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cipher I

ran x reader, mikey x reader, sprankle of rindou x reader

summary - you’d been dating Haitani Ran for nearly six months when you discover a letter in code on his desk. When you decipher it, it brings more questions than answers.

cws - rough sex, f!sub reader, intrigue, code, mystery, ran and mikey are both in love with you, reader is in grad school, smut. bonten ish timeline. this ch: drugging of reader(consensual, she knows it's in there and doesn't refuse to drink it), alcohol, jealousy, mikey kisses ran’s gf(you) this chapter. not real manga spoilers i killed some characters off pre this timeline but that’s an emme thing not necessarily a wakui thing.

note - im re writing this but this chapter has light rewrites. it's also posted on ao3.

- next

Ran bursts into the room loudly and Mikey scowls, unable to look away from his subordinate’s huge hand resting on the curve of your waist. Ran’s silver rings glint in the low light of the private dining room at the back of the club, and despite his best efforts, Mikey can’t help but bristle at the mark of casual ownership as you shift your weight uncomfortably in your heels. 

“What’s so important that I needed to drive across town?” He drawls, violet eyes icy. “We good to just let her wait outside?” Kokonoi nods, and gestures to one of the men by the door. 

“Keep an eye on Ran’s,” he pauses, and Mikey’s stomach does a backflip as a huge smile spreads across your face, and you glow with joy like a candle lit on a cold winter night. You giggle, the sound is bell-like, it cuts through the smokey silence.

“She’s my girlfriend.” Ran says, the way someone announces a hard earned promotion, and the way you smile at the idea of belonging to, to that fucking oaf pushes Mikey to down the rest of his drink. “So keep your hands to yourself, huh,” he says to the man with a wink, who nods,

“Yes sir.” He says. You take the new man’s arm agreeably, and Ran palms him some cash, before collapsing on the table, and pouring himself a drink. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” Kokonoi says, raising an eyebrow. 

“He just wants kids.” Rindou pipes up from the corner, bitterness dripping from his voice. “He’s not gonna stick with this once he gets what he wants.” 

“I absolutely am,” Ran counters, a cocky smile playing on his lips, “Have you seen her? And she’s the best pussy I’ve ever gotten, so guess what, fellas?” Rindou groans, massaging his temples. “I’m locking it down.” 

“You’d have to,” Rindou snips, “Before she realizes she’s a grad student with a world class IQ dating someone who’s preferred method of argument is a brick-” Ran rolls his eyes. 

“Enough.” Mikey says quietly, ending the conversation. Kokonoi pushes a folder across the table. “Someone sent this to Kisaki.” Ran raises his eyebrows.

“To Kisaki?” He opens the folder, and takes out a folded letter, printed on heavy cardstock. It’s embossed with a blood red dragon. The letter itself is incomprehensible at first glance, complete gibberish. “Why would we get a letter in code?” He murmurs, “What’s the purpose?” 

“Look at the address at the top.” Rindou says, a touch of impatience to his voice. Ran obeys, brow furrowing. 

“That’s the address to the apartment we shared that summer,” Ran says, meeting his brothers eyes across the table, “That’s an address in Roppongi?” 

“Whatever’s in this letter,” Rindou leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, “It’s addressed to you and I.” Ran nods, snapping a picture of the letter on this phone. 

“The red dragon’s are new,” Mikey takes a sip of his drink and shrugs, “Whoever they are, I’ve never heard of them.”

“Where’s Kakucho,” Ran asks, fumbling for his Juul, taking a puff, filling the air with an artificial cotton candy scent. “And uh, the rest of ‘em?” 

“Busy.” Mikey responds without making eye contact. “I’ll read them in for you. See if you can make sense of the letter.” Ran nods, “Whatever it is, it seems to have to do with the two of you.” 

______ 

Ran finds you at the party easily, your laugh coruscating above the low music, the clouds of smoke, the dull roar of conversation. Anxiety twists in his stomach but he relaxes a little when he sees you standing with another woman. 

“Baby,” he says, snaking an arm around your waist. “Who’s this?” 

“Elena,” You gesture to the beautiful woman, in a slinky purple dress, her dark eyes sparkling in the low light. “This is my boyfriend,” you can’t say it without giggling, “Haitani Ran.” He moves to stand behind you, folding over a little so that he can tuck your head under his chin. “Elena works with um,” you gesture, trying to remember, “Your um, your friend, Kokonoi.” Ran sizes two things up very quickly, one, there’s no way Elena works with Koko, her dress is off the rack, her nails are unmanicured, and there’s a tattoo that snakes around her neck that he’d remembered. It’s a python, curling down her arm, the head resting below her clavicle, its eyes as cold and dead as her own. 

“She was just getting me a drink,” you say, and Ran gives her his most bone chilling smile, the kind that’s all lips and teeth, and no warmth in his eyes. 

“If you’ll forgive me,” He gives you a squeeze, “I'll get my lady here a drink, I’m old fashioned like that.” Elena presses her lips together. “Koko will be out in a bit, if you want to see him?”  She shakes her head. 

“Oh,” you reach out and touch her arm. Ran thinks for a moment about how much he loves how trusting you are, and how often it wakes him up at night. “But you were looking for him, right?” Ran narrows his eyes at her.

“I can have some people show you where he is?” He keeps his tone casual as he offers.

“I will find him myself.” She says, giving you both a curt smile, he recognizes her accent as Russian. “Nice to meet you, Haitani.” 

“Likewise.” He watches her disappear into the crowd and decides it’ll be someone elses problem, turning back to you, “Sweetheart, you look fucking stunning,” You laugh again, tension dissipating, “Seriously, every guy in here  is eyeing up what’s mine,” he takes your arm and spins you like you’re swing dancing. 

“Ran,” you laugh again and he spins you into his chest. “You’re just paranoid,” he cups your face with both hands, leaning down and kissing you tenderly before leading you on to the dance floor. 

_____

Mikey stands at the doorway, watching Ran’s hands wander your body, pulling your hips flush against his own. 

“You could have asked her out,” Mikey doesn’t jump at Kokonoi’s voice behind him. “You saw her first.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turns to the other man, who raises his eyebrows. 

“So we’re going to pretend you’re not staring at Ran’s girl instead of going home with any other woman here.” He says, a smirk flashing on his face. “That’s fine, boss, I can look away” Mikey shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don’t,” he says, frustrated, “You don’t just pull someone into this life, without thinking about it.” 

“Is that what’s bothering you?” Koko drawls, “That he didn’t think?” Mikey turns away from the party, heading back to the private dining room. “It’s Haitani,” Koko follows him, “He wanted something so he took it.” 

“When you pick flowers, they die.” Mikey says, emotionless, remembering the cut roses on Emma’s, on Baji’s, on Draken’s graves. He steps into the private room, Rindou’s left to join the party. “I was thinking, that when you pick flowers, they die.” He massages his temples. 

“Well he was thinking about her pussy,” Koko says, pouring himself another drink. Mikey groans loudly.

“My head hurts.” He complains, the dull throbbing at the back of his neck only grows by the hour, he takes another swig of his drink. “Tell them that I want everything on these red dragons on my desk in the morning. Everything they can find in twelve hours.” 

“Yes, sir.” Kokonoi responds, and Mikey hesitates. 

“Why don’t you join the party?” He asks, and he sees it again, that heavy, dark sadness, that mutual feeling that had sparked the friendship between them. 

“There’s nothing for me out there.” He says, gravel in his voice. Mikey nods, and goes to get another drink. 

“For me either.” The lie falls from his lips like water. 

______

The party is in full swing a few hours later, when he watches you slink off, stumbling down a hallway. He sighs, following you, Ran’s distracted by some spectacle, drugs, maybe, he hopes it’s another woman but knows that you somehow have held his attention longer than any of your predecessors. He finds you laying on a bench in a hallway upstairs, and he nearly stops breathing when you reach for him. For a moment he wonders if you’ve made a mistake, if you think he’s Haitani, but when he sits next to you, you sigh his name, a soft, sad song. 

“Mikey,” you say again. You sit up and rest your head on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth of your cheek through his t-shirt. “Am I an idiot?” You slur a little, and he grunts lightly, breaking every rule he has when he slips an arm around your waist, his fingers sinking into the plush of your hip. He doesn’t answer, so you lift your head a little to see if he heard, but he pushes you back down into his shoulder. 

  “You’re drunk.” He responds. You can feel the base from the party downstairs reverberating through the walls. 

“But am I,” you sigh, “What am I doing, Mikey?” You rub your eyes. “I know, alright, I know you ‘n Ran don’t work in finance.” You sigh, picking at the hem of your dress. His heart thrums in his chest at your closeness, despite your words he’s elated, happier than he’s ever been, maybe, and your makeup is smudged under your eyes in the most perfect way. “I know you’re, you’re involved in some bad shit.” 

“Bad shit?” Mikey repeats, almost not listening to you, delighting in your soft body pressed against his. 

“I’m not,” you sit up a little but he pushes you back down again, this time tucking your head under his chin to hold you in place. You continue. “I’ve seen things, alright, but that's not important. I’d never, never do anything to hurt you, or him.” He’s silent, you smell so good, like sweet strawberry shampoo and daydreaming, like the crisp fall air, like the last time he’d actually felt invincible. “M right, aren’t I?” You say staring straight ahead, having given up trying to move away from him to look in his eyes. 

“You’re safe.” he says, by way of confirmation. “I’d never let anything,” his grip on you tightens, “Not anything ever, happen to you.” 

“I trust you.” You murmur and his chest aches dully. He makes a decision, sighing.

“You’re not going to remember this,” He fumbles for something in his pocket.

“Fuck you,” you giggle, “Yeah I will.” 

“No,” he says, taking a flask from his suit jacket, and dropping a pill into it, watching it sink to the bottom of the metal container. “No  you won’t.” 

“Mikey,” you whine, eyes widening, “Don’t wanna, don’t wanna forget.” You nuzzle into him. “I had fun, had a good time.” 

“Be a good girl for me,” he says, his heart aching in his chest, but his eyes darkening. “Drink up.” You take the metal flask in your hands, you let out a short huffy breath. He reaches out to tip  it into your mouth. He stops, a thought forming, and before he can stop himself, he leans forward, every nerve in his body sizzling like a high wire on a humid day. “Just, give me this.” There’s something soft in his tone borne from one of the last warm parts of his soul. He leans forward and kisses you hard, grabbing at your face, sucking at your lower lip with a clumsy, desperate hunger. He pulls away, breathing hard, his blood roaring in his ears. 

“Mikey.” You whisper, staring at him scandalized. You didn’t slap him, hadn’t run to tell Haitani. Both, he tells himself are good signs. That is, until you open your mouth and speak again, voice infused with an acid desperation. “Am I making a mistake?”He presses his lips together, thinking for a moment, before taking the flask from you and holding it to your lips. You drink obediently, and then wipe your mouth, coughing at the bitter taste. 

“You already made one,” he says, watching your eyes lose focus, and then flutter shut. You lay down on the bench and rest your head on his lap, and unconsciousness sweeps you away. He starts to pet your head but he withdraws his hand quickly as he hears Ran thundering up the stairs. He takes in the scene for a second before sighing with relief. His eyes are wild, and his hands are shaking. 

“Shit, we’re uh, Sanzu brought a fuckton of coke, is she passed out?” Mikey nods, flashing the metal flask. “Ugh,” Ran rubs his eyes. “What did she see?” Me, Mikey thinks. 

“She’s onto you.” He says shortly, reluctantly scooting away from your unconscious form. “Onto us. You gotta read her in or cut her loose.” Ran nods, eyes artificially wide and focused. 

“You give her something?” He asks and Mikey nods, standing. 

“She’s not gonna remember tonight.” Mikey finds the ability to keep his voice cool and nonchalant, as if the idea of you forgetting him didn’t shatter whatever he had left in his chest. Ran nods again, more slowly this time.

“Probably for the best,” He lifts you up off the couch in one smooth movement, “She wasn’t having a good time,” he coos down at your limp form, “Baby never drinks that much, I dunno what got into her.” Mikey doesn’t respond for a moment, thinking. “Shit, though, she was talking to someone, I wanted to ask her about it.” He muses, turning to Mikey. “Woman said her name was Elena, and that she was here for Koko, but obviously wasn’t. Snake tattoo. Ring a bell?” Mikey shakes his head, looking mildly concerned. 

