never saw him fight or deal with his subordinates, so you were unsure if he could do something to have your stalker leave you alone. You feared your stalker would somehow talk his way out of it like he always seemed to. Now that you knew everything worked out, you felt like crying again.
‘Ah, come on, no more of those waterfalls,’ joked Mikey and reached out, swiping a tear from your cheek, ‘A guy like that definitely doesn’t deserve them. Don’t let them go to waste on him.’
His hand was warm, and everything about him felt so kind you thought you couldn’t handle it anymore. You were dealing with it for a long time; you felt overwhelmed with it all. 
‘Thank you!’ you could help but yell before suddenly you found your arms hanging around the blond boy’s neck and your chest pressed against his while you tried to fight back tears of gratitude, ‘Thank you so much!’
You squeezed him for a second or two before you jumped away and bowed, ‘I know it’s probably not a big deal to you, but it means a lot to me, so’ you rose and offered him your best smile while still attempting not to cry, ‘Thank you for saving me.’
When you looked at Mikey’s face, you could see just how shocked he was with his slightly opened mouth and widened eyes staring at you as if you grew a second head. You didn’t blame him, as you looked like a lunatic that tossed herself on poor victims. 
You blamed the horrible stress you had to endure all this time to be the reason, not to mention the fact that the boy was so nice about the whole thing. Not even accepting your money, just your hardly tasty lunch. And he even claimed it was delicious when you knew it wasn’t that special. 
You offered him a nod, unsure what to do next, and caught yourself thinking that you should run, only to have him call for you, ‘Wait!’
His voice sounded different now, and you panicked, thinking he must have hated when people touched him without asking, and perhaps wanted to scold you only to be met with his pretty face looking especially childlike and open arms, ‘Not enough, give me more.’
‘Mikey-kun! Don’t just demand that!’ yelled the panicked blond boy distressed behind him, but you already found yourself walking to the boy who saved you and put your arms around him, having him almost dive into you while letting out a small sigh. 
‘This is nice.’
You held him closer, closed your eyes to experience the moment properly, and held onto him if he really said, ‘I’m glad.’ 
It should have been bizarre to hug a relative stranger like this, but it didn’t feel that way. Mikey smelled like food and something earthy, and he helped you tight enough that, along with what he did for you, you felt safe. It was a good, really pleasant feeling. One that you wouldn’t mind prolonging even longer to savor every second of it if you didn’t hear Ryuguji call, ‘Oi! Mikey, wrap it up! You know we need to be elsewhere soon.’
The blond let out a little pouty sound that made you giggle against his ear before you could stop yourself. 
Just as you did, you felt Mikey’s grip tightened ever so slightly, ‘I like that sound.’
‘Hm?’
‘That sound you make when you laugh,’ he said, and you smiled, trying to hide your face a bit. You couldn’t remember the last time someone complimented you, making your insides feel like cotton candy. Still, you were glad you didn’t because the idea that only the Toman leader did was far sweeter. 
Ultimately, he let you go and, very disappointed, admitted he had to go, ‘Kenchin’s right. Today, Takemitchi will walk you home. I promised to kick his ass if anything happens to you, and he has a girlfriend who will beat his ass so that he won’t make a move on you.’ 
You grimaced and tried to deny his offer since you didn’t want to bother the other boy. 
‘Tomorrow though,’ said Mikey cutting you off, ‘I’ll take you out after school, alright?’
Your lips parted in shock, although you really shouldn’t have been surprised since the blond did compliment you a lot today, and you just spent a very long while hugging him. 
It might have been pathetic, but you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face as you nodded and accepted having a very good feeling about it. 
Koniec
A.N: English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for grammatical mistakes. Thank you for taking the time to read this 😊 I apologize if it wasn’t as good as some of my stories, though ☹ I was in a weird head-space. Stay safe!
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iamk1llua · 3 months
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 Tokyo Revengers boys asking you to open your door after a fight <33
ft; manjiro sano (mikey), ryuguji draken, keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, shuji hanma, izana kurokawa, rindou haitani & ran haitani
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inkykeiji · 4 months
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you can always take more than nothing
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character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader
genre: smut
notes: here’s my halloween piece, only half a month late! still, i hope you can enjoy it! as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: alice in wonderland
warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public sex/exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, size difference, biting/marking, blood, minimal prep, rough sex, teasing, begging, dacryphilia, humiliation, a lil bit of degradation, drugs, toxic relationship
words: 8.6k
synopsis:
Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try. He’s the motherfucking Boss. And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 
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The music is loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with it, bleeding with it, flashes of neon pouring over the frosted mosaics of glass and marble. 
A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event. 
There are people everywhere, scattered across every surface, crystal glasses filled with expensive liqour and cocktail concoctions glittering in their palms. You barely know any of them. 
They’re all supposed business partners, allies and associates, ‘friends’ of your Daddy. Not that it matters all that much to you; they aren’t allowed to say a word to you anyway. 
Your eyes scan the expanse of the club, on the hunt for a familiar face. Takeomi is in the corner, obnoxiously blowing smoke into some of the higher end girls’ faces. He’s really taking his role of The Caterpillar earnestly. 
Good. You told him it suited him.
At your request (AKA at Mikey’s demand), the top members of Bonten have dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters, donning an impressive group costume. You’ve been taking the whole thing pretty seriously—beginning your extensive planning in August, drafting up designs and taking everyone’s precise measurements to have each outfit custom made to their exact frames—which means the rest of Bonten has been taking the whole thing pretty seriously, too. 
Not that any of them mind. 
What Mikey’s little angel wants, Mikey’s little angel gets. It’s standard protocol, really; you’re merely an extension of the Boss and thus must be treated as an extension of the Boss, and Mikey’s best men have no issues complying. 
Sighing, you rest your chin in your palms, sombreness souring your features. An ache, dull and dense, settles in the pit of your chest. It’s a desolate sort of longing, a gentle but constant gnawing that cannot be sated by anyone or anything other than it’s creator, something that weights your lungs and heavies your heart and stalls your breath, a vital part missing.
You miss Mikey.
You miss Mikey, but you know this ‘event’ really does have some sort of business significance; that, while it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and high on Halloween night, it also serves as the grounds for some sort of meeting or negotiation or proposition—you can never be sure which, with Bonten. 
You aren’t allowed to know. You’re lucky to be here at all.
But you miss Mikey.
You shouldn’t be selfish. You know you shouldn’t be selfish; he’s already stretched so thin between so many obligations and obituaries, and you shouldn’t add to that strain. You won’t add to that strain. You’ll sit here, pretty and perfect like his precious little princess should be, and you’ll wait, patiently, until Daddy has a moment to spare you. 
He always finds a moment to spare, no matter how many duties and commitments he has. He always finds a space for you in his day, even if he has to carve it out with his bare hands.
So you mustn’t be greedy. You will be good. For him, you’ll do anything, no matter how difficult. 
“No frowning, miss Alice,” Sanzu chastises through a stretched grin, wide and carved into his cheeks—a smile so sharp, so sinister it puts the true Cheshire Cat to disgrace. 
He swims into your vision, teeth glinting with teals and fuchsias, an intricately wrapped box in his palms. Tugging on the ribbon a little, he unboxes it to reveal a wealth of small confections, individually wrapped in colourful foils.  
“Look, your favourite kitty brought you some chocolate.”
That brightens your mood a little—a sugar fiend, just like your Daddy is—and your mouth drops open expectantly, cute tongue unfurling in invitation. 
Sanzu rolls his eyes but places a truffle on your tongue anyway, pressing it down on the slick muscle and forcing your lips to close around his first knuckle to suck the treat free from him, laughing at the way your face twists.
Pervert. 
His nails taste like blood—not that you’ve come to expect any less—but the rusty copper is quickly eradicated by sugar, a content little hum vibrating around the melting chocolate.
“Good, huh?” Sanzu asks around his own chocolate, shuffling a gold box of expensive Italian truffles in his palm as he picks through them, confections jumping perilously with the motion, shimmering wrappers catching in the flashing neon strobes. “They’re imported.”
“Where’d you get those?” you ask through strings of caramel and cocoa, welding to your molars. 
“A little Halloween treat courtesy of Mikey,” he says dutifully, jostling the box in emphasis. “And an apology, for taking longer than expected.” 
Warmth blooms in your chest, swelling with your heart and stretching your ribs. The last few remnants of displeasure fade from your face, giving way to a small smile.
How very Mikey of him, to send his second in command armed with artisan chocolates and a short, sweet explanation; something he knew would make you smile, something he knew would alleviate some of your impatience, a reassurance that he misses you too, that he’ll be back soon, that he’s thinking of you. 
“There’s our pretty girl,” Sanzu teases, but his own grin has softened a little, the glint in his eyes dulled to a twinkle. “No more pouting, ‘kay? Your trusty Cheshire Cat will be by your side until your Hatter returns.”
Ah. A polite way of saying that you’re stuck with him until Mikey’s finished his work, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.
That takes longer than either of you expect, though, Sanzu’s plan of entertaining you by leading you, hand-in-hand, around the club to assess each Bonten member’s costume not nearly as lengthy as he had anticipated. 
Because it only takes a mere twenty minutes or so to examine all of them, with you near instantaneously deciding that the Haitanis have won the make-believe costume contest you and Sanzu had been holding between yourselves. 
Sanzu had agreed—everyone looks impeccable in their custom-made costumes, tailored specifically to them at your behest, but no one had any hope of eclipsing the Haitanis in their form-fitted pinstriped suits, each stitch and thread molded flawlessly to their frames, perfectly pressed collars embroidered with Dee and Dum in shimmery purple thread, powder blue bowties immaculately symmetrical around their tattooed necks. 
Now you’re back at the bar, Sanzu’s shaky fingers sifting through the box of truffles as he searches for something, anything, to distract him from the way the blood in his veins is beginning to dry up, the way his capillaries are withering, brittle and thirsty, the way his skin is beginning to itch.
Because he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Not yet, anyway.
No narcotics when he���s chaperoning you; that’s a hard rule. That’s a rule that’s been sewn into the tissues of his brain so tightly it’s interwoven with his synapses. That’s an execution rule; a one time only rule—breaking that rule will get him fucking killed. 
But you’re both starting to become a little bit restless. 
“Come on,” you’re begging, word dragged across your tongue in a petulant whine. “Just one more chocolate?”
“I said no,” Sanzu snaps, eyes hard. “Mikey said three. Mikey’s the Boss. Whatever Mikey says goes; Mikey’s girl, Mikey’s rules!” 
“You’re no fun,” you huff, forehead scrunching with a pout. 
“Yeah, and that’s why he sticks me with you,” Sanzu says, though he sounds almost proud, as if it’s an honour to babysit you, a title of high esteem. “Because I can resist your tricks.”
“My charms,” you correct.
“Whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s all semantics. Point is, I know how to say no to you, unlike a few certain someones.” 
Unimpressed ice blue eyes sweep across the venue, hovering pointedly on the faces of his colleagues—Kakucho, the Dormouse; Kokonoi, the White Rabbit; Rindou, Tweedle-Dum.
Your eyes follow his, and you smirk to yourself. Kakucho is the easiest out of those three; Kokonoi sometimes deceives you, allowing you to do as you please only to tattle to Mikey later, and Rindou always demands some sort of payment, claiming it’s only fair that you give him something he wants in return. 
Turning back, you’re about to respond, something bratty and bitter simmering on your tongue, when a pair of hands and a smooth voice cuts you off. 
You’d know that touch, that tone, anywhere.
“Pray, tell me, Miss Alice,” Mikey murmurs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, palms curling around your hips and pulling you back toward his chest. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
“Because it can produce a few notes,” you answer dutifully, head tipping back against his shoulder to glance at him through the corner of your eye. “Though they are very flat.”
“Correct,” he responds. “My, what a smart little girl you are.”
It’s soaked in condescension, compliment drawled out through a supercilious smirk, breath wafting across your face sweltering and saccharine. 
“Do I get a reward, Mister Hatter?” you ask, sweeter than sugarcane, batting eyelashes framing hopeful, dewy eyes. 
A hum vibrates on his tongue, onyx gaze apathetic and appraising as it glides across your features slowly, thoroughly, pulling each of your thoughts apart and putting them back together again. 
Your head rolls to the side, over his protruding collarbone, to stare at him more resolutely. And God, it’s the way you’re looking up at him, eyes glazed with dedication, with devoutness, like you want to fucking devour him. 
Like you want him to devour you. 
Hips pushing back, you rub your ass into his cock in inconspicuous little motions, lashes fluttering a little, back arched in a perfect curve and tits on full display. 
From this angle, there’s no way he can’t see right down your dress; there’s no way he can’t see the red lace of your bra straining against supple skin as your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, no way he doesn’t notice the very tips of your nipples, cheekily peeking out from beneath the delicate material with each swell of your breasts. 
Bony fingers flex on your waist, and he huffs out a smirk.
His ebony pupils are enormous, blown wide and gaping, gnawing away at the whites of his eyes. 
He’s high. 
It’s evident in the milky film of artificial ecstasy lacquering his gaze, doped up and hazy, but it does nothing to dilute the potent love he has for you, melting his stare to something soft and sticky, pouring past his lashes.
He’s feeling good tonight.
“I think I know what my little girl wants,” one hand flattens against your stomach, holding you flush to his body as the other slides up your ribs to cup your breast, filling his palm with it and kneading, slow and deliberate, simply enjoying the feeling of you. “And it is very naughty of her.”
“Oh, really?”
“Mm,” he hums, head drooping to nose along the curve of your neck. “Really.”
His lips brush along your skin as he speaks, his voice barely more than a gentle vibration along the column of your throat, and you whimper a little, fingers curling around his wrist and pressing him closer.
“A-And what’s that?”
“Aw, can’t you guess?” he tuts his tongue. “And I thought you were smart. Must’ve been mistaken. Where’s my smart little girl gone now?”
Grip firm on your waist, his hips rut forward, hard cock prodding at you through the layers of tulle. A discontented little sound vibrates in your throat as you squirm a little—and oh, he knows what you’re whining about, greedy girl, knows that you can barely feel his cock through the thick petticoat, knows you want more—and he presses his hips further forward, grinding harder into your ass.
“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—” 
“What?” he shoves again, stronger this time, teeth nipping at the skin below your ear. “Hm?”
“Your cock is hard,” you nearly whine, pushing back against him in a pitiful little wiggle, desperate for more friction. 
“And who’s fault is that, huh?” 
The hand massaging your breast gives a final squeeze before his fingers find your nipple, pinching it through the material of your dress and bra, then rubbing the heel of his thumb over it in hard, rhythmic motions. 
“Is your pussy wet?” he huffs the question into your ear, his hot breath procuring shivers. “I bet it is, naughty girl. Daddy wants to feel it.”
“Please, please,” your hips buck a little, punctuating your pleads, chest pressing into his touch.
“Please? Please what?”
“Touch me, Daddy, touch me, touch me.”
Slender hands slip beneath the puffy layers of lace, calloused fingertips rough as they skim up your smooth thighs, outlining the silk ruffles of the bloomers he bought you specifically for this costume. 
Your hips twitch slightly, legs spreading instinctively as his fingers trail along the scrunched hem to the apex of your thighs, pressing two into the rapidly dampening material. Pensively, they caress your slit through the material, prodding your hole just a little before rubbing two slow, hard circles into your clit.
“Christ,” he breathes out, curse splintering at the end. “You’re so fucking wet baby, and I’ve barely done anything yet.”
His palm flattens against you, all four fingers dipping into your core nearly to the first knuckle and then curling, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit, and your pelvis cants reflexively, almost as if you’re attempting to draw his fingertips further in. 
“How are you this wet already, huh?” he keens, voice straining beneath his own desire. “Been thinking naughty thoughts?”
“Jus’want your cock,” you slur out honestly, hips gyrating in pathetic little circles, an embarrassing attempt to follow his touch. 
“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes, eh?” he rolls your clit between his thumb and his forefinger, nonchalantly toying with it as he mulls. “Just my cock?” 
“Uh-huh,” you nod blearily. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”
“Cute,” Mikey spits, the compliment sheathed in venom, “how utterly stupid just the thought of my cock makes you.” 
His fingers clamp down on the swollen nub and tug, your whole body jolting with the pain, a yelp hitching in your chest. 
The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in response, holding you close, holding you still as he humps away at you, sloppy and uneven.
“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, fingers tweaking your clit in rhythmic motions, sparks of pleasure chased by shocks of pain. “You’re so fucking easy for your Daddy, aren’t you? So quick to get soaked for him, so quick to get ready for him, such a good little slut for him, yeah?” 
His voice is gravelly, letters wispy around the edges despite fact that he’s nearly shouting over music. Another rush of heat surges between your thighs, and he laughs, dark and dangerous. 
Your clit throbs in his touch, the silk of your panties drenched all the way through, aiding his fingers in their slippery motions—several small, fast S gestures, followed by a few firm strokes of your slit, fingertips gliding over your folds with ease. You’re so soaked, whole cunt now outlined by the shimmery material, molding to your folds and enabling him to feel every dip, every bump, every crevice, another chuckle dripping from his lips as your little hole clenches around nothing.
“Daddy,” you whimper, thighs squeezing together tightly as you attempt to fuck his fingers. “Daddy, I—I can’t—I need—” 
“Shh,” he hushes you, lips caressing the curve of your ear. “I know, baby. Daddy knows what you need.” 
A palm wraps around your wrist as Mikey mutters something about going somewhere a little more private, pulling you along behind him and leading you toward those purple velvet VIP couches, empty and roped off in a darkened corner. 
“What are we—” you begin as Mikey collapses heavily on the couch, knees spread wide open, hips shifting up slightly as he forces his feet even further apart, getting comfortable. 
C’mere, his lips mime, voice drowning in heavy bass, his chin jutting in the general direction of his straining cock, yearning against pin-striped pants. 
Strong hands curl around your hips and yank you backward, the abrupt motion punching a sound of surprise from your chest as you tumble into his lap, spine pressed tight to his sternum. 
The hinges of his jaw hook over your shoulder, a crude way of keeping you from squirming as he manhandles you into straddling his thighs, hard cock pressing into your core. 
“Holy fuck,” he pants out, the curse damp against your skin. “You’re so wet I can feel you leaking through my pants.”
“Daddy,” you say, and although it’s meant to be a warning, it comes out as a whine, stringy and petulant.  