“Are you going to take her home?”

“Back to my place.” Ran confirms. “I’ll uh, I’ll do coke with Sanzu another time.” This, Mikey thinks, this is the worst part. Because if Ran were shitty, and awful, and villainous, he could justify it, he could have Sanzu put a bullet in his fucking head, and be done with it, he could sweep you off your feet, buy you anything you wanted, fuck your brains out. But you bring out a side of the executive that Mikey’s never seen before. It’s almost, kind. Almost. “Gotta take care of my bitch,” he kisses your forehead, cooing condescendingly. “If I don’t lay her down right she could choke on her own puke if she throws up, these forget me pills are strong shit.” A vein in Mikey’s forehead twitches. 

“Are you reading her in?” He pushes.

“To the Bonten shit?” Ran looks conflicted, and Mikey knows why. Knows that the ‘bad shit’ Ran and Bonten gets up to might scare you away for good. “Nah, I dunno,” he hesitates, leaning against the wall. “I dunno.” He repeats. You let out a soft, uncomfortable moan. “Alright, alright,” he grumbles, shifting you so that your face is in his neck, and he’s holding you with one hand. “Baby let’s getcha home.” He thumps down the stairs and as soon as he’s gone Mikey whips the metal flask as hard as he can at the opposite wall.  “Fuck,” he snaps, when it just dents the wall and doesn’t break, and rubs his eyes. “Fuck.”

“spare me the details”

Pairing: matsukawa x fem!reader Genre: angst with a happy ending (i promise lmao), friends to lovers Summary: matsukawa is a good friend, which is why when you ask for his help figuring out what to wear for your date, he agrees without thinking much of it. but the longer he spends watching you get ready, the more he realizes how much he doesn’t want you to go. WC: 10,446 Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, lots of suggestive lines, and on top of it all they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) A/N: this fic happened because i wanted to write literally one scene of mattsun zipping up reader’s dress and now, 10k+ words later, we’re here :) also shoutout to luna for coming up with the fic title! <3 -Dawn

When you text Matsukawa right after his shift with a series of panicked voice notes and a string of siren emojis to match, he expects nothing short of a bug armageddon. He comes home fully prepared to find you standing on the kitchen counter, broom in hand as you frantically shout for him to get rid of whatever creepy crawling thing has invaded your home, the way he has on three separate occasions since the two of you moved in together.

Instead, when he arrives at your shared apartment, he finds you standing in the middle of your bedroom, heaps of fabric scattered across your mattress and pouring out from your closet. Thankfully, there’s no bug in sight, but you still look far from pleased, scowling at the floral-printed dress you’re holding as if it’s personally offended you.

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GOOD AND PLENTY; K.B

witchy tip

➤ scattering basil around the house will attract money into your life

1. super tenaci

m.list

Thief XVI

This was emotionally draining to write 😭

My Patreon [for early access to chapters and extra content]

Summary: The survivalists of a horror movie are always at the grossest disadvantage. The monster can see them, but they won’t see him until it’s too late.

Pairing: Yandere!Dabi x Psychologist!Reader.

Previous / Next

Warning: 18+, angst, burning, cheating, delusional thinking, hurt/comfort, budding mindbreak, mourning, trauma, victim-blaming, yandere behaviour.

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fracture II

haitani ran x f!reader

summary - you spend the day at bonten headquarters, and ran makes a choice.

cw - drugs, smut, guns, murder, praise, degradation, dub!con, reader is a sex worker w a sick brother. ran likes you!!! likes you a lot!! too much probably, probably far too much. he's possessive! and ill behaved! my beloved.

prev / next

You sleep with him, and he curls his long body around you, burying his face in your shoulder. When he moves in the night he pulls you with him, and when you wake you find your face in his chest, his hands tangled in your hair. He stretches, picking his phone up off the nightstand, then glancing back over at you, bleary eyed. You’re still bruised, and the side of your face is even worse than the day before with the marks jaundicing slightly as they heal. He reaches out and brushes some hair from your face. You stir, and he leans over, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Ready for work?” He asks and you nod, even though you have no idea what he means. You’re still in no shape to have sex, or even to pleasure anyone else. He gets up and thumps off to the bathroom, tossing you a gigantic shirt to wear. “You’re coming into the office with me.” He says brightly, “Since apparently you can’t be left alone.” You sit up, the shirt covers most of your body, hanging down around mid thigh. 

“Do you have my suitcase?” You ask and he shrugs. 

“I think you look good like that.” He says casually, and you shake your head. 

“I, I, I need pants,” you manage, “I need-” 

“I said I think you look good like that.” He responds, shooting you an icy glare. You shut your mouth. “Good girl,” he coos, reaching for the bottle of pills, “Open.” You let him place the small purple pill on your tongue. He leans down and kisses your forehead as you let it dissolve. He pulls you to the bathroom and you brush your hair, applying minimal makeup, not bothering to try to cover the bruising, which looks even worse today. You catch Ran looking at you with mild concern, catch the way his eyes flick to the little cut on your face, to the bruises around your neck and down your chest, but he doesn’t say anything. 

You’re followed out of the apartment and into the elevator by at least four heavily armed men, and on your way to the office they open doors for you both, drive cars, walk in front of you and behind you. Ran boosts you up into the backseat of a sleek black escalade. He pulls you most of the way into his lap and you shiver, nuzzling into him for warmth, the cold piercing right through the shirt he’d given you.

“It’s freezing.” You whisper, and he wraps two arms around you, tucking your face into his neck. 

“I know, just get close to me.” He says, his voice is almost kind. If you were more sober maybe you’d wonder if he’d done this on purpose, kept you almost naked and vulnerable so that you’d be forced to hide and take refuge in him. Instead, you watch a light snow fall outside the car, feeling the circles he’s rubbing in your thigh. Bonten’s offices are above an old Italian restaurant, and he leads you through it, letting you hide your face from the waitstaff in his big blue suit jacket. You come up the stairs right behind him, holding onto his hand for stability, his silver rings cool on your skin.  The stairway is narrow and carpeted, and the office seems normal enough if it weren’t for the constant presence of security, the oddly expensive looking art on the wall, the little minifridges filled with booze, monster and red bull, and the slight smell of cigar smoke. 

“And who’s this?” You hear, and peek out from behind Ran. A huge man, tall and thin with dark hair gives you a predatory smile. 

“Bitch shot two guys in my apartment,” Ran says, fumbling in his pocket for his vape, patting you affectionately with his free hand. “I dunno what they’re after me for this time but I told her she could stay with me till shit calms down.” 

“Hanma Shuuji,” the tall man says, extending a tattooed hand. You reach out and accept it, taking just the slightest step away from Ran, and revealing more of your face. “What the hell happened to you?” He recoils initially, then bursts out laughing. “Didja learn to fight from Haitani or something?” 

“Shut up.” Ran snips, pulling you away from Hanma. 

“She fights better than Ran,” you hear, and see a younger man, with long pink purple hair framing his face. He has the same gentle sloping nose as Ran and the same light eyes. “She actually hit the guys she was shooting at.” 

“I, I wasn’t,” you pipe up, and then wonder if you should have asked permission to speak, “I didn’t mean to hit anyone, sir.” Ran takes a puff on his vape, rolling his eyes as he’s momentarily overtaken by a grape flavored cloud. 

“You got your ass kicked a lot, Rin, I don’t wanna hear shit from you, and you,” he turns to Hanma, “Don’t scare the bitch, she’s gotta get back to work for us when she’s all healed up.” He hits you lightly on the back of the head. “Got an email from your boss on the way over here, she said your regulars are complaining.” 

“Let ‘em complain.” Hanma says, smiling again in a way that feels distinctly unwarm, his stare making you shiver.

“That is bad for business.” Ran says, tugging you along the hallway and away from the other executives. You feel the purple haired man, Rin, Ran had called him, you feel eyes on you, sure that in the fluorescents Ran’s shirt was translucent. “C’mon. You gotta meet the others, they’ve each got their fun little thing.” Ran pulls you into what looks almost like a conference room, but you’re 90% sure there’s a woman's thong sitting casually on the table in between an empty scotch glass and an ashtray. Rindou and Hanma follow you inside, and Ran makes a show of introducing you to people. “That’s Kokonoi, he likes money more than he likes people. That’s Sanzu, he likes drugs more than he likes people, and Mikey, over there, more than he likes drugs. Mikey doesn’t like anything, and neither does Kakucho.” 

“Are you finished?” Mikey says, leaning forward in his chair, scowling. Ran just shrugs. You take a step back from the blond, his dark eyes covered in shadow. 

“I don’t think so,” Ran rubs his chin, “Did I introduce you to Rin or did he just insult me?” 

“Haitani Rindou,” the purple haired man says, stepping into the room and rolling his eyes. “Now she’s met me, can we sit down?” Ran sighs dramatically, plopping into a chair and yanking you into his lap hard enough to make you gasp with pain, a sound that the group largely ignores. Mikey, however, frowns.

“I’d prefer you not make her do that again.” He says, and you look up at him but he’s holding Ran’s gaze, not yours. “What happened?” The others take a seat around the table, some of them are drinking, and some of them look crumpled and disheveled like they’re still up from the party the night before. 

“Someone broke into one of our establishments,” Ran says, “Tried to kill her to send a message to me,” he glances down at you, “But she’s tougher than she looks, he about kicked the shit outta her but she stabbed him.” 

“Is that why she’s in your lap?” Kokonoi says dryly. “So that if she stabs someone this time it’s you?” 

“She’s in my lap because I want her there.” Ran says, still in his lazy drawl but with a dark undercurrent. 

“Keep going.” Mikey says, sounding bored. 

“I took her back to my place, for obvious reasons,” you’re still half hidden in his chest, “Can ya look at the people, sweetheart?” You nod, and obey, turning your face fully out from his chest for the first time. You get the sense that even in a room full of people who’ve seen terrible things, done terrible things, your face still looks pretty bad. 

“Embarrassing.” Kakucho mutters eventually. “Hitting someone who can’t possibly fight back.” Ran shrugs. 

“I mean you can’t say all the fights I picked were fair but I did win them.” He grins, “You can go back to hiding, I’ll let you know if you need to speak.” They all watch as you obey, still high, wrapping the inside of his jacket around yourself. “Anyway, she came back to my place, I asked for two decent guys,” he glances at Rindou, “Which I thought my dear brother was capable of providing,” Rindou scowls, “But someone broke in, kicked the shit out of them, and she shot ‘em.” Mikey rubs his eyes. 

“And they seemed only interested in you, not in us?” He asks, and Ran gives you a little nudge. 

“They said it was about something he did in Roppongi.” You murmur, peeking out to look at Mikey. 

“That could be almost anything.” Kokonoi takes a sip of his drink, it’s cherry red, and you imagine it’s syrupy and sweet. “And nothing to do with you?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Piss off one of your johns, princess?” You open your mouth to speak but Ran chuckles. 

“She’s actually very well reviewed.” He says, and you feel your face burn. “But don’t get your hopes up boys, she’s got three broken ribs.” 

“I mean,” Sanzu speaks for the first time. “We could get her high enough so that she doesn’t feel it.” You shrink even further into Ran. 

“Every day that she’s not in her little room downtown we are bleeding money.” Ran shakes his head. “Which is why I would like to find these people quickly.” He slides some paper across the table. “I think honestly I know who it is.” Rindou looks up. “I mean, who hates me personally more than Daito.” 

“Hmmm,” Rindou rubs his chin, and for a moment you’re struck with the mannerism of Ran’s he’s unconsciously mimicking. “Daito Yagami, shit.” 

“Are the two of you speaking in your own cute little language or do we all get to know what’s happening?” Hanma drawls. 