Because it already feels so good, and he’s already so hard, and you just can’t help but rock your hips back, slow and firm, whimpering a bit as the head of his cock glides over your clit, teasing as the slick, swollen little nub jumps beneath the dull pressure. 
He laughs a little, nothing more than a deep, dark rumbling within his ribs, reverberating against your back.
“You’re so fucking nasty, baby,” he chides lowly, though you can hear the self-satisfied smirk sewn into his voice, tinged with sadism, as he rolls his hips up twice, grinding his cock into your drenched core. “You’re so fucking needy, baby, trying to get yourself off in the middle of this crowded club.”
You are, you are, another little sound escaping your lips as you rut back against him, already beginning to speed up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit in quick little strokes.
“It’s really precious, y’know, how pathetically eager you are for me,” he murmurs, notes of fondness negating the sting the insult should bring, words gone melty and sweet. “But you gotta stop humping Daddy for a moment, so he can get his cock out and give you what you really want.” 
A disgruntled little whine sounds in your throat, motions stuttering a little as you attempt to stop moving. But it all feels so incredible, greedily unable to quell your hips completely as they rotate in messy little circles, tummy starting to ripple with each graze of his blunt head against your clit.
“Hey,” he warns, sharp and stern, a palm colliding with your bare thigh and leaving a burning handprint seared in its wake, the impact of the slap loud enough to draw a few pairs of eyes. “Don’t get bratty with me, or you won’t get anything at all, you understand?”
Your head’s nodding before the words are even finished leaving his lips—yes, Daddy, of course, Daddy, brats don’t deserve to be filled by Daddy’s cock—desperate to be good for him, to be the best for him.
Because you know he isn’t fucking around; Mikey’s threats are never empty threats, each and every word plucked from his brain with superlative care, heavy and infused with meaning.
It’s terrifying and tantilizing, how easily and instantly he can switch from one mode to the other: from playful to imposing, from Daddy to Leader, a pleasant shiver skittering up your spine, your hole clenching and pulsing as your stomach plummets, gut weighted with a tingling pressure.
It’s a bit of a task, freeing his cock and manoeuvring yourself as you try to inconspicuously sink down on it, but you both manage, your fluffy petticoat of crinoline and tulle providing a decent amount of privacy. 
A hiss slips through the gaps of your gritted teeth as it begins to tear you in two, cute little hole stinging as it strains around his cock, struggling to accommodate his girth, delicate skin splitting itself open for him. 
“That’s it, that’s it,” he breathes lowly, voice vibrating against your ear. “There you go, good girl.” 
An airy little moan spills from your lips as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix, and you melt back into him, skull knocking against his shoulder, eyes slipped shut. 
“Feel better, princess?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble out dreamily. “S’good, S’right.”
“It feels right, huh?” he chuckles a little, thumbs rubbing fond circles into your hips, his hands all the way up your skirt, slipped beneath the frills and fluff, forearms buried in your dress. “You like it when Daddy fills you up?”
“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Stretches me out real good, makes me feel all stuffed ‘n full.” 
Whole, complete, one. Like everything feels as it’s supposed to again.
And it hurts, because it always hurts, because he’s too thick and you’re never prepped enough, never patient enough, core split open on his cock and little hole aching as it attempts to adjust to him, but it’s so fucking perfect, too. Your cunt spasms around him, hips twitching a little in desperation—like you’re trying to suck him in further, like you’re trying to bury him deeper—and he groans, fingers flexing as he holds you still, nails gorging on your flesh.
“Eager, are we?” 
“S’not my fault,” you mewl, back arching a little as you attempt to push your hips back, squirming a bit in his strong grip. “Need you, Daddy.”
“Is that so?”
Grasp tightening, his hips thrust up, grinding the head of his cock into your cervix in slow, hard motions—back and forth, back and forth, inspiring a dull pang throbbing in your gut. 
Gasping sharply, your hips jerk back in response, automatic and instinctual, pulling a hoarse groan from his chest. 
His clutch turns to near bone crushing, a fractured little cry sticking in your throat, and he forces you to hold still for a moment, muscles in his thighs gone rigid and stiff as his hips press up further and tug you down, frozen, revelling in the way your cunt pulses around him, as if it’s whining for him.
“M-Mikey,” you echo its sentiments, his name a sulky plead on your tongue, brows knit together and lips jutted in a pout. 
“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”
“You know,” you huff out, wriggling a little in his palms, feebly trying to fuck yourself on him.
“Tell me anyway,” he demands.  
Scalding embarrassment pricks your cheeks and you whimper, fidgeting in his grasp again, head shaking in defiance.
“Come on,” he chides, but there are notes of amusement infusing his tone. “Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it.” 
Sharp teeth sink into your shoulder suddenly, your half-formed response strangled by a gasp, Mikey’s jaw tensing as he burrows his teeth further into your flesh, piercing through tissues and snapping capillaries until copper explodes in his mouth. 
He holds it for a moment, all thirty-two of his teeth latched in your skin, ensuring he leaves a full, detailed outline of his mouth etched into you—a signature of sorts—before his tongue flattens against the wound, dragging over it in a single wide lick and sealing it with blood-tinged saliva. A gentle exhale wafts over the bite, cool against the searing pain, and you shudder, chills erupting across your flesh.
“You’re a big girl,” he coaxes over your whimpering, the encouragement steeped in condescension. “I know you can do it. Use your big girl words and tell Daddy what you want.”
Your eyes squeeze shut against the burn of humiliation, lids crinkling at the corners, the softest hiccup catching in your throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 
“I—I wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” you push the stubborn words from your tongue, trembling and breathy.
“Yeah?” he asks, bloodied tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. “How bad?”
“So bad,” you bleat out, striving to bounce on his cock under the firm restraint of his hands, dewdrops of annoyance clinging to your lashes, glittering in the beams of magenta and teal as you blink rapidly.
“Hm,” he muses to himself, nonchalant as he readjusts his grip, hands constringing, completely halting your pathetic little movements. “It doesn’t seem like you want it all that badly.”
“Daddy,” the word leaves your lips in a whine, scrunched and petulant through your pout, body thrashing beneath his strong grip. “Come on—” 
“Are you sure you wanna be such a naughty little whore in front of all of these people?”
Your body stops its writhing, his words like a slap to the face.
It’s a bit of a shock, to hear it spoken aloud so bluntly, cut and dry and honest, and it sends a torrent of sparks fizzing through your chest to collect dense and tight in your tummy. 
Shame and revulsion sets your skin aflame, the cinders in your gut flaring in response, an intoxicating combination. 
“Yes—”
“Huh? What was that?” he shouts theatrically in your ear. “I couldn’t really hear you over the music.”
“Y-Yes,” you repeat, trying to steady your hiccuping voice, to be stern and resolute, even as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.
“Really?” he breathes, and he sounds astonished, he sounds appalled. “You’re so fucking sleazy, baby. I wonder what all these people would think, if they knew how truly filthy my little girl is...”
“Manjirou,” you weep out his birth name, whole face saturated in frustration.
“Oh-ho-ho,” he chuckles out the word, and it’s vicious. “Graduated to using my full name, now, have you?” he licks at the steadily oozing bite, mopping up more blood with his tongue. “Christ, you do really want it.” 
“I do!” you cry out, struggling against his grasp again, hips bucking in wild, erratic motions. “I do, I do, please, let me ride your cock, please.” 
“What if I made you sit, still and straight like the good little girl I know you want to be, on my hard cock for the rest of the night? Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”
You know he won’t, know he’d never be able to, because he’s just as addicted to you as you are to him, just as desperate, just as eager, just as needy; because even as he holds you motionless, he can’t quite halt the delicate jerk of his hips, rolling up into your core; because you know he wants this just as badly as you do, gets off on the depravity just as much as you do.
Even so, the mere thought of being teased like this, of being forced to hold such a degrading position, is still enough to inspire a rush of agitated tears to flood your eyes, vision gone bleary with despairing desire and rendering the club a bleary haze of glowing neons. 
“No, Daddy, no, I—I just want to ride you, please, Daddy, I c-can’t—” 
You’re nearly wailing now, head thrown back dramatically as your neck twists into an uncomfortable knot, anguished as you try to bury your face in his throat, looking for solace. Your chest stutters as you stammer out half-finished pleads, gone garbled with spit, and Mikey smiles.
You’re starting to cause a scene. 
It’s exactly what he wanted.
“Okay, baby, okay, okay,” he’s pacifying as he feels hot tears soak into his neck, a choked sob catching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”  
And finally, finally his grasp loosens, stiff fingers gone lax, massaging lopsided circles into the rapidly developing bruises left in the shape of their prints. 
“Go ahead, angel,” he urges, nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the congealing bite. “Ride Daddy’s cock.” 
Then he’s slumping back, settling into the couch cushions and spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing the soles of his boots into the waxed floor for stability and leverage. 
His hands stay on your waist, a gentle guidance, but he allows you to set the pace—a rare occurrence—patient as your hips work up a steady rhythm of quick, shallow gyrations, each swivel dragging his cock against your favourite spot.
And God, you’re so cute when you use his cock to make yourself feel good. It’s a shame that he can’t see your face in this position, can’t see the way your lashes flutter and frame the rolling whites of your eyes or the way your features scrunch so delicately; a shame he can’t hear your gorgeous noises, all your sweet little gasps and pitiful little whines consumed by the blaring music. 
But he can see how your back is bowing, spine forced into a near perfect arc by your building pleasure, bending just a hint more with each brush of his cock; he can feel your palms clutching his knees, nails digging little crescents into his shins and using them for support as your movements accelerate, as you fuck yourself harder, faster, better.
And he lets you have your fun for a little, lays back all languid and lazy and watches through lidded eyes as you play with yourself and use his cock like it’s your favourite toy—because, well, it is—but eventually it just isn’t enough and you need Daddy’s help. 
Just like he knew it wouldn’t be. Just like you always do.
Not that he minds one bit.
Yes, it isn’t enough, because it never is, because you can never manage anything more than teasing yourself when left entirely to your own devices, spritzing kerosene on the dull smouldering in the pit of your stomach as the head of his cock brushes up against that engorged spot inside of you, not nearly hard enough or fast enough to have you anywhere close to creaming on him, merely enough to have your clit throbbing, swollen and neglected. 
He knows you’re beginning to get restless when your hips turn sloppy, tempo starting to falter as your motions stutter, and then you’re looking over your shoulder at him with a beseeching pout, glazed eyes begging him to do something!
So he does. 
He’s straightening up in a split second, hands around your waist tightening as he yanks you back toward his chest, chin hooking over your clavicle again and grinding the sharp bone into your skin.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, mocking and mean. “Can’t even get herself off without her Daddy’s help.” 
“I can’t, I can’t,” you wail over the roar of EDM, head shaking in accentuation. “Need you, need you to do it for me.”
“Of course you do, angel,” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s common knowledge. “But that’s okay—Daddy will make it feel good.” 
That’s the only warning you’re given before his hips are ramming up, rapid and rough and downright ruthless, the abrupt motion slamming a high-pitched yelp from your throat, so pure and genuine and full of lust that it rises above the music, breaks through the heavy bass beat, gathering a handful of glances from a few nearby party-goers. 
So much for being inconspicuous. 
You should’ve known that that just isn’t Mikey’s style. 
They lose interest just as quickly as they gained it, though, going back to their drinks and their drugs, unconcerned. What the Boss does at his own club is none of their business, even if it is on display for the whole venue to see. 
Still, it’s enough for Mikey.   
“Everyone can see you, you know,” voracious black eyes scan the balcony space. “Everyone can see you being such a good little whore for your Daddy.” 
The thought of being watched, of being caught, inspires a whole flock of butterflies to flit around in your tummy, another surge of heat gushing between your thighs, and Mikey laughs. Oh, he felt that. 
Because he’s right; if anyone dared to look a little closer, a little longer, cared to paid a smidge of more attention to the two of you, hidden on one of the velvet couches wedged in the corner of the VIP section with your hips rocking and Mikey’s hands buried in the lace and tulle of your skirt, they’d know exactly what the two of you are doing.
But it doesn’t matter; you don’t care. Neither does he. Why should either of you?
“Do you—Do you think they like it?” you question, and Christ, it’s so precious, that pathetic hope ringing high and clear in your voice. “Do you think they like watching me bounce on their Boss’s cock?”
“Fuck,” the curse fragments in his throat, sharp and pitchy, and he coughs on the shards. “I know they do, sweetheart.”
“Do you think they’re g-gonna go home and touch themselves to the thought of me—of us?”
“Aw,” Mikey coos out in a chuckle, breathless and condescending. “It’s cute that you think they aren’t already jerking off to you on a regular basis.”
Of course they are, you silly little stupid thing; how could they not be? With all the sweet, short little dresses he buys you to prance and twirl around in—the ones with the sweetheart necklines that dip just a hint too low, teasing the swell of your breasts with each of your gentle inhales; the ones with the rippling hems that end just a touch too high, swishing and swaying and flashing with each of your movements, riding up and fanning out to gift them with teasing little glimpses of the lace and satin underneath. 
“You think I don’t know what my—ah, Christ—what my men think of you? How my men think of you?” He tongues a little at the bite, using his front teeth to scrape off a few half-formed scabs, blood rushing to pool in their place. “You think I don’t see the way they look at you?” 
A whine stammers in your throat, your back arching a little more as your cunt quivers around his cock, that drove of butterflies sending your stomach swooping, the organ tensing, tying itself into thick knots pulled tight and taut with each plunge of his cock. 
Mikey laughs again, the sound nothing more than a deep, dense vibration rumbling within his ribs, seeping into your back and sending tingles up your spine. 
“Would you like to see the way they look at you?” 
“H-Huh?” 
Oh, how adorably fucked out you already are, mind gone dumb and numb to everything but him, but his voice and his touch and his steadily driving cock; oh, how adorably easy it is to make you this fucking idiotic. 
“Look over there,” he presses his cheek into yours, forcing your head to turn and follow his gaze. 
Across the club, Rindou sits with an elbow resting on the edge of the bar, a glass dangling from his fingertips. His eyes are cavernous, carnivorous, a smirk smearing across his face as your stare meets his, heavy lids framing a leering look. 
Using a shoulder, he nudges his brother’s stomach, jutting his chin toward you and his Boss in indication when Ran looks down in question, redirecting his attention. 
Now they’re both watching you, with doped up violet eyes and identical sleazy smiles, toothless and worming.
It makes you want to scrub and scratch at your skin, their gazes painting you in a thick coat of grime, body soiled by their lust and left feeling dirty, feeling gross, a strong shiver crawling across your flesh.
Your head jerks reflexively, desperate to hide from their lechery, skull knocking against Mikey’s hard enough to send thorns of pain searing through your temple. 
A yelp cracks in your throat, and Mikey snorts, seemingly unfazed. 
“Aw,” Mikey tuts in false admonishment. “Don’t get shy now. Look at them. Look at them while you ride my cock.”
“M-Mikey—” your eyes shut tightly, a pitiful attempt to escape their invasive eyes, head shaking in little judders.
“C’mon,” he goads, forcing you to face their stare. “You want them all to see, right? How good my little girl is? How pretty my little girl is?”
Peeking through your lashes, you squint at the Haitanis, features teetering on the verge of a wince, as if you’re expecting them to physically strike you. 
They’re still looking at you, wide and unblinking, speaking out of the side of their mouths in laughs and murmurs to one another. 
Dressed in matching pin-striped suits and thick suspenders, Rindou has discarded his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly up his forearms to his elbows, first few buttons of his shirt popped undone, revealing a defined collarbone. 
Predictably, Ran is still the perfect picture of poise and elegance, not a single hair out of place, suit jacket square on his shoulders and flawlessly tailored to his body, each stitch outlining his edges.
Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.
Whatever it is they’re saying to each other, they’re clearly enjoying themselves, amusement playing in glassy irises as Ran rests a hand around Rindou’s neck, slim fingers pressing into plush muscle. His younger brother instantly relaxes into his touch, mollifying back against his stomach and hooking an arm around his thigh, hugging it to his ribs. 
And it’s the way they’re looking at you, as if they’re peeling the clothes from your body and the skin from your bones and peering into the depths of your soul to dance with your demons and devour your secrets; as if they’re singeing your expression into their minds, the sight of your features saturated in perturbation and pleasure branded into the tissues of their brains, carved into the walls of their skulls, ensuring they’ll never forget.
Everything feels overexposed as they pry you apart bit by bit, heady mix of hedonism and humiliation hazing over your brain.
Mikey’s hips slow to a drag, thighs tensing and soles of his boots skidding across marble as he expertly angles his hips and presses up, rubbing the head of his cock over your g-spot in slow, controlled motions—back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again. 
And the moan that claws at your throat is almost obnoxious, is definitely embarrassing, which means Mikey needs to fuck at least three more from your chest, grunting a little with the effort as his cockhead jabs against that plush spot, hard and precise.
A whine that sounds suspiciously like his title, tangled in spit and weighted with shame, spills from your lips, and you nestle your face against his own even as your hips jolt, desperate for comfort, desperate for cover.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he nuzzles your damp cheek. “I know you do. I can feel it.”
It’s true, he can—you’re sure he can, with the way your straining little hole keeps pulsing around his length, another stream of heat cascading down his shaft, viscous and wet and so, so much, to pool in the folds of his balls, to stain the waistband of his pants and the velvet of the couch.
But you know he likes it just as much as you do. 
Because you’re both so fucking naughty, so fucking nasty, but the depravity just works to heighten it all, makes it that much better, amplifying every touch and brush and tease and fondle and making it all feel so fucking good, even as Mikey’s pace eases into something unhurried, his thrusts turned languid but powerful.
So you join in, you rise to his challenge, a sick little game the two of you play, a sick little game you force others to participate in—because you’re fucking untouchable.
“Do you think their cocks are hard, Daddy?” you ask, the question dripping with syrup as you roll your hips backwards, slow and purposeful, returning the Haitanis’ smouldering stare through fanned lashes, unblinking and tenacious. 
“Ah, f-fuck,” Mikey’s cock jolts, rhythm stammering for a moment before he regains his composure. “Yeah, baby, I bet they’re wishing they were me right now.”
You bet they are, too, mouths stopped moving and gazes gleaming with want, lips parted with uneven exhales pushed from their heaving chests, entirely enchanted by your movements.
It’s the most affected and authentic you’ve ever seen them before, and it sends a thrill of power shooting through your body, blood left fizzing in its wake. 