“We killed his brother.” Ran explains, “When I was sixteen.” He feels you tense in his lap, “Oh baby,” he coos, looking down at you, “Does that scare you?” You don’t respond and he chuckles. “I’d never hurt anything as defenseless as you.” You don’t look convinced and there are a few laughs from the group. “I’ll have my men look into that, but it could be new rivals, could be Taiju, or somethin’ else entirely.” He leans back in the rolling chair, testing to see if you’ll keep taking refuge in him. You do, following his movements no matter how he shifts. They spend the meeting planning something but you’re too high to hear what’s happening. You’ve got two little fistfuls of Ran’s shirt, he’s got one hand on the back of your head, petting it softly. “Sweetheart,” he says, and you’re not sure how long it’s been when you blink back to reality, the light in the room has changed and there are more drinks on the table, more cigs in the ashtray. You blink a couple times. 

“She’s fuckin’ gone.” Sanzu mutters. You rub your good eye, head pounding. 

“You hungry?” Ran asks, and you nod dumbly. “You want another pill?” You nod again and he digs in the pocket of his suit jacket, producing the bottle. He takes a pill out and you open your mouth, he puts it directly on your tongue, and before it can even dissolve you’re back to hiding in his jacket. 

“You’re gonna have to give her back,” Mikey says coolly, “If she’s really as high an earner as you say she is.” Ran shrugs. 

“I’m thinking about promoting her.” He shrugs. “Considering she’s technically already completed initiation.” Kakucho looks troubled, but Mikey leans forward, his thoughts plain on his face. 

“She could probably come and go from different places without being suspected,” he muses, “Of course, when she’s not,” he gestures to the bruises visible all over, “Like this.” He stands, “Sanzu, Haitani and I have some business, you’ll watch the girl.” 

“I don’t think she’ll go with him.” Ran says quickly. 

“I said he’d watch her.” Mikey says coolly, eyes narrowing. “Is there a problem?” The room drops several degrees in temperature, all conversation stops. Ran doesn’t appear affected by it though. He shrugs. 

“Let’s give it a shot, boss.” He peels you off of his lap, your eyes go wide with fear. “You’re gonna hang with Sanzu, baby, can you handle that?” You frown. “Gonna miss me?” He teases, but you hear the implicit threat and answer immediately. 

“Yes.” You whisper. He cackles, pushing you towards Sanzu. You crash hard against his chest, and he rights you without care for your injuries and you suck in a sharp breath at his touch to your waist.

“Why,” Mikey pinches the bridge of his nose, “Haitani why isn’t she wearing pants?” Ran takes a puff on his vape before responding. 

“Because I didn’t give her pants to wear.” He grins, turning to Sanzu. “Try and keep her in one piece for me?” Sanzu grins, lifting you off your feet, cradling you to his chest. 

“And shoes, Haitani.” Mikey seems genuinely annoyed. “It’s snowing.” 

“If you care so much, do something about it.” Ran takes another drag on his vape, “Are we gonna go or nah?” Mikey nods, leading the lavender haired man out of the room. Sanzu bounces you like you’re a child he’s trying to soothe. He smells different than Ran, sweeter, a honeyed smoke. 

“Haitani’s little plaything,” he says softly, and you lift your head to look at him. His eyes are a crystal clear blue, light and haunting as a wide open sky. You feel him looking at your bruise, examining your injuries as the rest of the men file out. “Losing a fight’s no fun, huh?” He says and you nod, unsure if you’re being encouraged to make conversation with him. You don’t have to wonder long because he looks away and carries you out of the conference room, down the hall. He has his own office. The desk is a mess of papers, there’s a couch and coffee table, and a window with the blinds closed. He sits you on top of the papers, and you blink a few times, trying to focus. Your head is spinning, this feels stronger, different from the painkillers.

“What,” you mumble, and realize your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, “What did he, what did he give me?” Sanzu glances at you and shrugs. 

“Dunno.” He says, and you run your fingers through your hair, trying to focus. “Don’t fight it though,” he advises, “Just relax and enjoy sweetheart.” You take a deep breath, your nails digging half moons into the skin of your palm. “You eaten?” You shake your head. He picks up the phone on his desk and you think he orders food, but you’re not entirely sure, floating in and out of the conversation. 

“Sitting up hurts, please, god.” You barely manage the words, your voice tight and pinched, and evidently you’ve interrupted him mid sentence because he cocks his head at you.

“I fucking forgot,” he cackles, “That’s what I told Ran I wanted bitches to call me,” he laughs like a hyena, running his fingers through his already wild cotton candy colored hair, “Whaddya want me to do about that?” You nod, chewing the inside of your cheek. 

“I,” you take a gulp of air. “I could lie down on the floor.” He cackles again, but the offer was genuine, you start to move. He gets up quickly, stopping you. 

“I was kidding, I,” He helps you onto your feet but you can’t tell if he’s purposely touching your tender spots or if he’s genuinely clumsy, and you can’t bite back the gasp of pain that rushes from your lips as he guides you by the waist to the soft leather sofa. You curl into the fetal position, tears sparking in your eyes, every sensation heightened as Sanzu squats down next to you, studying you for a moment before brushing some hair from your face.

“So sweet,” he coos, “Sweet little girl.” You moan softly, it feels nice and safe. “Does it hurt baby?” He asks. 

“Mhm.” You whimper. He keeps playing with your hair, like he’s fixated on it, sitting on the ground next to you while you float in and out of consciousness. You’re not sure how long he does it for, the repetitive motion and the drugs is making you feel soft and warm. It must be a long time, because when your eyelids flutter open the light has changed and he’s still there, scrolling through his phone with one hand and massaging your scalp with the other.

“Why did you do it?” He asks, so quietly you nearly ask him to repeat himself. 

“Do what?” 

“Why didn’t you stop fighting?” He asks, and he holds your eyes, stare intense but not cold. 

“In, in my room I,” you sigh, “I just, when he said he was going to kill me I could have screamed,” you roll onto your back, eyes drifting shut. “I had a moment where I could have screamed, and someone would have come.” He withdraws his hand from you. “But I couldn’t find my voice, I,” you laugh lightly and then moan in pain as it blooms uncomfortably in your chest, “I reached for it but I was so afraid I couldn’t speak. So I decided I’d have to save myself.” Sanzu nods. You reach up and run your fingers through your hair. 

“Haitani called you a tough bitch.” He says, and you look at him again, pressing your lips together. “You don’t like that, being called a bitch?” 

“I’m not strong.” You clarify in a high pitched whisper. “Just, just trying not to die, I, I have people, people I care about.” He nods absentmindedly, setting his phone on the table and reaching down to touch your bare thigh, you hear him grunt a little as he stands. He pushes your legs apart, and you feel his fingers on your panties. “I, I don’t know if, If Mr. Haitani-” 

“I don’t care.” Sanzu interrupts you, and you feel him slip them to the side. “I’m just looking, anyway,” you feel him part your folds and you try to sit up but you can’t. “Do you not want me to, sweetheart?” He asks, and you shiver. 

“I’m afraid it’s going to hurt, god.” You whisper, and he chuckles. 

“Of course it’s going to hurt,” He coos, “It’s definitely going to hurt.” Your eyes widen. “Shhh,” he breathes, “Shhh, if you’re gonna cry don’t get too loud, I, I’ll try to be gentle, I will.” You swallow, steeling yourself, closing your eyes as your hands curl into fists, your nails digging half moons in your palms. You feel him part your thighs, and can’t even conjure the embarrassment at being so casually on display, “Such a pretty pussy.” He says, marveling at you. “You work for Bonten, you know that kinda makes you my property.” You don’t respond. “Kinda makes this pussy,” he mutters to himself, as he pushes two fingers inside you, “Kinda makes this pussy my property, what do you think about that?” You breathe in slowly, but you know an order when you hear one. 

“P-please,” you muster, “Please use your pussy, god.” He cackles again, utterly tickled at the sacrilege. 

“Are you damaging our property?” You hear a new voice, Rindou, and when you look at him he’s leaning against the door frame, an utterly neutral expression on his face. 

“Fuck off,” Sanzu says, without missing a beat, pulling a soft moan, half pain half pleasure from your lips. “M busy.” 

“She needs to go back to work.” Rindou presses, but you’re having trouble focusing on it. Sanzu shrugs. 

“Not my problem,” He leans over you, “Is it my problem sweetheart, no, no it isn’t.” He reaches out and cups your bruised face, “You’re gonna sit still while I use you, aren’t you baby?” You nod, gritting your teeth. Rindou sighs deeply, but feels the odd power dynamic at play, clearly more logical, clearly more centered but also, in Bonten, he’s clearly out ranked. “You wanna watch,” Sanzu grins, “You sick fuck.” 

“I want to make sure you don’t kill her.” Rindou protests, but you don’t have time to process that because Sanzu’s thrown your legs over his shoulder and is easing himself inside with a soft groan. 

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses, watching the pain bloom on your face with his first thrusts, “Fuck that’s my girl, that’s my pretty girl, huh,” you let out a whimper and he picks up the pace, but you’re grateful he keeps from slamming his hips against yours, only jostling you a little bit. Tears still pool in your eyes, even as he reaches down and plays with your clit, even as you gasp and clench around him. 

Rindou’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t move, waiting for Sanzu to finish, unable to tear himself away from you. With the light coming in from the window it’s almost like a renaissance painting, Sanzu is beastly, tyrannical, scarred and wild, and you arch your back dutifully, unable to keep still, perfect lips parted as he coos praise at you, tears falling from your eyes. 

For you, the pain has given way to pleasure, and you’re lifting your hips to the best of your ability to meet him, his hands digging into your hips, occasionally reaching up to wipe some of your tears. 

“So sweet,” he coos, “So good for me, hm, is that why they like you so much, you’re a good girl?” You swallow, unable to respond, he doesn’t seem to expect you to. He lets out kind of a strangled snarl and pulls out, cumming onto his hand and grabbing a pile of napkins from his desk. You let out a low cry of pain as he lets your legs fall onto the couch, but try to focus on breathing. 

“Has she eaten?” You hear Rindou ask. 

“Oh shit,” Sanzu says, “I ordered food and then I ate it, nah you should probably take care of that.” You feel strong arms lift you up off the couch, tucking you into their chest. “Yeah just bring her back,” Sanzu says, tossing the napkins in his office garbage can. “I’m supposed to be watching her.” 

“Yeah.” Rindou shrugs. “Whatever.” You open your eyes and lean into Rindou’s chest, he carries you down the hallway and sets you on the couch in his office. You float out of your body, high out of your mind, and the last thing you feel is a blanket being tucked around your body. 

You hear his voice on the phone, arguing loudly with someone, something about billing and private information. You open your eyes just once, and he scowls at you, tucking the phone back into his neck. 

“Go back to sleep.” He snaps, and you do. 

____

“Oi,” you hear, “Heard you skipped lunch.” You open your eyes and Ran is in front of you, his shirt somehow even more unbuttoned than it had been earlier, a single tuft of purple hair flopping on his forehead. You struggle into a seated position, feeling a bit better, he pushes something into your hands and you hear a crackle of plastic. It’s dark out, but the office is light in the hallway, you glance around Rindou’s office, wondering if he turned off the light so you could sleep. 

“Thank you, sir.” You whisper, and peel the plastic off of the onigiri, stomach growling. Ran nods, inspecting you. Even after a few hours, you look a bit better, eyes more clear, bruises having retreated even by a degree. 

“Look good,” he grins, plopping on the couch next to you. “Know what we’re gonna do tonight?” You shake your head. “You up for a party?” He boops your nose. “You’re my plus one.” You look down at your clothes, you’re still dressed in his shirt and you have no idea what Sanzu did with your panties. “We’ll change at my place, I had them send over some options.” He stands, and lifts you, putting you on his hip like a child, one arm hooked around your waist. “Hold onto my neck,” he instructs, and you feel his gun in its holder on his belt, digging into your thigh. “Let’s go.” He leads you through the office, which is largely empty. You pass a room where Mikey and Kokonoi seem to be having some kind of argument, and you catch the blonde’s dark eyes for a moment as you pass, shivering and hiding in Ran’s shoulder. Ran looks down at you, about to speak, when the conference room door opens behind you. 

“Wait.” You recognize Mikey’s voice even before Ran turns around, adjusting your weight on his hip. 