One of them reaches into their pocket, groping around blindly for their phone, not daring to spare a second of their attention away from you, and Mikey snarls, nose scrunched in disgust and lip curled in a sneer, baring gritted teeth.
Because that’s too much, that’s crossing a line, and Mikey swiftly redirects your face, effectively hiding your expression from the Haitanis’ hungry eyes. 
Mikey’s always liked to show off. Mikey’s never liked to share.
He swaps shoulders quickly, the defined hinges of his jaw clasped firmly over your collarbone, and smushes his face flush to yours again, skin clammy with sweat. 
“And look over there,” he steers your gaze toward the other side of the club, where Kokonoi sits with a smattering of men surrounding a tall cocktail table, littered with crystal glasses and white lines. 
The men around the table are laughing about something, sloshing liquor and cutting powder into thick, fat stripes, but Kokonoi isn’t paying attention to any of it. 
No. Kokonoi is looking at you. 
His eyes snap away when they meet your own, head whipping forward with such speed and such force it’s a marvel he doesn’t instantly give himself whiplash. A deep laugh rumbles in Mikey’s throat in response, something dark, something decadent. 
“He’s gonna go home and touch himself to you, too,” he says. “He might not even make it before he goes home; might end up jerking his cock in a bathroom stall or the front seat of his car.” 
“How can you tell?” 
“Well, look at him,” Mikey snorts. “He’s so hard he’s about to burst outta his pants.”
Following the line of Kokonoi’s body, your gaze travels downward, to the straining lump in his white pants. His hips shift a little uncomfortably as his thighs tense, hands curled into fists on his knees as he steadily trains his stare forward at the wall opposite of him, throat bobbing with a thick swallow.
Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.
The thought of Koko rushing to his car to collapse in the driver’s seat, head tipped back against the headrest and hand shoved down his pants as his palm rubs frantically at his hard cock, or hastening to the washroom to lock himself in a stall, forehead pressed tightly to the rickety door and panting out stuttered, half-stifled whimpers hotly against his upper lip as he hurriedly relieves the problem you’ve created, is almost too much to bear, stomach clenching in time with the throbbing of your cunt, a torrid pressure building and burning in your gut. 
The sudden acceleration of Mikey’s thrusts snaps you out of that tangle of thoughts, effectively drawing every ounce of your attention back to him.
A mewl pries past your lips, sharp and high and cracking at the end, whole spine arching as Mikey resumes his assault on your favourite spot, cockhead driving hard and fast against plush flesh. 
“They can look all they want, but you’re mine.” His fingers tighten, his grasp rigid and unbreakable, the words nothing more than a snarl spit in your ear, wet and harsh. “I won’t fuckin’ share.” 
“Never, never, never,” you babble in time with the bouncing on his lap, head nodding in sloppy motions with each repetition of the word. 
“Never,” he growls, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sloppily, excess spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he breaks the skin for the second time tonight and sucks hard, drawing blood from the string of tiny wounds.
It has another cry escaping your throat, whole face crinkling in a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain, head instinctually thrown back against your Daddy, automatically giving him more room to work. Drops of watered down blood drool down your back and Mikey takes a moment to admire them, mesmerised by the way they shimmer in the strobing lights of the club, before he licks at them with the tip of his tongue, leaving crude strokes of fresh spit in their wake.
Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try.
He’s the motherfucking Boss.
And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always. 
He’s really fucking you now, vicious and vigorous, your entire body juddering in his lap as his hips piston up, cockhead pounding against that sensitive mound of tissue buried deep within you. 
Each thrust shoves another shattered sound from your tongue, splintered moans of his name and his title pouring past your lips in a jagged stream. 
The knot your stomach has twisted itself into strains under the building pressure, growing heavier and heavier with each jackhammer into you, stretched taut and stiff and ready to snap. 
It’s all so much, the ogling eyes and the ramming of his cock and the tightening in your belly, every muscle in your body coiled and aching for the ecstasy that comes with release. Your breath mangles with the mewls shoved from your lips with every slam up, sticking to your throat and you cough, wheezing past the splinters.  It’s all too much, and—!
“M’gonna, m’gonna cum, Daddy!” you gasp, tears dotting the corners of your eyes, sparkling in spidery lashes.  
“Yeah, baby?” he breathes, voice dropping to a ragged rasp. “You gonna cream all over Daddy’s cock? Huh? Make a mess on my cock surrounded by all of Daddy’s closest and most esteemed colleagues?” 
“Yes, yes, yes,” you nearly sob out, palms curling over his wrists, nails clawing at the delicate skin, desperate for an anchor. 
“My dirty fucking girl,” he hisses out, sharp breath stinging your cheek. “Such a good—Ah—good little slut for me, aren’t you?” 
You can no longer respond, rendered stupid from the ardor, potent pleasure corroding your brain and gnawing through your synapses. It’s downright intoxicating, it’s fucking insatiable, it’s simultaneously immense and insufficient, way too much yet not nearly enough, because you need more, you need more, unintelligible pleads shattering on your tongue.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, gush all over Daddy, make a pretty mess on his lap for him. Show everyone in this Goddamn club how gorgeous you look cumming for me.” 
And so you do, ever your Daddy’s best girl, body eager to obey its owner as your cunt convulses around him, copious amounts of slick cascading down his shaft to drench his thighs, sticky and sharp and so fucking sick as he continues to bounce you in his lap. 
The spasming of your cute little hole draws the sweetest whine from the back of his throat, panted out against the curve of your ear, and another bout of warmth rushes to the apex of your thighs, earning you a shuddered little curse, the exhale sweltering against your sweaty skin.
You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy. 
Three more pumps of his hips and he’s following, thrusts stuttering as he fucks up messily into you, cock throbbing almost violently and stuffing you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Strong hands hold you firmly in place, cockhead pressed flush to your cervix as he spills himself into you, as he forces you to take every fucking ounce of what he’s giving you. 
And you love it, you love it, you love it, you’re telling him, sentiments pouring from your mouth in a jumbled stream, singular and continuous until your lungs run out of air, voice cutting off with a squeak. 
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikey’s murmuring into your skin in response, lips leaving smears of sugary saliva just below your earlobe. 
He allows you to sit on him for a moment, chest heaving against your back with ragged breaths, sweaty forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. Tilting your head, your rest your cheek on the back of his skull, eyes slipping shut as your own heart begins to calm, cunt still pulsating irregularly around his shaft, almost as if it’s attempting to squeeze a few more drops out of him, his cock acting as a crude plug, keeping most of his cum buried inside of you.
Finally, his head lifts, pressing a tender kiss to the blood-encrusted bite glittering on your shoulder. 
“Go get cleaned up in the washroom,” he mutters gently, pressing another string of kisses along your jaw. “Don’t wipe away any of Daddy’s cum; let it soak into your panties real nice and good, let them get really wet, and then snap a few pictures and send them to me. Can you do that for me, angel?” 
“Yes, Daddy,” you slur out, nodding in loose, liquid movements. 
“Good,” he pats your thigh twice. “Now, go.” 
A small noise of affirmation sounds in your throat, head still nodding as Mikey helps you stand between his spread thighs, hands on your waist keeping you upright while you wobble on unsteady legs. 
And the noise that you make as his cum and your slick surges out of you—something caught somewhere between a mewl and a whine, turned on and disappointed simultaneously—is the cutest thing he’s ever heard, a muted coo slipping from his own lips as your hands wrap around his, using them to further stable yourself. 
He holds you for a moment or two longer, making sure you’re sturdy and your knees won’t suddenly give out, before giving you one final squeeze and releasing you, smirking a little as he watches you teeter away on rickety feet. 
Initially, his plan was to have you capture a few naughty photos for him—pretty little things to stash away in his phone for later use, during the nights he’s forced to spend away from you, sitting in expensive cars or laying in lush hotel beds—and force you to wear the gluey, cum-drenched undies for the remainder of the party. 
But then his phone is buzzing, and he’s unlocking it to find your cunt perfectly outlined by thin silk as it sticks to your folds, little clit and hole contoured and accentuated by the slick, shining fabric, soiled by a large, irregular patch of wetness, and oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait until you arrive home to fuck you again. 
No, he needs to fuck you now, a sudden burst of adrenaline buzzing through his veins, little sparks and minuscule explosions that have him up and moving in under a second, cock already beginning to fill with life again.
Sheer, potent power permeates the atmosphere around him, trembling off his body in sharp bolts; dense, heavy, cracking with electricity. 
The way the crowd instantly parts for him is awe-inspiring, their gleaming eyes full of terror and worship, hastily tripping over their own toes and ankles to move from his path as he strides toward the washroom, desperate to not be stung by his brilliance, desperate to get as close to the currents as possible without being scathed. 
You’re just exiting the restroom by the time he reaches you, breath punched from your lungs as he backs you into a tiled corner, trapped between the cold wall and his scorching form, his hands splayed wide on either side of your shoulders.
“We gotta go,” he’s nearly panting out as he shoves his forehead against yours, eyes closed and noses nudging, straining cock grinding unceremoniously into your hip. “We gotta go, now.”  
And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants. 
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nxuvillette · 4 months
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“THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING”
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LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY W/ TR MEN
synopsis: your first time is supposed to be special and with the right person. luckily, you have an amazing boyfriend who is willing to make that dream come true.
❥- including : manjiro (mikey) sano, ken (draken) ryuguji, baji keisuke, hanma shuji
❥- note : first tr post 👍🏻 i’m kinda nervous because these were a little longer than my last post but i hope y’all enjoy <3. reblogs are appreciated!!
content warnings: nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, virgin!reader, established relationship, virginity loss, praising, oral sex [f!receiving] (mikey , baji), fingering (draken , baji , hanma), finger sucking (baji), slight breeding kink (hanma), creampie (draken , hanma) use of pet names (baby , princess , babydoll , doll) multiple orgasms.
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♡ MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO
you and your boyfriend mikey had been together for a little while. he was nothing but kind to you, and you honestly trusted him more than anybody else that you knew. he was everything.
intimacy had never really crossed his mind before. sure, he knew sex was important, but it wasn’t something he necessarily saw as a necessity in your relationship. not to mention, you were a virgin. you knew things about sex and such, but you never acted upon those desires you had inside your head. mikey was also patient. he never really saw sex as something that had to be rushed. 
eventually, you reached that point after your one year anniversary that you were ready to lose it to him.
mikey honestly couldn’t believe that he did so little to you, yet you were a dripping mess when he took your panties off. he believed if you weren’t a virgin he wouldn’t even need to do foreplay to make you feel good, but he wanted to make sure you were prepped and you got to experience a great first time with him. 
his favorite part was watching you squirm and tremble as his tongue dove into your sopping pussy. you hadn’t experienced such a feeling before and it was so thrilling. his tongue dragged along your slit and you almost came from him just eating you out. mikey couldn’t get enough of how delicious you tasted. he was in disbelief that someone as good as you was hiding like this for so long. it took everything in him to not keep eating you out. 
when mikey finally entered you, you were both in complete heaven. 
mikey was fairly long and his size made you gasp. he was reaching spots that made your mind feel dizzy. with all of the prep he did it also didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would have. he couldn’t believe you felt that amazing. your pussy was hugging his cock so nicely he thought he’d never be able to actually leave it. it was so warm and perfect. 
once you gave him the go ahead to start moving, he made you feel like you were on some type of drug. the feelings you were having were so euphoric. you craved more. you knew he was being gentle on purpose, but you were beyond wanting that soft and delicate sex. 
“m-more, mikey! i need more.. please..” you begged, gripping onto his forearms to show how desperate you were for more of him.
hearing those words snapped something inside mikey, and he ended up quickening his thrusts into you. the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot, making you see white stars in your vision and your body to completely ignite. “fuck.. don’t you worry, baby, i’ll give you all you’ll ever need..” he looked into your eyes, making you feel somewhat flustered at his words. 
you were so close to reaching your high. you were practically clawing at mikey’s back and letting out the most lewd noises every time he rutted into you. this was the first time you had ever felt something so intense in your life. not even your own hand could make you cum that hard. it was like that white hot pleasure in your gut was finally unleashed and it was making you go crazy. mikey had also cum, too. he was in utter shock at how much he released onto your stomach, but he was more than satisfied with the results. 
he pecked your lips, a smile writing itself on his features. “you were so great.. i’m so proud of you.”
♡ KEN (DRAKEN) RYUGUJI
dating toman’s number two was definitely one of the best decisions you had made in your entire life. draken was a better man than your own father and he did everything right in your relationship. he was practically someone who had zero flaws.
there were a few times you and draken had gotten close to actually having sex. sometimes you’d come over to his place and end up with his hands down your pants, but it never escalated to you both carrying out such an act with one another. draken was well aware that you were a virgin and he didn’t really have an issue with that. he wanted to be the one to make you feel good and he didn’t care how much time it took. unlike some men, he had genuine patience.
you and draken had been in his room that night it happened. you were both watching a movie when his hands began to wander around your body, squeezing and massaging your skin to make you feel aroused. it didn’t take long for you to end up on top of your boyfriend with your crotch pressing right up against his aching bulge. 
when you paused in your actions, you whispered to draken that you were ready to finally take that step with him. he was honestly a little surprised to hear such a thing, but he wasted no time pressing your body onto the mattress and going down on you. he almost came on the spot when he came face to face with your weeping pussy. he knew with his size that you’d need the prep, so he took his time with you. 
draken used two of his thick fingers to push into your cunt. he was astonished at how tightly your walls surrounded his digits. he loved hearing you call out his name each time he pumped himself into you. you were such an angel. 
once he had made you cum twice, he knew you were ready. 
you were honestly kind of nervous. draken was the biggest you had ever seen. when he pushed his cock inside you, there was this sharp inhale that escaped your lips. he was so thick. the girth was stretching you out to almost your limit and you practically held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out into you. you didn’t think he’d be able to make it fit, but he did. he could tell you had some discomfort, so he peppered a few kisses onto your face and whispered sweet nothings to ease you. all he wanted was for you to be comfortable. 
you gave him the nod of approval to start moving and you honestly thought he was going to split you in half. his cock was so big. you felt that vein dragging along your walls as he thrusted and it sent you into pure bliss. you could hardly contain the cries of pleasure that spilled from your throat. “d-draken! shit.. ‘feels so good!” you looked at him with hazy eyes while he fucked you so effortlessly.
your voice was like music to his ears. draken’s dick twitched when he heard how his name slipped off your lips. “yeah? you like that, princess? you’re so fuckin’ tight.. i can’t get enough of this pussy..” he grunted. 
that knot inside your belly has finally snapped when those words processed through your foggy brain. draken groaned hard when your cunt clamped around his cock, milking him of what was left in his balls. he couldn’t hide his smirk when he realized he had filled you up with his cum. you seemed to enjoy it too, judging by the moan you let out when you felt him covering your walls with white. 
he leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. it sent shivers down your spine at the action. “round two..?” he asked, seductively.
♡ BAJI KEISUKE
sexual intimacy was never something that was a necessity in your relationship with baji. the two of you often focused on more romantic things than the physical aspects of a relationship, but that didn’t mean that you two never craved those inappropriate desires. 
baji knew from day one that you were a virgin. he accidentally asked that “are you a virgin?” question when you both went on a date and almost slapped himself when he realized he came from his mouth. you thought it was kind of funny and you ended up revealing to him that you were a virgin. he didn’t mind at all, and he assured you that he’d never put you in a position where you felt forced to have sex with him. he said sex came naturally and when you were ready to do it with another person.
you and baji went on a nice ride on his bike that night. there was a gorgeous sunset that you both watched and he took you home, expecting you to go into your apartment and not look back. however, he was quite shocked when you tugged his arm to come with you. this hadn’t happened before, so it took him off guard. nonetheless, he followed you up to your apartment and went inside with you. 
after you both shrugged off your jackets, you both ended up in your bedroom and baji was the one on top of you. the two of you hadn’t expected it to become so heated that quickly, but you were too far lost in your bliss to even think about stopping. he paused when he realized you were tugging at his belt buckle. he questioned if you wanted to do it and you nodded eagerly. you told him you were sure that you wanted to proceed and he wasted no time diving into you.
baji thought your body was so gorgeous. he couldn’t stop kissing at your skin and sucking to leave marks on it. when he reached your cunt, his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. it was so puffy and cute that he couldn’t help but have a taste. his tongue swiped over your sensitive bead, causing your thighs to trap his head. he was so talented with his tongue and his fingers that you swore you could cum from just him eating you out. 
once his chin and lips were completely covered in your arousal, he decided to finally pull out his cock that was aching so painfully. 
as soon as baji entered you, your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. the pleasure already felt so amazing that you were already feeling needy for your boyfriend. baji had a pretty impressive size, so taking it was a bit painful at first. he was, however, very good at talking you through that sting. he kissed your lips and whispered how beautiful you were, and he praised you for taking him so well despite the stretch of his cock. 
once he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you. baji thought your pussy hugged him perfectly like you were made for him to make love with. you were so gorgeous. he could hardly keep his eyes off of you. “f-fuck me, baby, you’re so beautiful.. bein’ such a good girl for me..” he pressed his thumb against your pretty lips, in which you sucked on it obediently.
you whined as baji adjusted his angle. his cock was now repeatedly hitting your g-spot which sent waves of pleasure to crash over your body. he was taking such care of your body that you didn’t think you’d ever need to fuck anyone else but him. “baji! oh, god, baji!” your nails dug crescents into his skin as he fucked you.
you threw your head back as your orgasm snapped through you. your pussy creamed around baji, earning several grunts from him. he pulled out the moment he felt his high hurdling towards him. sticky white cum covered your stomach, making a mess on your skin. 
baji kissed your cheek, a smile appearing on his face. “you were perfect.. let’s wash up and cuddle after, yeah?” he nodded, in which you agreed.