“What’s up, boss?” Ran says, oozing nonchalance in a way that feels nearly, like it could be, just a degree performative. There’s something about the way he says boss, maybe it’s the pop of the b sound, the hiss of the ss. You can’t quite put your finger on it. 

“I promoted you.” He says, holding eye contact with you. You swallow. “You won’t be going back to your,” he pauses, and you wonder if he’s avoiding the word whore, avoiding the word slut, avoiding the word prostitute. “Previous employment.” He says eventually. “Haitani has informed me you have some debts that we’ve taken care of.” You raise your eyebrows, looking sharply up at Ran, whose face remains placid and unreadable. “You’re now,” a little smile, “An executive assistant. Better pay, healthcare, no more spreading your legs for men with money.” Your mouth goes dry, you wonder if he expects you to thank him. You find your voice. 

“Thank you, Mikey.” You say softly, and feel Ran tightens his grip on you. Mikey shrugs. 

“Technically,” He gives you a lazy smile, “You completed our initiation ritual twice, in protection of an executive, and ah, the men whose lives you saved now report to you.” 

“I, I won’t know what to do,” you blurt, and Ran gives you a squeeze. 

“I gotcha, sweetheart.” he says. “That it boss? Idiots forgot to give her anything to eat all day.” Mikey sighs deeply. 

“Of course they did.” He shrugs. “No. Whatever. See you tonight.” Ran turns and takes you back out through the restaurant. You hide your face in his chest again, conscious of how much of your bruised body is on display. He helps you into a car and the driver takes off, you feel his lips on your cheek as the engine purrs. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks, sitting you on his lap so that you’re facing him on your knees. 

“Better, sir.” You say softly, and he takes your face in two large hands and kisses you, it’s soft and deft, he moves with more skill than you expect, and you’re suddenly reminded that he’s a few years older than you, as you feel one of his hands cup your ass, you feel the cool of his rings through your shirt. He hums with satisfaction, pulling away and tucking you into his chest. 

“I don’t care, by the way, that Sanzu touched you.” he says, one hand on the back of your head as he pushes your face into his neck. You stiffen, in your experience, that usually meant men did care, very much. “It’ll never happen again.” Ran says, still sounding calm, still speaking like he’s discussing the weather, or lunch plans. You snuggle into him, he’s so warm, and you’re freezing. “If anyone else touches you though,” he says, rubbing the back of your head, “I want you to tell me. Understand?” You nod. 

“Yes, sir.” Your head finally feels clear, and your ribs don’t ache as badly as they did that morning. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure.” He leans back, holding you tightly. 

“What did you give me, today?” 

“Oh,” he has to think about it, “Mostly downers with a little upper to keep ya conscious, what’s up though, you want more?” You shake your head. “Aw, what’s wrong, didn’t like napping?”

“It was hard to focus,” you explain, “And I,” he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, genuinely holding him back for the first time since he’d first touched you, his heart hammers in his chest. “I want to focus, when I’m with you.” You feel his lips on the top of your head. 

“Can’t believe Sanzu couldn’t just get another fucking whore,” Ran complains, and the 

scent of artificial grape fills your nostrils, and you know he’s taken a hit of his vape. “Your fucking ribs are broken.” You don’t speak, understanding that likely you’re not supposed to. “Whatever, though,” he softens, and it seems genuine. You feel his 5 o’clock shadow prickling against your face as he swallows. He reaches up and squeezes your arm, feeling the way you’re genuinely clinging to him. 

“What happens now?” You mumble. 

“You’re my executive assistant,” He explains, “You’ll help me with my schedule, attend meetings with me, get me drinks when I tell you to get me drinks.” You don’t have to ask if that means you’ll be staying in his bed, sleeping at his apartment. “You’ll have some ah, men reporting to you, you can think of them like bodyguards but trust me I’ve threatened them within an inch of their life, they know what happens if they touch what’s mine.” Logically, that should make you nervous, you realize, that he was so possessive, so willing to threaten, but you only feel a warm relief spread across your chest. 

“Good.” You murmur, lifting your head, looking up at the only person who’d ever saved you from anything. The only person who’d ever bandaged your wounds, who’d ever cared if you’d eaten, ever cared if you’d rested.

“Yeah?” He says, a smile spreading across his face, his canines glinting as a panel of light passes over his face, the driver pulls up in front of his apartment complex but he doesn't move. You nod, and he runs his knuckles down your cheek, “Such a pretty girl,” he breathes, “Such a pretty, pretty girl.” You squirm with pleasure at his praise, and then wince. “Alright.” he grins, more businesslike. “Let’s getcha some food, and then dressed up, huh?” He ruffles your hair. “I wanna see how you clean up.” 

___ 

Security is omnipresent, you realize, they’re there in Ran’s kitchen, standing outside his bedroom, one of them, Shion, you’re told, stands with you in the bathroom as you style your hair, and attempt to paint makeup over your broken face. You don’t speak to him, afraid at first of getting him in trouble, and then the silence gets comfortable. Ran takes phone calls as he gets dressed, apparently Bonten is acquiring a few new warehouses and they’re haggling the price a bit lower. 

“It’s not a threat, Rodrigo,” You hear Ran say, through the bathroom door, you imagine him partially dressed, pacing in his bedroom. “It’s not a threat, it’s a statement of a fact, you don’t want to fuck us anymore than you wanna get fucked,” there’s a pause. “Tell ya what,” he says, “Tell ya what, let’s get dinner, tomorrow, bring your girl, and we’ll talk it through, see if we can’t come to an agreement.” He laughs, but it’s a joyless terrifying sound. “Well, we’ll see what happens after, we’ll see.” Ran pokes his head into the bathroom a moment later, you’re adjusting your eyeliner. 

“Sweetheart, we’ve got dinner plans tomorrow, don’t let me forget.” 

“Could I,” You turn to him, and his mouth waters, despite the constellation of bruises still visible, your form in the tight, red velvet wrap dress is positively intoxicating, your eyes are wide and a little fearful, he realizes what animal you remind him of now, doe eyed and skittish. “Could I get a notebook, something to write these things down in?” Ran shrugs, and glances at Shion. 

“Yeah, get her whatever she wants.” He says, shrugging, and Shion takes a phone out of his pocket, “You wanna meet your bitches, baby?” He coos, offering you an arm. You’re still barefoot, your dress drags on the floor but he smirks at the haste with which you move to be close to him. 

“Yes, sir.” You beam at him. He’s nearly dressed, for once in a full, dark suit and crisp white shirt. He’s so tall, you imagine everything has to be tailored and custom. He’s got another silver chain around his neck, his shirt only mostly buttoned, his hair coiffed. He shaved again, at some point, you realize, and he catches you staring. 

“Eyes up,” he says, directing your gaze out to his living room. You almost don’t recognize the space as the room you’d shot two men in, but you absolutely recognize your bodyguards. “Boys,” Ran drawls, “Think you might owe the lady something.” 

“Thank you.” The one of them with raven hair, and some kind of a panther tattoo on his neck steps forward, looking at the ground. “For saving my life.” 

“Thank you Yuuta!” Ran crows, and the first man, Yuuta, takes a step back. “And you, Isami, anything to share?” 

“Thank you,” the second man nods a bleach blonde head, “Thanks for saving my life.” 

“Good.” Ran says, grinning. “Now, if anything happens to her you know that neither of you has any use to me, correct?” 

“Yes sir.” They both say in unison. 

“And you know what happens to things that have no use to me?” Ran presses, rubbing a circle in your lower back as he casually threatens their lives. You lean into his touch. 

“Yes sir.” They say again. They’re both tall, you realize, though shorter than Ran, they’re more broad and muscular. 

“Regrettably, I can’t spend every minute of every day with you,” Ran explains, “But they will,” he pauses, glancing around, looking annoyed, “Didn’t she ask for a notebook? God.” he runs his fingers through his hair, and it’s another few minutes before a leather book is pressed into your hands. Ran takes another phone call before you leave and you wait for him on the couch, sitting in between the large men. You look up at them. 

“Ah, Yuuta, and Isami?” You ask, and they nod. “Okay,” you take a shallow breath. “Can I ask one of you to get me a drink, or do I-” Yuuta steps away immediately, returning in seconds with a glass of chilled white wine. “Oh, ah, I prefer whiskey, actually,” you look up at him and he shrugs. 

“Mr. Haitani specified what we’re allowed to give you.” He says and you chew the inside of your cheek, taking a sip of the wine. It’s grassy, maybe something from California, or southern France, you wonder if you’d live to see those places. It’s winter now, icy rain beating against Ran’s wall of windows, and you wonder, shivering, surrounded by these men with guns, if you’ll live to see spring, to feel a warm breeze again. Ran saunters back into the room before you can start to catastrophize, handing you something. It’s your cell phone. 

“A little embarrassing for you that there are no notifications besides work and your little otome game,” he teases, “But I assume based on the call history you call your brother most nights around 9PM.” 

“That’s right before he starts chemo.” You say softly, taking it in your hand. “He’ll be nervous that I didn’t call yesterday.” Ran sighs deeply. 

“Yes, well if Yuuta and Isami were capable of doing their jobs,” his words slice through the artificially heated air, “You’d have made that call.” You give him a little smile, and reach for him experimentally. He takes your hand, pulling you into his chest. 

“Be nice, maybe?” You try, looking up at him with just a bit of pleading in your face, he leans down and kisses you. 

“No,” he says when he pulls away, smiling widely in a way that conveys not a drop of warmth. “Lion can’t change its spots sweetheart.” You have one moment where you consider correcting him, but don’t bother. “How about, I don’t throw their worthless bodies in the river, and you,” he pauses mid sentence, kissing you again, “You just sit there and look pretty. I’ll be done soon.” You pout a little, sitting gently back down on the couch. 

“I’m not quite, pretty again.” You murmur, your bruised face fresh in your mind. He shrugs. 

“Look fine to me. Call your little brother.” You put on a big wool coat, it’s black with fur cuffs and a fur collar, you’d have to ask Ran if it would be possible to exchange it for something faux, wondering if he’d care. It’s freezing, and you’re barefoot, but you pad onto the stone, flanked by your new security. 

“Hey,” you hear, there’s a little crackle, reception in the hospital was always bad. “I was worried, when you didn’t call?” 

“Oh yeah,” you play it off, something about the warm familiarity of your brother's voice after the chaos of the previous days makes you want to cry. “I got into a bit of trouble, it worked out but ah, I got a new job.” 

“Really?” You hear him shift a little in bed. 

“Yeah, just admin work instead of cleaning, so um,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, “Scheduling, that kind of thing.” 

“You’ll be so great at that!” He says. “I’m, ah, I’m proud of you. I wish I could help out more, I know you’re really on your own right now.” 

“I’m not on my own,” you protest, just as Ran cracks the sliding door to the balcony to eavesdrop. “I’m not on my own, dummy I have you, and ah, I think with this job I might make some friends, so there.” 

“Who would want to be your friend?” He teases, and you both laugh.

“No idea.” You wrap an arm around your ribcage. “You feeling okay?” 

“Sure.” He says, “Sure never better.” 

“I’ll come see you,” you promise, “I’ve been saving up, it’s just a three hour train up to-” 

“I’m the reason you can barely afford a train ticket,” Your brother says, and Ran watches your face fall, “You don’t have to come see me.” 

“I want to.” You try. “I want to come see you, I’ll um, I’ll text you, okay?” 

“Yeah, alright, I’m um, I’m pretty tired.” He says, “They’re gonna take me in soon. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You barely get the words out before the phone goes dead. “Okay,” you say out loud to yourself, shivering in the cold, “Okay, I’m, I’m okay.” You glance over at the bodyguards and nearly catch Ran snooping but he ducks away just in time. “I’m alright to go back inside.” You say softly and one of them opens the door for you. The second you step back inside Ran sweeps you into a hug, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, and you nod. 

“Would it be possible for me to um, to visit him?” You look up at the executive who remains inscrutable. Ran considers, possible, yes, but it was a bad time for him to leave Tokyo, and a worse time for you to be out of his sight for more than a few hours. 

“I’ll think about it.” He says. “It’s dangerous right now.” You nod, snuggling into him. “Are you worried about him?” He tries, testing the water, remembering the little whimpers you’d made that first night when he’d pressed on a bruise. 

“Yes, sir.” You don’t let go of Ran. “Also I need to know the details about the dinner tomorrow, so um, so I can make sure you remember.” He grins at you. 

“Of course.” 

_____ 

The party is loud, and there are cries of joy when Ran walks in, immediately some gigantic man embraces him, and takes your hand, bringing it to his lips. You hold his gaze for a moment, and he offers you a wide smile. 

“What did you let happen to such a pretty little thing,” He says, speaking to Ran, who raises a single eyebrow before forcing a smile. “You know, all of my girls are-” 

“Routinely vaccinated against various viruses,” Ran cuts in, smirking, “I know.” 

“Haitani,” He shakes his head. “You never change, and you,” he looks back at you, “Can’t blame a man for trying.” 

“She’s actually my assistant.” Ran says smoothly, his grip on your shoulder tightening. “Not one of our girls.” 

“Ah, that’s not what I heard,” He releases your hand, “You can call me Benkeii.” His voice is deep, a little booming, you have to fight the urge to cower. He takes a step to the side. “Make your rounds and then come see me.” You get the impression he’s talking to Ran, even though his eyes haven’t left you. Ran nods, pulling forward into the crowd. There are rows of velvet booths with curtains, a populated dancefloor, and a dark wood bar that Ran pulls you to, ordering himself a scotch and another glass of white wine for you. He doesn’t ask you what you’d like, and you don’t comment on it, glancing at Yuuta and Isami behind you. Yuuta looks calm, if tired, and Isami looks annoyed, you wonder if bodyguards who resented their charge were worth anything. 

“Unfortunately I can’t babysit you the entire night,” Ran boops your nose, “And,” he takes a step forward, speaking in your ear. “You’re working.” You keep your face neutral, and then smile a little, as if he’d said something intimate. 

“Of course,” your drinks arrive, Ran intercepts them, inspecting yours before handing it to you. 

“I’ll letcha know what I need in a few,” he downs his drink, and pushes off into the crowd. As soon as his silhouette is obscured, your bodyguards step closer, and you wince. The wine is terrible, tasting sweetly cheap. 

“How are you feeling?” Yuuta leans down and speaks in your ear. “Are you in pain?” You nod, you can still feel the dull throbbing of your ribs and head but it’s not prohibitive. “We can find you a place to sit.” Yuuta points, and not for the first time, you notice how much they go out of their way not to touch you. Somehow, they guide you to a booth where you sit by yourself, staring out at the throng of people. Normally, if you were working, you’d be making conversation with the richest looking man in the room. The girls used to try and guess who that was, based on bespoke suits, jewelry, and pure aura. You’d never had much luck, despite your brief brush with childhood wealth you’d spent your life on the outside of that world looking in. You take another gulp of wine, and finish the glass, pushing it away from yourself to find it nearly immediately replaced by a passing waiter. One of the bodyguards takes it before you can, looking at it before handing it to you. You consider taking your phone out, you’re in too much pain to dance, not that it would be allowed you assumed. 

Your hands shake on the table, and you force the rest of the wine down, as you take a deep breath in through your nose. You see him then, indisputably, the richest man in the room. It’s not the suit, which has to be hand dyed, you decide, in order to get that purple that was nearly black, almost black, so deep and rich. It’s not the rings decorating his hands, or the flash of the heavy chain around his neck. It’s not the intricately beautiful tattoo work on his chest, curling up onto his neck. It’s not his posture, his smirk, his delicate features. 

No, it’s the way he looks at you, the way he returns your gaze like a panther in the forest, the way he sizes you up, the little smile, intensity burning in his eyes, barely visible under a mop of light blonde hair. It’s the way he walks to you, swagger is the wrong word, his movements are sure. Deft. Intentional. You’re fully aware that he’s walking across the room to speak with you, and the crowd parts for him, his lazy smile hiding the intensity of his presence. He holds a hand out to you, his eyes flicking to the bruises around your wrist and on your clavicle. 

“Wakasa Imaushi.” He says, and your bodyguards take a slight step to the side, allowing you to take his hand. “You look miserable.”

if you enjoyed pls consider commenting, reblogging or sending me a lil ask <3 thanks.

𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃┊rin x reader ft. sae. tormented by his recent injury and decline in mental health, rin visits his family home, only to be met with his biggest issue: you, sae's fiancee.

chapter 1 of after dark miniseries.

WARNINGS. nsfw/suggestive. fem!reader. mostly rin's pov. slowburn. mentions of mental health issues and therapy. mentions of physical injuries. pining. rin & sae are pro players, reader has a backstory and profession. foul language. wc: 6.7k NOTES. eeeeep finally!! first installment is up :> it is a reworked version of what i had already uploaded on my previous blog, so i hope you enjoy this one even more! ♡

There’s something odd hanging heavy in the air – humid and thick as Rin steps out from the airport terminal, suitcase clattering loudly on the sidewalk. 

He wonders if it’s the annoyance pooling deep in his gut, caused by the encounter that took place barely minutes ago – a group of fans recognizing him and the few other players in line to border control.

It’s moments like these that put a pause to his gratitude.

It’s when the discoloration under his eyes could be seen from miles away, and yet, it must seem like he’s less of a human as people just keep on yapping. Talking, grabbing – asking if it’s okay to take a picture. Commenting on a recent goal, congratulating. It wouldn’t have been this annoying if not for the fact Shidou and a few other players were right beside him, and yet, everyone seemed desperate only for a smidge of his attention, toppling him over with inquiries and requests and words of appreciation.

There’s no surprise he’s the center of attention, really – the team captain with an aloof aura, so contradicting and unusual for someone of his status. But there is something even more alluring to him, and it just might the way he still manages to crack a slight smile at one of Ryusei’s comments as they move down the line; a small action that’s gotten recorded anyway, he’s noticed, surely to pop up all over Twitter within an hour or two. When was the last time anyone’s seen him smile, after all? 

It’s puzzling to some still – the complexity of Paris X Gen’s highest-grossing player. Rin’s presence is dangerous enough to keep him marked by the other team at all times and to him it’s always felt ridiculous and low how they seem utterly petrified at the thought of going one-on-one with him. He plays raw and without mercy, taking each player down like his life depends on it. (Thinking about it, it does, in a twisted way that makes his chest tighten at the thought.) It’s a wonder how he appears to be just as intimidating outside the field, eyes sharp and stance tall, but on his good days, he can give a young fan the softest smile possible. It’s a whiplash – but he never called himself easy to be around. No one would really ever venture such a guess.

That’s what brought him to the very top.

A heavy sigh slips past his lips, fingers tugging the corduroy jacket to cover more of his tee-clad chest, and puts a hand up as his designated driver slows down by the entrance. As the vehicle stops and the man gets out to open the trunk, Rin holds back a sigh to see it’s not the usual driver that meets him during most of his flights. (It’s not because he’s pretentious, though he kind of is, sometimes. He just really, really doesn’t want to talk tonight anymore, something his usual would’ve picked up on. There’s no such comfort right now.)

Rin hands his suitcase over to get it into the trunk, then moves to the backseat of the car, hoping for a quiet ride.

It’s nearing midnight, the flight having been postponed due to some issues that he just couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to, and it seems like it’s enough of a reason to keep the driver silent. That, and probably the exhaustion written all over his face, teal eyes zoning out the window and teeth nibbling on chapped lips. Only an idiot would risk picking up some small talk.

He’s back home now, a thoughtful gift for his parents sitting in his suitcase, but there’s no place for nostalgia or relief in his heart. Instead, it fills with dread at the thought of seeing a mess of auburn hair and a pair of turquoise eyes, mirroring his own – no matter how much he resents it. 

If it was all up to him, he’d pretend Sae was never part of their family – act like they had never met, like the elder had never broken his dreams and filled the crevices between his ribs with anxiety and resentment. It’s been what – eight years? Almost a decade (and a few therapy attempts) ago, it seems, but finding his own sense of self, his very own objective and goal not dictated by the eldest anymore, the thought of his brother still makes Rin uneasy at best. 

He wishes he didn’t see the longing in his mother’s eyes, how she cannot stand to see her sons treat each other like air. There wasn’t much either of their parents could do to bring the brothers back on the right track and it seemed like they knew – could see it in the way the younger tensed up, seeing a suitcase by the front door and an additional pair of shoes on the mat. Rin used to wonder if they ever felt guilty for the input (or, more likely, lack of thereof) they had in their upbringing, but quickly figured that people sending out their twelve-year-old son across the globe were not capable of such complex thoughts in the first place. They had their own way of caring about their sons but Rin wasn’t too keen on commending them for the bare minimum.

There was no way to save them, not back then, and not now.

A screech of the driver slamming the brakes brings Rin back from the train of thoughts, safety belt digging into his chest as he jolts forward. He looks through the windscreen, watches as the car that cut in front of them maneuvers sloppily, and the driver shakes his head.

“What are these people on,” he mumbles, and their eyes momentarily meet through the rear view mirror. “S’ that time of the year, isn’t it,”

It’s a bit awkward, the way silence falls over the vehicle quickly after, but honestly, Rin doesn’t mind that much. He knows he comes off aloof, too proud to engage in small talk. It’s a bit of a lifesaver now when it’s getting hard to keep his eyes open anymore.

He hums in agreement and shifts in his seat, long legs spreading out and forward. Carefully, he rolls his ankle, the strain making his brows, more involuntarily than not. He rests the heel of his foot back down and closes his eyes. 

Whether it’s the sprained joint or his pride, it hurts all the same. 

The driver seems to catch up on the striker’s discomfort and quickly leans over, pulling the passenger seat forward to make more space. “There, Itoshi-san. It’ll be a bit of a long drive, so make yourself comfy.” He smiles, a little uneasy still, but as Rin stretches his legs out and gives a small mumble of thank you, he takes it as an incentive. 

“That last goal was out of this world, honestly– I hope you don’t mind.” 

The man sounds sincere, taps his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously. Rin keeps his eyes forward, on the car in front of them. 

“Some called it the season’s best goal. I have to agree.” 

Yeah, he’s heard it, too - all the praise accompanied by pitiful and worried looks as he limped off the field – hoping, praying the camera doesn’t pick up on the seething look brewing behind his teal irises.

This could’ve happened to anyone, and honestly, it wasn’t even that big of a deal when looked at objectively - but at this moment, it was a luxury beyond Rin’s capacity. It’s a light injury, and he might even consider himself lucky it happened on the last match before Christmas break. He’ll have his time off, spend it with family and friends, and go to his physio appointments without any disturbance. (And get his ear talked off, probably. Because as breathtaking this goal was, he had to push the throbbing pain in his joint aside, force his foot into the awkward angle and feel - hear the crunch of the bone as he sent the ball into the net. If this doesn’t scream irresponsible, then what else does? Rin’s not dumb.)

By the time the season restarts, he’ll be as good as new.

But if there’s one thing Sae engraved into his mind, is that he hates pity and resents vulnerability. He wanted to smack the medical team away as they work on his ankle, swollen and reddening within seconds as they tightened the bandage around it, pressing ice bags to the aching joint. 

This can happen to anybody. Anyone but him, it is.

To react to it so passionately isn’t anything unordinary – but it’s everything he wishes he wasn’t. It’s everything Sae always chastised him for.

“Thank you,” Rin simply says and settles on that being his final reply, unwilling to dig deeper into any of it and continue with the obvious minefield of a topic.

The man behind the steering wheel seems to catch up on the subtle sign, a slight smile being his only reply.

Pity floods the vehicle, taunts him and makes the tight loop around his heart pull. Rin despises it more than anything else. There’s not much that’s left to do about it besides biting back on his tongue and leaning back into the seat. 

It’s peaceful for the rest of the hour-long drive. Starry skies invite him to look out the window, gaze growing unfocused with exhaustion and thoughts that race through his mind with the speed of light. If he focused hard enough he’d be able to actually hear the whispers of shame.

He wishes there was a way to silence that, tune out the taunting like the driver did to the radio upon noticing the striker’s tired look. 