♡ HANMA SHUJI
dating someone like hanma shuji meant you had to deal with his sarcasm and also his flirty nature at the same time. however, he treated you like a princess regardless of those random snarky moments he had. he did anything for you and you couldn’t be happier with any other man. 
hanma almost didn’t believe you when you told him you were a virgin. it wasn’t like he thought you were lying for some other reason, but most people your age weren’t virgins. he didn’t see it as a problem, though. hanma thought it would be cute to someday take your virginity. he craved that physical intimacy more than you anticipated, but he was patient with you when it came to the matter. he would wait as long as you wanted, even if there was a side of him that desired to fuck your brains out on a daily basis.
he took you out earlier in the day for some shopping. you were used to being spoiled by him at times, so it wasn’t unusual. he knew the routine fairly well but he was kind of surprised when you both got home and you were being more touchy with him than usual. you brushed yourself over his crotch a few times and kissed him a little longer than normal. he wondered what you wanted, because he couldn’t handle teasing whatsoever.
he was taken back when you told him you wanted to have sex with him. he thought it was a joke, but he knew you were serious when you gave him that look. he didn’t waste another second dragging you into the bedroom and pouncing on you like he was a wild animal going for his prey. 
hanma took care of you. he made sure every inch of your body was kissed by his lips. he wanted you to know how stunning you were while you were naked. he swore god had favorites in that moment. it took everything inside of him to not completely ravage your cunt. when he slipped his fingers into you, he was shocked at how easy it was. you were practically soaking wet. his fingers were also quite lengthy. he curled and twisted his digits to find that button inside of you that would make you crumble in front of him.
you were shocked at how quick hanma had made you cum. before you knew it, he was hovering above you with his cock tip teasing your slit. you couldn’t wait any longer and practically begged him to enter you. he let out that usual chuckle and then pushed his cock into you, making your head fall backwards from how great it felt.
he made you feel like you were on the moon with how great he filled you. hanma could hardly believe you were taking him that well. you felt so full with him fully bottomed out in you. it took a little while for you to completely adjust to the size, but once that pain faded into pleasure, you had become a mess underneath your lover. he made your mind become cluttered and you couldn’t even think straight with how great the pleasure was.
“hanma.. oh, fuck! yes!” your fingers gripped the sheets underneath your body. 
he smirked at your voice crying out for him. he could hardly hold back against you. he quickened his speed a little, but made sure to not overwhelm you completely. you were delicate to him and he only wanted you to feel safe with him. “god, babydoll, it’s like you were made for me..” he used the hand with sin to toy with your puffy clit. “‘gonna make sure you cum all over my cock..”
you couldn’t hold back anymore and completely let go on him. your pussy squeezed his cock tightly and covered it in slick arousal. hanma pushed a load into your womb, grunting as he reached his high. it was so intense he thought he might have cum twice from you. 
he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing a few kisses onto your neck. “i’m so proud of you, doll.. you did so well..” he whispered, lovingly.
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© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.
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nebulous-library · 11 months
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little acts of intimacy: how they like to be touched - tokrev boys
in specifically a not-inherently-sexual manner. what kind of physical contact with you gives them the warm fuzzies? hcs for a selections of my personal tokyo revengers blorbos, including: Mikey, Draken, Baji, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Hakkai, Taiju, Koko, Inupi, Sanzu, Ran, Rindou, and Izana
Mikey feels most at home when he’s cuddled up into your arms, especially if you’re taller than he is. It makes him feel like your teddy bear. 100/10, definite nuzzler. 
Draken likes sitting on the floor by the couch while you have your legs draped over his shoulders, just chilling. Better yet, though, if you start massaging his shoulders or neck, he’ll melt. 
Baji is a sweetie who just wants to hold hands, actually. There is a specific part of his brain that simply demands Hand Holdies. He will feel so loved and special if you hold his hand, especially if you do the interlocked fingers hold instead of the criss-crossed palms way. Also is not opposed to it if you simply rest your hand on his ass. Like, not even in a sexual way, just as a little “hehe, mine >:]” kinda thing.
Chifuyu will fucking melt if you rest your head on him, or put your hand over his heart. Especially the latter, he’ll be so flustered. 
Kazutora likes when you run your fingers through his hair. It makes him feel safe. Like, this is a genuinely therapeutic sensation for him, it’s so gentle and he doesn’t fully understand why his heart swells when you do it, he just wants you to never ever stop.
Hakkai’s favorite way to be touched is when you reach up and put your hands around the back of his neck and stroke his jaw with your thumbs. He’s so shy at the start of your relationship that he can’t always find words, but sometimes all you need is that communication via eye contact. It takes a little time, but that’s the kind of thing that makes his heart flutter – you, holding his face, and looking at him with adoration. 
Taiju’s favorite place to be touched is mid- to lower-back. He carries a lot of tension there and it can be on the sensitive/tender side. He loves it when you’re out together and you sling your arm around him and rest your hand there. When you’re in private, he’ll just flop down on the bed shirtless, staring at you until you take the hint that he wants a massage. Just sit on his ass and work the tension in his lumbar region, he’ll melt for you. Bonus points if you get playful and start writing things with your finger and making him guess. He thinks that shit’s hella cute.
Koko has a few things he likes. Number one is when you pet the buzzed side of his hair and will nuzzle into your hand. Another favorite is when you hold onto his arm when you’re beside him. Just kinda loop your arm through his and hold on. He likes having such full body contact without it being Full Body Contact™️, y’know? Also, adding a little bit of zest to this, he’s 100% a “pull him close by the waistband of his pants” kinda fella. Yes, in a spicy way, but also just in an “enjoying being pressed against you” way.  
Inupi’s favorite thing is when you cup his jaw or rub behind his ear (big puppy vibes, obvi), especially if you’re calling him by his given name. His heart will simply explode. Also like, any time you rest the palm of your hand on his tummy. He just feels relaxed idk. 
Sanzu likes when you sit with him and have your legs across his lap. It’s casual but just intimate enough that he can comfortably squeeze your knee and grin to himself that he’s lucky enough to call you his. But if you wanna be extra forward with him, bite him in front of the others. Hold his hand and just casually bring it up toward your mouth and CHOMP. He knows that means you love him. 
Ran is a surprisingly big cuddler. Whether it’s falling asleep or waking up, he just likes having you in his comfy space — his bed. Non-sexual physical contact is absolutely his jam. Not that he doesn’t love railing you, but man, his natural state is so low-energy. He wants to trap you in his blanket cocoon and just stay like that and watch youtube videos or some shit. Definitely makes a fuss if you break free because the heat is too much, but you will not fully get away from him. He’s one of those “must have some part of himself touching some part of you” dudes. Good luck. Also, bonus: he also enjoys when you braid his hair for him (his arms get tired when he does it himself)
Rindou is also cuddly, but in more of a Mikey kind of way. While Ran is very open with the fact that he wants you to let him hold you, Rin Rin would never be so bold. He’ll pretend that he thinks it’s dumb or some shit, but somehow at the end of the day he’ll always curl up with you. But HE wants to be the one being cuddled. Much more tsuntsun about it than Mikey, who would simply dive into your arms. Treat Rindou like he’s your snuggly little teddy bear. Let him bury his face in your chest while you stroke his hair. Tell him you love him and know that when he responds with a muffled, “......shut up.” that’s simply his way of saying he loves you too. Bonus: if you’re out and about, he’ll lean on you. Like, in the way that tall people do. He won’t mean it to mock your height, he just doesn’t know how to convey that he wants to be touching you when you’re out in public.
Izana honestly probably prefers touching rather than being touched. He likes to have you in his lap, letting him just have his hands roaming all over you. His fingertips will dance along your thighs and up your sides or along your arms. He imagines he’s painting his marks along your skin, in patterns only he can see. He’ll smile to himself and rest his chin on your shoulder. But if you must return the favor, he particularly likes it when you sit beside him and just hold his arm in your lap and mindlessly run your fingers up and down his forearm. 
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rizsu · 1 year
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texting them: let's break up. yuuji, megumi, satoru | koko, manjiro, sanzu.
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prncessrindou · 6 days
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SNEAKALEEK, manjiro sano ♱
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♱ CONTENT WARNING . . fem!reader, manila mikey, sneaking around, unprotected sex, a little bit of spanking, cockwarming and spitting.
♱ repost from wakashawty
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“Mikey, stop..” you whimpered, “you're gonna wake them up, ahhh—” you moaned as you slid back on Mikey’s cock, in the reverse cowgirl position.
Mikey growled and slapped your ass harshly, leaving a print then soothing the sting with his hand, “you’re the one moaning like you’re in heat baby,” he grinned, “if they wake up, it’ll be ‘cause of you.”
you are visiting your parents and they were persistent about meeting your boyfriend, Mikey, so you brought him along… since your parents are old school they didn’t allow you and him to sleep in the same room.
but, like the rebellious daughter you are, you crept to the guest bedroom where Mikey was... because you were cold and he's the only one that can fill- warm you up…( if you catch my drift )
now here you are. panties to the side as you pushed onto his length, “look at you,” Mikey leans up and places wet kisses on your back. “so pretty f’ me.”
he grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up, grabbing your cheeks and aggressively kisses your lips, pulling at your bottom lip as you whimper out.
“shit, you need to be a good girl and be a little quieter. your old man was already staring daggers into my head and I don't want him using real ones on me.” Mikey said, laying back on the mattress with his arms behind his head, enjoying the show you're giving him.
“can't help it! f- feels so good and you're so big, hnghh—.” you moaned into the sheets, fists clenched from squeezing the sheets so tightly.
Mikey suddenly grabs your hips and slows down your pace to the way he wants, “baby, you’re so warm. you gripping me so tight that I’m bouta’ cum.” Mikey grunts and pulls his dick out slowly. you let out a soft cry because of how your pussy is clenching around nothing. you want him back inside of you.
his length twitches as he releases his load on your pretty back. he groans seeing how fucked out you are, you then look back at him, “Mikey please, I want more..”
“yeah?” he asked, he pulls you up and now you're facing him. you slowly slide down on his length, arms wrapped around his neck and moaning as you finally take in all of him. “first.. look at me and open that pretty mouth of yours.” he said, his thumb rubbing your bottom lip.
you obeyed him and opened your mouth with your tongue sticking out, you knew what this was about.
Mikey got a good amount of his spit and dropped it down your throat.. you swallowed without him having to tell you so which made his dick harder inside of your warm walls.
“mm, good girl.. fuck.” Mikey moans. he grabs your face and kisses you like it was his last and breaks away to suck on your neck as you cockwarmed him.
“at this point, I don’t care if your father kills me or if your mother hates me. I want them to hear the lewd sounds their good girl of a daughter makes when I’m blowin’ her back out.
I CANNOT BELIEVE I WROTE THIS MONSTROSITY LMAOOOO
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fueledbysano · 8 months
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𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍
who did you get? ♡
♱ ft. Mikey, Sanzu, Kakucho, Ran, Rindou
♱ content/warnings: slight nsfw, pure teasing, alcohol consumption, mentions of smokimg, public display of affection, high sexual tension.
♱ a/n: I had Koko and Takeomi too but then I wanted to add Shin and Waka so ig I'll do that for another post
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The night was dark and cold, and the air was filled with the pungent smell of cigars and whiskey. Bonten had gathered in one of their club penthouse properties for a night of celebration, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilling out into the night.
Everyone was particularly in a good mood, including their leader, who was in his element, surrounded by his friends and underlings. He had worked long and hard to build his criminal empire, and now he could finally kick back and relax, secure in the knowledge that he had everything running smoothly.
As the night wore on, and the alcohol continued to flow. They told jokes and stories that they would never admit to in the daylight, and they laughed at each other's misfortunes. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for these hard-nosed executives, and they were all grateful to have each other to lean on.
As the night wore on, the alcohol began to flow freely. The men were feeling no pain, and the jokes and stories flew back and forth across the table. Until, Rindou suggested a drinking game, and the mood shifted.
He took out a spicy card game and took turns on picking one. They got…
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˗ˏˋ Sanzu - lick ice cream off of the inner thigh of the player across you
The air was thick with anticipation as they waited for Sanzu to reveal his dare. And once he did, a hush fell over the group as they turned to look at you, who was sitting at the end of the table. Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you looked around your sides, figuring out if you were truly the one he picked.
The spontaneousness and spice of the dare had always been in Sanzu’s nature, but the man couldn’t help but feel his heart racing with excitement. He finally caught another reason to act his attraction towards you, with everyone else watching. When it was his turn to fulfill the dare, he took a deep breath and stood up from his seat. He could feel the rest of the group watching him as he made his way towards the woman.
The pinkette picked up a spoon and carefully scooped up some ice cream. He then made his way over to you, who was still blushing furiously, and leaned in close. The tension in the room was palpable as everyone held their breath, interested in seeing what would happen next.
And then, with a bold move, Sanzu knelt in between your legs and gently placed the spoon against your inner thigh, allowing the ice cream to melt and dribble onto the skin. You closed your eyes, anticipating the heat of his tongue meeting the icy sensation of the desert. And as you let it melt onto your skin, you could feel his pulse racing against his hands that kept your legs open.
The rest of the members are obviously enjoying themselves, sharing soft applauds to Sanzu and compliments to your body. Despite the initial embarrassment, you couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenalin as you watched the daredevil fulfill the bold request.
For just a brief moment, the world seemed to disappear, and it was just the two of you in your own private bubble. You could feel his breath in your core, his arms curled around your thighs, and for a moment, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had given you a hint that he wanted to go all the way with you, on your own time and space. The tip of his nose merely pressed against your clothed clit as he finished the last drop of ice cream in between your thighs.
Afterwards, when the group had moved on to the next dare, Sanzu could feel your eyes on him, and he knew that something had changed within you. He knew that he had finally taken the first step towards his attraction.
˗ˏˋ Mikey - Act out your favorite position
Tonight, he found himself in a situation that was foreign to him, one that he had never experienced for himself before. Physical affection was not something that he was used to initiate nor display to others. It was not a part of his nature. But he knew that he had to set aside his facade of being a tough and ruthless man, even if it was killing him inside.
He took a deep breath, then turned over to the woman in question. He wrapped his arm around you for a moment, pulling you close enough to whisper into your ear, “You remember it, yeah? What we did last time…” He was obviously flustered, but his actions showed otherwise with the way he assertively held your waist and pulled you close, your bodies touching until you gathered the courage to straddle Mikey into the cowgirl position.
Mikey’s choice of position came as a shock to everyone present. The members of the organization were used to seeing him as a ruthless leader, someone who was always in control and never showed any weakness or vulnerability. But in that moment, they saw a different side of him, one that was softer, and someone who was willing to push outside their comfort zone. Mikey, for his part, was surprised by his own actions, and was a little embarrassed by the attention he received. But he also felt a sense of relief, knowing that he didn't always have to be the tough and ruthless leader, that he could be himself, even if it was just for a moment for fun.
You were almost unable to move, having Mikey’s hands planted on your waist and slowly rocking you back and forth. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants, pleased to know that the feeling of excitement and arousal is mutual. Everyone was flustered and quiet as the scene unfolds in front of them, raising suspicions that this had happened before (which it has). You couldn’t take your eyes off of Mikey with the way he tried so hard to stifle a whimper, throwing his head to the edge of the couch as you moved.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the moment was over. The game had moved on, and Mikey was left sitting there, feeling a mix of emotions. A part of him wanted to hold on to that feeling, to explore it further and see where it might take him. But another part of him knew that he had a reputation to maintain, that he had to maintain his poise and composure for the rest of the night.
˗ˏˋ Kakucho — Passionately kiss the neck of the player on your left
He peeked as you drew this card, and he almost choked on his whiskey when Kakucho realized that he would be the one to receive the action from you. “I’m not doing it if you don’t want to.” You chuckled and prepared to pour shots as an alternative to the dare. “Where’s the fun in that? Go as long as you’d like.” Kakucho wouldn’t usually jump on something so daring on a normal day, but all the alcohol he’s consumed through the night definitely pushed him to encourage you. Sat in a manspread and arms spread over the couch, you sat on his right thigh and wrapped your arms around his neck.
He could feel the texture of your hair tickling the exposed skin of his chest, and the lingering scent of your perfume. He wanted to make a comment and praise how good you’re doing, but the words are stuck in his throat. You leaned forward, lips just inches away from Kakucho’s neck. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, finally feeling the soft texture of his skin on your lips. Kaku’s body tensed, his muscles clenched as he let out a moan. You pulled away for a moment, catching her breath and taking in the moment.
However, you weren’t satisfied with your first kiss before deciding to lean in once more. As you kissed him once again, you felt the warmth of his skin, the softness of his flesh, and the beating of his pulse under your lips. Seconds passed and you continued to enjoy the feeling of Kakucho’s body pressing against yours, feeling a sense of intimacy you didn’t think you had.
For the next few seconds, it seemed as though time had stopped altogether. The silence was punctuated only by the sound of his breathing and the hum of the card table's lights, with the occasional pour of liquor from the other members.
Kakucho tried so hard on pulling himself together with the way you sat on his lap, his fingers digging into the armrests of the chair, whilst he bit on his other finger, making it obvious to the rest of them that he’d grown particularly fond of this dare that involved extreme physical contact with you.
Despite the rest being lost in their own thoughts, Rindou put his shot away before having to practically scold you. “Alright, that’s enough.” Just when it seemed the awkwardness would never end, you pulled away., almost forgetting that you were in the middle of a stupid drinking game.
Flustered and marked with your love bite, Kakucho opened his eyes to very intrigued colleagues and a cute sight of you still sat on his lap. The rest of the game continued without a hitch, and the group moved on to other activities. But your memories of the enjoyable dare between you and Kakucho stayed with your minds long after the card game ended.
˗ˏˋ Ran and Rindou – do a body shot
They “come in a package” Ran said… It would only add to the entertainment of the game (and the person) if they both do the dare. So when they drew “body shots” with you, they instantly knew what to do. As a devout guest to their exuberant parties, you could say that this dare was customary for the three of you.
Ran and Rindou nodded, their expressions thrilled. They knew that this dare was going to be one they would never forget, but they were determined to get through it with as much dignity as possible being in their workplace.
You easily undid the straps of your shirt, revealing your bralette to the entirety of your colleagues in the room before making yourself comfortable on the couch. Takeomi approached with two shot glasses for each of the brothers. The cool glass makes contact with the skin in between your cleavage, then on your navel.
“Bottoms up,” He kindly spoke before letting the two executives scurry to you like pigeons. With a deep breath, both brothers prepared themselves for what was to come. They knew it would be potentially embarrassing, but they were determined to complete the dare and show their colleagues just how much fun they can have at the regular Haitanis parties.
Ran propped his legs on either side of yours, supporting his weight on your thigh, careful not to spill the shot glass on your Navel. Rindou was already flushed, his eyes half-lidded and his lips pursed in a drunken pout. "Do you mind?" he asked, his voice slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded at him, knowing what he was asking without having to explain himself. As you tilted your head back, Rindou leaned in closer to the shit glass on your cleavage, his lips hovering near yours. The two of you were nearly nose-to-nose, and for a moment, it felt like you were suspended in time, ready to be kissed by Spider-Man himself.
“Shot!” Sanzu spoke and simultaneously, Ran and Rindou each took the glass with their teeth and leaned their head for a shot.
The warmth of the alcohol trickled down their throats, and a drop of the fiery liquid trickled down Ran's chin and onto your thigh. You couldn't help but let out a soft gasp, the tickle of it making you squirm. The three of you were all tangled together, united in a moment of pure hedonism. It was a sight to behold, one that both excited and humbled you at the same time. And as you looked from one to the other, feeling the warm glow of the alcohol spreading through your body, you knew that this was the main event of your evening, in the thick of the action, with these two wildcards.
And though the memory of that dare would always be a part of their recollection of the night, they were proud of themselves for pulling it off so gracefully and fun.
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six-eyed-samurai · 7 days
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THE OTHER MAN
Originally supposed to be Toman x reader finding out they had another crush before them, but it kinda spiraled out of control
Enjoy anyway-
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DID YOU KNOW...
-Mikey forgot about his jealousy after he passed out from dorayaki sugar rush
-Baji goes to bother Chifuyu after that to grill him about you
-Draken forgives you eventually, but Inupi's still wondering what he did to deserve the side eye the next day
-Kazutora was, in fact, at a balcony, which he promptly sent you a picture of
-Mitsuya took away dessert privileges from Luna and Mana that day but never told them why
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em1e · 9 months
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万次郎 // GIVEN THE CHOICE ⠀ ༝ ༝ bonten!mikey ⠀ ༝ ༝ 8.4k words ⠀ ⚠︎ big brother!draken, mentions of violence, character death, manga spoilers, pregnancy, angst, suggestive?, implied fem!reader but no pronouns. ⠀ — you've always liked mikey growing up. how do you tell him years down the line that you've had his kid?
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there’s not much to say about being the younger sibling to draken. 
even less about his delinquent friends he seemed to follow around like a puppy. 
but you could say a lot about his friend mikey. self-proclaimed leader at the age of eleven, you watched from the sidelines as he became the true leader of his silly group toman, saw how it’d develop to something more as you grow older. 
and as the years pass, you become more acquainted with those same people he’s always around - namely one baji keisuke, who made it very apparent from the start he wanted to be your friend because ‘only cool guys have a weak best friend’ and apparently no one else in toman was weak. 
days turn to weeks turn to years with you in their shadow, but you’ve never seemed to mind. 
you enjoy your view from the sidelines. 
“you can’t tell anyone.” you warn baji with a finger pointed in his direction, eyes narrowed as if that could somehow make your threat more lethal. 
he holds his hands up in mock-defense, taking a step away with his shoulders slouched, “you have my word.” 
you look away from him, arms crossing over your chest as you answer. 
“sorry?” he tilts his head, leaning forward, “didn’t quite catch that.” 
you feel yourself flush, hiding your face to mumble the reply, “mikey.” 
there’s a beat of silence for all of five seconds before he starts laughing. 
“you have a crush on mikey? of all people?” 
you shove him away from you when he leans against you for support, yet still manage to press your hand against his mouth because he’s so fucking loud, “quiet down,” you hiss out, “they’re supposed to be ‘round the corner, will you shut up?!” 
“just think it’s funny how you ‘nd your brother have a thing for each of the sano siblings-”
“quiet!” 
draken and mikey stumble upon you with a fist full of baji’s hair, the other hand pressed firmly against his mouth while he has his own shoving at your face to keep you away. 
and that’s just how most days go - when they aren’t terrorizing the city, they’re bothering you for one reason or another. 
until it isn’t. 
until kazutora gets released from juvie and baji leaves you in the dust and then dies after. . . it’s a lot to take in, especially for someone so young - so close to someone who suddenly drops it on you that they want nothing to do with you, and then you hear during the aftermath from your brother that he was begging for you to forgive him, for you to take care of mikey, too, because someone has to. 
until draken finds you curled in on yourself sobbing because even to the end, baji put other people above himself and it’s so fucking unfair that that’s how he meets his demise. 
you stay in your room for a week without moving. it takes draken practically dragging you out of the space to get you into the world again, mikey at his side with a frown. 
and maybe it’s from the mutual trauma of losing someone so close to you (despite it being a thousand times worse for mikey, since he was actively there at the scene), but you and mikey grow closer after baji’s death. 
you make sure one another eats, that you’ve done your assignments on time, that you’re getting enough sleep, that you’re taking care of yourselves. 
it stays like that for a while, you tucked behind mikey and draken like a secret, something no one else can touch or bother with emma at your side. 
and then she dies, too. 
her death was the breaking point for them, you think. 
unexpected and quick and cruel that mikey had to watch her pass, the tensions eating away at them and bursting at the seams from the announcement of her death. when draken came back home with busted knuckles and tear-stained cheeks, it broke you because your big brother was supposed to be the strong one. a piece of you chipped away when he crumbled in your embrace, sobs wrecking through his body while you held him close. 
the funeral isn’t any better, tensions still high, and draken steps away at the end when you move to talk to mikey. 
you promise to check in on him when you can, pull him into a hug while offering your condolences, and when you separate he doesn’t look at you as he says his thanks. 
when you make your way to draken, you will yourself to glance back at mikey and . . . he looks so small, standing beside his grandpa. unfocused on the people that come up, shake his hand with frowns, then leave. as if feeling your stare on him, he looks up to meet your gaze, and with such a small glance, you can see how heavily everything’s weighed down on him. how cruel the world has been to him, and how it remains unrelenting of punches. 
he looks away before you do, and draken pulling you close to him by the shoulder to keep you from walking into someone draws your attention away from mikey. 
weeks turn to months, passing without a hitch, and you do your best to check in on mikey when you can. some days you visit and his grandpa answers the door, turning you away because mikey’s out and he doesn’t know where he is - most days your texts and calls go unanswered. 
ken later informs you toman’s disbanded and he isn’t sure what to do with himself. despite your best efforts, getting in contact with mikey becomes harder and harder, until it becomes an impossible feat altogether. 
years pass with no contact - with everyone lives moving forward, with your brother owning his own bike shop and inupi coming to work with him, and you getting an insane job offer for your dream position. it’s crazy amazing for someone your age to see an opportunity like this, and you’re elated beyond belief by the proposition, except . . . it’s on the other side of japan. 
you’d have to leave everything you’ve ever known for the chance of a lifetime, and it’s your brother who encourages you to take it. 
“who knows if something like this could happen again,” he says with a smile, ruffling your hair in a way that big brothers do, “you’ll always have a home here to come to if things don’t pan out.” 
you see everyone you can in the weeks before you leave, even manage to pin down mitsuya for coffee before he leaves for another exciting runway event in italy (you tease how you wish you’d be going there instead - he offers an invite once you’re settled in your new apartment). 
the only person you couldn’t pinpoint a location for was . . . mikey. 
despite your many calls to the old number you have stored in your phone, searching for him at his old childhood home, even asking draken and the other friends from his old gang - no one knew. you amaze yourself with your own detective skills, though, by some miracle able to find an address - you applaud yourself as you step to the door, double checking the apartment number matches what you have written down before you knock. 
there’s a moment where you stand dumbly waiting for someone to open the door, and you think for a second maybe you have the wrong apartment, or maybe he’s not home, or -
there’s a click of the lock sounding, the door creaking open just enough for you to see the darkness inside. 
you brighten when mikey peeks his head around the door, leaning against the frame and just . . . staring, expression unreadable. 
“hi . . .” you breath out, “’ve been lookin’ for you.” 
“that spells trouble.” he says without missing a beat, looking down both ends of the hall before he pushes the door open further. an invitation to enter, one you take gratefully. 
“for who?” you can’t help but tease, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room as you spin to face him closing the door, “me? or you?” 
“depends on how this goes.” he shrugs, leaning against the door with his arms crossed over his chest. 
you don't take his words as the threat they are, smile still as bright as when he first pulled open the door, “how have you been? it’s been a while.” 
“‘ve been better,” he looks away from you, “definitely been worse.” 
“wellll, “ you spin on your heel to get a look at his apartment, reaching for the wall where the lightswitch sits and flipping them on, “what have you been up to? s’nice apartment, even better with the lights on.” you chastise lightly, making yourself at home somewhere you surely could never consider it to be. 
when you turn back to face him, he’s already behind you, hand on your wrist, still touching the switch. 
“what do you want, (y/n)?” he asks. your gaze softens on him, now able to take in the light bags under his eyes, the way his frame is smaller than you remember. 
“to talk,” you answer gingerly, reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “to see you and know you’re not dead in a ditch in roppongi.”
“you can clearly see i’m not, s’there more?, ” the words leave his lips bitterly, contrasting how his eyes flutter closed, how he leans into your touch. 
“‘m moving pretty far,” you add after a moment of silence, “otherside of japan. just wanted to see you’re okay before i leave.” your thumb rubs gentle circles into his cheek, head tilting when his eyes snap open at the admission. 
“what for?” he pries, and the way he asks reminds you of when you were kids; when he’d beg and beg and beg to play with the toy you were already playing with if only for the fact that you were playing with it, how he’d whine and pout until you relented because you couldn’t stand the idea of him being upset with you. 
“a job,” you’re completely transparent as you answer, “‘the opportunity of a lifetime’. it felt . . . i dunno, wrong? to not share the good news with you-mph?” 
you're silenced by him suddenly pulling you to him, lips pressed to your own with his hands cupping your cheeks, and truth be told it’s everything fourteen-year-old you dreamed of and more. everything you ever wanted in life kissing you in his apartment before you go miles and miles away to start a completely different dream and it hurts. 
but you don’t have it in you to push him away, not when he presses you against the wall to deepen the kiss, or when he pulls your clothes off of you with a desperation that leaves you whining and begging, or when he guides you to his bedroom and continues his affection that holds the passion and emotion that’d been buried under fifteen years of dirt. he brings out each skeleton from the closet with every thrust until the both of you are spent, laying naked in each other’s embrace until you fall asleep. 
it’s surprising, almost, to wake up the next morning alone in a bed that isn’t yours. 
there’s no sign of mikey when you look around the apartment, the only tell of him even staying in the form of a stack of cash with a note in his familiar handwriting left on the kitchen counter. 
hope this helps you get started in the new city. - mikey 
a number sits in a smaller font under the note, in even smaller writing it says for emergencies, use this number. 
it feels weird, taking the money with no way to show your appreciation, so you rip a small corner from the paper and write your thanks out, the promise of visiting him soon when you’re back in town added with a heart at the end of your note. 
two days later, and you’re driving to a new city with your entire life packed in suitcases and boxes - a moving truck scheduled to deliver your belongings a day after you get to your apartment. 
almost two months pass, and you find you’re settling well; everyone at the company adores you, and the building your apartment’s in sits across from a nice ramen shop that you like to go to every tuesday night after you get paid. 
you come down with a stomach bug, one you can’t seem to shake, and after a week of calling out and forcing yourself to work despite being exhausted and crabby and ill, you go to the doctor. 
imagine your surprise when he tells you you’re fucking pregnant. 
two months, in fact, proven with the sonogram he sets you up with, and you’re calling your brother in hysterics in your car when the appointment is over. 
“pregnant?” he repeats over the phone, after taking the first five minutes of the call just trying to calm you down, “by who?” 
you’re chewing your lip raw as you answer, “mikey . . .” 
there’s a beat of silence, before you’re whispering out, “‘m scared, ken. i-i’m miles from home and-and i just started this job and i don’t even know if i can take care of a baby on my own-” 
“you’re gonna keep it?” he asks, tone genuine. 
“i . . . yeah, i think so - i-i mean, i want to . . . is that stupid? is that a stupid want for me to have?” your lip wobbles waiting for his answer. 
“no, but . . . s’lot of work, (y/n). if it’s something you do want, you know i’ll support you in any way i can, you just gotta tell me how to help.” 
“i wan’a come home.” you settle, and the way the words leave your lips remind you of a child, begging a parent for something so small when this is anything but. 
“we can do that,” draken promises, “i’ll get a flight and help you pack or get inupi to ride with me. we’ll figure it all out, don’t stress.” 
you sniffle, wiping at your face hastily, “kay . . . okay. thank you ken.” 
“f’course,” you can hear the smile in his voice over the phone, “s’what big brother’s are for.” 
and the next few weeks are filled with moving your life back home, with the help of draken and inupi. the people at your job are nothing but happy at the news for you, despite being sad to see you go - they wish you the best in life, though, and even offer another position to apply if you ever decide to come back to the area. it’s sweet, really. 
you move into draken’s house and have a healthy baby boy that looks so much like mikey, you think it might kill you. you name him shin. 
he makes you promise to not try to seek out mikey one night, after you’d rocked shin to sleep and put him down in his crib. 
“no one knows what he’s been up to,” he argues quietly when your brows furrow at the demand, “and frankly, the few ties i still have with gangs make me worried from what little things they tell me.” 
“but those could just be rumors,” you frown, “he deserves to know he has a kid.” 
“it’s dangerous, (y/n).” draken settles with the finality of a parent telling their kid they can’t have another cookie, “‘m serious. don’t try to contact him.” 
despite the weight the conversation holds, you can’t help but stick your tongue out at him childishly. something he returns, only to narrowly dodge the stuffed animal you throw his way in opposition. 
and though the warnings loom in the air, you can’t help but try to let mikey know - calling the number he left countless times, trying to use your rusty detective skills that aided you in finding him almost a year ago, just trying to make him aware that you had his son. 
you don’t seek child support, or demand otherworldly things that a parent could only dream of (a rocking chair that massages your back and automatically rocks? you drool at the thought), you just feel it’s something he deserves to know. something he should be given a choice to be a part of. 
except he’s known since you moved back. 
it was a difficult task, keeping tabs on you when you were so far away, but he knew from the day you settled into draken’s home by word of mouth from koko. it must’ve been a punishment for koko, to check in on all of their friend’s from their pasts, to make sure their lives are going how they want them to and make sure everyone is happy. 
mikey couldn’t stomach the photos koko would offer, waving them away and requesting the verbal update instead, and when your son is born, he’s only informed that there’s no father on the birth certificate. your attempts to contact him died in vein, the number he gave you belonging to an old throw away phone he got rid of a week after he left it with you. he didn’t think you’d ever need it. 
three years pass, and koko would be damned to say the kid doesn't look like a photocopy of mikey. wild blond hair, all bright eyed and sweet. 
you work at a diner now, usually leave shin with draken and inupi for your nightshift and ken takes him home when he’s done at the garage. 
it’s cute, the way they interact with him - they let him get in the way of their work, careful so he doesn’t get hurt, but allow his curiosity and grubby hands grab hold of tools and bolts and pieces they need. 
you're not overly fond of letting shin have his way with whatever he can pinch between his fingers, since usually whatever he does find ends up in his mouth like a chew toy, but ken and inupi tease you for being too overprotective. 
you still live with ken, despite insisting the need to get out of his hair, but he promises it’s okay to take your time since he adores his nephew and doesn’t mind helping, and inupi’s became a good friend by proxy. 
it’s rare for you and your brother to argue, especially in front of shin, and truly you’re not sure what sparked the conversation in the first place - all you know is you’re upset. 
“inupi, tell my brother it’s unfair for mikey to not know he has a kid.” 
“inui, tell my sibling if mikey wanted to be involved, he would be. simple as that.” 
“we don’t even know if he knows,” you groan out, leaving inupi to hold up his hands defensively. 
“i have no argument in this.” is all he offers. 
“but you have some insight, “ you counter, kneeling down when shin tugs on your pants, “you know the story-” 
“i’m just sayin’ you’ve tried for three years-” draken starts.
“four.” 
“-four years, “ he continues, “and you’ve gotten nothing. i don’t see a need for you to continue if you’ve come up empty handed for so long.” 
“because, ken-” 
shin’s lip wobbles for a second before he bursts into tears, gripping the front of your shirt until you’re shushing him and pulling you towards him in a hug, “shhh, baby, it’s okay. what’s wrong?” 
he continues to cry despite you rocking him, and it takes draken pulling him out of your arms while tickling his sides to make him stop. 
“prob’ly didn’t like the arguing.” inupi comments, dodging a wrench you throw his way with a glare. 
“we’ll talk about this later,” you sigh out, standing on your toes to squeeze shin’s cheeks, “i love, love, love you.” you emphasize each ‘love’ with a kiss to his chubby cheeks, happy to hear his crying replaced with giggles and incoherent toddler babble. 
your shift at work isn’t anything special - you have some regulars that come in at the odd hours of night, and by the end of your shift, you’re the last to leave; finishing out some paperwork the managers can’t be bothered to do despite getting paid far less than them to do it. 
you fish your keys from your bag, unlock your car, ready to begin the short drive home but . . . your car won’t start. 
of course it doesn’t. it’s an older model, one you were supposed to take to the scrap yard for a slightly newer model last month but couldn’t because shin unexpectedly got sick and you had to fork out some cash to make sure he got better. 
you sigh, pop the hood of the vehicle as if maybe some of your brother’s knowledge of mechanics could somehow transfer to you, and call the aforementioned male. 
it rings. . . and rings . . and rings. no answer. 
you try again. 
nothing. 
you kick at the front bumper in frustration, running a hand over your face in search of another contact. surely inupi is awake at two in the morning, right? 
the call rings out, and you’re really worried it’s going straight to voicemail for a second, but he picks up on seemingly the last buzz, “hello?” he sounds groggy, like you did just wake him up. you don’t have time to dwell on the thought when a group of guys appear from the sidewalk, spotting and attempting to talk to you in one breath. 
“car won’t start?” one asks, nudging his friend as they make their way closer to you, “we can help.” 
you turn away from them, “hey inui, can you come get me from work? ken didn’t answer and my car won’t start.” 
“hey.” the guys are much closer now, one stepping around to the front of the car while the other two stand off to your right, vying for your attention. 
“yeah f’course. there other people around you?” there’s some shuffling from inupi’s end, like he’s getting out of bed. 
“yeah. um, how long till you can be here?” 
“ten? minutes maybe.” you swallow at the answer. 