Come to think of it, Rin’s therapist did say it’ll take some time – long hours spent dwelling over his notepad, trying to reach inside to grasp his ego and the issues that burn at it the most, only to scribble them down on the paper and try to voice them out in the office a few days later. He’s never been good with communication or speaking his mind, at least not in the conventional way that won’t leave the recipient in tears or shock, but he managed, somehow. He got his point across and his therapist even claimed having seen worse. It’s uncertain how much of it was honest but the thought alone leaves Rin realizing that he has again taken the very route of thought he’s supposed to watch out for. 

Rin appreciates people, to some extent, especially those who carry the same work ethic as he does. Perhaps it was a part of the therapist’s job, but something rubbed him the wrong way about the final session that took place a while ago. The man knew these words would seep into every crevice of Rin’s mind, sit heavy on his heart, and that’s why the whole ordeal was abruptly cut short – cause he couldn’t, didn’t want to hear any of it anymore.

Not everyone has ill intentions, Rin. As long as you’re hung up on what your brother did, you’ll have a hard time trusting others. We’ve been seeing each other for long enough to let me say that I know you don’t want to admit it, but trust me when I say, you should, sooner or later. 

The car comes to a stop right by the curb. Warm, yellowish light seeps through the familiar windows and hits the sidewalk. Familiarity washes over Rin like a tide but does little to ease the discomfort growing in his chest.

He blinks once, pulled from his thoughts.

“There you go.”  The driver glances at him over his shoulder and unbuckles himself, about to help him with his suitcase but is stopped by a wave of Rin’s hand.

“S’okay. Thank you.”

He hums and fishes for his wallet in the pocket of his jeans. He pulls out a bill and places it in the man’s hand, undoing his seat belt and opening the door, ignoring the small sound of protest his generous tip elicited. 

Rin gets out of the vehicle, careful as he shifts his weight to the wounded ankle, and takes his suitcase out from the trunk. There’s a harsh thud as the wheels hit the ground and a complimenting soft puff, heavy scent of smoke filling his lungs. He glances up at the elderly man, who now stands by the driver’s door and takes a drag of his cigarette. The guy’s a little unusual, Rin noticed, with how easy-going he was being ever since picking him up from the airport. (He’s never accepting a recommendation from Ryusei again.)

No matter what he does and despite his best efforts, there will always be a pair of eyes trained on him at all times. It’s little difference whether it’s the field or the streets of Kamakura. 

He holds the eye contact, waits for the man to speak. It comes with an exhale, a cloud of white reaching him from across the car.

“Good night, Itoshi-san.” Rin feels his eye twitch. It’s a conscious choice not to frown “Get well soon.”

Cold breeze seeps under his jacket and sends shivers down his back, aching and slightly hunched. It’s a contrast to the bubbling, stinging bitterness that begins to eat away at his insides, but the mixture altogether makes Rin feel like hyperventilating. 

He bites his tongue and tastes iron.

It’s a wise choice to just give a small nod and turn on his heel, stepping away towards where he can faintly make out his mother’s voice from inside the house. A half his lifetime’s worth of memories waits behind the mahogany door and makes it all the harder to believe it - the warm smiles sent his way, earnest wishes spoken with the purest intentions.

His best (and only) option is to at least try. 

By the time Rin’s suitcase is put down by the bed in his old bedroom and he’s clad in a set of hoodie and sweatpants, sat down at the dining table and slurping up the last sips of miso soup, the uneasy feeling is nowhere to be found anymore.

(Or at least, he’s succeeded in pushing it to the very back of his mind, until it’s barely a hushed hum. He’s grown experienced in ignoring it.)

His mum insisted on hearing about everything that took place throughout the last few months he’s spent back in Paris – but to be fair, there’s not much to tell her, Rin realized. He’s signed a couple new brand deals, yeah, and got a proposition from another prestige club – this time over in England, but it wasn’t anywhere near the salary that he had his eye on. But that’s about it, and there’s not much gossip he could indulge his mother in – even though he knows she wishes there was. (She’s always been playful with him – both of his parents were, actually. They know it riles their second-born up, but know it’s sportive – and that he doesn’t really mind. Not if it’s them, that is. He’ll indulge them in whatever fantasy of their family they’ve made up.)

“I thought you’d surprise us with something, Rin.” His mum quips, taking the bowl from his hands to wash up.

From his seat across the table, his dad breathes out a laugh.

“Don’t you think we’ve had enough surprises this year already?”

Ah.

Teal eyes follow his father’s, to where he gives his wife a look. The woman turns around, a cloth in hand as she dries off a cutting board, and there’s a bit of confusion before her whole face lights up.

“Now that will be hard to top!” Another laugh, leaving him the only unamused one in the room. Not that it doesn’t happen often. “Oh, god. I still cannot believe it.” She sounds excited, very much so, and it leaves a bitter taste on Rin’s tongue, enough to sour his mood and brew the tense feeling deep in his stomach all over again.

He knew, fuck of course he knew there was no way of escaping it. And yet, he was still gullible enough to hope that the holidays would pass without as much as a single mention of it.

“I can’t wait until Sae comes and tells us all about it. You know how he is through the phone- couldn’t get a proper word out of him, but I need to know everything.”

He really tries to fight back the furrow of his brows, for his mother’s sake. It’s only natural she’s excited, a spark in his eyes that he remembers seeing only on the most special occasions. Him getting into Blue Lock, then being selected for the U-20 national team. Him having to move overseas, signing a contract that stuck millions to his name.

(He vaguely recalls the same look plastered on her face when she received the call from Sae’s manager, back when they were kids – the call that would be the beginning of their downfall. Of course he remembers. But, since there’s discomfort already eating away at his chest, he decides to ignore the memory instead. He’s no masochist.)

It’s self-explanatory that she has the same, bright grin spread over her features when she speaks about her oldest son’s engagement.

Sae is engaged – soon to be married.

Sae, the last person he’d ever think is capable of love.

Sae, who’s so harsh and focused on himself, who he’s seen disregard every little speck of affection thrown his way for years.

And fuck does it sound unbelievable – until there’s a certain face flashing in the front of his mind, a pair of bright eyes and a pretty sweet smile that’s enough to make his palms clammy. Until he remembers the only person who can easily melt anyone’s heart – even his brother’s.

Even his o–

He only ever realizes he’d zoned out again when an engine roars softly outside the house, the sound promptly coming to a halt. There’s a sequence of car doors shutting, quiet talking, a trunk being opened.

“Oh! They’re here!”

Rin’s eyes follow his mother as she glances out the kitchen window and tosses the rag down on the counter, jogging over to the front door as the voices grow louder. His dad gets up from his seat as well, much less energetic, but there’s a smile on his lips that mirrors his wife’s–

Rin feels out of place. Terribly so.

It doesn’t fit, the uneasy jitter in his chest that’s such a harsh contrast to the warmth that his parents are about to engulf you and Sae in.

The difference between what he’s feeling compared to them is like nails on a chalkboard, he thinks – and the second he sees the agonizingly familiar head of red hair enter his vision, he shudders as if the sharp sound actually resonates through the room.

It’s not there, but the contrast he’s seeing with his very own eyes is even worse. Sae, in his black sweatpants and a Real Madrid hoodie, with a look on his face that’s so well-rested, it’s unlike anything he’s seen on him lately (even just on the TV screen); and standing right by his side is you. Rin notices you’re too engrossed in tugging your suitcase inside and welcoming his parents, and so, he uses the moment to roll his eyes up your body - the Ugg slippers, beige leggings, a white zip-up fitness jacket, and finally, your face. Dressed in all white, he wonders if you’re doing it on purpose.

It’s a divergence that makes him uneasy. The devil himself, looking far too comfortable with an angel right by his side, with a smile kind enough 

There’s not even one reason for you not to be this joyful, but Rin selfishly wishes there was. It’s a selfish thought but a deliberate one all the same. He wishes that you look this happy, standing next to the very same person behind everything miserable in his life. He wishes to understand, for a way to cut through the dissonance that sits heavy in his head and gives birth to a headache – but it’s been years, fruitless and disappointing. 

Rin only ever realizes he’s still stuck in his seat when his father’s eyes meet his own from a few feet away. It’s not judging per se, more so urging him on to at least pretend, for his mother’s sake. He reads right through it.

He exhales shortly and pushes his chair back with a sound that brings your conversation to a halt. He feels like a martyr when he steps closer to where everyone is standing and feels four pairs of eyes watching him. It makes him want to roll his eyes. (He almost does.)

Sae doesn’t bother to acknowledge him, not even with a show of a smile. He looks up, a fleeting glance to Rin’s face, before nodding his head once. 

“Hey, Rin.” He hums, as indifferent as ever “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” Rin agrees, shrugging as he stuffs his hands into the pocket of his sweatpants. His hands start to ache, fingers twitching. It’s uncomfortable, the way his body tries to provoke a reaction, a way to unload the stress.

Both brothers ignore the way their mum winces at the tension that resonates between the two, how it’s thick enough to suffocate everyone and make them shudder with unease. But no matter how earnest Rin’s attempts are, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot bewitch reality. Instead, a soft hum, warm and sticky-sweet, shatters the ridiculously loud silence.

You’re here too, after all. A savior of sorts.

“A while too long,” The smile you offer him makes Rin want to scream. His chest swells, more unconsciously than not, and his gaze softens, almost instinctively when his eyes drink up your mellow expression “It’s been a year for sure, hm?”

It must be a joke, Rin thinks. How someone who could put down any chaos with their gentle smile stay glued by the hip to a person who makes the world crumble all over again with a single look?

(A joke, or perhaps, a perfectly complete puzzle that keeps the universe intact. If it’s insanity to wish to see it crack and collapse, he’s unashamed to admit it.)

Just when their father gives a slight chuckle, reaches a hand to pat your back, and gives a reassuring rub to your shoulder, Sae clears his throat. With one hand reaching for the suitcase’s handle, he maneuvers it down, as if in thought.

“Was it?” He wonders, the bark worse than the bite as always. Sae’s eyes fall to the floor and though Rin knows he can’t really see it, he knows where he’s looking- and that he’s about to make the injury even worse  “Look at that. You’ve got yourself hurt again.” 

It’s patronizing. It’s demeaning, it’s anything but just a playful quip of one brother to another, and it makes Rin’s eye twitch. He knows Sae’s known this already but he could see it coming from miles away. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

He opens his mouth to speak, “Will you shu–”

You inhale sharply, cutting him off halfway. 

“Oi, oi,” you give Sae’s arm a light smack, “you’re being mean. Stop.” There’s a glint of something in your eyes when you give your fiance a look and Rin’s not entirely sure what it is, but he watches in astonishment as it shuts the elder up. You turn your head his way again.

You offer him a smile, a bit meek and unsure considering the jab Sae’s made seconds earlier. You spare his ankle just a short glance but apparently decide not to speak up on it before you open your arms for a welcome embrace. “Hi, Rin.”

It’s a simple gesture, really. It’s enough to make him feel like a dumb, hopeless teenager, head over heels for a girl beyond his reach.

It’s hard for him to wrap his mind around how you’re so sympathetic, understanding and warm while seemingly not even trying. He used to ponder if it’s why you chose this career path over any other and knows for sure that it’s why you’re the best at it. You never insist, never push, never inquire – not unless you need to, with the referee’s whistle ringing in your ears and a handful of sweaty, loud men standing right over your head as you work your magic.

It’s no wonder every club wants you as their physio.

Rin’s gotten a chance to feel your hand expertly move on his own skin before. He remembers it clear as a day, though one could think it was seemingly just yet another time he’s gone down on the field. This game proved to be different, though – bizarre in its own right, leaving him with an unsatiable itch.

Every game between Real Madrid and Paris X Gen attracted a lot of attention, just like it generated a spike in Rin’s stress levels. It was a tough game to begin with but facing off against Sae made it a game to remember every single time. Everyone knew the game would be worthwhile – a guaranteed showcase of talent and hard work, a fiend between two brothers, both equally gifted and loudly rumored to be conflicted for years now. The pressure would be enough to knock anyone off their feet, but he could withstand it. It’s the only way he has ever known. Face it. Endure it. Make him eat dirt – show him that you can bite just as hard.

That day, Rin was certain he’d never seen a situation so absurd and unfortunate. Throughout his years as a professional, he was an eyewitness to many fouls and injuries, some more gruesome and fatal than others. But to have three players go down at the same time, two of them from the same team, was not something that’d happen all too often. Rin was aware of his teammate’s fault but wouldn’t dare scold him – not when he’s lying on the turf and gripping his knee tight, the joint stuck at an angle that has Rin wincing at the sight alone. It’s bad, so, so bad, he thinks, watching as the other player struggles to get up with his teammates’ help. Chaos ensues, paramedics jogging over to the scene and putting down all of their necessities and there’s so much of it, there’s barely any space between him and the other player anymore. Rin knows better than to disturb, staying silent despite his position as captain as both teams grow loud and erratic, wild and belligerent. Rin’s eyes follow the ref as he works on subsiding the uproar. It’s a hard job – adrenaline at an all time high – but doesn’t want to spare it any more thoughts. Not when he has a worry of his own, a sharp pain in his ankle that makes him nauseous. 

“Are you okay?” 

He hears a familiar voice, a soft tune that brings him back afloat. His heart hammers in his chest, blood hot in his veins as he props himself up, hand tight on his sprained joint. He looks up and meets your eyes, wide but focused as your line of sight reaches his ankle. 

“I–” Rin hesitates, eyes slightly bewildered as they follow your movements. You crouch down right next to him and pull out a few necessary items from the med kit. An ice pack, he recognizes, a bandage, a stabilizer– “S’probably just a stamp.”

You hum, teeth sunk in your bottom lip as you carefully peel the sock down to reveal the bruised flesh. “Pain? On a scale of one to ten?” You spare him a quick look, delicate fingers gently pressing along the swollen skin. 

Rin grunts, fights back the urge to pull his leg away. “Six.”

With a nod, you work on untying his cleat, pulling it down along with the sock, “Sprained.” You simply point out, and his eyes widen. Your judgment’s quick, scarily so, and he’d hope that maybe you’re wrong – but the certainty in your eyes speaks for itself. He’s never seen you this serious, gaze sharp and movements swift, but then again, it’s the very first time he sees you at work. So far, he’s only ever seen you hanging on Sae’s arm, all smiles and laughter as you attend a family event together.

To have Sae’s girl tend to him like that almost feels like a blow.

“Wait, shit–” Rin’s brows furrow as he shifts, restless. You give him an attentive look. “Hold on. Aren’t you supposed to–”

“Your team’s busy.” You interrupt, eliciting a hiss from the striker as you work the bandage around the sole of his feet, and then stabilize it around his ankle. “He’s got a concussion and misses a tooth or two. All on top of his kneecap popping out.” Rin stiffens, eyes involuntarily searching for his teammate. He sees him being handled onto the stretcher, holding his hands over his head, groans and cries reaching his ears and it makes his heart drop. 

You plop the icepack on top of his ankle and bring his focus back to you. “I don’t care who I’m with. I’m here to help.” You offer a small smile though something’s telling you it won’t give much reassurance. You know your boyfriend’s brother – heard all about him and encountered him numerous times before. Most of all, you’ve seen the burning passion behind his eyes as he steps onto the turf. He’s not backing down. You pick your words carefully but say them firmly as ever. “I’m sorry, Rin, but you’re off.”

Rin vaguely remembers the protest that rose deep within his chest, making his blood boil as you helped him up. He knew better than to stand his ground and try to pretend that it’s not a big deal, knew all the possible consequences too well to act so stubbornly. He put years of such behavior behind him a while ago. He remembers the worried expression flashing across your features as your eyes met upon him plopping down on the bench – he saw it all, the compassion with pity yet to come.

It never did. 

You only left him with a heartfelt look, warm and kind, and confusion blossoming in his chest, growing on top of the uncertainty and anger. 

You’re always like this, Rin realizes. Always so collected and warmhearted, only ever welcoming him with hospitality and genuine worry, never pitying him. You’ve never given him any sort of look that he’s known to despise. 

He wishes you could be this way with him only, so attentive and sweet. It’s selfish but he does not necessarily hate the thought, or himself for embracing it so freely for that matter. 

His desire has been running rampant for a while now. It should be a shameful realization but though  Rin’s never been particularly in tune with his emotions, he knows it really isn’t. He’s smarter than he looks (though no one really would think otherwise) –  he knows you’re not his and never will be. He’s painfully aware of the only reason you ever rushed over to him, despite being the rival team’s assigned physiotherapist, and how it’s your awfully big heart, aching to help and bring comfort.

There’s plenty of space here. None of it belongs to him.

The memory vaguely plays out in his mind as he inhales your scent, the irritation subsiding and making way for the annoyingly fuzzy feeling. It’s been a year or even more. Long months since he’s last seen you and since you became engraved deep into his mind, his source of all kinds of thrills, some more disgraceful than others.

Throughout the years you’ve been with Sae, he never even thought to spare you a second glance. But ever since you treated him so kindly, looked at him with such warmth, he selfishly wishes he was the one giving you the Itoshi name instead. 

He wraps his arms around your frame and gives it a gentle squeeze as if his head isn’t bursting at the seams with rumination, greeting you with a rub on the back.

It’s only good decorum to greet you properly like this but Rin considers it a small mercy, getting a chance to feel your scent again.

Your hand rests on his back, fingers flexing on the sturdy muscle a bit, before pulling away entirely. You beam up at him, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as your head tilts with a smile. For a second, Rin thinks you might want to say something else, tell him more (talk to him sweetly just for a little longer, like he so desperately desires)  – but you opt not to, and instead, turn to face his brother again. “I’ll put these away,” You say, reaching for his suitcase. “And hop in the shower. I stink like the airport.”

The way you scrunch your nose makes Rin’s mouth twitch with a ghost of a smile.

“Sure,” Sae hands you off the luggage, but only after leaning in to give your lips a quick peck. “I’ll grab you a snack, okay?”

“M'kay,” you give a breathy giggle at the action, and Rin realizes he might be far behind in being familiar with the ridiculous ways you’ve changed his brother.

This look, lovesick and full of adoration, is one that he’s never seen on his older brother before. He can’t make up his mind on how it makes him feel.

His mom offers to remind you where Sae’s old room, as well as the bathroom, are and ushers you off with a few gentle touches and laughter that disappears down the corridor. His dad leaves to boil the kettle to make some tea, and for barely a few beats of silence, it’s just the two of them standing there. One craning his head slightly upwards, the other glaring down, the two brothers stare each other down – and Rin hates it, hates the way he has to swallow the knot in his throat and tear his gaze away. It’s a show of taking the higher ground as he only makes a slight face and then turns on his heel to leave the room altogether.

When his dad returns to the conjoined area, balancing three mugs in one hand and holding up the full pot in the other, he doesn’t seem all that surprised to see just Sae standing there, pulling his hoodie off and throwing it over the chair silently.

The man sighs, setting down the dishes, and only looks up when Sae breathes out a laugh, humorless and dry.

“Just like the old times.”

Rin is not sure how long he’s been scrolling down his phone, or how much time has passed since he first plopped down on the king-sized bed in his old bedroom. It didn’t have to take long, but sleep is starting to weigh down on his lids already, leaving him with a cottonmouth and he tears a slight grunt from his throat upon realizing that the whole water bottle he’d drank is now pressing against his bladder uncomfortably.

Tossing the phone away and propping himself up, Rin feels the tired muscles in his arm strain as he digs the palm of his other hand into his eyes, rubbing the exhaustion away. It works just enough to ease the slight sting, feet planted onto the ground as he gets up and strides across the dark room.

It must’ve been an hour, two tops, he supposes, reaching for the handle. The voices on the other side of the door have grown softer and he vaguely makes out the voices to be Sae’s and his father’s, probably still talking over yet another round of tea. It would make sense for everyone else to be asleep, as his mom was always an early sleeper, and you lookied quite worn out back in the living room. You’ve probably dozed right off as soon as you hit the bed, all warm and comfortable from your shower. 

Rin pushes the door open and finds himself jolting in surprise when his eyes fall on your face. You pull at the door using the same momentum and if the way your mouth falls agape is anything to go by, you’re just as shocked to see him. 

It wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, just another encounter to laugh off by tomorrow morning’s cup of coffee. But the way you peer up at him – doe eyes wide and startled, a single rivulet of water streaming down your flushed cheeks as damp hair sticks to your forehead – knocks the breath out of his lungs.

His gaze follows the lonely droplet’s path between your collarbones, then down the valley of your breasts. You’re warm, just like he’d thought, but also very much bare except for the fluffy white towel you’re clutching oh, so tightly to your heated skin. A meek sound of surprise catches in your throat and Rin has to bite back a groan as the sharp movement only makes your tits press against each other even tighter. “Hah– o-oh, huh, I’m sorry– thought Sae’s room was–” 

Rin cuts off the jumble of words, “It’s right across.” He corrects, voice a gravelly tune that has your knees knocking together in a sheepish buckle. Your cheeks scorch, blood rushing to the soft flesh and you feel like a fish pulled right out of water, gaping up at the tall man. “Excuse me.”

You’re not entirely too sure why Rin’s attitude towards you took such a turn – but the way he pushes past you, tough muscle bumping against your finer frame, has you yelping in surprise. You jerk a little when the bathroom door slams shut and turn to look behind yourself, a soft furrow to your brows, but ultimately decide to get back to the right room this time before the sheer embarrassment eats you alive. 

On the other side of the door, Rin grabs at the sink with one hand, keeping balance as he peels his sweatpants off. His head feels heavy, hanging between his shoulders as he tugs his boxers down along with his pants, then stands back on two feet and tugs off his sweatshirt, grip tight on the fabric.

It’s almost ridiculous, the way his heart hammers in his chest as if he didn’t know any better. The familiar, unbearable throb between his thighs feels like a sin. To some extent, it must be one, Rin realizes. He can be a martyr and a sinner all the same. He couldn’t care any less, either.

It’s a joke, all of it, he thinks as he steps into the shower yet again tonight. The water is instantly warm as soon as he turns it on, a remnant of your bath, he supposes, but the spray isn’t meant to bring him any comfort this time. Most importantly, it’s a sheer white noise that makes his thought a little more bearable. It works very little to soothe his strained and taut muscles as his back flexes when he reaches his hand down, fingers wrapping around the throbbing girth, but silences his grunt of relief perfectly.

Rin’s pretty sure it’s some sick joke at his expense by the time he shuts his eyes, a groan stuck somewhere deep inside of his chest, where he can swallow it down and keep it untraceable. All of it has to be some sort of get back, a play at his willpower and conscience for all the fucked up shit he’s done so far in life. (Just how bad did he fuck up to deserve this – to face someone like you, an unbearable temptation, a lure strong enough to break a saint?)

Not everyone has ill intentions, but Rin’s certain he does. There’s no other way to describe the sensation licking at his spine – the lust for your flesh, the desire to keep you close. It’s raw and shameful, enough to overwhelm him, let alone a being as sweet and darling as you.  He wishes the realization didn’t have to come like this, as he’s gasping for air, nearly doubling over in the steamy shower. 

There’s no space for forgiveness, but there is for revenge. It becomes clear as ever when Rin spills himself all over the tiles, a moan of your name mixing in with the steam as all sense of morality goes down the drain.

© 2023 grinmjows. do not copy any writing or layouts; do not repost/mention my works on other social media. chain divider by @/cafekitsune. this is a remastered repost from my previous blog.

WICKED THRONE, manjiro sano.

+ f!reader x s. manjiro. tragedy. royal!au. rebel!au. enemies-to-lovers. ooc!manjiro i write him the way i want to idc. romance. heavy angst. fluff. slow burn. character deaths. explicit smut. war. trauma. violence & slight gore: decapitation, undertones of torture, murder. thank you @mqtsuno for the header, i love u <3!

current word count: 142,553.

+ playlist. | misc links.