“great, i’ll see you in five.” 
you pull the phone from your ear slightly, turning back to face the two guys to your right, “i don’t need any help, i have a friend on the way-” 
there’s only a moment between you dismissing their assistance before the guy who was at the front of your car is shoving at your shoulder and pinning you to the side of your car, one hand pressed firmly to your mouth while the other squeezes your wrist until your phone falls from your hand and kicks it away. 
you shove a hand at his face, trying to reach into your bag for your taser or pocket knife or a really sharp pencil when the guy moves his hand from your mouth to your throat, squeezing hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise, while tearing your bag from your shoulder and throwing it to sit with your phone. 
the smell of alcohol comes off of him in waves when he grins, leaning down to get a good look at you, “we can ‘elp ya,” he offers, “but not for free.” 
your nails bite into the skin of his wrist, the need to breath overtaking every other sense desperately while you continue to kick and claw at him.
his grip only relents at the sound of a motorcycle idling in the parking lot, but the pressure of his hand still keeps you in place by the throat, head turning to address who could see fit to interrupt this ‘exchange’. the man on the bike adjusts the mask on his face, tucks his long platinum hair to the side, seeming to ignore the eyes on him. 
“diner’s closed,” one of the other guys says, stepping towards the stranger, “and we’re kinda busy here ourselves-” 
he doesn’t get the chance to really say what they’re doing when the guy steps off the bike and just swings. 
his fist meets the guy's cheek with a harsh thwack while mumbling, “shouldn’t touch shit that doesn’t belong to you.” 
the guy holding you up releases his grip completely, leaving you to drop to the ground when your legs buckle under your weight, frozen and left only watching as the two remaining men are taken down easily by your potential savior. 
when the three stay unmoving on the ground, he crouches in front of you, adjusting the mask on his face once again while taking in your shaken form. 
“you okay?” you don’t trust your voice, so you only nod, “is someone on the way to get you? or d’ya need a ride?” 
you nod again, “i-inui’s coming.” you manage to whisper out, unable to catch the way his eyes widen slightly as he stands to his full height. 
he begins to walk away, back to his motorcycle that’s still running, but his steps hesitate when you call out, “is that you, koko?” 
he doesn’t turn to face you, doesn’t address if you’re correct in your assumption, “don’t worry ‘bout all this,” he says instead, “i’ll take care of it.” 
and then he’s climbing onto his bike, pulling out of the parking lot less than a minute before inupi’s pulling into it. 
you’re still on the ground when he rushes towards you to see if you’re okay, stepping over the unconscious bodies with little regard. you recount what happened, which inupi dismisses since he remained on the phone until he pulled into the parking lot. 
“do . . . was it really koko?” he asks, helping you up from the cement and gathering the items that spilled from your bag, offering your now cracked phone to you with a frown. 
“i’m not sure . . . i never really knew him like you did, “ you reach into your car to grab the important belongings and shove them in your bag, “it didn’t look like him but . . . it sounded like him. was his eyes, i think.” 
inupi looks away at this, “so what do you wanna do? ‘bout these guys?” 
you swallow, keeping your stare away from the three on the floor, “he said he'd take care of it and i don’t . . . i just wanna go home.”
“okay,” inui’s hand finds it place at the small of your back, guiding you gently to his bike and helping you on, “i’ll take you home.” 
when inupi walks you through the foyer, draken’s in front of you the second the door falls shut. 
you can see his worry in the crease of his brow, from the way he grabs your shoulders to give you a once-over and frowning at the way your neck seems to be irritated beyond belief, “are you okay? i-i had to put shin back to bed because he woke up ‘nd i didn’t have my phone on me but when tried calling back but you didn’t answer.” 
“‘m okay . . .” you assure, peeling yourself away from him, “gonna go shower . . um, inui can tell you what happened.” 
your voice is so small as you speak, ken can only nod and watch you disappear into the hall before he turns to inui, who delves into the story based on what he heard over the phone and what you told him when he arrived.
you scrub your skin raw in the shower, until it almost stings from how harsh you rub. you slip out of the bathroom quietly after, sneak your way into shin’s nursery and sit by his bed for just a second to decompress, rubbing the boys back softly while he sleeps. 
the peace is disrupted by ken peeking his head around the door, “c’mon, we gotta talk ‘bout it.” 
you almost pout, childlike, “do we have to?”
the look he gives you offers no leeway to argue, so you sigh and press a kiss to shin’s hair before standing, deciding now isn’t the time to start an argument. 
inupi’s gone when you come out to the living room, tucking your legs under yourself as you sit on the couch with ken beside you. 
you feel like a child they way you explain what happened, unable to look at him as you speak. ken visibly stiffens at the mention of the potential koko coming to your aid, interrupting you mid story to remind you, “you know it doesn’t matter that he helped you, right. you’re not gonna go out lookin’ for him or mikey or whoever else.” 
you frown at his words, opening your mouth to argue but he shakes his head before you can, “no, (y/n), ‘m serious. it’s too dangerous.”
you look down, defeated, but nod your head, “okay . . . fine.”
and really, you had full intention to abide by the warning. but . . . your boss called you the next day, said something about the diner being closed for the next few days because of something you couldn’t be bothered to remember and that you’d still be paid for the lost hours. 
the details don’t matter, really. you drop shin off with draken as usual, avoid mentioning the fact that you have the day off, and leave with the intent to use the next free hours just . . . looking. for koko or mikey or anyone who might know anything about either of them. 
it’s stupid, you think, to search and pry so openly, bouncing from bars and clubs asking anyone who’ll listen, but within three hours, you’ve gathered the following; 
mikey runs some big name gang. baton? batten? something. 
he has some executives that help run his gang, some of which own a few of the clubs in the shiftier parts of the city – haitani’s? you think they’re called?
the haitani’s are close to koko, who’s close to mikey, and really that’s the only thing you need. 
so you continue going from club to club, under the impression that apparently the haitani’s frequent their own clubs just about every night. you hear about a nicer club towards the edge of the city, one they favor to the other’s since the liquor is stronger and the girls are prettier – but these are all things you’ve heard from other people, so who knows how true it really is.
when you make it to the club, you wonder if your sundress is something considered to be ‘underdressed’. surely the juice stain on the front isn’t working in your favor as the bouncer gives you a once-over. 
“yer lookin’ for who, now?” he asks, one brow raised with his arms crossed over his chest. 
if you had any sense in you, you’d probably be scared of the way he eyes you down, but growing up around idiots who don’t know when to stop messing around has really ruined your fight or flight response. 
“the haitani brothers..” you reply, mocking the way he crosses his arms over his chest, “i heard they sometimes come by here, i thought maybe-” 
“you thought, huh?” his eyes rake over your form, and your arms shift protectively around yourself instead of mocking him, “well i think you should get outta here ‘fore you get hurt.” 
“i just need to know if they’re here-” 
he turns away from you with a hand pressed to the earpiece sitting in his ear, looking into the building before he turns to face you again with a squinted glare, “you sure they’re the right one? yeah. yeah. right. i’ll send ‘em up.” 
he gestures towards the inside of the building, nodding his head, “straight ahead, up the stairs.”
with those instructions, you head towards the back of the club and find a set of stairs, separated by a velvet rope with another bouncer standing in front of it. as if expecting your arrival, he unhooks the rope from its place and steps aside, gesturing for you to follow the stairs up. 
at the top of the stairs sits a closed door and when you push it open, peeking around it to get a look inside, you see a nice couch with two guys perched on them - one with a girl who you can assume is from the club sitting in his lap, while the other sips from the drink in his hand, eyeing you the second you’re past the threshold. 
the one with the girl in his lap openly squeezes her ass, grinning at you when you look away quickly. he leans forward, whispering something in her ear, and she stands with a pout, practically glaring at you as she leaves. 
the door clicks shut behind her, and you’re left in awkward silence with the thrum of music playing under your feet. 
after a moment, the one with a drink in hand tilts his head at you, “what’s a pretty thing like you doin’, askin’ for us by name?” 
“‘m lookin’ for koko . . .” you voice is smaller than you remember, making you almost cringe in on yourself at the way they eat it up. 
“why’re ya lookin’ for our koko?” 
“w-we’re friends.” you stutter out, “i just. . . need to talk to him.” 
“where’d all that confidence go?” the one who had the girl in his lap tsks as he stands, “we heard you over his comms, you were practically demanding to talk to us - now you’re a stuttering lil’ mess. what happened between now and then?” 
he stops in front of you, head tilted as he looms over you, “maybe you should get to know us first. ‘m ran, that’s rindou. thought we knew ‘bout all the nice things koko keeps hidden away.” 
though he isn’t speaking to you for the last part, his eyes don’t leave you while they rake over your face, over your body. he reaches to cup your cheek, almost pouting at the way you flinch away from the contact with a frown. 
“i’m just lookin’ for koko.” you settle with, leaning away from him. 
ran actually does pout at this, bottom lip jutted out. “you’re tellin’ me we can’t have some fun before he gets here?” 
“that’s exactly what they’re sayin’, actually.” someone says from behind you, and you jump when you’re being pulled away from ran by your upper arm. a glance behind you reveals the man you’ve been waiting for - koko, with his hair pulled neatly to the side and a scowl on his face. 
ran grins at the sight of him, clapping his hands as if he wasn’t just making you uncomfortable. rindou just clicks his tongue. 
“s’a shame you got here so quick. thought we’d have some time to get to know ‘em.” 
“as if you’d try.” koko accuses, fingers digging into your skin, “you know he’d be pissed if you did anything.” 
“who said anything ‘bout trying anything. just wanna know who’s got our dear boss so worked up all the time.” 
instead of giving him the satisfaction of a reply, koko fully faces you with his eyes narrowing to further slits, “you must be crazy to come here, even crazier to ask around for us in the first place.” 
“i need to see mikey,” you frown, “was the only way i could think of since it was you that showed up the other day, right?”
you can see the way he clenches his jaw, muscles tight, “doesn’t matter. do you know how dangerous it was for you to ask around for us? mikey isn’t someone you can just see anyways-” 
“why can’t they?” rindou, seemingly the only sensible guy in the room, questions, “they wanna talk to ‘im, he’d only be one call away.” 
“you know why.” koko snaps, heavy weight of his glare moving from you to the male, “we can’t just-” 
ran’s phone rings from his pocket, effectively silencing koko mid sentence, and when he pulls it out, he waves it in front of koko with a sharp-toothed grin, “speak of the devil.” 
you open your mouth to ask, maybe even demand the phone from ran as he answers, but a sharp squeeze to your arm from koko leaves you quiet - a silent warning heard loud and clear. 
don’t say a word. 
ran’s eyes rake over your form as he answers, licking his lips like you could be his next meal, “yeah? he just got here. no, i would never! i’m offended you think i would,” whatever mikey’s saying has him grinning like a schoolgirl, gaze moving from you to koko, “if ya wanted to talk to him, why didn’t you call him. yeah, whatever, whatever, fine.” 
he offers the phone to koko, who grimaces at the device. 
“wants to talk to you.” ran elaborates, as if the implication wasn’t clear enough. 
koko snatches the phone from him with a glare, letting go of your arm to turn away from the two of you, “hello?” 
you can barely make out the sound of someone on the other line, lip pulled between your teeth when you see how koko’s face pinches in distaste for whatever mikey could be saying. 
“are you sure that’s a good idea. no, that's not what i'm saying at all - okay, fine. yeah, i’ll take ‘em there. sure. bye.” 
he hangs up with a scowl, tossing ran back his phone as he turns to reface you, “come on, we’re gonna go somewhere.” 
“to mikey?” you ask, hope leaking off your tongue. 
he doesn’t reply, opening the door and gesturing for you to exit the room when you don’t immediately begin moving. 
you offer a small wave goodbye to ran and rindou, despite the fact that there was no pleasure in meeting them in the first place, and you miss the glare koko sends them once you’re walking down the steps. koko leads you out of the club, guiding you by the upper arm through the sea of people until you’re stepping into the cool night air outside. 
though you’re no longer in the middle of the thrum of people, koko’s grasp on your arm doesn’t leave until he’s stopping in front of a sleek black car. a cadillac, maybe? mercedes? you’ve never been good with vehicles. 
he opens the door for you, though, and you have enough sense to mumble a small thanks as you climb in. 
when he enters through the driver’s door, he pauses for a minute, letting the silence wash over the two of you while gripping the steering wheel. 
“it really is stupid of you to come around here, ” he says finally, still looking straight ahead while you move to carefully pull your seatbelt on, “i shouldn’t even take you to him, you know. i should just take you home.” 
“you don’t have room to talk about stupid decisions,” you snap in time with the click of the buckle, “inupi and i have mourned the loss of people we care about who are still alive and well, that’s not fair.” 
you see the way his jaw clenches, knuckles turning white from how hard he holds the steering wheel. 
“we made sacrifices for you-” 
“i made sacrifices too,” you frown, thinking about the lost opportunities to raise your son, “and i just want five minutes of talking to mikey. is that too much to ask?” 
“you have other people to look out for instead, “ koko clicks his tongue, grip relenting as he looks over to you, “just remember that you asked for this.” 
the weight of his words settle heavy in the air as he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. 
the car ride is silent aside from the soft music that plays from the radio, turned to low volume. koko doesn’t move to break the silence, and you don’t have it in you to disrupt the tension that builds, anxiety creeping under your skin until it pops into goosebumps on the surface when he pulls in front of a large apartment building. 
“you’re gonna go to the top floor,” koko explains, not looking over at you, “he should already be there.” 
“should?” you parrot, nerves catching up with you. 
“if not already then soon.” he clicks the button to unlock the doors for you, and your breath stutters at the sound, fingers dancing around the door handle. 
“okay . . . thank you, koko. it’s . . . it is good to see you again. inupi would be happy to know you’re okay.” 
you don’t stay long enough to hear the way he inhales sharply, don’t see the way he tenses from the words. koko doesn’t wait for you to enter the building before he drives off, and you don’t look back as you push open the doors. 
the lobby is cold, you note dully, and it must be the reason your hairs stand on end when you find your way to the elevators. you wrap your arms around yourself after stepping inside of them, pressing the button to the top floor and willing your heart to not beat out of your chest. 
you realize just how much money mikey must have when the doors open to a penthouse - the entire floor being taken up as the apartment. you slowly step inside, sliding off your shoes by elevator and peek around inside the open area, spotting a living room, kitchen, and dining room all in the space. there’s a hall that cuts off towards the right of the room and you wonder if that’s where the bedroom(s?) and bathroom are. 
it feels wrong, almost, being here alone. though the room is definitely well furnished (the couch itself looks like it costs more than your broken down car), it feels . . . devoid of life. like maybe it’s only a place for rest - not a home. there’s no comfort of connection anywhere in the building, no vulnerability in personal property. you make your way further into the living room, eyeing the art hanging on the wall as if it could mean something to you. 
“i really thought he’d take you home.” you jump at the sound of a voice, whirling around to face whoever could be speaking. 
your mouth dries at the sight. 
mikey, but surely not your mikey, with his hair cropped short and paler than anything you remember, with bags under his eyes and frame thinner than what could be considered healthy, steps into view from the hall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. 
words die on your lips when he stops beside you, leaning back as if really taking in the painting you were eyeballing, head tilting, “heard you wanted to talk to me. must’ve been important if you went through all that trouble just to find me.” 
you don’t know what possesses you to take the first swing, to hit at his shoulder and his chest with tears welling in your eyes, but you do. 
and by some miracle, he lets you. it probably helps your hits are weak, with no intention to really harm - only needing an outlet for the emotions you’d been harboring for four fucking years. 
“why didn’t you call me,” you whisper when you’re finished with your barrage of hits, letting him guide you to the couch and sit you down on it, placing himself on the other end, “i-i wrote to you, i texted, i called, i looked for four years, mikey, and i got nothing in return. do you even know what for?” 
when you look at him, his gaze is set straight ahead to the wall across from the two of you, to the flatscreen tv that’s been off since you’d arrived - and who knows how long before that. 
“i’ve been busy.” he offers instead of answering, stare unwavering despite the way you frown and sigh out your disappointments. 
"too busy to respond? to even acknowledge my existence? what kind of fucking answer is that!?" you’re heated all over again by his lack of concession, at the way his eyes don’t leave the screen of the tv until you’re standing up from the couch with your arms out beside you, then tucking them into yourself and turning away from him, “koko was right, he should’ve just taken me home-” 
“why’d you come?” he asks instead, gaze finally moving from the tv to you. 
the question makes you pause, dig your nails into your arms as if that could somehow ground you. 
“i . . . we have a son.” you say finally, not turning to face him as the words leave your lips. 
you’re met with a beat of silence before he says, “i know.” 
i know. i know. i know, i know i know i know. 
he knew. 
he knew. 
“you know?” you repeat, turning to face him, suddenly quieter than before. 
“that you had a son,” he clarifies, face unreadable as he continues, “wasn’t sure if he was mine.” 
“how?” you press, legs buckling under your weight and leaving you to fall back down to the couch. 
“we . . . i’ve had koko do check-ins on everyone, every now and then,” he looks away at the admittance, “to make sure their lives are going well. did you know mitsuya’s a designer now? hakkai’s even modeled a few of his designs, and chifuyu and kazutora own a pet shop together, too” he’s deflecting, you can tell from the way he keeps his stare even and away from your own. 
“i do know,” you snap, “because they visit when they can. they want to see their nephew when they’re able to come by.” 
the way you bite your words out should sting, should hurt in a way he can’t place, but they don’t. he’s done this to himself, he knows, he’s just reaping what he’s sown. 
“why’d you leave?” you whisper out, “w-why’d you just disappear? why didn’t you respond to me? why did it take me getting hurt for you guys to make yourself known?”
he opens his mouth to reply, to say anything, but he doesn’t have an answer that will satisfy you. he knows that, and that is enough reason for him to keep his mouth shut. 
“have you seen him?” you’re still whispering, appalled he couldn’t assume your son was his - as if you didn’t pick the name shin for him. mikey shakes his head and it has you pulling out your phone with shaking hands, shoving it in his face until the lock screen photo of you, your son, and draken glare brightly back at him. 
his gaze moves from you to your phone, eyes scanning over the photo before they flit over to your face. 
“i didn’t know he was ours.” he defends, looking away, and you push the phone further into his face so he can’t escape it. 
“i’m telling you now that he is. “ you’re leaning into his space now, emphasize the need to look at the photo with another shake, and when he looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes trail from your own to your lips, to the bruises that marr your neck from the night prior. 
he tips your chin up to get a better look at them, setting you with a look when you offer some resistance, “did those guys do this to you?” you nod, “they won’t touch you again. no one will.” 
you frown at the implication, pushing his hand away with the hand not holding your phone, and he grabs that hand by the wrist when he spots the bruises decorating the skin there, taking it in with a still expression. 
“i can take care of you guys,” he settles, “make sure you never need or want anything. you won’t have to work at that shitty diner anymore. our kid would have anything he could ever desire.” 
his hand comes up to cup your cheek, wipes the stray tear that falls from your eyes, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 
“i’m not asking that of you,” you explain, closing your eyes and willing any other tears that want to fall away, “you don’t even know his name.” you remind him, opening your eyes and standing when your phone starts to ring. you wipe at your face hastily, looking at the caller id, and only get a glance of the name ken before mikey’s pulling you down into his lap. 
you make a noise of disagreement, phone falling from your grasp to the couch beside the two of you from the sudden movement. 
“tell me his name.” he says, one hand still holding your wrist while the other keeps you in place by the hip. 
he practically demands it, eyes boring into your own as they search for the answer. 
“shin,” you reply after a moment, pulling your lip between your teeth, “i named him shin.” 
the hand at your hip grips it tighter, fingers digging into the flesh until it almost hurts. 
“after?” 
“shinichiro, yeah.” you don't know if it’s really necessary to clarify, but you don’t have a second to think about it when he suddenly surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. 
you falter for only a second before you’re returning the kiss with fervor, the hand not being held by mikey gripping the front of his shirt to pull him closer. 
“i will take care of you guys,” he promises when he pulls away from your lips to press his own to your chin, trailing down to your jaw and settling at the junction of your throat, peppering kisses at the free expanse of skin until it’s decorated pretty with hickies. 
his fingers dance under the hem of your dress, pulling you flush against him until your senses are full of nothing but, “can give ‘nother, you guys’ll have everything you could ever want.” he continues, the hand moving under your dress skimming across the tops of your thighs and pressing against your stomach. 
you whine, quiet and high in the back of your throat that leaves him grinding against you, hand moving from your stomach to your bare hip to guide you. he’s saying so many things, whispering so many assurances in your ear, and for a second, it’s too much. 
too overstimulating and happening too fast, but the way he holds you is so familiar, so comforting and warm and god you’ve missed him so fucking much. your phone buzzes to your right from the couch, and you pull away for a second to see it light up, see your brother’s contact pop up in that short amount of time before he’s forcing your attention back to him with a pinch to your hip, fingers pressing into your cheeks to turn your head back towards him. 
“eyes on me,” he demands, “keep your eyes on me.” 
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joonipertree · 10 months
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Gang Leader Girlfriend Things™
Tags: Mikey x Fem!reader, Fluff, crack, no angst, he's only soft for you <3, love of his life
You know, I think the first rule of joining a gang should be 'don't piss off the leader'. Like, you wanna fight people who can whoop your ass? Go for it, that takes courage and respect. But you join a gang like Toman with 'Invincible Mikey' as the head, the one thing you should probably not do is make him mad.
(Nobody is stupid enough to do that though, much less Toman.)
Mikey personally didn't fight the weak, finds no joy in something that isn't a challenge. Two highschoolers that got recruited by Mitchy's crew? He could tell they were nothing from the back of their babbling heads.
"My god, there's no way a girl like that is here. She's so fucking hot."
"What's a girl even doing in a gang? There's no way she fights."
Mikey's eye twitched. Not only are you most definitely in Toman, with a gang jacket and everything (You had your own but you ended up wearing his most of the time, pretty in what's his.) One of Toman's strongest was Senju, someone who would kick their ass too.
"Do you think she's single?"
"She is not." Mikey drawled, eyes dead and head tilted. Draken came behind him, wondering why his captain was just standing there. Mikey was always friendly with new members but very evidently, those two were an exception.
"What a bummer. She could've been mine."
Draken wanted to laugh so badly but Mikey's hand was warning him into silence before he could.
Mikey couldn't see the dude's face but knew that he was too ugly for you. You weren't into pathetic fucks. And the only person Mikey was pathetic for, was you.
A lot of gang members' eyes were on them now, ready to bow to their captain but stopping when Draken raised his palm. They could tell something was off, looking at the two kids who just didn't bother turning. The aura around Mikey was practically tangible though, suffocating to anyone who took notice.
Yamagishi staggered towards his friends, ready to point out the very dangerous threat behind them. Of course, he was the one who recruited them. If he wasn't Takemitchy's friend, Mikey would've added him to his blacklist. Mikey's finger against his lip kept Yamagishi from saying anything. Their fates were sealed already.
"Man, I could probably take her boyfriend on. Easy win and I get her."
Draken choked, Yamagishi wanted to die, the few people who were close enough to listen stepped away. Mikey still didn't say anything, because the moment he was waiting for finally happened.
Chifuyu had let you know of the arrival with a nod of his head, pausing in his rant about a manga you guys had been reading. You saw Draken's head first, eyes lowering, knowing that Mikey would always fall close. And there he was, his blond ponytail the only thing you could see. Your heart filled up like it always did because fuck, you wanted to consume him in your love. His eyes peaked out and your smile stretched your cheeks.
You walked as if on auto pilot, feet having a pep in them as you did. He stepped out in full view and you squealed at his gentle eyes and outstretched arms. You practically ran to him, you missed him and missed him and missed him.
Your shoulder grazed someone's as you zoomed past and launched yourself into Manjiro's warm embrace. Strong arms encircled you immediately, his cheek squishing against yours. And before you knew it, your feet were off the ground as he twirled you around. Unabashed laughter left your lips, hanging onto him and letting his warm and wet kisses pepper your face. The swooping in your chest was welcomed, clinging to the boy you've loved for years. Your precious----
"Hi, Jiro~" You crooned, eyes open to catch his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes.
He put your feet on the ground and pulled you close by the waist, noses touching each other's.
"Hi, baby." He said in a hushed voice.
You gave his cheek a peck, knowing one on the lips would result in him not getting off of you. There was supposed to be a meeting, so you decided to have him later. Being a gang leader's girlfriend was hard work.
"Did you have a good day?" You asked, knowing he woke up an hour ago, barely in the realm to text you a 'good morning, honey' ('Morning' in Mikey's realm was 1pm).
"Mhm." Mikey hummed, giving your cheek a kiss too. You relished in it.
"Where are you going?" Draken's voice came gruffly and you saw the tall man with his hands on two members' shoulders.
Your boyfriend's gaze fell on them, hardened and cold. It made you shiver, his arms tightening around you when you did. It didn't scare you, he looked hot but it never meant anything good.
You blinked at the two boys, confused and just now noticing the complete silence and the eyes of everyone on you.
I mean, you were a spectacle whenever Jiro was involved but weren't they used to it by now?
"You guys have really bad awareness if you didn't notice me even when I spoke up. I don't know if we want that in our gang." Mikey's words were sweet but dripping in venom, a grin to hide his clear rage.
"I'm so so sorry, boss! We didn't know she was yours, I swear!!" Dude no 1 got on his knees immediately, more so because his legs gave out.
"It's our first day, please have mercy." Dude no 2 shouted, bowing till his head met the floor.
Oh, you thought, they were actual idiots.
Seeing people bow and beg at your boyfriend was always surreal. You knew he had repertoire and respect because of years of being a gang leader. Personally, you never really understood gang things tm. But you knew your Mikey could kick ass and people looked up to him, so you always enjoyed the times he did gang leader things tm cuz it was hot.
"Yamagishi, you recruited them so you have responsibility. Have anything to add?" Mikey asked the frozen boy, who probably stopped breathing a long time ago.
"Uh, it was Takemitchy's idea?" The boy said, knowing who Mikey's kryptonite was.
"You're the one who asked me. Don't try to get me killed along with them!" The acting president hollered.
Mikey turned to his best friend, smile still plastered on his face. If Takemitchy didn't have the trauma to back up his biggest endeavour, he would be worried that the dark impulse would've possessed him from that interaction alone.
"Mitchy, normally I would let the head captain step in for any decision made about their division. But since they directly challenged me, we have to deal with it like all gangs do, right?"
"We didn't....we didn't know, promise!" Dude no 2 peeped out.
"Hmm, but wasn't it you who said that you could take her boyfriend on? It'd be an easy win? There's enough people who witnessed that."
"Oh, Lord Almighty." Takemitchy murmured, "nothing can save them now."
"Not even an hour in and they're going to die." Another murmur from the crowd. (It was Ran)
"I never said that, I am not a part of this." Dude no 1 threw his friend under the bus immediately. It was understandable.
"'She could've been mine,'" Mikey practically sang, taking off his jacket, "is what you said, right?"
"No I couldn't," you spoke absentmindedly, only looking at your boyfriend cuz you'd lost interest in the morons, "you're too ugly for me."
It was a blow that hit almost as hard as the kick they were about to receive. Mikey let out an affectionate snort as he covered your head with his jacket. The heavy material blocking your peripheral as he left your side within a second. A sick crack brandished the air, followed by two thuds.
"Welp, that fight didn't last. How boring, wanted to show off." Mikey sounded bored, the asphalt crunching under his slippers as he walked back.
"Are they--" Takemitchy's panicked pitch followed, a very common tone whenever Mikey was involved.
"Breathing." Draken called out, giving them a light kick on the side to check.
"Takemitchy, your crew is banned from recruiting." Their leader yelled back with his head only half turned, a flurry of 'yes sir!'s came.
"Thank you for holding onto my jacket, baby." Mikey whispered as he took the jacket off your head and draped it on his shoulders. His eyes were back to being kind and gentle, warm hand cupping your face in gratitude. You melted into him, eyes closing. He left a kiss on your forehead, keeping you close.
"Ah, I'm hungry," he whined, "let's go get mcdonald's. I didn't eat breakfast."
"You didn't?" You asked as he interwined your fingers together and tugged.
"I had cereal but that barely counts." Mikey started chattering on, waving a hand to dismiss the meeting that never began.
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mynewblackdress · 8 months
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Title: The Fall
Pairing: Manjiro x Reader
Summary: Your boyfriend, Mikey, falls during a bike race and starts to act a bit differently. | Genre: Angst with a happy ending| Warning: Angst| Words: 2.5K
You weren’t certain what had happened.
One moment you were cheering along with Draken and others, watching your boyfriend, Sano Manjiro, in the lead on the large TV, and the next, you all watched in absolute shock and horror as he lost control of the bike and ended up in a collision that caused several other races who were behind him to fall.
You weren’t certain you heard anything anyone said to you afterward. As you stood there frozen, Mikey got up and looked around as if he was looking for something or someone before he got back on the bike and drove through the finish line. Even if he made it, he didn’t come first, and causing other races to fall would surely cause him several points, but honestly, that was the last thing on your mind at that very moment.
‘W-what did you say?’ you finally asked Draken when you realized your longtime dark-haired friend was talking to you.
Looking alert but at the same time keeping his cool, no doubt for your benefit, he repeated himself, ‘You can go see him. They’ll let you in with a pass.’
You nodded, catching the paramedics on the TV screen escorting Mikey away before you rushed in the same direction. All sorts of horrible scenarios started to spin inside your mind. It was over a decade since Mikey’s older brother taught him how to ride a bike, and not once did he have any incidents or even close calls like today. He was fast but steady, so you couldn’t comprehend what had happened today that caused the skilled rider to lose control like that during a race.
Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay. 
You repeated like a mantra inside your mind all the while before you reached the medical room.
Once you entered the room with blood rushing through your ears and your heart in your throat, you found Mikey sitting on a small couch, waving one of the paramedics off with a small smile across his face.
‘Mikey!’ you shouted, alerting everyone inside the small room.
When his dark eyes met yours, it almost felt like you were looking at a different person for a second before he breathed out your name with intensity; you hadn’t heard in a very long time since things had been going so well in your life.
You rushed to his side, immediately taking his face between your palms, checking his body over with your eyes for any damage. Even if he was sitting there looking at you and talking, you found it hard to breathe and accept he could already be until you saw it.
His expensive race suit was pretty dirty, but it must have softened the fall since it wasn’t torn anywhere.
When your eyes fell to his face again, you were surprised by how stunned he looked while watching you. His dark eyes were full of life and gratitude, unlike any you had ever seen. Even when you cooked for him or took him out for dorayaki when you were younger. Even when you accepted all his flaws and insecurities giving him strength and promising to always be by his side. Even when you accepted his heart and love, you didn’t think you ever saw him look at you quite like this. He just seemed so different yet the same in that moment.
‘Are you alright?’ you asked, still worried, ‘Does it hurt anywhere?’
Mikey’s face lightened up with a bright smile that captured your heart all those years ago, ‘No, don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt anywhere…anymore.’
You blinked, confused by his choice of words wondering if it could be a concussion before you saw him chuckle and reach out to touch your cheek, ‘I wouldn’t think you would ever get prettier than you were back then, but you had to prove me wrong, huh?’
You felt your cheeks warm up, knowing the others could hear what he just said, at the same time, feeling your chest fill with love for the man in front of you all over again.
He must have removed his gloves since you could feel his bare fingers brushing over the skin of your cheek, heating it up with their gentleness.
Mikey put his hand away, but he still remained looking at your face as if he couldn’t look anywhere else, ‘Like I told these guys, I just got spooked for a second. It happens.’
Suddenly a pair of his strong arms circled around you, and before you knew it, you were pushed against his solid body. The height difference would have made it uncomfortable since he was sitting and you were standing. However, you were still so worried and desperate to feel him and know that he was alright after watching him fall like that that it didn’t come to it.
You hugged him back, immediately sensing how firmly he held you.
It should have felt the same. After all, the two of you were together for a long time now, and Mikey could be rather clingy and sleepy, and although everything was the same, it didn’t feel the same.
It wasn’t like your usual cute, sleepy, or intimate hugs. This one felt different. It felt like a hello after a long period of absence, but it was filled with such a strong sense of desperation and longing that it almost made breathing hard. It felt as if Mikey had returned to you after a long war, finally embracing his well-deserved rest and peace.
You didn’t know why this embrace felt like that, but whatever was the cause, you let him have it feeling you needed it just as much as he did.
Finally, when his manager cleared his throat and the paramedics explained they still needed to check his head for injuries, you let him go. Still, almost immediately, he snatched your palm and forced you to sit next to him through the whole ordeal.
You didn’t mind patiently listening to their medical advice, all the while stealing glances at Mikey, who would offer you smiles occasionally.
After they cleared the dark-haired racer, you were allowed to leave.
‘The manager arranged for you to slip through the back, so you won’t be bothered by the press,’ said Draken as you prepared to leave, and you sensed an undertone in Mikey’s thanks, Ken-chin.
You drove your boyfriend home, noticing how he looked around the neighborhood and place, almost like he was taking it all in for the first time, ‘Are you sure you’re alright?’
He turned to look at you as you opened the door to your shared place and smiled, ‘Yeah, I’m great.’
Inside the place, Mikey acted the same as he did outside, looking around occasionally and smiling at some of the things inside your place, mumbling something about how he was not surprised you would pick a certain thing as decoration, something he said when you first got that certain thing too.
It made you nervous, but the doctor and Mikey assured you he was fine, so you tried to calm down.
After a while, you told yourself you shouldn’t baby the poor man so much and suggested making him dinner.
‘Really? You’ll cook for me? You’re the best.’
The way he said it and the way his eyes shone with gratitude and glee was like a throwback to your youth when he used to be like this about everything you did for him. Like he couldn’t believe it and loved you for it all the more. Not that he wasn’t happy about your cooking nowadays, but you supposed the appeal did die down a bit over the years as it became a habit. So, seeing him all giddy about your cooking or taking care of him left you feeling really good.
You busied yourself in the kitchen while Mikey was left to his own devices.
Occasionally, you stopped to answer a phone call or a text message from one of your friends or relatives who heard about his fall and then chatted a bit with Hina, who was stressed about the wedding that was less than a day away all the while Mikey stayed away from the kitchen.
Once you finished, you went to fetch him, only to find him in the living room looking over the photos of the two of you.
‘Hey, dinner is ready. I made your…,’ you suddenly stopped talking, and your eyes widened in shock before you quickly rushed toward the man and asked, ‘Mikey, what’s wrong?!’
He was sitting on the ground, his body shaking as he sobbed and tears ran down his cheeks while several of your albums were left open around him.
One particular photo was in his shaky hand.
‘Mikey, Mikey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?’ you kept asking, trying to recall the last time you ever saw him cry like this.
You touched his arm, and he turned his head to look at you, ‘I took you…I took you…’
You didn’t understand what he meant, and it seemed the sobbing was making it hard for him to speak, so he showed you the photo that must have upset him so much, and you looked down at it.
It was the photo of the two of you on vacation from two years ago. Mikey, with the help of his friends and sister, arranged for the two of you to visit a place you had been dreaming of since you were a child, just like he once promised you when you were just teenagers starting to get to know one another.
‘Huh? You would want to go to that place?’ back then, the blond-haired gang leader who was starting to capture your heart asked, ‘Why?’
‘It’s my dream. I once saw it on TV, and ever since, then I read everything I could about it. One day, I’ll have enough money and free time to visit and experience it,’ your teenage self told him back then. At the same time, you sat with him on the stairs to the shrine he usually used for his Toman meetings.
‘It’s pretty far. So it will be pretty expensive,’ he said, and you let out a sad little sigh, ‘I know, I know. I should be smarter and use that money elsewhere. Or I won’t ever be able to save that much. I heard it all before. Go on, make a joke,’ you said, looking away from the handsome boy back then, ready for someone as childlike and carefree as Mikey to mock your dream the same way so many others had before.
‘I’ll take you there,’ he said next, causing you to almost get whiplash from how fast you turned your head back to look at him, ‘You will?’
You were stunned, but Mikey chuckled and tossed his arm around your shoulder to bring you to his side.
You felt your entire body catch on fire over how close you were to him now, while Mikey promised you he would take you there while making you promise that you would only go if it was with him.
‘No one else but me, y/n. Can you promise me that in return?’ he asked and sounded so smug and childlike at the same time. You couldn’t help but find it charming, and your rapidly beating heart sincerely agreed.
‘I promise.’
You weren’t sure why it upset Mikey so much in the present, but you put your arms around his neck and pulled his head toward your chest, ‘You did. You took me to my dream destination. You…you kept your promise to me, Mikey. You took me there.’
He quietly sobbed and cried against you, and it broke your heart, but you continued to hold him until he was done and a little longer afterward.
‘Mikey, are you certain you’re alright?’ you asked, running your fingers through his hair while he seemed to settle down.