“he would burn down the

empires who tried

to conquer her,

he would become the monster

of those who tried

to terrify her,

he would be the shadows of the

devils in her nightmares,

but she— she is made of

bruises and of the past,

of arrows made from flames.

perhaps you have

missed the wolf

underneath her skin.

but she wasn’t made

to cower under your crown.

she isn’t the hunter,

and she isn’t the prey.

she is the enemy of the

kings who do

not deserve mercy.”

FIRST ACT: BEGINNING.

SECOND ACT: FIRST TRIAL.

THIRD ACT: MOONSTONE.

FOURTH ACT: ARROW.

FIFTH ACT: EMPTY VOWS.

SIXTH ACT: WHO ARE YOU?

SEVENTH ACT: THE QUEEN’S CROWN.

EIGHTH ACT: THE KING’S THRONE.

NINTH ACT: HIDDEN FANGS.

TENTH ACT: FIRE IN THY DANCE.

ELEVENTH ACT: DECLARATION OF WAR.

TWELFTH ACT: SOMEONE TO BLAME.

THIRTEENTH ACT: THE WEIGHT OF A SIN.

FOURTEENTH ACT: THIS DAY.

FIFTEENTH ACT: THE CROWN AND THE FRIEND.

SIXTEENTH ACT: AND LOVE WHISPERED.

SEVENTEENTH ACT: THE DOOM OF DESCENT.

EIGHTEENTH ACT: FOR POWER. PART ONE.

NINETEENTH ACT: FOR POWER. PART TWO.

TWENTIETH ACT: PENITENCE.

TWENTY FIRST ACT: THE HOUSE OF AVEN.

TWENTY SECOND ACT: HEAVY IS THE CROWN.

TWENTY THIRD ACT: WHAT KILLS A KING.

TWENTY FOURTH ACT: THE HAUNTED.

TWENTY FIFTH ACT: A PACT.

TWENTY SIXTH ACT: SEALED.

TWENTY SEVENTH ACT: YOU AND I, AT WAR.

TWENTY EIGHTH ACT: THROUGH YOUR HEART.

TWENTY NINTH ACT: TO YOU, BELOVED.

THIRTIETH ACT: LONG LIVE THE QUEEN.

SEQUELS:

HARUCHIYO & ASSASSIN!YN. SOON.

RINDOU & CHILDHOOD FRIEND!YN. SOON.

RAN & ARTIST!YN. SOON.

copyright © 2021 8kh all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 — ft. rin itoshi/sae itoshi

────────────✧ ˚ · “ ɪ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱᴏ ᴀɴxɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴍʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ..

ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ.

ɪ. ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ — itoshi rin & fem reader (ft. itoshi sae)

ɪɪ. ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ

ɪɪɪ. ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ — nsfw & dark content, dub-con, infidelity, jealousy, heavy angst, foul language, characters are aged up (in their 20's), revenge, & more coming soon

ɪᴠ. ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ — when a family holiday comes around and rin has to face his brother, he’s not surprised to see you, sae’s sweet fiancée, tagging along. what he doesn’t expect, though, is his urges slipping out of control.

ᴠ. ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴅᴇx — coming soon

ᴠɪ. ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴀɢ — ✧˖*°࿐ series: after dark

· ˚ ✧──────── ..ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ, ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ʟᴏꜱᴛ „

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ — open! reply / send ask to be added:

@xatsumuxluvrx , @oo-mi-ru-oo , @hellokittykuroo , @sagejin , @aclownstay , @katasstrophy, @caramelcandescence, @kittysinon137, @xxkaeya , @strawberriesandcream12 , @sqno , @somemydayy

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐘, 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ♡— 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒

𖦹 ft. ushijima, bokuto, oikawa x f!reader, 18+ 𖦹 themes: size kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, creampie 𖦹 synopsis: they are too big for you 🍆 bc I can't help myself from listening to big boy 🥹

♡ USHIJIMA

"I'll be gentle." He said as he aligned himself along your entrance. He had done all the necessary preparations to get you ready, but no sufficient amount of KY Jelly could prepare you for his huge cock.

He penetrated you nice and slow. Your eyes grew wide at the size while he elicited a pained expression. "God, you're so tight. Feels so good."

He moved slowly inch-by-inch that you could feel his length—your little hole was also stretching wide to his girth. Your hips moved uncontrollably wanting more stimulation. You're getting there. You're getting there and the itch building up in your pussy just wanted more and more. He's feeling the same too as you saw every bit of restraint on his face.

"T-Toshiii, it's okay. You can give it to me." You purred and you saw how his jaw clenched hard.

"Do you like it this way?" He asked and you were shocked when he slammed fully right in. You never knew he was that strong. He rammed in and out of you as you gripped on the sheets and writhed around.

"Ohhh....Toshi! Toshi!" You couldn't make out his face, because you could surely see stars right now. His huge cock felt like destroying your pussy. You were never sure if it would ever be the same anymore. Your legs! You couldn't even feel your legs, not even any part of your body except for Toshi's hot-blooded thrusting into your hole. It felt so good...too good. He could use you, ravage you and fill you up anytime he wants. Your head started spinning as the tremors came through.

"I— I'm coming! Coming!" You held tightly on his hands on your waist as you found your release.

You were still trembling around him when he held your waist so firmly it would definitely leave a mark. He pounded both himself and your body in full speed onto his cock. Your eyes almost rolled at the back of your head at his action and soon he stuffed your cunt full with his cum. He pulled out and damn you felt so empty without him. You knew you'd never ever be satisfied with any other cock anymore now that you got a taste of his.

♡ BOKUTO

He always complained (complimented) how tight you were that left him busting his nuts earlier than he should, so you had your ass up in the air now for his fucking. He gave your supple bottoms a good squeeze. Damn! He could easily enter you in this position. He couldn’t control himself any longer. You felt him rub his tip and you held tightly on the sheets, knowing how powerful his huge dick was. The moment the head got in, you took a deep breath in and soon, his full length was inside you. Your arms shook at how large his cock was. With that beefy body of his, you expected no less. 

“Oh, fuck Y/N! You’re so tight even on this angle.” He had his eyes shut tight. 

“Aughh…you’re just too big for me, Bo-kun.”

“Please don’t talk to me like that…“ He pulled out. “You know I won’t be able to hold back—” And slammed back in, your ass cheeks slapped hard against his pelvis. “Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy!” He pounded, thrusted, screwed you in a frenzy. It was so messy and wild that your arms felt like giving up on your weight and tears pooled at the corner of your eyes.

Quickly picking up on this, he grabbed hold of your elbows and gripped on them like they’re the throttle lever to your body. He maneuvered you as he slammed in and out of your tight cunt. Your titties bounced alongside your ass whenever he’d hit it deep. He was so rough and big, completely wrecking your pussy. You felt your juices uncontrollably dripping in between your legs. 

The heat started creeping in and you knew…. “Bo-kun…I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” Your body trembled as you cried into your release.

“Yes, Y/N! Give it- Give it to me!” He screwed you faster. One, two, pumps…He pushed in deep into you and filled you up with his cum. 

His heavy body fell onto yours and you both caught your breaths as he got you into an embrace and planted a sweet kiss on your sweaty forehead. 

♡ OIKAWA

What supposed to be a cuddlefuck always ended up in hardcore sex because of his unbelievable size. Now, here you were sandwiched in between the bed and his big muscular body, while he covered your neck with soppy wet kisses. His erect cock now hot on your stomach. 

“T-Tooru, I don’t think I can.” You said as he you felt him harden.

“Just between the thighs, baby. Just between the thighs.” He assured, flexing his hips forward and easing himself through your squeezed thighs. You gasped when his huge cock rubbed along right where your clit was. You bit your lip and arched your back—your hips matching his every thrusts. You wanted more, but could you really handle him? You rocked against his member which prompted him to move even faster and faster until—

It slipped! Your eyes popped and so was your mouth. He’s too big that you were shivering at the size. He almost tore you apart.  “You-You’re too big,” you gasped and something inside Tooru was awakened. You sure felt him got even bigger and harder inside you. You knew what was about to come. “T-Tooru, wai—“

He began pounding you. Your nails dug against the skin of his forearms as he thrusted intensely. “My cock can never be too big for you not when your pretty little pussy is sucking me so tight.” He leaned even closer to you and pressed your knees close to your face. “You love it right? You love it when I’m balls deep down to your womb.” He clenched his teeth. "You love it when I stretch you open like this!"

“I- I-“ He’s fucking you so hard that you couldn’t even speak. The wave of pleasure with a little pain was too good. You’re going crazy. You wanted nothing but to be stuffed by his big cock that he was breaking both your poor little hole and your mind. There, yes...Harder! Harder! You let out a cry as you felt the rush takeover.

You couldn't believe you were still whole. You caught your breath beneath him and he kissed you. “I…I’m done for,” you whispered.

“I don’t think we’re done yet, baby.”

© nekorei 2023 - All rights reserved. No work shall be reproduced, reposted, modified, translated in any form or by any means.

—tag list on reply section ♡

big bro iwa who’s in love with making out with his lil sister’s pussy <3

tw incest, hajime nii is a service dom, oral <33

"S-sit shtill," he's slurring into your skin, pulling you down closer with an almost painful grip on your ass. But how can you? It's physically impossible not to squirm when big brother's got his mouth locked like a vice around your clit and all the sucking and wetness coating his chin is enough to have your thighs shaking.

"Niichan, niichan, nii~chan! I'm gonna pass ouw~ t." You're whining loudly, you know you are, but- everything's hazy and your fingers are threading through his full head of hair and you can't stop yourself from sweating and rocking back against his mouth until the friction on your puffy bud becomes too damn much.

If you could open your eyes for longer than a second, you'd be able to see the intensity in Hajime's eyes, and the absolute adoration as he watches every twitch of your brow, or how you force your own finger between your teeth to shut yourself up. You'd be able to see how his hips twitch and smear precum all over the blankets while he buries himself between your legs with a low grunt. "Pass out then," he eventually breathes, letting even the puffs tingle your clit, "I'm not done."

He loves you, you know? Loves laying you down on his bed like this whenever you come over and watching you squirm to get away. But your voice breaks as you let out a desperate squeak, and your back curls off the bed with shuddering thighs. Hajime's tongue rubs over your clit again, before his fingers scissor you open further and more wetness dribbles out of your pretty pussy.

If you're not driving him crazy up the wall, you'd be doing it to someone else. A thought makes his brows furrow, as he watches you, watches the tear tracks wobble down your heated cheeks and your body twitch every time his tongue leaves the nub with a flick. "You know- uhh, ugh- why I'm doing this?"

"Mhm, a sister's pussy is for big brother," you softly mewl, and also shake, and your hands fiddle with the strands of his hair you can read.

"Not that," Hajime nii grunts, curling his fingers deeper inside you and opening wide as his tongue goes to fuck into the drooling hole with a low groan. You taste so fucking good. He'd really stay down here for hours if he could, and it ticks him off that you start getting too overstimulated and fussy after just two orgasms. "Why am I mad?"

Your whining makes way for a beat of silence, though your pussy clenches and sucks his tongue like you never want to let him go. You might pretend to be any better off than him, but you're just as twisted. A real brother fucker, getting the sheets this drenched. It almost distracts him from your little "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." You try to right yourself onto an elbow and lift yourself from the bed, but he gets up and yanks your waist along with him so you fall back, and his biceps bulge as your legs hook over his shoulder. The sucking of your little clit has your eyelids fluttering so hard you look like you're gone. "You don't know what you're doing. Why even try to touch yourself, stupid shitty sister. This is my pussy. Mine."

"'m sorry~" you whine, and your tone says it all. You're going to cum, again, and soak his face like he wants, needs you to. Long days of work only feel earned when he can sink his fat cock into that hot, little clutch. Why don't you get that. "Ah, ah, niichan. Wan'it, wan- mh-agh, gonna cum Hajime nii~" So cute. So pretty. Your pussy's clenching against his mouth, so hot and soft on his tongue, so needy-

He lets you ride yourself against his mouth until you start wiggling, and then he clamps his lips around that little bud and sucks, hard. Until you're cumming all over him, and he places patient kisses onto your hooded nub until you stop shaking and crying. "How many times do I have to tell you? If your body feels weird, what do you do?"

"Wake up- Haj' niichan. Niichan will fix 't."