‘I’m perfect,’ he assured you, and you believed he meant it. Still, you couldn’t help but feel worried given everything he had done today, ‘Everyone is alive, and they achieved their dreams, and you’re with me. You’re here with me,’ he said with sincerity and feelings that felt almost too much to handle at that moment, ‘How could I ever be anything but perfect when everyone,’ he looked down at the photo albums again and then back at you, ‘When everything is perfect this time around.’
He reached his hand and tenderly brushed his fingers over your eyebrow and then lowered through your cheek toward the corner of your mouth, ‘Would you believe me if I told you there was a time when you left me?’
You opened your mouth to argue, but he stopped you with his next words, ‘Not because you wanted to. Not because…you chose to do it. But because you were forced to, and…and I wasn’t the same after that. After you.’
A sole tear escaped his dark eye again, ‘But you’re here now. We’re both here now. And everyone we care for is here now too. And I’m sorry, I’m freaking you out so much, but I’m just so happy about it, you know?’
His words were confusing, but you still found it easy to say, ‘I don’t know much about a time when I would be forced to leave you. I can’t really image it, but,’ you took his palm and pressed it against your chest, ‘As you said, I’m here now, we’re here now, and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon. Please remember that, okay?’
He watched you for a moment as if scanning your face for any hesitation, and when he found none, he nodded, looking much better than before.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips against his forehead before you replaced it with your own. You remained like that for a while, sensing there wasn’t anything else you could do to make your boyfriend feel better before he calmed down enough for the two of you to go have dinner.
He assured you it was delicious, even if you knew it was a bit colder now than you would like, and then went to lay down together in the bed.
‘Are you sure you’re alright?’ you asked against Mikey’s hair while holding him as it tickled your face, ‘I don’t want to be annoying; I just want to make sure.’
He held you tighter, and even if you couldn’t see it, you could feel his smile in his voice, ‘I know. I always loved that about you. Whenever you took care of me, you always made me feel worthy.’
You settled your chin against the top of his head while you felt his face against your chest, ‘You were always worthy. You’ll always be worthy,’ you thought about what he said before and finally added, ‘In every time.’
He was quiet momentarily before he sank into your further and let out a small sigh, ‘I’m glad.’
AN: Thank you for reading. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for the mistakes and if I wrote it unclearly. Have a lovely day 😊
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iamk1llua · 3 months
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𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 Tokyo Revengers boys when you tell them you forgot something at your ex’s house <33
ft; manjiro sano (mikey), ran haitani, rindou haitani & shuji hanma.
crack//fluff
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inkykeiji · 3 months
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always wear your cutest pair of undies to your best friend’s house; you never know when her cooler, hotter older brother is gonna want to fuck you ♡ and yes, he’ll be keeping your panties for later use, thank you very much ♡
don’t be stupid, manjirou laughs in your face when you shyly ask for them back, your palm curled around the knob of his bedroom door. these belong to him now. in fact, you better bring him an even prettier pair next time (and that’s an order, not a request—or else he isn’t going to give you a single drop of his cum!) ♡
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audrinui · 2 months
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dirty dancing.
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she's my collar. chapter one.
synopsis. the inception of everything, the day mikey first met you. coincidentally, it was also the day bonten found itself wrapped up in bad business.
characters. manjiro sano, sanzu haruchiyo, rindou haitani, ran haitani, takeomi akashi, kokonoi hajime, kakucho hitto.
contains. violence. misogyny. oc's mentioned. reader is a stripper.
disclaimer. the events depicted in this are works of fiction and are in no way, shape, or form glorifying or promoting them. this is not suitable for children. this work is for those 18 years of age and older.
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The day Mikey met you is a day he’d never dare to forget.
The night started out typical. He was set to meet up with a potential supplier over at their club, some high end place named Diamanté. With him trailed his executives, close friends that he learned to trust through the years. Sanzu stood tall and proud as his right hand, signature smile on his scarred face as his eyes wandered the busy night club. Akashi stood close, cigarette perched between his lips, calculated demeanor causing the backs of the club’s bouncers to straighten. He took a drag, puffing out white smoke into the dense air, straightening out his suit by habit. Mikey was unafraid, knowing that had anything went south, the Haitani’s and Kakucho weren’t too far away.
“Invincible Mikey, huh?” Gold plated teeth and a glass eye stared him down inquisitively, smirking as the owner raised his cigar to his lips. “Never thought I’d see the day you walked into my club, let alone to do business at that.”
“You’re the best at what you do, I’m the best at what I do. It only was a matter of time before our paths crossed,” Mikey paused, setting down his glass, dark eyes meeting the man’s muticolored ones nonchalantly. “Hiroto.”
Hiroto. Hiroto Takahashi was a brute, one of the most influential people in Tokyo. His cartel carried most of the drug trade in Japan, specializing in opium, cocaine, and other expensive narcotics. With such a prosperous venture he came across many enemies, but Hiroto ran a gang as frightening as he was. Blood Angels they were called, feared nearly as much as Bonten for the things they did to people who crossed them. Those unlucky enough met terrible fates, often gory, vicious, bloody. Their reputation held strong, and as such, they proved a perfect candidate as Bonten’s allies. Sure, Mikey could do without them, but these days he cared less about making enemies — he had enough of those already.
Hiroto wasn’t on his radar, nor did any of them plan for him to be.
The gold of his grills flashed in the neon lights of the club as he laughed heartily. “And you’re not very modest either! I like that in a guy y’know, Mikey. I like when a man knows their worth. Means I won’t get mixed up in a bad business deal again.”
“Right,” Akashi drawled lowly. The folder tucked underneath his arm had now been rest on the table, with it Akashi’s explanation of Bonten’s proposition.
“We’ve read your proposal and conditions, and as such we’ve come to a conclusion that we think will benefit both Bonten and the Blood Angels. As Bonten’s sights are set far beyond just Japan, we can expand your reach further and create quite profitable deals for both of us. We have connections in most of Asia and Europe already, and soon we’ll be branching overseas to the United States and Canada. We’ve got all the heavy lifting covered, all you have to do is sit back and provide the product.“
Hiroto’s laugh boomed over the music of the club, his glass slammed down on the table next to Akashi’s folder. “Really?” He mused, stretching out a beefy ringed hand to pull the folder towards him, flipping through all the paperwork confirming what Akashi said. “Just like that? And all I have to do is sit pretty and do my job?”
The taller man cracked a smile, two fingers reaching up to pull the thin white cigarette from his mouth. “You said it, not me.”
At the confirmation Hiroto’s eyes lit up, turning to his men on either side of him to nudge them. “Get a load of these guys, huh? Easiest business deal I ever made, no wonder everyone wants to get in good with Bonten.” His eyes flash towards Akashi and Mikey once more, jutting out his chin as he reached for the cigar smoldering in his marble ashtray. “Something about this is too good to be true. What’s the percentage of my cut?”
“We take forty five percent, you run off with the rest and do whatever it is you Blood Angels like to do.” Akashi pointed towards a section detailing the breakdown of the payout. Hiroto’s eyes scanned the page greedily, taking in everything Akashi said with a smile on his face. In hindsight, he was a little too eager to be doing business with Bonten. Mikey was sure that they could’ve drafted up any deal and Hiroto would’ve gone along with it. Hiroto wasn’t after the money, he was after the privilege of saying that Bonten had chosen to do business with him.
Being affiliated with Bonten was no small feat. With being the biggest gang around, they were also known to be exclusive. You couldn’t just join Bonten, and similarly, you couldn’t just reach out and choose Bonten to do business with. They chose you. Mikey was selective about the people he chose to be affiliated with, cautious of those he kept within reach distance of him. Over the years he learned the value and importance of relationships, which is why even business relations he seldom took lightly. His demeanor was nonchalant, bored even, but it was a facade. He was observant, taking note of everything around him. The subtle looks Hiroto’s goons gave each other, the way the bartender looked at Sanzu a bit too wearily as he twirled around his favorite dagger on his finger, the way Akashi fought off a smirk from his lips knowing this plan would go accordingly. He took note of it all, the slightest abnormality never going unnoticed.
“You run a tight ship here, right?” Mikey’s eyes wandered seemingly absentmindedly over the balcony of the mezzanine, dark eyes taking in the mash of bodies below. Hiroto raised an eyebrow as his chest puffed out, setting down the file to address the blonde.
“Yeah, I do!” He beamed with pride, bringing his cigar to his lips. “Nothin’ goes unnoticed by me here. I make sure to scout everyone, down to the bastards who clean my floors every night.”
Mikey hummed, his gaze focusing on something below. “Is that so?” He mused. “So you’re pretty aware of all your staff and regular clients too?”
Sanzu and Akashi picked up on Mikey, their backs straightening and brows raising, but Hiroto remained clueless as he basked in his pride. “Every last one. I do thorough background checks on everyone, there’s no way anything’s getting the chance to get past me. I’ve got too much on the line to make any mistakes.”
“Right.” Mikey hummed, leaning back into his seat, hands clasped in his lap. He simply jutted his chin, voice remaining light and curious though the implications were anything but. “So did you mean to hire Hanma’s girl? Or was that a mistake that just so happened to slip through?”
The silence that fell over the mezzanine was deafening. Sanzu was already casting glances over, eyes scanning the dance floor as Akashi started to pull the file away. Hiroto looked as if his heart dropped; his smile fell, cigar abandoned in his mouth, arms frozen mid air for a few seconds as Mikey’s words registered.
“Hanma’s what?”
Pity, Mikey thought. And here he was thinking the Blood Angels would make for profitable business.
“His girl.” He mused, leisurely unclasping his hands to lazily point towards the stage. “She’s a dancer of yours, over to the far right. She’s got his tattoo on her back. That’s Hanma’s girl.”
“What-“ Hiroto rushed to lean over the railing himself, painted over in disbelief as his goons stood dumbfounded. “Hanma’s bitch is working in my club? Who the fuck authorized this?”
“According to your words earlier,” Mikey drawled at this point, pushing his seat away from the table. “You. You do background checks and everything, don’t you? So you knew.”
“No! I- I mean-“ Hiroto looked reminiscent of a child who’d been told no. He was frantic, dark hands clutching the railing until his knuckles turned white, frantically looking between Mikey and the stage. “I didn’t- I wouldn’t-“
“We came here under the impression that you run a tight ship here, Hiroto.” Akashi stepped in, always the final word after Mikey found something he didn’t like. The file had already been tucked under his arm, and with it, Hiroto’s dreams of Bonten and bragging rights. “But clearly, you don’t. The deal’s off; sorry to waste your time.”
While Akashi spoke to Hiroto, Mikey had already stood up from his chair. He tucked his hands into his pockets, strands of blonde hair brushing messily on the sides of his face. “Sanzu,” he called, and Sanzu had already been on it. The others were contacted; the Haitani’s and Kakucho already on alert and moving, Kokonoi and Mochi near the exit with the cars already prepared. Mikey had a hunch that this deal would go left, and unfortunately for him, his hunches were seldom wrong.
Hiroto never liked the word no. He hated it even, reminiscent of a spoiled child the second he was denied whatever shiny new toy he wanted this week. He hated it, despised it, loathed it. Watching Mikey ignore him, Akashi tuck away the file and turn on his heel, that stupid pink haired fuck Sanzu nonchalantly saunter along with them— he hated it. He wouldn’t stand for it, he couldn’t. How would that make him look in front of his executives? They’d look down at him for accepting something so unfair as that and he wouldn’t allow it. Hiroto was a prideful man, and those who threatened his pride often met his wrath and the most gruesome ends.
“Get the girl!”
Maybe Mikey should’ve left it alone that night. Maybe, but he couldn’t. He knew Hiroto’s reaction would be less than pretty and as ruthless as Mikey’s reputation was, the last thing he wanted was to drag someone innocent into his ensnare of a lifestyle. He should’ve thought about that sooner in retrospect, because maybe then, the events that transpired wouldn’t have happened.
“You come here often?”
You were beautiful, draped in rhinestones that hung from the thin, surprisingly sturdy fabric of your skimpy bikini top and high waist bikini bottoms. Mikey’s first words to you caught you off guard and it was evident, pretty eyes widened in disbelief as your head subconsciously cocked to the side just a bit. The water bottle in your acrylic tipped hands went forgotten for a second, sweat glistening on your furrowing brow under the neon lights of the club. You breathed out a laugh, light and airy and barely heard over the thumping bass as you stared down the man in front of you.
“Uh, y-yeah?” You squinted at him curiously for a second, shifting your weight from one high heel to another. “I…thought it was obvious but I work here.”
Mikey laughed- well, more like chuckled. He rarely laughed nowadays, there wasn’t much that he found amusing in life anymore. Still, some days he was greeted with gems, untainted jewels that provided him a little hope in his world. “Right, you do, huh?” He licked his lips, raising his eyes back up to yours. “Not for long though. You’re coming with me.”
Did you mean to wear your emotions so nakedly on your body? The shock that crossed your face was unmistakable, and with it came baffled stutters at the audacity of his boldness. “Excuse me? Sir, I don’t even know you-”
“That’s…right.” Sometimes he forgot that he lived in the shadows. He supposed that since that brand was on your back you’d be aware of who he was, but Hanma was a smart man, and most importantly, a secretive one. Leaving you in the dark was something he wouldn’t put past Hanma, and in a way, Mikey respected that.
He spared a tight, almost solemn smile. Above you two, Hiroto’s men scrambled for their guns, shouting and yelling to lock onto you before Mikey could do anything. Hiroto’s eyes were wild and frantic; you. You were the reason why he couldn’t have what he wanted. If the problem was you, all he had to do was get rid of you, right?
“I forgot about that.” Mikey breathed. The mezzanine above went into a frenzy. “It’s rare that I have to do introductions nowadays.”
Sanzu yelled at Mikey in the background. Ran and Rindou pulled out their own guns, aiming them at the mezzanine. Hiroto leaned over the railing, the barrel of his pistol pointed towards the temple of your head. Mikey smiled gently with a shrug, almost boyish in a way. You frowned slightly, the confusion in your face finding worry to mix in. His smile never reached his eyes.
“My name’s Mikey.”
Gunshot.
You didn’t have time to figure out what happened. There was a gunshot, a host of screams, and suddenly you were tucked beneath Mikey’s arm as he guided you out the club. Your legs wobbled as you scampered beside him, scream caught lodged in your throat. Bodies dropped behind you, shouts of “She’s getting away!” and “Get that bitch!” ringing amidst the pandemonium. The rush from the club was a blur; when did you get out? How did you make it out? You didn’t know, all you knew was that you were pushed in the backseat of a car with a bunch of larger men in suits you didn’t know, and before you knew it one was screaming at the other to-
“Fucking drive!”
“What the fuck happened in there Akashi?” The driver whistled, hand on the clutch in an instant. His head whipped side to side, long hair whipping about him, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You went in there for one thing, how did all this shit happen-”
“Koko, now isn’t the time for your fucking yapping.” The other man in the front rolled his eyes, tucking the file into the glove compartment and retrieving a sleek black pistol and a silencer to match. “We knew that deal would fall through, fucker’s too prideful to hear the word no. Now drive.”
Koko rolled his eyes, catching a glimpse of you in the rear view mirror. He whistled lowly, brows raising for a moment. “So you took a souvenir? Is that why he’s so-”
Another gunshot rings off, this time from the pink haired man’s gun who sat in the back with you and Mikey. He hissed out a swear, turning back to Koko, slamming his hand on the back of his seat in annoyance.
“The next one is gonna be through your fucking head Koko. Drive! Before you get us all killed! Go!”
Kokonoi slams gas, tires screeching loudly in the road, drawing attention from every pedestrian waiting to file into the club. Hiroto’s men poured out with guns drawn but were met with the scent of burnt rubber and white smoke in the air, the black SUV long since peeled away, now speeding down the road with Koko shouting at people to move out of the way whenever they took too long to clear out of the road. In a way you couldn’t believe this, still sat in your costume for the night, your heart hammering against your naked chest, nails digging into Mikey’s bicep with all you had. This was too much. This was too soon. This was…what the fuck.
What the hell is happening?!
“Fuck!”
The pink haired man swore, ducking back in the window. He stomped harsh on the carriage of the car, lithe fingers quickly working to remove his now empty clip, digging out the replacement from the pocket of his vest. “They’re catching up fast, I’ll give them that.”
“Yeah, well, they clearly have a death wish, I’ll give them that.” Akashi muttered, switching out his pistol for a heavier gun that laid at his feet. “Hiroto’s persistent and it’s getting annoying. You doing okay back there, Sanzu?”
Sanzu snickered, sliding the new cartridge in its compartment. “Please, if? Just think of it like target practice, ‘kashi. Think you can get more head shots than me?”
“I think Rindou and Ran definitely can.” Koko smirked, quickly swinging the car over in the right lane, uncaring of the passing cars beside you.
Sanzu glanced at Koko through the mirror, waving his gun at his colleague. “Hey, you just stick to keeping this car moving, alright? One of the tires blow out on this bitch and we’re in deep shit all over again. Shut up and drive, pretty boy.”
“Ooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad, huh?”
How could they joke at a time like this? With bullets whizzing past and driving well above the speed limit? Sanzu’s eyes met yours and he flashed you a scarred grin, wild and untamed just like his evident spirit.
“Cheer up, pretty girl. All this is for you, y'know? Just think of it as you being special.”
His torso hung out the window in a moment, accompanied by Akashi on the other side with a shotgun tucked to his shoulder. Your eyes dared to trail beside you, the other SUV driving just beside you with two other men hanging from the window and the sunroof, both with automatics in their hands and grins on their faces. They even had the audacity to banter with Sanzu, of whom was laughing freely, holding onto the door as he leaned out and stretched, firing off shots towards the men that trailed you diligently. You knew the aim of those shots but a part of this still felt like a dream, up until you turned around and dared to see what they were seeing. There were men, Hiroto’s men, trailing behind in four wheelers and similar SUV’s, all with guns pointed towards you all with the exact same intent. A gun from your side pierced through the air accompanied by a hoot, the bullet landing on it’s target: straight through the center of the enemy’s head. Your eyes widened, Sanzu’s voice ringing in your ears like a bell, shrill like nails on a chalkboard and unwelcome all the same, sending bile to rise in your tightening throat and your stomach to churn.
All of this was for you.
“So,” Mikey’s voice was calm, light and nonchalant despite the chaos around you. He still sat beside you, gentle look on his face, a wild juxtapose against your frightened features that met his gaze terrified. Your heart was in your throat, tears welling up in traumatized eyes, unprepared for the words you were about to hear.
“Who gave you this tattoo?”
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